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diff --git a/78336-h/78336-h.htm b/78336-h/78336-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..62caec0 --- /dev/null +++ b/78336-h/78336-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,13480 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html lang="en"> +<head> + <meta charset="UTF-8"> + <title> + The Memoirs of Alexander Herzen, III | Project Gutenberg + </title> + <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> + <style> + +a { + text-decoration: none; +} + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + +h1,h2,h3,h4 { + text-align: center; + clear: both; +} + +h2.nobreak, h3.nobreak { + page-break-before: avoid; +} + +h2,h3,h4 { + font-weight: normal; + font-size: 1.2em; +} + +h2 .smcap, h3 .smcap, h4 .smcap { + font-size: 80%; +} + +img.w100 { + width: 100%; +} + +div.chapter { + page-break-before: always; + margin-top: 4em; +} + +p { + margin-top: 0.5em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: 0.5em; + text-indent: 1em; +} + +p.dropcap { + text-indent: 0; +} + +p.dropcap:first-letter { + float: left; + margin: 0.1em 0.1em 0 0; + font-size: 250%; + line-height: 0.6em; + text-indent: 0; +} + +table { + margin: 1em auto 1em auto; + max-width: 40em; + border-collapse: collapse; +} + +td { + padding-left: 0.25em; + padding-right: 0.25em; + vertical-align: top; + text-indent: 1em; + text-align: justify; +} + +blockquote { + margin: 1.5em 10%; +} + +.center { + text-align: center; + text-indent: 0; +} + +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; +} + +.footnotes { + page-break-before: always; + margin-top: 4em; + border: dashed 1px; +} + +.footnote { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + font-size: 0.9em; +} + +.footnote .label { + position: absolute; + right: 84%; + text-align: right; +} + +.fnanchor { + vertical-align: super; + font-size: .8em; + text-decoration: none; +} + +.hanging { + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -2em; + margin-top: 2em; +} + +.larger { + font-size: 150%; +} + +.mt2 { + margin-top: 2em; +} + +.noindent { + text-indent: 0; +} + +.note1 { + text-align: center; + font-size: large; +} + +.note2 { + margin-left: 22.22%; + margin-right: 22.22%; + text-indent: 1em; + margin-top: 0.25em; + margin-bottom: 0.25em; +} + +.pagenum { + right: 1%; + font-size: x-small; + background-color: inherit; + color: silver; + text-indent: 0; + text-align: right; + position: absolute; + border: thin solid silver; + padding: 0.1em 0.2em; + font-style: normal; + font-variant: normal; + font-weight: normal; + text-decoration: none; +} + +.poetry-container { + text-align: center; + font-size: 0.9em; +} + +.poetry { + display: inline-block; + text-align: left; +} + +.poetry .stanza { + margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em; +} + +.poetry .verse { + padding-left: 3em; +} + +.poetry .indent0 {text-indent: -3.0em;} +.poetry .indent8 {text-indent: 1.0em;} +.poetry .indent12 {text-indent: 3.0em;} + +.right { + text-align: right; +} + +.smaller { + font-size: 80%; +} + +.smcap { + font-variant: small-caps; + font-style: normal; +} + +.allsmcap { + font-variant: small-caps; + font-style: normal; + text-transform: lowercase; +} + +.titlepage { + text-align: center; + margin-top: 3em; + text-indent: 0; +} + +.x-ebookmaker p.dropcap { + text-indent: 0; +} + +.x-ebookmaker p.dropcap:first-letter { + float: none; + margin: 0; + font-size: 100%; +} + +.x-ebookmaker img { + max-width: 100%; + width: auto; + height: auto; +} + +.x-ebookmaker .poetry { + display: block; + margin-left: 1.5em; +} + +.x-ebookmaker blockquote { + margin: 1.5em 5%; +} + +/* Illustration classes */ +.illowp100 {width: 100%;} + </style> + </head> +<body> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78336 ***</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_i">[i]</span></p> + +<h1>THE MEMOIRS OF<br> +ALEXANDER<br> +HERZEN<br> +<br> +III</h1> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_ii">[ii]</span></p> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p class="note1">NOTE</p> + +</div> + +<p class="note2">This translation has been made +by arrangement from the sole +complete and copyright edition +of <i>My Past and Thoughts</i>, that +published in the original Russian +at Berlin, 1921.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_iii">[iii]</span></p> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p class="titlepage larger"><i>MY PAST AND THOUGHTS</i></p> + +</div> + +<p class="center larger">THE MEMOIRS OF<br> +ALEXANDER HERZEN</p> + +<p class="center"><i>THE AUTHORISED TRANSLATION<br> +TRANSLATED FROM THE RUSSIAN<br> +BY CONSTANCE GARNETT</i></p> + +<p class="titlepage">VOLUME III</p> + +<figure class="figcenter titlepage illowp100" style="max-width: 6.25em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/doggo.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p class="titlepage">NEW YORK<br> +ALFRED A. KNOPF</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_iv">[iv]</span></p> + +<p class="titlepage smaller">PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN BY<br> +T. & A. CONSTABLE LTD. EDINBURGH<br> +*<br> +ALL RIGHTS<br> +RESERVED</p> + +<p class="titlepage smaller">FIRST PUBLISHED 1924</p> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_1">[1]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="PART_V">PART V<br> +PARIS—ITALY—PARIS<br> +(1847-1852)</h2> + +</div> + +<p class="dropcap">As I begin to publish yet another part of <i>My Past +and Thoughts</i>, I pause in hesitation at the fragmentariness +of my narratives, my pictures, and the running +commentary of my reflections. There is less external +unity about them than about those of the earlier parts. I +cannot weld them into one. In filling in the gaps, it +is very easy to give the whole thing a different background +and a different lighting—the truth of the period +would be lost. <i>My Past and Thoughts</i> is not an historical +monograph, but the reflection of historical events on a +man who has accidentally been thrown into contact +with them. That is why I have decided to leave my +disconnected chapters as they were, stringing them +together like the mosaic pictures in Italian bracelets—all +of which refer to one subject but are only held together +by the setting.</p> + +<p>My <i>Letters from France and Italy</i> are essential for +completing this part, especially in regard to the year +1848; I had meant to make extracts from them, but that +would have involved so much reprinting that I did not +attempt it.</p> + +<p>Many things that have not appeared in <i>The Polar +Star</i> have been put into this edition, but I cannot give +everything to my readers yet, for reasons both personal +and public. The time is not far off when not only the +pages and chapters here omitted, but the whole volume, +which is most precious to me, will be published.</p> + +<p class="hanging"><span class="smcap">Geneva</span>, <i>29th July 1866</i>.</p> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_2">[2]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="SECTION_ONE"><i>SECTION ONE</i><br> +BEFORE THE REVOLUTION AND AFTER IT</h2> + +</div> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3 class="nobreak" id="Chapter_34">Chapter 34<br> +<span class="smcap">THE JOURNEY<br> +The Lost Passport—Königsberg—The Hand-made +Nose—We Arrive!—And Depart</span></h3> + +</div> + +<p class="dropcap">In Lautzagen the Prussian gendarmes invited me +into their office. The old sergeant took the passports, +put on his spectacles, and with extreme distinctness +began reading aloud all that was unnecessary:</p> + +<p><i>Auf Befehl s.k. M. Nikolai des Ersten ... allen +und jeden, denen daran gelegen</i>, etc. etc.... <i>Unterzeichner +Peroffski, Minister des Innern, Kammerherr, +Senator und Ritter des Ordens St. Wladimir ... +Inhaber eines goldenen Degens mit der Inschrift für +Tapferkeit....</i></p> + +<p>This sergeant who was so fond of reading reminded +me of another one. Between Terracino and Naples +a Neapolitan carbineer came to the diligence four +times, asking every time for our visas. I showed him +the Neapolitan visa: this and the half <i>carlino</i> were not +enough for him; he carried off the passports to the +office, and returned twenty minutes later insisting that +my companion and I should go before the brigadier. +The latter, a drunken old officer, asked me rather rudely, +‘What is your surname and where do you come from?’ +‘Why, that is all in the passport.’ ‘I can’t read it.’ +We conjectured that reading was not the brigadier’s +strong point. ‘By what law,’ asked my companion, +‘are we bound to read aloud our passports? We are +bound to have them and to show them, but not to +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_3">[3]</span>dictate them; I might dictate anything.’ ‘<i>Accidenti</i>,’ +muttered the old man, ‘<i>va ben, va ben!</i>’ and he gave +back our passports without writing anything.</p> + +<p>The learned gendarme at Lautzagen was of a different +type; after reading three times in the three passports +all the decorations of General Perovsky, including his +buckle for an unblemished record, he asked me: ‘But +who are you, <i>Euer Hochwohlgeboren</i>?’ I stared, not +understanding what he wanted of me. ‘<i>Fräulein +Maria E.</i>, <i>Fräulein Maria K.</i>, <i>Frau H.</i>—they are +all women, there is not one man’s passport here.’ I +looked: there really were only the passes of my mother +and two of our friends who were travelling with us; a +cold shudder ran down my back.</p> + +<p>‘They would not have let me through at Taurogen +without a passport.’</p> + +<p>‘<i>Bereits so</i>, but you can’t go on further.’</p> + +<p>‘What am I to do?’</p> + +<p>‘Perhaps you have forgotten it at the office. I’ll tell +them to harness a sledge for you; you can go yourself, +and your family can keep warm here meanwhile. <i>Heh! +Kerl! Lass er mal den Braunen anspannen.</i>’</p> + +<p>I cannot remember that stupid incident without +laughing, just because I was so utterly disconcerted by it. +The loss of that passport of which I had been dreaming +for years, which I had been trying to obtain for two +years, the minute after crossing the frontier, overwhelmed +me. I was certain I had put it in my pocket, +so I must have dropped it—where could I look for it? +It would be covered by snow.... I should have to +ask for a new one, to write to Riga, perhaps to go myself: +and then they would send in a report, would notice that +I was going to the mineral waters in January. In short, +I felt as though I were in Petersburg again; visions of +Kokoshkin and Sartynsky, Dubbelt and Nicholas, passed +through my mind. Good-bye to my journey, good-bye +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_4">[4]</span>to Paris, to freedom of the press, to concerts and theatres +... once more I should see the clerks in the ministry, +police—and every other sort of—officers, town constables +with on their back the two bright buttons with which +they look behind them ... and first of all I should +see again the little wrinkled soldier in a heavy casque +with Number 4 mysteriously inscribed on it, the frozen +Cossack horse.... I might even see the nurse again +at ‘Tavroga,’ as she had called it.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile they put a big, melancholy, angular horse +into a little sledge. I got in beside a driver in a military +overcoat and high boots, he gave the traditional lash with +the traditional whip—when suddenly the learned sergeant +ran out into the porch, in his shirt-sleeves, and shouted: +‘<i>Halt! Halt! Da ist der vermaledeite Pass</i>,’ and he +held it unfolded in his hands.</p> + +<p>I was overtaken by hysterical laughter.</p> + +<p>‘What are you doing with me? Where did you +find it?’</p> + +<p>‘Look,’ he said, ‘your Russian sergeant folded them +one inside the other: who could tell it was there? I +never thought of unfolding them.’</p> + +<p>And yet he had three times over read: <i>Es ergehet +deshalb an alle hohen Mächte und an alle und jede, welchen +Standes und welcher Würde sie auch sein mögen....</i></p> + +<p>I reached Königsberg tired out by the journey, by +anxiety, by many things. After a good sleep in an +abyss of feathers, I went out next day to look at the +town. It was a warm winter’s day: the hotel-keeper +suggested that we should take a sledge. There were +bells on the horses and ostrich feathers on their heads +... and we were gay; a load was lifted from our +hearts, the unpleasant sensation of fear, the gnawing feeling +of suspicion, had vanished. Caricatures of Nicholas +were exposed in the window of a bookshop; I rushed +in at once to buy a stock of them. In the evening I +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_5">[5]</span>went to a small, dirty, and inferior theatre, and came +back from it excited, not by the actors but by the audience, +which consisted mostly of workmen and young people; +in the intervals between the acts every one talked freely +and loudly, all put on their hats (a very important thing, +as important as the right to wear a beard, etc.). This +ease and freedom, this element of greater serenity and +liveliness impresses the Russian abroad. The Petersburg +government is still so coarse and crude, so absolutely +nothing but despotism, that it positively likes to inspire +fear; it wants everything to tremble before it—in fact, +it desires not only power but the theatrical display of it. +To the Petersburg Tsars the ideal of public order is the +discipline of the waiting-room and the barracks.</p> + +<p>... When we were setting off for Berlin I got +into the carriage, and a gentleman muffled up in wraps +took the seat beside me; it was evening, I could not see +him distinctly. Learning that I was a Russian, he began +to question me about the strictness of the police and +about passports; I, of course, told him all I knew. +Then we passed to Prussia; he spoke highly of the disinterestedness +of the Prussian officials, the excellence of +the administration, praised the king, and finally made a +violent attack on the Poles of Posen on the ground that +they were not good Germans. This surprised me; I +argued with him, I told him bluntly that I did not share +his views, and then said no more.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile it was getting light; only then I noticed +that my neighbour, the conservative, spoke through his +nose, not because he had a cold in it, but because he had +not one at all, or at least had not the most conspicuous +part. He probably noticed that this discovery did not +afford me any special satisfaction, and so thought fit to +tell me, by way of apology, the story of how he had lost +his nose and how it had been restored. The first part +was somewhat confused, but the second was very circumstantial: +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_6">[6]</span>Diffenbach himself had carved him a new nose +out of his hand; his hand had been bound to his face for +six weeks; <i>Majestät</i> had come to the hospital to look at +it, and was graciously pleased to wonder and approve.</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">‘A dit: c’est vraiment étonnant,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Le roi de Prusse en le voyant.’</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class="noindent">Apparently Diffenbach had been preoccupied with something +else and had carved him a very ugly nose. But +I soon discovered that his hand-made nose was the least +of his defects.</p> + +<p>Getting from Königsberg to Berlin was the most +difficult part of our journey. The belief has somehow +gained ground among us that the Prussian posting +service is well organised: that is all nonsense. Travelling +by post-chaise is only pleasant in France, Switzerland, +and England. In England the post-chaises are so well +built, the horses so elegant, and the drivers so skilful +that one may travel for pleasure. The carriage moves +at full speed over the very longest stages, whether the +road runs uphill or downhill. Now, thanks to the railway, +this question is becoming one of historical interest, +but in those days we learned by experience what German +posting chaises and horses could be. They were worse +than anything in the world except perhaps the German +post-drivers.</p> + +<p>The way from Königsberg to Berlin is very long; +we took seven places in the diligence and set off. At +the first station the conductor told us to take our luggage +and get into another diligence, sagaciously warning us +that he would not be responsible for our things being +safe. I observed that I had inquired at Königsberg +and was told that we should keep the same seats: the +conductor spoke about snow, and said that we had to +get into a diligence provided with runners; there was +nothing to be said to that. We had to transfer ourselves +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_7">[7]</span>with our goods and our children in the middle of the +night in the wet snow. At the next station there was +the same business again, and the conductor did not even +trouble himself to explain the change of carriages. We +did half the journey in this way; then he informed +us quite simply that we ‘should be given only five +seats.’</p> + +<p>‘Five? Here are my tickets.’</p> + +<p>‘There are no more seats.’</p> + +<p>I began to argue; a window in the posting station +was thrown open with a bang and a grey-headed man +with moustaches asked rudely what the wrangling was +about. The conductor said that I demanded seven +seats, and that he had only five; I added that I had +tickets and a receipt for the fares for seven seats. Paying +no attention to me, he said to the conductor in an insolent, +husky, Russo-German military voice: ‘Well, if this +gentleman does not want the five seats, throw his things +out; let him wait till there are seven seats free.’ Whereupon +the worthy stationmaster, whom the conductor +addressed as <i>Herr Major</i>, and whose name was Schwerin, +shut the window with a slam. On considering the +matter, we, as Russians, decided to go on. Benvenuto +Cellini in like circumstances would, as an Italian, have +brought out his pistol and shot the stationmaster.</p> + +<p>Our friend who had been repaired by Diffenbach +was at the time in the restaurant; when he clambered +on to his seat and we set off, I told him what had happened. +He was in a very genial mood, having had a drop too +much; he showed the greatest sympathy with us, and +asked me to give him a note on the subject when we got +to Berlin. ‘Are you an official in the posting service?’ +I asked. ‘No,’ he answered, still more through his +nose; ‘but that doesn’t matter ... you ... see +... I am in what is called here the central police +service.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_8">[8]</span></p> + +<p>This revelation was even more distasteful to me than +the hand-made nose.</p> + +<p>The first person to whom I expressed my liberal +opinions in Europe was a spy—but he was not the last.</p> + +<p>Berlin, Cologne, Belgium—all passed rapidly before +our eyes; we looked at everything half absent-mindedly, +in passing; we were in haste to arrive, and at last we +did arrive.</p> + +<p>... I opened the heavy, old-fashioned window in +the Hôtel du Rhin; before me stood a column:</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent8">‘... with a cast-iron doll,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">With scowling face and hat on head,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And arms crossed tightly on his breast.’</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class="noindent">And so I was really in Paris, not in a dream but in reality: +this was the Vendôme column and the Rue de la Paix.</p> + +<p>In Paris—the word meant scarcely less to me than the +word ‘Moscow’! Of that minute I had been dreaming +from childhood. If I might only see the Hôtel de Ville, +the Café Foy in the Palais Royal, where Camille Desmoulins +picked a green leaf and, fixing it on his hat for +a cockade, shouted ‘<i>A la Bastille!</i>’</p> + +<p>I could not stay indoors; I dressed and went out +to stroll about the streets ... to look up Bakunin, +Sazonov: here was Rue St. Honoré, the Champs-Élysées—all +those names which had been familiar for long +years ... and here was Bakunin himself....</p> + +<p>I met him at a street corner; he was walking with +three friends and, just as in Moscow, discoursing to them, +continually stopping and waving his cigarette. On +this occasion the discourse remained unfinished; I interrupted +it and took him with me to find Sazonov and +surprise him with my presence.</p> + +<p>I was beside myself with happiness!</p> + +<p>And at that happiness I will stop here.</p> + +<p>I am not going to describe Paris once more. My first +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_9">[9]</span>acquaintance with European life, the glorious tour in +Italy just awakened from sleep, the revolution at the +foot of Vesuvius, the revolution before St. Peter’s, and +finally the news—like a flash of lightning—of the 24th +of February—all that I have described in my <i>Letters +from France and Italy</i>. I could not with the same +vividness reproduce now impressions half effaced by +time and overlaid by others. They make an essential +part of my <i>Records</i>—what is a letter but a record of a +brief period?</p> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_10">[10]</span></p> + +<h3 class="nobreak" id="Chapter_35">Chapter 35<br> +<span class="smcap">THE HONEYMOON OF THE REPUBLIC<br> +The Englishman in the Fur-Jacket—The Duc de +Noailles—Freedom and her Bust in Marseilles—The +Abbé Sibour and the Universal Republic in Avignon</span></h3> + +</div> + +<p class="dropcap"><i>‘To-morrow we are going to Paris; I am +leaving Rome full of life and excitement. +What will come of it all? Can it last? The sky is not +free from clouds; at times there is a chilly blast from the +sepulchral vaults bringing the smell of death, the odour +of the past; the historical</i> tramontano <i>is strong, but whatever +happens I am grateful to Rome for the five months +I have spent there. The feelings I have passed through +remain in the soul, and the reaction will not extinguish +quite everything.</i>’</p> + +<p>This is what I wrote at the end of April 1848, sitting +at my window in the Via del Corso and looking out into +the ‘People’s square,’ in which I had seen and felt so +much.</p> + +<p>I left Italy in love with her and sorry to leave her: +there I had met not only great events but also the very +nicest people—but still I went. It would have seemed +like being faithless to all my convictions not to be in +Paris when there was a republic there. Doubts are +apparent in the lines I have quoted, but faith got the +upper hand, and with inward pleasure I looked in Cività +at the consul’s seal on my visa on which was engraved +the imposing words, ‘République Française’—I did +not reflect that the very fact that a visa was needed +showed that France was not a republic.</p> + +<p>We went by a mail steamer. There were a great +many passengers on board, and as usual they were +of all sorts: there were passengers from Alexandria, +Smyrna, and Malta. One of the terrible winds common +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_11">[11]</span>in spring blew up just after we passed Leghorn: it drove +the ship along with incredible swiftness and with insufferable +rolling; within two or three hours the deck +was covered with sea-sick ladies; by degrees the men +too succumbed, except a grey-headed old Frenchman, +an Englishman from Canada in a fur-jacket and a fur-cap, +and myself. The cabins, too, were full of sufferers, +and the stuffiness and heat in them were enough alone to +make one ill. We three sat at night on our portmanteaus, +covered with our overcoats and railway rugs, in the +howling of the wind and the splashing of the waves, +which at times broke over the fore-deck. I knew the +Englishman; the year before I had travelled in the same +steamer with him from Genoa to Cività Vecchia. It +happened we were the only two at dinner; he did not +say a word all through the meal, but over the dessert, +softened by the marsala and seeing that I on my side +had no intention of entering upon a conversation, he +gave me a cigar and said that he had brought his cigars +himself from Havana. Then we talked: he had been +in South America and California, and told me that he +had long been intending to visit Petersburg and Moscow, +but should not go until there were <i>proper</i> means of +communication and a direct route between London and +Petersburg.⁠<a id="FNanchor_1" href="#Footnote_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a>⁠</p> + +<p>‘Are you going to Rome?’ I asked, as we approached +Cività.</p> + +<p>‘I don’t know,’ he answered.</p> + +<p>I said no more, supposing that he considered my question +impertinent, but he immediately added:</p> + +<p>‘That depends on whether I like the climate in Cività.’</p> + +<p>‘Then you are stopping here?’</p> + +<p>‘Yes; the steamer leaves to-morrow.’</p> + +<p>At that time I knew very few Englishmen, and so I +could hardly conceal my laughter, and was quite unable +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_12">[12]</span>to do so when I met him next day, walking by the hotel +in the same fur-coat, carrying a portfolio, a field-glass, +and a little dressing-case, followed by a servant laden +with his portmanteau and various belongings.</p> + +<p>‘I am off to Naples,’ he said as he came up to me.</p> + +<p>‘Why, don’t you like the climate?’</p> + +<p>‘It’s horrid.’</p> + +<p>I forgot to mention that on our first journey together +he occupied the berth which was directly over mine. +On three occasions during the night he almost killed me, +first from fright, and then with his feet; it was fearfully +hot in the cabin, he went several times to have a drink +of brandy and water, and each time, climbing down and +climbing up, he trod on me and shouted loudly, in alarm: +‘Oh—beg pardon—<i>J’ai avais soif.</i>’ ‘<i>Pas de mal!</i>’</p> + +<p>Consequently we met this time like old friends; he +spoke with the greatest approbation of my immunity +from sea-sickness, and offered me his Havana cigars. +As was perfectly natural, the conversation soon turned +on the revolution of February. The Englishman, of +course, looked upon the revolution in Europe as an +interesting spectacle, as a source of new and curious +observations and experiences, and he described the +revolution in New Colombia.</p> + +<p>The Frenchman took a different interest in these +matters ... within five minutes an argument had +sprung up between him and me: he answered evasively, +cleverly, and with the utmost courtesy, yielding nothing, +however. I defended the republic and revolution. +Without directly attacking it, the old gentleman championed +the traditional forms of government as the only +ones durable, popular, and capable of satisfying the just +claims of progress and the necessity of settled security.</p> + +<p>‘You cannot imagine,’ I said to him in joke, ‘what a +peculiar satisfaction you give me by your implied criticisms. +I have been for fifteen years speaking about the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_13">[13]</span>monarchy just as you speak about the republic. The +parts are changed; in defending the republic, I am +the conservative, while you, defending the legitimist +monarchy, are a <i>perturbateur de l’ordre politique</i>.’</p> + +<p>The old gentleman and the Englishman laughed. A +tall, gaunt gentleman, whose nose has been immortalised +by <i>Charivari</i>⁠<a id="FNanchor_2" href="#Footnote_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> and Philipon, the Comte d’Argout,⁠<a id="FNanchor_3" href="#Footnote_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> came +up to us. (<i>Charivari</i> used to declare that his daughter +did not marry because she did not want to sign herself +‘So-and-so, <i>née d’Argout</i>.’) He joined in the conversation, +addressed the old gentleman with deference, but +looked at me with a surprise not far removed from +repulsion; I noticed this, and began to be at least four +times as <i>red</i> in my remarks.</p> + +<p>‘It is a very remarkable thing,’ the grey-headed old +Frenchman said to me: ‘you are not the first Russian +I have met of the same manner of thinking. You +Russians are either the most absolute slaves of your +Tsar, or—<i>passez-moi le mot</i>—anarchists. And it follows +from that, that it will be a long time before you are free.’ +Our political conversation continued in that strain.⁠<a id="FNanchor_4" href="#Footnote_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a>⁠</p> + +<p>When we were approaching Marseilles and all the +passengers were busy looking after their luggage, I went +up to the old gentleman and, giving him my card, said +that I should like to think that our discussion on the +swaying boat had left no unpleasant impression. The +old gentleman said good-bye to me very charmingly, +delivered himself of another epigram at the expense of +the republicans whom I should see at last at closer +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">[14]</span>quarters, and gave me his card. It was the Duc de +Noailles, the kinsman of the Bourbons, and one of the +leading counsellors of Henry the Fifth.⁠<a id="FNanchor_5" href="#Footnote_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a>⁠</p> + +<p>Though this incident is quite unimportant, I describe +it for the benefit and education of our ‘dukes’ of the +three highest ranks. If some senator or privy councillor +had been in Noailles’ place he would simply have taken +what I said for insolence and breach of discipline and +would have sent for the captain of the boat.</p> + +<p>A Russian minister of the year 1850⁠<a id="FNanchor_6" href="#Footnote_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a> sat with his +family in his carriage on the steamer to avoid all contact +with passengers who were common mortals. Can one +imagine anything more ridiculous than sitting in an +unharnessed carriage ... and on the sea, too, and for a +man double the ordinary size into the bargain!</p> + +<p>The arrogance of our great dignitaries is not due to +aristocratic feeling—the grand gentleman is dying out; it +is the feeling of liveried and powdered flunkeys in great +houses, extremely abject on one side and extremely insolent +on the other. The aristocrat is a personality, while +our faithful servants of the throne are entirely without +personality; they are like Paul’s medals, which bear the +inscription: ‘Not to us, not to us, but to thy name.’ +Their whole training leads up to this: the soldier imagines +that the only reason why he must not be beaten with +sticks is that he wears the Anna ribbon; the station +superintendent considers his position as an officer the +barrier that protects his cheek from the traveller’s hand; +an insulted clerk points to his Stanislav or Vladimir +ribbon—‘not for ourselves, not for ourselves ... but +for our rank!’</p> + +<p>On leaving the steamer at Marseilles, I met a great +procession of the National Guard, which was carrying to +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_15">[15]</span>the Hôtel de Ville the figure of Liberty, <i>i.e.</i> of a woman +with immense curls and a Phrygian cap. With shouts +of ‘<i>Vive la République!</i>’ thousands of armed citizens were +marching in it, and among them workmen in blouses +who had been enrolled in the National Guard. I need +hardly say that I followed them. When the procession +reached the Hôtel de Ville, the general, the mayor, and +the commissaire of the Provisional Government, Démosthène +Ollivier, came out into the portico. Démosthène, +as might be expected from his name, prepared to deliver +an oration. An immense circle formed about him: +the crowd, of course, moved forward, the National +Guards pressed it back, the crowd would not yield; +this offended the armed workmen, they lowered their +guns and, turning round, began with the butt-ends +hitting the toes of the people who stood in front; the +citizens of the ‘one and indivisible republic’ stepped +back....</p> + +<p>This proceeding surprised me the more because I +was still completely under the influence of the manners +of Italy, and especially of Rome, where the proud sense +of personal dignity and the inviolability of the person +is fully developed in every man—not merely in the +<i>facchino</i> and the postman, but even in the beggar who +holds out his hand for alms. In Romagna such insolence +would have been greeted with twenty <i>coltellate</i>.⁠<a id="FNanchor_7" href="#Footnote_7" class="fnanchor">[7]</a> The +French drew back—perhaps they had corns?</p> + +<p>This incident made an unpleasant impression on me. +Moreover, when I reached the hotel I read in the newspapers +what had happened at Rouen.⁠<a id="FNanchor_8" href="#Footnote_8" class="fnanchor">[8]</a> What could be +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_16">[16]</span>the meaning of it? Surely the Duc de Noailles was not +right?</p> + +<p>But when a man wants to believe, his belief is not +easily uprooted, and before I reached Avignon I had +forgotten the butt-ends at Marseilles and the bayonets +at Rouen.</p> + +<p>In the diligence with us there was a thick-set, middle-aged +abbé of dignified deportment and attractive exterior. +For appearance’ sake he took up his breviary, but to +avoid dropping asleep put it back soon afterwards in +his pocket and began talking charmingly and intelligently, +with the classical correctness of the language of +Port-Royal and the Sorbonne, and with many quotations +and chaste witticisms.</p> + +<p>Indeed, it is only the French who know how to talk. +The Germans can make declarations of love, confide +their secrets, give lectures, and scold. In England routs +are so much liked just because they make conversation +impossible ... there is a crowd, no room to move, +every one is pushing and being pushed, no one knows +anybody; while if people come together in a small party +they immediately have wretchedly poor music, singing +out of tune, or boring little games, or with extraordinary +heaviness the hosts and guests try to keep the ball of conversation +rolling, with sighs and pauses reminding one of +the luckless horses who almost at their last gasp under +the whip drag a heavy-laden barge against the stream.</p> + +<p>I wanted to taunt the abbé with the republic, but +I did not succeed. He was very glad that liberty had +come without excesses, above all without bloodshed and +fighting, and looked upon Lamartine as a great man, +something in the style of Pericles.</p> + +<p>‘And of Sappho,’ I added, without, however, entering +upon an argument. I was grateful to him for not saying +a word about religion. So talking, we arrived at Avignon +at eleven o’clock at night.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">[17]</span></p> + +<p>‘Allow me,’ I said to the abbé as I filled his glass at +supper, ‘to propose a rather unusual toast: “To the +republic, <i>et pour les hommes d’église qui sont républicains</i>.”’ +The abbé got up, and concluded some Ciceronian +sentences with the words: ‘À la République future +en Russie.’</p> + +<p>‘À la République universelle!’ shouted the conductor +of the diligence and three men who were sitting at the +table. We clinked glasses.</p> + +<p>A Catholic priest, two or three shopmen, the diligence +conductor, and Russians—we might well drink to the +universal republic!</p> + +<p>But it really was very jolly.</p> + +<p>‘Where are you bound for?’ I inquired of the abbé, +as we took our seats in the diligence again, and I asked +his pastoral blessing on a cigar.</p> + +<p>‘For Paris,’ he answered; ‘I have been elected to the +National Assembly. I shall be delighted to see you if +you will call; this is my address.’ He was the Abbé +Sibour, <i>doyen</i> of something or other and brother of the +Archbishop of Paris.⁠<a id="FNanchor_9" href="#Footnote_9" class="fnanchor">[9]</a>⁠</p> + +<p>A fortnight later there came the fifteenth of May, +that sinister <i>ritournelle</i> which was followed by the terrible +days of June. That all belongs not to my biography +but to the biography of mankind....</p> + +<p>I have written a great deal about those days. I might +end here like the old captain in the old song:—</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">‘Ici finit tout noble souvenir,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Ici finit tout noble souvenir.’</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class="noindent">But with those accursed days the last part of my life +begins.</p> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_18">[18]</span></p> + +<h3 class="nobreak" id="Appendix_I">Appendix I<br> +<span class="smaller">(<i>From ‘West European Sketches—Notebook I.’</i>)</span></h3> + +</div> + +<h4>I<br> +<span class="smcap">The Dream</span></h4> + +<p class="dropcap">Do you remember, friends, how lovely was that +winter day, bright and sunny, when six or seven +sledges accompanied us to Tchornaya Gryaz, when for +the last time we clinked glasses and parted, sobbing?</p> + +<p>... Evening was coming on, the sledge crunched +through the snow, you looked mournfully after us and +did not divine that it was a funeral and a parting for +ever. All were there but one, the dearest of all; he +alone was far away, and by his absence seemed to wash +his hands of my departure.</p> + +<p>That was the 21st of January 1847.</p> + +<p>Seven years⁠<a id="FNanchor_10" href="#Footnote_10" class="fnanchor">[10]</a> have passed since then, and what years! +Among them were 1848 and 1852.</p> + +<p>All sorts of things happened in those years, and +everything was shattered—public and personal: the +European revolution and my home, the freedom of the +world and my individual happiness.</p> + +<p>Of the old life not one stone remained standing. At +that time my powers had reached their fullest development; +the previous years had given me pledges for the +future. I left you full of daring and reckless self-reliance, +with haughty confidence in life. I was in +haste to tear myself away from the little group of people +who had been so closely knit together and had come so +close to each other, bound by a deep love and a common +grief. I was lured by distance, space, open conflict, +and free speech. I was seeking an independent arena, +I longed to try my powers in freedom....</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">[19]</span></p> + +<p>Now I expect nothing: after what I have seen and +experienced, nothing will move me to much wonder or +to deep joy; joy and wonder are curbed by memories +of the past and fear of the future. Almost everything +has become a matter of indifference to me, and I +desire as little to die to-morrow as to live long years; +let the end come as accidentally and senselessly as the +beginning.</p> + +<p>And yet I have found all that I sought, even recognition +from this old self-complacent world—and at the +same time I have lost all my faith, all that was precious +to me, have met with betrayal, treacherous blows from +behind, and indeed a moral corruption of which you +in Russia have no conception.</p> + +<p>It is hard for me, very hard, to begin this part of my +story; avoiding it, I have written the preceding parts, +but at last I am brought face to face with it. But away +with weakness: what one could live through, one must +have the strength to remember.</p> + +<p>From the middle of the year 1848 I have nothing to +tell of but agonising experiences, unavenged insults, +undeserved blows. My memory holds nothing but +melancholy images, my own mistakes and other +people’s: mistakes of individuals, mistakes of nations. +When there was hope of salvation, death crossed the +path....</p> + +<p>... The last days of our life in Rome conclude the +happy part of my memories, that begin with the awakening +of thought in childhood and youthful vows on the +Sparrow Hills.</p> + +<p>Alarmed by the Paris of 1847, I had opened my eyes +to the truth for a moment, but was carried away again +by the current of events seething about me. All Italy +was ‘awakening’ before my eyes! I saw the King of +Naples tamed and the Pope humbly asking the alms of +the people’s love—the whirlwind which set everything +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">[20]</span>in movement carried me, too, off my feet; all Europe +took up its bed and walked—in a fit of somnambulism +which we took for awakening. When I came to myself, +all was over; la Sonnambula, terrified by the police, +had fallen from the roof; friends were scattered or were +furiously slaughtering one another.... And I found +myself alone, utterly alone, among the graves and the +cradles—their guardian, defender, avenger, and I could +do nothing just because I tried to do more than the +common.</p> + +<p>And now I sit in London where chance has flung me—and +I stay here because I do not know what to do. +An alien race swarms about me and hurries hither and +thither, wrapped in the heavy breath of ocean; a world +dissolved into chaos, lost in a fog in which all outlines +are blurred, in which light becomes a murky glimmer.</p> + +<p>... And that other land—washed by the deep +blue sea under the canopy of deep blue sky ... it is +the one bright spot left on this side of the grave.</p> + +<p>O Rome, how I love to return to your deceptions, +how gladly I recall day by day the time when I was +intoxicated with you!</p> + +<p>... A dark night. The Corso is filled with people, +here and there are torches. It is a month since a +republic has been proclaimed in Paris. News has come +from Milan—there they are fighting, the people demand +war, there is a rumour that Charles Albert is on the +way with troops. The talk of the angry crowd is like +the intermittent roar of waves which alternately break +with a splash and pause for a breathing space. The +crowds form into ranks. They go to the Piedmont +Ambassador to find out whether war has been declared.</p> + +<p>‘Fall in, fall in with us,’ shout dozens of voices.</p> + +<p>‘We are foreigners.’</p> + +<p>‘All the better; Santo Dio, you are our guests.’</p> + +<p>We joined the ranks.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">[21]</span></p> + +<p>‘The front place for the guests, the front place for +the ladies, <i>le donne forestiere</i>!’</p> + +<p>And with passionate shouts of approval the crowd +parted to make way. Ciceruacchio and with him a +young Roman poet, the author of the people’s songs, +pushed their way forward with a flag, the tribune shook +hands with the ladies and with them stood at the head +of ten or twelve thousand people—and all moved +forward in that majestic and harmonious order which +is peculiar to the Roman people.</p> + +<p>The leaders went into the Palazzo, and a few minutes +later the drawing-room doors opened on the balcony. +The ambassador came out to appease the people and to +confirm the news of war; his words were received with +frantic joy. Ciceruacchio was on the balcony in the +glaring light of torches and candelabra, and beside him +under the Italian flag stood four young women, all +four Russians—was it not strange? I can see them +now on that stone platform, and below them the swaying +multitude, mingling with shouts for war and curses for +the Jesuits, ‘<i>Evviva le donne forestiere!</i>’</p> + +<p>In England, they and we should have been greeted +with hisses, abuse, and perhaps stones. In France, we +should have been taken for <i>agents provocateurs</i>. But here +the aristocratic proletariat, the descendants of Marius +and the ancient tribunes, gave us a warm and genuine +welcome. We were received by them into the European +struggle ... and with Italy alone the bond of love, +or at least of warm memory, is still unbroken.</p> + +<p>And was all that ... intoxication, delirium? +Perhaps—but I do not envy those who were not carried +away by that beautiful dream. The sleep could not +last long in any case: the ruthless Macbeth of real life +had already raised his hand to murder sleep and....</p> + +<p><i>My dream was past—it has no further change.</i>⁠<a id="FNanchor_11" href="#Footnote_11" class="fnanchor">[11]</a>⁠</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">[22]</span></p> + +<h4>II<br> +<span class="smcap">In the Storm</span></h4> + +<p>On the evening of the 24th of June, coming back +from the Place Maubert, I went into the Quai d’Orsay. +A few minutes later I heard a discordant shouting, +and the sound came nearer and nearer. I went to the +window: a grotesque comic <i>banlieu</i> marched in from +the suburbs to the support of order; clumsy, rascally +fellows, half peasants, half shopkeepers, a little bit drunk, +in wretched uniforms and old-fashioned casques, they +moved rapidly but in disorder, with shouts of ‘<i>Vive +Louis-Napoléon!</i>’</p> + +<p>It was the first time I heard that ill-omened shout. +I could not restrain myself, and when they reached the +café I shouted at the top of my voice: ‘<i>Vive la République!</i>’ +Those standing near the windows shook their +fists at me, an officer muttered some word of abuse, +brandishing his sword; and for a long time afterwards +I could hear the shouts of welcome to the man who had +come to strangle half the revolution, to destroy half the +republic, to inflict himself upon France, as a punishment +for forgetting in her hysteria both other nations and her +own proletariat.</p> + +<p>At eight o’clock in the morning of the 26th of June, +Annenkov and I went out to the Champs-Élysées. The +cannonade we had heard in the night had ceased; only +from time to time there was an interchange of shots and +the beating of drums. The streets were empty, but +the National Guards stood on each side of them. On +the Place de la Concorde there was a detachment of +the <i>Garde mobile</i>; near them some poor women with +brooms, some ragpickers and <i>concierges</i> from the houses +near, were standing. The faces of all were gloomy +and horror-stricken. A lad of seventeen leaning on +his gun was telling them something; we joined them. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">[23]</span>He and all his comrades, boys like himself, were half +drunk, their faces blackened with gunpowder and their +eyes bloodshot from sleepless nights and drink; many +were dozing with their chins resting on the muzzle of +their gun.... ‘And what happened then there’s no +need to describe.’ After a pause he went on: ‘Yes, +and they fought well, too, but we paid them out for our +comrades! What lots of them fell! I stuck my bayonet +up to the hilt in five or six of them; they’ll remember +us,’ he added, trying to assume the air of a hardened +criminal. The women were pale and silent; a man +who looked like a <i>concierge</i> observed: ‘Serve them +right, the blackguards!’ ... but this savage comment +evoked not the slightest response. They were all of +too ignorant a class to be moved to pity by the massacre +and by the wretched boy whom others had turned into +a murderer.</p> + +<p>Silent and mournful, we went on to the Madeleine. +Here we were stopped by the National Guards. At first, +after searching our pockets, they asked where we were +going, and let us through; but the next cordon beyond +the Madeleine refused to let us through and sent us back; +when we went back to the first cordon, we were stopped +again. ‘But you saw us pass here just now!’ ‘Don’t let +them pass,’ shouted an officer. ‘Are you laughing at us, +or what?’ I asked. ‘It’s no use your talking to me,’ +answered the shopman in uniform rudely. ‘Take them +to the police: I know one of them’ (he pointed to me); +‘I have seen him more than once at meetings. I dare say +the other is the same sort too; they are neither of them +Frenchmen, I’ll answer for it—march.’ Two soldiers +in front, two behind, and one on each side escorted us. +The first man we met was a <i>représentant du peuple</i> with +the silly badge in his button-hole; it was De Tocqueville, +the writer on America. I appealed to him and told +him what had happened: it was not a joking matter; +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">[24]</span>they kept people in prison without any sort of trial, +threw them into the cellars of the Tuileries, and shot +them. De Tocqueville did not even ask who we were; +he very politely bowed himself off, delivering himself +of the following banality: ‘The legislative authority +has no right to interfere with the executive.’ He might +well be a minister under Napoleon <span class="allsmcap">III.</span>!</p> + +<p>The ‘executive authority’ led us down the boulevard +to the Chaussée d’Antin to the <i>commissaire de police</i>. +By the way, it may not be out of place to observe that +neither when we were arrested, nor when we were +searched, nor when we were on our way, did I see a +single policeman; all was done by the bourgeois soldiers. +The boulevard was completely empty, all the shops were +closed; the inmates rushed to their doors and windows +when they heard our footsteps, and kept asking who we +were: ‘<i>Des émeutiers étrangers</i>,’ answered our escort, +and the worthy bourgeois looked at us and gnashed +their teeth.</p> + +<p>From the police-station we were sent to the Hôtel +des Capucines; the Ministry of Foreign Affairs has its +quarters there now, but at that time there was some +temporary police committee there. We went with our +escort into a large study. A bald old gentleman in +spectacles, dressed entirely in black, was sitting alone at +a table; he asked us over again all the questions that +the commissaire had asked us. ‘Where are your +passports?’ ‘We never carry them with us when we +go for a walk.’ He took up some manuscript book +and spent a long time looking in it, apparently found +nothing, and asked one of our convoy: ‘Why did you +arrest them?’ ‘The officer gave the order; he says +that they are very suspicious characters.’ ‘Very well,’ +said the old man; ‘I will inquire into the case; you +can go.’</p> + +<p>When the escort had gone, the old man asked us to +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_25">[25]</span>explain the cause of our arrest. I put the facts before +him, adding that the officer might perhaps have seen me +on the fifteenth of May near the Assembly; and then +described the incident of the previous day. I had been +sitting in the Café Comartine when suddenly there was +a false alarm, a squadron of dragoons rushed by at full +speed, the National Guard began to form ranks. Together +with some five people who happened to be in the café, +I went up to the window; a National Guard standing +below shouted rudely, ‘Did you hear that the windows +were to be shut?’ His tone justified me in supposing +that he was not addressing me, and I did not take the +slightest notice of his words; besides, I was not alone, +though I happened to be standing in front. Then the +defender of order raised his gun, and, as all this took +place in the <i>rez-de-chaussée</i>, tried to thrust at me with +his bayonet, but, seeing his movement, I stepped back +and said to the others: ‘Gentlemen, you are witnesses +that I have done nothing—is it the habit of the National +Guard to stick foreigners!’ ‘<i>Mais c’est indigne, mais +cela n’a pas de nom!</i>’ my neighbours chimed in. The +panic-stricken café-keeper rushed to shut the windows; +a vile-looking sergeant commanded him to turn every +one out of the café—I fancied he was the same man who +had ordered us to be detained. Moreover, the Café +Comartine was but a few steps from the Madeleine.</p> + +<p>‘So that’s how it is, gentlemen: you see what imprudence +leads to. Why walk out at such a time?—minds +are exasperated, blood is flowing....’</p> + +<p>At that moment a National Guard brought in a maidservant, +saying that an officer had caught her in the +very act of trying to post a letter addressed to Berlin. +The old man took the envelope and told the soldier +he could go.</p> + +<p>‘You can go home,’ he said to us; ‘only, please do not +go by the same streets as before, and especially not by +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_26">[26]</span>the cordon which arrested you. But stay, I will send +some one to escort you; he’ll take you to the Champs-Élysées—you +can get through that way.’</p> + +<p>‘And you,’ he said, addressing the servant, giving her +back the letter, which he had not touched, ‘post it in +some letter-box further away.’</p> + +<p>And so the police protected us from the armed +bourgeois!</p> + +<p>On the night between the 26th and the 27th of June, +so Pierre Leroux relates, he went to Sénart to beg him +to do something for the prisoners who were being +suffocated in the cellars of the Tuileries. Sénart, a man +well known as a desperate conservative, said to Pierre +Leroux: ‘And <i>who</i> will answer for their lives on the +way? The National Guard will kill them. If you +had come an hour earlier you would have found two +colonels here: I had the greatest difficulty in bringing +them to reason, and ended by telling them that +if these horrors went on I should give up the president’s +chair in the Assembly and take my place in the +barricades.’</p> + +<p>Two hours later, on returning home, the <i>concierge</i> +made his appearance accompanied by a stranger in a +dress coat and four men disguised as workmen, though +they had the moustaches of <i>municipales</i> and the deportment +of gendarmes. The stranger unbuttoned his +coat and waistcoat and, pointing with dignity to the +tricoloured scarf, said that he was the commissaire of +police, Barlet (the man who on the 2nd of December, +in the National Assembly, took by the collar the man +who had himself taken Rome—General Oudinot), and +that he had orders to search me. I gave him my key, +and he set to work exactly as Police-master Miller did +in 1834.</p> + +<p>My wife came in: the commissaire, like the officer of +gendarmes who once came to us from Dubbelt, began +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_27">[27]</span>apologising. My wife looked calmly and directly at +him, and when at the end of his speech he begged her +indulgence, said: ‘It would be cruelty on my part not +to enter into your position; you are sufficiently punished +by being forced to do what you are doing.’</p> + +<p>The commissaire blushed, but did not say a word. +Rummaging among the papers and laying aside a whole +heap of them, he suddenly went up to the fireplace, +sniffed, touched the ashes, and, turning to me with an +important air, asked: ‘What was your object in burning +your papers?’</p> + +<p>‘I haven’t been burning papers.’</p> + +<p>‘Upon my word, the ash is still warm.’</p> + +<p>‘No, it is not warm.’</p> + +<p>‘<i>Monsieur, vous parlez à un magistrat!</i>’</p> + +<p>‘The ash is cold, all the same, though,’ I said, flaring +up and raising my voice.</p> + +<p>‘Why, am I lying?’</p> + +<p>‘What right have you to doubt my word? ... here +are some honest workmen with you, let them try it. +Besides, even if I had burnt papers: in the first place, +I have a right to burn them; and in the second, what are +you going to do?’</p> + +<p>‘Have you no other papers?’</p> + +<p>‘No.’</p> + +<p>‘I have a few letters besides, and very interesting ones; +come into my room,’ said my wife.</p> + +<p>‘Oh, your letters....’</p> + +<p>‘Please don’t stand on ceremony ... why, you +are only doing your duty; come along.’ The commissaire +went in, glanced very slightly at the letters, which +were for the most part from Italy, and was about to +go....</p> + +<p>‘But you haven’t seen what is below—a letter from +the Conciergerie, from a convict, you see; don’t you want +to take it with you?’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_28">[28]</span></p> + +<p>‘Really, Madame,’ answered the policeman of the +republic, ‘you are so prejudiced; I don’t want that +letter at all.’</p> + +<p>‘What do you intend to do with the Russian papers?’ +I asked.</p> + +<p>‘They will be translated.’</p> + +<p>‘The point is, where you will take your translator +from. If he is from the Russian Embassy, it will be as +good as betraying people to the Russian Government; +you will ruin five or six people. You will greatly oblige +me if you will mention at the <i>procès-verbal</i> that I beg +most urgently that a Polish <i>émigré</i> should be chosen as +a translator.’</p> + +<p>‘I believe that can be done.’</p> + +<p>‘I thank you; and I have another favour to ask of +you: do you know Italian at all?’</p> + +<p>‘A little.’</p> + +<p>‘I will show you two letters; in them the word France is +not mentioned. The man who wrote them is in the hands +of the Sardinian police; you will see by the letters that +it will go badly with him if they get into the hands of +the police.’</p> + +<p>‘<i>Mais, ah ça!</i>’ observed the commissaire, his dignity +as a man beginning to be aroused; ‘you seem to imagine +that we are connected with the police of all the despotic +powers. We have nothing to do with other countries. +We are unwillingly compelled to take measures at home +when blood is flowing in the streets and when foreigners +interfere in our affairs.’</p> + +<p>‘Very well, then, you can have that letter.’</p> + +<p>The commissaire had not lied; he certainly did +know <i>very little</i> Italian, and so, after turning the letters +over, he put them in his pocket, promising to return +them.</p> + +<p>With that his visit ended. The Italian letters he +gave back next day, but my papers vanished completely. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_29">[29]</span>A month passed; I wrote a letter to Cavaignac,⁠<a id="FNanchor_12" href="#Footnote_12" class="fnanchor">[12]</a> inquiring +why the police did not return my papers nor say what +they had found in them—a matter of very little consequence +to them, perhaps, but of the greatest importance +for my honour.</p> + +<p>What gave rise to this last phrase was as follows. +Several persons of my acquaintance had intervened on +my behalf, considering the visit of the commissaire and +the retention of my papers outrageous. ‘We wanted +to make certain,’ Lamoricière⁠<a id="FNanchor_13" href="#Footnote_13" class="fnanchor">[13]</a> told them, ‘that he was +not <i>an agent of the Russian Government</i>.’ This was the +first time I heard of this abominable suspicion; it was +something quite new for me. My life had been as open, +as public, as though it were lived in a glass hive, and +now all at once this terrible accusation, and from whom?—from +a republican government!</p> + +<p>A week later I was summoned to the prefecture. +Barlet was with me. We were received in Ducou’s room +by a young official very like some Petersburg head-clerk +of the free-and-easy type. ‘General Cavaignac,’ +he told me, ‘has charged me to return your papers +without examination. The information collected concerning +you renders it quite superfluous; no suspicion +rests upon you; here is your portfolio. Will you please +first sign this?’</p> + +<p>It was a receipt stating that all the papers had been +returned to me complete.</p> + +<p>I stopped and asked whether it would not be more +in order for me to look through the papers first.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_30">[30]</span></p> + +<p>‘They have not been touched. Here is the seal, +indeed.’</p> + +<p>‘The seal has not been broken,’ observed Barlet +soothingly.</p> + +<p>‘My seal is not here. Indeed, it was not put on them.’</p> + +<p>‘It is my seal, but you know you had the key.’</p> + +<p>Not wishing to reply with rudeness, I smiled. This +enraged them both: the head-clerk became the head of +a department; he snatched up a penknife and, cutting +the seal, said in a rather rude tone: ‘Pray look, if you +don’t believe, but I have no time to waste,’ and walked +out with a dignified bow. Their resentment convinced +me that they really had not looked at the papers, and so, +after a cursory glance at them, I signed the receipt and +went home.</p> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_31">[31]</span></p> + +<h3 class="nobreak" id="Chapter_36">Chapter 36<br> +<span class="smcap">La Tribune des Peuples—Mickiewicz and Ramon de la +Sagra—The Chorus of the Revolution of June 13, +1848—Cholera in Paris—Departure</span></h3> + +</div> + +<p class="dropcap">I left Paris in the autumn of 1847, without having +formed any ties there; I remained completely outside +the literary and political circles. There were many +reasons for that. No direct occasion of contact with +them occurred, and I did not care to seek it. To visit +them simply in order to stare at celebrities, I thought +unseemly. Moreover, I particularly disliked the tone +of condescending superiority which Frenchmen assume +with Russians: they approve of us, encourage us, commend +our pronunciation and our wealth; we put up +with it all, and behave as though we were asking them +a favour, or even apologising for ourselves, delighted +when, from politeness, they affect to take us for Frenchmen. +The French overwhelm us with a flood of words, +we cannot keep pace with them; we think of an answer, +but they do not care to hear it; we are ashamed to show +that we notice their blunders and their ignorance—they +take advantage of all that with hopeless self-complacency.</p> + +<p>To get on to a different footing with them, one would +have to impress them with one’s consequence; to do +so, one must possess all sorts of privileges, which I had +not at that time, and of which I took advantage at once +when they were at my disposal.</p> + +<p>Moreover, it must be remembered that there are no +people in the world with whom it is easier to strike up +a nodding acquaintance than the French—and no people +with whom it is more difficult to get on to really intimate +terms. A Frenchman likes to live in company, so as to +display himself, to have an audience, and in that respect +he is as much a contrast to the Englishman as in everything +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_32">[32]</span>else. An Englishman is always looking at people +because he is bored; he looks at men as though from +a stall in a theatre; he makes use of people as an entertainment, +or as a means of obtaining information. The +Englishman is always asking questions, the Frenchman +is always giving answers. The Englishman is always +wondering, always thinking things over; the Frenchman +knows everything for certain, he is finished and complete, +he will go no further: he is fond of preaching, talking, +holding forth—about what, to whom, he does not care. +He feels no need for personal intimacy, the café satisfies +him completely. Like Repetilov in <i>Woe from Wit</i>, he +does not notice that Tchatsky is gone and Skalozub is +in his place, that Skalozub is gone and Zagoretsky is +in his place—and goes on holding forth about the +Chamber, about the jury, about Byron (this he pronounces +as though it were a French name), and other +important matters.</p> + +<p>Coming from Italy, with the enthusiasm of the +February revolution still fresh in my heart, I stumbled +on the 15th of May, then passed through the agony of +the June days and the state of siege. It was then that +I obtained a deeper insight into the <i>tigre-singe</i> of Voltaire—and +I lost even the desire to become acquainted with +the mighty ones of this republic.</p> + +<p>On one occasion a possibility arose of common work +which would have brought me into contact with many +persons, but that did not come off. Count Xaveri +Branicki gave seven million francs for a magazine to +deal with foreign politics and other nations, and especially +with the Polish question. The usefulness and appropriateness +of such a magazine were obvious. French +papers show little interest or knowledge in dealing with +what is happening outside France; during the republic, +they thought it sufficient to encourage from time to time +all the nations of the world with the phrase <i>solidarité +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_33">[33]</span>des peuples</i>, and the promise that as soon as they had time +to turn round at home they would found a world-wide +republic resting upon universal brotherhood. With +the means at the disposal of the new magazine, which +was to be called <i>La Tribune des Peuples</i>, it might have +been made the <i>Moniteur</i> of the international movement +and progress. Its success was the more certain as there +was no other international periodical; there are sometimes +excellent articles in <i>The Times</i> and the <i>Journal +des Débats</i> on special subjects, but they are occasional +and disconnected. The <i>Augsburg Gazette</i> would be the +most international organ if its <i>black-and-yellow</i> proclivities +were not so glaringly conspicuous.</p> + +<p>But it seems that all the excellent projects of the year +1848 were doomed to be prematurely born and to perish +before cutting their first tooth. The magazine turned +out poor and feeble—and died at the slaughter of the +innocents after the 14th of June 1849.</p> + +<p>When everything was ready and on the point of +beginning, a house was taken and fitted up with big +tables covered with cloth and little sloping desks; a lean +French <i>littérateur</i> was engaged to watch over the international +mistakes in spelling; to edit it, a committee +was nominated from former Polish nuncios and senators, +and at the head of this Mickiewicz was appointed, with +Hoetsky as his assistant;—all that was left to arrange +was a triumphal opening ceremony, and what date +could be more suitable for that than the anniversary of +February the 24th, and what form could it more suitably +take than that of a supper?</p> + +<p>The supper was to take place at Hoetsky’s. When +I arrived I found many of the guests already there, and +among them scarcely a single Frenchman; on the other +hand, other nationalities, from the Sicilians to the Croats, +were fully represented. I was really interested in one +person only—Adam Mickiewicz; I had never seen +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_34">[34]</span>him before. He was standing by the fireplace with +his elbow on the mantelpiece. Any one who had seen +his portrait in the French edition of his works, taken, +I believe, from the medallion executed by David d’Angers,⁠<a id="FNanchor_14" href="#Footnote_14" class="fnanchor">[14]</a> +could recognise him at once in spite of the great change +wrought by the years. Many thoughts and sufferings +had left their trace on his face, which was rather Lithuanian +than Polish. The whole impression made by +his figure, his head, his luxuriant grey hair and weary +eyes, was suggestive of past suffering, of acquaintance +with spiritual pain, and of the exaltation of sorrow—he +was the plastic embodiment of the destiny of Poland. +The same impression was made on me later by the face +of Worcell, though the features of the latter, in spite +of being even more expressive of suffering, were more +animated and gracious than those of Mickiewicz. It +seemed as though Mickiewicz were held back, preoccupied, +distracted by something: that something was +the strange mysticism into which he retreated further +and further away.</p> + +<p>I went up to him. He began questioning me about +Russia: his information was fragmentary; he knew little +of the literary movement after Pushkin, having stopped +short at the time when he left Russia. In spite of his +leading idea of a fraternal league of all the Slavonic +peoples—a conception he was one of the first to develop—he +retained some hostility to Russia. And, indeed, +it could hardly be otherwise after all the atrocities +perpetrated by the Tsar and his satraps; besides, we +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_35">[35]</span>were speaking at a time when the terrorism of Nicholas +was worse than ever before.</p> + +<p>The first thing that surprised me disagreeably was the +attitude to him of the Poles, his followers: they approached +him as monks approach an abbot, with self-abasement +and reverent awe; some of them kissed him +on the shoulder. I suppose he was accustomed to these +expressions of servile devotion, for he accepted them +with the greatest <i>laisser aller</i>. To be recognised by +people of the same way of thinking, to have influence +on them, to see their affection, is desired by every one +who is devoted, body and soul, to his cause and lives in +it; but external signs of sympathy and respect I should not +like to receive—they destroy equality and consequently +freedom. Moreover, in that respect we can never compete +with bishops, heads of departments, and colonels of +regiments.</p> + +<p>Hoetsky told me that at the supper he was going to +propose a toast ‘to the memory of the 24th of February +1848,’ that Mickiewicz would respond with a speech +in which he would expound his views and the spirit +of the new magazine; he wished me as a Russian to +reply to Mickiewicz. Not being accustomed to public +speaking, especially without preparation, I declined his +invitation, but promised to propose the health of Mickiewicz +and to say a few words describing how I had drunk +his health before in Moscow at a public dinner given +to Granovsky in the year 1843. Homyakov had raised +his glass with the words, ‘To the great Slavonic poet +who is absent!’ The name (which we dared not +pronounce) was not needed; every one got up, every one +raised his glass and, standing in silence, drank to the +health of the exile. Hoetsky was satisfied. Having +thus arranged our <i>extempore</i> speeches, we sat down to +the table. At the end of the supper, Hoetsky proposed +his toast. Mickiewicz got up and began speaking. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_36">[36]</span>His speech was elaborate, clever, and extremely adroit—that +is to say, Barbès⁠<a id="FNanchor_15" href="#Footnote_15" class="fnanchor">[15]</a> and Louis-Napoleon could both +have applauded it with perfect sincerity; it made me +wince. As he developed his thought I began to feel +uneasy and oppressed, and, that not the slightest doubt +might be left, waited for one word, one <i>name</i>—it was +not slow to appear!</p> + +<p>Mickiewicz worked up to the theme that democracy +was now entering upon a new open campaign, at the +head of which stood France; that it would <i>again</i> hasten +to the liberation of all oppressed nationalities under the +same eagles, under the same standards, at the sight of +which all principalities and powers had trembled; and +that it would be led by a member of that dynasty which +has been crowned by the people, and, as it seemed, +ordained by Providence itself to guide revolution by the +well-ordered path of authority and victory.</p> + +<p>When he had finished, except for two or three exclamations +of his adherents, a general silence followed. +Hoetsky was very well aware of Mickiewicz’s blunder, +and, wishing to efface the impression of it as quickly as +possible, came up with a bottle and, as he filled my +glass, whispered to me, ‘Well?’ ‘I am not going +to say a word after that speech.’ ‘Please do say something.’ +‘Nothing will induce me.’</p> + +<p>The silence continued; some people kept their eyes +fixed on their plates, others scrutinised their glasses, others +fell into private conversation with their neighbours. +Mickiewicz’s face changed colour, he wanted to say +something more, but a loud ‘<i>Je demande la parole</i>’ +put an end to the painful position. Every one turned +to the man who had risen to his feet. A rather short +man of seventy, with a fine vigorous face, stood with a +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_37">[37]</span>glass in his trembling hand; anger and indignation +were apparent in his large black eyes and his excited +face. It was Ramon de la Sagra.⁠<a id="FNanchor_16" href="#Footnote_16" class="fnanchor">[16]</a> ‘To the 24th of +February,’ he said: ‘that was the toast proposed by our +host. Yes, to the 24th of February, and to the downfall +of every despotism, whether of king or emperor, of a +Bourbon or a Bonaparte. I cannot share the views of +our friend Mickiewicz—he looks at things like a poet, +and is right from his own point of view; but I don’t +want his words to pass without protest in such a +gathering’; and so he went on and on, with all the fire +of a Spaniard and the authority of an old man.</p> + +<p>When he had finished, twenty glasses, among them +mine, were held out to clink with his.</p> + +<p>Mickiewicz tried to retrieve his position, said a few +words of explanation, but they were unsuccessful. De +la Sagra did not give way. Every one got up from the +table, and Mickiewicz went away.</p> + +<p>There could scarcely have been a worse omen for the +new journal; it succeeded in existing after a fashion till +the 13th of June, and its disappearance was as little noticed +as its existence. There could be no unity in the editing +of it. Mickiewicz had rolled up half of his imperial +banner <i>usé par la gloire</i>. The others did not dare to +unfurl theirs; hampered both by him and by the committee, +many of the contributors abandoned the journal +at the end of the month; I never sent them a single line. +If the police of Napoleon had been more intelligent, +the <i>Tribune des Peuples</i> would never have been prohibited +on account of a few lines referring to the 13th +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_38">[38]</span>of June. With Mickiewicz’s name and devotion to +Napoleon, with its revolutionary mysticism and dream +of the democracy in arms, with the Bonapartes at its +head, the journal might have been a veritable treasure +for the President, a clean organ of an unclean cause.</p> + +<p>Catholicism, so alien to the Slavonic genius, has a +shattering effect upon it. When the Bohemians no longer +had the strength to resist Catholicism, they were +crushed; in the Poles, Catholicism has developed that +mystical exaltation which keeps them perpetually in +the world of dreams. If they are not under the direct +influence of the Jesuits, they either create some idol for +themselves, or give themselves up to the influence of +some visionary instead of working for freedom. Messianism, +that mania of Wronski’s, that delirium of Tovjanski’s, +had turned the brains of hundreds of Poles, +among them of Mickiewicz himself. The worship +of Napoleon takes a foremost place in this insanity. +Napoleon had done nothing for them; he had no love +for Poland, but he liked the Poles who shed their blood +for him with the poetic titanic courage displayed in +their famous cavalry attack of Sommo Sierra.⁠<a id="FNanchor_17" href="#Footnote_17" class="fnanchor">[17]</a> In 1812 +Napoleon said to Narbonne: ‘I want a camp in Poland, +not a forum. I will not permit either Warsaw or Moscow +to open a club for demagogues’—and of him the Poles +made a military incarnation of God, setting him on a +level with Vishnu and Christ.</p> + +<p>Late one winter evening in 1848, I was walking with +one of the Polish followers of Mickiewicz along the +Place de la Vendôme. When we reached the column +the Pole took off his cap. ‘Good heavens!...’ I +thought, hardly daring to believe in such idiocy, and +meekly asked what was his reason for taking off his +cap. The Pole pointed to the bronze figure of the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_39">[39]</span>emperor. How can we expect men to refrain from +domineering or oppressing others when it wins so much +devotion!</p> + +<p>Mickiewicz’s private life was gloomy; there was +something unfortunate about it, something dark, some +‘visitation of God.’ His wife was for a long time out +of her mind. Tovjanski recited incantations over her, +and is said to have done her good; this made a great +impression on Mickiewicz, but traces of her illness +remained ... things went badly with them. The +last years of the great poet, who outlived himself, were +spent in gloom. He died in Turkey while taking part +in an absurd attempt to organise a Cossack legion, which +the Turkish Government would not permit to be called +Polish. Before his death he wrote a Latin ode to the +honour and glory of Louis-Napoleon.</p> + +<p>After this unsuccessful attempt at journalism I +withdrew even more completely into a small circle of +friends, enlarged by the arrival of new exiles. At first +I had sometimes visited a club, and taken part in three +or four banquets, <i>i.e.</i> had eaten cold mutton and drunk +sour wine, while I listened to Pierre Leroux or Father +Cabet and joined in the Marseillaise. Now I was sick +of that, too. With deep pain I watched and recorded +the success of the forces of dissolution and the decadence +of the republic, of France, of Europe. From Russia +came no gleam of light in the distance, no good news, +no friendly greeting: my people had given up writing to +me; personal, intimate, family relations were suspended. +Russia lay speechless, bruised as though dead, like an +unhappy peasant-woman at the feet of her master, +beaten by his heavy fists. She was then entering upon +that terrible five years from which she is emerging now +to follow the coffin of Nicholas.⁠<a id="FNanchor_18" href="#Footnote_18" class="fnanchor">[18]</a>⁠</p> + +<p>Those five years were for me, too, the most unhappy +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_40">[40]</span>period of my life; I have no longer such treasures to +lose, such convictions to be shattered....</p> + +<p>... The cholera raged in Paris; the heavy air, the +sunless heat, made one depressed; the sight of the +luckless, terrified people, and rows of funeral hearses +which raced each other as they drew near the cemeteries—all +this was in harmony with the political events.</p> + +<p>The victims of the epidemic fell near at hand, at one’s +side. My mother went to St. Cloud with a friend, a +lady of five-and-twenty. As they were coming back in +the evening, the lady felt rather unwell; my mother +persuaded her to stay the night. At seven o’clock the +next morning they came to tell me that she had cholera. +I went in to see her, and was aghast. Not one feature +was unchanged; she was still handsome; but all the +muscles of her face were drawn and contracted, dark +shadows lay under her eyes. With some difficulty I +succeeded in finding Rayer⁠<a id="FNanchor_19" href="#Footnote_19" class="fnanchor">[19]</a> at the Institute, and brought +him home with me. After glancing at the sick woman, +Rayer whispered to me: ‘You can see for yourself all +there is to be done here.’ He wrote a prescription and +went away.</p> + +<p>The sick woman called me and asked: ‘What did +the doctor say? He did tell you something, didn’t +he?’ ‘He sent for some medicine.’ She took my hand, +and her hand amazed me even more than her face: it +had grown thin and angular as though she had been +seriously ill for a month: and fixing her eyes upon me +full of suffering and horror, she said: ‘Tell me, for +God’s sake, what he said ... is it that I am dying?... +You are not afraid of me, are you?’ she added. +I felt fearfully sorry for her at that moment; that +terrible consciousness not only of death, but of the infectiousness +of the disease that was rapidly sapping her +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_41">[41]</span>life, must have been intensely painful. Towards the +morning she died.</p> + +<p>Ivan Turgenev was about to leave Paris, the lease of +his flat was up; he came to us for a night. After dinner +he complained of the heat; I told him that I had had a +bathe in the morning; in the evening he too went for +a bathe. When he came back he felt unwell, drank +some soda-water with a little wine and sugar in it, and +went to bed. In the night he woke me. ‘I am a lost +man,’ he said; ‘it’s cholera.’ He really was suffering +from sickness and spasms; happily, he escaped with +ten days’ illness.</p> + +<p>After burying her friend, my mother went away to +the Ville d’Avray. When Turgenev was taken ill, I +sent Natalie and the children to her and remained alone +with him, and when he was a great deal better I moved +there too.</p> + +<p>On the morning of June the 12th, Sazonov came to +see me there. He was in a very enthusiastic mood: +talked of the popular outbreak that was impending, of +the certainty of its being successful, of the glory awaiting +those who took part in it, and pressed me urgently to +join in reaping the laurels. I told him that he knew +my opinion of the present position—that it seemed to +me stupid, without believing in it, to co-operate with +people with whom one had hardly anything in common.</p> + +<p>To this the enthusiastic agitator replied that it was +of course more safe and peaceful to stay at home and +write sceptical articles while others were in the market-place +championing the liberty of the world, the solidarity +of peoples, and many other good things.</p> + +<p>A very despicable feeling, but one which has led and +will lead many men into making great mistakes—even +committing crimes—impelled me to say: ‘What makes +you imagine I am not going?’</p> + +<p>‘I concluded that from what you have just said.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_42">[42]</span></p> + +<p>‘No; I said it was stupid, but I did not say that I never +do anything stupid.’</p> + +<p>‘That is just what I wanted! That’s what I like +in you! Well, it’s no use losing time; let us go to +Paris. This evening the Germans and other refugees are +assembling at nine o’clock; let us go first to them.’</p> + +<p>‘Where are they meeting?’ I asked him in the +train.</p> + +<p>‘In the Café Lamblin, in the Palais Royal.’</p> + +<p>This was my first surprise.</p> + +<p>‘In the Café Lamblin?’