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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/3541-0.txt b/3541-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..62810a3 --- /dev/null +++ b/3541-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4646 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Thoughts Evoked by the Census of Moscow, by +Lyof N. Tolstoi, Translated by Isabel F. Hapgood + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most +other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of +the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at +www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have +to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. + + + + +Title: Thoughts Evoked by the Census of Moscow + + +Author: Lyof N. Tolstoi + + + +Release Date: July 30, 2019 [eBook #3541] +[This file was first posted 31 May 2001] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THOUGHTS EVOKED BY THE CENSUS OF +MOSCOW*** + + +Transcribed from the 1887 Tomas Y. Crowell edition by David Price, email +ccx074@pglaf.org + + [Picture: Public domain cover] + + + + + + WHAT TO DO? + THOUGHTS EVOKED BY THE CENSUS + OF MOSCOW + + + BY + COUNT LYOF N. TOLSTOÏ + + _TRANSLATED FROM THE RUSSIAN_ + BY ISABEL F. HAPGOOD + + NEW YORK + THOMAS Y. CROWELL & CO. + 13 ASTOR PLACE + 1887 + + COPYRIGHT, 1887, + BY THOMAS Y. CROWELL & CO. + + ELECTROTYPED AND PRINTED + BY RAND AVERY COMPANY, + BOSTON. + + + + +TRANSLATOR’S NOTE. + + +Books which are prohibited by the Russian Censor are not always +inaccessible. An enterprising publishing-house in Geneva makes a +specialty of supplying the natural craving of man for forbidden fruit, +under which heading some of Count L. N. Tolstoi’s essays belong. These +essays circulate in Russia in manuscript; and it is from one of these +manuscripts, which fell into the hands of the Geneva firm, that the first +half of the present translation has been made. It is thus that the +Censor’s omissions have been noted, even in cases where such omissions +are in no way indicated in the twelfth volume of Count Tolstoi’s +collected works, published in Moscow. As an interesting detail in this +connection, I may mention that this twelfth volume contains all that the +censor allows of “My Religion,” amounting to a very much abridged scrap +of Chapter X. in the last-named volume as known to the public outside of +Russia. The last half of the present book has not been published by the +Geneva house, and omissions cannot be marked. + + ISABEL F. HAPGOOD + +BOSTON, Sept. 1, 1887 + + + + +THOUGHTS EVOKED BY THE CENSUS OF MOSCOW. [1884–1885.] + + + And the people asked him, saying, What shall we do then? + + He answereth and saith unto them, He that hath two coats, let him + impart to him that hath none; and he that hath meat, let him do + likewise—LUKE iii. 10. 11. + + Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon earth, where moth and rust + doth corrupt, and where thieves break through and steal: + + But lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor + rust doth corrupt, and where thieves do not break through nor steal: + + For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also. + + The light of the body is the eye: if therefore thine eye be single, + thy whole body shall be full of light. + + But if thine eye be evil, thy whole body shall be full of darkness. + If therefore the light that is in thee be darkness, how great is that + darkness! + + No man can serve two masters: for either he will hate the one, and + love the other; or else he will hold to the one, and despise the + other. Ye cannot serve God and mammon. + + Therefore I say unto you, Take no thought for your life, what ye + shall eat, or what ye shall drink; nor yet for your body, what ye + shall put on. Is not the life more than meat, and the body than + raiment?—MATT. vi. 19–25. + + Therefore take no thought, saying, What shall we eat? or, What shall + we drink? Or, Wherewithal shall we be clothed? + + (For after all these things do the Gentiles seek:) for your heavenly + Father knoweth that ye have need of all these things. + + But seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all + these things shall be added unto you. + + Take therefore no thought for the morrow: for the morrow shall take + thought for the things of itself. Sufficient unto the day is the + evil thereof.—MATT. vi. 31–34. + + For it is easier for a camel to go through a needle’s eye, than for a + rich man to enter into the kingdom of God.—MATT. xix. 24; MARK x. 25; + LUKE xviii. 25. + + + +CHAPTER I. + + +I had lived all my life out of town. When, in 1881, I went to live in +Moscow, the poverty of the town greatly surprised me. I am familiar with +poverty in the country; but city poverty was new and incomprehensible to +me. In Moscow it was impossible to pass along the street without +encountering beggars, and especially beggars who are unlike those in the +country. These beggars do not go about with their pouches in the name of +Christ, as country beggars are accustomed to do, but these beggars are +without the pouch and the name of Christ. The Moscow beggars carry no +pouches, and do not ask for alms. Generally, when they meet or pass you, +they merely try to catch your eye; and, according to your look, they beg +or refrain from it. I know one such beggar who belongs to the gentry. +The old man walks slowly along, bending forward every time he sets his +foot down. When he meets you, he rests on one foot and makes you a kind +of salute. If you stop, he pulls off his hat with its cockade, and bows +and begs: if you do not halt, he pretends that that is merely his way of +walking, and he passes on, bending forward in like manner on the other +foot. He is a real Moscow beggar, a cultivated man. At first I did not +know why the Moscow beggars do not ask alms directly; afterwards I came +to understand why they do not beg, but still I did not understand their +position. + +Once, as I was passing through Afanasievskaya Lane, I saw a policeman +putting a ragged peasant, all swollen with dropsy, into a cab. I +inquired: “What is that for?” + +The policeman answered: “For asking alms.” + +“Is that forbidden?” + +“Of course it is forbidden,” replied the policeman. + +The sufferer from dropsy was driven off. I took another cab, and +followed him. I wanted to know whether it was true that begging alms was +prohibited and how it was prohibited. I could in no wise understand how +one man could be forbidden to ask alms of any other man; and besides, I +did not believe that it was prohibited, when Moscow is full of beggars. +I went to the station-house whither the beggar had been taken. At a +table in the station-house sat a man with a sword and a pistol. I +inquired: + +“For what was this peasant arrested?” + +The man with the sword and pistol gazed sternly at me, and said: + +“What business is it of yours?” + +But feeling conscious that it was necessary to offer me some explanation, +he added: + +“The authorities have ordered that all such persons are to be arrested; +of course it had to be done.” + +I went out. The policeman who had brought the beggar was seated on the +window-sill in the ante-chamber, staring gloomily at a note-book. I +asked him: + +“Is it true that the poor are forbidden to ask alms in Christ’s name?” + +The policeman came to himself, stared at me, then did not exactly frown, +but apparently fell into a doze again, and said, as he sat on the +window-sill:— + +“The authorities have so ordered, which shows that it is necessary,” and +betook himself once more to his note-book. I went out on the porch, to +the cab. + +“Well, how did it turn out? Have they arrested him?” asked the cabman. +The man was evidently interested in this affair also. + +“Yes,” I answered. The cabman shook his head. “Why is it forbidden here +in Moscow to ask alms in Christ’s name?” I inquired. + +“Who knows?” said the cabman. + +“How is this?” said I, “he is Christ’s poor, and he is taken to the +station-house.” + +“A stop has been put to that now, it is not allowed,” said the +cab-driver. + +On several occasions afterwards, I saw policemen conducting beggars to +the station house, and then to the Yusupoff house of correction. Once I +encountered on the Myasnitzkaya a company of these beggars, about thirty +in number. In front of them and behind them marched policemen. I +inquired: “What for?”—“For asking alms.” + +It turned out that all these beggars, several of whom you meet with in +every street in Moscow, and who stand in files near every church during +services, and especially during funeral services, are forbidden to ask +alms. + +But why are some of them caught and locked up somewhere, while others are +left alone? + +This I could not understand. Either there are among them legal and +illegal beggars, or there are so many of them that it is impossible to +apprehend them all; or do others assemble afresh when some are removed? + +There are many varieties of beggars in Moscow: there are some who live by +this profession; there are also genuine poor people, who have chanced +upon Moscow in some manner or other, and who are really in want. + +Among these poor people, there are many simple, common peasants, and +women in their peasant costume. I often met such people. Some of them +have fallen ill here, and on leaving the hospital they can neither +support themselves here, nor get away from Moscow. Some of them, +moreover, have indulged in dissipation (such was probably the case of the +dropsical man); some have not been ill, but are people who have been +burnt out of their houses, or old people, or women with children; some, +too, were perfectly healthy and able to work. These perfectly healthy +peasants who were engaged in begging, particularly interested me. These +healthy, peasant beggars, who were fit for work, also interested me, +because, from the date of my arrival in Moscow, I had been in the habit +of going to the Sparrow Hills with two peasants, and sawing wood there +for the sake of exercise. These two peasants were just as poor as those +whom I encountered on the streets. One was Piotr, a soldier from Kaluga; +the other Semyon, a peasant from Vladimir. They possessed nothing except +the wages of their body and hands. And with these hands they earned, by +dint of very hard labor, from forty to forty-five kopeks a day, out of +which each of them was laying by savings, the Kaluga man for a fur coat, +the Vladimir man in order to get enough to return to his village. +Therefore, on meeting precisely such men in the streets, I took an +especial interest in them. + +Why did these men toil, while those others begged? + +On encountering a peasant of this stamp, I usually asked him how he had +come to that situation. Once I met a peasant with some gray in his +beard, but healthy. He begs. I ask him who is he, whence comes he? He +says that he came from Kaluga to get work. At first he found employment +chopping up old wood for use in stoves. He and his comrade finished all +the chopping which one householder had; then they sought other work, but +found none; his comrade had parted from him, and for two weeks he himself +had been struggling along; he had spent all his money, he had no saw, and +no axe, and no money to buy anything. I gave him money for a saw, and +told him of a place where he could find work. I had already made +arrangements with Piotr and Semyon, that they should take an assistant, +and they looked up a mate for him. + +“See that you come. There is a great deal of work there.” + +“I will come; why should I not come? Do you suppose I like to beg? I +can work.” + +The peasant declares that he will come, and it seems to me that he is not +deceiving me, and that he intents to come. + +On the following day I go to my peasants, and inquire whether that man +has arrived. He has not been there; and in this way several men deceived +me. And those also deceived me who said that they only required money +for a ticket in order to return home, and who chanced upon me again in +the street a week later. Many of these I recognized, and they recognized +me, and sometimes, having forgotten me, they repeated the same trick on +me; and others, on catching sight of me, beat a retreat. Thus I +perceived, that in the ranks of this class also deceivers existed. But +these cheats were very pitiable creatures: all of them were but +half-clad, poverty-stricken, gaunt, sickly men; they were the very people +who really freeze to death, or hang themselves, as we learn from the +newspapers. + + + +CHAPTER II. + + +When I mentioned this poverty of the town to inhabitants of the town, +they always said to me: “Oh, all that you have seen is nothing. You +ought to see the Khitroff market-place, and the lodging-houses for the +night there. There you would see a regular ‘golden company.’” {21a} One +jester told me that this was no longer a company, but a _golden +regiment_: so greatly had their numbers increased. The jester was right, +but he would have been still more accurate if he had said that these +people now form in Moscow neither a company nor a regiment, but an entire +army, almost fifty thousand in number, I think. [The old inhabitants, +when they spoke to me about the poverty in town, always referred to it +with a certain satisfaction, as though pluming themselves over me, +because they knew it. I remember that when I was in London, the old +inhabitants there also rather boasted when they spoke of the poverty of +London. The case is the same with us.] {21b} + +And I wanted to have a sight of this poverty of which I had been told. +Several times I set out in the direction of the Khitroff market-place, +but on every occasion I began to feel uncomfortable and ashamed. “Why am +I going to gaze on the sufferings of people whom I cannot help?” said one +voice. “No, if you live here, and see all the charms of city life, go +and view this also,” said another voice. In December three years ago, +therefore, on a cold and windy day, I betook myself to that centre of +poverty, the Khitroff market-place. This was at four o’clock in the +afternoon of a week-day. As I passed through the Solyanka, I already +began to see more and more people in old garments which had not +originally belonged to them, and in still stranger foot-gear, people with +a peculiar, unhealthy hue of countenance, and especially with a singular +indifference to every thing around them, which was peculiar to them all. +A man in the strangest of all possible attire, which was utterly unlike +any thing else, walked along with perfect unconcern, evidently without a +thought of the appearance which he must present to the eyes of others. +All these people were making their way towards a single point. Without +inquiring the way, with which I was not acquainted, I followed them, and +came out on the Khitroff market-place. On the market-place, women both +old and young, of the same description, in tattered cloaks and jackets of +various shapes, in ragged shoes and overshoes, and equally unconcerned, +notwithstanding the hideousness of their attire, sat, bargained for +something, strolled about, and scolded. There were not many people in +the market itself. Evidently market-hours were over, and the majority of +the people were ascending the rise beyond the market and through the +place, all still proceeding in one direction. I followed them. The +farther I advanced, the greater in numbers were the people of this sort +who flowed together on one road. Passing through the market-place and +proceeding along the street, I overtook two women; one was old, the other +young. Both wore something ragged and gray. As they walked they were +discussing some matter. After every necessary word, they uttered one or +two unnecessary ones, of the most improper character. They were not +intoxicated, but merely troubled about something; and neither the men who +met them, nor those who walked in front of them and behind them, paid any +attention to the language which was so strange to me. In these quarters, +evidently, people always talked so. Ascending the rise, we reached a +large house on a corner. The greater part of the people who were walking +along with me halted at this house. They stood all over the sidewalk of +this house, and sat on the curbstone, and even the snow in the street was +thronged with the same kind of people. On the right side of the entrance +door were the women, on the left the men. I walked past the women, past +the men (there were several hundred of them in all) and halted where the +line came to an end. The house before which these people were waiting +was the Lyapinsky free lodging-house for the night. The throng of people +consisted of night lodgers, who were waiting to be let in. At five +o’clock in the afternoon, the house is opened, and the people permitted +to enter. Hither had come nearly all the people whom I had passed on my +way. + +I halted where the line of men ended. Those nearest me began to stare at +me, and attracted my attention to them by their glances. The fragments +of garments which covered these bodies were of the most varied sorts. +But the expression of all the glances directed towards me by these people +was identical. In all eyes the question was expressed: “Why have you, a +man from another world, halted here beside us? Who are you? Are you a +self-satisfied rich man who wants to enjoy our wretchedness, to get rid +of his tedium, and to torment us still more? or are you that thing which +does not and can not exist,—a man who pities us?” This query was on +every face. You glance about, encounter some one’s eye, and turn away. +I wished to talk with some one of them, but for a long time I could not +make up my mind to it. But our glances had drawn us together already +while our tongues remained silent. Greatly as our lives had separated +us, after the interchange of two or three glances we felt that we were +both men, and we ceased to fear each other. The nearest of all to me was +a peasant with a swollen face and a red beard, in a tattered caftan, and +patched overshoes on his bare feet. And the weather was eight degrees +below zero. {24a} For the third or fourth time I encountered his eyes, +and I felt so near to him that I was no longer ashamed to accost him, but +ashamed not to say something to him. I inquired where he came from? he +answered readily, and we began to talk; others approached. He was from +Smolensk, and had come to seek employment that he might earn his bread +and taxes. “There is no work,” said he: “the soldiers have taken it all +away. So now I am loafing about; as true as I believe in God, I have had +nothing to eat for two days.” He spoke modestly, with an effort at a +smile. A _sbiten_{24b}-seller, an old soldier, stood near by. I called +him up. He poured out his _sbiten_. The peasant took a boiling-hot +glassful in his hands, and as he tried before drinking not to let any of +the heat escape in vain, and warmed his hands over it, he related his +adventures to me. These adventures, or the histories of them, are almost +always identical: the man has been a laborer, then he has changed his +residence, then his purse containing his money and ticket has been stolen +from him in the night lodging-house; now it is impossible to get away +from Moscow. He told me that he kept himself warm by day in the +dram-shops; that he nourished himself on the bits of bread in these +drinking places, when they were given to him; and when he was driven out +of them, he came hither to the Lyapinsky house for a free lodging. He +was only waiting for the police to make their rounds, when, as he had no +passport, he would be taken to jail, and then despatched by stages to his +place of settlement. “They say that the inspection will be made on +Friday,” said he, “then they will arrest me. If I can only get along +until Friday.” (The jail, and the journey by stages, represent the +Promised Land to him.) + +As he told his story, three men from among the throng corroborated his +statements, and said that they were in the same predicament. A gaunt, +pale, long-nosed youth, with merely a shirt on the upper portion of his +body, and that torn on the shoulders, and a cap without a visor, forced +his way sidelong through the crowd. He shivered violently and +incessantly, but tried to smile disdainfully at the peasants’ remarks, +thinking by this means to adopt the proper tone with me, and he stared at +me. I offered him some _sbiten_; he also, on taking the glass, warmed +his hands over it; but no sooner had he begun to speak, than he was +thrust aside by a big, black, hook-nosed individual, in a chintz shirt +and waistcoat, without a hat. The hook-nosed man asked for some _sbiten_ +also. Then came a tall old man, with a mass of beard, clad in a +great-coat girded with a rope, and in bast shoes, who was drunk. Then a +small man with a swollen face and tearful eyes, in a brown nankeen +round-jacket, with his bare knees protruding from the holes in his summer +trousers, and knocking together with cold. He shivered so that he could +not hold his glass, and spilled it over himself. The men began to +reproach him. He only smiled in a woe-begone way, and went on shivering. +Then came a crooked monster in rags, with pattens on his bare feet; then +some sort of an officer; then something in the ecclesiastical line; then +something strange and nose-less,—all hungry and cold, beseeching and +submissive, thronged round me, and pressed close to the _sbiten_. They +drank up all the _sbiten_. One asked for money, and I gave it. Then +another asked, then a third, and the whole crowd besieged me. Confusion +and a press resulted. The porter of the adjoining house shouted to the +crowd to clear the sidewalk in front of his house, and the crowd +submissively obeyed his orders. Some managers stepped out of the throng, +and took me under their protection, and wanted to lead me forth out of +the press; but the crowd, which had at first been scattered over the +sidewalk, now became disorderly, and hustled me. All stared at me and +begged; and each face was more pitiful and suffering and humble than the +last. I distributed all that I had with me. I had not much money, +something like twenty rubles; and in company with the crowd, I entered +the Lyapinsky lodging-house. This house is huge. It consists of four +sections. In the upper stories are the men’s quarters; in the lower, the +women’s. I first entered the women’s place; a vast room all occupied +with bunks, resembling the third-class bunks on the railway. These bunks +were arranged in two rows, one above the other. The women, strange, +tattered creatures, both old and young, wearing nothing over their +dresses, entered and took their places, some below and some above. Some +of the old ones crossed themselves, and uttered a petition for the +founder of this refuge; some laughed and scolded. I went up-stairs. +There the men had installed themselves; among them I espied one of those +to whom I had given money. [On catching sight of him, I all at once felt +terribly abashed, and I made haste to leave the room. And it was with a +sense of absolute crime that I quitted that house and returned home. At +home I entered over the carpeted stairs into the ante-room, whose floor +was covered with cloth; and having removed my fur coat, I sat down to a +dinner of five courses, waited on by two lackeys in dress-coats, white +neckties, and white gloves. + +Thirty years ago I witnessed in Paris a man’s head cut off by the +guillotine in the presence of thousands of spectators. I knew that the +man was a horrible criminal. I was acquainted with all the arguments +which people have been devising for so many centuries, in order to +justify this sort of deed. I knew that they had done this expressly, +deliberately. But at the moment when head and body were severed, and +fell into the trough, I groaned, and apprehended, not with my mind, but +with my heart and my whole being, that all the arguments which I had +heard anent the death-penalty were arrant nonsense; that, no matter how +many people might assemble in order to perpetrate a murder, no matter +what they might call themselves, murder is murder, the vilest sin in the +world, and that that crime had been committed before my very eyes. By my +presence and non-interference, I had lent my approval to that crime, and +had taken part in it. So now, at the sight of this hunger, cold, and +degradation of thousands of persons, I understood not with my mind, but +with my heart and my whole being, that the existence of tens of thousands +of such people in Moscow, while I and other thousands dined on fillets +and sturgeon, and covered my horses and my floors with cloth and rugs,—no +matter what the wise ones of this world might say to me about its being a +necessity,—was a crime, not perpetrated a single time, but one which was +incessantly being perpetrated over and over again, and that I, in my +luxury, was not only an accessory, but a direct accomplice in the matter. +The difference for me between these two impressions was this, that I +might have shouted to the assassins who stood around the guillotine, and +perpetrated the murder, that they were committing a crime, and have tried +with all my might to prevent the murder. But while so doing I should +have known that my action would not prevent the murder. But here I might +not only have given _sbiten_ and the money which I had with me, but the +coat from my back, and every thing that was in my house. But this I had +not done; and therefore I felt, I feel, and shall never cease to feel, +myself an accomplice in this constantly repeated crime, so long as I have +superfluous food and any one else has none at all, so long as I have two +garments while any one else has not even one.] {28} + + + +CHAPTER III. + + +That very evening, on my return from the Lyapinsky house, I related my +impressions to a friend. The friend, an inhabitant of the city, began to +tell me, not without satisfaction, that this was the most natural +phenomenon of town life possible, that I only saw something extraordinary +in it because of my provincialism, that it had always been so, and always +would be so, and that such must be and is the inevitable condition of +civilization. In London it is even worse. Of course there is nothing +wrong about it, and it is impossible to be displeased with it. I began +to reply to my friend, but with so much heat and ill-temper, that my wife +ran in from the adjoining room to inquire what had happened. It appears +that, without being conscious of it myself, I had been shouting, with +tears in my voice, and flourishing my hands at my friend. I shouted: +“It’s impossible to live thus, impossible to live thus, impossible!” +They made me feel ashamed of my unnecessary warmth; they told me that I +could not talk quietly about any thing, that I got disagreeably excited; +and they proved to me, especially, that the existence of such +unfortunates could not possibly furnish any excuse for imbittering the +lives of those about me. + +I felt that this was perfectly just, and held my peace; but in the depths +of my soul I was conscious that I was in the right, and I could not +regain my composure. + +And the life of the city, which had, even before this, been so strange +and repellent to me, now disgusted me to such a degree, that all the +pleasures of a life of luxury, which had hitherto appeared to me as +pleasures, become tortures to me. And try as I would, to discover in my +own soul any justification whatever for our life, I could not, without +irritation, behold either my own or other people’s drawing-rooms, nor our +tables spread in the lordly style, nor our equipages and horses, nor +shops, theatres, and assemblies. I could not behold alongside these the +hungry, cold, and down-trodden inhabitants of the Lyapinsky house. And I +could not rid myself of the thought that these two things were bound up +together, that the one arose from the other. I remember, that, as this +feeling of my own guilt presented itself to me at the first blush, so it +persisted in me, but to this feeling a second was speedily added which +overshadowed it. + +When I mentioned my impressions of the Lyapinsky house to my nearest +friends and acquaintances, they all gave me the same answer as the first +friend at whom I had begun to shout; but, in addition to this, they +expressed their approbation of my kindness of heart and my sensibility, +and gave me to understand that this sight had so especially worked upon +me because I, Lyof Nikolaevitch, was very kind and good. And I willingly +believed this. And before I had time to look about me, instead of the +feeling of self-reproach and regret, which I had at first experienced, +there came a sense of satisfaction with my own kindliness, and a desire +to exhibit it to people. + +“It really must be,” I said to myself, “that I am not especially +responsible for this by the luxury of my life, but that it is the +indispensable conditions of existence that are to blame. In truth, a +change in my mode of life cannot rectify the evil which I have seen: by +altering my manner of life, I shall only make myself and those about me +unhappy, and the other miseries will remain the same as ever. And +therefore my problem lies not in a change of my own life, as it had first +seemed to me, but in aiding, so far as in me lies, in the amelioration of +the situation of those unfortunate beings who have called forth my +compassion. The whole point lies here,—that I am a very kind, amiable +man, and that I wish to do good to my neighbors.” And I began to think +out a plan of beneficent activity, in which I might exhibit my +benevolence. I must confess, however, that while devising this plan of +beneficent activity, I felt all the time, in the depths of my soul, that +that was not the thing; but, as often happens, activity of judgment and +imagination drowned that voice of conscience within me. At that +juncture, the census came up. This struck me as a means for instituting +that benevolence in which I proposed to exhibit my charitable +disposition. I knew of many charitable institutions and societies which +were in existence in Moscow, but all their activity seemed to me both +wrongly directed and insignificant in comparison with what I intended to +do. And I devised the following scheme: to arouse the sympathy of the +wealthy for the poverty of the city, to collect money, to get people +together who were desirous of assisting in this matter, and to visit all +the refuges of poverty in company with the census, and, in addition to +the work of the census, to enter into communion with the unfortunate, to +learn the particulars of their necessities, and to assist them with +money, with work, by sending them away from Moscow, by placing their +children in school, and the old people in hospitals and asylums. And not +only that, I thought, but these people who undertake this can be formed +into a permanent society, which, by dividing the quarters of Moscow among +its members, will be able to see to it that this poverty and beggary +shall not be bred; they will incessantly annihilate it at its very +inception; then they will fulfil their duty, not so much by healing as by +a course of hygiene for the wretchedness of the city. I fancied that +there would be no more simply needy, not to mention abjectly poor +persons, in the town, and that all of us wealthy individuals would +thereafter be able to sit in our drawing-rooms, and eat our five-course +dinners, and ride in our carriages to theatres and assemblies, and be no +longer annoyed with such sights as I had seen at the Lyapinsky house. + +Having concocted this plan, I wrote an article on the subject; and before +sending it to the printer, I went to some acquaintances, from whom I +hoped for sympathy. I said the same thing to every one whom I met that +day (and I applied chiefly to the rich), and nearly the same that I +afterwards printed in my memoir; proposed to take advantage of the census +to inquire into the wretchedness of Moscow, and to succor it, both by +deeds and money, and to do it in such a manner that there should be no +poor people in Moscow, and so that we rich ones might be able, with a +quiet conscience, to enjoy the blessings of life to which we were +accustomed. All listened to me attentively and seriously, but +nevertheless the same identical thing happened with every one of them +without exception. No sooner did my hearers comprehend the question, +than they seemed to feel awkward and somewhat mortified. They seemed to +be ashamed, and principally on my account, because I was talking +nonsense, and nonsense which it was impossible to openly characterize as +such. Some external cause appeared to compel my hearers to be forbearing +with this nonsense of mine. + +“Ah, yes! of course. That would be very good,” they said to me. “It is +a self-understood thing that it is impossible not to sympathize with +this. Yes, your idea is a capital one. I have thought of that myself, +but . . . we are so indifferent, as a rule, that you can hardly count on +much success . . . however, so far as I am concerned, I am, of course, +ready to assist.” + +They all said something of this sort to me. They all agreed, but agreed, +so it seemed to me, not in consequence of my convictions, and not in +consequence of their own wish, but as the result of some outward cause, +which did not permit them not to agree. I had already noticed this, and, +since not one of them stated the sum which he was willing to contribute, +I was obliged to fix it myself, and to ask: “So I may count on you for +three hundred, or two hundred, or one hundred, or twenty-five rubles?” +And not one of them gave me any money. I mention this because, when +people give money for that which they themselves desire, they generally +make haste to give it. For a box to see Sarah Bernhardt, they will +instantly place the money in your hand, to clinch the bargain. Here, +however, out of all those who agreed to contribute, and who expressed +their sympathy, not one of them proposed to give me the money on the +spot, but they merely assented in silence to the sum which I suggested. +In the last house which I visited on that day, in the evening, I +accidentally came upon a large company. The mistress of the house had +busied herself with charity for several years. Numerous carriages stood +at the door, several lackeys in rich liveries were sitting in the +ante-chamber. In the vast drawing-room, around two tables and lamps, sat +ladies and young girls, in costly garments, dressing small dolls; and +there were several young men there also, hovering about the ladies. The +dolls prepared by these ladies were to be drawn in a lottery for the +poor. + +The sight of this drawing-room, and of the people assembled in it, struck +me very unpleasantly. Not to mention the fact that the property of the +persons there congregated amounted to many millions, not to mention the +fact that the mere income from the capital here expended on dresses, +laces, bronzes, brooches, carriages, horses, liveries, and lackeys, was a +hundred-fold greater than all that these ladies could earn; not to +mention the outlay, the trip hither of all these ladies and gentlemen; +the gloves, linen, extra time, the candles, the tea, the sugar, and the +cakes had cost the hostess a hundred times more than what they were +engaged in making here. I saw all this, and therefore I could +understand, that precisely here I should find no sympathy with my +mission: but I had come in order to make my proposition, and, difficult +as this was for me, I said what I intended. (I said very nearly the same +thing that is contained in my printed article.) + +Out of all the persons there present, one individual offered me money, +saying that she did not feel equal to going among the poor herself on +account of her sensibility, but that she would give money; how much money +she would give, and when, she did not say. Another individual and a +young man offered their services in going about among the poor, but I did +not avail myself of their offer. The principal person to whom I +appealed, told me that it would be impossible to do much because means +were lacking. Means were lacking because all the rich people in Moscow +were already on the lists, and all of them were asked for all that they +could possibly give; because on all these benefactors rank, medals, and +other dignities were bestowed; because in order to secure financial +success, some new dignities must be secured from the authorities, and +that this was the only practical means, but this was extremely difficult. + +On my return home that night, I lay down to sleep not only with a +presentment that my idea would come to nothing, but with shame and a +consciousness that all day long I had been engaged in a very repulsive +and disgraceful business. But I did not give up this undertaking. In +the first place, the matter had been begun, and false shame would have +prevented my abandoning it; in the second place, not only the success of +this scheme, but the very fact that I was busying myself with it, +afforded me the possibility of continuing to live in the conditions under +which I was then living; failure entailed upon me the necessity of +renouncing my present existence and of seeking new paths of life. And +this I unconsciously dreaded, and I could not believe the inward voice, +and I went on with what I had begun. + +Having sent my article to the printer, I read the proof of it to the City +Council (_Dum_). I read it, stumbling, and blushing even to tears, I +felt so awkward. And I saw that it was equally awkward for all my +hearers. In answer to my question at the conclusion of my reading, as to +whether the superintendents of the census would accept my proposition to +retain their places with the object of becoming mediators between society +and the needy, an awkward silence ensued. Then two orators made +speeches. These speeches in some measure corrected the awkwardness of my +proposal; sympathy for me was expressed, but the impracticability of my +proposition, which all had approved, was demonstrated. Everybody +breathed more freely. But when, still desirous of gaining my object, I +afterwards asked the superintendents separately: Were they willing, while +taking the census, to inquire into the needs of the poor, and to retain +their posts, in order to serve as go-betweens between the poor and the +rich? they all grew uneasy again. They seemed to say to me with their +glances: “Why, we have just condoned your folly out of respect to you, +and here you are beginning it again!” Such was the expression of their +faces, but they assured me in words that they agreed; and two of them +said in the very same words, as though they had entered into a compact +together: “We consider ourselves _morally bound_ to do this.” The same +impression was produced by my communication to the student-census-takers, +when I said to them, that while taking our statistics, we should follow +up, in addition to the objects of the census, the object of benevolence. +When we discussed this, I observed that they were ashamed to look the +kind-hearted man, who was talking nonsense, in the eye. My article +produced the same impression on the editor of the newspaper, when I +handed it to him; on my son, on my wife, on the most widely different +persons. All felt awkward, for some reason or other; but all regarded it +as indispensable to applaud the idea itself, and all, immediately after +this expression of approbation, began to express their doubts as to its +success, and began for some reason (and all of them, too, without +exception) to condemn the indifference and coldness of our society and of +every one, apparently, except themselves. + +In the depths of my own soul, I still continued to feel that all this was +not at all what was needed, and that nothing would come of it; but the +article was printed, and I prepared to take part in the census; I had +contrived the matter, and now it was already carrying me a way with it. + + + +CHAPTER IV. + + +At my request, there had been assigned to me for the census, a portion of +the Khamovnitchesky quarter, at the Smolensk market, along the Prototchny +cross-street, between Beregovoy Passage and Nikolsky Alley. In this +quarter are situated the houses generally called the Rzhanoff Houses, or +the Rzhanoff fortress. These houses once belonged to a merchant named +Rzhanoff, but now belong to the Zimins. I had long before heard of this +place as a haunt of the most terrible poverty and vice, and I had +accordingly requested the directors of the census to assign me to this +quarter. My desire was granted. + +On receiving the instructions of the City Council, I went alone, a few +days previous to the beginning of the census, to reconnoitre my section. +I found the Rzhanoff fortress at once, from the plan with which I had +been furnished. + +I approached from Nikolsky Alley. Nikolsky Alley ends on the left in a +gloomy house, without any gates on that side; I divined from its +appearance that this was the Rzhanoff fortress. + +Passing down Nikolsky Street, I overtook some lads of from ten to +fourteen years of age, clad in little caftans and great-coats, who were +sliding down hill, some on their feet, and some on one skate, along the +icy slope beside this house. The boys were ragged, and, like all city +lads, bold and impudent. I stopped to watch them. A ragged old woman, +with yellow, pendent cheeks, came round the corner. She was going to +town, to the Smolensk market, and she groaned terribly at every step, +like a foundered horse. As she came alongside me, she halted and drew a +hoarse sigh. In any other locality, this old woman would have asked +money of me, but here she merely addressed me. + +“Look there,” said she, pointing at the boys who were sliding, “all they +do is to play their pranks! They’ll turn out just such Rzhanoff fellows +as their fathers.” + +One of the boys clad in a great-coat and a visorless cap, heard her words +and halted: “What are you scolding about?” he shouted to the old woman. +“You’re an old Rzhanoff nanny-goat yourself!” + +I asked the boy: + +“And do you live here?” + +“Yes, and so does she. She stole boot-legs,” shouted the boy; and +raising his foot in front, he slid away. + +The old woman burst forth into injurious words, interrupted by a cough. +At that moment, an old man, all clad in rags, and as white as snow, came +down the hill in the middle of the street, flourishing his hands [in one +of them he held a bundle with one little _kalatch_ and _baranki_ {39}]. +This old man bore the appearance of a person who had just strengthened +himself with a dram. He had evidently heard the old woman’s insulting +words, and he took her part. + +“I’ll give it to you, you imps, that I will!” he screamed at the boys, +seeming to direct his course towards them, and taking a circuit round me, +he stepped on to the sidewalk. This old man creates surprise on the +Arbata by his great age, his weakness, and his indigence. Here he was a +cheery laboring-man returning from his daily toil. + +I followed the old man. He turned the corner to the left, into +Prototchny Alley, and passing by the whole length of the house and the +gate, he disappeared through the door of the tavern. + +Two gates and several doors open on Prototchny Alley: those belonging to +a tavern, a dram-shop, and several eating and other shops. This is the +Rzhanoff fortress itself. Every thing here is gray, dirty, and +malodorous—both buildings and locality, and court-yards and people. The +majority of the people whom I met here were ragged and half-clad. Some +were passing through, others were running from door to door. Two were +haggling over some rags. I made the circuit of the entire building from +Prototchny Alley and Beregovoy Passage, and returning I halted at the +gate of one of these houses. I wished to enter, and see what was going +on inside, but I felt that it would be awkward. What should I say when I +was asked what I wanted there? I hesitated, but went in nevertheless. +As soon as I entered the court-yard, I became conscious of a disgusting +odor. The yard was frightfully dirty. I turned a corner, and at the +same instant I heard to my left and overhead, on the wooden balcony, the +tramp of footsteps of people running, at first along the planks of the +balcony, and then on the steps of the staircase. There emerged, first a +gaunt woman, with her sleeves rolled up, in a faded pink gown, and little +boots on her stockingless feet. After her came a tattered man in a red +shirt and very full trousers, like a petticoat, and with overshoes. The +man caught the woman at the bottom of the steps. + +“You shall not escape,” he said laughing. + +“See here, you cock-eyed devil,” began the woman, evidently flattered by +this pursuit; but catching sight of me, she shrieked viciously, “What do +you want?” + +As I wanted nothing, I became confused and beat a retreat. There was +nothing remarkable about the place; but this incident, after what I had +witnessed on the other side of the yard, the cursing old woman, the jolly +old man, and the lads sliding, suddenly presented the business which I +had concocted from a totally different point of view. I then +comprehended for the first time, that all these unfortunates to whom I +was desirous of playing the part of benefactor, besides the time, when, +suffering from cold and hunger, they awaited admission into the house, +had still other time, which they employed to some other purpose, that +there were four and twenty hours in every day, that there was a whole +life of which I had never thought, up to that moment. Here, for the +first time, I understood, that all those people, in addition to their +desire to shelter themselves from the cold and to obtain a good meal, +must still, in some way, live out those four and twenty hours each day, +which they must pass as well as everybody else. I comprehended that +these people must lose their tempers, and get bored, show courage, and +grieve and be merry. Strange as this may seem, when put into words, I +understood clearly for the first time, that the business which I had +undertaken could not consist alone in feeding and clothing thousands of +people, as one would feed and drive under cover a thousand sheep, but +that it must consist in doing good to them. + +And then I understood that each one of those thousand people was exactly +such a man,—with precisely the same past, with the same passions, +temptations, failings, with the same thoughts, the same +perplexities,—exactly such a man as myself, and then the thing that I had +undertaken suddenly presented itself to me as so difficult that I felt my +powerlessness; but the thing had been begun, and I went on with it. + + + +CHAPTER V. + + +On the first appointed day, the student enumerators arrived in the +morning, and I, the benefactor, joined them at twelve o’clock. I could +not go earlier, because I had risen at ten o’clock, then I had drunk my +coffee and smoked, while waiting on digestion. At twelve o’clock I +reached the gates of the Rzhanoff house. A policeman pointed out to me +the tavern with a side entrance on Beregovoy Passage, where the +census-takers had ordered every one who asked for them to be directed. I +entered the tavern. It was very dark, ill-smelling, and dirty. Directly +opposite the entrance was the counter, on the left was a room with +tables, covered with soiled cloths, on the right a large apartment with +pillars, and the same sort of little tables at the windows and along the +walls. Here and there at the tables sat men both ragged and decently +clad, like laboring-men or petty tradesmen, and a few women drinking tea. +The tavern was very filthy, but it was instantly apparent that it had a +good trade. + +There was a business-like expression on the face of the clerk behind the +counter, and a clever readiness about the waiters. No sooner had I +entered, than one waiter prepared to remove my coat and bring me whatever +I should order. It was evident that they had been trained to brisk and +accurate service. I inquired for the enumerators. + +“Vanya!” shouted a small man, dressed in German fashion, who was engaged +in placing something in a cupboard behind the counter; this was the +landlord of the tavern, a Kaluga peasant, Ivan Fedotitch, who hired +one-half of the Zimins’ houses and sublet them to lodgers. The waiter, a +thin, hooked-nosed young fellow of eighteen, with a yellow complexion, +hastened up. + +“Conduct this gentleman to the census-takers; they went into the main +building over the well.” The young fellow threw down his napkin, and +donned a coat over his white jacket and white trousers, and a cap with a +large visor, and, tripping quickly along with his white feet, he led me +through the swinging door in the rear. In the dirty, malodorous kitchen, +in the out-building, we encountered an old woman who was carefully +carrying some very bad-smelling tripe, wrapped in a rag, off somewhere. +From the out-building we descended into a sloping court-yard, all +encumbered with small wooden buildings on lower stories of stone. The +odor in this whole yard was extremely powerful. The centre of this odor +was an out-house, round which people were thronging whenever I passed it. +It merely indicated the spot, but was not altogether used itself. It was +impossible, when passing through the yard, not to take note of this spot; +one always felt oppressed when one entered the penetrating atmosphere +which was emitted by this foul smell. + +The waiter, carefully guarding his white trousers, led me cautiously past +this place of frozen and unfrozen uncleanness to one of the buildings. +The people who were passing through the yard and along the balconies all +stopped to stare at me. It was evident that a respectably dressed man +was a curiosity in these localities. + +The young man asked a woman “whether she had seen the census-takers?” +And three men simultaneously answered his question: some said that they +were over the well, but others said that they had been there, but had +come out and gone to Nikita Ivanovitch. An old man dressed only in his +shirt, who was wandering about the centre of the yard, said that they +were in No. 30. The young man decided that this was the most probable +report, and conducted me to No. 30 through the basement entrance, and +darkness and bad smells, different from that which existed outside. We +went down-stairs, and proceeded along the earthen floor of a dark +corridor. As we were passing along the corridor, a door flew open +abruptly, and an old drunken man, in his shirt, probably not of the +peasant class, thrust himself out. A washerwoman, wringing her soapy +hands, was pursuing and hustling the old man with piercing screams. +Vanya, my guide, pushed the old man aside, and reproved him. + +“It’s not proper to make such a row,” said me, “and you an officer, too!” +and we went on to the door of No. 30. + +Vanya gave it a little pull. The door gave way with a smack, opened, and +we smelled soapy steam, and a sharp odor of spoilt food and tobacco, and +we entered into total darkness. The windows were on the opposite side; +but the corridors ran to right and left between board partitions, and +small doors opened, at various angles, into the rooms made of uneven +whitewashed boards. In a dark room, on the left, a woman could be seen +washing in a tub. An old woman was peeping from one of these small doors +on the right. Through another open door we could see a red-faced, hairy +peasant, in bast shoes, sitting on his wooden bunk; his hands rested on +his knees, and he was swinging his feet, shod in bast shoes, and gazing +gloomily at them. + +At the end of the corridor was a little door leading to the apartment +where the census-takers were. This was the chamber of the mistress of +the whole of No. 30; she rented the entire apartment from Ivan +Feodovitch, and let it out again to lodgers and as night-quarters. In +her tiny room, under the tinsel images, sat the student census-taker with +his charts; and, in his quality of investigator, he had just thoroughly +interrogated a peasant wearing a shirt and a vest. This latter was a +friend of the landlady, and had been answering questions for her. The +landlady herself, an elderly woman, was there also, and two of her +curious tenants. When I entered, the room was already packed full. I +pushed my way to the table. I exchanged greetings with the student, and +he proceeded with his inquiries. And I began to look about me, and to +interrogate the inhabitants of these quarters for my own purpose. + +It turned out, that in this first set of lodgings, I found not a single +person upon whom I could pour out my benevolence. The landlady, in spite +of the fact that the poverty, smallness and dirt of these quarters struck +me after the palatial house in which I dwell, lived in comfort, compared +with many of the poor inhabitants of the city, and in comparison with the +poverty in the country, with which I was thoroughly familiar, she lived +luxuriously. She had a feather-bed, a quilted coverlet, a samovar, a fur +cloak, and a dresser with crockery. The landlady’s friend had the same +comfortable appearance. He had a watch and a chain. Her lodgers were +not so well off, but there was not one of them who was in need of +immediate assistance: the woman who was washing linen in a tub, and who +had been abandoned by her husband and had children, an aged widow without +any means of livelihood, as she said, and that peasant in bast shoes, who +told me that he had nothing to eat that day. But on questioning them, it +appeared that none of these people were in special want, and that, in +order to help them, it would be necessary to become well acquainted with +them. + +When I proposed to the woman whose husband had abandoned her, to place +her children in an asylum, she became confused, fell into thought, +thanked me effusively, but evidently did not wish to do so; she would +have preferred pecuniary assistance. The eldest girl helped her in her +washing, and the younger took care of the little boy. The old woman +begged earnestly to be taken to the hospital, but on examining her nook I +found that the old woman was not particularly poor. She had a chest full +of effects, a teapot with a tin spout, two cups, and caramel boxes filled +with tea and sugar. She knitted stockings and gloves, and received +monthly aid from some benevolent lady. And it was evident that what the +peasant needed was not so much food as drink, and that whatever might be +given him would find its way to the dram-shop. In these quarters, +therefore, there were none of the sort of people whom I could render +happy by a present of money. But there were poor people who appeared to +me to be of a doubtful character. I noted down the old woman, the woman +with the children, and the peasant, and decided that they must be seen +to; but later on, as I was occupied with the peculiarly unfortunate whom +I expected to find in this house, I made up my mind that there must be +some order in the aid which we should bestow; first came the most +wretched, and then this kind. But in the next quarters, and in the next +after that, it was the same story, all the people had to be narrowly +investigated before they could be helped. But unfortunates of the sort +whom a gift of money would convert from unfortunate into fortunate +people, there were none. Mortifying as it is to me to avow this, I began +to get disenchanted, because I did not find among these people any thing +of the sort which I had expected. I had expected to find peculiar people +here; but, after making the round of all the apartments, I was convinced +that the inhabitants of these houses were not peculiar people at all, but +precisely such persons as those among whom I lived. As there are among +us, just so among them; there were here those who were more or less good, +more or less stupid, happy and unhappy. The unhappy were exactly such +unhappy beings as exist among us, that is, unhappy people whose +unhappiness lies not in their external conditions, but in themselves, a +sort of unhappiness which it is impossible to right by any sort of +bank-note whatever. + + + +CHAPTER VI. + + +The inhabitants of these houses constitute the lower class of the city, +which numbers in Moscow, probably, one hundred thousand. There, in that +house, are representatives of every description of this class. There are +petty employers, and master-artisans, bootmakers, brush-makers, +cabinet-makers, turners, shoemakers, tailors, blacksmiths; there are +cab-drivers, young women living alone, and female pedlers, laundresses, +old-clothes dealers, money-lenders, day-laborers, and people without any +definite employment; and also beggars and dissolute women. + +Here were many of the very people whom I had seen at the entrance to the +Lyapinsky house; but here these people were scattered about among the +working-people. And moreover, I had seen these people at their most +unfortunate time, when they had eaten and drunk up every thing, and when, +cold, hungry, and driven forth from the taverns, they were awaiting +admission into the free night lodging-house, and thence into the promised +prison for despatch to their places of residence, like heavenly manna; +but here I beheld them and a majority of workers, and at a time, when by +one means or another, they had procured three or five kopeks for a +lodging for the night, and sometimes a ruble for food and drink. + +And strange as the statement may seem, I here experienced nothing +resembling that sensation which I had felt in the Lyapinsky house; but, +on the contrary, during the first round, both I and the students +experienced an almost agreeable feeling,—yes, but why do I say “almost +agreeable”? This is not true; the feeling called forth by intercourse +with these people, strange as it may sound, was a distinctly agreeable +one. + +Our first impression was, that the greater part of the dwellers here were +working people and very good people at that. + +We found more than half the inhabitants at work: laundresses bending over +their tubs, cabinet-makers at their lathes, cobblers on their benches. +The narrow rooms were full of people, and cheerful and energetic labor +was in progress. There was an odor of toilsome sweat and leather at the +cobbler’s, of shavings at the cabinet-maker’s; songs were often to be +heard, and glimpses could be had of brawny arms with sleeves roiled high, +quickly and skilfully making their accustomed movements. Everywhere we +were received cheerfully and politely: hardly anywhere did our intrusion +into the every-day life of these people call forth that ambition, and +desire to exhibit their importance and to put us down, which the +appearance of the enumerators in the quarters of well-to-do people +evoked. It not only did not arouse this, but, on the contrary, they +answered all other questions properly, and without attributing any +special significance to them. Our questions merely served them as a +subject of mirth and jesting as to how such and such a one was to be set +down in the list, when he was to be reckoned as two, and when two were to +be reckoned as one, and so forth. + +We found many of them at dinner, or tea; and on every occasion to our +greeting: “bread and salt,” or “tea and sugar,” they replied: “we beg +that you will partake,” and even stepped aside to make room for us. +Instead of the den with a constantly changing population, which we had +expected to find here, it turned out, that there were a great many +apartments in the house where people had been living for a long time. +One cabinet-maker with his men, and a boot-maker with his journeymen, had +lived there for ten years. The boot-maker’s quarters were very dirty and +confined, but all the people at work were very cheerful. I tried to +enter into conversation with one of the workmen, being desirous of +inquiring into the wretchedness of his situation and his debt to his +master, but the man did not understand me and spoke of his master and his +life from the best point of view. + +In one apartment lived an old man and his old woman. They peddled +apples. Their little chamber was warm, clean, and full of goods. On the +floor were spread straw mats: they had got them at the apple-warehouse. +They had chests, a cupboard, a samovar, and crockery. In the corner +there were numerous images, and two lamps were burning before them; on +the wall hung fur coats covered with sheets. The old woman, who had +star-shaped wrinkles, and who was polite and talkative, evidently +delighted in her quiet, comfortable, existence. + +Ivan Fedotitch, the landlord of the tavern and of these quarters, left +his establishment and came with us. He jested in a friendly manner with +many of the landlords of apartments, addressing them all by their +Christian names and patronymics, and he gave us brief sketches of them. +All were ordinary people, like everybody else,—Martin Semyonovitches, +Piotr Piotrovitches, Marya Ivanovnas,—people who did not consider +themselves unhappy, but who regarded themselves, and who actually were, +just like the rest of mankind. + +We had been prepared to witness nothing except what was terrible. And, +all of a sudden, there was presented to us, not only nothing that was +terrible, but what was good,—things which involuntarily compelled our +respect. And there were so many of these good people, that the tattered, +corrupt, idle people whom we came across now and then among them, did not +destroy the principal impression. + +This was not so much of a surprise to the students as to me. They simply +went to fulfil a useful task, as they thought, in the interests of +science, and, at the same time, they made their own chance observations; +but I was a benefactor, I went for the purpose of aiding the unfortunate, +the corrupt, vicious people, whom I supposed that I should meet with in +this house. And, behold, instead of unfortunate, corrupt, and vicious +people, I saw that the majority were laborious, industrious, peaceable, +satisfied, contented, cheerful, polite, and very good folk indeed. + +I felt particularly conscious of this when, in these quarters, I +encountered that same crying want which I had undertaken to alleviate. + +When I encountered this want, I always found that it had already been +relieved, that the assistance which I had intended to render had already +been given. This assistance had been rendered before my advent, and +rendered by whom? By the very unfortunate, depraved creatures whom I had +undertaken to reclaim, and rendered in such a manner as I could not +compass. + +In one basement lay a solitary old man, ill with the typhus fever. There +was no one with the old man. A widow and her little daughter, strangers +to him, but his neighbors round the corner, looked after him, gave him +tea and purchased medicine for him out of their own means. In another +lodging lay a woman in puerperal fever. A woman who lived by vice was +rocking the baby, and giving her her bottle; and for two days, she had +been unremitting in her attention. The baby girl, on being left an +orphan, was adopted into the family of a tailor, who had three children +of his own. So there remained those unfortunate idle people, officials, +clerks, lackeys out of place, beggars, drunkards, dissolute women, and +children, who cannot be helped on the spot with money, but whom it is +necessary to know thoroughly, to be planned and arranged for. I had +simply sought unfortunate people, the unfortunates of poverty, those who +could be helped by sharing with them our superfluity, and, as it seemed +to me, through some signal ill-luck, none such were to be found; but I +hit upon unfortunates to whom I should be obliged to devote my time and +care. + + + +CHAPTER VII. + + +The unfortunates whom I noted down, divided themselves, according to my +ideas, into three sections, namely: people who had lost their former +advantageous position, and who were awaiting a return to it (there were +people of this sort from both the lower and the higher class); next, +dissolute women, of whom there are a great many in these houses; and a +third division, children. More than all the rest, I found and noted down +people of the first division, who had forfeited their former advantageous +position, and who hoped to regain it. Of such persons, especially from +the governmental and official world, there are a very great number in +these houses. In almost all the lodgings which we entered, with the +landlord, Ivan Fedotitch, he said to us: “Here you need not write down +the lodger’s card yourself; there is a man here who can do it, if he only +happens not to be intoxicated to-day.” + +And Ivan Fedotitch called by name and patronymic this man, who was always +one of those persons who had fallen from a lofty position. At Ivan +Fedotitch’s call, there crawled forth from some dark corner, a former +wealthy member of the noble or official class, generally intoxicated and +always undressed. If he was not drunk, he always readily acceded to the +task proposed to him, nodded significantly, frowned, set down his remarks +in learned phraseology, held the card neatly printed on red paper in his +dirty, trembling hands, and glanced round at his fellow-lodgers with +pride and contempt, as though now triumphing in his education over those +who had so often humiliated him. He evidently enjoyed intercourse with +that world in which cards are printed on red paper, and with that world +of which he had once formed a part. Nearly always, in answer to my +inquiries about his life, the man began, not only willingly, but eagerly, +to relate the story of the misfortunes which he had undergone,—which he +had learned by rote like a prayer,—and particularly of his former +position, in which he ought still to be by right of his education. + +A great many such people were scattered over all the corners of the +Rzhanoff house. But one lodging was densely occupied by them alone—both +men and women. After we had already entered, Ivan Fedotitch said to us: +“Now, here are some of the nobility.” The lodging was perfectly crammed; +nearly all of the people, forty in number, were at home. More +demoralized countenances, unhappy, aged, and swollen, young, pallid, and +distracted, were not to be seen in the whole building. I conversed with +several of them. The story was nearly identical in all cases, only in +various stages of development. Every one of them had been rich, or his +father, his brother or his uncle was still wealthy, or his father or he +himself had had a very fine position. Then misfortune had overtaken him, +the blame for which rested either on envious people, or on his own +kind-heartedness, or some special chance, and so he had lost every thing, +and had been forced to condescend to these surroundings to which he was +not accustomed, and which were hateful to him—among lice, rags, among +drunkards and corrupt persons, and to nourish himself on bread and liver, +and to extend his hand in beggary. All the thoughts, desires, memories +of these people were directed exclusively to the past. The present +appeared to them something unreal, repulsive, and not worthy of +attention. Not one of them had any present. They had only memories of +the past, and expectations from the future, which might be realized at +any moment, and for the realization of which only a very little was +required; but this little they did not possess, it was nowhere to be +obtained, and this had been ruining their whole future life in vain, in +the case of one man, for a year, of a second for five years, and of a +third for thirty years. All one needed was merely to dress respectably, +so that he could present himself to a certain personage, who was +well-disposed towards him another only needed to be able to dress, pay +off his debts, and get to Orel; a third required to redeem a small +property which was mortgaged, for the continuation of a law-suit, which +must be decided in his favor, and then all would be well once more. They +all declare that they merely require something external, in order to +stand once more in the position which they regard as natural and happy in +their own case. + +Had my mind not been obscured by my pride as a benefactor, a glance at +their faces, both old and young, which were mostly weak and sensitive, +but amiable, would have given me to understand that their misfortunes +were irreparable by any external means, that they could not be happy in +any position whatever, if their views of life were to remain unchanged, +that they were in no wise remarkable people, in remarkably unfortunate +circumstances, but that they were the same people who surround us on all +sides, and just like ourselves. I remember that intercourse with this +sort of unfortunates was peculiarly difficult for me. I now understand +why this was so; in them I beheld myself, as in a mirror. If I had +reflected on my own life and on the life of the people in our circle, I +should have seen that no real difference existed between them. + +If those about me dwell in spacious quarters, and in their own houses on +the Sivtzevy Vrazhok and on the Dimitrovka, and not in the Rzhanoff +house, and still eat and drink dainties, and not liver and herrings with +bread, that does not prevent them from being exactly as unhappy. They +are just as dissatisfied with their own positions, they mourn over the +past, and pine for better things, and the improved position for which +they long is precisely the same as that which the inhabitants of the +Rzhanoff house long for; that is to say, one in which they may do as +little work as possible themselves, and derive the utmost advantage from +the labors of others. The difference is merely one of degrees and time. +If I had reflected at that time, I should have understood this; but I did +not reflect, and I questioned these people, and wrote them down, +supposing, that, having learned all the particulars of their various +conditions and necessities, I could aid them _later on_. I did not +understand that such a man can only be helped by changing his views of +the world. But in order to change the views of another, one must needs +have better views himself, and live in conformity with them; but mine +were precisely the same as theirs, and I lived in accordance with those +views, which must undergo a change, in order that these people might +cease to be unhappy. + +I did not see that these people were unhappy, not because they had not, +so to speak, nourishing food, but because their stomachs had been +spoiled, and because their appetites demanded not nourishing but +irritating viands; and I did not perceive that, in order to help them, it +was not necessary to give them food, but that it was necessary to heal +their disordered stomachs. Although I am anticipating by so doing, I +will mention here, that, out of all these persons whom I noted down, I +really did not help a single one, in spite of the fact that for some of +them, that was done which they desired, and that which, apparently, might +have raised them. Three of their number were particularly well known to +me. All three, after repeated rises and falls, are now in precisely the +same situation in which they were three years ago. + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + + +The second class of unfortunates whom I also expected to assist later on, +were the dissolute women; there were a very great many of them, of all +sorts, in the Rzhanoff house—from those who were young and who resembled +women, to old ones, who were frightful and horrible, and who had lost +every semblance of humanity. The hope of being of assistance to these +women, which I had not at first entertained, occurred to me later. This +was in the middle of our rounds. We had already worked out several +mechanical tricks of procedure. + +When we entered a new establishment, we immediately questioned the +landlady of the apartment; one of us sat down, clearing some sort of a +place for himself where he could write, and another penetrated the +corners, and questioned each man in all the nooks of the apartment +separately, and reported the facts to the one who did the writing. + +On entering a set of rooms in the basement, a student went to hunt up the +landlady, while I began to interrogate all who remained in the place. +The apartment was thus arranged: in the centre was a room six _arshins_ +square, {59} and a small oven. From the oven radiated four partitions, +forming four tiny compartments. In the first, the entrance slip, which +had four bunks, there were two persons—an old man and a woman. +Immediately adjoining this, was a rather long slip of a room; in it was +the landlord, a young fellow, dressed in a sleeveless gray woollen +jacket, a good-looking, very pale citizen. {60} On the left of the first +corner, was a third tiny chamber; there was one person asleep there, +probably a drunken peasant, and a woman in a pink blouse which was loose +in front and close-fitting behind. The fourth chamber was behind the +partition; the entrance to it was from the landlord’s compartment. + +The student went into the landlord’s room, and I remained in the entrance +compartment, and questioned the old man and woman. The old man had been +a master-printer, but now had no means of livelihood. The woman was the +wife of a cook. I went to the third compartment, and questioned the +woman in the blouse about the sleeping man. She said that he was a +visitor. I asked the woman who she was. She replied that she was a +Moscow peasant. “What is your business?” She burst into a laugh, and +did not answer me. “What do you live on?” I repeated, thinking that she +had not understood my question. “I sit in the taverns,” she said. I did +not comprehend, and again I inquired: “What is your means of livelihood?” +She made no reply and laughed. Women’s voices in the fourth compartment +which we had not yet entered, joined in the laugh. The landlord emerged +from his cabin and stepped up to us. He had evidently heard my questions +and the woman’s replies. He cast a stern glance at the woman and turned +to me: “She is a prostitute,” said he, apparently pleased that he knew +the word in use in the language of the authorities, and that he could +pronounce it correctly. And having said this, with a respectful and +barely perceptible smile of satisfaction addressed to me, he turned to +the woman. And no sooner had he turned to her, than his whole face +altered. He said, in a peculiar, scornful, hasty tone, such as is +employed towards dogs: “What do you jabber in that careless way for? ‘I +sit in the taverns.’ You do sit in the taverns, and that means, to talk +business, that you are a prostitute,” and again he uttered the word. +“She does not know the name for herself.” This tone offended me. “It is +not our place to abuse her,” said I. “If all of us lived according to +the laws of God, there would be none of these women.” + +“That’s the very point,” said the landlord, with an awkward smile. + +“Therefore, we should not reproach but pity them. Are they to blame?” + +I do not recollect just what I said, but I do remember that I was vexed +by the scornful tone of the landlord of these quarters which were filled +with women, whom he called prostitutes, and that I felt compassion for +this woman, and that I gave expression to both feelings. No sooner had I +spoken thus, than the boards of the bed in the next compartment, whence +the laugh had proceeded, began to creak, and above the partition, which +did not reach to the ceiling, there appeared a woman’s curly and +dishevelled head, with small, swollen eyes, and a shining, red face, +followed by a second, and then by a third. They were evidently standing +on their beds, and all three were craning their necks, and holding their +breath with strained attention, and gazing silently at us. + +A troubled pause ensued. The student, who had been smiling up to this +time, became serious; the landlord grew confused and dropped his eyes. +All the women held their breath, stared at me, and waited. I was more +embarrassed than any of them. I had not, in the least, anticipated that +a chance remark would produce such an effect. Like Ezekiel’s field of +death, strewn with dead men’s bones, there was a quiver at the touch of +the spirit, and the dead bones stirred. I had uttered an unpremeditated +word of love and sympathy, and this word had acted on all as though they +had only been waiting for this very remark, in order that they might +cease to be corpses and might live. They all stared at me, and waited +for what would come next. They waited for me to utter those words, and +to perform those actions by reason of which these bones might draw +together, clothe themselves with flesh, and spring into life. But I felt +that I had no such words, no such actions, by means of which I could +continue what I had begun; I was conscious, in the depths of my soul, +that I had lied [that I was just like them], {62} and there was nothing +further for me to say; and I began to inscribe on the cards the names and +callings of all the persons in this set of apartments. + +This incident led me into a fresh dilemma, to the thought of how these +unfortunates also might be helped. In my self-delusion, I fancied that +this would be very easy. I said to myself: “Here, we will make a note of +all these women also, and _later on_ when we [I did not specify to myself +who “we” were] write every thing out, we will attend to these persons +too.” I imagined that we, the very ones who have brought and have been +bringing these women to this condition for several generations, would +take thought some fine day and reform all this. But, in the mean time, +if I had only recalled my conversation with the disreputable woman who +had been rocking the baby of the fever-stricken patient, I might have +comprehended the full extent of the folly of such a supposition. + +When we saw this woman with the baby, we thought that it was her child. +To the question, “Who was she?” she had replied in a straightforward way +that she was unmarried. She did not say—a prostitute. Only the master +of the apartment made use of that frightful word. The supposition that +she had a child suggested to me the idea of removing her from her +position. I inquired: + +“Is this your child?” + +“No, it belongs to that woman yonder.” + +“Why are you taking care of it?” + +“Because she asked me; she is dying.” + +Although my supposition proved to be erroneous, I continued my +conversation with her in the same spirit. I began to question her as to +who she was, and how she had come to such a state. She related her +history very readily and simply. She was a Moscow _myeshchanka_, the +daughter of a factory hand. She had been left an orphan, and had been +adopted by an aunt. From her aunt’s she had begun to frequent the +taverns. The aunt was now dead. When I asked her whether she did not +wish to alter her mode of life, my question, evidently, did not even +arouse her interest. How can one take an interest in the proposition of +a man, in regard to something absolutely impossible? She laughed, and +said: “And who would take me in with my yellow ticket?” + +“Well, but if a place could be found somewhere as cook?” said I. + +This thought occurred to me because she was a stout, ruddy woman, with a +kindly, round, and rather stupid face. Cooks are often like that. My +words evidently did not please her. She repeated: + +“A cook—but I don’t know how to make bread,” said she, and she laughed. +She said that she did not know how; but I saw from the expression of her +countenance that she did not wish to become a cook, that she regarded the +position and calling of a cook as low. + +This woman, who in the simplest possible manner was sacrificing every +thing that she had for the sick woman, like the widow in the Gospels, at +the same time, like many of her companions, regarded the position of a +person who works as low and deserving of scorn. She had been brought up +to live not by work, but by this life which was considered the natural +one for her by those about her. In that lay her misfortune. And she +fell in with this misfortune and clung to her position. This led her to +frequent the taverns. Which of us—man or woman—will correct her false +view of life? Where among us are the people to be found who are +convinced that every laborious life is more worthy of respect than an +idle life,—who are convinced of this, and who live in conformity with +this belief, and who in conformity with this conviction value and respect +people? If I had thought of this, I might have understood that neither +I, nor any other person among my acquaintances, could heal this +complaint. + +I might have understood that these amazed and affected heads thrust over +the partition indicated only surprise at the sympathy expressed for them, +but not in the least a hope of reclamation from their dissolute life. +They do not perceive the immorality of their life. They see that they +are despised and cursed, but for what they are thus despised they cannot +comprehend. Their life, from childhood, has been spent among just such +women, who, as they very well know, always have existed, and are +indispensable to society, and so indispensable that there are +governmental officials to attend to their legal existence. Moreover, +they know that they have power over men, and can bring them into +subjection, and rule them often more than other women. They see that +their position in society is recognized by women and men and the +authorities, in spite of their continual curses, and therefore, they +cannot understand why they should reform. + +In the course of one of the tours, one of the students told me that in a +certain lodging, there was a woman who was bargaining for her +thirteen-year-old daughter. Being desirous of rescuing this girl, I made +a trip to that lodging expressly. Mother and daughter were living in the +greatest poverty. The mother, a small, dark-complexioned, dissolute +woman of forty, was not only homely, but repulsively homely. The +daughter was equally disagreeable. To all my pointed questions about +their life, the mother responded curtly, suspiciously, and in a hostile +way, evidently feeling that I was an enemy, with evil intentions; the +daughter made no reply, did not look at her mother, and evidently trusted +the latter fully. They inspired me with no sincere pity, but rather with +disgust. But I made up my mind that the daughter must be rescued, and +that I would interest ladies who pitied the sad condition of these women, +and send them hither. But if I had reflected on the mother’s long life +in the past, of how she had given birth to, nursed and reared this +daughter in her situation, assuredly without the slightest assistance +from outsiders, and with heavy sacrifices—if I had reflected on the view +of life which this woman had formed, I should have understood that there +was, decidedly, nothing bad or immoral in the mother’s act: she had done +and was doing for her daughter all that she could, that is to say, what +she considered the best for herself. This daughter could be forcibly +removed from her mother; but it would be impossible to convince the +mother that she was doing wrong, in selling her daughter. If any one was +to be saved, then it must be this woman—the mother ought to have been +saved; [and that long before, from that view of life which is approved by +every one, according to which a woman may live unmarried, that is, +without bearing children and without work, and simply for the +satisfaction of the passions. If I had thought of this, I should have +understood that the majority of the ladies whom I intended to send +thither for the salvation of that little girl, not only live without +bearing children and without working, and serving only passion, but that +they deliberately rear their daughters for the same life; one mother +takes her daughter to the taverns, another takes hers to balls. But both +mothers hold the same view of the world, namely, that a woman must +satisfy man’s passions, and that for this she must be fed, dressed, and +cared for. Then how are our ladies to reform this woman and her +daughter? {66} ] + + + +CHAPTER IX. + + +Still more remarkable were my relations to the children. In my _rôle_ of +benefactor, I turned my attention to the children also, being desirous to +save these innocent beings from perishing in that lair of vice, and +noting them down in order to attend to them _afterwards_. + +Among the children, I was especially struck with a twelve-year-old lad +named Serozha. I was heartily sorry for this bold, intelligent lad, who +had lived with a cobbler, and who had been left without a shelter because +his master had been put in jail, and I wanted to do good to him. + +I will here relate the upshot of my benevolence in his case, because my +experience with this child is best adapted to show my false position in +the _rôle_ of benefactor. I took the boy home with me and put him in the +kitchen. It was impossible, was it not, to take a child who had lived in +a den of iniquity in among my own children? And I considered myself very +kind and good, because he was a care, not to me, but to the servants in +the kitchen, and because not I but the cook fed him, and because I gave +him some cast-off clothing to wear. The boy staid a week. During that +week I said a few words to him as I passed on two occasions and in the +course of my strolls, I went to a shoemaker of my acquaintance, and +proposed that he should take the lad as an apprentice. A peasant who was +visiting me, invited him to go to the country, into his family, as a +laborer; the boy refused, and at the end of the week he disappeared. I +went to the Rzhanoff house to inquire after him. He had returned there, +but was not at home when I went thither. For two days already, he had +been going to the Pryesnensky ponds, where he had hired himself out at +thirty kopeks a day in some procession of savages in costume, who led +about elephants. Something was being presented to the public there. I +went a second time, but he was so ungrateful that he evidently avoided +me. Had I then reflected on the life of that boy and on my own, I should +have understood that this boy was spoiled because he had discovered the +possibility of a merry life without labor, and that he had grown unused +to work. And I, with the object of benefiting and reclaiming him, had +taken him to my house, where he saw—what? My children,—both older and +younger than himself, and of the same age,—who not only never did any +work for themselves, but who made work for others by every means in their +power, who soiled and spoiled every thing about them, who ate rich, +dainty, and sweet viands, broke china, and flung to the dogs food which +would have been a tidbit to this lad. If I had rescued him from the +_abyss_, and had taken him to that nice place, then he must acquire those +views which prevailed in the life of that nice place; but by these views, +he understood that in that fine place he must so live that he should not +toil, but eat and drink luxuriously, and lead a joyous life. It is true +that he did not know that my children bore heavy burdens in the +acquisition of the declensions of Latin and Greek grammar, and that he +could not have understood the object of these labors. But it is +impossible not to see that if he had understood this, the influence of my +children’s example on him would have been even stronger. He would then +have comprehended that my children were being educated in this manner, so +that, while doing no work now, they might be in a position hereafter, +also profiting by their diplomas, to work as little as possible, and to +enjoy the pleasures of life to as great an extent as possible. He did +understand this, and he would not go with the peasant to tend cattle, and +to eat potatoes and _kvas_ with him, but he went to the zoölogical garden +in the costume of a savage, to lead the elephant at thirty kopeks a day. + +I might have understood how clumsy I was, when I was rearing my children +in the most utter idleness and luxury, to reform other people and their +children, who were perishing from idleness in what I called the den of +the Rzhanoff house, where, nevertheless, three-fourths of the people toil +for themselves and for others. But I understood nothing of this. + +There were a great many children in the Rzhanoff house, who were in the +same pitiable plight; there were the children of dissolute women, there +were orphans, there were children who had been picked up in the streets +by beggars. They were all very wretched. But my experience with Serozha +showed me that I, living the life I did, was not in a position to help +them. + +While Serozha was living with us, I noticed in myself an effort to hide +our life from him, in particular the life of our children. I felt that +all my efforts to direct him towards a good, industrious life, were +counteracted by the examples of our lives and by that of our children. +It is very easy to take a child away from a disreputable woman, or from a +beggar. It is very easy, when one has the money, to wash, clean and +dress him in neat clothing, to support him, and even to teach him various +sciences; but it is not only difficult for us, who do not earn our own +bread, but quite the reverse, to teach him to work for his bread, but it +is impossible, because we, by our example, and even by those material and +valueless improvements of his life, inculcate the contrary. A puppy can +be taken, tended, fed, and taught to fetch and carry, and one may take +pleasure in him: but it is not enough to tend a man, to feed and teach +him Greek; we must teach the man how to live,—that is, to take as little +as possible from others, and to give as much as possible; and we cannot +help teaching him to do the contrary, if we take him into our houses, or +into an institution founded for this purpose. + + + +CHAPTER X. + + +This feeling of compassion for people, and of disgust with myself, which +I had experienced in the Lyapinsky house, I experienced no longer. I was +completely absorbed in the desire to carry out the scheme which I had +concocted,—to do good to those people whom I should meet here. And, +strange to say, it would appear, that, to do good—to give money to the +needy—is a very good deed, and one that should dispose me to love for the +people, but it turned out the reverse: this act produced in me ill-will +and an inclination to condemn people. But during our first evening tour, +a scene occurred exactly like that in the Lyapinsky house, and it called +forth a wholly different sentiment. + +It began by my finding in one set of apartments an unfortunate +individual, of precisely the sort who require immediate aid. I found a +hungry woman who had had nothing to eat for two days. + +It came about thus: in one very large and almost empty night-lodging, I +asked an old woman whether there were many poor people who had nothing to +eat? The old woman reflected, and then told me of two; and then, as +though she had just recollected, “Why, here is one of them,” said she, +glancing at one of the occupied bunks. “I think that woman has had no +food.” + +“Really? Who is she?” + +“She was a dissolute woman: no one wants any thing to do with her now, so +she has no way of getting any thing. The landlady has had compassion on +her, but now she means to turn her out . . . Agafya, hey there, Agafya!” +cried the woman. + +We approached, and something rose up in the bunk. It was a woman haggard +and dishevelled, whose hair was half gray, and who was as thin as a +skeleton, dressed in a ragged and dirty chemise, and with particularly +brilliant and staring eyes. She looked past us with her staring eyes, +clutched at her jacket with one thin hand, in order to cover her bony +breast which was disclosed by her tattered chemise, and oppressed, she +cried, “What is it? what is it?” I asked her about her means of +livelihood. For a long time she did not understand, and said, “I don’t +know myself; they persecute me.” I asked her,—it puts me to shame, my +hand refuses to write it,—I asked her whether it was true that she had +nothing to eat? She answered in the same hurried, feverish tone, staring +at me the while,—“No, I had nothing yesterday, and I have had nothing +to-day.” + +The sight of this woman touched me, but not at all as had been the case +in the Lyapinsky house; there, my pity for these people made me instantly +feel ashamed of myself: but here, I rejoiced because I had at last found +what I had been seeking,—a hungry person. + +I gave her a ruble, and I recollect being very glad that others saw it. +The old woman, on seeing this, immediately begged money of me also. It +afforded me such pleasure to give, that, without finding out whether it +was necessary to give or not, I gave something to the old woman too. The +old woman accompanied me to the door, and the people standing in the +corridor heard her blessing me. Probably the questions which I had put +with regard to poverty, had aroused expectation, and several persons +followed us. In the corridor also, they began to ask me for money. +Among those who begged were some drunken men, who aroused an unpleasant +feeling in me; but, having once given to the old woman, I had