</p> + +<p>‘The “reds” usually meet there.’</p> + +<p>‘For that very reason I should have thought that they +ought to meet somewhere else.’</p> + +<p>‘But they are all used to going there.’</p> + +<p>‘I suppose the beer is very good!’</p> + +<p>Various <i>habitués</i> of the revolution were sitting with +dignity at a dozen little tables, gloomily and significantly +looking about them from under wide-brimmed felt +hats and short-peaked caps. These were the perpetual +suitors of the revolutionary Penelope, the invariable +actors who take part in every popular demonstration +and form its <i>tableau</i>, its background, and who are as +terrifying in the distance as the paper dragons with +which the Chinese tried to scare the English.</p> + +<p>In the troubled times of social storms and reconstructions +in which states move out of their common routine +for a long period, a new kind of people spring up who +may be called the chorus of the revolution; grown +on shifting and volcanic soil, nurtured in an atmosphere +of anxiety when every sort of work is suspended, they +grow inured from their earliest years to the conditions +of political ferment, and like the theatrical setting of it, +its impressive and brilliant <i>mise en scène</i>. Just as to +Nicholas drill was the most important part of the military +art, to them the everlasting banquets, demonstrations, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_43">[43]</span>protests, collections, toasts, banners, are the most important +part of the revolution.</p> + +<p>Among them there are good, valiant people, sincerely +devoted and ready to face a bullet; but for the most +part they are very unintelligent and extremely pedantic. +Immovable conservatives in everything connected with +revolution, they stop short at some programme and +never advance beyond it.</p> + +<p>Discussing all their lives a small number of political +ideas, they only know their rhetorical side, so to speak, +their ceremonial trappings, <i>i.e.</i> the commonplaces which +are invariably brought on the scene <i>à tour de rôle</i>, like the +ducks in a well-known children’s toy—in newspaper +articles, in speeches, at banquets and in parliamentary +sallies.</p> + +<p>In addition to the naïve people and the revolutionary +doctrinaires, unappreciated artists, unsuccessful literary +men, students who finished their studies without taking +their degree, briefless barristers, actors with no talents, +persons of great vanity but of little capacity, with vast +pretensions but no perseverance or power of work, are +all naturally drawn into this circle. The external +authority which guides the human herd in ordinary +times is weakened in times of revolution; people, left +to themselves, do not know what to do. The younger +generation is impressed with the apparent ease with which +men attain celebrity in times of revolution, and rushes +into futile agitation; this accustoms the young to violent +excitements and destroys the habit of work. Life in +the clubs and cafés is attractive, full of movement, flattering +to vanity and free from restraint. There is no fear +of being late, there is no need to work: what is not +done to-day may be done to-morrow, or may not be +done at all.</p> + +<p>The chorus of the revolution, like the chorus of a Greek +play, is divided into two halves; the botanical classification +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_44">[44]</span>may be applied to them: some of them may be +called cryptogamous and others phanerogamous. Some +become eternal conspirators, are continually changing +their lodgings and the shape of their beards. They +mysteriously invite one to some extraordinarily important +interview, if possible at night, or in some inconvenient +place. Meeting their friends in public, they do not +like saluting them with a bow, but greet them with a +significant glance. Many of them keep their address +a secret, never tell one what day they are going away, +never say where they are going, write in cypher or invisible +ink news which is printed openly in the newspapers.</p> + +<p>In the days of Louis-Philippe, so I was told by a +Frenchman, E., who had been mixed up in some political +affair, was in hiding in Paris. With all its attractions +such a life becomes <i>à la longue</i> wearisome and +tedious. Delessert,⁠<a id="FNanchor_20" href="#Footnote_20" class="fnanchor">[20]</a> a <i>bon vivant</i> and a rich man, was at +that time prefect; he served in the police not from +necessity but for the love of it, and liked at times a festive +dinner. He and E. had many friends in common. +One day ‘between the peas and the cheese,’ as the +French say, one of them said to him: ‘What a pity it +is that you persecute poor E.! We are deprived +of a capital talker, and he is obliged to hide like a +criminal.’</p> + +<p>‘Upon my soul,’ said Delessert, ‘his case is completely +forgotten! Why is he in hiding?’</p> + +<p>His friends smiled ironically.</p> + +<p>‘I will try to convince him that it is all nonsense—and +you, too.’</p> + +<p>On reaching home he called one of his chief spies +and asked him, ‘Is E. in Paris?’ ‘Yes,’ answered the +spy. ‘Is he in hiding?’ asked Delessert. ‘Yes,’ +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_45">[45]</span>answered the spy. ‘Where?’ asked Delessert. The +spy took out his notebook, looked in it, and read E.’s +address. ‘Well, then, go to him to-morrow early in +the morning and tell him that he need not be anxious, +that we are not looking for him, and he can live in peace +at his flat.’</p> + +<p>The spy carried out his task exactly, and two hours +after his visit E. mysteriously informed his friends that +he was leaving Paris and would be in hiding in a remote +town, because the prefect had found out the place where +he was concealed!</p> + +<p>Just as the conspirators try to conceal their secret +with a transparent veil of mystery and an eloquent +silence, the phanerogamous try to display and blurt out +all they possess.</p> + +<p>They are the permanent tribunes of the clubs and +cafés; they are perpetually dissatisfied with everything, +they repeat everything—even things that have not happened, +while things that have happened are by them +squared and cubed and distorted out of all proportion, +like the mountains on a relief map. One is so used to +seeing them that one unconsciously looks for them in +every row in the street, at every demonstration, at every +banquet.</p> + +<p>... The spectacle at the Café Lamblin was still +new to me; at that time I was not familiar with the +back premises of the revolution. It is true that in +Rome I had been in the Cafe delle Belli Arti and in the +square, I had been in the Circolo Romano and in the +Circolo Popolare; but the movement in Rome had not +then that exotic character which became particularly +apparent after the failure of 1848. Ciceruacchio and +his friends had a <i>naïveté</i> of their own, their southern +expressiveness which strikes one as affectation and their +Italian phrases which seem to us theatrical; but they +were in a period of youthful enthusiasm, they had not +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_46">[46]</span>yet fully awakened from their three centuries of sleep. +<i>Il popolano</i> Ciceruacchio was not in the least a political +agitator by trade; he liked nothing better than to retire +in peace to his little house in Strada Ripetta and to carry +on his trade in wood and timber like a <i>pater familias</i> +and free <i>civis romanus</i>.</p> + +<p>The men surrounding him were free from all traces +of that vulgar, babbling pseudo-revolutionism, of that +<i>taré</i> character which is so depressingly common in +France.</p> + +<p>I need hardly say that in speaking of the café agitators +and revolutionary lazzaroni I was not thinking of those +mighty workers for the emancipation of humanity, of +those martyrs for the love of their fellow-creatures and +fiery champions of independence whose words could +not be suppressed by prison, nor exile, nor banishment, +nor poverty—of those creators of events, by whose +blood and tears and words a new historical order is +established. I am talking about the stagnant margin +covered with barren weeds, to whom agitation itself +is goal and reward, who like the process of revolution +for its own sake, as Tchitchikov’s Petrushka⁠<a id="FNanchor_21" href="#Footnote_21" class="fnanchor">[21]</a> liked the +process of reading, or as Nicholas liked drill.</p> + +<p>There is nothing for reaction to rejoice at in this—it +is overgrown with worse weeds and toadstools, not only +at the margin but everywhere. In its ranks are whole +multitudes of officials who tremble before their superiors, +scurrying spies, volunteer assassins ready to murder on +either side, officers of every loathsome kind from the +Prussian junker to the rapacious French Algerian, +from the guard to the <i>page de chambre</i>—and that is +only touching on the secular side, saying nothing of the +mendicant fraternity, the intriguing Jesuits, the priests +who act as police, and the other members of the ranks +of angels and archangels.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_47">[47]</span></p> + +<p>If there are among reactionaries any who resemble our +dilettante revolutionaries, they are the courtiers employed +for ceremonies, the people who are conspicuous at levees, +christenings, royal weddings, coronations, and funerals, +the people who exist for the uniform, for gold lace, who +make up the aureole and fragrance of power.</p> + +<p>In the Café Lamblin, where the desperate <i>citoyens</i> +were sitting over their <i>petits verres</i> and big glasses, I +learned that they had no sort of plan, that the movement +had no real centre and no programme. They were +waiting for inspiration to descend upon them as the Holy +Ghost descended upon the heads of the apostles. There +was only one point on which all were agreed—<i>to come +to the meeting-place unarmed</i>. After two hours of empty +chatter, we went off to the office of the <i>True Republic</i>, +agreeing to meet at eight o’clock next morning at the +Boulevard Bonne Nouvelle, facing the Château d’Eau.</p> + +<p>The editor was not at home: he had gone to the +‘montagnards’ for instructions. About twenty people, +for the most part Poles and Germans, were in the big, +grimy, poorly lighted and still more poorly furnished +room which served as an assembly hall and a committee +room. Sazonov took a sheet of paper and began writing +something; when he had written it, he read it aloud to +us: it was a protest in the name of the <i>émigrés</i> of all +nationalities against the occupation of Rome, and a +declaration of their readiness to take part in the movement. +Those who wished to immortalise their names +by associating them with the glorious morrow he invited +to sign it. Almost all wished to immortalise their names, +and signed it. The editor came in, much dejected, +anxious to impress on every one that he knew a great +deal but was bound to keep silent; I felt convinced that +he knew nothing at all.</p> + +<p>‘<i>Citoyens</i>,’ he said, ‘<i>la Montagne est en permanence.</i>’ +Well, who could doubt its success—<i>en permanence</i>! +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_48">[48]</span>Sazonov gave the editor the protest of the democracy +of Europe. The editor read it through and said: +‘That’s splendid, splendid! France thanks you, +<i>citoyens</i>; but why the signatures? There are so few, +that if we are unsuccessful our enemies will vent all +their anger upon you.’</p> + +<p>Sazonov insisted on the signatures remaining; many +agreed with him. ‘I won’t take the responsibility for +it,’ said the editor; ‘excuse me, I know better the people +we have to deal with.’ With that he tore off the signatures +and delivered the names of a dozen candidates for +immortality to the flame of the candle, while he sent +the protest itself to the printer.</p> + +<p>It was daybreak when we left the office; groups of +ragged boys and wretched, poorly dressed women were +standing, sitting, and lying on the pavement near the +various newspaper offices, waiting for the piles of newspapers—some +to fold them, and others to run with them +all over Paris. We walked out on to the boulevard: +there was absolute stillness; now and then one came +upon a patrol of National Guards and police-sergeants, +strolling about and looking slyly at us.</p> + +<p>‘How free from care the city sleeps,’ said my comrade, +‘with no foreboding of the storm that will waken it +to-morrow!’</p> + +<p>‘Here are those who keep vigil for us all,’ I said to +him, pointing upwards—that is, to the lighted window +of the <i>Maison d’Or</i>.</p> + +<p>‘And very appropriately, too. Let us go in and have +an absinthe; my stomach is a bit upset.’</p> + +<p>‘And I feel empty; it wouldn’t be amiss to have some +supper too. How they eat in the Capitole I don’t know, +but in the Conciergerie the food is abominable.’</p> + +<p>From the bones left after our meal of cold turkey, +no one could have guessed either that cholera was raging +in Paris, or that in two hours’ time we were going to +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_49">[49]</span>change the destinies of Europe. We ate at the Maison +d’Or as Napoleon slept before Austerlitz.</p> + +<p>Between eight and nine o’clock, when we reached the +Boulevard Bonne Nouvelle, many groups of people had +already gathered there, evidently impatient to know +what they were to do; their faces showed perplexity, +but at the same time something in their aspect betrayed +great exasperation. Had those people found real leaders +the day would not have ended in a farce.</p> + +<p>There was a minute when it seemed to me that something +was really going to happen. A gentleman rode +on horseback down the boulevard rather slowly. He +was recognised as one of the ministers (Lacroix), who +was probably taking horse exercise so early not merely +for the sake of fresh air. He was surrounded by a +shouting crowd, who pulled him off his horse, tore his +coat, and then let him go—that is, another group rescued +him and escorted him away. The crowd grew; by +ten o’clock there may have been twenty-five thousand +people. No one we spoke to, no one we questioned, +knew anything. Chersosi, a <i>carbonaro</i> of old days, +assured us that the <i>banlieu</i> was coming through the Arc +de Triomphe with a shout of ‘<i>Vive la République!</i>’</p> + +<p>‘Above all,’ the elders of the democracy repeated +again, ‘be unarmed, or you will spoil the character of +the whole thing—the all-powerful people ought to show +the National Assembly its will peacefully and solemnly +so as to give the enemy no occasion to blaspheme.’</p> + +<p>At last columns were formed; we foreigners made up +a guard of honour immediately behind the leaders, +among whom were E. Arago⁠<a id="FNanchor_22" href="#Footnote_22" class="fnanchor">[22]</a> in the uniform of a colonel, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_50">[50]</span>a former minister, Bastide,⁠<a id="FNanchor_23" href="#Footnote_23" class="fnanchor">[23]</a> and other celebrities of 1848. +We moved down the boulevard, shouting various things +and singing the Marseillaise. One who has not heard +the Marseillaise sung by thousands of voices in that state +of nervous excitement and suspense which is inevitable +before a struggle can hardly realise the overwhelming +effect of the revolutionary hymn.</p> + +<p>At that minute there was really something grand +about the demonstration. As we slowly moved down +the boulevards all the windows were thrown open; +ladies and children crowded at them and came out on +to the balconies; the gloomy and agitated faces of their +husbands, the fathers and proprietors, peeped out from +behind them, not observing that in the fourth storeys +and attics other heads, those of poor seamstresses and +working girls, were thrust out—they waved handkerchiefs, +nodded, and greeted us. From time to time as we passed +by the houses of well-known people all sorts of shouts +were uttered.</p> + +<p>In this way we reached the point where the Rue de +la Paix joins the boulevards; it was closed by a platoon +of the Vincennes Chasseurs, and when our column came +up to it the chasseurs suddenly moved apart like the +scenery in a theatre, and Changarnier,⁠<a id="FNanchor_24" href="#Footnote_24" class="fnanchor">[24]</a> mounted upon a +small horse, galloped up at the head of a squadron of +dragoons. With no summons to the crowd to disperse, +with no beating of the drums or other legal formalities, +he scattered the foremost ranks, cut them off from the +others, and, changing the dragoons into open formation, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_51">[51]</span>ordered them to clear the street at full speed. The +dragoons with positive zest fell to riding down people, +striking them with the flat of their swords and using the +edge at the slightest resistance. I hardly had time to +take in what was happening when I found myself nose +to nose with a horse which was snorting in my face, and +a dragoon swearing also right in my face and threatening +me with a blow if I did not move away. I retreated to +the right, and in one instant was carried away by the +crowd and squeezed against the railings of the Rue +Basse des Remparts. Of our rank the only one left +besides me was M. Strübing. Meanwhile the dragoons +pressed upon the foremost ranks with their horses, and +the people, unable to get away, were thrust back upon +us. E. Arago leaped over into the Rue Basse des Remparts, +slipped, and dislocated his leg; Strübing and I +jumped down after him. We looked at each other +in a sort of frenzied indignation; Strübing turned +round and shouted aloud: ‘<i>Aux armes! Aux armes!</i>’ +A man in a workman’s blouse caught him by the collar +and, shoving him out of the way, said; ‘Have you gone +mad? Look there!’ A thick brush of bayonets was +moving down the street—the Chaussée d’Antin it must +have been. ‘Get away before they hear you and cut +off all escape. All is lost, all!’ he added, clenching +his fist; and, humming a tune as though there were nothing +the matter, rapidly walked away. We made our way +to the Place de la Concorde. In the Champs-Élysées +there was not a single platoon from the <i>banlieu</i>; why, +Chersosi must have known that there was not. It had +been a diplomatic lie to save the situation, though it +would perhaps have been fatal if any had believed it.</p> + +<p>The shamelessness of attacking an unarmed crowd +aroused great resentment. If anything really had been +prepared, had there been leaders, nothing would have +been easier than for fighting to have begun in earnest. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_52">[52]</span>Instead of showing itself in its full strength, the <i>Montagne</i>, +on hearing how absurdly the sovereign people had been +dispersed by horses, hid itself behind a cloud. Ledru-Rollin +carried on negotiations with Guinard.⁠<a id="FNanchor_25" href="#Footnote_25" class="fnanchor">[25]</a> Guinard, +the artillery commander of the National Guard, +wanted to join the movement, wanted to give men, +but would not on any consideration give ammunition—he +seems to have wished to act by the moral influence +of cannons; Forestier⁠<a id="FNanchor_26" href="#Footnote_26" class="fnanchor">[26]</a> was doing the same with his +legion. Whether it helped them much, we saw by the +Versailles trial. Every one wanted to do something, +but no one ventured; the most foresight was shown by +some young men who built their hopes on the new +regime—they ordered themselves prefects’ uniforms, +which they declined to take after the movement failed, +and the tailor had to put them up for sale.</p> + +<p>When the hurriedly rigged-up government was installed +at the <i>Arts et Métiers</i>, the workmen, after walking +about the streets with inquiring faces and finding neither +advice nor leadership, went home, convinced once more +of the ineffectiveness of the <i>Montagnard</i> fathers of the +country; perhaps they gulped down their tears like the +man who said to us, ‘All is lost!’—or perhaps laughed +in their sleeves at the discomfiture of the <i>Montagne</i>.</p> + +<p>But the dilatoriness of Ledru-Rollin, the pedantry +of Guinard—these were the external causes of the +failure, and were as <i>appropriate to the occasion</i> as decisive +characters and fortunate circumstances when they are +needed. The internal cause was the poverty of the +republican idea in which the movement originated. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_53">[53]</span>An idea that has outlived its day may hobble about the +world for years—may even, like Christ, appear after death +once or twice to its devotees; but it is hard for it ever +again to lead and dominate life. Such ideas never gain +complete possession of a man, or gain possession only of +incomplete people. If the <i>Montagne</i> had been victorious +on the 13th of June, what would it have done? There +was nothing new they could call their own. It would have +been an insipid reproduction of the gloomy Rembrandt +or Salvator Rosa picture of 1793 without the Jacobins, +without the war, without even the naïve guillotine....</p> + +<p>After the 13th of June and the attempted rising at Lyons, +arrests followed. The mayor came with the police to us +at the Ville d’Avray to look for Karl Blind⁠<a id="FNanchor_27" href="#Footnote_27" class="fnanchor">[27]</a> and Arnold +Ruge; some of our friends were seized. The Conciergerie +was full to overflowing. In one small room there +were as many as sixty men; in the middle stood a large +slop-bucket, which was emptied once in the twenty-four +hours—and all this in civilised Paris, with the cholera +raging. Having no desire to spend some two months +in such pleasant surroundings, fed on rotten beans and +putrid meat, I borrowed a passport from a Moldav-Wallachian +and went to Geneva.⁠<a id="FNanchor_28" href="#Footnote_28" class="fnanchor">[28]</a>⁠</p> + +<p>Transport in France was in the hands of Laffitte and +Calliard in those days. The diligences were put on the +railway lines, then taken off—at Châlons, I remember—then +put on the rails again. A lean, sunburnt gentleman +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_54">[54]</span>with a clipped moustache and a rather unpleasant appearance +got into the carriage with me, and looked at +me suspiciously; he had a small travelling-bag, and a sword +wrapped up in American leather. He was obviously a +police-sergeant in disguise. He scanned me carefully +from head to foot, then retreated into the corner and +did not utter a single word. At the first station he called +up the conductor and told him that he had left behind +an excellent map, and would be grateful for a scrap of +paper and an envelope. The conductor said they only +had three minutes before the bell would ring; the +sergeant jumped out, and returning looked at me more +suspiciously than ever. For four hours the silence +continued: my permission to smoke he even asked +without speaking; I answered in the same way with +my head and my eyes, and took out a cigar. When it +began to get dusk he asked me, ‘Are you going to +Geneva?’ ‘No, to Lyons,’ I answered. ‘Ah!’ +With that the conversation ended. A little while later +the door opened and the conductor with difficulty thrust +in a bald-headed, immensely corpulent individual, in a +roomy pea-green overcoat and a bright-coloured waistcoat, +with a thick stick, a sack, and an umbrella. When +this typical figure of the virtuous uncle installed himself +between the sergeant and me, I asked him before he had +time to recover his breath: ‘<i>Monsieur, vous n’avez pas +d’objection?</i>’ Coughing, mopping his face, and tying +a silk handkerchief round his head, he answered: ‘Not +in the least, by all means; my son who is in Algiers is +always smoking, <i>il fume toujours</i>’; and with this good +opening he began chatting and telling us stories. Half +an hour later, he asked me where I had come from and +where I was going. Hearing that I came from Wallachia, +he added with characteristic French politeness, ‘<i>Ah, c’est +un beau pays</i>,’ though he did not know for certain whether +it was in Turkey or in Hungary.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_55">[55]</span></p> + +<p>My neighbour answered his questions very laconically. +‘<i>Monsieur est militaire?</i>’ ‘<i>Oui, monsieur.</i>’ ‘<i>Monsieur +a été en Algérie?</i>’ ‘<i>Oui, monsieur.</i>’ ‘My eldest son, +too, he is there now. In Oran,⁠<a id="FNanchor_29" href="#Footnote_29" class="fnanchor">[29]</a> I suppose?’ ‘<i>Non, +monsieur.</i>’ ‘And in your country are there diligences?’</p> + +<p>‘Between Jassy and Bucharest,’ I answered with +inimitable assurance. ‘Only, with us, diligences are +drawn by oxen.’</p> + +<p>This greatly astonished my neighbour, and I am sure +he would have taken his oath that I was a Wallachian; +after this happy detail, even the sergeant was softened +and became more conversational.</p> + +<p>At Lyons I got out of the diligence and at once went +to another booking-office, climbed upon the roof of +another diligence, and five minutes later was dashing +along the road to Geneva. At the last big town before +the frontier, a commissaire of police was sitting with a +clerk in the square before the police-station; gendarmes +were standing about, and a preliminary examination of +passports was held. The description in my passport +did not quite fit me, and so, getting down from the knife-board, +I said to the gendarme: ‘<i>Mon brave</i>, where +could we quickly get a drink of wine together? Show +me; the heat is insufferable.’</p> + +<p>‘Why, there’s my sister’s café not two steps away.’</p> + +<p>‘But what about my passport?’</p> + +<p>‘Give it here, I’ll hand it over to my comrade; he +will bring it back to us.’</p> + +<p>A minute later the gendarme and I were sitting over +a bottle of Beaune in his sister’s café, and five minutes +later his comrade brought the passport. I offered him +a glass, he put his hand to his hat, and we returned to +the diligence friends. So far all was well. We reached +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_56">[56]</span>the frontier; there was a river, over the river a bridge, +and on the other side of the bridge the Piedmontese custom-house. +French gendarmes were sauntering in all directions +on the bank, looking for Ledru-Rollin, who had +crossed the frontier long before, and for Félix Pyat,⁠<a id="FNanchor_30" href="#Footnote_30" class="fnanchor">[30]</a> who +would nevertheless cross it later, and like me with a +Wallachian passport.</p> + +<p>The conductor observed that here they would examine +our passports finally, that this would take rather a long +time—half an hour—and so he advised us to have something +to eat at the posting inn. We went in, and had +no sooner sat down than another Lyons diligence drove +up; the passengers came in, and foremost among them +was my sergeant. Ough! what luck! And I had told +him that I was going to Lyons. We bowed frigidly; +he, too, seemed surprised; however, he did not say a +word.</p> + +<p>A gendarme came in, distributed passports; the +diligences were already on the other side of the river. +‘Kindly cross the bridge on foot, gentlemen.’ Now +there will be a bobbery, I thought. We went out ... +and here we are on the bridge—no trouble; and now we +were over the bridge—still no trouble.</p> + +<p>‘Ha—ha—ha!’ the sergeant laughed nervously. +‘So we’ve got across! Ough! it’s like a load off one’s +back.’</p> + +<p>‘What?’ said I, ‘are you....’</p> + +<p>‘Why, you too, it seems?’</p> + +<p>‘Upon my word,’ I answered, laughing heartily, ‘I +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_57">[57]</span>am straight from Bucharest; came all the way with +oxen.’</p> + +<p>‘It’s your luck!’ the conductor said to me, holding +up his finger. ‘You must be more careful next time. +Why did you give two francs to the boy who brought +you to the inn? It’s a good thing he is <i>one of us</i> too; +he said to me at once, “He must be a red; he didn’t stop +a minute at Lyons, and he was so pleased to get a seat +that he gave me two francs.” “You hold your tongue, +it’s not your business,” I said to him, “or some beast of +a gendarme will overhear you and maybe stop him.”’</p> + +<p>Next day we reached Geneva, the old haven of refuge +for the persecuted. ‘At the time of the king’s death, +a hundred and fifty families,’ says Michelet in his history +of the 16th century, ‘escaped to Geneva; a little later, +another fourteen hundred. The refugees from France +and the refugees from Italy founded the real Geneva, +that wonderful sanctuary between three nations; with +no support, afraid of the Swiss themselves, it maintained +itself by its moral force alone.’</p> + +<p>Switzerland was at this time the meeting-place in +which the survivors left from European revolutions +gathered together from all parts. Representatives of +all the unsuccessful risings were shifting about between +Geneva and Basle, crowds of the insurgents were +crossing the Rhine, others were descending the St. +Gothard or coming from beyond the Jura. The +cowardly Federal Government did not dare yet to turn +them out; the cantons still clung to their ancient holy +right of sanctuary.</p> + +<p>All the people whose names were on everybody’s lips, +whom I loved at a distance and was now eager to meet, +were passing through Geneva as though on parade at a +review, stopping there to rest and going on again....</p> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_58">[58]</span></p> + +<h3 class="nobreak" id="Chapter_37">Chapter 37<br> +<span class="smcap">A Babel of Tongues—The German Umwalzungsmänner—The +French Red Montagnards—The Italian Fuorusciti +in Geneva—Mazzini, Garibaldi, and Orsini—The +Roman and the German Traditions—A Trip on +‘The Prince Radetsky’</span></h3> + +</div> + +<p class="dropcap">There was a time when in a fit of irritation and +bitter mirth I thought of writing a pamphlet in +the style of Grandville’s⁠<a id="FNanchor_31" href="#Footnote_31" class="fnanchor">[31]</a> Illustrations: <i>Les réfugiés +peints par eux-mêmes</i>. I am glad I did not do it. Now +that I look at it more calmly, I am less moved to laughter +and indignation. Besides, exile both lasts too long and +weighs too heavily on men....</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, I do say even now that exile, not undertaken +with any definite object, but forced upon men by +the triumph of the opposing party, checks development +and draws men away from the activities of life into the +domain of fantasy. Leaving their native land with +concealed anger, with the continual thought of going +back to it on the morrow, men make no advance, but are +continually thrown back upon the past; hope hinders +them from settling down and undertaking any permanent +work; irritation and trivial but exasperated disputes +prevent their escaping from the familiar circle of questions, +thoughts, and memories which make up an +oppressive binding tradition. Men in general, and +especially men in an exceptional position, have such a +passion for formalism, for the coterie spirit, for looking +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_59">[59]</span>their part, that they immediately fall into a groove and +acquire a doctrinaire stamp.</p> + +<p>All exiles, cut off from the living environment to which +they have belonged, shut their eyes to avoid seeing bitter +truths, and grow more and more used to a narrow, +fantastic circle consisting of inert memories and hopes +that will never be realised.</p> + +<p>Add to this, aloofness from all who are not exiles +and an element of exasperation, suspicion, exclusiveness, +and jealousy, and this new stiff-necked Israel becomes +perfectly comprehensible.</p> + +<p>The exiles of 1849 did not yet believe in the permanence +of their enemy’s triumph; the intoxication of +their recent successes had not yet passed off, the applause +and songs of the victorious people were still ringing in +their ears. They firmly believed that their defeat was +a momentary reverse, and did not unpack their trunks. +Meanwhile Paris was under police supervision, Rome +was falling under the onslaught of the French, the +brother of the Prussian King was brutally triumphing +in Baden,⁠<a id="FNanchor_32" href="#Footnote_32" class="fnanchor">[32]</a> while Paskevitch in the Russian style had +outwitted Görgei⁠<a id="FNanchor_33" href="#Footnote_33" class="fnanchor">[33]</a> in Hungary by bribes and promises. +Geneva was full to overflowing with refugees; it became +the Coblenz⁠<a id="FNanchor_34" href="#Footnote_34" class="fnanchor">[34]</a> of the revolution of 1848. There were +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_60">[60]</span>Italians from all parts; Frenchmen escaping from the +Bauchart⁠<a id="FNanchor_35" href="#Footnote_35" class="fnanchor">[35]</a> inquiry and from the Versailles trial; Baden +insurgents, who entered Geneva marching in regular +formation with their officers and with Gustav Struve; +men who had taken part in the rising of Vienna; +Bohemians; Poles from Posen and Galicia. All these +people were crowded together between the Hôtel de +Bergues and the Post Office Café. The more sensible +of them began to suspect that this exile would not soon +be over, talked of America, and went away. It was +quite the opposite with the majority, and especially +with the French, who, true to their temperament, were +in daily expectation of the death of Napoleon and the +birth of a republic—some looking for a republic both +democratic and socialistic, others for one that should +be democratic and not at all socialistic.</p> + +<p>A few days after my arrival, as I was walking in Les +Paquis, I met an elderly gentleman who looked like a +Russian village priest, wearing a low wide-brimmed hat +and a <i>black</i> white coat, and walking along with a sort of +priestly unction; beside him stepped a man of terrific +proportions, who looked as though he had been casually +put together of immense blocks of human flesh. F. Kapp,⁠<a id="FNanchor_36" href="#Footnote_36" class="fnanchor">[36]</a> +the young writer, was with me.</p> + +<p>‘Don’t you know them?’ he asked me.</p> + +<p>‘No; but, if I’m not mistaken, it must be Lot or Noah +out for a walk with Adam, who has put on a coat several +sizes too large instead of his fig-leaves.’</p> + +<p>‘They are Struve and Heinzen,’ he answered, +laughing: ‘would you like to make their acquaintance?’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_61">[61]</span></p> + +<p>‘Very much.’ He introduced me.</p> + +<p>The conversation was trivial. Struve was on his way +home, and invited us to come in; we went with him. +His small lodging was crowded with exiles from Baden. +A tall woman, from a distance very good-looking, with a +mass of luxuriant hair flowing loose in an original fashion, +was sitting in the midst of them; this was his wife, the +celebrated Amalie Struve.</p> + +<p>Struve’s face made a strange impression on me from +the very first; it expressed that moral rigidity which +superstitious bigotry gives to fanatics and dissenters. +Looking at his strong, narrow forehead, at the untroubled +expression of his eyes, at his uncombed beard, his slightly +grizzled hair, and his whole figure, I could have fancied +that this was either a fanatical pastor of the army of +Gustavus Adolphus who had forgotten to die, or a +Taborite⁠<a id="FNanchor_37" href="#Footnote_37" class="fnanchor">[37]</a> preaching repentance and the sacrament +under two aspects. There was a surly coarseness about +the appearance of Heinzen,⁠<a id="FNanchor_38" href="#Footnote_38" class="fnanchor">[38]</a> that Sobakevitch of the +German revolution; full-blooded and clumsy, he kept +looking angrily from under his brows, and was sparing +of words. He wrote later on that it would be sufficient +to <i>massacre</i> two millions of the inhabitants of the globe +and the cause of revolution would go swimmingly. Anybody +who had once seen him would not be surprised at +his writing this.</p> + +<p>I cannot refrain from relating an extremely funny +incident which occurred to me in connection with this +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_62">[62]</span>cannibalistic project. There was, and indeed still is, +living in Geneva a Dr. R., one of the most good-natured +men in the world and one of the most constant +and platonic lovers of the revolution, the friend of all +the refugees; he doctored them gratis as well as giving +them food and drink. However early one might +arrive at the Café de la Poste, the doctor would already +be there and already reading his third or fourth newspaper; +he would beckon one mysteriously and murmur +in one’s ear: ‘I fancy it will be a hot day in Paris +to-day.’ ‘Why so?’ ‘I can’t tell you from whom +I heard it, but it was a man in close relations with +Ledru-Rollin; he was here on his way through....’ +‘Why, you were expecting something yesterday and the +day before yesterday too, weren’t you, Doctor?’ ‘Well, +what of that? <i>Stadt Rom war nicht in einem Tage +gebaut.</i>’</p> + +<p>So it was to him as a friend of Heinzen’s that I appealed +in the very same café when the latter published his +philanthropic programme. ‘Why,’ I said to him, ‘does +your friend write such pernicious nonsense? The +reaction is making an outcry, and indeed it has every +reason to: he’s a regular Marat in a German setting! +And how can one ask for two million heads?’</p> + +<p>R. was confused, but did not like to give his friend +away. ‘Listen,’ he said at last: ‘you have lost sight of +one fact, perhaps: Heinzen is speaking of the whole +human race; in that number there would be at least +<i>two hundred thousand Chinese</i>.’ ‘Oh, well, that’s a +different matter; why spare them?’ I answered; and +for long afterwards I could never think of this reassuring +fact without bursting into laughter.</p> + +<p>Two days after our meeting in Les Paquis, the <i>garçon</i> +of the Hôtel de Bergues, where I was staying, ran up +to my room and announced with an air of importance: +‘General Struve and his adjutants.’ I imagined +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_63">[63]</span>either that some one had sent the <i>garçon</i> up as a joke, +or that he had made some blunder; but the door +opened and—</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">‘Mit bedächtigem Schritt</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Gustav Struve tritt ...’</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class="noindent">and with him four gentlemen: two were in the military +uniform worn in those days by German students, and had +in addition red armlets adorned with various emblems. +Struve presented his suite to me, democratically referring +to them as ‘brothers in exile.’ I learnt with delight that +one of them, a young man of twenty, who looked like +a <i>Bursch</i> who had recently emerged from the ‘<i>fuchs</i>’⁠<a id="FNanchor_39" href="#Footnote_39" class="fnanchor">[39]</a> +stage, was now successfully filling the post of minister +of home affairs <i>per interim</i>.</p> + +<p>Struve at once began instructing me in his theory of +the seven scourges, <i>die sieben Geissel</i>—Popes, priests, +kings, soldiers, bankers, etc.—and of the establishment +of some new democratic and revolutionary religion. +I observed that if it depended upon us whether to +establish a new religion or not, it would be better not +to establish any, but to leave it to the will of God, as, +from the very nature of the case, it was more His concern. +We argued. Struve made some remark about the +<i>Weltseele</i>; I observed that in spite of Schelling’s having +so clearly defined the world-soul by calling it <i>das +Schwebende</i>, I found great difficulty in grasping it.</p> + +<p>He jumped up from his chair and, coming as close to +me as possible, with the words, ‘Excuse me, allow me,’ +began tapping my head with his fingers, and pressing +it with them, as though my skull had been composed of +the keys of a concertina. ‘Yes, indeed,’ he commented, +addressing his four brothers in exile, ‘<i>Bürger Herzen hat +kein, aber auch gar kein Organ der Venerazion!</i>’ All were +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_64">[64]</span>satisfied with the lack of the ‘bump of reverence’ in me, +and I was equally so.</p> + +<p>Hereupon he informed me that he was a great phrenologist, +and had not only written a book on Halle’s system +but had even selected his Amalie from it, after first +feeling her skull. He assured me that the bump of the +passions was completely absent in her, and that the back +part of the skull where they are located was almost flat. +On these grounds, sufficient for a divorce, he married her.</p> + +<p>Struve was a very queer fish: he ate nothing but +Lenten food, with the addition of milk, drank no wine, +and kept his Amalie on a similar diet. This was not +enough for him: he went every day to bathe with her +in the Arve, the water of which scarcely reaches the +temperature of eight degrees in the middle of summer, +as it flows so swiftly from the mountains that it has not +time to get warm.</p> + +<p>Later on it often happened that we talked of vegetarianism. +I raised the usual objections: the formation +of the teeth, the great loss of energy in the digestion of +vegetable fibre, and the lower development of the brain +in herbivorous animals. He listened blandly without +losing his temper, but stuck to his opinion. In conclusion, +apparently wishing to impress me, he said: +‘Do you know that a man always nourished on vegetarian +diet so purifies his body as to be quite free from smell +after death?’ ‘That’s very pleasant,’ I replied; ‘but +what advantage will that be to me? I won’t be sniffing +myself after death.’ Struve did not even smile, but said +to me with serene conviction: ‘You will speak very +differently one day!’ ‘When my bump of reverence +develops,’ I added.</p> + +<p>At the end of 1849 Struve sent me the calendar he +had newly devised for ‘free’ Germany. The days, +the months, everything had been translated into an +ancient German jargon difficult to understand; instead +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_65">[65]</span>of saints’ days, every day was dedicated to the memory +of two celebrities—for instance, to Washington and +Lafayette; but, on the other hand, every tenth day was +devoted to the memory of the enemies of mankind—for +instance, Nicholas and Metternich. The holidays were +the days when particularly great men such as Luther and +Columbus were commemorated. In this calendar Struve +had the gallantry to replace Christmas on the twenty-fifth +of December by the festival of Amalie!</p> + +<p>Meeting me one day in the street, he said among +other things that we ought to publish in Geneva a journal +common to all the exiles, in three languages, which would +carry on the struggle against the ‘seven scourges’ and +maintain the ‘sacred fire’ of the peoples, now crushed +by the reaction. I answered that it would, of course, +be a very good thing. The publishing of papers was at +that time an epidemic disease: every two or three weeks +new schemes were started, specimen copies appeared, +prospectuses were sent about, then two or three numbers +would come out—and would all disappear, leaving no +trace. People who were incapable of anything considered +themselves competent to edit a paper, scraped +together a hundred francs or so, and spent them on the +first and last number. So I was not in the least surprised +at Struve’s intention; but I was very much surprised +by his calling upon me at seven o’clock the next morning. +I thought some misfortune had happened, but Struve, +after calmly settling himself in a chair, brought a sheet +of paper out of his pocket and, preparing to read it, said: +‘<i>Bürger</i>, since we agreed yesterday as to the necessity +of publishing a journal, I have come to read you the +prospectus of it.’</p> + +<p>When he had read it he informed me that he was +going to Mazzini and many others to invite them to +meet at Heinzen’s for deliberation on the subject. I, too, +went to Heinzen’s: he was sitting with a ferocious air +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_66">[66]</span>at the table, holding a manuscript in one gigantic paw; +the other he held out to me, muttering thickly, +‘<i>Bürger, platz!</i>’</p> + +<p>Some eight persons, French and German, were present. +Some ex-representative of the people in the French +National Assembly was making an estimate of the cost, +and writing something in slanting lines. When Mazzini +arrived, Struve proposed reading the prospectus that +had been written by Heinzen. Heinzen cleared his +throat and began reading it in German, although the +only language common to all was French.</p> + +<p>Since they had not the faintest shadow of a new idea, +the prospectus was only the thousandth variation of those +democratic lucubrations which are the same sort of +rhetorical exercise on revolutionary texts as church +sermons are on those of the Bible. Indirectly guarding +himself from a charge of socialism, Heinzen said that +the democratic republic would of itself solve the economic +question to the general satisfaction. The man who did +not flinch at the demand for two million heads was afraid +that his organ would be considered communistic.</p> + +<p>I urged some objection to this when the reading was +finished, but from his abrupt replies, from Struve’s +intervention, and from the gestures of the French deputy, +I perceived that we had been invited to the council to +accept Heinzen’s and Struve’s prospectus, not to deliberate +upon it; it was in strict harmony with the theory held +by Elpidifor Antiohovitch Zurov, the military governor +of Novgorod.⁠<a id="FNanchor_40" href="#Footnote_40" class="fnanchor">[40]</a>⁠</p> + +<p>Mazzini listened with a melancholy air, but agreed, +and was almost the first to subscribe for two or three +shares. ‘<i>Si omnes consentiunt ego non dissentio</i>,’ I +thought <i>à la</i> Schufterle in Schiller’s <i>Robbers</i>, and I too +subscribed.</p> + +<p>But the subscribers appeared to be few in number; +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_67">[67]</span>however often the French deputy added and subtracted, +the sum subscribed was insufficient.</p> + +<p>‘Gentlemen,’ said Mazzini, ‘I have thought of a +way of getting over the difficulty: publish the journal +at first only in French and German; as for the Italian +translation, I shall put all articles of <i>interest</i> in my +<i>Italia del Popolo</i>—that will save you one-third of the +expenditure.’</p> + +<p>‘To be sure! what could be better!’ Mazzini’s +proposition was accepted by all. He grew a little more +cheerful. I was awfully amused, and very eager to +show him that I had seen the trick he had played. I +went up to him and, watching for a moment when no +one was near us, I said: ‘How capitally you got out of +the journal!’</p> + +<p>‘Well,’ he observed, ‘an Italian part is really superfluous, +you know.’</p> + +<p>‘So are the two others!’ I added.</p> + +<p>A smile glided over his face and vanished as quickly +as though it had never been there.</p> + +<p>That was the second time of my seeing him. Mazzini, +who knew of my stay in Rome, wanted to make my +acquaintance. One morning I went with L. Spini to +see him in Les Paquis.</p> + +<p>When we went in Mazzini was sitting dejectedly at +the table listening to what was being said by a rather +tall, graceful, and handsome young man with fair hair. +This was the daring companion-in-arms of Garibaldi, +the defender of Vascello, the leader of the Roman +legionaries, Giacomo Medici. Another young man +with an expression of melancholy preoccupation sat +plunged in thought, paying no attention to what was +going forward—this was Mazzini’s colleague in the +triumvirate, Marco Aurelio Saffi.</p> + +<p>Mazzini got up and, looking me straight in the face +with his piercing eyes, held out both hands in a friendly +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_68">[68]</span>way. Even in Italy a head so severely classical, so elegant +in its gravity, is rarely to be met with. At moments +the expression of his face was harshly austere, but it +quickly grew soft and serene. An active, concentrated +intelligence sparkled in his melancholy eyes; there was +an infinity of persistence and strength of will in them +and in the lines on his brow. All his features showed +traces of long years of anxiety, of sleepless nights, of past +storms, of powerful passions, or rather of one powerful +passion, and also some element of fanaticism—perhaps +of asceticism.</p> + +<p>Mazzini is very simple and amiable in his manner, +but the habit of rule is apparent, especially in argument; +he can scarcely conceal his annoyance at contradiction, +and sometimes does not conceal it. He knows his +strength, and genuinely despises all the external trappings +of dictatorial authority. His popularity was at that +time immense. In his little room, with the everlasting +cigar in his mouth, Mazzini at Geneva, like the Pope +in the old days at Avignon, held in his hands the threads +that like a spiritual telegraph system brought him into +living communication with the whole peninsula. He +knew every heart-throb of his party, felt the slightest +tremor in it, promptly responded to everything, and with +amazing tirelessness gave general guidance to everything +and every one.</p> + +<p>A fanatic and at the same time an organiser, he +covered Italy with a network of secret societies connected +together and devoted to one object. These societies +branched off into arteries that defied detection, split +up, grew smaller and smaller, and vanished in the +Apennines and the Alps, in the regal palazzi of aristocrats +and the dark alleys of Italian towns into which no police +can penetrate. Village priests, diligence conductors, the +<i>principe</i> of Lombardy, smugglers, innkeepers, women, +bandits, all were made use of, all were links in the chain +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_69">[69]</span>that was bound to him and that was subject to him. +From the times of Menotti⁠<a id="FNanchor_41" href="#Footnote_41" class="fnanchor">[41]</a> and the brothers Bandiera,⁠<a id="FNanchor_42" href="#Footnote_42" class="fnanchor">[42]</a> +enthusiastic youths, vigorous men of the people, vigorous +aristocrats, sometimes old men, come forward in constant +succession ... and follow the lead of Mazzini, +consecrated by the elder Buonarotti, the comrade and +friend of Gracchus Babeuf,⁠<a id="FNanchor_43" href="#Footnote_43" class="fnanchor">[43]</a> and advance to the unequal +combat, disdainful of chains and the block, and sometimes +at the point of death adding to the shout of +‘<i>Viva l’Italia!</i>’ that of ‘<i>Viva Mazzini!</i>’</p> + +<p>There has never been such a revolutionary organisation +anywhere, and it would hardly be possible anywhere +but in Italy, unless in Spain. Now it has lost +its old unity and old strength, it is exhausted by the ten +years of martyrdom, it is worn out by loss of blood and +the anguish of suspense, its thought has grown older; +and yet what outbursts, what heroic examples, there +are still: Pianori, Orsini, Pisacane!</p> + +<p>I do not think that by the death of one man a country +could be raised from such degradation as France has +fallen into now.⁠<a id="FNanchor_44" href="#Footnote_44" class="fnanchor">[44]</a>⁠</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_70">[70]</span></p> + +<p>I do not justify the plan on which Pisacane made +his attempt;⁠<a id="FNanchor_45" href="#Footnote_45" class="fnanchor">[45]</a> it seemed to me as ill-timed as the two +previous risings in Milan: but that is not the point. +I only mean to speak here of the way in which it was +actually carried out. These men overwhelm one with the +grandeur of their tragic poetry, their terrible strength, +and silence all blame and criticism. I know no instance of +greater heroism, among either the Greeks or the Romans, +among the martyrs of Christianity or of the Reformation!</p> + +<p>A handful of vigorous men sail to the luckless shore +of Naples, bearing a challenge, an example, a living +witness that all is not yet dead in the people. The +handsome young leader is the first to fall, with the flag +in his hand—and after him the rest fall, or worse still +are caught in the clutches of the Bourbon. The death +of Pisacane and the death of Orsini were like two fearful +thunderclaps in a sultry night. Latin Europe shuddered—the +wild boar,⁠<a id="FNanchor_46" href="#Footnote_46" class="fnanchor">[46]</a> terrified, retreated to Caserta and +hid himself in his lair.</p> + +<p>Pale with horror, the man who was driving France in +her funeral hearse to the graveyard trembled in his seat.</p> + +<p>Pisacane’s attempt might well be described among +the people in these poetical lines:—⁠<a id="FNanchor_47" href="#Footnote_47" class="fnanchor">[47]</a>⁠</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="center">...</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Sceser con l’armi, e a noi non fecer guerra,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Ma s’inchinaron per bacciar la terra:</div> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_71">[71]</span> <div class="verse indent0">Ad uno ad uno li gardai nel viso:</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Tutti aveano una lagrima e un sorriso,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Li disser ladri usciti dalle tane,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Ma non portaron via nemmeno un pane;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">E li sentii mandare un solo grido:</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Siam venuti a morir pel nostro lido—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Eran trecento, eran giovani e forti:</div> + <div class="verse indent12">E sono morti!</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Con gli occhi azzuri, e coi capelli d’oro</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Un giovin camminava innanzi a loro.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Mi feci ardita, e, presol per la mano,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Gli chiesi: Dove vai, bel capitano?</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Guardommi e mi rispose: O mia sorella,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Vado a morir per la mia patria bella!</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Io mi sentii tremare tutto il core;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Nè potei dirgli: V’ aiuti ’l Signore;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Eran trecento, eran giovani e forti:</div> + <div class="verse indent12">E sono morti!</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="center">...</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse right">(L. Mercantini, <i>La Spigolatrice di Sapri</i>.)</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p>In 1849 Mazzini was a power, and it was not for +nothing that the governments feared him; his star was +then in its full brilliance—but it was already setting. +It might have maintained itself for long years yet, growing +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_72">[72]</span>paler little by little; but after repeated failures and +desperate efforts, it began to decline rapidly.</p> + +<p>Some of Mazzini’s friends allied themselves with +Piedmont, others with Napoleon. Mazzini went his +revolutionary bypath, the party split up into factions, +the federal character of the Italians showed itself more +conspicuously.</p> + +<p>Garibaldi himself, in spite of his own feelings, pronounced +a severe criticism on Mazzini, and, influenced +by the enemies of the latter, published a letter in which +he indirectly blamed him.</p> + +<p class="mt2">This is what has turned Mazzini grey and made him +old, this is what has given a look of bitter intolerance, +even exasperation, to his face, to his glance. But such +men do not give in, do not yield; the worse things go +with them, the higher they hold the flag. If Mazzini +loses friends and money, and barely escapes one day +from chains and the gallows, on the next he takes his +stand more obstinately and resolutely than ever, collects +fresh money, seeks fresh friends, denies himself everything, +even sleep and food, ponders whole nights over +new plans and every time actually creates them, flings +himself again into the conflict, and, again beaten, sets +to work once more with feverish ardour.</p> + +<p>In this unyielding steadiness, in this faith which runs +far ahead of facts, in this inexhaustible activity which +failure only incites and provokes to fresh effort, there +is something of grandeur, and, if you like, something of +madness. Often it is just that grain of madness which +is the essential condition of success. It acts on the +people’s nerves and carries them away. A great man +acting directly is bound to be a great maniac, especially +with such enthusiastic people as the Italians, who, moreover, +preserve the religious conception of nationality. +Only the sequel can show whether Mazzini has lost +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_73">[73]</span>his magnetic power over the Italian masses through his +ill-timed and unsuccessful attempts. It is not reason, it +is not logic that leads nations, but faith, love, and hatred.</p> + +<p>The Italian refugees were not superior to the other +refugees either in talent or education. The greater +number of them knew nothing, indeed, but their own +poets and their own history. But they were free from +the stereotyped, commonplace stamp of the rank and file of +French democrats (who argue, declaim, and feel exactly +the same thing in herds, all going into ecstasies at once), +as well as from the uncouth, coarse, pothouse character +typical of the German refugees. The ordinary French +democrat is a bourgeois <i>in spe</i>; the German revolutionary, +like the German <i>Bursch</i>, is just the philistine over again +in a different stage of development. The Italians are +more original, more individual.</p> + +<p>The French are turned out ready-made by thousands +on the same pattern. The present government was not +originally responsible for this curtailment of individuality, +but it has grasped the secret of it. Absolutely in the +French spirit, it has organised public education—that is, +all education, for there is no home education in France. +In every town of the empire the same thing is being +taught on the same day, at the same hour, from the same +books. At all examinations the same questions are +asked, the same examples set; teachers who make any +departure from the text, or make any change in the +syllabus, are promptly removed. This soulless uniformity +of education has only put into a compulsory +hereditary form what existed unformulated in men’s +minds already.</p> + +<p>It is the conventional democratic notion of equality +applied to intellectual development. There is nothing +of the sort in Italy. The Italian, a federalist and an +artist by temperament, flies with horror from every +sort of barrack discipline, uniformity and geometrical +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_74">[74]</span>regularity. The Frenchman is innately a soldier; he +loves discipline, command, the uniform; he loves to +inspire terror. The Italian, if it comes to that, is rather +a bandit than a soldier, and by that I do not mean anything +at all to his discredit. He prefers at the risk of +capital punishment to kill his enemy at his own impulse +rather than to kill by order; but it is without throwing any +responsibility on others. He prefers a meagre livelihood +in the mountains, concealing smugglers, to honoured +service in the gendarmerie, discovering them.</p> + +<p>The educated Italian, like us, is developed of his own +accord by life, by his passions, by the books that have +happened to come into his hands, and so attains to understanding +of one sort or another. This is why there are gaps, +discords, both in his culture and in ours. Our culture, +like his, is in many respects inferior to the specialised +finish of the French and the theoretical learning of the +Germans; but, on the other hand, the colour is more +brilliant both in us and in the Italians.</p> + +<p>We even have the same defects as they. The Italian +has the same tendency to laziness as we: he does not think +of work as an enjoyment; he does not like the worry of +it, the weariness of it, the lack of leisure. Industry in +Italy is almost as backward as among us; the Italians, +like us, have treasures lying under their feet and they +do not dig them up. Manners in Italy have not been +influenced by the modern bourgeois tendency to the +same degree as in France and in England.</p> + +<p>The history of the Italian petty-bourgeois is quite +unlike the development of the bourgeoisie in France and +in England. The wealthy bourgeois, the descendants +<i>del popolo grasso</i>, have more than once successfully rivalled +the feudal aristocracy, have been rulers of cities, and +therefore they have been not further from but nearer +to the plebeians and <i>contadini</i> than the rapidly enriched +vulgarians of other lands. The bourgeoisie in the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_75">[75]</span>French sense is represented in Italy by a special class +which has come into existence since the first revolution, +and which might be called, as in geology, the Piedmont +strata. It is distinguished in Italy as in the whole +continent of Europe by being invariably liberal in <i>many</i> +questions, though in <i>all</i> afraid of the people and of +indiscreet talk about labour and wages, and, what is more, +by always giving way to the enemy above and never to +their followers below.</p> + +<p>The Italian exiles were drawn from every possible +stratum of society. There were all sorts to be found +about Mazzini, from the old names that occur in the +chronicles of Guicciardini and Muratori to which the +people’s ear has been accustomed for centuries, such as +Litti, Borromeo, del Verme, Belgiojoso, Nani, Visconti, +to some half-savage runaway Romeo from the Abruzzi +with his dark olive-coloured face and irrepressible rashness! +Here were clericals too, like Sirtori, the heroic +priest who, at the first firing in Venice, tucked up his +cassock, and all through the siege and defence of Marghera +fought, gun in hand, in the foremost ranks under a +shower of bullets; here, too, were the brilliant staff of +Neapolitan officers, such as Pisacane, Cosenz, and the +brothers Mezzocappa. Here, too, were peasants from +Trasteverina, faithful and hard as steel in privation, +stern, austere, dumb in calamity, modest and indomitable +like Pianori; and beside them, Tuscans, effeminate even +in pronunciation, but ready for the struggle too. Lastly, +there were Garibaldi, a figure taken straight out of +Cornelius Nepos, with the simplicity of a child and the +daring of a lion; and Felice Orsini, whose beautiful head +has so lately rolled from the steps of the scaffold.</p> + +<p>But at their names I must pause.</p> + +<p>I made Garibaldi’s acquaintance in 1854 when he +sailed from South America as the captain of a ship and +stayed in the West India Docks; I went to see him +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_76">[76]</span>accompanied by one of his comrades in the Roman war, +and by Orsini. Garibaldi, in a thick, light overcoat, +with a bright-coloured scarf around his neck and a cap +on his head, struck me as more of a genuine sailor than +as the glorious leader of the Roman legion, statuettes of +whom in fantastic costume were being sold all over the +world. The good-natured simplicity of his manner, the +absence of all affectation, the cordiality with which he +received us, all disposed me in his favour. His crew +consisted almost entirely of Italians; he was their head +and chief, and I am sure he was a strict one, but they +all looked happily and affectionately at him; they were +proud of their captain. Garibaldi gave us lunch in +his cabin, regaling us with specially prepared oysters +from South America, dried fruits, port—when suddenly +he leaped up, saying, ‘Wait a bit! We will drink a +different wine with you,’ and ran up on deck; then a +sailor brought in a bottle; Garibaldi looked at it with +a smile and filled our glasses.... One might have +expected anything from a man who had crossed the ocean, +but it was nothing more nor less than a bottle with the +label of his native town Nice, which he had brought +with him to London from America.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, in his simple and unceremonious talk +one was more and more conscious of the presence of +strength; without phrases and commonplaces, the +people’s leader, who had amazed all old soldiers by his +valour, was revealed, and it was easy to recognise in the +ship-captain the wounded lion who, fighting at every +step, retreated after the taking of Rome and, as he lost +his followers, gathered together again at San Marino, +at Ravenna, in Lombardy, in the Tyrol, in Tessino, +soldiers, peasants, bandits, any one of any sort to strike +back at the foe—and all this beside the body of his wife, +who had succumbed to the hardships and privations of +the march.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_77">[77]</span></p> + +<p>In 1854 his opinions were widely divergent from +those of Mazzini, although he was on good terms with +him. He told him in my presence that Piedmont ought +not to be irritated, that the chief aim now was to shake +off the Austrian yoke, and he greatly doubted whether +Italy was as ready for union and a republic as Mazzini +imagined. He was entirely opposed to all projects and +attempts at insurrection.</p> + +<p>When he was about to sail for coal to Newcastle-on-Tyne +and was from there setting off to the Mediterranean, +I told him how immensely I liked his seafaring life, and +that of all the exiles he was the one who had chosen the +better part.</p> + +<p>‘And who forbids them doing the same?’ he replied +with warmth. ‘This was my cherished dream; you may +laugh at it if you like, but I cherish it still. I am known +in America: I could have three or four such boats +under my command. I could take all the refugees on +them: the sailors, the lieutenants, the workmen, the +cooks, might all be exiles. What can they do now in +Europe? Grow used to slavery and be false to themselves, +or go begging in England. Settling in America +is worse still—that’s the end, that’s the country “of +forgetting the fatherland”: it is a new fatherland, there +are new interests, everything is different; men who +have settled in America fall out of the ranks. What is +better than my idea?’ (his face beamed): ‘what could +be better than gathering together round a few masts +and floating over the ocean, hardening ourselves in the +rough life of sailors, in conflict with the elements and +with danger? A floating revolution, ready to land on +any shore, independent and unassailable!’</p> + +<p>At that moment he seemed to me a hero of antiquity, +a figure out of the <i>Æneid</i> ... who—had he lived +in other ages—would have had his legend, his ‘Arma +virumque cano!’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_78">[78]</span></p> + +<p>Orsini was a man of quite a different type. He showed +to the full his wild strength and terrific energy on the +14th of January 1858, in the rue Lepelletier; they +won him a great name in history, and brought his head +under the knife of the guillotine at thirty-six. I made the +acquaintance of Orsini at Nice in 1851; at times we +were even very intimate, then drifted apart, came together +again, and in the end ‘a grey cat ran between us’ in +1856, and, though we were reconciled, we never felt +the same to each other again. Such types as Orsini are +only developed in Italy; on the other hand, they appear +there at all times, in all ages: they are conspirators and +artists, martyrs and adventurers, patriots, <i>condottiere</i>, +Teverina and Rienzi, anything you like, but not vulgar, +petty, commonplace, bourgeois. Such characters stand +out vividly in the chronicles of every Italian city. They +amaze us by their goodness, they amaze us by their +wickedness, and they impress us by the strength of their +passions and by the strength of their will. The yeast +of restlessness is fermenting in them from early years—they +must have danger, they must have laurels, glory, +fame; they are purely southern natures, with hot blood +in their veins, with passions almost beyond our understanding, +ready for any privation, for any sacrifice, from +a sort of thirst of enjoyment. Self-denial and devotion +in them go hand in hand with revengefulness and intolerance; +they are simple in many ways and cunning +in many ways. Reckless as to the means they use, they +are reckless, too, of danger; descendants of the Roman +patricians and children in Christ of the Jesuit fathers, +reared on classic memories and the traditions of mediæval +turmoils, a mass of ancient virtues and catholic vices are +fermenting in their souls. They set no value on their +own lives nor on the lives of others either; their terrific +persistence is on a level with Anglo-Saxon obstinacy. +On the one hand there is a naïve love of the external, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_79">[79]</span>an <i>amour propre</i> bordering on vanity, a voluptuous desire +to have their fill of applause, of glory; on the other, all +the Roman heroism in face of privation and death.</p> + +<p>People of this energy can only be checked by the +guillotine. Scarcely do they escape from the gendarmes +of Sardinia before they begin hatching plots in the very +claws of the Austrian hawk; and the day after a +miraculous rescue from the dungeons of Mantua they +begin, with hands still bleeding from the leap to freedom, +to sketch a plan of grenades, then, face to face with danger, +fling them under a carriage. In the hour of failure they +rise to titanic heights, and by their death deal a blow more +powerful than a bursting grenade....</p> + +<p>As a young man Orsini had fallen into the hands of +the secret police of Pope Gregory <span class="allsmcap">XIV.</span>; he was condemned +for taking part in the movement in Rome and +sentenced to the galleys, and remained in prison till the +amnesty of Pius <span class="allsmcap">IX.</span> From this life with smugglers, +with bravoes, with survivors of the Carbonari, he gained +a temper of iron and an immense knowledge of the +national spirit. From these men, who were daily in +conflict with the society which oppressed them, he +learnt the art of self-control, the art of being silent not +only before a judge but even with his friends.</p> + +<p>Men of Orsini’s stamp have a great influence on others: +people are attracted by their reserved character and at +the same time are not at home with them; one looks at +them with the nervous pleasure, mingled with uneasiness, +with which one admires the graceful movements and +velvety gambols of a panther. They are children, but +not good children. Not only Dante’s hell is ‘paved’ +with them, but all the later centuries nurtured on his +sinister poetry and the malignant wisdom of Machiavelli +are full of them. Mazzini, too, belongs to their family, +in the way that Cosimo Medici did; Orsini, in the way +that Giovanni Procida did. One cannot even exclude +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_80">[80]</span>from them the great ‘adventurer of the sea,’ Columbus, +nor the still greater ‘bandit’ of later days, Napoleon +Buonaparte.</p> + +<p>Orsini was strikingly handsome; his whole appearance, +elegant and graceful, could not but attract attention; +he was quiet, spoke little, gesticulated less than his fellow-countrymen, +and never raised his voice. The long black +beard, as he wore it in Italy, made him look like some +young Etruscan priest. His whole head was extraordinarily +beautiful, only a little marred by the irregular +line of the nose.⁠<a id="FNanchor_48" href="#Footnote_48" class="fnanchor">[48]</a> And all the same there was something +in Orsini’s features, in his eyes, in his frequent smile +and his gentle voice, that checked intimacy. It was +evident that he was holding himself in, that he never +fully let himself go and was wonderfully self-controlled; +it was evident that not one word fell from those smiling +lips without intention, that there were depths behind +those inwardly shining eyes, that, where we should +hesitate and step back, he would smile and without a +change of face or tone of voice, would go forward, +remorseless and undoubting.</p> + +<p>In the spring of 1852 Orsini was expecting very +important news in regard to his family affairs: he was +worried at not getting a letter; he told me so several +times, and I knew in what anxiety he was living. At +dinner-time one day, when two or three outsiders were +present, the postman came into the entry: Orsini sent +to ask if there was a letter for him; it appeared that there +was; he glanced at it, put it in his pocket, and went on +with the conversation. An hour and a half later, when +we were alone with him, Orsini said to us: ‘Well, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_81">[81]</span>thank God, at last I have got the answer, and it is all +very good news.’ We, knowing that he was expecting +a letter, had not guessed that this was it, with so unconcerned +an air had he opened it and then put it into his +pocket. A man like that is a born conspirator. And he +was one, indeed, all his life.</p> + +<p>And what was accomplished by him with his energy, +by Garibaldi with his daring, by Pianori with his revolver, +by Pisacane and the other martyrs whose blood is not +yet dry? Italy will be delivered from the Austrians, +if at all, by Piedmont; as it was from the Bourbon of +Naples by fat Murat, both under the protection of a +Buonaparte. Oh, <i>divina Commedia</i>?—or simply +<i>Commedia</i>! in the sense in which Pope Chiaramonti⁠<a id="FNanchor_49" href="#Footnote_49" class="fnanchor">[49]</a> +said it to Napoleon in Fontainebleau....</p> + +<p>I became very intimate later on with the two men +of whom I spoke when describing my first meeting +with Mazzini.</p> + +<p>Medici was a Lombard. In his early youth, unhappy +at the hopeless position of Italy, he went to Spain, afterwards +to Monte Video and to Mexico; he served in +the ranks of the Cristinos⁠<a id="FNanchor_50" href="#Footnote_50" class="fnanchor">[50]</a>⁠—was, I believe, a captain—and +at last returned to his native place after the election +of Mastai Ferretti.⁠<a id="FNanchor_51" href="#Footnote_51" class="fnanchor">[51]</a> Italy was showing signs of life; +Medici threw himself into the movement. He performed +miracles of valour at the head of the Roman legionaries +during the siege; but the French hordes entered Rome +all the same over the bodies of many noble victims—over +the dead body of Laviron, who, as though to atone +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_82">[82]</span>for the crime of his country, was fighting against it, +and fell, struck down by a French bullet at the gates +of Rome.</p> + +<p>One would imagine a tribune and warrior like Medici +as a <i>condottiero</i> bronzed by gunpowder and the tropical +sun, with bold features, with abrupt words and vigorous +gesticulation. Pale, fair, with soft features, eyes full +of gentleness, and elegant manners, Medici was more +like a man who has spent his whole life in the society of +ladies than a guerilla chieftain and an agitator. A poet, +a dreamer, at that time passionately in love—everything +about him was elegant and attractive.</p> + +<p>The few weeks spent with him at Geneva did me a +great deal of good. It was the very blackest period for +me, in 1852, six weeks after the burial of my wife. I +was utterly shattered: every signpost, every guiding +clue was lost; I do not know whether I was even then +like one demented, as Orsini said in his diary, but I +was certainly in a bad way. Medici was sorry for me; +he did not say so, but late in the evening, at twelve o’clock, +he sometimes knocked at my door and came in to talk +with me, sitting on my bed. (Once when we were +chatting like this we caught a scorpion on the quilt.) +He would sometimes knock, too, between six and seven +in the morning, saying, ‘It’s a lovely day, let us go to +Albaro’—that was where the Spanish beauty lived with +whom he was in love. He had no hope of a speedy +change of circumstances; before him was a prospect of +years of exile, everything was growing worse and gloomier; +but there was something youthful, gay, sometimes naïve, +about him. I have noticed the same thing in almost +all characters of that mould.</p> + +<p>On the day of my departure several friends came to +dine with me—Pisacane, Mordini, and Cosenz.⁠<a id="FNanchor_52" href="#Footnote_52" class="fnanchor">[52]</a> ... +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_83">[83]</span>‘Why is it,’ I asked in jest, ‘that our friend Medici, +with his fair hair and northern aristocratic face, reminds +me more of a Vandyck cavalier than of an Italian?’ +‘That’s natural,’ Pisacane went on, still in jest: ‘Giacomo +is a Lombard, he is descended from some German +Ritter.’ ‘Fratelli,’ said Medici, ‘there is not a single +drop of German blood in these veins!’ ‘It’s all very +well for you to talk; no, you must bring proofs, explain +why you have the features of a northerner,’ the former +went on. ‘Oh, well,’ said Medici, ‘if I have the features +of a northerner, I suppose one of my ancestresses must +have forgotten herself with a Pole!’</p> + +<p>Saffi had the purest and most candid nature that I +have met in a man not Russian. The men of Western +Europe are often not very intelligent, and so seem simple +and slow-witted; but gifted natures are rarely simple. +In Germans one meets with the disgusting simplicity +of immaturity in practical life; among the English the +simplicity that is due to slowness of mind, to their always +seeming half asleep and not being able to wake up +properly. On the other hand, the French are for ever +taken up with <i>arrière-pensées</i>, and absorbed in playing +their part. Together with the lack of simplicity they +have another defect: they are all very poor actors, and +do not know how to conceal their little game. Affectation, +boasting, and a habit of fine phrases have so entered +into their flesh and blood that men have perished, have +paid with their lives, for the part they were playing, and +yet their sacrifice has been all falsity. These are terrible +things, and many are indignant at their being put into +words, but it is still more terrible to deceive oneself. +That is why it is so comforting, so easy to breathe, when +in this jostling crowd of pretentious mediocrities and +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_84">[84]</span>insufferable, affected, and self-glorifying talents one meets +a strong man free from the slightest artificiality, free from +pretentiousness, free from the vanity that jars like a +knife scratching on a plate. It is like coming out of a +stuffy theatre-corridor lighted by lamps, after an afternoon +performance, into the sunshine—breathing fresh, +wholesome air and seeing real lime trees after cardboard +magnolias and sailcloth palm trees. Saffi is one of these +men. Mazzini, old Armellini, and he were the triumvirate +in the time of the Roman Republic. Saffi was +in charge of the ministry of home affairs, and, up to +the end of the struggles with the French, was in a foremost +place, and that meant then under the bullets and +cannon-shot.</p> + +<p>He returned from exile and once more crossed the +Apennines; he made this sacrifice with no faith in it, +from a sense of duty, from a feeling of great devotion, +that he might not wound some, that his absence might +not be a bad example. He spent some weeks in Bologna, +where he would have been shot within twenty-four +hours if he had been caught; his task was not simply +to conceal himself—he had to act, to prepare for action, +whilst awaiting news from Milan. I never heard from +him about the details of this part of his life. But I did +hear about it, a great deal about it, from a man who +might well be a good judge of deeds of daring, and I +heard it at a time when their personal relations were +greatly strained. Orsini had accompanied him across +the Apennines; he used to tell me with enthusiasm of +the even, calm serenity, of the light, almost gay, mood +of Saffi at the time when they were going down the +mountains on foot; with the enemy almost within sight, +Saffi would carelessly sing folk-songs and repeat verses +of Dante.... I imagine he would have gone to the +stake with the same verses and the same songs on his lips, +with no thought at all of his heroism.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_85">[85]</span></p> + +<p>In London, at Mazzini’s or at his friends’, Saffi was +mostly silent; he rarely took part in argument, sometimes +grew eager for a minute and then subsided again. +They did not understand him, that was clear to me, +<i>il ne savait pas se faire valoir</i> ... but I never heard +from one of the Italians who fell away from Mazzini +one word, one slightest hint, against Saffi.</p> + +<p>One evening an argument sprang up between Mazzini +and me about Leopardi.