no might to +refuse these people, and I began to give. As long as I continued to +give, people kept coming up; and excitement ran through all the lodgings. +People made them appearance on the stairs and galleries, and followed me. +As I emerged into the court-yard, a little boy ran swiftly down one of +the staircases thrusting the people aside. He did not see me, and +exclaimed hastily: “He gave Agashka a ruble!” When he reached the +ground, the boy joined the crowd which was following me. I went out into +the street: various descriptions of people followed me, and asked for +money. I distributed all my small change, and entered an open shop with +the request that the shopkeeper would change a ten-ruble bill for me. +And then the same thing happened as at the Lyapinsky house. A terrible +confusion ensued. Old women, noblemen, peasants, and children crowded +into the shop with outstretched hands; I gave, and interrogated some of +them as to their lives, and took notes. The shopkeeper, turning up the +furred points of the collar of his coat, sat like a stuffed creature, +glancing at the crowd occasionally, and then fixing his eyes beyond them +again. He evidently, like every one else, felt that this was foolish, +but he could not say so. + +The poverty and beggary in the Lyapinsky house had horrified me, and I +felt myself guilty of it; I felt the desire and the possibility of +improvement. But now, precisely the same scene produced on me an +entirely different effect; I experienced, in the first place, a +malevolent feeling towards many of those who were besieging me; and in +the second place, uneasiness as to what the shopkeepers and porters would +think of me. + +On my return home that day, I was troubled in my soul. I felt that what +I had done was foolish and immoral. But, as is always the result of +inward confusion, I talked a great deal about the plan which I had +undertaken, as though I entertained not the slightest doubt of my +success. + +On the following day, I went to such of the people whom I had inscribed +on my list, as seemed to me the most wretched of all, and those who, as +it seemed to me, would be the easiest to help. As I have already said, I +did not help any of these people. It proved to be more difficult to help +them than I had thought. And either because I did not know how, or +because it was impossible, I merely imitated these people, and did not +help any one. I visited the Rzhanoff house several times before the +final tour, and on every occasion the very same thing occurred: I was +beset by a throng of beggars in whose mass I was completely lost. I felt +the impossibility of doing any thing, because there were too many of +them, and because I felt ill-disposed towards them because there were so +many of them; and in addition to this, each one separately did not +incline me in his favor. I was conscious that every one of them was +telling me an untruth, or less than the whole truth, and that he saw in +me merely a purse from which money might be drawn. And it very +frequently seemed to me, that the very money which they squeezed out of +me, rendered their condition worse instead of improving it. The oftener +I went to that house, the more I entered into intercourse with the people +there, the more apparent became to me the impossibility of doing any +thing; but still I did not give up any scheme until the last night tour. + +The remembrance of that last tour is particularly mortifying to me. On +other occasions I had gone thither alone, but twenty of us went there on +this occasion. At seven o’clock, all who wished to take part in this +final night round, began to assemble at my house. Nearly all of them +were strangers to me,—students, one officer, and two of my society +acquaintances, who, uttering the usual, “_C’est très intèressant_!” had +asked me to include them in the number of the census-takers. + +My worldly acquaintances had dressed up especially for this, in some sort +of hunting-jacket, and tall, travelling boots, in a costume in which they +rode and went hunting, and which, in their opinion, was appropriate for +an excursion to a night-lodging-house. They took with them special +note-books and remarkable pencils. They were in that peculiarly excited +state of mind in which men set off on a hunt, to a duel, or to the wars. +The most apparent thing about them was their folly and the falseness of +our position, but all the rest of us were in the same false position. +Before we set out, we held a consultation, after the fashion of a council +of war, as to how we should begin, how divide our party, and so on. + +This consultation was exactly such as takes place in councils, +assemblages, committees; that is to say, each person spoke, not because +he had any thing to say or to ask, but because each one cudgelled his +brain for something that he could say, so that he might not fall short of +the rest. But, among all these discussions, no one alluded to that +beneficence of which I had so often spoken to them all. Mortifying as +this was to me, I felt that it was indispensable that I should once more +remind them of benevolence, that is, of the point, that we were to +observe and take notes of all those in destitute circumstances whom we +should encounter in the course of our rounds. I had always felt ashamed +to speak of this; but now, in the midst of all our excited preparations +for our expedition, I could hardly utter the words. All listened to me, +as it seemed to me, with sorrow, and, at the same time, all agreed in +words; but it was evident that they all knew that it was folly, and that +nothing would come of it, and all immediately began again to talk about +something else. This went on until the time arrived for us to set out, +and we started. + +We reached the tavern, roused the waiters, and began to sort our papers. +When we were informed that the people had heard about this round, and +were leaving their quarters, we asked the landlord to lock the gates; and +we went ourselves into the yard to reason with the fleeing people, +assuring them that no one would demand their tickets. I remember the +strange and painful impression produced on me by these alarmed +night-lodgers: ragged, half-dressed, they all seemed tall to me by the +light of the lantern and the gloom of the court-yard. Frightened and +terrifying in their alarm, they stood in a group around the foul-smelling +out-house, and listened to our assurances, but they did not believe us, +and were evidently prepared for any thing, like hunted wild beasts, +provided only that they could escape from us. Gentlemen in divers +shapes—as policemen, both city and rural, and as examining judges, and +judges—hunt them all their lives, in town and country, on the highway and +in the streets, and in the taverns, and in night-lodging houses; and now, +all of a sudden, these gentlemen had come and locked the gates, merely in +order to count them: it was as difficult for them to believe this, as for +hares to believe that dogs have come, not to chase but to count them. +But the gates were locked, and the startled lodgers returned: and we, +breaking up into groups, entered also. With me were the two society men +and two students. In front of us, in the dark, went Vanya, in his coat +and white trousers, with a lantern, and we followed. We went to quarters +with which I was familiar. I knew all the establishments, and some of +the people; but the majority of the people were new, and the spectacle +was new, and more dreadful than the one which I had witnessed in the +Lyapinsky house. All the lodgings were full, all the bunks were +occupied, not by one person only, but often by two. The sight was +terrible in that narrow space into which the people were huddled, and men +and women were mixed together. All the women who were not dead drunk +slept with men; and women with two children did the same. The sight was +terrible, on account of the poverty, dirt, rags, and terror of the +people. And it was chiefly dreadful on account of the vast numbers of +people who were in this situation. One lodging, and then a second like +it, and a third, and a tenth, and a twentieth, and still there was no end +to them. And everywhere there was the same foul odor, the same close +atmosphere, the same crowding, the same mingling of the sexes, the same +men and women intoxicated to stupidity, and the same terror, submission +and guilt on all faces; and again I was overwhelmed with shame and pain, +as in the Lyapinsky house, and I understood that what I had undertaken +was abominable and foolish and therefore impracticable. And I no longer +took notes of anybody, and I asked no questions, knowing that nothing +would come of this. + +I was deeply pained. In the Lyapinsky house I had been like a man who +has seen a fearful wound, by chance, on the body of another man. He is +sorry for the other man, he is ashamed that he has not pitied the man +before, and he can still rise to the succor of the sufferer. But now I +was like a physician, who has come with his medicine to the sick man, has +uncovered his sore, and examined it, and who must confess to himself that +every thing that he has done has been in vain, and that his remedy is +good for nothing. + + + +CHAPTER XI. + + +This visit dealt the final blow to my self-delusion. It now appeared +indisputable to me, that what I had undertaken was not only foolish but +loathsome. + +But, in spite of the fact that I was aware of this, it seemed to me that +I could not abandon the whole thing on the spot. It seemed to me that I +was bound to carry out this enterprise, in the first place, because by my +article, by my visits and promises, I had aroused the expectations of the +poor; in the second, because by my article also, and by my talk, I had +aroused the sympathies of benevolent persons, many of whom had promised +me their co-operation both in personal labor and in money. And I +expected that both sets of people would turn to me for an answer to this. + +What happened to me, so far as the appeal of the needy to me is +concerned, was as follows: By letter and personal application I received +more than a hundred; these applications were all from the wealthy-poor, +if I may so express myself. I went to see some of them, and some of them +received no answer. Nowhere did I succeed in doing any thing. All +applications to me were from persons who had once occupied privileged +positions (I thus designate those in which people receive more from +others than they give), who had lost them, and who wished to occupy them +again. To one, two hundred rubles were indispensable, in order that he +might prop up a failing business, and complete the education of his +children which had been begun; another wanted a photographic outfit; a +third wanted his debts paid, and respectable clothing purchased for him; +a fourth needed a piano, in order to perfect himself and support his +family by giving lessons. But the majority did not stipulate for any +given sum of money, and simply asked for assistance; and when I came to +examine into what was required, it turned out that their demands grew in +proportion to the aid, and that there was not and could not be any way of +satisfying them. I repeat, that it is very possible that this arose from +the fact that I did not understand how; but I did not help any one, +although I sometimes endeavored to do so. + +A very strange and unexpected thing happened to me as regards the +co-operation of the benevolently disposed. Out of all the persons who +had promised me financial aid, and who had even stated the number of +rubles, not a single one handed to me for distribution among the poor one +solitary ruble. But according to the pledges which had been given me, I +could reckon on about three thousand rubles; and out of all these people, +not one remembered our former discussions, or gave me a single kopek. +Only the students gave the money which had been assigned to them for +their work on the census, twelve rubles, I think. So my whole scheme, +which was to have been expressed by tens of thousands of rubles +contributed by the wealthy, for hundreds and thousands of poor people who +were to be rescued from poverty and vice, dwindled down to this, that I +gave away, haphazard, a few scores of rubles to those people who asked me +for them, and that there remained in my hands twelve rubies contributed +by the students, and twenty-five sent to me by the City Council for my +labor as a superintendent, and I absolutely did not know to whom to give +them. + +The whole matter came to an end. And then, before my departure for the +country, on the Sunday before carnival, I went to the Rzhanoff house in +the morning, in order to get rid of those thirty-seven rubles before I +should leave Moscow, and to distribute them to the poor. I made the +round of the quarters with which I was familiar, and in them found only +one sick man, to whom I gave five rubles. There was no one else there to +give any to. Of course many began to beg of me. But as I had not known +them at first, so I did not know them now, and I made up my mind to take +counsel with Ivan Fedotitch, the landlord of the tavern, as to the +persons upon whom it would be proper to bestow the remaining thirty-two +rubies. + +It was the first day of the carnival. Everybody was dressed up, and +everybody was full-fed, and many were already intoxicated. In the +court-yard, close to the house, stood an old man, a rag-picker, in a +tattered smock and bast shoes, sorting over the booty in his basket, +tossing out leather, iron, and other stuff in piles, and breaking into a +merry song, with a fine, powerful voice. I entered into conversation +with him. He was seventy years old, he was alone in the world, and +supported himself by his calling of a rag-picker; and not only did he +utter no complaints, but he said that he had plenty to eat and drink. I +inquired of him as to especially needy persons. He flew into a rage, and +said plainly that there were no needy people, except drunkards and lazy +men; but, on learning my object, he asked me for a five-kopek piece to +buy a drink, and ran off to the tavern. I too entered the tavern to see +Ivan Fedotitch, and commission him to distribute the money which I had +left. The tavern was full; gayly-dressed, intoxicated girls were +flitting in and out; all the tables were occupied; there were already a +great many drunken people, and in the small room the harmonium was being +played, and two persons were dancing. Out of respect to me, Ivan +Fedotitch ordered that the dance should be stopped, and seated himself +with me at a vacant table. I said to him, that, as he knew his tenants, +would not he point out to me the most needy among them; that I had been +entrusted with the distribution of a little money, and, therefore, would +he indicate the proper persons? Good-natured Ivan Fedotitch (he died a +year later), although he was pressed with business, broke away from it +for a time, in order to serve me. He meditated, and was evidently +undecided. An elderly waiter heard us, and joined the conference. + +They began to discuss the claims of persons, some of whom I knew, but +still they could not come to any agreement. “The Paramonovna,” suggested +the waiter. “Yes, that would do. Sometimes she has nothing to eat. +Yes, but then she tipples.”—“Well, what of that? That makes no +difference.”—“Well, Sidoron Ivanovitch has children. He would do.” But +Ivan Fedotitch had his doubts about Sidoron Ivanovitch also. “Akulina +shall have some. There, now, give something to the blind.” To this I +responded. I saw him at once. He was a blind old man of eighty years, +without kith or kin. It seemed as though no condition could be more +painful, and I went immediately to see him. He was lying on a +feather-bed, on a high bedstead, drunk; and, as he did not see me, he was +scolding his comparatively youthful female companion in a frightful bass +voice, and in the very worst kind of language. They also summoned an +armless boy and his mother. I saw that Ivan Fedotitch was in great +straits, on account of his conscientiousness, for me knew that whatever +was given would immediately pass to his tavern. But I had to get rid of +my thirty-two rubles, so I insisted; and in one way and another, and half +wrongfully to boot, we assigned and distributed them. Those who received +them were mostly well dressed, and we had not far to go to find them, as +they were there in the tavern. The armless boy appeared in wrinkled +boots, and a red shirt and vest. With this my charitable career came to +an end, and I went off to the country; irritated at others, as is always +the case, because I myself had done a stupid and a bad thing. My +benevolence had ended in nothing, and it ceased altogether, but the +current of thoughts and feelings which it had called up with me not only +did not come to an end, but the inward work went on with redoubled force. + + + +CHAPTER XII. + + +What was its nature? + +I had lived in the country, and there I was connected with the rustic +poor. Not out of humility, which is worse than pride, but for the sake +of telling the truth, which is indispensable for the understanding of the +whole course of my thoughts and sentiments, I will say that in the +country I did very little for the poor, but the demands which were made +upon me were so modest that even this little was of use to the people, +and formed around me an atmosphere of affection and union with the +people, in which it was possible to soothe the gnawing sensation of +remorse at the independence of my life. On going to the city, I had +hoped to be able to live in the same manner. But here I encountered want +of an entirely different sort. City want was both less real, and more +exacting and cruel, than country poverty. But the principal point was, +that there was so much of it in one spot, that it produced on me a +frightful impression. The impression which I experienced in the +Lyapinsky house had, at the very first, made me conscious of the +deformity of my own life. This feeling was genuine and very powerful. +But, notwithstanding its genuineness and power, I was, at that time, so +weak that I feared the alteration in my life to which this feeling +commended me, and I resorted to a compromise. I believed what everybody +told me, and everybody has said, ever since the world was made,—that +there is nothing evil in wealth and luxury, that they are given by God, +that one may continue to live as a rich man, and yet help the needy. I +believed this, and I tried to do it. I wrote an essay, in which I +summoned all rich people to my assistance. The rich people all +acknowledged themselves morally bound to agree with me, but evidently +they either did not wish to do any thing, or they could not do any thing +or give any thing to the poor. I began to visit the poor, and I beheld +what I had not in the least expected. On the one hand, I beheld in those +dens, as I called them, people whom it was not conceivable that I should +help, because they were working people, accustomed to labor and +privation, and therefore standing much higher and having a much firmer +foothold in life than myself; on the other hand, I saw unfortunate people +whom I could not aid because they were exactly like myself. The majority +of the unfortunates whom I saw were unhappy only because they had lost +the capacity, desire, and habit of earning their own bread; that is to +say, their unhappiness consisted in the fact that they were precisely +such persons as myself. + +I found no unfortunates who were sick, hungry, or cold, to whom I could +render immediate assistance, with the solitary exception of hungry +Agafya. And I became convinced, that, on account of my remoteness from +the lives of those people whom I desired to help, it would be almost +impossible to find any such unfortunates, because all actual wants had +already been supplied by the very people among whom these unfortunates +live; and, most of all, I was convinced that money cannot effect any +change in the life led by these unhappy people. + +I was convinced of all this, but out of false shame at abandoning what I +had once undertaken, because of my self-delusion as a benefactor, I went +on with this matter for a tolerably long time,—and would have gone on +with it until it came to nothing of itself,—so that it was with the +greatest difficulty that, with the help of Ivan Fedotitch, I got rid, +after a fashion, as well as I could, in the tavern of the Rzhanoff house, +of the thirty-seven rubles which I did not regard as belonging to me. + +Of course I might have gone on with this business, and have made out of +it a semblance of benevolence; by urging the people who had promised me +money, I might have collected more, I might have distributed this money, +and consoled myself with my charity; but I perceived, on the one hand, +that we rich people neither wish nor are able to share a portion of our a +superfluity with the poor (we have so many wants of our own), and that +money should not be given to any one, if the object really be to do good +and not to give money itself at haphazard, as I had done in the Rzhanoff +tavern. And I gave up the whole thing, and went off to the country with +despair in my heart. + +In the country I tried to write an essay about all this that I had +experienced, and to tell why my undertaking had not succeeded. I wanted +to justify myself against the reproaches which had been made to me on the +score of my article on the census; I wanted to convict society of its in +difference, and to state the causes in which this city poverty has its +birth, and the necessity of combating it, and the means of doing so which +I saw. + +I began this essay at once, and it seemed to me that in it I was saying a +very great deal that was important. But toil as I would over it, and in +spite of the abundance of materials, in spite of the superfluity of them +even, I could not get though that essay; and so I did not finish it until +the present year, because of the irritation under the influence of which +I wrote, because I had not gone through all that was requisite in order +to bear myself properly in relation to this essay, because I did not +simply and clearly acknowledge the cause of all this,—a very simple +cause, which had its root in myself. + +In the domain of morals, one very remarkable and too little noted +phenomenon presents itself. + +If I tell a man who knows nothing about it, what I know about geology, +astronomy, history, physics, and mathematics, that man receives entirely +new information, and he never says to me: “Well, what is there new in +that? Everybody knows that, and I have known it this long while.” But +tell that same man the most lofty truth, expressed in the clearest, most +concise manner, as it has never before been expressed, and every ordinary +individual, especially one who takes no particular interest in moral +questions, or, even more, one to whom the moral truth stated by you is +displeasing, will infallibly say to you: “Well, who does not know that? +That was known and said long ago.” It really seems to him that this has +been said long ago and in just this way. Only those to whom moral truths +are dear and important know how important and precious they are, and with +what prolonged labor the elucidation, the simplification, of moral +truths, their transit from the state of a misty, indefinitely recognized +supposition, and desire, from indistinct, incoherent expressions, to a +firm and definite expression, unavoidably demanding corresponding +concessions, are attained. + +We have all become accustomed to think that moral instruction is a most +absurd and tiresome thing, in which there can be nothing new or +interesting; and yet all human life, together with all the varied and +complicated activities, apparently independent, of morality, both +governmental and scientific, and artistic and commercial, has no other +aim than the greater and greater elucidation, confirmation, +simplification, and accessibility of moral truth. + +I remember that I was once walking along the street in Moscow, and in +front of me I saw a man come out and gaze attentively at the stones of +the sidewalk, after which he selected one stone, seated himself on it, +and began to plane (as it seemed to me) or to rub it with the greatest +diligence and force. “What is he doing to the sidewalk?” I said to +myself. On going close to him, I saw what the man was doing. He was a +young fellow from a meat-shop; he was whetting his knife on the stone of +the pavement. He was not thinking at all of the stones when he +scrutinized them, still less was he thinking of them when he was +accomplishing his task: he was whetting his knife. He was obliged to +whet his knife so that he could cut the meat; but to me it seemed as +though he were doing something to the stones of the sidewalk. Just so it +appears as though humanity were occupied with commerce, conventions, +wars, sciences, arts; but only one business is of importance to it, and +with only one business is it occupied: it is elucidating to itself those +moral laws by which it lives. The moral laws are already in existence; +humanity is only elucidating them, and this elucidation seems unimportant +and imperceptible for any one who has no need of moral laws, who does not +wish to live by them. But this elucidation of the moral law is not only +weighty, but the only real business of all humanity. This elucidation is +imperceptible just as the difference between the dull and the sharp knife +is imperceptible. The knife is a knife all the same, and for a person +who is not obliged to cut any thing with this knife, the difference +between the dull and the sharp one is imperceptible. For the man who has +come to an understanding that his whole life depends on the greater or +less degree of sharpness in the knife,—for such a man, every whetting of +it is weighty, and that man knows that the knife is a knife only when it +is sharp, when it cuts that which needs cutting. + +This is what happened to me, when I began to write my essay. It seemed +to me that I knew all about it, that I understood every thing connected +with those questions which had produced on me the impressions of the +Lyapinsky house, and the census; but when I attempted to take account of +them and to demonstrate them, it turned out that the knife would not cut, +and that it must be whetted. And it is only now, after the lapse of +three years, that I have felt that my knife is sufficiently sharp, so +that I can cut what I choose. I have learned very little that is new. +My thoughts are all exactly the same, but they were duller then, and they +all scattered and would not unite on any thing; there was no edge to +them; they would not concentrate on one point, on the simplest and +clearest decision, as they have now concentrated themselves. + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + + +I remember that during the entire period of my unsuccessful efforts at +helping the inhabitants of the city, I presented to myself the aspect of +a man who should attempt to drag another man out of a swamp while he +himself was standing on the same unstable ground. Every attempt of mine +had made me conscious of the untrustworthy character of the soil on which +I stood. I felt that I was in the swamp myself, but this consciousness +did not cause me to look more narrowly at my own feet, in order to learn +upon what I was standing; I kept on seeking some external means, outside +myself, of helping the existing evil. + +I then felt that my life was bad, and that it was impossible to live in +that manner. But from the fact that my life was bad, and that it was +impossible to live in that manner, I did not draw the very simple and +clear deduction that it was necessary to amend my life and to live +better, but I knew the terrible deduction that in order to live well +myself, I must needs reform the lives of others; and so I began to reform +the lives of others. I lived in the city, and I wished to reform the +lives of those who lived in the city; but I soon became convinced that +this I could not by any possibility accomplish, and I began to meditate +on the inherent characteristics of city life and city poverty. + +“What are city life and city poverty? Why, when I am living in the city, +cannot I help the city poor?” + +I asked myself. I answered myself that I could not do any thing for +them, in the first place, because there were too many of them here in one +spot; in the second place, because all the poor people here were entirely +different from the country poor. Why were there so many of them here? +and in what did their peculiarity, as opposed to the country poor, +consist? There was one and the same answer to both questions. There +were a great many of them here, because here all those people who have no +means of subsistence in the country collect around the rich; and their +peculiarity lies in this, that they are not people who have come from the +country to support themselves in the city (if there are any city paupers, +those who have been born here, and whose fathers and grandfathers were +born here, then those fathers and grandfathers came hither for the +purpose of earning their livelihood). What is the meaning of this: _to +earn one’s livelihood in the city_? In the words “to earn one’s +livelihood in the city,” there is something strange, resembling a jest, +when you reflect on their significance. How is it that people go from +the country,—that is to say, from the places where there are forests, +meadows, grain, and cattle, where all the wealth of the earth lies,—to +earn their livelihood in a place where there are neither trees, nor +grass, nor even land, and only stones and dust? What is the significance +of the words “to earn a livelihood in the city,” which are in such +constant use, both by those who earn the livelihood, and by those who +furnish it, as though it were something perfectly clear and +comprehensible? + +I recall the hundreds and thousands of city people, both those who live +well and the needy, with whom I have conversed on the reason why they +came hither: and all without exception said, that they had come from the +country to earn their living; that in Moscow, where people neither sow +nor reap,—that in Moscow there is plenty of every thing, and that, +therefore, it is only in Moscow that they can earn the money which they +require in the country for bread and a cottage and a horse, and articles +of prime necessity. But assuredly, in the country lies the source of all +riches; there only is real wealth,—bread, and forests, and horses, and +every thing. And why, above all, take away from the country that which +dwellers in the country need,—flour, oats, horses, and cattle? + +Hundreds of times did I discuss this matter with peasants living in town; +and from my discussions with them, and from my observations, it has been +made apparent to me, that the congregation of country people in the city +is partly indispensable because they cannot otherwise support themselves, +partly voluntary, and that they are attracted to the city by the +temptations of the city. + +It is true, that the position of the peasant is such that, for the +satisfaction of his demands made on him in the country, he cannot +extricate himself otherwise than by selling the grain and the cattle +which he knows will be indispensable to him; and he is forced, whether he +will or no, to go to the city in order there to win back his bread. But +it is also true, that the luxury of city life, and the comparative ease +with which money is there to be earned, attract him thither; and under +the pretext of gaining his living in the town, he betakes himself thither +in order that he may have lighter work, better food, and drink tea three +times a day, and dress well, and even lead a drunken and dissolute life. +The cause of both is identical,—the transfer of the riches of the +producers into the hands of non-producers, and the accumulation of wealth +in the cities. And, in point of fact, when autumn has come, all wealth +is collected in the country. And instantly there arise demands for +taxes, recruits, the temptations of vodka, weddings, festivals; petty +pedlers make their rounds through the villages, and all sorts of other +temptations crop up; and by this road, or, if not, by some other, wealth +of the most varied description—vegetables, calves, cows, horses, pigs, +chickens, eggs, butter, hemp, flax, rye, oats, buckwheat, pease, +hempseed, and flaxseed—all passes into the hands of strangers, is carried +off to the towns, and thence to the capitals. The countryman is obliged +to surrender all this to satisfy the demands that are made upon him, and +temptations; and, having parted with his wealth, he is left with an +insufficiency, and he is forced to go whither his wealth has been carried +and there he tries, in part, to obtain the money which he requires for +his first needs in the country, and in part, being himself led away by +the blandishments of the city, he enjoys, in company with others, the +wealth that has there accumulated. Everywhere, throughout the whole of +Russia,—yes, and not in Russia alone, I think, but throughout the whole +world,—the same thing goes on. The wealth of the rustic producers passes +into the hands of traders, landed proprietors, officials, and +factory-owners; and the people who receive this wealth wish to enjoy it. +But it is only in the city that they can derive full enjoyment from this +wealth. In the country, in the first place, it is difficult to satisfy +all the requirements of rich people, on account of the sparseness of the +population; banks, shops, hotels, every sort of artisan, and all sorts of +social diversions, do not exist there. In the second place, one of the +chief pleasures procured by wealth—vanity, the desire to astonish and +outshine other people—is difficult to satisfy in the country; and this, +again, on account of the lack of inhabitants. In the country, there is +no one to appreciate elegance, no one to be astonished. Whatever +adornments in the way of pictures and bronzes the dweller in the country +may procure for his house, whatever equipages and toilets he may provide, +there is no one to see them and envy them, and the peasants cannot judge +of them. [And, in the third place, luxury is even disagreeable and +dangerous in the country for the man possessed of a conscience and fear. +It is an awkward and delicate matter, in the country, to have baths of +milk, or to feed your puppies on it, when directly beside you there are +children who have no milk; it is an awkward and delicate matter to build +pavilions and gardens in the midst of people who live in cots banked up +with dung, which they have no means of warming. In the country there is +no one to keep the stupid peasants in order, and in their lack of +cultivation they might disarrange all this.] {94} + +And accordingly rich people congregate, and join themselves to other rich +people with similar requirements, in the city, where the gratification of +every luxurious taste is carefully protected by a numerous police force. +Well-rooted inhabitants of the city of this sort, are the governmental +officials; every description of artisan and professional man has sprung +up around them, and with them the wealthy join their forces. All that a +rich man has to do there is to take a fancy to a thing, and he can get +it. It is also more agreeable for a rich man to live there, because +there he can gratify his vanity; there is some one with whom he can vie +in luxury; there is some one to astonish, and there is some one to +outshine. But the principal reason why it is more comfortable in the +city for a rich man is that formerly, in the country, his luxury made him +awkward and uneasy; while now, on the contrary, it would be awkward for +him not to live luxuriously, not to live like all his peers around him. +That which seemed dreadful and awkward in the country, here appears to be +just as it should be. [Rich people congregate in the city; and there, +under the protection of the authorities, they calmly demand every thing +that is brought thither from the country. And the countryman is, in some +measure, compelled to go thither, where this uninterrupted festival of +the wealthy which demands all that is taken from him is in progress, in +order to feed upon the crumbs which fall from the tables of the rich; and +partly, also, because, when he beholds the care-free, luxurious life, +approved and protected by everybody, he himself becomes desirous of +regulating his life in such a way as to work as little as possible, and +to make as much use as possible of the labors of others. + +And so he betakes himself to the city, and finds employment about the +wealthy, endeavoring, by every means in his power, to entice from them +that which he is in need of, and conforming to all those conditions which +the wealthy impose upon him, he assists in the gratification of all their +whims; he serves the rich man in the bath and in the inn, and as +cab-driver and prostitute, and he makes for him equipages, toys, and +fashions; and he gradually learns from the rich man to live in the same +manner as the latter, not by labor, but by divers tricks, getting away +from others the wealth which they have heaped together; and he becomes +corrupt, and goes to destruction. And this colony, demoralized by city +wealth, constitutes that city pauperism which I desired to aid and could +not. + +All that is necessary, in fact, is for us to reflect on the condition of +these inhabitants of the country, who have removed to the city in order +to earn their bread or their taxes,—when they behold, everywhere around +them, thousands squandered madly, and hundreds won by the easiest +possible means; when they themselves are forced by heavy toil to earn +kopeks,—and we shall be amazed that all these people should remain +working people, and that they do not all of them take to an easier method +of getting gain,—by trading, peddling, acting as middlemen, begging, +vice, rascality, and even robbery. Why, we, the participants in that +never-ceasing orgy which goes on in town, can become so accustomed to our +life, that it seems to us perfectly natural to dwell alone in five huge +apartments, heated by a quantity of beech logs sufficient to cook the +food for and to warm twenty families; to drive half a verst with two +trotters and two men-servants; to cover the polished wood floor with +rugs; and to spend, I will not say, on a ball, five or ten thousand +rubles, and twenty-five thousand on a Christmas-tree. But a man who is +in need of ten rubles to buy bread for his family, or whose last sheep +has been seized for a tax-debt of seven rubles, and who cannot raise +those rubles by hard labor, cannot grow accustomed to this. We think +that all this appears natural to poor people there are even some +ingenuous persons who say in all seriousness, that the poor are very +grateful to us for supporting them by this luxury.] {96} + +But poor people are not devoid of human understanding simply because they +are poor, and they judge precisely as we do. As the first thought that +occurs to us on hearing that such and such a man has gambled away or +squandered ten or twenty thousand rubles, is: “What a foolish and +worthless fellow he is to uselessly squander so much money! and what a +good use I could have made of that money in a building which I have long +been in need of, for the improvement of my estate, and so forth!”—just so +do the poor judge when they behold the wealth which they need, not for +caprices, but for the satisfaction of their actual necessities, of which +they are frequently deprived, flung madly away before their eyes. We +make a very great mistake when we think that the poor can judge thus, +reason thus, and look on indifferently at the luxury which surrounds +them. + +They never have acknowledged, and they never will acknowledge, that it +can be just for some people to live always in idleness, and for other +people to fast and toil incessantly; but at first they are amazed and +insulted by this; then they scrutinize it more attentively, and, seeing +that these arrangements are recognized as legitimate, they endeavor to +free themselves from toil, and to take part in the idleness. Some +succeed in this, and they become just such carousers themselves; others +gradually prepare themselves for this state; others still fail, and do +not attain their goal, and, having lost the habit of work, they fill up +the disorderly houses and the night-lodging houses. + +Two years ago, we took from the country a peasant boy to wait on table. +For some reason, he did not get on well with the footman, and he was sent +away: he entered the service of a merchant, won the favor of his master, +and now he goes about with a vest and a watch-chain, and dandified boots. +In his place, we took another peasant, a married man: he became a +drunkard, and lost money. We took a third: he took to drunk, and, having +drank up every thing he had, he suffered for a long while from poverty in +the night-lodging house. An old man, the cook, took to drink and fell +sick. Last year a footman who had formerly been a hard drinker, but who +had refrained from liquor for five years in the country, while living in +Moscow without his wife who encouraged him, took to drink again, and +ruined his whole life. A young lad from our village lives with my +brother as a table-servant. His grandfather, a blind old man, came to me +during my sojourn in the country, and asked me to remind this grandson +that he was to send ten rubies for the taxes, otherwise it would be +necessary for him to sell his cow. “He keeps saying, I must dress +decently,” said the old man: “well, he has had some shoes made, and +that’s all right; but what does he want to set up a watch for?” said the +grandfather, expressing in these words the most senseless supposition +that it was possible to originate. The supposition really was senseless, +if we take into consideration that the old man throughout Lent had eaten +no butter, and that he had no split wood because he could not possibly +pay one ruble and twenty kopeks for it; but it turned out that the old +man’s senseless jest was an actual fact. The young fellow came to see me +in a fine black coat, and shoes for which he had paid eight rubles. He +had recently borrowed ten rubles from my brother, and had spent them on +these shoes. And my children, who have known the lad from childhood, +told me that he really considers it indispensable to fit himself out with +a watch. He is a very good boy, but he thinks that people will laugh at +him so long as he has no watch; and a watch is necessary. During the +present year, a chambermaid, a girl of eighteen, entered into a +connection with the coachman in our house. She was discharged. An old +woman, the nurse, with whom I spoke in regard to the unfortunate girl, +reminded me of a girl whom I had forgotten. She too, ten yeans ago, +during a brief stay of ours in Moscow, had become connected with a +footman. She too had been discharged, and she had ended in a disorderly +house, and had died in the hospital before reaching the age of twenty. +It is only necessary to glance about one, to be struck with terror at the +pest which we disseminate directly by our luxurious life among the people +whom we afterwards wish to help, not to mention the factories and +establishments which serve our luxurious tastes. + +[And thus, having penetrated into the peculiar character of city poverty, +which I was unable to remedy, I perceived that its prime cause is this, +that I take absolute necessaries from the dwellers in the country, and +carry them all to the city. The second cause is this, that by making use +here, in the city, of what I have collected in the country, I tempt and +lead astray, by my senseless luxury, those country people who come hither +because of me, in order in some way to get back what they have been +deprived of in the country.] {99} + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + + +I reached the same conclusion from a totally different point. On +recalling all my relations with the city poor during that time, I saw +that one of the reasons why I could not help the city poor was, that the +poor were disingenuous and untruthful with me. They all looked upon me, +not as a man, but as means. I could not get near them, and I thought +that perhaps I did not understand how to do it; but without uprightness, +no help was possible. How can one help a man who does not disclose his +whole condition? At first I blamed them for this (it is so natural to +blame some one else); but a remark from an observing man named Siutaeff, +who was visiting me at the time, explained this matter to me, and showed +me where the cause of my want of success lay. I remember that Siutaeff’s +remark struck me very forcibly at the time; but I only understood its +full significance later on. It was at the height of my self-delusion. I +was sitting with my sister, and Siutaeff was there also at her house; and +my sister was questioning me about my undertaking. I told her about it, +and, as always happens when you have no faith in your course, I talked to +her with great enthusiasm and warmth, and at great length, of what I had +done, and of what might possibly come of it. I told her every thing,—how +we were going to keep track of pauperism in Moscow, how we were going to +keep an eye on the orphans and old people, how we were going to send away +all country people who had grown poor here, how we were going to smooth +the pathway to reform for the depraved; how, if only the matter could be +managed, there would not be a man left in Moscow, who could not obtain +assistance. My sister sympathized with me, and we discussed it. In the +middle of our conversation, I glanced at Siutaeff. As I was acquainted +with his Christian life, and with the significance which he attached to +charity, I expected his sympathy, and spoke so that he understood this; I +talked to my sister, but directed my remarks more at him. He sat +immovable in his dark tanned sheepskin jacket,—which he wore, like all +peasants, both out of doors and in the house,—and as though he did not +hear us, but were thinking of his own affairs. His small eyes did not +twinkle, and seemed to be turned inwards. Having finished what I had to +say, I turned to him with a query as to what he thought of it. + +“It’s all a foolish business,” said he. + +“Why?” + +“Your whole society is foolish, and nothing good can come out of it,” he +repeated with conviction. + +“Why not? Why is it a stupid business to help thousands, at any rate +hundreds, of unfortunate beings? Is it a bad thing, according to the +Gospel, to clothe the naked, and feed the hungry?” + +“I know, I know, but that is not what you are doing. Is it necessary to +render assistance in that way? You are walking along, and a man asks you +for twenty kopeks. You give them to him. Is that alms? Do you give +spiritual alms,—teach him. But what is it that you have given? It was +only for the sake of getting rid of him.” + +“No; and, besides, that is not what we are talking about. We want to +know about this need, and then to help by both money and deeds; and to +find work.” + +“You can do nothing with those people in that way.” + +“So they are to be allowed to die of hunger and cold?” + +“Why should they die? Are there many of them there?” + +“What, many of them?” said I, thinking that he looked at the matter so +lightly because he was not aware how vast was the number of these people. + +“Why, do you know,” said I, “I believe that there are twenty thousand of +these cold and hungry people in Moscow. And how about Petersburg and the +other cities?” + +He smiled. + +“Twenty thousand! And how many households are there in Russia alone, do +you think? Are there a million?” + +“Well, what then?” + +“What then?” and his eyes flashed, and he grew animated. “Come, let us +divide them among ourselves. I am not rich, I will take two persons on +the spot. There is the lad whom you took into your kitchen; I invited +him to come to my house, and he did not come. Were there ten times as +many, let us divide them among us. Do you take some, and I will take +some. We will work together. He will see how I work, and he will learn. +He will see how I live, and we will sit down at the same table together, +and he will hear my words and yours. This charity society of yours is +nonsense.” + +These simple words impressed me. I could not but admit their justice; +but it seemed to me at that time, that, in spite of their truth, still +that which I had planned might possibly prove of service. But the +further I carried this business, the more I associated with the poor, the +more frequently did this remark recur to my mind, and the greater was the +significance which it acquired for me. + +I arrive in a costly fur coat, or with my horses; or the man who lacks +shoes sees my two-thousand-ruble apartments. He sees how, a little while +ago, I gave five rubles without begrudging them, merely because I took a +whim to do so. He surely knows that if I give away rubles in that +manner, it is only because I have hoarded up so many of them, that I have +a great many superfluous ones, which I not only have not given away, but +which I have easily taken from other people. [What else could he see in +me but one of those persons who have got possession of what belongs to +him? And what other feeling can he cherish towards me, than a desire to +obtain from me as many of those rubles, which have been stolen from him +and from others, as possible? I wish to get close to him, and I complain +that he is not frank; and here I am, afraid to sit down on his bed for +fear of getting lice, or catching something infectious; and I am afraid +to admit him to my room, and he, coming to me naked, waits, generally in +the vestibule, or, if very fortunate, in the ante-chamber. And yet I +declare that he is to blame because I cannot enter into intimate +relations with him, and because me is not frank. + +Let the sternest man try the experiment of eating a dinner of five +courses in the midst of people who have had very little or nothing but +black bread to eat. Not a man will have the spirit to eat, and to watch +how the hungry lick their chops around him. Hence, then, in order to eat +daintily amid the famishing, the first indispensable requisite is to hide +from them, in order that they may not see it. This is the very thing, +and the first thing, that we do. + +And I took a simpler view of our life, and perceived that an approach to +the poor is not difficult to us through accidental causes, but that we +deliberately arrange our lives in such a fashion so that this approach +may be rendered difficult. + +Not only this; but, on taking a survey of our life, of the life of the +wealthy, I saw that every thing which is considered desirable in that +life consists in, or is inseparably bound up with, the idea of getting as +far away from the poor as possible. In fact, all the efforts of our +well-endowed life, beginning with our food, dress, houses, our +cleanliness, and even down to our education,—every thing has for its +chief object, the separation of ourselves from the poor. In procuring +this seclusion of ourselves by impassable barriers, we spend, to put it +mildly, nine-tenths of our wealth. The first thing that a man who was +grown wealthy does is to stop eating out of one bowl, and he sets up +crockery, and fits himself out with a kitchen and servants. And he feeds +his servants high, too, so that their mouths may not water over his +dainty viands; and he eats alone; and as eating in solitude is wearisome, +he plans how he may improve his food and deck his table; and the very +manner of taking his food (dinner) becomes a matter for pride and vain +glory with him, and his manner of taking his food becomes for him a means +of sequestering himself from other men. A rich man cannot think of such +a thing as inviting a poor man to his table. A man must know how to +conduct ladies to table, how to bow, to sit down, to eat, to rinse out +the mouth; and only rich people know all these things. The same thing +occurs in the matter of clothing. If a rich man were to wear ordinary +clothing, simply for the purpose of protecting his body from the cold,—a +short jacket, a coat, felt and leather boots, an under-jacket, trousers, +shirt,—he would require but very little, and he would not be unable, when +he had two coats, to give one of them to a man who had none. But the +rich man begins by procuring for himself clothing which consists entirely +of separate pieces, and which is fit only for separate occasions, and +which is, therefore, unsuited to the poor man. He has frock-coats, +vests, pea-jackets, lacquered boots, cloaks, shoes with French heels, +garments that are chopped up into bits to conform with the fashion, +hunting-coats, travelling-coats, and so on, which can only be used under +conditions of existence far removed from poverty. And his clothing also +furnishes him with a means of keeping at a distance from the poor. The +same is the case, and even more clearly, with his dwelling. In order +that one may live alone in ten rooms, it is indispensable that those who +live ten in one room should not see it. The richer a man is, the more +difficult is he of access; the more porters there are between him and +people who are not rich, the more impossible is it to conduct a poor man +over rugs, and seat him in a satin chair. + +The case is the same with the means of locomotion. The peasant driving +in a cart, or a sledge, must be a very ill-tempered man when he will not +give a pedestrian a lift; and there is both room for this and a +possibility of doing it. But the richer the equipage, the farther is a +man from all possibility of giving a seat to any person whatsoever. It +is even said plainly, that the most stylish equipages are those meant to +hold only one person. + +It is precisely the same thing with the manner of life which is expressed +by the word cleanliness. + +Cleanliness! Who is there that does not know people, especially women, +who reckon this cleanliness in themselves as a great virtue? and who is +not acquainted with the devices of this cleanliness, which know no +bounds, when it can command the labor of others? Which of the people who +have become rich has not experienced in his own case, with what +difficulty he carefully trained himself to this cleanliness, which only +confirms the proverb, “Little white hands love other people’s work”? + +To-day cleanliness consists in changing your shirt once a day; to-morrow, +in changing it twice a day. To-day it means washing the face, and neck, +and hands daily; to-morrow, the feet; and day after to-morrow, washing +the whole body every day, and, in addition and in particular, a +rubbing-down. To-day the table-cloth is to serve for two days, to-morrow +there must be one each day, then two a day. To-day the footman’s hands +must be clean; to-morrow he must wear gloves, and in his clean gloves he +must present a letter on a clean salver. And there are no limits to this +cleanliness, which is useless to everybody, and objectless, except for +the purpose of separating oneself from others, and of rendering +impossible all intercourse with them, when this cleanliness is attained +by the labors of others. + +Moreover, when I studied the subject, I because convinced that even that +which is commonly called education is the very same thing. + +The tongue does not deceive; it calls by its real name that which men +understand under this name. What the people call culture is fashionable +clothing, political conversation, clean hands,—a certain sort of +cleanliness. Of such a man, it is said, in contradistinction to others, +that he is an educated man. In a little higher circle, what they call +education means the same thing as with the people; only to the conditions +of education are added playing on the pianoforte, a knowledge of French, +the writing of Russian without orthographical errors, and a still greater +degree of external cleanliness. In a still more elevated sphere, +education means all this with the addition of the English language, and a +diploma from the highest educational institution. But education is +precisely the same thing in the first, the second, and the third case. +Education consists of those forms and acquirements which are calculated +to separate a man from his fellows. And its object is identical with +that of cleanliness,—to seclude us from the herd of poor, in order that +they, the poor, may not see how we feast. But it is impossible to hide +ourselves, and they do see us. + +And accordingly I have become convinced that the cause of the inability +of us rich people to help the poor of the city lies in the impossibility +of our establishing intercourse with them; and that this impossibility of +intercourse is caused by ourselves, by the whole course of our lives, by +all the uses which we make of our wealth. I have become convinced that +between us, the rich and the poor, there rises a wall, reared by +ourselves out of that very cleanliness and education, and constructed of +our wealth; and that in order to be in a condition to help the poor, we +must needs, first of all, destroy this wall; and that in order to do +this, confrontation after Siutaeff’s method should be rendered possible, +and the poor distributed among us. And from another starting-point also +I came to the same conclusion to which the current of my discussions as +to the causes of the poverty in towns had led me: the cause was our +wealth.] {108} + + + +CHAPTER XV. + + +I began to examine the matter from a third and wholly personal point of +view. Among the phenomena which particularly impressed me, during the +period of my charitable activity, there was yet another, and a very +strange one, for which I could for a long time find no explanation. It +was this: every time that I chanced, either on the street on in the +house, to give some small coin to a poor man, without saying any thing to +him, I saw, or thought that I saw, contentment and gratitude on the +countenance of the poor man, and I myself experienced in this form of +benevolence an agreeable sensation. I saw that I had done what the man +wished and expected from me. But if I stopped the poor man, and +sympathetically questioned him about his former and his present life, I +felt that it was no longer possible to give three or twenty kopeks, and I +began to fumble in my purse for money, in doubt as to how much I ought to +give, and I always gave more; and I always noticed that the poor man left +me dissatisfied. But if I entered into still closer intercourse with the +poor man, then my doubts as to how much to give increased also; and, no +matter how much I gave, the poor man grew ever more sullen and +discontented. As a general rule, it always turned out thus, that if I +gave, after conversation with a poor man, three rubles or even more, I +almost always beheld gloom, displeasure, and even ill-will, on the +countenance of the poor man; and I have even known it to happen, that, +having received ten rubles, he went off without so much as saying “Thank +you,” exactly as though I had insulted him. + +And thereupon I felt awkward and ashamed, and almost guilty. But if I +followed up a poor man for weeks and months and years, and assisted him, +and explained my views to him, and associated with him, our relations +became a torment, and I perceived that the man despised me. And I felt +that he was in the right. + +If I go out into the street, and he, standing in that street, begs of me +among the number of the other passers-by, people who walk and ride past +him, and I give him money, I then am to him a passer-by, and a good, kind +passer-by, who bestows on him that thread from which a shirt is made for +the naked man; he expects nothing more than the thread, and if I give it +he thanks me sincerely. But if I stop him, and talk with him as man with +man, I thereby show him that I desire to be something more than a mere +passer-by. If, as often happens, he weeps while relating to me his woes, +then he sees in me no longer a passer-by, but that which I desire that he +should see: a good man. But if I am a good man, my goodness cannot pause +at a twenty-kopek piece, nor at ten rubles, nor at ten thousand; it is +impossible to be a little bit of a good man. Let us suppose that I have +given him a great deal, that I have fitted him out, dressed him, set him +on his feet so that the can live without outside assistance; but for some +reason or other, though misfortune or his own weakness or vices, he is +again without that coat, that linen, and that money which I have given +him; he is again cold and hungry, and he has come again to me,—how can I +refuse him? [For if the cause of my action consisted in the attainment +of a definite, material end, on giving him so many rubles or such and +such a coat I might be at ease after having bestowed them. But the cause +of my action is not this: the cause is, that I want to be a good man, +that is to say, I want to see myself in every other man. Every man +understands goodness thus, and in no other manner.] {111} And therefore, +if he should drink away every thing that you had given him twenty times, +and if he should again be cold and hungry, you cannot do otherwise than +give him more, if you are a good man; you can never cease giving to him, +if you have more than he has. And if you draw back, you will thereby +show that every thing that you have done, you have done not because you +are a good man, but because you wished to appear a good man in his sight, +and in the sight of men. + +And thus in the case with the men from whom I chanced to recede, to whom +I ceased to give, and, by this action, denied good, I experienced a +torturing sense of shame. + +What sort of shame was this? This shame I had experienced in the +Lyapinsky house, and both before and after that in the country, when I +happened to give money or any thing else to the poor, and in my +expeditions among the city poor. + +A mortifying incident that occurred to me not long ago vividly reminded +me of that shame, and led me to an explanation of that shame which I had +felt when bestowing money on the poor. + +[This happened in the country. I wanted twenty kopeks to give to a poor +pilgrim; I sent my son to borrow them from some one; he brought the +pilgrim a twenty-kopek piece, and told me that he had borrowed it from +the cook. A few days afterwards some more pilgrims arrived, and again I +was in want of a twenty-kopek piece. I had a ruble; I recollected that I +was in debt to the cook, and I went to the kitchen, hoping to get some +more small change from the cook. I said: “I borrowed a twenty-kopek +piece from you, so here is a ruble.” I had not finished speaking, when +the cook called in his wife from another room: “Take it, Parasha,” said +he. I, supposing that she understood what I wanted, handed her the +ruble. I must state that the cook had only lived with me a week, and, +though I had seen his wife, I had never spoken to her. I was just on the +point of saying to her that she was to give me some small coins, when she +bent swiftly down to my hand, and tried to kiss it, evidently imaging +that I had given her the ruble. I muttered something, and quitted the +kitchen. I was ashamed, ashamed to the verge of torture, as I had not +been for a long time. I shrank together; I was conscious that I was +making grimaces, and I groaned with shame as I fled from the kitchen. +This utterly unexpected, and, as it seemed to me, utterly undeserved +shame, made a special impression on me, because it was a long time since +I had been mortified, and because I, as an old man, had so lived, it +seemed to me, that I had not merited this shame. I was forcibly struck +by this. I told the members of my household about it, I told my +acquaintances, and they all agreed that they should have felt the same. +And I began to reflect: why had this caused me such shame? To this, +something which had happened to me in Moscow furnished me with an answer. + +I meditated on that incident, and the shame which I had experienced in +the presence of the cook’s wife was explained to me, and all those +sensations of mortification which I had undergone during the course of my +Moscow benevolence, and which I now feel incessantly when I have occasion +to give any one any thing except that petty alms to the poor and to +pilgrims, which I have become accustomed to bestow, and which I consider +a deed not of charity but of courtesy. If a man asks you for a light, +you must strike a match for him, if you have one. If a man asks for +three or for twenty kopeks, or even for several rubles, you must give +them if you have them. This is an act of courtesy and not of charity.] +{113} + +This was the case in question: I have already mentioned the two peasants +with whom I was in the habit of sawing wood three yeans ago. One +Saturday evening at dusk, I was returning to the city in their company. +They were going to their employer to receive their wages. As we were +crossing the Dragomilovsky bridge, we met an old man. He asked alms, and +I gave him twenty kopeks. I gave, and reflected on the good effect which +my charity would have on Semyon, with whom I had been conversing on +religious topics. Semyon, the Vladimir peasant, who had a wife and two +children in Moscow, halted also, pulled round the skirt of his kaftan, +and got out his purse, and from this slender purse he extracted, after +some fumbling, three kopeks, handed it to the old man, and asked for two +kopeks in change. The old man exhibited in his hand two three-kopek +pieces and one kopek. Semyon looked at them, was about to take the +kopek, but thought better of it, pulled off his hat, crossed himself, and +walked on, leaving the old man the three-kopek piece. + +I was fully acquainted with Semyon’s financial condition. He had no +property at home at all. The money which he had laid by on the day when +he gave three kopeks amounted to six rubles and fifty kopeks. +Accordingly, six rubles and twenty kopeks was the sum of his savings. My +reserve fund was in the neighborhood of six hundred thousand. I had a +wife and children, Semyon had a wife and children. He was younger than +I, and his children were fewer in number than mine; but his children were +small, and two of mine were of an age to work, so that our position, with +the exception of the savings, was on an equality; mine was somewhat the +more favorable, if any thing. He gave three kopeks, I gave twenty. What +did he really give, and what did I really give? What ought I to have +given, in order to do what Semyon had done? he had six hundred kopeks; +out of this he gave one, and afterwards two. I had six hundred thousand +rubles. In order to give what Semyon had given, I should have been +obliged to give three thousand rubles, and ask for two thousand in +change, and then leave the two thousand with the old man, cross myself, +and go my way, calmly conversing about life in the factories, and the +cost of liver in the Smolensk market. + +I thought of this at the time; but it was only long afterwards that I was +in a condition to draw from this incident that deduction which inevitably +results from it. This deduction is so uncommon and so singular, +apparently, that, in spite of its mathematical infallibility, one +requires time to grow used to it. It does seem as though there must be +some mistake, but mistake there is none. There is merely the fearful +mist of error in which we live. + +[This deduction, when I arrived at it, and when I recognized its +undoubted truth, furnished me with an explanation of my shame in the +presence of the cook’s wife, and of all the poor people to whom I had +given and to whom I still give money. + +What, in point of fact, is that money which I give to the poor, and which +the cook’s wife thought I was giving to her? In the majority of cases, +it is that portion of my substance which it is impossible even to express +in figures to Semyon and the cook’s wife,—it is generally one millionth +part or about that. I give so little that the bestowal of any money is +not and cannot be a deprivation to me; it is only a pleasure in which I +amuse myself when the whim seizes me. And it was thus that the cook’s +wife understood it. If I give to a man who steps in from the street one +ruble or twenty kopeks, why should not I give her a ruble also? In the +opinion of the cook’s wife, such a bestowal of money is precisely the +same as the flinging of honey-cakes to the people by gentlemen; it +furnishes the people who have a great deal of superfluous cash with +amusement. I was mortified because the mistake made by the cook’s wife +demonstrated to me distinctly the view which she, and all people who are +not rich, must take of me: “He is flinging away his folly, i.e., his +unearned money.” + +As a matter of fact, what is my money, and whence did it come into my +possession? A portion of it I accumulated from the land which I received +from my father. A peasant sold his last sheep or cow in order to give +the money to me. Another portion of my money is the money which I have +received for my writings, for my books. If my books are hurtful, I only +lead astray those who purchase them, and the money which I receive for +them is ill-earned money; but if my books are useful to people, then the +issue is still more disastrous. I do not give them to people: I say, +“Give me seventeen rubles, and I will give them to you.” And as the +peasant sells his last sheep, in this case the poor student or teacher, +or any other poor man, deprives himself of necessaries in order to give +me this money. And so I have accumulated a great deal of money in that +way, and what do I do with it? I take that money to the city, and bestow +it on the poor, only when they fulfil my caprices, and come hither to the +city to clean my sidewalk, lamps, and shoes; to work for me in factories. +And in return for this money, I force from them every thing that I can; +that is to say, I try to give them as little as possible, and to receive +as much as possible from them. And all at once I begin, quite +unexpectedly, to bestow this money as a simple gift, on these same poor +persons, not on all, but on those to whom I take a fancy. Why should not +every poor person expect that it is quite possible that the luck may fall +to him of being one of those with whom I shall amuse myself by +distributing my superfluous money? And so all look upon me as the cook’s +wife did. + +And I had gone so far astray that this taking of thousands from the poor +with one hand, and this flinging of kopeks with the other, to those to +whom the whim moved me to give, I called good. No wonder that I felt +ashamed.] {116} + +Yes, before doing good it was needful for me to stand outside of evil, in +such conditions that I might cease to do evil. But my whole life is +evil. I may give away a hundred thousand rubles, and still I shall not +be in a position to do good because I shall still have five hundred +thousand left. Only when I have nothing shall I be in a position to do +the least particle of good, even as much as the prostitute did which she +nursed the sick women and her child for three days. And that seemed so +little to me! And I dared to think of good myself! That which, on the +first occasion, told me, at the sight of the cold and hungry in the +Lyapinsky house, that I was to blame for this, and that to live as I live +is impossible, and impossible, and impossible,—that alone was true. + +What, then, was I to do? + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + + +It was hard for me to come to this confession, but when I had come to it +I was shocked at the error in which I had been living. I stood up to my +ears in the mud, and yet I wanted to drag others out of this mud. + +What is it that I wish in reality? I wish to do good to others. I wish +to do it so that other people may not be cold and hungry, so that others +may live as it is natural for people to live. + +[I wish this, and I see that in consequence of the violence, extortions, +and various tricks in which I take part, people who toil are deprived of +necessaries, and people who do not toil, in whose ranks I also belong, +enjoy in superabundance the toil of other people. + +I see that this enjoyment of the labors of others is so arranged, that +the more rascally and complicated the trickery which is employed by the +man himself, or which has been employed by the person from whom he +obtained his inheritance, the more does he enjoy of the labors of others, +and the less does he contribute of his own labor. + +First come the Shtiglitzy, Dervizy, Morozovy, the Demidoffs, the +Yusapoffs; then great bankers, merchants, officials, landed proprietors, +among whom I also belong; then the poor—very small traders, +dramshop-keepers, usurers, district judges, overseers, teachers, +sacristans, clerks; then house-porters, lackeys, coachmen, +watch-carriers, cab-drivers, peddlers; and last of all, the laboring +classes—factory-hands and peasants, whose numbers bear the relation to +the first named of ten to one. I see that the life of nine-tenths of the +working classes demands, by reason of its nature, application and toil, +as does every natural life; but that, in consequence of the sharp +practices which take from these people what is indispensable, and place +them in such oppressive conditions, this life becomes more difficult +every year, and more filled with deprivations; but our life, the life of +the non-laboring classes, thanks to the co-operation of the arts and +sciences which are directed to this object, becomes more filled with +superfluities, more attractive and careful, with every year. I see, +that, in our day, the life of the workingman, and, in particular, the +life of old men, of women, and of children of the working population, is +perishing directly from their food, which is utterly inadequate to their +fatiguing labor; and that this life of theirs is not free from care as to +its very first requirements; and that, alongside of this, the life of the +non-laboring classes, to which I belong, is filled more and more, every +year, with superfluities and luxury, and becomes more and more free from +anxiety, and has finally reached such a point of freedom from care, in +the case of its fortunate members, of whom I am one, as was only dreamed +of in olden times in fairy-tales,—the state of the owner of the purse +with the inexhaustible ruble, that is, a condition in which a man is not +only utterly released from the law of labor, but in which he possesses +the possibility of enjoying, without toil, all the blessings of life, and +of transferring to his children, or to any one whom he may see fit, this +purse with the inexhaustible ruble. + +I see that the products of the people’s toil are more and more +transformed from the mass of the working classes to those who do not +work; that the pyramid of the social edifice seems to be reconstructed in +such fashion that the foundation stones are carried to the apex, and the +swiftness of this transfer is increasing in a sort of geometrical ratio. +I see that the result of this is something like that which would take +place in an ant-heap if the community of ants were to lose their sense of +the common law, if some ants were to begin to draw the products of labor +from the bottom to the top of the heap, and should constantly contract +the foundations and broaden the apex, and should thereby also force the +remaining ants to betake themselves from the bottom to the summit. + +I see that the ideal of the Fortunatus’ purse has made its way among the +people, in the place of the ideal of a toilsome life. Rich people, +myself among the number, get possession of the inexhaustible ruble by +various devices, and for the purpose of enjoying it we go to the city, to +the place where nothing is produced and where every thing is swallowed +up. + +The industrious poor man, who is robbed in order that the rich may +possess this inexhaustible ruble, yearns for the city in his train; and +there he also takes to sharp practices, and either acquires for himself a +position in which he can work little and receive much, thereby rendering +still more oppressive the situation of the laboring classes, or, not +having attained to such a position, he goes to ruin, and falls into the +ranks of those cold and hungry inhabitants of the night-lodging houses, +which are being swelled with such remarkable rapidity. + +I belong to the class of those people, who, by divers tricks, take from +the toiling masses the necessaries of life, and who have acquired for +themselves these inexhaustible rubles, and who lead these unfortunates +astray. I desire to aid people, and therefore it is clear that, first of +all, I must cease to rob them as I am doing. But I, by the most +complicated, and cunning, and evil practices, which have been heaped up +for centuries, have acquired for myself the position of an owner of the +inexhaustible ruble, that is to say, one in which, never working myself, +I can make hundreds and thousands of people toil for me—which also I do; +and I imagine that I pity people, and I wish to assist them. I sit on a +man’s neck, I weigh him down, and I demand that he shall carry me; and +without descending from his shoulders I assure myself and others that I +am very sorry for him, and that I desire to ameliorate his condition by +all possible means, only not by getting off of him. + +Surely this is simple enough. If I want to help the poor, that is, to +make the poor no longer poor, I must not produce poor people. And I +give, at my own selection, to poor men who have gone astray from the path +of life, a ruble, or ten rubles, or a hundred; and I grasp hundreds from +people who have not yet left the path, and thereby I render them poor +also, and demoralize them to boot. + +This is very simple; but it was horribly hard for me to understand this +fully without compromises and reservations, which might serve to justify +my position; but it sufficed for me to confess my guilt, and every thing +which had before seemed to me strange and complicated, and lacking in +cleanness, became perfectly comprehensible and simple. But the chief +point was, that my way of life, arising from this interpretation, became +simple, clear and pleasant, instead of perplexed, inexplicable and full +of torture as before.] {122a} + +Who am I, that I should desire to help others? I desire to help people; +and I, rising at twelve o’clock after a game of _vint_ {122b} with four +candles, weak, exhausted, demanding the aid of hundreds of people,—I go +to the aid of whom? Of people who rise at five o’clock, who sleep on +planks, who nourish themselves on bread and cabbage, who know how to +plough, to reap, to wield the axe, to chop, to harness, to sew,—of people +who in strength and endurance, and skill and abstemiousness, are a +hundred times superior to me,—and I go to their succor! What except +shame could I feel, when I entered into communion with these people? The +very weakest of them, a drunkard, an inhabitant of the Rzhanoff house, +the one whom they call “the idler,” is a hundred-fold more industrious +than I; [his balance, so to speak, that is to say, the relation of what +he takes from people and that which they give him, stands on a thousand +times better footing than my balance, if I take into consideration what I +take from people and what I give to them.] {122c} + +And these are the people to whose assistance I go. I go to help the +poor. But who is the poor man? There is no one poorer than myself. I +am a thoroughly enervated, good-for-nothing parasite, who can only exist +under the most special conditions, who can only exist when thousands of +people toil at the preservation of this life which is utterly useless to +every one. And I, that plant-louse, which devours the foliage of trees, +wish to help the tree in its growth and health, and I wish to heal it. + +I have passed my whole life in this manner: I eat, I talk and I listen; I +eat, I write or read, that is to say, I talk and listen again; I eat, I +play, I eat, again I talk and listen, I eat, and again I go to bed; and +so each day I can do nothing else, and I understand how to do nothing +else. And in order that I may be able to do this, it is necessary that +the porter, the peasant, the cook, male or female, the footman, the +coachman, and the laundress, should toil from morning till night; I will +not refer to the labors of the people which are necessary in order that +coachman, cooks, male and female, footman, and the rest should have those +implements and articles with which, and over which, they toil for my +sake; axes, tubs, brushes, household utensils, furniture, wax, blacking, +kerosene, hay, wood, and beef. And all these people work hard all day +long and every day, so that I may be able to talk and eat and sleep. And +I, this cripple of a man, have imagined that I could help others, and +those the very people who support me! + +It is not remarkable that I could not help any one, and that I felt +ashamed; but the remarkable point is that such an absurd idea could have +occurred to me. The woman who served the sick old man, helped him; the +mistress of the house, who cut a slice from the bread which she had won +from the soil, helped the beggar; Semyon, who gave three kopeks which he +had earned, helped the beggar, because those three kopeks actually +represented his labor: but I served no one, I toiled for no one, and I +was well aware that my money did not represent my labor. + + + +CHAPTER XVII. {124} + + +Into the delusion that I could help others I was led by the fact that I +fancied that my money was of the same sort as Semyon’s. But this was not +the case. + +A general idea prevails, that money represents wealth; but wealth is the +product of labor; and, therefore, money represents labor. But this idea +is as just as that every governmental regulation is the result of a +compact (_contrat social_). + +Every one likes to think that money is only a medium of exchange for +labor. I have made shoes, you have raised grain, he has reared sheep: +here, in order that we may the more readily effect an exchange, we will +institute money, which represents a corresponding quantity of labor, and, +by means of it, we will barter our shoes for a breast of lamb and ten +pounds of flour. We will exchange our products through the medium of +money, and the money of each one of us represents our labor. + +This is perfectly true, but true only so long as, in the community where +this exchange is effected, the violence of one man over the rest has not +made its appearance; not only violence over the labors of others, as +happens in wars and slavery, but where he exercises no violence for the +protection of the products of their labor from others. This will be true +only in a community whose members fully carry out the Christian law, in a +community where men give to him who asks, and where he who takes is not +asked to make restitution. But just so soon as any violence whatever is +used in the community, the significance of money for its possessor loses +its significance as a representative of labor, and acquires the +significance of a right founded, not on labor, but on violence. + +As soon as there is war, and one man has taken any thing from any other +man, money can no longer be always the representative of labor; money +received by a warrior for the spoils of war, which he sells, even if he +is the commander of the warriors, is in no way a product of labor, and +possesses an entirely different meaning from money received for work on +shoes. As soon as there are slave-owners and slaves, as there always +have been throughout the whole world, it is utterly impossible to say +that money represents labor. + +Women have woven linen, sold it, and received money; serfs have woven for +their master, and the master has sold them and received the money. The +money is identical in both cases; but in the one case it is the product +of labor, in the other the product of violence. In exactly the same way, +a stranger or my own father has given me money; and my father, when he +gave me that money, knew, and I know, and everybody knows, that no one +can take this money away from me; but if it should occur to any one to +take it away from me, or even not to hand it over at the date when it was +promised, the law would intervene on my behalf, and would compel the +delivery to me of the money; and, again, it is evident that this money +can in no wise be called the equivalent of labor, on a level with the +money received by Semyon for chopping wood. So that in any community +where there is any thing that in any manner whatever controls the labor +of others, or where violence hedges in, by means of money, its +possessions from others, there money is no longer invariably the +representative of labor. In such a community, it is sometimes the +representative of labor, and sometimes of violence. + +Thus it would be where only one act of violence from one man against +others, in the midst of perfectly free relations, should have made its +appearance; but now, when centuries of the most varied deeds of violence +have passed for accumulations of money, when these deeds of violence are +incessant, and merely alter their forms; when, as every one admits, money +accumulated itself represents violence; when money, as a representative +of direct labor, forms but a very small portion of the money which is +derived from every sort of violence,—to say nowadays that money +represents the labor of the person who possesses it, is a self-evident +error or a deliberate lie. + +It may be said, that thus it should be; it may be said, that this is +desirable; but by no means can it be said, that thus it is. + +Money represents labor. Yes. Money does represent labor; but whose? In +our society only in the very rarest, rarest of instances, does money +represent the labor of its possessor, but it nearly always represents the +labor of other people, the past or future labor of men; it is a +representative of the obligation of others to labor, which has been +established by force. + +Money, in its most accurate and at the same the simple application, is +the conventional stamp which confers a right, or, more correctly, a +possibility, of taking advantage of the labors of other people. In its +ideal significance, money should confer this right, or this possibility, +only when it serves as the equivalent of labor, and such money might be +in a community in which no violence existed. But just as soon as +violence, that is to say, the possibility of profiting by the labors of +others without toil of one’s own, exists in a community, then that +profiting by the labors of other men is also expressed by money, without +any distinction of the persons on whom that violence is exercised. + +The landed proprietor has imposed upon his serfs natural debts, a certain +quantity of linen, grain, and cattle, or a corresponding amount of money. +One household has procured the cattle, but has paid money in lieu of +linen. The proprietor takes the money to a certain amount only, because +he knows that for that money they will make him the same quantity of +linen, (generally he takes a little more, in order to be sure that they +will make it for the same amount); and this money, evidently, represents +for the proprietor the obligation of other people to toil. + +The peasant gives the money as an obligation, to he knows not whom, but +to people, and there are many of them, who undertake for this money to +make so much linen. But the people who undertake to make the linen, do +so because they have not succeeded in raising sheep, and in place of the +sheep, they must pay money; but the peasant who takes money for his sheep +takes it because he must pay for grain which did not bear well this year. +The same thing goes on throughout this realm, and throughout the whole +world. + +A man sells the product of his labor, past, present or to come, sometimes +his food, and generally not because money constitutes for him a +convenient means of exchange. He could have effected the barter without +money, but he does so because money is exacted from him by violence as a +lien on his labor. + +When the sovereign of Egypt exacted labor from his slaves, the slaves +gave all their labor, but only their past and present labor, their future +labor they could not give. But with the dissemination of money tokens, +and the credit which had its rise in them, it became possible to sell +one’s future toil for money. Money, with co-existent violence in the +community, only represents the possibility of a new form of impersonal +slavery, which has taken the place of personal slavery. The slave-owner +has a right to the labor of Piotr, Ivan, and Sidor. But the owner of +money, in a place where money is demanded from all, has a right to the +toil of all those nameless people who are in need of money. Money has +set aside all the oppressive features of slavery, under which an owner +knows his right to Ivan, and with them it has set aside all humane +relations between the owner and the slave, which mitigated the burden of +personal thraldom. + +I will not allude to the fact, that such a condition of things is, +possibly, necessary for the development of mankind, for progress, and so +forth,—that I do not contest. I have merely tried to elucidate to myself +the idea of money, and that universal error into which I fell when I +accepted money as the representative of labor. I became convinced, after +experience, that money is not the representative of labor, but, in the +majority of cases, the representative of violence, or of especially +complicated sharp practices founded on violence. + +Money, in our day, has completely lost that significance which it is very +desirable that it should possess, as the representative of one’s own +labor; such a significance it has only as an exception, but, as a general +rule, it has been converted into a right or a possibility of profiting by +the toil of others. + +The dissemination of money, of credit, and of all sorts of money tokens, +confirms this significance of money ever more and more. Money is a new +form of slavery, which differs from the old form of slavery only in its +impersonality, its annihilation of all humane relations with the slave. + +Money—money, is a value which is always equal to itself, and is always +considered legal and righteous, and whose use is regarded as not immoral, +just as the right of slavery was regarded. + +In my young days, the game of loto was introduced into the clubs. +Everybody rushed to play it, and, as it was said, many ruined themselves, +rendered their families miserable, lost other people’s money, and +government funds, and committed suicide; and the game was prohibited, and +it remains prohibited to this day. + +I remember to have seen old and unsentimental gamblers, who told me that +this game was particularly pleasing because you did not see from whom you +were winning, as is the case in other games; a lackey brought, not money, +but chips; each man lost a little stake, and his disappointment was not +visible . . . It is the same with roulette, which is everywhere +prohibited, and not without reason. + +It is the same with money. I possess a magic, inexhaustible ruble; I cut +off my coupons, and have retired from all the business of the world. +Whom do I injure,—I, the most inoffensive and kindest of men? But this +is nothing more than playing at loto or roulette, where I do not see the +man who shoots himself, because of his losses, after procuring for me +those coupons which I cut off from the bonds so accurately with a +strictly right-angled corner. + +I have done nothing, I do nothing, and I shall do nothing, except cut off +those coupons; and I firmly believe that money is the representative of +labor! Surely, this is amazing! And people talk of madmen, after that! +Why, what degree of lunacy can be more frightful than this? A sensible, +educated, in all other respects sane man lives in a senseless manner, and +soothes himself for not uttering the word which it is indispensably +necessary that he should utter, with the idea that there is some sense in +his conclusions, and he considers himself a just man. Coupons—the +representatives of toil! Toil! Yes, but of whose toil? Evidently not +of the man who owns them, but of him who labors. + +Slavery is far from being suppressed. It has been suppressed in Rome and +in America, and among us: but only certain laws have been abrogated; only +the word, not the thing, has been put down. Slavery is the freeing of +ourselves alone from the toil which is necessary for the satisfaction of +our demands, by the transfer of this toil to others; and wherever there +exists a man who does not work, not because others work lovingly for him, +but where he possesses the power of not working, and forces others to +work for him, there slavery exists. There too, where, as in all European +societies, there are people who make use of the labor of thousands of +men, and regard this as their right,—there slavery exists in its broadest +measure. + +And money is the same thing as slavery. Its