</p> + +<p>There are poems of Leopardi with which I am +passionately in sympathy. Much of his work, like +Byron’s, is spoilt by theorising, but sometimes a line of +his, like one of Byron’s, stabs, hurts, wrings the heart. +There are such words, such lines, in Lermontov; there +are some in the iambics of Barbier.⁠<a id="FNanchor_53" href="#Footnote_53" class="fnanchor">[53]</a>⁠</p> + +<p>Leopardi was the last book read, looked at before +her death, by Natalie....</p> + +<p>To men of action, to agitators who move the masses, +these bitter hesitations, these heartrending doubts are +incomprehensible. They see in them nothing but +profitless lamentation, nothing but feeble despondency. +Mazzini could not like Leopardi—that I knew beforehand; +but he attacked him with a sort of exasperation. +I felt very much vexed; of course, he was angry with +him for being of no use for propaganda. In the same +way Frederick <span class="allsmcap">II.</span> might have been angry with him ... +I do not know ... well, for instance, because he would +be of no use as a soldier. It is the revolting desire to +restrict the free play of personality, to force men into +categories and ranks—as though political activity were +like serf-labour to which the bailiffs drive weak and strong, +willing and unwilling alike, without consulting their +wishes. Mazzini was angry. Half in jest and half in +earnest, I said to him: ‘I believe you have a grudge +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_86">[86]</span>against poor Leopardi for not having taken part in the +Roman revolution; but you know he has an excellent +reason to urge in his defence—you keep forgetting it!’</p> + +<p>‘What reason?’</p> + +<p>‘Why, the fact that he died in 1836.’</p> + +<p>Saffi could not resist defending the poet whom he +loved even more than I did and of course understood +even more deeply: he analysed him with that æsthetic, +artistic feeling in which a man rather reveals aspects of +his spirit than ‘thinks.’</p> + +<p>From this conversation, and from a few more like it, +I saw that their path was not really the same. The +thought of one is seeking means, concentrated on means +alone—that is, in a sense running away from doubt; +it thirsts for nothing but practical activity, and that is +in a way indolence. To the other, objective truth is +precious and his mind is working; moreover, to an +artistic nature art is precious in itself, apart from its +relation to reality.</p> + +<p>Leaving Mazzini, we talked for a long time yet of +Leopardi. His poems were in my pocket; we went into +a café and read several of my favourite ones.</p> + +<p>That was sufficient. When men are in sympathy, +in the finer shades, they need not speak of many things—it +is clear that they are at one about vivid colours and +deep shadows.</p> + +<p>Speaking of Medici, I mentioned a deeply tragic +figure, Laviron. My acquaintance with him was brief; +he flashed by me and vanished in a cloud of blood. +Laviron was an engineer and an architect who had +completed his studies at the Polytechnique. I made +his acquaintance in the very heyday of the revolution, +between the 24th of February and the 15th of May +(he was then a captain in the National Guard). The +vigorous, stern where necessary, and gay, good-natured +Gallo-Frankish blood of the ’nineties coursed unmixed +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_87">[87]</span>in his veins. I imagine that the architect Kleber was of +the same stamp when he carried earth in a wheelbarrow +with the young actor Talma clearing a space for the +festival of the Federation. Laviron belonged to the +small number of men who were not intoxicated by the +victory of the 24th of February and the proclamation +of a republic. He was at the barricades when they +were fighting, and in the Hôtel de Ville when those who +had not fought were electing dictators: when a new +government came into the town-hall like a <i>deus ex +machina</i>, he loudly protested against its composition, +and, together with a few vigorous men, asked where it +had come from, why it was the government? With +perfect consistency, on the 15th of May Laviron burst +with the Parisian populace into the bourgeois assembly +and, with an unsheathed sword in his hand, forced the +president to admit the orators of the people to the tribune. +The cause was lost and Laviron was forced into hiding. +He was judged and condemned <i>par contumace</i>. The +reaction was drunk with success; it felt strong for combat +and soon strong for conquest—then came the June days, +proscriptions, exiles, the <i>Blue</i> terror. It was just at +that period that I was sitting one evening on the boulevard +in front of Tortoni’s in a crowd of all sorts of people, +and, as is always the case in Paris—under constitutional +and unconstitutional monarchy, under the republic and +under the empire—spies were scattered about everywhere +amongst them. Suddenly—I could not believe +my eyes—Laviron walked up to me. ‘How are you?’ +he said. ‘What madness is this?’ I answered in an +undertone, and taking him by the arm I walked away +from Tortoni’s. ‘How can you expose yourself like +this, and especially just now?’</p> + +<p>‘If only you knew how dreary it is to sit shut up in +hiding! it’s enough to drive one crazy.... I sat +thinking and thinking, and then went out for a walk.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_88">[88]</span></p> + +<p>‘But why on the boulevard?’</p> + +<p>‘That makes no difference. I am less known here +than on the other side of the Seine, and who would +dream of my walking about by Tortoni’s? I am going +away, though....</p> + +<p>‘Where?’</p> + +<p>‘To Geneva. Everything is so dreary and sickening; +we have terrible calamities ahead of us. Everywhere +there is change for the worse, and pettiness is everywhere +and in everything. Well, good-bye—good-bye; and +may our next meeting be a more cheerful one.’</p> + +<p>In Geneva Laviron worked as an architect, and was +building something when suddenly war was declared +‘for the Pope’ against Rome. The French made their +treacherous attack on Cività Vecchia, and were approaching +Rome. Laviron threw down his calipers +and galloped off to Rome. ‘You need an engineer, an +artilleryman, a soldier. I am a Frenchman. I am +ashamed of France, and go to fight against my countrymen,’ +he said to the triumvirs, and joined the ranks +of the Romans as a sacrifice of atonement for his country. +With gloomy daring he headed the advance; when +everything was lost he still fought on, and fell at the +gates of Rome, shot down by a French bullet.</p> + +<p>The French newspapers greeted his death with a +shower of abuse, claiming that it was the judgment of +God on an infamous traitor to his country!...</p> + +<p>When a man who has long been watching black curls +and black eyes suddenly turns to a fair-haired woman +with light-coloured eyebrows, pale and nervous, his eyes +always receive a shock and cannot at once get over +it. The difference of which he has not been thinking, +which he has forgotten, produces an involuntary physical +effect upon him.</p> + +<p>Exactly the same thing happens when one turns quickly +from the Italian circles to the German.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_89">[89]</span></p> + +<p>Undoubtedly the Germans are more developed on +the theoretical side than any other people, but they +have not gained much by it so far. From Catholic +fanaticism they have passed to the Protestant pietism of +transcendental philosophy and the romance of philology, +and are now gradually making the transition to exact +science; the German ‘studies diligently at all his stages,’ +and his whole history is summed up in that, and he will +get marks for it on the Day of Judgment. The common +people of Germany, who have studied less, have suffered +a great deal; they bought the right to Protestantism by +the Thirty Years’ War, the right to an independent +existence—that is, to a colourless existence under the +supervision of Russia—by the struggle with Napoleon. +The emancipation in 1814 and 1815 was the complete +victory of the reaction; and when, in place of Jerome +Buonaparte, <i>der Landesvater</i> appeared in a powdered +wig and an old-fashioned uniform long laid by, and +announced that next day was fixed, let us say, for the +forty-fifth parade (the one before, the forty-fourth, +had taken place before the revolution), then all the +emancipated people felt as though they had suddenly +lost touch with the present and gone back to another +age, and every one felt his head to see if he had grown a +pigtail with a ribbon on it. The people accepted this +with simple-hearted foolishness, and sang Körner’s songs. +Science and learning advanced. Greek tragedies were +performed in Berlin, there were dramatic triumphs for +Goethe in Weimar.</p> + +<p>The most radical men among the Germans remain +philistines in their private life. Bold as they are in +logic, they feel no obligation to be consistent in practice, +and fall into glaring contradictions. The German mind, +in matters revolutionary as well as in everything else, +accepts the general idea in its unconditional—of course, +that is, unreal—significance, and is satisfied with working +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_90">[90]</span>it out intellectually, imagining that a thing is done when +it is understood, and that the fact as easily follows the +thought as the meaning of the fact is grasped by the +consciousness.</p> + +<p>The English and the French are full of prejudices, +while a German is free from them; but both French and +English are more consistent in their lives—the rule they +follow is perhaps absurd, but it is what they have accepted. +The German accepts nothing except reason and logic, +but he is ruled in many things by <i>other considerations</i>—this +is selling the soul for bribes.</p> + +<p>The Frenchman is not morally free: though rich in +initiative in practical life, he is poor in abstract thought. +He thinks in received conceptions, in accepted forms; +he gives a fashionable cut to commonplace ideas, and is +satisfied with them. It is hard for him to take in anything +new, although he does rush at it. The Frenchman +oppresses his family and believes it is his duty to do so, +just as he believes in the ‘Legion of Honour’ and the +authority of the law-courts. The German believes in +nothing, but takes advantage of public prejudices where +it suits him. He is accustomed to trivial comfort, to +<i>Wohlbehagen</i>, to peace and quiet, and, as he goes from his +study to the <i>Prunkzimmer</i> or his bedroom, sacrifices his +free thought to his dressing-gown, to his peace and quiet, +and to his kitchen. The German is a great Sybarite, +though this characteristic is not noticed in him, because +his poor and narrow luxury and petty mode of life are +not very much to look at; but the Eskimo who is ready +to sacrifice everything for fish-fat is as much an epicurean +as Lucullus. Moreover, the German, lymphatic by +temperament, soon grows heavy and sends down a +thousand roots into his familiar mode of life; anything +that might disturb him in his habits terrifies his philistine +temper.</p> + +<p>All the German revolutionaries are cosmopolitans, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_91">[91]</span><i>sie haben überwunden den Standpunkt der Nationalität</i>, +and are filled with the most touchy, most obstinate +patriotism. They are ready to accept an all-world +republic, to abolish the frontiers between states, but +Trieste and Danzig must belong to Germany. The +Vienna students were not above setting off for Lombardy +under the command of Radetsky; they even, under +the leadership of some professor, took a cannon, which +they presented to Innsbrück. With this conceited and +martial patriotism, Germany has, from the time of the +first revolution and up to this day, looked with horror +to the right and with horror to the left. On this side, +France with standards unfurled is crossing the Rhine; +on that side, Russia is crossing the Niemen, and the people +numbering twenty-five millions finds itself utterly forlorn +and deserted, is scolding with terror, full of hatred from +terror, and to comfort itself proving theoretically from +authentic sources that the existence of France is no longer +existence, while the existence of Russia is not yet existence.</p> + +<p>The ‘council of war’ assembled in St. Paul’s Church +in Frankfort, and consisting of various worthy doctors, +theologians, chemists, philologists, and professors, <i>sehr +ausgezeichneten in ihrem Fache</i>, applauded the Austrian +soldiers in Lombardy and oppressed the Poles in Posen. +The very question of Schleswig-Holstein (<i>stammverwandt!</i>) +was only a subject of interest to them from +the point of view of ‘<i>Teutschtum</i>.’ The first free word, +uttered after centuries of silence by the representatives +of emancipated Germany, was in opposition to weak +and depressed nationalities. This incapacity for freedom, +these awkwardly revealed inclinations to retain what +had been unjustly acquired, provoke irony: one forgives +insolent pretensions only when accompanied by vigorous +actions, and those were absent.</p> + +<p>The revolution of 1848 had everywhere the character +of hastiness and precipitate action, but there was scarcely +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_92">[92]</span>anything absurd about it in France and in Italy; in +Germany, however, everywhere except in Vienna, it +had a farcical character, incomparably more comic than +the humour of Goethe’s wretched farce, <i>Der Bürgergeneral</i>.</p> + +<p>There was not a town, not a spot in Germany where +at the time of the rising there was not an attempt at a +‘committee of public safety’ with all its principal +characters: with a frigid youth as Saint-Just, with gloomy +terrorists, and a military genius representing Carnot. +I knew two or three Robespierres personally: they always +put on clean shirts, washed their hands, and had clean +nails. On the other hand, there were also dishevelled +Collots d’Herbois; and if there happened to be a man +in the club fonder of beer than the rest and more openly +given to dangling after <i>Stubermädchen</i>—he was the +Danton, <i>eine schweigende Natur</i>!</p> + +<p>French weaknesses and defects are partly dissipated +by their light and fugitive character. In the German +the same defects assume a more solid and fundamental +character, and hence are more striking. One must see +for oneself these German efforts to play <i>so einen burschikosen +Kamin de Paris</i> in politics in order to do them +justice. I was always reminded of the playfulness of +a cow when that excellent and respectable animal, +adorned with all the domestic virtues, takes to frisking +and galloping in the meadow, and with a serious face +kicks up her two hind legs or gallops sideways chasing +her own tail.</p> + +<p>After the Dresden affair, I met in Geneva one of the +agitators who had taken part in it, and began at once +questioning him about Bakunin. He lauded him up +to the skies, and began describing how he had himself +commanded a barricade under his instructions. Inflamed +by his own narrative he went on: ‘A revolution +is a thunderstorm; in it one must listen neither to the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_93">[93]</span>dictates of the heart nor to considerations of ordinary +justice.... One must oneself have taken part in +such events fully to understand the Montagne of 1794. +Only imagine: we suddenly observe a vague movement +in the royalist party, false reports were intentionally +circulated, suspicious-looking men appeared. I reflected +and reflected, and at last resolved to <i>terrorise</i> my street. +“<i>Männer!</i>” I said to my company, “under pain of +court-martial, which may at once sentence you to death +in case of disobedience, I command you to seize every one, +regardless of sex, age, or calling, who attempts to cross +the barricade, and to bring him under close guard to me.” +This was kept up for more than twenty-four hours. +If the <i>Bürger</i> who was brought to me was a good patriot, +I let him go; but if he was a suspicious character, then +I gave the signal to the guard.’</p> + +<p>‘And,’ I said with horror, ‘and they?’</p> + +<p>‘And they accompanied him home,’ the terrorist +replied with pride and satisfaction.</p> + +<p>I will add another anecdote illustrating the character +of the German champions of freedom.</p> + +<p>The youth whom I mentioned, when describing my +visit to Gustav Struve, as filling the post of minister of +home affairs wrote me a note a few days later in which +he asked me to find him work of some sort. I suggested +that he should copy for the press the manuscript of +my <i>Vom anderen Ufer</i> from the handwriting of Kapp, +to whom I had dictated it in German from the Russian +original. The young man accepted the proposal. A +few days later he told me that he was so uncomfortably +lodged with several students that he had neither space +nor quiet to work, and asked leave to copy it in Kapp’s +room. Even there the work made little progress. +The minister <i>per interim</i> arrived at eleven o’clock in +the morning, lay on the sofa, smoked cigars, drank beer +... and went off in the evenings to gatherings and +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_94">[94]</span>consultations at Struve’s. Kapp, a man of the greatest +delicacy, was ashamed of him. A week or more passed +in this way. Kapp and I said nothing, but the ex-minister +broke the silence: he wrote me a note asking me for +<i>a hundred francs in advance</i> for the work. I wrote him +that he was working so slowly that I could not give him +such a sum in advance, but that since he was in great +need of money I was sending him twenty francs, although +he had not yet done ten francs’ worth of copying.</p> + +<p>In the evening the minister appeared at the gathering +at Struve’s and reported on my anti-civic action and my +misuse of my fortune. The worthy minister considered +that socialism consisted not in a social organisation, but +in a senseless partition of senselessly acquired property!</p> + +<p>In spite of the amazing chaos prevailing in Struve’s +brains, he did, being an honest man, consider that I was +not altogether to blame, and that it might be better for +the <i>Bürger und Bruder</i> to copy more and ask less money +in advance. He persuaded him not to make a great +outcry over the story.</p> + +<p>‘Well, then, I shall send him back the money—<i>mit +Verachtung</i>,’ said the minister.</p> + +<p>‘What nonsense!’ cried a student. ‘If the <i>Bruder und +Bürger</i> does not care to take the money, I suggest that +we spend it on beer and send out for some at once to +drink to the perdition <i>der Besitzenden</i>.’</p> + +<p>‘Do you agree?’</p> + +<p>‘Yes, yes, we all agree—bravo!’</p> + +<p>‘We will drink,’ cried the orator, ‘and pledge ourselves +not to bow to the Russian aristocrat who has +insulted the <i>Bruder</i>.’</p> + +<p>‘Yes, yes, we must not bow to him.’</p> + +<p>And so they drank the beer and gave up bowing to me.</p> + +<p>All these absurd failings, together with the peculiar +<i>Plumpheit</i> of the Germans, jar upon the southern nature +of the Italians and excite a physical, racial hatred in them. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_95">[95]</span>The worst of it is that the good side of the Germans, +that is, their philosophical culture, is either of no interest +to the Italian or beyond his ken; while the vulgar, +ponderous side is always conspicuous. The Italian +often leads the most frivolous and idle life, but with a +certain artistic, rhythmic grace about it, and that is why +he can least put up with the bear-like joking and clumsy +familiarity of the jovial German.</p> + +<p>The Anglo-Germanic race is far coarser than the +Franco-Roman. There is no help for that: it is its +physical characteristic; it is absurd to be angry with it. +The time has come to accept once for all that the different +races of mankind, like different species of animals, have +their different characteristics and are not to blame for +them. No one is angry with the bull for not having +the beauty of the horse or the swiftness of the stag; no +one reproaches the horse because its flesh is not so good +to eat as that of the ox: all that we can ask of them in +the name of animal brotherhood is to graze peaceably +in the same field without kicking or goring each other. +In nature, everything attains to whatever it is capable +of attaining to, is formed as chance determines, and so +takes its generic <i>pli</i>: training goes some distance, corrects +one thing and develops another; but to expect beef-steaks +from horses, or horses’ paces from bulls, is nevertheless +absurd.</p> + +<p>To grasp concretely the difference between the two +opposite traditions of the European races, one has but +to glance at the street-boys in Paris and in London; I +take them as an example because they are absolutely +spontaneous in their rudeness.</p> + +<p>Look how the Parisian <i>gamins</i> jeer at any queer +Englishman, and how the London street-boys mock at +a Frenchman; in this little instance the two opposite +types of two European races are sharply defined. The +Parisian <i>gamin</i> is insolent and persistent, he can be +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_96">[96]</span>insufferable: but, in the first place, he is witty, his mischief +is limited to jests, and he is as amusing as he is annoying; +and, in the second, there are words at which he blushes +and at once desists, there are words which he never +uses; it is difficult to stop him by roughness, and if +the victim lifts his stick I would not answer for the +consequences. It must be noted, too, that the French +boys need something to attract their attention: a red +waistcoat with blue stripes, a brick-coloured coat, a +strange-looking muffler, a flunkey carrying a parrot or +a dog, things only done by Englishmen and, take note, +only outside England. To be simply a foreigner is not +enough to make them mock and run after you.</p> + +<p>The wit of the London street-boys is simpler. It +begins with guffawing at the sight of a foreigner,⁠<a id="FNanchor_54" href="#Footnote_54" class="fnanchor">[54]</a> if +only he has a moustache, a beard, or a wide-brimmed +hat; then they shout some twenty times: ‘<i>French +pig! French dog!</i>’ If the foreigner turns to them +with some reply, the neighings and bleatings are redoubled; +if he walks away, the boys run after him—then +all that is left is the <i>ultima ratio</i> of lifting a stick, +and sometimes bringing it down on one of them. After +that the boys run away full speed, dropping oaths and +sometimes throwing mud or a stone from a distance.</p> + +<p>In France, a grown-up workman, shopman, or woman +selling wares in the street never takes part with the +<i>gamins</i> in the pranks they play upon foreigners; in +London, all the dirty women, all the grown-up shopmen +grunt like pigs and abet the boys.</p> + +<p>In France there is one shield which at once checks +the most persistent boy—that is, poverty. In the country +that knows no word more insulting than the word +<i>beggar</i>, the foreigner is the more persecuted the poorer +and more defenceless he is. One Italian refugee, who +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_97">[97]</span>had once been an officer in the Austrian cavalry and had +left his country after the war, completely destitute, +when winter came, wore his greatcoat of a military +officer. This excited such a sensation in the market-place +through which he had to pass every day, that the +shouts of ‘Who’s your tailor?’ roars of laughter, and +finally tugging at his collar, forced the Italian at last to +give up his greatcoat and, shivering to the marrow of his +bones, to go about in his jacket.</p> + +<p>This coarseness in street mockery, this lack of delicacy +and tact in the common people, helps to explain how it +is that women are nowhere beaten so often and so badly +as in England,⁠<a id="FNanchor_55" href="#Footnote_55" class="fnanchor">[55]</a> how it is that an English father is ready +to cast dishonour on his own daughter and a husband on +his wife by taking legal proceedings against them.</p> + +<p>The rude manners of the English streets are a great +offence at first to the French and the Italians. The +German, on the other hand, receives them with laughter +and answers with similar rudeness; an interchange of abuse +is kept up, end he is very well pleased with it. They +both take it as a civility, a pleasant joke. ‘Bloody dog!’ +the proud Briton shouts at him, grunting like a pig. +‘Beastly John Bull!’ answers the German, and each +goes on his way.</p> + +<p>This behaviour is not confined to the streets: one +has but to look at the polemics of Marx, Heinzen, Ruge, +<i>et consorts</i>, which were unceasing from 1849, have never +ceased, and are still kept up on the other side of the +Atlantic Ocean. We are unaccustomed to see in print +such expressions, such accusations: nothing is spared, +no respect is paid to personal honour, to the privacy of +the family or the inviolability of a secret.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_98">[98]</span></p> + +<p>Among the English, coarseness disappears as we rise +higher in the scale of intelligence or aristocratic breeding; +among the Germans it never disappears. The greatest +poets of Germany (with the exception of Schiller) fall +into the most uncouth vulgarity.</p> + +<p>One of the reasons of the <i>mauvais ton</i> of Germans is +that breeding in our sense of the word does not exist +in Germany at all. Germans are taught, and taught +a great deal, but they are not educated at all, even in +the aristocracy, in which the manners of the barracks, +of the <i>Junker</i>, are predominant. They are completely +lacking in the æsthetic sense in daily life. The French +have lost it, just as they have lost the elegance of their +language; the Frenchman of to-day rarely knows how +to write a letter free from legal or commercial expressions—the +counter and the barrack-room have distorted their +manners.</p> + +<p>To conclude this comparison, I will describe an incident +in which I saw with my own eyes and face to face +the gulf which separates the Italians from the <i>Tedeschi</i>, +and which there will be no bridging for years to come +by any number of amnesties or manifestoes of the brotherhood +of nations.</p> + +<p>I was travelling with Tessier du Mothe, in 1852, +from Genoa to Lugano. We reached Arona by night, +and, inquiring when the steamer started, learned that +it was at eight o’clock next morning, and went to bed. +At half-past seven the porter came to take our trunks, +and by the time we reached the landing-stage they were +already on deck. But in spite of that we looked at each +other with some perplexity instead of going on board.</p> + +<p>A huge white flag with the two-headed eagle on it +was fluttering over the hissing and swaying steamer, and +on the stern was painted the name, <i>Fürst Radetsky</i>. +We had forgotten to ask overnight what steamer was +going, whether an Austrian or a Sardinian. Tessier +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_99">[99]</span>had at the Versailles trial been condemned <i>in contumaciam</i> +to deportation. Though Austria had nothing to +do with that, yet surely it would seize the opportunity +to keep him in prison for six months, at any rate, while +making inquiries. The example of Bakunin showed +what they were capable of doing with me. By agreement +with Piedmont, the Austrians had not the right +to demand passports from those who without landing +on the Lombard shore went to Mogadino, which belongs +to Switzerland; but I imagine they would not, if +opportunity arose, disdain so simple a means of seizing +Mazzini or Kossuth.</p> + +<p>‘Well,’ said Tessier, ‘to go back is absurd!’</p> + +<p>‘Well, let’s go ahead, then!’ and we went on +deck.</p> + +<p>Just before starting, the passengers were surrounded +by a detachment of soldiers armed with guns—what for? +I do not know. Two small cannon, fastened in a special +way, stood on the steamer. When the steamer set off +the soldiers were dismissed. On the cabin walls hung +regulations: among them was the statement that those +passengers who were not going to Lombardy need not +show their passports; but it was added that if any one +of such persons were guilty of any offence against the +K.K. (Kaiserlich Königlichen) police regulations he +must be judged according to the laws of Austria. <i>Or +donc</i>, wearing a Calabrian hat or a tricolor cockade was +a crime against Austria. Only then I fully appreciated +what clutches we were caught in. However, +I am far from regretting my trip; nothing special +happened during our journey, but I gathered a rich store +of observations.</p> + +<p>Several Italians were sitting on deck; they were +smoking cigars in gloomy silence, looking with concealed +hatred at the fair-haired officers dressed in white jackets +who were bustling about on all sides without the slightest +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_100">[100]</span>necessity. I must observe that among them were lads +of twenty, and they were mostly young men; I can hear +now the jarring, guttural, barrack-room voices, the +insolent laughter that was like coughing, besides the +loathsome Austrian accent in speaking German. I +repeat that there was nothing dreadful about it, but I +felt that for their manner of standing and turning their +backs in our very faces, giving themselves airs and +showing off, ‘We are the victors—our side has won,’ +they ought to have been flung into the water; and even +more, I felt that I should have been delighted to have +seen it done, and would eagerly have helped.</p> + +<p>Any one who had taken the trouble to look for five +minutes at these two groups of men could not fail to +understand that there can be no talk of reconciliation, +that in the very blood of these people there lies a hatred +for each other which it will take centuries to dissipate, +to soften and to reduce to an inoffensive racial difference. +After midday some of the passengers went down to the +cabin, others asked to have lunch on deck. Here the racial +difference was still more strikingly apparent. I looked +at them with amazement—not a single gesture was the +same. The Italians ate little, with the innate natural +grace with which they do everything. The officers +tore off pieces, chewed them loudly, threw down the +bones, shoved their plates; some, bending right down +to the table, with peculiar agility and extraordinary +rapidity splashed the soup from the spoon into their +mouths; others ate butter <i>from a knife</i>—without bread or +salt. I looked at these performers and, glancing at an +Italian, smiled—he understood me at once, and, responding +with a sympathetic smile, betrayed his intense disgust. +Another observation: while the Italians asked with a +smile and gentle manner for a plate or for wine, every +time thanking the waiter with a nod or a glance, the +Austrians treated the attendants with revolting rudeness, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_101">[101]</span>just as retired Russian cornets and lieutenants treat their +serfs in the presence of strangers.</p> + +<p>By way of a finishing touch, a lanky young officer +with pale yellowish hair called up a soldier, a man of +fifty, who looked like a Pole or a Croat, and began abusing +him for some negligence: The old man stood at attention +and, when the officer had finished, tried to say something; +but he had scarcely brought out ‘Your honour,’ when +‘Hold your tongue and be off!’ the pale yellow youth +shouted at him in a husky voice. Then, turning to his +comrades as though nothing had happened, he fell to +drinking beer again. With what object was all this +done before us? And was it not all done expressly for +our benefit?</p> + +<p>When we landed at Mogadino our long-suffering +hearts could be restrained no longer, and, turning towards +the steamer, which had not moved away, we shouted, +‘<i>Viva la Republica!</i>’—while one Italian, shaking his +head, repeated, ‘<i>E brutissimi, brutissimi!</i>’</p> + +<p>Is it not premature to talk so rashly of the solidarity +and brotherhood of the nations, and will not any artificial +covering up of their hostility be a mere hypocritical +truce? I believe that national peculiarities will lose +their offensive character just so far as they have lost it +in cultivated society; but for such breeding to permeate +the depths of the masses needs time. When I look at +Folkestone and Boulogne, at Dover and Calais, then I +feel full of dread and want to say—many centuries.</p> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_102">[102]</span></p> + +<h3 class="nobreak" id="Chapter_38">Chapter 38<br> +<span class="smcap">Switzerland—James Fazy and the Refugees—Monte +Rosa</span></h3> + +</div> + +<p class="dropcap">The agitation in Europe was still so violent in 1849 +that it was difficult, living in Geneva, to fix the +attention on Switzerland alone. Moreover, political +parties are rather like the Russian Government in the +skill with which they divert the attention of the traveller. +If he falls under their influence, he sees everything, but +sees it all not simply but from a certain angle; he cannot +get out of an enchanted circle. His first impression is +prearranged, suborned, and does not belong to himself. +The prejudiced view of the party catches him unawares, +unprepared, indifferent, and, so to say, disarmed, and +before he has taken his bearings it becomes his view. In +1849 I knew only Radical Switzerland, that Switzerland +which brought about a democratic revolution, which +in 1847 suppressed the <i>Sonderbund</i>.⁠<a id="FNanchor_56" href="#Footnote_56" class="fnanchor">[56]</a> Then more and +more surrounded by the refugees, I shared their indignation +with the cowardly Federal Government and the +pitiful part it was playing in the face of its reactionary +neighbours.</p> + +<p>I learnt more about Switzerland and got to understand +it better on later visits, and most of all in London. In +the dreary leisure of the years 1853 and 1854 I learnt +a great deal, and formed a different view of many things +that I had experienced or seen in the past.</p> + +<p>Switzerland was passing through a difficult ordeal. +Among the ruins of the whole world of free institutions, +among the fragments of foundering civilisations grinding +each other into dust, amidst the destruction of all conditions +of human life, of all political forms, for the benefit +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_103">[103]</span>of a brutal despotism, two countries remained as they +were—one behind its sea, the other behind its mountains, +both mediæval republics, both firmly rooted in the soil +by the traditions of ages.</p> + +<p>But what a difference of power and position between +England and Switzerland! If Switzerland, too, is like +an island behind her mountains, her position, shut in +by other countries, and her national spirit compel her +to steer her course with care, and also make her politics +far from simple. In England the common people do +not stir, they are three centuries behindhand. Activity in +England is confined to a certain class: the majority of +the people are outside any movement; they are scarcely +stirred by Chartism, and even that is confined exclusively +to the town workmen. England stands aside, flings its +inflammable material across the ocean as it accumulates, +and there it grows triumphantly. Ideas do not crowd +upon her from the Continent, but enter slowly, adapted +to her manners and translated into her language.</p> + +<p>It is utterly different in Switzerland: she has no +ruling caste, nor even striking differences between the +town and country. The patriarchal patricians of the +cantons could not hold out against the first pressure of +democratic ideas. Every doctrine, every idea passes +backwards and forwards across Switzerland, and they +all leave their traces on her: she speaks three languages. +Calvin preached there; the tailor Weitling⁠<a id="FNanchor_57" href="#Footnote_57" class="fnanchor">[57]</a> preached +there; there Voltaire laughed and Rousseau was born. +That land in which every man from the ploughman +and the workman upwards has a hand in the government, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_104">[104]</span>which is oppressed by powerful neighbours, has no standing +army, no bureaucracy, and no dictatorship, remains +after the storms of revolution and the saturnalia of reaction +the same free republican federation as before.</p> + +<p>I should very much like to know how conservatives +explain the fact that the only countries in Europe that +are tranquil are those in which personal freedom and +freedom of speech are the least restricted. While the +Austrian Empire, for instance, is kept up by a series of +<i>coups d’état</i> with the stimulant of galvanic shocks and +administrative revolutions, and the French throne is +only maintained by terrorism and the abolition of all +legality, in Switzerland and England even the absurd and +antiquated forms that have grown up with their freedom +are preserved unshaken under its mighty canopy.</p> + +<p>The behaviour of the Federal Council in regard to +political refugees, whom they turned out at the first +request from Austria and from France, was disgraceful. +But the responsibility for it falls exclusively on the +Government; questions of foreign policy are by no means +so near the heart of the people as domestic problems. +In reality all nations are only interested in their own +affairs; everything outside is confined to a remote preference +or simply a rhetorical exercise, sometimes sincere, +but even then rarely affecting practice. The nation +which has gained a reputation by its humane sympathy +with all and everything knows less geography than any +and is more than any tainted with insufferably susceptible +patriotism. Moreover, the Swiss is by nature itself +not drawn to distant horizons: he is confined to his +native valley by his mountains, as the dweller by the +sea to its shore, and as long as he is not interfered with +in it he says nothing.</p> + +<p>The right, assumed by the Federal Government, of +dealing with the refugees did not really belong to the +Swiss central government at all; according to its law, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_105">[105]</span>the question of the exiles was in the jurisdiction of each +canton. The Swiss Radicals, carried away by French +theories, tried to strengthen the central government in +Berne, and made a great mistake. Fortunately, the +attempts at centralisation, except in those instances in +which its practical benefit is obvious, such as the organisation +of the post and maintenance of roads and currency, +were not at all popular in Switzerland. Centralisation +may do a great deal for order and for various public +undertakings, but it is incompatible with freedom. It +easily brings a nation to the position of a well-tended +flock, or a pack of hounds cleverly kept in order by a +huntsman.</p> + +<p>That is why the Americans and the English hate it +as much as the Swiss.</p> + +<p>Numerically weak, uncentralised Switzerland is a +many-headed hydra, a Briareus; you cannot vanquish +her at one blow. Where is her head? Where is her +heart? Moreover, one cannot imagine a king without +a capital city. A king is as great an absurdity in Switzerland +as the grades of the Russian civil service in New +York. The mountains, republicanism, and federalism +have reared and preserved in Switzerland a mighty, +vigorous breed of men, as sharply differentiated from +each other as the soil is by the mountains, and as united +by them as it is.</p> + +<p>It is worth seeing the representatives of various cantons +gathered together at some federal shooting competition, +with their several standards, in their several costumes, +with carbine on shoulder. Proud of their separate individuality +and of their unity, coming down from their +native mountains, they greet each other with brotherly +shouts and salute the federal standard (which is kept +in the town where the last competition was held), and +yet remain distinct.</p> + +<p>In these festivals of a free people, in the military games, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_106">[106]</span>free from the offensive <i>étalage</i> of monarchy and the +gorgeous setting of gold-embroidered aristocracy and +dazzling guards, there is something impressive and +powerful. On all sides speeches are delivered, home-made +wine flows, there are sounds of shouting, singing, +and bands; and all are conscious that there is no leaden +weight, no oppressive burden of authority, on their +shoulders....</p> + +<p>In Geneva soon after my arrival a banquet was given +at the end of the term to the pupils of all the schools. +James Fazy, the president of the canton, invited me to +this fête. A big pavilion had been put up in an open +space in Carouge. The council and all the leading +figures in the canton were present, and dined with the +children. A number of citizens, those whose turn it was, +in uniform and carrying guns, had been summoned for a +guard of honour. Fazy delivered a speech of a thoroughly +radical character, congratulated the prize-winners, and +proposed the health of ‘The future citizens!’ to the +strains of music and the firing of cannon. After this +the children filed past him, two by two, to the field +where various sports had been prepared, air-balloons, +acrobatic performances, and so on. The armed citizens—that +is, the fathers, uncles, and elder brothers of the +school-children—formed an avenue, and as the head of +the column passed they presented arms.... Yes! +presented arms before their sons and the orphans brought +up at the expense of the canton.... The children +were the honoured guests of the town, its ‘future citizens.’ +All this was strange to such of us as had been present +at Russian school anniversaries and similar ceremonies.</p> + +<p>It seems strange to us, too, that all the workmen, all +the grown-up peasants, the waiters in restaurants as well as +the restaurant-keepers, those who live in mountains and +those who live in marshes, have a very good knowledge +of the affairs of the canton, take an interest in them, and +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_107">[107]</span>belong to one or other party. Their language, their +degree of culture, is very different; and if a Geneva workman +sometimes reminds one of a member of some Lyons +club, while the simple mountaineer is to this day like +the men who surrounded Schiller’s William Tell, that +does not prevent their both taking the warmest interest +in public affairs. In France there are offshoots and +branches of political and social societies in the towns; +their members are interested in the revolutionary question, +and incidentally know something of the actual government. +But, on the other hand, those who are outside +these associations, and especially the peasants, know nothing +and care nothing either for the affairs of France or for +the affairs of the department.</p> + +<p>Lastly, both we Russians and the French are struck +by the absence of all sorts of trappings and vestments, +all the operatic setting of a government. The president +of a canton, the president of the Federal Assembly, the +state secretaries (<i>i.e.</i> the ministers), and the federal +colonels go to the café like simple mortals, dine at the +common table, discuss public affairs, argue with workmen +and argue before them among themselves, and they +all drink the same wine and <i>kirsch</i>.</p> + +<p>From the beginning of my acquaintance with James +Fazy, I was impressed by this democratic simplicity, and +it was only later on that I perceived that in all matters +relating to the law the government of the canton was +anything but weak, in spite of its lack of wardrobe +grandeur, of stripes on trousers, of plumage, of beadles +with staves, of sergeants with moustaches, and all the +other gewgaws and superfluities of the royal <i>mise en scène</i>.</p> + +<p>In the autumn of 1849 the persecution of refugees +who had sought shelter in Switzerland began; the +government was in the weak hands of doctrinaires, the +federal ministers lost their heads. The intimidated +Confederation, which had once refused Louis-Philippe’s +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_108">[108]</span>request for the deportation of Louis-Napoleon, now at +the command of the latter turned out those who sought +a refuge, and performed the same gracious act for Austria +and Prussia. Of course, the Federal Government had +on this occasion to deal not with a fat old king who disliked +extreme measures, but with men whose hands were +wet with blood and who were in the fury of savage +reprisals. But what was the Federal Assembly afraid +of? If it had been capable of looking beyond its +mountains, it would have perceived how much secret +alarm lay hidden under the insolence and menaces of +the neighbouring governments. Not one of them had +in 1849 a sufficiently stable position and sense of its +own power to begin a war. The Confederation need +only have shown its teeth and they would have desisted; +the doctrinaires preferred timid submission, and began +a petty, unworthy persecution of men who had nowhere +to go to.</p> + +<p>For a long time some of the cantons, and among them +that of Geneva, maintained their opposition to the +Federal Assembly, but at last even Fazy was drawn, +<i>nolens volens</i>, into persecuting the refugees.</p> + +<p>His position was very unpleasant. The transition +from being a conspirator into being a member of the +government, however natural it may be, has its comic +and vexatious sides. In reality, it must be said that it +was not Fazy who went over to the government, but the +government who went over to Fazy; nevertheless, the +former conspirator was not always at one with the +president of the canton. He had to strike at his own +people, or at times openly to disregard the Federal +decrees, or to take measures against which he had been +declaiming for the last ten years. He followed the one +or the other course as the caprice took him, and so +excited the hostility of both sides.</p> + +<p>Fazy was a man of great energy and of great administrative +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_109">[109]</span>abilities, but too much of a Frenchman not to +like hard-and-fast measures, centralisation, authority. +He had spent his whole life in the political struggle. As +a young man we meet him on the Paris barricades of +1830, and then in the Hôtel de Ville among the young +people who, in opposition to Lafayette and the bankers, +demanded the proclamation of a republic. Périer⁠<a id="FNanchor_58" href="#Footnote_58" class="fnanchor">[58]</a> and +Laffitte⁠<a id="FNanchor_59" href="#Footnote_59" class="fnanchor">[59]</a> considered that the ‘best republic’ was the Duc +d’Orléans; he was made king, while Fazy threw himself +into the extreme republican opposition. Then he was +associated with Godefroy Cavaignac⁠<a id="FNanchor_60" href="#Footnote_60" class="fnanchor">[60]</a> +and Marrast,⁠<a id="FNanchor_61" href="#Footnote_61" class="fnanchor">[61]</a> with +the Société des Droits de l’Homme and with the +Carbonari, was mixed up with Mazzini’s Savoy expedition, +and published a journal which after the French +fashion was suppressed by successive fines....</p> + +<p>Convinced at last that there was no doing anything +in France, he bethought himself of his native land, and +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_110">[110]</span>transferred all his energy and all the experience he had +gained as a politician, a journalist, and a conspirator +to the advancement of his ideas in the canton of Geneva. +He thought out a radical revolution in it, and carried it +through. Geneva rose up against its old government. +Debates, attack and counter-attack, passed from private +rooms and newspapers into the market-place, and Fazy +appeared at the head of the rebellious part of the town. +While he was organising and stationing his armed friends, +a grey-headed old man looked out of a window and, +having been an officer by profession, could not resist +giving advice where to station a cannon or a company. +Fazy obeyed him. The advice was excellent—but who +was this officer? Count Osterman-Tolstoy, commander-in-chief +of the allied armies at Kulm, who had left Russia +on the accession of Nicholas and had lived afterwards +almost permanently at Geneva.</p> + +<p>During this revolution Fazy showed that he possessed +to the full not merely tact and judgment, but also the +audacity which Saint-Just considered necessary in a revolutionary. +Having vanquished the Conservatives almost +without bloodshed, he appeared before the Grand Council +and informed it that it was dissolved. The members +wanted to arrest him, and asked with indignation: ‘In +whose name dare he speak like that?’</p> + +<p>‘In the name of the people of Geneva, who are sick +of your bad government and are with me,’ and thereupon +Fazy pulled back the curtain on the council-room door. +A crowd of armed men filled the hall, ready at Fazy’s +first word to lower their guns and fire. The old +‘patricians’ and peaceful Calvinists were disconcerted. +‘Go, while there is yet time!’ observed Fazy, and they +meekly trudged home, while Fazy sat down at the table +and wrote a decree or <i>plébiscite</i> announcing that the +people of Geneva, having dissolved the old government, +were assembling to elect a new one and to frame a new +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_111">[111]</span>democratic code, and in the meantime were entrusting +the executive power to James Fazy. This was his +eighteenth of Brumaire for the benefit of democracy and +the people. Though he did elect himself dictator, the +choice was undoubtedly a very good one.</p> + +<p>From that time—that is, from the year 1846—he had +been governing Geneva. Since, in accordance with +the constitution, the president is elected for a period of +two years and cannot be elected twice in succession, +the people of Geneva appointed every two years some +inconspicuous adherent of Fazy’s, and in this way he +remained <i>de facto</i> president, to the great distress of the +Conservatives and Pietists, who always remained in the +minority.</p> + +<p>Fazy displayed new abilities during the period of his +dictatorship. Administration, finance, everything made +rapid progress; the resolute way in which radical principles +were put into practice won the attachment of the people: +Fazy showed himself as vigorous in organisation as he +had been in destruction. Geneva flourished under +his rule. This I was told not only by his friends but +by people completely disinterested, among others by the +celebrated victor of Kulm, Osterman-Tolstoy.</p> + +<p>Abrupt and irritable, hasty and intolerant by disposition, +Fazy always had despotically republican leanings; +as he grew used to authority, the despotic <i>pli</i> sometimes +got the upper hand. Moreover, events and ideas after +1848 caught Fazy unawares; he was perplexed on the +one hand and circumvented on the other. Here it was +the republic of which he had dreamed with Godefroy +Cavaignac and Armand Carrel ... and yet there +was something wrong about it. His old comrade +Marrast, as president of the National Assembly, observed +to him that he had made an incautious reference to +Catholicism ‘at lunch in the presence of the secretary,’ +and told him that religion must be respected in order +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_112">[112]</span>that the priests might not be incensed; when the ex-editor +of the <i>Nationale</i> passed from room to room in +the president’s house, two sentries saluted him. Another +friend and <i>protégé</i> of Fazy’s went further still: he +became himself president of the republic, but would +not recognise his old comrade, and aimed at being a +Napoleon.</p> + +<p>‘Was the republic in danger?’ And meanwhile the +workers and the leading men were not interested in +it; they were all talking of socialism. So that was what +was to blame—and with obstinacy and exasperation +Fazy fell upon socialism. That meant that he had +reached his limit, his <i>Kulminationspunkt</i>, as the Germans +say, and was going downhill.</p> + +<p>Mazzini and Fazy, who had been socialists in the +days before socialism, became its enemies when it began +to pass from general tendencies into a new revolutionary +force. Many a lance I have broken with both of them, +and I have seen with surprise how little can be done +by logic when a man does <i>not want</i> to be convinced. +If in both these men it was policy, a concession to the +necessity of the times, what need had they to get so hot +about it? What need had they to play their parts so +well even in private conversation? No, there was something +else in it, a sort of grudge against a doctrine formulated +<i>outside</i> their own circle: there was a spite against +the very name. I once suggested to Fazy that in our +conversations I should call socialism Cleopatra, that he +might not be angered by the word and prevented from +understanding by the sound of it. Mazzini’s <i>brochures</i> +against socialism later on did the famous agitator far +more harm than did Radetsky,—but that is not the point +under discussion here.</p> + +<p>One day on reaching home I found a note from +Struve—he informed me that Fazy was turning him +out, and very abruptly. The Federal Government had +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_113">[113]</span>long before decreed the deportation of Struve and +Heinzen; Fazy had confined himself to communicating +the fact to them. What new incident had occurred?</p> + +<p>Fazy did not want Struve to publish his ‘international’ +journal in Geneva; he was afraid—and perhaps he was +right—that Heinzen and Struve would publish such +dangerous nonsense as to provoke again threats from +France, to raise a howl from Prussia, and set Austria +gnashing its teeth. How a practical man could imagine +that the journal would come into existence I do not +know; anyway, he offered Struve the choice of giving +up the journal or of leaving Geneva. To give it up +when Struve was fanatically dreaming that by means of +his journal he would finally vanquish ‘the seven scourges +of mankind’ was too much for the Baden revolutionary. +Then Fazy sent a policeman to him with the order to +leave the canton at once. Struve received the policeman +frigidly, and announced that he was not yet ready for +departure. Fazy resented the treatment of the policeman, +and ordered the police to turn Struve out. To enter +a house without a legal warrant was impossible; the +measures taken in Berne had been by the police and not +by a legal tribunal (what the French call <i>mesures de salut +publique</i>). The policeman knew that, but, wishing to +oblige Fazy, and probably to pay Struve back for his +rude reception, got a carriage ready and sat down with a +comrade under a lime-tree not far from Struve’s house.</p> + +<p>Struve, secretly delighted that the era of persecution +and martyrdom was beginning again, and convinced +beforehand that nothing of importance would be done +to him, sent notes concerning the proceedings to all his +acquaintances. While awaiting their fervent sympathy +and ardent indignation he could not resist going out to +visit his friend Heinzen, who had received a similar +polite <i>billet-doux</i> from Fazy. As Heinzen lived close +by, Struve, <i>ganz gemüthlich</i>, went off to him wearing his +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_114">[114]</span>indoor clothes and slippers. He had scarcely reached +the lime-tree behind which the crafty son of Calvin was +concealed, when the latter barred his way and, showing +the order of the Federal Council, asked Struve to follow +him. Two policemen reinforced the urgency of his +invitation. The astonished Struve, cursing Fazy and +putting him on the list of the ‘seven scourges,’ got into +the carriage and was driven off with the policeman to +the canton of Vaud.</p> + +<p>Since Fazy had been dictator, nothing of the sort had +happened in Geneva. There was something coarse, +unnecessary, and even clownish about it. I was returning +home between eleven and twelve that evening, boiling +with indignation: at the Pont des Bergues I met Fazy; +he was walking along in excellent spirits, accompanied +by a few Italian refugees.</p> + +<p>‘Ah, good evening; any news?’ he said, seeing me.</p> + +<p>‘A great deal,’ I answered with elaborate frigidity.</p> + +<p>‘Why, what?’</p> + +<p>‘Why, here for instance in Geneva, just as in Paris, +men are seized in the street, carried off by force; <i>il n’y +a plus de sécurité dans les rues</i>—I am afraid to walk +about....’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, you are referring to Struve ...’ answered +Fazy, already so angry that his voice began to break. +‘What is one to do with these nonsensical people? I am +tired of them: I’ll show these gentry what it means to +treat the law with contempt, to be openly disobedient +to the orders of the Federal Council....’</p> + +<p>‘A right,’ I observed, smiling, ‘which you reserve for +yourself alone.’</p> + +<p>‘Am I to expose the canton and myself to danger for +the sake of every lunatic broken out of Bedlam, and to +do it under present circumstances too? And, what’s +more, one gets no thanks but only rudeness from them. +Only fancy, gentlemen: I sent a <i>commissaire</i> of the police +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_115">[115]</span>to him, and he all but kicked him out—it’s beyond +anything! They don’t understand that an official +(<i>magistrat</i>) coming in the name of the law must be +treated with respect, mustn’t he?’</p> + +<p>Fazy’s companions nodded their heads affirmatively.</p> + +<p>‘I don’t agree,’ I said, ‘and see no reason at all to +respect a man for being a policeman and for coming to +announce some nonsense written by Fourrère or Drouey⁠<a id="FNanchor_62" href="#Footnote_62" class="fnanchor">[62]</a> +in Berne. There is no need to be rude, but why should +one lavish civilities on a man who comes to one as an enemy, +and, what’s more, an enemy supported by force?’</p> + +<p>‘I never heard such things in my life,’ remarked +Fazy, shrugging his shoulders and flashing a withering +glance at me.</p> + +<p>‘It’s new to you because you have never thought +about it. To imagine that officials are sacred personages +is something thoroughly monarchical.’</p> + +<p>‘You refuse to see the difference between respect +for the law and slavish servility, because with you the +Tsar and the law are the same thing—<i>c’est parfaitement +russe</i>!’</p> + +<p>‘But how is one to see it when your respect for the +law means respect for a constable or a police-sergeant?’</p> + +<p>‘Are you aware, sir, that the <i>commissaire</i> of police +whom I sent is not merely a very honest man, but one +of the most devoted patriots? I have seen him in +action....’</p> + +<p>‘And an exemplary father of a family,’ I went on; +‘only, that has nothing to do with either me or Struve; +we are not acquainted with him, and he came to Struve +not as a model citizen but as the instrument of an oppressive +power....’</p> + +<p>‘Why, upon my soul,’ observed Fazy, growing more +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_116">[116]</span>and more irate, ‘what do you care for that Struve? Only +yesterday you were laughing at him yourself....’</p> + +<p>‘I should not laugh to-day if you were to hang him.’</p> + +<p>‘Do you know what I think——?’ He paused. ‘It’s +my opinion that he is simply a Russian spy.’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, Lord, what nonsense!’ I said, bursting into +laughter.</p> + +<p>‘Nonsense, indeed!’ shouted Fazy still more loudly; +‘I tell you that in earnest!’</p> + +<p>Knowing the unbridled hastiness of my Geneva +tyrant, and knowing that with all his irritability he was +in reality a hundred times better than his words and not +an ill-natured man, I might perhaps have let his shouting +pass; but there were other people listening. Besides, +he was president of the canton, and I was just such another +vagrant without a passport as Struve himself, and therefore +I responded in a stentorian voice:</p> + +<p>‘Do you imagine because you are president that, if +you say a thing, that’s enough for every one to believe +it?’</p> + +<p>My shouting produced its effect: Fazy lowered his +voice, but, mercilessly beating his fist against the parapet +of the bridge, he observed: ‘Why, there was his uncle +too, Gustav Struve, a Russian attorney in Hamburg.’</p> + +<p>‘That’s as good as “The Wolf and the Lamb.” I had +better be going home. Good-bye!’</p> + +<p>‘Yes, indeed, we had better go to bed instead of +arguing, or we shall end by quarrelling,’ observed Fazy +with a forced smile.</p> + +<p>I went to the Hôtel des Bergues; Fazy and the Italians +crossed the bridge. We had been shouting so excitedly +that several of the windows of the hotel had been opened, +and an audience consisting of waiters and tourists had +been listening to our discussion.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile the policeman and very honest citizen +who had carried Struve off returned, not alone but still +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_117">[117]</span>accompanied by Struve. A very amusing incident had +occurred in the first little town in the canton of Vaud, +near Coppet, where Madame de Staël and Madame +Récamier once lived. The prefect of the police, an +ardent republican, hearing how Struve had been seized, +declared that the Geneva police had acted illegally, +and not only refused to send him on further, but turned +him back.</p> + +<p>The fury of Fazy may be imagined when, to put the +finishing touch to our conversation, he heard of Struve’s +safe return. After exchanging abuse with the ‘tyrant’ +by letter and by word of mouth, Struve departed to +England with Heinzen; there the latter formulated +his demand for two million heads, and then peacefully +sailed off with his Pylades to America, at first with the +object of founding a <i>school for young girls</i>, afterwards +to edit in St. Louis <i>The Pioneer</i>, which is sometimes too +strong for elderly men to stomach.</p> + +<p>Five days after our conversation on the bridge I met +Fazy in the Café de la Poste.</p> + +<p>‘Why is it I have not seen you for so long?’ he asked; +‘surely you are not still angry? Well, I must own all +this business with the refugees is enough to drive one out +of one’s mind! The Federal Council keeps bombarding +me with one note after another, and here the accursed +<i>sous-préfet</i> of Gex is simply staying here on purpose to +see whether the French are interned. I try to satisfy +every one, and for that my own people are angry with me. +Here’s a new trouble now, and a very nasty one; I am +sure they’ll abuse me, and what am I to do?’ He sat +down at my little table and, dropping his voice, went on: +‘This is not a question of talk: it’s not socialism, it’s +simply robbery!’</p> + +<p>He handed me a letter. Some German feudal prince +complained that when his little town had been taken +by the students various objects of value had been seized +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_118">[118]</span>by them, and among other things some ancient vessel +of rare workmanship; that it was in the possession of the +late commander of the legion, Blenker;⁠<a id="FNanchor_63" href="#Footnote_63" class="fnanchor">[63]</a> and as it had +come to the knowledge of his highness that Blenker +was living in Geneva, he asked for the co-operation of +Fazy in recovering the stolen articles.</p> + +<p>‘What do you say?’ asked Fazy in a solemn voice.</p> + +<p>‘Nothing. Lots of things happen in war-time.’</p> + +<p>‘What ought I to do, do you think?’</p> + +<p>‘Take no notice of the letter, or write to the fool that +you are not his detective in Geneva. What have you +to do with his crockery? He ought to be glad Blenker +did not hang him, and here he is worrying about his +goods.’</p> + +<p>‘You are a very dangerous sophist,’ said Fazy, ‘and +you don’t think what discredit such things cast on our +party.... We can’t leave it like that.’</p> + +<p>‘I don’t know why you take it to heart so much. +Far worse things are done in the world. As for the +party and its honour, I dare say you will say again that +I am a sophist—but think for yourself, will you do +any good by giving publicity to the matter? Don’t +take any notice of the German prince’s accusation and +it will be taken as a calumny; but if people add to the +rumour about it that you sent to make a police search—what +is more, if by ill-luck anything is found—then it +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_119">[119]</span>will be difficult to exonerate Blenker and the whole +party.’</p> + +<p>Fazy was genuinely amazed at the Russian irregularity +of my views. The Blenker affair ended most fortunately. +He was not in Geneva: on the arrival of the police and +investigating magistrates, his wife calmly showed all +their possessions and their money, described where they +had got them from, and, hearing about the vessel, found +it herself—it was a very ordinary silver vessel. It had +been taken by some young men in the legion and brought +to their colonel as a souvenir of the victory.</p> + +<p>Later on, Fazy apologised to Blenker, admitting that +he had been over hasty in the matter. The immoderate +passion for discovering the truth, for going into every +detail in criminal cases, for pursuing the guilty with +fury and crushing them, is a purely French failing. The +judicial process is for them a bloodthirsty sport like +bull-baiting for the Spaniards; the prosecutor, like a +skilful toreador, is humiliated and mortified if the baited +beast escapes unharmed. In England there is nothing +of the kind: the judge looks with cool unconcern at +the prisoner in the dock, shows no zeal, and is almost +pleased when the jury acquit him.</p> + +<p>The refugees, on their side, tormented Fazy and +poisoned his existence. That was all very natural, and +one must not be too severe upon it. The passions unloosed +during revolutionary movements are not appeased +by failure, and, having no other outlet, find a vent in +peevish restlessness of spirit. These men had a mortal +longing to speak just when they had to hold their tongues, +to keep in the background, to efface and concentrate +themselves; they, on the contrary, were trying not to +disappear from the footlights, but to advertise their +existence by every means in their power. They wrote +pamphlets, wrote to the newspapers, talked at meetings, +talked in cafés, spread false news, and frightened the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_120">[120]</span>foolish governments by expectations of an immediate +insurrection. The majority of them belonged to the +class of very harmless persons who make up the chorus +of revolution; but the terrified governments with equal +senselessness believed in their power, and, unaccustomed +to free, bold speech, made an outcry about the inevitable +danger, the menace to religion, the throne, and the +family, and insisted that the Federal Council should +expel these terrible advocates of disorder and destruction.</p> + +<p>One of the first measures taken by the Swiss Government +was the removal from the French frontier of those +of the refugees who were specially disliked by Napoleon. +It was particularly disagreeable to Fazy to carry out +this measure; he was personally acquainted with almost +all of them. After informing them of the order to leave +Geneva, he did his best not to know who had gone and +who had not. Those who remained had to keep away +from the principal cafés, from the Pont des Bergues, +and that was the very concession they would not make. +This led to ludicrous scenes, suggestive of a boarding-school, +scenes in which the performers on the one side +were the representatives of the people, grey-headed men, +well-known literary men over forty, and on the other, +the president of a free canton and the police agents of +the servile neighbours of Switzerland.</p> + +<p>Once, in my presence, the <i>sous-préfet</i> of Gex asked +Fazy in an ironical tone: ‘Tell me, M. le président, is +So-and-so in Geneva?’ ‘He has been gone a long +time,’ Fazy answered abruptly. ‘I am very glad to +hear it,’ said the <i>sous-préfet</i>, and went on his way. And +Fazy, clutching my arm convulsively and pointing +furiously at a man who was calmly smoking a cigar: +‘There he is! there he is! Let us move to the other +side, so as not to meet the villain. This is hell—there +is no other word for it!’</p> + +<p>I could not help laughing. Of course, it was a refugee +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_121">[121]</span>who had been expelled, and he was promenading up and +down the Pont des Bergues, which is for Geneva what the +Tverskoy Boulevard is for Moscow.</p> + +<p>I stayed in Geneva till the middle of December. The +measures which the Russian Government was stealthily +beginning to take against me compelled me to go to +Zurich to try to save my mother’s property, upon which +the Tsar ‘of eternal memory’ was beginning to lay his +Imperial claws.</p> + +<p>This was a terrible period of my life. A lull between +two thunderclaps, an oppressive, painful, but not eventful +calm ... there were menacing omens, but I still, even +then, turned away from them. Life was troubled, +inharmonious, but there were bright days in it; for +those I was indebted to the grand natural scenery of +Switzerland.</p> + +<p>Remoteness from men, and beautiful natural surroundings +have a wonderfully healing effect. From experience +I wrote in <i>A Wreck</i>:—</p> + +<p>‘When the soul bears within it a great grief, +when a man has not mastered himself sufficiently to +grow reconciled with the past, to grow calm enough +for understanding, he needs distance and mountains, +the sea and warm mild air. He needs them that sadness +may not pass into bitterness and despair, that he may not +grow hard....’</p> + +<p>I was longing for a rest from many things even then. +A year and a half spent in the centre of political upheavals +and dissensions, in continual irritation, in the midst of +bloody sights, terrible downfalls, and petty treacheries, +had left much bitterness, misery, and weariness at the +bottom of my soul. Irony began to take a different +character. Granovsky wrote to me after reading <i>From +the Other Shore</i>, which I wrote just at that time: ‘Your +book has reached us. I read it with joy and a feeling +of pride ... but, for all that, there is something of +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_122">[122]</span>fatigue about it; you stand too much alone, and perhaps +you will become a great writer, but what was in Russia +living and attractive to all in your talent seems to have +disappeared on foreign soil....’ Then Sazonov, +who, just before I left Paris in 1849, read the beginning +of my story, <i>Duty before Everything</i>, written two +years previously, said to me: ‘You won’t finish that +story, and you will never write anything more like it. +Your bright laughter and good-natured jesting are gone +for ever.’</p> + +<p>But could a man pass through the ordeal of 1848 and +1849 and remain the same? I was myself conscious +of the change. Only at home, when no outsiders were +present, there were sometimes moments as of old, not +of ‘bright laughter’ but of bright sadness; recalling +the past and our friends, recalling recent scenes of our +life in Rome, beside the cots of our sleeping children or +watching their play, the soul was attuned to the mood +of old days—there came a breath of freshness, of youthful +poetry, of gentle harmony, there was peace and content +in the heart, and under the influence of such an evening +life was easier for a day or two.</p> + +<p>These minutes were not frequent; a wretched, +depressing distraction prevented them. The number of +visitors kept increasing about us, and towards evening +our little drawing-room in the Champs-Élysées was full of +strangers. For the most part, these were newly arrived +refugees, good and unfortunate people, but I was intimate +with only one man.... And why was I +intimate with him!...</p> + +<p>I was delighted to leave Paris, but in Geneva we found +ourselves in the same society, though the persons in it +were different and it was on a narrower scale. In +Switzerland everything at that time had rushed into +politics; everything—<i>tables d’hôte</i> and coffee-houses, +watchmakers and women—all were divided into parties. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_123">[123]</span>An exclusive preoccupation with politics, particularly +in the painful stagnation which always follows unsuccessful +revolutions, is extremely wearisome with its arid +barrenness and monotonous censure of the past. It is +like summer-time in big cities where everything is hot, +dusty, airless, where through pale trees the walls and the +hot paving-stones reflect the glaring sun. A living man +craves for air which has not been breathed over a thousand +times, free from the smell of the refuse of life, from the +sound of discordant jangling, from the dirty, putrid stench +and everlasting noise.</p> + +<p>Sometimes we did in fact tear ourselves away from +Geneva, visit the shores of Lake Léman and the foot of +Mont Blanc; and the frowning, gloomy beauty of mountain +scenery with its intense shadows screened all the vanity +of vanities from one’s eyes, refreshing soul and body +with the cold breath of its everlasting glaciers.</p> + +<p>I do not know whether I should like to stay for ever +in Switzerland. We dwellers in the plains and prairies +after a time feel the mountains a restriction; they are too +immense and too close, they hem us in, limit us; but +sometimes it is good to stay a while in their shadow. +Moreover, a pure and good-hearted race live in the +mountains, a race of people poor but not unfortunate, +with few wants, accustomed to a life of sturdy independence. +The froth of civilisation, its verdigris, has +not settled on these people; historical changes have +passed like clouds beneath their feet, scarcely touching +them. The Roman world still persists in Graubünden, +the times of the peasant wars have scarcely passed in +Appenzell. Perhaps in the Pyrenees, in the Tyrol, or +other mountains, the same sturdy type of population may +be found, but it no longer exists in Europe as a whole.</p> + +<p>In the north-east of Russia, however, I have seen +something like it. In Perm and Vyatka I have come +upon people of the same stamp as in the Alps.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_124">[124]</span></p> + +<p>Exhausted by the long, unbroken climb step by step +up the mountain, my companion and I, travelling to +Zermatt, stopped to give our horses a rest, and went +into a small inn a little above St. Niklaus, if I remember +right. The hostess, a tall, thin, but muscular old woman, +was all alone in the house. Seeing guests, she bustled +about, complaining of the scantiness of her stores, and, +after rummaging here and there, brought out a bottle +of <i>kirsch</i>, some bread hard as a stone (bread is not a +simple matter in the mountains; it is brought up from +the villages on asses), some smoked mutton (also very +dry), some cheese and goat’s milk, and then proceeded to +make us a sort of sweet omelette which I could not eat; +but the mutton, the cheese, and the <i>kirsch</i> were very +good. The woman regaled us as though we were +invited guests, put choice morsels before us with a +good-natured air, and kept apologising. Our guides, +too, ate and drank <i>kirsch</i>. As I was going away I asked +her what we owed her. The woman pondered for a +long time, even went into the other room to collect her +thoughts, and then, after some preliminary remarks +about the dearness of provisions and the difficulty of +transport, ventured to say <i>five francs</i>. ‘What!’ I +commented, ‘with the horses’ food, too?’ She did not +understand what I meant, and made haste to add: ‘Well, +four will be enough.’</p> + +<p>When I was being taken from Perm to Vyatka, in a +village where we changed horses I asked a woman who +was sitting on a log beside her hut for some <i>kvass</i>. ‘It’s +dreadfully sour,’ she answered; ‘but here, I’ll bring you +some home-made beer; it’s left from the holiday, you +see.’ A minute later she brought me an earthenware +jug wrapped in a rag, and a dipper. The gendarme and +I drank to our hearts’ content. As I handed the dipper +back to the old woman I gave her ten or fifteen kopecks, +but she would not take the coin, saying: ‘God bless +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_125">[125]</span>you! to think of taking from a travelling man, and you +going as you are,’ glancing at the gendarme. ‘But why +should we drink your good beer for nothing, auntie? +Take it for cakes for the children.’ ‘No, kind sir, don’t +you think it; but if you’ve money to spare, give it to the +poor or put up a candle to God.’</p> + +<p>Another similar incident happened to me on the Great +River near Vyatka. I had gone to look at the curious +procession in which the <i>ikon</i> of St. Nicholas of Hlynov +is taken down the river to pay a visit. On the way +back, I went with my driver into a hut where he got +some oats. The people of the house and three pilgrims +were sitting down to dinner; there was a strong smell +of cabbage soup, and I asked for some for myself. A +young woman brought me a wooden bowl of soup, a +hunk of bread, and a huge salt-cellar. When I had +eaten I gave the master of the house a quarter-rouble. He +looked at me and scratched the back of his head, saying: +‘That won’t do, you know; here you’ve eaten two-ha’porth +and given me a quarter-rouble; it’s not right +for me to take it—it’s a sin before God and a shame +before men.’</p> + +<p>I remember I have somewhere mentioned the Perm +peasant habit of putting a piece of bread with <i>kvass</i> +or milk outside the window at night, in case an <i>unfortunate</i>—that +is, an exile—should be making his way +back from Siberia and be afraid to knock, so that he might +find nourishment without making a noise. I have found +a like custom on the Swiss mountains; only, not being +near Siberia, there it is done simply for the benefit of +travellers. On the rather high peaks, where life is +scanty, where the rock stands out like the skull of a man +beginning to grow bald, and an icy-cold wind blows on +the vegetation, as dried and withered as the herbs in a +chemist’s shop—there I came upon huts, empty, but +with unlocked doors, that a traveller who had lost his +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_126">[126]</span>way or had been overtaken by bad weather might find +hospitality even without a host. All sorts of peasant +wares were there, and, on the table, cheese, bread, and +goat’s milk. Some after eating leave a coin on the table, +others leave nothing, but evidently nobody steals. Of +course, very few strangers reach them, but nevertheless +these unlocked doors amaze a townsman.</p> + +<p>Since I am talking of mountains and heights, I will +describe my visit to Monte Rosa. How can I better +finish my chapter on Switzerland than on a height of +seven thousand feet?</p> + +<p>From the hut of the old woman who was ashamed to +take five francs for feeding four men and two horses, +including a whole bottle of <i>kirsch</i>, we were climbing +till late evening up a narrow pass, in places hardly more +than a yard wide, to Zermatt; on the rocky and uneven +little path the accustomed horses moved carefully at a +walking pace, picking out the spot to put their hoof on. +The guides were continually reminding us not to touch +the reins, but to let the horse go as it would. On one +side was a steep precipice, some three thousand feet or +more. At the bottom below, the Visp roared and raced +along with a sort of senseless haste, as though trying to +find a more open channel to break away from its narrow, +stony bed. Its foaming and whirling surface could be +seen here and there; on its mountainous banks there +were regular pinewoods which looked like moss from +the height on which we were moving. On our other +side there was a bare, stony height here and there hanging +over our heads. For whole hours one goes on and on +... the hoofs ring on the stone, the horse slips, the +Visp roars, and still there are the same rocks on one side, +beyond which nothing can be seen, and on the other the +abyss below already growing dim with the twilight—it +produces a feeling of dreariness, of nervous fatigue. +I should not care to repeat that journey often.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_127">[127]</span></p> + +<p>Zermatt is the highest spot on which several families +are living: it stands as though in a cauldron; huge +masses of mountains surround it. One of the people +there takes in the few travellers; we found in his house +a Scotsman, a geologist. It got quite dark while they +were setting our supper; the nearness of the mountains +made the evening twice as dark. Between ten and +eleven our hostess, listening at the window, said: ‘Why, +there’s the sound of hoofs, and I can hear the shout of +the guides ... who would care to travel at night-time +on such a path?’ The tramp of hoofs came slowly +nearer; the hostess took a lantern and went out with it +to the entrance. I followed her; something began to +stand out against the black darkness, figures appeared +in the streak of light from the lantern, and at last two +horses came up to the entrance. On one horse sat a tall, +middle-aged woman, on the other a boy of fourteen. +The lady alighted from the horse as calmly as though +she had returned from a ride in Hyde Park, and went +into the common room. She had met the Scotsman +before, and so began talking to him at once. After asking +for something to eat, she sent her son to find out from +the guides how long the horses must rest. They said +that two hours would be enough. ‘Surely you are not +going on without waiting for daylight?’ asked the +Scotsman. ‘One can’t see an inch before one’s face, +and you’ll be going down by a new road.’</p> + +<p>‘This is the time I’ve allowed for it.’</p> + +<p>Two hours later the Englishwoman and her son began +the descent on the Italian side, and we went to bed for +two or three hours. At dawn we took as a third guide +a botanist who knew all the paths and whistled the Alpine +airs in a wonderful way, and began our ascent of one of +the nearer peaks, climbing towards a sea of ice and the +Matterhorn.</p> + +<p>At first a greyish mist hid everything and wetted us +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_128">[128]</span>with a fine rain; we went up and up and it sank lower; +soon it became glaringly bright and the air became extraordinarily +pure and clear.</p> + +<p>Hugo describes somewhere ‘what can be heard on +the mountains’; his mountain could not have been a +high one. I was struck, on the contrary, by the complete +absence of sound; there was absolutely nothing to be +heard except the light, intermittent grinding from the +slipping avalanches, and that only at rare intervals ... +as a matter of fact, the stillness is deathly, <i>transparent</i>—I +use the word intentionally,—an extraordinary rarefaction +of the air seems to make <i>visible</i>, audible, this +absolute dumbness, this eternal, inanimate, elemental +sleep⁠<a id="FNanchor_64" href="#Footnote_64" class="fnanchor">[64]</a> of primeval ages.</p> + +<p>Life is noisy—but everything living is below and hidden +in the clouds. Here are no plants, only grey rough +lichen is found here and there upon the stones. Higher +still it is even fresher, and the region of never-melting +frost begins: here there is the dividing line, here is +nothing; only the most inquisitive of all animals crosses +it to peep for a minute at that desert of emptiness, to +look at the highest outposts of the planet, and hastens +to descend to his own domain, full of vanities, of trivial +bustle—where he is at home.</p> + +<p>We halted before that sea of snow and ice which lay +stretched between us and the Matterhorn; ringed round +by mountains that were bathed in sunshine, dazzlingly +white, it looked like the frozen arena of some titanic +coliseum. Hollowed out in places by the winds into +the form of waves, it seems to have grown stiff at the +very moment of movement; the curves of the billows +are frozen before they have had time to sink.</p> + +<p>I got off my horse and lay down on a granite boulder +moored to the shore by the snowy billows ... mute, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_129">[129]</span>motionless whiteness, boundless on all sides ... a +light wind lifted a fine white powder, wafted it away, +set it whirling ... it fell, and all again passed into +stillness; but twice the avalanches breaking away with +a hollow reverberation rolled down in the distance, +clinging to the rocks, clashing against them and leaving +a cloud of snow behind them....</p> + +<p>A man feels strange in this setting—a visitor, superfluous, +an outsider; and on the other hand he breathes +more freely, and as though from the colour surrounding +him grows whiter and purer within ... earnest +and full of a sort of devout gravity!...</p> + +<p>What melodramatic rhetoric I should be charged +with if I concluded this picture of Monte Rosa by saying +that in that world of whiteness, freshness, and silence, +of the two travellers stranded on that height, reckoning +each other dear friends, one was plotting black treachery +against the other!</p> + +<p>Yes, life sometimes plays us melodramatic tricks—it +has its <i>coups de théâtre</i> which are very artificial.</p> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_130">[130]</span></p> + +<h3 class="nobreak" id="Appendix_II">Appendix II<br> +<span class="smaller">(<i>From ‘West European Sketches—Notebook II.’</i>)</span></h3> + +</div> + +<h4>I<br> +<span class="smcap">Il Pianto</span></h4> + +<p class="dropcap">After the days of June, I saw that the revolution +was vanquished, but I still believed in the vanquished, +in the fallen, I believed in the wonder-working +powers of the relics, in their moral strength. In Geneva +I began to understand more and more clearly not only +that the revolution was vanquished, but that it was +bound to be vanquished.</p> + +<p>My head was dizzy with my discoveries, an abyss was +opening before my eyes, and I felt that the ground was +giving way under my feet.</p> + +<p>It was not the reaction that vanquished the revolution. +The reaction showed itself everywhere densely stupid, +cowardly, in its dotage; everywhere it shamefully +retreated into safety before the onrush of the popular +tide, furtively biding its time in Paris, in Naples, in +Vienna, and in Berlin. The revolution fell, like Agrippina, +under the blows of her own children, and, what +was worst of all, without their being conscious of it; +there was more heroism, more youthful self-sacrifice, +than good judgment; and the pure, noble victims fell, +not knowing why. The fate of the survivors was almost +more grievous. While absorbed in dissensions among +themselves, in personal disputes, in melancholy self-delusion, +and consumed by unbridled vanity, they kept +dwelling on their unexpected days of triumph, and were +unwilling to take off their faded laurels or wedding +garments, though it was not the bride who had deceived +them.</p> + +<p>Misfortunes, idleness, and poverty induced intolerance, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_131">[131]</span>obstinacy, nervous irritability.... The exiles broke +up into little groups, rallying not round principles but +round names and hatreds. The fact that their thoughts +continually turned to the past, and that they lived in +an exclusive, narrow circle, began to find expression in +speech and thought, in manners and in dress; a new +class—the class of refugees—was formed, and grew as +stiff and rigid as the rest. And just as once St. Basil +the Great wrote to St. Gregory Nazianzen that he +‘gloated over fasting and revelled in privations,’ so now +there were voluntary martyrs, victims by vocation, unhappy +as a profession, and among them were very conscientious +people; and indeed St. Basil was quite sincere +when he wrote to his friend of his orgies of mortifying +the flesh and of the voluptuous ecstasy of persecution. +With all that, ideas did not move a step forward, thought +slumbered.... If these people had been awakened +by the blast of a new trumpet and a new call to battle, +they would, like the nine sleeping maidens, have been +the same as on the day on which they fell asleep.</p> + +<p>These bitter truths made my heart sink with despondency; +I had to live through a hard stage of my +education.</p> + +<p>I was sitting mournfully one day in my mother’s +dining-room in gloomy, disagreeable Zurich; it was at +the end of December 1849. I was going next day to +Paris. It was a cold, snowy day; two or three logs smoking +and crackling burned reluctantly on the hearth. All were +busy with packing. I sat utterly alone. My life in Geneva +floated before my mind; the whole future looked dark; +I felt afraid of something, and I was so insufferably +miserable that if I could I would have fallen on my +knees and wept and prayed; but I could not, and instead +of prayer I wrote my curse—my <i>Epilogue</i> to 1849.</p> + +<p>‘Disillusionment, fatigue, <i>Blasiertheit</i>!’ The democratic +critics said of those lines, wrung out of me by +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_132">[132]</span>pain. Yes, disillusionment! Yes, fatigue!... Disillusionment +is a vulgar, hackneyed word, the veil under +which the sloth of the heart, egoism posing as love, the +noisy emptiness of vanity with pretensions to everything +and strength for nothing, lie hidden. All these exalted, +misunderstood characters, thin with envy and miserable +with superciliousness, have wearied us for years past, both +in life and in novels. All that is perfectly true; but is +there not something real, characteristic of our times, at +the bottom of these spiritual sufferings which degenerate +into absurd parody and vulgar masquerade?</p> + +<p>The poet who found words and voice for this malady +was too proud to pose and to suffer for the sake of applause; +on the contrary, he often uttered his bitter thought +with so much humour that simple-hearted readers were +convulsed with merriment. Byron’s disillusionment +was more than caprice, more than a personal mood; +Byron was shattered because life deceived him. And +life deceived him not because his demands were unreal, +but because England and Byron were of different ages, +were of different educations, and met just at the epoch +when the mist was being dissipated.</p> + +<p>This divergence has existed in the past, but in our +age it has come to consciousness; in our age the impossibility +of any conviction bridging the gulf has become +more and more evident. After the Roman break-up +came Christianity; after Christianity—the belief in +civilisation, in humanity. Liberalism is the <i>latest +religion</i>, though its church is not of the other world but +of this. Its theology is political theory; it stands upon +the earth and has no mystical conciliations, it aims at +conciliation in real life. Triumphant and then defeated +liberalism has revealed the rift in all its nakedness; the +painful consciousness of this is expressed in the irony +of the modern man, the scepticism with which he sweeps +away the fragments of his shattered idols.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_133">[133]</span></p> + +<p>Irony gives expression to the vexation aroused by the +fact that logical truth is not the same as the truth of +history, that apart from dialectical development it has its +own development through chance and passion, that apart +from reason it has its romance.</p> + +<p>Disillusionment⁠<a id="FNanchor_65" href="#Footnote_65" class="fnanchor">[65]</a> in our sense of the word was not +known before the Revolution; the eighteenth century +was one of the most religious periods of history. I am +not speaking now of the great martyr Saint-Just or of the +apostle Jean-Jacques; but was not the pope Voltaire, +blessing Franklin’s grandson in the name of God and +Freedom, a fanatic of his religion of humanity?</p> + +<p>Scepticism was proclaimed together with the republic +of the 22nd of September 1792.</p> + +<p>The Jacobins and revolutionaries in general belonged +to a minority, separated from the life of the people by +their culture: they formed something like a secular +clergy ready to shepherd their human flocks. They +represented the <i>highest</i> thought of their time, its <i>highest +but not its common consciousness</i>, not the <i>thought of all</i>.</p> + +<p>This new clergy had no means of coercion, neither +physical nor supernatural: from the moment that the +governing power dropped out of their hands, they had +only one weapon—conviction. But for conviction to be +<i>right</i> is not enough; their whole mistake lay in supposing +so; something more was necessary—<i>mental equality</i>.</p> + +<p>So long as the desperate conflict lasted to the strains +of the hymn of the Huguenots and the hymn of the +Marseillaise, so long as men were burnt at the stake and +blood was flowing, this inequality passed unobserved. +But at last the oppressive edifice of feudal monarchy fell, +and slowly the walls were shattered, the locks torn off +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_134">[134]</span>the gates ... one more blow struck, and the +brave men advance, the gates are flung open and the +crowd rushes in. But it was not the crowd they expected. +Who are these men; to what age do they belong? +These are not Spartans, not the great <i>populus Romanus</i>. +<i>Davus sum, non Œdipus!</i> An overwhelming wave of +filth flooded everything. The inner horror of the +Jacobins was expressed in the Terror of 1793 and 1794: +they saw their fearful mistake, tried to correct it with +the guillotine; but, however many heads they cut off, +they still had to bow their own before the might of the +class of society that was rising to the top. Everything +gave way before it; it overpowered the Revolution and +the Reaction, it filled up the old forms and submerged +them because it made up the one effective majority of +its day. Sieyès was more right than he thought when +he said that the petty-bourgeoisie <i>was everything</i>.</p> + +<p>The petty-bourgeois were not produced by the Revolution; +they were ready with their codes and their traditions, +in a different way discordant with the revolutionary +idea. The aristocracy had held them down and kept +them in the background; set free, they passed over the +dead bodies of those who had freed them and established +their own regime. The minority were either crushed or +swallowed up among the bourgeois.</p> + +<p>A few men of each generation were, in spite of events, +left the obstinate guardians of the idea; these Levites, +or perhaps Aztecs, are unjustly punished for their +monopoly of exclusive culture, for the mental superiority +of the well-fed caste, the leisured caste that had time to +work not only with muscles.</p> + +<p>We are angered, moved to fury, by the absurdity, by +the injustice of this fact. As though some one (apart +from ourselves) had promised us that everything in the +world should be just and beautiful and go easily. We +have marvelled enough at the abstract wisdom of nature +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_135">[135]</span>and of historical development; it is time to perceive that +in nature as in history there is a great deal that is fortuitous, +stupid, unsuccessful, and confused. Reason, fully +developed thought, comes last. Everything begins with +the foolishness of the newborn child; possibility and +striving are innate in him, but before he reaches development +and consciousness he is exposed to a series of +external and internal influences, checks and obstacles. +One has water on the brain, another falls and flattens +his skull—both remain idiots; the third does not fall nor +die of scarlet fever—and becomes a poet, a military +leader, a bandit, or a judge. We know as a rule far +more of the successes in nature, in history, and in life: +we are only now beginning to feel that all the cards are +not so well shuffled as we thought, because we are ourselves +a losing card, a failure.</p> + +<p>It mortifies us to find that the idea is impotent that +truth has no compelling force over the world of actuality. +A new sort of Manichæism takes possession of us, we +are led, <i>par dépit</i>, to believe in rational (that is, purposive) +evil, as we did believe in rational good—that is the last +tribute we pay to idealism.</p> + +<p>The anguish will pass with time; its tragic and +passionate character will be softened: it scarcely exists +in the new world of the United States. That young +people, enterprising and more practical than intelligent, +is so occupied in the organisation of its own life that it +knows nothing at all of our agonies. Moreover, there +are not two cultures there. The persons who make +up the classes in that society are incessantly changing, +they rise and fall with the bank account of each. The +sturdy race of English colonists is multiplying terribly; +if it gets the ascendency, people will not be the happier +for it, but they will be more comfortable. That comfort +will be duller, poorer, more arid than that which floated +in the ideals of romantic Europe; but with it there will +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_136">[136]</span>be neither Tsar nor centralisation, and perhaps there +will be no hunger either. Any one, who can put off +the old Adam of Europe from himself and be born again a +new Jonathan, had better take the first steamer to some +place in Wisconsin or Kansas; there he will certainly be +better off than in decaying Europe.</p> + +<p>Those who <i>cannot</i>, remain to live out their lives, +representatives of the fair dream with which men lulled +themselves to sleep. They have lived too much in +fantasies and ideals to fit into the age of American +good sense.</p> + +<p>There is no great loss in that; we are not many, and we +shall soon be extinct.</p> + +<p>But how is it men grow up so out of harmony with +their environment?...</p> + +<p>Imagine a hothouse-reared youth—the one, for instance, +who has described himself in <i>The Dream</i>; imagine him +face to face with the most boring, with the most tedious +society, face to face with the monstrous Minotaur of +English life, uncouthly welded together of two beasts—the +one sinking into decrepitude, the other knee-deep +in filthy mire, weighed down like the Caryatides whose +everlastingly strained muscles leave not a drop of blood +to spare for the brain. If he could have adapted himself +to this life, he would, instead of dying at thirty in Greece, +by now have been Lord Palmerston or Lord John +Russell. But since he could not, there is nothing surprising +in his saying, like his Harold to his ship:</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">‘Nor care what land thou bearest me to,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">But not again to mine.’</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p>But what awaited him in the distance? Spain devastated +by Napoleon, Greece sunk back into barbarism, +the general resurrection after 1814 of all the stinking +Lazaruses; there was no getting away from them in +Ravenna or in Diodati. Byron could not be satisfied +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_137">[137]</span>like a German with theories <i>sub specie æternitatis</i>, nor +like a Frenchman with political chatter; he was crushed, +but crushed like a menacing Titan, flinging his scorn in +men’s faces and not troubling to soften the blow.</p> + +<p>This discordance and disharmony, of which Byron as +a poet and a genius was conscious forty years ago, has, +after a succession of painful experiences, after the filthy +transition from 1830 to 1848, and the infamous one from +1848 to the present, overwhelmed many of us to-day. +And we, like Byron, do not know what to do with ourselves, +where to lay our heads.</p> + +<p>The realist Goethe, like the romantic Schiller, knew +nothing of this rending of the spirit. The one was +too religious, the other too philosophical. Both could +find peace in abstract spheres. When the ‘spirit of +negation’ appears as such a jester as Mephistopheles, +then the disharmony is not yet tragic; his mocking and +for ever contradictory nature is still blended in the +higher harmony, and in its own due time will chime in +with everything—<i>sie ist gerettet</i>. Lucifer in <i>Cain</i> is +very different; he is the gloomy angel of darkness, on +whose brow shines with dim lustre the star of bitter +thought, full of inner discords which can never be +harmonised.</p> + +<p>He does not jest with negation, he does not amuse +with the impudence of his infidelity, he does not allure +by sensuality, he does not procure simple maidens, wine, +and diamonds, but calmly impels to murder, by some +inexplicable force, like the lure of still moonlit water, +that promises nothing but death in its comfortless, cold, +glimmering embraces.</p> + +<p>Neither Cain nor Manfred, neither Don Juan nor +Byron, has any deduction, any solution, any ‘moral.’ +Perhaps from the point of view of dramatic art this is +a defect, but it gives a stamp of sincerity and shows the +depths of the gulf. Byron’s epilogue, his last word, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_138">[138]</span>if you like, is <i>The Darkness</i>; that is the logical conclusion +of a life that begins with <i>The Dream</i>. Complete the +picture for yourselves.</p> + +<p>Two enemies, hideously disfigured by hunger, are +dead, they are devoured by some crab-like monsters +... a ship is rotting—the tarred rope sways in the +muddy waters in the darkness, there is fearful cold, the +animals are dying out, history has already perished and +the place is cleared for new life: our period will be +reckoned as the fourth formation—that is, if the new +world arrives at being able to count up to four.</p> + +<p>Our historical vocation, our work, lies in the fact that +by our disillusionment, by our sufferings, we reach +resignation and humility in face of the truth, and spare +following generations from these troubles. With us +humanity is regaining sobriety, with us recovering from +its drunken orgy; we are its birth-pangs. If the birth-agony +ends well, all is for the best; but we must not +forget that the child or mother, or maybe both, may +die by the way, and then—well, then history, like the +Mormon it is, will begin the process over again.... +<i>E sempre bene</i>, friends!</p> + +<p>We know how Nature disposes of the individual: +whether sooner or later, whether without sacrifice or +over the bodies of the dead, she cares not; she goes her +way, or goes any way that chances. Ten thousands of +years she builds up a coral reef, every spring abandoning +to death the foremost ranks. The polypi die without +suspecting that they have served the <i>progress</i> of the reef.</p> + +<p>We, too, shall serve something. Entering into the +future as an element in it does not mean that the future +will fulfil our ideals. Rome did not carry out Plato’s +idea of a republic nor the Greek idea in general. The +Middle Ages were not the development of Rome. +Modern Western thought will pass into history and be +incorporated in it, will have its influence in its place, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_139">[139]</span>just as our body passes into the composition of grass, of +sheep, of cutlets, and of men. We do not like that kind +of immortality, but what is there to be done about it?</p> + +<p>Now I am accustomed to these thoughts, they no +longer terrify me. But at the end of 1849 I was overwhelmed +by them; and in spite of the fact that every +event, every meeting, every contact, every person seemed +bent on tearing away the last green leaves, I still frantically +and obstinately sought a <i>way of escape</i>.</p> + +<p>That is why I prize now so highly the courageous +thought of Byron. He saw that there is <i>no escape</i>, and +proudly said so.</p> + +<p>I was unhappy and perplexed when these thoughts +began to haunt me; I tried by every means to run away +from them ... like a lost traveller, like a beggar, +I knocked at every door, stopped every one I met and +asked my way, but every meeting and every event led +to the same result—to <i>humility</i> in the face of the <i>truth</i>, +to meek acceptance of it.</p> + +<p>Three years ago I sat by Natalie’s sick-bed and saw +death drawing her mercilessly, step by step, to the grave; +that life was all that was precious to me. About me all +was darkness; I sat alone in dull despair, but did not +comfort myself with hopes, did not betray my grief for +one moment by the narcotic thought of meeting beyond +the grave.</p> + +<p>So it is hardly likely that I should be false to myself +over the impersonal problems of life.</p> + +<h4>II<br> +<span class="smcap">Post Scriptum</span></h4> + +<p>I know that my outlook on Europe will meet with +a bad reception at home. We for our own comfort +<i>want</i> a different Europe and believe in it as Christians +believe in Paradise. Dissipating dreams is always a +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_140">[140]</span>disagreeable thing to do, but some inner force which +I cannot overcome makes me tell the truth even when +it does me harm.</p> + +<p>As a rule we know Europe from school, from literature—that +is, we do not know it, but judge it <i>à livre ouvert</i>, +from books and pictures, just as children judge the real +world from their <i>Orbis pictus</i>, imagining that all the +women in the Sandwich Islands hold their hands above +their heads with a sort of tambourine, and, wherever +there is a naked negro, there is sure to be standing five +paces from him a lion with a dishevelled mane or a tiger +with fierce eyes.</p> + +<p>Our <i>classic</i> ignorance of the Western European will +be productive of a good deal of harm; race hatreds and +bloody collisions will develop from it later on.</p> + +<p>In the first place, we know nothing but the top, +<i>cultured</i> layer of Europe, which conceals the heavy +substratum of popular life formed by the ages, and +evolved by instincts and by laws that are little understood +in Europe itself. European culture does not +penetrate into those foundations in which, as in the +works of the Cyclops, the hand of man is indistinguishable +from that of nature and history passes into geology. +The European states are welded together of two different +peoples whose special characteristics are maintained by +utterly different educations. There is here none of +the Oriental unity which makes the Turk who is a Grand +Vizier and the Turk who hands him his pipe just like +each other. Masses of the country population have, +since the religious wars and the peasant risings, taken +no active part in events; they have been swayed by them +to right and left like growing corn, never for a minute +leaving the ground in which they are rooted.</p> + +<p>Secondly, that stratum with which we do become +acquainted, with which we do enter into contact, we +only know historically, not as it is to-day. After spending +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_141">[141]</span>a year or two in Europe we see with surprise that the +men of the West do not correspond as a rule with our +conception of them, that they are <i>greatly inferior</i> to it.</p> + +<p>Elements of truth enter into the ideal we have formed, +but either these no longer exist or they have completely +changed their character. The valour of chivalry, the +elegance of aristocratic manners, the stern decorum of +the Protestants, the proud independence of the English, +the luxurious life of Italian artists, the sparkling wit of +the Encyclopedists and the gloomy energy of the +Terrorists—all that has been melted down and transmuted +into one dead level of universally predominant +<i>bourgeois manners</i>. They make up a complete whole—that +is, a finished, self-contained outlook upon life with +its traditions and rules, with its own good and evil, with +its own manners and its own morality of a lower order.</p> + +<p>As the knight was the leading type of the feudal world, +so the merchant has become the leading type of the new +world; feudal lords are replaced by employers. The +merchant in himself is a colourless intermediate figure; +he is the middle-man between the producer and the +consumer; he is something of the nature of a means +of communication, of transport. The knight was more +in himself, more of a person, and kept up his dignity as +he understood it, which made him in reality not dependent +either on wealth or on position; his personality was what +mattered. In the petty-bourgeois the personality is +concealed or does not stand out, because it is not what +matters; what matters is the ware, the produce, the +thing, what matters is <i>property</i>.</p> + +<p>The knight was a terrible ignoramus, a bully, a duellist, +a bandit and a monk, a drunkard and a pietist, but he +was open and genuine in everything: moreover, he +was always ready to lay down his life for what he thought +right; he had his moral tradition, his code of honour—very +arbitrary, but one from which he did not depart +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_142">[142]</span>without loss of his own respect or the respect of his +peers.</p> + +<p>The merchant is a man of peace and not of war, +stubbornly and persistently sticking to his rights, but +weak in attack; calculating, parsimonious, he sees trade +in everything, and, like the knight, enters into single +combat with every one he meets, but measures himself +with him in cunning. His ancestors—mediæval townsmen—were +forced to be sly to save themselves from +violence and robbery; they purchased peace and wealth +by evasiveness, by secretiveness and pretence, keeping +themselves close and holding themselves in check. +His ancestors, cap in hand and bowing low, cheated the +knight; shaking their heads or sighing, they talked to +their neighbours of their poverty, whilst they secretly +buried their hoards in the earth. All this has naturally +passed into the blood and brains of their descendants, +and has become the physical characteristic of a special +human species known as the <i>middle class</i>.</p> + +<p>While it was in a difficult position and joined with +the enlightened aristocracy in defending its faith, in +fighting for its rights, it was full of greatness and poetry. +But this was not for long, and Sancho Panza, having +gained his place and lolling simply at his ease, let himself +go and lost his peasant honour, his commonsense; the +vulgar side of his nature got the upper hand.</p> + +<p>Under the influence of petty-bourgeoisie everything +is changed in Europe. Chivalrous honour is replaced +by the honesty of the book-keeper, elegant manners by +propriety, courtesy by stiff decorum, pride by a readiness +to take offence, parks by kitchen gardens, palaces by hotels, +open to <i>all</i> (that is, all who have money).</p> + +<p>The old, out-of-date, but consistent conceptions of +relations between men have been shaken, while no new +recognition of the <i>true</i> relations between men has appeared. +This chaotic void has greatly contributed to the development +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_143">[143]</span>of all the bad and petty sides of bourgeoisie under +the all-powerful influence of unbridled acquisitiveness.</p> + +<p>Analyse the moral principles current for the last half-century, +and what a medley you will find! The Roman +conception of the state together with the Gothic division +of powers, Protestantism and political economy, <i>salus +populi</i> and <i>chacun pour soi</i>, Brutus and Thomas à Kempis, +the Gospel and Bentham, the balancing of income and +expenditure and Jean-Jacques Rousseau. With such +a hotch-potch in the head and with a magnet in the +breast, for ever attracted by gold, it was not hard to +arrive at the absurdities reached by the foremost countries +of Europe.</p> + +<p>The whole of morality has been reduced to the duty +of him who has not by every possible means to acquire, +and of him who has to preserve and to increase his +property; the flag which they run up in the market-place +when trading begins has become the banner of +a new society. The man has <i>de facto</i> become the +appurtenance of property; life has been reduced to a +perpetual struggle for money.</p> + +<p>The political question since 1830 is becoming exclusively +the petty-bourgeois question, and the age-long +struggle is expressed in the passions and tendencies of +the ruling class. Life is reduced to a gamble on the +Stock Exchange; everything—the publication of newspapers, +the elections, the legislative chambers—all have +become money-changers’ shops and markets. The +English are so used to putting everything into shop +language that they call their old English Church the +<i>Old Shop</i>.</p> + +<p>All parties and shades of opinion in the petty-bourgeois +world have gradually divided into two camps: on one +hand the bourgeois property-owners, obstinately refusing +to abandon their monopolies; on the other the petty-bourgeois +who have nothing, who want to tear the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_144">[144]</span>wealth out of the others’ hands but have not the power—that +is, on the one hand <i>avarice</i>, on the other hand <i>envy</i>. +Since there is no real moral principle in all that, the part +taken by any individual on one or the other side is +determined by external conditions of fortune and social +position. One wave of the opposition after the other +triumphs—that is, attains to property or position—and +passes naturally from the side of envy to the side of +avarice. Nothing can be more favourable for this +transition than the fruitless swing backwards and forwards +of parliamentary parties—it gives movement and sets +limits to it, provides an appearance of <i>doing something</i>, +and an external show of public interest in order to +attain their private ends.</p> + +<p>Parliamentary government, not as it follows from the +popular foundations of the Anglo-Saxon <i>Common Law</i>, +but as it has taken shape in the law of the state, is simply +the wheel in a squirrel’s cage, and the most colossal one +in the world. Could a show of a triumphant march +forward whilst remaining majestically in the same spot +be possibly achieved more perfectly than it is by the +two English Houses of Parliament?</p> + +<p>But just that maintenance of the show is the great +point. Upon everything belonging to contemporary +Europe, two characteristics obviously derived from the +shop are deeply imprinted: on one hand, hypocrisy +and secretiveness; on the other, ostentation and <i>étalage</i>. +It is all window-dressing, buying at half-price, passing +off rubbish for the real thing, show for reality, concealing +some condition, taking advantage of a literal meaning, +seeming instead of being, behaving properly instead of +behaving well, keeping up external <i>Respektabilität</i> +instead of inner dignity.</p> + +<p>In this world everything is so much a stage sham that +even the coarsest ignorance assumes an air of education. +Which of us has not blushed for the ignorance of Western +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_145">[145]</span>European society? I am not here speaking of men of +learning, but of the people who make up what is called +society. There can be no serious theoretical education; +it takes too much time and is too distracting from <i>business</i>. +Since nothing that lies outside trading operations and +the ‘exploitation’ of their social position is essential in +the petty-bourgeois world, their education is bound to +be limited. That is what accounts for the absurdity +and slowness of mind which we see in the bourgeois, +whenever he has to step off the common beaten track. +Cunning and hypocrisy are by no means so clever and +so far-sighted as is supposed; their range is poor, and they +are soon out of their depth.</p> + +<p>The English are aware of this, and so do not leave +the beaten track, and put up with the not merely burdensome +but, what is worse, absurd inconveniences of their +mediævalism through fear of any change.</p> + +<p>The French petty-bourgeois have not been so prudent, +and for all their slyness and duplicity have fallen headlong +into an empire.</p> + +<p>Full of confidence in their victory, they proclaimed +universal suffrage as the basis of their new regime. This +arithmetical standard suited their taste; the truth is +determined by addition and subtraction, it could be +reckoned up and put down in figures.</p> + +<p>And what did they put to the decision of the votes +of all in the present state of society? The question of +the existence of the republic. They wanted to crush it +by means of the people, to make of it an empty word, +because they did not like it. Is any one who respects +the truth going to ask the opinion of the first stray +man he meets? What if Columbus or Copernicus put +America or the movement of the earth to the vote?</p> + +<p>It was shrewdly conceived, but in the end the good +souls overshot their mark.</p> + +<p>The gap between the <i>parterre</i> and the actors, covered +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_146">[146]</span>at first by the faded carpet of Lamartine’s eloquence, +has grown wider and wider; the blood of June has +washed the channel deeper; and then the question of the +president was put to the irritated people. As answer to +the question, Louis-Napoleon, rubbing his sleepy eyes, +stepped out and took everything into his hands—that is, +even the petty-bourgeois, who fancied, from memory of +old days, that he would reign and they would govern.</p> + +<p>What you see on the great stage of political events +is repeated in microscopic form on every hearth. The +corruption of petty-bourgeoisie has crept into all the +secret places of the family and private life. Never has +Catholicism, never have the ideas of chivalry, been +impressed on men so deeply, so many-sidedly, as the +bourgeois ideas.</p> + +<p>Noble rank had its obligations. Of course, since its +rights were partly fantastic, its obligations were fantastic +too, but they did provide a certain mutual security +between equals. Catholicism laid still more obligations. +Feudal knights and believing Catholics often failed to +carry out their obligations, but the consciousness that, +by so doing, they were guilty of a breach of the social +bonds recognised by themselves prevented them from +being free in their lapses and from justifying their behaviour. +They had their holiday attire, their official +setting which was not false but rather their ideal.</p> + +<p>We are not now concerned with the nature of those +ideals. They were tried and their cause was lost long +ago. We only want to point out that petty-bourgeoisie +on the contrary involves no obligations, not even the +obligation to serve in the army, so long as there are +volunteers; or rather, its only obligation is <i>per fas et nefas</i> +to have property. Its gospel is brief: ‘Heap up wealth, +multiply thy riches till they are like the sands of the sea, +use and misuse thy financial and moral capital, without +ruining thyself, and in comfort and honour thou wilt +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_147">[147]</span>attain length of years, marry thy children well, and leave +an honoured memory behind thee.’</p> + +<p>The destruction of the feudal and Catholic world +was essential, and was the work not of the petty-bourgeois +but simply of free men—that is, of men who had set +themselves free from all wholesale classification. Among +them were knights like Ulrich von Hutten, gentlemen +like Voltaire, watchmakers’ apprentices like Rousseau, +army doctors like Schiller, and merchants’ sons like +Goethe. The petty-bourgeois took advantage of their +work and showed themselves emancipated, not only +from monarchs and slavery but from all social obligations, +except that of contributing to the hire of the government +who guarded their security.</p> + +<p>Of Protestantism they made <i>their own</i> religion, a +religion that reconciles the conscience of the Christian +with the practice of the usurer, a religion so bourgeois +that the common people, who shed their blood for it, +have abandoned it. In England the working class goes +to church less than any.</p> + +<p>Of the Revolution they tried to make their own +republic, but it slipped between their fingers, just as +the civilisation of antiquity slipped away from the +barbarians—that is, with no place in real life, but with +hope for <i>instaurationem magnam</i>.</p> + +<p>The Reformation and the Revolution were both so +terrified by the emptiness of the world which they had +come into that they sought salvation in two forms of +monasticism—the cold, dreary bigotry of Puritanism and +the frigid, artificial civic morality of republican formalism.</p> + +<p>Both the Quaker⁠<a id="FNanchor_66" href="#Footnote_66" class="fnanchor">[66]</a> and the Jacobin forms of intolerance +were based on the fear that the ground was not +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_148">[148]</span>firm under their feet; they saw that they needed to take +strong measures, to persuade men in the one case that this +was the church, in the other that it was freedom.</p> + +<p>Such is the general atmosphere of European life. It +is most oppressive and insufferable where the modern +Western system is most developed, where it is most true +to its principles, where it is most wealthy and most +<i>cultured</i>—that is, most industrial. And that is why it +is not so unendurably oppressive to live in Italy or Spain +as it is in England or France.... And that is why +poor, mountainous, rustic Switzerland is the only corner +of Europe into which one can retreat in peace.⁠<a id="FNanchor_67" href="#Footnote_67" class="fnanchor">[67]</a>⁠</p> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_149"></a><a id="Page_150"></a>[150]</span></p> + +<h3 class="nobreak" id="Chapter_39">Chapter 39<br> +<span class="smcap">Money and Police—The Emperor James Rothschild +and the Banker Nicholas Romanov—Police +and Money</span></h3> + +</div> + +<p class="dropcap">In the December of 1849 I learnt that the authorisation +for the mortgage of my estate sent from Paris +and witnessed at the Embassy had been destroyed, and +that after that an injunction had been laid on my mother’s +fortune. There was no time to be lost, and, as I have +mentioned in a previous chapter, I at once left Geneva +and went to my mother’s.</p> + +<p>It would be hypocritical to affect to despise property +in our time of financial disorganisation. Money is independence, +power, a weapon.</p> + +<p>And no one flings away a weapon in time of war, +though it may have come from the enemy or be ever so +rusty. The slavery of poverty is awful; I have studied +it in all its aspects, living for years with men who have +escaped from political shipwrecks in the clothes they +stood up in. And so I thought it right and necessary +to take every measure to snatch what I could from the +bear’s claws of the Russian Government.</p> + +<p>Even so, I was not far from losing everything. When +I left Russia I had no definite plan; I only wanted to +remain abroad as long as possible. The Revolution of +1848 arrived and drew me into its whirlpool before I +had done anything to secure my property. Worthy +persons have blamed me for throwing myself headlong +into political movements and leaving the future of my +family to the will of the gods. Perhaps it was not +altogether prudent; but if, living in Rome in 1848, I +had sat at home considering ways and means of saving +my property while revolting Italy was surging before +my windows, then I should probably not have remained +in foreign countries, but have returned to Petersburg, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_151">[151]</span>have entered the service again, might have become a +vice-governor, have sat at the head prosecutor’s table, +and should have addressed my secretary with insulting +familiarity and my minister as ‘Your High Excellency.’</p> + +<p>I had no such self-restraint and good sense, and I +am infinitely thankful for it now. My heart and my +memory would be the poorer if I had missed those bright +moments of faith and enthusiasm! What could have +made up to me for the loss of them? Indeed, why +speak of me? What would have made up for it to her +whose broken life was nothing afterwards but suffering +that ended in the grave? How bitterly would my +conscience have reproached me if, from prudent caution, +I had robbed her of almost the last minutes of untroubled +happiness! And after all I did succeed in saving almost +all our property except the Kostroma estate.</p> + +<p>After the June days my position was becoming +dangerous. I made the acquaintance of Rothschild, and +asked him to change for me two Moscow Bank bonds. +Business then was not flourishing, of course; the exchange +was in a very bad way; his terms were not good, but +I at once accepted them, and had the satisfaction of +seeing a faint smile of compassion on Rothschild’s lips—he +took me for a reckless <i>prince russe</i> who had run +into debt in Paris, and so fell to calling me <i>Monsieur le +Comte</i>.</p> + +<p>On the first bonds the money was promptly paid; +but on the later ones for a much larger sum, though the +payment was made, Rothschild’s representative informed +him that an injunction had been laid on my capital—luckily +I had withdrawn it all.</p> + +<p>And so I found myself in Paris with a large sum of +money in the midst of general upheaval, without experience +or knowledge what to do with it. Yet everything +was fairly well arranged. As a rule, the less excitement, +uneasiness, and anxiety there is in financial matters, the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_152">[152]</span>better they succeed. Greedy money-grubbers and financial +cowards are as often ruined as spendthrifts.</p> + +<p>By the advice of Rothschild, I bought myself some +American shares, a few French ones, and a small house +in the Rue Amsterdam, tenanted by the Havre Hôtel.</p> + +<p>One of my first revolutionary steps, which cut me off +from Russia, plunged me into the respectable class of +conservative idlers, brought me acquainted with bankers +and notaries, taught me to look at the Stock Exchange +news—in fact, turned me into a West European <i>rentier</i>. +The disharmony between the modern man and the +environment in which he lives brings a dreadful confusion +into private behaviour. We are in the very +middle of two currents in conflict with each other; we +are flung and shall continue to be flung first in one and +then in the other direction, until one or the other finally +overpowers us, and the stream, still restless and turbulent +but flowing in one direction only, makes things easier +for the swimmer by carrying him along with it.</p> + +<p>Happy the man who knows how to steer so that, +yielding to the waves and swaying with them, he still +swims his own course!</p> + +<p>On the purchase of the house I had the opportunity +of looking more closely into the business and bourgeois +world of France. The bureaucratic pedantry over +completing a purchase is not inferior to ours in Russia. +The old notary read me several documents, the statute +concerning the reading of them <i>main levée</i>, then the +actual statute itself—all of this making up a complete +folio volume. In our final negotiation concerning the +price and the legal expenses, the owner of the house said +that he would make a concession and take upon himself +the very considerable expenses of the legal conveyance, +if I would immediately pay the whole sum to him +personally. I did not understand him, since from the +very first I had openly stated that I was buying it for +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_153">[153]</span>ready money. The notary explained to me that the +money must remain in his hands for at least three months, +during which its sale would be advertised and all creditors +who had any claims on the house would be called upon +to state their case. The house was mortgaged for seventy +thousand, but there might be further mortgages in other +hands. In three months’ time, after inquiries had been +made, the <i>purge hypothécaire</i> would be handed to the +purchaser and the former owner would receive the +purchase money.</p> + +<p>The owner declared that he had no other debts. The +notary confirmed this. ‘Your honour and your hand +on it,’ I said to him—‘you have no other debts which +could be secured by the house?’</p> + +<p>‘I will readily give you my word of honour.’</p> + +<p>‘In that case, I agree, and will come here to-morrow +with Rothschild’s cheque.’</p> + +<p>When I went next day to Rothschild’s, his secretary +flung up his hands in horror: ‘They are cheating you! +This is impossible; we will stop the sale if you like. It’s +something unheard of, to buy from a stranger on such +terms.’</p> + +<p>‘Would you like me to send some one with you to +look into the business?’ Baron James himself suggested.</p> + +<p>I did not care to play the part of an ignorant boy, so +said that I had given my word, and took the cheque for +the whole sum. When I reached the notary’s I found +there, besides the witnesses, the creditor who had come +to receive the seventy thousand francs. The deed of +purchase was read over, we signed it, the notary congratulated +me on being a Parisian house-owner—there +was nothing left to do but to hand over the cheque....</p> + +<p>‘How vexing!’ said the house-owner, taking it from +my hands; ‘I forgot to ask you to draw it in two +cheques. How can I pay out the seventy thousand +now?’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_154">[154]</span></p> + +<p>‘Nothing is easier: go to Rothschild’s, they’ll give +it you in two cheques; or, simpler still, go to the +bank.’</p> + +<p>‘I’ll go if you like,’ said the creditor; the house-owner +frowned and answered that that was his business, +that he would go.</p> + +<p>The creditor frowned. The notary good-naturedly +suggested that they should go together.</p> + +<p>Hardly able to refrain from laughter, I said to them: +‘Here’s your receipt; give me back the cheque, I will +go and change it.’</p> + +<p>‘You will infinitely oblige us,’ they said with a sigh +of relief; and I went.</p> + +<p>Four months later the <i>purge hypothécaire</i> was sent me, +and I gained ten thousand francs by my rash trustfulness.</p> + +<p>After the 13th of June 1849, the Prefect of Police, +Rébillaud, made some report against me; probably in +consequence of his report, strange steps were taken by +the Petersburg Government in regard to my estate. It +was these steps, as I have said, that compelled me to go +with my mother to Paris.</p> + +<p>We travelled through Neufchâtel and Besançon. +Our journey began with my forgetting my greatcoat in +the posting-station yard at Berne; as I had a warm overcoat +and warm overshoes with me, I did not go back for +it. All went well till we reached the mountains, but +in the mountains we were met by knee-deep snow, +eight degrees of frost, and the cursed Swiss <i>bise</i>. The +diligence could not go on, the passengers were transferred +by twos and threes into small sledges. I do not remember +having ever suffered so much from cold as on that night. +My legs were simply in agony. I stuffed them into the +straw; then the post driver gave me a collar of some sort, +but that was not much help. At the third station I +bought from a peasant woman her shawl for fifteen +francs, and wrapped myself in it; but by that time we +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_155">[155]</span>were already on the descent, and with every mile it grew +warmer.</p> + +<p>This road is magnificently fine on the French side; +the vast amphitheatre of immense mountains, so varied +in outline, accompanies one up to Besançon itself; here +and there on the crags stand the ruins of fortified feudal +castles. In this landscape there is something mighty +and austere, resolute and morose; gazing at it, a peasant +boy grew up and was formed, the descendant of old +country stock, Pierre Joseph Proudhon. And indeed +one may say of him, though in a different sense, what +was said by the poet of the Florentines:</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">‘E tiene ancor del monte e del macigno.’</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p>Rothschild agreed to take my mother’s bond, but +would not cash it in advance, on account of Gasser’s +letter. The Board of Trustees did in fact refuse +the payment. Then Rothschild instructed Gasser to +demand an interview with Nesselrode and to inquire +of him what was wrong. Nesselrode replied that +though there was no doubt about the bonds and +Rothschild’s claim was valid, the Tsar had commanded +that the money should be retained on secret political +grounds.</p> + +<p>I remember the amazement in Rothschild’s office on +the reception of this reply. The eye involuntarily +glanced to the bottom of the statement for the sign of +Alaric or the seal of Genghis Khan. Rothschild had +not expected such a trick even from so celebrated a +master of despotic action as Nicholas. ‘It is little matter +for wonder to me,’ I said to him, ‘that Nicholas should +try to carry off my mother’s money to punish me, or +to catch me with it as a bait; but I could not have +imagined that your name would have so little weight in +Russia. The bonds are yours and not my mother’s; +when she signed them she gave them to bearer (<i>au porteur</i>), +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_156">[156]</span>but since you endorsed them that <i>porteur</i>⁠<a id="FNanchor_68" href="#Footnote_68" class="fnanchor">[68]</a> is you; and +you are insolently answered, “The money is yours, but +the master has told me not to pay it.”’</p> + +<p>My words produced their effect. Rothschild began +to lose his temper, and walking about the room said: +‘No, I won’t allow myself to be treated like that; I will +bring an action against the bank; I will insist upon a +definite answer from the Minister of Finance!’</p> + +<p>‘Well,’ thought I, ‘Vrontchenko won’t understand +this gentleman. A “confidential” reply would have +been a favour, but a “definite” one is too much!’</p> + +<p>‘Here you have a sample of how familiarly and <i>sans +gêne</i> the autocracy, upon which the reaction is building +such hopes, disposes of property. The communism of +the Cossack is almost more dangerous than that of Louis +Blanc.’</p> + +<p>‘I will think what to do,’ said Rothschild; ‘we can’t +put up with this.’</p> + +<p>Three days after this conversation, I met Rothschild +on the boulevard.</p> + +<p>‘By the way,’ he said, stopping me, ‘I was speaking +of your business yesterday to Kisselyov.⁠<a id="FNanchor_69" href="#Footnote_69" class="fnanchor">[69]</a> You must +excuse me, but I ought to tell you that he expressed a +very unfavourable opinion of you, and does not seem +willing to do anything for you.’</p> + +<p>‘Do you often see him?’</p> + +<p>‘Sometimes at evening parties.’</p> + +<p>‘Be so good as to tell him that you have seen me to-day, +and that I have the worst possible opinion of him, but +that at the same time I don’t think it would be fair to +rob his mother on that account.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_157">[157]</span></p> + +<p>Rothschild laughed; I think that from that time he +began to surmise that I was not a <i>prince russe</i>, and he +took to addressing me as Baron; he elevated me to this +rank, I imagine, to make me worthy of conversing +with him.</p> + +<p>Next day he sent for me; I went at once. He handed +me an unsigned letter to Gasser, and added: ‘Here is +our proposed letter; sit down and read it attentively, +then tell me whether you are satisfied with it. If you +want to add or change anything, we will do so at once. +Meanwhile, allow me to go on with my work.’</p> + +<p>First I looked about me. Every minute a small door +opened and one Bourse agent after another came in, +uttering a number in a loud voice; Rothschild, still +reading, muttered without raising his eyes: +‘Yes,—no,—good,—perhaps,—enough,—’ and the number +walked out. There were various persons in the room, +capitalists of the common sort, members of the National +Assembly, two or three exhausted tourists with youthful +moustaches and elderly cheeks, those everlasting figures +that are seen drinking wine at watering-places and presenting +themselves at courts, the feeble and lymphatic +scions of effete aristocratic families, who yet presume +to pass from the gaming table to the Bourse. They +were all talking together in undertones. The Jewish +autocrat sat calmly at his table, looking through papers +and noting something down on them, probably millions, +or at least hundreds of thousands.</p> + +<p>‘Well,’ he said, turning to me, ‘are you satisfied?’</p> + +<p>‘Perfectly,’ I answered.</p> + +<p>The letter was excellent, curt and emphatic as it should +be when one power is addressing another. He wrote +to Gasser that the latter must at once demand an audience +with Nesselrode and the Minister of Finance; that he +must tell them that Rothschild is not interested to know +to whom the bonds did belong; that he has bought them +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_158">[158]</span>and insists on payment, or a clear legal statement of the +reason why payment is deferred; that, in case of refusal, +he would put the matter before the legal authorities, and +he advised them to weigh carefully the consequences +of a refusal, which seemed particularly strange to him +when the Russian Government was negotiating through +him for the conclusion of a new loan. Rothschild wound +up by saying that in case of further delay he would be +impelled to give the matter publicity through the newspapers +to warn other capitalists. He recommended +Gasser to show this to Nesselrode.</p> + +<p class="mt2">We were interrupted.... Schomburg asked me +to look in half an hour later.</p> + +<p>When half an hour later I was mounting the staircase +of the Winter Palace of Finance in the Rue Laffitte, the +rival of Nicholas was coming down it.</p> + +<p>‘Schomburg has told me,’ said His Majesty, smiling +graciously, and holding out his own august hand, ‘the +letter has been signed and sent off. You will see how +they will come round. I’ll teach them to play tricks +with me.’</p> + +<p>I felt inclined to drop on my knees and to offer an +oath of allegiance together with my gratitude, but I +confined myself to saying: ‘If you feel perfectly certain +of it, allow me to open an account, if only for half of +the sum.’</p> + +<p>‘With pleasure,’ answered the gracious autocrat, and +went his way into the Rue Lafitte.</p> + +<p>I made my obeisance to His Majesty, and, being so near, +went into the <i>Maison d’Or</i>.</p> + +<p>Within a month or six weeks Nicholas Romanov, that +Petersburg merchant of the first guild, who had been +so reluctant to pay up, terrified by the prospect of a +meeting of creditors and the publication in the newspapers, +did at the Imperial command of Rothschild pay +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_159">[159]</span>up the illegally detained money, together with the interest +and the interest on the interest, apologising for his +ignorance of the law, which he certainly could not be +expected to know in his social position.</p> + +<p>From that time forth I was on the best of terms with +Rothschild. He liked in me the field of battle on which +he had beaten Nicholas; I was for him something like +Marengo or Austerlitz, and he several times described +the details of the business in my presence, smiling faintly, +but magnanimously sparing his vanquished opponent.</p> + +<p>While this business was going on—and it occupied +about six months—I was staying at the Hôtel Mirabeau, +Rue de la Paix. One morning in April I was told that +a gentleman was waiting for me in the hall and particularly +wished to see me. I went out. An abject old +individual who looked like a government clerk was +standing in the hall.</p> + +<p>‘The Commissaire of Police of the Tuileries Arrondissement +So-and-so.’</p> + +<p>‘Pleased to see you.’</p> + +<p>‘Allow me to read you the decree of the Ministry of +Home Affairs, communicated to me by the Prefect of +Police, and relating to you.’</p> + +<p>‘Pray do so; here is a chair.’</p> + +<p>‘We, the Prefect of Police:⁠<a id="FNanchor_70" href="#Footnote_70" class="fnanchor">[70]</a>⁠—In accordance with +paragraph seven of the law of the 13th and 21st of +November and 3rd of December of 1849, giving the +Ministry of Home Affairs the power to expel (<i>expulser</i>) +from France any foreigner whose presence in France may +be subversive of order and dangerous to public tranquillity, +and in view of the ministerial circular of the 3rd +of January 1850,</p> + +<p class="center"> +‘Do command as follows: +</p> + +<p>‘The here-mentioned’ (<i>le N——é</i>, that is, <i>nommé</i>, but +this does not mean ‘aforesaid’ because nothing has been +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_160">[160]</span>said about me before; it is merely an ungrammatical +attempt to designate a man as rudely as possible) ‘Herzen, +Alexandre, age 40’ (they put me on two years), ‘a Russian +subject, living in such a place, is to leave Paris at once +on receiving this announcement, and to depart from the +frontiers of France within the shortest possible time.</p> + +<p>‘It is forbidden for him to return in future under pain +of the penalties laid down by the eighth paragraph of +the same law (imprisonment from one to six months and +a money fine).</p> + +<p>‘All necessary measures will be taken to secure the +execution of these orders.</p> + +<p class="center">‘<i>Fait</i> in Paris, April 16, 1850.</p> + +<p class="right">‘Prefect of Police,<br> +‘<span class="smcap">A. Carlier</span>.</p> + +<p class="center">‘Confirmed by the general secretary of the Prefecture.</p> + +<p class="right">‘<span class="smcap">Clément Reyre.</span>’</p> + +<p>On the margin:</p> + +<p class="center">‘Read and approved April 19, 1850,</p> + +<p class="right"> Minister of Home Affairs,<br> +<span class="smcap">G. Baroche</span>.</p> + +<p>‘In the year eighteen hundred and fifty, April the +twenty-fourth.</p> + +<p>‘We, Émile Boulay, Commissaire of Police of the +City of Paris and in particular of the Tuileries Arrondissement, +in execution of the orders of M. le Prefect +of Police of April 23rd:</p> + +<p>‘Have notified the Sieur Alexandre Herzen, telling +him in words as written herewith.’ Here follows the +whole text over again. It is just as children tell the +story of the White Bull, prefacing every fresh incident +with the same phrase: ‘Shall I tell you the tale of the +white bull?’</p> + +<p>Then: ‘We have summoned <i>le dit Herzen</i> to present +himself in the course of the next twenty-four hours at +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_161">[161]</span>the Prefecture for the reception of a passport and the +assignment of a frontier through which he will leave +France.</p> + +<p>‘And that <i>le dit Sieur Herzen n’en prétende cause +d’ignorance</i> (what a jargon!) <i>nous lui avons laissé cette +copie tant du dit arrêté en tête de cette présente de notre +procès-verbal de notification</i>.’</p> + +<p>Oh, my Vyatka colleagues in the secretariat of Tyufyaev; +oh, Ardashov, who would write a dozen sheets at one +sitting; Veprev, Shtin, and my drunken head clerk! +Would not their hearts rejoice to know that after the +days of Voltaire, of Beaumarchais, of George Sand, and +of Hugo, documents are written like this in Paris?</p> + +<p>And, indeed, not only they would be delighted, but also +my father’s village foreman, Vassily Epifanov, who from +the deepest sentiments of politeness would write to his +master: ‘Your commandment by this present preceding +post received, and by the same I have the honour to +announce....’ This stupid and vulgar temple <i>des +us et coutumes</i>, only fitting for a blind and doting old +goddess like Themis, ought surely to be razed to the +ground.</p> + +<p>The reading of this document did not produce the +result expected; a Parisian imagines that exile from +Paris is as bad as the expulsion of Adam from Paradise, +and without Eve into the bargain. To me, on the +contrary, it was a matter of indifference, since I had +already begun to be sick of Parisian life.</p> + +<p>‘When am I to present myself before the Prefecture?’ +I asked, assuming a polite air in spite of the wrath which +was filling me.</p> + +<p>‘I advise ten o’clock to-morrow morning.’</p> + +<p>‘With pleasure.’</p> + +<p>‘How early the spring is beginning this year!’ observed +the <i>commissaire</i> of the city of Paris and in particular of +the Tuileries arrondissement.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_162">[162]</span></p> + +<p>‘Exceedingly.’</p> + +<p>‘This is an old-fashioned hotel. Mirabeau used to +dine here; that is why it bears his name. You have no +doubt been well satisfied with it?’</p> + +<p>‘Very well satisfied. Only fancy what it must be +to leave it so abruptly!’</p> + +<p>‘It’s certainly unpleasant.... The hostess is an +intelligent and excellent woman—Mlle. Cousin; she +was a great friend of the celebrated Le Normand.’⁠<a id="FNanchor_71" href="#Footnote_71" class="fnanchor">[71]</a>⁠</p> + +<p>‘Imagine that! What a pity I did not know it! +Perhaps she has inherited her art of fortune-telling and +might have predicted my <i>billet doux</i> from Carlier.’</p> + +<p>‘Ha, ha!... It is my duty, you know. Allow me +to wish you good-day.’</p> + +<p>‘To be sure, anything may happen. I have the honour +to wish you good-bye.’</p> + +<p>Next day I presented myself in the Rue Jérusalem, +more celebrated than Le Normand herself. First, I +was received by some sort of a youthful spy, with a little +beard, a little moustache, and all the manners of an +abortive journalist and an unsuccessful democrat. His +face, the look in his eyes, all wore the stamp of that +refined corruption of soul, that envious hunger for enjoyment, +power, acquisition, which I have learned to +read so well on Western European faces, though it is +completely absent from that of the English. He had +probably only recently received his post; he still took +pleasure in it, and therefore spoke a little condescendingly. +He informed me that I must leave within three days, and +except for particularly important reasons it was impossible +to defer the date. His impudent face, his accent and +his gestures, were such that without entering into further +discussion with him I bowed and then asked, first putting +on my hat, when I could see the Prefect.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_163">[163]</span></p> + +<p>‘The Prefect only receives persons who have asked +him for an audience in writing.’</p> + +<p>‘Allow me to write to him at once.’</p> + +<p>He rang the bell; an old <i>huissier</i> with a chain on his +breast walked in; saying to him with a dignified air, ‘Pen +and paper for this gentleman,’ the youth nodded to me.</p> + +<p>The <i>huissier</i> led me into another room. There I +wrote to Carlier that I wished to see him in order to +explain to him why I had to defer my departure.</p> + +<p>On the evening of the same day I received from the +Prefecture the laconic answer: ‘M. le Préfet is ready +to receive So-and-so to-morrow at two o’clock.’</p> + +<p>The same disgusting youth met me next day: he had +his own room, from which I concluded that he was +something in the nature of a head clerk. Beginning +his career so early and with such success, he will go far, +if God grants him long life.</p> + +<p>On this occasion he led me into a big office. There a +stout, tall, rosy-cheeked gentleman was sitting in a big +easy-chair at an immense table. He was one of those +persons who are always hot, with sleek, white, but flabby +flesh, with fat but carefully groomed hands, with a +necktie reduced to a minimum, with colourless eyes, with +that jovial expression which is usually found in men +who are completely drowned in love for their comfort, +and who can rise coldly and without great effort to the +utmost infamies.</p> + +<p>‘You wish to see the Prefect,’ he said to me; ‘but he +asks you to excuse him; he has been obliged to go out on +very important business. If I can do anything for your +benefit I ask nothing better. Here is an easy-chair: +will you sit down?’</p> + +<p>All this he brought out smoothly, very politely, screwing +up his eyes a little and smiling with the little cushions +of flesh which adorned his cheek-bones. ‘Well, this +fellow has been for years in the service,’ I thought.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_164">[164]</span></p> + +<p>‘You probably know what I’ve come about.’ He +made that gentle movement of the head which every one +makes on beginning to swim, and did not answer.</p> + +<p>‘I have received an order to leave within three days. +As I know that your minister has the right of expulsion +without giving reasons or making investigations, I am +not going to inquire why I am being expelled, nor to +defend myself; but I have, besides my own house....’</p> + +<p>‘Where is your house?’</p> + +<p>‘Fourteen, Rue Amsterdam ... very important +business in Paris, and it is difficult for me to leave at once.’</p> + +<p>‘Allow me to ask, what is your business? Is it to do +with the house or...?’</p> + +<p>‘My business is with Rothschild. I have to receive +four hundred thousand francs.’</p> + +<p>‘What?’</p> + +<p>‘A little over a hundred thousand silver roubles.’</p> + +<p>‘That’s a very large sum!’</p> + +<p>‘<i>C’est une somme ronde.</i>’</p> + +<p>‘How much time do you need for completing your +business?’ he asked, looking at me more tenderly, as +people look at pheasants stuffed with truffles in the shop +windows.</p> + +<p>‘From a month to six weeks.’</p> + +<p>‘That is a terribly long time.’</p> + +<p>‘My business is being settled in Russia. I should not +wonder if it is on that account I am leaving France, +indeed.’</p> + +<p>‘How so?’</p> + +<p>‘A week ago Rothschild told me that Kisselyov spoke +ill of me. Probably the Petersburg Government wishes +to hush up the business; I dare say the ambassador has +asked for my expulsion as a favour.’</p> + +<p>‘<i>D’abord</i>,’ observed the offended patriot of the +Prefecture, assuming an air of dignity and profound +conviction, ‘France permits no other Government to +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_165">[165]</span>interfere in her domestic affairs. I am surprised that +such an idea could enter your head. Moreover, what +can be more natural than that the Government, which +is doing its utmost to restore order to the suffering people, +should exercise its right to expel from the country in +which there is so much inflammatory material, foreigners +who abuse the hospitality she has shown them?’</p> + +<p>I determined to get at him by money. This was as +sure a method of attack as the use of texts from the +Gospel in discussion with a Catholic, and so I answered +with a smile: ‘I have paid a hundred thousand francs +for the hospitality of Paris, and so consider I have almost +settled my account.’</p> + +<p>This was even more successful than my <i>somme ronde</i>. +He was embarrassed, and saying after a brief pause, ‘We +cannot help it, we are obliged to do our duty,’ he took +from the table my <i>dossier</i>. This was the second volume +of the novel, the first part of which I had once seen in the +hands of Dubbelt. Stroking the pages, as though they +were good horses, with his plump hand: ‘You see,’ +he observed, ‘your connections, your association with +seditious journals’ (almost word for word what Sahtynsky +had said to me in 1840), ‘and the considerable subventions +which you have given to the most pernicious enterprises, +have compelled us to resort to a very unpleasant +but necessary step. That step can be no surprise to you. +Even in your own country you brought political punishment +upon yourself. Like causes lead to like results.’</p> + +<p>‘I am certain,’ I said, ‘that the Emperor Nicholas +himself does not suspect this solidarity; you cannot +really approve of his Government.’</p> + +<p>‘<i>Un bon citoyen</i> respects the laws of his country, whatever +they may be....’⁠<a id="FNanchor_72" href="#Footnote_72" class="fnanchor">[72]</a>⁠</p> + +<p>‘Probably on the celebrated principle that it is in any +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_166">[166]</span>case better there should be bad weather than no weather +at all.’</p> + +<p>‘To prove to you that the Russian Government has +absolutely nothing to do with it, I promise to obtain +from the Prefect a postponement for one month. You +will certainly not think it strange if we make inquiries +of Rothschild concerning your business; it is not so much +a question of doubting....’</p> + +<p>‘Do by all means make inquiries. We are at war, +and if it had been of any use for me to have resorted to +stratagem in order to remain, do you suppose I should +not have employed it?’</p> + +<p>But the worldly and amiable <i>alter ego</i> of the Prefect +would not be outdone.</p> + +<p>‘People who talk like that never say what is untrue,’ +he replied.</p> + +<p>A month later my business was still unfinished. We +were visited by an old doctor, Palmier, whose agreeable +duty it is to make a weekly examination of an interesting +class of Parisian women at the Prefecture. Since he +gave such a number of certificates of health to the fair +sex, I imagined he would not refuse to give me a certificate +of illness. Palmier was acquainted, of course, with +every one in the Prefecture: he promised me to give +X. personally the history of my indisposition. To +my great surprise Palmier came back without a satisfactory +answer. This incident is worth noting because +it shows a brotherly resemblance between the Russian +and the French bureaucracies. X. had given no +answer, but had replied evasively, offended at my not +having come in person to inform him that I was ill, in +bed, and could not get up. There was no help for it: +I went next day to the Prefecture, glowing with health.</p> + +<p>X. asked me with the greatest sympathy about +my illness. As I had not had the curiosity to read what +the doctor had written, I had to invent an illness. Luckily +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_167">[167]</span>I remembered Sazonov, who, with his bulky figure and +inexhaustible appetite, complained of aneurism—I told +X. I had heart disease and that travelling might be +very bad for me.</p> + +<p>X. was sorry for me, and advised me to be very +careful; then he went into the next room, and returned +a minute later, saying: ‘You may remain another +month. The Prefect has commissioned me at the same +time to tell you that he hopes and desires that your +health may be restored during that period; if this were +not the case, he would greatly regret it, for he will not +be able to postpone your departure a third time.’</p> + +<p>I understood that, and made ready to leave Paris about +the 20th of June.</p> + +<p>I came across the name of X. once more a year +later. This patriot and <i>bon citoyen</i> quietly withdrew +from France, forgetting to account for some thousands +of francs belonging to people of the poor or lower-middle +class who had taken tickets in a Californian lottery run +under the patronage of the Prefecture!</p> + +<p>When the worthy citizen saw that in spite of all his +respect for the laws of his country he might get into +the galleys for swindling, then he preferred to take a +steamer to Genoa. He was a consistent person, who +did not lose his head with failure. He took advantage +of the notoriety he gained by the scandal of the Californian +lottery to proffer his services to a society of +speculators which had been formed at that time at Turin +for building railways; the society hastened to accept +the services of so reliable a gentleman.</p> + +<p>The last two months I spent in Paris were insufferable. +I was literally <i>gardé à vue</i>; my letters arrived a day late +and insolently unsealed; wherever I went I was followed +in the distance by a loathsome individual, who at the +corners passed me on with a wink to another.</p> + +<p>It must not be forgotten that this was the time of the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_168">[168]</span>most feverish activity of the police. The stupid conservatives +and revolutionists of the Algiers-Lamartine +persuasion helped the rogues and knaves surrounding +Napoleon himself to prepare a network of espionage +and supervision, so that, stretching them over the whole +of France, they might at any given minute catch by +telegraph, by the Ministry of Home Affairs and the +Élysée, all the active forces of the country and strangle +them. Napoleon <span class="allsmcap">III.</span> cleverly turned the weapon entrusted +to him against these men themselves. The +2nd of December meant the promotion of the police to +the position of the executive power.</p> + +<p>There has never anywhere, even in Austria or in +Russia, been such a political police as existed in France +from the time of the Convention. There are many +causes for this, apart from the peculiar <i>national</i> propensity +for police activity. Except in England, where the police +have nothing in common with Continental espionage, +the police are everywhere surrounded by hostile elements +and consequently thrown on their own resources. In +France, on the contrary, the police is the most popular +institution. Whatever government seizes power, its +police is <i>ready</i>; a part of the people will help it with a +zest and a fanaticism which have to be restrained and not +intensified, and will help, too, with all those terrible means +at the disposal of private persons which are impossible +for the police. Where can a man hide from his shopkeeper, +his house-porter, his tailor, his washerwoman, his +butcher, his sister’s husband, his brother’s wife, especially +in Paris, where people do not live in separate houses as +they do in London, but in something like coral reefs or +hives with a common staircase, a common courtyard, and +a common porter.</p> + +<p>Condorcet escapes from the Jacobin police and successfully +makes his way to some village near the frontier; +tired and harassed, he goes into a little inn, sits down +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_169">[169]</span>before the fire, warms his hands, and asks for a piece of +chicken. The good-natured old woman who keeps the +inn, and who is a great patriot, reasons like this: ‘He is +covered with dust, so he must have come a <i>long way</i>; he +asks for chicken, so he must have <i>money</i>; his hands are +white, so he must be an <i>aristocrat</i>.’ Leaving the chicken +on the stove, she goes to the next inn; there patriots +are sitting—a Mucius Scaevola, the innkeeper—some +<i>citoyen</i>, a Brutus—a Timoleon, the tailor. They ask for +nothing better, and ten minutes later one of the wisest +leaders of the French Revolution is in prison and handed +over to one of the police of Liberty, Fraternity, and +Equality!</p> + +<p>Napoleon, who had the police talent highly developed, +turned his generals into spies and informers. The butcher +of Lyons, Fouché, founded a complete theory, system, +science of espionage—through the prefects, behind the +prefects, through prostitutes and virtuous shopkeepers, +through servants and coachmen, through doctors and +barbers. Napoleon fell, but his tool remained, and not +only his tool but the man who wielded it. Fouché +passed over to the Bourbons; the strength of the spies +lost nothing—on the contrary, they were reinforced by +monks and priests. Under Louis-Philippe, in whose reign +bribery and corruption became one of the moral forces of +government, half the petty-bourgeois became his spies, his +police chorus, a result to which service in the National +Guard—in itself a police duty—greatly contributed.</p> + +<p>During the February republic three or four branches +of genuinely secret police and several of professedly +secret ones were formed. There was the police of Ledru-Rollin +and the police of Caussidière, there was the police +of Marrast and the police of the provisional government, +there was the police of order and the police of disorder, +the police of Napoleon and the police of the Duc d’Orléans. +All were on the look-out, all were watching each other and +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_170">[170]</span>reporting on each other; assuming that these secret reports +were made with conviction, with the best of motives, for +no money gain, yet they were still secret reports.... +This fatal habit, meeting on the one hand with mournful +failures, and on the other morbid, unbridled lust of gold +or pleasure, corrupted a whole generation.</p> + +<p>We must not forget, too, the moral indifference, the +instability of opinion, which was left like a sediment +by successive revolutions and restorations. Men had +grown used to regarding as heroism and virtue on one +day what would on the morrow be a crime punished +with penal servitude; the laurel wreath and the brand +of the convict alternated several times on the same head. +By the time they had become accustomed to this a nation +of spies was created.</p> + +<p>All the latest discoveries of secret societies and plots, +all the latest denunciations of refugees were made by +false members of societies, bribed friends, men who had +won confidence with the object of treachery.</p> + +<p>There were examples on all hands of cowards who, +through fear of prison and exile, revealed secrets and +ruined their friends—as a faint-hearted comrade ruined +Konarski. But neither among us nor in Austria was +there a legion of young men, cultured, speaking <i>our</i> +language, making inspired speeches in clubs, writing +revolutionary articles and serving as spies.</p> + +<p>Moreover, the government of Napoleon was excellently +placed for making use of informers of all parties. It +represents the revolution and the reaction, war and peace, +the year 1789 and Catholicism, the fall of the Bourbons +and the 4½ per cents. It is served both by Falloux the +Jesuit, and Billault the socialist, and La Rochejacquelein +the legitimist, and the mass of the people to whom +Louis-Philippe had been a benefactor. The refuse of +all parties and shades of opinion naturally flows together +and ferments in the Palace of the Tuileries.