object and its consequences +are the same. Its object is—that one may rid one’s self of the first +born of all laws, as a profoundly thoughtful writer from the ranks of the +people has expressed it; from the natural law of life, as we have called +it; from the law of personal labor for the satisfaction of our own wants. +And the results of money are the same as the results of slavery, for the +proprietor; the creation, the invention of new and ever new and +never-ending demands, which can never be satisfied; the enervation of +poverty, vice, and for the slaves, the persecution of man and their +degradation to the level of the beasts. + +Money is a new and terrible form of slavery, and equally demoralizing +with the ancient form of slavery for both slave and slave-owner; only +much worse, because it frees the slave and the slave-owner from their +personal, humane relations.] + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + + +I am always surprised by the oft-repeated words: “Yes, this is so in +theory, but how is it in practice?” Just as though theory were fine +words, requisite for conversation, but not for the purpose of having all +practice, that is, all activity, indispensably founded on them. There +must be a fearful number of stupid theories current in the world, that +such an extraordinary idea should have become prevalent. Theory is what +a man thinks on a subject, but its practice is what he does. How can a +man think it necessary to do so and so, and then do the contrary? If the +theory of baking bread is, that it must first be mixed, and then set to +rise, no one except a lunatic, knowing this theory, would do the reverse. +But it has become the fashion with us to say, that “this is so in theory, +but how about the practice?” + +In the matter which interests me now, that has been confirmed which I +have always thought,—that practice infallibly flows from theory, and not +that it justifies it, but it cannot possibly be otherwise, for if I have +understood the thing of which I have been thinking, then I cannot carry +out this thing otherwise than as I have understood it. + +I wanted to help the unfortunate only because I had money, and I shared +the general belief that money was the representative of labor, or, on the +whole, something legal and good. But, having begun to give away this +money, I saw, when I gave the bills which I had accumulated from poor +people, that I was doing precisely that which was done by some landed +proprietors who made some of their serfs wait on others. I saw that +every use of money, whether for making purchases, or for giving away +without an equivalent to another, is handing over a note for extortion +from the poor, or its transfer to another man for extortion from the +poor. I saw that money in itself was not only not good, but evidently +evil, and that it deprives us of our highest good,—labor, and thereby of +the enjoyment of our labor, and that that blessing I was not in a +position to confer on any one, because I was myself deprived of it: I do +not work, and I take no pleasure in making use of the labor of others. + +It would appear that there is something peculiar in this abstract +argument as to the nature of money. But this argument which I have made +not for the sake of argument, but for the solution of the problem of my +life, of my sufferings, was for me an answer to my question: What is to +be done? + +As soon as I grasped the meaning of riches, and of money, it not only +became clear and indisputable to me, what I ought to do, but also clear +and indisputable what others ought to do, because they would infallibly +do it. I had only actually come to understand what I had known for a +long time previously, the theory which was given to men from the very +earliest times, both by Buddha, and Isaiah, and Lao-Tze, and Socrates, +and in a peculiarly clear and indisputable manner by Jesus Christ and his +forerunner, John the Baptist. John the Baptist, in answer to the +question of the people,—What were they to do? replied simply, briefly, +and clearly: “He that hath two coats, let him impart to him that hath +none; and he that hath meat, let him do likewise” (Luke iii. 10, 11). In +a similar manner, but with even greater clearness, and on many occasions, +Christ spoke. He said: “Blessed are the poor, and woe to the rich.” He +said that it is impossible to serve God and mammon. He forbade his +disciples to take not only money, but also two garments. He said to the +rich young man, that he could not enter into the kingdom of heaven +because he was rich, and that it was easier for a camel to go through the +eye of a needle, than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God. He +said that he who should not leave every thing, houses and children and +lands, and follow him, could not be his disciple. He told the parable of +the rich man who did nothing bad, like our own rich men, but who only +arrayed himself in costly garments, and ate and drank daintily, and who +lost his soul thereby; and of poor Lazarus, who had done nothing good, +but who was saved merely because he was poor. + +This theory was sufficiently familiar to me, but the false teachings of +the world had so obscured it that it had become for me a theory in the +sense which people are fond of attributing to that term, that is to say, +empty words. But as soon as I had succeeded in destroying in my +consciousness the sophisms of worldly teaching, theory conformed to +practice, and the truth with regard to my life and to the life of the +people about me became its conclusion. + +I understood that man, besides life for his own personal good, is +unavoidably bound to serve the good of others also; that, if we take an +illustration from the animal kingdom,—as some people are fond of doing, +defending violence and conflict by the conflict for existence in the +animal kingdom,—the illustration must be taken from gregarious animals, +like bees; that consequently man, not to mention the love to his neighbor +incumbent on him, is called upon, both by reason and by his nature, to +serve other people and the common good of humanity. I comprehended that +the natural law of man is that according to which only he can fulfil +destiny, and therefore be happy. I understood that this law has been and +is broken hereby,—that people get rid of labor by force (like the robber +bees), make use of the toil of others, directing this toil, not to the +common weal, but to the private satisfaction of swift-growing desires; +and, precisely as in the case of the robber bees, they perish in +consequence. [I understood that the original form of this disinclination +for the law is the brutal violence against weaker individuals, against +women, wars and imprisonments, whose sequel is slavery, and also the +present reign of money. I understood that money is the impersonal and +concealed enslavement of the poor. And, once having perceived the +significance of money as slavery, I could not but hate it, nor refrain +from doing all in my power to free myself from it.] {135} + +When I was a slave-owner, and comprehended the immorality of my position, +I tried to escape from it. My escape consisted in this, that I, +regarding it as immoral, tried to exercise my rights as slave-owner as +little as possible, but to live, and to allow other people to live, as +though that right did not exist. And I cannot refrain from doing the +same thing now in reference to the present form of slavery,—exercising my +right to the labor of others as little as possible, i.e., hiring and +purchasing as little as possible. + +The root of every slavery is the use of the labor of others; and hence, +the compelling others to it is founded indifferently on my right to the +slave, or on my possession of money which is indispensable to him. If I +really do not approve, and if I regard as an evil, the employment of the +labor of others, then I shall use neither my right nor my money for that +purpose; I shall not compel others to toil for me, but I shall endeavor +to free them from the labor which they have performed for me, as far as +possible, either by doing without this labor or by performing it for +myself. + +And this very simple and unavoidable deduction enters into all the +details of my life, effects a total change in it, and at one blow +releases me from those moral sufferings which I have undergone at the +sight of the sufferings and the vice of the people, and instantly +annihilates all three causes of my inability to aid the poor, which I had +encountered while seeking the cause of my lack of success. + +The first cause was the herding of the people in towns, and the +absorption there of the wealth of the country. All that a man needs is +to understand how every hiring or purchase is a handle to extortion from +the poor, and that therefore he must abstain from them, and must try to +fulfil his own requirements; and not a single man will then quit the +country, where all wants can be satisfied without money, for the city, +where it is necessary to buy every thing: and in the country he will be +in a position to help the needy, as has been my own experience and the +experience of every one else. + +The second cause is the estrangement of the rich from the poor. A man +needs but to refrain from buying, from hiring, and, disdaining no sort of +work, to satisfy his requirements himself, and the former estrangement +will immediately be annihilated, and the man, having rejected luxury and +the services of others, will amalgamate with the mass of the working +people, and, standing shoulder to shoulder with the working people, he +can help them. + +The third cause was shame, founded on a consciousness of immorality in my +owning that money with which I desired to help people. All that is +required is: to understand the significance of money as impersonal +slavery, which it has acquired among us, in order to escape for the +future from falling into the error according to which money, though evil +in itself, can be an instrument of good, and in order to refrain from +acquiring money; and to rid one’s self of it in order to be in a position +to do good to people, that is, to bestow on them one’s labor, and not the +labor of another. + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + + +[I saw that money is the cause of suffering and vice among the people, +and that, if I desired to help people, the first thing that was required +of me was not to create those unfortunates whom I wished to assist. + +I came to the conclusion that the man who does not love vice and the +suffering of the people should not make use of money, thus presenting an +inducement to extortion from the poor, by forcing them to work for him; +and that, in order not to make use of the toil of others, he must demand +as little from others as possible, and work as much as possible himself.] +{138} + +By dint of a long course of reasoning, I came to this inevitable +conclusion, which was drawn thousands of years ago by the Chinese in the +saying, “If there is one idle man, there is another dying with hunger to +offset him.” + +[Then what are we to do? John the Baptist gave the answer to this very +question two thousand years ago. And when the people asked him, “What +are we to do?” he said, “Let him that hath two garments impart to him +that hath none, and let him that hath meat do the same.” What is the +meaning of giving away one garment out of two, and half of one’s food? +It means giving to others every superfluity, and thenceforth taking +nothing superfluous from people. + +This expedient, which furnishes such perfect satisfaction to the moral +feelings, kept my eyes fast bound, and binds all our eyes; and we do not +see it, but gaze aside. + +This is precisely like a personage on the stage, who had entered a long +time since, and all the spectators see him, and it is obvious that the +actors cannot help seeing him, but the point on the stage lies in the +acting characters pretending not to see him, and in suffering from his +absence.] {139} + +Thus we, in our efforts to recover from our social diseases, search in +all quarters, governmental and anti-governmental, and in scientific and +in philanthropic superstitions; and we do not see what is perfectly +visible to every eye. + +For the man who really suffers from the sufferings of the people who +surround us, there exists the very plainest, simplest, and easiest means; +the only possible one for the cure of the evil about us, and for the +acquisition of a consciousness of the legitimacy of his life; the one +given by John the Baptist, and confirmed by Christ: not to have more than +one garment, and not to have money. And not to have any money, means, +not to employ the labor of others, and hence, first of all, to do with +our own hands every thing that we can possibly do. + +This is so clear and simple! But it is clear and simple when the +requirements are simple. I live in the country. I lie on the oven, and +I order my debtor, my neighbor, to chop wood and light my fire. It is +very clear that I am lazy, and that I tear my neighbor away from his +affairs, and I shall feel mortified, and I shall find it tiresome to lie +still all the time; and I shall go and split my wood for myself. + +But the delusion of slavery of all descriptions lies so far back, so much +of artificial exaction has sprung up upon it, so many people, accustomed +in different degrees to these habits, are interwoven with each other, +enervated people, spoiled for generations, and such complicated delusions +and justifications for their luxury and idleness have been devised by +people, that it is far from being so easy for a man who stands at the +summit of the ladder of idle people to understand his sin, as it is for +the peasant who has made his neighbor build his fire. + +It is terribly difficult for people at the top of this ladder to +understand what is required of them. [Their heads are turned by the +height of this ladder of lies, upon which they find themselves when a +place on the ground is offered to them, to which they must descend in +order to begin to live, not yet well, but no longer cruelly, inhumanly; +for this reason, this clear and simple truth appears strange to these +people. For the man with ten servants, liveries, coachmen, cooks, +pictures, pianofortes, that will infallibly appear strange, and even +ridiculous, which is the simplest, the first act of—I will not say every +good man—but of every man who is not wicked: to cut his own wood with +which his food is cooked, and with which he warms himself; to himself +clean those boots with which he has heedlessly stepped in the mire; to +himself fetch that water with which he preserves his cleanliness, and to +carry out that dirty water in which he has washed himself.] {140} + +But, besides the remoteness of people from the truth, there is another +cause which prevents people from seeing the obligation for them of the +simplest and most natural personal, physical labor for themselves: this +is the complication, the inextricability of the conditions, the advantage +of all the people who are bound together among themselves by money, in +which the rich man lives: “My luxurious life feeds people. What would +become of my old valet if I were to discharge him? What! we must all do +every thing necessary,—make our clothes and hew wood? . . . And how +about the division of labor?” + +[This morning I stepped out into the corridor where the fires were being +built. A peasant was making a fire in the stove which warms my son’s +room. I went in; the latter was asleep. It was eleven o’clock in the +morning. To-day is a holiday: there is some excuse, there are no +lessons. + +The smooth-skinned, eighteen-year-old youth, with a beard, who had eaten +his fill on the preceding evening, sleeps until eleven o’clock. But the +peasant of his age had been up at dawn, and had got through a quantity of +work, and was attending to his tenth stove, while the former slept. “The +peasant shall not make the fire in his stove to warm that smooth, lazy +body of his!” I thought. But I immediately recollected that this stove +also warmed the room of the housekeeper, a woman forty years of age, who, +on the evening before, had been making preparations up to three o’clock +in the morning for the supper which my son had eaten, and that she had +cleared the table, and risen at seven, nevertheless. The peasant was +building the fire for her also. And under her name the lazybones was +warming himself. + +It is true that the interests of all are interwoven; but, even without +any prolonged reckoning, the conscience of each man will say on whose +side lies labor, and on whose idleness. But although conscience says +this, the account-book, the cash-book, says it still more clearly. The +more money any one spends, the more idle he is, that is to say, the more +he makes others work for him. The less he spends, the more he works.] +{142a} But trade, but public undertakings, and, finally, the most +terrible of words, culture, the development of sciences, and the +arts,—what of them? + +[If I live I will make answer to those points, and in detail; and until +such answer I will narrate the following.] {142b} + + + +CHAPTER XX. + + +LIFE IN THE CITY. + + +Last year, in March, I was returning home late at night. As I turned +from the Zubova into Khamovnitchesky Lane, I saw some black spots on the +snow of the Dyevitchy Pole (field). Something was moving about in one +place. I should not have paid any attention to this, if the policeman +who was standing at the end of the street had not shouted in the +direction of the black spots,— + +“Vasily! why don’t you bring her in?” + +“She won’t come!” answered a voice, and then the spot moved towards the +policeman. + +I halted and asked the police-officer, “What is it?” + +He said,—“They are taking a girl from the Rzhanoff house to the +station-house; and she is hanging back, she won’t walk.” A house-porter +in a sheepskin coat was leading her. She was walking forward, and he was +pushing her from behind. All of us, I and the porter and the policeman, +were dressed in winter clothes, but she had nothing on over her dress. +In the darkness I could make out only her brown dress, and the kerchiefs +on her head and neck. She was short in stature, as is often the case +with the prematurely born, with small feet, and a comparatively broad and +awkward figure. + +“We’re waiting for you, you carrion. Get along, what do you mean by it? +I’ll give it to you!” shouted the policeman. He was evidently tired, and +he had had too much of her. She advanced a few paces, and again halted. + +The little old porter, a good-natured fellow (I know him), tugged at her +hand. “Here, I’ll teach you to stop! On with you!” he repeated, as +though in anger. She staggered, and began to talk in a discordant voice. +At every sound there was a false note, both hoarse and whining. + +“Come now, you’re shoving again. I’ll get there some time!” + +She stopped and then went on. I followed them. + +“You’ll freeze,” said the porters + +“The likes of us don’t freeze: I’m hot.” + +She tried to jest, but her words sounded like scolding. She halted again +under the lantern which stands not far from our house, and leaned +against, almost hung over, the fence, and began to fumble for something +among her skirts, with benumbed and awkward hands. Again they shouted at +her, but she muttered something and did something. In one hand she held +a cigarette bent into a bow, in the other a match. I paused behind her; +I was ashamed to pass her, and I was ashamed to stand and look on. But I +made up my mind, and stepped forward. Her shoulder was lying against the +fence, and against the fence it was that she vainly struck the match and +flung it away. I looked in her face. She was really a person +prematurely born; but, as it seemed to me, already an old woman. I +credited her with thirty years. A dirty hue of face; small, dull, tipsy +eyes; a button-like nose; curved moist lips with drooping corners, and a +short wisp of harsh hair escaping from beneath her kerchief; a long flat +figure, stumpy hands and feet. I paused opposite her. She stared at me, +and burst into a laugh, as though she knew all that was going on in my +mind. + +I felt that it was necessary to say something to her. I wanted to show +her that I pitied her. + +“Are your parents alive?” I inquired. + +She laughed hoarsely, with an expression which said, “he’s making up +queer things to ask.” + +“My mother is,” said she. “But what do you want?” + +“And how old are you?” + +“Sixteen,” said she, answering promptly to a question which was evidently +customary. + +“Come, march, you’ll freeze, you’ll perish entirely,” shouted the +policeman; and she swayed away from the fence, and, staggering along, she +went down Khamovnitchesky Lane to the police-station; and I turned to the +wicket, and entered the house, and inquired whether my daughters had +returned. I was told that they had been to an evening party, had had a +very merry time, had come home, and were in bed. + +Next morning I wanted to go to the station-house to learn what had been +done with this unfortunate woman, and I was preparing to go out very +early, when there came to see me one of those unlucky noblemen, who, +through weakness, have dropped from the gentlemanly life to which they +are accustomed, and who alternately rise and fall. I had been acquainted +with this man for three years. In the course of those three years, this +man had several times made way with every thing that he had, and even +with all his clothes; the same thing had just happened again, and he was +passing the nights temporarily in the Rzhanoff house, in the +night-lodging section, and he had come to me for the day. He met me as I +was going out, at the entrance, and without listening to me he began to +tell me what had taken place in the Rzhanoff house the night before. He +began his narrative, and did not half finish it; all at once (he is an +old man who has seen men under all sorts of aspects) he burst out +sobbing, and flooded has countenance with tears, and when he had become +silent, turned has face to the wall. This is what he told me. Every +thing that he related to me was absolutely true. I authenticated his +story on the spot, and learned fresh particulars which I will relate +separately. + +In that night-lodging house, on the lower floor, in No. 32, in which my +friend had spent the night, among the various, ever-changing lodgers, men +and women, who came together there for five kopeks, there was a +laundress, a woman thirty years of age, light-haired, peaceable and +pretty, but sickly. The mistress of the quarters had a boatman lover. +In the summer her lover kept a boat, and in the winter they lived by +letting accommodations to night-lodgers: three kopeks without a pillow, +five kopeks with a pillow. + +The laundress had lived there for several months, and was a quiet woman; +but latterly they had not liked her, because she coughed and prevented +the women from sleeping. An old half-crazy woman eighty years old, in +particular, also a regular lodger in these quarters, hated the laundress, +and imbittered the latter’s life because she prevented her sleeping, and +cleared her throat all night like a sheep. The laundress held her peace; +she was in debt for her lodgings, and was conscious of her guilt, and +therefore she was bound to be quiet. She began to go more and more +rarely to her work, as her strength failed her, and therefore she could +not pay her landlady; and for the last week she had not been out to work +at all, and had only poisoned the existence of every one, especially of +the old woman, who also did not go out, with her cough. Four days before +this, the landlady had given the laundress notice to leave the quarters: +the latter was already sixty kopeks in debt, and she neither paid them, +nor did the landlady foresee any possibility of getting them; and all the +bunks were occupied, and the women all complained of the laundress’s +cough. + +When the landlady gave the laundress notice, and told her that she must +leave the lodgings if she did not pay up, the old woman rejoiced and +thrust the laundress out of doors. The laundress departed, but returned +in an hour, and the landlady had not the heart to put her out again. And +the second and the third day, she did not turn her out. “Where am I to +go?” said the laundress. But on the third day, the landlady’s lover, a +Moscow man, who knew the regulations and how to manage, sent for the +police. A policeman with sword and pistol on a red cord came to the +lodgings, and with courteous words he led the laundress into the street. + +It was a clear, sunny, but freezing March day. The gutters were flowing, +the house-porters were picking at the ice. The cabman’s sleigh jolted +over the icy snow, and screeched over the stones. The laundress walked +up the street on the sunny side, went to the church, and seated herself +at the entrance, still on the sunny side. But when the sun began to sink +behind the houses, the puddles began to be skimmed over with a glass of +frost, and the laundress grew cold and wretched. She rose, and dragged +herself . . . whither? Home, to the only home where she had lived so +long. While she was on her way, resting at times, dusk descended. She +approached the gates, turned in, slipped, groaned and fell. + +One man came up, and then another. “She must be drunk.” Another man +came up, and stumbled over the laundress, and said to the potter: “What +drunken woman is this wallowing at your gate? I came near breaking my +head over her; take her away, won’t you?” + +The porter came. The laundress was dead. This is what my friend told +me. It may be thought that I have wilfully mixed up facts,—I encounter a +prostitute of fifteen, and the story of this laundress. But let no one +imagine this; it is exactly what happened in the course of one night +(only I do not remember which) in March, 1884. And so, after hearing my +friend’s tale, I went to the station-house, with the intention of +proceeding thence to the Rzhanoff house to inquire more minutely into the +history of the laundress. The weather was very beautiful and sunny; and +again, through the stars of the night-frost, water was to be seen +trickling in the shade, and in the glare of the sun on Khamovnitchesky +square every thing was melting, and the water was streaming. The river +emitted a humming noise. The trees of the Neskutchny garden looked blue +across the river; the reddish-brown sparrows, invisible in winter, +attracted attention by their sprightliness; people also seemed desirous +of being merry, but all of them had too many cares. The sound of the +bells was audible, and at the foundation of these mingling sounds, the +sounds of shots could be heard from the barracks, the whistle of +rifle-balls and their crack against the target. + +I entered the station-house. In the station some armed policemen +conducted me to their chief. He was similarly armed with sword and +pistol, and he was engaged in taking some measures with regard to a +tattered, trembling old man, who was standing before him, and who could +not answer the questions put to him, on account of his feebleness. +Having finished his business with the old man, he turned to me. I +inquired about the girl of the night before. At first he listened to me +attentively, but afterwards he began to smile, at my ignorance of the +regulations, in consequence of which she had been taken to the +station-house; and particularly at my surprise at her youth. + +“Why, there are plenty of them of twelve, thirteen, or fourteen years of +age,” he said cheerfully. + +But in answer to my question about the girl whom I had seen on the +preceding evening, he explained to me that she must have been sent to the +committee (so it appeared). To my question where she had passed the +night, he replied in an undecided manner. He did not recall the one to +whom I referred. There were so many of them every day. + +In No. 32 of the Rzhanoff house I found the sacristan already reading +prayers over the dead woman. They had taken her to the bunk which she +had formerly occupied; and the lodgers, all miserable beings, had +collected money for the masses for her soul, a coffin and a shroud, and +the old women had dressed her and laid her out. The sacristan was +reading something in the gloom; a woman in a long wadded cloak was +standing there with a wax candle; and a man (a gentleman, I must state) +in a clean coat with a lamb’s-skin collar, polished overshoes, and a +starched shirt, was holding one like it. This was her brother. They had +hunted him up. + +I went past the dead woman to the landlady’s nook, and questioned her +about the whole business. + +She was alarmed at my queries; she was evidently afraid that she would be +blamed for something; but afterwards she began to talk freely, and told +me every thing. As I passed back, I glanced at the dead woman. All dead +people are handsome, but this dead woman was particularly beautiful and +touching in her coffin; her pure, pale face, with closed swollen eyes, +sunken cheeks, and soft reddish hair above the lofty brow,—a weary and +kind and not a sad but a surprised face. And in fact, if the living do +not see, the dead are surprised. + +On the same day that I wrote the above, there was a great ball in Moscow. + +That night I left the house at nine o’clock. I live in a locality which +is surrounded by factories, and I left the house after the +factory-whistles had sounded, releasing the people for a day of freedom +after a week of unremitting toil. + +Factory-hands overtook me, and I overtook others of them, directing their +steps to the drinking-shops and taverns. Many were already intoxicated, +many were women. Every morning at five o’clock we can hear one whistle, +a second, a third, a tenth, and so forth, and so forth. That means that +the toil of women, children, and of old men has begun. At eight o’clock +another whistle, which signifies a breathing-spell of half an hour. At +twelve, a third: this means an hour for dinner. And a fourth at eight, +which denotes the end of the day. + +By an odd coincidence, all three of the factories which are situated near +me produce only articles which are in demand for balls. + +In one factory, the nearest, only stockings are made; in another +opposite, silken fabrics; in the third, perfumes and pomades. + +It is possible to listen to these whistles, and connect no other idea +with them than as denoting the time: “There’s the whistle already, it is +time to go to walk.” But one can also connect with those whistles that +which they signify in reality; that first whistle, at five o’clock, means +that people, often all without exception, both men and women, sleeping in +a damp cellar, must rise, and hasten to that building buzzing with +machines, and must take their places at their work, whose end and use for +themselves they do not see, and thus toil, often in heat and a stifling +atmosphere, in the midst of dirt, and with the very briefest +breathing-spells, an hour, two hours, three hours, twelve, and even more +hours in succession. They fall into a doze, and again they rise. And +this, for them, senseless work, to which they are driven only by +necessity, is continued over and over again. + +And thus one week succeeds another with the breaks of holidays; and I see +these work-people released on one of these holidays. They emerge into +the street. Everywhere there are drinking-shops, taverns, and loose +girls. And they, in their drunken state, drag by the hand each other, +and girls like the one whom I saw taken to the station-house; they drag +with them cabmen, and they ride and they walk from one tavern to another; +and they curse and stagger, and say they themselves know not what. I had +previously seen such unsteady gait on the part of factory-hands, and had +turned aside in disgust, and had been on the point of rebuking them; but +ever since I have been in the habit of hearing those whistles every day, +and understand their meaning, I am only amazed that they, all the men, do +not come to the condition of the “golden squad,” of which Moscow is full, +{152a} [and the women to the state of the one whom I had seen near my +house]. {152b} + +Thus I walked along, and scrutinized these factory-hands, as long as they +roamed the streets, which was until eleven o’clock. Then their movements +began to calm down. Some drunken men remained here and there, and here +and there I encountered men who were being taken to the station-house. +And then carriages began to make their appearance on all sides, directing +their course toward one point. + +On the box sits a coachman, sometimes in a sheepskin coat; and a footman, +a dandy, with a cockade. Well-fed horses in saddle-cloths fly through +the frost at the rate of twenty versts an hour; in the carriages sit +ladies muffled in round cloaks, and carefully tending their flowers and +head-dresses. Every thing from the horse-trappings, the carriages, the +gutta-percha wheels, the cloth of the coachman’s coat, to the stockings, +shoes, flowers, velvet, gloves, and perfumes,—every thing is made by +those people, some of whom often roll drunk into their dens or +sleeping-rooms, and some stay with disreputable women in the +night-lodging houses, while still others are put in jail. Thus past them +in all their work, and over them all, ride the frequenters of balls; and +it never enters their heads, that there is any connection between these +balls to which they make ready to go, and these drunkards at whom their +coachman shouts so roughly. + +These people enjoy themselves at the ball with the utmost composure of +spirit, and assurance that they are doing nothing wrong, but something +very good. Enjoy themselves! Enjoy themselves from eleven o’clock until +six in the morning, in the very dead of night, at the very hour when +people are tossing and turning with empty stomachs in the night-lodging +houses, and while some are dying, as did the laundress. + +Their enjoyment consists in this,—that the women and young girls, having +bared their necks and arms, and applied bustles behind, place themselves +in a situation in which no uncorrupted woman or maiden would care to +display herself to a man, on any consideration in the world; and in this +half-naked condition, with their uncovered bosoms exposed to view, with +arms bare to the shoulder, with a bustle behind and tightly swathed hips, +under the most brilliant light, women and maidens, whose chief virtue has +always been modesty, exhibit themselves in the midst of strange men, who +are also clad in improperly tight-fitting garments; and to the sound of +maddening music, they embrace and whirl. Old women, often as naked as +the young ones, sit and look on, and eat and drink savory things; old men +do the same. It is not to be wondered at that this should take place at +night, when all the common people are asleep, so that no one may see +them. But this is not done with the object of concealment: it seems to +them that there is nothing to conceal; that it is a very good thing; that +by this merry-making, in which the labor of thousands of toiling people +is destroyed, they not only do not injure any one, but that by this very +act they furnish the poor with the means of subsistence. Possibly it is +very merry at balls. But how does this come about? When we see that +there is a man in the community, in our midst, who has had no food, or +who is freezing, we regret our mirth, and we cannot be cheerful until he +is fed and warmed, not to mention the impossibility of imagining people +who can indulge in such mirth as causes suffering to others. The mirth +of wicked little boys, who pitch a dog’s tail in a split stick, and make +merry over it, is repulsive and incomprehensible to us. + +In the same manner here, in these diversions of ours, blindness has +fallen upon us, and we do not see the split stick with which we have +pitched all those people who suffer for our amusement. + +[We live as though there were no connection between the dying laundress, +the prostitute of fourteen, and our own life; and yet the connection +between them strikes us in the face. + +We may say: “But we personally have not pinched any tail in a stick;” but +we have no right, to deny that had the tail not been pitched, our +merry-making would not have taken place. We do not see what connection +exists between the laundress and our luxury; but that is not because no +such connection does exist, but because we have placed a screen in front +of us, so that we may not see. + +If there were no screen, we should see that which it is impossible not to +see.] {154} + +Surely all the women who attended that ball in dresses worth a hundred +and fifty rubles each were born not in a ballroom, or at Madame +Minanguoit’s; but they have lived in the country, and have seen the +peasants; they know their own nurse and maid, whose father and brother +are poor, for whom the earning of a hundred and fifty rubles for a +cottage is the object of a long, laborious life. Each woman knows this. +How could she enjoy herself, when she knew that she wore on her bared +body at that ball the cottage which is the dream of her good maid’s +father and brother? But let us suppose that she could not make this +reflection; but since velvet and silk and flowers and lace and dresses do +not grow of themselves, but are made by people, it would seem that she +could not help knowing what sort of people make all these things, and +under what conditions, and why they do it. She cannot fail to know that +the seamstress, with whom she has already quarrelled, did not make her +dress in the least out of love for her; therefore, she cannot help +knowing that all these things were made for her as a matter of necessity, +that her laces, flowers, and velvet have been made in the same way as her +dress. + +But possibly they are in such darkness that they do not consider this. +One thing she cannot fail to know,—that five or six elderly and +respectable, often sick, lackeys and maids have had no sleep, and have +been put to trouble on her account. She has seen their weary, gloomy +faces. She could not help knowing this also, that the cold that night +reached twenty-eight degrees below zero, {155} and that the old coachman +sat all night long in that temperature on his box. But I know that they +really do not see this. And if they, these young women and girls, do not +see this, on account of the hypnotic state superinduced in them by balls, +it is impossible to condemn them. They, poor things, have done what is +considered right by their elders; but how are their elders to explain +away this their cruelty to the people? + +The elders always offer the explanation: “I compel no one. I purchase my +things; I hire my men, my maid-servants, and my coachman. There is +nothing wrong in buying and hiring. I force no one’s inclination: I +hire, and what harm is there in that?” + +I recently went to see an acquaintance. As I passed through one of the +rooms, I was surprised to see two women seated at a table, as I knew that +my friend was a bachelor. A thin, yellow, old-fashioned woman, thirty +years of age, in a dress that had been carelessly thrown on, was doing +something with her hands and fingers on the table, with great speed, +trembling nervously the while, as though in a fit. Opposite her sat a +young girl, who was also engaged in something, and who trembled in the +same manner. Both women appeared to be afflicted with St. Vitus’ dance. +I stepped nearer to them, and looked to see what they were doing. They +raised their eyes to me, but went on with their work with the same +intentness. In front of them lay scattered tobacco and paper cases. +They were making cigarettes. The woman rubbed the tobacco between her +hands, pushed it into the machine, slipped on the cover, thrust the +tobacco through, then tossed it to the girl. The girl twisted the paper, +and, making it fast, threw it aside, and took up another. All thus was +done with such swiftness, with such intentness, as it is impossible to +describe to a man who has never seen it done. I expressed my surprise at +their quickness. + +“I have been doing nothing else for fourteen years,” said the woman. + +“Is it hard?” + +“Yes: it pains my chest, and makes my breathing hard.” + +It was not necessary for her to add this, however. A look at the girl +sufficed. She had worked at this for three years, but any one who had +not seen her at this occupation would have said that here was a strong +organism which was beginning to break down. + +My friend, a kind and liberal man, hires these women to fill his +cigarettes at two rubles fifty kopeks the thousand. He has money, and he +spends it for work. What harm is there in that? My friend rises at +twelve o’clock. He passes the evening, from six until two, at cards, or +at the piano. He eats and drinks savory things; others do all his work +for him. He has devised a new source of pleasure,—smoking. He has taken +up smoking within my memory. + +Here is a woman, and here is a girl, who can barely support themselves by +turning themselves into machines, and they pass their whole lives +inhaling tobacco, and thereby running their health. He has money which +he never earned, and he prefers to play at whist to making his own +cigarettes. He gives these women money on condition that they shall +continue to live in the same wretched manner in which they are now +living, that is to say, by making his cigarettes. + +I love cleanliness, and I give money only on the condition that the +laundress shall wash the shirt which I change twice a day; and that shirt +has destroyed the laundress’s last remaining strength, and she has died. +What is there wrong about that? People who buy and hire will continue to +force other people to make velvet and confections, and will purchase +them, without me; and no matter what I may do, they will hire cigarettes +made and shirts washed. Then why should I deprive myself of velvet and +confections and cigarettes and clean shirts, if things are definitively +settled thus? This is the argument which I often, almost always, hear. +This is the very argument which makes the mob which is destroying +something, lose its senses. This is the very argument by which dogs are +guided when one of them has flung himself on another dog, and overthrown +him, and the rest of the pack rush up also, and tear their comrade in +pieces. Other people have begun it, and have wrought mischief; then why +should not I take advantage of it? Well, what will happen if I wear a +soiled shirt, and make my own cigarettes? Will that make it easier for +anybody else? ask people who would like to justify their course. If it +were not so far from the truth, it would be a shame to answer such a +question, but we have become so entangled that this question seems very +natural to us; and hence, although it is a shame, it is necessary to +reply to it. + +What difference will it make if I wear one shirt a week, and make may own +cigarettes, or do not smoke at all? This difference, that some laundress +and some cigarette-maker will exert their strength less, and that what I +have spent for washing and for the making of cigarettes I can give to +that very laundress, or even to other laundresses and toilers who are +worn out with their labor, and who, instead of laboring beyond their +strength, will then be able to rest, and drink tea. But to this I hear +an objection. (It is so mortifying to rich and luxurious people to +understand their position.) To this they say: “If I go about in a dirty +shirt, and give up smoking, and hand over this money to the poor, the +poor will still be deprived of every thing, and that drop in the sea of +yours will help not at all.” + +Such an objection it is a shame to answer. It is such a common retort. +{158} + +If I had gone among savages, and they had regaled me with cutlets which +struck me as savory, and if I should learn on the following day that +these savory cutlets had been made from a prisoner whom they had slain +for the sake of the savory cutlets, if I do not admit that it is a good +thing to eat men, then, no matter how dainty the cutlets, no matter how +universal the practice of eating men may be among my fellows, however +insignificant the advantage to prisoners, prepared for consumption, may +be my refusal to eat of the cutlets, I will not and I can not eat any +more of them. I may, possibly, eat human flesh, when hunger compels me +to it; but I will not make a feast, and I will not take part in feasts, +of human flesh, and I will not seek out such feasts, and pride myself on +my share in them. + + +LIFE IN THE COUNTRY. + + +But what is to be done? Surely it is not we who have done this? And if +not we, who then? + +We say: “We have not done this, this has done itself;” as the children +say, when they break any thing, that it broke itself. We say, that, so +long as there is a city already in existence, we, by living in it, +support the people, by purchasing their labor and services. But this is +not so. And this is why. We only need to look ourselves, at the way we +have in the country, and at the manner in which we support people there. + +The winter passes in town. Easter Week passes. On the boulevards, in +the gardens in the parks, on the river, there is music. There are +theatres, water-trips, walks, all sorts of illuminations and fireworks. +But in the country there is something even better,—there are better air, +trees and meadows, and the flowers are fresher. One should go thither +where all these things have unfolded and blossomed forth. And the +majority of wealthy people do go to the country to breathe the superior +air, to survey these superior forests and meadows. And there the wealthy +settle down in the country, and the gray peasants, who nourish themselves +on bread and onions, who toil eighteen hours a day, who get no sound +sleep by night, and who are clad in blouses. Here no one has led these +people astray. There have been no factories nor industrial +establishments, and there are none of those idle hands, of which there +are so many in the city. Here the whole population never succeeds, all +summer long, in completing all their tasks in season; and not only are +there no idle hands, but a vast quantity of property is ruined for the +lack of hands, and a throng of people, children, old men, and women, will +perish through overstraining their powers in work which is beyond their +strength. How do the rich order their lives there? In this fashion:— + +If there is an old-fashioned house, built under the serf _régime_, that +house is repaired and embellished; if there is none, then a new one is +erected, of two or three stories. The rooms, of which there are from +twelve to twenty, and even more, are all six arshins in height. {161a} +Wood floors are laid down. The windows consist of one sheet of glass. +There are rich rugs and costly furniture. The roads around the house are +macadamized, the ground is levelled, flower-beds are laid out, +croquet-grounds are prepared, swinging-rings for gymnastics are erected, +reflecting globes, often orangeries, and hotbeds, and lofty stables +always with complicated scroll-work on the gables and ridges. + +And here, in the country, an honest educated official, or noble family +dwells. All the members of the family and their guests have assembled in +the middle of June, because up to June, that is to say, up to the +beginning of mowing-time, they have been studying and undergoing +examinations; and they live there until September, that is to say, until +harvest and sowing-time. The members of this family (as is the case with +nearly every one in that circle) have lived in the country from the +beginning of the press of work, the suffering time, not until the end of +the season of toil (for in September sowing is still in progress, as well +as the digging of potatoes), but until the strain of work has relaxed a +little. During the whole of their residence in the country, all around +them and beside them, that summer toil of the peasantry has been going +on, of whose fatigues, no matter how much we may have heard, no matter +how much we may have heard about it, no matter how much we may have gazed +upon it, we can form no idea, unless we have had personal experience of +it. And the members of this family, about ten in number, live exactly as +they do in the city. + +At St. Peter’s Day, {161b} a strict fast, when the people’s food consists +of kvas, bread, and onions, the mowing begins. + +The business which is effected in mowing is one of the most important in +the commune. Nearly every year, through the lack of hands and time, the +hay crop may be lost by rain; and more or less strain of toil decides the +question, as to whether twenty or more per cent of hay is to be added to +the wealth of the people, or whether it is to rot or die where it stands. +And additional hay means additional meat for the old, and additional milk +for the children. Thus, in general and in particular, the question of +bread for each one of the mowers, and of milk for himself and his +children, in the ensuing winter, is then decided. Every one of the +toilers, both male and female, knows this; even the children know that +this is an important matter, and that it is necessary to strain every +nerve to carry the jug of kvas to their father in the meadow at his +mowing, and, shifting the heavy pitcher from hand to hand, to run +barefooted as rapidly as possible, two versts from the village, in order +to get there in season for dinner, and so that their fathers may not +scold them. + +Every one knows, that, from the mowing season until the hay is got in, +there will be no break in the work, and that there will be no time to +breathe. And there is not the mowing alone. Every one of them has other +affairs to attend to besides the mowing: the ground must be turned up and +harrowed; and the women have linen and bread and washing to attend to; +and the peasants have to go to the mill, and to town, and there are +communal matters to attend to, and legal matters before the judge and the +commissary of police; and the wagons to see to, and the horses to feed at +night: and all, old and young, and sickly, labor to the last extent of +their powers. The peasants toil so, that on every occasion, the mowers, +before the end of the third stint, whether weak, young, or old, can +hardly walk as they totter past the last rows, and only with difficulty +are they able to rise after the breathing-spell; and the women, often +pregnant, or nursing infants, work in the same way. The toil is intense +and incessant. All work to the extreme bounds of their strength, and +expend in this toil, not only the entire stock of their scanty +nourishment, but all their previous stock. All of them—and they are not +fat to begin with—grow gaunt after the “suffering” season. + +Here a little association is working at the mowing; three peasants,—one +an old man, the second his nephew, a young married man, and a shoemaker, +a thin, sinewy man. This hay-harvest will decide the fate of all of them +for the winter. They have been laboring incessantly for two weeks, +without rest. The rain has delayed their work. After the rain, when the +hay has dried, they have decided to stack it, and, in order to accomplish +this as speedily as possible, that two women for each of them shall +follow their scythes. On the part of the old man go his wife, a woman of +fifty, who has become unfit for work, having borne eleven children, who +is deaf, but still a tolerably stout worker; and a thirteen-year-old +daughter, who is short of stature, but a strong and clever girl. On the +part of his nephew go his wife, a woman as strong and well-grown as a +sturdy peasant, and his daughter-in-law, a soldier’s wife, who is about +to become a mother. On the part of the shoemaker go his wife, a stout +laborer, and her aged mother, who has reached her eightieth year, and who +generally goes begging. They all stand in line, and labor from morning +till night, in the full fervor of the June sun. It is steaming hot, and +rain threatens. Every hour of work is precious. It is a pity to tear +one’s self from work to fetch water or kvas. A tiny boy, the old woman’s +grandson, brings them water. The old woman, evidently only anxious lest +she shall be driven away from her work, will not let the rake out of her +hand, though it is evident that she can barely move, and only with +difficulty. The little boy, all bent over, and stepping gently, with his +tiny bare feet, drags along a jug of water, shifting it from hand to +hand, for it is heavier than he. The young girl flings over her shoulder +a load of hay which is also heavier than herself, advances a few steps, +halts, and drops it, without the strength to carry it. The old woman of +fifty rakes away without stopping, and with her kerchief awry she drags +the hay, breathing heavily and tottering. The old woman of eighty only +rakes the hay, but even this is beyond her strength; she slowly drags +along her feet, shod with bast shoes, and, frowning, she gazes gloomily +before her, like a seriously ill or dying person. The old man has +intentionally sent her farther away than the rest, to rake near the cocks +of hay, so that she may not keep in line with the others; but she does +not fall in with this arrangement, and she toils on as long as the others +do, with the same death-like, gloomy countenance. The sun is already +setting behind the forest; but the cocks are not yet all heaped together, +and much still remains to do. All feel that it is time to stop, but no +one speaks, waiting until the others shall say it. Finally the +shoemaker, conscious that his strength is exhausted, proposes to the old +man, to leave the cocks until the morrow; and the old man consents, and +the women instantly run for the garments, jugs, pitchforks; and the old +woman immediately sits down just where she has been standings and then +lies back with the same death-like look, staring straight in front of +her. But the women are going; and she rises with a groan, and drags +herself after them. And this will go on in July also, when the peasants, +without obtaining sufficient sleep, reap the oats by night, lest it +should fall, and the women rise gloomily to thresh out the straw for the +bands to tie the sheaves; when this old woman, already utterly cramped by +the labor of mowing, and the woman with child, and the young children, +injure themselves overworking and over-drinking; and when neither hands, +nor horses, nor carts will suffice to bring to the ricks that grain with +which all men are nourished, and millions of poods {165} of which are +daily required in Russia to keep people from perishing. + +And we live as though there were no connection between the dying +laundress, the prostitute of fourteen years, the toilsome manufacture of +cigarettes by women, the strained, intolerable, insufficiently fed toil +of old women and children around us; we live as though there were no +connection between this and our own lives. + +It seems to us, that suffering stands apart by itself, and our life apart +by itself. We read the description of the life of the Romans, and we +marvel at the inhumanity of those soulless Luculli, who satiated +themselves on viands and wines while the populace were dying with hunger. +We shake our heads, and we marvel at the savagery of our grandfathers, +who were serf-owners, supporters of household orchestras and theatres, +and of whole villages devoted to the care of their gardens; and we +wonder, from the heights of our grandeur, at their inhumanity. We read +the words of Isa. v. 8: “Woe unto them that join house to house, that lay +field to field, till there be no place, that they may be placed alone in +the midst of the earth! (11.) Woe unto them that rise up early in the +morning, that they may follow strong drink; that continue until night, +till wine inflame them! (12.) And the harp and the viol, and tabret and +pipe, and wine are in their feasts; but they regard not the work of the +Lord, neither consider the operation of his hands. (18.) Woe unto them +that draw iniquity with cords of vanity, and sin as it were with a +cart-rope. (20.) Woe unto then that call evil good, and good evil; that +put darkness for light, and light for darkness; that put bitter for +sweet, and sweet for bitter! (21.) Woe unto them that are wise in their +own eyes, and prudent in their own sight—(22.) Woe unto them that are +mighty to drink wine, and men of strength to mingle strong drink.” + +We read these words, and it seems to us that this has no reference to us. +We read in the Gospels (Matt. iii. 10): “And now also the axe is laid +unto the root of the trees: therefore every tree which bringeth not forth +good fruit is hewn down and cast into the fire.” + +And we are fully convinced that the good tree which bringeth forth good +fruit is ourselves; and that these words are not spoken to us, but to +some other and wicked people. + +We read the words of Isa. vi. 10: “Make the heart of this people fat, and +make their ears heavy, and shut their eyes; lest they see with their +eyes, and hear with their ears, and understand with their heart, and +convert and be healed. (11.) Then said I: Lord, how long? And he +answered, Until the cities be wasted without inhabitant, and the houses +without man, and the land be utterly desolate.” + +We read, and are fully convinced that this marvellous deed is not +performed on us, but on some other people. And because we see nothing it +is, that this marvellous deed is performed, and has been performed, on +us. We hear not, we see not, and we understand not with our heart. How +has this happened? + +Whether that God, or that natural law by virtue of which men exist in the +world, has acted well or ill, yet the position of men in the world, ever +since we have known it, has been such, that naked people, without any +hair on their bodies, without lairs in which they could shelter +themselves, without food which they could find in the fields,—like +Robinson {167} on his island,—have all been reduced to the necessity of +constantly and unweariedly contending with nature in order to cover their +bodies, to make themselves clothing, to construct a roof over their +heads, and to earn their bread, that two or three times a day they may +satisfy their hunger and the hunger of their helpless children and of +their old people who cannot work. + +Wherever, at whatever time, in whatever numbers we may have observed +people, whether in Europe, in America, in China, or in Russia, whether we +regard all humanity, or any small portion of it, in ancient times, in a +nomad state, or in our own times, with steam-engines and sewing-machines, +perfected agriculture, and electric lighting, we behold always one and +the same thing,—that man, toiling intensely and incessantly, is not able +to earn for himself and his little ones and his old people clothing, +shelter, and food; and that a considerable portion of mankind, as in +former times, so at the present day, perish through insufficiency of the +necessaries of life, and intolerable toil in the effort to obtain them. + +Wherever we have, if we draw a circle round us of a hundred thousand, a +thousand, or ten versts, or of one verst, and examine into the lives of +the people comprehended within the limits of our circle, we shall see +within that circle prematurely-born children, old men, old women, women +in labor, sick and weak persons, who toil beyond their strength, and who +have not sufficient food and rest for life, and who therefore die before +their time. We shall see people in the flower of their age actually +slain by dangerous and injurious work. + +We see that people have been struggling, ever since the world has +endured, with fearful effort, privation, and suffering, against this +universal want, and that they cannot overcome it . . . {168} + + + + +Footnotes + + +{21a} The fine, tall members of a regiment, selected and placed together +to form a showy squad. + +{21b} [] Omitted by the Censor in the authorized edition printed in +Russia, in the set of Count Tolstoï’s works. + +{24a} Réaumur. + +{24b} A drink made of water, honey, and laurel or salvia leaves, which +is drunk as tea, especially by the poorer classes. + +{28} [] Omitted by the censor from the authorized edition published in +Russia in the set of count Tolstoi’s works. The omission is indicated +thus . . . + +{39} _Kalatch_, a kind of roll: _baranki_, cracknels of fine flour. + +{59} An _arshin_ is twenty-eight inches. + +{60} A _myeshchanin_, or citizen, who pays only poll-tax and not a guild +tax. + +{62} Omitted in authorized edition. + +{66} Omitted by the censor in the authorized edition. + +{94} Omitted by the Censor in the authorized edition. + +{96} Omitted by the Censor in the authorized edition. + +{99} Omitted by the Censor in the authorized edition. + +{108} Omitted by the Censor from the authorized edition. + +{111} Omitted by the Censor in the authorized edition. + +{113} Omitted by the Censor in the authorized edition + +{116} Omitted by the Censor in the authorized edition. + +{122a} Omitted by the Censor in the authorized edition. + +{122b} A very complicated sort of whist. + +{122c} Omitted by the Censor in the authorized edition. + +{124} The whole of this chapter is omitted by the Censor in the +authorized edition, and is there represented by the following sentence: +“And I felt that in money, in money itself, in the possession of it, +there was something immoral; and I asked myself, What is money?” + +{135} Omitted by the Censor in the authorized edition. + +{138} Omitted by the Censor in the authorized edition. + +{139} The above passage is omitted in the authorized edition, and the +following is added: “I came to the simple and natural conclusion, that, +if I pity the tortured horse upon which I am riding, the first thing for +me to do is to alight, and to walk on my own feet.” + +{140} Omitted in the authorized edition. + +{142a} Omitted in the authorized edition. + +{142b} Omitted in the authorized edition. + +{152a} “Into a worse state,” in the authorized edition. + +{152b} Omitted in the authorized edition. + +{154} Omitted in the authorized edition. + +{155} Réaumur. + +{158} In the Moscow edition (authorized by the Censor), the concluding +paragraph is replaced by the following:—“They say: The action of a single +man is but a drop in the sea. A drop in the sea! + +“There is an Indian legend relating how a man dropped a pearl into the +sea, and in order to recover it he took a bucket, and began to bail out, +and to pour the water on the shore. Thus he toiled without intermission, +and on the seventh day the spirit of the sea grew alarmed lest the man +should dip the sea dry, and so he brought him his pearl. If our social +evil of persecuting man were the sea, then that pearl which we have lost +is equivalent to devoting our lives to bailing out the sea of that evil. +The prince of this world will take fright, he will succumb more promptly +than did the spirit of the sea; but this social evil is not the sea, but +a foul cesspool, which we assiduously fill with our own uncleanness. All +that is required is for us to come to our senses, and to comprehend what +we are doing; to fall out of love with our own uncleanness,—in order that +that imaginary sea should dry away, and that we should come into +possession of that priceless pearl,—fraternal, humane life.” + +{161a} An arshin is twenty-eight inches. + +{161b} The fast extends from the 5th to the 30th of June, O.S. (June 27 +to July 12, N.S.) + +{165} A pood is thirty-six pounds. + +{167} Robinson Crusoe. + +{168} Here something has been omitted by the Censor, which I am unable +to supply.—TRANS. + + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THOUGHTS EVOKED BY THE CENSUS OF +MOSCOW*** + + +******* This file should be named 3541-0.txt or 3541-0.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/5/4/3541 + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. 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Tolstoi</title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + P { margin-top: .75em; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + P.gutsumm { margin-left: 5%;} + P.poetry {margin-left: 3%; } + .GutSmall { font-size: 0.7em; } + H1, H2 { + text-align: center; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + } + H3, H4, H5 { + text-align: center; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + } + BODY{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + table { border-collapse: collapse; } +table {margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto;} + td { vertical-align: top; border: 1px solid black;} + td p { margin: 0.2em; } + .blkquot {margin-left: 4em; margin-right: 4em;} /* block indent */ + + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .pagenum {position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: small; + text-align: right; + font-weight: normal; + color: gray; + } + img { border: none; } + img.dc { float: left; width: 50px; height: 50px; } + p.gutindent { margin-left: 2em; } + div.gapspace { height: 0.8em; } + div.gapline { height: 0.8em; width: 100%; border-top: 1px solid;} + div.gapmediumline { height: 0.3em; width: 40%; margin-left:30%; + border-top: 1px solid; } + div.gapmediumdoubleline { height: 0.3em; width: 40%; margin-left:30%; + border-top: 1px solid; border-bottom: 1px solid;} + div.gapshortdoubleline { height: 0.3em; width: 20%; + margin-left: 40%; border-top: 1px solid; + border-bottom: 1px solid; } + div.gapdoubleline { height: 0.3em; width: 50%; + margin-left: 25%; border-top: 1px solid; + border-bottom: 1px solid;} + div.gapshortline { height: 0.3em; width: 20%; margin-left:40%; + border-top: 1px solid; } + .citation {vertical-align: super; + font-size: .5em; + text-decoration: none;} + span.red { color: red; } + body {background-color: #ffffc0; } + img.floatleft { float: left; + margin-right: 1em; + margin-top: 0.5em; margin-bottom: 0.5em; } + img.floatright { float: right; + margin-left: 1em; margin-top: 0.5em; + margin-bottom: 0.5em; } + img.clearcenter {display: block; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; margin-top: 0.5em; + margin-bottom: 0.5em} + --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> +</head> +<body> +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Thoughts Evoked by the Census of Moscow, by +Lyof N. Tolstoi, Translated by Isabel F. Hapgood + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most +other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of +the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at +www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have +to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. + + + + +Title: Thoughts Evoked by the Census of Moscow + + +Author: Lyof N. Tolstoi + + + +Release Date: July 30, 2019 [eBook #3541] +[This file was first posted 31 May 2001] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THOUGHTS EVOKED BY THE CENSUS OF +MOSCOW*** +</pre> +<p>Transcribed from the 1887 Tomas Y. Crowell edition by David +Price, email ccx074@pglaf.org</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a href="images/cover.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Public domain cover" +title= +"Public domain cover" + src="images/cover.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<h1>WHAT TO DO?<br /> +THOUGHTS EVOKED BY THE CENSUS<br /> +OF MOSCOW</h1> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">by</span><br /> +COUNT LYOF N. TOLSTOÏ</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap"><i>translated +from the russian</i></span><br /> +<span class="smcap">By</span> ISABEL F. HAPGOOD</p> +<p style="text-align: center">NEW YORK<br /> +THOMAS Y. CROWELL & CO.<br /> +13 <span class="smcap">Astor Place</span><br /> +1887</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><span +class="smcap">Copyright</span>, 1887,<br /> +<span class="smcap">By</span> THOMAS Y. CROWELL & CO.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">electrotyped +and printed</span><br /> +BY RAND AVERY COMPANY,<br /> +<span class="smcap">boston</span>.</p> +<h2>TRANSLATOR’S NOTE.</h2> +<p>Books which are prohibited by the Russian Censor are not +always inaccessible. An enterprising publishing-house in +Geneva makes a specialty of supplying the natural craving of man +for forbidden fruit, under which heading some of Count L. N. +Tolstoi’s essays belong. These essays circulate in +Russia in manuscript; and it is from one of these manuscripts, +which fell into the hands of the Geneva firm, that the first half +of the present translation has been made. It is thus that +the Censor’s omissions have been noted, even in cases where +such omissions are in no way indicated in the twelfth volume of +Count Tolstoi’s collected works, published in Moscow. +As an interesting detail in this connection, I may mention that +this twelfth volume contains all that the censor allows of +“My Religion,” amounting to a very much abridged +scrap of Chapter X. in the last-named volume as known to the +public outside of Russia. The last half of the present book +has not been published by the Geneva house, and omissions cannot +be marked.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">ISABEL F. HAPGOOD</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Boston</span>, Sept. 1, 1887</p> +<h2>THOUGHTS EVOKED BY THE CENSUS OF MOSCOW. +[1884–1885.]</h2> +<blockquote><p>And the people asked him, saying, What shall we do +then?</p> +<p>He answereth and saith unto them, He that hath two coats, let +him impart to him that hath none; and he that hath meat, let him +do likewise—<span class="smcap">Luke</span> iii. 10. +11.</p> +<p>Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon earth, where moth and +rust doth corrupt, and where thieves break through and steal:</p> +<p>But lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither +moth nor rust doth corrupt, and where thieves do not break +through nor steal:</p> +<p>For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.</p> +<p>The light of the body is the eye: if therefore thine eye be +single, thy whole body shall be full of light.</p> +<p>But if thine eye be evil, thy whole body shall be full of +darkness. If therefore the light that is in thee be +darkness, how great is that darkness!</p> +<p>No man can serve two masters: for either he will hate the one, +and love the other; or else he will hold to the one, and despise +the other. Ye cannot serve God and mammon.</p> +<p>Therefore I say unto you, Take no thought for your life, what +ye shall eat, or what ye shall drink; nor yet for your body, what +ye shall put on. Is not the life more than meat, and the +body than raiment?—<span class="smcap">Matt.</span> vi. +19–25.</p> +<p>Therefore take no thought, saying, What shall we eat? or, What +shall we drink? Or, Wherewithal shall we be clothed?</p> +<p>(For after all these things do the Gentiles seek:) for your +heavenly Father knoweth that ye have need of all these +things.</p> +<p>But seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; +and all these things shall be added unto you.</p> +<p>Take therefore no thought for the morrow: for the morrow shall +take thought for the things of itself. Sufficient unto the +day is the evil thereof.—<span class="smcap">Matt.</span> +vi. 31–34.</p> +<p>For it is easier for a camel to go through a needle’s +eye, than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of +God.—<span class="smcap">Matt.</span> xix. 24; <span +class="smcap">Mark</span> x. 25; <span class="smcap">Luke</span> +xviii. 25.</p> +</blockquote> +<h3>CHAPTER I.</h3> +<p>I had lived all my life out of town. When, in 1881, I +went to live in Moscow, the poverty of the town greatly surprised +me. I am familiar with poverty in the country; but city +poverty was new and incomprehensible to me. In Moscow it +was impossible to pass along the street without encountering +beggars, and especially beggars who are unlike those in the +country. These beggars do not go about with their pouches +in the name of Christ, as country beggars are accustomed to do, +but these beggars are without the pouch and the name of +Christ. The Moscow beggars carry no pouches, and do not ask +for alms. Generally, when they meet or pass you, they +merely try to catch your eye; and, according to your look, they +beg or refrain from it. I know one such beggar who belongs +to the gentry. The old man walks slowly along, bending +forward every time he sets his foot down. When he meets +you, he rests on one foot and makes you a kind of salute. +If you stop, he pulls off his hat with its cockade, and bows and +begs: if you do not halt, he pretends that that is merely his way +of walking, and he passes on, bending forward in like manner on +the other foot. He is a real Moscow beggar, a cultivated +man. At first I did not know why the Moscow beggars do not +ask alms directly; afterwards I came to understand why they do +not beg, but still I did not understand their position.</p> +<p>Once, as I was passing through Afanasievskaya Lane, I saw a +policeman putting a ragged peasant, all swollen with dropsy, into +a cab. I inquired: “What is that for?”</p> +<p>The policeman answered: “For asking alms.”</p> +<p>“Is that forbidden?”</p> +<p>“Of course it is forbidden,” replied the +policeman.</p> +<p>The sufferer from dropsy was driven off. I took another +cab, and followed him. I wanted to know whether it was true +that begging alms was prohibited and how it was prohibited. +I could in no wise understand how one man could be forbidden to +ask alms of any other man; and besides, I did not believe that it +was prohibited, when Moscow is full of beggars. I went to +the station-house whither the beggar had been taken. At a +table in the station-house sat a man with a sword and a +pistol. I inquired:</p> +<p>“For what was this peasant arrested?”</p> +<p>The man with the sword and pistol gazed sternly at me, and +said:</p> +<p>“What business is it of yours?”</p> +<p>But feeling conscious that it was necessary to offer me some +explanation, he added:</p> +<p>“The authorities have ordered that all such persons are +to be arrested; of course it had to be done.”</p> +<p>I went out. The policeman who had brought the beggar was +seated on the window-sill in the ante-chamber, staring gloomily +at a note-book. I asked him:</p> +<p>“Is it true that the poor are forbidden to ask alms in +Christ’s name?”</p> +<p>The policeman came to himself, stared at me, then did not +exactly frown, but apparently fell into a doze again, and said, +as he sat on the window-sill:—</p> +<p>“The authorities have so ordered, which shows that it is +necessary,” and betook himself once more to his +note-book. I went out on the porch, to the cab.</p> +<p>“Well, how did it turn out? Have they arrested +him?” asked the cabman. The man was evidently +interested in this affair also.</p> +<p>“Yes,” I answered. The cabman shook his +head. “Why is it forbidden here in Moscow to ask alms +in Christ’s name?” I inquired.</p> +<p>“Who knows?” said the cabman.</p> +<p>“How is this?” said I, “he is Christ’s +poor, and he is taken to the station-house.”</p> +<p>“A stop has been put to that now, it is not +allowed,” said the cab-driver.</p> +<p>On several occasions afterwards, I saw policemen conducting +beggars to the station house, and then to the Yusupoff house of +correction. Once I encountered on the Myasnitzkaya a +company of these beggars, about thirty in number. In front +of them and behind them marched policemen. I inquired: +“What for?”—“For asking alms.”</p> +<p>It turned out that all these beggars, several of whom you meet +with in every street in Moscow, and who stand in files near every +church during services, and especially during funeral services, +are forbidden to ask alms.</p> +<p>But why are some of them caught and locked up somewhere, while +others are left alone?</p> +<p>This I could not understand. Either there are among them +legal and illegal beggars, or there are so many of them that it +is impossible to apprehend them all; or do others assemble afresh +when some are removed?</p> +<p>There are many varieties of beggars in Moscow: there are some +who live by this profession; there are also genuine poor people, +who have chanced upon Moscow in some manner or other, and who are +really in want.</p> +<p>Among these poor people, there are many simple, common +peasants, and women in their peasant costume. I often met +such people. Some of them have fallen ill here, and on +leaving the hospital they can neither support themselves here, +nor get away from Moscow. Some of them, moreover, have +indulged in dissipation (such was probably the case of the +dropsical man); some have not been ill, but are people who have +been burnt out of their houses, or old people, or women with +children; some, too, were perfectly healthy and able to +work. These perfectly healthy peasants who were engaged in +begging, particularly interested me. These healthy, peasant +beggars, who were fit for work, also interested me, because, from +the date of my arrival in Moscow, I had been in the habit of +going to the Sparrow Hills with two peasants, and sawing wood +there for the sake of exercise. These two peasants were +just as poor as those whom I encountered on the streets. +One was Piotr, a soldier from Kaluga; the other Semyon, a peasant +from Vladimir. They possessed nothing except the wages of +their body and hands. And with these hands they earned, by +dint of very hard labor, from forty to forty-five kopeks a day, +out of which each of them was laying by savings, the Kaluga man +for a fur coat, the Vladimir man in order to get enough to return +to his village. Therefore, on meeting precisely such men in +the streets, I took an especial interest in them.</p> +<p>Why did these men toil, while those others begged?</p> +<p>On encountering a peasant of this stamp, I usually asked him +how he had come to that situation. Once I met a peasant +with some gray in his beard, but healthy. He begs. I +ask him who is he, whence comes he? He says that he came +from Kaluga to get work. At first he found employment +chopping up old wood for use in stoves. He and his comrade +finished all the chopping which one householder had; then they +sought other work, but found none; his comrade had parted from +him, and for two weeks he himself had been struggling along; he +had spent all his money, he had no saw, and no axe, and no money +to buy anything. I gave him money for a saw, and told him +of a place where he could find work. I had already made +arrangements with Piotr and Semyon, that they should take an +assistant, and they looked up a mate for him.</p> +<p>“See that you come. There is a great deal of work +there.”</p> +<p>“I will come; why should I not come? Do you +suppose I like to beg? I can work.”</p> +<p>The peasant declares that he will come, and it seems to me +that he is not deceiving me, and that he intents to come.</p> +<p>On the following day I go to my peasants, and inquire whether +that man has arrived. He has not been there; and in this +way several men deceived me. And those also deceived me who +said that they only required money for a ticket in order to +return home, and who chanced upon me again in the street a week +later. Many of these I recognized, and they recognized me, +and sometimes, having forgotten me, they repeated the same trick +on me; and others, on catching sight of me, beat a retreat. +Thus I perceived, that in the ranks of this class also deceivers +existed. But these cheats were very pitiable creatures: all +of them were but half-clad, poverty-stricken, gaunt, sickly men; +they were the very people who really freeze to death, or hang +themselves, as we learn from the newspapers.</p> +<h3>CHAPTER II.</h3> +<p>When I mentioned this poverty of the town to inhabitants of +the town, they always said to me: “Oh, all that you have +seen is nothing. You ought to see the Khitroff +market-place, and the lodging-houses for the night there. +There you would see a regular ‘golden +company.’” <a name="citation21a"></a><a +href="#footnote21a" class="citation">[21a]</a> One jester +told me that this was no longer a company, but a <i>golden +regiment</i>: so greatly had their numbers increased. The +jester was right, but he would have been still more accurate if +he had said that these people now form in Moscow neither a +company nor a regiment, but an entire army, almost fifty thousand +in number, I think. [The old inhabitants, when they spoke +to me about the poverty in town, always referred to it with a +certain satisfaction, as though pluming themselves over me, +because they knew it. I remember that when I was in London, +the old inhabitants there also rather boasted when they spoke of +the poverty of London. The case is the same with us.] <a +name="citation21b"></a><a href="#footnote21b" +class="citation">[21b]</a></p> +<p>And I wanted to have a sight of this poverty of which I had +been told. Several times I set out in the direction of the +Khitroff market-place, but on every occasion I began to feel +uncomfortable and ashamed. “Why am I going to gaze on +the sufferings of people whom I cannot help?” said one +voice. “No, if you live here, and see all the charms +of city life, go and view this also,” said another +voice. In December three years ago, therefore, on a cold +and windy day, I betook myself to that centre of poverty, the +Khitroff market-place. This was at four o’clock in +the afternoon of a week-day. As I passed through the +Solyanka, I already began to see more and more people in old +garments which had not originally belonged to them, and in still +stranger foot-gear, people with a peculiar, unhealthy hue of +countenance, and especially with a singular indifference to every +thing around them, which was peculiar to them all. A man in +the strangest of all possible attire, which was utterly unlike +any thing else, walked along with perfect unconcern, evidently +without a thought of the appearance which he must present to the +eyes of others. All these people were making their way +towards a single point. Without inquiring the way, with +which I was not acquainted, I followed them, and came out on the +Khitroff market-place. On the market-place, women both old +and young, of the same description, in tattered cloaks and +jackets of various shapes, in ragged shoes and overshoes, and +equally unconcerned, notwithstanding the hideousness of their +attire, sat, bargained for something, strolled about, and +scolded. There were not many people in the market +itself. Evidently market-hours were over, and the majority +of the people were ascending the rise beyond the market and +through the place, all still proceeding in one direction. I +followed them. The farther I advanced, the greater in +numbers were the people of this sort who flowed together on one +road. Passing through the market-place and proceeding along +the street, I overtook two women; one was old, the other +young. Both wore something ragged and gray. As they +walked they were discussing some matter. After every +necessary word, they uttered one or two unnecessary ones, of the +most improper character. They were not intoxicated, but +merely troubled about something; and neither the men who met +them, nor those who walked in front of them and behind them, paid +any attention to the language which was so strange to me. +In these quarters, evidently, people always talked so. +Ascending the rise, we reached a large house on a corner. +The greater part of the people who were walking along with me +halted at this house. They stood all over the sidewalk of +this house, and sat on the curbstone, and even the snow in the +street was thronged with the same kind of people. On the +right side of the entrance door were the women, on the left the +men. I walked past the women, past the men (there were +several hundred of them in all) and halted where the line came to +an end. The house before which these people were waiting +was the Lyapinsky free lodging-house for the night. The +throng of people consisted of night lodgers, who were waiting to +be let in. At five o’clock in the afternoon, the +house is opened, and the people permitted to enter. Hither +had come nearly all the people whom I had passed on my way.</p> +<p>I halted where the line of men ended. Those nearest me +began to stare at me, and attracted my attention to them by their +glances. The fragments of garments which covered these +bodies were of the most varied sorts. But the expression of +all the glances directed towards me by these people was +identical. In all eyes the question was expressed: +“Why have you, a man from another world, halted here beside +us? Who are you? Are you a self-satisfied rich man +who wants to enjoy our wretchedness, to get rid of his tedium, +and to torment us still more? or are you that thing which does +not and can not exist,—a man who pities us?” +This query was on every face. You glance about, encounter +some one’s eye, and turn away. I wished to talk with +some one of them, but for a long time I could not make up my mind +to it. But our glances had drawn us together already while +our tongues remained silent. Greatly as our lives had +separated us, after the interchange of two or three glances we +felt that we were both men, and we ceased to fear each +other. The nearest of all to me was a peasant with a +swollen face and a red beard, in a tattered caftan, and patched +overshoes on his bare feet. And the weather was eight +degrees below zero. <a name="citation24a"></a><a +href="#footnote24a" class="citation">[24a]</a> For the +third or fourth time I encountered his eyes, and I felt so near +to him that I was no longer ashamed to accost him, but ashamed +not to say something to him. I inquired where he came from? +he answered readily, and we began to talk; others +approached. He was from Smolensk, and had come to seek +employment that he might earn his bread and taxes. +“There is no work,” said he: “the soldiers have +taken it all away. So now I am loafing about; as true as I +believe in God, I have had nothing to eat for two +days.” He spoke modestly, with an effort at a +smile. A <i>sbiten</i><a name="citation24b"></a><a +href="#footnote24b" class="citation">[24b]</a>-seller, an old +soldier, stood near by. I called him up. He poured +out his <i>sbiten</i>. The peasant took a boiling-hot +glassful in his hands, and as he tried before drinking not to let +any of the heat escape in vain, and warmed his hands over it, he +related his adventures to me. These adventures, or the +histories of them, are almost always identical: the man has been +a laborer, then he has changed his residence, then his purse +containing his money and ticket has been stolen from him in the +night lodging-house; now it is impossible to get away from +Moscow. He told me that he kept himself warm by day in the +dram-shops; that he nourished himself on the bits of bread in +these drinking places, when they were given to him; and when he +was driven out of them, he came hither to the Lyapinsky house for +a free lodging. He was only waiting for the police to make +their rounds, when, as he had no passport, he would be taken to +jail, and then despatched by stages to his place of +settlement. “They say that the inspection will be +made on Friday,” said he, “then they will arrest +me. If I can only get along until Friday.” (The +jail, and the journey by stages, represent the Promised Land to +him.)</p> +<p>As he told his story, three men from among the throng +corroborated his statements, and said that they were in the same +predicament. A gaunt, pale, long-nosed youth, with merely a +shirt on the upper portion of his body, and that torn on the +shoulders, and a cap without a visor, forced his way sidelong +through the crowd. He shivered violently and incessantly, +but tried to smile disdainfully at the peasants’ remarks, +thinking by this means to adopt the proper tone with me, and he +stared at me. I offered him some <i>sbiten</i>; he also, on +taking the glass, warmed his hands over it; but no sooner had he +begun to speak, than he was thrust aside by a big, black, +hook-nosed individual, in a chintz shirt and waistcoat, without a +hat. The hook-nosed man asked for some <i>sbiten</i> +also. Then came a tall old man, with a mass of beard, clad +in a great-coat girded with a rope, and in bast shoes, who was +drunk. Then a small man with a swollen face and tearful +eyes, in a brown nankeen round-jacket, with his bare knees +protruding from the holes in his summer trousers, and knocking +together with cold. He shivered so that he could not hold +his glass, and spilled it over himself. The men began to +reproach him. He only smiled in a woe-begone way, and went +on shivering. Then came a crooked monster in rags, with +pattens on his bare feet; then some sort of an officer; then +something in the ecclesiastical line; then something strange and +nose-less,—all hungry and cold, beseeching and submissive, +thronged round me, and pressed close to the <i>sbiten</i>. +They drank up all the <i>sbiten</i>. One asked for money, +and I gave it. Then another asked, then a third, and the +whole crowd besieged me. Confusion and a press +resulted. The porter of the adjoining house shouted to the +crowd to clear the sidewalk in front of his house, and the crowd +submissively obeyed his orders. Some managers stepped out +of the throng, and took me under their protection, and wanted to +lead me forth out of the press; but the crowd, which had at first +been scattered over the sidewalk, now became disorderly, and +hustled me. All stared at me and begged; and each face was +more pitiful and suffering and humble than the last. I +distributed all that I had with me. I had not much money, +something like twenty rubles; and in company with the crowd, I +entered the Lyapinsky lodging-house. This house is +huge. It consists of four sections. In the upper +stories are the men’s quarters; in the lower, the +women’s. I first entered the women’s place; a +vast room all occupied with bunks, resembling the third-class +bunks on the railway. These bunks were arranged in two +rows, one above the other. The women, strange, tattered +creatures, both old and young, wearing nothing over their +dresses, entered and took their places, some below and some +above. Some of the old ones crossed themselves, and uttered +a petition for the founder of this refuge; some laughed and +scolded. I went up-stairs. There the men had +installed themselves; among them I espied one of those to whom I +had given money. [On catching sight of him, I all at once +felt terribly abashed, and I made haste to leave the room. +And it was with a sense of absolute crime that I quitted that +house and returned home. At home I entered over the +carpeted stairs into the ante-room, whose floor was covered with +cloth; and having removed my fur coat, I sat down to a dinner of +five courses, waited on by two lackeys in dress-coats, white +neckties, and white gloves.</p> +<p>Thirty years ago I witnessed in Paris a man’s head cut +off by the guillotine in the presence of thousands of +spectators. I knew that the man was a horrible +criminal. I was acquainted with all the arguments which +people have been devising for so many centuries, in order to +justify this sort of deed. I knew that they had done this +expressly, deliberately. But at the moment when head and +body were severed, and fell into the trough, I groaned, and +apprehended, not with my mind, but with my heart and my whole +being, that all the arguments which I had heard anent the +death-penalty were arrant nonsense; that, no matter how many +people might assemble in order to perpetrate a murder, no matter +what they might call themselves, murder is murder, the vilest sin +in the world, and that that crime had been committed before my +very eyes. By my presence and non-interference, I had lent +my approval to that crime, and had taken part in it. So +now, at the sight of this hunger, cold, and degradation of +thousands of persons, I understood not with my mind, but with my +heart and my whole being, that the existence of tens of thousands +of such people in Moscow, while I and other thousands dined on +fillets and sturgeon, and covered my horses and my floors with +cloth and rugs,—no matter what the wise ones of this world +might say to me about its being a necessity,—was a crime, +not perpetrated a single time, but one which was incessantly +being perpetrated over and over again, and that I, in my luxury, +was not only an accessory, but a direct accomplice in the +matter. The difference for me between these two impressions +was this, that I might have shouted to the assassins who stood +around the guillotine, and perpetrated the murder, that they were +committing a crime, and have tried with all my might to prevent +the murder. But while so doing I should have known that my +action would not prevent the murder. But here I might not +only have given <i>sbiten</i> and the money which I had with me, +but the coat from my back, and every thing that was in my +house. But this I had not done; and therefore I felt, I +feel, and shall never cease to feel, myself an accomplice in this +constantly repeated crime, so long as I have superfluous food and +any one else has none at all, so long as I have two garments +while any one else has not even one.] <a name="citation28"></a><a +href="#footnote28" class="citation">[28]</a></p> +<h3>CHAPTER III.