</p> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_171">[171]</span></p> + +<h3 class="nobreak" id="Chapter_40">Chapter 40<br> +<span class="smcap">The European Committee—The Russian Consul at +Nice—Letter to A. F. Orlov—Persecution of a Child—The +Vogts—Transference from the Grade of Upper +Court Councillor to that of Simple Peasant—Reception +at Châtel (1850-1851)</span></h3> + +</div> + +<p class="dropcap">A year after our arrival in Nice from Paris I wrote: +‘<i>In vain I rejoiced at my quiet seclusion, in vain +I drew the pentagram on my doors: I have not found +a quiet haven nor the peace I desired. Pentagrams +protect us from unclean spirits—no polygons protect us +from unclean men, unless perhaps the square of the +prison-cell window.</i></p> + +<p>‘<i>A tedious, wearisome, and extremely empty period, +the exhausting journey between the halting place of 1848 +and the halting place of 1852,—there is nothing new +except perhaps some personal misfortune breaking the +heart, another vital spring snapped.</i>’—(‘Letters from +France and Italy,’ June 1, 1851.)</p> + +<p>Indeed, going over that time makes my heart ache as +it does at the memory of funerals, operations, agonising +illnesses. Without touching here upon my inner life, +which was more and more overcast by dark storm-clouds, +public events and the news in the papers were +enough to make any one flee into the desert. France +was dropping with the swiftness of a falling star to the +2nd of December. Germany lay at the feet of Nicholas, +to which Hungary, sold and unhappy, had dragged her. +The <i>condottieri</i> of the police met at their œcumenical +councils, and secretly consulted together concerning +common measures of international espionage. The +revolutionaries maintained their empty agitation. The +men at the head of the movement, disappointed in their +hopes, lost their heads. Kossuth returned from America +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_172">[172]</span>somewhat less nationalistic, Mazzini together with +Ledru-Rollin and Ruge was founding in London the +Central European Committee ... while the reaction +was growing more and more ferocious.</p> + +<p>After our meeting in Geneva, and then again in +Lausanne, I saw Mazzini in 1850; he was secretly in +France, staying in some aristocratic family, and sent one +of his intimate associates to fetch me. Then he told +me of his project of an international league in London, +and asked whether I would like to take part in it <i>as a +Russian</i>; I made no definite answer. A year later +Orsini came to me in Nice, handed me the programme, +various manifestoes of the European Central Committee, +and a letter from Mazzini renewing his proposition. I +did not dream of joining the Committee; what element +of Russian life could I have represented at that time, +completely cut off from everything Russian as I was? +But this was not the only reason why the European +Committee did not attract me. It seemed to me that +its basis lacked depth of thought and unity, that there +had been no necessity for its foundation, and that its +form was simply a mistake.</p> + +<p>The side of the movement which the Committee +represented—that is, the revolt of the oppressed nationalities—was +not strong enough in 1851 to be openly represented +by a league. The existence of such a Committee +showed nothing but the tolerance of the English constitution, +and partly too that the English Government did not +believe in its power or they would have suppressed it, +either by an alien bill or by a motion for the suspension +of <i>habeas corpus</i>.</p> + +<p>The European Committee, though it scared all the +governments, did nothing, without perceiving that fact. +Even the most earnest people are terribly easily led +away by formalism, and persuade themselves that they +are doing something by having periodical meetings, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_173">[173]</span>issuing masses of papers, minutes, motions, voting, +accepting resolutions, printing manifestoes, <i>professions +de foi</i>, and so on. The revolutionary bureaucracy +dissolves things into words and forms just as our official +bureaucracy does. In England there are masses of all +sorts of associations which hold impressive meetings +attended by dukes and lords, clergymen and secretaries. +Treasurers collect funds, literary men write articles, and +all of them together do absolutely nothing. These +meetings, for the most part philanthropic and religious, +on the one hand serve as an entertainment, on the other +soothe the Christian conscience of people who are given +up to worldly interests. But a revolutionary senate +in London could not <i>en permanence</i> maintain this meek-and-mild +character. It was a public conspiracy, a conspiracy +with open doors—that is, an impossible one.</p> + +<p>A conspiracy is bound to be secret. The period of +secret societies is over only in England and America. +Everywhere where there is a minority, in advance of +the understanding of the masses and hoping to realise +an idea they have grasped, secret societies will be formed, +if there is no freedom of speech or right of free assembly. +I speak of this quite impartially; after my youthful +attempts, ending in my exile in 1835, I have <i>never been +a member of any secret society</i>, but not at all because I +consider the spending of energy on individual effort +more worth while. I have not been a member of such +societies because I have not happened to come upon +a society which was in harmony with my own aims, and +in which I could have achieved anything. If it had +been my lot to be in touch with Pestel’s or Ryleyev’s +society,⁠<a id="FNanchor_73" href="#Footnote_73" class="fnanchor">[73]</a> I should have flung myself into it heart and soul.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_174">[174]</span></p> + +<p>Another error or another misfortune of the Committee +lay in its lack of unity. This focussing together of +heterogeneous ideals could only have developed the +power of its component parts by common action. If +each member of the Committee had brought nothing +but his exclusive nationality, that would not have mattered; +they would have had a unity in their hatred for the +chief enemy they had in common, the Holy Alliance. +But their views, agreed on two negative principles, +opposition to monarchy and to socialism, differed on +every other subject. To act in unison they must have +made compromises, and compromises of that kind are +destructive of the one-sided force of each, for the sake +of common accord, tying just the strings which sound +most sharply, and so making the combined effect colourless, +blurred, and hesitating.</p> + +<p>After reading the papers which Orsini had brought me, +I wrote the following letter to Mazzini:—</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p>‘<span class="smcap">Dear Mazzini</span>,—I have a sincere respect for you, +and so I am not afraid to tell you my opinion frankly. +In any case you will give me a patient and indulgent +hearing.</p> + +<p>‘You are perhaps one of the chief political leaders of +recent times whose name has remained surrounded by +sympathy and respect. One may differ from you in +opinion, in method, but cannot fail to respect you +personally. Your past, the Rome of 1848 and 1849, +compel you to bear proudly your great bereavement +until events call back their champion who is in advance +of them. That is why it is painful to me to see your +name coupled with the names of men of no ability who +have ruined the cause, with names which only recall the +calamities they have brought upon us.</p> + +<p>‘Is an organisation with these elements possible? It +can lead to nothing but confusion.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_175">[175]</span></p> + +<p>‘These men are of no use to you nor to history; all +that one can do for them is to forgive them their transgressions. +You want to cover them with your name, +you want to share with them your influence and your +past; they will share with you their unpopularity and +their past.</p> + +<p>‘What is there new in the manifestoes, what is there +new in the <i>Proscrit</i>? Where are the signs of the +terrible lessons that should have been learnt from the +twenty-fourth of February? This is the continuation +of the old liberalism and not the beginning of a new +freedom—it is an epilogue and not a prologue. Why +is there not in London the organisation you desire? +Because it cannot be formed on the basis of indefinite +ideals, but only on a great idea held in common: and +where is that?</p> + +<p>‘The first publication made under such conditions +as the manifesto you have sent ought to have been full +of sincerity, but who can read without a smile the +signature of Arnold Ruge on a manifesto which speaks +in the name of Divine Providence? From 1838 Ruge +has been preaching philosophic atheism; for him (if +his brain is constructed logically) the idea of Providence +ought to present itself as everything reactionary in embryo. +It is a compromise, a bit of diplomacy, of policy, a weapon +in the hands of our enemies. Moreover, all that is +unnecessary. The theological part of the manifesto is +a pure luxury; it adds neither to its meaning nor to +its popularity. The common people have a positive +religion and church. Deism is the religion of the +rationalists, the representative system applied to faith, +religion surrounded by atheistic institutions.</p> + +<p>‘For my part, I advocate a complete rupture with +incomplete revolutionaries. One scents the reaction a +hundred yards from them. Having taken the burden +of a thousand blunders on their shoulders, they go on +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_176">[176]</span>justifying them to this day—the surest proof that they +will repeat them.</p> + +<p>‘In the <i>Nouveau Monde</i> there is the same <i>vacuum +horrendum</i>; the same melancholy chewing over of the +cud, at once green and dry, which still is not digested.</p> + +<p>‘Please do not imagine that I am saying this in order +to get out of doing anything. No, I am not sitting with +my arms folded. I have too much blood in my veins +and energy in my character to be satisfied with the part +of a passive spectator. From my thirteenth year I have +served the same idea and the same standard—of war +against every oppressive power, against every form of +slavery in the name of absolute personal freedom. I +should like to continue my little guerilla warfare—like +a true Cossack ... <i>auf eigene Faust</i>, as the Germans +say, beside the great revolutionary army—not entering +into its regular ranks until they are completely formed.</p> + +<p>‘In the interval of waiting, I am writing. Perhaps +that interval of waiting will last long—it is not in my +power to change the fitful development of men; but to +speak, to appeal, to persuade is in my power—and I am +doing this with all my heart and with all my mind.</p> + +<p>‘Forgive me, dear Mazzini, both the candour and the +length of my letter, and do not cease to love me a little +and to reckon me a man devoted to your cause—but +also devoted to his own convictions.’</p> + +<p class="hanging">‘<span class="smcap">Nice</span>, <i>September 13, 1850</i>.’</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p>To this letter Mazzini answered with a few friendly +lines in which, without touching on the essential point, he +spoke of the necessity of uniting all forces in one activity, +deplored the difference of men’s views, and so on.</p> + +<p>In the same autumn in which Mazzini and the European +Committee remembered me, the anti-European +Committee of Nicholas remembered me too, at last.</p> + +<p>One morning our maid, with a somewhat anxious look, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_177">[177]</span>told me that the Russian consul was downstairs and +asking whether I could see him. I looked upon my +relations with the Russian Government as so completely +at an end that I was surprised at this honour, and could +not imagine what he wanted of me.</p> + +<p>A German-looking official of the second order walked in.</p> + +<p>‘I have the honour to make a communication to you.’</p> + +<p>‘Although,’ I replied, ‘I do not know of what nature, +I am almost certain that it will be unpleasant. I beg +you to be seated.’</p> + +<p>The consul flushed, was a little disconcerted; then +sat down on the sofa, took a document out of his pocket, +and after reading, ‘Adjutant-General Count Orlov +has notified to Count Nesselrode and His Im...,’ +rose to his feet again.</p> + +<p>At that point I fortunately remembered that the +secretary in our Embassy in Paris had risen from his +chair on announcing to Sazonov the Tsar’s command +that he should return to Russia, and Sazonov suspecting +nothing had also got up from his chair, though the secretary +had done this from a deep sense of duty which +required that a loyal subject should be on his legs with +his head a little bowed when conveying the sovereign’s +will; and therefore, the more stiffly erect the consul stood, +the more comfortably I buried myself in my armchair, +and, wishing him to observe the fact, said with a nod: +‘Pray go on; I am listening.’</p> + +<p>‘...perial Majesty,’ he went on, resuming his +seat, ‘has been graciously pleased to command that +So-and-so shall promptly return to Russia and should +be informed thereof, accepting from him no reasons for +delaying his departure and granting him no postponement +under any circumstances.’</p> + +<p>He paused. I continued sitting without saying a word.</p> + +<p>‘What am I to answer?’ he asked, folding up the +paper.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_178">[178]</span></p> + +<p>‘That I am not going.’</p> + +<p>‘How do you mean “not going”?’</p> + +<p>‘What I say: simply I’m not going.’</p> + +<p>‘Have you considered that such a step...?’</p> + +<p>‘I have considered.’</p> + +<p>‘But this is beyond anything.... Kindly tell me +what I am to write. For what reason...?’</p> + +<p>‘You have been commanded not to accept any reasons.’</p> + +<p>‘What am I to say, then? Why, this is disobedience +to the will of His Imperial Majesty!’</p> + +<p>‘Say so, then.’</p> + +<p>‘This is impossible. I should never venture to write +that ...’ and he crimsoned more than ever. ‘Really, +you had better change your mind while it is all still +within four walls.’ (The consul evidently thought the +Third Section was a monastery.)</p> + +<p>Philanthropic as I am, I was not willing, for the sake +of facilitating the correspondence of the consul at Nice, +to go into one of Father Leonty’s cells of the Peter-Paul +Fortress or to Nertchinsk, especially as there seemed no +prospect that Nicholas would sink into a decline.</p> + +<p>‘Surely,’ I said to him, ‘when you were coming +here you could not for one second have imagined that I +should go? Forget that you are a consul and consider +the position yourself. My estate has been sequestrated, +my mother’s fortune was detained, and all that without +asking me whether I wished to return. Can I go back +after that without taking leave of my senses?’</p> + +<p>He hesitated, continually flushing, and at last hit on +a clever, adroit, and above all new idea.</p> + +<p>‘I cannot,’ he said, ‘enter into ... I understand +the difficulty of your position; on the other hand, the +gracious mercy of the Sovereign!...’</p> + +<p>I looked at him; he blushed again. ‘... Besides, +why cut off all way of retreat. Write to me you are +very ill; I’ll send that to the Count.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_179">[179]</span></p> + +<p>‘That’s too stale; besides, what is the object of telling +a lie for nothing?’</p> + +<p>‘Well, then, will you be so kind as to give me your +answer in writing.’</p> + +<p>‘Certainly. Can you leave me a copy of the notice +you read to me?’</p> + +<p>‘That is not usual.’</p> + +<p>‘What a pity! I am making a collection of them.’</p> + +<p>Simple as my written answer was, the consul was +alarmed by it. He seemed to think that he might be +transferred on account of it to Beyrout or Tripoli, or I +do not know where; he positively declined to venture, +either to accept or to forward it. In spite of my assurances +that no responsibility could fall on him, he refused, +and begged me to write another letter.</p> + +<p>‘That’s impossible,’ I answered. ‘I am not taking +this step as a joke, and I am not going to write nonsensical +reasons: here is the letter for you, and you can do what +you like with it.’</p> + +<p>‘Excuse me,’ said the mildest consul since the days of +Junius Brutus and Calpurnius Bestia: ‘you write the +letter, not to me but to Count Orlov, and I’ll simply +forward it.’</p> + +<p>‘That’s an easy matter; I’ve only to put <i>M. le Comte</i> +instead of <i>M. le Consul</i>. I agree to that.’</p> + +<p>As I was copying my letter it struck me that there was +no need for me to write to Orlov in French. If it were +in Russian some cantonist in his office or in the office +of the Third Section might read it; it might be sent to +the Senate, and a young head secretary might show it to +his clerks: why deprive them of this satisfaction? And +so I translated the letter, and here it is:—</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p>‘<span class="smcap">Dear Sir, Count Alexey Fyodorovitch</span>,—The +Imperial Consul at Nice has notified me of the will of +the Most High concerning my return to Russia. With +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_180">[180]</span>every inclination to do so, I find it impossible to comply +with it without making my position clear.</p> + +<p>‘Before any summons to return, more than a year ago, +an injunction was placed on my estate, my business papers +in private hands were confiscated, and, finally, money, a +sum of ten thousand francs sent to me from Moscow, was +seized. Such severe and extreme measures against me +prove that I am not merely accused of some crime, but, +before any inquiry, any trial has been held, am found +guilty and punished by the deprivation of part of my +property.</p> + +<p>‘I cannot hope that my mere return can save me from +the melancholy consequences of a political trial. It is +easy for me to explain every one of my actions, but in +cases of that kind it is opinions and theories that are on +trial. It is upon them that verdicts are based. Can I, +should I, expose myself and all my family to such a trial?... +Your Excellency will appreciate the simplicity +and candour of my answer, and will bring to the consideration +of the Most High the reasons that compel me +to remain in foreign parts in spite of my deep and genuine +desire to return to my country.’</p> + +<p class="hanging">‘<span class="smcap">Nice</span>, <i>September 23, 1850</i>.’</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p>I really do not know whether it was possible to answer +more simply and discreetly; but the habit of slavish +silence is so deeply rooted among us that the consul at +Nice thought even this letter monstrously audacious, +and probably Orlov himself thought the same.</p> + +<p>To be silent, not to laugh and not to cry, and to +answer on a set pattern, without praise or criticism, +without signs of pleasure or grief, is the ideal to which +despotism tries to reduce its subjects and has reduced +the soldiers; but by what means? Well, I will tell +you.</p> + +<p>On one occasion, Nicholas, seeing a fine young soldier +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_181">[181]</span>wearing a cross at a review, asked him: ‘Where did you +receive your cross?’ Unluckily this soldier was a +seminarist sent for a soldier in punishment for some prank, +and, wishing to take advantage of the opportunity to display +his eloquence, he answered: ‘Under the victorious +eagles of Your Majesty.’ Nicholas looked sternly at +him and at the general, pouted, and went on. When +the general following him reached the soldier, white +with rage he shook his fist in his face and said: ‘I’ll +beat you into your coffin, you Demosthenes!’</p> + +<p>Is it strange that eloquence does not flourish with such +encouragement?</p> + +<p>Having got rid of the emperor and the consul, I +wanted to get out of the class of persons living without +a passport.</p> + +<p>The future was dark and gloomy.... I might +die, and the thought that that same blushing consul +would arrive to dispose of everything in my house, and +to seize my papers, compelled me to think of obtaining +the rights of citizenship somewhere. I need hardly +say that I fixed upon Switzerland, in spite of the fact +that just about that time the Swiss police had been +playing pranks with me.</p> + +<p>Within a year after the birth of my second son we +noticed with horror that he was completely deaf. +Various consultations and experiments soon proved that +it was impossible to cure the deafness. But then the +question arose whether we ought to leave him to become +dumb, as is usually done. The schools I had seen in +Moscow had seemed to me far from satisfactory. Talking +on one’s fingers and by signs is not conversation; talking +must be by the mouth and the lips. I knew by what +I had read that attempts had been made in Germany and +Switzerland to teach deaf mutes to speak as we speak, +and to listen by watching the lips. In Berlin I saw for +the first time an oral lecture given to deaf mutes and +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_182">[182]</span>heard them recite verses. This was an immense step +in advance of the method of the Abbé de l’Epée.</p> + +<p>This teaching was carried to great perfection in +Zurich. My mother, who was passionately fond of +Kolya, determined to settle with him for a few years in +Zurich in order to send him to the school.</p> + +<p>The child was gifted with exceptional abilities: the +everlasting stillness about him, by concentrating his lively, +impulsive character, assisted his development in a wonderful +way, and at the same time encouraged an exceptional +power of plastic observation. His eyes glowed with +intelligence and interest; at five years old he could +imitate every one who came to see us with intentional +caricature, and with such comic mimicry that no one +could help laughing.</p> + +<p>In six months he had made great progress at the +school. His voice was <i>voilée</i>; he scarcely marked the +accent, but already spoke German very fairly and understood +everything said to him slowly; nothing could +have been better. On my way through Zurich I thanked +the director and council of the school and paid them +various civilities, and they did the same to me.</p> + +<p>But after I had gone away the elders of the town of +Zurich learnt that I was not a Russian count but a +Russian <i>émigré</i>, and, moreover, friendly with the radical +party, which they could not endure; and, what is more, +with socialists, whom they hated; and, what was worse +than all that put together, that I was not a religious man +and openly admitted the fact. This last they learned +from an awful little book, <i>Vom andern Ufer</i>, which had, +as though to mock them, come out under their very +noses with the imprint of the best Zurich firm of +publishers. On learning this their conscience troubled +them at the thought that they were giving an education +to the son of a man who believed neither in Luther nor +in Loyola, and they set to work to find means to get rid of +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_183">[183]</span>him. Since Providence was particularly interested in +the question, it at once showed them the way. The +town police suddenly demanded the <i>child’s passport</i>; +I answered from Paris, supposing that it was a simple +formality, that Kolya certainly was my son, that his name +was on my passport, but that I could not obtain a separate +one for him from the Russian Embassy, because I was +not on the best of terms with them. The police were +not satisfied, and threatened to turn the child out of the +school and out of the town. I spoke of this in Paris; +one of my acquaintances published a paragraph about +it in the <i>National</i>. Put to shame by publicity, the police +said that they did not insist on turning the child out, but +only on the payment of an insignificant sum of money +as a guarantee that the child was himself and not somebody +else. What guarantee is there in a few hundred +francs? On the other hand, if my mother and I had +not had the money, the child would have been turned +out. (I asked them about that through the <i>National</i>.) +And this could happen in the nineteenth century in free +Switzerland! After what had taken place I disliked +the idea of leaving the child in this den of asses.</p> + +<p>But what was to be done? The best teacher in the +institution, a young man who devoted himself enthusiastically +to the training of deaf mutes, a man of a thorough +university education, luckily did not share the views of +the police Sanhedrin, and was a great admirer of the very +book which had so stirred the wrath of the pious police-constables +of the canton of Zurich. We suggested to +him that he should leave the school, enter my mother’s +household as tutor, and go with her to Italy. He of +course consented. The authorities of the school were +furious, but could do nothing. My mother prepared +to go with Kolya and with this young man, Spielmann, +to Nice. Before leaving she sent for her deposit; it was +not given to her, on the pretext that Kolya was still in +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_184">[184]</span>Switzerland. I wrote from Nice. The Zurich police +demanded proofs that Kolya had the legal right to live +in Piedmont.</p> + +<p>This was too much, and I wrote the following letter +to the president of the Zurich canton:—</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p>‘<span class="smcap">M. le Président</span>,—In 1849, I placed my son, aged +five years, in the Zurich School for the Deaf and Dumb. +A few months later the Zurich police asked my mother +for his passport. Since among us passports are not +required for newborn babies or for children going to +school, my son had not a separate one but was entered +upon mine. This explanation did not satisfy the Zurich +police. They demanded a deposit. My mother, fearing +that the child who had brought down upon himself such +dangerous suspicions on the part of the Zurich police +would be expelled, paid it.</p> + +<p>‘In August 1850, my mother, wishing to leave Switzerland, +asked for the deposit, but the Zurich police did +not return it; they wished to ascertain first that the child +had actually left the canton. On reaching Nice my +mother asked Messieurs Avigdor and Schultgess to +receive the money, giving them a proof that we, and +above all my suspicious six-year-old son, were in Nice +and not in Zurich. The Zurich police, keeping a tight +hold on the deposit money, then demanded another +certificate, to be witnessed by the police here, “that my +son is officially permitted to live in Piedmont” (<i>que +l’enfant est officiellement toléré</i>). M. Schultgess communicated +this to M. Avigdor.</p> + +<p>‘Seeing this eccentric curiosity on the part of the +Zurich police I refused M. Avigdor’s proposal to send +a new certificate, which he very graciously offered to +take for me himself. I did not want to afford the +Zurich police this satisfaction, since, for all the dignity +of its position, it has no right to constitute itself an international +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_185">[185]</span>police, and because its demand is insulting not +only to me but to Piedmont.</p> + +<p>‘The Sardinian Government, M. le Président, is a +free and civilised one; how is it possible that it should +not permit (<i>ne tolérera pas</i>) an invalid child of six years +old to live in Piedmont? I am really at a loss as to how +I am to regard this demand of the Zurich police, whether +as a strange joke or as the result of a partiality for deposits +in general.</p> + +<p>‘Presenting this affair for your scrutiny, M. le Président, +I beg you as a special favour, in case of another refusal, to +explain the proceeding, which is so curious and interesting +that I do not think I shall be justified in concealing it +from the knowledge of the public.</p> + +<p>‘I have written again to M. Schultgess to receive the +money, and I can confidently assure you that neither my +mother nor myself nor the child who is the object of +suspicion have the smallest inclination to return to +Zurich after these unpleasant attentions from the police. +There is not the faintest risk of it.’</p> + +<p class="hanging">‘<span class="smcap">Nice</span>, <i>September 9, 1850</i>.’</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p>I need hardly say that after that the police of the town +of Zurich, in spite of their œcumenical pretensions, paid +the deposit.</p> + +<p>Except my Swiss naturalisation, I would not have +accepted citizenship in any European country, not even +England; I disliked the idea of voluntarily becoming +anybody’s subject. I did not want to change a bad +master for a good one, but to escape from serfdom into +being a free tiller of the soil. This was only possible +in two countries: America and Switzerland.</p> + +<p>America—I greatly respect. I believe that she is +destined to a great future, I know that she is now twice +as near to Europe as she was; but American life is distasteful +to me. It is very likely that her angular, coarse, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_186">[186]</span>dry elements will be welded together into something +different. America has not yet settled down, she is an +unfinished edifice. Labourers and workmen in their +workaday clothes are dragging about beams and stones, +sawing, hewing, hammering. Why should outsiders +settle in it before it is dry and warm?</p> + +<p>Moreover, America, as Garibaldi said, is the ‘land for +forgetting home’; let those who have no faith in their +fatherland go there—they ought to get away from their +graveyards. It was quite the contrary with me: the more +I lost all hope of a Latin-German Europe, the more my +belief in Russia revived again; but to dream of returning +there while Nicholas was Tsar would have been madness.</p> + +<p>And so there was nothing left for it but to ally myself +with the free men of the Helvetian Confederation.</p> + +<p>As early as 1849, Fazy had promised to naturalise me +in Geneva, but kept putting it off; perhaps he simply +did not want to add to the number of socialists in his +canton. I got sick of this. I was passing through a black +period, the very walls were tottering and might crumble +about my head, misfortune is never far off.... +Karl Vogt offered to write about my naturalisation +to J. Schaller, who was at that time president of the +Freiburg canton and leader of the radical party. But, +having mentioned Vogt, I must say something about +him first.</p> + +<p>In the monotony of the shallow and slow-moving life +of Germany one meets at times, as though to redeem it, +sturdy, healthy families full of strength, persistence, and +talent. One generation of gifted persons is followed by +another more numerous, still preserving the same sturdiness +of mind and body. Looking at some dingy, old-fashioned +house, in a dark, narrow side-street, it is hard +to believe how many have been the young lads, in a +hundred years, who have come down the worn stone +steps of its staircase with a wallet on their shoulder and +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_187">[187]</span>all manner of souvenirs, made of hair or of flowers in it, +followed by the blessings and tears of their mother and +sisters ... and have gone out into the world with +nothing but their own strength to look to, and have +become distinguished men of science, celebrated doctors, +naturalists, and literary men. And the little house, +covered with tiles, is filled up again in their absence by +a new generation of students, eagerly pressing forward +into the unknown future.</p> + +<p>In the lack of any other there is the inheritance of +example, the inheritance of the family fibre. Each one +begins for himself, and knows that the time will come +when his old grandmother will lead him down the worn +stone staircase: the grandmother who has seen three +generations into the world, washed them in the little +bath, and seen them off with full confidence in them. +He knows that the proud old woman is sure of him, too, +sure that he will do something ... and he invariably +does do something.</p> + +<p><i>Dann und wann</i> after many years all this scattered +population is in the little old home again, all the originals—grown +older—of the portraits hanging in the little +drawing-room, in which they are wearing students’ +<i>bérets</i> and are wrapped in cloaks with a Rembrandt +intention on the part of the artist: then there is bustle +again in the little house, the two generations get to know +each other, become intimate ... and then all go +back to work again. Of course, with all this some one +is bound to be in love with somebody; of course, sentimentality, +tears, surprises, and sweet tarts are the inevitable +accompaniment; but all that is effaced by the real, +purely living poetry, full of strength and muscle such +as I have rarely met with in the degenerate, rickety +children of the aristocracy, and still less among the petty-bourgeois, +who strictly check the number of their children +in accordance with their account-book.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_188">[188]</span></p> + +<p>The ancestral home of Vogt belonged to this class of +blessed ancient German families.</p> + +<p>Vogt’s father was an extremely gifted professor of +medicine in Berne; his mother was one of the Vollens, +that eccentric Swiss-German family which was so much +talked of at one time. The Vollens were leaders +of Young Germany at the period of <i>Tugendbunds</i> +and <i>Burschenschafts</i>, of Karl Sand and of the political +<i>Schwärmerei</i> of 1817 and 1818. One Vollen was thrown +into prison for the Wartburg celebration in memory +of Luther: he certainly did deliver an incendiary speech, +after which he made a bonfire of Jesuitical and reactionary +books and various symbols of autocracy and the Papal +power. The students dreamed of making him emperor +of a one and undivided Germany. His grandson, Karl +Vogt, actually was one of the <i>vicars of the empire</i> in 1849. +Healthy blood must have flowed in the veins of the son +of the Berne professor, in the grandson of the Vollens—<i>au +bout du compte</i>, everything depends on the chemical +combination and the quality of the elements. Karl +Vogt is not the man to dispute that with me.</p> + +<p>In 1851 I was passing through Berne. Straight from +the posting-chaise, I went to Vogt’s father with a letter +from his son. The elder Vogt was at the university. +His wife, a hospitable, lively, and extremely intelligent +old woman, met me; she received me as her son’s friend, +and at once took me to see his portrait. She did not +expect her husband home before six o’clock; I very +much wanted to see him, and came back at that time, but +he had already gone to some patients for a consultation. +The old lady greeted me the second time like an old +friend, and led me into the dining-room, wishing me to +take a glass of wine. One part of the room was filled +by a large round table fixed immovably into the floor; +I had heard of this table long ago from Vogt, and so was +delighted to make its personal acquaintance. Its inner +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_189">[189]</span>part moved on an axle: various dishes were placed upon +it; coffee, wine, and everything wanted, such as plates, +mustard, salt, so that any one could turn what he wanted +to himself, ham or preserves, without troubling any one +and without the aid of servants. The only thing was +that it would not do to be too dreamy or to talk too much, +or one might put a spoon into the sugar-basin instead +of into the mustard-pot ... if any one had turned +the disc. In this large population of brothers and sisters, +intimate friends and relations, in which every one was +differently engaged, and had to keep to fixed hours, a +common dinner in the evening was difficult to arrange. +Any one who came in, and wanted something to eat, sat +down to the table, twirled it to the right or twirled it +to the left and managed capitally. The mother and +sisters superintended, and ordered this or that to be +brought in.</p> + +<p>I could not stay with them; Fazy and Schaller, who +were in Berne at the time, wanted to come and see me +in the evening. I promised to visit the Vogts again if +I should stay another half-day, and, after inviting the +younger brother, the law student, to supper with me, +went home. I felt it was out of the question to invite +the old father so late, and after such a day. But about +twelve o’clock the waiter, respectfully opening the door +to usher him in, announced: ‘Der Herr Professor Vogt.’ +I got up from the table and went to meet him. A +rather tall old man, extremely well preserved, with a +clever, expressive face, walked into the room.</p> + +<p>‘Your visit,’ I said, ‘is doubly welcome; I had not +dared to ask you so late after your labours.’</p> + +<p>‘I did not want to let you pass through Berne without +seeing you. Hearing that you had been to us twice, +and that you had invited Gustav, I invited myself. I +am very, very glad to see you, both from what Karl +writes of you, and, flattery apart, I wanted to make +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_190">[190]</span>the acquaintance of the author of <i>From the Other +Shore</i>.’</p> + +<p>‘I thank you most truly: here is a place, please sit +down with us; we are in the middle of supper: what +will you take?’</p> + +<p>‘I want nothing to eat, but I will drink a glass of wine +with pleasure.’</p> + +<p>There was so much ease and freedom in his appearance, +words, and movements, together with not that good-heartedness +characteristic of flabby, mawkish, and sentimental +people, but with that special good-heartedness +we see in strong natures confident in themselves. His +appearance was not the least constraint to us; on the +contrary, it made everything livelier.</p> + +<p>The conversation passed from subject to subject; +everywhere and in everything he was at home, intelligent, +<i>éveillé</i>, original. The talk touched on the Federal +concert which had been given in the morning in the +Berne Cathedral, at which all had been present except +Vogt. The concert was on an immense scale; musicians +and singers had come from all parts of Switzerland to +take part in it. It had, of course, been a concert of +sacred music. Haydn’s celebrated composition had +been performed with talent and understanding. The +audience was attentive but cold; it walked out of the +cathedral as people walk out of the morning service; +I do not know how much reverence there was, but there +was no enthusiasm. I experienced the same thing +myself. In a moment of candour I said so to the friends +with whom I had gone. Unluckily, they were orthodox, +learned, ardent musicians; they fell upon me, declared +I was a profane outsider who did not know how to listen +to deep and serious music.</p> + +<p>‘You care for nothing but Chopin’s mazurkas,’ they +said.</p> + +<p>‘There is no great harm in that,’ I thought, but, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_191">[191]</span>considering myself not a very competent judge, I held +my peace.</p> + +<p>One needs considerable courage to acknowledge impressions +which run counter to the generally accepted +prejudice or opinion. It was a long while before I +could bring myself to say, in the presence of outsiders, +that <i>Jerusalem Delivered</i> was dull, that I could not +finish reading the <i>New Héloïse</i>, that <i>Hermann and +Dorothea</i> was a masterly production but disgustingly +tedious. I said something of the sort to Vogt, telling +him what I had observed about the concert.</p> + +<p>‘Well,’ he asked, ‘do you like Mozart?’</p> + +<p>‘Extremely! without reservation.’</p> + +<p>‘I knew as much, for I am in complete sympathy +with you. How is it possible for an awakened modern +man to force himself artificially into the religious mood +which would make his enjoyment of it natural and +complete? There is no sacred music for us, just as +there is no religious literature; for us it has only an +historical interest. In Mozart, on the other hand, we +hear the note of the life familiar to us, he is singing out +of the fulness of feeling and passion, not praying. I +remember when <i>Don Giovanni</i> and the <i>Nozze di Figaro</i> +were new, what a delight they were, what a revelation +of a new source of enjoyment! Mozart’s music created +an epoch, a revolution in men’s minds, like Goethe’s +<i>Faust</i>, like the year 1789. We saw in his compositions +the enlightened thought of the eighteenth century with +its secularisation of life invading music; with Mozart the +revolution and the new age have entered into art. How +can we read Klopstock after <i>Faust</i>, or listen to these +musical liturgies without faith?’</p> + +<p>The old man talked at length and extraordinarily +interestingly. He grew animated; twice I filled his +glass, he did not refuse it, and was in no haste to +drink. At last he looked at his watch: ‘Bah! it’s two +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_192">[192]</span>o’clock; good-bye, I have to be with a patient at +nine!’</p> + +<p>With real affection I escorted him home.</p> + +<p>Two years later he showed how much vigour was left +in his grey head and how <i>real</i> his theories were—that is, +how close to practice. A Viennese refugee, Dr. Kudlich, +courted one of Vogt’s daughters: the father consented +to the marriage; but, all at once, the Protestant Consistory +demanded the bridegroom’s certificate of baptism. +Of course, as an exile, he could get nothing from Austria, +and he presented the sentence which had been passed +upon him in his absence. The mere testimony and +permission of Vogt would have been sufficient for the +Consistory, but the Berne pietists, instinctively hating +Vogt and all exiles, persisted. Then Vogt gathered +together all his friends, the professors and various leading +personages of Berne, told them the position, then called +his daughter and Kudlich, took their hands, made them +clasp hands, and said to those present: ‘I call you, friends, +to witness that I as father bless this marriage and give +my daughter at her desire to this man.’</p> + +<p>This action petrified the pious society of Switzerland; +it looked with indignation and horror at the precedent +created not by a hot-headed youth, nor a homeless refugee, +but by an old man of irreproachable character, respected +by every one.</p> + +<p>Now let us pass from the father to the elder son.</p> + +<p>I made his acquaintance in 1847, at Bakunin’s, but +we became particularly intimate during the two years +of our life at Nice. He had not only a serene intelligence, +but one of the serenest characters of all the men I have +seen. I should reckon him a very happy man if I knew +that he would not live long; but there is no counting +upon fate, though she has spared him hitherto, letting +him off with nothing worse than a few migraines. His +realistic temperament, full of life and open to everything, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_193">[193]</span>has much to ensure enjoyment, everything to make +dullness impossible, and almost nothing to cause inner +torment, the fretting of intellectual discontent, the +suffering from theoretical doubt, and disappointment in +practical life over dreams that cannot be fulfilled. A +passionate worshipper of the beauties of nature, an +indefatigable worker in science, he did everything with +extraordinary ease and success; he was not in the least +a dry pedant, but an artist in his own work, he enjoyed +it; a radical by temperament, a realist by constitution, +and a humane man through his clear and good-heartedly +ironical outlook, he lived precisely in that sphere of life +to which alone Dante’s words—<i>Qui è l’uomo felice</i>—apply.</p> + +<p>He spent his life actively and carelessly, never lagging +behind, but everywhere in the foremost rank. He had +no fear of bitter truths, and looked as steadily at men +as at polypi and medusæ, expecting nothing from either +but what they could give. His researches were not +superficial, but he felt no impulse to pass beyond a certain +depth below which everything clear ends, and which is in +truth, after a fashion, an escape from reality. He was not +lured into those sloughs of despond in which men revel +in their neurotic sufferings. His clear and simple attitude +to life excluded from his healthy outlook the poetry +of melancholy, the ecstasies and morbid humours, which +we love as we do everything thrilling and pungent. +His irony, as I observed, was good-natured, his mockery +was light-hearted; he was the first to laugh, and from +his heart, at his own jokes, with which he poisoned the +ink and the beer of the pedantic professors and his +parliamentary colleagues <i>in der Paul’s Kirche</i>.</p> + +<p>This living realism was the common bond of sympathy +between us, though our lives and development had been +so different that we disagreed about many things.</p> + +<p>I had not and could not have the harmony and unity +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_194">[194]</span>that Vogt had. His education had been as regular as +mine had been unsystematic; neither family continuity +nor theoretical growth had ever been interrupted in +him; he was carrying on the tradition of his family. +His father stood beside him an example and a helper; +following him, he took up the study of natural science. +Among us each generation is usually at variance with the +one before; there is no common moral tie between us. +From my earliest years I was inevitably struggling against +the outlook of every one surrounding me; I was in +opposition in the nursery, because our elders, our grandfathers, +were not Vollens but serf-owners and senators. +When I left it, I flung myself with the same impetuosity +into another struggle, and, as soon as I had finished at +the university, was in prison and then in exile. My +continuity of learning was destroyed by this, but it gave +me another kind of training, experience of a world on +the one hand wretched, and on the other hand dirty.</p> + +<p>When I was sick of the study of this pathology, +I flung myself greedily upon philosophy, for which Vogt +felt an invincible aversion. When he had completed +the medical course and had received his doctor’s diploma, +he could not bring himself to practise, saying that he +had not sufficient faith in the medical hocus-pocus, and +devoted himself entirely to physiology again. His work +very soon attracted the attention not only of German +scientists but also of the Parisian Academy of Science. +He was already Professor of Comparative Anatomy in +Giessen and the colleague of Liebig (with whom he +afterwards carried on a furious chemico-theological +controversy), when the revolutionary hurricane of 1848 +tore him from his microscope and flung him into the +Frankfort Parliament.</p> + +<p>I need hardly say that he was in the most radical section, +that he made speeches full of wit and daring, and +exhausted the patience of the mast moderate progressives, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_195">[195]</span>and sometimes even of the immoderate Prussian King. +Being by no means a politician, he became, through +his atomic weight, one of the leaders of the opposition; +and when Archduke Johann, who had been a vicar of +the Empire, finally threw off the mask of good-nature +and popularity won by marrying the daughter of a stationmaster +and sometimes wearing a frock-coat, Vogt and +four others were elected in his place. Then the fortunes +of the German revolution went rapidly downhill: the +governments had attained their object, had gained time +(as Metternich advised), and had no longer need to spare +the parliament. Banished from Frankfort, the parliament +had a brief, shadowy existence at Stuttgart under +the melancholy title of <i>Nach-parlament</i>. And there the +reactionaries made an end of it. There was nothing +left for the vicars of the Empire but to get away as best +they could from certain prison and penal servitude.... +When he crossed the Swiss mountains Vogt +shook the dust of the Frankfort assembly from off his +feet, and inscribing himself in the traveller’s book as +‘K. Vogt, runaway vicar of the German Empire,’ set +to work again upon natural science with the same untroubled +serenity, light-hearted temper, and unwearying +industry. He came to Nice in 1850, with the object +of studying marine zoophytes.</p> + +<p>Although we started from different directions and came +by different paths, we met in sober maturity in science.</p> + +<p>Was I as consistent as Vogt—and in life, did I look +at it as soberly? Now I fancy not. Though indeed +I do not know whether it is good to begin with being +sober; it wards off not only many calamities, but also +the best moments of life. It is a difficult question which +luckily is settled for each man, not by choice nor by considerations +of what is best, but by constitution and +circumstance. It was not that I tried to retain all sorts +of inconsistent convictions, but <i>they remained of themselves</i>, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_196">[196]</span>though I was theoretically emancipated. I outlived +the romanticism of revolution, the mystic belief +in progress and in humanity lasted longer than other +theological dogmas; but when I had outlived them, I +still had left a religious belief in individuals, a faith in +two or three men, a confidence in myself, in the human +will. There were, of course, contradictions in this; +inner contradictions lead to misfortunes, the more painful +and mortifying because they are deprived of the last +comfort of man, justification in his own eyes....</p> + +<p>In Nice, Vogt set to work with extraordinary zeal.... +The calm, warm bays of the Mediterranean Sea +is a rich breeding-ground for all <i>frutti di mare</i>, the water +is simply full of them. At night the streaks of their +phosphorescent light trail gleaming after a boat and drip +from the oar, the <i>salpi</i> can be picked up with the hand +or with any cup or dish. So he had no lack of material. +From early morning Vogt would sit at the microscope, +would watch, would draw, write, or read, and at five +o’clock rush, sometimes with me, into the sea (he swam +like a fish); then he would come to us to dine, and, +everlastingly good-humoured, was ready for a learned +discussion or for any sort of nonsense, sang killing songs, +accompanying them on the piano, or told the children +stories with such masterly art that they listened to him +for hours without moving.</p> + +<p>Vogt possessed an immense talent for exposition. Half +in joke he delivered several lectures on ‘physiology for +ladies’ in our house. Everything came out so living, so +simple, and so artistically expressed, that all the ground +he had covered before attaining this clarity was not +suspected. That is the whole problem in teaching—to +render science so intelligible and well assimilated as to +make it speak a simple, everyday language.</p> + +<p>There are no difficult sciences; the difficulty lies +in the exposition which is not fully digested. The +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_197">[197]</span>language of learning, a technical language with coined +words, a shorthand, temporary language, is of use for +students; the meaning is concealed in its algebraic +formulæ in order that in explaining the law the same +thing may not be repeated a hundred times over. Passing +through a series of scholastic methods, science has been +overgrown by all this rubbish of the schools, where +pedants have grown so accustomed to the monstrous jargon +that they use no other, and it seems intelligible to them: +in former years they even prized it as something won +by hard labour and distinguished from the vulgar tongue. +As we pass from students to real knowledge, props and +scaffoldings become distasteful, and we look for simplicity. +Who has not observed that beginners as a rule make +use of many more abstruse words than those who have +mastered the subject?</p> + +<p>A second cause of obscurity in science arises from the +unconscientiousness of those who teach it, shown in +trying to conceal part of the truth and to avoid risky +questions. Science which has any object except the +knowledge of the truth is not science. It ought to have +the courage of direct, open speech. No one could +charge Vogt with lack of candour, with timid compromise. +‘Sensitive souls’ more readily reproach him with telling +too directly and too simply what he holds for the +truth, in direct contradiction with the generally received +deception. The Christian attitude has trained us to +dualism, to ideal imagery, so thoroughly that everything +naturally healthy strikes us unpleasantly. Our +intelligence, warped through ages, is disgusted by +naked beauty, by daylight, and craves for twilight and +a veil.</p> + +<p>Many when reading Vogt are offended at his accepting +the most startling consequences so readily, at his finding +it so easy to sacrifice things, at his having to make no effort, +at his not worrying to try to reconcile theology with +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_198">[198]</span>biology; it is as though he had nothing to do with the +former.</p> + +<p>As a matter of fact, Vogt’s temperament was such +that he never had thought differently and was incapable +of thinking differently; that was just where his direct +realism came in. Theological objections could have +for him only an historical interest; the absurdity of +dualism was so clear to his simple outlook that he could +not enter into serious controversy with it, just as his +opponents—the theologians of chemistry and the holy +fathers of physiology—cannot seriously discuss magic +or astrology. Vogt brushed aside their attacks with a +jest—and, unluckily, that is not enough.</p> + +<p>The nonsense with which they answered him is the +nonsense believed all the world over, and for that reason +very important. The childishness of the human brain +is such that it will not accept the simple truth; for vague, +muddled, and incoherent minds nothing is intelligible +but what is incomprehensible, what is impossible or +absurd.</p> + +<p>There is no need to go to the common herd for +examples; literary and cultivated circles, legal and learned +institutions, governments and revolutionaries, vie with +each other in maintaining the innate senselessness of +mankind. And just as seventy years ago the frigid +deist Robespierre executed Anacharsis Cloots,⁠<a id="FNanchor_74" href="#Footnote_74" class="fnanchor">[74]</a> so the +Wagners and their like would to-day hand Vogt over +to the hangman.</p> + +<p>The struggle is impossible; all the strength is on their +side. Against a handful of scientists, naturalists, doctors, +two or three thinkers and poets, stands the whole world, +from Pius <span class="allsmcap">IX.</span> with the Immaculate Conception to Mazzini +with the Republican Iddio; from the Moscow orthodox +hysterics of Slavophilism to Lieutenant-General Radowitz, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_199">[199]</span>who when he was dying bequeathed to Wagner, the +professor of physiology, what it had never occurred to +any one to bequeath before—the immortality of the soul, +and its defence; from American spiritualists who call +up the dead, to English missionary colonels who preach +the Word of God to Indians on horseback at the head +of their soldiers. There is nothing left for free men but +the consciousness of being right, and hope in future +generations.</p> + +<p>And suppose it is proved that this senselessness, this +religious mania, is the essential condition of organised +society, that for men to live quietly side by side they +must be driven out of their wits and terrified, that this +mania is the one dodge by which history is created?</p> + +<p>I remember a French caricature aimed at some time +or other against the Fourierists with their <i>attraction +passionnée</i>; it represents an ass with a stick fixed upon +its back, and a wisp of hay hung on the stick so that +he can see it. The donkey, thinking to reach the hay, +is obliged to move forward—the hay, of course, moves +too, and he follows it. Perhaps the worthy animal +might progress in that way, but all the same he would +be made a fool of!</p> + +<p>I will pass now to an account of how hospitably I was +received by one country when another had just turned +me out for no reason whatever. Schaller promised +Vogt to take steps about my naturalisation—that is, to +find a commune which would consent to receive me +and then to support the case in the Great Council. +For naturalisation in Switzerland it is essential that some +town or village commune should previously agree to +accept the new citizen, a regulation quite in keeping +with the self-government of each canton and each little +district. The village of Châtel near Morat (Murten) +agreed to receive my family into the number of its +peasant families for a small money contribution to the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_200">[200]</span>village society. This village is not far from the lake of +Murten, the neighbourhood of which was the scene +of the defeat and slaying of Charles the Bold, whose +unhappy death and name were so adroitly used by the +Austrian censorship (and afterwards the Petersburg one) +to replace the name of William Tell in Rossini’s opera.</p> + +<p>When the case came before the Great Council, two +Jesuitical deputies raised their voices against me, but did +nothing. One of them said that it ought to be ascertained +why I was in exile, and how I had provoked the +anger of Nicholas. ‘Why, but that’s a recommendation +in itself!’ somebody answered, and they all laughed. +Another, from far-sighted prudence, asked for fresh +guarantees that in case of my death the education and +maintenance of my children would not fall on the poor +commune. This son in Jesus too was satisfied by +Schaller’s answer. My rights of citizenship were +accepted by a vast majority, and I was transformed from +an upper court councillor to a peasant of the village of +Châtel near Murten, <i>originaire de Châtel près Morat</i>, +as the Freiburg clerk wrote on my passport.</p> + +<p>Naturalisation, however, is no hindrance to a career +in Russia. I have two illustrious examples before my +eyes: Louis-Napoleon became a citizen of Thurgovie, +and Alexander the Second a burgher of Darmstadt; +both became emperors after their naturalisation. I am +not going so far as that.</p> + +<p>On receiving the news of the ratification of my rights, +it was almost necessary for me to go and thank my new +fellow-citizens and to make their acquaintance. Moreover, +just at that time I had an intense craving to be +alone, to look into myself, to revise the past, to discern +something in the mist of the future, and I was glad of +this external reason.</p> + +<p>On the eve of my departure from Nice, I received a +summons from the head of the police <i>di la Sicurezza +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_201">[201]</span>publica</i>. He informed me that I was ordered by the +Minister of the Interior to leave immediately the domains +of Sardinia. This strange step on the part of the tame +and evasive Sardinian Government surprised me far +more than my banishment from Paris in 1850; besides, +there was no sort of occasion for it.</p> + +<p>I am told that I was indebted for it to the zeal of two +or three faithful Russian subjects living in Nice, and +among them it is pleasant for me to name the Minister +of Justice, Panin; it was more than he could tolerate +that a man who had brought upon himself the Imperial +wrath of Nicholas was not only living in peace and in +the same town as himself, but was actually writing +articles, though aware that the Most High did not look +upon this with favour. When he went to Turin, this +Minister of Justice, I am told, asked the minister +Azeglio, as a friend, to banish me. Azeglio’s heart, +probably, had some intuition that when I was learning +Italian in the Krutitsky Barracks I had read his <i>La +Disfida di Barletta</i>—a novel neither ‘classical nor old-fashioned,’ +though nevertheless tedious; and so he did +nothing, or perhaps he hesitated to send me out because +such friendly attentions should have been preceded by +the sending of a Russian ambassador, and Nicholas was +still sulking over the revolutionary ideas of Charles +Albert.</p> + +<p>On the other hand, the chief of police in Nice and the +ministers in Turin took advantage of the suggestion at +the first opportunity. Some days before I was turned +out, there was a popular demonstration in Nice, in which +the boatmen and shopkeepers, carried away by the +eloquence of the banker Avigdor, protested, and rather +audaciously too, against the suppression of the free port, +talking of the independence of the duchy of Nice, +and its inalienable rights. The imposition of a light +customs-duty on the whole kingdom diminished their +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_202">[202]</span>privileges, regardless of the ‘independence of the duchy +of Nice,’ and its rights ‘inscribed on the scrolls of +history.’</p> + +<p>Avigdor, that O’Connell of the Paillon (that is the name +of the dry river that runs through Nice), was thrown into +prison, patrols paraded the streets at night, and so did the +people, and both sang songs, the same songs too; and that +was all. Need I say that neither I nor any other foreigner +took any part in this domestic quarrel over tariffs and +customs-duties? Nevertheless, the <i>Intendant</i> pitched +upon several of the refugees as ringleaders, and among +them, upon me. The ministry, wishing to set an example +of salutary severity, ordered me to be turned out together +with the rest.</p> + +<p>I went to the <i>Intendant</i> (a Jesuit), and, observing to +him that it was a superfluous luxury to turn a man out +when he was going of himself and had his passport +already viséd in his pocket, asked him what was wrong. +He declared that he was as surprised as I was, and that the +measure had been taken by the Ministry of the Interior +without any preliminary reference to himself. At the +same time, he was so extremely polite that I had no doubt +in my mind that he was responsible for the whole nasty +business. I reported my conversation with him to the +well-known deputy in the opposition, Lorenzo Valerio, +and went off to Paris.</p> + +<p>Valerio made a savage attack upon the minister in +his interpellation, and demanded the reasons for my +deportation. The minister was disconcerted, denied +any influence of the Russian diplomacy, threw everything +upon the report of the <i>Intendant</i>, and meekly concluded +by saying that if the ministry had acted too hastily and +imprudently it would with pleasure alter its decision.</p> + +<p>The opposition applauded; consequently, <i>de facto</i>, +the prohibition was withdrawn, but though I wrote to +the minister he made no answer. I read Valerio’s +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_203">[203]</span>speech and the answer to it in the newspapers, and resolved +to go simply to Turin on the return journey from +Freiburg. That I might not be refused a visa, I went +without a visa; on the Swiss border of Piedmont, passports +are not examined with the savage zeal of French +gendarmes. In Turin I went to the Minister of the +Interior: I was received by his deputy, who superintended +the superior police, Count Pons de la Martino, a man +well known in those parts, clever, crafty, and devoted +to the Catholic party.</p> + +<p>His reception surprised me. He said to me everything +I had meant to say to him; something similar had happened +to me in one of my interviews with Dubbelt, but Count +Pons far outdid that.</p> + +<p>He was a very elderly, thin, sickly-looking man of +most unprepossessing appearance, with malicious, sly-looking +features, rough grey hair, and a rather clerical +aspect. Before I had time to say a dozen words in +regard to the reason of my asking for an interview with +the minister, he interrupted me with the words:—</p> + +<p>‘Why, upon my word, what doubt can there be about +it?... Go to Nice, go to Genoa, stay here—only +without the slightest <i>rancune</i> ... it was all the doing +of the <i>Intendant</i> ... you see, we are still learning +our business, we are not accustomed to legality, to constitutional +order. If you had done anything contrary +to the law, there is a law-court for that; then you would +have no cause to complain of injustice, would you?’</p> + +<p>‘I quite agree with you, I should not.’</p> + +<p>‘Instead of that <i>they take</i> steps which cause irritation +... and excite an uproar—and without any need +whatever!’</p> + +<p>After this speech against <i>himself</i>, he hastily snatched +up a piece of paper with the ministerial imprint, and +wrote: <i>Si permette al Sig. A. H. di ritornare a Nizza +e di restarvi quanto tempo credera convienente. Per il +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_204">[204]</span>ministro S. Martino—12 Giulio 1851.</i> ‘Here, take +this to provide for all possibilities, though you may +rest assured that you will never need it. I am very +glad, very glad indeed, that we have settled this business +with you.’</p> + +<p>As this was equivalent, in the vulgar tongue, to ‘Go, +and God bless you,’ I left my Pons, smiling at the thought +of the face of the <i>Intendant</i> at Nice; but Providence +did not favour me with the sight of it—he had been +transferred.</p> + +<p>But to return to Freiburg and its canton: when, like +all mortals who have been in Freiburg, we had listened +to the celebrated organ and driven over the celebrated +bridge, we set off for Châtel, accompanied by a good-natured +old man, the treasurer of the Freiburg canton. +At Murten the prefect of police, a vigorous man and a +radical, asked us to stay with him, telling us that the +village elder had charged him to send word beforehand +of our arrival, as he and the other householders would +be very much disappointed if I came without letting +them know; and they were all in the fields at work when +I arrived. After walking about Morat or Murten for +a couple of hours, we set off, and the prefect with us.</p> + +<p>Near the elder’s house several old peasants were +awaiting us, headed by the elder himself, a tall, venerable, +grey-headed, and rather bent but muscular old man. +He stepped forward, took off his hat, held out his broad, +strong hand to me, and saying, ‘<i>Lieber Mitbürger ...</i>,’ +delivered a speech of welcome in such Swiss-German +that I did not understand a word of it. It was possible +to make a rough guess at what he could say to me, and +therefore, reflecting that if I concealed that I did not +understand him, he would conceal that he did not understand +me, I boldly answered him:—</p> + +<p>‘Dear Citizen Elder, and dear fellow-citizens of +Châtel! I am come to thank you for giving a refuge +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_205">[205]</span>to me and my children in your commune, and putting +an end to my homeless wandering. I, dear citizens, did +not leave my native land to seek another; I loved the +Russian people with my whole heart, but I left Russia +because I could not be a dumb, inactive witness of oppression. +I left it after exile pursued by the ferocious +despotism of Nicholas. His powerful arm, which has +reached me everywhere where there is a king or a lord, +is not long enough to reach me in your commune! +Without fear I put myself under your protection, as in +a haven where I can always find peace. You, citizens +of Châtel, you a handful of men, you taking me amongst +you, have been able to arrest the lifted hand of the +Russian Emperor armed with a million bayonets. You +are stronger than he! But you are strong only through +the free republican institutions that have been yours +for ages! With pride I enter into your commune, and +hurrah for the Helvetian Republic!’</p> + +<p>‘<i>Dem neuen Bürger hoch! Es lebe der neue Bürger!</i>’ +answered the old men, and warmly pressed my hand; +I myself was somewhat agitated!</p> + +<p>The village elder invited us into his house.</p> + +<p>We went in, and sat down on benches at a long table +on which there was bread and cheese. Two peasants +dragged in a bottle of terrific size, larger than those +famous bottles which are snugly stored away for whole +winters in our old-fashioned houses in some corner by +the stove, filled with home-made liqueurs and cordials. +This bottle was covered with basket-work, and full of +white wine. The village elder told us that this was the +local wine, but that it was very old, that he remembered +the bottle for over thirty years, and that this wine was only +drunk on very special occasions. All the peasants sat +down with us to the table except two, who were busy +with the cathedral-like bottle. They poured wine from +it into a large jug, and the village elder poured it from +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_206">[206]</span>the jug into the glasses; there was a glass before every +peasant, but he brought me a grand crystal goblet, observing +as he did so to the treasurer and the prefect: +‘You must excuse me on this occasion; to-day we offer +the cup of honour to our fellow-citizen; you are old +friends.’</p> + +<p>While the elder was filling the glasses, I noticed that +one of the company, dressed not quite like a peasant, +was very restless, mopping his face, turning crimson, and +seeming ill at ease; when the village elder proposed +they should drink my health, he leaped on his feet with +the courage of despair, and addressing me began a +speech. ‘That,’ the elder whispered in my ear with a +significant air, ‘is the citizen teacher in our school.’ I +stood up.</p> + +<p>The teacher spoke not Swiss but German, and not +simply but on the model of particularly famous orators +and writers: he referred both to William Tell and to +Charles the Bold (what would the Austrian and Russian +stage censorship have done?—perhaps they would have +called them William the Bold and Charles Tell), and at +the same time did not forget the less new than expressive +comparison of bondage with a gilded cage from which +the bird will still strive to be free. Nicholas caught it +hot from him; he ranked him with very disreputable +persons from Roman history. I almost interrupted him +at that point to say, ‘Don’t insult the dead,’ but, as though +from a presentiment that Nicholas would soon be among +them, held my peace.</p> + +<p>The peasants listened to him, craning their wrinkled +sunburnt necks and putting up their hands to their ears +like sunshades; the treasurer had a little nap, and to +conceal the fact was the first to praise the orator.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile the village elder was not sitting idle, but +zealously filling up glasses and preparing toasts like the +most practised master of the ceremonies—‘To the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_207">[207]</span>Confederation!’ ‘To Freiburg and its radical government!’ +‘To President Schaller!’</p> + +<p>‘To my kindly fellow-citizens of Châtel!’ I proposed +at last, feeling that the wine, though its taste was +not strong, was far from weak in its effects. All rose +to their feet.... The elder said: ‘No, no, <i>lieber +Mitbürger</i>, a full glass, as we drank a full glass to you.’ +My venerable friends were becoming expansive, the +wine was warming them up.... ‘Bring your +children,’ said one. ‘Yes, yes,’ others chimed in; ‘let +them see how we live: we are simple people, they will +learn no harm from us, and we shall have a look at them.’</p> + +<p>‘Certainly!’ I answered, ‘certainly!’</p> + +<p>Then the village elder began apologising for the +poorness of their reception, saying that it was all the +treasurer’s fault, that he ought to have let them know +two days beforehand, that then it would have been very +different, they might have provided a band, and that +they would have welcomed and escorted me with gun-shots. +I very nearly said to him, <i>à la</i> Louis-Philippe: +‘After all, what has happened?—only one peasant more +in Châtel.’</p> + +<p>We parted great friends. I was rather surprised +that I had seen not one woman or girl, nor even one +young man. It was a working day, however. It is +noteworthy, too, that to a festivity so unusual for them +the pastor had not been invited.</p> + +<p>I felt greatly indebted to them for that. The +pastor would certainly have spoilt it all; he would +have delivered a stupid sermon, and with his decorous +propriety would have been like a fly in a glass of wine +which must be removed before you can drink with +pleasure.</p> + +<p>At last we were seated again in the treasurer’s little +carriage, or rather chaise; we took the prefect to Morat, +and set off for Freiburg. The sky was covered with +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_208">[208]</span>storm-clouds; I felt sleepy and giddy. I tried not to +go to sleep: surely it cannot be their wine? I wondered +with some contempt for myself.... The treasurer +smiled slyly, and then himself began dozing; drops of +rain began falling, I covered myself with my overcoat, +must have fallen asleep ... then woke up at the +contact of cold water.... The rain was pouring +in bucketsful, black storm-clouds seemed striking fire +from craggy heights, far-away peals of thunder came +rolling over the mountains. The treasurer was standing +in the hall laughing loudly and talking with the host of +the Zöringer Hof.</p> + +<p>‘Well,’ the host asked me, ‘it seems our simple +peasant wine is very different from the French, eh?’</p> + +<p>‘Why, can we have arrived?’ I asked, emerging +drenched from the chaise.</p> + +<p>‘There’s nothing strange in that,’ observed the +treasurer; ‘what is strange is that you have slept through +a storm such as we have not had for a long time. Did +you really hear nothing?’</p> + +<p>‘Nothing!’</p> + +<p>Afterwards I found out that the simple Swiss wines, +which do not taste at all strong, acquire great strength +with age and act powerfully on those unaccustomed +to them. The treasurer avoided telling me this on +purpose; besides, even if he had told me I could not +have refused the peasants’ good-natured hospitality and +their toasts, still less could I have ceremoniously moistened +my lips and made difficulties. That I did the right +thing is proved by the fact that when a year later, on my +way from Berne to Geneva, I met the prefect of Morat +at the station, he said to me: ‘Do you know how you +acquired great popularity among our Châtel peasants?’ +‘No!’ ‘To this day they tell with proud self-satisfaction +how their new fellow-citizen, after drinking their wine, +slept through a storm and drove in a downpour of +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_209">[209]</span>rain from Morat to Freiburg, knowing nothing about +it.’</p> + +<p>And so that is how I became a free citizen of the Swiss +Confederation and got drunk on Châtel wine.⁠<a id="FNanchor_75" href="#Footnote_75" class="fnanchor">[75]</a>⁠</p> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_210">[210]</span></p> + +<h3 class="nobreak" id="Chapter_41">Chapter 41<br> +<span class="smcap">P. J. Proudhon—Publication of the ‘Voix du Peuple’—Correspondence—The +Significance of Proudhon</span></h3> + +</div> + +<p class="dropcap">After the June barricades had fallen the printing-presses +fell too. The panic-stricken journalists +held their peace. Only old Lamennais rose up like the +gloomy shadow of a judge, cursed Cavaignac—the Duc +d’Alba of the June days—and his companions, and +gloomily told the people: ‘And you be silent: you are +too poor to have the right to speak!’</p> + +<p>When the first alarm at this state of siege was over +and the newspapers began coming to life again, they +found themselves confronted, not with violence, but +with a perfect arsenal of legal quibbles and judicial +traps. The old baiting, <i>par force</i>, of editors, the process +in which the ministers of Louis-Philippe so distinguished +themselves, began again. Its method was to exhaust +the guaranteed fund by a series of lawsuits invariably +ending in prison and a money fine. The fine is paid +out of the fund; until that is made up again, the paper +cannot be published; as soon as it is made good, there is +a new lawsuit. This game is always successful, for the +legal authorities are always hand in glove with the government +in all political prosecutions.</p> + +<p>At first Ledru-Rollin, and afterwards Colonel Frappoli⁠<a id="FNanchor_76" href="#Footnote_76" class="fnanchor">[76]</a> +as the representative of Mazzini’s party, contributed +large sums of money, but could not save <i>La Réforme</i>. +All the more outspoken organs of socialism and republicanism +were destroyed by this method. Among +these, and at the very beginning, was Proudhon’s <i>Le +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_211">[211]</span>Représentant du Peuple</i>, and later on <i>Le Peuple</i>. Before +one prosecution was over, another began.</p> + +<p>One of the editors—it was Duchesne, I remember—was +three times brought out of prison into the law-courts +on fresh charges; and every time was again sentenced to +prison and a fine. When on the last occasion before the +ruin of the paper the verdict was declared, he said to +the prosecutor: ‘<i>L’addition, s’il vous plaît!</i>’ As a +matter of fact, it amounted to ten years of prison and fifty +thousand francs fine.</p> + +<p>Proudhon was on his trial when his newspaper was +suppressed on the 13th of June. The National Guards +burst into his printing-office on that day, broke the +printing-press, dispersed the type, as though to assert, in +the name of the armed bourgeois, that the period of +the utmost violence and police tyranny had come in +France.</p> + +<p>The irrepressible gladiator, the stubborn Besançon +peasant, would not lay down his arms, but at once contrived +to publish a new journal, <i>La Voix du Peuple</i>. It +was necessary to obtain twenty-four thousand francs +for the guarantee fund. E. Girardin would have been +ready to give it, but Proudhon did not want to be +dependent on him, and Sazonov suggested that I should +contribute the money. I owed a great deal to Proudhon +in my intellectual development, and, after a little consideration, +I consented, though I knew that the fund would +soon be gone.</p> + +<p>Reading Proudhon, like reading Hegel, cultivates a +special faculty, sharpens the weapon, and furnishes not +results but methods. Proudhon is pre-eminently the +dialectician, the controversialist of social questions. +The French seek experimental solutions in him, and, +finding no plans of the phalanstery nor of the Icarian +community, shrug their shoulders and lay the book +aside.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_212">[212]</span></p> + +<p>It is Proudhon’s own fault, of course, for having put +as the motto on his <i>Contradictions</i>: ‘<i>Destruo et ædificabo</i>’; +his strength lay not in construction but in +criticism of the existing state of things. But this mistake +has been made from time immemorial by all who have +broken down what was old. Man dislikes mere destruction: +when he sets to work to break things down, he +is unconsciously haunted by some ideal of future construction, +though sometimes this is like the song of a +mason as he pulls down a wall.</p> + +<p>In the greater number of sociological works the ideals +advocated, which almost always are either unattainable +at present or lead to some one-sided solution, are of little +consequence; what is of importance is that, in working +up to them, the <i>problem</i> is stated. Socialism has to deal +not only with the solutions of the old empirically religious +tradition, but also with the conclusions of one-sided science; +not only with the juridical deductions resting on traditional +legislation, but also with the deductions of political +economy. It is confronted with the rational system of +the epoch of guarantees and of the bourgeois economic +regime, as its immediate predecessor, just as political +economy is related to the theoretically feudal state.</p> + +<p>It is in this denial, this destruction of the old social +tradition, that the great power of Proudhon lies; he is +as much the poet of dialectics as Hegel is, with the +difference that the one rests on the calm heights of the +philosophic movement, while the other is thrust into the +turmoil of popular passions and the hand-to-hand struggle +of parties.</p> + +<p>Proudhon is the first of a new set of French thinkers. +His works mark a transition period, not only in the +history of socialism but also in the history of French +logic. He has more strength and freedom in his +argumentative tenacity than the most talented of his +fellow-countrymen. Intelligent and single-minded men +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_213">[213]</span>like Pierre Leroux⁠<a id="FNanchor_77" href="#Footnote_77" class="fnanchor">[77]</a> +and Considérant⁠<a id="FNanchor_78" href="#Footnote_78" class="fnanchor">[78]</a> do not grasp +either his point of departure or his method. They are +accustomed to play with ideas as with marked cards, +to walk in a certain attire along the beaten track to familiar +spots. Proudhon often presses on without hesitating to +crush anything on the way, without fearing to destroy +or to go too far.</p> + +<p>He has none of that sensitiveness, that rhetorical +revolutionary chastity, which takes the place of Protestant +pietism in the French ... that is why he remains +a solitary figure among his own people, rather alarming +than convincing them.</p> + +<p>People say that Proudhon has a German mind. That +is not true; on the contrary, his mind is absolutely +French: he has that racial Gallo-Frankish genius which +appears in Rabelais, in Montaigne, in Voltaire, and in +Diderot ... even in Pascal. It is only that he has +assimilated Hegel’s dialectical method, as he has assimilated +all the methods of Catholic controversy. But +neither the Hegelian philosophy nor the Catholic +theology furnished the content nor the character of his +writings; for him these were only weapons with which +he tested his subject, and these weapons he mastered +and adapted to his own purposes just as he adapted the +French language to his powerful and vigorous thought. +Such men stand much too firmly on their own feet to +be dominated by anything or to allow themselves to be +caught in any net.</p> + +<p>‘I like your system very much,’ an English tourist +said to Proudhon.</p> + +<p>‘But I have no system,’ Proudhon answered with +annoyance, and he was right.</p> + +<p>It is just that that puzzles his fellow-countrymen, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_214">[214]</span>accustomed to a moral at the end of the fable, to systematic +formulas, to classification, to abstract binding precepts.</p> + +<p>Proudhon sits by a sick man’s bedside and tells him +that he is in a very bad way for this reason and for that +reason. You do not help a dying man by constructing +an ideal theory of how he might be perfectly well if he +were not ill, or by suggesting remedies, excellent in +themselves, which he cannot take or which are not +to be had.</p> + +<p>The external signs and manifestations of the financial +world serve him, just as the teeth of animals served +Cuvier as a ladder by which he descends into the mysteries +of social life; by means of them he studies the forces +that are dragging the sick body on to decomposition. If +after every such observation he proclaims a new victory +for death, is that his fault? In this case there are no +relatives whom one is afraid to alarm: we are ourselves +dying this death. The crowd shouts with indignation: +‘Remedies! Remedies! Or don’t speak of the +disease!’ But why not speak of it? It is only under +despotic governments that we are forbidden to speak of +crops failing, of epidemic diseases, of the numbers slain +in war. The remedy, it seems, is not easily to be found; +they have made plenty of experiments on France since +the days of the copious blood-letting of 1793; they have +tried victories and violent exercise with her. Setting +her marching to Egypt and to Russia, they have tried +parliamentarianism and <i>agiotage</i>, a little republic and +a little Napoleon—and has anything done any good? +Proudhon himself once tested his pathology and came +to grief over the People’s Bank—though in itself his +idea was good. Unluckily, he did not believe in magical +formulas, or else he would have been singing out to +everybody: ‘League of Nations! League of Nations! +Universal Republic! Brotherhood of all the World! +<i>Grande Armée de la Démocratie!</i>’ He did not use +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_215">[215]</span>these phrases, he did not spare the Old Believers of the +revolution, and for that reason the French look upon +him as an egoist, as an individualist, almost as a renegade +and a traitor.</p> + +<p>I remember Proudhon’s works, from his reflections +<i>On Property</i> to his <i>Financial Guidance</i>; many of +his ideas have changed—a man could hardly live through +a period like ours and whistle the same duet in A minor +like Platon Mihailovitch in <i>Woe from Wit</i>. What +is so startling in the midst of these changes is the inner +unity that holds them all together, from the essays +written as a school task in the Besançon Academy to the +<i>carmen horrendum</i> of Stock Exchange depravity, which +has lately appeared; the same order of thought developing, +changing in form, reflecting events, runs through +the <i>Contradictions of Political Economy</i>, and through +his <i>Confessions</i>, and through his <i>Journal</i>.</p> + +<p>Inertia of thought is characteristic of religion and +doctrinarianism; they presuppose a persistent narrowness, +a finished limitedness, living apart or in its own +narrow circle, rejecting everything new that life offers +... or at any rate not troubling about it. The real +truth must be found under the influence of events, must +reflect them, while remaining true to itself, or it would not +be the living <i>truth</i>, but an eternal truth, at rest from the +agitations of this world in the deadly stillness of holy +stagnation.⁠<a id="FNanchor_79" href="#Footnote_79" class="fnanchor">[79]</a> Where, and in what case, I have sometimes +asked, was Proudhon false to the fundamental principles +of his philosophy? I have always been answered that +he was so in his political mistakes, his blunders in revolutionary +diplomacy. For his political mistakes he was, +of course, responsible as a journalist; but even in that +case he was not false to himself: on the contrary, some of +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_216">[216]</span>his mistakes were due to his believing more in his principles +than in the party to which he, against his own +will, belonged, with which he had nothing in common, +and with which he was only associated by hatred for a +common foe.</p> + +<p>It was not in political activity that his real strength +lay; it was not there that he found the basis of the thought +which he clad in all the armour of his arguments. On +the contrary, it is everywhere clearly evident that politics +in the sense of the old liberalism and constitutional +republicanism were, in his eyes, of secondary importance, +as something half over, passing. He was not greatly +concerned over political questions, and was ready to make +compromises because he did not attach special significance +to the forms, which in his view were not essential. All +who have abandoned the Christian point of view take +up a similar attitude to religious questions. I may +recognise that the constitutional religion of Protestantism +is somewhat freer than the autocracy of Catholicism, +but I cannot take to heart any questions in regard to +church and denomination; probably I should make +mistakes, and concessions in consequence, which the +most ordinary graduate in divinity or parish priest +would avoid.</p> + +<p>Doubtless, there was no place for Proudhon in the +National Assembly as it was constituted, and his individuality +was lost in that den of petty-bourgeois. In +the <i>Confessions of a Revolutionary</i> Proudhon tells us that +he was completely at a loss in the Assembly. And indeed, +what could be done there by a man who said of Marrast’s +constitution, that sour fruit of seven months’ work of +seven hundred heads: ‘I give my vote against your +constitution, not only because it’s bad, but because it’s +a constitution.’</p> + +<p>The parliamentary dregs greeted one of his speeches: +‘The speech to the <i>Moniteur</i>, the orator to the madhouse!’ +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_217">[217]</span>I do not think that in the memory of man +there had ever been such parliamentary scenes from the +days when the Archbishop of Alexandria brought to +the Œcumenical Councils monks armed with clubs in the +name of the Virgin, up to the days of the Washington +senators who proved the benefits of slavery on each +other with sticks.</p> + +<p>But even there Proudhon succeeded in rising to his +full height, and in the midst of the wrangling displayed +a brilliance that will not be forgotten.</p> + +<p>Thiers in rejecting Proudhon’s financial scheme made +some insinuations as to the moral depravity of the men +who advocated such theories. Proudhon mounted the +tribune, and with his stooping figure and his menacing air +of a sturdy field-worker said to the smiling old creature: +‘Speak of finance, but do not speak of morality: I may +take that as personal, I have told you so in committee. +If you will persist, I—I will not challenge you to a duel’ +(Thiers smiled); ‘no, your death is not enough for me—that +would prove nothing. I challenge you to another +sort of contest. Here from this tribune I will tell the +whole story of my life, fact by fact—any one can pull me +up if I forget or omit anything; and then let my opponent +tell the story of his!’ The eyes of all were turned upon +Thiers; he sat scowling, with no trace of a smile on his +face, and made no answer either.</p> + +<p>A hostile Chamber sank into silence while Proudhon, +looking contemptuously at the champions of religion and +the family, came down from the platform. That was +where his strength lay. In his words one hears clearly +the language of the new world with its new standards +and its new penalties.</p> + +<p>From the revolution of February Proudhon foretold +what France had come to; to a thousand different tunes +he kept repeating, ‘Beware, do not trifle; “this is not +Catiline at your gates, but death.”’ The French +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_218">[218]</span>shrugged their shoulders. The skull, the scythe, the +hour-glass—all the trappings of death—were not to be +seen. How could it be death?—it ‘was a momentary defeat, +the after-dinner nap of a great people!’ At last many +people discerned that things were in a bad way. Proudhon +was less downcast than others, less panic-stricken, +because he had foreseen it; then he was accused of callousness +and even of having invited disaster. They say the +Chinese Emperor pulls the Court star-gazer’s hair every +year when the latter announces that the days are beginning +to draw in.</p> + +<p>The genius of Proudhon is really antipathetic to the +rhetorical French, his language is offensive to them. +The revolution developed its own special puritanism, +narrow and intolerant, its own obligatory jargon; and +patriots resent everything not written in the official form, +just as the Russian judges do. Their criticism stops short +at their symbolic books, such as the <i>Contrat Social</i> and +<i>Declaration of the Rights of Man</i>. Men of faith, they +hate analysis and doubt; conspirators, they do everything +in common and turn everything into a party question. +An independent mind is hateful to them as a disturber +of discipline, they dislike original ideas even in the past. +Louis Blanc is almost vexed with the eccentric genius +of Montaigne.⁠<a id="FNanchor_80" href="#Footnote_80" class="fnanchor">[80]</a> It is upon this Gallic feeling, which +seeks to subject individuality to the herd, that their +partiality for <i>equalising</i>, for the dead level of military +discipline, for centralisation—that is, for despotism—is +based.</p> + +<p>The blasphemy of the French, their sweeping judgments, +are more due to mischief, caprice, the pleasure +of mockery, than the craving for analysis, than the +scepticism that frets the soul. The Frenchman has an +endless number of little prejudices, minute religions, +and these he will defend with the persistence of a Don +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_219">[219]</span>Quixote, the pertinacity of a <i>raskolnik</i>. That is why +they cannot forgive Montaigne or Proudhon for their +free-thinking and lack of reverence for generally accepted +idols. Like the Petersburg censorship, they permit a jest +at a titular councillor, but you must not touch a privy +councillor. In 1850 E. Girardin printed in the <i>Presse</i> +a bold and new idea, that the principles of law are not +eternal but go on evolving in different forms with the +development of history. What an uproar this article +excited! The campaign of abuse, of cries of horror, +of charges of immorality begun by the <i>Gazette</i> of France +was kept up for months.</p> + +<p>To assist in restoring such an organ as the <i>Peuple</i> was +worth a sacrifice; I wrote to Sazonov and Hoetsky that +I was ready to supply the guarantee fund.</p> + +<p>Until then I had not seen much of Proudhon; I had +met him twice at the lodgings of Bakunin, with whom +he was very intimate. Bakunin was living at that time +with A. Reihel in an extremely modest lodging at the +other side of the Seine in the Rue de Bourgogne. +Proudhon often went there to listen to Reihel’s Beethoven +and Bakunin’s Hegel—the philosophical discussions +lasted longer than the symphonies. They reminded +me of the famous all-night arguments of Bakunin with +Homyakov at Tchaadayev’s and at Madame Yelagin’s, +also over Hegel. In 1847, Karl Vogt, who also lived in +the Rue de Bourgogne, and often visited Reihel and +Bakunin, was bored one evening with listening to the +endless discussions on phenomenology, and went home to +bed. Next morning he went round for Reihel, as they +were to go to the Jardin des Plantes together; he was +surprised to hear conversation in Bakunin’s study at +that early hour. He opened the door—Proudhon +and Bakunin were sitting in the same places before the +burnt-out embers in the fireplace, finishing their brief +summing-up of the argument begun overnight.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_220">[220]</span></p> + +<p>At first, afraid of the humble rôle of our fellow-countrymen, +of being patronised by great men, I did not try to +become more intimate even with Proudhon himself, +and I believe I was not altogether wrong there. Proudhon’s +letter in answer to mine was courteous, but cold +and somewhat reserved.</p> + +<p>I wanted to show him from the very first that he was +not dealing with a mad <i>prince russe</i> who was giving the +money from revolutionary dilettantism, and still more +from ostentation, nor with an orthodox admirer of French +journalists, deeply grateful for their accepting twenty-four +thousand francs from him, nor with a dull-witted +<i>bailleur de fonds</i> who imagines that providing the +guarantee funds for such a paper as the <i>Voix du Peuple</i> +is a serious business investment. I wanted to show +him that I knew very well what I was doing, that I had +my own definite aim in it, and so wanted to have a definite +influence on the paper. While I accepted unconditionally +all that he wrote about money, I demanded in the first +place the right to insert articles, my own and other +people’s; secondly, the right to superintend all the +foreign part, to recommend editors, correspondents, and +so on for it, and to insist on payment for the latter for +articles inserted. This last may seem strange, but I can +confidently assert that the <i>National</i> and the <i>Réforme</i> would +open their eyes with astonishment if any foreigner ventured +to ask to be paid for an article. They would take +it for impudence or madness, as though for a foreigner to +see himself in print in a Parisian paper were not</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">‘<i>Lohn der reichlich lohnet</i>.’</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p>Proudhon agreed to my conditions, but still they made +him wince. This is what he wrote to me in Geneva +on the 29th of August 1849: ‘And so the thing is settled: +under my general direction you have a share in the +editorship of the paper; your articles must be accepted +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_221">[221]</span>with <i>no restriction</i>, except that to which the editors are +bound by respect for their <i>own opinions</i> and fear of legal +responsibility. Agreed in ideas, we can only differ in +deductions; as regards the criticism of foreign events, +we leave that entirely to you. You and we are missionaries +of one idea. You will see our line in general +discussion, and you will have to support it: I am sure +I shall never have to <i>correct your views</i>; I should regard +that as the greatest calamity. I tell you frankly, the whole +success of the paper depends on our agreement. The +democratic and social question must be raised to the +level of an undertaking by a European League. To +presuppose that we shall not agree means to assume that +we have not the essential conditions for publishing the +paper, and that <i>we had better be silent</i>.’</p> + +<p>To this severe missive I replied by the despatch of +twenty-four thousand francs and a long letter, quite +friendly, but firm. I told him how completely I agreed +with him theoretically, adding that, like a true Scythian, +I saw with joy that the old world was falling into +ruins, and believed that it was our mission to announce +to it its speedy end. ‘<i>Your fellow-countrymen are far +from sharing these ideas.</i> I know one free Frenchman—that +is you. Your revolutionists are conservatives. +They are Christians without recognising it, and monarchists +fighting for a republic. You alone have raised +the question of negation and revolution to a scientific +level, and you have been the first to tell France that there +is no salvation for the edifice that is crumbling from +within, and that there is nothing worth saving from it; +that its very conceptions of freedom and revolution are +saturated with conservatism and reaction. As a matter +of fact, the political republicans are but one of the variations +on the constitutional tune of which Guizot, Odilon +Barrot, and the rest play their several versions. This +is the view that should be followed in the analysis of the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_222">[222]</span>latest European events, in attacking reaction, Catholicism, +monarchism, not in the ranks of our enemies—that is +extremely easy—but in our own camp. We must +unmask the mutual guarantees existing between the +democrats and the powers that be. Since we are not +afraid to attack the victors, let us not from false sentimentality +be afraid to attack the vanquished also.</p> + +<p>‘I am thoroughly convinced that if the inquisition +of the republic does not kill our newspaper, it will be +the best newspaper in Europe.’</p> + +<p>I think that even now. But how Proudhon and I +could imagine that Napoleon’s government—they never +stood on ceremony—would put up with a paper like +that, it is difficult to explain.</p> + +<p>Proudhon was pleased with my letter, and wrote to +me on the 15th of December from the Conciergerie: ‘I +am very glad to have been associated with you in the +same work. I, too, wrote something in the nature of +a philosophy⁠<a id="FNanchor_81" href="#Footnote_81" class="fnanchor">[81]</a> under the title of the <i>Confessions of a +Revolutionary</i>. You will not perhaps find in it the +<i>verve barbare</i> to which you have been trained by German +philosophy. Do not forget that I am writing for the +French, who, for all their revolutionary ardour, are, it +must be confessed, far inferior to their rôle. However +limited my view may be, it is a hundred thousand times +higher than the loftiest heights of our journalistic, +academic, and literary world. I have enough in me to +be a giant among them for another ten years.</p> + +<p>‘I completely share your opinion of the so-called +republicans; of course, they are only one species of the +genus doctrinaires. As regards these questions there is +no need to convince each other; you will find in me and +my colleagues men who go hand in hand with you....</p> + +<p>‘I too think a peaceful methodical advance by imperceptible +transitions, as the political economists and +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_223">[223]</span>philosophical historians would have it, is no longer +possible for the revolution; we must make terrible leaps. +But as journalists foreseeing the coming catastrophe, it +is not for us to present it as something inevitable and +just, or we shall be hated and kicked out; and we have +got to live....’</p> + +<p>The paper was a wonderful success. Proudhon from +his prison cell conducted his orchestra in masterly +fashion. His articles were full of originality, fire, and +that irritability which prison inflames.</p> + +<p>‘What are you, <i>M. le Président</i>?’ he writes in one +article, speaking of Napoleon; ‘tell me—man, woman, +hemaphrodite, beast, or fish?’ And we still imagined +that such a paper might be kept going!</p> + +<p>The subscribers were not numerous, but the street +sales were large; thirty-five thousand to forty thousand +were sold per day. The circulation of particularly attractive +numbers—for instance, of those in which Proudhon’s +articles appeared—was even larger; fifty thousand to +sixty thousand were printed, and often on the following +day copies were being sold for a franc instead of a sou.⁠<a id="FNanchor_82" href="#Footnote_82" class="fnanchor">[82]</a>⁠</p> + +<p>But for all that, by the 1st of March—that is, in six +months’ time—not only was there no cash in hand, but +already part of the guarantee fund had gone in payment +of fines. Ruin was inevitable; Proudhon hastened it +considerably. This was how it happened. On one +occasion at his rooms in Ste. Pélagie I found D’Alton-Shee +and two of the editors. D’Alton-Shee, that peer +of France who scandalised Pacquier and frightened all +the peers by answering from the platform the question, +‘Why, are you not a Catholic?’ ‘No! and what’s +more, I am not a Christian at all, and I don’t know whether +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_224">[224]</span>I am a deist.’ He was saying to Proudhon that the last +numbers of the <i>Voix du Peuple</i> were feeble: Proudhon +was looking through them and growing more and more +morose; then, thoroughly incensed, he turned to the +editors: ‘What is the meaning of it? You take +advantage of my being in prison, and go to sleep there in +the office. No, gentlemen: if you go on like this I will +refuse to have anything to do with the paper, and will +publish the grounds for my refusal. I don’t want my +name to be dragged in the mud; you need some one to +stand behind you and overlook every line. The public +takes this for my newspaper: no, I must put a stop to +this. To-morrow I will send an article to efface the +ill effects of your scribbling, and I will show how I understand +what ought to be the spirit of my paper.’</p> + +<p>Seeing his irritation, it might well be anticipated that +the article would not be the most moderate, but he +surpassed our expectations: his <i>Vive l’Empereur!</i> was a +rhapsody of irony—malignant, terrible irony.</p> + +<p>In addition to a new action against the paper, the +government revenged itself on Proudhon in its own way. +He was transferred to a horrible room—that is, given a +far worse one than before: the window was half boarded +up so that nothing could be seen but the sky; no one was +admitted to see him, and a special guard was put at the +door. And these measures, unseemly for the correction +of a naughty boy of sixteen, were taken seven years ago +against one of the greatest thinkers of our age. Men +have grown no wiser since the days of Socrates, no wiser +since the days of Galileo; they have only become more +petty. This disrespect for genius, however, is a new +phenomenon that has reappeared during the last ten +years. From the time of the Renaissance talent has to +some extent become a protection; neither Spinoza nor +Lessing was shut in a dark room or stood in a corner. +Such men are sometimes persecuted and killed, but they +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_225">[225]</span>are not humiliated in trivial ways; they are sent to the +scaffold, but not to the workhouse.</p> + +<p>Bourgeois imperial France is fond of equality.</p> + +<p>Though persecuted, Proudhon still struggled in his +chains; he still made an effort to bring out the <i>Voix du +Peuple</i> in 1850; but that attempt was soon crushed. +My guarantee money had been seized to the last farthing; +the one man in France who still had something to say +had no choice but to be silent.</p> + +<p>The last time I saw Proudhon in Ste. Pélagie, I was +being turned out of France, while he still had two years of +prison. We parted gloomily; there was no trace of hope +in the near future. Proudhon maintained a concentrated +silence, whilst I was boiling with vexation; we both had +many thoughts in our minds, but no desire to speak.</p> + +<p>I had heard a great deal of his roughness, <i>rudesse</i>, and +intolerance; I never had any experience of it in my own +case. What soft people call his harshness was the tense +muscle of the fighter; his scowling brow showed only +the intense workings of his mind: in his anger he reminded +me of a wrathful Luther or of Cromwell jeering at +an opponent. He knew that I understood him, and, +knowing, too, how few did understand him, appreciated +it. He knew that he was considered an undemonstrative +man; and hearing from Michelet of the unhappy death +of my mother and Kolya, he wrote to me from Ste. +Pélagie, among other things: ‘Is it possible that fate +should attack us on that side too? I cannot get over +the shock of this terrible accident. I love you, and carry +your image deep here in this heart which so many think +is of stone.’</p> + +<p>After that I did not see him:⁠<a id="FNanchor_83" href="#Footnote_83" class="fnanchor">[83]</a> in 1851, when, thanks +to Léon Faucher, I visited Paris for a few days, he had +been sent away to some central prison. A year later, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_226">[226]</span>when I was passing through Paris in secret, Proudhon +was ill at Besançon.</p> + +<p>Proudhon had his weak spot, and there he was incorrigible; +there the limit of his character was reached, +and, as is always the case, beyond it he was a conservative +and a follower of tradition. I am speaking of his views +of family life, and of the significance of woman in general. +‘How lucky is our friend N.!’ Proudhon would +say jestingly; ‘his wife is not so stupid that she can’t +make a good <i>pot-au-feu</i>, and not clever enough to discuss +his articles. That’s all that is wanted for domestic +bliss.’</p> + +<p>In this jest Proudhon expressed, laughing, what was +the serious basis of his views on woman. His conceptions +of family relations were coarse and reactionary, +but they betrayed, not the bourgeois element of the +townsman, but rather the stubborn feeling of the rustic +paterfamilias, haughtily regarding woman as an inferior, +and a servant, and himself as the autocratic head of the +family.</p> + +<p>A year and a half after this was written, Proudhon +published his great work on <i>Justice in the Church and +Revolution</i>.</p> + +<p>This book, for which France, sunk into barbarism, +condemned him again to three years’ imprisonment, I +read through attentively, and I closed the third volume +weighed down by gloomy thoughts.</p> + +<p>It is a terrible ... terrible time!... The atmosphere +of decomposition stupefies the strongest....</p> + +<p>This ‘brilliant fighter,’ too, could not resist it, and was +broken: in his last work I see the same controversial +power, the same mighty stroke; but it brings him now to +preconceived results—it is no longer free in the very +fullest sense. Towards the end of the book I watched +over Proudhon as Kent watched over King Lear, expecting +him to recover his reason, but he talked more and +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_227">[227]</span>more wildly—there were the same fits of intolerance, +of unbridled speech, as in Lear; and at the same time +‘<i>every inch</i>’ betrays talent, but ... a talent that is +‘<i>touched</i>’ ... and he runs with the corpse, not of a +daughter but of a mother, whom he takes to be living.⁠<a id="FNanchor_84" href="#Footnote_84" class="fnanchor">[84]</a>⁠</p> + +<p>Latin thought, religious in its very negation, superstitious +in doubt, rejecting one set of authorities in the +name of another, has rarely gone further, rarely plunged +more deeply <i>in medias res</i> of reality, rarely freed itself +from all tangles, with such dialectic boldness and certainty +as in this book. In it, not only the crude dualism of +religion but the more subtle dualism of philosophy is +cast off; the mind is set free not only from heavenly +phantoms but from those of the earth, it passes beyond +the sentimental apotheosis of humanity and the fatalism +of progress, has none of the everlasting litanies of brotherhood, +democracy, and progress, which are so pitifully +wearisome in the midst of rancour and violence. +Proudhon sacrificed the idols and the language of revolution +to the true understanding of it, and put morality +on its only real basis—the heart of man, recognising +no idols, nothing but reason, ‘if it.’</p> + +<p>And after all that, the great iconoclast was frightened +of human nature being set free; for, having freed it +abstractly, he fell back again into metaphysics, endowed +it with <i>incredible will</i>, could not manage it, and led it +to be immolated on the altar of the cold, inhuman God of +<i>justice</i>—the God of equilibrium, of stillness and peace, +the God of the Brahmins, who seek to lose all that is +personal and to be dissolved, to come to rest in an infinite +ocean of annihilation.</p> + +<p>On the empty altar scales were set up. This would +be a new Caudine Forks for humanity.</p> + +<p>The ‘justice’ which is his goal is not even the artistic +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_228">[228]</span>harmony of Plato’s Republic, the elegant equilibrium of +passion and sacrifice; the Gallic tribune takes nothing +from ‘anarchic and frivolous Greece’; he stoically +tramples personal feelings under foot, and does not seek +to harmonise them with the demands of the family and +the commune. His ‘free man’ is a sentry on guard, +and a workman who can never rise; he must serve and +stand on guard until he is relieved by death; he must +stifle in himself all personal passion, everything outside +duty, because he is not himself: his meaning, his essence, +lies outside himself; he is the instrument of justice; he +is predestined, like the Virgin Mary, to bear the idea in +suffering and to bring it into the world for the salvation +of the state.</p> + +<p>The family, the first embryo of society, the first cradle +of justice, is doomed to everlasting, hopeless toil; it is +to serve as the means of purification of the personal; in +it the passions are to be stamped out. The austere +Roman family in the workshop of to-day is Proudhon’s +ideal. Christianity has softened family life too much +for him: it preferred Mary to Martha, the dreamer to +the housewife: it forgave the sinner and held out a hand +to the penitent, because she loved much; but in Proudhon’s +family, just what is essential is to love little. And that +is not all: Christianity puts the individual far higher +than his family relations. It says to the son: ‘Forsake +father and mother and follow me’—to the son who in +the name of Proudhon’s <i>realisation of justice</i> must be +put back into the fetters of absolute paternal power, who +in his father’s lifetime can have no freedom, least of all +in the choice of a wife. He is to be inured to slavery, +to become in his turn a tyrant over the children who are +born without love through duty for the continuation of +the family. In this family marriage will be indissoluble, +but it will be cold as ice. Marriage is simply a victory +over love; the less love there is between the cook-wife +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_229">[229]</span>and the workman-husband the better. And to think that +I should meet these old shabby bogeys from the Hegelianism +of the right wing in the writings of Proudhon!</p> + +<p>Feeling is banished, everything is frozen, the colours +are gone, nothing is left but the dull, exhausting toil of +the proletariat of to-day, the toil from which the aristocratic +family of ancient Rome, based on slavery, was at +least free: gone is the poetic beauty of the Church, the +delirium of faith, the hopes of paradise; even poetry in +those days ‘will be written no more,’ so Proudhon asserts. +On the other hand, labour will become ‘more severe.’ +For individual freedom, for the right of initiative, for +independence, one may well sacrifice the lullabys of +religion; but to sacrifice everything for the realisation +of the idea of justice—what nonsense!</p> + +<p>Man is doomed to toil, he must labour till his hand +drops and the son takes from the cold fingers of the father +the plane or the hammer and carries on the everlasting +work. But what if among the sons there happens to +be one with a little more sense who lays down the drill +and asks: ‘But what are we wearing ourselves out for?’ +‘For the triumph of justice,’ Proudhon tells him. +And the new Cain answers: ‘But who made me the +keeper of the triumph of justice?’ ‘Who?—why, is +not your whole vocation, your whole life, the realisation +of justice?’ ‘Who has set up that object?’ Cain +will answer. ‘It is too stale; there is no God, but the +Commandments remain. Justice is not my vocation; +work is not a duty but a necessity; the family is not for +me the fetters of life but the setting for my life, for my +development. You want to keep me in slavery, but I +rebel against you. I revolt against you, against your steel-yard, +just as you have been revolting all your life against +bayonets, capital, and Church, just as all the French +revolutionists rebelled against the feudal and Catholic +tradition. Or do you imagine that after the taking of +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_230">[230]</span>the Bastille, after the terror, after the war and the famine, +after the bourgeois king and the bourgeois republic, I am +going to believe you when you tell me that Romeo had +no right to love Juliet because those old fools of Montagues +and Capulets kept up an everlasting feud, and that, +even at thirty or forty, I must not choose the companion +of my life without my father’s permission, that a woman +who has been unfaithful must be punished and disgraced? +Why, what do you take me for with your justice?’</p> + +<p>And in support of Cain we would add, from the +dialectical side, that Proudhon’s whole conception of +an <i>aim</i> is utterly inconsistent. This teleology is also +theology; this is the republic of February—that is, the +same as the monarchy of July, but without Louis-Philippe. +What difference is there between predetermined teleology +and providence?⁠<a id="FNanchor_85" href="#Footnote_85" class="fnanchor">[85]</a>⁠</p> + +<p>After emancipating human nature to the last limit, +Proudhon took fright looking at his contemporaries, and, +that these convicts, these <i>ticket-of-leave men</i>, might do +no mischief, he catches them in the rat-trap of the +Roman family.</p> + +<p>The doors of the restored <i>atrium</i>, free from <i>Lares</i> +and <i>Penates</i>, have been flung open; but not Anarchy, +not the annihilation of authority and the state, is seen +seated in the midst, but stern Order, with centralisation, +with regulation of family relations, with inheritance and +deprivation of it as a punishment; and with these things +all the old Roman sins peep out of every crevice with +the dead eyes of statues.</p> + +<p>The family of antiquity naturally implies the ancient +conception of the fatherland with its jealous patriotism, +that ferocious virtue which has shed ten times more +blood than all the vices put together.</p> + +<p>Man bound in serfdom to the family becomes again +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_231">[231]</span>the bondslave of the soil. His movements are restricted, +he puts down roots into his land; only upon it he is what +he is: ‘the Frenchman living in Russia,’ says Proudhon, +‘is a Russian, and not a Frenchman.’ No more colonies, +no more settlements abroad; every man must live where +he is....</p> + +<p>‘Holland will not perish,’ said William of Orange in +the years of terror; ‘it will go aboard ships and will +sail off to Asia, and here we will lift up the sluices.’ It +is people like that who are free.</p> + +<p>The English are like that: as soon as they begin to +be oppressed, they sail over the ocean and there found +a younger, freer England. And yet nobody could say +of the English that they do not love their country, or +that they are lacking in national feeling. Emigrating +in all directions, England has peopled half the world; +while France, lacking in vitality, has lost one set of colonies +and does not know what to do with the rest. She does +not need them; France is pleased with herself and clings +more and more to her centre, and the centre to its master. +What independence can there be in such a country?</p> + +<p>On the other hand, how can one abandon France, +<i>la belle France</i>? ‘Is not she even now the freest +country in the world, is not her language the finest +language, her literature the finest literature, is not her +syllabic line more musical than the Greek hexameter!’ +Moreover, her universal genius absorbs the thought and +the literature of all ages and all countries: ‘has not +France made Shakespeare and Kant, Goethe and Hegel +her own?’ And what is more: Proudhon forgot +that they corrected them and dressed them up, as landowners +dress up the peasants when they take them to +Court.</p> + +<p>Proudhon concludes his book with a Catholic prayer +adapted to socialism; all he had to do was to secularise +a few Church phrases and to put the Phrygian cap in +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_232">[232]</span>the place of the mitre, for the prayer of the ‘Byzantine’ +bishops to be the very thing for the bishop of socialism. +What a chaos! Proudhon, emancipated from everything +except reason, still wants to remain not only a +husband after the style of Bluebeard, but also a French +nationalist—with his literary chauvinism and his unlimited +power of the father; and so behind the strong, +vigorous words of a free thinker one seems to hear the +voice of the savage old man, dictating his will, and +trying now to preserve for his children the decrepit +temple he has been undermining all his life.</p> + +<p>The Latin world does not like freedom, it only likes +to struggle for it; it sometimes finds the force for setting +free, never for freedom. Is it not melancholy to see +such men as Auguste Comte and Proudhon setting up +as their last word, the one a sort of mandarin hierarchy, +the other his domestic penal servitude and apotheosis of +an inhuman <i>pereat mundus, fiat justitia</i>!</p> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_233">[233]</span></p> + +<h3 class="nobreak" id="Appendix">Appendix<br> +<span class="smaller">(To Chapter 41)</span></h3> + +</div> + +<h4>I</h4> + +<p>... On the one hand we have the Proudhon +family, irrevocably welded together and nailed down, +indissoluble marriage, the absolute power of the father—a +family in which for the sake of society all the persons +except one are brought to misery, the savage marriage +in which unchanging feeling, the magic power of a vow, +are assumed; on the other hand, the theories that are +coming into vogue, in which marriage and the family +are no longer binding, the irresistible force of passion +is assumed, the past is thought to lay no obligations, +and the complete independence of the individual is +asserted.</p> + +<p>On the one hand we have woman almost stoned for +faithlessness; on the other, jealousy itself put <i>hors la loi</i> +as a morbid, abnormal feeling of egoism and ownership +and the romantic distortion of healthy and natural ideas.</p> + +<p>Where is the truth ... where is the middle line? +Twenty-three years ago I was already seeking a way out +of this forest of contradictions.</p> + +<p>We are bold in denial and always ready to fling any +of our idols into the river, but the gods of home and +family are somehow ‘waterproof’—they always rise +again. Perhaps there is no sense left in them, but there +is still life in them; it seems as though the weapons +used against them have simply glided over their snaky +scales, felled them, stunned them ... but have not +killed them.</p> + +<p>Jealousy ... Fidelity ... Infidelity ... Chastity +... Dark forces, menacing words, thanks to which +rivers of tears, rivers of blood have flowed—words that +set us shuddering like the memory of the Inquisition, of +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_234">[234]</span>torture, of the plague ... and yet they are the words +under the shadow of which, as under the sword of +Damocles, the family has lived and is living.</p> + +<p>There is no turning them out of doors by abuse or +by denial. They remain round the corner, slumbering, +ready at the slightest call to ruin everything near and far, +to ruin us ourselves....</p> + +<p>It seems as though we must abandon the excellent +intention of extinguishing these smouldering embers +and confine ourselves humbly to mitigating and humanely +directing the destructive fire. You can no more bridle +passions with logic than you can justify them in the law-courts. +Passions are facts and not dogmas.</p> + +<p>Moreover, jealousy has always enjoyed special privileges. +In itself a strong <i>absolutely natural</i> passion, +it has hitherto only been encouraged instead of being +restrained and softened. The Christian doctrine making, +through hatred of the body, everything fleshly of extraordinary +value, and the aristocratic worship of blood, of +purity of race, have developed to the point of absurdity +the conception of insulted honour, of a blot that cannot +be effaced. Jealousy has received the <i>jus gladii</i>, the +right of judgment and revenge. It has become a duty +of <i>honour</i>, almost a virtue. All that will not stand a +moment’s criticism—but yet there still remains at the +bottom of the heart a very real insurmountable feeling +of pain, of unhappiness called jealousy, a feeling as +elementary as the feeling of love itself, resisting every +effort to deny it, an ‘irreducible’ feeling.</p> + +<p>... Here again are the everlasting limits, the +Caudine Forks into which history drives us. On both +sides there is truth, on both there is falsehood. The +bold asking for a clear alternative will lead you nowhere. +At the moment of complete denial of one of the terms, +it comes back—just as after the last quarter of the moon +the first appears on the other side.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_235">[235]</span></p> + +<p>Hegel removed the boundary-posts of human reason, +by rising to the <i>absolute spirit</i>; in it they did not +vanish but were <i>transformed</i>—<i>fulfilled</i>, as the German +theological philosophy expresses it: this is mysticism, +philosophical theodicy, allegory, and reality purposely +mixed up. All religious reconciliations of the irreconcilable +are won by means of <i>redemption</i>—that is, by +sacred transmutation, a sacred deception, a solution +which solves nothing but rests on faith. Can anything +be more opposite to free-will than necessity?—but by faith +they are easily reconciled. Man will accept without +a murmur the justice of punishment for an action which +was pre-ordained.</p> + +<p>Proudhon himself, in a different range of questions, +was far more humane than German philosophy. From +economic contradictions he escapes by the recognition +of both sides under the restraint of a higher principle. +Property as a right and property as a theft are set side +by side in everlasting balance, everlastingly complementary, +under the ever-growing dominance of <i>justice</i>. It is +clear that the argument and the contradictions are transferred +to another sphere, and that it is the conception of +justice we have to criticise rather than the rights of +property.</p> + +<p>The simpler, the less mystic, and the less one-sided, +the more real and practically applicable the higher +principle is, the more completely it brings the contradictory +terms to their lowest denomination.</p> + +<p>The absolute, ‘all-embracing’ spirit of Hegel is +replaced in Proudhon by the menacing idea of justice. +But the problem of the passions is not likely to be solved +by that either. Passion is intrinsically unjust; justice +is remote from the personal, it is impersonal—passion +is only individual.</p> + +<p>The solution here lies not in the law-courts but in +the humane development of individual character, in its +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_236">[236]</span>escape from lyrical self-centredness into the light of +day, in the development of common human interests.</p> + +<p>The radical elimination of jealousy implies eliminating +love for the individual, replacing it by love for woman +or for man, by love of the sex in general. But it is +just the personal, the individual, that is attractive; it +is just that which gives colour, tone, intensity to the +whole of our life. Our emotion is personal, our +happiness and unhappiness are personal happiness and +unhappiness.</p> + +<p>Rationalism with all its logic is as little comfort in +personal sorrow as the consolations of the Romans with +their rhetoric. Neither the tears of loss nor the tears +of jealousy can be wiped away, nor should they be, but +it is right and possible that they should flow humanely +... and that they should be equally free from +monastic poison, the ferocity of the beast, and the wail +of the man robbed of his property.⁠<a id="FNanchor_86" href="#Footnote_86" class="fnanchor">[86]</a>⁠</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_237">[237]</span></p> + +<h4>II</h4> + +<p>To reduce the relations of man and woman to a casual +sexual connection is just as impossible as to exalt and +distort them into marriage indissoluble to the grave. +The one and the other may be met at the extreme of +sexual and marriage relations, as a special case, as an +exception but not as a general rule. The casual relation +will be broken off or will continually tend to a closer +and firmer union, just as the indissoluble marriage will +tend to grow more and more free from external bonds.</p> + +<p>People have continually protested against both +extremes. Indissoluble marriage has been accepted by +them hypocritically, or in the heat of the moment. +Casual relations never have had complete recognition; +they have always been concealed, just as marriage has +been a subject of boasting. All attempts at the official +regulation of brothels, although aiming at their restriction, +are offensive to the moral sense of society, which +sees in organisation, recognition. The scheme elaborated +by a gentleman in Paris, in the days of the Directorate, of +establishing privileged brothels with their own hierarchy +and to on, was even in those days received with hisses +and overwhelmed by a storm of laughter and contempt.</p> + +<p>The normal life of man is as remote from the monastery +as from the cattle-yard; from the sexlessness of the monk, +which the Church esteems above marriage, as from +the childless gratification of passion....</p> + +<p>Marriage is for Christianity a concession, an inconsistency, +a weakness. Christianity regards marriage as +society regards concubinage. The monk and the +Catholic priest are condemned to perpetual celibacy by +way of reward for their foolish triumph over human +nature.</p> + +<p>Christian marriage in general is gloomy and unjust; +it establishes inequality against the teaching of the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_238">[238]</span>Gospel, and delivers the wife into slavery to the husband. +The wife is sacrificed, love (hateful to the Church) is +sacrificed; after the Church ceremony it becomes a +superfluity, and is replaced by duty and obligation. Of +the brightest and most joyous of feelings Christianity +has made a pain, a weariness, and a sin. The human +race had either to die out or be inconsistent. Outraged +nature protested.</p> + +<p>It protested not only by acts followed by penitence +and stings of conscience, but by sympathy, by rehabilitation. +The protest began in the very heyday of Catholicism +and chivalry. The terrible husband, the Bluebeard +in armour with the sword, tyrannical, jealous, and merciless; +the barefoot monk, sullen, senseless, superstitious, +ready to avenge himself for his privations, for his useless +struggle; jailers, torturers, spies, ... and in some +cellar or turret a sobbing woman, a page in chains, for +whom no one intercedes. All is darkness, savagery, +blood, bigotry, violence, and Latin prayers chanted +through the nose.</p> + +<p>But behind the monk, the confessor, and the jailer, +who, with the terrible husband, the father, and the +brother, guard the sanctity of marriage, the folk-legend +is forming in the stillness, the ballad is heard carried +from place to place, from castle to castle, by troubadour +and minnesinger—it champions the unhappy woman. +The judge condemns, and the song absolves. The +Church hurls its anathema at love outside marriage, the +ballad curses marriage without love. It champions the +love-sick page, the fallen wife, the oppressed daughter, +not by argument but by sympathy, by pity, by lamentation. +The song is for the people its secular prayer, its +other escape from the cold and hunger of life, from +spiritual misery and heavy toil.</p> + +<p>On holidays the litanies to the Madonna were replaced +by the mournful strains <i>des complaintes</i>, which +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_239">[239]</span>did not heap shame on the unhappy woman, but wept +for her, and set above all the Virgin of Sorrows, beseeching +Her intervention and forgiveness. From ballads +and legends the protest grows into the novel and the +drama. In the drama it becomes a force. In the +theatre outraged love, the gloomy secrets of family injustice, +find their tribune, their court of appeal. The +hearing of their case has moved thousands of hearts, +wringing tears and cries of indignation against the +serfdom of marriage and the forcible bondage of the +family. The jury of the stalls and the boxes have over +and over again acquitted individuals and found institutions +guilty.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, in the period of political reconstructions +and secular tendencies in thought, one of the two +strong props of marriage is beginning to break down. +As it becomes less and less of a sacrament—that is, loses +its ultimate foundation—it has leaned more and more on +the police. Only by the mystic intervention of a higher +power can Christian marriage be justified. There is +a certain logic in that, senseless, but still logic. The +police-officer, putting on his tricolor scarf and celebrating +the wedding with the civil code in his hand, is a far more +absurd figure than the priest in his vestments, surrounded +by incense, holy images, and miracles. Even the First +Consul, Napoleon, the most bourgeois politician in matters +of love and the family, perceived that marriage at the +police-station was a poor affair, and tried to persuade +Cambacérès⁠<a id="FNanchor_87" href="#Footnote_87" class="fnanchor">[87]</a> to add some obligatory phrase, some moral +sentence, particularly one that would impress upon the +bride her duty to be faithful to her husband (not a word +about his) and to obey him.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_240">[240]</span></p> + +<p>As soon as marriage emerges from the sphere of +mysticism, it becomes <i>expédient</i>, an external arrangement. +It was introduced by the panic-stricken ‘Bluebeards’ +(shaven nowadays, and changed into ‘blue-chins’) in +judges’ wigs, and academic coats, popular representatives +and liberals, the priests of the civil code. Civil marriage +is simply a state measure of economy, freeing the state +from responsibility for the children and binding men +more closely to property. Marriage without the intervention +of the Church became a contract for the bodily +enslavement of each to the other for life. The legislator +has nothing to do with faith, with mystic fantasies, so +long as the contract is fulfilled, and if not he will find +means of punishment and enforcement. And why not +punish it? In England, the traditional country of +juridical development, a boy of sixteen, made drunk +with ale and gin and enrolled in a regiment by an old +recruiting sergeant with red ribbons on his hat, is subjected +to the most horrible tortures. Why not punish +a girl? Why not punish with shame, ruin, and forcible +restoration to her master the girl who, with no clear +understanding of what she is about, has contracted to +love for life, and has permitted something <i>extra</i>, forgetting +that the season-ticket is not transferable. But these +new Bluebeards too have been attacked by the troubadours +and novelists. Against the marriage of legal +contract, a pathological, physiological dogma has been +set up, the dogma of <i>the absolute infallibility of the +passions and the incapacity of man to struggle against +them</i>.</p> + +<p>Those who were yesterday the slaves of marriage +are now becoming the slaves of love. There is no law +for love, there is no strength that can resist it.</p> + +<p>With that, all rational control, all responsibility, every +form of self-restraint is effaced. That man is in subjection +to irresistible and overwhelming forces is a theory +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_241">[241]</span>utterly opposed to rational freedom and to reason, to +that formation of the character of a free man which all +social theories aim at attaining by different paths.</p> + +<p>Imaginary forces, if men accept them as real, have as +much power as real ones, and that is because man’s power +of response is the same whatever force acts on him. +The man who is afraid of ghosts is afraid in exactly the +same way as the man who is afraid of mad dogs, and may +as easily die of fright. The difference is that in one case +the man may be shown that his fears are groundless, and +in the other he cannot.</p> + +<p>I refuse to admit the sovereign position given to <i>love</i> +in life, I deny its autocratic power and protest against the +pusillanimous excuse of having been carried away by it.</p> + +<p>Surely we have not freed ourselves from every restraint +on earth, from God and the devil, from the Roman and +the criminal law, and proclaimed reason as our sole guide +and standard, in order to lie down humbly, like Hercules +at the feet of Omphale, or to fall asleep in the lap of +Delilah? Surely woman has not sought to be free from +the yoke of the family, from perpetual tutelage and the +tyranny of father, husband, or brother, has not striven +for her rights to independent work, to learning and the +position of a citizen, only to begin over again cooing +like a dove all her life and pining for a dozen Leone +Leonis⁠<a id="FNanchor_88" href="#Footnote_88" class="fnanchor">[88]</a> instead of one.</p> + +<p>Yes, it is for woman that I am most of all sorry in +this question; she is hopelessly torn and destroyed by +the all-devouring Moloch of love. She puts more faith +in it, she suffers more from it. She is more concentrated +on the sexual relation, more driven to love.... She +is both intellectually more unstable and intellectually +less trained than we.</p> + +<p>I am sorry for her.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_242">[242]</span></p> + +<h4>III</h4> + +<p>Has any one made a serious and honest attempt to +break down conventional prejudices in female education? +They are only broken down by experience, and so it is +life and not convention that suffers.</p> + +<p>People go round the questions we are discussing, as old +women and children go round a graveyard or a place +where a crime has been committed. Some are afraid +of impure spirits, others of the pure truth, and are left +in fantastic disorder and inconsistent chaos. There is +as little serious consistency in our view of sexual relations +as in practical spheres. We are still haunted by the +possibility of combining Christian morality, which starts +from negation of the flesh and leads towards the other +world, with the realistic earthly morality of this world. +People are annoyed at the two moralities not harmonising, +and, to avoid spending time in worrying over the solution +of the problem, pick out according to their tastes and +retain what they like of the Church teaching, and reject +what they do not care for; just as those who do not keep +the fasts will zealously eat pancakes, and avoid dull +religious services, whilst still observing religious festivities. +Yet I should have thought it was high time to bring more +harmony and manliness into conduct. Let him who +respects the law remain under the law and not break it, +but let him who does not accept it show himself openly +and consciously independent of it.</p> + +<p>A sober view of human relations is far more difficult +for women than for us—of that there can be no doubt; +they are more deceived by education, and know less of +life, and so they more often stumble and break their +heads and hearts than free themselves. They are always +in revolt, and remain in slavery, strive for revolution, +while most frequently they are propping up the existing +regime. From childhood the girl is frightened of the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_243">[243]</span>sexual relation as of some <i>fearful unclean secret</i> from +which she is guarded and scared off as though it were +a sin that had some magical power; and afterwards this +same monstrous thing, this same <i>magnum ignotum</i> which +leaves an ineffaceable stain, the remotest hint at which +is shameful and sets her blushing, is made the object of +her life. As soon as a boy can walk, he is given a toy +sword to train him to murder, he is promised an hussar’s +uniform and epaulettes; while the girl is lulled to sleep +with the hope of a rich and handsome bridegroom, and +she dreams of epaulettes not on her own shoulders but on +the shoulders of her predestined husband.</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">‘Dors, dors, mon enfant,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Jusqu’à l’age de quinze ans,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">A quinze ans faut te réveiller,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">A quinze ans faut te marier.’</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p>One must marvel at the fine human nature which is +not ruined by such an education—we might have expected +that all the little girls so lulled for fifteen years would +set to work speedily to replace those slain by the boys +who have been trained from childhood with weapons +of slaughter.</p> + +<p>The Christian teaching imposes the terror of the +‘flesh’ before the creature is conscious of its sex; it +awakens the dreadful question in the child, instils terror +into the adolescent soul, and when the time to answer it +is come—another doctrine, as we have said, raises her +sexual calling to the sought-for ideal for the girl: the +schoolgirl becomes the bride, and the same mystery, the +same sin but purified and sanctified, becomes the crown +of her education, the hope of her relations, the goal of +all her efforts, almost a social duty. Accomplishments, +learning, education, intelligence, beauty, wealth, grace, +all are devoted to her <i>sanctioned</i> fall ... to the very +same sin, the thought of which was looked on as a crime +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_244">[244]</span>but which has now changed its essential nature by a +miracle like that by which the Pope, when held up on +a journey, changed a meat dish into a Lenten dish by +his blessing.</p> + +<p>In short, the whole training—negative and positive—of +a woman remains a training for sexual relations; +round them all her subsequent life turns. From them +she runs, towards them she runs, by them is disgraced, +by them is made proud.... To-day she preserves +the negative holiness of sexlessness, to-day she can only +whisper, blushing, of love to her bosom friend; to-morrow, +in the face of the crowd, in glare and noise, in the light +of chandeliers and strains of music, she is flung into the +arms of a man.</p> + +<p>Bride, wife, mother, only in old age as grandmother +a woman is set free from sexual life, and then becomes +an independent creature, especially if the grandfather +is dead. Woman, struck down by love, does not soon +escape.... Pregnancy, suckling, child-rearing are +all the development of the same mystery, the same act +of love; in woman it persists not in the memory only, +but in blood and body, in her it ferments and matures +and rends without breaking its tie.</p> + +<p>Christianity breathed with its feverish monastic +asceticism, with its romantic nonsense, upon this physiologically +strong, deep relation, and blew it into the +frenzied and destructive flames of jealousy, revenge, +punishment, and insult.</p> + +<p>For a woman to extricate herself from this chaos is +an heroic feat—only rare and exceptional natures accomplish +it; other women are tortured, and if they do not +go out of their minds it is only thanks to the frivolity +with which we all live without over-subtlety in the +face of terrible catastrophes and misfortunes, senselessly +passing from day to day, from one chance event to another +and from one contradiction to another.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_245">[245]</span></p> + +<p>What breadth, what beauty and power of human +nature and development there must be in a woman to +get over all the fences, all the barriers, within which she +is held captive!</p> + +<p>I have seen one such struggle and one such victory....</p> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_246">[246]</span></p> + +<h3 class="nobreak" id="Chapter_42">Chapter 42<br> +<span class="smcap">The Coup d’État—The Procureur of the late +Republic—The Voice of the Cow in the Wilderness—Banishment +of the Procureur—Order and Civilisation +Triumphant</span></h3> + +</div> + +<p class="dropcap">‘Vive la mort, <i>friends! And a happy new year! +Now we shall be consistent, now we shall not be false +to our own ideas, shall not be terrified at the realisation +of what we have foreseen, shall not abjure the knowledge +we have reached by the path of tribulation. Now we +shall be strong and stand up for our convictions.</i></p> + +<p>‘<i>We saw death approaching long ago; we may grieve, +we may feel sympathy, but we cannot be surprised, we +cannot be despairing or downcast. Quite the contrary, +we ought to lift up our heads, we are justified. We have +been called birds of ill omen invoking disaster, we have +been reproached for heresy, for ignorance of the people, +for proud isolation, for childish resentment, while we +have only been guilty of seeing the truth and speaking +it openly. Our words, which are still the same, are now +the consolation, the encouragement of those who are +terrified by the events in Paris.</i>’—(‘Letters from France +and Italy,’ No. 14. Nice, December 31, 1851.)</p> + +<p>One morning (I remember it was the 4th of December) +our cook, Pasquale Rocca, came in to me, and with a +look of pleasure announced that flysheets were being +sold in the streets with the news that ‘Buonaparte has +dismissed the Assembly and appointed a red government.’ +Who were the zealous servants of Napoleon who spread +such rumours among the people even outside France +(Nice was at that time Italian), I do not know; but what +numbers there must have been of agents of all sorts, +political stokers, whipping the public up end raising +the temperature, since there were enough of them even +for Nice!</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_247">[247]</span></p> + +<p>An hour later Vogt, Hoetsky, Mathieu, and others +turned up: all were surprised ... Mathieu, a +typical specimen of a French revolutionary, was beside +himself.</p> + +<p>Bald, with a skull the shape of a walnut—that is, a +typically Gallic skull, not spacious but obstinate—with +a big, dark, unkempt beard, a rather good-natured +expression, and little eyes, Mathieu was like a prophet, +like a crazy saint, like an augur, and like his bird. He +was a lawyer, and in the happy days of the February +republic had been a <i>procureur</i> or a deputy <i>procureur</i> +somewhere. He was a revolutionary to the tips of his +finger-nails; he gave himself up to the revolution as +people give themselves up to religion, with implicit faith, +never dared either to understand or to doubt or to be +over-subtle, but loved and believed, called Ledru-Rollin +‘Ledru,’ and Louis Blanc simply ‘Blanc,’ used the word +<i>citoyen</i> whenever he could, and was perpetually conspiring.</p> + +<p>On receiving the news of the 2nd of December he +disappeared, and returned two days later completely +convinced that France was rising, <i>que cela chauffe</i>, and +especially in the south, in the department of Var near +Draguignan. The great thing to be done was to enter +into relations with the leaders of the insurrection.... +He had seen some of them, and had settled with them +overnight, passing through Var, to collect trustworthy +and important persons together at a certain spot, for consultation.... +But that the gendarmes might not get +wind of it, it was settled on both sides to give as a +signal the moo of a cow. If things went well, Orsini +meant to bring all his friends, and, though not quite +confident that Mathieu’s view of the position was correct, +he set off with him to cross the frontier. Orsini came +back shaking his head, though, true to his revolutionary +and somewhat <i>condottieri</i> temperament, he proceeded +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_248">[248]</span>to prepare his comrades and collect arms. Mathieu +vanished.</p> + +<p>Twenty-four hours later, Rocca woke me at four +o’clock in the morning: ‘Two gentlemen just arrived +from a journey; they urgently want to see you, they say. +One of them gave me this note.’ ‘<i>Citoyen</i>, for God’s +sake give bearer three or four hundred francs at once, +if possible; urgently necessary.—<span class="smcap">Mathieu.</span>’</p> + +<p>I snatched up the money and went downstairs: two +remarkable individuals were sitting in the half-dark by +the window; accustomed as I am to all the uniforms of +revolution, I was yet struck by the appearance of my +visitors. Both were covered with mud and clay to +their knees; one was wearing a thick red woollen scarf; +both had shabby overcoats, a sash round their waistcoats, +and big pistols in the sash; and the rest was as usual—unkempt +shocks of hair, big beards, and tiny pipes. One +of them, beginning with the word <i>citoyen</i>, delivered a +speech in which he touched upon my civic virtues and +the money expected by Mathieu. I gave him the +money. ‘Is he in safety?’ I asked. ‘Yes,’ answered +his ambassador; ‘we’re going to join him at once on the +other side of the Var. He is buying a boat.’</p> + +<p>‘A boat! what for?’</p> + +<p>‘Citoyen Mathieu has the whole plan for landing—the +infamous coward of a boatman would not let us have +the boat on credit....’</p> + +<p>‘What, a landing in France ... with one boat...?’</p> + +<p>‘It is a secret, <i>citoyen</i>, for the time.’</p> + +<p>‘<i>Comme de raison.</i>’</p> + +<p>‘Would you like a receipt?’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, no need of that!’</p> + +<p>Next day Mathieu himself appeared, also muddy to +the ears, and worn out with fatigue; he had been mooing +like a cow all night, had several times fancied he heard +an answer, went towards it, and found a real bull or a +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_249">[249]</span>cow. Orsini, who had been waiting somewhere for him +for ten hours at a stretch, also came back. The difference +between them was that Orsini, washed, and as always, +dressed neatly and tastefully, looked like a man who had +just walked out of his bedroom; while Mathieu bore all +the outward signs of destroying the peace of the state, +and attempting to raise a rebellion. Then the boat +question had to be considered. Trouble is never far +off, and he might easily ruin half a dozen of his own +countrymen and half a dozen of the Italians. To stop +or dissuade him was impossible. The leaders who had +come to me in the night appeared with him; one might +be certain that he would compromise not only the French +but all of us in Nice. Hoetsky undertook to manage +him, and did so like an artist.</p> + +<p>Hoetsky’s window, with a little balcony, looked straight +out on the sea-shore. In the morning he saw Mathieu +wandering with a mysterious air along the beach.... +Hoetsky began making signs to him; Mathieu saw them +and signed that he would come to him presently; but +Hoetsky, assuming an air of the most terrible alarm, +telegraphed to him with his fingers that danger was +imminent, and insisted on his coming up to the balcony +at once. Mathieu, looking round him, stole up on +tiptoe. ‘You don’t know?’ Hoetsky asked him. +‘What?’ ‘A squadron of French gendarmes has +come into Nice.’ ‘You don’t say so!’</p> + +<p>‘Sh—sh—sh.... They are looking for you and +your friends. They mean to make a house-to-house +search among us—you will be caught at once; don’t go +out into the street.’</p> + +<p>‘<i>Violation du territoire</i> ... I shall protest.’</p> + +<p>‘Of course; only, now you must escape.’</p> + +<p>‘I will go to Ste. Hélène, to Herzen’s.’</p> + +<p>‘You must be mad! That’s simply giving yourself +up to them. His villa is on the frontier, with a huge +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_250">[250]</span>garden, and no one will even know that you have been +arrested—besides, Rocca saw two gendarmes at the gate, +even yesterday.’</p> + +<p>Mathieu sank into thought.</p> + +<p>‘Go by sea to Vogt’s, hide there for the time, and he, +by the way, will give you the best advice.’</p> + +<p>Mathieu went by the sea-coast—that is, twice as far +round—to Vogt’s, and began telling him word for word +his conversation with Hoetsky. Vogt instantly grasped +the position and observed to him: ‘The great thing, +dear Mathieu, is not to lose one instant. Within two +hours you must go to Turin: the diligence passes the +other side of the hill; I will take a seat, and take you +there by the path.’</p> + +<p>‘I’ll run home for my things ...’ and the <i>procureur</i> +of the republic was a little flustered.</p> + +<p>‘That’s even worse than going to Herzen’s. Why, +you must be crazy—gendarmes, agents, spies, I don’t +know what, are after you ... and you want to run +home to kiss your fat Provençale! What a Celadon!⁠<a id="FNanchor_89" href="#Footnote_89" class="fnanchor">[89]</a> +Porter!’ shouted Vogt (his house-porter was a minute +German, a killing person, very much like a coffee-pot +that had not been washed for months, and absolutely +devoted to Vogt). ‘Make haste and write that you want +a shirt, handkerchiefs, clothes; he’ll fetch them, and if +you like bring your Dulcinea too so that you may kiss +and weep to your heart’s content.’</p> + +<p>Mathieu was so overcome with feeling that he embraced +Vogt.</p> + +<p>Hoetsky arrived. ‘Make haste, make haste!’ he +said with an ominous air.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile the porter came back, his Dulcinea came +also—they had only to wait for the diligence to +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_251">[251]</span>come into sight beyond the hill. The seat had been +taken.</p> + +<p>‘I suppose you are cutting up rotten dogs or rabbits +again?’ Hoetsky asked Vogt; ‘<i>quel chien de métier...!</i>’</p> + +<p>‘No, I’m not.’</p> + +<p>‘Upon my soul, the stench in your room is like the +catacombs at Naples.’</p> + +<p>‘I notice it myself, but I can’t make it out; it comes +from the corner.... There must be a dead rat under +the floor—it’s an awful stink,’ and he picked up Mathieu’s +overcoat lying on a chair. It appeared that the smell +came from the overcoat.</p> + +<p>‘What the devil have you got in your overcoat?’ +Vogt asked him.</p> + +<p>‘Nothing!’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, it must be my fault,’ observed Dulcinea, blushing, +‘I put a pound of Limburg cheese, <i>un peu trop fait</i>, in +his pocket for the journey.’</p> + +<p>‘I congratulate your neighbours in the diligence,’ +shouted Vogt, laughing as no one else in the world can +laugh.</p> + +<p>‘Well, it’s time to start—march!’</p> + +<p>And Hoetsky and Vogt saw the agitator off on his +way to Turin.</p> + +<p>In Turin Mathieu presented himself before the +Minister of the Interior with a protest. The latter +received him with irritation and laughter. ‘How could +you imagine that French gendarmes could arrest people +in the kingdom of Sardinia? You must be unwell.’</p> + +<p>Mathieu referred to the testimony of Vogt and Hoetsky.</p> + +<p>‘Your friends,’ said the Minister, ‘have been having +a joke at your expense.’</p> + +<p>Mathieu wrote to Vogt; he reeled off a string of +nonsense, I do not know what, in answer. But Mathieu +was offended, particularly with Hoetsky, and a few +weeks later wrote a letter to me in which, among other +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_252">[252]</span>things, he said: ‘You, <i>citoyen</i>, alone among these gentlemen, +took no part in this treacherous intrigue against +me....’</p> + +<p>What adds to the characteristic oddity of the affair +is that there was a very serious rising in Var, that masses +of the population really did revolt, and that the rising +was suppressed with the habitual French bloodthirstiness. +How was it Mathieu and his bodyguard, for all their +zeal and their mooing, did not know how to get in +contact with the rebels? No one suspects him or his +comrades of intentionally going to mess about in the mud +and not wanting to go where there was danger—far +from it. That is not in the spirit of the French, of whom +Delphine Gay said that ‘they are afraid of everything +except bullets,’ and still less in the spirit <i>de la démocratie +militante</i> and the red republic.... Why did Mathieu +go to the right when the revolting peasants were on the +left?</p> + +<p>A few days later—like yellow leaves driven before +the wind—the luckless victims of the suppressed rising +began streaming into Nice. There were so many of +them that the Piedmont government allowed them to +remain for a time in a sort of bivouac or gypsy camp +near the town. How many ruined fortunes and privations +have we seen in these camps!—that is the horrible +side behind the scenes of civil wars; usually concealed +behind the big framework and gay scene-painting of +such events as the 2nd of December.</p> + +<p>Here were simple peasants, gloomily pining for home, +for their land, and naïvely saying: ‘We are not rebels +at all—and not “<i>partageux</i>”; we tried to defend public +order as good citizens: <i>ce sont ces coquins</i> who called us +out’ (<i>i.e.</i> the officials, mayors, and gendarmes)—‘they +were false to their oath and their duty, and must we +now die of hunger in a foreign land or face a court-martial?... +Where’s the justice in that?’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_253">[253]</span></p> + +<p>And indeed, a <i>coup d’état</i> like the 2nd of December +destroys more than men: it destroys all morality, every +conception of good and evil in a whole population; it +is a lesson of corruption which cannot pass without +effect. Among them were soldiers too, <i>troupiers</i>, in a +permanent state of wonder at finding themselves, contrary +to all discipline and their captains’ orders, on a different +side from their flag and their regiment. The number +of these was not great, however. There were also +simple bourgeois of humble means, who never make the +same repulsive impression on me as the more pretentious—pitiful, +narrow-minded people, they had somehow, +in the midst of the petty cheating of trade, laboriously +assimilated two or three notions or half-notions of their +duties, and they had risen in defence of them when they +saw their holy things trampled upon.</p> + +<p>‘It is the triumph of egoism,’ they said; ‘yes, yes, of +egoism, and where there is egoism there is vice; every one +ought to do his duty without egoism.’</p> + +<p>There were, too, of course, town workmen, the real +genuine element of revolution, striving to obtain <i>la +sociale</i> by decree—and to pay out the bourgeois and the +aristocrat as they paid them out.</p> + +<p>Of course, among them there were wounded, terribly +wounded, too. I remember two middle-aged peasants +who had crawled, leaving a track of blood, from the +frontier to a suburb where the inhabitants picked them +up half dead. A gendarme had been chasing them, +and, seeing the frontier was not far off, he fired at one +and shattered his shoulder.... The wounded man +still ran on.... The gendarme fired once more, +the wounded man fell; then he galloped after the other +and overtook him, first with a bullet and then himself. +The second wounded man surrendered; the gendarme +tied him in haste to his horse, and all at once missed the +first man ... he had crawled to a copse and started +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_254">[254]</span>running.... To overtake him on horseback was +difficult, especially with the other wounded man; to +leave the horse behind impossible.... The gendarme +shot his prisoner ‘<i>à bout portant</i>’ from the top of his +head downwards; the man fell unconscious: the bullet +tore open the whole right side of his face, splintering the +bones. When he came to himself there was no one +there; he made his way along familiar paths trodden by +the smugglers as far as Var, and crossed it and passed +through it almost bleeding to death; there he found his +comrade utterly exhausted, and with him succeeded in +<i>surviving</i> as far as the first houses of Ste. Hélène. There, +as I have said, the inhabitants took care of them. The +first man said that after being shot he had hidden in some +bushes, that afterwards he had heard voices, that the +pursuing gendarmes had probably come upon others +and so made off.</p> + +<p>How zealous are the French police!</p> + +<p>This example was followed by the zealous <i>maires</i> and +their deputies, the <i>procureurs</i> of the <i>republic</i> and prefects; +the zeal was displayed in the elections and counting of +votes: all this was typically French, and familiar to everybody. +I will only say that in remote parts the steps +taken for attaining an immense majority at the polls +were of a rustic simplicity. On the farther side of the +Var, in the first village, the <i>maire</i> and brigadier of +gendarmes sat beside the urns and looked at every ballot-paper +any one put in, saying on the spot that they would +make mince-meat of any rebel. The government voting-papers +were printed on special paper—so it worked out +that there were in the whole village only some five or +six bold, unruly spirits who voted against the plebiscite; +the rest, and with them the whole of France, voted for +the Empire <i>in spe</i>.</p> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_255">[255]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="SECTION_TWO"><i>SECTION TWO</i><br> +RUSSIAN SHADOWS</h2> + +</div> + +<h3>I<br> +<span class="smcap">N. I. Sazonov</span></h3> + +<p class="dropcap">Sazonov, Bakunin, Paris. Those names, those +men, that city, take me back ... back into the +far-away past, to the days of youthful conspiracies, to +the days of the cult of philosophy and the worship of +revolution.</p> + +<p>My youth with each is too precious for me not to +pause over it.... With Sazonov, early in the ’thirties, +I shared our boyish dreams of a plot <i>à la</i> Rienzi +... with Bakunin, ten years later, in the sweat of +my brains, I mastered Hegel.</p> + +<p>Of Bakunin I have spoken already and shall have much +more yet to say. His striking personality, his eccentric +and vigorous appearance, everywhere—in the circle of +Moscow youth, in the lecture-room of the Berlin University, +among Weitling’s communists, and Caussidière’s +Montagnards—his speeches in Prague, his leadership in +Dresden, his trial, imprisonment, sentence to death, +torture in Austria, deportation to Russia—where he +vanished behind the terrible walls of the Alexeyevsky +Ravelin—make of him one of those individual figures +which neither the contemporary world nor history can +overlook.</p> + +<p>That man had within him the latent power of a +colossal activity for which there was no demand. +Bakunin was capable of becoming an agitator, a tribune, +a preacher, the head of a party or of a sect, an arch +heretic or a fighter. Put him down anywhere you +like, at any extreme point—an Anabaptist, a Jacobin, +a comrade of Anacharsis Cloots or a friend of Gracchus +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_256">[256]</span>Babeuf—and he would have won over the masses and +shaken the destinies of nations.</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">‘But here under the yoke of Tsars,’</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class="noindent">a Columbus without an America or a ship, after against +his will serving two years in the artillery and two more +in the ranks of Moscow Hegelianism, he made haste to +leave the country in which an idea is persecuted as an +evil intention, and an independent word as an offence +against social morality.</p> + +<p>After tearing himself from Russia in 1840, he did not +return there until a picket of Austrian dragoons handed +him over to a Russian officer of gendarmes in 1849.