</h3> +<p>That very evening, on my return from the Lyapinsky house, I +related my impressions to a friend. The friend, an +inhabitant of the city, began to tell me, not without +satisfaction, that this was the most natural phenomenon of town +life possible, that I only saw something extraordinary in it +because of my provincialism, that it had always been so, and +always would be so, and that such must be and is the inevitable +condition of civilization. In London it is even +worse. Of course there is nothing wrong about it, and it is +impossible to be displeased with it. I began to reply to my +friend, but with so much heat and ill-temper, that my wife ran in +from the adjoining room to inquire what had happened. It +appears that, without being conscious of it myself, I had been +shouting, with tears in my voice, and flourishing my hands at my +friend. I shouted: “It’s impossible to live +thus, impossible to live thus, impossible!” They made +me feel ashamed of my unnecessary warmth; they told me that I +could not talk quietly about any thing, that I got disagreeably +excited; and they proved to me, especially, that the existence of +such unfortunates could not possibly furnish any excuse for +imbittering the lives of those about me.</p> +<p>I felt that this was perfectly just, and held my peace; but in +the depths of my soul I was conscious that I was in the right, +and I could not regain my composure.</p> +<p>And the life of the city, which had, even before this, been so +strange and repellent to me, now disgusted me to such a degree, +that all the pleasures of a life of luxury, which had hitherto +appeared to me as pleasures, become tortures to me. And try +as I would, to discover in my own soul any justification whatever +for our life, I could not, without irritation, behold either my +own or other people’s drawing-rooms, nor our tables spread +in the lordly style, nor our equipages and horses, nor shops, +theatres, and assemblies. I could not behold alongside +these the hungry, cold, and down-trodden inhabitants of the +Lyapinsky house. And I could not rid myself of the thought +that these two things were bound up together, that the one arose +from the other. I remember, that, as this feeling of my own +guilt presented itself to me at the first blush, so it persisted +in me, but to this feeling a second was speedily added which +overshadowed it.</p> +<p>When I mentioned my impressions of the Lyapinsky house to my +nearest friends and acquaintances, they all gave me the same +answer as the first friend at whom I had begun to shout; but, in +addition to this, they expressed their approbation of my kindness +of heart and my sensibility, and gave me to understand that this +sight had so especially worked upon me because I, Lyof +Nikolaevitch, was very kind and good. And I willingly +believed this. And before I had time to look about me, +instead of the feeling of self-reproach and regret, which I had +at first experienced, there came a sense of satisfaction with my +own kindliness, and a desire to exhibit it to people.</p> +<p>“It really must be,” I said to myself, “that +I am not especially responsible for this by the luxury of my +life, but that it is the indispensable conditions of existence +that are to blame. In truth, a change in my mode of life +cannot rectify the evil which I have seen: by altering my manner +of life, I shall only make myself and those about me unhappy, and +the other miseries will remain the same as ever. And +therefore my problem lies not in a change of my own life, as it +had first seemed to me, but in aiding, so far as in me lies, in +the amelioration of the situation of those unfortunate beings who +have called forth my compassion. The whole point lies +here,—that I am a very kind, amiable man, and that I wish +to do good to my neighbors.” And I began to think out +a plan of beneficent activity, in which I might exhibit my +benevolence. I must confess, however, that while devising +this plan of beneficent activity, I felt all the time, in the +depths of my soul, that that was not the thing; but, as often +happens, activity of judgment and imagination drowned that voice +of conscience within me. At that juncture, the census came +up. This struck me as a means for instituting that +benevolence in which I proposed to exhibit my charitable +disposition. I knew of many charitable institutions and +societies which were in existence in Moscow, but all their +activity seemed to me both wrongly directed and insignificant in +comparison with what I intended to do. And I devised the +following scheme: to arouse the sympathy of the wealthy for the +poverty of the city, to collect money, to get people together who +were desirous of assisting in this matter, and to visit all the +refuges of poverty in company with the census, and, in addition +to the work of the census, to enter into communion with the +unfortunate, to learn the particulars of their necessities, and +to assist them with money, with work, by sending them away from +Moscow, by placing their children in school, and the old people +in hospitals and asylums. And not only that, I thought, but +these people who undertake this can be formed into a permanent +society, which, by dividing the quarters of Moscow among its +members, will be able to see to it that this poverty and beggary +shall not be bred; they will incessantly annihilate it at its +very inception; then they will fulfil their duty, not so much by +healing as by a course of hygiene for the wretchedness of the +city. I fancied that there would be no more simply needy, +not to mention abjectly poor persons, in the town, and that all +of us wealthy individuals would thereafter be able to sit in our +drawing-rooms, and eat our five-course dinners, and ride in our +carriages to theatres and assemblies, and be no longer annoyed +with such sights as I had seen at the Lyapinsky house.</p> +<p>Having concocted this plan, I wrote an article on the subject; +and before sending it to the printer, I went to some +acquaintances, from whom I hoped for sympathy. I said the +same thing to every one whom I met that day (and I applied +chiefly to the rich), and nearly the same that I afterwards +printed in my memoir; proposed to take advantage of the census to +inquire into the wretchedness of Moscow, and to succor it, both +by deeds and money, and to do it in such a manner that there +should be no poor people in Moscow, and so that we rich ones +might be able, with a quiet conscience, to enjoy the blessings of +life to which we were accustomed. All listened to me +attentively and seriously, but nevertheless the same identical +thing happened with every one of them without exception. No +sooner did my hearers comprehend the question, than they seemed +to feel awkward and somewhat mortified. They seemed to be +ashamed, and principally on my account, because I was talking +nonsense, and nonsense which it was impossible to openly +characterize as such. Some external cause appeared to +compel my hearers to be forbearing with this nonsense of +mine.</p> +<p>“Ah, yes! of course. That would be very +good,” they said to me. “It is a +self-understood thing that it is impossible not to sympathize +with this. Yes, your idea is a capital one. I have +thought of that myself, but . . . we are so indifferent, as a +rule, that you can hardly count on much success . . . however, so +far as I am concerned, I am, of course, ready to +assist.”</p> +<p>They all said something of this sort to me. They all +agreed, but agreed, so it seemed to me, not in consequence of my +convictions, and not in consequence of their own wish, but as the +result of some outward cause, which did not permit them not to +agree. I had already noticed this, and, since not one of +them stated the sum which he was willing to contribute, I was +obliged to fix it myself, and to ask: “So I may count on +you for three hundred, or two hundred, or one hundred, or +twenty-five rubles?” And not one of them gave me any +money. I mention this because, when people give money for +that which they themselves desire, they generally make haste to +give it. For a box to see Sarah Bernhardt, they will +instantly place the money in your hand, to clinch the +bargain. Here, however, out of all those who agreed to +contribute, and who expressed their sympathy, not one of them +proposed to give me the money on the spot, but they merely +assented in silence to the sum which I suggested. In the +last house which I visited on that day, in the evening, I +accidentally came upon a large company. The mistress of the +house had busied herself with charity for several years. +Numerous carriages stood at the door, several lackeys in rich +liveries were sitting in the ante-chamber. In the vast +drawing-room, around two tables and lamps, sat ladies and young +girls, in costly garments, dressing small dolls; and there were +several young men there also, hovering about the ladies. +The dolls prepared by these ladies were to be drawn in a lottery +for the poor.</p> +<p>The sight of this drawing-room, and of the people assembled in +it, struck me very unpleasantly. Not to mention the fact +that the property of the persons there congregated amounted to +many millions, not to mention the fact that the mere income from +the capital here expended on dresses, laces, bronzes, brooches, +carriages, horses, liveries, and lackeys, was a hundred-fold +greater than all that these ladies could earn; not to mention the +outlay, the trip hither of all these ladies and gentlemen; the +gloves, linen, extra time, the candles, the tea, the sugar, and +the cakes had cost the hostess a hundred times more than what +they were engaged in making here. I saw all this, and +therefore I could understand, that precisely here I should find +no sympathy with my mission: but I had come in order to make my +proposition, and, difficult as this was for me, I said what I +intended. (I said very nearly the same thing that is +contained in my printed article.)</p> +<p>Out of all the persons there present, one individual offered +me money, saying that she did not feel equal to going among the +poor herself on account of her sensibility, but that she would +give money; how much money she would give, and when, she did not +say. Another individual and a young man offered their +services in going about among the poor, but I did not avail +myself of their offer. The principal person to whom I +appealed, told me that it would be impossible to do much because +means were lacking. Means were lacking because all the rich +people in Moscow were already on the lists, and all of them were +asked for all that they could possibly give; because on all these +benefactors rank, medals, and other dignities were bestowed; +because in order to secure financial success, some new dignities +must be secured from the authorities, and that this was the only +practical means, but this was extremely difficult.</p> +<p>On my return home that night, I lay down to sleep not only +with a presentment that my idea would come to nothing, but with +shame and a consciousness that all day long I had been engaged in +a very repulsive and disgraceful business. But I did not +give up this undertaking. In the first place, the matter +had been begun, and false shame would have prevented my +abandoning it; in the second place, not only the success of this +scheme, but the very fact that I was busying myself with it, +afforded me the possibility of continuing to live in the +conditions under which I was then living; failure entailed upon +me the necessity of renouncing my present existence and of +seeking new paths of life. And this I unconsciously +dreaded, and I could not believe the inward voice, and I went on +with what I had begun.</p> +<p>Having sent my article to the printer, I read the proof of it +to the City Council (<i>Dum</i>). I read it, stumbling, and +blushing even to tears, I felt so awkward. And I saw that +it was equally awkward for all my hearers. In answer to my +question at the conclusion of my reading, as to whether the +superintendents of the census would accept my proposition to +retain their places with the object of becoming mediators between +society and the needy, an awkward silence ensued. Then two +orators made speeches. These speeches in some measure +corrected the awkwardness of my proposal; sympathy for me was +expressed, but the impracticability of my proposition, which all +had approved, was demonstrated. Everybody breathed more +freely. But when, still desirous of gaining my object, I +afterwards asked the superintendents separately: Were they +willing, while taking the census, to inquire into the needs of +the poor, and to retain their posts, in order to serve as +go-betweens between the poor and the rich? they all grew uneasy +again. They seemed to say to me with their glances: +“Why, we have just condoned your folly out of respect to +you, and here you are beginning it again!” Such was +the expression of their faces, but they assured me in words that +they agreed; and two of them said in the very same words, as +though they had entered into a compact together: “We +consider ourselves <i>morally bound</i> to do this.” +The same impression was produced by my communication to the +student-census-takers, when I said to them, that while taking our +statistics, we should follow up, in addition to the objects of +the census, the object of benevolence. When we discussed +this, I observed that they were ashamed to look the kind-hearted +man, who was talking nonsense, in the eye. My article +produced the same impression on the editor of the newspaper, when +I handed it to him; on my son, on my wife, on the most widely +different persons. All felt awkward, for some reason or +other; but all regarded it as indispensable to applaud the idea +itself, and all, immediately after this expression of +approbation, began to express their doubts as to its success, and +began for some reason (and all of them, too, without exception) +to condemn the indifference and coldness of our society and of +every one, apparently, except themselves.</p> +<p>In the depths of my own soul, I still continued to feel that +all this was not at all what was needed, and that nothing would +come of it; but the article was printed, and I prepared to take +part in the census; I had contrived the matter, and now it was +already carrying me a way with it.</p> +<h3>CHAPTER IV.</h3> +<p>At my request, there had been assigned to me for the census, a +portion of the Khamovnitchesky quarter, at the Smolensk market, +along the Prototchny cross-street, between Beregovoy Passage and +Nikolsky Alley. In this quarter are situated the houses +generally called the Rzhanoff Houses, or the Rzhanoff +fortress. These houses once belonged to a merchant named +Rzhanoff, but now belong to the Zimins. I had long before +heard of this place as a haunt of the most terrible poverty and +vice, and I had accordingly requested the directors of the census +to assign me to this quarter. My desire was granted.</p> +<p>On receiving the instructions of the City Council, I went +alone, a few days previous to the beginning of the census, to +reconnoitre my section. I found the Rzhanoff fortress at +once, from the plan with which I had been furnished.</p> +<p>I approached from Nikolsky Alley. Nikolsky Alley ends on +the left in a gloomy house, without any gates on that side; I +divined from its appearance that this was the Rzhanoff +fortress.</p> +<p>Passing down Nikolsky Street, I overtook some lads of from ten +to fourteen years of age, clad in little caftans and great-coats, +who were sliding down hill, some on their feet, and some on one +skate, along the icy slope beside this house. The boys were +ragged, and, like all city lads, bold and impudent. I +stopped to watch them. A ragged old woman, with yellow, +pendent cheeks, came round the corner. She was going to +town, to the Smolensk market, and she groaned terribly at every +step, like a foundered horse. As she came alongside me, she +halted and drew a hoarse sigh. In any other locality, this +old woman would have asked money of me, but here she merely +addressed me.</p> +<p>“Look there,” said she, pointing at the boys who +were sliding, “all they do is to play their pranks! +They’ll turn out just such Rzhanoff fellows as their +fathers.”</p> +<p>One of the boys clad in a great-coat and a visorless cap, +heard her words and halted: “What are you scolding +about?” he shouted to the old woman. +“You’re an old Rzhanoff nanny-goat +yourself!”</p> +<p>I asked the boy:</p> +<p>“And do you live here?”</p> +<p>“Yes, and so does she. She stole boot-legs,” +shouted the boy; and raising his foot in front, he slid away.</p> +<p>The old woman burst forth into injurious words, interrupted by +a cough. At that moment, an old man, all clad in rags, and +as white as snow, came down the hill in the middle of the street, +flourishing his hands [in one of them he held a bundle with one +little <i>kalatch</i> and <i>baranki</i> <a +name="citation39"></a><a href="#footnote39" +class="citation">[39]</a>]. This old man bore the +appearance of a person who had just strengthened himself with a +dram. He had evidently heard the old woman’s +insulting words, and he took her part.</p> +<p>“I’ll give it to you, you imps, that I +will!” he screamed at the boys, seeming to direct his +course towards them, and taking a circuit round me, he stepped on +to the sidewalk. This old man creates surprise on the +Arbata by his great age, his weakness, and his indigence. +Here he was a cheery laboring-man returning from his daily +toil.</p> +<p>I followed the old man. He turned the corner to the +left, into Prototchny Alley, and passing by the whole length of +the house and the gate, he disappeared through the door of the +tavern.</p> +<p>Two gates and several doors open on Prototchny Alley: those +belonging to a tavern, a dram-shop, and several eating and other +shops. This is the Rzhanoff fortress itself. Every +thing here is gray, dirty, and malodorous—both buildings +and locality, and court-yards and people. The majority of +the people whom I met here were ragged and half-clad. Some +were passing through, others were running from door to +door. Two were haggling over some rags. I made the +circuit of the entire building from Prototchny Alley and +Beregovoy Passage, and returning I halted at the gate of one of +these houses. I wished to enter, and see what was going on +inside, but I felt that it would be awkward. What should I +say when I was asked what I wanted there? I hesitated, but +went in nevertheless. As soon as I entered the court-yard, +I became conscious of a disgusting odor. The yard was +frightfully dirty. I turned a corner, and at the same +instant I heard to my left and overhead, on the wooden balcony, +the tramp of footsteps of people running, at first along the +planks of the balcony, and then on the steps of the +staircase. There emerged, first a gaunt woman, with her +sleeves rolled up, in a faded pink gown, and little boots on her +stockingless feet. After her came a tattered man in a red +shirt and very full trousers, like a petticoat, and with +overshoes. The man caught the woman at the bottom of the +steps.</p> +<p>“You shall not escape,” he said laughing.</p> +<p>“See here, you cock-eyed devil,” began the woman, +evidently flattered by this pursuit; but catching sight of me, +she shrieked viciously, “What do you want?”</p> +<p>As I wanted nothing, I became confused and beat a +retreat. There was nothing remarkable about the place; but +this incident, after what I had witnessed on the other side of +the yard, the cursing old woman, the jolly old man, and the lads +sliding, suddenly presented the business which I had concocted +from a totally different point of view. I then comprehended +for the first time, that all these unfortunates to whom I was +desirous of playing the part of benefactor, besides the time, +when, suffering from cold and hunger, they awaited admission into +the house, had still other time, which they employed to some +other purpose, that there were four and twenty hours in every +day, that there was a whole life of which I had never thought, up +to that moment. Here, for the first time, I understood, +that all those people, in addition to their desire to shelter +themselves from the cold and to obtain a good meal, must still, +in some way, live out those four and twenty hours each day, which +they must pass as well as everybody else. I comprehended +that these people must lose their tempers, and get bored, show +courage, and grieve and be merry. Strange as this may seem, +when put into words, I understood clearly for the first time, +that the business which I had undertaken could not consist alone +in feeding and clothing thousands of people, as one would feed +and drive under cover a thousand sheep, but that it must consist +in doing good to them.</p> +<p>And then I understood that each one of those thousand people +was exactly such a man,—with precisely the same past, with +the same passions, temptations, failings, with the same thoughts, +the same perplexities,—exactly such a man as myself, and +then the thing that I had undertaken suddenly presented itself to +me as so difficult that I felt my powerlessness; but the thing +had been begun, and I went on with it.</p> +<h3>CHAPTER V.</h3> +<p>On the first appointed day, the student enumerators arrived in +the morning, and I, the benefactor, joined them at twelve +o’clock. I could not go earlier, because I had risen +at ten o’clock, then I had drunk my coffee and smoked, +while waiting on digestion. At twelve o’clock I +reached the gates of the Rzhanoff house. A policeman +pointed out to me the tavern with a side entrance on Beregovoy +Passage, where the census-takers had ordered every one who asked +for them to be directed. I entered the tavern. It was +very dark, ill-smelling, and dirty. Directly opposite the +entrance was the counter, on the left was a room with tables, +covered with soiled cloths, on the right a large apartment with +pillars, and the same sort of little tables at the windows and +along the walls. Here and there at the tables sat men both +ragged and decently clad, like laboring-men or petty tradesmen, +and a few women drinking tea. The tavern was very filthy, +but it was instantly apparent that it had a good trade.</p> +<p>There was a business-like expression on the face of the clerk +behind the counter, and a clever readiness about the +waiters. No sooner had I entered, than one waiter prepared +to remove my coat and bring me whatever I should order. It +was evident that they had been trained to brisk and accurate +service. I inquired for the enumerators.</p> +<p>“Vanya!” shouted a small man, dressed in German +fashion, who was engaged in placing something in a cupboard +behind the counter; this was the landlord of the tavern, a Kaluga +peasant, Ivan Fedotitch, who hired one-half of the Zimins’ +houses and sublet them to lodgers. The waiter, a thin, +hooked-nosed young fellow of eighteen, with a yellow complexion, +hastened up.</p> +<p>“Conduct this gentleman to the census-takers; they went +into the main building over the well.” The young +fellow threw down his napkin, and donned a coat over his white +jacket and white trousers, and a cap with a large visor, and, +tripping quickly along with his white feet, he led me through the +swinging door in the rear. In the dirty, malodorous +kitchen, in the out-building, we encountered an old woman who was +carefully carrying some very bad-smelling tripe, wrapped in a +rag, off somewhere. From the out-building we descended into +a sloping court-yard, all encumbered with small wooden buildings +on lower stories of stone. The odor in this whole yard was +extremely powerful. The centre of this odor was an +out-house, round which people were thronging whenever I passed +it. It merely indicated the spot, but was not altogether +used itself. It was impossible, when passing through the +yard, not to take note of this spot; one always felt oppressed +when one entered the penetrating atmosphere which was emitted by +this foul smell.</p> +<p>The waiter, carefully guarding his white trousers, led me +cautiously past this place of frozen and unfrozen uncleanness to +one of the buildings. The people who were passing through +the yard and along the balconies all stopped to stare at +me. It was evident that a respectably dressed man was a +curiosity in these localities.</p> +<p>The young man asked a woman “whether she had seen the +census-takers?” And three men simultaneously answered +his question: some said that they were over the well, but others +said that they had been there, but had come out and gone to +Nikita Ivanovitch. An old man dressed only in his shirt, +who was wandering about the centre of the yard, said that they +were in No. 30. The young man decided that this was the +most probable report, and conducted me to No. 30 through the +basement entrance, and darkness and bad smells, different from +that which existed outside. We went down-stairs, and +proceeded along the earthen floor of a dark corridor. As we +were passing along the corridor, a door flew open abruptly, and +an old drunken man, in his shirt, probably not of the peasant +class, thrust himself out. A washerwoman, wringing her +soapy hands, was pursuing and hustling the old man with piercing +screams. Vanya, my guide, pushed the old man aside, and +reproved him.</p> +<p>“It’s not proper to make such a row,” said +me, “and you an officer, too!” and we went on to the +door of No. 30.</p> +<p>Vanya gave it a little pull. The door gave way with a +smack, opened, and we smelled soapy steam, and a sharp odor of +spoilt food and tobacco, and we entered into total +darkness. The windows were on the opposite side; but the +corridors ran to right and left between board partitions, and +small doors opened, at various angles, into the rooms made of +uneven whitewashed boards. In a dark room, on the left, a +woman could be seen washing in a tub. An old woman was +peeping from one of these small doors on the right. Through +another open door we could see a red-faced, hairy peasant, in +bast shoes, sitting on his wooden bunk; his hands rested on his +knees, and he was swinging his feet, shod in bast shoes, and +gazing gloomily at them.</p> +<p>At the end of the corridor was a little door leading to the +apartment where the census-takers were. This was the +chamber of the mistress of the whole of No. 30; she rented the +entire apartment from Ivan Feodovitch, and let it out again to +lodgers and as night-quarters. In her tiny room, under the +tinsel images, sat the student census-taker with his charts; and, +in his quality of investigator, he had just thoroughly +interrogated a peasant wearing a shirt and a vest. This +latter was a friend of the landlady, and had been answering +questions for her. The landlady herself, an elderly woman, +was there also, and two of her curious tenants. When I +entered, the room was already packed full. I pushed my way +to the table. I exchanged greetings with the student, and +he proceeded with his inquiries. And I began to look about +me, and to interrogate the inhabitants of these quarters for my +own purpose.</p> +<p>It turned out, that in this first set of lodgings, I found not +a single person upon whom I could pour out my benevolence. +The landlady, in spite of the fact that the poverty, smallness +and dirt of these quarters struck me after the palatial house in +which I dwell, lived in comfort, compared with many of the poor +inhabitants of the city, and in comparison with the poverty in +the country, with which I was thoroughly familiar, she lived +luxuriously. She had a feather-bed, a quilted coverlet, a +samovar, a fur cloak, and a dresser with crockery. The +landlady’s friend had the same comfortable +appearance. He had a watch and a chain. Her lodgers +were not so well off, but there was not one of them who was in +need of immediate assistance: the woman who was washing linen in +a tub, and who had been abandoned by her husband and had +children, an aged widow without any means of livelihood, as she +said, and that peasant in bast shoes, who told me that he had +nothing to eat that day. But on questioning them, it +appeared that none of these people were in special want, and +that, in order to help them, it would be necessary to become well +acquainted with them.</p> +<p>When I proposed to the woman whose husband had abandoned her, +to place her children in an asylum, she became confused, fell +into thought, thanked me effusively, but evidently did not wish +to do so; she would have preferred pecuniary assistance. +The eldest girl helped her in her washing, and the younger took +care of the little boy. The old woman begged earnestly to +be taken to the hospital, but on examining her nook I found that +the old woman was not particularly poor. She had a chest +full of effects, a teapot with a tin spout, two cups, and caramel +boxes filled with tea and sugar. She knitted stockings and +gloves, and received monthly aid from some benevolent lady. +And it was evident that what the peasant needed was not so much +food as drink, and that whatever might be given him would find +its way to the dram-shop. In these quarters, therefore, +there were none of the sort of people whom I could render happy +by a present of money. But there were poor people who +appeared to me to be of a doubtful character. I noted down +the old woman, the woman with the children, and the peasant, and +decided that they must be seen to; but later on, as I was +occupied with the peculiarly unfortunate whom I expected to find +in this house, I made up my mind that there must be some order in +the aid which we should bestow; first came the most wretched, and +then this kind. But in the next quarters, and in the next +after that, it was the same story, all the people had to be +narrowly investigated before they could be helped. But +unfortunates of the sort whom a gift of money would convert from +unfortunate into fortunate people, there were none. +Mortifying as it is to me to avow this, I began to get +disenchanted, because I did not find among these people any thing +of the sort which I had expected. I had expected to find +peculiar people here; but, after making the round of all the +apartments, I was convinced that the inhabitants of these houses +were not peculiar people at all, but precisely such persons as +those among whom I lived. As there are among us, just so +among them; there were here those who were more or less good, +more or less stupid, happy and unhappy. The unhappy were +exactly such unhappy beings as exist among us, that is, unhappy +people whose unhappiness lies not in their external conditions, +but in themselves, a sort of unhappiness which it is impossible +to right by any sort of bank-note whatever.</p> +<h3>CHAPTER VI.</h3> +<p>The inhabitants of these houses constitute the lower class of +the city, which numbers in Moscow, probably, one hundred +thousand. There, in that house, are representatives of +every description of this class. There are petty employers, +and master-artisans, bootmakers, brush-makers, cabinet-makers, +turners, shoemakers, tailors, blacksmiths; there are cab-drivers, +young women living alone, and female pedlers, laundresses, +old-clothes dealers, money-lenders, day-laborers, and people +without any definite employment; and also beggars and dissolute +women.</p> +<p>Here were many of the very people whom I had seen at the +entrance to the Lyapinsky house; but here these people were +scattered about among the working-people. And moreover, I +had seen these people at their most unfortunate time, when they +had eaten and drunk up every thing, and when, cold, hungry, and +driven forth from the taverns, they were awaiting admission into +the free night lodging-house, and thence into the promised prison +for despatch to their places of residence, like heavenly manna; +but here I beheld them and a majority of workers, and at a time, +when by one means or another, they had procured three or five +kopeks for a lodging for the night, and sometimes a ruble for +food and drink.</p> +<p>And strange as the statement may seem, I here experienced +nothing resembling that sensation which I had felt in the +Lyapinsky house; but, on the contrary, during the first round, +both I and the students experienced an almost agreeable +feeling,—yes, but why do I say “almost +agreeable”? This is not true; the feeling called +forth by intercourse with these people, strange as it may sound, +was a distinctly agreeable one.</p> +<p>Our first impression was, that the greater part of the +dwellers here were working people and very good people at +that.</p> +<p>We found more than half the inhabitants at work: laundresses +bending over their tubs, cabinet-makers at their lathes, cobblers +on their benches. The narrow rooms were full of people, and +cheerful and energetic labor was in progress. There was an +odor of toilsome sweat and leather at the cobbler’s, of +shavings at the cabinet-maker’s; songs were often to be +heard, and glimpses could be had of brawny arms with sleeves +roiled high, quickly and skilfully making their accustomed +movements. Everywhere we were received cheerfully and +politely: hardly anywhere did our intrusion into the every-day +life of these people call forth that ambition, and desire to +exhibit their importance and to put us down, which the appearance +of the enumerators in the quarters of well-to-do people +evoked. It not only did not arouse this, but, on the +contrary, they answered all other questions properly, and without +attributing any special significance to them. Our questions +merely served them as a subject of mirth and jesting as to how +such and such a one was to be set down in the list, when he was +to be reckoned as two, and when two were to be reckoned as one, +and so forth.</p> +<p>We found many of them at dinner, or tea; and on every occasion +to our greeting: “bread and salt,” or “tea and +sugar,” they replied: “we beg that you will +partake,” and even stepped aside to make room for us. +Instead of the den with a constantly changing population, which +we had expected to find here, it turned out, that there were a +great many apartments in the house where people had been living +for a long time. One cabinet-maker with his men, and a +boot-maker with his journeymen, had lived there for ten +years. The boot-maker’s quarters were very dirty and +confined, but all the people at work were very cheerful. I +tried to enter into conversation with one of the workmen, being +desirous of inquiring into the wretchedness of his situation and +his debt to his master, but the man did not understand me and +spoke of his master and his life from the best point of view.</p> +<p>In one apartment lived an old man and his old woman. +They peddled apples. Their little chamber was warm, clean, +and full of goods. On the floor were spread straw mats: +they had got them at the apple-warehouse. They had chests, +a cupboard, a samovar, and crockery. In the corner there +were numerous images, and two lamps were burning before them; on +the wall hung fur coats covered with sheets. The old woman, +who had star-shaped wrinkles, and who was polite and talkative, +evidently delighted in her quiet, comfortable, existence.</p> +<p>Ivan Fedotitch, the landlord of the tavern and of these +quarters, left his establishment and came with us. He +jested in a friendly manner with many of the landlords of +apartments, addressing them all by their Christian names and +patronymics, and he gave us brief sketches of them. All +were ordinary people, like everybody else,—Martin +Semyonovitches, Piotr Piotrovitches, Marya +Ivanovnas,—people who did not consider themselves unhappy, +but who regarded themselves, and who actually were, just like the +rest of mankind.</p> +<p>We had been prepared to witness nothing except what was +terrible. And, all of a sudden, there was presented to us, +not only nothing that was terrible, but what was +good,—things which involuntarily compelled our +respect. And there were so many of these good people, that +the tattered, corrupt, idle people whom we came across now and +then among them, did not destroy the principal impression.</p> +<p>This was not so much of a surprise to the students as to +me. They simply went to fulfil a useful task, as they +thought, in the interests of science, and, at the same time, they +made their own chance observations; but I was a benefactor, I +went for the purpose of aiding the unfortunate, the corrupt, +vicious people, whom I supposed that I should meet with in this +house. And, behold, instead of unfortunate, corrupt, and +vicious people, I saw that the majority were laborious, +industrious, peaceable, satisfied, contented, cheerful, polite, +and very good folk indeed.</p> +<p>I felt particularly conscious of this when, in these quarters, +I encountered that same crying want which I had undertaken to +alleviate.</p> +<p>When I encountered this want, I always found that it had +already been relieved, that the assistance which I had intended +to render had already been given. This assistance had been +rendered before my advent, and rendered by whom? By the +very unfortunate, depraved creatures whom I had undertaken to +reclaim, and rendered in such a manner as I could not +compass.</p> +<p>In one basement lay a solitary old man, ill with the typhus +fever. There was no one with the old man. A widow and +her little daughter, strangers to him, but his neighbors round +the corner, looked after him, gave him tea and purchased medicine +for him out of their own means. In another lodging lay a +woman in puerperal fever. A woman who lived by vice was +rocking the baby, and giving her her bottle; and for two days, +she had been unremitting in her attention. The baby girl, +on being left an orphan, was adopted into the family of a tailor, +who had three children of his own. So there remained those +unfortunate idle people, officials, clerks, lackeys out of place, +beggars, drunkards, dissolute women, and children, who cannot be +helped on the spot with money, but whom it is necessary to know +thoroughly, to be planned and arranged for. I had simply +sought unfortunate people, the unfortunates of poverty, those who +could be helped by sharing with them our superfluity, and, as it +seemed to me, through some signal ill-luck, none such were to be +found; but I hit upon unfortunates to whom I should be obliged to +devote my time and care.</p> +<h3>CHAPTER VII.</h3> +<p>The unfortunates whom I noted down, divided themselves, +according to my ideas, into three sections, namely: people who +had lost their former advantageous position, and who were +awaiting a return to it (there were people of this sort from both +the lower and the higher class); next, dissolute women, of whom +there are a great many in these houses; and a third division, +children. More than all the rest, I found and noted down +people of the first division, who had forfeited their former +advantageous position, and who hoped to regain it. Of such +persons, especially from the governmental and official world, +there are a very great number in these houses. In almost +all the lodgings which we entered, with the landlord, Ivan +Fedotitch, he said to us: “Here you need not write down the +lodger’s card yourself; there is a man here who can do it, +if he only happens not to be intoxicated to-day.”</p> +<p>And Ivan Fedotitch called by name and patronymic this man, who +was always one of those persons who had fallen from a lofty +position. At Ivan Fedotitch’s call, there crawled +forth from some dark corner, a former wealthy member of the noble +or official class, generally intoxicated and always +undressed. If he was not drunk, he always readily acceded +to the task proposed to him, nodded significantly, frowned, set +down his remarks in learned phraseology, held the card neatly +printed on red paper in his dirty, trembling hands, and glanced +round at his fellow-lodgers with pride and contempt, as though +now triumphing in his education over those who had so often +humiliated him. He evidently enjoyed intercourse with that +world in which cards are printed on red paper, and with that +world of which he had once formed a part. Nearly always, in +answer to my inquiries about his life, the man began, not only +willingly, but eagerly, to relate the story of the misfortunes +which he had undergone,—which he had learned by rote like a +prayer,—and particularly of his former position, in which +he ought still to be by right of his education.</p> +<p>A great many such people were scattered over all the corners +of the Rzhanoff house. But one lodging was densely occupied +by them alone—both men and women. After we had +already entered, Ivan Fedotitch said to us: “Now, here are +some of the nobility.” The lodging was perfectly +crammed; nearly all of the people, forty in number, were at +home. More demoralized countenances, unhappy, aged, and +swollen, young, pallid, and distracted, were not to be seen in +the whole building. I conversed with several of them. +The story was nearly identical in all cases, only in various +stages of development. Every one of them had been rich, or +his father, his brother or his uncle was still wealthy, or his +father or he himself had had a very fine position. Then +misfortune had overtaken him, the blame for which rested either +on envious people, or on his own kind-heartedness, or some +special chance, and so he had lost every thing, and had been +forced to condescend to these surroundings to which he was not +accustomed, and which were hateful to him—among lice, rags, +among drunkards and corrupt persons, and to nourish himself on +bread and liver, and to extend his hand in beggary. All the +thoughts, desires, memories of these people were directed +exclusively to the past. The present appeared to them +something unreal, repulsive, and not worthy of attention. +Not one of them had any present. They had only memories of +the past, and expectations from the future, which might be +realized at any moment, and for the realization of which only a +very little was required; but this little they did not possess, +it was nowhere to be obtained, and this had been ruining their +whole future life in vain, in the case of one man, for a year, of +a second for five years, and of a third for thirty years. +All one needed was merely to dress respectably, so that he could +present himself to a certain personage, who was well-disposed +towards him another only needed to be able to dress, pay off his +debts, and get to Orel; a third required to redeem a small +property which was mortgaged, for the continuation of a law-suit, +which must be decided in his favor, and then all would be well +once more. They all declare that they merely require +something external, in order to stand once more in the position +which they regard as natural and happy in their own case.</p> +<p>Had my mind not been obscured by my pride as a benefactor, a +glance at their faces, both old and young, which were mostly weak +and sensitive, but amiable, would have given me to understand +that their misfortunes were irreparable by any external means, +that they could not be happy in any position whatever, if their +views of life were to remain unchanged, that they were in no wise +remarkable people, in remarkably unfortunate circumstances, but +that they were the same people who surround us on all sides, and +just like ourselves. I remember that intercourse with this +sort of unfortunates was peculiarly difficult for me. I now +understand why this was so; in them I beheld myself, as in a +mirror. If I had reflected on my own life and on the life +of the people in our circle, I should have seen that no real +difference existed between them.</p> +<p>If those about me dwell in spacious quarters, and in their own +houses on the Sivtzevy Vrazhok and on the Dimitrovka, and not in +the Rzhanoff house, and still eat and drink dainties, and not +liver and herrings with bread, that does not prevent them from +being exactly as unhappy. They are just as dissatisfied +with their own positions, they mourn over the past, and pine for +better things, and the improved position for which they long is +precisely the same as that which the inhabitants of the Rzhanoff +house long for; that is to say, one in which they may do as +little work as possible themselves, and derive the utmost +advantage from the labors of others. The difference is +merely one of degrees and time. If I had reflected at that +time, I should have understood this; but I did not reflect, and I +questioned these people, and wrote them down, supposing, that, +having learned all the particulars of their various conditions +and necessities, I could aid them <i>later on</i>. I did +not understand that such a man can only be helped by changing his +views of the world. But in order to change the views of +another, one must needs have better views himself, and live in +conformity with them; but mine were precisely the same as theirs, +and I lived in accordance with those views, which must undergo a +change, in order that these people might cease to be unhappy.</p> +<p>I did not see that these people were unhappy, not because they +had not, so to speak, nourishing food, but because their stomachs +had been spoiled, and because their appetites demanded not +nourishing but irritating viands; and I did not perceive that, in +order to help them, it was not necessary to give them food, but +that it was necessary to heal their disordered stomachs. +Although I am anticipating by so doing, I will mention here, +that, out of all these persons whom I noted down, I really did +not help a single one, in spite of the fact that for some of +them, that was done which they desired, and that which, +apparently, might have raised them. Three of their number +were particularly well known to me. All three, after +repeated rises and falls, are now in precisely the same situation +in which they were three years ago.</p> +<h3>CHAPTER VIII.</h3> +<p>The second class of unfortunates whom I also expected to +assist later on, were the dissolute women; there were a very +great many of them, of all sorts, in the Rzhanoff +house—from those who were young and who resembled women, to +old ones, who were frightful and horrible, and who had lost every +semblance of humanity. The hope of being of assistance to +these women, which I had not at first entertained, occurred to me +later. This was in the middle of our rounds. We had +already worked out several mechanical tricks of procedure.</p> +<p>When we entered a new establishment, we immediately questioned +the landlady of the apartment; one of us sat down, clearing some +sort of a place for himself where he could write, and another +penetrated the corners, and questioned each man in all the nooks +of the apartment separately, and reported the facts to the one +who did the writing.</p> +<p>On entering a set of rooms in the basement, a student went to +hunt up the landlady, while I began to interrogate all who +remained in the place. The apartment was thus arranged: in +the centre was a room six <i>arshins</i> square, <a +name="citation59"></a><a href="#footnote59" +class="citation">[59]</a> and a small oven. From the oven +radiated four partitions, forming four tiny compartments. +In the first, the entrance slip, which had four bunks, there were +two persons—an old man and a woman. Immediately +adjoining this, was a rather long slip of a room; in it was the +landlord, a young fellow, dressed in a sleeveless gray woollen +jacket, a good-looking, very pale citizen. <a +name="citation60"></a><a href="#footnote60" +class="citation">[60]</a> On the left of the first corner, +was a third tiny chamber; there was one person asleep there, +probably a drunken peasant, and a woman in a pink blouse which +was loose in front and close-fitting behind. The fourth +chamber was behind the partition; the entrance to it was from the +landlord’s compartment.</p> +<p>The student went into the landlord’s room, and I +remained in the entrance compartment, and questioned the old man +and woman. The old man had been a master-printer, but now +had no means of livelihood. The woman was the wife of a +cook. I went to the third compartment, and questioned the +woman in the blouse about the sleeping man. She said that +he was a visitor. I asked the woman who she was. She +replied that she was a Moscow peasant. “What is your +business?” She burst into a laugh, and did not answer +me. “What do you live on?” I repeated, thinking +that she had not understood my question. “I sit in +the taverns,” she said. I did not comprehend, and +again I inquired: “What is your means of +livelihood?” She made no reply and laughed. +Women’s voices in the fourth compartment which we had not +yet entered, joined in the laugh. The landlord emerged from +his cabin and stepped up to us. He had evidently heard my +questions and the woman’s replies. He cast a stern +glance at the woman and turned to me: “She is a +prostitute,” said he, apparently pleased that he knew the +word in use in the language of the authorities, and that he could +pronounce it correctly. And having said this, with a +respectful and barely perceptible smile of satisfaction addressed +to me, he turned to the woman. And no sooner had he turned +to her, than his whole face altered. He said, in a +peculiar, scornful, hasty tone, such as is employed towards dogs: +“What do you jabber in that careless way for? +‘I sit in the taverns.’ You do sit in the +taverns, and that means, to talk business, that you are a +prostitute,” and again he uttered the word. +“She does not know the name for herself.” This +tone offended me. “It is not our place to abuse +her,” said I. “If all of us lived according to +the laws of God, there would be none of these women.”</p> +<p>“That’s the very point,” said the landlord, +with an awkward smile.</p> +<p>“Therefore, we should not reproach but pity them. +Are they to blame?”</p> +<p>I do not recollect just what I said, but I do remember that I +was vexed by the scornful tone of the landlord of these quarters +which were filled with women, whom he called prostitutes, and +that I felt compassion for this woman, and that I gave expression +to both feelings. No sooner had I spoken thus, than the +boards of the bed in the next compartment, whence the laugh had +proceeded, began to creak, and above the partition, which did not +reach to the ceiling, there appeared a woman’s curly and +dishevelled head, with small, swollen eyes, and a shining, red +face, followed by a second, and then by a third. They were +evidently standing on their beds, and all three were craning +their necks, and holding their breath with strained attention, +and gazing silently at us.</p> +<p>A troubled pause ensued. The student, who had been +smiling up to this time, became serious; the landlord grew +confused and dropped his eyes. All the women held their +breath, stared at me, and waited. I was more embarrassed +than any of them. I had not, in the least, anticipated that +a chance remark would produce such an effect. Like +Ezekiel’s field of death, strewn with dead men’s +bones, there was a quiver at the touch of the spirit, and the +dead bones stirred. I had uttered an unpremeditated word of +love and sympathy, and this word had acted on all as though they +had only been waiting for this very remark, in order that they +might cease to be corpses and might live. They all stared +at me, and waited for what would come next. They waited for +me to utter those words, and to perform those actions by reason +of which these bones might draw together, clothe themselves with +flesh, and spring into life. But I felt that I had no such +words, no such actions, by means of which I could continue what I +had begun; I was conscious, in the depths of my soul, that I had +lied [that I was just like them], <a name="citation62"></a><a +href="#footnote62" class="citation">[62]</a> and there was +nothing further for me to say; and I began to inscribe on the +cards the names and callings of all the persons in this set of +apartments.</p> +<p>This incident led me into a fresh dilemma, to the thought of +how these unfortunates also might be helped. In my +self-delusion, I fancied that this would be very easy. I +said to myself: “Here, we will make a note of all these +women also, and <i>later on</i> when we [I did not specify to +myself who “we” were] write every thing out, we will +attend to these persons too.” I imagined that we, the +very ones who have brought and have been bringing these women to +this condition for several generations, would take thought some +fine day and reform all this. But, in the mean time, if I +had only recalled my conversation with the disreputable woman who +had been rocking the baby of the fever-stricken patient, I might +have comprehended the full extent of the folly of such a +supposition.</p> +<p>When we saw this woman with the baby, we thought that it was +her child. To the question, “Who was she?” she +had replied in a straightforward way that she was +unmarried. She did not say—a prostitute. Only +the master of the apartment made use of that frightful +word. The supposition that she had a child suggested to me +the idea of removing her from her position. I inquired:</p> +<p>“Is this your child?”</p> +<p>“No, it belongs to that woman yonder.”</p> +<p>“Why are you taking care of it?”</p> +<p>“Because she asked me; she is dying.”</p> +<p>Although my supposition proved to be erroneous, I continued my +conversation with her in the same spirit. I began to +question her as to who she was, and how she had come to such a +state. She related her history very readily and +simply. She was a Moscow <i>myeshchanka</i>, the daughter +of a factory hand. She had been left an orphan, and had +been adopted by an aunt. From her aunt’s she had +begun to frequent the taverns. The aunt was now dead. +When I asked her whether she did not wish to alter her mode of +life, my question, evidently, did not even arouse her +interest. How can one take an interest in the proposition +of a man, in regard to something absolutely impossible? She +laughed, and said: “And who would take me in with my yellow +ticket?”</p> +<p>“Well, but if a place could be found somewhere as +cook?” said I.</p> +<p>This thought occurred to me because she was a stout, ruddy +woman, with a kindly, round, and rather stupid face. Cooks +are often like that. My words evidently did not please +her. She repeated:</p> +<p>“A cook—but I don’t know how to make +bread,” said she, and she laughed. She said that she +did not know how; but I saw from the expression of her +countenance that she did not wish to become a cook, that she +regarded the position and calling of a cook as low.</p> +<p>This woman, who in the simplest possible manner was +sacrificing every thing that she had for the sick woman, like the +widow in the Gospels, at the same time, like many of her +companions, regarded the position of a person who works as low +and deserving of scorn. She had been brought up to live not +by work, but by this life which was considered the natural one +for her by those about her. In that lay her +misfortune. And she fell in with this misfortune and clung +to her position. This led her to frequent the +taverns. Which of us—man or woman—will correct +her false view of life? Where among us are the people to be +found who are convinced that every laborious life is more worthy +of respect than an idle life,—who are convinced of this, +and who live in conformity with this belief, and who in +conformity with this conviction value and respect people? +If I had thought of this, I might have understood that neither I, +nor any other person among my acquaintances, could heal this +complaint.</p> +<p>I might have understood that these amazed and affected heads +thrust over the partition indicated only surprise at the sympathy +expressed for them, but not in the least a hope of reclamation +from their dissolute life. They do not perceive the +immorality of their life. They see that they are despised +and cursed, but for what they are thus despised they cannot +comprehend. Their life, from childhood, has been spent +among just such women, who, as they very well know, always have +existed, and are indispensable to society, and so indispensable +that there are governmental officials to attend to their legal +existence. Moreover, they know that they have power over +men, and can bring them into subjection, and rule them often more +than other women. They see that their position in society +is recognized by women and men and the authorities, in spite of +their continual curses, and therefore, they cannot understand why +they should reform.</p> +<p>In the course of one of the tours, one of the students told me +that in a certain lodging, there was a woman who was bargaining +for her thirteen-year-old daughter. Being desirous of +rescuing this girl, I made a trip to that lodging +expressly. Mother and daughter were living in the greatest +poverty. The mother, a small, dark-complexioned, dissolute +woman of forty, was not only homely, but repulsively +homely. The daughter was equally disagreeable. To all +my pointed questions about their life, the mother responded +curtly, suspiciously, and in a hostile way, evidently feeling +that I was an enemy, with evil intentions; the daughter made no +reply, did not look at her mother, and evidently trusted the +latter fully. They inspired me with no sincere pity, but +rather with disgust. But I made up my mind that the +daughter must be rescued, and that I would interest ladies who +pitied the sad condition of these women, and send them +hither. But if I had reflected on the mother’s long +life in the past, of how she had given birth to, nursed and +reared this daughter in her situation, assuredly without the +slightest assistance from outsiders, and with heavy +sacrifices—if I had reflected on the view of life which +this woman had formed, I should have understood that there was, +decidedly, nothing bad or immoral in the mother’s act: she +had done and was doing for her daughter all that she could, that +is to say, what she considered the best for herself. This +daughter could be forcibly removed from her mother; but it would +be impossible to convince the mother that she was doing wrong, in +selling her daughter. If any one was to be saved, then it +must be this woman—the mother ought to have been saved; +[and that long before, from that view of life which is approved +by every one, according to which a woman may live unmarried, that +is, without bearing children and without work, and simply for the +satisfaction of the passions. If I had thought of this, I +should have understood that the majority of the ladies whom I +intended to send thither for the salvation of that little girl, +not only live without bearing children and without working, and +serving only passion, but that they deliberately rear their +daughters for the same life; one mother takes her daughter to the +taverns, another takes hers to balls. But both mothers hold +the same view of the world, namely, that a woman must satisfy +man’s passions, and that for this she must be fed, dressed, +and cared for. Then how are our ladies to reform this woman +and her daughter? <a name="citation66"></a><a href="#footnote66" +class="citation">[66]</a> ]</p> +<h3>CHAPTER IX.</h3> +<p>Still more remarkable were my relations to the children. +In my <i>rôle</i> of benefactor, I turned my attention to +the children also, being desirous to save these innocent beings +from perishing in that lair of vice, and noting them down in +order to attend to them <i>afterwards</i>.</p> +<p>Among the children, I was especially struck with a +twelve-year-old lad named Serozha. I was heartily sorry for +this bold, intelligent lad, who had lived with a cobbler, and who +had been left without a shelter because his master had been put +in jail, and I wanted to do good to him.</p> +<p>I will here relate the upshot of my benevolence in his case, +because my experience with this child is best adapted to show my +false position in the <i>rôle</i> of benefactor. I +took the boy home with me and put him in the kitchen. It +was impossible, was it not, to take a child who had lived in a +den of iniquity in among my own children? And I considered +myself very kind and good, because he was a care, not to me, but +to the servants in the kitchen, and because not I but the cook +fed him, and because I gave him some cast-off clothing to +wear. The boy staid a week. During that week I said a +few words to him as I passed on two occasions and in the course +of my strolls, I went to a shoemaker of my acquaintance, and +proposed that he should take the lad as an apprentice. A +peasant who was visiting me, invited him to go to the country, +into his family, as a laborer; the boy refused, and at the end of +the week he disappeared. I went to the Rzhanoff house to +inquire after him. He had returned there, but was not at +home when I went thither. For two days already, he had been +going to the Pryesnensky ponds, where he had hired himself out at +thirty kopeks a day in some procession of savages in costume, who +led about elephants. Something was being presented to the +public there. I went a second time, but he was so +ungrateful that he evidently avoided me. Had I then +reflected on the life of that boy and on my own, I should have +understood that this boy was spoiled because he had discovered +the possibility of a merry life without labor, and that he had +grown unused to work. And I, with the object of benefiting +and reclaiming him, had taken him to my house, where he +saw—what? My children,—both older and younger +than himself, and of the same age,—who not only never did +any work for themselves, but who made work for others by every +means in their power, who soiled and spoiled every thing about +them, who ate rich, dainty, and sweet viands, broke china, and +flung to the dogs food which would have been a tidbit to this +lad. If I had rescued him from the <i>abyss</i>, and had +taken him to that nice place, then he must acquire those views +which prevailed in the life of that nice place; but by these +views, he understood that in that fine place he must so live that +he should not toil, but eat and drink luxuriously, and lead a +joyous life. It is true that he did not know that my +children bore heavy burdens in the acquisition of the declensions +of Latin and Greek grammar, and that he could not have understood +the object of these labors. But it is impossible not to see +that if he had understood this, the influence of my +children’s example on him would have been even +stronger. He would then have comprehended that my children +were being educated in this manner, so that, while doing no work +now, they might be in a position hereafter, also profiting by +their diplomas, to work as little as possible, and to enjoy the +pleasures of life to as great an extent as possible. He did +understand this, and he would not go with the peasant to tend +cattle, and to eat potatoes and <i>kvas</i> with him, but he went +to the zoölogical garden in the costume of a savage, to lead +the elephant at thirty kopeks a day.</p> +<p>I might have understood how clumsy I was, when I was rearing +my children in the most utter idleness and luxury, to reform +other people and their children, who were perishing from idleness +in what I called the den of the Rzhanoff house, where, +nevertheless, three-fourths of the people toil for themselves and +for others. But I understood nothing of this.</p> +<p>There were a great many children in the Rzhanoff house, who +were in the same pitiable plight; there were the children of +dissolute women, there were orphans, there were children who had +been picked up in the streets by beggars. They were all +very wretched. But my experience with Serozha showed me +that I, living the life I did, was not in a position to help +them.</p> +<p>While Serozha was living with us, I noticed in myself an +effort to hide our life from him, in particular the life of our +children. I felt that all my efforts to direct him towards +a good, industrious life, were counteracted by the examples of +our lives and by that of our children. It is very easy to +take a child away from a disreputable woman, or from a +beggar. It is very easy, when one has the money, to wash, +clean and dress him in neat clothing, to support him, and even to +teach him various sciences; but it is not only difficult for us, +who do not earn our own bread, but quite the reverse, to teach +him to work for his bread, but it is impossible, because we, by +our example, and even by those material and valueless +improvements of his life, inculcate the contrary. A puppy +can be taken, tended, fed, and taught to fetch and carry, and one +may take pleasure in him: but it is not enough to tend a man, to +feed and teach him Greek; we must teach the man how to +live,—that is, to take as little as possible from others, +and to give as much as possible; and we cannot help teaching him +to do the contrary, if we take him into our houses, or into an +institution founded for this purpose.</p> +<h3>CHAPTER X.</h3> +<p>This feeling of compassion for people, and of disgust with +myself, which I had experienced in the Lyapinsky house, I +experienced no longer. I was completely absorbed in the +desire to carry out the scheme which I had concocted,—to do +good to those people whom I should meet here. And, strange +to say, it would appear, that, to do good—to give money to +the needy—is a very good deed, and one that should dispose +me to love for the people, but it turned out the reverse: this +act produced in me ill-will and an inclination to condemn +people. But during our first evening tour, a scene occurred +exactly like that in the Lyapinsky house, and it called forth a +wholly different sentiment.</p> +<p>It began by my finding in one set of apartments an unfortunate +individual, of precisely the sort who require immediate +aid. I found a hungry woman who had had nothing to eat for +two days.</p> +<p>It came about thus: in one very large and almost empty +night-lodging, I asked an old woman whether there were many poor +people who had nothing to eat? The old woman reflected, and +then told me of two; and then, as though she had just +recollected, “Why, here is one of them,” said she, +glancing at one of the occupied bunks. “I think that +woman has had no food.”</p> +<p>“Really? Who is she?”</p> +<p>“She was a dissolute woman: no one wants any thing to do +with her now, so she has no way of getting any thing. The +landlady has had compassion on her, but now she means to turn her +out . . . Agafya, hey there, Agafya!” cried the woman.</p> +<p>We approached, and something rose up in the bunk. It was +a woman haggard and dishevelled, whose hair was half gray, and +who was as thin as a skeleton, dressed in a ragged and dirty +chemise, and with particularly brilliant and staring eyes. +She looked past us with her staring eyes, clutched at her jacket +with one thin hand, in order to cover her bony breast which was +disclosed by her tattered chemise, and oppressed, she cried, +“What is it? what is it?” I asked her about her +means of livelihood. For a long time she did not +understand, and said, “I don’t know myself; they +persecute me.” I asked her,—it puts me to +shame, my hand refuses to write it,—I asked her whether it +was true that she had nothing to eat? She answered in the +same hurried, feverish tone, staring at me the +while,—“No, I had nothing yesterday, and I have had +nothing to-day.”</p> +<p>The sight of this woman touched me, but not at all as had been +the case in the Lyapinsky house; there, my pity for these people +made me instantly feel ashamed of myself: but here, I rejoiced +because I had at last found what I had been seeking,—a +hungry person.</p> +<p>I gave her a ruble, and I recollect being very glad that +others saw it. The old woman, on seeing this, immediately +begged money of me also. It afforded me such pleasure to +give, that, without finding out whether it was necessary to give +or not, I gave something to the old woman too. The old +woman accompanied me to the door, and the people standing in the +corridor heard her blessing me. Probably the questions +which I had put with regard to poverty, had aroused expectation, +and several persons followed us. In the corridor also, they +began to ask me for money. Among those who begged were some +drunken men, who aroused an unpleasant feeling in me; but, having +once given to the old woman, I had no might to refuse these +people, and I began to give. As long as I continued to +give, people kept coming up; and excitement ran through all the +lodgings. People made them appearance on the stairs and +galleries, and followed me. As I emerged into the +court-yard, a little boy ran swiftly down one of the staircases +thrusting the people aside. He did not see me, and +exclaimed hastily: “He gave Agashka a ruble!” +When he reached the ground, the boy joined the crowd which was +following me. I went out into the street: various +descriptions of people followed me, and asked for money. I +distributed all my small change, and entered an open shop with +the request that the shopkeeper would change a ten-ruble bill for +me. And then the same thing happened as at the Lyapinsky +house. A terrible confusion ensued. Old women, +noblemen, peasants, and children crowded into the shop with +outstretched hands; I gave, and interrogated some of them as to +their lives, and took notes. The shopkeeper, turning up the +furred points of the collar of his coat, sat like a stuffed +creature, glancing at the crowd occasionally, and then fixing his +eyes beyond them again. He evidently, like every one else, +felt that this was foolish, but he could not say so.</p> +<p>The poverty and beggary in the Lyapinsky house had horrified +me, and I felt myself guilty of it; I felt the desire and the +possibility of improvement. But now, precisely the same +scene produced on me an entirely different effect; I experienced, +in the first place, a malevolent feeling towards many of those +who were besieging me; and in the second place, uneasiness as to +what the shopkeepers and porters would think of me.</p> +<p>On my return home that day, I was troubled in my soul. I +felt that what I had done was foolish and immoral. But, as +is always the result of inward confusion, I talked a great deal +about the plan which I had undertaken, as though I entertained +not the slightest doubt of my success.</p> +<p>On the following day, I went to such of the people whom I had +inscribed on my list, as seemed to me the most wretched of all, +and those who, as it seemed to me, would be the easiest to +help. As I have already said, I did not help any of these +people. It proved to be more difficult to help them than I +had thought. And either because I did not know how, or +because it was impossible, I merely imitated these people, and +did not help any one. I visited the Rzhanoff house several +times before the final tour, and on every occasion the very same +thing occurred: I was beset by a throng of beggars in whose mass +I was completely lost. I felt the impossibility of doing +any thing, because there were too many of them, and because I +felt ill-disposed towards them because there were so many of +them; and in addition to this, each one separately did not +incline me in his favor. I was conscious that every one of +them was telling me an untruth, or less than the whole truth, and +that he saw in me merely a purse from which money might be +drawn. And it very frequently seemed to me, that the very +money which they squeezed out of me, rendered their condition +worse instead of improving it. The oftener I went to that +house, the more I entered into intercourse with the people there, +the more apparent became to me the impossibility of doing any +thing; but still I did not give up any scheme until the last +night tour.</p> +<p>The remembrance of that last tour is particularly mortifying +to me. On other occasions I had gone thither alone, but +twenty of us went there on this occasion. At seven +o’clock, all who wished to take part in this final night +round, began to assemble at my house. Nearly all of them +were strangers to me,—students, one officer, and two of my +society acquaintances, who, uttering the usual, +“<i>C’est très intèressant</i>!” +had asked me to include them in the number of the +census-takers.</p> +<p>My worldly acquaintances had dressed up especially for this, +in some sort of hunting-jacket, and tall, travelling boots, in a +costume in which they rode and went hunting, and which, in their +opinion, was appropriate for an excursion to a +night-lodging-house. They took with them special note-books +and remarkable pencils. They were in that peculiarly +excited state of mind in which men set off on a hunt, to a duel, +or to the wars. The most apparent thing about them was +their folly and the falseness of our position, but all the rest +of us were in the same false position. Before we set out, +we held a consultation, after the fashion of a council of war, as +to how we should begin, how divide our party, and so on.</p> +<p>This consultation was exactly such as takes place in councils, +assemblages, committees; that is to say, each person spoke, not +because he had any thing to say or to ask, but because each one +cudgelled his brain for something that he could say, so that he +might not fall short of the rest. But, among all these +discussions, no one alluded to that beneficence of which I had so +often spoken to them all. Mortifying as this was to me, I +felt that it was indispensable that I should once more remind +them of benevolence, that is, of the point, that we were to +observe and take notes of all those in destitute circumstances +whom we should encounter in the course of our rounds. I had +always felt ashamed to speak of this; but now, in the midst of +all our excited preparations for our expedition, I could hardly +utter the words. All listened to me, as it seemed to me, +with sorrow, and, at the same time, all agreed in words; but it +was evident that they all knew that it was folly, and that +nothing would come of it, and all immediately began again to talk +about something else. This went on until the time arrived +for us to set out, and we started.</p> +<p>We reached the tavern, roused the waiters, and began to sort +our papers. When we were informed that the people had heard +about this round, and were leaving their quarters, we asked the +landlord to lock the gates; and we went ourselves into the yard +to reason with the fleeing people, assuring them that no one +would demand their tickets. I remember the strange and +painful impression produced on me by these alarmed night-lodgers: +ragged, half-dressed, they all seemed tall to me by the light of +the lantern and the gloom of the court-yard. Frightened and +terrifying in their alarm, they stood in a group around the +foul-smelling out-house, and listened to our assurances, but they +did not believe us, and were evidently prepared for any thing, +like hunted wild beasts, provided only that they could escape +from us. Gentlemen in divers shapes—as policemen, +both city and rural, and as examining judges, and +judges—hunt them all their lives, in town and country, on +the highway and in the streets, and in the taverns, and in +night-lodging houses; and now, all of a sudden, these gentlemen +had come and locked the gates, merely in order to count them: it +was as difficult for them to believe this, as for hares to +believe that dogs have come, not to chase but to count +them. But the gates were locked, and the startled lodgers +returned: and we, breaking up into groups, entered also. +With me were the two society men and two students. In front +of us, in the dark, went Vanya, in his coat and white trousers, +with a lantern, and we followed. We went to quarters with +which I was familiar. I knew all the establishments, and +some of the people; but the majority of the people were new, and +the spectacle was new, and more dreadful than the one which I had +witnessed in the Lyapinsky house. All the lodgings were +full, all the bunks were occupied, not by one person only, but +often by two. The sight was terrible in that narrow space +into which the people were huddled, and men and women were mixed +together. All the women who were not dead drunk slept with +men; and women with two children did the same. The sight +was terrible, on account of the poverty, dirt, rags, and terror +of the people. And it was chiefly dreadful on account of +the vast numbers of people who were in this situation. One +lodging, and then a second like it, and a third, and a tenth, and +a twentieth, and still there was no end to them. And +everywhere there was the same foul odor, the same close +atmosphere, the same crowding, the same mingling of the sexes, +the same men and women intoxicated to stupidity, and the same +terror, submission and guilt on all faces; and again I was +overwhelmed with shame and pain, as in the Lyapinsky house, and I +understood that what I had undertaken was abominable and foolish +and therefore impracticable. And I no longer took notes of +anybody, and I asked no questions, knowing that nothing would +come of this.</p> +<p>I was deeply pained. In the Lyapinsky house I had been +like a man who has seen a fearful wound, by chance, on the body +of another man. He is sorry for the other man, he is +ashamed that he has not pitied the man before, and he can still +rise to the succor of the sufferer. But now I was like a +physician, who has come with his medicine to the sick man, has +uncovered his sore, and examined it, and who must confess to +himself that every thing that he has done has been in vain, and +that his remedy is good for nothing.</p> +<h3>CHAPTER XI.</h3> +<p>This visit dealt the final blow to my self-delusion. It +now appeared indisputable to me, that what I had undertaken was +not only foolish but loathsome.</p> +<p>But, in spite of the fact that I was aware of this, it seemed +to me that I could not abandon the whole thing on the spot. +It seemed to me that I was bound to carry out this enterprise, in +the first place, because by my article, by my visits and +promises, I had aroused the expectations of the poor; in the +second, because by my article also, and by my talk, I had aroused +the sympathies of benevolent persons, many of whom had promised +me their co-operation both in personal labor and in money. +And I expected that both sets of people would turn to me for an +answer to this.</p> +<p>What happened to me, so far as the appeal of the needy to me +is concerned, was as follows: By letter and personal application +I received more than a hundred; these applications were all from +the wealthy-poor, if I may so express myself. I went to see +some of them, and some of them received no answer. Nowhere +did I succeed in doing any thing. All applications to me +were from persons who had once occupied privileged positions (I +thus designate those in which people receive more from others +than they give), who had lost them, and who wished to occupy them +again. To one, two hundred rubles were indispensable, in +order that he might prop up a failing business, and complete the +education of his children which had been begun; another wanted a +photographic outfit; a third wanted his debts paid, and +respectable clothing purchased for him; a fourth needed a piano, +in order to perfect himself and support his family by giving +lessons. But the majority did not stipulate for any given +sum of money, and simply asked for assistance; and when I came to +examine into what was required, it turned out that their demands +grew in proportion to the aid, and that there was not and could +not be any way of satisfying them. I repeat, that it is +very possible that this arose from the fact that I did not +understand how; but I did not help any one, although I sometimes +endeavored to do so.</p> +<p>A very strange and unexpected thing happened to me as regards +the co-operation of the benevolently disposed. Out of all +the persons who had promised me financial aid, and who had even +stated the number of rubles, not a single one handed to me for +distribution among the poor one solitary ruble. But +according to the pledges which had been given me, I could reckon +on about three thousand rubles; and out of all these people, not +one remembered our former discussions, or gave me a single +kopek. Only the students gave the money which had been +assigned to them for their work on the census, twelve rubles, I +think. So my whole scheme, which was to have been expressed +by tens of thousands of rubles contributed by the wealthy, for +hundreds and thousands of poor people who were to be rescued from +poverty and vice, dwindled down to this, that I gave away, +haphazard, a few scores of rubles to those people who asked me +for them, and that there remained in my hands twelve rubies +contributed by the students, and twenty-five sent to me by the +City Council for my labor as a superintendent, and I absolutely +did not know to whom to give them.</p> +<p>The whole matter came to an end. And then, before my +departure for the country, on the Sunday before carnival, I went +to the Rzhanoff house in the morning, in order to get rid of +those thirty-seven rubles before I should leave Moscow, and to +distribute them to the poor. I made the round of the +quarters with which I was familiar, and in them found only one +sick man, to whom I gave five rubles. There was no one else +there to give any to. Of course many began to beg of +me. But as I had not known them at first, so I did not know +them now, and I made up my mind to take counsel with Ivan +Fedotitch, the landlord of the tavern, as to the persons upon +whom it would be proper to bestow the remaining thirty-two +rubies.</p> +<p>It was the first day of the carnival. Everybody was +dressed up, and everybody was full-fed, and many were already +intoxicated. In the court-yard, close to the house, stood +an old man, a rag-picker, in a tattered smock and bast shoes, +sorting over the booty in his basket, tossing out leather, iron, +and other stuff in piles, and breaking into a merry song, with a +fine, powerful voice. I entered into conversation with +him. He was seventy years old, he was alone in the world, +and supported himself by his calling of a rag-picker; and not +only did he utter no complaints, but he said that he had plenty +to eat and drink. I inquired of him as to especially needy +persons. He flew into a rage, and said plainly that there +were no needy people, except drunkards and lazy men; but, on +learning my object, he asked me for a five-kopek piece to buy a +drink, and ran off to the tavern. I too entered the tavern +to see Ivan Fedotitch, and commission him to distribute the money +which I had left. The tavern was full; gayly-dressed, +intoxicated girls were flitting in and out; all the tables were +occupied; there were already a great many drunken people, and in +the small room the harmonium was being played, and two persons +were dancing. Out of respect to me, Ivan Fedotitch ordered +that the dance should be stopped, and seated himself with me at a +vacant table. I said to him, that, as he knew his tenants, +would not he point out to me the most needy among them; that I +had been entrusted with the distribution of a little money, and, +therefore, would he indicate the proper persons? +Good-natured Ivan Fedotitch (he died a year later), although he +was pressed with business, broke away from it for a time, in +order to serve me. He meditated, and was evidently +undecided. An elderly waiter heard us, and joined the +conference.</p> +<p>They began to discuss the claims of persons, some of whom I +knew, but still they could not come to any agreement. +“The Paramonovna,” suggested the waiter. +“Yes, that would do. Sometimes she has nothing to +eat. Yes, but then she tipples.”—“Well, +what of that? That makes no +difference.”—“Well, Sidoron Ivanovitch has +children. He would do.” But Ivan Fedotitch had +his doubts about Sidoron Ivanovitch also. “Akulina +shall have some. There, now, give something to the +blind.” To this I responded. I saw him at +once. He was a blind old man of eighty years, without kith +or kin. It seemed as though no condition could be more +painful, and I went immediately to see him. He was lying on +a feather-bed, on a high bedstead, drunk; and, as he did not see +me, he was scolding his comparatively youthful female companion +in a frightful bass voice, and in the very worst kind of +language. They also summoned an armless boy and his +mother. I saw that Ivan Fedotitch was in great straits, on +account of his conscientiousness, for me knew that whatever was +given would immediately pass to his tavern. But I had to +get rid of my thirty-two rubles, so I insisted; and in one way +and another, and half wrongfully to boot, we assigned and +distributed them. Those who received them were mostly well +dressed, and we had not far to go to find them, as they were +there in the tavern. The armless boy appeared in wrinkled +boots, and a red shirt and vest. With this my charitable +career came to an end, and I went off to the country; irritated +at others, as is always the case, because I myself had done a +stupid and a bad thing. My benevolence had ended in +nothing, and it ceased altogether, but the current of thoughts +and feelings which it had called up with me not only did not come +to an end, but the inward work went on with redoubled force.</p> +<h3>CHAPTER XII.</h3> +<p>What was its nature?</p> +<p>I had lived in the country, and there I was connected with the +rustic poor. Not out of humility, which is worse than +pride, but for the sake of telling the truth, which is +indispensable for the understanding of the whole course of my +thoughts and sentiments, I will say that in the country I did +very little for the poor, but the demands which were made upon me +were so modest that even this little was of use to the people, +and formed around me an atmosphere of affection and union with +the people, in which it was possible to soothe the gnawing +sensation of remorse at the independence of my life. On +going to the city, I had hoped to be able to live in the same +manner. But here I encountered want of an entirely +different sort. City want was both less real, and more +exacting and cruel, than country poverty. But the principal +point was, that there was so much of it in one spot, that it +produced on me a frightful impression. The impression which +I experienced in the Lyapinsky house had, at the very first, made +me conscious of the deformity of my own life. This feeling +was genuine and very powerful. But, notwithstanding its +genuineness and power, I was, at that time, so weak that I feared +the alteration in my life to which this feeling commended me, and +I resorted to a compromise. I believed what everybody told +me, and everybody has said, ever since the world was +made,—that there is nothing evil in wealth and luxury, that +they are given by God, that one may continue to live as a rich +man, and yet help the needy. I believed this, and I tried +to do it. I wrote an essay, in which I summoned all rich +people to my assistance. The rich people all acknowledged +themselves morally bound to agree with me, but evidently they +either did not wish to do any thing, or they could not do any +thing or give any thing to the poor. I began to visit the +poor, and I beheld what I had not in the least expected. On +the one hand, I beheld in those dens, as I called them, people +whom it was not conceivable that I should help, because they were +working people, accustomed to labor and privation, and therefore +standing much higher and having a much firmer foothold in life +than myself; on the other hand, I saw unfortunate people whom I +could not aid because they were exactly like myself. The +majority of the unfortunates whom I saw were unhappy only because +they had lost the capacity, desire, and habit of earning their +own bread; that is to say, their unhappiness consisted in the +fact that they were precisely such persons as myself.</p> +<p>I found no unfortunates who were sick, hungry, or cold, to +whom I could render immediate assistance, with the solitary +exception of hungry Agafya. And I became convinced, that, +on account of my remoteness from the lives of those people whom I +desired to help, it would be almost impossible to find any such +unfortunates, because all actual wants had already been supplied +by the very people among whom these unfortunates live; and, most +of all, I was convinced that money cannot effect any change in +the life led by these unhappy people.</p> +<p>I was convinced of all this, but out of false shame at +abandoning what I had once undertaken, because of my +self-delusion as a benefactor, I went on with this matter for a +tolerably long time,—and would have gone on with it until +it came to nothing of itself,—so that it was with the +greatest difficulty that, with the help of Ivan Fedotitch, I got +rid, after a fashion, as well as I could, in the tavern of the +Rzhanoff house, of the thirty-seven rubles which I did not regard +as belonging to me.</p> +<p>Of course I might have gone on with this business, and have +made out of it a semblance of benevolence; by urging the people +who had promised me money, I might have collected more, I might +have distributed this money, and consoled myself with my charity; +but I perceived, on the one hand, that we rich people neither +wish nor are able to share a portion of our a superfluity with +the poor (we have so many wants of our own), and that money +should not be given to any one, if the object really be to do +good and not to give money itself at haphazard, as I had done in +the Rzhanoff tavern. And I gave up the whole thing, and +went off to the country with despair in my heart.</p> +<p>In the country I tried to write an essay about all this that I +had experienced, and to tell why my undertaking had not +succeeded. I wanted to justify myself against the +reproaches which had been made to me on the score of my article +on the census; I wanted to convict society of its in difference, +and to state the causes in which this city poverty has its birth, +and the necessity of combating it, and the means of doing so +which I saw.</p> +<p>I began this essay at once, and it seemed to me that in it I +was saying a very great deal that was important. But toil +as I would over it, and in spite of the abundance of materials, +in spite of the superfluity of them even, I could not get though +that essay; and so I did not finish it until the present year, +because of the irritation under the influence of which I wrote, +because I had not gone through all that was requisite in order to +bear myself properly in relation to this essay, because I did not +simply and clearly acknowledge the cause of all this,—a +very simple cause, which had its root in myself.</p> +<p>In the domain of morals, one very remarkable and too little +noted phenomenon presents itself.</p> +<p>If I tell a man who knows nothing about it, what I know about +geology, astronomy, history, physics, and mathematics, that man +receives entirely new information, and he never says to me: +“Well, what is there new in that? Everybody knows +that, and I have known it this long while.” But tell +that same man the most lofty truth, expressed in the clearest, +most concise manner, as it has never before been expressed, and +every ordinary individual, especially one who takes no particular +interest in moral questions, or, even more, one to whom the moral +truth stated by you is displeasing, will infallibly say to you: +“Well, who does not know that? That was known and +said long ago.” It really seems to him that this has +been said long ago and in just this way. Only those to whom +moral truths are dear and important know how important and +precious they are, and with what prolonged labor the elucidation, +the simplification, of moral truths, their transit from the state +of a misty, indefinitely recognized supposition, and desire, from +indistinct, incoherent expressions, to a firm and definite +expression, unavoidably demanding corresponding concessions, are +attained.</p> +<p>We have all become accustomed to think that moral instruction +is a most absurd and tiresome thing, in which there can be +nothing new or interesting; and yet all human life, together with +all the varied and complicated activities, apparently +independent, of morality, both governmental and scientific, and +artistic and commercial, has no other aim than the greater and +greater elucidation, confirmation, simplification, and +accessibility of moral truth.