</p> + +<p>The worshippers of teleology, the charming fatalists +of rationalism, are still surprised at the provident appropriateness +with which great talents and leaders appear +as soon as there is a need for them; forgetting how many +germs perish, are stifled without seeing the light, how +many faculties and powers waste away because they are +not wanted.</p> + +<p>Sazonov’s example is still more striking. Sazonov +has passed without leaving a trace, and his death has +been as unnoticed as the whole of his life. He died +without carrying out one of the hopes that his friends +built upon him.</p> + +<p>It is easy to say he was to blame for his fate; but how +can we weigh or appraise how much of the blame rests +on the man and how much on his environment?</p> + +<p>The age of Nicholas was a soul-destroying age; it +murdered not only with labour in the mines and ‘white +straps,’ but with its stifling, degrading atmosphere, with +its, so to say, negative blows.</p> + +<p>To deliver the funeral oration over the submerged +beings of that period, worn out with striving to drag +our ship off the sandbanks where it has foundered so +deeply, is my speciality. For them I play the part of +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_257">[257]</span>Domazhirov, the old retired orderly of Prozorovsky’s, +now forgotten by everybody, but at one time a familiar +figure in Moscow. With a powdered head, wearing +a light green uniform of the days of Paul, he used to turn +up at all the funerals in which a bishop officiated, and, +taking the foremost place, led the procession, imagining +that he was doing something important.</p> + +<p>... In our second year at the university—that is, +in the autumn of 1831—in the lecture-room of the +faculty of physics and mathematics, Ogaryov and I met, +among our new comrades, two with whom we became +particularly intimate.</p> + +<p>Our likings, our sympathies and antipathies, were all +derived from the same source. We were fanatics and +lads: learning, art, connections, home, and social position, +everything was subordinated to one idea and one +religion. Wherever there was an opening for appeal +and propaganda, there we were on the spot with all +our heart and understanding, persistently, indefatigably, +devoting time, work, and even efforts to please.</p> + +<p>We went into the lecture-room with the firm determination +of founding in it the nucleus of a society in +the image and semblance of the Decembrists, and so +sought proselytes and followers. The first of our +comrades to understand this clearly was Sazonov; we +found him completely prepared, and at once made friends. +He gave us his hand with full understanding, and next +day brought us another student.</p> + +<p>Sazonov had conspicuous gifts and conspicuous pride. +He was eighteen or rather less, but in spite of that he +had studied a great deal and had read everything in the +world. He tried to dominate his comrades, and put +no one on a level with himself. That was why he was +more respected than loved by them. His friend, as +handsome and soft as a girl, seemed asking sympathy +and support; full of love and devotion, fresh from under +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_258">[258]</span>his mother’s wing, with noble impulses and half-childish +dreams, he longed for warmth and tenderness, he clung +to us and gave himself up entirely to us and our idea—his +was the character of Vladimir Lensky, the character +of Venevitinov.</p> + +<p>... The day on which we sat side by side on one +of the benches of the amphitheatre, glanced at each +other with the full consciousness of our dedication to +our league, our secret, our readiness to face death, our +faith in the sacredness of our cause—and glanced with +loving pride at the multitude of handsome young heads +about us, as at a band of brothers—was a great day in +our life. We gave each other our hands and <i>à la lettre</i> +went out to preach freedom and struggle in all the four +quarters of our youthful ‘universe,’ like the four deacons +who go on Easter Day with the Four Gospels in their +hands.</p> + +<p>We preached in every place at every time ... +exactly what it was we preached it is hard to say. Our +ideas were vague: we preached the Decembrists and the +French Revolution, then advocated St. Simonism and +the same revolution; we advocated a constitution and a +republic, the reading of political works and the concentration +of forces in one society. Most of all we preached +hatred for every form of violence, for every sort of +arbitrary tyranny practised by governments.</p> + +<p>Our society in reality was never formed; but our +propaganda sent down deep roots in all the faculties, +and extended far beyond the university walls.</p> + +<p>Since those days our propaganda has gone on uninterrupted, +all our lives, from university lecture-room +to London printing-press. Our whole life has been the +carrying out of our boyish programme as far as lay in +our power. It is not hard to follow the connecting +thread through the questions we have touched upon, +through the interests aroused by us, in journals, in +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_259">[259]</span>lectures, in literary circles.... Though it took +different forms and developed, our propaganda remained +true to itself and retained its individual character in +every surrounding.</p> + +<p>Punishment lifted us up and gave us the prestige of +prison and exile. We came back to Moscow, ‘authorities’ +at five-and-twenty. We were joined by Byelinsky, +Granovsky, and Bakunin, while through our articles +in <i>Notes on the Fatherland</i> we ourselves joined the +Petersburg movement of the Lyceum students and the +young literary men. The Petrashev group were our +younger brothers as the Decembrists were our elder ones. +To be silent about the importance of our circle because +I belonged to it would be hypocritical and stupid. +Quite the contrary: whenever in my memoirs I come +upon those days, on old friends of the ’thirties and the +’forties, I purposely pause and speak regardless of repetition +if only I can make the younger generation better +acquainted with them. It does not know them, it has +forgotten them, it does not care for them, and denounces +them as unpractical and unbusinesslike, as men who did +not know so well where they were going; it is angry with +them, and rejects them wholesale as out of date, as idle +and superfluous men, as fantastic dreamers, forgetting +that the value of men of the past, their significance and +the hall-mark of them, depends less on the comparison +of the sum of knowledge, and the manner of formulating +problems of the old period and of the new, than on the +energy and strength they brought to their solution. I +have a desperate longing to save the younger generation +from the ingratitude of history, and even from the +mistakes of history. It is time for the fathers to cease +devouring their children like Saturn, but it is time for +the children, too, to cease following the example of the +natives of Kamschatka, who kill off their old people.</p> + +<p>Boldly, and with full conviction, I say once more of +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_260">[260]</span>our comrades of those days ‘that they were a wonderful +set of young men, that such a circle of talented, pure-hearted, +cultured, intelligent, and devoted men I have +never met,’ and I have wandered pretty widely about the +world among all classes, and especially the revolutionary +ones. I am not only speaking of my own circle of +intimate friends; I am bound to say the same thing as +emphatically of Stankevitch’s circle and the Slavophils. +Young men, horror-stricken by the infamies of the life +about them, surrounded by gloom and oppressive misery, +gave up all and went in search of a way out. They +sacrificed everything that others strive after—social +position, wealth, everything which the traditional life +offered them, to which environment and example drew +them, to which their family urged them—for the sake +of their convictions, and they remained true to them. +Such men cannot be simply put on the archives and +forgotten.</p> + +<p>They are persecuted, arrested, put under police +supervision, exiled, dragged from place to place, overwhelmed +with insults and humiliations—they remain +the same: ten years pass—they are still the same: twenty, +thirty years pass—they are still the same. I demand +that a recognition be accorded them and justice be done +to them.</p> + +<p>To this simple demand I have heard a strange objection, +and more than once, too: ‘You, and even more the +Decembristi, were the dilettanti of revolutionary ideas; +interest in the cause was for you a luxury, something +romantic; you say yourselves that you all <i>sacrificed</i> +social position; you had means, so for you the revolution +was not a question of bread and butter and of human +existence, the question of life and death....’</p> + +<p>‘I imagine,’ I answered once, ‘that for those who +were executed it was....’</p> + +<p>‘Anyway, they were not momentous, inevitable +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_261">[261]</span>questions for you. You like to be revolutionaries, and +that of course is better than if you like to be senators or +governors; for us the struggle with the existing order +is not a matter of choice, it is due to <i>our</i> social position. +Between you and us there is the difference between the +man who has fallen into the water and the man who +is bathing; both have to swim, but one does it from +necessity and the other for pleasure.’</p> + +<p>To refuse recognition to men because they have done +from inner impulse what others <i>are going</i> to do from +necessity is remarkably like the monastic asceticism +which only attaches value to duties the fulfilment of +which is very disgusting.</p> + +<p>Extreme views of this sort easily take root among us; +and though the roots do not go deep, they are as hard to +eradicate as horse-radish.</p> + +<p>We are greatly given to theoretical pedantry and +argumentativeness. This German propensity is in us +associated with a special national element—which we +might call the Araktcheyev element—a ruthlessness, a +passionate rigidity, and an eagerness to despatch our +victims. To satisfy his grenadier ideal, Araktcheyev +flogged living peasants to death; we flog to death ideas, +arts, humanity, past leaders, anything you like. In +dauntless array we advance step by step to the limit and +overshoot it, never sinning against logic but only against +<i>truth</i>; unaware, we go on further and further, forgetting +that real sense and real understanding of life are shown +precisely in stopping short before the extreme ... +that is the <i>halte</i> of moderation, of truth, of beauty, that +is the perfect balance of the organism.</p> + +<p>The oligarchic pretension of the have-nots to be the +exclusive sufferers from the social system and to possess +a monopoly of the feeling of social injustice is as unjust +as all forms of exclusiveness and monopoly. Neither +through Christian mercy nor through democratic envy +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_262">[262]</span>will you ever get beyond charity and violent spoliation, +the division of property and universal poverty. In the +Church it has remained a theme for rhetoric and a sentimental +exercise in compassion; in the ultra-democrats, +as Proudhon has observed, it is confined to the feeling +of envy and hatred; and in neither case has it gone on +to any constructive ideas, to any practical result.</p> + +<p>In what way are men to blame who understood the +pain of the sufferers before they themselves did, and showed +it them, and, what was more, the way of escape too? +It was not through starvation that St. Simon the descendant +of Charlemagne, and Robert Owen the manufacturer, +either of them became apostles of socialism.</p> + +<p>This view will not persist; it lacks warmth, goodness, +breadth. I should not have referred to it if these critics +had not included on their black lists, not only our names, +but those of the men who sowed the first seeds of all +that has come up and will come up—the Decembrists +whom we so deeply honour.</p> + +<p>This digression is hardly in place here.</p> + +<p>Sazonov was, in fact, an idle man, and wasted immense +abilities; frittering his life away in all sorts of trivialities +abroad, he was lost like a soldier taken prisoner in his +first battle and never able to get home again.</p> + +<p>When we were arrested in 1834 and clapped into +prison, Sazonov and Ketscher were, by some miracle, +untouched. They both lived almost uninterruptedly +in Moscow, and talked a great deal but wrote little, and +no letters of theirs were found in the possession of any +of us. We were sent into exile; Sazonov’s mother +succeeded in getting a passport for him to go to Italy. +His going abroad and being separated from us may have +laid the foundation of all that followed in his life, which +was that of a star with no fixed orbit, falling and leaving +no trace.</p> + +<p>A year later he returned to Moscow; it was just at +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_263">[263]</span>one of the most stifling and oppressive periods of the +last reign. In Moscow he was met by a dead level +calm, nowhere a shade of sympathy, nowhere a word +of life. We, in the <i>reserves</i> of exile, were cherishing +our past life, were living in hope and memory, were +working and learning something of the coarse realities +of provincial existence.</p> + +<p>In Moscow everything reminded Sazonov of our +absence. Of his old friends, the only one on the +spot was Ketscher, with whom Sazonov, a man of stiff +and aristocratic manners, was less able to be intimate +than with any of the rest. Ketscher, as we have +said, was an intellectual savage—a cultured one, a +pioneer from Fenimore Cooper, returning intentionally +to the primeval state of the human race, rude on principle, +slovenly through theory, a student of five-and-thirty in +the part of a Schilleresque youth. Sazonov struggled +on and on in Moscow—he was consumed by boredom, +he had no motive for work, for activity. He tried moving +to Petersburg; that was even worse: <i>à la longue</i> he could +not stand it, and went to Paris with no definite plan. +Those were the days when France and Paris still had a +spell of magic for us. Our tourists glided over the +polished surface of French life, knowing nothing of its +rough side, and were in raptures over everything—over +the liberal speeches, over the songs of Béranger and the +caricatures of Philipon. It was the same with Sazonov. +But he found nothing to do there either. Noisy, lively +idleness succeeded to his life of dumbness and oppression. +In Russia he had been bound hand and foot, here he was +a stranger to every one and everything. Another long +series of years of aimless excitement and over-stimulated +nerves began for him in Paris. He was incapable of +concentrating, of devoting himself to intellectual work +without waiting for some impelling force from outside; +it was not in his character. The impersonal interest +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_264">[264]</span>in science was not strong enough in him; he was looking +for some activity, and would have been ready for any +amount of work so long as it was conspicuous, so long +as it could be rapidly applied and realised in practice—and +it must have been, too, with noise and acclamation, +amidst applause and the outcry of his enemies. Not +finding such work, he flung himself into the dissipations +of Paris.</p> + +<p>... Yet his eyes, too, glowed and filled with tears +at the memories of our dreams as students. In the +recesses of his deeply wounded vanity there still was +faith that the revolution in Russia was close at hand, and +that he was called to play a great part in it. It seemed +as though he were carousing only <i>meanwhile</i>, in the +wearisome suspense of waiting for the great work before +him, and were convinced that one fine evening he would +be summoned from the table in the Café Anglais and borne +off to govern Russia.... He kept intent watch on +what was being done, and impatiently awaited the +moment when he would have to take part in earnest and +utter the last decisive word.</p> + +<p>After my first noisy days in Paris, more serious conversation +began, and at once it was evident that we were +tuned to very different keys. Sazonov and Bakunin +were (like Wysocki and the members of the Polish +Central Committee later on) displeased that the news +I brought was more concerning the literary and university +world than political spheres. They were expecting to +be told about parties, secret societies, ministerial crises +(under Nicholas!), the opposition (in 1847!), while I +talked about professorships, about Granovsky’s public +lectures, about Byelinsky’s articles, about the state of +mind of the students and even of the seminarists. They +had been too long divorced from Russian life, and had +entered too thoroughly into the interests of the ‘all-world’ +revolution and French problems to remember that +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_265">[265]</span>among us the appearance of <i>Dead Souls</i> was an event +of far more consequence than the appointment of a +couple of Paskevitches as field-marshals and a couple of +Filarets as metropolitans. With no Russian books and +papers and no regular means of communication, they +judged of everything in Russia theoretically and from +memory, which throws an artificial light on everything +far away.</p> + +<p>The difference of our views almost led to a breach +between us. It happened like this. On the day before +Byelinsky left Paris we saw him home in the evening, +and went for a walk in the Champs-Élysées. I saw +with terrible clearness that all was over for Byelinsky, that +I was pressing his hand for the last time. The mighty, +passionate fighter had burnt himself out, death had laid +its unmistakable imprint on his face, wan with suffering; +he was in acute consumption, but still full of holy energy +and holy indignation, still full of his agonising, angry +love for Russia. I had a lump in my throat and for a +long time I walked in silence, when the unlucky argument +which had been ten times already <i>sur le tapis</i> was renewed +once more.</p> + +<p>‘It is a pity,’ observed Sazonov, ‘that Byelinsky has +had no career but journalistic work, and under the +censorship, too.’</p> + +<p>‘I think it is hard to reproach him, of all people, for +doing little,’ I answered.</p> + +<p>‘Well, with abilities like his he might in other circumstances +and in another field have done rather more....’</p> + +<p>I felt vexed and wounded. ‘But do tell me, please, +you now, who are not under the censorship, who are +so full of faith in yourselves, so full of strength and +talent, what have you done? Or what are you doing? +Surely you don’t imagine that walking from one end +of Paris to the other every day to discuss the boundaries +of Poland and Russia with Sluzalski or Chotkewicz is +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_266">[266]</span>doing something? Or that your talks in cafés and at +home, where five fools listen and understand nothing, +while another five understand nothing and talk, is doing +something?’</p> + +<p>‘Wait a bit, wait a bit,’ said Sazonov, by now considerably +nettled: ‘you forget our position.’</p> + +<p>‘What position? You have been living here for years +in freedom, in no dire extremity: what more do you +want? Positions are created. Strong men make +themselves acknowledged and force themselves in. +Come, come: one critical article of Byelinsky’s is of far +more value for the younger generation than playing at +being conspirators and politicians. You are living in a +sort of delirium and somnambulism, in a perpetual optical +illusion with which you deceive your own eyes....’</p> + +<p>I was particularly irritated at the time by the two +different standards which not only Sazonov but Russians +in general applied in appreciating people. Their severe +criticism of their own people was transformed into +slavish worship before French celebrities. It was annoying +to see our friends kow-tow before those champion +babblers, who flung them a word, a phrase, a commonplace, +uttered with <i>vitesse accélérée</i>; and the more meekly +the Russians behaved, the more they blushed and tried +to conceal their idols’ ignorance (as tender parents and +sensitive husbands do), the more the latter gave themselves +airs and swaggered before their hyperborean +Anarchases.⁠<a id="FNanchor_90" href="#Footnote_90" class="fnanchor">[90]</a>⁠</p> + +<p>Sazonov even as a student in Russia had been fond +of surrounding himself with a retinue of all sorts of +mediocrities, who listened to him and followed his lead; +and here, too, he was surrounded by all sorts of <i>lazzarone</i> +of the literary haunts, feeble in mind and body, penny-a-liners, +journalistic scavengers such as the gaunt Jules +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_267">[267]</span>Vécourt, the half-crazy Tardif de Melot, the unknown +but great poet Bouilhet;⁠<a id="FNanchor_91" href="#Footnote_91" class="fnanchor">[91]</a> in his chorus, too, were the +most narrow-minded Poles, followers of Towjanski, and +dull-witted German atheists. How it was they did not +bore him is his secret. He almost always brought one +or two attendants from his chorus even when he came +to me, although I was always bored by them and did +not conceal the fact. It seemed particularly odd, too, +that he himself was in the position of a Jules Vécourt +in his relation to the Marrasts, the Ribeyrolles,⁠<a id="FNanchor_92" href="#Footnote_92" class="fnanchor">[92]</a> and even +lesser celebrities.</p> + +<p>All this is not quite intelligible for contemporary +visitors to Paris. It must not be forgotten that the +present Paris is not the <i>real</i> Paris, but a new one.</p> + +<p>Having become a sort of gathering-place for the +whole world Paris has ceased to be a pre-eminently +French city. In old days all France was in Paris, and +nothing besides; now all Europe is there, and the two +Americas besides, but there is less of itself: it has become +merged in its function of a world-hotel, a caravanserai, +and has lost its individual personality, which once inspired +ardent love and burning hate, boundless respect and +unlimited aversion.</p> + +<p>I need hardly say that the attitude of foreigners to +modern Paris has changed. The Allied troops who +bivouacked in the Place de la Révolution knew that +they had taken a foreign town. The tourist who puts +up there now regards Paris as his own; he buys it, he +plays with it, and knows very well that he is essential to +Paris, and that the old Babylon has rigged herself out, +rouged and powdered, not for her own sake but for his.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_268">[268]</span></p> + +<p>In 1847 I found still the old Paris—moreover, Paris +with a quickened pulse, that had been singing Béranger’s +songs, with the chorus ‘<i>Vive la réforme!</i>’ changed +unawares into ‘<i>Vive la République!</i>’</p> + +<p>Russians still in those days lived in Paris with an ever-present +sense of thankfulness to Providence (and to the +regular despatch of remittances) that they were living +in it, that they were strolling in the Palais Royal +and visiting French people. They frankly worshipped +lions and lionesses of every description—celebrated +doctors and dancing-girls, the dentist Désirabode and +the mad Ma-Pa, and all the literary charlatans and +political jugglers of the day.</p> + +<p>I hate the systematic, <i>prémédité</i> insolence which is the +fashion among us. I recognise in it the family traits +of the old bullying and arrogance of our officers and +landowners, adapted to the manners of Vassilyevsky +Island and its streets. But it must not be forgotten that +our cringing before West European authorities has come +out of the same barracks, the same government offices, +the same antechambers, though it has come out of the +other door and is addressed to the grand gentleman, the +office chief or the commanding officer. In our lack of +anything whatever to which to do homage, except brute +force and its symbols, stars and ranks in the service, the +craving for some table of grades of merit is easy to +understand; but, on the other hand, to what men have +not the best of our contemporaries bowed down with +tender devotion! Even before Werder and Ruge, +those mighty dullards of Hegelianism. From this +reverence for Germans it may easily be gathered how far +they went in their attitude to Frenchmen, to men who +are really remarkable—to Pierre Leroux, for instance, +or George Sand herself....</p> + +<p>I am ashamed that I was at first carried away, and +thought that to talk in a café with the historian of the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_269">[269]</span><i>Ten Years</i>,⁠<a id="FNanchor_93" href="#Footnote_93" class="fnanchor">[93]</a> or at Bakunin’s with Proudhon, was something +like a promotion, an honour; but in me all attempts +at idolatry and fetish-worship do not last long, and very +soon give way to complete scepticism.</p> + +<p>Three months after I arrived in Paris I began strenuously +attacking this form of snobbery, and it was just +when my opposition to it was at its height that the +argument about Byelinsky took place. Bakunin, with +his usual good-heartedness, half assented and laughed; +but Sazonov resented it, and continued to regard me as +a profane outsider in questions of practical politics. +Shortly afterwards I confirmed him in this conviction.</p> + +<p>The revolution of February was a complete triumph +for him; his journalistic friends received posts in the +government, thrones were tottering and leaning for +support on poets and doctors. German princelings +were asking advice and help from professors and journalists, +who only the day before had been persecuted. The +Liberals taught them how to fit their narrow crowns +on more firmly, that they might not be carried off by +the rising hurricane. Sazonov wrote to me in Rome, +letter after letter, urging me to come <i>home</i>, to Paris, to +the one and indivisible republic.</p> + +<p>On my return from Italy I found Sazonov preoccupied. +Bakunin was not there; he had already gone +off to stir up the Western Slavs.</p> + +<p>‘You don’t mean to say,’ Sazonov said to me at our +first interview, ‘that you don’t see that our <i>time has +come</i>?’</p> + +<p>‘How do you mean?’</p> + +<p>‘The Russian Government is in an <i>impasse</i>.’</p> + +<p>‘Why! what has happened? A republic has not +been proclaimed in the Peter-Paul Fortress, has it?’</p> + +<p>‘<i>Entendons-nous</i>, I don’t imagine that we shall have +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_270">[270]</span>a twenty-fourth of February to-morrow in Russia. No, +but the state of public opinion, the torrent of liberal ideas, +Austria broken to pieces, Prussia with a constitution, +will force the men about the Winter Palace to think a +little. They cannot do less than dole out some sort of +constitution, <i>un simulacre de charte</i>: well, and with that,’ +he added with a certain impressiveness, ‘they must +have a liberal, cultured ministry who can speak the +language of to-day. Have you thought of that?’</p> + +<p>‘No!’</p> + +<p>‘You queer fellow! Where are they going to get +cultured ministers?’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, they’ll find them right enough if they want +them; but I fancy they won’t look for them.’</p> + +<p>‘This scepticism is quite out of place now; <i>history is +being made</i>, and very rapidly too. Think a minute—the +government will have no choice but to appeal to <i>us</i>.’</p> + +<p>I looked at him, trying to make out whether he was +joking. His face was quite serious, it looked a little +flushed and nervous with excitement.</p> + +<p>‘You mean literally to <i>us</i>?’</p> + +<p>‘Whether to us personally or to our circle does not +matter. But just think again: to whom else can they +turn?’</p> + +<p>‘Which portfolio will you undertake?’</p> + +<p>‘It’s silly of you to laugh. It’s our misfortune that +we don’t know how to take advantage of opportunities, +<i>ni se faire valoir</i>. You keep thinking about your little +articles: articles are all very well, but times are changed +now; one day in power is worth more than a whole +volume of them.’</p> + +<p>Sazonov looked with compassion on my unpracticalness, +and at last found less sceptical people who put faith +in his approaching advent to power. At the end of +1848, two or three German refugees were very regular +visitors at the little evening gatherings that were held +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_271">[271]</span>at Sazonov’s. Among them was an Austrian lieutenant +who had distinguished himself as a staff-officer under +Messenhauser.⁠<a id="FNanchor_94" href="#Footnote_94" class="fnanchor">[94]</a> Once as he was going out at two o’clock +at night in a heavy downpour of rain, the officer complained +of his hard lot, reflecting on the considerable +distance between the Rue Blanche and the Quartier Latin.</p> + +<p>‘Why were you forced to trudge all that way in such +weather?’</p> + +<p>‘Of course, I was not forced; but, you know, Herr +von Sessanoff is vexed if one does not turn up, and I +believe that we ought to maintain good relations with +him. You know better than I do that with his talent +and intellect ... with the position he occupies in +his party, what he may rise to be in the coming revolution +in Russia....’</p> + +<p>‘Well, Sazonov,’ I said to him next day, ‘you have +found Archimedes’ point; there is a man who believes +in your future portfolio, and that man is Lieutenant +So-and-So.’</p> + +<p>Time passed, the revolution in Russia did not come +off, and no one sent envoys to fetch us home. The +sinister days of June had come; Sazonov undertook +to write a leading article for the <i>Epoch</i>. He spent a +long time working at it; read aloud a few fragments, +made corrections and alterations, and only just finished +it by the winter. He thought it essential ‘to explain +the last revolution to Russia.’ ‘Do not expect me,’ he +wrote at the beginning, ‘to describe events; others will +do that better than I could. I am giving you the +significance, the idea of the revolution which has taken +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_272">[272]</span>place.’ Humble work was not enough for him; whenever +he did take up the pen, he wanted to do something +extraordinary, something momentous; his mind was +always haunted by Tchaadayev’s letter. The article +reached Petersburg, was read in friendly circles, and made +no impression.</p> + +<p>In the summer of 1848, Sazonov founded an International +Club. To it he brought all his Tardifs, Germans, +and Messianists. With a beaming face he walked up +and down the empty room in a dark blue dress-suit. +He opened the International Club with a speech addressed +to five or six listeners (of whom I was one⁠<a id="FNanchor_95" href="#Footnote_95" class="fnanchor">[95]</a>⁠) by way of +audience, the rest of the party being on the platform in +the capacity of committee. Sazonov was followed by +Tardif de Melot, a dishevelled figure looking half-asleep, +who stood up and boomed off a poem in honour of the +Club.</p> + +<p>Sazonov frowned, but it was too late to stop the poet.</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">‘<i>Worcel, Sassonoff, Elinski, Del Balzo, Léonard....</i></div> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>Et vous tous....</i>’</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class="noindent">Tardif de Melot bawled with a sort of ecstatic exasperation, +unaware of the laughter.</p> + +<p>Two or three days afterwards Sazonov sent me one +thousand copies of the programme of the opening ceremony; +with that the Club ended. Only later on we +heard that one of the representatives of humanity, who +at that congress represented Spain in particular, and +delivered a speech in which he called the executive +power <i>potence ehécoutive</i>, supposing that was French, +narrowly escaped the gallows in England and was sentenced +to penal servitude for forging some document.</p> + +<p>The failure to become a minister and the collapse of +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_273">[273]</span>the Club were followed by more modest but far more +possible attempts as a journalist. When <i>La Tribune +des Peuples</i> was established with Mickiewicz as chief +editor, Sazonov took a leading position on the paper, +wrote two or three very good articles ... and then +ceased, and before the failure of the <i>Tribune</i>—that is, +before the 13th of June 1849—he was on bad terms +with all the staff. To him it all seemed petty and poor, +<i>il se sentait dérogé</i>, was vexed at it, finished nothing, +dropped what he had begun and flung aside what was +half done.</p> + +<p>In 1849 I suggested to Proudhon to give the post +of foreign editor of the <i>Voix du Peuple</i> to Sazonov. +With his knowledge of four languages, of literature, of +politics, of the history of all the European nations, and +his wide acquaintance with political parties, he might +have done wonders for the French with this part of the +paper. Proudhon had nothing to do with the internal +arrangements of the foreign news department, it was in +my hands, but I could do nothing from Geneva. A +month later Sazonov handed the foreign editorship to +Hoetsky and severed his connection with the paper. +‘I have a great respect for Proudhon,’ he wrote to me in +Geneva, ‘but there is not room on one journal for two +such personalities as mine and his.’</p> + +<p>A year later Sazonov joined <i>La Réforme</i>, then being +revived by the followers of Mazzini. Lamennais was +the chief editor. But on that paper also there was not +room for two great men. Sazonov worked on it for +three months, and then threw up <i>La Réforme</i>. With +Proudhon he had fortunately parted peacefully, but he +quarrelled with Lamennais. Sazonov charged the +niggardly old man with using the funds of the paper +for his personal ends. Lamennais, recalling the habits +of his clerical youth, resorted to what is the <i>ultima ratio</i> +in Western Europe, and spread concerning Sazonov +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_274">[274]</span>the suggestion that he might be an agent of the Russian +Government.</p> + +<p>The last time I saw Sazonov was in Switzerland in +1851. He had been deported from France, and was +living in Geneva. This was at the very greyest, most +oppressive period; a brutal reaction was triumphant +everywhere. Sazonov’s faith in France and in the +coming change in the ministry in Petersburg was shaken. +He was bored and worried by his idle life, did not +succeed with any work, caught at everything without +perseverance, lost his temper, and drank. Moreover, +the life of petty cares and the everlasting struggle with +creditors, the effort to obtain money, together with the +talent for flinging it away and the incapacity for ordering +his life, brought a great deal of nervous irritability and +dismal prose into Sazonov’s daily existence; by then +his life of reckless gaiety was no longer an enjoyment +but a habit, while in old days he really had known how +to enjoy himself.</p> + +<p>A few words about his domestic life will not be out +of place, especially as it was distinguished by the same +note of gay recklessness, and was not without its striking +contrasts in colour.</p> + +<p>In the early years of his Parisian life Sazonov met a +wealthy widow, and his connection with her drew him +still further into a life of luxury. She went off to Russia, +leaving him plenty of money and their daughter to bring +up. The widow had scarcely had time to reach Petersburg +when her place was filled by a buxom Italian with +a voice at which the walls of Jericho would have fallen +once more.</p> + +<p>Two or three years later the widow took it into her +head to pay her friend and her daughter a quite unexpected +visit. She was struck by the Italian woman.</p> + +<p>‘What person is this?’ she asked, scanning her from +head to foot.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_275">[275]</span></p> + +<p>‘Lili’s nurse, and a very good one.’</p> + +<p>‘But how can she teach her to speak French with +such an accent? That’s a pity. I had better find a +Parisian and you get rid of this one.’</p> + +<p>‘<i>Mais, ma chère</i>....’</p> + +<p>‘<i>Mais, mon cher</i> ...’ and the widow took her +daughter away.</p> + +<p>This was not only an emotional but a financial crisis. +Sazonov was far from being poor; his sisters sent him +twenty thousand francs a year from the revenue of his +estate. But, being accustomed to spend it recklessly, +he did not think of diminishing his establishment, but +resorted to borrowing. He borrowed right and left, +got what he could from Russia out of his sisters, borrowed +from friends and enemies, borrowed from money-lenders, +from fools, from Russians and non-Russians. For a long +time he managed and kept afloat in this way, but at last +got into trouble, and was thrown into Clichy, as I have +mentioned already.</p> + +<p>It was during this period that his elder sister’s husband +died. Hearing that their brother was in prison, the two +sisters came to get him out. As is always the case, they +knew nothing of the manner of life of their Nikolinka. +The two sisters adored him, regarded him as a genius, +and were impatiently awaiting the moment when he +would appear to the world in all his power and glory.</p> + +<p>They were met by various disillusionments which +surprised them the more as they were so unexpected. +On the morning after their arrival, taking with them +Count Chotkewicz, a friend of Sazonov’s, with them, +they went to buy him out as a surprise. Chotkewicz +left them in the carriage and went away promising to +return in a minute with their brother. Hour after hour +passed, Nikolinka did not appear ... no doubt the +formalities take a long time, thought the ladies waiting +wearily in the cab.... At last Chotkewicz ran up +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_276">[276]</span>alone, flushed in the face, and smelling strongly of spirituous +liquor. He announced that Sazonov would be with +them directly; that he was just giving a farewell lunch +to his companions and treating them to wine; that this +was the usual thing. This was rather a stab to the +tender hearts of the fair travellers ... but ... +but here at last their Nikolinka, solid, stout, and perspiring, +flung himself into their arms, and they set off +homewards satisfied and happy.</p> + +<p>They had heard something ... about some +Italian woman ... an ardent daughter of Italy, +unable to resist the genius from the hyperborean north, +who had been enchanted by her southern voice and the +fire of her eyes.... Blushing and abashed, they +indicated the timid desire to make her acquaintance. +He agreed to everything, and went home. Two days +later the sisters planned a second surprise for their +brother, which was even less successful than the first.</p> + +<p>At eleven o’clock one hot morning the sisters set off to +have a look at this Francesca da Rimini and her <i>ménage</i> +with Nikolinka. The younger sister opened the door, +and stopped short.... In the small drawing-room +Sazonov was sitting on the carpeted floor in extreme +deshabille, and beside him the stout Signora P., +scantily veiled in a light dressing-gown. The signora +was laughing with the full force of her lusty Italian lungs +at something Nikolinka was telling her. Beside them +stood a pail of ice, and in it, tilted on one side, was a +bottle of champagne.</p> + +<p>What happened next I do not know, but the effect +produced was strong and lasting. The younger sister +came to consult me about this incident, of which she +spoke with tears and sobs. I tried to comfort her by +assurances that the first days after Clichy were different +from the average.</p> + +<p>All this was followed by a prosaic move into smaller +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_277">[277]</span>lodgings.... The valet, who was a master at putting +on a cravat of impenetrably solid silk and adroitly sticking +a pearl pin into it, was dismissed, and after him the pin +itself appeared in a shop window.</p> + +<p>So passed another five years. Sazonov went to Paris +from Switzerland, and then went back again from Paris +to Switzerland. To get rid of the buxom Italian, he +devised the most original plan—he married her and then +left her.</p> + +<p>Something had come between us; he did not treat +me openly in a matter that was very dear to my heart. +I could not get over it.</p> + +<p>Meantime a new epoch was beginning for Russia, +Sazonov was eager to take part in it: wrote articles⁠<a id="FNanchor_96" href="#Footnote_96" class="fnanchor">[96]</a> +that were unsuccessful, tried to return to Russia and did +not succeed, and finally left Paris. For a long while +nothing was heard of him.</p> + +<p>One day a Russian who had just come from Switzerland +to London said to me: ‘An old friend of yours +was buried the day before I left Geneva.’</p> + +<p>‘Who was that?’</p> + +<p>‘Sazonov; and only fancy, there was not one Russian +at his funeral.’</p> + +<p>And it sent a stab to my heart to think with remorse +that I had abandoned him for so long....</p> + +<p class="hanging">(<i>Written in 1863.</i>)</p> + +<h3>II<br> +<span class="smcap">The Engelsons</span></h3> + +<p>They are both dead. He was not more than thirty-five; +she was younger.</p> + +<p>He died ten years ago in Jersey: his coffin was followed +to the grave by his widow, his child, and a sturdily built, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_278">[278]</span>dishevelled-looking old man with large, marked, rough +features; in his face were mingled genius and frenzy, +fanaticism and irony, the intensity of an Old Testament +prophet and a Jacobin of the year 1793. That old man +was Pierre Leroux.</p> + +<p>She died at the beginning of 1865 in Spain. I heard +of her death a few months later.</p> + +<p>I have not heard where the child is.</p> + +<p>The man of whom I am speaking was once near and +dear to me; he first tended deep wounds when they were +fresh; he was a brother, a sister to me. She, scarcely +knowing what she was doing, estranged him from me. +He became my enemy....</p> + +<p>The news of her death brought them back to my +memory again....</p> + +<p>I took up the manuscript I had written about them +in 1859, and read it through by way of psalter over the +dead.</p> + +<p>For a long time I hesitated whether to print it or not, +and only lately decided to do so. My intention is good, +and my story is true. I do not want to cast reproaches +on their grave, but together with the reader to trace +once again, in fresh instances, the intricate, morbid +warping of character in the last generation under +Nicholas.</p> + +<p class="hanging"><span class="smcap">Château Boissière</span>, <i>December 31, 1865</i>.</p> + +<h4>I</h4> + +<p>At the beginning of 1850 a Russian arrived in Nice +with his wife. They were pointed out to me on the +parade. They both belonged to the class who were +waiting for the turn of the tide: he was thin, pale, +consumptive, with reddish fair hair; she was a beauty +who had faded early, worn-out, half-shattered, exhausted.</p> + +<p>A doctor living in the household of a Russian lady +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_279">[279]</span>told me that the fair gentleman had been a Lyceum +student, that he was reading <i>Vom andern Ufer</i>, that +he had been mixed up in the Petrashev case, and +consequently wished to make my acquaintance. I +answered that I was always glad to meet a good Russian, +especially a Lyceum student, and one who had had a +hand in a case of which I knew little, but which had +been for me like the olive branch brought by the dove +to Noah’s ark.</p> + +<p>Some days passed without my seeing either the doctor +or the new Russian. Suddenly between nine and ten +one evening a card was brought me; it was he. Karl +Vogt and I were sitting in the dining-room. I told the +servant to ask the visitor upstairs into the drawing-room, +and went upstairs before the rest. There I found him, +pale, trembling, apparently in a feverish condition. He +could scarcely tell me his name; when he was a little +calmer, he jumped up from his chair, rushed at me, +kissed me effusively, and before I could quite recover +myself, with the words, ‘So at last I am really seeing you,’ +he kissed my hand. ‘What are you about? Upon +my soul!’ I said, but by then he was in tears.</p> + +<p>I looked at him in perplexity; was this nervous instability +or simply madness?</p> + +<p>Apologising and showering compliments on me, he +told me with extraordinary rapidity and much gesticulation +that I had saved his life, and this was how. +Desperate with acute depression in Petersburg, expelled +from the Lyceum for some nonsense or other, disgusted +with a job in the service which he had been obliged to +accept, and seeing no solution for himself personally, +nor for things in general, he had made up his mind to +poison himself, and a few hours before carrying out his +design went wandering aimlessly about the streets: +came to Izler’s and picked up a volume of the <i>Notes of +the Fatherland</i>. My article, ‘A propos of a Drama,’ +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_280">[280]</span>was in it. Reading it gradually absorbed his attention; +he felt better, he felt ashamed of having so weakly given +in to sorrow and despair when public interests were +springing up on all sides and calling for all who were +young, for all who had strength, and instead of taking +poison Engelson asked for half a bottle of madeira, +read the article over again, and from that time became +my ardent admirer.</p> + +<p>He sat on till late at night, and went away asking leave +to come again soon. Through his tangled talk, continually +interspersed with anecdotes and digressions, +one could see a richly endowed brain, unmistakable +dialectic ability, and, still more clearly, something warped +and distorted that flung him from one extreme to the +other, from an indignation intensified by sorrow, and +made poignant by misfortune, to ironical clowning, from +tears to affectation.</p> + +<p>He left me with a strange impression. At first I did +not quite believe in him, then I was tired by him—he +seemed to affect one’s nerves too much; but by degrees +I grew used to his oddities, and was glad of an original +person to break the monotonous boredom induced by +the vast majority of Western Europeans.</p> + +<p>Engelson had read a great deal and studied a great deal, +he was a linguist and a philologist, and brought into +everything the scepticism with which we are so familiar, +and which exacts so high a price for the pain it leaves. +In old days they would have said of him that he had read +himself silly. His over-stimulated intellectual activity +was too much for the strength of his frail organism. +Wine, with which he conquered fatigue and stimulated +himself, fanned his thoughts and imagination into long, +bright tongues of fire, that were rapidly consuming his +sick body.</p> + +<p>His disorderly living and drinking, his perpetual, +irritable mental activity, his conspicuous many-sidedness +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_281">[281]</span>and his conspicuous futility, his utter idleness, his extreme +violence of feeling and extreme apathy, vividly recalled +the past to me, in spite of the immense difference between +all this and our old ways in Moscow. Again I heard +the sounds not only of my own language but of my own +thought. He had been a witness of the reign of terror +in Petersburg after 1848, and he knew the literary circles. +Entirely cut off from Russia as I was at that time, I +listened greedily to his accounts.</p> + +<p>We took to seeing each other often, nearly every +evening.</p> + +<p>His wife, too, was a strange creature. Her face, by +nature handsome, was racked by neuralgic pains and a +sort of restless anxiety. She was a Russified-Norwegian, +and spoke Russian with a slight accent which suited her. +As a rule she was more silent and reserved than he. +Their home life was not cheerful: there was something +nervous, <i>unheimlich</i>, strained, about them; there was +something lacking in their life, and something superfluous +in it, and one felt this continually like electricity, unseen +and menacing, in the air.</p> + +<p>I often found them in the large room which served +them as bedroom and sitting-room in the hotel, in a +state of utter prostration. She, with tear-stained eyes, +helpless in one corner; he pale as death, with white +lips, distraught, and silent in the other.... So they +would sit at times for whole hours, whole days together, +and that a few yards from the dark blue Mediterranean, +from groves of orange-trees, to which everything—the +sapphire sky and the bright noisy gaiety of southern +life—invited one. They did not actually quarrel; it +was not a case of jealousy nor estrangement, nor any +tangible cause, indeed.... He would suddenly get +up, go to her, fall on his knees and sometimes with sobs +repeat: ‘I have been your ruin, my child, your ruin!’ +and she would weep and believe that he had been her +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_282">[282]</span>ruin. ‘When shall I die and leave him in freedom?’ +she used to say to me.</p> + +<p>All this was new to me, and I felt so sorry for them +that I wanted to cry with them, and even more to say to +them: ‘Oh, come, come, you are not so miserable and +not so bad, you are both splendid people; let us take a +boat and drown sorrow in the dark blue sea.’ I did do +this sometimes, and succeeded in drawing them out of +themselves. But by next morning the paroxysm would +return.... They were somehow so on each other’s +nerves, and had reached such an hysterical <i>impasse</i>, that +the slightest word destroyed the harmony and, as it were, +called up furies again from the bottom of their hearts.</p> + +<p>I sometimes fancied that, continually tearing open +their wounds, they found a sort of stinging enjoyment +in the pain; that this gnawing at each other had become +necessary to them, like vodka or pickle. But unfortunately +the physique of both was unmistakably beginning +to be exhausted; they were on the high road to the +lunatic asylum or the grave.</p> + +<p>Her mind, by no means without talents, was undisciplined +and at the same time depraved; her character +was far more complex, and in a certain sense she had +far more fortitude and strength than he had. Moreover, +she had not a shade of the unity, the consistency, that +unhappy consistency which he retained even in the +most violent extremes and the sharpest contradictions. +In her, side by side with her despair, her desire to die, +her habit of moaning and groaning, there was a thirst +for worldly pleasures and a concealed coquetry, a love +for dress and luxury, denied as it were intentionally, to +spite herself. She was always dressed becomingly and +with taste. She longed to be an emancipated woman +according to the ideas of the period, and the victim of +an immense, original, psychic unhappiness, like George +Sand’s heroines ... but her old accustomed, traditional +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_283">[283]</span>life dragged her like a heavy weight towards quite +a different sphere.</p> + +<p>What gave poetic charm to Engelson, and did much +to make up for his defects, and what served as a safety-valve +for himself, she could not understand. She could +not follow his racing thought, his rapid transitions from +despair to wit and laughter, from candid mirth to candid +tears. She lagged behind, losing the thread, distracted.... +His caricatures of his own gloomy thoughts +were beyond her comprehension. When Engelson, +after a perfect feast of puns and jokes, mockery and +teasing, getting more and more into the spirit of the thing, +began acting regular scenes at which one could only +laugh helplessly, she would go out of the room, exasperated; +she was offended at ‘his unseemly behaviour +before outsiders.’ He usually noticed this, and as +nothing could stop him when once he was set going, he +would play the fool more extravagantly than ever, and +then waltz round with her and ask her with glowing +cheeks and perspiring brows: ‘<i>Ach, mein lieber Gott, +Alexandra Christianovna, war es denn nicht respectabel?</i>’ +She would weep more than ever, till he suddenly changed, +grew gloomy and morose, drank glass after glass of +brandy, and went home, or simply fell asleep upon the +sofa.</p> + +<p>Next day I had to reconcile them and make the peace, +and he so earnestly kissed her hands and so funnily asked +to be forgiven his sins, that even she could not restrain +herself sometimes and laughed with us.</p> + +<p>I must explain in what these performances, which +were such a source of woe to poor Alexandra Christianovna, +consisted. Engelson’s comic talent was unmistakable +and immense; such biting satire was never equalled +by Levassor, hardly by Grasso at his best, and Gorbunov +in some of his stories. Moreover, half of it was improvised; +he would bring in additions and variations +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_284">[284]</span>while preserving the same framework. If he had cared +to train and develop this gift, he would certainly have +been in the foremost ranks of <i>satirical</i> comedians, but +Engelson never trained nor developed anything in +himself. Talents shot up like vigorous wild plants and +were choked in his unstable soul, both by domestic cares +which took up half his time, and by his habit of catching +at everything in the world from philology and chemistry +to political economy and philosophy. In this respect +Engelson was a typical Russian, although his father was +of Finnish extraction.</p> + +<p>He acted everything in the world—officials and +Russian gentlemen, priests and police-constables; but the +best of his performances were concerned with Nicholas, +for whom he had a profound, sincere, and active hatred. +He would take a chair <i>à la</i> Napoleon, sit astride it, and +sternly ride up to a corps on parade ... epaulettes, +hats, casques shaking all round him ... it is Nicholas +at a review; he is moved to wrath, and, turning his horse, +says to the commanding officer, ‘Bad’; the commanding +officer listens with reverent awe, looks after Nicholas, +and then, dropping his voice and gasping with fury, +whispers to the general of the division: ‘You appear, +your Excellency, to be busy about something else and +not your duties. What a wretched division! what regimental +commanders! I’ll teach them.’</p> + +<p>The general of the division turns redder and redder, +and pounces on the first colonel he comes across, and +so from one grade to the next, with incredibly true, +almost imperceptible nuances, the Imperial ‘bad’ +passes down to the sergeant, at whom the squadron +commanding officer swears like a trooper, and who, +without answering, pokes the scabbard of his sword +with all his might into the ribs of the nearest soldier, +who has done nothing.</p> + +<p>Engelson would portray with amazing fidelity, not +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_285">[285]</span>only the characteristics of each rank, but also each man’s +movement as he tugged at his horse in his fury and then +raged at it for not standing still.</p> + +<p>Another performance was of a more peaceful kind. +The Emperor Nicholas is dancing the French quadrille. +<i>Vis-à-vis</i> is a foreign diplomat, on one side a general, +stiff as on parade, on the other a civilian grandee. This +was a perfect <i>chef-d’œuvre</i>. Engelson would take one +of us for his partner. The flower of it all was Nicholas—playing +the autocratic Tsar over the quadrille, the +conscious firmness of every step, the brilliant perfection +of each movement, together with the indulgent and +gracious glance at his partner, which is transformed at +once into a command to the general, and warning not +to forget himself to the civilian gentleman. To describe +this in words is impossible. The general, who, rigidly +erect, with his elbows a little rounded, with strained +attention walks in time through the figures under the +stern observation of his gracious monarch, and the +distracted civilian with his legs shaking under him from +terror, with a smile on his face and almost a tear in his +eye—all this was performed so that a man who had +never seen Nicholas could thoroughly grasp the agonising +ordeal of an imperial quadrille, and the danger of having +the Most High as a <i>vis-à-vis</i>. I forgot to say that the +foreign diplomat was the only one who danced with +studied negligence and great finish, concealing the uncomfortable +feeling of uneasiness of which the most +valiant is conscious when he has a lighted cigar close to +a barrel of gunpowder.</p> + +<p>But although Engelson’s grimacing and foolery roused +his wife’s indignation, it does not follow that there was +any more unison or harmony about her; quite the +contrary, there was an absolute chaos in her head, that +was destructive of all order, of all consistency, and made +her impossible to cope with. In her case I learnt for +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_286">[286]</span>the first time how little you can do with logic in discussion +with a woman, especially when the discussion relates +to practical affairs. In Engelson the lack of harmony +was like the mental confusion after a fire, after a funeral, +after a crime perhaps; but in her case it was like an +untidy room in which everything is flung about higgledy-piggledy—children’s +toys, a wedding dress, a prayer-book, +a novel of George Sand’s, slippers, flowers, plates. +In her half-conscious ideas and half-undermined beliefs, +in her claims to an impossible freedom and to independence +of all customary external bonds, there was +something suggestive of a child of eight, a girl of eighteen, +and an old woman of eighty. Many times I told her +that. And, strange to say, even her face was prematurely +faded; it looked old from the absence of some +of her teeth, and at the same time it retained a childish +expression.</p> + +<p>Engelson was entirely to blame for the chaos in her +mind.</p> + +<p>His wife was the spoilt child of a mother who had +adored her. An elderly, phlegmatic official of Swedish +origin sought her in marriage when she was eighteen. +In a moment of childish caprice and vexation with her +mother, she agreed to marry him. She wanted to be +her own mistress and sit at the head of the table.</p> + +<p>When the honeymoon of freedom, visits, and fine +clothes was over, the bride was insufferably bored; +although her husband behaved with strict propriety, +took her to the theatre and arranged evening tea-parties +for her, she had an aversion for him; she struggled +with him for three or four years, grew tired of it, and +went back to her mother. They were divorced. Her +mother died, and she was left alone, suffering and +melancholy, with her health prematurely broken in the +struggle with her absurd marriage, with emptiness and +hunger in her heart and an idle brain.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_287">[287]</span></p> + +<p>It was just at this time that Engelson was expelled +from the Lyceum. He was nervous, irritable, and, with +a passionate yearning for love and a morbid lack of confidence +in himself, was consumed by <i>amour-propre</i>.... +He had made her acquaintance while her mother was +living, and they became great friends after her death. +It would have been strange if he had not fallen in love +with her. Whether the feeling were likely to be lasting +or not, he was bound to love her passionately; everything +helped to bring this about ... the fact that she was +a woman without a husband, a widow and not a widow, +a bride and not a bride, and that she was pining for +something, was in love with another man, and made +miserable by her love. This other was an ‘energetic +young fellow,’ an officer and a literary man, but a +desperate gambler. They quarrelled over this invincible +passion for play; later on, he shot himself.</p> + +<p>Engelson never left her side; he comforted her, amused +her, occupied her. It was his first and last love. She +wanted to study, or rather to learn without studying; +he undertook to be her Mentor—she asked for books.</p> + +<p>The first book Engelson gave her was Feuerbach’s +<i>Das Wesen des Christenthums</i>. He took the place of +commentator, and day by day he pulled from under the +feet of his Héloïse, who could not step on firm ground +for the Chinese shoes of her early Christian training, the +prop by means of which she might somehow have kept +her balance.</p> + +<p>Emancipation from the traditional morality, said +Goethe, never leads to good unless the mind has grown +strong; indeed, only reason is worthy to replace the +religion of duty. Here was a woman sleeping the deep +slumber of moral security, lulled by traditions and full +of the dreams natural to a patriarchal soul, tinged with +Christianity, tinged with romantic and moral notions; +and Engelson tried to educate her at one blow on the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_288">[288]</span>method of English nurses, who, when the baby screams +from stomach-ache, pour a glass of gin into its mouth. +He flung into her immature, childish conceptions a +rankling ferment with which men are rarely equal to +coping, which he himself could not cope with but only +understand.</p> + +<p>Overwhelmed by the overthrow of all her moral +conceptions and all her religious convictions, and finding +in Engelson himself nothing but doubt, nothing but +irony and denial of the old, she lost the only compass, the +only guide she had left, and was like a boat adrift at sea, +twisting and turning without a rudder. The equilibrium +arrived at by life itself, resting—like the opposite weights +of a pendulum—on absurdities which exclude each other +and are maintained by so doing, was broken.</p> + +<p>She flung herself into reading with avidity, understanding +and not understanding, and mixing up the +philosophy of her nurses with the philosophy of Hegel, +sentimental socialism with the economic conceptions of +conventional housekeeping. With all that, her health +grew worse, boredom and misery continued; she pined +and grew thin, had a desperate longing to go abroad, +and was afraid of persecutions and enemies of some +sort.</p> + +<p>After a prolonged struggle, Engelson, rallying all his +forces, said to her: ‘You want to travel; how can you +go alone?... You will meet with all sorts of unpleasantness, +you will be lost without a friend, without +a protector with the right to protect you. You know +that I would lay down my life for you ... give me +your hand—I will care for you, soothe you, watch over +you.... I will be your father, your mother, your +nurse, and your husband, but it must be legally. I will +be with you, near you....’</p> + +<p>This was said by a man under thirty, and passionately +in love. She was touched, and accepted him as her +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_289">[289]</span>husband unconditionally. A short time afterwards they +went abroad.</p> + +<p>Such was the past of my new acquaintances. When +Engelson told me all this, when he bitterly complained +that this marriage had been the ruin of them both, and +I saw for myself how they were fretting away in a sort +of moral furnace which they intentionally fanned, I +came to the conviction that this unhappiness was due to +their having known too little of each other beforehand, +their being too closely bound together now, their having +built their life too much on personal feeling, and their +putting too much faith in being husband and wife. If +they could have parted, each might have sighed in freedom, +have grown calm, and perhaps begun to blossom afresh. +Time would have shown whether they were really so +necessary to each other; in any case, the delirium would +have been broken for a time without catastrophe. I did +not conceal my opinion from Engelson; he agreed with +me. But all this was a <i>mirage</i>; in reality he had not the +strength to leave her, nor she to take the plunge.... +They secretly <i>wanted</i> to hover on the brink of these +resolutions without carrying them into execution.</p> + +<p>My view was too sane and simple to be correct in +regard to such intricately pathological characters and such +sick nerves.</p> + +<h4>II</h4> + +<p>The type to which Engelson belonged was at that +time rather new to me. At the beginning of the ’forties +I had seen such a type only in embryo. It developed +in Petersburg towards the end of Byelinsky’s career, and +was formed after I left and before Tchernyshevsky +appeared. It was the type of the Petrashev group and +their friends. That group was made up of young and +gifted men, extremely intelligent and extremely cultured, +but nervous, morbid, and warped by their surroundings. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_290">[290]</span>Among them there was no example of striking stupidity, +no one who wrote ungrammatically—those types belong +to quite a different period; but in them there was something +degenerate, abnormal.</p> + +<p>The followers of Petrashev made a bold and ardent +dash into activity, and astonished all Russia by the +<i>Dictionary of Foreign Words</i>. The intense mental +activity of the ’forties was their heritage, and they passed +straight from German philosophy into Fourier’s phalanstery, +into becoming followers of Kant.</p> + +<p>Surrounded by petty and worthless people, proud of +the attentions of the police, and conscious of their own +superiority, from the very time they left school they +prized too highly their negative achievement, or rather +their possible achievement. This led to immoderate +vanity—not that youthful healthy vanity becoming in a +lad who dreams of a great future, becoming in a man in +the fulness of his powers and in the fulness of activity, +not that which in old days has led men to perform +miracles of daring and to endure chains and death for +the sake of glory, but, on the contrary, a morbid vanity, +hindering all work through its vast pretensions, irritable, +ready to take offence, conceited to the point of rudeness, +and at the same time diffident.</p> + +<p>Between their pretensions and their appreciation by +their neighbours the distance was immeasurable. Society +will not accept blank cheques for the future, but insists +on work being completed before giving personal recognition. +They had little power of hard work and perseverance; +they only had enough of each for understanding +and assimilating what had been worked out by +others. They wanted to have harvests for the intention +of sowing, and to be rewarded for having their granaries +full. ‘The insulting way in which they were overlooked +by society’ worried them, made them unjust to others, +and reduced them to despair and <i>Fratzenhaftigkeit</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_291">[291]</span></p> + +<p>In the person of Engelson I studied the difference +between that generation and our own. Later on I met +many men not so talented, not so cultured, but with +the same obviously morbid warp in all their composition.</p> + +<p>A terrible sin lies at the door of the government of +Nicholas in this moral destruction of a generation, in +this spiritual depraving of its children. The wonder +is that the strong and healthy, though warped, still +survived. Every one knows the celebrated list of instructions +to teachers in the Cadet Corps. In the +Lyceum things were better, but of late years it, too, +had incurred the hatred of Nicholas. The whole +system of government education lay in instilling the +religion of obedience, leading up to power as its reward. +The feelings of the young, naturally radiant, were coarsely +driven inwards, and replaced by ambition and jealous, +envious rivalry. What did not perish came out sick, +deranged.... Together with burning pride, they +were inoculated with a sort of spiritlessness, a sense of +impotence, of fatigue before beginning work. Young +men became hypochondriacal, suspicious, tired before +they were twenty. They were all tainted with the +passion for introspection, self-analysis, self-accusation; +they scrupulously believed their psychic experiences, +and loved making endless confessions and giving descriptions +of neurotic incidents of their lives. In later years +it happened to me several times to receive the confessions +not only of men but of women belonging to this category. +After watching with sympathy their remorse, their +pathological self-castigation, which approached gross +calumny upon themselves, I at last came to the conviction +that this was only one of the forms of the same vanity. +One had but to cease protesting and sympathising and +to agree with the repentant sinners, to see how readily +malignant and how mercilessly vindictive these Magdalens—of +both sexes—became. With them, like the Christian +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_292">[292]</span>priest before the mighty of this world, you are only +privileged solemnly to absolve their sins and to keep +silent.</p> + +<p>These nervous people, though excessively ready to +take offence, shuddering like a sensitive plant at the +faintest rough handling, are incredibly harsh in their own +language. As a rule, when it came to revenging themselves, +there was no moderation in their language—a +terrible defect of taste, which betrays a profound contempt +for the person addressed and an insulting indulgence for +self. This lack of restraint among Russians comes from +the homes of landowners, from government offices and +army barracks; but how is it that it has survived and +developed in the younger generation whilst skipping +ours? That is a psychological problem.</p> + +<p>In our old student circles we scolded each other +roundly, argued roughly and emphatically, but in the +most violent fray something remained outside the pale.... +For our nervous friends of Engelson’s generation +this limit did not exist, they did not think it necessary +to restrain themselves; for the sake of a vain and +momentary vindictiveness, for the sake of getting the +upper hand in an argument, they spared nothing, and +I have often, with horror and amazement, seen them—including +Engelson himself—without a trace of pity, +fling the most precious pearls into the corrosive fluid of +their bitterness, ‘and weep afterwards.’ With the change +of the nervous current, remorse would follow, and +entreaties for forgiveness from the outraged idol. They +are not fastidious, and pour filth into the very cup from +which they drink.</p> + +<p>Their repentances are sincere, but do not prevent +repetitions of the offence. Some spring regulating and +controlling the action of the wheels within them is +broken; the wheels turn with tenfold swiftness, doing +no work, but injuring the machine; harmonious combination +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_293">[293]</span>is broken, the æsthetic mean is lost; there is no +living with them, and there is no living for them +themselves.</p> + +<p>Happiness does not exist for them, they are not able +to take care of it. The slightest cause provokes them to +ruthless antagonism and makes them behave rudely with +every one near them. By irony they have ruined and +spoilt as much in life as the Germans have by mawkish +sentimentality. Strange to say, these people are greedily +anxious to be loved, they seek enjoyment, and when +they lift the cup to their lips some evil spirit jogs their +arm, the wine is spilt upon the floor, and the cup, passionately +flung down, rolls in the mud.</p> + +<h4>III</h4> + +<p>The Engelsons soon went away to Rome and Naples; +they meant to be away for six months, and returned in +six weeks. Seeing nothing, they trailed their boredom +about Italy, sorrowed in Rome and grieved in Naples, +and at last made up their minds to come back to Nice—‘to +you for healing,’ he wrote to me from Genoa.</p> + +<p>Their gloomy depression had increased while they +were away. In addition to their nervous hysteria, there +were now quarrels which assumed a more and more +exasperated and envenomed character. Engelson was +to blame for his unrestrained language and cruel words, +but she always provoked them, provoked them intentionally, +with secret spite and peculiar success in his +most good-natured moments; he was never allowed to +forget himself for an instant.</p> + +<p>Engelson was incapable of holding his tongue; talking +to me was a comfort to him, and so he used to tell me +everything, even more than he ought, which was awkward +for me. I felt that I could not be so open with them +as they were with me. Talking came easy to him, +complaining comforted him for a time—it did not me.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_294">[294]</span></p> + +<p>One day, sitting in a little tavern with me, Engelson +said that he was being worn out in the daily struggle, that +there was no way of escape from it, that again the thought +of cutting short his life seemed to him the only salvation.... +With his nervous impulsiveness it might well be +expected that if a pistol or a glass of poison did come in +his way he would sooner or later make an attempt with +one or the other.</p> + +<p>I was sorry for him. And both of them were to be +pitied. She might have been a happy woman if her +husband had been a man of serene temper who would +have known how to develop her slowly, to be light-hearted +in his merriment, and in case of need to influence +her, not merely by persuasion but also by authority—grave +authority, without irony. There are immature +natures which cannot guide themselves, just as there are +persons of lymphatic constitution who need a corset to +escape curvature of the spine.</p> + +<p>While I was thinking of that, Engelson, going on with +his talk, came to the same conclusion himself. ‘That +woman does not love me,’ he said, ‘and cannot love me; +what she does understand and looks for in me is bad, +and what is good in me is so much Chinese to her. She +is corrupted by bourgeois ideas, by her external <i>Respektabilität</i>, +her petty domesticity. We torment each other, +we are tormenting each other to death; I see that clearly.’</p> + +<p>It seemed to me that if a man could talk in that way +of the woman nearest to him, the chief tie between +them was broken. And so I admitted to him that, +having watched their life together for a long time past +with deep sympathy, I had often asked myself why +they went on living together. ‘Your wife is pining +for Petersburg, for her brothers and her old nurse; +why don’t you arrange for her to go home, and you to +remain here?’</p> + +<p>‘I’ve thought of it a thousand times; it’s the one +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_295">[295]</span>thing I wish for. But in the first place, she has no one to +go with; and in the second, she would be bored to death +in Petersburg.’</p> + +<p>‘Well, but she’s bored to death here. As for having +no one to send her with, that’s a relic of our old Russian +notions. You can take your wife to the steamer at Stettin, +and the steamer will find its way by itself. If you +haven’t the money, I’ll lend it you.’</p> + +<p>‘You’re right, and that’s what I shall certainly do. +I am sorry for her, my heart aches for her, all the love +I have in me I have concentrated on her. I sought in +her not only a wife, but a creature whom I could develop +and educate after my own fancy. I thought that she +would be my child—the task was beyond my strength. +But who could have guessed that I should find such +contradictions, such stubbornness?’—he paused, and +then added: ‘To tell you all I think—she needs a +different husband ... if a man turned up worthy +of her whom she could love, I would give her up to him, +and we should both recover—that would be better than +Petersburg.’</p> + +<p>I took all this <i>au pied de la lettre</i>. That he was +sincere, there is no doubt. That is just the difficulty +with these impulsive, uncontrolled creatures; they can, +like good actors, enter so thoroughly into different parts, +and so identify themselves with them, that a cardboard +dagger seems to them the real thing, and they shed +genuine tears over ‘Hecuba.’</p> + +<p>We were then living together at Ste. Hélène. Two +days after my conversation with Engelson, Madame +Engelson, with a tear-stained face, came into the drawing-room +late in the evening, a candle in her hand; she +set the candle on the table, and said she wanted to have +a little talk with me. We sat down ... after a +brief and obscure prelude touching upon the fate which +pursued her, on Engelson’s unfortunate character and +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_296">[296]</span>her own, she announced that she had made up her mind +to return to Petersburg, and did not know how to do it. +‘You alone have influence over him; persuade him to +let me go really. I know that in moments of vexation +he is ready in words to put me in the posting-chaise at +once, but all that is only words. Persuade him, save +us both, and give me your word to look after him just +at first, comfort him ... it will be hard for him, he +is ill and nervous.’ And again sobbing, she hid her face +in her handkerchief.</p> + +<p>I did not believe in the depth of her woe, but I saw +very clearly what a false move I had made by speaking +openly to Engelson; it was evident to me that he had +repeated our conversation to her.</p> + +<p>I had no choice left; I repeated my own words to +her, softening them in form. She got up, thanked me, +and added that if she did not go she would throw herself +into the sea; that she had that evening been burning a +great many papers, and wished to put some others in a +sealed packet in my keeping. It was clear to me that +she was by no means so passionately anxious to go away, +but through some self-indulgent caprice wanted to drag +on and pine away in melancholy. Moreover, I saw +that, if she were wavering without any settled plan, he +was not wavering but distinctly did not want her to go. +She had great power over him; she knew this, and, +building upon it, allowed him to rage, to rear, to foam +at the bit, knowing that, however he might jib, things +would go not as he willed but as she willed.</p> + +<p>She never forgave me for my advice; she feared my +influence, though she had unmistakable proof of my +powerlessness.</p> + +<p>For ten days there was no talk about going away. +Then followed periodical skirmishes. Once or twice +a week she would come to me with tear-stained eyes +and announce that now all was over, and that next day +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_297">[297]</span>she would get ready to go to Petersburg or to the bottom +of the sea. Engelson would come out of his room, +twitching convulsively, with a green face and trembling +hands; he would vanish for some ten hours, and would +come back covered with dust, exhausted and rather +drunk, would take a passport to be viséd, or obtain a +permit for Genoa; then it would all subside again and +fall back into the everyday routine.</p> + +<p>Externally, Madame Engelson was completely reconciled +with me, but from that time she began to conceive +something like a hatred for me. Before that she had +disputed with me and been angry without concealing it +... now she became extraordinarily amiable. She +was annoyed that I had seen through something; that +I had not been touched by her tragic destiny or taken +her for an unhappy victim, but had looked on her as a +capricious invalid; that, far from shedding tears of +platonic sympathy with her, I doubted whether she did +not find enjoyment rather than distress in tears, heartrending +scenes, explanations lasting several hours, and +so on and so on.</p> + +<p>Time passed, and by degrees much was changed. +With the rapidity which only occurs in nervous invalids +she regained her health, became more lively, and even +more careful of her dress. And although the most +nonsensical things would lead again to the old scenes +between her and Engelson, to a farewell <i>à la</i> Socrates +before the hemlock, and to a readiness to follow in +Sappho’s footsteps to the bottom of the sea, yet on the +whole things went better. The woman who had been +for ever lying down from weakness, for ever exhausted, +drew herself up as erect as Sixtus <span class="allsmcap">V.</span>, and began to grow +so stout that one day poor Kolya, sitting at dinner and +looking at her full bosom, said, shaking his head: ‘<i>Sehr +viel Milch</i>.’</p> + +<p>It was evident that some new interest was occupying +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_298">[298]</span>her, that something had awakened her from her morbid +lethargy. From the time of my open explanation with +her, she had begun a persistent game, thinking over +every move, like the gamblers <i>du Café Régent</i>, and +patiently correcting her mistakes. Sometimes she +betrayed herself and made a blunder, carried too far in +one direction or the other, but she steadily returned to +her original plan. This plan went now beyond the +tightening of her grip over Engelson, and beyond +revenging herself on me; she aimed at nothing less +than getting us all, the whole household, in her power, +and taking advantage of Natalie’s being more and more +seriously ill to control the education of the children +and our whole life—or, if she failed, breaking off my +relations with Engelson at all costs.</p> + +<p>But before she could obtain complete success, there +were many very difficult moves to be taken, painful +concessions, cat-like tactics, and much patient waiting: +she accomplished a great deal, but not everything. +Engelson’s incessant chatter hindered her as much as +my open eyes.</p> + +<p>She might have made a better use of the energy, the force +and the persistence which she wasted on her craftily +interwoven schemes ... but personal feeling and +vanity intoxicate people, and, once entering upon the +dark game of intrigue, it is hard to stop and hard to see +anything clearly. As a rule, light is only brought into +the room after the crime has been committed; that is +how it is that both the catastrophe and the sting of +conscience are irremediable.</p> + +<h4>IV</h4> + +<p>... Of the misfortunes that fell upon me in 1851 +and 1852 I speak in another place. Engelson brought +me much comfort in my sorrow. I should have stayed +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_299">[299]</span>a long time with him near the graveyard, but the restless +vanity of his wife had no pity even on mourning.</p> + +<p>Some weeks after the funeral, Engelson, agitated and +melancholy, with evident reluctance and evidently not +of his own initiative, asked me whether I were not +thinking of entrusting the education of my children to +his wife.</p> + +<p>I answered that the children, except the eldest, Sasha, +were going to Paris with Marya Kasparovna Reihel, and +I openly admitted that I could not accept his suggestion.</p> + +<p>My answer wounded him, and it hurt me to wound +him. ‘Tell me,’ I said, ‘speaking honestly, do you +think your wife competent to educate children?’</p> + +<p>‘No,’ Engelson answered, ‘but ... but perhaps +it’s a <i>planche de salut</i> for her; she is just as wretched +as ever, and it would mean your trusting her, and a new +duty.’</p> + +<p>‘Yes, but if the experiment didn’t answer?’</p> + +<p>‘You are right; let us say no more about it; it is sad.’</p> + +<p>Engelson really agreed with me, and said no more. +But she had not expected so simple an answer; on this +question I would not give in, and she would not, and, +beside herself with vexation, she immediately made up +her mind to take Engelson away from Nice. Three +days later he told me he was going to Genoa.</p> + +<p>‘What is the matter?’ I asked; ‘and why are you +going so soon?’</p> + +<p>‘Well, you see for yourself my wife does not get on +with you, nor with your friends, so I’ve made up my +mind ... and perhaps it is for the best.’</p> + +<p>And next day they went away.</p> + +<p>Afterwards I left Nice. On my way through Genoa +we met peaceably. Surrounded by our friends, among +whom were Medici, Pisacane, Cosenz, and Mordini, +she seemed calmer and better in health. Nevertheless, +she could not let slip any chance for having a spiteful +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_300">[300]</span>dig at me. I moved away, said nothing; that was no +use. Even when I had gone to Lugano she kept up her +poisoned <i>petits points</i>, and this in the rare postscripts to +her husband’s letters, as though with his <i>visa</i>.</p> + +<p>At last these pin-pricks, at a time when I was utterly +crushed by grief and distress, drove me out of all patience. +I had done nothing to deserve them, nothing to provoke +them. On getting one of her spiteful postscripts saying +that Engelson would still have to pay dearly for his whole-hearted +devotion to friends who would do nothing for +him, I wrote to Engelson that it was time to put a stop +to this.</p> + +<p>‘I do not understand,’ I wrote, ‘why your wife has +got a grudge against me. If it is because I did not give +my children into her keeping, surely that is no justification +for it?’ I reminded him of our last conversation, +and added: ‘We know that Saturn devoured his own +children, but for any one to show his gratitude to his +friends for their sympathy by bestowing his children’s +education on them is something unheard of.’</p> + +<p>She never forgave me that sally, but, what is far more +remarkable, he never forgave me for it either, though +at first he showed no sign of resenting it ... but he +reproached me with those words a year later....</p> + +<p>I went to London; Engelson settled for the winter +in Genoa, and afterwards moved to Paris.⁠<a id="FNanchor_97" href="#Footnote_97" class="fnanchor">[97]</a>⁠</p> + +<h4>V</h4> + +<p>The proverb, ‘He who has not been in the sea has not +prayed to God,’ may be varied in this way: the woman +who has not had children does not know what disinterested +devotion is, and this is particularly true of +married women; in them childlessness almost always +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_301">[301]</span>develops a coarse egoism—if, that is, some impersonal +interest does not incidentally save them. The old maid +has some belated yearnings that soften her, she is still +seeking and still hoping: the childless woman with a +husband has reached her haven successfully; at first she +instinctively grieves at having no children, then she +takes comfort and lives for her own pleasure, and, if she +is not successful in that, for <i>her own sorrow</i>, or for somebody +else’s displeasure, somebody else’s sorrow, if it is +only her maid’s. The birth of a child may save her. +A child trains its mother in sacrifice, in giving way, in +eagerly spending her time not on herself, and trains her +to indifference to all external reward, recognition, +gratitude. A mother does not keep an account with +a baby; she requires nothing from it but to be well, to +be hungry, to sleep—and to smile. Without drawing +the woman out of the home, the baby transforms her +into a citizen.</p> + +<p>It is quite a different thing when another woman’s +child comes for any reason whatever, and especially +unavoidably, into the house of a childless woman. She +will perhaps dress it up and play with it, but only when +she cares to; she will spoil it when she is pleased to; +at all other times the child will knock in vain at the doors +of the heart that has grown hard or slothful from self-indulgence. +In short, the child can reckon upon all +the spoiling and pampering which would be given to a +dog or a canary, but nothing more.</p> + +<p>One of our friends had a daughter whose mother was +a young widow. With a view to the mother’s marrying +again, an attempt was made to get the child away, and +she was kidnapped in the father’s absence. After a +prolonged search the little girl was found; but the +father, having been turned out of France, could not +come to Paris to fetch her, and besides he had not the +money. Not knowing what to do with her, he asked +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_302">[302]</span>Engelson to take her for a little while. Engelson +consented, but very quickly regretted it. The child +was naughty—indeed, considering the irregular way in +which she had been brought up, it is quite likely she was +very naughty; but, all the same, her naughtiness was that +of a child of five years old, and Engelson was too humane +and understanding to be capable of turning against a +child for naughtiness. And indeed the trouble was +not that she was naughty; the child hindered, not him +so much as his wife, though she never did anything. +Engelson, with a sort of exasperation, complained to +me in his letters of the child!</p> + +<p>In regard to her father, Engelson wrote to me: ‘Is +it not strange that H., who once agreed with you +that my wife was <i>not a suitable person to bring up your +children</i>, has entrusted his <i>own daughter to her</i>?’</p> + +<p>He knew perfectly well that the father had not chosen +Madame Engelson to bring up his little girl, but had been +forced by actual necessity to have recourse to her +assistance. There was something so cruel, so ungenerous +in this remark that it sent a pang to my heart. I could +not get used to this lack of mercy, this brutality of language +which did not hesitate at anything! Intensely malignant +insinuations which may in a moment of irritation occur +to any one’s mind, but which we could not bring our +lips to utter, are spoken by people like Engelson with +readiness and enjoyment at the slightest tiff.</p> + +<p>Giving full vent to his irritation, Engelson in his +letter incidentally attacked Tessier too, and other friends, +and even Proudhon, for whom he had a great respect. +Together with Engelson’s letter came one from Tessier, +who was also in Paris; he made some friendly jests +about Engelson’s ‘tempers and tantrums,’ without +suspecting that the latter had been writing about him. +I disliked the position of a sort of negative treachery, +and I wrote to Engelson that it was a shame to talk in +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_303">[303]</span>that abusive way of men with whom life itself has brought +us into intimate relations; that they were, any way, +good people, as he knew himself. In conclusion, I told +him that it was a shame to exaggerate everything so, and +to be sighing and groaning and reduced to despair over +the naughtiness of a child of five.</p> + +<p>This was enough. My ardent admirer, the friend +who had kissed my hand in his enthusiasm, who came to +me to share every grief and offered to shed his blood and +lay down his life for me, not in word but in deed ... +this man, bound to me by his own confession and by +my misfortunes, of which he was the witness, by the +coffin which we had followed together, forgot everything. +His vanity was wounded ... he wanted to revenge +himself, and he did revenge himself.</p> + +<p>Four days later I received from him the following +reply:—</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p class="right">‘<i>February 2nd, 1853.</i></p> + +<p>‘There are rumours that you have decided to come +here;—Marya Kasparovna is, I believe, recovering (last +week, any way, she seemed in better spirits, got up for +five minutes, and has an appetite). Concerning the +commission you gave me in regard to T., all I have +to tell you is that the things the General asks him to get +ready are not at T.’s, but were left by them at Vogt’s +in Geneva, and that Madame T. thinks your silence +<i>peu gracieux</i>, and adds that a correspondence with you +could not cause them any inconvenience.</p> + +<p>‘In short, I need not have written before you come +if it had not occurred to me that silence may often be +taken as a sign of assent. I do not wish to mislead +you or keep you in error in regard to me: I do not +agree with what you said in your last letter to me of +January 28th.</p> + +<p>‘These were your words: “Come, now, is it worth +while to get into such a state—‘and oh, the baby—and +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_304">[304]</span>oh dear, oh dear—and good God, what am I to do?’ +Just think; isn’t it beneath you? surely, it’s nothing new +to you! You have seen life and know what people are. +Every day I grow more indulgent and more aloof from +others.”</p> + +<p>‘To this I answer, without for the present going off +into a dissertation on respectability in general, and +without even congratulating you on your satisfaction with +yourself, that of course a man is absurd who falls into +a rage and a frenzy when he is bitten by gnats or bugs, +but the man is even more absurd who under the same +circumstances forces himself to assume an air of stoical +indifference.</p> + +<p>‘You perhaps do not agree with this, for you put +playing a part above everything. Don’t be angry! Wait +a minute! Let me finish. In the first chapter of your +<i>Vom andern Ufer</i> in the Russian and German versions +these are your words: “Man likes to produce an effect, +to play a part, especially a tragic one; to suffer is good and +noble, it presupposes unhappiness; suffering is a distraction, +a comfort ... yes, yes, it is a comfort.” +As I have said to you already in Nice, I was at first inclined +to take this <i>dictum</i> of yours as a careless oversight, +and not a happy one. At the time you answered that +you did not remember the words.</p> + +<p>‘Though by no means applying those words exclusively +to you—that is, not assuming that you judged in this case +of men in general by yourself—I had hitherto imagined +that this <i>dictum</i> of yours, like most of the <i>Réflexions de +La Rochefoucauld</i>, which it greatly resembles, like the +description of the talented men of our period, once +drawn in a masterly fashion by Byelinsky, was an “hyperbole, +a jest.” And so when I learnt that H. in +Switzerland was indignant with the General for the +way he behaved in your affair, I took his indignation, +not for playing a part, but for real feeling, and wrote +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_305">[305]</span>to you: “Yes, I see H. is a brother to me.” When +T., in the presence of a witness, declared that he +had been sentenced for life—plus two years, I believed +him too, and even repeated this to several people. Yesterday +Madame T. told me her husband had never +been sentenced at all. <i>Ergo</i>, in the eyes of the persons +to whom I repeated his lie I am just such a <i>blagueur</i> +as he. I do not like it. Who is to blame? I am, of +course, because I was “young and credulous”; but +they are to blame too, because they told a lie. I have +never in Russia, nor anywhere, met such <i>blagueurs</i> as in +Nice. In my letter to you of the 19th of January I +told you that I want without <i>esclandre</i> to get away from +these people; they are antipathetic to me. I wrote this +to you because I wanted to be open with you. But +<i>absorbed in yourself</i> you could not grasp this very simple +idea. Or you would hardly, I suppose, have given +me a most trivial commission to T. You, too, say +that you are holding yourself aloof from people, but at +the same time you ask them to write to you. I do not +understand that sort of aloofness.</p> + +<p>‘Assuming that in serious matters to be frank is an +essential condition of honesty, I have to tell you this, +too, without loss of time. You write to me that when +you have despatched the General to Australia, and +dismissed every one else, you will be left with me and with +your enemies—and that if, moreover, I were a little +more stable, and less dependent upon my own and other +people’s nervous caprices and agitations, you would be +disposed to make <i>un bout de chemin</i> with me. To this +I am obliged to reply that, feeling in myself neither a +taste nor a talent for playing parts, and especially tragic +ones, I am ready to serve you with my advice, but not +with my company.’</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p>Of course, I had not supposed that a man who with +tears and sobs had led me on to confidences difficult to +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_306">[306]</span>utter, a man who had come so near to me and on whom +I had leaned as on a brother in moments of weakness +and helplessness, when my pain was beyond human +endurance, that the eyewitness of all that had happened +could regard my misery as stage trappings and scenery, +of which I should take advantage to play a tragic part. +In his ecstasies over my book he had been picking out +stones in it and laying them up in his bosom to fling them +at me when the chance might come. It was not enough +for him to tear the present to pieces—he defiled and +vulgarised the past: breaking with me, he could not show +it the respect of dejected silence, but covered it with +merciless abuse and ironical jeering.</p> + +<p>This letter wounded me, wounded me very much.</p> + +<p>I answered him sadly, with suppressed tears; I said +good-bye to him, and asked him to break off our correspondence.</p> + +<p>That was followed by complete silence between +us....</p> + +<p>With Engelson once more something seemed to have +snapped within me. I was even poorer, more isolated; +there was coldness all about me, nothing near me.... +At times a hand seemed held out to me more warmly; +some fanatic of no understanding, not even seeing that +we were not of the same religion, would approach +hurriedly, and as hurriedly turn away. Though indeed +I did not seek closer intimacy with any, I had grown +accustomed to men coming and going, to all sorts of +nonentities of whom one expected nothing, and to whom +one gave nothing except a cigar, wine, and sometimes +money. My one salvation lay in work; I was writing +<i>My Past and Thoughts</i>, and was setting up a Russian +printing-press in London.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_307">[307]</span></p> + +<h4>VI</h4> + +<p>A year passed: the printing-press was in full swing, +it was being noticed in London and feared in Russia. +In the spring of 1854 I received a short manuscript from +Marya Kasparovna. It was not difficult to guess it had +been written by Engelson. I published it at once.</p> + +<p>Then came a letter from him asking me to put an end +to our unhappy misunderstanding and to let us meet +again in common work. Of course, I held out both +hands to him.</p> + +<p>Instead of an answer he arrived in London himself for +a few days, and stayed with me. Sobbing and laughing, +he begged me to forget the past, was lavish in words of +affection, and again seized my hand and pressed it to his +lips. I embraced him, deeply touched, in the firm +conviction that the quarrel would not be renewed.</p> + +<p>But only a few days later clouds foreboding little good +appeared on the horizon. The shade of fatalism, of +Buonapartism, which had peeped out in his letters from +Geneva had developed. From hatred for Nicholas and +the rank and file of the French Revolution of 1848, he +had passed over <i>armes et bagages</i> into the enemy’s camp. +We argued; he was obstinate. Knowing that he always +rushed to extremes and came back as quickly, I waited +for the turn of the tide, but it did not come.</p> + +<p>Unhappily, Engelson was busy at that time with an +amazing project with which he was passionately in love.</p> + +<p>He had made a plan for an air battery—that is, a battery +of balloons loaded with explosives and at the same time +with printed proclamations. This was at the beginning +of the Crimean War. Engelson proposed letting off +such balloons from ships on the coast of the Baltic. I +greatly disliked this scheme; what could one make of +propaganda with projectiles? Where was the sense +in it for us Russians to burn Finnish villages and help +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_308">[308]</span>Napoleon and England? Moreover, Engelson had +discovered no new means of steering balloons. I made +little opposition to his plan, supposing he would drop +this nonsense of himself.</p> + +<p>But not at all. He went off with his plan to Mazzini +and Worcell. Mazzini said that things of that sort +were not in his line, but that he was ready through his +friends to send his plans to the Minister of War. The +War Office gave an evasive reply, and put the project +aside without a definite refusal. He asked me to gather +together two or three of the military men among the +refugees and put the balloon question to them. All were +against it, and I told him over and over again that I, +too, was against it; that our work, our strength, lay in +propaganda, nothing but propaganda; that we should +lose in moral prestige by siding with Napoleon, and should +ruin ourselves in the eyes of Russia <i>faisant cause commune</i> +with her enemies. Engelson lost his temper and was +beside himself. He had come to London confident of +a triumph, and, meeting with opposition even from me, +imperceptibly returned to his hostile attitude. Soon +afterwards he went to fetch his wife, and brought her +in May to London. A complete transformation had +taken place in their relations; she was expecting to be a +mother, and he was rapturously delighted at the prospect +of a child. Misunderstandings, quarrels, and explanations +were all a thing of the past. She with a sort of +insane, half-mad mysticism was turning tables and +absorbed in spiritualism. The spirits told her many +things, and among others predicted my speedy demise. +He was reading Schopenhauer, and told me with a smile +that he was doing all he could to encourage her mystic +tendencies, that this faith and exaltation was bringing +peace and calm into her soul.</p> + +<p>With me she behaved affectionately, perhaps in expectation +of my approaching death; would come to me with +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_309">[309]</span>her work, and make me read aloud articles and chapters +from <i>My Past and Thoughts</i>. When a month later +differences arose again over Engelson’s Buonapartism +and air-balloons, she took the part of the reconciler—came +to me begging me to spare a poor invalid, and +assuring me that every spring Engelson was attacked by +a hypochondriacal condition in which he did not know +himself what he was doing.</p> + +<p>Her serene gentleness was the gentleness of the +conqueror, the mercy of complete triumph. Engelson, +imagining that he held her under control by turning +tables, lost sight of one thing—that she was not only +twisting tables with her fingers, but him round her finger, +and that he always gave the answers she wanted better +than the tables did.</p> + +<p>One evening Engelson began discussing his balloons +again with a Frenchman, and said all sorts of biting things +to him; the latter replied with irony, and of course that +infuriated Engelson more than ever. He snatched up +his hat and ran away. In the morning I went round to +have it out with him on the subject.</p> + +<p>I found him at his writing-table, his face still completely +distorted with fury, and a frenzied expression in his eyes. +He told me that the Frenchman (a refugee whom I had +known for years and know still) was a spy, that he would +unmask him, would kill him; and he gave me a letter +he had only just written to a doctor of medicine in +Paris; in the letter he implicated persons living in Paris, +and slandered the refugees in London. I was dumbfoundered.</p> + +<p>‘And do you mean to send that letter?’</p> + +<p>‘At once.’</p> + +<p>‘And by post?’</p> + +<p>‘Yes, by post.’</p> + +<p>‘That’s treachery,’ I said; and flung his scrawl on the +table. ‘If you send that letter....’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_310">[310]</span></p> + +<p>‘Well, what?’ he shouted, interrupting me in a +wild, hoarse voice—‘what are you trying to threaten +me with? I’m not afraid of you nor of your nasty +friends.’ With this he leapt up, opened a big knife, +and brandishing it about, shouted gasping: ‘Come, come, +show your mettle ... I’ll teach you ... wouldn’t +you like to try ... come on!’</p> + +<p>I turned to his wife, and saying, ‘Has he gone quite +out of his mind? You had better get him away somewhere +...,’ went out of the house.</p> + +<p>On this occasion, too, Madame Engelson played the +part of peacemaker. She came to me in the morning +entreating me to forget what had passed the day before. +He had torn up the letter—was ill and gloomy. She +took it all as a calamity, as physical derangement, was +afraid that he was seriously ill, and shed tears. I yielded +to her entreaties.</p> + +<p>After that we moved to Richmond, and Engelson did +the same. The birth of a son and the first months of +looking after him gave Engelson new life; he was off +his head with joy. When the baby was born he embraced +and kissed effusively first the maid and then his old +landlady. Anxiety over the baby’s health, the novelty +of paternal feeling, the novelty of the baby himself, +occupied Engelson for some months, and all went well +again.</p> + +<p>All at once I got a big envelope from him, accompanied +by a note asking me to read the enclosed document and +tell him my opinion candidly. It was a letter to the +French Minister of War. In it he again proposed air-balloons, +bombs, and manifestoes. I thought it all bad, +from the quarter to which he was appealing down to +the language, which was lacking in dignity, and I told +him so.</p> + +<p>Engelson answered by a rude note and began to sulk.</p> + +<p>After that he gave me another manuscript to publish. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_311">[311]</span>I did not conceal from him that it would produce a very +bad effect on Russian readers, and that I did not advise +publishing it. Engelson reproached me with wanting +to set up a censorship, and said that he supposed I had +founded the printing-press exclusively to publish my +own immortal works. I did publish the manuscript, +but my instinct had been right. It aroused general +indignation in Russia.</p> + +<p>All this indicated that a new rupture was not far off. +I must own that this time I felt no great regret. I was +weary of this fever varied by paroxysms of friendship +and hatred, of having my hands kissed and then getting +a moral box on the ears. Engelson had overpassed the +limit beyond which not even memories nor gratitude +could save the situation. I liked him less and less, and +waited coolly for what was to come. At that point an +event occurred so important that for a time all quarrels +and dissensions were eclipsed by a single feeling of joy +and expectation.</p> + +<p>On the morning of the fourth of March I went as +usual at eight o’clock into my study, opened the <i>Times</i>, +read a dozen times and did not understand, did not dare +to understand, the grammatical sense of the words at the +head of the news column: <i>The death of the Emperor of +Russia</i>.</p> + +<p>Hardly knowing what I was doing, I rushed with the +<i>Times</i> in my hands into the dining-room; I looked for +the children and the servants to tell them the great news, +and with tears of joy in my eyes gave them the newspaper.... +I felt as though several years had rolled +off my shoulders. It was impossible to stay indoors. +Engelson was at that time living in Richmond. I hurriedly +put on my coat and hat and was about to go to him, but +he anticipated me, and was already in the hall; we fell +on each other’s necks and could say nothing but: +‘Well, at last he is dead!’ Engelson, as his way was, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_312">[312]</span>capered about, kissed every one in the house, sang and +danced; and we had hardly recovered ourselves when a +carriage suddenly stopped at the front door and some one +gave a violent tug at the bell: three Poles had driven full +speed from London to Twickenham, without waiting +for a train, to congratulate me.</p> + +<p>I ordered champagne; no one reflected that it was +only eleven o’clock in the morning, or earlier. Then, +quite aimlessly, we all went off to London. In the +streets, on the Exchange, in the restaurants, people were +talking of nothing but the death of Nicholas; I did not +see one man who did not breathe more easily from +knowing that that sore was taken out of the eye of +humanity, and did not rejoice that that oppressive tyrant +in the big boots had at last returned to clay.</p> + +<p>On Sunday my house was full all day; French and +Polish refugees, Germans, Italians, even English acquaintances +kept coming and going with beaming faces. +It was a bright, warm day; after dinner we went out into +the garden.</p> + +<p>Some lads were playing on the bank of the Thames. +I called them up to the railing and told them we were +celebrating the death of their enemy, and flung them a +handful of small silver for beer and sweets. ‘Hurrah! +hurrah!’ shouted the lads. ‘Impernikel is dead! Impernikel +is dead!’</p> + +<p>My visitors too began flinging them sixpences and +threepenny-bits; the lads bought ale and tarts and cakes, +got hold of a concertina, and began dancing. After that, +as long as I lived at Twickenham, the lads used to take +off their caps when they met me in the street, and shout: +‘Impernikel is dead! hurrah!’</p> + +<p>The death of Nicholas multiplied our hopes and +energies tenfold. I at once wrote the letter to the +Emperor Alexander, afterwards published, and made up +my mind to bring out the <i>Polar Star</i> at once.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_313">[313]</span></p> + +<p>‘May reason prevail!’ broke involuntarily from my +tongue at the head of my programme. ‘The <i>Polar Star</i>⁠<a id="FNanchor_98" href="#Footnote_98" class="fnanchor">[98]</a> +has been hidden behind the storm-clouds of the reign +of Nicholas; Nicholas has gone, and the <i>Polar Star</i> +appears again on the day which is our Good Friday, the +day on which five gibbets became for us five crucifixes.’</p> + +<p>It was a powerful, stimulating impetus; we set to +work with redoubled energy. I announced that I was +bringing out the <i>Polar Star</i>; Engelson at last took up +his article on socialism about which he had been talking +in Italy. It might have been expected that we should +go on working for a couple of years or more ... but +his irritable vanity made any work with him insufferable. +His wife encouraged his infatuation. ‘My husband’s +article,’ she used to say, ‘will be taken as a new epoch +in the history of Russian thought. If he writes nothing +else, his place in history will be assured.’</p> + +<p>The article, ‘What is the State?’ was good, but its +success did not justify his wife’s anticipations. Moreover, +it appeared at the wrong moment. Awakening Russia +demanded, just at that time, practical advice, and not +philosophical treatises <i>à la</i> Proudhon and Schopenhauer.</p> + +<p>The whole of the article had not yet been published, +when a new quarrel of a different character from all the +preceding ones almost completely severed all relations +between us.</p> + +<p>One day when I was with them I spoke jestingly of +their having sent for the third time for a doctor for their +baby, who had a cold in its head and a slight chill.</p> + +<p>‘So because we are poor,’ said Madame Engelson, and +all her old spiteful hatred a hundred times intensified +flamed in her face, ‘our little one is to die without medical +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_314">[314]</span>assistance? And you say that? You, a socialist and +the friend of my husband, who refuse him fifty pounds, +and are exploiting him over his lessons.’</p> + +<p>I listened in amazement, and asked Engelson whether +he shared this view or not. He was embarrassed, his +face flushed in patches, he besought her to be silent.... +She went on. I got up and, interrupting her, said: +‘You are ill and are nursing your baby, I am not going +to answer you, but I am not going to listen either.... +You will hardly think it strange that I shall not set foot +in your house again.’</p> + +<p>Engelson, distraught and melancholy, caught up his +hat and came out into the street with me: ‘Don’t take +<i>au pied de la lettre</i> the unbridled language of an hysterical +woman....’ He went off into a muddle of explanations. +‘I will come and give my lesson to-morrow,’ +he said. I shook hands with him and went home +without a word.</p> + +<p>All this calls for explanations, and the most painful +ones, too, relating not to opinions and public affairs but +to the kitchen and account books. Nevertheless, I will +make an effort to clear up this side of our relations too. +Squeamishness, that sentimentalism of purity, is out of +place in pathological investigation.</p> + +<p>The Engelsons were scarcely entitled to reckon themselves +poor people. They received ten thousand francs +a year from Russia, and he could easily earn another five +thousand by translations, reviews, and school-books; +Engelson was a proficient linguist. Trübner’s, the booksellers, +had ordered a lexicon of Russian roots and a +grammar from him; he could, like Pierre Leroux, like +Kinkel, like Esquiros, give lessons. But, like a regular +Russian, he took up everything—the dictionary, the +translations, and the lessons—never finished anything, +never put himself out, and never earned a farthing.</p> + +<p>Neither husband nor wife was prudent or capable +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_315">[315]</span>of managing their affairs. The continual fever in which +they lived prevented them from thinking about household +management. He had come from Russia with +no definite plan, and remained in Europe with no definite +object. He had taken no steps whatever to secure his +property, and <i>un beau jour</i>, panic-stricken, made a hasty +arrangement of some sort by which he limited his income +to ten thousand francs, a sum which he did not receive +quite punctually, but always received sooner or later.</p> + +<p>That Engelson would not make both ends meet with +his ten thousand francs was evident; that he would not +know how to economise was equally clear; all that was +left for him was to work or to borrow. At first, after +coming to London, he borrowed about forty pounds +from me ... a little time afterwards he asked for +money again.... I had a serious and friendly talk +with him about this, and told him I was ready to help +him, but that I absolutely refused to lend him more than +ten pounds a month. Engelson frowned. However, he +did twice take a ten-pound note; then suddenly he wrote +to me that he needed fifty pounds, and, if I did not care +to lend it him or did not trust him, he begged me to get +it for him by pawning some diamonds. All this could +hardly be taken seriously; if he had really wanted to +pawn the diamonds, he ought to have taken them to +some pawnbroker and not to me.... Knowing him +and being sorry for him, I wrote that I would pawn the +diamonds for fifty pounds, if they would give that, and +would send him the money. Next day I sent a cheque, +but the diamonds, which he would certainly have sold +or pawned, I put away to keep for him. He took no +notice of the fact that no interest was asked for the fifty +pounds, and believed that I had pawned the diamonds.</p> + +<p>The second point relating to the lessons is even +simpler. While I was in London, S. gave Russian +lessons to my children, charging four shillings an hour. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_316">[316]</span>In Richmond, Engelson offered to take S.’s place. I +asked him about terms; he answered that it was difficult +for him to talk of terms with me, but that, as he had no +money, he would take what I had paid S.</p> + +<p>On reaching home I wrote a letter to Engelson: I +reminded him that he had himself fixed the terms for +the lessons, but that I begged him to take double the +amount for all the lessons in the past. Then I wrote +what had led me to keep his diamonds, and sent them +back to him.</p> + +<p>He sent a confused answer, thanked me, expressed +vexation, and came in the evening himself, and went on +coming as before. His wife I did not see again.</p> + +<h4>VII</h4> + +<p>A month later, Zeno Swentoslawski, and with him +Linton,⁠<a id="FNanchor_99" href="#Footnote_99" class="fnanchor">[99]</a> the English republican, were dining with me. +Engelson came in towards the end of dinner. Swentoslawski, +the purest-hearted and best of men, a fanatic +who at over fifty retained the reckless fire of a Pole and +the impulsive impetuosity of a boy of fifteen, was urging +the necessity of our returning to Russia and beginning +a keen propaganda in print there. He undertook to +convey the type, and so on.</p> + +<p>After listening to him, I said half in jest to Engelson: +‘I say, you know, <i>on nous accusera de lâcheté</i> if he goes +alone.’</p> + +<p>Engelson made a grimace and went away.</p> + +<p>Next day I went up to London and did not come +back till the evening; my son, who was lying down with +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_317">[317]</span>a feverish attack, told me, in great excitement, that +Engelson had come in my absence, that he had abused +me terribly, had said that he would pay me out, that he +was not going to put up with my authority any longer, +and that he did not need me now <i>since his article had been +published</i>. I did not know what to think, whether +Sasha was delirious from fever or Engelson had come +in dead drunk.</p> + +<p>From Malwida von Meysenbug⁠<a id="FNanchor_100" href="#Footnote_100" class="fnanchor">[100]</a> I learnt more. She +told me with horror of his violence. ‘Herzen,’ he had +shouted in a nervous, gasping voice, ‘called me <i>lâche</i> +yesterday in the presence of two strangers.’ Malwida +interrupted him, saying that I had not been talking +about him at all, that I had said ‘<i>on nous taxera de lâcheté</i>,’ +speaking of all of us generally. ‘If Herzen feels that +he is doing something mean, let him speak for himself, +but I will not allow him to speak like that of me, and in +the presence of two blackguards too.’</p> + +<p>My elder girl, then ten years old, had run in at the +sound of his shouts. Engelson had gone on: ‘No, +this is the end of it, it is enough. I am not accustomed +to it, I will not allow myself to be trifled with, I will +show him whom he has to deal with ...,’ pulled a +revolver out of his pocket and went on shouting, ‘It is +loaded, it is loaded, I will wait for him....’</p> + +<p>Malwida got up and told him that she insisted on his +leaving her, that she was not obliged to listen to his wild +ravings, that she could only put down his behaviour to +illness. ‘I am going,’ he said; ‘don’t trouble; but first +I want to ask you to give Herzen this letter.’ He opened +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_318">[318]</span>it and began reading it aloud; the letter was a string of +abuse.</p> + +<p>Malwida von Meysenbug refused the commission, asking +him why he expected her to act as an intermediary in +forwarding such a letter.</p> + +<p>‘I will find means without your help,’ observed +Engelson, and went away.</p> + +<p>He did not send the letter, but a day later he sent me +a note; in it, without saying one word about what had +passed, he wrote that he had an attack of hæmorrhage, +that he could not come to me, and begged me to send +the children to him.</p> + +<p>I said that there was no answer, and again all diplomatic +relations were broken off; hostile relations remained. +Engelson did not let slip a chance of turning them to +account.</p> + +<p>From Richmond I moved in the autumn of 1855 to +St. John’s Wood. Engelson was forgotten for some +months. Suddenly, in the spring of 1856, I received a +note, suggestive of a duel, from Orsini, whom I had seen +two days previously.</p> + +<p>Coldly and courteously, he asked me to let him know +whether it was the truth that Saffi and I were spreading +a rumour that he was an Austrian spy. He asked me +either to give an unqualified <i>démenti</i>, or to indicate +from whom I had heard this abominable calumny.</p> + +<p>Orsini was justified; I should have done the same in +his place. Perhaps he ought to have had more confidence +in Saffi and in me—but the insult was terrific.</p> + +<p>Any one who knew anything of Orsini’s character +would understand that such a man, attacked in the +most holy of holies of his honour, could not stop short +at half measures. The affair could only be settled by +our <i>absolute</i> innocence or by the death of some one.</p> + +<p>From the first minute it was clear to me that the blow +came from Engelson. He no doubt reckoned on one +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_319">[319]</span>side of Orsini’s character, but fortunately there was +another which he had overlooked. Orsini combined +with violent passions an intense power of self-control; +he was cautious among dangers, thought over every +step he took, and never reached a decision on the spur +of the moment, because when once he had reached a +decision he wasted no time in criticism, in doubt, in +reconsideration, but carried it out. We saw this later +in the Rue Lepelletier. He acted in the same way now. +He tried without haste to investigate the matter, to find +out who was guilty, and then, if he succeeded, to kill him.</p> + +<p>Engelson’s second mistake lay in quite unnecessarily +bringing in Saffi.</p> + +<p>The facts were these. Six months before my rupture +with Engelson I happened to be one morning at the house +of Mrs. Milner-Gibson (the wife of the minister): +there I found Saffi and Pianciani; they were saying something +to her about Orsini. As I went away I asked +Saffi what they had been talking about. ‘Only fancy,’ +he answered: ‘Mrs. Milner-Gibson had been told in +Geneva that Orsini had been bribed in Austria....’ +On reaching home at Richmond I had repeated this to +Engelson. We were both then dissatisfied with Orsini. +‘The devil take him entirely!’ observed Engelson, and +nothing more was said on the subject. When Orsini +made his marvellous escape from Mantua we thought +in our own circle of the accusation heard by Mrs. Milner-Gibson. +The arrival of Orsini himself, his story, his +wounded foot, entirely effaced this absurd suspicion.</p> + +<p>I asked Orsini to give me an interview. He asked +me to go the following evening. In the morning I +went to Saffi and showed him Orsini’s note. He at +once offered to go with me, as indeed I expected he +would. Ogaryov, who had only just arrived in London, +was a witness of this interview.</p> + +<p>Saffi described the conversation at Mrs. Milner-Gibson’s +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_320">[320]</span>with the simplicity and straightforwardness +which are his distinguishing characteristics. I filled in +the rest of the story. Orsini thought a minute, and then +said: ‘Well, may I ask Mrs. Milner-Gibson about this?’</p> + +<p>‘Of course,’ answered Saffi.</p> + +<p>‘Yes, I believe I have been too hasty; but,’ he asked +me, ‘tell me, why did you speak of it to an outsider +instead of warning me?’</p> + +<p>‘You forget, Orsini, the time when it happened, and +that the <i>outsider</i> to whom I spoke was at that time not +an outsider; you know better than most people what he +was then to me.’</p> + +<p>‘I have mentioned no one....’</p> + +<p>‘Let me finish. Why, do you suppose it is easy for +a man to repeat such things? If these rumours had +spread, perhaps I ought to have warned you—but who +is speaking about it now? As for your having mentioned +no one’s name, you are making a great mistake there. +Bring me face to face with my accuser, then it will be +still more evident what part each has played in these +slanders.’</p> + +<p>Orsini smiled, got up, came to me, embraced me, +embraced Saffi, and said: ‘<i>Amici</i>, we will end the +matter; forgive me, let us forget all about it and talk of +something else.’</p> + +<p>‘That’s all very well, and you were perfectly right to +ask me for an explanation, but why do you not name my +accuser? In the first place, it is useless to conceal it +... it was Engelson told you this.’</p> + +<p>‘Give me your word that you will drop the matter?’</p> + +<p>‘I will give you my word before two witnesses.’</p> + +<p>‘Well, you have guessed right.’</p> + +<p>I anticipated this confirmation, yet it sent a pang to +my heart as though I had still doubted it.</p> + +<p>‘Remember what you have promised,’ Orsini added, +after a brief silence.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_321">[321]</span></p> + +<p>‘You need not worry about that. But to make up +to me and to Saffi you might tell us how it happened; you +see, we know all that matters.’</p> + +<p>Orsini laughed. ‘What curiosity!’ he said. ‘You +know Engelson. He came to me the other day: I was in +the dining-room’—(Orsini lived in a boarding-house)—‘and +having dinner alone. He had already dined. I asked +for a bottle of sherry for him; he drank it, and at once +began complaining of you—that you had ill-treated him, +that you had broken off all relations with him—and after +gossiping about all sorts of things asked how you had +received me on my return. I answered that you had +given me a very friendly welcome, that I had dined with +you, and that I had been to you in the evening.... +Engelson all at once began shouting: “That’s just like +them ... I know those gentry; it’s not long since +he and his friend and admirer Saffi were saying that you +were an Austrian spy, but now you’re famous again and +in the fashion, and he is your friend!” “Engelson,” I +observed, “do you fully understand the gravity of what +you’ve just said?” “Fully, fully,” he repeated. “Will +you be ready under all circumstances to repeat your +words?” “Under all circumstances!”</p> + +<p>‘When he had gone I took a sheet of paper and wrote +you a letter. That’s the whole story.’</p> + +<p>We all went out into the street. Orsini, as though +guessing what was passing within me, said by way of +consolation, ‘He’s crazy.’</p> + +<p>Soon afterwards Orsini went to Paris, and his beautiful +classical head rolled bleeding on to the platform of the +guillotine.</p> + +<p>The first news of Engelson was the news of his death +in Jersey.</p> + +<p>No word of reconciliation, no word of remorse reached +me....</p> + +<p class="hanging">(1858.)</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_322">[322]</span></p> + +<p class="mt2"><i>P.S.</i>—In 1864 I received a strange letter from Naples. +It spoke of the apparition of my wife’s soul, and of her +having appealed to me to turn to religion and purify my +soul with it, and to abandon worldly vanities....</p> + +<p>The writer said that it was all written at the dictation +of the spirit; the tone of the letter was warm, friendly, +and ecstatic.</p> + +<p>The letter was unsigned; I recognised the handwriting; +it was from Madame Engelson.⁠<a id="FNanchor_101" href="#Footnote_101" class="fnanchor">[101]</a>⁠</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="FOOTNOTES">FOOTNOTES</h2> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_1" href="#FNanchor_1" class="label">[1]</a> There is this now.—(<i>Author’s Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_2" href="#FNanchor_2" class="label">[2]</a> <i>Le Charivari</i> was the French <i>Punch</i> (earlier in date, however, +<i>Punch</i> being called ‘The London Charivari’ as a sub-title), +founded in 1831 by Charles Philipon, a caricaturist of great talent.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_3" href="#FNanchor_3" class="label">[3]</a> The Comte d’Argout had much to do in bringing about the +fall of Charles <span class="allsmcap">X.</span>, and held several important ministerial appointments +under Louis-Philippe.—(<i>Translator’s Notes.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_4" href="#FNanchor_4" class="label">[4]</a> I have heard this criticism a dozen times since.—(<i>Author’s +Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_5" href="#FNanchor_5" class="label">[5]</a> The Comte de Chambord, grandson of Charles <span class="allsmcap">X.</span>, was by the +royalists called Henri Cinq.—(<i>Translator’s Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_6" href="#FNanchor_6" class="label">[6]</a> The celebrated Victor Panin.—(<i>Author’s Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_7" href="#FNanchor_7" class="label">[7]</a> <i>I.e.</i> stabs with a dagger.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_8" href="#FNanchor_8" class="label">[8]</a> At the Rouen elections for the Constituent Assembly in +April, the Socialist candidates were heavily defeated; the workmen, +suspecting some fraud, assembled, unarmed, before the Hôtel de +Ville, to protest. They were attacked by soldiers and National +Guards; eleven were killed and many wounded.—(<i>Translator’s Notes.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_9" href="#FNanchor_9" class="label">[9]</a> Sibour, Marie Dominique Auguste (1792-1857), was appointed +on 10th of July 1848, by General Cavaignac, to the archi-episcopal +see of Paris to replace Affre, who died of wounds received in the +June days. He was himself assassinated in church by the Abbé +Vergur, whom he had interdicted.—(<i>Translator’s Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_10" href="#FNanchor_10" class="label">[10]</a> Written at the end of 1853.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_11" href="#FNanchor_11" class="label">[11]</a> English in the original.—(<i>Translator’s Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_12" href="#FNanchor_12" class="label">[12]</a> Cavaignac, Louis-Eugène (1802-1857), the youngest of the +three distinguished Frenchmen of that name, was commander-in-chief +in 1848, and an unsuccessful candidate for the presidency of +the Republic when Louis-Napoleon (afterwards Napoleon <span class="allsmcap">III.</span>) was +elected on 10th December 1848.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_13" href="#FNanchor_13" class="label">[13]</a> Lamoricière, Louis de (1806-1865), a prominent politician and +general, was exiled in December 1848, and afterwards took command +of the Papal troops.—(<i>Translator’s Notes.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_14" href="#FNanchor_14" class="label">[14]</a> David (d’Angers), Pierre-Jean (1789-1856), must not be confounded +with the great painter Louis David. David d’Angers was +a celebrated sculptor of republican principles, who executed busts +or medallions of most of the eminent men of his day. He was a +great friend of Hugo, who wrote of him in <i>Les Rayons et les Ombres</i>: +‘La forme, ô grand sculpteur, c’est tout et ce n’est rien. Ce n’est +rien sans l’esprit, c’est tout avec l’idée!’—(<i>Translator’s Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_15" href="#FNanchor_15" class="label">[15]</a> Barbès, Armand (1809-1870), called the ‘Bayard de la démocratie,’ +was a people’s representative in 1848, imprisoned in 1849, +and set free in 1854.—(<i>Translator’s Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_16" href="#FNanchor_16" class="label">[16]</a> Ramon de la Sagra (1798-1871), a Spanish economist, took part +in the revolutionary movement of 1848 in France, and wrote advocating +the views of Proudhon. In 1854 he returned to Spain, and was +several times elected a member of the Cortes. He was, of course, +not seventy, as Herzen mistakenly assumes, but fifty, in 1848.—(<i>Translator’s +Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_17" href="#FNanchor_17" class="label">[17]</a> A mountain chain of Old Castile, where the French defeated +the Spanish in 1808.—(<i>Translator’s Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_18" href="#FNanchor_18" class="label">[18]</a> Written in 1856.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_19" href="#FNanchor_19" class="label">[19]</a> Rayer, P. F. O., was a distinguished French physician, and +author of numerous medical works.—(<i>Translator’s Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_20" href="#FNanchor_20" class="label">[20]</a> Delessert, Gabriel, born 1786, was prefect of police of the town +of Paris for twelve years from 1836.—(<i>Translator’s Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_21" href="#FNanchor_21" class="label">[21]</a> A character in Gogol’s <i>Dead Souls</i>.—(<i>Translator’s Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_22" href="#FNanchor_22" class="label">[22]</a> Arago, Emmanuel (1812-1896), the son of the more distinguished +F. D. Arago, who was one of the members of the Provisional +Government formed after the <i>coup d’état</i> of 24th February 1848. +The others were Ledru-Rollin, Dupont de l’Eure, Garnier-Pagès, +Lamartine, Crémieux, Marrast, Flocon, and Louis Blanc.—(<i>Translator’s +Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_23" href="#FNanchor_23" class="label">[23]</a> Bastide, Jules (born 1800), a publicist and politician, was minister +for foreign affairs in 1848. He had had an eventful career, and for +two years took refuge in England after escaping from prison, where he +was thrown for taking part in the riots that followed the funeral +of Lamarque in 1832.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_24" href="#FNanchor_24" class="label">[24]</a> Changarnier, Nicolas (1793-1877), a prominent politician and +general, was exiled at the <i>coup d’état</i> of 1851, but lived to serve in the +Franco-German War of 1870.—(<i>Translator’s Notes.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_25" href="#FNanchor_25" class="label">[25]</a> Guinard, Auguste-Joseph (born 1799), had been one of the first +to proclaim the republic in February 1848, and at the head of the +8th Legion had occupied the Hôtel de Ville.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_26" href="#FNanchor_26" class="label">[26]</a> Forestier, Henri-Joseph (born 1787), was a painter of merit. +He was colonel of the 8th Legion of the National Guard.—(<i>Translator’s +Notes.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_27" href="#FNanchor_27" class="label">[27]</a> Karl Blind (born 1826), a writer and revolutionist, was for the +part he took in the insurrections in South Germany sentenced to +eight years’ imprisonment, but was rescued by the mob. He settled +in England, where he continued journalistic and propaganda work +up to the time of his death.—(<i>Translator’s Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_28" href="#FNanchor_28" class="label">[28]</a> How well founded my apprehensions were was shown by a +police raid on my mother’s house at the Ville d’Avray. They seized +all the papers, even the correspondence of her maid with my cook. +I thought it inopportune to publish my account of the 13th of +June at the time.—(<i>Author’s Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_29" href="#FNanchor_29" class="label">[29]</a> Oran, a province of Algeria in which the French carried on a +successful campaign against Abd-el-Kader in 1847.—(<i>Translator’s +Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_30" href="#FNanchor_30" class="label">[30]</a> Pyat, Félix (1810-1889), a journalist, dramatic writer, and +communist leader, supported Ledru-Rollin’s appeal to the French +people in 1849, and on its failure escaped to Switzerland and then +to London, where he was a member of the ‘European Revolutionary +Committee.’ He returned to France at the amnesty of 1870, and +was in 1871 one of the leaders of the Commune, on the fall of which +he again escaped to London. He was condemned to death in his +absence, but was again pardoned in 1880.—(<i>Translator’s Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_31" href="#FNanchor_31" class="label">[31]</a> Grandville, Jean-Ignace-Isidore (born 1802), was one of the most +celebrated book-illustrators of his time. Perhaps his most famous +book is <i>Les animaux peints par eux-mêmes</i>. He was deeply interested +in animals, insects, and fishes, and drew them wonderfully. He +edited <i>La Caricature</i>, in which all the most eminent people of his +time in Paris are depicted. He died, insane, in 1850.—(<i>Translator’s +Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_32" href="#FNanchor_32" class="label">[32]</a> In 1848 there was an insurrection in Baden, headed by Struve +and Hecker, which aimed at establishing a republic. The troops +sided with the insurgents, the Grand Duke fled, and in May 1848 +a Constituent Assembly was called. After several battles the Grand +Duke was by Prussian aid reinstated in July of the same year.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_33" href="#FNanchor_33" class="label">[33]</a> Görgei, Arthur (1818), was commander-in-chief of the Hungarian +forces in 1848, was victorious over the Austrians in the spring +of that year, but was defeated early in August by the Russian general +Paskevitch, and on the 13th of that month surrendered the Hungarian +army unconditionally to Rüdiger, another Russian general. He was +accused of treachery.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_34" href="#FNanchor_34" class="label">[34]</a> Coblenz was one of the chief centres to which the <i>émigrés</i> of +the great French revolution flocked from 1790 onwards.—(<i>Translator’s +Notes.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_35" href="#FNanchor_35" class="label">[35]</a> The Commission of Inquiry was presided over by Odilon Barrot; +the report, drawn up by one Bauchart, is described as a ‘<i>monument +impérissable de mauvaise foi et de basse fureur</i>.’</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_36" href="#FNanchor_36" class="label">[36]</a> Kapp, Friedrich (1820-1884), a German historian, after the +revolution of 1848 went to New York, but returned to Berlin in +1870, became a Liberal member of the Reichstag.—(<i>Translator’s +Notes.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_37" href="#FNanchor_37" class="label">[37]</a> The more thoroughgoing of the followers of John Huss were +called Taborites, from their headquarters at Mt. Tabor in Bohemia.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_38" href="#FNanchor_38" class="label">[38]</a> Heinzen, Karl Peter (1827-1880), wrote for the <i>Leipziger +Allgemeine Zeitung</i> and the <i>Rheinische Zeitung</i>, and his articles led +to the suppression of these two papers. He published an attack +on the government, ‘Die prussische Bureaucratie,’ for which he was +prosecuted. In 1848 he was one of the leaders of the Baden revolution. +Later on he escaped to America, where he edited <i>The Pioneer</i>.—(<i>Translator’s +Notes.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_39" href="#FNanchor_39" class="label">[39]</a> Undergraduates in their first year were called ‘foxes’ in German +universities.—(<i>Translator’s Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_40" href="#FNanchor_40" class="label">[40]</a> <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/files/78332/78332-h/78332-h.htm#Chapter_27">See Vol. II. Chapter 27.</a></p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_41" href="#FNanchor_41" class="label">[41]</a> The ‘Bolognese insurrection’ began on 2nd February 1831 at +the house of Ciro Menotti at Modena. There thirty-one conspirators +surprised by the ducal troops held the soldiers at bay for hours.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_42" href="#FNanchor_42" class="label">[42]</a> Attilio and Emilio Bandiera, two young Venetians, lieutenants +in the Austrian navy, attempted an insurrection in 1843. On its +failure they escaped to Corfu; but, misled by false information, +landed in Calabria with twenty companions, were caught and shot +at Cosenza in July of the same year. Their letters to Mazzini in +London had been opened by the English authorities, who then +resealed them and sent the information so gained to the Austrian +Government. Sir James Graham and Lord Aberdeen were principally +responsible.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_43" href="#FNanchor_43" class="label">[43]</a> Babeuf, François-Émile, nicknamed Gracchus (1760-1797), +conspired against the Directoire, was condemned to death, but +stabbed himself. He advocated a form of communism called +<i>babouvisme</i>.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_44" href="#FNanchor_44" class="label">[44]</a> The reference is to Orsini’s attempt to assassinate Napoleon <span class="allsmcap">III.</span> +on 14th January 1858.—(<i>Translator’s Notes.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_45" href="#FNanchor_45" class="label">[45]</a> ‘In 1857 Pisacane seized the <i>Cagliari</i> steamer, freed the political +prisoners in the island of Ponza, and with a small force effected a +landing on the Neapolitan coast at Sapri, hoping to join others of the +republican party. Met by overwhelming numbers, he fell at the +head of his men, most of them falling with him.’</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_46" href="#FNanchor_46" class="label">[46]</a> The ‘wild boar’ meant is, of course, Ferdinand <span class="allsmcap">II.</span> of Naples, +nicknamed Bomba because of the cruel bombardment of Naples and +other cities during the suppression of the insurrection.—(<i>Translator’s +Notes.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_47" href="#FNanchor_47" class="label">[47]</a> Here is a poor prose translation of these wonderful lines, which +have passed into a popular legend:—</p> + +<p>‘They gathered with weapons in their hands, but they did not +war with us; they threw themselves on the earth and kissed it, the +tear quivered in their eyes, and all wore a smile. We were told they +were robbers who had come out of their dens; but they took nothing, +not even a crust of bread, and we heard from them one cry only: +“We have come to die for our country!” They were three +hundred, they were young and strong! And they are dead!</p> + +<p>‘At their head came a young leader with golden hair and blue eyes.... +I made so bold I took him by the hand and asked: “Whither +goest thou, splendid leader?” He looked at me and said: “My +sister, I go to die for my country!” and my heart ached; I had not +strength to say: “God be thy help!”</p> + +<p>‘They were three hundred, they were young and strong! And +they are dead!’</p> + +<p>And I knew the <i>bel capitano</i>, and more than once talked with him +of the fortunes of his distressful country.—(<i>Author’s Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_48" href="#FNanchor_48" class="label">[48]</a> Napoleon, so the newspapers wrote, ordered Orsini’s head to be +steeped in sulphuric acid that it might be impossible to take a death +mask from it. What progress in humanity and chemistry since the +days when the head of John the Baptist was given on a golden dish +to the daughter of Herod!—(<i>Author’s Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_49" href="#FNanchor_49" class="label">[49]</a> Pope Pius <span class="allsmcap">VII.</span> signed the Concordat of 15th July 1801 with +Napoleon, was forced by the latter to come to Paris to consecrate +him as Emperor in 1804, was later on kept prisoner in Fontainebleau, +and only returned to Rome in 1814.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_50" href="#FNanchor_50" class="label">[50]</a> The Cristinos were the supporters of the Spanish Queen Regent +Cristina against the Carlists.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_51" href="#FNanchor_51" class="label">[51]</a> Cardinal Mastai Ferretti, elected Pope in 1846, known as +Pius <span class="allsmcap">IX.</span>—(<i>Translator’s Notes.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_52" href="#FNanchor_52" class="label">[52]</a> Cosenz (born 1820) was an Italian general who defended Venice +against the Austrians in 1848, joined Garibaldi in 1859, was minister +of war under the latter’s dictatorship in Naples, later on was +several times elected to the Chamber of Deputies, and was a senator +after 1872.—(<i>Translator’s Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_53" href="#FNanchor_53" class="label">[53]</a> Barbier, Henri-Auguste (1805-1882), a French poet, was the +author of a volume of verses called <i>Iambes</i>.—(<i>Translator’s Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_54" href="#FNanchor_54" class="label">[54]</a> All this has greatly changed since the Crimean War (1866).—(<i>Author’s +Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_55" href="#FNanchor_55" class="label">[55]</a> <i>The Times</i>, two years ago, reckoned that on an average in every +police district in London (there are ten) there were two hundred +cases of assaults on women and children per annum; and how +many assaults never lead to proceedings?—(<i>Author’s Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_56" href="#FNanchor_56" class="label">[56]</a> The <i>Sonderbund</i> was the alliance of the seven Catholic cantons +of Switzerland, which aimed at separation from the Federal Government. +It was dissolved after a brief civil war.—(<i>Translator’s Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_57" href="#FNanchor_57" class="label">[57]</a> Weitling, Wilhelm (born 1808), got into touch with communists +in Paris and Switzerland during his wanderings as a journeyman +tailor, was prosecuted for propaganda of his ideas in Germany, +escaped to America, where he became the head of a communist +colony in the state of Iowa, wrote <i>Das Evangelium des armen Sünders</i>, +<i>Garantien der Harmonie und Freiheit</i> (1842), and <i>Die Menschheit wie +sie ist und wie sie sein sollte</i> (1845).—(<i>Translator’s Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_58" href="#FNanchor_58" class="label">[58]</a> Périer, Casimir-Pierre (1777-1832), was a wealthy banker who +supported the Liberal opposition under Charles <span class="allsmcap">X.</span>, and after the +Paris revolution of 1830 became Minister of the Interior under +Louis-Philippe, in which capacity he vigorously suppressed risings +in Paris and Lyons.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_59" href="#FNanchor_59" class="label">[59]</a> Laffitte, Jacques (1767-1844), was a French financier who took +an active part in bringing about the revolution of 1830, and was at +first the most influential minister of Louis-Philippe’s government. +He was dismissed by the king because he wished the French to +go to the assistance of Italy in her effort to throw off the Austrian +yoke, and was succeeded by Périer.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_60" href="#FNanchor_60" class="label">[60]</a> Cavaignac, Godefroy (1801-1845), the eldest son of J. B. +Cavaignac, the member of the Convention, took a leading part in the +July revolution of 1830, was tried and acquitted, again arrested in +1834, and escaped to England. In 1841 he returned to France and +became one of the most active editors of <i>La Réforme</i>. His popularity +greatly favoured the rise of his brother, Louis-Eugène, the general, +who, though he put down the June rising in 1848, remained under a +cloud under Napoleon <span class="allsmcap">III.</span> because he refused to take the oath of +allegiance.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_61" href="#FNanchor_61" class="label">[61]</a> Marrast, Armand (1801-1852), a journalist, was a member of +the Provisional Government of 1848, and then mayor of Paris and +president of the National Assembly.—(<i>Translator’s Notes.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_62" href="#FNanchor_62" class="label">[62]</a> Drouey (1799-1855) led the revolution in his canton in 1845, +in 1849 was elected vice-president of the Swiss Federal Union, +and in 1850 president.—(<i>Translator’s Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_63" href="#FNanchor_63" class="label">[63]</a> Blenker, Ludwig (born 1812), served in 1832 in Greece in the +Bavarian legion of King Otto, and was afterwards a wine merchant +in Worms. In 1848 he became a prominent figure of the revolutionary +party in Rheingessen, and as a leader of the insurgents took +Worms and stormed Landau. When the Baden rising was suppressed +he escaped to Switzerland, whence he was expelled, and +then went to America, where during the Civil War in 1861 he collected +a troop of German <i>Jäger</i> and saved Washington from the +enemy, became a general, but afterwards for some negligence in +the commissariat was forcibly retired with M’Clellan, and spent the +rest of his days peacefully on his farm.—(<i>Translator’s Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_64" href="#FNanchor_64" class="label">[64]</a> Here I seem to have justified the famous ‘I hear the silence!’ +of the Moscow police-master.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_65" href="#FNanchor_65" class="label">[65]</a> As a matter of fact, <i>our</i> scepticism was not known in the last +century; England and Diderot alone are the exceptions. In England +scepticism has been at home for long ages, and Byron follows naturally +on Shakespeare, Hobbes, and Hume.—(<i>Author’s Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_66" href="#FNanchor_66" class="label">[66]</a> Here Herzen ignorantly uses the word ‘Quaker’ as equivalent +to ‘Nonconformist,’ or perhaps ‘Puritan.’ It is needless to point +out that tolerance is one of the most prominent principles of the +Society of Friends.—(<i>Translator’s Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_67" href="#FNanchor_67" class="label">[67]</a> These fragments, printed in vol. iv. of <i>The Polar Star</i>, ended with +the following dedication, written before the arrival of Ogaryov in +London and before the death of Granovsky:</p> + +<p>‘... Accept this skull—it belongs to you by right’ (<i>Pushkin</i>).</p> + +<p>Here for the time we will stop. Some day I shall publish the +chapters I have omitted and shall write others, without which my +narrative remains unintelligible, incomplete, perhaps useless, and in +any case will not be what I meant. But all that must be later, +much later....</p> + +<p>Now let us part; and one word at leave-taking, to you friends +of my youth.</p> + +<p>When everything had been buried, when even the clamour partly +provoked by me, partly spontaneous, had subsided about me, and +people had dispersed to their homes, I lifted up my head and +looked around me; I had nothing living, nothing akin to me but +my children. Wandering among strangers, watching them more +closely, I gave up seeking <i>friends</i> and held aloof—not from men +but from intimacy with them.</p> + +<p>It is true, at times it seems that I have still feelings in my +heart, words which it is a pity not to utter, which might do good +or at least bring comfort to the listener, and one is sorry that it +must all be smothered and lost in the soul, as the eye loses itself +in the empty distance ... but that is the rapidly fading glow of +sunset, the reflection of the retreating past.</p> + +<p>It is to that that I have turned back. I have left the world +alien to me and have come back to you; and again we have been +living together as in old times, are meeting every day, and nothing +is changed, no one has grown older, no one is dead—and I am as +at home with you, and it is as clear that I have no other +standpoint than ours, no vocation but that to which I dedicated +myself from childhood.</p> + +<p>My story of the past is, maybe, dull and feeble, but you, friends, +will give it a warm reception; this work has helped me to live +through a terrible period, it has lifted me out of the idle despair in +which I was perishing, it has brought me back to you. With it +I enter upon my winter, not <i>gaily</i> but <i>calmly</i> (in the words of the +poet whom I love beyond measure):—</p> + +<p>‘<i>Lieta no ... ma sicura!</i>’ said Leopardi of death in his +<i>Ruysch e le sui mummie</i>.</p> + +<p>So all unwittingly you have saved me: accept this skull—it +belongs to you by right.</p> + +<p class="hanging" style="margin-top: 0.5em;"><span class="smcap">Isle of Wight, Ventnor</span>,<br> +<i>October 1, 1855</i>.</p> + +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_68" href="#FNanchor_68" class="label">[68]</a> This endorsement is done for security in sending cheques in +order that no one else should be able to receive the money.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_69" href="#FNanchor_69" class="label">[69]</a> This was not P. D. Kisselyov, who was in Paris later, the well-known +minister of crown property, a very decent man; but the other +one, afterwards transferred to Rome.—(<i>Author’s Notes.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_70" href="#FNanchor_70" class="label">[70]</a> I translate it word for word.—(<i>Author’s Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_71" href="#FNanchor_71" class="label">[71]</a> Mlle. Le Normand (1772-1843) was a well-known fortune-teller +of the period.—(<i>Translator’s Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_72" href="#FNanchor_72" class="label">[72]</a> Later on Professor Tchitcherin preached a doctrine somewhat +similar in the Moscow University.—(<i>Author’s Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_73" href="#FNanchor_73" class="label">[73]</a> Pestel was the leader of the Union of the South, and Ryleyev +of the Union of the North, which combined in the attempt to overthrow +the autocracy and establish constitutional government in +Russia on December 14, 1825.—(<i>Translator’s Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_74" href="#FNanchor_74" class="label">[74]</a> A French revolutionist, one of the founders of the <i>culte de la +raison</i>, beheaded in 1794.—(<i>Translator’s Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_75" href="#FNanchor_75" class="label">[75]</a> I cannot forbear adding that I had to correct this very page at +Freiburg, and in the same Zöringer Hof. And the host was still the +same, looking like a regular innkeeper, and the dining-room in which +I sat with Sazonov in 1851 was the same, and the room in which a +year later I wrote my will, making Karl Vogt my executor: and this +page brings back to me so many details.</p> + +<p>Fifteen years!</p> + +<p>Unconsciously, unaccountably, one is seized with terror....</p> + +<p><i>14th October 1866.</i>—(<i>Author’s Note.</i>)</p> + +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_76" href="#FNanchor_76" class="label">[76]</a> Frappoli, Ludovico (1815-1878), an Italian politician who took +part in the revolutionary movement of 1848, was a partisan of +Garibaldi’s, and always on the extreme left in the Italian Parliament. +He reintroduced Freemasonry into Italy.—(<i>Translator’s Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_77" href="#FNanchor_77" class="label">[77]</a> Leroux, Pierre (1797-1871), a prominent follower of St. Simon.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_78" href="#FNanchor_78" class="label">[78]</a> Considérant, Victor (1808-1893), a philosopher and political +economist, advocate of Fourierism.—(<i>Translator’s Notes.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_79" href="#FNanchor_79" class="label">[79]</a> In Stuart Mill’s new book <i>On Liberty</i>, he uses an excellent +expression in regard to these truths settled once and for ever: ‘the +deep slumber of a decided opinion.’—(<i>Author’s Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_80" href="#FNanchor_80" class="label">[80]</a> <i>Histoire de la Révolution Française.</i></p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_81" href="#FNanchor_81" class="label">[81]</a> I had then published <i>Vom andern Ufer</i>.—(<i>Author’s Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_82" href="#FNanchor_82" class="label">[82]</a> My answer to the speech of Donozo Cortes, of which fifty +thousand copies were printed, was all sold out; and when two or +three days later I asked for a few copies for myself, they had to be +bought through the bookshops.—(<i>Author’s Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_83" href="#FNanchor_83" class="label">[83]</a> After this was written I met him again in Brussels.—(<i>Author’s +Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_84" href="#FNanchor_84" class="label">[84]</a> I have to some extent modified my opinion of this work of +Proudhon (1866).—(<i>Author’s Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_85" href="#FNanchor_85" class="label">[85]</a> Proudhon himself said: ‘<i>Rien ne ressemble plus à la préméditation +que la logique des faits.</i>’</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_86" href="#FNanchor_86" class="label">[86]</a> As I was correcting the proofs of this, I came upon a French +newspaper with an extremely characteristic incident in it. Near +Paris a student had a liaison with a girl, which was discovered. The +girl’s father went to the student and on his knees besought him, +with tears, to vindicate his daughter’s honour and marry her; the +student refused with contumely. The kneeling father gave him a +slap in the face, the student challenged him, they shot at each other; +during the duel the old man had a paralytic stroke. The student was +disconcerted, and ‘decided to marry,’ and the girl was grieved, and also +decided to marry. The newspaper adds that this happy <i>dénouement</i> +will no doubt do much to promote the old father’s recovery. Can +this have happened outside a madhouse? Can China or India, at +whose grotesque absurdities we mock so much, furnish anything +uglier or sillier than this story? I will not say more immoral. +This Parisian romance is a hundredfold more wicked than the burning +of a widow or the burying of a vestal virgin. In those cases there +was religious faith, removing all personal responsibility, but in this +case there is nothing but conventional, shadowy ideas of external +honour, of external reputation.... Is it not clear from this story +what the student was like? Why should the girl’s life be bound +to his <i>à perpétuité</i>? Why was she ruined to save her reputation? +Oh, Bedlam! (1866.)—(<i>Author’s Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_87" href="#FNanchor_87" class="label">[87]</a> Cambacérès, Jean-Jacques (1753-1824), one of the nearest +advisers of Napoleon, and compiler of the <i>Code Civil</i>. He attempted +to dissuade Napoleon from the invasion of Russia.—(<i>Translator’s +Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_88" href="#FNanchor_88" class="label">[88]</a> Leone Leoni is the hero, or rather villain, whose name supplies +the title of one of George Sand’s earlier novels.—(<i>Translator’s Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_89" href="#FNanchor_89" class="label">[89]</a> A character in the famous romance <i>Astrée</i> by Victor d’Urfé +(1568-1626), adopted into the Russian language as the type of the +faithful and devoted swain.—(<i>Translator’s Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_90" href="#FNanchor_90" class="label">[90]</a> The reference is to the <i>Voyage du jeune Anarchasis</i>, by Barthélemy +(1779).—(<i>Translator’s Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_91" href="#FNanchor_91" class="label">[91]</a> Bouilhet, Louis, was a great friend of Flaubert, with whom he +collaborated. His own works include <i>Hélène Peyron</i>, and a very +successful drama, <i>La Conjuration d’Amboise</i>.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_92" href="#FNanchor_92" class="label">[92]</a> Ribeyrolles, a talented writer on <i>La Réforme</i>, the organ of the +Extreme Left, of which Flocon was editor.—(<i>Translator’s Notes.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_93" href="#FNanchor_93" class="label">[93]</a> Louis Blanc, author of <i>L’Histoire de Dix Ans</i>, one of the most +widely read books of the epoch.—(<i>Translator’s Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_94" href="#FNanchor_94" class="label">[94]</a> The real name of Messenhauser was Cæsar Wengel, a soldier +and writer, who took an active part in the rising of 1848, first in +Lemberg and then in Vienna. On the suppression of the rising +he was sentenced to be shot, and asked that as an officer he might +give the word of command to the soldiers who were to shoot him, +and so conducted the business of his own execution with remarkable +composure.—(<i>Translator’s Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_95" href="#FNanchor_95" class="label">[95]</a> I was in those days what the Poles call a ‘passport man,’ and +had not yet cut off all possibility of return to Russia.—(<i>Author’s +Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_96" href="#FNanchor_96" class="label">[96]</a> His article on ‘The Position of Russia in the All-World Exhibition’ +was published in vol. ii. of the <i>Polar Star</i>.—(<i>Author’s Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_97" href="#FNanchor_97" class="label">[97]</a> A series of very remarkable letters of his, of which I propose to +publish a considerable number some day, date from this period.—(<i>Author’s +Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_98" href="#FNanchor_98" class="label">[98]</a> The <i>Polar Star</i> is the name of the paper edited by Ryleyev, one +of the five Decembrists hanged by Nicholas in 1825. On the +anniversary of their execution Herzen brought out the first number +of his paper of the same name.—(<i>Translator’s Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_99" href="#FNanchor_99" class="label">[99]</a> W. J. Linton, a friend of Mazzini, and author of a series of +sketches of Italian, French, and Polish exiles, and of Herzen, called +<i>European Republicans</i>. His wife, Mrs. Lynn Linton, a prominent +figure some forty years ago, wrote several novels, and created a journalistic +sensation by an onslaught on ‘The Girl of the Period.’—(<i>Translator’s +Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_100" href="#FNanchor_100" class="label">[100]</a> Baroness Malwida von Meysenbug, authoress of <i>Memoirs of +an Idealist</i>, was a great friend of Wagner, and also of Nietzsche, +whom she cared for at times with motherly kindness. At this +date she was living in Herzen’s house as the governess of his children, +the youngest of whom, Olga, remained in her charge for +many years.—(<i>Translator’s Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_101" href="#FNanchor_101" class="label">[101]</a> With this ends that part of <i>My Past and Thoughts</i> which was +corrected by the author in its final form and published in four volumes. +The chapter which follows (in the next volume) is now published +for the first time, and is that for which, as Herzen himself more than +once says, he wrote all the rest.—(<i>Note to the Russian edition</i>, 1921.)</p></div> + +</div> + +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78336 ***</div> +</body> +</html> |