</p> +<p>I remember that I was once walking along the street in Moscow, +and in front of me I saw a man come out and gaze attentively at +the stones of the sidewalk, after which he selected one stone, +seated himself on it, and began to plane (as it seemed to me) or +to rub it with the greatest diligence and force. +“What is he doing to the sidewalk?” I said to +myself. On going close to him, I saw what the man was +doing. He was a young fellow from a meat-shop; he was +whetting his knife on the stone of the pavement. He was not +thinking at all of the stones when he scrutinized them, still +less was he thinking of them when he was accomplishing his task: +he was whetting his knife. He was obliged to whet his knife +so that he could cut the meat; but to me it seemed as though he +were doing something to the stones of the sidewalk. Just so +it appears as though humanity were occupied with commerce, +conventions, wars, sciences, arts; but only one business is of +importance to it, and with only one business is it occupied: it +is elucidating to itself those moral laws by which it +lives. The moral laws are already in existence; humanity is +only elucidating them, and this elucidation seems unimportant and +imperceptible for any one who has no need of moral laws, who does +not wish to live by them. But this elucidation of the moral +law is not only weighty, but the only real business of all +humanity. This elucidation is imperceptible just as the +difference between the dull and the sharp knife is +imperceptible. The knife is a knife all the same, and for a +person who is not obliged to cut any thing with this knife, the +difference between the dull and the sharp one is +imperceptible. For the man who has come to an understanding +that his whole life depends on the greater or less degree of +sharpness in the knife,—for such a man, every whetting of +it is weighty, and that man knows that the knife is a knife only +when it is sharp, when it cuts that which needs cutting.</p> +<p>This is what happened to me, when I began to write my +essay. It seemed to me that I knew all about it, that I +understood every thing connected with those questions which had +produced on me the impressions of the Lyapinsky house, and the +census; but when I attempted to take account of them and to +demonstrate them, it turned out that the knife would not cut, and +that it must be whetted. And it is only now, after the +lapse of three years, that I have felt that my knife is +sufficiently sharp, so that I can cut what I choose. I have +learned very little that is new. My thoughts are all +exactly the same, but they were duller then, and they all +scattered and would not unite on any thing; there was no edge to +them; they would not concentrate on one point, on the simplest +and clearest decision, as they have now concentrated +themselves.</p> +<h3>CHAPTER XIII.</h3> +<p>I remember that during the entire period of my unsuccessful +efforts at helping the inhabitants of the city, I presented to +myself the aspect of a man who should attempt to drag another man +out of a swamp while he himself was standing on the same unstable +ground. Every attempt of mine had made me conscious of the +untrustworthy character of the soil on which I stood. I +felt that I was in the swamp myself, but this consciousness did +not cause me to look more narrowly at my own feet, in order to +learn upon what I was standing; I kept on seeking some external +means, outside myself, of helping the existing evil.</p> +<p>I then felt that my life was bad, and that it was impossible +to live in that manner. But from the fact that my life was +bad, and that it was impossible to live in that manner, I did not +draw the very simple and clear deduction that it was necessary to +amend my life and to live better, but I knew the terrible +deduction that in order to live well myself, I must needs reform +the lives of others; and so I began to reform the lives of +others. I lived in the city, and I wished to reform the +lives of those who lived in the city; but I soon became convinced +that this I could not by any possibility accomplish, and I began +to meditate on the inherent characteristics of city life and city +poverty.</p> +<p>“What are city life and city poverty? Why, when I +am living in the city, cannot I help the city poor?”</p> +<p>I asked myself. I answered myself that I could not do +any thing for them, in the first place, because there were too +many of them here in one spot; in the second place, because all +the poor people here were entirely different from the country +poor. Why were there so many of them here? and in what did +their peculiarity, as opposed to the country poor, consist? +There was one and the same answer to both questions. There +were a great many of them here, because here all those people who +have no means of subsistence in the country collect around the +rich; and their peculiarity lies in this, that they are not +people who have come from the country to support themselves in +the city (if there are any city paupers, those who have been born +here, and whose fathers and grandfathers were born here, then +those fathers and grandfathers came hither for the purpose of +earning their livelihood). What is the meaning of this: +<i>to earn one’s livelihood in the city</i>? In the +words “to earn one’s livelihood in the city,” +there is something strange, resembling a jest, when you reflect +on their significance. How is it that people go from the +country,—that is to say, from the places where there are +forests, meadows, grain, and cattle, where all the wealth of the +earth lies,—to earn their livelihood in a place where there +are neither trees, nor grass, nor even land, and only stones and +dust? What is the significance of the words “to earn +a livelihood in the city,” which are in such constant use, +both by those who earn the livelihood, and by those who furnish +it, as though it were something perfectly clear and +comprehensible?</p> +<p>I recall the hundreds and thousands of city people, both those +who live well and the needy, with whom I have conversed on the +reason why they came hither: and all without exception said, that +they had come from the country to earn their living; that in +Moscow, where people neither sow nor reap,—that in Moscow +there is plenty of every thing, and that, therefore, it is only +in Moscow that they can earn the money which they require in the +country for bread and a cottage and a horse, and articles of +prime necessity. But assuredly, in the country lies the +source of all riches; there only is real wealth,—bread, and +forests, and horses, and every thing. And why, above all, +take away from the country that which dwellers in the country +need,—flour, oats, horses, and cattle?</p> +<p>Hundreds of times did I discuss this matter with peasants +living in town; and from my discussions with them, and from my +observations, it has been made apparent to me, that the +congregation of country people in the city is partly +indispensable because they cannot otherwise support themselves, +partly voluntary, and that they are attracted to the city by the +temptations of the city.</p> +<p>It is true, that the position of the peasant is such that, for +the satisfaction of his demands made on him in the country, he +cannot extricate himself otherwise than by selling the grain and +the cattle which he knows will be indispensable to him; and he is +forced, whether he will or no, to go to the city in order there +to win back his bread. But it is also true, that the luxury +of city life, and the comparative ease with which money is there +to be earned, attract him thither; and under the pretext of +gaining his living in the town, he betakes himself thither in +order that he may have lighter work, better food, and drink tea +three times a day, and dress well, and even lead a drunken and +dissolute life. The cause of both is identical,—the +transfer of the riches of the producers into the hands of +non-producers, and the accumulation of wealth in the +cities. And, in point of fact, when autumn has come, all +wealth is collected in the country. And instantly there +arise demands for taxes, recruits, the temptations of vodka, +weddings, festivals; petty pedlers make their rounds through the +villages, and all sorts of other temptations crop up; and by this +road, or, if not, by some other, wealth of the most varied +description—vegetables, calves, cows, horses, pigs, +chickens, eggs, butter, hemp, flax, rye, oats, buckwheat, pease, +hempseed, and flaxseed—all passes into the hands of +strangers, is carried off to the towns, and thence to the +capitals. The countryman is obliged to surrender all this +to satisfy the demands that are made upon him, and temptations; +and, having parted with his wealth, he is left with an +insufficiency, and he is forced to go whither his wealth has been +carried and there he tries, in part, to obtain the money which he +requires for his first needs in the country, and in part, being +himself led away by the blandishments of the city, he enjoys, in +company with others, the wealth that has there accumulated. +Everywhere, throughout the whole of Russia,—yes, and not in +Russia alone, I think, but throughout the whole world,—the +same thing goes on. The wealth of the rustic producers +passes into the hands of traders, landed proprietors, officials, +and factory-owners; and the people who receive this wealth wish +to enjoy it. But it is only in the city that they can +derive full enjoyment from this wealth. In the country, in +the first place, it is difficult to satisfy all the requirements +of rich people, on account of the sparseness of the population; +banks, shops, hotels, every sort of artisan, and all sorts of +social diversions, do not exist there. In the second place, +one of the chief pleasures procured by wealth—vanity, the +desire to astonish and outshine other people—is difficult +to satisfy in the country; and this, again, on account of the +lack of inhabitants. In the country, there is no one to +appreciate elegance, no one to be astonished. Whatever +adornments in the way of pictures and bronzes the dweller in the +country may procure for his house, whatever equipages and toilets +he may provide, there is no one to see them and envy them, and +the peasants cannot judge of them. [And, in the third +place, luxury is even disagreeable and dangerous in the country +for the man possessed of a conscience and fear. It is an +awkward and delicate matter, in the country, to have baths of +milk, or to feed your puppies on it, when directly beside you +there are children who have no milk; it is an awkward and +delicate matter to build pavilions and gardens in the midst of +people who live in cots banked up with dung, which they have no +means of warming. In the country there is no one to keep +the stupid peasants in order, and in their lack of cultivation +they might disarrange all this.] <a name="citation94"></a><a +href="#footnote94" class="citation">[94]</a></p> +<p>And accordingly rich people congregate, and join themselves to +other rich people with similar requirements, in the city, where +the gratification of every luxurious taste is carefully protected +by a numerous police force. Well-rooted inhabitants of the +city of this sort, are the governmental officials; every +description of artisan and professional man has sprung up around +them, and with them the wealthy join their forces. All that +a rich man has to do there is to take a fancy to a thing, and he +can get it. It is also more agreeable for a rich man to +live there, because there he can gratify his vanity; there is +some one with whom he can vie in luxury; there is some one to +astonish, and there is some one to outshine. But the +principal reason why it is more comfortable in the city for a +rich man is that formerly, in the country, his luxury made him +awkward and uneasy; while now, on the contrary, it would be +awkward for him not to live luxuriously, not to live like all his +peers around him. That which seemed dreadful and awkward in +the country, here appears to be just as it should be. [Rich +people congregate in the city; and there, under the protection of +the authorities, they calmly demand every thing that is brought +thither from the country. And the countryman is, in some +measure, compelled to go thither, where this uninterrupted +festival of the wealthy which demands all that is taken from him +is in progress, in order to feed upon the crumbs which fall from +the tables of the rich; and partly, also, because, when he +beholds the care-free, luxurious life, approved and protected by +everybody, he himself becomes desirous of regulating his life in +such a way as to work as little as possible, and to make as much +use as possible of the labors of others.</p> +<p>And so he betakes himself to the city, and finds employment +about the wealthy, endeavoring, by every means in his power, to +entice from them that which he is in need of, and conforming to +all those conditions which the wealthy impose upon him, he +assists in the gratification of all their whims; he serves the +rich man in the bath and in the inn, and as cab-driver and +prostitute, and he makes for him equipages, toys, and fashions; +and he gradually learns from the rich man to live in the same +manner as the latter, not by labor, but by divers tricks, getting +away from others the wealth which they have heaped together; and +he becomes corrupt, and goes to destruction. And this +colony, demoralized by city wealth, constitutes that city +pauperism which I desired to aid and could not.</p> +<p>All that is necessary, in fact, is for us to reflect on the +condition of these inhabitants of the country, who have removed +to the city in order to earn their bread or their +taxes,—when they behold, everywhere around them, thousands +squandered madly, and hundreds won by the easiest possible means; +when they themselves are forced by heavy toil to earn +kopeks,—and we shall be amazed that all these people should +remain working people, and that they do not all of them take to +an easier method of getting gain,—by trading, peddling, +acting as middlemen, begging, vice, rascality, and even +robbery. Why, we, the participants in that never-ceasing +orgy which goes on in town, can become so accustomed to our life, +that it seems to us perfectly natural to dwell alone in five huge +apartments, heated by a quantity of beech logs sufficient to cook +the food for and to warm twenty families; to drive half a verst +with two trotters and two men-servants; to cover the polished +wood floor with rugs; and to spend, I will not say, on a ball, +five or ten thousand rubles, and twenty-five thousand on a +Christmas-tree. But a man who is in need of ten rubles to +buy bread for his family, or whose last sheep has been seized for +a tax-debt of seven rubles, and who cannot raise those rubles by +hard labor, cannot grow accustomed to this. We think that +all this appears natural to poor people there are even some +ingenuous persons who say in all seriousness, that the poor are +very grateful to us for supporting them by this luxury.] <a +name="citation96"></a><a href="#footnote96" +class="citation">[96]</a></p> +<p>But poor people are not devoid of human understanding simply +because they are poor, and they judge precisely as we do. +As the first thought that occurs to us on hearing that such and +such a man has gambled away or squandered ten or twenty thousand +rubles, is: “What a foolish and worthless fellow he is to +uselessly squander so much money! and what a good use I could +have made of that money in a building which I have long been in +need of, for the improvement of my estate, and so +forth!”—just so do the poor judge when they behold +the wealth which they need, not for caprices, but for the +satisfaction of their actual necessities, of which they are +frequently deprived, flung madly away before their eyes. We +make a very great mistake when we think that the poor can judge +thus, reason thus, and look on indifferently at the luxury which +surrounds them.</p> +<p>They never have acknowledged, and they never will acknowledge, +that it can be just for some people to live always in idleness, +and for other people to fast and toil incessantly; but at first +they are amazed and insulted by this; then they scrutinize it +more attentively, and, seeing that these arrangements are +recognized as legitimate, they endeavor to free themselves from +toil, and to take part in the idleness. Some succeed in +this, and they become just such carousers themselves; others +gradually prepare themselves for this state; others still fail, +and do not attain their goal, and, having lost the habit of work, +they fill up the disorderly houses and the night-lodging +houses.</p> +<p>Two years ago, we took from the country a peasant boy to wait +on table. For some reason, he did not get on well with the +footman, and he was sent away: he entered the service of a +merchant, won the favor of his master, and now he goes about with +a vest and a watch-chain, and dandified boots. In his +place, we took another peasant, a married man: he became a +drunkard, and lost money. We took a third: he took to +drunk, and, having drank up every thing he had, he suffered for a +long while from poverty in the night-lodging house. An old +man, the cook, took to drink and fell sick. Last year a +footman who had formerly been a hard drinker, but who had +refrained from liquor for five years in the country, while living +in Moscow without his wife who encouraged him, took to drink +again, and ruined his whole life. A young lad from our +village lives with my brother as a table-servant. His +grandfather, a blind old man, came to me during my sojourn in the +country, and asked me to remind this grandson that he was to send +ten rubies for the taxes, otherwise it would be necessary for him +to sell his cow. “He keeps saying, I must dress +decently,” said the old man: “well, he has had some +shoes made, and that’s all right; but what does he want to +set up a watch for?” said the grandfather, expressing in +these words the most senseless supposition that it was possible +to originate. The supposition really was senseless, if we +take into consideration that the old man throughout Lent had +eaten no butter, and that he had no split wood because he could +not possibly pay one ruble and twenty kopeks for it; but it +turned out that the old man’s senseless jest was an actual +fact. The young fellow came to see me in a fine black coat, +and shoes for which he had paid eight rubles. He had +recently borrowed ten rubles from my brother, and had spent them +on these shoes. And my children, who have known the lad +from childhood, told me that he really considers it indispensable +to fit himself out with a watch. He is a very good boy, but +he thinks that people will laugh at him so long as he has no +watch; and a watch is necessary. During the present year, a +chambermaid, a girl of eighteen, entered into a connection with +the coachman in our house. She was discharged. An old +woman, the nurse, with whom I spoke in regard to the unfortunate +girl, reminded me of a girl whom I had forgotten. She too, +ten yeans ago, during a brief stay of ours in Moscow, had become +connected with a footman. She too had been discharged, and +she had ended in a disorderly house, and had died in the hospital +before reaching the age of twenty. It is only necessary to +glance about one, to be struck with terror at the pest which we +disseminate directly by our luxurious life among the people whom +we afterwards wish to help, not to mention the factories and +establishments which serve our luxurious tastes.</p> +<p>[And thus, having penetrated into the peculiar character of +city poverty, which I was unable to remedy, I perceived that its +prime cause is this, that I take absolute necessaries from the +dwellers in the country, and carry them all to the city. +The second cause is this, that by making use here, in the city, +of what I have collected in the country, I tempt and lead astray, +by my senseless luxury, those country people who come hither +because of me, in order in some way to get back what they have +been deprived of in the country.] <a name="citation99"></a><a +href="#footnote99" class="citation">[99]</a></p> +<h3>CHAPTER XIV.</h3> +<p>I reached the same conclusion from a totally different +point. On recalling all my relations with the city poor +during that time, I saw that one of the reasons why I could not +help the city poor was, that the poor were disingenuous and +untruthful with me. They all looked upon me, not as a man, +but as means. I could not get near them, and I thought that +perhaps I did not understand how to do it; but without +uprightness, no help was possible. How can one help a man +who does not disclose his whole condition? At first I +blamed them for this (it is so natural to blame some one else); +but a remark from an observing man named Siutaeff, who was +visiting me at the time, explained this matter to me, and showed +me where the cause of my want of success lay. I remember +that Siutaeff’s remark struck me very forcibly at the time; +but I only understood its full significance later on. It +was at the height of my self-delusion. I was sitting with +my sister, and Siutaeff was there also at her house; and my +sister was questioning me about my undertaking. I told her +about it, and, as always happens when you have no faith in your +course, I talked to her with great enthusiasm and warmth, and at +great length, of what I had done, and of what might possibly come +of it. I told her every thing,—how we were going to +keep track of pauperism in Moscow, how we were going to keep an +eye on the orphans and old people, how we were going to send away +all country people who had grown poor here, how we were going to +smooth the pathway to reform for the depraved; how, if only the +matter could be managed, there would not be a man left in Moscow, +who could not obtain assistance. My sister sympathized with +me, and we discussed it. In the middle of our conversation, +I glanced at Siutaeff. As I was acquainted with his +Christian life, and with the significance which he attached to +charity, I expected his sympathy, and spoke so that he understood +this; I talked to my sister, but directed my remarks more at +him. He sat immovable in his dark tanned sheepskin +jacket,—which he wore, like all peasants, both out of doors +and in the house,—and as though he did not hear us, but +were thinking of his own affairs. His small eyes did not +twinkle, and seemed to be turned inwards. Having finished +what I had to say, I turned to him with a query as to what he +thought of it.</p> +<p>“It’s all a foolish business,” said he.</p> +<p>“Why?”</p> +<p>“Your whole society is foolish, and nothing good can +come out of it,” he repeated with conviction.</p> +<p>“Why not? Why is it a stupid business to help +thousands, at any rate hundreds, of unfortunate beings? Is +it a bad thing, according to the Gospel, to clothe the naked, and +feed the hungry?”</p> +<p>“I know, I know, but that is not what you are +doing. Is it necessary to render assistance in that +way? You are walking along, and a man asks you for twenty +kopeks. You give them to him. Is that alms? Do +you give spiritual alms,—teach him. But what is it +that you have given? It was only for the sake of getting +rid of him.”</p> +<p>“No; and, besides, that is not what we are talking +about. We want to know about this need, and then to help by +both money and deeds; and to find work.”</p> +<p>“You can do nothing with those people in that +way.”</p> +<p>“So they are to be allowed to die of hunger and +cold?”</p> +<p>“Why should they die? Are there many of them +there?”</p> +<p>“What, many of them?” said I, thinking that he +looked at the matter so lightly because he was not aware how vast +was the number of these people.</p> +<p>“Why, do you know,” said I, “I believe that +there are twenty thousand of these cold and hungry people in +Moscow. And how about Petersburg and the other +cities?”</p> +<p>He smiled.</p> +<p>“Twenty thousand! And how many households are +there in Russia alone, do you think? Are there a +million?”</p> +<p>“Well, what then?”</p> +<p>“What then?” and his eyes flashed, and he grew +animated. “Come, let us divide them among +ourselves. I am not rich, I will take two persons on the +spot. There is the lad whom you took into your kitchen; I +invited him to come to my house, and he did not come. Were +there ten times as many, let us divide them among us. Do +you take some, and I will take some. We will work +together. He will see how I work, and he will learn. +He will see how I live, and we will sit down at the same table +together, and he will hear my words and yours. This charity +society of yours is nonsense.”</p> +<p>These simple words impressed me. I could not but admit +their justice; but it seemed to me at that time, that, in spite +of their truth, still that which I had planned might possibly +prove of service. But the further I carried this business, +the more I associated with the poor, the more frequently did this +remark recur to my mind, and the greater was the significance +which it acquired for me.</p> +<p>I arrive in a costly fur coat, or with my horses; or the man +who lacks shoes sees my two-thousand-ruble apartments. He +sees how, a little while ago, I gave five rubles without +begrudging them, merely because I took a whim to do so. He +surely knows that if I give away rubles in that manner, it is +only because I have hoarded up so many of them, that I have a +great many superfluous ones, which I not only have not given +away, but which I have easily taken from other people. +[What else could he see in me but one of those persons who have +got possession of what belongs to him? And what other +feeling can he cherish towards me, than a desire to obtain from +me as many of those rubles, which have been stolen from him and +from others, as possible? I wish to get close to him, and I +complain that he is not frank; and here I am, afraid to sit down +on his bed for fear of getting lice, or catching something +infectious; and I am afraid to admit him to my room, and he, +coming to me naked, waits, generally in the vestibule, or, if +very fortunate, in the ante-chamber. And yet I declare that +he is to blame because I cannot enter into intimate relations +with him, and because me is not frank.</p> +<p>Let the sternest man try the experiment of eating a dinner of +five courses in the midst of people who have had very little or +nothing but black bread to eat. Not a man will have the +spirit to eat, and to watch how the hungry lick their chops +around him. Hence, then, in order to eat daintily amid the +famishing, the first indispensable requisite is to hide from +them, in order that they may not see it. This is the very +thing, and the first thing, that we do.</p> +<p>And I took a simpler view of our life, and perceived that an +approach to the poor is not difficult to us through accidental +causes, but that we deliberately arrange our lives in such a +fashion so that this approach may be rendered difficult.</p> +<p>Not only this; but, on taking a survey of our life, of the +life of the wealthy, I saw that every thing which is considered +desirable in that life consists in, or is inseparably bound up +with, the idea of getting as far away from the poor as +possible. In fact, all the efforts of our well-endowed +life, beginning with our food, dress, houses, our cleanliness, +and even down to our education,—every thing has for its +chief object, the separation of ourselves from the poor. In +procuring this seclusion of ourselves by impassable barriers, we +spend, to put it mildly, nine-tenths of our wealth. The +first thing that a man who was grown wealthy does is to stop +eating out of one bowl, and he sets up crockery, and fits himself +out with a kitchen and servants. And he feeds his servants +high, too, so that their mouths may not water over his dainty +viands; and he eats alone; and as eating in solitude is +wearisome, he plans how he may improve his food and deck his +table; and the very manner of taking his food (dinner) becomes a +matter for pride and vain glory with him, and his manner of +taking his food becomes for him a means of sequestering himself +from other men. A rich man cannot think of such a thing as +inviting a poor man to his table. A man must know how to +conduct ladies to table, how to bow, to sit down, to eat, to +rinse out the mouth; and only rich people know all these +things. The same thing occurs in the matter of +clothing. If a rich man were to wear ordinary clothing, +simply for the purpose of protecting his body from the +cold,—a short jacket, a coat, felt and leather boots, an +under-jacket, trousers, shirt,—he would require but very +little, and he would not be unable, when he had two coats, to +give one of them to a man who had none. But the rich man +begins by procuring for himself clothing which consists entirely +of separate pieces, and which is fit only for separate occasions, +and which is, therefore, unsuited to the poor man. He has +frock-coats, vests, pea-jackets, lacquered boots, cloaks, shoes +with French heels, garments that are chopped up into bits to +conform with the fashion, hunting-coats, travelling-coats, and so +on, which can only be used under conditions of existence far +removed from poverty. And his clothing also furnishes him +with a means of keeping at a distance from the poor. The +same is the case, and even more clearly, with his dwelling. +In order that one may live alone in ten rooms, it is +indispensable that those who live ten in one room should not see +it. The richer a man is, the more difficult is he of +access; the more porters there are between him and people who are +not rich, the more impossible is it to conduct a poor man over +rugs, and seat him in a satin chair.</p> +<p>The case is the same with the means of locomotion. The +peasant driving in a cart, or a sledge, must be a very +ill-tempered man when he will not give a pedestrian a lift; and +there is both room for this and a possibility of doing it. +But the richer the equipage, the farther is a man from all +possibility of giving a seat to any person whatsoever. It +is even said plainly, that the most stylish equipages are those +meant to hold only one person.</p> +<p>It is precisely the same thing with the manner of life which +is expressed by the word cleanliness.</p> +<p>Cleanliness! Who is there that does not know people, +especially women, who reckon this cleanliness in themselves as a +great virtue? and who is not acquainted with the devices of this +cleanliness, which know no bounds, when it can command the labor +of others? Which of the people who have become rich has not +experienced in his own case, with what difficulty he carefully +trained himself to this cleanliness, which only confirms the +proverb, “Little white hands love other people’s +work”?</p> +<p>To-day cleanliness consists in changing your shirt once a day; +to-morrow, in changing it twice a day. To-day it means +washing the face, and neck, and hands daily; to-morrow, the feet; +and day after to-morrow, washing the whole body every day, and, +in addition and in particular, a rubbing-down. To-day the +table-cloth is to serve for two days, to-morrow there must be one +each day, then two a day. To-day the footman’s hands +must be clean; to-morrow he must wear gloves, and in his clean +gloves he must present a letter on a clean salver. And +there are no limits to this cleanliness, which is useless to +everybody, and objectless, except for the purpose of separating +oneself from others, and of rendering impossible all intercourse +with them, when this cleanliness is attained by the labors of +others.</p> +<p>Moreover, when I studied the subject, I because convinced that +even that which is commonly called education is the very same +thing.</p> +<p>The tongue does not deceive; it calls by its real name that +which men understand under this name. What the people call +culture is fashionable clothing, political conversation, clean +hands,—a certain sort of cleanliness. Of such a man, +it is said, in contradistinction to others, that he is an +educated man. In a little higher circle, what they call +education means the same thing as with the people; only to the +conditions of education are added playing on the pianoforte, a +knowledge of French, the writing of Russian without +orthographical errors, and a still greater degree of external +cleanliness. In a still more elevated sphere, education +means all this with the addition of the English language, and a +diploma from the highest educational institution. But +education is precisely the same thing in the first, the second, +and the third case. Education consists of those forms and +acquirements which are calculated to separate a man from his +fellows. And its object is identical with that of +cleanliness,—to seclude us from the herd of poor, in order +that they, the poor, may not see how we feast. But it is +impossible to hide ourselves, and they do see us.</p> +<p>And accordingly I have become convinced that the cause of the +inability of us rich people to help the poor of the city lies in +the impossibility of our establishing intercourse with them; and +that this impossibility of intercourse is caused by ourselves, by +the whole course of our lives, by all the uses which we make of +our wealth. I have become convinced that between us, the +rich and the poor, there rises a wall, reared by ourselves out of +that very cleanliness and education, and constructed of our +wealth; and that in order to be in a condition to help the poor, +we must needs, first of all, destroy this wall; and that in order +to do this, confrontation after Siutaeff’s method should be +rendered possible, and the poor distributed among us. And +from another starting-point also I came to the same conclusion to +which the current of my discussions as to the causes of the +poverty in towns had led me: the cause was our wealth.] <a +name="citation108"></a><a href="#footnote108" +class="citation">[108]</a></p> +<h3>CHAPTER XV.</h3> +<p>I began to examine the matter from a third and wholly personal +point of view. Among the phenomena which particularly +impressed me, during the period of my charitable activity, there +was yet another, and a very strange one, for which I could for a +long time find no explanation. It was this: every time that +I chanced, either on the street on in the house, to give some +small coin to a poor man, without saying any thing to him, I saw, +or thought that I saw, contentment and gratitude on the +countenance of the poor man, and I myself experienced in this +form of benevolence an agreeable sensation. I saw that I +had done what the man wished and expected from me. But if I +stopped the poor man, and sympathetically questioned him about +his former and his present life, I felt that it was no longer +possible to give three or twenty kopeks, and I began to fumble in +my purse for money, in doubt as to how much I ought to give, and +I always gave more; and I always noticed that the poor man left +me dissatisfied. But if I entered into still closer +intercourse with the poor man, then my doubts as to how much to +give increased also; and, no matter how much I gave, the poor man +grew ever more sullen and discontented. As a general rule, +it always turned out thus, that if I gave, after conversation +with a poor man, three rubles or even more, I almost always +beheld gloom, displeasure, and even ill-will, on the countenance +of the poor man; and I have even known it to happen, that, having +received ten rubles, he went off without so much as saying +“Thank you,” exactly as though I had insulted +him.</p> +<p>And thereupon I felt awkward and ashamed, and almost +guilty. But if I followed up a poor man for weeks and +months and years, and assisted him, and explained my views to +him, and associated with him, our relations became a torment, and +I perceived that the man despised me. And I felt that he +was in the right.</p> +<p>If I go out into the street, and he, standing in that street, +begs of me among the number of the other passers-by, people who +walk and ride past him, and I give him money, I then am to him a +passer-by, and a good, kind passer-by, who bestows on him that +thread from which a shirt is made for the naked man; he expects +nothing more than the thread, and if I give it he thanks me +sincerely. But if I stop him, and talk with him as man with +man, I thereby show him that I desire to be something more than a +mere passer-by. If, as often happens, he weeps while +relating to me his woes, then he sees in me no longer a +passer-by, but that which I desire that he should see: a good +man. But if I am a good man, my goodness cannot pause at a +twenty-kopek piece, nor at ten rubles, nor at ten thousand; it is +impossible to be a little bit of a good man. Let us suppose +that I have given him a great deal, that I have fitted him out, +dressed him, set him on his feet so that the can live without +outside assistance; but for some reason or other, though +misfortune or his own weakness or vices, he is again without that +coat, that linen, and that money which I have given him; he is +again cold and hungry, and he has come again to me,—how can +I refuse him? [For if the cause of my action consisted in +the attainment of a definite, material end, on giving him so many +rubles or such and such a coat I might be at ease after having +bestowed them. But the cause of my action is not this: the +cause is, that I want to be a good man, that is to say, I want to +see myself in every other man. Every man understands +goodness thus, and in no other manner.] <a +name="citation111"></a><a href="#footnote111" +class="citation">[111]</a> And therefore, if he should +drink away every thing that you had given him twenty times, and +if he should again be cold and hungry, you cannot do otherwise +than give him more, if you are a good man; you can never cease +giving to him, if you have more than he has. And if you +draw back, you will thereby show that every thing that you have +done, you have done not because you are a good man, but because +you wished to appear a good man in his sight, and in the sight of +men.</p> +<p>And thus in the case with the men from whom I chanced to +recede, to whom I ceased to give, and, by this action, denied +good, I experienced a torturing sense of shame.</p> +<p>What sort of shame was this? This shame I had +experienced in the Lyapinsky house, and both before and after +that in the country, when I happened to give money or any thing +else to the poor, and in my expeditions among the city poor.</p> +<p>A mortifying incident that occurred to me not long ago vividly +reminded me of that shame, and led me to an explanation of that +shame which I had felt when bestowing money on the poor.</p> +<p>[This happened in the country. I wanted twenty kopeks to +give to a poor pilgrim; I sent my son to borrow them from some +one; he brought the pilgrim a twenty-kopek piece, and told me +that he had borrowed it from the cook. A few days +afterwards some more pilgrims arrived, and again I was in want of +a twenty-kopek piece. I had a ruble; I recollected that I +was in debt to the cook, and I went to the kitchen, hoping to get +some more small change from the cook. I said: “I +borrowed a twenty-kopek piece from you, so here is a +ruble.” I had not finished speaking, when the cook +called in his wife from another room: “Take it, +Parasha,” said he. I, supposing that she understood +what I wanted, handed her the ruble. I must state that the +cook had only lived with me a week, and, though I had seen his +wife, I had never spoken to her. I was just on the point of +saying to her that she was to give me some small coins, when she +bent swiftly down to my hand, and tried to kiss it, evidently +imaging that I had given her the ruble. I muttered +something, and quitted the kitchen. I was ashamed, ashamed +to the verge of torture, as I had not been for a long time. +I shrank together; I was conscious that I was making grimaces, +and I groaned with shame as I fled from the kitchen. This +utterly unexpected, and, as it seemed to me, utterly undeserved +shame, made a special impression on me, because it was a long +time since I had been mortified, and because I, as an old man, +had so lived, it seemed to me, that I had not merited this +shame. I was forcibly struck by this. I told the +members of my household about it, I told my acquaintances, and +they all agreed that they should have felt the same. And I +began to reflect: why had this caused me such shame? To +this, something which had happened to me in Moscow furnished me +with an answer.</p> +<p>I meditated on that incident, and the shame which I had +experienced in the presence of the cook’s wife was +explained to me, and all those sensations of mortification which +I had undergone during the course of my Moscow benevolence, and +which I now feel incessantly when I have occasion to give any one +any thing except that petty alms to the poor and to pilgrims, +which I have become accustomed to bestow, and which I consider a +deed not of charity but of courtesy. If a man asks you for +a light, you must strike a match for him, if you have one. +If a man asks for three or for twenty kopeks, or even for several +rubles, you must give them if you have them. This is an act +of courtesy and not of charity.] <a name="citation113"></a><a +href="#footnote113" class="citation">[113]</a></p> +<p>This was the case in question: I have already mentioned the +two peasants with whom I was in the habit of sawing wood three +yeans ago. One Saturday evening at dusk, I was returning to +the city in their company. They were going to their +employer to receive their wages. As we were crossing the +Dragomilovsky bridge, we met an old man. He asked alms, and +I gave him twenty kopeks. I gave, and reflected on the good +effect which my charity would have on Semyon, with whom I had +been conversing on religious topics. Semyon, the Vladimir +peasant, who had a wife and two children in Moscow, halted also, +pulled round the skirt of his kaftan, and got out his purse, and +from this slender purse he extracted, after some fumbling, three +kopeks, handed it to the old man, and asked for two kopeks in +change. The old man exhibited in his hand two three-kopek +pieces and one kopek. Semyon looked at them, was about to +take the kopek, but thought better of it, pulled off his hat, +crossed himself, and walked on, leaving the old man the +three-kopek piece.</p> +<p>I was fully acquainted with Semyon’s financial +condition. He had no property at home at all. The +money which he had laid by on the day when he gave three kopeks +amounted to six rubles and fifty kopeks. Accordingly, six +rubles and twenty kopeks was the sum of his savings. My +reserve fund was in the neighborhood of six hundred +thousand. I had a wife and children, Semyon had a wife and +children. He was younger than I, and his children were +fewer in number than mine; but his children were small, and two +of mine were of an age to work, so that our position, with the +exception of the savings, was on an equality; mine was somewhat +the more favorable, if any thing. He gave three kopeks, I +gave twenty. What did he really give, and what did I really +give? What ought I to have given, in order to do what +Semyon had done? he had six hundred kopeks; out of this he gave +one, and afterwards two. I had six hundred thousand +rubles. In order to give what Semyon had given, I should +have been obliged to give three thousand rubles, and ask for two +thousand in change, and then leave the two thousand with the old +man, cross myself, and go my way, calmly conversing about life in +the factories, and the cost of liver in the Smolensk market.</p> +<p>I thought of this at the time; but it was only long afterwards +that I was in a condition to draw from this incident that +deduction which inevitably results from it. This deduction +is so uncommon and so singular, apparently, that, in spite of its +mathematical infallibility, one requires time to grow used to +it. It does seem as though there must be some mistake, but +mistake there is none. There is merely the fearful mist of +error in which we live.</p> +<p>[This deduction, when I arrived at it, and when I recognized +its undoubted truth, furnished me with an explanation of my shame +in the presence of the cook’s wife, and of all the poor +people to whom I had given and to whom I still give money.</p> +<p>What, in point of fact, is that money which I give to the +poor, and which the cook’s wife thought I was giving to +her? In the majority of cases, it is that portion of my +substance which it is impossible even to express in figures to +Semyon and the cook’s wife,—it is generally one +millionth part or about that. I give so little that the +bestowal of any money is not and cannot be a deprivation to me; +it is only a pleasure in which I amuse myself when the whim +seizes me. And it was thus that the cook’s wife +understood it. If I give to a man who steps in from the +street one ruble or twenty kopeks, why should not I give her a +ruble also? In the opinion of the cook’s wife, such a +bestowal of money is precisely the same as the flinging of +honey-cakes to the people by gentlemen; it furnishes the people +who have a great deal of superfluous cash with amusement. I +was mortified because the mistake made by the cook’s wife +demonstrated to me distinctly the view which she, and all people +who are not rich, must take of me: “He is flinging away his +folly, i.e., his unearned money.”</p> +<p>As a matter of fact, what is my money, and whence did it come +into my possession? A portion of it I accumulated from the +land which I received from my father. A peasant sold his +last sheep or cow in order to give the money to me. Another +portion of my money is the money which I have received for my +writings, for my books. If my books are hurtful, I only +lead astray those who purchase them, and the money which I +receive for them is ill-earned money; but if my books are useful +to people, then the issue is still more disastrous. I do +not give them to people: I say, “Give me seventeen rubles, +and I will give them to you.” And as the peasant +sells his last sheep, in this case the poor student or teacher, +or any other poor man, deprives himself of necessaries in order +to give me this money. And so I have accumulated a great +deal of money in that way, and what do I do with it? I take +that money to the city, and bestow it on the poor, only when they +fulfil my caprices, and come hither to the city to clean my +sidewalk, lamps, and shoes; to work for me in factories. +And in return for this money, I force from them every thing that +I can; that is to say, I try to give them as little as possible, +and to receive as much as possible from them. And all at +once I begin, quite unexpectedly, to bestow this money as a +simple gift, on these same poor persons, not on all, but on those +to whom I take a fancy. Why should not every poor person +expect that it is quite possible that the luck may fall to him of +being one of those with whom I shall amuse myself by distributing +my superfluous money? And so all look upon me as the +cook’s wife did.</p> +<p>And I had gone so far astray that this taking of thousands +from the poor with one hand, and this flinging of kopeks with the +other, to those to whom the whim moved me to give, I called +good. No wonder that I felt ashamed.] <a +name="citation116"></a><a href="#footnote116" +class="citation">[116]</a></p> +<p>Yes, before doing good it was needful for me to stand outside +of evil, in such conditions that I might cease to do evil. +But my whole life is evil. I may give away a hundred +thousand rubles, and still I shall not be in a position to do +good because I shall still have five hundred thousand left. +Only when I have nothing shall I be in a position to do the least +particle of good, even as much as the prostitute did which she +nursed the sick women and her child for three days. And +that seemed so little to me! And I dared to think of good +myself! That which, on the first occasion, told me, at the +sight of the cold and hungry in the Lyapinsky house, that I was +to blame for this, and that to live as I live is impossible, and +impossible, and impossible,—that alone was true.</p> +<p>What, then, was I to do?</p> +<h3>CHAPTER XVI.</h3> +<p>It was hard for me to come to this confession, but when I had +come to it I was shocked at the error in which I had been +living. I stood up to my ears in the mud, and yet I wanted +to drag others out of this mud.</p> +<p>What is it that I wish in reality? I wish to do good to +others. I wish to do it so that other people may not be +cold and hungry, so that others may live as it is natural for +people to live.</p> +<p>[I wish this, and I see that in consequence of the violence, +extortions, and various tricks in which I take part, people who +toil are deprived of necessaries, and people who do not toil, in +whose ranks I also belong, enjoy in superabundance the toil of +other people.</p> +<p>I see that this enjoyment of the labors of others is so +arranged, that the more rascally and complicated the trickery +which is employed by the man himself, or which has been employed +by the person from whom he obtained his inheritance, the more +does he enjoy of the labors of others, and the less does he +contribute of his own labor.</p> +<p>First come the Shtiglitzy, Dervizy, Morozovy, the Demidoffs, +the Yusapoffs; then great bankers, merchants, officials, landed +proprietors, among whom I also belong; then the poor—very +small traders, dramshop-keepers, usurers, district judges, +overseers, teachers, sacristans, clerks; then house-porters, +lackeys, coachmen, watch-carriers, cab-drivers, peddlers; and +last of all, the laboring classes—factory-hands and +peasants, whose numbers bear the relation to the first named of +ten to one. I see that the life of nine-tenths of the +working classes demands, by reason of its nature, application and +toil, as does every natural life; but that, in consequence of the +sharp practices which take from these people what is +indispensable, and place them in such oppressive conditions, this +life becomes more difficult every year, and more filled with +deprivations; but our life, the life of the non-laboring classes, +thanks to the co-operation of the arts and sciences which are +directed to this object, becomes more filled with superfluities, +more attractive and careful, with every year. I see, that, +in our day, the life of the workingman, and, in particular, the +life of old men, of women, and of children of the working +population, is perishing directly from their food, which is +utterly inadequate to their fatiguing labor; and that this life +of theirs is not free from care as to its very first +requirements; and that, alongside of this, the life of the +non-laboring classes, to which I belong, is filled more and more, +every year, with superfluities and luxury, and becomes more and +more free from anxiety, and has finally reached such a point of +freedom from care, in the case of its fortunate members, of whom +I am one, as was only dreamed of in olden times in +fairy-tales,—the state of the owner of the purse with the +inexhaustible ruble, that is, a condition in which a man is not +only utterly released from the law of labor, but in which he +possesses the possibility of enjoying, without toil, all the +blessings of life, and of transferring to his children, or to any +one whom he may see fit, this purse with the inexhaustible +ruble.</p> +<p>I see that the products of the people’s toil are more +and more transformed from the mass of the working classes to +those who do not work; that the pyramid of the social edifice +seems to be reconstructed in such fashion that the foundation +stones are carried to the apex, and the swiftness of this +transfer is increasing in a sort of geometrical ratio. I +see that the result of this is something like that which would +take place in an ant-heap if the community of ants were to lose +their sense of the common law, if some ants were to begin to draw +the products of labor from the bottom to the top of the heap, and +should constantly contract the foundations and broaden the apex, +and should thereby also force the remaining ants to betake +themselves from the bottom to the summit.</p> +<p>I see that the ideal of the Fortunatus’ purse has made +its way among the people, in the place of the ideal of a toilsome +life. Rich people, myself among the number, get possession +of the inexhaustible ruble by various devices, and for the +purpose of enjoying it we go to the city, to the place where +nothing is produced and where every thing is swallowed up.</p> +<p>The industrious poor man, who is robbed in order that the rich +may possess this inexhaustible ruble, yearns for the city in his +train; and there he also takes to sharp practices, and either +acquires for himself a position in which he can work little and +receive much, thereby rendering still more oppressive the +situation of the laboring classes, or, not having attained to +such a position, he goes to ruin, and falls into the ranks of +those cold and hungry inhabitants of the night-lodging houses, +which are being swelled with such remarkable rapidity.</p> +<p>I belong to the class of those people, who, by divers tricks, +take from the toiling masses the necessaries of life, and who +have acquired for themselves these inexhaustible rubles, and who +lead these unfortunates astray. I desire to aid people, and +therefore it is clear that, first of all, I must cease to rob +them as I am doing. But I, by the most complicated, and +cunning, and evil practices, which have been heaped up for +centuries, have acquired for myself the position of an owner of +the inexhaustible ruble, that is to say, one in which, never +working myself, I can make hundreds and thousands of people toil +for me—which also I do; and I imagine that I pity people, +and I wish to assist them. I sit on a man’s neck, I +weigh him down, and I demand that he shall carry me; and without +descending from his shoulders I assure myself and others that I +am very sorry for him, and that I desire to ameliorate his +condition by all possible means, only not by getting off of +him.</p> +<p>Surely this is simple enough. If I want to help the +poor, that is, to make the poor no longer poor, I must not +produce poor people. And I give, at my own selection, to +poor men who have gone astray from the path of life, a ruble, or +ten rubles, or a hundred; and I grasp hundreds from people who +have not yet left the path, and thereby I render them poor also, +and demoralize them to boot.</p> +<p>This is very simple; but it was horribly hard for me to +understand this fully without compromises and reservations, which +might serve to justify my position; but it sufficed for me to +confess my guilt, and every thing which had before seemed to me +strange and complicated, and lacking in cleanness, became +perfectly comprehensible and simple. But the chief point +was, that my way of life, arising from this interpretation, +became simple, clear and pleasant, instead of perplexed, +inexplicable and full of torture as before.] <a +name="citation122a"></a><a href="#footnote122a" +class="citation">[122a]</a></p> +<p>Who am I, that I should desire to help others? I desire +to help people; and I, rising at twelve o’clock after a +game of <i>vint</i> <a name="citation122b"></a><a +href="#footnote122b" class="citation">[122b]</a> with four +candles, weak, exhausted, demanding the aid of hundreds of +people,—I go to the aid of whom? Of people who rise +at five o’clock, who sleep on planks, who nourish +themselves on bread and cabbage, who know how to plough, to reap, +to wield the axe, to chop, to harness, to sew,—of people +who in strength and endurance, and skill and abstemiousness, are +a hundred times superior to me,—and I go to their +succor! What except shame could I feel, when I entered into +communion with these people? The very weakest of them, a +drunkard, an inhabitant of the Rzhanoff house, the one whom they +call “the idler,” is a hundred-fold more industrious +than I; [his balance, so to speak, that is to say, the relation +of what he takes from people and that which they give him, stands +on a thousand times better footing than my balance, if I take +into consideration what I take from people and what I give to +them.] <a name="citation122c"></a><a href="#footnote122c" +class="citation">[122c]</a></p> +<p>And these are the people to whose assistance I go. I go +to help the poor. But who is the poor man? There is +no one poorer than myself. I am a thoroughly enervated, +good-for-nothing parasite, who can only exist under the most +special conditions, who can only exist when thousands of people +toil at the preservation of this life which is utterly useless to +every one. And I, that plant-louse, which devours the +foliage of trees, wish to help the tree in its growth and health, +and I wish to heal it.</p> +<p>I have passed my whole life in this manner: I eat, I talk and +I listen; I eat, I write or read, that is to say, I talk and +listen again; I eat, I play, I eat, again I talk and listen, I +eat, and again I go to bed; and so each day I can do nothing +else, and I understand how to do nothing else. And in order +that I may be able to do this, it is necessary that the porter, +the peasant, the cook, male or female, the footman, the coachman, +and the laundress, should toil from morning till night; I will +not refer to the labors of the people which are necessary in +order that coachman, cooks, male and female, footman, and the +rest should have those implements and articles with which, and +over which, they toil for my sake; axes, tubs, brushes, household +utensils, furniture, wax, blacking, kerosene, hay, wood, and +beef. And all these people work hard all day long and every +day, so that I may be able to talk and eat and sleep. And +I, this cripple of a man, have imagined that I could help others, +and those the very people who support me!</p> +<p>It is not remarkable that I could not help any one, and that I +felt ashamed; but the remarkable point is that such an absurd +idea could have occurred to me. The woman who served the +sick old man, helped him; the mistress of the house, who cut a +slice from the bread which she had won from the soil, helped the +beggar; Semyon, who gave three kopeks which he had earned, helped +the beggar, because those three kopeks actually represented his +labor: but I served no one, I toiled for no one, and I was well +aware that my money did not represent my labor.</p> +<h3>CHAPTER XVII. <a name="citation124"></a><a +href="#footnote124" class="citation">[124]</a></h3> +<p>Into the delusion that I could help others I was led by the +fact that I fancied that my money was of the same sort as +Semyon’s. But this was not the case.</p> +<p>A general idea prevails, that money represents wealth; but +wealth is the product of labor; and, therefore, money represents +labor. But this idea is as just as that every governmental +regulation is the result of a compact (<i>contrat +social</i>).</p> +<p>Every one likes to think that money is only a medium of +exchange for labor. I have made shoes, you have raised +grain, he has reared sheep: here, in order that we may the more +readily effect an exchange, we will institute money, which +represents a corresponding quantity of labor, and, by means of +it, we will barter our shoes for a breast of lamb and ten pounds +of flour. We will exchange our products through the medium +of money, and the money of each one of us represents our +labor.</p> +<p>This is perfectly true, but true only so long as, in the +community where this exchange is effected, the violence of one +man over the rest has not made its appearance; not only violence +over the labors of others, as happens in wars and slavery, but +where he exercises no violence for the protection of the products +of their labor from others. This will be true only in a +community whose members fully carry out the Christian law, in a +community where men give to him who asks, and where he who takes +is not asked to make restitution. But just so soon as any +violence whatever is used in the community, the significance of +money for its possessor loses its significance as a +representative of labor, and acquires the significance of a right +founded, not on labor, but on violence.</p> +<p>As soon as there is war, and one man has taken any thing from +any other man, money can no longer be always the representative +of labor; money received by a warrior for the spoils of war, +which he sells, even if he is the commander of the warriors, is +in no way a product of labor, and possesses an entirely different +meaning from money received for work on shoes. As soon as +there are slave-owners and slaves, as there always have been +throughout the whole world, it is utterly impossible to say that +money represents labor.</p> +<p>Women have woven linen, sold it, and received money; serfs +have woven for their master, and the master has sold them and +received the money. The money is identical in both cases; +but in the one case it is the product of labor, in the other the +product of violence. In exactly the same way, a stranger or +my own father has given me money; and my father, when he gave me +that money, knew, and I know, and everybody knows, that no one +can take this money away from me; but if it should occur to any +one to take it away from me, or even not to hand it over at the +date when it was promised, the law would intervene on my behalf, +and would compel the delivery to me of the money; and, again, it +is evident that this money can in no wise be called the +equivalent of labor, on a level with the money received by Semyon +for chopping wood. So that in any community where there is +any thing that in any manner whatever controls the labor of +others, or where violence hedges in, by means of money, its +possessions from others, there money is no longer invariably the +representative of labor. In such a community, it is +sometimes the representative of labor, and sometimes of +violence.</p> +<p>Thus it would be where only one act of violence from one man +against others, in the midst of perfectly free relations, should +have made its appearance; but now, when centuries of the most +varied deeds of violence have passed for accumulations of money, +when these deeds of violence are incessant, and merely alter +their forms; when, as every one admits, money accumulated itself +represents violence; when money, as a representative of direct +labor, forms but a very small portion of the money which is +derived from every sort of violence,—to say nowadays that +money represents the labor of the person who possesses it, is a +self-evident error or a deliberate lie.</p> +<p>It may be said, that thus it should be; it may be said, that +this is desirable; but by no means can it be said, that thus it +is.</p> +<p>Money represents labor. Yes. Money does represent +labor; but whose? In our society only in the very rarest, +rarest of instances, does money represent the labor of its +possessor, but it nearly always represents the labor of other +people, the past or future labor of men; it is a representative +of the obligation of others to labor, which has been established +by force.</p> +<p>Money, in its most accurate and at the same the simple +application, is the conventional stamp which confers a right, or, +more correctly, a possibility, of taking advantage of the labors +of other people. In its ideal significance, money should +confer this right, or this possibility, only when it serves as +the equivalent of labor, and such money might be in a community +in which no violence existed. But just as soon as violence, +that is to say, the possibility of profiting by the labors of +others without toil of one’s own, exists in a community, +then that profiting by the labors of other men is also expressed +by money, without any distinction of the persons on whom that +violence is exercised.</p> +<p>The landed proprietor has imposed upon his serfs natural +debts, a certain quantity of linen, grain, and cattle, or a +corresponding amount of money. One household has procured +the cattle, but has paid money in lieu of linen. The +proprietor takes the money to a certain amount only, because he +knows that for that money they will make him the same quantity of +linen, (generally he takes a little more, in order to be sure +that they will make it for the same amount); and this money, +evidently, represents for the proprietor the obligation of other +people to toil.</p> +<p>The peasant gives the money as an obligation, to he knows not +whom, but to people, and there are many of them, who undertake +for this money to make so much linen. But the people who +undertake to make the linen, do so because they have not +succeeded in raising sheep, and in place of the sheep, they must +pay money; but the peasant who takes money for his sheep takes it +because he must pay for grain which did not bear well this +year. The same thing goes on throughout this realm, and +throughout the whole world.</p> +<p>A man sells the product of his labor, past, present or to +come, sometimes his food, and generally not because money +constitutes for him a convenient means of exchange. He +could have effected the barter without money, but he does so +because money is exacted from him by violence as a lien on his +labor.</p> +<p>When the sovereign of Egypt exacted labor from his slaves, the +slaves gave all their labor, but only their past and present +labor, their future labor they could not give. But with the +dissemination of money tokens, and the credit which had its rise +in them, it became possible to sell one’s future toil for +money. Money, with co-existent violence in the community, +only represents the possibility of a new form of impersonal +slavery, which has taken the place of personal slavery. The +slave-owner has a right to the labor of Piotr, Ivan, and +Sidor. But the owner of money, in a place where money is +demanded from all, has a right to the toil of all those nameless +people who are in need of money. Money has set aside all +the oppressive features of slavery, under which an owner knows +his right to Ivan, and with them it has set aside all humane +relations between the owner and the slave, which mitigated the +burden of personal thraldom.</p> +<p>I will not allude to the fact, that such a condition of things +is, possibly, necessary for the development of mankind, for +progress, and so forth,—that I do not contest. I have +merely tried to elucidate to myself the idea of money, and that +universal error into which I fell when I accepted money as the +representative of labor. I became convinced, after +experience, that money is not the representative of labor, but, +in the majority of cases, the representative of violence, or of +especially complicated sharp practices founded on violence.</p> +<p>Money, in our day, has completely lost that significance which +it is very desirable that it should possess, as the +representative of one’s own labor; such a significance it +has only as an exception, but, as a general rule, it has been +converted into a right or a possibility of profiting by the toil +of others.</p> +<p>The dissemination of money, of credit, and of all sorts of +money tokens, confirms this significance of money ever more and +more. Money is a new form of slavery, which differs from +the old form of slavery only in its impersonality, its +annihilation of all humane relations with the slave.</p> +<p>Money—money, is a value which is always equal to itself, +and is always considered legal and righteous, and whose use is +regarded as not immoral, just as the right of slavery was +regarded.</p> +<p>In my young days, the game of loto was introduced into the +clubs. Everybody rushed to play it, and, as it was said, +many ruined themselves, rendered their families miserable, lost +other people’s money, and government funds, and committed +suicide; and the game was prohibited, and it remains prohibited +to this day.</p> +<p>I remember to have seen old and unsentimental gamblers, who +told me that this game was particularly pleasing because you did +not see from whom you were winning, as is the case in other +games; a lackey brought, not money, but chips; each man lost a +little stake, and his disappointment was not visible . . . +It is the same with roulette, which is everywhere prohibited, and +not without reason.</p> +<p>It is the same with money. I possess a magic, +inexhaustible ruble; I cut off my coupons, and have retired from +all the business of the world. Whom do I injure,—I, +the most inoffensive and kindest of men? But this is +nothing more than playing at loto or roulette, where I do not see +the man who shoots himself, because of his losses, after +procuring for me those coupons which I cut off from the bonds so +accurately with a strictly right-angled corner.</p> +<p>I have done nothing, I do nothing, and I shall do nothing, +except cut off those coupons; and I firmly believe that money is +the representative of labor! Surely, this is amazing! +And people talk of madmen, after that! Why, what degree of +lunacy can be more frightful than this? A sensible, +educated, in all other respects sane man lives in a senseless +manner, and soothes himself for not uttering the word which it is +indispensably necessary that he should utter, with the idea that +there is some sense in his conclusions, and he considers himself +a just man. Coupons—the representatives of +toil! Toil! Yes, but of whose toil? Evidently +not of the man who owns them, but of him who labors.</p> +<p>Slavery is far from being suppressed. It has been +suppressed in Rome and in America, and among us: but only certain +laws have been abrogated; only the word, not the thing, has been +put down. Slavery is the freeing of ourselves alone from +the toil which is necessary for the satisfaction of our demands, +by the transfer of this toil to others; and wherever there exists +a man who does not work, not because others work lovingly for +him, but where he possesses the power of not working, and forces +others to work for him, there slavery exists. There too, +where, as in all European societies, there are people who make +use of the labor of thousands of men, and regard this as their +right,—there slavery exists in its broadest measure.</p> +<p>And money is the same thing as slavery. Its object and +its consequences are the same. Its object is—that one +may rid one’s self of the first born of all laws, as a +profoundly thoughtful writer from the ranks of the people has +expressed it; from the natural law of life, as we have called it; +from the law of personal labor for the satisfaction of our own +wants. And the results of money are the same as the results +of slavery, for the proprietor; the creation, the invention of +new and ever new and never-ending demands, which can never be +satisfied; the enervation of poverty, vice, and for the slaves, +the persecution of man and their degradation to the level of the +beasts.</p> +<p>Money is a new and terrible form of slavery, and equally +demoralizing with the ancient form of slavery for both slave and +slave-owner; only much worse, because it frees the slave and the +slave-owner from their personal, humane relations.]</p> +<h3>CHAPTER XVIII.</h3> +<p>I am always surprised by the oft-repeated words: “Yes, +this is so in theory, but how is it in practice?” +Just as though theory were fine words, requisite for +conversation, but not for the purpose of having all practice, +that is, all activity, indispensably founded on them. There +must be a fearful number of stupid theories current in the world, +that such an extraordinary idea should have become +prevalent. Theory is what a man thinks on a subject, but +its practice is what he does. How can a man think it +necessary to do so and so, and then do the contrary? If the +theory of baking bread is, that it must first be mixed, and then +set to rise, no one except a lunatic, knowing this theory, would +do the reverse. But it has become the fashion with us to +say, that “this is so in theory, but how about the +practice?”</p> +<p>In the matter which interests me now, that has been confirmed +which I have always thought,—that practice infallibly flows +from theory, and not that it justifies it, but it cannot possibly +be otherwise, for if I have understood the thing of which I have +been thinking, then I cannot carry out this thing otherwise than +as I have understood it.</p> +<p>I wanted to help the unfortunate only because I had money, and +I shared the general belief that money was the representative of +labor, or, on the whole, something legal and good. But, +having begun to give away this money, I saw, when I gave the +bills which I had accumulated from poor people, that I was doing +precisely that which was done by some landed proprietors who made +some of their serfs wait on others. I saw that every use of +money, whether for making purchases, or for giving away without +an equivalent to another, is handing over a note for extortion +from the poor, or its transfer to another man for extortion from +the poor. I saw that money in itself was not only not good, +but evidently evil, and that it deprives us of our highest +good,—labor, and thereby of the enjoyment of our labor, and +that that blessing I was not in a position to confer on any one, +because I was myself deprived of it: I do not work, and I take no +pleasure in making use of the labor of others.</p> +<p>It would appear that there is something peculiar in this +abstract argument as to the nature of money. But this +argument which I have made not for the sake of argument, but for +the solution of the problem of my life, of my sufferings, was for +me an answer to my question: What is to be done?</p> +<p>As soon as I grasped the meaning of riches, and of money, it +not only became clear and indisputable to me, what I ought to do, +but also clear and indisputable what others ought to do, because +they would infallibly do it. I had only actually come to +understand what I had known for a long time previously, the +theory which was given to men from the very earliest times, both +by Buddha, and Isaiah, and Lao-Tze, and Socrates, and in a +peculiarly clear and indisputable manner by Jesus Christ and his +forerunner, John the Baptist. John the Baptist, in answer +to the question of the people,—What were they to do? +replied simply, briefly, and clearly: “He that hath two +coats, let him impart to him that hath none; and he that hath +meat, let him do likewise” (Luke iii. 10, 11). In a +similar manner, but with even greater clearness, and on many +occasions, Christ spoke. He said: “Blessed are the +poor, and woe to the rich.” He said that it is +impossible to serve God and mammon. He forbade his +disciples to take not only money, but also two garments. He +said to the rich young man, that he could not enter into the +kingdom of heaven because he was rich, and that it was easier for +a camel to go through the eye of a needle, than for a rich man to +enter the kingdom of God. He said that he who should not +leave every thing, houses and children and lands, and follow him, +could not be his disciple. He told the parable of the rich +man who did nothing bad, like our own rich men, but who only +arrayed himself in costly garments, and ate and drank daintily, +and who lost his soul thereby; and of poor Lazarus, who had done +nothing good, but who was saved merely because he was poor.</p> +<p>This theory was sufficiently familiar to me, but the false +teachings of the world had so obscured it that it had become for +me a theory in the sense which people are fond of attributing to +that term, that is to say, empty words. But as soon as I +had succeeded in destroying in my consciousness the sophisms of +worldly teaching, theory conformed to practice, and the truth +with regard to my life and to the life of the people about me +became its conclusion.</p> +<p>I understood that man, besides life for his own personal good, +is unavoidably bound to serve the good of others also; that, if +we take an illustration from the animal kingdom,—as some +people are fond of doing, defending violence and conflict by the +conflict for existence in the animal kingdom,—the +illustration must be taken from gregarious animals, like bees; +that consequently man, not to mention the love to his neighbor +incumbent on him, is called upon, both by reason and by his +nature, to serve other people and the common good of +humanity. I comprehended that the natural law of man is +that according to which only he can fulfil destiny, and therefore +be happy. I understood that this law has been and is broken +hereby,—that people get rid of labor by force (like the +robber bees), make use of the toil of others, directing this +toil, not to the common weal, but to the private satisfaction of +swift-growing desires; and, precisely as in the case of the +robber bees, they perish in consequence. [I understood that +the original form of this disinclination for the law is the +brutal violence against weaker individuals, against women, wars +and imprisonments, whose sequel is slavery, and also the present +reign of money. I understood that money is the impersonal +and concealed enslavement of the poor. And, once having +perceived the significance of money as slavery, I could not but +hate it, nor refrain from doing all in my power to free myself +from it.] <a name="citation135"></a><a href="#footnote135" +class="citation">[135]</a></p> +<p>When I was a slave-owner, and comprehended the immorality of +my position, I tried to escape from it. My escape consisted +in this, that I, regarding it as immoral, tried to exercise my +rights as slave-owner as little as possible, but to live, and to +allow other people to live, as though that right did not +exist. And I cannot refrain from doing the same thing now +in reference to the present form of slavery,—exercising my +right to the labor of others as little as possible, i.e., hiring +and purchasing as little as possible.</p> +<p>The root of every slavery is the use of the labor of others; +and hence, the compelling others to it is founded indifferently +on my right to the slave, or on my possession of money which is +indispensable to him. If I really do not approve, and if I +regard as an evil, the employment of the labor of others, then I +shall use neither my right nor my money for that purpose; I shall +not compel others to toil for me, but I shall endeavor to free +them from the labor which they have performed for me, as far as +possible, either by doing without this labor or by performing it +for myself.</p> +<p>And this very simple and unavoidable deduction enters into all +the details of my life, effects a total change in it, and at one +blow releases me from those moral sufferings which I have +undergone at the sight of the sufferings and the vice of the +people, and instantly annihilates all three causes of my +inability to aid the poor, which I had encountered while seeking +the cause of my lack of success.</p> +<p>The first cause was the herding of the people in towns, and +the absorption there of the wealth of the country. All that +a man needs is to understand how every hiring or purchase is a +handle to extortion from the poor, and that therefore he must +abstain from them, and must try to fulfil his own requirements; +and not a single man will then quit the country, where all wants +can be satisfied without money, for the city, where it is +necessary to buy every thing: and in the country he will be in a +position to help the needy, as has been my own experience and the +experience of every one else.</p> +<p>The second cause is the estrangement of the rich from the +poor. A man needs but to refrain from buying, from hiring, +and, disdaining no sort of work, to satisfy his requirements +himself, and the former estrangement will immediately be +annihilated, and the man, having rejected luxury and the services +of others, will amalgamate with the mass of the working people, +and, standing shoulder to shoulder with the working people, he +can help them.</p> +<p>The third cause was shame, founded on a consciousness of +immorality in my owning that money with which I desired to help +people. All that is required is: to understand the +significance of money as impersonal slavery, which it has +acquired among us, in order to escape for the future from falling +into the error according to which money, though evil in itself, +can be an instrument of good, and in order to refrain from +acquiring money; and to rid one’s self of it in order to be +in a position to do good to people, that is, to bestow on them +one’s labor, and not the labor of another.</p> +<h3>CHAPTER XIX.</h3> +<p>[I saw that money is the cause of suffering and vice among the +people, and that, if I desired to help people, the first thing +that was required of me was not to create those unfortunates whom +I wished to assist.</p> +<p>I came to the conclusion that the man who does not love vice +and the suffering of the people should not make use of money, +thus presenting an inducement to extortion from the poor, by +forcing them to work for him; and that, in order not to make use +of the toil of others, he must demand as little from others as +possible, and work as much as possible himself.] <a +name="citation138"></a><a href="#footnote138" +class="citation">[138]</a></p> +<p>By dint of a long course of reasoning, I came to this +inevitable conclusion, which was drawn thousands of years ago by +the Chinese in the saying, “If there is one idle man, there +is another dying with hunger to offset him.”</p> +<p>[Then what are we to do? John the Baptist gave the +answer to this very question two thousand years ago. And +when the people asked him, “What are we to do?” he +said, “Let him that hath two garments impart to him that +hath none, and let him that hath meat do the same.” +What is the meaning of giving away one garment out of two, and +half of one’s food? It means giving to others every +superfluity, and thenceforth taking nothing superfluous from +people.</p> +<p>This expedient, which furnishes such perfect satisfaction to +the moral feelings, kept my eyes fast bound, and binds all our +eyes; and we do not see it, but gaze aside.</p> +<p>This is precisely like a personage on the stage, who had +entered a long time since, and all the spectators see him, and it +is obvious that the actors cannot help seeing him, but the point +on the stage lies in the acting characters pretending not to see +him, and in suffering from his absence.] <a +name="citation139"></a><a href="#footnote139" +class="citation">[139]</a></p> +<p>Thus we, in our efforts to recover from our social diseases, +search in all quarters, governmental and anti-governmental, and +in scientific and in philanthropic superstitions; and we do not +see what is perfectly visible to every eye.</p> +<p>For the man who really suffers from the sufferings of the +people who surround us, there exists the very plainest, simplest, +and easiest means; the only possible one for the cure of the evil +about us, and for the acquisition of a consciousness of the +legitimacy of his life; the one given by John the Baptist, and +confirmed by Christ: not to have more than one garment, and not +to have money. And not to have any money, means, not to +employ the labor of others, and hence, first of all, to do with +our own hands every thing that we can possibly do.</p> +<p>This is so clear and simple! But it is clear and simple +when the requirements are simple. I live in the +country. I lie on the oven, and I order my debtor, my +neighbor, to chop wood and light my fire. It is very clear +that I am lazy, and that I tear my neighbor away from his +affairs, and I shall feel mortified, and I shall find it tiresome +to lie still all the time; and I shall go and split my wood for +myself.</p> +<p>But the delusion of slavery of all descriptions lies so far +back, so much of artificial exaction has sprung up upon it, so +many people, accustomed in different degrees to these habits, are +interwoven with each other, enervated people, spoiled for +generations, and such complicated delusions and justifications +for their luxury and idleness have been devised by people, that +it is far from being so easy for a man who stands at the summit +of the ladder of idle people to understand his sin, as it is for +the peasant who has made his neighbor build his fire.</p> +<p>It is terribly difficult for people at the top of this ladder +to understand what is required of them. [Their heads are +turned by the height of this ladder of lies, upon which they find +themselves when a place on the ground is offered to them, to +which they must descend in order to begin to live, not yet well, +but no longer cruelly, inhumanly; for this reason, this clear and +simple truth appears strange to these people. For the man +with ten servants, liveries, coachmen, cooks, pictures, +pianofortes, that will infallibly appear strange, and even +ridiculous, which is the simplest, the first act of—I will +not say every good man—but of every man who is not wicked: +to cut his own wood with which his food is cooked, and with which +he warms himself; to himself clean those boots with which he has +heedlessly stepped in the mire; to himself fetch that water with +which he preserves his cleanliness, and to carry out that dirty +water in which he has washed himself.] <a +name="citation140"></a><a href="#footnote140" +class="citation">[140]</a></p> +<p>But, besides the remoteness of people from the truth, there is +another cause which prevents people from seeing the obligation +for them of the simplest and most natural personal, physical +labor for themselves: this is the complication, the +inextricability of the conditions, the advantage of all the +people who are bound together among themselves by money, in which +the rich man lives: “My luxurious life feeds people. +What would become of my old valet if I were to discharge +him? What! we must all do every thing necessary,—make +our clothes and hew wood? . . . And how about the division +of labor?”</p> +<p>[This morning I stepped out into the corridor where the fires +were being built. A peasant was making a fire in the stove +which warms my son’s room. I went in; the latter was +asleep. It was eleven o’clock in the morning. +To-day is a holiday: there is some excuse, there are no +lessons.</p> +<p>The smooth-skinned, eighteen-year-old youth, with a beard, who +had eaten his fill on the preceding evening, sleeps until eleven +o’clock. But the peasant of his age had been up at +dawn, and had got through a quantity of work, and was attending +to his tenth stove, while the former slept. “The +peasant shall not make the fire in his stove to warm that smooth, +lazy body of his!” I thought. But I immediately +recollected that this stove also warmed the room of the +housekeeper, a woman forty years of age, who, on the evening +before, had been making preparations up to three o’clock in +the morning for the supper which my son had eaten, and that she +had cleared the table, and risen at seven, nevertheless. +The peasant was building the fire for her also. And under +her name the lazybones was warming himself.</p> +<p>It is true that the interests of all are interwoven; but, even +without any prolonged reckoning, the conscience of each man will +say on whose side lies labor, and on whose idleness. But +although conscience says this, the account-book, the cash-book, +says it still more clearly. The more money any one spends, +the more idle he is, that is to say, the more he makes others +work for him. The less he spends, the more he works.] <a +name="citation142a"></a><a href="#footnote142a" +class="citation">[142a]</a> But trade, but public +undertakings, and, finally, the most terrible of words, culture, +the development of sciences, and the arts,—what of +them?</p> +<p>[If I live I will make answer to those points, and in detail; +and until such answer I will narrate the following.] <a +name="citation142b"></a><a href="#footnote142b" +class="citation">[142b]</a></p> +<h3>CHAPTER XX.</h3> +<h4>LIFE IN THE CITY.</h4> +<p>Last year, in March, I was returning home late at night. +As I turned from the Zubova into Khamovnitchesky Lane, I saw some +black spots on the snow of the Dyevitchy Pole (field). +Something was moving about in one place. I should not have +paid any attention to this, if the policeman who was standing at +the end of the street had not shouted in the direction of the +black spots,—</p> +<p>“Vasily! why don’t you bring her in?”</p> +<p>“She won’t come!” answered a voice, and then +the spot moved towards the policeman.</p> +<p>I halted and asked the police-officer, “What is +it?”</p> +<p>He said,—“They are taking a girl from the Rzhanoff +house to the station-house; and she is hanging back, she +won’t walk.” A house-porter in a sheepskin coat +was leading her. She was walking forward, and he was +pushing her from behind. All of us, I and the porter and +the policeman, were dressed in winter clothes, but she had +nothing on over her dress. In the darkness I could make out +only her brown dress, and the kerchiefs on her head and +neck. She was short in stature, as is often the case with +the prematurely born, with small feet, and a comparatively broad +and awkward figure.</p> +<p>“We’re waiting for you, you carrion. Get +along, what do you mean by it? I’ll give it to +you!” shouted the policeman. He was evidently tired, +and he had had too much of her. She advanced a few paces, +and again halted.</p> +<p>The little old porter, a good-natured fellow (I know him), +tugged at her hand. “Here, I’ll teach you to +stop! On with you!” he repeated, as though in +anger. She staggered, and began to talk in a discordant +voice. At every sound there was a false note, both hoarse +and whining.</p> +<p>“Come now, you’re shoving again. I’ll +get there some time!”</p> +<p>She stopped and then went on. I followed them.</p> +<p>“You’ll freeze,” said the porters</p> +<p>“The likes of us don’t freeze: I’m +hot.”</p> +<p>She tried to jest, but her words sounded like scolding. +She halted again under the lantern which stands not far from our +house, and leaned against, almost hung over, the fence, and began +to fumble for something among her skirts, with benumbed and +awkward hands. Again they shouted at her, but she muttered +something and did something. In one hand she held a +cigarette bent into a bow, in the other a match. I paused +behind her; I was ashamed to pass her, and I was ashamed to stand +and look on. But I made up my mind, and stepped +forward. Her shoulder was lying against the fence, and +against the fence it was that she vainly struck the match and +flung it away. I looked in her face. She was really a +person prematurely born; but, as it seemed to me, already an old +woman. I credited her with thirty years. A dirty hue +of face; small, dull, tipsy eyes; a button-like nose; curved +moist lips with drooping corners, and a short wisp of harsh hair +escaping from beneath her kerchief; a long flat figure, stumpy +hands and feet. I paused opposite her. She stared at +me, and burst into a laugh, as though she knew all that was going +on in my mind.</p> +<p>I felt that it was necessary to say something to her. I +wanted to show her that I pitied her.</p> +<p>“Are your parents alive?” I inquired.</p> +<p>She laughed hoarsely, with an expression which said, +“he’s making up queer things to ask.”</p> +<p>“My mother is,” said she. “But what do +you want?”</p> +<p>“And how old are you?”</p> +<p>“Sixteen,” said she, answering promptly to a +question which was evidently customary.</p> +<p>“Come, march, you’ll freeze, you’ll perish +entirely,” shouted the policeman; and she swayed away from +the fence, and, staggering along, she went down Khamovnitchesky +Lane to the police-station; and I turned to the wicket, and +entered the house, and inquired whether my daughters had +returned. I was told that they had been to an evening +party, had had a very merry time, had come home, and were in +bed.</p> +<p>Next morning I wanted to go to the station-house to learn what +had been done with this unfortunate woman, and I was preparing to +go out very early, when there came to see me one of those unlucky +noblemen, who, through weakness, have dropped from the +gentlemanly life to which they are accustomed, and who +alternately rise and fall. I had been acquainted with this +man for three years. In the course of those three years, +this man had several times made way with every thing that he had, +and even with all his clothes; the same thing had just happened +again, and he was passing the nights temporarily in the Rzhanoff +house, in the night-lodging section, and he had come to me for +the day. He met me as I was going out, at the entrance, and +without listening to me he began to tell me what had taken place +in the Rzhanoff house the night before. He began his +narrative, and did not half finish it; all at once (he is an old +man who has seen men under all sorts of aspects) he burst out +sobbing, and flooded has countenance with tears, and when he had +become silent, turned has face to the wall. This is what he +told me. Every thing that he related to me was absolutely +true. I authenticated his story on the spot, and learned +fresh particulars which I will relate separately.</p> +<p>In that night-lodging house, on the lower floor, in No. 32, in +which my friend had spent the night, among the various, +ever-changing lodgers, men and women, who came together there for +five kopeks, there was a laundress, a woman thirty years of age, +light-haired, peaceable and pretty, but sickly. The +mistress of the quarters had a boatman lover. In the summer +her lover kept a boat, and in the winter they lived by letting +accommodations to night-lodgers: three kopeks without a pillow, +five kopeks with a pillow.</p> +<p>The laundress had lived there for several months, and was a +quiet woman; but latterly they had not liked her, because she +coughed and prevented the women from sleeping. An old +half-crazy woman eighty years old, in particular, also a regular +lodger in these quarters, hated the laundress, and imbittered the +latter’s life because she prevented her sleeping, and +cleared her throat all night like a sheep. The laundress +held her peace; she was in debt for her lodgings, and was +conscious of her guilt, and therefore she was bound to be +quiet. She began to go more and more rarely to her work, as +her strength failed her, and therefore she could not pay her +landlady; and for the last week she had not been out to work at +all, and had only poisoned the existence of every one, especially +of the old woman, who also did not go out, with her cough. +Four days before this, the landlady had given the laundress +notice to leave the quarters: the latter was already sixty kopeks +in debt, and she neither paid them, nor did the landlady foresee +any possibility of getting them; and all the bunks were occupied, +and the women all complained of the laundress’s cough.</p> +<p>When the landlady gave the laundress notice, and told her that +she must leave the lodgings if she did not pay up, the old woman +rejoiced and thrust the laundress out of doors. The +laundress departed, but returned in an hour, and the landlady had +not the heart to put her out again. And the second and the +third day, she did not turn her out. “Where am I to +go?” said the laundress. But on the third day, the +landlady’s lover, a Moscow man, who knew the regulations +and how to manage, sent for the police. A policeman with +sword and pistol on a red cord came to the lodgings, and with +courteous words he led the laundress into the street.</p> +<p>It was a clear, sunny, but freezing March day. The +gutters were flowing, the house-porters were picking at the +ice. The cabman’s sleigh jolted over the icy snow, +and screeched over the stones. The laundress walked up the +street on the sunny side, went to the church, and seated herself +at the entrance, still on the sunny side. But when the sun +began to sink behind the houses, the puddles began to be skimmed +over with a glass of frost, and the laundress grew cold and +wretched. She rose, and dragged herself . . . +whither? Home, to the only home where she had lived so +long. While she was on her way, resting at times, dusk +descended. She approached the gates, turned in, slipped, +groaned and fell.</p> +<p>One man came up, and then another. “She must be +drunk.” Another man came up, and stumbled over the +laundress, and said to the potter: “What drunken woman is +this wallowing at your gate? I came near breaking my head +over her; take her away, won’t you?”</p> +<p>The porter came. The laundress was dead. This is +what my friend told me. It may be thought that I have +wilfully mixed up facts,—I encounter a prostitute of +fifteen, and the story of this laundress. But let no one +imagine this; it is exactly what happened in the course of one +night (only I do not remember which) in March, 1884. And +so, after hearing my friend’s tale, I went to the +station-house, with the intention of proceeding thence to the +Rzhanoff house to inquire more minutely into the history of the +laundress. The weather was very beautiful and sunny; and +again, through the stars of the night-frost, water was to be seen +trickling in the shade, and in the glare of the sun on +Khamovnitchesky square every thing was melting, and the water was +streaming. The river emitted a humming noise. The +trees of the Neskutchny garden looked blue across the river; the +reddish-brown sparrows, invisible in winter, attracted attention +by their sprightliness; people also seemed desirous of being +merry, but all of them had too many cares. The sound of the +bells was audible, and at the foundation of these mingling +sounds, the sounds of shots could be heard from the barracks, the +whistle of rifle-balls and their crack against the target.</p> +<p>I entered the station-house. In the station some armed +policemen conducted me to their chief. He was similarly +armed with sword and pistol, and he was engaged in taking some +measures with regard to a tattered, trembling old man, who was +standing before him, and who could not answer the questions put +to him, on account of his feebleness. Having finished his +business with the old man, he turned to me. I inquired +about the girl of the night before. At first he listened to +me attentively, but afterwards he began to smile, at my ignorance +of the regulations, in consequence of which she had been taken to +the station-house; and particularly at my surprise at her +youth.</p> +<p>“Why, there are plenty of them of twelve, thirteen, or +fourteen years of age,” he said cheerfully.</p> +<p>But in answer to my question about the girl whom I had seen on +the preceding evening, he explained to me that she must have been +sent to the committee (so it appeared). To my question +where she had passed the night, he replied in an undecided +manner. He did not recall the one to whom I referred. +There were so many of them every day.</p> +<p>In No. 32 of the Rzhanoff house I found the sacristan already +reading prayers over the dead woman. They had taken her to +the bunk which she had formerly occupied; and the lodgers, all +miserable beings, had collected money for the masses for her +soul, a coffin and a shroud, and the old women had dressed her +and laid her out. The sacristan was reading something in +the gloom; a woman in a long wadded cloak was standing there with +a wax candle; and a man (a gentleman, I must state) in a clean +coat with a lamb’s-skin collar, polished overshoes, and a +starched shirt, was holding one like it. This was her +brother. They had hunted him up.</p> +<p>I went past the dead woman to the landlady’s nook, and +questioned her about the whole business.</p> +<p>She was alarmed at my queries; she was evidently afraid that +she would be blamed for something; but afterwards she began to +talk freely, and told me every thing. As I passed back, I +glanced at the dead woman. All dead people are handsome, +but this dead woman was particularly beautiful and touching in +her coffin; her pure, pale face, with closed swollen eyes, sunken +cheeks, and soft reddish hair above the lofty brow,—a weary +and kind and not a sad but a surprised face. And in fact, +if the living do not see, the dead are surprised.</p> +<p>On the same day that I wrote the above, there was a great ball +in Moscow.</p> +<p>That night I left the house at nine o’clock. I +live in a locality which is surrounded by factories, and I left +the house after the factory-whistles had sounded, releasing the +people for a day of freedom after a week of unremitting toil.</p> +<p>Factory-hands overtook me, and I overtook others of them, +directing their steps to the drinking-shops and taverns. +Many were already intoxicated, many were women. Every +morning at five o’clock we can hear one whistle, a second, +a third, a tenth, and so forth, and so forth. That means +that the toil of women, children, and of old men has begun. +At eight o’clock another whistle, which signifies a +breathing-spell of half an hour. At twelve, a third: this +means an hour for dinner. And a fourth at eight, which +denotes the end of the day.</p> +<p>By an odd coincidence, all three of the factories which are +situated near me produce only articles which are in demand for +balls.</p> +<p>In one factory, the nearest, only stockings are made; in +another opposite, silken fabrics; in the third, perfumes and +pomades.</p> +<p>It is possible to listen to these whistles, and connect no +other idea with them than as denoting the time: +“There’s the whistle already, it is time to go to +walk.” But one can also connect with those whistles +that which they signify in reality; that first whistle, at five +o’clock, means that people, often all without exception, +both men and women, sleeping in a damp cellar, must rise, and +hasten to that building buzzing with machines, and must take +their places at their work, whose end and use for themselves they +do not see, and thus toil, often in heat and a stifling +atmosphere, in the midst of dirt, and with the very briefest +breathing-spells, an hour, two hours, three hours, twelve, and +even more hours in succession. They fall into a doze, and +again they rise. And this, for them, senseless work, to +which they are driven only by necessity, is continued over and +over again.</p> +<p>And thus one week succeeds another with the breaks of +holidays; and I see these work-people released on one of these +holidays. They emerge into the street. Everywhere +there are drinking-shops, taverns, and loose girls. And +they, in their drunken state, drag by the hand each other, and +girls like the one whom I saw taken to the station-house; they +drag with them cabmen, and they ride and they walk from one +tavern to another; and they curse and stagger, and say they +themselves know not what. I had previously seen such +unsteady gait on the part of factory-hands, and had turned aside +in disgust, and had been on the point of rebuking them; but ever +since I have been in the habit of hearing those whistles every +day, and understand their meaning, I am only amazed that they, +all the men, do not come to the condition of the “golden +squad,” of which Moscow is full, <a +name="citation152a"></a><a href="#footnote152a" +class="citation">[152a]</a> [and the women to the state of the +one whom I had seen near my house]. <a name="citation152b"></a><a +href="#footnote152b" class="citation">[152b]</a></p> +<p>Thus I walked along, and scrutinized these factory-hands, as +long as they roamed the streets, which was until eleven +o’clock. Then their movements began to calm +down. Some drunken men remained here and there, and here +and there I encountered men who were being taken to the +station-house. And then carriages began to make their +appearance on all sides, directing their course toward one +point.</p> +<p>On the box sits a coachman, sometimes in a sheepskin coat; and +a footman, a dandy, with a cockade. Well-fed horses in +saddle-cloths fly through the frost at the rate of twenty versts +an hour; in the carriages sit ladies muffled in round cloaks, and +carefully tending their flowers and head-dresses. Every +thing from the horse-trappings, the carriages, the gutta-percha +wheels, the cloth of the coachman’s coat, to the stockings, +shoes, flowers, velvet, gloves, and perfumes,—every thing +is made by those people, some of whom often roll drunk into their +dens or sleeping-rooms, and some stay with disreputable women in +the night-lodging houses, while still others are put in +jail. Thus past them in all their work, and over them all, +ride the frequenters of balls; and it never enters their heads, +that there is any connection between these balls to which they +make ready to go, and these drunkards at whom their coachman +shouts so roughly.</p> +<p>These people enjoy themselves at the ball with the utmost +composure of spirit, and assurance that they are doing nothing +wrong, but something very good. Enjoy themselves! +Enjoy themselves from eleven o’clock until six in the +morning, in the very dead of night, at the very hour when people +are tossing and turning with empty stomachs in the night-lodging +houses, and while some are dying, as did the laundress.</p> +<p>Their enjoyment consists in this,—that the women and +young girls, having bared their necks and arms, and applied +bustles behind, place themselves in a situation in which no +uncorrupted woman or maiden would care to display herself to a +man, on any consideration in the world; and in this half-naked +condition, with their uncovered bosoms exposed to view, with arms +bare to the shoulder, with a bustle behind and tightly swathed +hips, under the most brilliant light, women and maidens, whose +chief virtue has always been modesty, exhibit themselves in the +midst of strange men, who are also clad in improperly +tight-fitting garments; and to the sound of maddening music, they +embrace and whirl. Old women, often as naked as the young +ones, sit and look on, and eat and drink savory things; old men +do the same. It is not to be wondered at that this should +take place at night, when all the common people are asleep, so +that no one may see them. But this is not done with the +object of concealment: it seems to them that there is nothing to +conceal; that it is a very good thing; that by this merry-making, +in which the labor of thousands of toiling people is destroyed, +they not only do not injure any one, but that by this very act +they furnish the poor with the means of subsistence. +Possibly it is very merry at balls. But how does this come +about? When we see that there is a man in the community, in +our midst, who has had no food, or who is freezing, we regret our +mirth, and we cannot be cheerful until he is fed and warmed, not +to mention the impossibility of imagining people who can indulge +in such mirth as causes suffering to others. The mirth of +wicked little boys, who pitch a dog’s tail in a split +stick, and make merry over it, is repulsive and incomprehensible +to us.</p> +<p>In the same manner here, in these diversions of ours, +blindness has fallen upon us, and we do not see the split stick +with which we have pitched all those people who suffer for our +amusement.</p> +<p>[We live as though there were no connection between the dying +laundress, the prostitute of fourteen, and our own life; and yet +the connection between them strikes us in the face.</p> +<p>We may say: “But we personally have not pinched any tail +in a stick;” but we have no right, to deny that had the +tail not been pitched, our merry-making would not have taken +place. We do not see what connection exists between the +laundress and our luxury; but that is not because no such +connection does exist, but because we have placed a screen in +front of us, so that we may not see.</p> +<p>If there were no screen, we should see that which it is +impossible not to see.] <a name="citation154"></a><a +href="#footnote154" class="citation">[154]</a></p> +<p>Surely all the women who attended that ball in dresses worth a +hundred and fifty rubles each were born not in a ballroom, or at +Madame Minanguoit’s; but they have lived in the country, +and have seen the peasants; they know their own nurse and maid, +whose father and brother are poor, for whom the earning of a +hundred and fifty rubles for a cottage is the object of a long, +laborious life. Each woman knows this. How +could she enjoy herself, when she knew that she wore on her bared +body at that ball the cottage which is the dream of her good +maid’s father and brother? But let us suppose that +she could not make this reflection; but since velvet and silk and +flowers and lace and dresses do not grow of themselves, but are +made by people, it would seem that she could not help knowing +what sort of people make all these things, and under what +conditions, and why they do it. She cannot fail to know +that the seamstress, with whom she has already quarrelled, did +not make her dress in the least out of love for her; therefore, +she cannot help knowing that all these things were made for her +as a matter of necessity, that her laces, flowers, and velvet +have been made in the same way as her dress.</p> +<p>But possibly they are in such darkness that they do not +consider this. One thing she cannot fail to +know,—that five or six elderly and respectable, often sick, +lackeys and maids have had no sleep, and have been put to trouble +on her account. She has seen their weary, gloomy +faces. She could not help knowing this also, that the cold +that night reached twenty-eight degrees below zero, <a +name="citation155"></a><a href="#footnote155" +class="citation">[155]</a> and that the old coachman sat all +night long in that temperature on his box. But I know that +they really do not see this. And if they, these young women +and girls, do not see this, on account of the hypnotic state +superinduced in them by balls, it is impossible to condemn +them. They, poor things, have done what is considered right +by their elders; but how are their elders to explain away this +their cruelty to the people?</p> +<p>The elders always offer the explanation: “I compel no +one. I purchase my things; I hire my men, my maid-servants, +and my coachman. There is nothing wrong in buying and +hiring. I force no one’s inclination: I hire, and +what harm is there in that?”</p> +<p>I recently went to see an acquaintance. As I passed +through one of the rooms, I was surprised to see two women seated +at a table, as I knew that my friend was a bachelor. A +thin, yellow, old-fashioned woman, thirty years of age, in a +dress that had been carelessly thrown on, was doing something +with her hands and fingers on the table, with great speed, +trembling nervously the while, as though in a fit. Opposite +her sat a young girl, who was also engaged in something, and who +trembled in the same manner. Both women appeared to be +afflicted with St. Vitus’ dance. I stepped nearer to +them, and looked to see what they were doing. They raised +their eyes to me, but went on with their work with the same +intentness. In front of them lay scattered tobacco and +paper cases. They were making cigarettes. The woman +rubbed the tobacco between her hands, pushed it into the machine, +slipped on the cover, thrust the tobacco through, then tossed it +to the girl. The girl twisted the paper, and, making it +fast, threw it aside, and took up another. All thus was +done with such swiftness, with such intentness, as it is +impossible to describe to a man who has never seen it done. +I expressed my surprise at their quickness.</p> +<p>“I have been doing nothing else for fourteen +years,” said the woman.</p> +<p>“Is it hard?”</p> +<p>“Yes: it pains my chest, and makes my breathing +hard.”</p> +<p>It was not necessary for her to add this, however. A +look at the girl sufficed. She had worked at this for three +years, but any one who had not seen her at this occupation would +have said that here was a strong organism which was beginning to +break down.</p> +<p>My friend, a kind and liberal man, hires these women to fill +his cigarettes at two rubles fifty kopeks the thousand. He +has money, and he spends it for work. What harm is there in +that? My friend rises at twelve o’clock. He +passes the evening, from six until two, at cards, or at the +piano. He eats and drinks savory things; others do all his +work for him. He has devised a new source of +pleasure,—smoking. He has taken up smoking within my +memory.</p> +<p>Here is a woman, and here is a girl, who can barely support +themselves by turning themselves into machines, and they pass +their whole lives inhaling tobacco, and thereby running their +health. He has money which he never earned, and he prefers +to play at whist to making his own cigarettes. He gives +these women money on condition that they shall continue to live +in the same wretched manner in which they are now living, that is +to say, by making his cigarettes.</p> +<p>I love cleanliness, and I give money only on the condition +that the laundress shall wash the shirt which I change twice a +day; and that shirt has destroyed the laundress’s last +remaining strength, and she has died. What is there wrong +about that? People who buy and hire will continue to force +other people to make velvet and confections, and will purchase +them, without me; and no matter what I may do, they will hire +cigarettes made and shirts washed. Then why should I +deprive myself of velvet and confections and cigarettes and clean +shirts, if things are definitively settled thus? This is +the argument which I often, almost always, hear. This is +the very argument which makes the mob which is destroying +something, lose its senses. This is the very argument by +which dogs are guided when one of them has flung himself on +another dog, and overthrown him, and the rest of the pack rush up +also, and tear their comrade in pieces. Other people have +begun it, and have wrought mischief; then why should not I take +advantage of it? Well, what will happen if I wear a soiled +shirt, and make my own cigarettes? Will that make it easier +for anybody else? ask people who would like to justify their +course. If it were not so far from the truth, it would be a +shame to answer such a question, but we have become so entangled +that this question seems very natural to us; and hence, although +it is a shame, it is necessary to reply to it.</p> +<p>What difference will it make if I wear one shirt a week, and +make may own cigarettes, or do not smoke at all? This +difference, that some laundress and some cigarette-maker will +exert their strength less, and that what I have spent for washing +and for the making of cigarettes I can give to that very +laundress, or even to other laundresses and toilers who are worn +out with their labor, and who, instead of laboring beyond their +strength, will then be able to rest, and drink tea. But to +this I hear an objection. (It is so mortifying to rich and +luxurious people to understand their position.) To this +they say: “If I go about in a dirty shirt, and give up +smoking, and hand over this money to the poor, the poor will +still be deprived of every thing, and that drop in the sea of +yours will help not at all.”</p> +<p>Such an objection it is a shame to answer. It is such a +common retort. <a name="citation158"></a><a href="#footnote158" +class="citation">[158]</a></p> +<p>If I had gone among savages, and they had regaled me with +cutlets which struck me as savory, and if I should learn on the +following day that these savory cutlets had been made from a +prisoner whom they had slain for the sake of the savory cutlets, +if I do not admit that it is a good thing to eat men, then, no +matter how dainty the cutlets, no matter how universal the +practice of eating men may be among my fellows, however +insignificant the advantage to prisoners, prepared for +consumption, may be my refusal to eat of the cutlets, I will not +and I can not eat any more of them. I may, possibly, eat +human flesh, when hunger compels me to it; but I will not make a +feast, and I will not take part in feasts, of human flesh, and I +will not seek out such feasts, and pride myself on my share in +them.</p> +<h4>LIFE IN THE COUNTRY.</h4> +<p>But what is to be done? Surely it is not we who have +done this? And if not we, who then?</p> +<p>We say: “We have not done this, this has done +itself;” as the children say, when they break any thing, +that it broke itself. We say, that, so long as there is a +city already in existence, we, by living in it, support the +people, by purchasing their labor and services. But this is +not so. And this is why. We only need to look +ourselves, at the way we have in the country, and at the manner +in which we support people there.</p> +<p>The winter passes in town. Easter Week passes. On +the boulevards, in the gardens in the parks, on the river, there +is music. There are theatres, water-trips, walks, all sorts +of illuminations and fireworks. But in the country there is +something even better,—there are better air, trees and +meadows, and the flowers are fresher. One should go thither +where all these things have unfolded and blossomed forth. +And the majority of wealthy people do go to the country to +breathe the superior air, to survey these superior forests and +meadows. And there the wealthy settle down in the country, +and the gray peasants, who nourish themselves on bread and +onions, who toil eighteen hours a day, who get no sound sleep by +night, and who are clad in blouses. Here no one has led +these people astray. There have been no factories nor +industrial establishments, and there are none of those idle +hands, of which there are so many in the city. Here the +whole population never succeeds, all summer long, in completing +all their tasks in season; and not only are there no idle hands, +but a vast quantity of property is ruined for the lack of hands, +and a throng of people, children, old men, and women, will perish +through overstraining their powers in work which is beyond their +strength. How do the rich order their lives there? In +this fashion:—</p> +<p>If there is an old-fashioned house, built under the serf +<i>régime</i>, that house is repaired and embellished; if +there is none, then a new one is erected, of two or three +stories. The rooms, of which there are from twelve to +twenty, and even more, are all six arshins in height. <a +name="citation161a"></a><a href="#footnote161a" +class="citation">[161a]</a> Wood floors are laid +down. The windows consist of one sheet of glass. +There are rich rugs and costly furniture. The roads around +the house are macadamized, the ground is levelled, flower-beds +are laid out, croquet-grounds are prepared, swinging-rings for +gymnastics are erected, reflecting globes, often orangeries, and +hotbeds, and lofty stables always with complicated scroll-work on +the gables and ridges.</p> +<p>And here, in the country, an honest educated official, or +noble family dwells. All the members of the family and +their guests have assembled in the middle of June, because up to +June, that is to say, up to the beginning of mowing-time, they +have been studying and undergoing examinations; and they live +there until September, that is to say, until harvest and +sowing-time. The members of this family (as is the case +with nearly every one in that circle) have lived in the country +from the beginning of the press of work, the suffering time, not +until the end of the season of toil (for in September sowing is +still in progress, as well as the digging of potatoes), but until +the strain of work has relaxed a little. During the whole +of their residence in the country, all around them and beside +them, that summer toil of the peasantry has been going on, of +whose fatigues, no matter how much we may have heard, no matter +how much we may have heard about it, no matter how much we may +have gazed upon it, we can form no idea, unless we have had +personal experience of it. And the members of this family, +about ten in number, live exactly as they do in the city.</p> +<p>At St. Peter’s Day, <a name="citation161b"></a><a +href="#footnote161b" class="citation">[161b]</a> a strict fast, +when the people’s food consists of kvas, bread, and onions, +the mowing begins.</p> +<p>The business which is effected in mowing is one of the most +important in the commune. Nearly every year, through the +lack of hands and time, the hay crop may be lost by rain; and +more or less strain of toil decides the question, as to whether +twenty or more per cent of hay is to be added to the wealth of +the people, or whether it is to rot or die where it stands. +And additional hay means additional meat for the old, and +additional milk for the children. Thus, in general and in +particular, the question of bread for each one of the mowers, and +of milk for himself and his children, in the ensuing winter, is +then decided. Every one of the toilers, both male and +female, knows this; even the children know that this is an +important matter, and that it is necessary to strain every nerve +to carry the jug of kvas to their father in the meadow at his +mowing, and, shifting the heavy pitcher from hand to hand, to run +barefooted as rapidly as possible, two versts from the village, +in order to get there in season for dinner, and so that their +fathers may not scold them.</p> +<p>Every one knows, that, from the mowing season until the hay is +got in, there will be no break in the work, and that there will +be no time to breathe. And there is not the mowing +alone. Every one of them has other affairs to attend to +besides the mowing: the ground must be turned up and harrowed; +and the women have linen and bread and washing to attend to; and +the peasants have to go to the mill, and to town, and there are +communal matters to attend to, and legal matters before the judge +and the commissary of police; and the wagons to see to, and the +horses to feed at night: and all, old and young, and sickly, +labor to the last extent of their powers. The peasants toil +so, that on every occasion, the mowers, before the end of the +third stint, whether weak, young, or old, can hardly walk as they +totter past the last rows, and only with difficulty are they able +to rise after the breathing-spell; and the women, often pregnant, +or nursing infants, work in the same way. The toil is +intense and incessant. All work to the extreme bounds of +their strength, and expend in this toil, not only the entire +stock of their scanty nourishment, but all their previous +stock. All of them—and they are not fat to begin +with—grow gaunt after the “suffering” +season.</p> +<p>Here a little association is working at the mowing; three +peasants,—one an old man, the second his nephew, a young +married man, and a shoemaker, a thin, sinewy man. This +hay-harvest will decide the fate of all of them for the +winter. They have been laboring incessantly for two weeks, +without rest. The rain has delayed their work. After +the rain, when the hay has dried, they have decided to stack it, +and, in order to accomplish this as speedily as possible, that +two women for each of them shall follow their scythes. On +the part of the old man go his wife, a woman of fifty, who has +become unfit for work, having borne eleven children, who is deaf, +but still a tolerably stout worker; and a thirteen-year-old +daughter, who is short of stature, but a strong and clever +girl. On the part of his nephew go his wife, a woman as +strong and well-grown as a sturdy peasant, and his +daughter-in-law, a soldier’s wife, who is about to become a +mother. On the part of the shoemaker go his wife, a stout +laborer, and her aged mother, who has reached her eightieth year, +and who generally goes begging. They all stand in line, and +labor from morning till night, in the full fervor of the June +sun. It is steaming hot, and rain threatens. Every +hour of work is precious. It is a pity to tear one’s +self from work to fetch water or kvas. A tiny boy, the old +woman’s grandson, brings them water. The old woman, +evidently only anxious lest she shall be driven away from her +work, will not let the rake out of her hand, though it is evident +that she can barely move, and only with difficulty. The +little boy, all bent over, and stepping gently, with his tiny +bare feet, drags along a jug of water, shifting it from hand to +hand, for it is heavier than he. The young girl flings over +her shoulder a load of hay which is also heavier than herself, +advances a few steps, halts, and drops it, without the strength +to carry it. The old woman of fifty rakes away without +stopping, and with her kerchief awry she drags the hay, breathing +heavily and tottering. The old woman of eighty only rakes +the hay, but even this is beyond her strength; she slowly drags +along her feet, shod with bast shoes, and, frowning, she gazes +gloomily before her, like a seriously ill or dying person. +The old man has intentionally sent her farther away than the +rest, to rake near the cocks of hay, so that she may not keep in +line with the others; but she does not fall in with this +arrangement, and she toils on as long as the others do, with the +same death-like, gloomy countenance. The sun is already +setting behind the forest; but the cocks are not yet all heaped +together, and much still remains to do. All feel that it is +time to stop, but no one speaks, waiting until the others shall +say it. Finally the shoemaker, conscious that his strength +is exhausted, proposes to the old man, to leave the cocks until +the morrow; and the old man consents, and the women instantly run +for the garments, jugs, pitchforks; and the old woman immediately +sits down just where she has been standings and then lies back +with the same death-like look, staring straight in front of +her. But the women are going; and she rises with a groan, +and drags herself after them. And this will go on in July +also, when the peasants, without obtaining sufficient sleep, reap +the oats by night, lest it should fall, and the women rise +gloomily to thresh out the straw for the bands to tie the +sheaves; when this old woman, already utterly cramped by the +labor of mowing, and the woman with child, and the young +children, injure themselves overworking and over-drinking; and +when neither hands, nor horses, nor carts will suffice to bring +to the ricks that grain with which all men are nourished, and +millions of poods <a name="citation165"></a><a +href="#footnote165" class="citation">[165]</a> of which are daily +required in Russia to keep people from perishing.</p> +<p>And we live as though there were no connection between the +dying laundress, the prostitute of fourteen years, the toilsome +manufacture of cigarettes by women, the strained, intolerable, +insufficiently fed toil of old women and children around us; we +live as though there were no connection between this and our own +lives.</p> +<p>It seems to us, that suffering stands apart by itself, and our +life apart by itself. We read the description of the life +of the Romans, and we marvel at the inhumanity of those soulless +Luculli, who satiated themselves on viands and wines while the +populace were dying with hunger. We shake our heads, and we +marvel at the savagery of our grandfathers, who were serf-owners, +supporters of household orchestras and theatres, and of whole +villages devoted to the care of their gardens; and we wonder, +from the heights of our grandeur, at their inhumanity. We +read the words of Isa. v. 8: “Woe unto them that join house +to house, that lay field to field, till there be no place, that +they may be placed alone in the midst of the earth! (11.) +Woe unto them that rise up early in the morning, that they may +follow strong drink; that continue until night, till wine inflame +them! (12.) And the harp and the viol, and tabret and pipe, +and wine are in their feasts; but they regard not the work of the +Lord, neither consider the operation of his hands. (18.) +Woe unto them that draw iniquity with cords of vanity, and sin as +it were with a cart-rope. (20.) Woe unto then that call +evil good, and good evil; that put darkness for light, and light +for darkness; that put bitter for sweet, and sweet for bitter! +(21.) Woe unto them that are wise in their own eyes, and prudent +in their own sight—(22.) Woe unto them that are mighty to +drink wine, and men of strength to mingle strong +drink.”</p> +<p>We read these words, and it seems to us that this has no +reference to us. We read in the Gospels (Matt. iii. 10): +“And now also the axe is laid unto the root of the trees: +therefore every tree which bringeth not forth good fruit is hewn +down and cast into the fire.”</p> +<p>And we are fully convinced that the good tree which bringeth +forth good fruit is ourselves; and that these words are not +spoken to us, but to some other and wicked people.</p> +<p>We read the words of Isa. vi. 10: “Make the heart of +this people fat, and make their ears heavy, and shut their eyes; +lest they see with their eyes, and hear with their ears, and +understand with their heart, and convert and be healed. +(11.) Then said I: Lord, how long? And he answered, Until +the cities be wasted without inhabitant, and the houses without +man, and the land be utterly desolate.”</p> +<p>We read, and are fully convinced that this marvellous deed is +not performed on us, but on some other people. And because +we see nothing it is, that this marvellous deed is performed, and +has been performed, on us. We hear not, we see not, and we +understand not with our heart. How has this happened?</p> +<p>Whether that God, or that natural law by virtue of which men +exist in the world, has acted well or ill, yet the position of +men in the world, ever since we have known it, has been such, +that naked people, without any hair on their bodies, without +lairs in which they could shelter themselves, without food which +they could find in the fields,—like Robinson <a +name="citation167"></a><a href="#footnote167" +class="citation">[167]</a> on his island,—have all been +reduced to the necessity of constantly and unweariedly contending +with nature in order to cover their bodies, to make themselves +clothing, to construct a roof over their heads, and to earn their +bread, that two or three times a day they may satisfy their +hunger and the hunger of their helpless children and of their old +people who cannot work.</p> +<p>Wherever, at whatever time, in whatever numbers we may have +observed people, whether in Europe, in America, in China, or in +Russia, whether we regard all humanity, or any small portion of +it, in ancient times, in a nomad state, or in our own times, with +steam-engines and sewing-machines, perfected agriculture, and +electric lighting, we behold always one and the same +thing,—that man, toiling intensely and incessantly, is not +able to earn for himself and his little ones and his old people +clothing, shelter, and food; and that a considerable portion of +mankind, as in former times, so at the present day, perish +through insufficiency of the necessaries of life, and intolerable +toil in the effort to obtain them.</p> +<p>Wherever we have, if we draw a circle round us of a hundred +thousand, a thousand, or ten versts, or of one verst, and examine +into the lives of the people comprehended within the limits of +our circle, we shall see within that circle prematurely-born +children, old men, old women, women in labor, sick and weak +persons, who toil beyond their strength, and who have not +sufficient food and rest for life, and who therefore die before +their time. We shall see people in the flower of their age +actually slain by dangerous and injurious work.</p> +<p>We see that people have been struggling, ever since the world +has endured, with fearful effort, privation, and suffering, +against this universal want, and that they cannot overcome it . . +. <a name="citation168"></a><a href="#footnote168" +class="citation">[168]</a></p> +<h2>Footnotes</h2> +<p><a name="footnote21a"></a><a href="#citation21a" +class="footnote">[21a]</a> The fine, tall members of a +regiment, selected and placed together to form a showy squad.</p> +<p><a name="footnote21b"></a><a href="#citation21b" +class="footnote">[21b]</a> [] Omitted by the Censor in the +authorized edition printed in Russia, in the set of Count +Tolstoï’s works.</p> +<p><a name="footnote24a"></a><a href="#citation24a" +class="footnote">[24a]</a> Réaumur.</p> +<p><a name="footnote24b"></a><a href="#citation24b" +class="footnote">[24b]</a> A drink made of water, honey, +and laurel or salvia leaves, which is drunk as tea, especially by +the poorer classes.</p> +<p><a name="footnote28"></a><a href="#citation28" +class="footnote">[28]</a> [] Omitted by the censor from the +authorized edition published in Russia in the set of count +Tolstoi’s works. The omission is indicated thus . . +.</p> +<p><a name="footnote39"></a><a href="#citation39" +class="footnote">[39]</a> <i>Kalatch</i>, a kind of roll: +<i>baranki</i>, cracknels of fine flour.</p> +<p><a name="footnote59"></a><a href="#citation59" +class="footnote">[59]</a> An <i>arshin</i> is twenty-eight +inches.</p> +<p><a name="footnote60"></a><a href="#citation60" +class="footnote">[60]</a> A <i>myeshchanin</i>, or citizen, +who pays only poll-tax and not a guild tax.</p> +<p><a name="footnote62"></a><a href="#citation62" +class="footnote">[62]</a> Omitted in authorized +edition.</p> +<p><a name="footnote66"></a><a href="#citation66" +class="footnote">[66]</a> Omitted by the censor in the +authorized edition.</p> +<p><a name="footnote94"></a><a href="#citation94" +class="footnote">[94]</a> Omitted by the Censor in the +authorized edition.</p> +<p><a name="footnote96"></a><a href="#citation96" +class="footnote">[96]</a> Omitted by the Censor in the +authorized edition.</p> +<p><a name="footnote99"></a><a href="#citation99" +class="footnote">[99]</a> Omitted by the Censor in the +authorized edition.</p> +<p><a name="footnote108"></a><a href="#citation108" +class="footnote">[108]</a> Omitted by the Censor from the +authorized edition.</p> +<p><a name="footnote111"></a><a href="#citation111" +class="footnote">[111]</a> Omitted by the Censor in the +authorized edition.</p> +<p><a name="footnote113"></a><a href="#citation113" +class="footnote">[113]</a> Omitted by the Censor in the +authorized edition</p> +<p><a name="footnote116"></a><a href="#citation116" +class="footnote">[116]</a> Omitted by the Censor in the +authorized edition.</p> +<p><a name="footnote122a"></a><a href="#citation122a" +class="footnote">[122a]</a> Omitted by the Censor in the +authorized edition.</p> +<p><a name="footnote122b"></a><a href="#citation122b" +class="footnote">[122b]</a> A very complicated sort of +whist.</p> +<p><a name="footnote122c"></a><a href="#citation122c" +class="footnote">[122c]</a> Omitted by the Censor in the +authorized edition.</p> +<p><a name="footnote124"></a><a href="#citation124" +class="footnote">[124]</a> The whole of this chapter is +omitted by the Censor in the authorized edition, and is there +represented by the following sentence: “And I felt that in +money, in money itself, in the possession of it, there was +something immoral; and I asked myself, What is money?”</p> +<p><a name="footnote135"></a><a href="#citation135" +class="footnote">[135]</a> Omitted by the Censor in the +authorized edition.</p> +<p><a name="footnote138"></a><a href="#citation138" +class="footnote">[138]</a> Omitted by the Censor in the +authorized edition.</p> +<p><a name="footnote139"></a><a href="#citation139" +class="footnote">[139]</a> The above passage is omitted in +the authorized edition, and the following is added: “I came +to the simple and natural conclusion, that, if I pity the +tortured horse upon which I am riding, the first thing for me to +do is to alight, and to walk on my own feet.”</p> +<p><a name="footnote140"></a><a href="#citation140" +class="footnote">[140]</a> Omitted in the authorized +edition.</p> +<p><a name="footnote142a"></a><a href="#citation142a" +class="footnote">[142a]</a> Omitted in the authorized +edition.</p> +<p><a name="footnote142b"></a><a href="#citation142b" +class="footnote">[142b]</a> Omitted in the authorized +edition.</p> +<p><a name="footnote152a"></a><a href="#citation152a" +class="footnote">[152a]</a> “Into a worse +state,” in the authorized edition.</p> +<p><a name="footnote152b"></a><a href="#citation152b" +class="footnote">[152b]</a> Omitted in the authorized +edition.</p> +<p><a name="footnote154"></a><a href="#citation154" +class="footnote">[154]</a> Omitted in the authorized +edition.</p> +<p><a name="footnote155"></a><a href="#citation155" +class="footnote">[155]</a> Réaumur.</p> +<p><a name="footnote158"></a><a href="#citation158" +class="footnote">[158]</a> In the Moscow edition +(authorized by the Censor), the concluding paragraph is replaced +by the following:—“They say: The action of a single +man is but a drop in the sea. A drop in the sea!</p> +<p>“There is an Indian legend relating how a man dropped a +pearl into the sea, and in order to recover it he took a bucket, +and began to bail out, and to pour the water on the shore. +Thus he toiled without intermission, and on the seventh day the +spirit of the sea grew alarmed lest the man should dip the sea +dry, and so he brought him his pearl. If our social evil of +persecuting man were the sea, then that pearl which we have lost +is equivalent to devoting our lives to bailing out the sea of +that evil. The prince of this world will take fright, he +will succumb more promptly than did the spirit of the sea; but +this social evil is not the sea, but a foul cesspool, which we +assiduously fill with our own uncleanness. All that is +required is for us to come to our senses, and to comprehend what +we are doing; to fall out of love with our own +uncleanness,—in order that that imaginary sea should dry +away, and that we should come into possession of that priceless +pearl,—fraternal, humane life.”</p> +<p><a name="footnote161a"></a><a href="#citation161a" +class="footnote">[161a]</a> An arshin is twenty-eight +inches.</p> +<p><a name="footnote161b"></a><a href="#citation161b" +class="footnote">[161b]</a> The fast extends from the 5th +to the 30th of June, O.S. (June 27 to July 12, N.S.)</p> +<p><a name="footnote165"></a><a href="#citation165" +class="footnote">[165]</a> A pood is thirty-six pounds.</p> +<p><a name="footnote167"></a><a href="#citation167" +class="footnote">[167]</a> Robinson Crusoe.</p> +<p><a name="footnote168"></a><a href="#citation168" +class="footnote">[168]</a> Here something has been omitted +by the Censor, which I am unable to supply.—<span +class="smcap">Trans.</span></p> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THOUGHTS EVOKED BY THE CENSUS OF +MOSCOW***</p> +<pre> + + +***** This file should be named 3541-h.htm or 3541-h.zip****** + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/5/4/3541 + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. 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FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.05/20/01*END* +[Portions of this header are copyright (C) 2001 by Michael S. Hart +and may be reprinted only when these Etexts are free of all fees.] +[Project Gutenberg is a TradeMark and may not be used in any sales +of Project Gutenberg Etexts or other materials be they hardware or +software or any other related product without express permission.] + + + + + +Please be advised that David sent the two Moscow Census pieces to me +as one file, and that I split it into two, since some people have a +bit of trouble when we put two titles in one file. However, I did NOT +change the numbering of the footnotes, so they all appear at the end +of each file. + + + + + +This etext was produced by David Price, email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk, +from the 1887 Thomas Y. Crowell edition. + + + + + +THE MOSCOW CENSUS--FROM "WHAT TO DO?" +by Count Lyof N. Tolstoi + + + + +Translated from the Russian by +Isabel F. Hapgood + + + + +THOUGHTS EVOKED BY THE CENSUS OF MOSCOW. [1884-1885.] + + + +And the people asked him, saying, What shall we do then? + +He answereth and saith unto them, He that hath two coats, let him +impart to him that hath none; and he that hath meat, let him do +likewise--LUKE iii. 10. 11. + +Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon earth, where moth and rust +doth corrupt, and where thieves break through and steal: + +But lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor +rust doth corrupt, and where thieves do not break through nor steal: + +For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also. + +The light of the body is the eye: if therefore thine eye be single, +thy whole body shall be full of light. + +But if thine eye be evil, thy whole body shall be full of darkness. +If therefore the light that is in thee be darkness, how great is that +darkness! + +No man can serve two masters: for either he will hate the one, and +love the other; or else he will hold to the one, and despise the +other. Ye cannot serve God and mammon. + +Therefore I say unto you, Take no thought for your life, what ye +shall eat, or what ye shall drink; nor yet for your body, what ye +shall put on. Is not the life more than meat, and the body than +raiment?--MATT. vi. 19-25. + +Therefore take no thought, saying, What shall we eat? or, What shall +we drink? Or, Wherewithal shall we be clothed? + +(For after all these things do the Gentiles seek:) for your heavenly +Father knoweth that ye have need of all these things. + +But seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all +these things shall be added unto you. + +Take therefore no thought for the morrow: for the morrow shall take +thought for the things of itself. Sufficient unto the day is the +evil thereof.--MATT. vi. 31-34. + +For it is easier for a camel to go through a needle's eye, than for a +rich man to enter into the kingdom of God.--MATT. xix. 24; MARK x. +25; LUKE xviii. 25. + + + +CHAPTER I. + + + +I had lived all my life out of town. When, in 1881, I went to live +in Moscow, the poverty of the town greatly surprised me. I am +familiar with poverty in the country; but city poverty was new and +incomprehensible to me. In Moscow it was impossible to pass along +the street without encountering beggars, and especially beggars who +are unlike those in the country. These beggars do not go about with +their pouches in the name of Christ, as country beggars are +accustomed to do, but these beggars are without the pouch and the +name of Christ. The Moscow beggars carry no pouches, and do not ask +for alms. Generally, when they meet or pass you, they merely try to +catch your eye; and, according to your look, they beg or refrain from +it. I know one such beggar who belongs to the gentry. The old man +walks slowly along, bending forward every time he sets his foot down. +When he meets you, he rests on one foot and makes you a kind of +salute. If you stop, he pulls off his hat with its cockade, and bows +and begs: if you do not halt, he pretends that that is merely his +way of walking, and he passes on, bending forward in like manner on +the other foot. He is a real Moscow beggar, a cultivated man. At +first I did not know why the Moscow beggars do not ask alms directly; +afterwards I came to understand why they do not beg, but still I did +not understand their position. + +Once, as I was passing through Afanasievskaya Lane, I saw a policeman +putting a ragged peasant, all swollen with dropsy, into a cab. I +inquired: "What is that for?" + +The policeman answered: "For asking alms." + +"Is that forbidden?" + +"Of course it is forbidden," replied the policeman. + +The sufferer from dropsy was driven off. I took another cab, and +followed him. I wanted to know whether it was true that begging alms +was prohibited and how it was prohibited. I could in no wise +understand how one man could be forbidden to ask alms of any other +man; and besides, I did not believe that it was prohibited, when +Moscow is full of beggars. I went to the station-house whither the +beggar had been taken. At a table in the station-house sat a man +with a sword and a pistol. I inquired: + +"For what was this peasant arrested?" + +The man with the sword and pistol gazed sternly at me, and said: + +"What business is it of yours?" + +But feeling conscious that it was necessary to offer me some +explanation, he added: + +"The authorities have ordered that all such persons are to be +arrested; of course it had to be done." + +I went out. The policeman who had brought the beggar was seated on +the window-sill in the ante-chamber, staring gloomily at a note-book. +I asked him: + +"Is it true that the poor are forbidden to ask alms in Christ's +name?" + +The policeman came to himself, stared at me, then did not exactly +frown, but apparently fell into a doze again, and said, as he sat on +the window-sill:- + +"The authorities have so ordered, which shows that it is necessary," +and betook himself once more to his note-book. I went out on the +porch, to the cab. + +"Well, how did it turn out? Have they arrested him?" asked the +cabman. The man was evidently interested in this affair also. + +"Yes," I answered. The cabman shook his head. "Why is it forbidden +here in Moscow to ask alms in Christ's name?" I inquired. + +"Who knows?" said the cabman. + +"How is this?" said I, "he is Christ's poor, and he is taken to the +station-house." + +"A stop has been put to that now, it is not allowed," said the cab- +driver. + +On several occasions afterwards, I saw policemen conducting beggars +to the station house, and then to the Yusupoff house of correction. +Once I encountered on the Myasnitzkaya a company of these beggars, +about thirty in number. In front of them and behind them marched +policemen. I inquired: "What for?"--"For asking alms." + +It turned out that all these beggars, several of whom you meet with +in every street in Moscow, and who stand in files near every church +during services, and especially during funeral services, are +forbidden to ask alms. + +But why are some of them caught and locked up somewhere, while others +are left alone? + +This I could not understand. Either there are among them legal and +illegal beggars, or there are so many of them that it is impossible +to apprehend them all; or do others assemble afresh when some are +removed? + +There are many varieties of beggars in Moscow: there are some who +live by this profession; there are also genuine poor people, who have +chanced upon Moscow in some manner or other, and who are really in +want. + +Among these poor people, there are many simple, common peasants, and +women in their peasant costume. I often met such people. Some of +them have fallen ill here, and on leaving the hospital they can +neither support themselves here, nor get away from Moscow. Some of +them, moreover, have indulged in dissipation (such was probably the +case of the dropsical man); some have not been ill, but are people +who have been burnt out of their houses, or old people, or women with +children; some, too, were perfectly healthy and able to work. These +perfectly healthy peasants who were engaged in begging, particularly +interested me. These healthy, peasant beggars, who were fit for +work, also interested me, because, from the date of my arrival in +Moscow, I had been in the habit of going to the Sparrow Hills with +two peasants, and sawing wood there for the sake of exercise. These +two peasants were just as poor as those whom I encountered on the +streets. One was Piotr, a soldier from Kaluga; the other Semyon, a +peasant from Vladimir. They possessed nothing except the wages of +their body and hands. And with these hands they earned, by dint of +very hard labor, from forty to forty-five kopeks a day, out of which +each of them was laying by savings, the Kaluga man for a fur coat, +the Vladimir man in order to get enough to return to his village. +Therefore, on meeting precisely such men in the streets, I took an +especial interest in them. + +Why did these men toil, while those others begged? + +On encountering a peasant of this stamp, I usually asked him how he +had come to that situation. Once I met a peasant with some gray in +his beard, but healthy. He begs. I ask him who is he, whence comes +he? He says that he came from Kaluga to get work. At first he found +employment chopping up old wood for use in stoves. He and his +comrade finished all the chopping which one householder had; then +they sought other work, but found none; his comrade had parted from +him, and for two weeks he himself had been struggling along; he had +spent all his money, he had no saw, and no axe, and no money to buy +anything. I gave him money for a saw, and told him of a place where +he could find work. I had already made arrangements with Piotr and +Semyon, that they should take an assistant, and they looked up a mate +for him. + +"See that you come. There is a great deal of work there." + +"I will come; why should I not come? Do you suppose I like to beg? +I can work." + +The peasant declares that he will come, and it seems to me that he is +not deceiving me, and that he intents to come. + +On the following day I go to my peasants, and inquire whether that +man has arrived. He has not been there; and in this way several men +deceived me. And those also deceived me who said that they only +required money for a ticket in order to return home, and who chanced +upon me again in the street a week later. Many of these I +recognized, and they recognized me, and sometimes, having forgotten +me, they repeated the same trick on me; and others, on catching sight +of me, beat a retreat. Thus I perceived, that in the ranks of this +class also deceivers existed. But these cheats were very pitiable +creatures: all of them were but half-clad, poverty-stricken, gaunt, +sickly men; they were the very people who really freeze to death, or +hang themselves, as we learn from the newspapers. + + + +CHAPTER II. + + + +When I mentioned this poverty of the town to inhabitants of the town, +they always said to me: "Oh, all that you have seen is nothing. You +ought to see the Khitroff market-place, and the lodging-houses for +the night there. There you would see a regular 'golden company.'" +{1} One jester told me that this was no longer a company, but a +GOLDEN REGIMENT: so greatly had their numbers increased. The jester +was right, but he would have been still more accurate if he had said +that these people now form in Moscow neither a company nor a +regiment, but an entire army, almost fifty thousand in number, I +think. [The old inhabitants, when they spoke to me about the poverty +in town, always referred to it with a certain satisfaction, as though +pluming themselves over me, because they knew it. I remember that +when I was in London, the old inhabitants there also rather boasted +when they spoke of the poverty of London. The case is the same with +us.] {2} + +And I wanted to have a sight of this poverty of which I had been +told. Several times I set out in the direction of the Khitroff +market-place, but on every occasion I began to feel uncomfortable and +ashamed. "Why am I going to gaze on the sufferings of people whom I +cannot help?" said one voice. "No, if you live here, and see all the +charms of city life, go and view this also," said another voice. In +December three years ago, therefore, on a cold and windy day, I +betook myself to that centre of poverty, the Khitroff market-place. +This was at four o'clock in the afternoon of a week-day. As I passed +through the Solyanka, I already began to see more and more people in +old garments which had not originally belonged to them, and in still +stranger foot-gear, people with a peculiar, unhealthy hue of +countenance, and especially with a singular indifference to every +thing around them, which was peculiar to them all. A man in the +strangest of all possible attire, which was utterly unlike any thing +else, walked along with perfect unconcern, evidently without a +thought of the appearance which he must present to the eyes of +others. All these people were making their way towards a single +point. Without inquiring the way, with which I was not acquainted, I +followed them, and came out on the Khitroff market-place. On the +market-place, women both old and young, of the same description, in +tattered cloaks and jackets of various shapes, in ragged shoes and +overshoes, and equally unconcerned, notwithstanding the hideousness +of their attire, sat, bargained for something, strolled about, and +scolded. There were not many people in the market itself. Evidently +market-hours were over, and the majority of the people were ascending +the rise beyond the market and through the place, all still +proceeding in one direction. I followed them. The farther I +advanced, the greater in numbers were the people of this sort who +flowed together on one road. Passing through the market-place and +proceeding along the street, I overtook two women; one was old, the +other young. Both wore something ragged and gray. As they walked +they were discussing some matter. After every necessary word, they +uttered one or two unnecessary ones, of the most improper character. +They were not intoxicated, but merely troubled about something; and +neither the men who met them, nor those who walked in front of them +and behind them, paid any attention to the language which was so +strange to me. In these quarters, evidently, people always talked +so. Ascending the rise, we reached a large house on a corner. The +greater part of the people who were walking along with me halted at +this house. They stood all over the sidewalk of this house, and sat +on the curbstone, and even the snow in the street was thronged with +the same kind of people. On the right side of the entrance door were +the women, on the left the men. I walked past the women, past the +men (there were several hundred of them in all) and halted where the +line came to an end. The house before which these people were +waiting was the Lyapinsky free lodging-house for the night. The +throng of people consisted of night lodgers, who were waiting to be +let in. At five o'clock in the afternoon, the house is opened, and +the people permitted to enter. Hither had come nearly all the people +whom I had passed on my way. + +I halted where the line of men ended. Those nearest me began to +stare at me, and attracted my attention to them by their glances. +The fragments of garments which covered these bodies were of the most +varied sorts. But the expression of all the glances directed towards +me by these people was identical. In all eyes the question was +expressed: "Why have you, a man from another world, halted here +beside us? Who are you? Are you a self-satisfied rich man who wants +to enjoy our wretchedness, to get rid of his tedium, and to torment +us still more? or are you that thing which does not and can not +exist,--a man who pities us?" This query was on every face. You +glance about, encounter some one's eye, and turn away. I wished to +talk with some one of them, but for a long time I could not make up +my mind to it. But our glances had drawn us together already while +our tongues remained silent. Greatly as our lives had separated us, +after the interchange of two or three glances we felt that we were +both men, and we ceased to fear each other. The nearest of all to me +was a peasant with a swollen face and a red beard, in a tattered +caftan, and patched overshoes on his bare feet. And the weather was +eight degrees below zero. {3} For the third or fourth time I +encountered his eyes, and I felt so near to him that I was no longer +ashamed to accost him, but ashamed not to say something to him. I +inquired where he came from? he answered readily, and we began to +talk; others approached. He was from Smolensk, and had come to seek +employment that he might earn his bread and taxes. "There is no +work," said he: "the soldiers have taken it all away. So now I am +loafing about; as true as I believe in God, I have had nothing to eat +for two days." He spoke modestly, with an effort at a smile. A +sbiten{4}-seller, an old soldier, stood near by. I called him up. +He poured out his sbiten. The peasant took a boiling-hot glassful in +his hands, and as he tried before drinking not to let any of the heat +escape in vain, and warmed his hands over it, he related his +adventures to me. These adventures, or the histories of them, are +almost always identical: the man has been a laborer, then he has +changed his residence, then his purse containing his money and ticket +has been stolen from him in the night lodging-house; now it is +impossible to get away from Moscow. He told me that he kept himself +warm by day in the dram-shops; that he nourished himself on the bits +of bread in these drinking places, when they were given to him; and +when he was driven out of them, he came hither to the Lyapinsky house +for a free lodging. He was only waiting for the police to make their +rounds, when, as he had no passport, he would be taken to jail, and +then despatched by stages to his place of settlement. "They say that +the inspection will be made on Friday," said he, "then they will +arrest me. If I can only get along until Friday." (The jail, and +the journey by stages, represent the Promised Land to him.) + +As he told his story, three men from among the throng corroborated +his statements, and said that they were in the same predicament. A +gaunt, pale, long-nosed youth, with merely a shirt on the upper +portion of his body, and that torn on the shoulders, and a cap +without a visor, forced his way sidelong through the crowd. He +shivered violently and incessantly, but tried to smile disdainfully +at the peasants' remarks, thinking by this means to adopt the proper +tone with me, and he stared at me. I offered him some sbiten; he +also, on taking the glass, warmed his hands over it; but no sooner +had he begun to speak, than he was thrust aside by a big, black, +hook-nosed individual, in a chintz shirt and waistcoat, without a +hat. The hook-nosed man asked for some sbiten also. Then came a +tall old man, with a mass of beard, clad in a great-coat girded with +a rope, and in bast shoes, who was drunk. Then a small man with a +swollen face and tearful eyes, in a brown nankeen round-jacket, with +his bare knees protruding from the holes in his summer trousers, and +knocking together with cold. He shivered so that he could not hold +his glass, and spilled it over himself. The men began to reproach +him. He only smiled in a woe-begone way, and went on shivering. +Then came a crooked monster in rags, with pattens on his bare feet; +then some sort of an officer; then something in the ecclesiastical +line; then something strange and nose-less,--all hungry and cold, +beseeching and submissive, thronged round me, and pressed close to +the sbiten. They drank up all the sbiten. One asked for money, and +I gave it. Then another asked, then a third, and the whole crowd +besieged me. Confusion and a press resulted. The porter of the +adjoining house shouted to the crowd to clear the sidewalk in front +of his house, and the crowd submissively obeyed his orders. Some +managers stepped out of the throng, and took me under their +protection, and wanted to lead me forth out of the press; but the +crowd, which had at first been scattered over the sidewalk, now +became disorderly, and hustled me. All stared at me and begged; and +each face was more pitiful and suffering and humble than the last. I +distributed all that I had with me. I had not much money, something +like twenty rubles; and in company with the crowd, I entered the +Lyapinsky lodging-house. This house is huge. It consists of four +sections. In the upper stories are the men's quarters; in the lower, +the women's. I first entered the women's place; a vast room all +occupied with bunks, resembling the third-class bunks on the railway. +These bunks were arranged in two rows, one above the other. The +women, strange, tattered creatures, both old and young, wearing +nothing over their dresses, entered and took their places, some below +and some above. Some of the old ones crossed themselves, and uttered +a petition for the founder of this refuge; some laughed and scolded. +I went up-stairs. There the men had installed themselves; among them +I espied one of those to whom I had given money. [On catching sight +of him, I all at once felt terribly abashed, and I made haste to +leave the room. And it was with a sense of absolute crime that I +quitted that house and returned home. At home I entered over the +carpeted stairs into the ante-room, whose floor was covered with +cloth; and having removed my fur coat, I sat down to a dinner of five +courses, waited on by two lackeys in dress-coats, white neckties, and +white gloves. + +Thirty years ago I witnessed in Paris a man's head cut off by the +guillotine in the presence of thousands of spectators. I knew that +the man was a horrible criminal. I was acquainted with all the +arguments which people have been devising for so many centuries, in +order to justify this sort of deed. I knew that they had done this +expressly, deliberately. But at the moment when head and body were +severed, and fell into the trough, I groaned, and apprehended, not +with my mind, but with my heart and my whole being, that all the +arguments which I had heard anent the death-penalty were arrant +nonsense; that, no matter how many people might assemble in order to +perpetrate a murder, no matter what they might call themselves, +murder is murder, the vilest sin in the world, and that that crime +had been committed before my very eyes. By my presence and non- +interference, I had lent my approval to that crime, and had taken +part in it. So now, at the sight of this hunger, cold, and +degradation of thousands of persons, I understood not with my mind, +but with my heart and my whole being, that the existence of tens of +thousands of such people in Moscow, while I and other thousands dined +on fillets and sturgeon, and covered my horses and my floors with +cloth and rugs,--no matter what the wise ones of this world might say +to me about its being a necessity,--was a crime, not perpetrated a +single time, but one which was incessantly being perpetrated over and +over again, and that I, in my luxury, was not only an accessory, but +a direct accomplice in the matter. The difference for me between +these two impressions was this, that I might have shouted to the +assassins who stood around the guillotine, and perpetrated the +murder, that they were committing a crime, and have tried with all my +might to prevent the murder. But while so doing I should have known +that my action would not prevent the murder. But here I might not +only have given sbiten and the money which I had with me, but the +coat from my back, and every thing that was in my house. But this I +had not done; and therefore I felt, I feel, and shall never cease to +feel, myself an accomplice in this constantly repeated crime, so long +as I have superfluous food and any one else has none at all, so long +as I have two garments while any one else has not even one.] {5} + + + +CHAPTER III. + + + +That very evening, on my return from the Lyapinsky house, I related +my impressions to a friend. The friend, an inhabitant of the city, +began to tell me, not without satisfaction, that this was the most +natural phenomenon of town life possible, that I only saw something +extraordinary in it because of my provincialism, that it had always +been so, and always would be so, and that such must be and is the +inevitable condition of civilization. In London it is even worse. +Of course there is nothing wrong about it, and it is impossible to be +displeased with it. I began to reply to my friend, but with so much +heat and ill-temper, that my wife ran in from the adjoining room to +inquire what had happened. It appears that, without being conscious +of it myself, I had been shouting, with tears in my voice, and +flourishing my hands at my friend. I shouted: "It's impossible to +live thus, impossible to live thus, impossible!" They made me feel +ashamed of my unnecessary warmth; they told me that I could not talk +quietly about any thing, that I got disagreeably excited; and they +proved to me, especially, that the existence of such unfortunates +could not possibly furnish any excuse for imbittering the lives of +those about me. + +I felt that this was perfectly just, and held my peace; but in the +depths of my soul I was conscious that I was in the right, and I +could not regain my composure. + +And the life of the city, which had, even before this, been so +strange and repellent to me, now disgusted me to such a degree, that +all the pleasures of a life of luxury, which had hitherto appeared to +me as pleasures, become tortures to me. And try as I would, to +discover in my own soul any justification whatever for our life, I +could not, without irritation, behold either my own or other people's +drawing-rooms, nor our tables spread in the lordly style, nor our +equipages and horses, nor shops, theatres, and assemblies. I could +not behold alongside these the hungry, cold, and down-trodden +inhabitants of the Lyapinsky house. And I could not rid myself of +the thought that these two things were bound up together, that the +one arose from the other. I remember, that, as this feeling of my +own guilt presented itself to me at the first blush, so it persisted +in me, but to this feeling a second was speedily added which +overshadowed it. + +When I mentioned my impressions of the Lyapinsky house to my nearest +friends and acquaintances, they all gave me the same answer as the +first friend at whom I had begun to shout; but, in addition to this, +they expressed their approbation of my kindness of heart and my +sensibility, and gave me to understand that this sight had so +especially worked upon me because I, Lyof Nikolaevitch, was very kind +and good. And I willingly believed this. And before I had time to +look about me, instead of the feeling of self-reproach and regret, +which I had at first experienced, there came a sense of satisfaction +with my own kindliness, and a desire to exhibit it to people. + +"It really must be," I said to myself, "that I am not especially +responsible for this by the luxury of my life, but that it is the +indispensable conditions of existence that are to blame. In truth, a +change in my mode of life cannot rectify the evil which I have seen: +by altering my manner of life, I shall only make myself and those +about me unhappy, and the other miseries will remain the same as +ever. And therefore my problem lies not in a change of my own life, +as it had first seemed to me, but in aiding, so far as in me lies, in +the amelioration of the situation of those unfortunate beings who +have called forth my compassion. The whole point lies here,--that I +am a very kind, amiable man, and that I wish to do good to my +neighbors." And I began to think out a plan of beneficent activity, +in which I might exhibit my benevolence. I must confess, however, +that while devising this plan of beneficent activity, I felt all the +time, in the depths of my soul, that that was not the thing; but, as +often happens, activity of judgment and imagination drowned that +voice of conscience within me. At that juncture, the census came up. +This struck me as a means for instituting that benevolence in which I +proposed to exhibit my charitable disposition. I knew of many +charitable institutions and societies which were in existence in +Moscow, but all their activity seemed to me both wrongly directed and +insignificant in comparison with what I intended to do. And I +devised the following scheme: to arouse the sympathy of the wealthy +for the poverty of the city, to collect money, to get people together +who were desirous of assisting in this matter, and to visit all the +refuges of poverty in company with the census, and, in addition to +the work of the census, to enter into communion with the unfortunate, +to learn the particulars of their necessities, and to assist them +with money, with work, by sending them away from Moscow, by placing +their children in school, and the old people in hospitals and +asylums. And not only that, I thought, but these people who +undertake this can be formed into a permanent society, which, by +dividing the quarters of Moscow among its members, will be able to +see to it that this poverty and beggary shall not be bred; they will +incessantly annihilate it at its very inception; then they will +fulfil their duty, not so much by healing as by a course of hygiene +for the wretchedness of the city. I fancied that there would be no +more simply needy, not to mention abjectly poor persons, in the town, +and that all of us wealthy individuals would thereafter be able to +sit in our drawing-rooms, and eat our five-course dinners, and ride +in our carriages to theatres and assemblies, and be no longer annoyed +with such sights as I had seen at the Lyapinsky house. + +Having concocted this plan, I wrote an article on the subject; and +before sending it to the printer, I went to some acquaintances, from +whom I hoped for sympathy. I said the same thing to every one whom I +met that day (and I applied chiefly to the rich), and nearly the same +that I afterwards printed in my memoir; proposed to take advantage of +the census to inquire into the wretchedness of Moscow, and to succor +it, both by deeds and money, and to do it in such a manner that there +should be no poor people in Moscow, and so that we rich ones might be +able, with a quiet conscience, to enjoy the blessings of life to +which we were accustomed. All listened to me attentively and +seriously, but nevertheless the same identical thing happened with +every one of them without exception. No sooner did my hearers +comprehend the question, than they seemed to feel awkward and +somewhat mortified. They seemed to be ashamed, and principally on my +account, because I was talking nonsense, and nonsense which it was +impossible to openly characterize as such. Some external cause +appeared to compel my hearers to be forbearing with this nonsense of +mine. + +"Ah, yes! of course. That would be very good," they said to me. "It +is a self-understood thing that it is impossible not to sympathize +with this. Yes, your idea is a capital one. I have thought of that +myself, but . . . we are so indifferent, as a rule, that you can +hardly count on much success . . . however, so far as I am concerned, +I am, of course, ready to assist." + +They all said something of this sort to me. They all agreed, but +agreed, so it seemed to me, not in consequence of my convictions, and +not in consequence of their own wish, but as the result of some +outward cause, which did not permit them not to agree. I had already +noticed this, and, since not one of them stated the sum which he was +willing to contribute, I was obliged to fix it myself, and to ask: +"So I may count on you for three hundred, or two hundred, or one +hundred, or twenty-five rubles?" And not one of them gave me any +money. I mention this because, when people give money for that which +they themselves desire, they generally make haste to give it. For a +box to see Sarah Bernhardt, they will instantly place the money in +your hand, to clinch the bargain. Here, however, out of all those +who agreed to contribute, and who expressed their sympathy, not one +of them proposed to give me the money on the spot, but they merely +assented in silence to the sum which I suggested. In the last house +which I visited on that day, in the evening, I accidentally came upon +a large company. The mistress of the house had busied herself with +charity for several years. Numerous carriages stood at the door, +several lackeys in rich liveries were sitting in the ante-chamber. +In the vast drawing-room, around two tables and lamps, sat ladies and +young girls, in costly garments, dressing small dolls; and there were +several young men there also, hovering about the ladies. The dolls +prepared by these ladies were to be drawn in a lottery for the poor. + +The sight of this drawing-room, and of the people assembled in it, +struck me very unpleasantly. Not to mention the fact that the +property of the persons there congregated amounted to many millions, +not to mention the fact that the mere income from the capital here +expended on dresses, laces, bronzes, brooches, carriages, horses, +liveries, and lackeys, was a hundred-fold greater than all that these +ladies could earn; not to mention the outlay, the trip hither of all +these ladies and gentlemen; the gloves, linen, extra time, the +candles, the tea, the sugar, and the cakes had cost the hostess a +hundred times more than what they were engaged in making here. I saw +all this, and therefore I could understand, that precisely here I +should find no sympathy with my mission: but I had come in order to +make my proposition, and, difficult as this was for me, I said what I +intended. (I said very nearly the same thing that is contained in my +printed article.) + +Out of all the persons there present, one individual offered me +money, saying that she did not feel equal to going among the poor +herself on account of her sensibility, but that she would give money; +how much money she would give, and when, she did not say. Another +individual and a young man offered their services in going about +among the poor, but I did not avail myself of their offer. The +principal person to whom I appealed, told me that it would be +impossible to do much because means were lacking. Means were lacking +because all the rich people in Moscow were already on the lists, and +all of them were asked for all that they could possibly give; because +on all these benefactors rank, medals, and other dignities were +bestowed; because in order to secure financial success, some new +dignities must be secured from the authorities, and that this was the +only practical means, but this was extremely difficult. + +On my return home that night, I lay down to sleep not only with a +presentment that my idea would come to nothing, but with shame and a +consciousness that all day long I had been engaged in a very +repulsive and disgraceful business. But I did not give up this +undertaking. In the first place, the matter had been begun, and +false shame would have prevented my abandoning it; in the second +place, not only the success of this scheme, but the very fact that I +was busying myself with it, afforded me the possibility of continuing +to live in the conditions under which I was then living; failure +entailed upon me the necessity of renouncing my present existence and +of seeking new paths of life. And this I unconsciously dreaded, and +I could not believe the inward voice, and I went on with what I had +begun. + +Having sent my article to the printer, I read the proof of it to the +City Council (Dum). I read it, stumbling, and blushing even to +tears, I felt so awkward. And I saw that it was equally awkward for +all my hearers. In answer to my question at the conclusion of my +reading, as to whether the superintendents of the census would accept +my proposition to retain their places with the object of becoming +mediators between society and the needy, an awkward silence ensued. +Then two orators made speeches. These speeches in some measure +corrected the awkwardness of my proposal; sympathy for me was +expressed, but the impracticability of my proposition, which all had +approved, was demonstrated. Everybody breathed more freely. But +when, still desirous of gaining my object, I afterwards asked the +superintendents separately: Were they willing, while taking the +census, to inquire into the needs of the poor, and to retain their +posts, in order to serve as go-betweens between the poor and the +rich? they all grew uneasy again. They seemed to say to me with +their glances: "Why, we have just condoned your folly out of respect +to you, and here you are beginning it again!" Such was the +expression of their faces, but they assured me in words that they +agreed; and two of them said in the very same words, as though they +had entered into a compact together: "We consider ourselves MORALLY +BOUND to do this." The same impression was produced by my +communication to the student-census-takers, when I said to them, that +while taking our statistics, we should follow up, in addition to the +objects of the census, the object of benevolence. When we discussed +this, I observed that they were ashamed to look the kind-hearted man, +who was talking nonsense, in the eye. My article produced the same +impression on the editor of the newspaper, when I handed it to him; +on my son, on my wife, on the most widely different persons. All +felt awkward, for some reason or other; but all regarded it as +indispensable to applaud the idea itself, and all, immediately after +this expression of approbation, began to express their doubts as to +its success, and began for some reason (and all of them, too, without +exception) to condemn the indifference and coldness of our society +and of every one, apparently, except themselves. + +In the depths of my own soul, I still continued to feel that all this +was not at all what was needed, and that nothing would come of it; +but the article was printed, and I prepared to take part in the +census; I had contrived the matter, and now it was already carrying +me a way with it. + + + +CHAPTER IV. + + + +At my request, there had been assigned to me for the census, a +portion of the Khamovnitchesky quarter, at the Smolensk market, along +the Prototchny cross-street, between Beregovoy Passage and Nikolsky +Alley. In this quarter are situated the houses generally called the +Rzhanoff Houses, or the Rzhanoff fortress. These houses once +belonged to a merchant named Rzhanoff, but now belong to the Zimins. +I had long before heard of this place as a haunt of the most terrible +poverty and vice, and I had accordingly requested the directors of +the census to assign me to this quarter. My desire was granted. + +On receiving the instructions of the City Council, I went alone, a +few days previous to the beginning of the census, to reconnoitre my +section. I found the Rzhanoff fortress at once, from the plan with +which I had been furnished. + +I approached from Nikolsky Alley. Nikolsky Alley ends on the left in +a gloomy house, without any gates on that side; I divined from its +appearance that this was the Rzhanoff fortress. + +Passing down Nikolsky Street, I overtook some lads of from ten to +fourteen years of age, clad in little caftans and great-coats, who +were sliding down hill, some on their feet, and some on one skate, +along the icy slope beside this house. The boys were ragged, and, +like all city lads, bold and impudent. I stopped to watch them. A +ragged old woman, with yellow, pendent cheeks, came round the corner. +She was going to town, to the Smolensk market, and she groaned +terribly at every step, like a foundered horse. As she came +alongside me, she halted and drew a hoarse sigh. In any other +locality, this old woman would have asked money of me, but here she +merely addressed me. + +"Look there," said she, pointing at the boys who were sliding, "all +they do is to play their pranks! They'll turn out just such Rzhanoff +fellows as their fathers." + +One of the boys clad in a great-coat and a visorless cap, heard her +words and halted: "What are you scolding about?" he shouted to the +old woman. "You're an old Rzhanoff nanny-goat yourself!" + +I asked the boy: + +"And do you live here?" + +"Yes, and so does she. She stole boot-legs," shouted the boy; and +raising his foot in front, he slid away. + +The old woman burst forth into injurious words, interrupted by a +cough. At that moment, an old man, all clad in rags, and as white as +snow, came down the hill in the middle of the street, flourishing his +hands [in one of them he held a bundle with one little kalatch and +baranki" {6}]. This old man bore the appearance of a person who had +just strengthened himself with a dram. He had evidently heard the +old woman's insulting words, and he took her part. + +"I'll give it to you, you imps, that I will!" he screamed at the +boys, seeming to direct his course towards them, and taking a circuit +round me, he stepped on to the sidewalk. This old man creates +surprise on the Arbata by his great age, his weakness, and his +indigence. Here he was a cheery laboring-man returning from his +daily toil. + +I followed the old man. He turned the corner to the left, into +Prototchny Alley, and passing by the whole length of the house and +the gate, he disappeared through the door of the tavern. + +Two gates and several doors open on Prototchny Alley: those +belonging to a tavern, a dram-shop, and several eating and other +shops. This is the Rzhanoff fortress itself. Every thing here is +gray, dirty, and malodorous--both buildings and locality, and court- +yards and people. The majority of the people whom I met here were +ragged and half-clad. Some were passing through, others were running +from door to door. Two were haggling over some rags. I made the +circuit of the entire building from Prototchny Alley and Beregovoy +Passage, and returning I halted at the gate of one of these houses. +I wished to enter, and see what was going on inside, but I felt that +it would be awkward. What should I say when I was asked what I +wanted there? I hesitated, but went in nevertheless. As soon as I +entered the court-yard, I became conscious of a disgusting odor. The +yard was frightfully dirty. I turned a corner, and at the same +instant I heard to my left and overhead, on the wooden balcony, the +tramp of footsteps of people running, at first along the planks of +the balcony, and then on the steps of the staircase. There emerged, +first a gaunt woman, with her sleeves rolled up, in a faded pink +gown, and little boots on her stockingless feet. After her came a +tattered man in a red shirt and very full trousers, like a petticoat, +and with overshoes. The man caught the woman at the bottom of the +steps. + +"You shall not escape," he said laughing. + +"See here, you cock-eyed devil," began the woman, evidently flattered +by this pursuit; but catching sight of me, she shrieked viciously, +"What do you want?" + +As I wanted nothing, I became confused and beat a retreat. There was +nothing remarkable about the place; but this incident, after what I +had witnessed on the other side of the yard, the cursing old woman, +the jolly old man, and the lads sliding, suddenly presented the +business which I had concocted from a totally different point of +view. I then comprehended for the first time, that all these +unfortunates to whom I was desirous of playing the part of +benefactor, besides the time, when, suffering from cold and hunger, +they awaited admission into the house, had still other time, which +they employed to some other purpose, that there were four and twenty +hours in every day, that there was a whole life of which I had never +thought, up to that moment. Here, for the first time, I understood, +that all those people, in addition to their desire to shelter +themselves from the cold and to obtain a good meal, must still, in +some way, live out those four and twenty hours each day, which they +must pass as well as everybody else. I comprehended that these +people must lose their tempers, and get bored, show courage, and +grieve and be merry. Strange as this may seem, when put into words, +I understood clearly for the first time, that the business which I +had undertaken could not consist alone in feeding and clothing +thousands of people, as one would feed and drive under cover a +thousand sheep, but that it must consist in doing good to them. + +And then I understood that each one of those thousand people was +exactly such a man,--with precisely the same past, with the same +passions, temptations, failings, with the same thoughts, the same +perplexities,--exactly such a man as myself, and then the thing that +I had undertaken suddenly presented itself to me as so difficult that +I felt my powerlessness; but the thing had been begun, and I went on +with it. + + + +CHAPTER V. + + + +On the first appointed day, the student enumerators arrived in the +morning, and I, the benefactor, joined them at twelve o'clock. I +could not go earlier, because I had risen at ten o'clock, then I had +drunk my coffee and smoked, while waiting on digestion. At twelve +o'clock I reached the gates of the Rzhanoff house. A policeman +pointed out to me the tavern with a side entrance on Beregovoy +Passage, where the census-takers had ordered every one who asked for +them to be directed. I entered the tavern. It was very dark, ill- +smelling, and dirty. Directly opposite the entrance was the counter, +on the left was a room with tables, covered with soiled cloths, on +the right a large apartment with pillars, and the same sort of little +tables at the windows and along the walls. Here and there at the +tables sat men both ragged and decently clad, like laboring-men or +petty tradesmen, and a few women drinking tea. The tavern was very +filthy, but it was instantly apparent that it had a good trade. + +There was a business-like expression on the face of the clerk behind +the counter, and a clever readiness about the waiters. No sooner had +I entered, than one waiter prepared to remove my coat and bring me +whatever I should order. It was evident that they had been trained +to brisk and accurate service. I inquired for the enumerators. + +"Vanya!" shouted a small man, dressed in German fashion, who was +engaged in placing something in a cupboard behind the counter; this +was the landlord of the tavern, a Kaluga peasant, Ivan Fedotitch, who +hired one-half of the Zimins' houses and sublet them to lodgers. The +waiter, a thin, hooked-nosed young fellow of eighteen, with a yellow +complexion, hastened up. + +"Conduct this gentleman to the census-takers; they went into the main +building over the well." The young fellow threw down his napkin, and +donned a coat over his white jacket and white trousers, and a cap +with a large visor, and, tripping quickly along with his white feet, +he led me through the swinging door in the rear. In the dirty, +malodorous kitchen, in the out-building, we encountered an old woman +who was carefully carrying some very bad-smelling tripe, wrapped in a +rag, off somewhere. From the out-building we descended into a +sloping court-yard, all encumbered with small wooden buildings on +lower stories of stone. The odor in this whole yard was extremely +powerful. The centre of this odor was an out-house, round which +people were thronging whenever I passed it. It merely indicated the +spot, but was not altogether used itself. It was impossible, when +passing through the yard, not to take note of this spot; one always +felt oppressed when one entered the penetrating atmosphere which was +emitted by this foul smell. + +The waiter, carefully guarding his white trousers, led me cautiously +past this place of frozen and unfrozen uncleanness to one of the +buildings. The people who were passing through the yard and along +the balconies all stopped to stare at me. It was evident that a +respectably dressed man was a curiosity in these localities. + +The young man asked a woman "whether she had seen the census-takers?" +And three men simultaneously answered his question: some said that +they were over the well, but others said that they had been there, +but had come out and gone to Nikita Ivanovitch. An old man dressed +only in his shirt, who was wandering about the centre of the yard, +said that they were in No. 30. The young man decided that this was +the most probable report, and conducted me to No. 30 through the +basement entrance, and darkness and bad smells, different from that +which existed outside. We went down-stairs, and proceeded along the +earthen floor of a dark corridor. As we were passing along the +corridor, a door flew open abruptly, and an old drunken man, in his +shirt, probably not of the peasant class, thrust himself out. A +washerwoman, wringing her soapy hands, was pursuing and hustling the +old man with piercing screams. Vanya, my guide, pushed the old man +aside, and reproved him. + +"It's not proper to make such a row," said me, "and you an officer, +too!" and we went on to the door of No. 30. + +Vanya gave it a little pull. The door gave way with a smack, opened, +and we smelled soapy steam, and a sharp odor of spoilt food and +tobacco, and we entered into total darkness. The windows were on the +opposite side; but the corridors ran to right and left between board +partitions, and small doors opened, at various angles, into the rooms +made of uneven whitewashed boards. In a dark room, on the left, a +woman could be seen washing in a tub. An old woman was peeping from +one of these small doors on the right. Through another open door we +could see a red-faced, hairy peasant, in bast shoes, sitting on his +wooden bunk; his hands rested on his knees, and he was swinging his +feet, shod in bast shoes, and gazing gloomily at them. + +At the end of the corridor was a little door leading to the apartment +where the census-takers were. This was the chamber of the mistress +of the whole of No. 30; she rented the entire apartment from Ivan +Feodovitch, and let it out again to lodgers and as night-quarters. +In her tiny room, under the tinsel images, sat the student census- +taker with his charts; and, in his quality of investigator, he had +just thoroughly interrogated a peasant wearing a shirt and a vest. +This latter was a friend of the landlady, and had been answering +questions for her. The landlady herself, an elderly woman, was there +also, and two of her curious tenants. When I entered, the room was +already packed full. I pushed my way to the table. I exchanged +greetings with the student, and he proceeded with his inquiries. And +I began to look about me, and to interrogate the inhabitants of these +quarters for my own purpose. + +It turned out, that in this first set of lodgings, I found not a +single person upon whom I could pour out my benevolence. The +landlady, in spite of the fact that the poverty, smallness and dirt +of these quarters struck me after the palatial house in which I +dwell, lived in comfort, compared with many of the poor inhabitants +of the city, and in comparison with the poverty in the country, with +which I was thoroughly familiar, she lived luxuriously. She had a +feather-bed, a quilted coverlet, a samovar, a fur cloak, and a +dresser with crockery. The landlady's friend had the same +comfortable appearance. He had a watch and a chain. Her lodgers +were not so well off, but there was not one of them who was in need +of immediate assistance: the woman who was washing linen in a tub, +and who had been abandoned by her husband and had children, an aged +widow without any means of livelihood, as she said, and that peasant +in bast shoes, who told me that he had nothing to eat that day. But +on questioning them, it appeared that none of these people were in +special want, and that, in order to help them, it would be necessary +to become well acquainted with them. + +When I proposed to the woman whose husband had abandoned her, to +place her children in an asylum, she became confused, fell into +thought, thanked me effusively, but evidently did not wish to do so; +she would have preferred pecuniary assistance. The eldest girl +helped her in her washing, and the younger took care of the little +boy. The old woman begged earnestly to be taken to the hospital, but +on examining her nook I found that the old woman was not particularly +poor. She had a chest full of effects, a teapot with a tin spout, +two cups, and caramel boxes filled with tea and sugar. She knitted +stockings and gloves, and received monthly aid from some benevolent +lady. And it was evident that what the peasant needed was not so +much food as drink, and that whatever might be given him would find +its way to the dram-shop. In these quarters, therefore, there were +none of the sort of people whom I could render happy by a present of +money. But there were poor people who appeared to me to be of a +doubtful character. I noted down the old woman, the woman with the +children, and the peasant, and decided that they must be seen to; but +later on, as I was occupied with the peculiarly unfortunate whom I +expected to find in this house, I made up my mind that there must be +some order in the aid which we should bestow; first came the most +wretched, and then this kind. But in the next quarters, and in the +next after that, it was the same story, all the people had to be +narrowly investigated before they could be helped. But unfortunates +of the sort whom a gift of money would convert from unfortunate into +fortunate people, there were none. Mortifying as it is to me to avow +this, I began to get disenchanted, because I did not find among these +people any thing of the sort which I had expected. I had expected to +find peculiar people here; but, after making the round of all the +apartments, I was convinced that the inhabitants of these houses were +not peculiar people at all, but precisely such persons as those among +whom I lived. As there are among us, just so among them; there were +here those who were more or less good, more or less stupid, happy and +unhappy. The unhappy were exactly such unhappy beings as exist among +us, that is, unhappy people whose unhappiness lies not in their +external conditions, but in themselves, a sort of unhappiness which +it is impossible to right by any sort of bank-note whatever. + + + +CHAPTER VI. + + + +The inhabitants of these houses constitute the lower class of the +city, which numbers in Moscow, probably, one hundred thousand. +There, in that house, are representatives of every description of +this class. There are petty employers, and master-artisans, +bootmakers, brush-makers, cabinet-makers, turners, shoemakers, +tailors, blacksmiths; there are cab-drivers, young women living +alone, and female pedlers, laundresses, old-clothes dealers, money- +lenders, day-laborers, and people without any definite employment; +and also beggars and dissolute women. + +Here were many of the very people whom I had seen at the entrance to +the Lyapinsky house; but here these people were scattered about among +the working-people. And moreover, I had seen these people at their +most unfortunate time, when they had eaten and drunk up every thing, +and when, cold, hungry, and driven forth from the taverns, they were +awaiting admission into the free night lodging-house, and thence into +the promised prison for despatch to their places of residence, like +heavenly manna; but here I beheld them and a majority of workers, and +at a time, when by one means or another, they had procured three or +five kopeks for a lodging for the night, and sometimes a ruble for +food and drink. + +And strange as the statement may seem, I here experienced nothing +resembling that sensation which I had felt in the Lyapinsky house; +but, on the contrary, during the first round, both I and the students +experienced an almost agreeable feeling,--yes, but why do I say +"almost agreeable"? This is not true; the feeling called forth by +intercourse with these people, strange as it may sound, was a +distinctly agreeable one. + +Our first impression was, that the greater part of the dwellers here +were working people and very good people at that. + +We found more than half the inhabitants at work: laundresses bending +over their tubs, cabinet-makers at their lathes, cobblers on their +benches. The narrow rooms were full of people, and cheerful and +energetic labor was in progress. There was an odor of toilsome sweat +and leather at the cobbler's, of shavings at the cabinet-maker's; +songs were often to be heard, and glimpses could be had of brawny +arms with sleeves roiled high, quickly and skilfully making their +accustomed movements. Everywhere we were received cheerfully and +politely: hardly anywhere did our intrusion into the every-day life +of these people call forth that ambition, and desire to exhibit their +importance and to put us down, which the appearance of the +enumerators in the quarters of well-to-do people evoked. It not only +did not arouse this, but, on the contrary, they answered all other +questions properly, and without attributing any special significance +to them. Our questions merely served them as a subject of mirth and +jesting as to how such and such a one was to be set down in the list, +when he was to be reckoned as two, and when two were to be reckoned +as one, and so forth. + +We found many of them at dinner, or tea; and on every occasion to our +greeting: "bread and salt," or "tea and sugar," they replied: "we +beg that you will partake," and even stepped aside to make room for +us. Instead of the den with a constantly changing population, which +we had expected to find here, it turned out, that there were a great +many apartments in the house where people had been living for a long +time. One cabinet-maker with his men, and a boot-maker with his +journeymen, had lived there for ten years. The boot-maker's quarters +were very dirty and confined, but all the people at work were very +cheerful. I tried to enter into conversation with one of the +workmen, being desirous of inquiring into the wretchedness of his +situation and his debt to his master, but the man did not understand +me and spoke of his master and his life from the best point of view. + +In one apartment lived an old man and his old woman. They peddled +apples. Their little chamber was warm, clean, and full of goods. On +the floor were spread straw mats: they had got them at the apple- +warehouse. They had chests, a cupboard, a samovar, and crockery. In +the corner there were numerous images, and two lamps were burning +before them; on the wall hung fur coats covered with sheets. The old +woman, who had star-shaped wrinkles, and who was polite and +talkative, evidently delighted in her quiet, comfortable, existence. + +Ivan Fedotitch, the landlord of the tavern and of these quarters, +left his establishment and came with us. He jested in a friendly +manner with many of the landlords of apartments, addressing them all +by their Christian names and patronymics, and he gave us brief +sketches of them. All were ordinary people, like everybody else,-- +Martin Semyonovitches, Piotr Piotrovitches, Marya Ivanovnas,--people +who did not consider themselves unhappy, but who regarded themselves, +and who actually were, just like the rest of mankind. + +We had been prepared to witness nothing except what was terrible. +And, all of a sudden, there was presented to us, not only nothing +that was terrible, but what was good,--things which involuntarily +compelled our respect. And there were so many of these good people, +that the tattered, corrupt, idle people whom we came across now and +then among them, did not destroy the principal impression. + +This was not so much of a surprise to the students as to me. They +simply went to fulfil a useful task, as they thought, in the +interests of science, and, at the same time, they made their own +chance observations; but I was a benefactor, I went for the purpose +of aiding the unfortunate, the corrupt, vicious people, whom I +supposed that I should meet with in this house. And, behold, instead +of unfortunate, corrupt, and vicious people, I saw that the majority +were laborious, industrious, peaceable, satisfied, contented, +cheerful, polite, and very good folk indeed. + +I felt particularly conscious of this when, in these quarters, I +encountered that same crying want which I had undertaken to +alleviate. + +When I encountered this want, I always found that it had already been +relieved, that the assistance which I had intended to render had +already been given. This assistance had been rendered before my +advent, and rendered by whom? By the very unfortunate, depraved +creatures whom I had undertaken to reclaim, and rendered in such a +manner as I could not compass. + +In one basement lay a solitary old man, ill with the typhus fever. +There was no one with the old man. A widow and her little daughter, +strangers to him, but his neighbors round the corner, looked after +him, gave him tea and purchased medicine for him out of their own +means. In another lodging lay a woman in puerperal fever. A woman +who lived by vice was rocking the baby, and giving her her bottle; +and for two days, she had been unremitting in her attention. The +baby girl, on being left an orphan, was adopted into the family of a +tailor, who had three children of his own. So there remained those +unfortunate idle people, officials, clerks, lackeys out of place, +beggars, drunkards, dissolute women, and children, who cannot be +helped on the spot with money, but whom it is necessary to know +thoroughly, to be planned and arranged for. I had simply sought +unfortunate people, the unfortunates of poverty, those who could be +helped by sharing with them our superfluity, and, as it seemed to me, +through some signal ill-luck, none such were to be found; but I hit +upon unfortunates to whom I should be obliged to devote my time and +care. + + + +CHAPTER VII. + + + +The unfortunates whom I noted down, divided themselves, according to +my ideas, into three sections, namely: people who had lost their +former advantageous position, and who were awaiting a return to it +(there were people of this sort from both the lower and the higher +class); next, dissolute women, of whom there are a great many in +these houses; and a third division, children. More than all the +rest, I found and noted down people of the first division, who had +forfeited their former advantageous position, and who hoped to regain +it. Of such persons, especially from the governmental and official +world, there are a very great number in these houses. In almost all +the lodgings which we entered, with the landlord, Ivan Fedotitch, he +said to us: "Here you need not write down the lodger's card +yourself; there is a man here who can do it, if he only happens not +to be intoxicated to-day." + +And Ivan Fedotitch called by name and patronymic this man, who was +always one of those persons who had fallen from a lofty position. At +Ivan Fedotitch's call, there crawled forth from some dark corner, a +former wealthy member of the noble or official class, generally +intoxicated and always undressed. If he was not drunk, he always +readily acceded to the task proposed to him, nodded significantly, +frowned, set down his remarks in learned phraseology, held the card +neatly printed on red paper in his dirty, trembling hands, and +glanced round at his fellow-lodgers with pride and contempt, as +though now triumphing in his education over those who had so often +humiliated him. He evidently enjoyed intercourse with that world in +which cards are printed on red paper, and with that world of which he +had once formed a part. Nearly always, in answer to my inquiries +about his life, the man began, not only willingly, but eagerly, to +relate the story of the misfortunes which he had undergone,--which he +had learned by rote like a prayer,--and particularly of his former +position, in which he ought still to be by right of his education. + +A great many such people were scattered over all the corners of the +Rzhanoff house. But one lodging was densely occupied by them alone-- +both men and women. After we had already entered, Ivan Fedotitch +said to us: "Now, here are some of the nobility." The lodging was +perfectly crammed; nearly all of the people, forty in number, were at +home. More demoralized countenances, unhappy, aged, and swollen, +young, pallid, and distracted, were not to be seen in the whole +building. I conversed with several of them. The story was nearly +identical in all cases, only in various stages of development. Every +one of them had been rich, or his father, his brother or his uncle +was still wealthy, or his father or he himself had had a very fine +position. Then misfortune had overtaken him, the blame for which +rested either on envious people, or on his own kind-heartedness, or +some special chance, and so he had lost every thing, and had been +forced to condescend to these surroundings to which he was not +accustomed, and which were hateful to him--among lice, rags, among +drunkards and corrupt persons, and to nourish himself on bread and +liver, and to extend his hand in beggary. All the thoughts, desires, +memories of these people were directed exclusively to the past. The +present appeared to them something unreal, repulsive, and not worthy +of attention. Not one of them had any present. They had only +memories of the past, and expectations from the future, which might +be realized at any moment, and for the realization of which only a +very little was required; but this little they did not possess, it +was nowhere to be obtained, and this had been ruining their whole +future life in vain, in the case of one man, for a year, of a second +for five years, and of a third for thirty years. All one needed was +merely to dress respectably, so that he could present himself to a +certain personage, who was well-disposed towards him another only +needed to be able to dress, pay off his debts, and get to Orel; a +third required to redeem a small property which was mortgaged, for +the continuation of a law-suit, which must be decided in his favor, +and then all would be well once more. They all declare that they +merely require something external, in order to stand once more in the +position which they regard as natural and happy in their own case. + +Had my mind not been obscured by my pride as a benefactor, a glance +at their faces, both old and young, which were mostly weak and +sensitive, but amiable, would have given me to understand that their +misfortunes were irreparable by any external means, that they could +not be happy in any position whatever, if their views of life were to +remain unchanged, that they were in no wise remarkable people, in +remarkably unfortunate circumstances, but that they were the same +people who surround us on all sides, and just like ourselves. I +remember that intercourse with this sort of unfortunates was +peculiarly difficult for me. I now understand why this was so; in +them I beheld myself, as in a mirror. If I had reflected on my own +life and on the life of the people in our circle, I should have seen +that no real difference existed between them. + +If those about me dwell in spacious quarters, and in their own houses +on the Sivtzevy Vrazhok and on the Dimitrovka, and not in the +Rzhanoff house, and still eat and drink dainties, and not liver and +herrings with bread, that does not prevent them from being exactly as +unhappy. They are just as dissatisfied with their own positions, +they mourn over the past, and pine for better things, and the +improved position for which they long is precisely the same as that +which the inhabitants of the Rzhanoff house long for; that is to say, +one in which they may do as little work as possible themselves, and +derive the utmost advantage from the labors of others. The +difference is merely one of degrees and time. If I had reflected at +that time, I should have understood this; but I did not reflect, and +I questioned these people, and wrote them down, supposing, that, +having learned all the particulars of their various conditions and +necessities, I could aid them LATER ON. I did not understand that +such a man can only be helped by changing his views of the world. +But in order to change the views of another, one must needs have +better views himself, and live in conformity with them; but mine were +precisely the same as theirs, and I lived in accordance with those +views, which must undergo a change, in order that these people might +cease to be unhappy. + +I did not see that these people were unhappy, not because they had +not, so to speak, nourishing food, but because their stomachs had +been spoiled, and because their appetites demanded not nourishing but +irritating viands; and I did not perceive that, in order to help +them, it was not necessary to give them food, but that it was +necessary to heal their disordered stomachs. Although I am +anticipating by so doing, I will mention here, that, out of all these +persons whom I noted down, I really did not help a single one, in +spite of the fact that for some of them, that was done which they +desired, and that which, apparently, might have raised them. Three +of their number were particularly well known to me. All three, after +repeated rises and falls, are now in precisely the same situation in +which they were three years ago. + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + + + +The second class of unfortunates whom I also expected to assist later +on, were the dissolute women; there were a very great many of them, +of all sorts, in the Rzhanoff house--from those who were young and +who resembled women, to old ones, who were frightful and horrible, +and who had lost every semblance of humanity. The hope of being of +assistance to these women, which I had not at first entertained, +occurred to me later. This was in the middle of our rounds. We had +already worked out several mechanical tricks of procedure. + +When we entered a new establishment, we immediately questioned the +landlady of the apartment; one of us sat down, clearing some sort of +a place for himself where he could write, and another penetrated the +corners, and questioned each man in all the nooks of the apartment +separately, and reported the facts to the one who did the writing. + +On entering a set of rooms in the basement, a student went to hunt up +the landlady, while I began to interrogate all who remained in the +place. The apartment was thus arranged: in the centre was a room +six arshins square, {7} and a small oven. From the oven radiated +four partitions, forming four tiny compartments. In the first, the +entrance slip, which had four bunks, there were two persons--an old +man and a woman. Immediately adjoining this, was a rather long slip +of a room; in it was the landlord, a young fellow, dressed in a +sleeveless gray woollen jacket, a good-looking, very pale citizen. +{8} On the left of the first corner, was a third tiny chamber; there +was one person asleep there, probably a drunken peasant, and a woman +in a pink blouse which was loose in front and close-fitting behind. +The fourth chamber was behind the partition; the entrance to it was +from the landlord's compartment. + +The student went into the landlord's room, and I remained in the +entrance compartment, and questioned the old man and woman. The old +man had been a master-printer, but now had no means of livelihood. +The woman was the wife of a cook. I went to the third compartment, +and questioned the woman in the blouse about the sleeping man. She +said that he was a visitor. I asked the woman who she was. She +replied that she was a Moscow peasant. "What is your business?" She +burst into a laugh, and did not answer me. "What do you live on?" I +repeated, thinking that she had not understood my question. "I sit +in the taverns," she said. I did not comprehend, and again I +inquired: "What is your means of livelihood?" She made no reply and +laughed. Women's voices in the fourth compartment which we had not +yet entered, joined in the laugh. The landlord emerged from his +cabin and stepped up to us. He had evidently heard my questions and +the woman's replies. He cast a stern glance at the woman and turned +to me: "She is a prostitute," said he, apparently pleased that he +knew the word in use in the language of the authorities, and that he +could pronounce it correctly. And having said this, with a +respectful and barely perceptible smile of satisfaction addressed to +me, he turned to the woman. And no sooner had he turned to her, than +his whole face altered. He said, in a peculiar, scornful, hasty +tone, such as is employed towards dogs: "What do you jabber in that +careless way for? 'I sit in the taverns.' You do sit in the +taverns, and that means, to talk business, that you are a +prostitute," and again he uttered the word. "She does not know the +name for herself." This tone offended me. "It is not our place to +abuse her," said I. "If all of us lived according to the laws of +God, there would be none of these women." + +"That's the very point," said the landlord, with an awkward smile. + +"Therefore, we should not reproach but pity them. Are they to +blame?" + +I do not recollect just what I said, but I do remember that I was +vexed by the scornful tone of the landlord of these quarters which +were filled with women, whom he called prostitutes, and that I felt +compassion for this woman, and that I gave expression to both +feelings. No sooner had I spoken thus, than the boards of the bed in +the next compartment, whence the laugh had proceeded, began to creak, +and above the partition, which did not reach to the ceiling, there +appeared a woman's curly and dishevelled head, with small, swollen +eyes, and a shining, red face, followed by a second, and then by a +third. They were evidently standing on their beds, and all three +were craning their necks, and holding their breath with strained +attention, and gazing silently at us. + +A troubled pause ensued. The student, who had been smiling up to +this time, became serious; the landlord grew confused and dropped his +eyes. All the women held their breath, stared at me, and waited. I +was more embarrassed than any of them. I had not, in the least, +anticipated that a chance remark would produce such an effect. Like +Ezekiel's field of death, strewn with dead men's bones, there was a +quiver at the touch of the spirit, and the dead bones stirred. I had +uttered an unpremeditated word of love and sympathy, and this word +had acted on all as though they had only been waiting for this very +remark, in order that they might cease to be corpses and might live. +They all stared at me, and waited for what would come next. They +waited for me to utter those words, and to perform those actions by +reason of which these bones might draw together, clothe themselves +with flesh, and spring into life. But I felt that I had no such +words, no such actions, by means of which I could continue what I had +begun; I was conscious, in the depths of my soul, that I had lied +[that I was just like them], {9} and there was nothing further for me +to say; and I began to inscribe on the cards the names and callings +of all the persons in this set of apartments. + +This incident led me into a fresh dilemma, to the thought of how +these unfortunates also might be helped. In my self-delusion, I +fancied that this would be very easy. I said to myself: "Here, we +will make a note of all these women also, and LATER ON when we [I did +not specify to myself who "we" were] write every thing out, we will +attend to these persons too." I imagined that we, the very ones who +have brought and have been bringing these women to this condition for +several generations, would take thought some fine day and reform all +this. But, in the mean time, if I had only recalled my conversation +with the disreputable woman who had been rocking the baby of the +fever-stricken patient, I might have comprehended the full extent of +the folly of such a supposition. + +When we saw this woman with the baby, we thought that it was her +child. To the question, "Who was she?" she had replied in a +straightforward way that she was unmarried. She did not say--a +prostitute. Only the master of the apartment made use of that +frightful word. The supposition that she had a child suggested to me +the idea of removing her from her position. I inquired: + +"Is this your child?" + +"No, it belongs to that woman yonder." + +"Why are you taking care of it?" + +"Because she asked me; she is dying." + +Although my supposition proved to be erroneous, I continued my +conversation with her in the same spirit. I began to question her as +to who she was, and how she had come to such a state. She related +her history very readily and simply. She was a Moscow myeshchanka, +the daughter of a factory hand. She had been left an orphan, and had +been adopted by an aunt. From her aunt's she had begun to frequent +the taverns. The aunt was now dead. When I asked her whether she +did not wish to alter her mode of life, my question, evidently, did +not even arouse her interest. How can one take an interest in the +proposition of a man, in regard to something absolutely impossible? +She laughed, and said: "And who would take me in with my yellow +ticket?" + +"Well, but if a place could be found somewhere as cook?" said I. + +This thought occurred to me because she was a stout, ruddy woman, +with a kindly, round, and rather stupid face. Cooks are often like +that. My words evidently did not please her. She repeated: + +"A cook--but I don't know how to make bread," said she, and she +laughed. She said that she did not know how; but I saw from the +expression of her countenance that she did not wish to become a cook, +that she regarded the position and calling of a cook as low. + +This woman, who in the simplest possible manner was sacrificing every +thing that she had for the sick woman, like the widow in the Gospels, +at the same time, like many of her companions, regarded the position +of a person who works as low and deserving of scorn. She had been +brought up to live not by work, but by this life which was considered +the natural one for her by those about her. In that lay her +misfortune. And she fell in with this misfortune and clung to her +position. This led her to frequent the taverns. Which of us--man or +woman--will correct her false view of life? Where among us are the +people to be found who are convinced that every laborious life is +more worthy of respect than an idle life,--who are convinced of this, +and who live in conformity with this belief, and who in conformity +with this conviction value and respect people? If I had thought of +this, I might have understood that neither I, nor any other person +among my acquaintances, could heal this complaint. + +I might have understood that these amazed and affected heads thrust +over the partition indicated only surprise at the sympathy expressed +for them, but not in the least a hope of reclamation from their +dissolute life. They do not perceive the immorality of their life. +They see that they are despised and cursed, but for what they are +thus despised they cannot comprehend. Their life, from childhood, +has been spent among just such women, who, as they very well know, +always have existed, and are indispensable to society, and so +indispensable that there are governmental officials to attend to +their legal existence. Moreover, they know that they have power over +men, and can bring them into subjection, and rule them often more +than other women. They see that their position in society is +recognized by women and men and the authorities, in spite of their +continual curses, and therefore, they cannot understand why they +should reform. + +In the course of one of the tours, one of the students told me that +in a certain lodging, there was a woman who was bargaining for her +thirteen-year-old daughter. Being desirous of rescuing this girl, I +made a trip to that lodging expressly. Mother and daughter were +living in the greatest poverty. The mother, a small, dark- +complexioned, dissolute woman of forty, was not only homely, but +repulsively homely. The daughter was equally disagreeable. To all +my pointed questions about their life, the mother responded curtly, +suspiciously, and in a hostile way, evidently feeling that I was an +enemy, with evil intentions; the daughter made no reply, did not look +at her mother, and evidently trusted the latter fully. They inspired +me with no sincere pity, but rather with disgust. But I made up my +mind that the daughter must be rescued, and that I would interest +ladies who pitied the sad condition of these women, and send them +hither. But if I had reflected on the mother's long life in the +past, of how she had given birth to, nursed and reared this daughter +in her situation, assuredly without the slightest assistance from +outsiders, and with heavy sacrifices--if I had reflected on the view +of life which this woman had formed, I should have understood that +there was, decidedly, nothing bad or immoral in the mother's act: +she had done and was doing for her daughter all that she could, that +is to say, what she considered the best for herself. This daughter +could be forcibly removed from her mother; but it would be impossible +to convince the mother that she was doing wrong, in selling her +daughter. If any one was to be saved, then it must be this woman-- +the mother ought to have been saved; [and that long before, from that +view of life which is approved by every one, according to which a +woman may live unmarried, that is, without bearing children and +without work, and simply for the satisfaction of the passions. If I +had thought of this, I should have understood that the majority of +the ladies whom I intended to send thither for the salvation of that +little girl, not only live without bearing children and without +working, and serving only passion, but that they deliberately rear +their daughters for the same life; one mother takes her daughter to +the taverns, another takes hers to balls. But both mothers hold the +same view of the world, namely, that a woman must satisfy man's +passions, and that for this she must be fed, dressed, and cared for. +Then how are our ladies to reform this woman and her daughter? {10} ] + + + +CHAPTER IX. + + + +Still more remarkable were my relations to the children. In my role +of benefactor, I turned my attention to the children also, being +desirous to save these innocent beings from perishing in that lair of +vice, and noting them down in order to attend to them AFTERWARDS. + +Among the children, I was especially struck with a twelve-year-old +lad named Serozha. I was heartily sorry for this bold, intelligent +lad, who had lived with a cobbler, and who had been left without a +shelter because his master had been put in jail, and I wanted to do +good to him. + +I will here relate the upshot of my benevolence in his case, because +my experience with this child is best adapted to show my false +position in the role of benefactor. I took the boy home with me and +put him in the kitchen. It was impossible, was it not, to take a +child who had lived in a den of iniquity in among my own children? +And I considered myself very kind and good, because he was a care, +not to me, but to the servants in the kitchen, and because not I but +the cook fed him, and because I gave him some cast-off clothing to +wear. The boy staid a week. During that week I said a few words to +him as I passed on two occasions and in the course of my strolls, I +went to a shoemaker of my acquaintance, and proposed that he should +take the lad as an apprentice. A peasant who was visiting me, +invited him to go to the country, into his family, as a laborer; the +boy refused, and at the end of the week he disappeared. I went to +the Rzhanoff house to inquire after him. He had returned there, but +was not at home when I went thither. For two days already, he had +been going to the Pryesnensky ponds, where he had hired himself out +at thirty kopeks a day in some procession of savages in costume, who +led about elephants. Something was being presented to the public +there. I went a second time, but he was so ungrateful that he +evidently avoided me. Had I then reflected on the life of that boy +and on my own, I should have understood that this boy was spoiled +because he had discovered the possibility of a merry life without +labor, and that he had grown unused to work. And I, with the object +of benefiting and reclaiming him, had taken him to my house, where he +saw--what? My children,--both older and younger than himself, and of +the same age,--who not only never did any work for themselves, but +who made work for others by every means in their power, who soiled +and spoiled every thing about them, who ate rich, dainty, and sweet +viands, broke china, and flung to the dogs food which would have been +a tidbit to this lad. If I had rescued him from the abyss, and had +taken him to that nice place, then he must acquire those views which +prevailed in the life of that nice place; but by these views, he +understood that in that fine place he must so live that he should not +toil, but eat and drink luxuriously, and lead a joyous life. It is +true that he did not know that my children bore heavy burdens in the +acquisition of the declensions of Latin and Greek grammar, and that +he could not have understood the object of these labors. But it is +impossible not to see that if he had understood this, the influence +of my children's example on him would have been even stronger. He +would then have comprehended that my children were being educated in +this manner, so that, while doing no work now, they might be in a +position hereafter, also profiting by their diplomas, to work as +little as possible, and to enjoy the pleasures of life to as great an +extent as possible. He did understand this, and he would not go with +the peasant to tend cattle, and to eat potatoes and kvas with him, +but he went to the zoological garden in the costume of a savage, to +lead the elephant at thirty kopeks a day. + +I might have understood how clumsy I was, when I was rearing my +children in the most utter idleness and luxury, to reform other +people and their children, who were perishing from idleness in what I +called the den of the Rzhanoff house, where, nevertheless, three- +fourths of the people toil for themselves and for others. But I +understood nothing of this. + +There were a great many children in the Rzhanoff house, who were in +the same pitiable plight; there were the children of dissolute women, +there were orphans, there were children who had been picked up in the +streets by beggars. They were all very wretched. But my experience +with Serozha showed me that I, living the life I did, was not in a +position to help them. + +While Serozha was living with us, I noticed in myself an effort to +hide our life from him, in particular the life of our children. I +felt that all my efforts to direct him towards a good, industrious +life, were counteracted by the examples of our lives and by that of +our children. It is very easy to take a child away from a +disreputable woman, or from a beggar. It is very easy, when one has +the money, to wash, clean and dress him in neat clothing, to support +him, and even to teach him various sciences; but it is not only +difficult for us, who do not earn our own bread, but quite the +reverse, to teach him to work for his bread, but it is impossible, +because we, by our example, and even by those material and valueless +improvements of his life, inculcate the contrary. A puppy can be +taken, tended, fed, and taught to fetch and carry, and one may take +pleasure in him: but it is not enough to tend a man, to feed and +teach him Greek; we must teach the man how to live,--that is, to take +as little as possible from others, and to give as much as possible; +and we cannot help teaching him to do the contrary, if we take him +into our houses, or into an institution founded for this purpose. + + + +CHAPTER X. + + + +This feeling of compassion for people, and of disgust with myself, +which I had experienced in the Lyapinsky house, I experienced no +longer. I was completely absorbed in the desire to carry out the +scheme which I had concocted,--to do good to those people whom I +should meet here. And, strange to say, it would appear, that, to do +good--to give money to the needy--is a very good deed, and one that +should dispose me to love for the people, but it turned out the +reverse: this act produced in me ill-will and an inclination to +condemn people. But during our first evening tour, a scene occurred +exactly like that in the Lyapinsky house, and it called forth a +wholly different sentiment. + +It began by my finding in one set of apartments an unfortunate +individual, of precisely the sort who require immediate aid. I found +a hungry woman who had had nothing to eat for two days. + +It came about thus: in one very large and almost empty night- +lodging, I asked an old woman whether there were many poor people who +had nothing to eat? The old woman reflected, and then told me of +two; and then, as though she had just recollected, "Why, here is one +of them," said she, glancing at one of the occupied bunks. "I think +that woman has had no food." + +"Really? Who is she?" + +"She was a dissolute woman: no one wants any thing to do with her +now, so she has no way of getting any thing. The landlady has had +compassion on her, but now she means to turn her out . . . Agafya, +hey there, Agafya!" cried the woman. + +We approached, and something rose up in the bunk. It was a woman +haggard and dishevelled, whose hair was half gray, and who was as +thin as a skeleton, dressed in a ragged and dirty chemise, and with +particularly brilliant and staring eyes. She looked past us with her +staring eyes, clutched at her jacket with one thin hand, in order to +cover her bony breast which was disclosed by her tattered chemise, +and oppressed, she cried, "What is it? what is it?" I asked her +about her means of livelihood. For a long time she did not +understand, and said, "I don't know myself; they persecute me." I +asked her,--it puts me to shame, my hand refuses to write it,--I +asked her whether it was true that she had nothing to eat? She +answered in the same hurried, feverish tone, staring at me the +while,--"No, I had nothing yesterday, and I have had nothing to-day." + +The sight of this woman touched me, but not at all as had been the +case in the Lyapinsky house; there, my pity for these people made me +instantly feel ashamed of myself: but here, I rejoiced because I had +at last found what I had been seeking,--a hungry person. + +I gave her a ruble, and I recollect being very glad that others saw +it. The old woman, on seeing this, immediately begged money of me +also. It afforded me such pleasure to give, that, without finding +out whether it was necessary to give or not, I gave something to the +old woman too. The old woman accompanied me to the door, and the +people standing in the corridor heard her blessing me. Probably the +questions which I had put with regard to poverty, had aroused +expectation, and several persons followed us. In the corridor also, +they began to ask me for money. Among those who begged were some +drunken men, who aroused an unpleasant feeling in me; but, having +once given to the old woman, I had no might to refuse these people, +and I began to give. As long as I continued to give, people kept +coming up; and excitement ran through all the lodgings. People made +them appearance on the stairs and galleries, and followed me. As I +emerged into the court-yard, a little boy ran swiftly down one of the +staircases thrusting the people aside. He did not see me, and +exclaimed hastily: "He gave Agashka a ruble!" When he reached the +ground, the boy joined the crowd which was following me. I went out +into the street: various descriptions of people followed me, and +asked for money. I distributed all my small change, and entered an +open shop with the request that the shopkeeper would change a ten- +ruble bill for me. And then the same thing happened as at the +Lyapinsky house. A terrible confusion ensued. Old women, noblemen, +peasants, and children crowded into the shop with outstretched hands; +I gave, and interrogated some of them as to their lives, and took +notes. The shopkeeper, turning up the furred points of the collar of +his coat, sat like a stuffed creature, glancing at the crowd +occasionally, and then fixing his eyes beyond them again. He +evidently, like every one else, felt that this was foolish, but he +could not say so. + +The poverty and beggary in the Lyapinsky house had horrified me, and +I felt myself guilty of it; I felt the desire and the possibility of +improvement. But now, precisely the same scene produced on me an +entirely different effect; I experienced, in the first place, a +malevolent feeling towards many of those who were besieging me; and +in the second place, uneasiness as to what the shopkeepers and +porters would think of me. + +On my return home that day, I was troubled in my soul. I felt that +what I had done was foolish and immoral. But, as is always the +result of inward confusion, I talked a great deal about the plan +which I had undertaken, as though I entertained not the slightest +doubt of my success. + +On the following day, I went to such of the people whom I had +inscribed on my list, as seemed to me the most wretched of all, and +those who, as it seemed to me, would be the easiest to help. As I +have already said, I did not help any of these people. It proved to +be more difficult to help them than I had thought. And either +because I did not know how, or because it was impossible, I merely +imitated these people, and did not help any one. I visited the +Rzhanoff house several times before the final tour, and on every +occasion the very same thing occurred: I was beset by a throng of +beggars in whose mass I was completely lost. I felt the +impossibility of doing any thing, because there were too many of +them, and because I felt ill-disposed towards them because there were +so many of them; and in addition to this, each one separately did not +incline me in his favor. I was conscious that every one of them was +telling me an untruth, or less than the whole truth, and that he saw +in me merely a purse from which money might be drawn. And it very +frequently seemed to me, that the very money which they squeezed out +of me, rendered their condition worse instead of improving it. The +oftener I went to that house, the more I entered into intercourse +with the people there, the more apparent became to me the +impossibility of doing any thing; but still I did not give up any +scheme until the last night tour. + +The remembrance of that last tour is particularly mortifying to me. +On other occasions I had gone thither alone, but twenty of us went +there on this occasion. At seven o'clock, all who wished to take +part in this final night round, began to assemble at my house. +Nearly all of them were strangers to me,--students, one officer, and +two of my society acquaintances, who, uttering the usual, "C'est tres +interessant!" had asked me to include them in the number of the +census-takers. + +My worldly acquaintances had dressed up especially for this, in some +sort of hunting-jacket, and tall, travelling boots, in a costume in +which they rode and went hunting, and which, in their opinion, was +appropriate for an excursion to a night-lodging-house. They took +with them special note-books and remarkable pencils. They were in +that peculiarly excited state of mind in which men set off on a hunt, +to a duel, or to the wars. The most apparent thing about them was +their folly and the falseness of our position, but all the rest of us +were in the same false position. Before we set out, we held a +consultation, after the fashion of a council of war, as to how we +should begin, how divide our party, and so on. + +This consultation was exactly such as takes place in councils, +assemblages, committees; that is to say, each person spoke, not +because he had any thing to say or to ask, but because each one +cudgelled his brain for something that he could say, so that he might +not fall short of the rest. But, among all these discussions, no one +alluded to that beneficence of which I had so often spoken to them +all. Mortifying as this was to me, I felt that it was indispensable +that I should once more remind them of benevolence, that is, of the +point, that we were to observe and take notes of all those in +destitute circumstances whom we should encounter in the course of our +rounds. I had always felt ashamed to speak of this; but now, in the +midst of all our excited preparations for our expedition, I could +hardly utter the words. All listened to me, as it seemed to me, with +sorrow, and, at the same time, all agreed in words; but it was +evident that they all knew that it was folly, and that nothing would +come of it, and all immediately began again to talk about something +else. This went on until the time arrived for us to set out, and we +started. + +We reached the tavern, roused the waiters, and began to sort our +papers. When we were informed that the people had heard about this +round, and were leaving their quarters, we asked the landlord to lock +the gates; and we went ourselves into the yard to reason with the +fleeing people, assuring them that no one would demand their tickets. +I remember the strange and painful impression produced on me by these +alarmed night-lodgers: ragged, half-dressed, they all seemed tall to +me by the light of the lantern and the gloom of the court-yard. +Frightened and terrifying in their alarm, they stood in a group +around the foul-smelling out-house, and listened to our assurances, +but they did not believe us, and were evidently prepared for any +thing, like hunted wild beasts, provided only that they could escape +from us. Gentlemen in divers shapes--as policemen, both city and +rural, and as examining judges, and judges--hunt them all their +lives, in town and country, on the highway and in the streets, and in +the taverns, and in night-lodging houses; and now, all of a sudden, +these gentlemen had come and locked the gates, merely in order to +count them: it was as difficult for them to believe this, as for +hares to believe that dogs have come, not to chase but to count them. +But the gates were locked, and the startled lodgers returned: and +we, breaking up into groups, entered also. With me were the two +society men and two students. In front of us, in the dark, went +Vanya, in his coat and white trousers, with a lantern, and we +followed. We went to quarters with which I was familiar. I knew all +the establishments, and some of the people; but the majority of the +people were new, and the spectacle was new, and more dreadful than +the one which I had witnessed in the Lyapinsky house. All the +lodgings were full, all the bunks were occupied, not by one person +only, but often by two. The sight was terrible in that narrow space +into which the people were huddled, and men and women were mixed +together. All the women who were not dead drunk slept with men; and +women with two children did the same. The sight was terrible, on +account of the poverty, dirt, rags, and terror of the people. And it +was chiefly dreadful on account of the vast numbers of people who +were in this situation. One lodging, and then a second like it, and +a third, and a tenth, and a twentieth, and still there was no end to +them. And everywhere there was the same foul odor, the same close +atmosphere, the same crowding, the same mingling of the sexes, the +same men and women intoxicated to stupidity, and the same terror, +submission and guilt on all faces; and again I was overwhelmed with +shame and pain, as in the Lyapinsky house, and I understood that what +I had undertaken was abominable and foolish and therefore +impracticable. And I no longer took notes of anybody, and I asked no +questions, knowing that nothing would come of this. + +I was deeply pained. In the Lyapinsky house I had been like a man +who has seen a fearful wound, by chance, on the body of another man. +He is sorry for the other man, he is ashamed that he has not pitied +the man before, and he can still rise to the succor of the sufferer. +But now I was like a physician, who has come with his medicine to the +sick man, has uncovered his sore, and examined it, and who must +confess to himself that every thing that he has done has been in +vain, and that his remedy is good for nothing. + + + +CHAPTER XI. + + + +This visit dealt the final blow to my self-delusion. It now appeared +indisputable to me, that what I had undertaken was not only foolish +but loathsome. + +But, in spite of the fact that I was aware of this, it seemed to me +that I could not abandon the whole thing on the spot. It seemed to +me that I was bound to carry out this enterprise, in the first place, +because by my article, by my visits and promises, I had aroused the +expectations of the poor; in the second, because by my article also, +and by my talk, I had aroused the sympathies of benevolent persons, +many of whom had promised me their co-operation both in personal +labor and in money. And I expected that both sets of people would +turn to me for an answer to this. + +What happened to me, so far as the appeal of the needy to me is +concerned, was as follows: By letter and personal application I +received more than a hundred; these applications were all from the +wealthy-poor, if I may so express myself. I went to see some of +them, and some of them received no answer. Nowhere did I succeed in +doing any thing. All applications to me were from persons who had +once occupied privileged positions (I thus designate those in which +people receive more from others than they give), who had lost them, +and who wished to occupy them again. To one, two hundred rubles were +indispensable, in order that he might prop up a failing business, and +complete the education of his children which had been begun; another +wanted a photographic outfit; a third wanted his debts paid, and +respectable clothing purchased for him; a fourth needed a piano, in +order to perfect himself and support his family by giving lessons. +But the majority did not stipulate for any given sum of money, and +simply asked for assistance; and when I came to examine into what was +required, it turned out that their demands grew in proportion to the +aid, and that there was not and could not be any way of satisfying +them. I repeat, that it is very possible that this arose from the +fact that I did not understand how; but I did not help any one, +although I sometimes endeavored to do so. + +A very strange and unexpected thing happened to me as regards the co- +operation of the benevolently disposed. Out of all the persons who +had promised me financial aid, and who had even stated the number of +rubles, not a single one handed to me for distribution among the poor +one solitary ruble. But according to the pledges which had been +given me, I could reckon on about three thousand rubles; and out of +all these people, not one remembered our former discussions, or gave +me a single kopek. Only the students gave the money which had been +assigned to them for their work on the census, twelve rubles, I +think. So my whole scheme, which was to have been expressed by tens +of thousands of rubles contributed by the wealthy, for hundreds and +thousands of poor people who were to be rescued from poverty and +vice, dwindled down to this, that I gave away, haphazard, a few +scores of rubles to those people who asked me for them, and that +there remained in my hands twelve rubies contributed by the students, +and twenty-five sent to me by the City Council for my labor as a +superintendent, and I absolutely did not know to whom to give them. + +The whole matter came to an end. And then, before my departure for +the country, on the Sunday before carnival, I went to the Rzhanoff +house in the morning, in order to get rid of those thirty-seven +rubles before I should leave Moscow, and to distribute them to the +poor. I made the round of the quarters with which I was familiar, +and in them found only one sick man, to whom I gave five rubles. +There was no one else there to give any to. Of course many began to +beg of me. But as I had not known them at first, so I did not know +them now, and I made up my mind to take counsel with Ivan Fedotitch, +the landlord of the tavern, as to the persons upon whom it would be +proper to bestow the remaining thirty-two rubies. + +It was the first day of the carnival. Everybody was dressed up, and +everybody was full-fed, and many were already intoxicated. In the +court-yard, close to the house, stood an old man, a rag-picker, in a +tattered smock and bast shoes, sorting over the booty in his basket, +tossing out leather, iron, and other stuff in piles, and breaking +into a merry song, with a fine, powerful voice. I entered into +conversation with him. He was seventy years old, he was alone in the +world, and supported himself by his calling of a rag-picker; and not +only did he utter no complaints, but he said that he had plenty to +eat and drink. I inquired of him as to especially needy persons. He +flew into a rage, and said plainly that there were no needy people, +except drunkards and lazy men; but, on learning my object, he asked +me for a five-kopek piece to buy a drink, and ran off to the tavern. +I too entered the tavern to see Ivan Fedotitch, and commission him to +distribute the money which I had left. The tavern was full; gayly- +dressed, intoxicated girls were flitting in and out; all the tables +were occupied; there were already a great many drunken people, and in +the small room the harmonium was being played, and two persons were +dancing. Out of respect to me, Ivan Fedotitch ordered that the dance +should be stopped, and seated himself with me at a vacant table. I +said to him, that, as he knew his tenants, would not he point out to +me the most needy among them; that I had been entrusted with the +distribution of a little money, and, therefore, would he indicate the +proper persons? Good-natured Ivan Fedotitch (he died a year later), +although he was pressed with business, broke away from it for a time, +in order to serve me. He meditated, and was evidently undecided. An +elderly waiter heard us, and joined the conference. + +They began to discuss the claims of persons, some of whom I knew, but +still they could not come to any agreement. "The Paramonovna," +suggested the waiter. "Yes, that would do. Sometimes she has +nothing to eat. Yes, but then she tipples."--"Well, what of that? +That makes no difference."--"Well, Sidoron Ivanovitch has children. +He would do." But Ivan Fedotitch had his doubts about Sidoron +Ivanovitch also. "Akulina shall have some. There, now, give +something to the blind." To this I responded. I saw him at once. +He was a blind old man of eighty years, without kith or kin. It +seemed as though no condition could be more painful, and I went +immediately to see him. He was lying on a feather-bed, on a high +bedstead, drunk; and, as he did not see me, he was scolding his +comparatively youthful female companion in a frightful bass voice, +and in the very worst kind of language. They also summoned an +armless boy and his mother. I saw that Ivan Fedotitch was in great +straits, on account of his conscientiousness, for me knew that +whatever was given would immediately pass to his tavern. But I had +to get rid of my thirty-two rubles, so I insisted; and in one way and +another, and half wrongfully to boot, we assigned and distributed +them. Those who received them were mostly well dressed, and we had +not far to go to find them, as they were there in the tavern. The +armless boy appeared in wrinkled boots, and a red shirt and vest. +With this my charitable career came to an end, and I went off to the +country; irritated at others, as is always the case, because I myself +had done a stupid and a bad thing. My benevolence had ended in +nothing, and it ceased altogether, but the current of thoughts and +feelings which it had called up with me not only did not come to an +end, but the inward work went on with redoubled force. + + + +CHAPTER XII. + + + +What was its nature? + +I had lived in the country, and there I was connected with the rustic +poor. Not out of humility, which is worse than pride, but for the +sake of telling the truth, which is indispensable for the +understanding of the whole course of my thoughts and sentiments, I +will say that in the country I did very little for the poor, but the +demands which were made upon me were so modest that even this little +was of use to the people, and formed around me an atmosphere of +affection and union with the people, in which it was possible to +soothe the gnawing sensation of remorse at the independence of my +life. On going to the city, I had hoped to be able to live in the +same manner. But here I encountered want of an entirely different +sort. City want was both less real, and more exacting and cruel, +than country poverty. But the principal point was, that there was so +much of it in one spot, that it produced on me a frightful +impression. The impression which I experienced in the Lyapinsky +house had, at the very first, made me conscious of the deformity of +my own life. This feeling was genuine and very powerful. But, +notwithstanding its genuineness and power, I was, at that time, so +weak that I feared the alteration in my life to which this feeling +commended me, and I resorted to a compromise. I believed what +everybody told me, and everybody has said, ever since the world was +made,--that there is nothing evil in wealth and luxury, that they are +given by God, that one may continue to live as a rich man, and yet +help the needy. I believed this, and I tried to do it. I wrote an +essay, in which I summoned all rich people to my assistance. The +rich people all acknowledged themselves morally bound to agree with +me, but evidently they either did not wish to do any thing, or they +could not do any thing or give any thing to the poor. I began to +visit the poor, and I beheld what I had not in the least expected. +On the one hand, I beheld in those dens, as I called them, people +whom it was not conceivable that I should help, because they were +working people, accustomed to labor and privation, and therefore +standing much higher and having a much firmer foothold in life than +myself; on the other hand, I saw unfortunate people whom I could not +aid because they were exactly like myself. The majority of the +unfortunates whom I saw were unhappy only because they had lost the +capacity, desire, and habit of earning their own bread; that is to +say, their unhappiness consisted in the fact that they were precisely +such persons as myself. + +I found no unfortunates who were sick, hungry, or cold, to whom I +could render immediate assistance, with the solitary exception of +hungry Agafya. And I became convinced, that, on account of my +remoteness from the lives of those people whom I desired to help, it +would be almost impossible to find any such unfortunates, because all +actual wants had already been supplied by the very people among whom +these unfortunates live; and, most of all, I was convinced that money +cannot effect any change in the life led by these unhappy people. + +I was convinced of all this, but out of false shame at abandoning +what I had once undertaken, because of my self-delusion as a +benefactor, I went on with this matter for a tolerably long time,-- +and would have gone on with it until it came to nothing of itself,-- +so that it was with the greatest difficulty that, with the help of +Ivan Fedotitch, I got rid, after a fashion, as well as I could, in +the tavern of the Rzhanoff house, of the thirty-seven rubles which I +did not regard as belonging to me. + +Of course I might have gone on with this business, and have made out +of it a semblance of benevolence; by urging the people who had +promised me money, I might have collected more, I might have +distributed this money, and consoled myself with my charity; but I +perceived, on the one hand, that we rich people neither wish nor are +able to share a portion of our a superfluity with the poor (we have +so many wants of our own), and that money should not be given to any +one, if the object really be to do good and not to give money itself +at haphazard, as I had done in the Rzhanoff tavern. And I gave up +the whole thing, and went off to the country with despair in my +heart. + +In the country I tried to write an essay about all this that I had +experienced, and to tell why my undertaking had not succeeded. I +wanted to justify myself against the reproaches which had been made +to me on the score of my article on the census; I wanted to convict +society of its in difference, and to state the causes in which this +city poverty has its birth, and the necessity of combating it, and +the means of doing so which I saw. + +I began this essay at once, and it seemed to me that in it I was +saying a very great deal that was important. But toil as I would +over it, and in spite of the abundance of materials, in spite of the +superfluity of them even, I could not get though that essay; and so I +did not finish it until the present year, because of the irritation +under the influence of which I wrote, because I had not gone through +all that was requisite in order to bear myself properly in relation +to this essay, because I did not simply and clearly acknowledge the +cause of all this,--a very simple cause, which had its root in +myself. + +In the domain of morals, one very remarkable and too little noted +phenomenon presents itself. + +If I tell a man who knows nothing about it, what I know about +geology, astronomy, history, physics, and mathematics, that man +receives entirely new information, and he never says to me: "Well, +what is there new in that? Everybody knows that, and I have known it +this long while." But tell that same man the most lofty truth, +expressed in the clearest, most concise manner, as it has never +before been expressed, and every ordinary individual, especially one +who takes no particular interest in moral questions, or, even more, +one to whom the moral truth stated by you is displeasing, will +infallibly say to you: "Well, who does not know that? That was +known and said long ago." It really seems to him that this has been +said long ago and in just this way. Only those to whom moral truths +are dear and important know how important and precious they are, and +with what prolonged labor the elucidation, the simplification, of +moral truths, their transit from the state of a misty, indefinitely +recognized supposition, and desire, from indistinct, incoherent +expressions, to a firm and definite expression, unavoidably demanding +corresponding concessions, are attained. + +We have all become accustomed to think that moral instruction is a +most absurd and tiresome thing, in which there can be nothing new or +interesting; and yet all human life, together with all the varied and +complicated activities, apparently independent, of morality, both +governmental and scientific, and artistic and commercial, has no +other aim than the greater and greater elucidation, confirmation, +simplification, and accessibility of moral truth. + +I remember that I was once walking along the street in Moscow, and in +front of me I saw a man come out and gaze attentively at the stones +of the sidewalk, after which he selected one stone, seated himself on +it, and began to plane (as it seemed to me) or to rub it with the +greatest diligence and force. "What is he doing to the sidewalk?" I +said to myself. On going close to him, I saw what the man was doing. +He was a young fellow from a meat-shop; he was whetting his knife on +the stone of the pavement. He was not thinking at all of the stones +when he scrutinized them, still less was he thinking of them when he +was accomplishing his task: he was whetting his knife. He was +obliged to whet his knife so that he could cut the meat; but to me it +seemed as though he were doing something to the stones of the +sidewalk. Just so it appears as though humanity were occupied with +commerce, conventions, wars, sciences, arts; but only one business is +of importance to it, and with only one business is it occupied: it +is elucidating to itself those moral laws by which it lives. The +moral laws are already in existence; humanity is only elucidating +them, and this elucidation seems unimportant and imperceptible for +any one who has no need of moral laws, who does not wish to live by +them. But this elucidation of the moral law is not only weighty, but +the only real business of all humanity. This elucidation is +imperceptible just as the difference between the dull and the sharp +knife is imperceptible. The knife is a knife all the same, and for a +person who is not obliged to cut any thing with this knife, the +difference between the dull and the sharp one is imperceptible. For +the man who has come to an understanding that his whole life depends +on the greater or less degree of sharpness in the knife,--for such a +man, every whetting of it is weighty, and that man knows that the +knife is a knife only when it is sharp, when it cuts that which needs +cutting. + +This is what happened to me, when I began to write my essay. It +seemed to me that I knew all about it, that I understood every thing +connected with those questions which had produced on me the +impressions of the Lyapinsky house, and the census; but when I +attempted to take account of them and to demonstrate them, it turned +out that the knife would not cut, and that it must be whetted. And +it is only now, after the lapse of three years, that I have felt that +my knife is sufficiently sharp, so that I can cut what I choose. I +have learned very little that is new. My thoughts are all exactly +the same, but they were duller then, and they all scattered and would +not unite on any thing; there was no edge to them; they would not +concentrate on one point, on the simplest and clearest decision, as +they have now concentrated themselves. + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + + + +I remember that during the entire period of my unsuccessful efforts +at helping the inhabitants of the city, I presented to myself the +aspect of a man who should attempt to drag another man out of a swamp +while he himself was standing on the same unstable ground. Every +attempt of mine had made me conscious of the untrustworthy character +of the soil on which I stood. I felt that I was in the swamp myself, +but this consciousness did not cause me to look more narrowly at my +own feet, in order to learn upon what I was standing; I kept on +seeking some external means, outside myself, of helping the existing +evil. + +I then felt that my life was bad, and that it was impossible to live +in that manner. But from the fact that my life was bad, and that it +was impossible to live in that manner, I did not draw the very simple +and clear deduction that it was necessary to amend my life and to +live better, but I knew the terrible deduction that in order to live +well myself, I must needs reform the lives of others; and so I began +to reform the lives of others. I lived in the city, and I wished to +reform the lives of those who lived in the city; but I soon became +convinced that this I could not by any possibility accomplish, and I +began to meditate on the inherent characteristics of city life and +city poverty. + +"What are city life and city poverty? Why, when I am living in the +city, cannot I help the city poor?" + +I asked myself. I answered myself that I could not do any thing for +them, in the first place, because there were too many of them here in +one spot; in the second place, because all the poor people here were +entirely different from the country poor. Why were there so many of +them here? and in what did their peculiarity, as opposed to the +country poor, consist? There was one and the same answer to both +questions. There were a great many of them here, because here all +those people who have no means of subsistence in the country collect +around the rich; and their peculiarity lies in this, that they are +not people who have come from the country to support themselves in +the city (if there are any city paupers, those who have been born +here, and whose fathers and grandfathers were born here, then those +fathers and grandfathers came hither for the purpose of earning their +livelihood). What is the meaning of this: TO EARN ONE'S LIVELIHOOD +IN THE CITY? In the words "to earn one's livelihood in the city," +there is something strange, resembling a jest, when you reflect on +their significance. How is it that people go from the country,--that +is to say, from the places where there are forests, meadows, grain, +and cattle, where all the wealth of the earth lies,--to earn their +livelihood in a place where there are neither trees, nor grass, nor +even land, and only stones and dust? What is the significance of the +words "to earn a livelihood in the city," which are in such constant +use, both by those who earn the livelihood, and by those who furnish +it, as though it were something perfectly clear and comprehensible? + +I recall the hundreds and thousands of city people, both those who +live well and the needy, with whom I have conversed on the reason why +they came hither: and all without exception said, that they had come +from the country to earn their living; that in Moscow, where people +neither sow nor reap,--that in Moscow there is plenty of every thing, +and that, therefore, it is only in Moscow that they can earn the +money which they require in the country for bread and a cottage and a +horse, and articles of prime necessity. But assuredly, in the +country lies the source of all riches; there only is real wealth,-- +bread, and forests, and horses, and every thing. And why, above all, +take away from the country that which dwellers in the country need,-- +flour, oats, horses, and cattle? + +Hundreds of times did I discuss this matter with peasants living in +town; and from my discussions with them, and from my observations, it +has been made apparent to me, that the congregation of country people +in the city is partly indispensable because they cannot otherwise +support themselves, partly voluntary, and that they are attracted to +the city by the temptations of the city. + +It is true, that the position of the peasant is such that, for the +satisfaction of his demands made on him in the country, he cannot +extricate himself otherwise than by selling the grain and the cattle +which he knows will be indispensable to him; and he is forced, +whether he will or no, to go to the city in order there to win back +his bread. But it is also true, that the luxury of city life, and +the comparative ease with which money is there to be earned, attract +him thither; and under the pretext of gaining his living in the town, +he betakes himself thither in order that he may have lighter work, +better food, and drink tea three times a day, and dress well, and +even lead a drunken and dissolute life. The cause of both is +identical,--the transfer of the riches of the producers into the +hands of non-producers, and the accumulation of wealth in the cities. +And, in point of fact, when autumn has come, all wealth is collected +in the country. And instantly there arise demands for taxes, +recruits, the temptations of vodka, weddings, festivals; petty +pedlers make their rounds through the villages, and all sorts of +other temptations crop up; and by this road, or, if not, by some +other, wealth of the most varied description--vegetables, calves, +cows, horses, pigs, chickens, eggs, butter, hemp, flax, rye, oats, +buckwheat, pease, hempseed, and flaxseed--all passes into the hands +of strangers, is carried off to the towns, and thence to the +capitals. The countryman is obliged to surrender all this to satisfy +the demands that are made upon him, and temptations; and, having +parted with his wealth, he is left with an insufficiency, and he is +forced to go whither his wealth has been carried and there he tries, +in part, to obtain the money which he requires for his first needs in +the country, and in part, being himself led away by the blandishments +of the city, he enjoys, in company with others, the wealth that has +there accumulated. Everywhere, throughout the whole of Russia,--yes, +and not in Russia alone, I think, but throughout the whole world,-- +the same thing goes on. The wealth of the rustic producers passes +into the hands of traders, landed proprietors, officials, and +factory-owners; and the people who receive this wealth wish to enjoy +it. But it is only in the city that they can derive full enjoyment +from this wealth. In the country, in the first place, it is +difficult to satisfy all the requirements of rich people, on account +of the sparseness of the population; banks, shops, hotels, every sort +of artisan, and all sorts of social diversions, do not exist there. +In the second place, one of the chief pleasures procured by wealth-- +vanity, the desire to astonish and outshine other people--is +difficult to satisfy in the country; and this, again, on account of +the lack of inhabitants. In the country, there is no one to +appreciate elegance, no one to be astonished. Whatever adornments in +the way of pictures and bronzes the dweller in the country may +procure for his house, whatever equipages and toilets he may provide, +there is no one to see them and envy them, and the peasants cannot +judge of them. [And, in the third place, luxury is even disagreeable +and dangerous in the country for the man possessed of a conscience +and fear. It is an awkward and delicate matter, in the country, to +have baths of milk, or to feed your puppies on it, when directly +beside you there are children who have no milk; it is an awkward and +delicate matter to build pavilions and gardens in the midst of people +who live in cots banked up with dung, which they have no means of +warming. In the country there is no one to keep the stupid peasants +in order, and in their lack of cultivation they might disarrange all +this.] {11} + +And accordingly rich people congregate, and join themselves to other +rich people with similar requirements, in the city, where the +gratification of every luxurious taste is carefully protected by a +numerous police force. Well-rooted inhabitants of the city of this +sort, are the governmental officials; every description of artisan +and professional man has sprung up around them, and with them the +wealthy join their forces. All that a rich man has to do there is to +take a fancy to a thing, and he can get it. It is also more +agreeable for a rich man to live there, because there he can gratify +his vanity; there is some one with whom he can vie in luxury; there +is some one to astonish, and there is some one to outshine. But the +principal reason why it is more comfortable in the city for a rich +man is that formerly, in the country, his luxury made him awkward and +uneasy; while now, on the contrary, it would be awkward for him not +to live luxuriously, not to live like all his peers around him. That +which seemed dreadful and awkward in the country, here appears to be +just as it should be. [Rich people congregate in the city; and +there, under the protection of the authorities, they calmly demand +every thing that is brought thither from the country. And the +countryman is, in some measure, compelled to go thither, where this +uninterrupted festival of the wealthy which demands all that is taken +from him is in progress, in order to feed upon the crumbs which fall +from the tables of the rich; and partly, also, because, when he +beholds the care-free, luxurious life, approved and protected by +everybody, he himself becomes desirous of regulating his life in such +a way as to work as little as possible, and to make as much use as +possible of the labors of others. + +And so he betakes himself to the city, and finds employment about the +wealthy, endeavoring, by every means in his power, to entice from +them that which he is in need of, and conforming to all those +conditions which the wealthy impose upon him, he assists in the +gratification of all their whims; he serves the rich man in the bath +and in the inn, and as cab-driver and prostitute, and he makes for +him equipages, toys, and fashions; and he gradually learns from the +rich man to live in the same manner as the latter, not by labor, but +by divers tricks, getting away from others the wealth which they have +heaped together; and he becomes corrupt, and goes to destruction. +And this colony, demoralized by city wealth, constitutes that city +pauperism which I desired to aid and could not. + +All that is necessary, in fact, is for us to reflect on the condition +of these inhabitants of the country, who have removed to the city in +order to earn their bread or their taxes,--when they behold, +everywhere around them, thousands squandered madly, and hundreds won +by the easiest possible means; when they themselves are forced by +heavy toil to earn kopeks,--and we shall be amazed that all these +people should remain working people, and that they do not all of them +take to an easier method of getting gain,--by trading, peddling, +acting as middlemen, begging, vice, rascality, and even robbery. +Why, we, the participants in that never-ceasing orgy which goes on in +town, can become so accustomed to our life, that it seems to us +perfectly natural to dwell alone in five huge apartments, heated by a +quantity of beech logs sufficient to cook the food for and to warm +twenty families; to drive half a verst with two trotters and two men- +servants; to cover the polished wood floor with rugs; and to spend, I +will not say, on a ball, five or ten thousand rubles, and twenty-five +thousand on a Christmas-tree. But a man who is in need of ten rubles +to buy bread for his family, or whose last sheep has been seized for +a tax-debt of seven rubles, and who cannot raise those rubles by hard +labor, cannot grow accustomed to this. We think that all this +appears natural to poor people there are even some ingenuous persons +who say in all seriousness, that the poor are very grateful to us for +supporting them by this luxury.] {12} + +But poor people are not devoid of human understanding simply because +they are poor, and they judge precisely as we do. As the first +thought that occurs to us on hearing that such and such a man has +gambled away or squandered ten or twenty thousand rubles, is: "What +a foolish and worthless fellow he is to uselessly squander so much +money! and what a good use I could have made of that money in a +building which I have long been in need of, for the improvement of my +estate, and so forth!"--just so do the poor judge when they behold +the wealth which they need, not for caprices, but for the +satisfaction of their actual necessities, of which they are +frequently deprived, flung madly away before their eyes. We make a +very great mistake when we think that the poor can judge thus, reason +thus, and look on indifferently at the luxury which surrounds them. + +They never have acknowledged, and they never will acknowledge, that +it can be just for some people to live always in idleness, and for +other people to fast and toil incessantly; but at first they are +amazed and insulted by this; then they scrutinize it more +attentively, and, seeing that these arrangements are recognized as +legitimate, they endeavor to free themselves from toil, and to take +part in the idleness. Some succeed in this, and they become just +such carousers themselves; others gradually prepare themselves for +this state; others still fail, and do not attain their goal, and, +having lost the habit of work, they fill up the disorderly houses and +the night-lodging houses. + +Two years ago, we took from the country a peasant boy to wait on +table. For some reason, he did not get on well with the footman, and +he was sent away: he entered the service of a merchant, won the +favor of his master, and now he goes about with a vest and a watch- +chain, and dandified boots. In his place, we took another peasant, a +married man: he became a drunkard, and lost money. We took a third: +he took to drunk, and, having drank up every thing he had, he +suffered for a long while from poverty in the night-lodging house. +An old man, the cook, took to drink and fell sick. Last year a +footman who had formerly been a hard drinker, but who had refrained +from liquor for five years in the country, while living in Moscow +without his wife who encouraged him, took to drink again, and ruined +his whole life. A young lad from our village lives with my brother +as a table-servant. His grandfather, a blind old man, came to me +during my sojourn in the country, and asked me to remind this +grandson that he was to send ten rubies for the taxes, otherwise it +would be necessary for him to sell his cow. "He keeps saying, I must +dress decently," said the old man: "well, he has had some shoes +made, and that's all right; but what does he want to set up a watch +for?" said the grandfather, expressing in these words the most +senseless supposition that it was possible to originate. The +supposition really was senseless, if we take into consideration that +the old man throughout Lent had eaten no butter, and that he had no +split wood because he could not possibly pay one ruble and twenty +kopeks for it; but it turned out that the old man's senseless jest +was an actual fact. The young fellow came to see me in a fine black +coat, and shoes for which he had paid eight rubles. He had recently +borrowed ten rubles from my brother, and had spent them on these +shoes. And my children, who have known the lad from childhood, told +me that he really considers it indispensable to fit himself out with +a watch. He is a very good boy, but he thinks that people will laugh +at him so long as he has no watch; and a watch is necessary. During +the present year, a chambermaid, a girl of eighteen, entered into a +connection with the coachman in our house. She was discharged. An +old woman, the nurse, with whom I spoke in regard to the unfortunate +girl, reminded me of a girl whom I had forgotten. She too, ten yeans +ago, during a brief stay of ours in Moscow, had become connected with +a footman. She too had been discharged, and she had ended in a +disorderly house, and had died in the hospital before reaching the +age of twenty. It is only necessary to glance about one, to be +struck with terror at the pest which we disseminate directly by our +luxurious life among the people whom we afterwards wish to help, not +to mention the factories and establishments which serve our luxurious +tastes. + +[And thus, having penetrated into the peculiar character of city +poverty, which I was unable to remedy, I perceived that its prime +cause is this, that I take absolute necessaries from the dwellers in +the country, and carry them all to the city. The second cause is +this, that by making use here, in the city, of what I have collected +in the country, I tempt and lead astray, by my senseless luxury, +those country people who come hither because of me, in order in some +way to get back what they have been deprived of in the country.] {13} + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + + + +I reached the same conclusion from a totally different point. On +recalling all my relations with the city poor during that time, I saw +that one of the reasons why I could not help the city poor was, that +the poor were disingenuous and untruthful with me. They all looked +upon me, not as a man, but as means. I could not get near them, and +I thought that perhaps I did not understand how to do it; but without +uprightness, no help was possible. How can one help a man who does +not disclose his whole condition? At first I blamed them for this +(it is so natural to blame some one else); but a remark from an +observing man named Siutaeff, who was visiting me at the time, +explained this matter to me, and showed me where the cause of my want +of success lay. I remember that Siutaeff's remark struck me very +forcibly at the time; but I only understood its full significance +later on. It was at the height of my self-delusion. I was sitting +with my sister, and Siutaeff was there also at her house; and my +sister was questioning me about my undertaking. I told her about it, +and, as always happens when you have no faith in your course, I +talked to her with great enthusiasm and warmth, and at great length, +of what I had done, and of what might possibly come of it. I told +her every thing,--how we were going to keep track of pauperism in +Moscow, how we were going to keep an eye on the orphans and old +people, how we were going to send away all country people who had +grown poor here, how we were going to smooth the pathway to reform +for the depraved; how, if only the matter could be managed, there +would not be a man left in Moscow, who could not obtain assistance. +My sister sympathized with me, and we discussed it. In the middle of +our conversation, I glanced at Siutaeff. As I was acquainted with +his Christian life, and with the significance which he attached to +charity, I expected his sympathy, and spoke so that he understood +this; I talked to my sister, but directed my remarks more at him. He +sat immovable in his dark tanned sheepskin jacket,--which he wore, +like all peasants, both out of doors and in the house,--and as though +he did not hear us, but were thinking of his own affairs. His small +eyes did not twinkle, and seemed to be turned inwards. Having +finished what I had to say, I turned to him with a query as to what +he thought of it. + +"It's all a foolish business," said he. + +"Why?" + +"Your whole society is foolish, and nothing good can come out of it," +he repeated with conviction. + +"Why not? Why is it a stupid business to help thousands, at any rate +hundreds, of unfortunate beings? Is it a bad thing, according to the +Gospel, to clothe the naked, and feed the hungry?" + +"I know, I know, but that is not what you are doing. Is it necessary +to render assistance in that way? You are walking along, and a man +asks you for twenty kopeks. You give them to him. Is that alms? Do +you give spiritual alms,--teach him. But what is it that you have +given? It was only for the sake of getting rid of him." + +"No; and, besides, that is not what we are talking about. We want to +know about this need, and then to help by both money and deeds; and +to find work." + +"You can do nothing with those people in that way." + +"So they are to be allowed to die of hunger and cold?" + +"Why should they die? Are there many of them there?" + +"What, many of them?" said I, thinking that he looked at the matter +so lightly because he was not aware how vast was the number of these +people. + +"Why, do you know," said I, "I believe that there are twenty thousand +of these cold and hungry people in Moscow. And how about Petersburg +and the other cities?" + +He smiled. + +"Twenty thousand! And how many households are there in Russia alone, +do you think? Are there a million?" + +"Well, what then?" + +"What then?" and his eyes flashed, and he grew animated. "Come, let +us divide them among ourselves. I am not rich, I will take two +persons on the spot. There is the lad whom you took into your +kitchen; I invited him to come to my house, and he did not come. +Were there ten times as many, let us divide them among us. Do you +take some, and I will take some. We will work together. He will see +how I work, and he will learn. He will see how I live, and we will +sit down at the same table together, and he will hear my words and +yours. This charity society of yours is nonsense." + +These simple words impressed me. I could not but admit their +justice; but it seemed to me at that time, that, in spite of their +truth, still that which I had planned might possibly prove of +service. But the further I carried this business, the more I +associated with the poor, the more frequently did this remark recur +to my mind, and the greater was the significance which it acquired +for me. + +I arrive in a costly fur coat, or with my horses; or the man who +lacks shoes sees my two-thousand-ruble apartments. He sees how, a +little while ago, I gave five rubles without begrudging them, merely +because I took a whim to do so. He surely knows that if I give away +rubles in that manner, it is only because I have hoarded up so many +of them, that I have a great many superfluous ones, which I not only +have not given away, but which I have easily taken from other people. +[What else could he see in me but one of those persons who have got +possession of what belongs to him? And what other feeling can he +cherish towards me, than a desire to obtain from me as many of those +rubles, which have been stolen from him and from others, as possible? +I wish to get close to him, and I complain that he is not frank; and +here I am, afraid to sit down on his bed for fear of getting lice, or +catching something infectious; and I am afraid to admit him to my +room, and he, coming to me naked, waits, generally in the vestibule, +or, if very fortunate, in the ante-chamber. And yet I declare that +he is to blame because I cannot enter into intimate relations with +him, and because me is not frank. + +Let the sternest man try the experiment of eating a dinner of five +courses in the midst of people who have had very little or nothing +but black bread to eat. Not a man will have the spirit to eat, and +to watch how the hungry lick their chops around him. Hence, then, in +order to eat daintily amid the famishing, the first indispensable +requisite is to hide from them, in order that they may not see it. +This is the very thing, and the first thing, that we do. + +And I took a simpler view of our life, and perceived that an approach +to the poor is not difficult to us through accidental causes, but +that we deliberately arrange our lives in such a fashion so that this +approach may be rendered difficult. + +Not only this; but, on taking a survey of our life, of the life of +the wealthy, I saw that every thing which is considered desirable in +that life consists in, or is inseparably bound up with, the idea of +getting as far away from the poor as possible. In fact, all the +efforts of our well-endowed life, beginning with our food, dress, +houses, our cleanliness, and even down to our education,--every thing +has for its chief object, the separation of ourselves from the poor. +In procuring this seclusion of ourselves by impassable barriers, we +spend, to put it mildly, nine-tenths of our wealth. The first thing +that a man who was grown wealthy does is to stop eating out of one +bowl, and he sets up crockery, and fits himself out with a kitchen +and servants. And he feeds his servants high, too, so that their +mouths may not water over his dainty viands; and he eats alone; and +as eating in solitude is wearisome, he plans how he may improve his +food and deck his table; and the very manner of taking his food +(dinner) becomes a matter for pride and vain glory with him, and his +manner of taking his food becomes for him a means of sequestering +himself from other men. A rich man cannot think of such a thing as +inviting a poor man to his table. A man must know how to conduct +ladies to table, how to bow, to sit down, to eat, to rinse out the +mouth; and only rich people know all these things. The same thing +occurs in the matter of clothing. If a rich man were to wear +ordinary clothing, simply for the purpose of protecting his body from +the cold,--a short jacket, a coat, felt and leather boots, an under- +jacket, trousers, shirt,--he would require but very little, and he +would not be unable, when he had two coats, to give one of them to a +man who had none. But the rich man begins by procuring for himself +clothing which consists entirely of separate pieces, and which is fit +only for separate occasions, and which is, therefore, unsuited to the +poor man. He has frock-coats, vests, pea-jackets, lacquered boots, +cloaks, shoes with French heels, garments that are chopped up into +bits to conform with the fashion, hunting-coats, travelling-coats, +and so on, which can only be used under conditions of existence far +removed from poverty. And his clothing also furnishes him with a +means of keeping at a distance from the poor. The same is the case, +and even more clearly, with his dwelling. In order that one may live +alone in ten rooms, it is indispensable that those who live ten in +one room should not see it. The richer a man is, the more difficult +is he of access; the more porters there are between him and people +who are not rich, the more impossible is it to conduct a poor man +over rugs, and seat him in a satin chair. + +The case is the same with the means of locomotion. The peasant +driving in a cart, or a sledge, must be a very ill-tempered man when +he will not give a pedestrian a lift; and there is both room for this +and a possibility of doing it. But the richer the equipage, the +farther is a man from all possibility of giving a seat to any person +whatsoever. It is even said plainly, that the most stylish equipages +are those meant to hold only one person. + +It is precisely the same thing with the manner of life which is +expressed by the word cleanliness. + +Cleanliness! Who is there that does not know people, especially +women, who reckon this cleanliness in themselves as a great virtue? +and who is not acquainted with the devices of this cleanliness, which +know no bounds, when it can command the labor of others? Which of +the people who have become rich has not experienced in his own case, +with what difficulty he carefully trained himself to this +cleanliness, which only confirms the proverb, "Little white hands +love other people's work"? + +To-day cleanliness consists in changing your shirt once a day; to- +morrow, in changing it twice a day. To-day it means washing the +face, and neck, and hands daily; to-morrow, the feet; and day after +to-morrow, washing the whole body every day, and, in addition and in +particular, a rubbing-down. To-day the table-cloth is to serve for +two days, to-morrow there must be one each day, then two a day. To- +day the footman's hands must be clean; to-morrow he must wear gloves, +and in his clean gloves he must present a letter on a clean salver. +And there are no limits to this cleanliness, which is useless to +everybody, and objectless, except for the purpose of separating +oneself from others, and of rendering impossible all intercourse with +them, when this cleanliness is attained by the labors of others. + +Moreover, when I studied the subject, I because convinced that even +that which is commonly called education is the very same thing. + +The tongue does not deceive; it calls by its real name that which men +understand under this name. What the people call culture is +fashionable clothing, political conversation, clean hands,--a certain +sort of cleanliness. Of such a man, it is said, in contradistinction +to others, that he is an educated man. In a little higher circle, +what they call education means the same thing as with the people; +only to the conditions of education are added playing on the +pianoforte, a knowledge of French, the writing of Russian without +orthographical errors, and a still greater degree of external +cleanliness. In a still more elevated sphere, education means all +this with the addition of the English language, and a diploma from +the highest educational institution. But education is precisely the +same thing in the first, the second, and the third case. Education +consists of those forms and acquirements which are calculated to +separate a man from his fellows. And its object is identical with +that of cleanliness,--to seclude us from the herd of poor, in order +that they, the poor, may not see how we feast. But it is impossible +to hide ourselves, and they do see us. + +And accordingly I have become convinced that the cause of the +inability of us rich people to help the poor of the city lies in the +impossibility of our establishing intercourse with them; and that +this impossibility of intercourse is caused by ourselves, by the +whole course of our lives, by all the uses which we make of our +wealth. I have become convinced that between us, the rich and the +poor, there rises a wall, reared by ourselves out of that very +cleanliness and education, and constructed of our wealth; and that in +order to be in a condition to help the poor, we must needs, first of +all, destroy this wall; and that in order to do this, confrontation +after Siutaeff's method should be rendered possible, and the poor +distributed among us. And from another starting-point also I came to +the same conclusion to which the current of my discussions as to the +causes of the poverty in towns had led me: the cause was our +wealth.] {14} + + + +CHAPTER XV. + + + +I began to examine the matter from a third and wholly personal point +of view. Among the phenomena which particularly impressed me, during +the period of my charitable activity, there was yet another, and a +very strange one, for which I could for a long time find no +explanation. It was this: every time that I chanced, either on the +street on in the house, to give some small coin to a poor man, +without saying any thing to him, I saw, or thought that I saw, +contentment and gratitude on the countenance of the poor man, and I +myself experienced in this form of benevolence an agreeable +sensation. I saw that I had done what the man wished and expected +from me. But if I stopped the poor man, and sympathetically +questioned him about his former and his present life, I felt that it +was no longer possible to give three or twenty kopeks, and I began to +fumble in my purse for money, in doubt as to how much I ought to +give, and I always gave more; and I always noticed that the poor man +left me dissatisfied. But if I entered into still closer intercourse +with the poor man, then my doubts as to how much to give increased +also; and, no matter how much I gave, the poor man grew ever more +sullen and discontented. As a general rule, it always turned out +thus, that if I gave, after conversation with a poor man, three +rubles or even more, I almost always beheld gloom, displeasure, and +even ill-will, on the countenance of the poor man; and I have even +known it to happen, that, having received ten rubles, he went off +without so much as saying "Thank you," exactly as though I had +insulted him. + +And thereupon I felt awkward and ashamed, and almost guilty. But if +I followed up a poor man for weeks and months and years, and assisted +him, and explained my views to him, and associated with him, our +relations became a torment, and I perceived that the man despised me. +And I felt that he was in the right. + +If I go out into the street, and he, standing in that street, begs of +me among the number of the other passers-by, people who walk and ride +past him, and I give him money, I then am to him a passer-by, and a +good, kind passer-by, who bestows on him that thread from which a +shirt is made for the naked man; he expects nothing more than the +thread, and if I give it he thanks me sincerely. But if I stop him, +and talk with him as man with man, I thereby show him that I desire +to be something more than a mere passer-by. If, as often happens, he +weeps while relating to me his woes, then he sees in me no longer a +passer-by, but that which I desire that he should see: a good man. +But if I am a good man, my goodness cannot pause at a twenty-kopek +piece, nor at ten rubles, nor at ten thousand; it is impossible to be +a little bit of a good man. Let us suppose that I have given him a +great deal, that I have fitted him out, dressed him, set him on his +feet so that the can live without outside assistance; but for some +reason or other, though misfortune or his own weakness or vices, he +is again without that coat, that linen, and that money which I have +given him; he is again cold and hungry, and he has come again to me,- +-how can I refuse him? [For if the cause of my action consisted in +the attainment of a definite, material end, on giving him so many +rubles or such and such a coat I might be at ease after having +bestowed them. But the cause of my action is not this: the cause +is, that I want to be a good man, that is to say, I want to see +myself in every other man. Every man understands goodness thus, and +in no other manner.] {15} And therefore, if he should drink away +every thing that you had given him twenty times, and if he should +again be cold and hungry, you cannot do otherwise than give him more, +if you are a good man; you can never cease giving to him, if you have +more than he has. And if you draw back, you will thereby show that +every thing that you have done, you have done not because you are a +good man, but because you wished to appear a good man in his sight, +and in the sight of men. + +And thus in the case with the men from whom I chanced to recede, to +whom I ceased to give, and, by this action, denied good, I +experienced a torturing sense of shame. + +What sort of shame was this? This shame I had experienced in the +Lyapinsky house, and both before and after that in the country, when +I happened to give money or any thing else to the poor, and in my +expeditions among the city poor. + +A mortifying incident that occurred to me not long ago vividly +reminded me of that shame, and led me to an explanation of that shame +which I had felt when bestowing money on the poor. + +[This happened in the country. I wanted twenty kopeks to give to a +poor pilgrim; I sent my son to borrow them from some one; he brought +the pilgrim a twenty-kopek piece, and told me that he had borrowed it +from the cook. A few days afterwards some more pilgrims arrived, and +again I was in want of a twenty-kopek piece. I had a ruble; I +recollected that I was in debt to the cook, and I went to the +kitchen, hoping to get some more small change from the cook. I said: +"I borrowed a twenty-kopek piece from you, so here is a ruble." I +had not finished speaking, when the cook called in his wife from +another room: "Take it, Parasha," said he. I, supposing that she +understood what I wanted, handed her the ruble. I must state that +the cook had only lived with me a week, and, though I had seen his +wife, I had never spoken to her. I was just on the point of saying +to her that she was to give me some small coins, when she bent +swiftly down to my hand, and tried to kiss it, evidently imaging that +I had given her the ruble. I muttered something, and quitted the +kitchen. I was ashamed, ashamed to the verge of torture, as I had +not been for a long time. I shrank together; I was conscious that I +was making grimaces, and I groaned with shame as I fled from the +kitchen. This utterly unexpected, and, as it seemed to me, utterly +undeserved shame, made a special impression on me, because it was a +long time since I had been mortified, and because I, as an old man, +had so lived, it seemed to me, that I had not merited this shame. I +was forcibly struck by this. I told the members of my household +about it, I told my acquaintances, and they all agreed that they +should have felt the same. And I began to reflect: why had this +caused me such shame? To this, something which had happened to me in +Moscow furnished me with an answer. + +I meditated on that incident, and the shame which I had experienced +in the presence of the cook's wife was explained to me, and all those +sensations of mortification which I had undergone during the course +of my Moscow benevolence, and which I now feel incessantly when I +have occasion to give any one any thing except that petty alms to the +poor and to pilgrims, which I have become accustomed to bestow, and +which I consider a deed not of charity but of courtesy. If a man +asks you for a light, you must strike a match for him, if you have +one. If a man asks for three or for twenty kopeks, or even for +several rubles, you must give them if you have them. This is an act +of courtesy and not of charity.] {16} + +This was the case in question: I have already mentioned the two +peasants with whom I was in the habit of sawing wood three yeans ago. +One Saturday evening at dusk, I was returning to the city in their +company. They were going to their employer to receive their wages. +As we were crossing the Dragomilovsky bridge, we met an old man. He +asked alms, and I gave him twenty kopeks. I gave, and reflected on +the good effect which my charity would have on Semyon, with whom I +had been conversing on religious topics. Semyon, the Vladimir +peasant, who had a wife and two children in Moscow, halted also, +pulled round the skirt of his kaftan, and got out his purse, and from +this slender purse he extracted, after some fumbling, three kopeks, +handed it to the old man, and asked for two kopeks in change. The +old man exhibited in his hand two three-kopek pieces and one kopek. +Semyon looked at them, was about to take the kopek, but thought +better of it, pulled off his hat, crossed himself, and walked on, +leaving the old man the three-kopek piece. + +I was fully acquainted with Semyon's financial condition. He had no +property at home at all. The money which he had laid by on the day +when he gave three kopeks amounted to six rubles and fifty kopeks. +Accordingly, six rubles and twenty kopeks was the sum of his savings. +My reserve fund was in the neighborhood of six hundred thousand. I +had a wife and children, Semyon had a wife and children. He was +younger than I, and his children were fewer in number than mine; but +his children were small, and two of mine were of an age to work, so +that our position, with the exception of the savings, was on an +equality; mine was somewhat the more favorable, if any thing. He +gave three kopeks, I gave twenty. What did he really give, and what +did I really give? What ought I to have given, in order to do what +Semyon had done? he had six hundred kopeks; out of this he gave one, +and afterwards two. I had six hundred thousand rubles. In order to +give what Semyon had given, I should have been obliged to give three +thousand rubles, and ask for two thousand in change, and then leave +the two thousand with the old man, cross myself, and go my way, +calmly conversing about life in the factories, and the cost of liver +in the Smolensk market. + +I thought of this at the time; but it was only long afterwards that I +was in a condition to draw from this incident that deduction which +inevitably results from it. This deduction is so uncommon and so +singular, apparently, that, in spite of its mathematical +infallibility, one requires time to grow used to it. It does seem as +though there must be some mistake, but mistake there is none. There +is merely the fearful mist of error in which we live. + +[This deduction, when I arrived at it, and when I recognized its +undoubted truth, furnished me with an explanation of my shame in the +presence of the cook's wife, and of all the poor people to whom I had +given and to whom I still give money. + +What, in point of fact, is that money which I give to the poor, and +which the cook's wife thought I was giving to her? In the majority +of cases, it is that portion of my substance which it is impossible +even to express in figures to Semyon and the cook's wife,--it is +generally one millionth part or about that. I give so little that +the bestowal of any money is not and cannot be a deprivation to me; +it is only a pleasure in which I amuse myself when the whim seizes +me. And it was thus that the cook's wife understood it. If I give +to a man who steps in from the street one ruble or twenty kopeks, why +should not I give her a ruble also? In the opinion of the cook's +wife, such a bestowal of money is precisely the same as the flinging +of honey-cakes to the people by gentlemen; it furnishes the people +who have a great deal of superfluous cash with amusement. I was +mortified because the mistake made by the cook's wife demonstrated to +me distinctly the view which she, and all people who are not rich, +must take of me: "He is flinging away his folly, i.e., his unearned +money." + +As a matter of fact, what is my money, and whence did it come into my +possession? A portion of it I accumulated from the land which I +received from my father. A peasant sold his last sheep or cow in +order to give the money to me. Another portion of my money is the +money which I have received for my writings, for my books. If my +books are hurtful, I only lead astray those who purchase them, and +the money which I receive for them is ill-earned money; but if my +books are useful to people, then the issue is still more disastrous. +I do not give them to people: I say, "Give me seventeen rubles, and +I will give them to you." And as the peasant sells his last sheep, +in this case the poor student or teacher, or any other poor man, +deprives himself of necessaries in order to give me this money. And +so I have accumulated a great deal of money in that way, and what do +I do with it? I take that money to the city, and bestow it on the +poor, only when they fulfil my caprices, and come hither to the city +to clean my sidewalk, lamps, and shoes; to work for me in factories. +And in return for this money, I force from them every thing that I +can; that is to say, I try to give them as little as possible, and to +receive as much as possible from them. And all at once I begin, +quite unexpectedly, to bestow this money as a simple gift, on these +same poor persons, not on all, but on those to whom I take a fancy. +Why should not every poor person expect that it is quite possible +that the luck may fall to him of being one of those with whom I shall +amuse myself by distributing my superfluous money? And so all look +upon me as the cook's wife did. + +And I had gone so far astray that this taking of thousands from the +poor with one hand, and this flinging of kopeks with the other, to +those to whom the whim moved me to give, I called good. No wonder +that I felt ashamed.] {17} + +Yes, before doing good it was needful for me to stand outside of +evil, in such conditions that I might cease to do evil. But my whole +life is evil. I may give away a hundred thousand rubles, and still I +shall not be in a position to do good because I shall still have five +hundred thousand left. Only when I have nothing shall I be in a +position to do the least particle of good, even as much as the +prostitute did which she nursed the sick women and her child for +three days. And that seemed so little to me! And I dared to think +of good myself! That which, on the first occasion, told me, at the +sight of the cold and hungry in the Lyapinsky house, that I was to +blame for this, and that to live as I live is impossible, and +impossible, and impossible,--that alone was true. + +What, then, was I to do? + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + + + +It was hard for me to come to this confession, but when I had come to +it I was shocked at the error in which I had been living. I stood up +to my ears in the mud, and yet I wanted to drag others out of this +mud. + +What is it that I wish in reality? I wish to do good to others. I +wish to do it so that other people may not be cold and hungry, so +that others may live as it is natural for people to live. + +[I wish this, and I see that in consequence of the violence, +extortions, and various tricks in which I take part, people who toil +are deprived of necessaries, and people who do not toil, in whose +ranks I also belong, enjoy in superabundance the toil of other +people. + +I see that this enjoyment of the labors of others is so arranged, +that the more rascally and complicated the trickery which is employed +by the man himself, or which has been employed by the person from +whom he obtained his inheritance, the more does he enjoy of the +labors of others, and the less does he contribute of his own labor. + +First come the Shtiglitzy, Dervizy, Morozovy, the Demidoffs, the +Yusapoffs; then great bankers, merchants, officials, landed +proprietors, among whom I also belong; then the poor--very small +traders, dramshop-keepers, usurers, district judges, overseers, +teachers, sacristans, clerks; then house-porters, lackeys, coachmen, +watch-carriers, cab-drivers, peddlers; and last of all, the laboring +classes--factory-hands and peasants, whose numbers bear the relation +to the first named of ten to one. I see that the life of nine-tenths +of the working classes demands, by reason of its nature, application +and toil, as does every natural life; but that, in consequence of the +sharp practices which take from these people what is indispensable, +and place them in such oppressive conditions, this life becomes more +difficult every year, and more filled with deprivations; but our +life, the life of the non-laboring classes, thanks to the co- +operation of the arts and sciences which are directed to this object, +becomes more filled with superfluities, more attractive and careful, +with every year. I see, that, in our day, the life of the working- +man, and, in particular, the life of old men, of women, and of +children of the working population, is perishing directly from their +food, which is utterly inadequate to their fatiguing labor; and that +this life of theirs is not free from care as to its very first +requirements; and that, alongside of this, the life of the non- +laboring classes, to which I belong, is filled more and more, every +year, with superfluities and luxury, and becomes more and more free +from anxiety, and has finally reached such a point of freedom from +care, in the case of its fortunate members, of whom I am one, as was +only dreamed of in olden times in fairy-tales,--the state of the +owner of the purse with the inexhaustible ruble, that is, a condition +in which a man is not only utterly released from the law of labor, +but in which he possesses the possibility of enjoying, without toil, +all the blessings of life, and of transferring to his children, or to +any one whom he may see fit, this purse with the inexhaustible ruble. + +I see that the products of the people's toil are more and more +transformed from the mass of the working classes to those who do not +work; that the pyramid of the social edifice seems to be +reconstructed in such fashion that the foundation stones are carried +to the apex, and the swiftness of this transfer is increasing in a +sort of geometrical ratio. I see that the result of this is +something like that which would take place in an ant-heap if the +community of ants were to lose their sense of the common law, if some +ants were to begin to draw the products of labor from the bottom to +the top of the heap, and should constantly contract the foundations +and broaden the apex, and should thereby also force the remaining +ants to betake themselves from the bottom to the summit. + +I see that the ideal of the Fortunatus' purse has made its way among +the people, in the place of the ideal of a toilsome life. Rich +people, myself among the number, get possession of the inexhaustible +ruble by various devices, and for the purpose of enjoying it we go to +the city, to the place where nothing is produced and where every +thing is swallowed up. + +The industrious poor man, who is robbed in order that the rich may +possess this inexhaustible ruble, yearns for the city in his train; +and there he also takes to sharp practices, and either acquires for +himself a position in which he can work little and receive much, +thereby rendering still more oppressive the situation of the laboring +classes, or, not having attained to such a position, he goes to ruin, +and falls into the ranks of those cold and hungry inhabitants of the +night-lodging houses, which are being swelled with such remarkable +rapidity. + +I belong to the class of those people, who, by divers tricks, take +from the toiling masses the necessaries of life, and who have +acquired for themselves these inexhaustible rubles, and who lead +these unfortunates astray. I desire to aid people, and therefore it +is clear that, first of all, I must cease to rob them as I am doing. +But I, by the most complicated, and cunning, and evil practices, +which have been heaped up for centuries, have acquired for myself the +position of an owner of the inexhaustible ruble, that is to say, one +in which, never working myself, I can make hundreds and thousands of +people toil for me--which also I do; and I imagine that I pity +people, and I wish to assist them. I sit on a man's neck, I weigh +him down, and I demand that he shall carry me; and without descending +from his shoulders I assure myself and others that I am very sorry +for him, and that I desire to ameliorate his condition by all +possible means, only not by getting off of him. + +Surely this is simple enough. If I want to help the poor, that is, +to make the poor no longer poor, I must not produce poor people. And +I give, at my own selection, to poor men who have gone astray from +the path of life, a ruble, or ten rubles, or a hundred; and I grasp +hundreds from people who have not yet left the path, and thereby I +render them poor also, and demoralize them to boot. + +This is very simple; but it was horribly hard for me to understand +this fully without compromises and reservations, which might serve to +justify my position; but it sufficed for me to confess my guilt, and +every thing which had before seemed to me strange and complicated, +and lacking in cleanness, became perfectly comprehensible and simple. +But the chief point was, that my way of life, arising from this +interpretation, became simple, clear and pleasant, instead of +perplexed, inexplicable and full of torture as before.] {18} + +Who am I, that I should desire to help others? I desire to help +people; and I, rising at twelve o'clock after a game of vint {19} +with four candles, weak, exhausted, demanding the aid of hundreds of +people,--I go to the aid of whom? Of people who rise at five +o'clock, who sleep on planks, who nourish themselves on bread and +cabbage, who know how to plough, to reap, to wield the axe, to chop, +to harness, to sew,--of people who in strength and endurance, and +skill and abstemiousness, are a hundred times superior to me,--and I +go to their succor! What except shame could I feel, when I entered +into communion with these people? The very weakest of them, a +drunkard, an inhabitant of the Rzhanoff house, the one whom they call +"the idler," is a hundred-fold more industrious than I; [his balance, +so to speak, that is to say, the relation of what he takes from +people and that which they give him, stands on a thousand times +better footing than my balance, if I take into consideration what I +take from people and what I give to them.] {18} + +And these are the people to whose assistance I go. I go to help the +poor. But who is the poor man? There is no one poorer than myself. +I am a thoroughly enervated, good-for-nothing parasite, who can only +exist under the most special conditions, who can only exist when +thousands of people toil at the preservation of this life which is +utterly useless to every one. And I, that plant-louse, which devours +the foliage of trees, wish to help the tree in its growth and health, +and I wish to heal it. + +I have passed my whole life in this manner: I eat, I talk and I +listen; I eat, I write or read, that is to say, I talk and listen +again; I eat, I play, I eat, again I talk and listen, I eat, and +again I go to bed; and so each day I can do nothing else, and I +understand how to do nothing else. And in order that I may be able +to do this, it is necessary that the porter, the peasant, the cook, +male or female, the footman, the coachman, and the laundress, should +toil from morning till night; I will not refer to the labors of the +people which are necessary in order that coachman, cooks, male and +female, footman, and the rest should have those implements and +articles with which, and over which, they toil for my sake; axes, +tubs, brushes, household utensils, furniture, wax, blacking, +kerosene, hay, wood, and beef. And all these people work hard all +day long and every day, so that I may be able to talk and eat and +sleep. And I, this cripple of a man, have imagined that I could help +others, and those the very people who support me! + +It is not remarkable that I could not help any one, and that I felt +ashamed; but the remarkable point is that such an absurd idea could +have occurred to me. The woman who served the sick old man, helped +him; the mistress of the house, who cut a slice from the bread which +she had won from the soil, helped the beggar; Semyon, who gave three +kopeks which he had earned, helped the beggar, because those three +kopeks actually represented his labor: but I served no one, I toiled +for no one, and I was well aware that my money did not represent my +labor. + + + +CHAPTER XVII. {20} + + + +Into the delusion that I could help others I was led by the fact that +I fancied that my money was of the same sort as Semyon's. But this +was not the case. + +A general idea prevails, that money represents wealth; but wealth is +the product of labor; and, therefore, money represents labor. But +this idea is as just as that every governmental regulation is the +result of a compact (contrat social). + +Every one likes to think that money is only a medium of exchange for +labor. I have made shoes, you have raised grain, he has reared +sheep: here, in order that we may the more readily effect an +exchange, we will institute money, which represents a corresponding +quantity of labor, and, by means of it, we will barter our shoes for +a breast of lamb and ten pounds of flour. We will exchange our +products through the medium of money, and the money of each one of us +represents our labor. + +This is perfectly true, but true only so long as, in the community +where this exchange is effected, the violence of one man over the +rest has not made its appearance; not only violence over the labors +of others, as happens in wars and slavery, but where he exercises no +violence for the protection of the products of their labor from +others. This will be true only in a community whose members fully +carry out the Christian law, in a community where men give to him who +asks, and where he who takes is not asked to make restitution. But +just so soon as any violence whatever is used in the community, the +significance of money for its possessor loses its significance as a +representative of labor, and acquires the significance of a right +founded, not on labor, but on violence. + +As soon as there is war, and one man has taken any thing from any +other man, money can no longer be always the representative of labor; +money received by a warrior for the spoils of war, which he sells, +even if he is the commander of the warriors, is in no way a product +of labor, and possesses an entirely different meaning from money +received for work on shoes. As soon as there are slave-owners and +slaves, as there always have been throughout the whole world, it is +utterly impossible to say that money represents labor. + +Women have woven linen, sold it, and received money; serfs have woven +for their master, and the master has sold them and received the +money. The money is identical in both cases; but in the one case it +is the product of labor, in the other the product of violence. In +exactly the same way, a stranger or my own father has given me money; +and my father, when he gave me that money, knew, and I know, and +everybody knows, that no one can take this money away from me; but if +it should occur to any one to take it away from me, or even not to +hand it over at the date when it was promised, the law would +intervene on my behalf, and would compel the delivery to me of the +money; and, again, it is evident that this money can in no wise be +called the equivalent of labor, on a level with the money received by +Semyon for chopping wood. So that in any community where there is +any thing that in any manner whatever controls the labor of others, +or where violence hedges in, by means of money, its possessions from +others, there money is no longer invariably the representative of +labor. In such a community, it is sometimes the representative of +labor, and sometimes of violence. + +Thus it would be where only one act of violence from one man against +others, in the midst of perfectly free relations, should have made +its appearance; but now, when centuries of the most varied deeds of +violence have passed for accumulations of money, when these deeds of +violence are incessant, and merely alter their forms; when, as every +one admits, money accumulated itself represents violence; when money, +as a representative of direct labor, forms but a very small portion +of the money which is derived from every sort of violence,--to say +nowadays that money represents the labor of the person who possesses +it, is a self-evident error or a deliberate lie. + +It may be said, that thus it should be; it may be said, that this is +desirable; but by no means can it be said, that thus it is. + +Money represents labor. Yes. Money does represent labor; but whose? +In our society only in the very rarest, rarest of instances, does +money represent the labor of its possessor, but it nearly always +represents the labor of other people, the past or future labor of +men; it is a representative of the obligation of others to labor, +which has been established by force. + +Money, in its most accurate and at the same the simple application, +is the conventional stamp which confers a right, or, more correctly, +a possibility, of taking advantage of the labors of other people. In +its ideal significance, money should confer this right, or this +possibility, only when it serves as the equivalent of labor, and such +money might be in a community in which no violence existed. But just +as soon as violence, that is to say, the possibility of profiting by +the labors of others without toil of one's own, exists in a +community, then that profiting by the labors of other men is also +expressed by money, without any distinction of the persons on whom +that violence is exercised. + +The landed proprietor has imposed upon his serfs natural debts, a +certain quantity of linen, grain, and cattle, or a corresponding +amount of money. One household has procured the cattle, but has paid +money in lieu of linen. The proprietor takes the money to a certain +amount only, because he knows that for that money they will make him +the same quantity of linen, (generally he takes a little more, in +order to be sure that they will make it for the same amount); and +this money, evidently, represents for the proprietor the obligation +of other people to toil. + +The peasant gives the money as an obligation, to he knows not whom, +but to people, and there are many of them, who undertake for this +money to make so much linen. But the people who undertake to make +the linen, do so because they have not succeeded in raising sheep, +and in place of the sheep, they must pay money; but the peasant who +takes money for his sheep takes it because he must pay for grain +which did not bear well this year. The same thing goes on throughout +this realm, and throughout the whole world. + +A man sells the product of his labor, past, present or to come, +sometimes his food, and generally not because money constitutes for +him a convenient means of exchange. He could have effected the +barter without money, but he does so because money is exacted from +him by violence as a lien on his labor. + +When the sovereign of Egypt exacted labor from his slaves, the slaves +gave all their labor, but only their past and present labor, their +future labor they could not give. But with the dissemination of +money tokens, and the credit which had its rise in them, it became +possible to sell one's future toil for money. Money, with co- +existent violence in the community, only represents the possibility +of a new form of impersonal slavery, which has taken the place of +personal slavery. The slave-owner has a right to the labor of Piotr, +Ivan, and Sidor. But the owner of money, in a place where money is +demanded from all, has a right to the toil of all those nameless +people who are in need of money. Money has set aside all the +oppressive features of slavery, under which an owner knows his right +to Ivan, and with them it has set aside all humane relations between +the owner and the slave, which mitigated the burden of personal +thraldom. + +I will not allude to the fact, that such a condition of things is, +possibly, necessary for the development of mankind, for progress, and +so forth,--that I do not contest. I have merely tried to elucidate +to myself the idea of money, and that universal error into which I +fell when I accepted money as the representative of labor. I became +convinced, after experience, that money is not the representative of +labor, but, in the majority of cases, the representative of violence, +or of especially complicated sharp practices founded on violence. + +Money, in our day, has completely lost that significance which it is +very desirable that it should possess, as the representative of one's +own labor; such a significance it has only as an exception, but, as a +general rule, it has been converted into a right or a possibility of +profiting by the toil of others. + +The dissemination of money, of credit, and of all sorts of money +tokens, confirms this significance of money ever more and more. +Money is a new form of slavery, which differs from the old form of +slavery only in its impersonality, its annihilation of all humane +relations with the slave. + +Money--money, is a value which is always equal to itself, and is +always considered legal and righteous, and whose use is regarded as +not immoral, just as the right of slavery was regarded. + +In my young days, the game of loto was introduced into the clubs. +Everybody rushed to play it, and, as it was said, many ruined +themselves, rendered their families miserable, lost other people's +money, and government funds, and committed suicide; and the game was +prohibited, and it remains prohibited to this day. + +I remember to have seen old and unsentimental gamblers, who told me +that this game was particularly pleasing because you did not see from +whom you were winning, as is the case in other games; a lackey +brought, not money, but chips; each man lost a little stake, and his +disappointment was not visible . . . It is the same with roulette, +which is everywhere prohibited, and not without reason. + +It is the same with money. I possess a magic, inexhaustible ruble; I +cut off my coupons, and have retired from all the business of the +world. Whom do I injure,--I, the most inoffensive and kindest of +men? But this is nothing more than playing at loto or roulette, +where I do not see the man who shoots himself, because of his losses, +after procuring for me those coupons which I cut off from the bonds +so accurately with a strictly right-angled corner. + +I have done nothing, I do nothing, and I shall do nothing, except cut +off those coupons; and I firmly believe that money is the +representative of labor! Surely, this is amazing! And people talk +of madmen, after that! Why, what degree of lunacy can be more +frightful than this? A sensible, educated, in all other respects +sane man lives in a senseless manner, and soothes himself for not +uttering the word which it is indispensably necessary that he should +utter, with the idea that there is some sense in his conclusions, and +he considers himself a just man. Coupons--the representatives of +toil! Toil! Yes, but of whose toil? Evidently not of the man who +owns them, but of him who labors. + +Slavery is far from being suppressed. It has been suppressed in Rome +and in America, and among us: but only certain laws have been +abrogated; only the word, not the thing, has been put down. Slavery +is the freeing of ourselves alone from the toil which is necessary +for the satisfaction of our demands, by the transfer of this toil to +others; and wherever there exists a man who does not work, not +because others work lovingly for him, but where he possesses the +power of not working, and forces others to work for him, there +slavery exists. There too, where, as in all European societies, +there are people who make use of the labor of thousands of men, and +regard this as their right,--there slavery exists in its broadest +measure. + +And money is the same thing as slavery. Its object and its +consequences are the same. Its object is--that one may rid one's +self of the first born of all laws, as a profoundly thoughtful writer +from the ranks of the people has expressed it; from the natural law +of life, as we have called it; from the law of personal labor for the +satisfaction of our own wants. And the results of money are the same +as the results of slavery, for the proprietor; the creation, the +invention of new and ever new and never-ending demands, which can +never be satisfied; the enervation of poverty, vice, and for the +slaves, the persecution of man and their degradation to the level of +the beasts. + +Money is a new and terrible form of slavery, and equally demoralizing +with the ancient form of slavery for both slave and slave-owner; only +much worse, because it frees the slave and the slave-owner from their +personal, humane relations.] + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + + + +I am always surprised by the oft-repeated words: "Yes, this is so in +theory, but how is it in practice?" Just as though theory were fine +words, requisite for conversation, but not for the purpose of having +all practice, that is, all activity, indispensably founded on them. +There must be a fearful number of stupid theories current in the +world, that such an extraordinary idea should have become prevalent. +Theory is what a man thinks on a subject, but its practice is what he +does. How can a man think it necessary to do so and so, and then do +the contrary? If the theory of baking bread is, that it must first +be mixed, and then set to rise, no one except a lunatic, knowing this +theory, would do the reverse. But it has become the fashion with us +to say, that "this is so in theory, but how about the practice?" + +In the matter which interests me now, that has been confirmed which I +have always thought,--that practice infallibly flows from theory, and +not that it justifies it, but it cannot possibly be otherwise, for if +I have understood the thing of which I have been thinking, then I +cannot carry out this thing otherwise than as I have understood it. + +I wanted to help the unfortunate only because I had money, and I +shared the general belief that money was the representative of labor, +or, on the whole, something legal and good. But, having begun to +give away this money, I saw, when I gave the bills which I had +accumulated from poor people, that I was doing precisely that which +was done by some landed proprietors who made some of their serfs wait +on others. I saw that every use of money, whether for making +purchases, or for giving away without an equivalent to another, is +handing over a note for extortion from the poor, or its transfer to +another man for extortion from the poor. I saw that money in itself +was not only not good, but evidently evil, and that it deprives us of +our highest good,--labor, and thereby of the enjoyment of our labor, +and that that blessing I was not in a position to confer on any one, +because I was myself deprived of it: I do not work, and I take no +pleasure in making use of the labor of others. + +It would appear that there is something peculiar in this abstract +argument as to the nature of money. But this argument which I have +made not for the sake of argument, but for the solution of the +problem of my life, of my sufferings, was for me an answer to my +question: What is to be done? + +As soon as I grasped the meaning of riches, and of money, it not only +became clear and indisputable to me, what I ought to do, but also +clear and indisputable what others ought to do, because they would +infallibly do it. I had only actually come to understand what I had +known for a long time previously, the theory which was given to men +from the very earliest times, both by Buddha, and Isaiah, and Lao- +Tze, and Socrates, and in a peculiarly clear and indisputable manner +by Jesus Christ and his forerunner, John the Baptist. John the +Baptist, in answer to the question of the people,--What were they to +do? replied simply, briefly, and clearly: "He that hath two coats, +let him impart to him that hath none; and he that hath meat, let him +do likewise" (Luke iii. 10, 11). In a similar manner, but with even +greater clearness, and on many occasions, Christ spoke. He said: +"Blessed are the poor, and woe to the rich." He said that it is +impossible to serve God and mammon. He forbade his disciples to take +not only money, but also two garments. He said to the rich young +man, that he could not enter into the kingdom of heaven because he +was rich, and that it was easier for a camel to go through the eye of +a needle, than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God. He said +that he who should not leave every thing, houses and children and +lands, and follow him, could not be his disciple. He told the +parable of the rich man who did nothing bad, like our own rich men, +but who only arrayed himself in costly garments, and ate and drank +daintily, and who lost his soul thereby; and of poor Lazarus, who had +done nothing good, but who was saved merely because he was poor. + +This theory was sufficiently familiar to me, but the false teachings +of the world had so obscured it that it had become for me a theory in +the sense which people are fond of attributing to that term, that is +to say, empty words. But as soon as I had succeeded in destroying in +my consciousness the sophisms of worldly teaching, theory conformed +to practice, and the truth with regard to my life and to the life of +the people about me became its conclusion. + +I understood that man, besides life for his own personal good, is +unavoidably bound to serve the good of others also; that, if we take +an illustration from the animal kingdom,--as some people are fond of +doing, defending violence and conflict by the conflict for existence +in the animal kingdom,--the illustration must be taken from +gregarious animals, like bees; that consequently man, not to mention +the love to his neighbor incumbent on him, is called upon, both by +reason and by his nature, to serve other people and the common good +of humanity. I comprehended that the natural law of man is that +according to which only he can fulfil destiny, and therefore be +happy. I understood that this law has been and is broken hereby,-- +that people get rid of labor by force (like the robber bees), make +use of the toil of others, directing this toil, not to the common +weal, but to the private satisfaction of swift-growing desires; and, +precisely as in the case of the robber bees, they perish in +consequence. [I understood that the original form of this +disinclination for the law is the brutal violence against weaker +individuals, against women, wars and imprisonments, whose sequel is +slavery, and also the present reign of money. I understood that +money is the impersonal and concealed enslavement of the poor. And, +once having perceived the significance of money as slavery, I could +not but hate it, nor refrain from doing all in my power to free +myself from it.] {21} + +When I was a slave-owner, and comprehended the immorality of my +position, I tried to escape from it. My escape consisted in this, +that I, regarding it as immoral, tried to exercise my rights as +slave-owner as little as possible, but to live, and to allow other +people to live, as though that right did not exist. And I cannot +refrain from doing the same thing now in reference to the present +form of slavery,--exercising my right to the labor of others as +little as possible, i.e., hiring and purchasing as little as +possible. + +The root of every slavery is the use of the labor of others; and +hence, the compelling others to it is founded indifferently on my +right to the slave, or on my possession of money which is +indispensable to him. If I really do not approve, and if I regard as +an evil, the employment of the labor of others, then I shall use +neither my right nor my money for that purpose; I shall not compel +others to toil for me, but I shall endeavor to free them from the +labor which they have performed for me, as far as possible, either by +doing without this labor or by performing it for myself. + +And this very simple and unavoidable deduction enters into all the +details of my life, effects a total change in it, and at one blow +releases me from those moral sufferings which I have undergone at the +sight of the sufferings and the vice of the people, and instantly +annihilates all three causes of my inability to aid the poor, which I +had encountered while seeking the cause of my lack of success. + +The first cause was the herding of the people in towns, and the +absorption there of the wealth of the country. All that a man needs +is to understand how every hiring or purchase is a handle to +extortion from the poor, and that therefore he must abstain from +them, and must try to fulfil his own requirements; and not a single +man will then quit the country, where all wants can be satisfied +without money, for the city, where it is necessary to buy every +thing: and in the country he will be in a position to help the +needy, as has been my own experience and the experience of every one +else. + +The second cause is the estrangement of the rich from the poor. A +man needs but to refrain from buying, from hiring, and, disdaining no +sort of work, to satisfy his requirements himself, and the former +estrangement will immediately be annihilated, and the man, having +rejected luxury and the services of others, will amalgamate with the +mass of the working people, and, standing shoulder to shoulder with +the working people, he can help them. + +The third cause was shame, founded on a consciousness of immorality +in my owning that money with which I desired to help people. All +that is required is: to understand the significance of money as +impersonal slavery, which it has acquired among us, in order to +escape for the future from falling into the error according to which +money, though evil in itself, can be an instrument of good, and in +order to refrain from acquiring money; and to rid one's self of it in +order to be in a position to do good to people, that is, to bestow on +them one's labor, and not the labor of another. + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + + + +[I saw that money is the cause of suffering and vice among the +people, and that, if I desired to help people, the first thing that +was required of me was not to create those unfortunates whom I wished +to assist. + +I came to the conclusion that the man who does not love vice and the +suffering of the people should not make use of money, thus presenting +an inducement to extortion from the poor, by forcing them to work for +him; and that, in order not to make use of the toil of others, he +must demand as little from others as possible, and work as much as +possible himself.] {22} + +By dint of a long course of reasoning, I came to this inevitable +conclusion, which was drawn thousands of years ago by the Chinese in +the saying, "If there is one idle man, there is another dying with +hunger to offset him. + +[Then what are we to do? John the Baptist gave the answer to this +very question two thousand years ago. And when the people asked him, +"What are we to do?" he said, "Let him that hath two garments impart +to him that hath none, and let him that hath meat do the same." What +is the meaning of giving away one garment out of two, and half of +one's food? It means giving to others every superfluity, and +thenceforth taking nothing superfluous from people. + +This expedient, which furnishes such perfect satisfaction to the +moral feelings, kept my eyes fast bound, and binds all our eyes; and +we do not see it, but gaze aside. + +This is precisely like a personage on the stage, who had entered a +long time since, and all the spectators see him, and it is obvious +that the actors cannot help seeing him, but the point on the stage +lies in the acting characters pretending not to see him, and in +suffering from his absence.] {23} + +Thus we, in our efforts to recover from our social diseases, search +in all quarters, governmental and anti-governmental, and in +scientific and in philanthropic superstitions; and we do not see what +is perfectly visible to every eye. + +For the man who really suffers from the sufferings of the people who +surround us, there exists the very plainest, simplest, and easiest +means; the only possible one for the cure of the evil about us, and +for the acquisition of a consciousness of the legitimacy of his life; +the one given by John the Baptist, and confirmed by Christ: not to +have more than one garment, and not to have money. And not to have +any money, means, not to employ the labor of others, and hence, first +of all, to do with our own hands every thing that we can possibly do. + +This is so clear and simple! But it is clear and simple when the +requirements are simple. I live in the country. I lie on the oven, +and I order my debtor, my neighbor, to chop wood and light my fire. +It is very clear that I am lazy, and that I tear my neighbor away +from his affairs, and I shall feel mortified, and I shall find it +tiresome to lie still all the time; and I shall go and split my wood +for myself. + +But the delusion of slavery of all descriptions lies so far back, so +much of artificial exaction has sprung up upon it, so many people, +accustomed in different degrees to these habits, are interwoven with +each other, enervated people, spoiled for generations, and such +complicated delusions and justifications for their luxury and +idleness have been devised by people, that it is far from being so +easy for a man who stands at the summit of the ladder of idle people +to understand his sin, as it is for the peasant who has made his +neighbor build his fire. + +It is terribly difficult for people at the top of this ladder to +understand what is required of them. [Their heads are turned by the +height of this ladder of lies, upon which they find themselves when a +place on the ground is offered to them, to which they must descend in +order to begin to live, not yet well, but no longer cruelly, +inhumanly; for this reason, this clear and simple truth appears +strange to these people. For the man with ten servants, liveries, +coachmen, cooks, pictures, pianofortes, that will infallibly appear +strange, and even ridiculous, which is the simplest, the first act +of--I will not say every good man--but of every man who is not +wicked: to cut his own wood with which his food is cooked, and with +which he warms himself; to himself clean those boots with which he +has heedlessly stepped in the mire; to himself fetch that water with +which he preserves his cleanliness, and to carry out that dirty water +in which he has washed himself.] {24} + +But, besides the remoteness of people from the truth, there is +another cause which prevents people from seeing the obligation for +them of the simplest and most natural personal, physical labor for +themselves: this is the complication, the inextricability of the +conditions, the advantage of all the people who are bound together +among themselves by money, in which the rich man lives: My luxurious +life feeds people. What would become of my old valet if I were to +discharge him? What! we must all do every thing necessary,--make our +clothes and hew wood? . . . And how about the division of labor?" + +[This morning I stepped out into the corridor where the fires were +being built. A peasant was making a fire in the stove which warms my +son's room. I went in; the latter was asleep. It was eleven o'clock +in the morning. To-day is a holiday: there is some excuse, there +are no lessons. + +The smooth-skinned, eighteen-year-old youth, with a beard, who had +eaten his fill on the preceding evening, sleeps until eleven o'clock. +But the peasant of his age had been up at dawn, and had got through a +quantity of work, and was attending to his tenth stove, while the +former slept. "The peasant shall not make the fire in his stove to +warm that smooth, lazy body of his!" I thought. But I immediately +recollected that this stove also warmed the room of the housekeeper, +a woman forty years of age, who, on the evening before, had been +making preparations up to three o'clock in the morning for the supper +which my son had eaten, and that she had cleared the table, and risen +at seven, nevertheless. The peasant was building the fire for her +also. And under her name the lazybones was warming himself. + +It is true that the interests of all are interwoven; but, even +without any prolonged reckoning, the conscience of each man will say +on whose side lies labor, and on whose idleness. But although +conscience says this, the account-book, the cash-book, says it still +more clearly. The more money any one spends, the more idle he is, +that is to say, the more he makes others work for him. The less he +spends, the more he works.] {25} But trade, but public undertakings, +and, finally, the most terrible of words, culture, the development of +sciences, and the arts,--what of them? + +[If I live I will make answer to those points, and in detail; and +until such answer I will narrate the following.] {25} + + + +CHAPTER XX. + + + +LIFE IN THE CITY. + +Last year, in March, I was returning home late at night. As I turned +from the Zubova into Khamovnitchesky Lane, I saw some black spots on +the snow of the Dyevitchy Pole (field). Something was moving about +in one place. I should not have paid any attention to this, if the +policeman who was standing at the end of the street had not shouted +in the direction of the black spots, - + +"Vasily! why don't you bring her in?" + +"She won't come!" answered a voice, and then the spot moved towards +the policeman. + +I halted and asked the police-officer, "What is it?" + +He said,--"They are taking a girl from the Rzhanoff house to the +station-house; and she is hanging back, she won't walk." A house- +porter in a sheepskin coat was leading her. She was walking forward, +and he was pushing her from behind. All of us, I and the porter and +the policeman, were dressed in winter clothes, but she had nothing on +over her dress. In the darkness I could make out only her brown +dress, and the kerchiefs on her head and neck. She was short in +stature, as is often the case with the prematurely born, with small +feet, and a comparatively broad and awkward figure. + +"We're waiting for you, you carrion. Get along, what do you mean by +it? I'll give it to you!" shouted the policeman. He was evidently +tired, and he had had too much of her. She advanced a few paces, and +again halted. + +The little old porter, a good-natured fellow (I know him), tugged at +her hand. "Here, I'll teach you to stop! On with you!" he repeated, +as though in anger. She staggered, and began to talk in a discordant +voice. At every sound there was a false note, both hoarse and +whining. + +"Come now, you're shoving again. I'll get there some time!" + +She stopped and then went on. I followed them. + +"You'll freeze," said the porters + +"The likes of us don't freeze: I'm hot." + +She tried to jest, but her words sounded like scolding. She halted +again under the lantern which stands not far from our house, and +leaned against, almost hung over, the fence, and began to fumble for +something among her skirts, with benumbed and awkward hands. Again +they shouted at her, but she muttered something and did something. +In one hand she held a cigarette bent into a bow, in the other a +match. I paused behind her; I was ashamed to pass her, and I was +ashamed to stand and look on. But I made up my mind, and stepped +forward. Her shoulder was lying against the fence, and against the +fence it was that she vainly struck the match and flung it away. I +looked in her face. She was really a person prematurely born; but, +as it seemed to me, already an old woman. I credited her with thirty +years. A dirty hue of face; small, dull, tipsy eyes; a button-like +nose; curved moist lips with drooping corners, and a short wisp of +harsh hair escaping from beneath her kerchief; a long flat figure, +stumpy hands and feet. I paused opposite her. She stared at me, and +burst into a laugh, as though she knew all that was going on in my +mind. + +I felt that it was necessary to say something to her. I wanted to +show her that I pitied her. + +"Are your parents alive?" I inquired. + +She laughed hoarsely, with an expression which said, "he's making up +queer things to ask." + +"My mother is," said she. "But what do you want?" + +"And how old are you?" + +"Sixteen," said she, answering promptly to a question which was +evidently customary. + +"Come, march, you'll freeze, you'll perish entirely," shouted the +policeman; and she swayed away from the fence, and, staggering along, +she went down Khamovnitchesky Lane to the police-station; and I +turned to the wicket, and entered the house, and inquired whether my +daughters had returned. I was told that they had been to an evening +party, had had a very merry time, had come home, and were in bed. + +Next morning I wanted to go to the station-house to learn what had +been done with this unfortunate woman, and I was preparing to go out +very early, when there came to see me one of those unlucky noblemen, +who, through weakness, have dropped from the gentlemanly life to +which they are accustomed, and who alternately rise and fall. I had +been acquainted with this man for three years. In the course of +those three years, this man had several times made way with every +thing that he had, and even with all his clothes; the same thing had +just happened again, and he was passing the nights temporarily in the +Rzhanoff house, in the night-lodging section, and he had come to me +for the day. He met me as I was going out, at the entrance, and +without listening to me he began to tell me what had taken place in +the Rzhanoff house the night before. He began his narrative, and did +not half finish it; all at once (he is an old man who has seen men +under all sorts of aspects) he burst out sobbing, and flooded has +countenance with tears, and when he had become silent, turned has +face to the wall. This is what he told me. Every thing that he +related to me was absolutely true. I authenticated his story on the +spot, and learned fresh particulars which I will relate separately. + +In that night-lodging house, on the lower floor, in No. 32, in which +my friend had spent the night, among the various, ever-changing +lodgers, men and women, who came together there for five kopeks, +there was a laundress, a woman thirty years of age, light-haired, +peaceable and pretty, but sickly. The mistress of the quarters had a +boatman lover. In the summer her lover kept a boat, and in the +winter they lived by letting accommodations to night-lodgers: three +kopeks without a pillow, five kopeks with a pillow. + +The laundress had lived there for several months, and was a quiet +woman; but latterly they had not liked her, because she coughed and +prevented the women from sleeping. An old half-crazy woman eighty +years old, in particular, also a regular lodger in these quarters, +hated the laundress, and imbittered the latter's life because she +prevented her sleeping, and cleared her throat all night like a +sheep. The laundress held her peace; she was in debt for her +lodgings, and was conscious of her guilt, and therefore she was bound +to be quiet. She began to go more and more rarely to her work, as +her strength failed her, and therefore she could not pay her +landlady; and for the last week she had not been out to work at all, +and had only poisoned the existence of every one, especially of the +old woman, who also did not go out, with her cough. Four days before +this, the landlady had given the laundress notice to leave the +quarters: the latter was already sixty kopeks in debt, and she +neither paid them, nor did the landlady foresee any possibility of +getting them; and all the bunks were occupied, and the women all +complained of the laundress's cough. + +When the landlady gave the laundress notice, and told her that she +must leave the lodgings if she did not pay up, the old woman rejoiced +and thrust the laundress out of doors. The laundress departed, but +returned in an hour, and the landlady had not the heart to put her +out again. And the second and the third day, she did not turn her +out. "Where am I to go?" said the laundress. But on the third day, +the landlady's lover, a Moscow man, who knew the regulations and how +to manage, sent for the police. A policeman with sword and pistol on +a red cord came to the lodgings, and with courteous words he led the +laundress into the street. + +It was a clear, sunny, but freezing March day. The gutters were +flowing, the house-porters were picking at the ice. The cabman's +sleigh jolted over the icy snow, and screeched over the stones. The +laundress walked up the street on the sunny side, went to the church, +and seated herself at the entrance, still on the sunny side. But +when the sun began to sink behind the houses, the puddles began to be +skimmed over with a glass of frost, and the laundress grew cold and +wretched. She rose, and dragged herself . . . whither? Home, to the +only home where she had lived so long. While she was on her way, +resting at times, dusk descended. She approached the gates, turned +in, slipped, groaned and fell. + +One man came up, and then another. "She must be drunk." Another man +came up, and stumbled over the laundress, and said to the potter: +"What drunken woman is this wallowing at your gate? I came near +breaking my head over her; take her away, won't you?" + +The porter came. The laundress was dead. This is what my friend +told me. It may be thought that I have wilfully mixed up facts,--I +encounter a prostitute of fifteen, and the story of this laundress. +But let no one imagine this; it is exactly what happened in the +course of one night (only I do not remember which) in March, 1884. +And so, after hearing my friend's tale, I went to the station-house, +with the intention of proceeding thence to the Rzhanoff house to +inquire more minutely into the history of the laundress. The weather +was very beautiful and sunny; and again, through the stars of the +night-frost, water was to be seen trickling in the shade, and in the +glare of the sun on Khamovnitchesky square every thing was melting, +and the water was streaming. The river emitted a humming noise. The +trees of the Neskutchny garden looked blue across the river; the +reddish-brown sparrows, invisible in winter, attracted attention by +their sprightliness; people also seemed desirous of being merry, but +all of them had too many cares. The sound of the bells was audible, +and at the foundation of these mingling sounds, the sounds of shots +could be heard from the barracks, the whistle of rifle-balls and +their crack against the target. + +I entered the station-house. In the station some armed policemen +conducted me to their chief. He was similarly armed with sword and +pistol, and he was engaged in taking some measures with regard to a +tattered, trembling old man, who was standing before him, and who +could not answer the questions put to him, on account of his +feebleness. Having finished his business with the old man, he turned +to me. I inquired about the girl of the night before. At first he +listened to me attentively, but afterwards he began to smile, at my +ignorance of the regulations, in consequence of which she had been +taken to the station-house; and particularly at my surprise at her +youth. + +"Why, there are plenty of them of twelve, thirteen, or fourteen years +of age," he said cheerfully. + +But in answer to my question about the girl whom I had seen on the +preceding evening, he explained to me that she must have been sent to +the committee (so it appeared). To my question where she had passed +the night, he replied in an undecided manner. He did not recall the +one to whom I referred. There were so many of them every day. + +In No. 32 of the Rzhanoff house I found the sacristan already reading +prayers over the dead woman. They had taken her to the bunk which +she had formerly occupied; and the lodgers, all miserable beings, had +collected money for the masses for her soul, a coffin and a shroud, +and the old women had dressed her and laid her out. The sacristan +was reading something in the gloom; a woman in a long wadded cloak +was standing there with a wax candle; and a man (a gentleman, I must +state) in a clean coat with a lamb's-skin collar, polished overshoes, +and a starched shirt, was holding one like it. This was her brother. +They had hunted him up. + +I went past the dead woman to the landlady's nook, and questioned her +about the whole business. + +She was alarmed at my queries; she was evidently afraid that she +would be blamed for something; but afterwards she began to talk +freely, and told me every thing. As I passed back, I glanced at the +dead woman. All dead people are handsome, but this dead woman was +particularly beautiful and touching in her coffin; her pure, pale +face, with closed swollen eyes, sunken cheeks, and soft reddish hair +above the lofty brow,--a weary and kind and not a sad but a surprised +face. And in fact, if the living do not see, the dead are surprised. + +On the same day that I wrote the above, there was a great ball in +Moscow. + +That night I left the house at nine o'clock. I live in a locality +which is surrounded by factories, and I left the house after the +factory-whistles had sounded, releasing the people for a day of +freedom after a week of unremitting toil. + +Factory-hands overtook me, and I overtook others of them, directing +their steps to the drinking-shops and taverns. Many were already +intoxicated, many were women. Every morning at five o'clock we can +hear one whistle, a second, a third, a tenth, and so forth, and so +forth. That means that the toil of women, children, and of old men +has begun. At eight o'clock another whistle, which signifies a +breathing-spell of half an hour. At twelve, a third: this means an +hour for dinner. And a fourth at eight, which denotes the end of the +day. + +By an odd coincidence, all three of the factories which are situated +near me produce only articles which are in demand for balls. + +In one factory, the nearest, only stockings are made; in another +opposite, silken fabrics; in the third, perfumes and pomades. + +It is possible to listen to these whistles, and connect no other idea +with them than as denoting the time: "There's the whistle already, +it is time to go to walk." But one can also connect with those +whistles that which they signify in reality; that first whistle, at +five o'clock, means that people, often all without exception, both +men and women, sleeping in a damp cellar, must rise, and hasten to +that building buzzing with machines, and must take their places at +their work, whose end and use for themselves they do not see, and +thus toil, often in heat and a stifling atmosphere, in the midst of +dirt, and with the very briefest breathing-spells, an hour, two +hours, three hours, twelve, and even more hours in succession. They +fall into a doze, and again they rise. And this, for them, senseless +work, to which they are driven only by necessity, is continued over +and over again. + +And thus one week succeeds another with the breaks of holidays; and I +see these work-people released on one of these holidays. They emerge +into the street. Everywhere there are drinking-shops, taverns, and +loose girls. And they, in their drunken state, drag by the hand each +other, and girls like the one whom I saw taken to the station-house; +they drag with them cabmen, and they ride and they walk from one +tavern to another; and they curse and stagger, and say they +themselves know not what. I had previously seen such unsteady gait +on the part of factory-hands, and had turned aside in disgust, and +had been on the point of rebuking them; but ever since I have been in +the habit of hearing those whistles every day, and understand their +meaning, I am only amazed that they, all the men, do not come to the +condition of the "golden squad," of which Moscow is full, {26} [and +the women to the state of the one whom I had seen near my house]. +{27} + +Thus I walked along, and scrutinized these factory-hands, as long as +they roamed the streets, which was until eleven o'clock. Then their +movements began to calm down. Some drunken men remained here and +there, and here and there I encountered men who were being taken to +the station-house. And then carriages began to make their appearance +on all sides, directing their course toward one point. + +On the box sits a coachman, sometimes in a sheepskin coat; and a +footman, a dandy, with a cockade. Well-fed horses in saddle-cloths +fly through the frost at the rate of twenty versts an hour; in the +carriages sit ladies muffled in round cloaks, and carefully tending +their flowers and head-dresses. Every thing from the horse- +trappings, the carriages, the gutta-percha wheels, the cloth of the +coachman's coat, to the stockings, shoes, flowers, velvet, gloves, +and perfumes,--every thing is made by those people, some of whom +often roll drunk into their dens or sleeping-rooms, and some stay +with disreputable women in the night-lodging houses, while still +others are put in jail. Thus past them in all their work, and over +them all, ride the frequenters of balls; and it never enters their +heads, that there is any connection between these balls to which they +make ready to go, and these drunkards at whom their coachman shouts +so roughly. + +These people enjoy themselves at the ball with the utmost composure +of spirit, and assurance that they are doing nothing wrong, but +something very good. Enjoy themselves! Enjoy themselves from eleven +o'clock until six in the morning, in the very dead of night, at the +very hour when people are tossing and turning with empty stomachs in +the night-lodging houses, and while some are dying, as did the +laundress. + +Their enjoyment consists in this,--that the women and young girls, +having bared their necks and arms, and applied bustles behind, place +themselves in a situation in which no uncorrupted woman or maiden +would care to display herself to a man, on any consideration in the +world; and in this half-naked condition, with their uncovered bosoms +exposed to view, with arms bare to the shoulder, with a bustle behind +and tightly swathed hips, under the most brilliant light, women and +maidens, whose chief virtue has always been modesty, exhibit +themselves in the midst of strange men, who are also clad in +improperly tight-fitting garments; and to the sound of maddening +music, they embrace and whirl. Old women, often as naked as the +young ones, sit and look on, and eat and drink savory things; old men +do the same. It is not to be wondered at that this should take place +at night, when all the common people are asleep, so that no one may +see them. But this is not done with the object of concealment: it +seems to them that there is nothing to conceal; that it is a very +good thing; that by this merry-making, in which the labor of +thousands of toiling people is destroyed, they not only do not injure +any one, but that by this very act they furnish the poor with the +means of subsistence. Possibly it is very merry at balls. But how +does this come about? When we see that there is a man in the +community, in our midst, who has had no food, or who is freezing, we +regret our mirth, and we cannot be cheerful until he is fed and +warmed, not to mention the impossibility of imagining people who can +indulge in such mirth as causes suffering to others. The mirth of +wicked little boys, who pitch a dog's tail in a split stick, and make +merry over it, is repulsive and incomprehensible to us. + +In the same manner here, in these diversions of ours, blindness has +fallen upon us, and we do not see the split stick with which we have +pitched all those people who suffer for our amusement. + +[We live as though there were no connection between the dying +laundress, the prostitute of fourteen, and our own life; and yet the +connection between them strikes us in the face. + +We may say: "But we personally have not pinched any tail in a +stick;" but we have no right, to deny that had the tail not been +pitched, our merry-making would not have taken place. We do not see +what connection exists between the laundress and our luxury; but that +is not because no such connection does exist, but because we have +placed a screen in front of us, so that we may not see. + +If there were no screen, we should see that which it is impossible +not to see.] {28} + +Surely all the women who attended that ball in dresses worth a +hundred and fifty rubles each were born not in a ballroom, or at +Madame Minanguoit's; but they have lived in the country, and have +seen the peasants; they know their own nurse and maid, whose father +and brother are poor, for whom the earning of a hundred and fifty +rubles for a cottage is the object of a long, laborious life. Each +woman knows this. How could she enjoy herself, when she knew that +she wore on her bared body at that ball the cottage which is the +dream of her good maid's father and brother? But let us suppose that +she could not make this reflection; but since velvet and silk and +flowers and lace and dresses do not grow of themselves, but are made +by people, it would seem that she could not help knowing what sort of +people make all these things, and under what conditions, and why they +do it. She cannot fail to know that the seamstress, with whom she +has already quarrelled, did not make her dress in the least out of +love for her; therefore, she cannot help knowing that all these +things were made for her as a matter of necessity, that her laces, +flowers, and velvet have been made in the same way as her dress. + +But possibly they are in such darkness that they do not consider +this. One thing she cannot fail to know,--that five or six elderly +and respectable, often sick, lackeys and maids have had no sleep, and +have been put to trouble on her account. She has seen their weary, +gloomy faces. She could not help knowing this also, that the cold +that night reached twenty-eight degrees below zero, {29} and that the +old coachman sat all night long in that temperature on his box. But +I know that they really do not see this. And if they, these young +women and girls, do not see this, on account of the hypnotic state +superinduced in them by balls, it is impossible to condemn them. +They, poor things, have done what is considered right by their +elders; but how are their elders to explain away this their cruelty +to the people? + +The elders always offer the explanation: "I compel no one. I +purchase my things; I hire my men, my maid-servants, and my coachman. +There is nothing wrong in buying and hiring. I force no one's +inclination: I hire, and what harm is there in that?" + +I recently went to see an acquaintance. As I passed through one of +the rooms, I was surprised to see two women seated at a table, as I +knew that my friend was a bachelor. A thin, yellow, old-fashioned +woman, thirty years of age, in a dress that had been carelessly +thrown on, was doing something with her hands and fingers on the +table, with great speed, trembling nervously the while, as though in +a fit. Opposite her sat a young girl, who was also engaged in +something, and who trembled in the same manner. Both women appeared +to be afflicted with St. Vitus' dance. I stepped nearer to them, and +looked to see what they were doing. They raised their eyes to me, +but went on with their work with the same intentness. In front of +them lay scattered tobacco and paper cases. They were making +cigarettes. The woman rubbed the tobacco between her hands, pushed +it into the machine, slipped on the cover, thrust the tobacco +through, then tossed it to the girl. The girl twisted the paper, +and, making it fast, threw it aside, and took up another. All thus +was done with such swiftness, with such intentness, as it is +impossible to describe to a man who has never seen it done. I +expressed my surprise at their quickness. + +"I have been doing nothing else for fourteen years," said the woman. + +"Is it hard?" + +"Yes: it pains my chest, and makes my breathing hard." + +It was not necessary for her to add this, however. A look at the +girl sufficed. She had worked at this for three years, but any one +who had not seen her at this occupation would have said that here was +a strong organism which was beginning to break down. + +My friend, a kind and liberal man, hires these women to fill his +cigarettes at two rubles fifty kopeks the thousand. He has money, +and he spends it for work. What harm is there in that? My friend +rises at twelve o'clock. He passes the evening, from six until two, +at cards, or at the piano. He eats and drinks savory things; others +do all his work for him. He has devised a new source of pleasure,-- +smoking. He has taken up smoking within my memory. + +Here is a woman, and here is a girl, who can barely support +themselves by turning themselves into machines, and they pass their +whole lives inhaling tobacco, and thereby running their health. He +has money which he never earned, and he prefers to play at whist to +making his own cigarettes. He gives these women money on condition +that they shall continue to live in the same wretched manner in which +they are now living, that is to say, by making his cigarettes. + +I love cleanliness, and I give money only on the condition that the +laundress shall wash the shirt which I change twice a day; and that +shirt has destroyed the laundress's last remaining strength, and she +has died. What is there wrong about that? People who buy and hire +will continue to force other people to make velvet and confections, +and will purchase them, without me; and no matter what I may do, they +will hire cigarettes made and shirts washed. Then why should I +deprive myself of velvet and confections and cigarettes and clean +shirts, if things are definitively settled thus? This is the +argument which I often, almost always, hear. This is the very +argument which makes the mob which is destroying something, lose its +senses. This is the very argument by which dogs are guided when one +of them has flung himself on another dog, and overthrown him, and the +rest of the pack rush up also, and tear their comrade in pieces. +Other people have begun it, and have wrought mischief; then why +should not I take advantage of it? Well, what will happen if I wear +a soiled shirt, and make my own cigarettes? Will that make it easier +for anybody else? ask people who would like to justify their course. +If it were not so far from the truth, it would be a shame to answer +such a question, but we have become so entangled that this question +seems very natural to us; and hence, although it is a shame, it is +necessary to reply to it. + +What difference will it make if I wear one shirt a week, and make may +own cigarettes, or do not smoke at all? This difference, that some +laundress and some cigarette-maker will exert their strength less, +and that what I have spent for washing and for the making of +cigarettes I can give to that very laundress, or even to other +laundresses and toilers who are worn out with their labor, and who, +instead of laboring beyond their strength, will then be able to rest, +and drink tea. But to this I hear an objection. (It is so +mortifying to rich and luxurious people to understand their +position.) To this they say: "If I go about in a dirty shirt, and +give up smoking, and hand over this money to the poor, the poor will +still be deprived of every thing, and that drop in the sea of yours +will help not at all." + +Such an objection it is a shame to answer. It is such a common +retort. {30} + +If I had gone among savages, and they had regaled me with cutlets +which struck me as savory, and if I should learn on the following day +that these savory cutlets had been made from a prisoner whom they had +slain for the sake of the savory cutlets, if I do not admit that it +is a good thing to eat men, then, no matter how dainty the cutlets, +no matter how universal the practice of eating men may be among my +fellows, however insignificant the advantage to prisoners, prepared +for consumption, may be my refusal to eat of the cutlets, I will not +and I can not eat any more of them. I may, possibly, eat human +flesh, when hunger compels me to it; but I will not make a feast, and +I will not take part in feasts, of human flesh, and I will not seek +out such feasts, and pride myself on my share in them. + + +LIFE IN THE COUNTRY. + + +But what is to be done? Surely it is not we who have done this? And +if not we, who then? + +We say: "We have not done this, this has done itself;" as the +children say, when they break any thing, that it broke itself. We +say, that, so long as there is a city already in existence, we, by +living in it, support the people, by purchasing their labor and +services. But this is not so. And this is why. We only need to +look ourselves, at the way we have in the country, and at the manner +in which we support people there. + +The winter passes in town. Easter Week passes. On the boulevards, +in the gardens in the parks, on the river, there is music. There are +theatres, water-trips, walks, all sorts of illuminations and +fireworks. But in the country there is something even better,--there +are better air, trees and meadows, and the flowers are fresher. One +should go thither where all these things have unfolded and blossomed +forth. And the majority of wealthy people do go to the country to +breathe the superior air, to survey these superior forests and +meadows. And there the wealthy settle down in the country, and the +gray peasants, who nourish themselves on bread and onions, who toil +eighteen hours a day, who get no sound sleep by night, and who are +clad in blouses. Here no one has led these people astray. There +have been no factories nor industrial establishments, and there are +none of those idle hands, of which there are so many in the city. +Here the whole population never succeeds, all summer long, in +completing all their tasks in season; and not only are there no idle +hands, but a vast quantity of property is ruined for the lack of +hands, and a throng of people, children, old men, and women, will +perish through overstraining their powers in work which is beyond +their strength. How do the rich order their lives there? In this +fashion:- + +If there is an old-fashioned house, built under the serf regime, that +house is repaired and embellished; if there is none, then a new one +is erected, of two or three stories. The rooms, of which there are +from twelve to twenty, and even more, are all six arshins in height. +{31} Wood floors are laid down. The windows consist of one sheet of +glass. There are rich rugs and costly furniture. The roads around +the house are macadamized, the ground is levelled, flower-beds are +laid out, croquet-grounds are prepared, swinging-rings for gymnastics +are erected, reflecting globes, often orangeries, and hotbeds, and +lofty stables always with complicated scroll-work on the gables and +ridges. + +And here, in the country, an honest educated official, or noble +family dwells. All the members of the family and their guests have +assembled in the middle of June, because up to June, that is to say, +up to the beginning of mowing-time, they have been studying and +undergoing examinations; and they live there until September, that is +to say, until harvest and sowing-time. The members of this family +(as is the case with nearly every one in that circle) have lived in +the country from the beginning of the press of work, the suffering +time, not until the end of the season of toil (for in September +sowing is still in progress, as well as the digging of potatoes), but +until the strain of work has relaxed a little. During the whole of +their residence in the country, all around them and beside them, that +summer toil of the peasantry has been going on, of whose fatigues, no +matter how much we may have heard, no matter how much we may have +heard about it, no matter how much we may have gazed upon it, we can +form no idea, unless we have had personal experience of it. And the +members of this family, about ten in number, live exactly as they do +in the city. + +At St. Peter's Day, {32} a strict fast, when the people's food +consists of kvas, bread, and onions, the mowing begins. + +The business which is effected in mowing is one of the most important +in the commune. Nearly every year, through the lack of hands and +time, the hay crop may be lost by rain; and more or less strain of +toil decides the question, as to whether twenty or more per cent of +hay is to be added to the wealth of the people, or whether it is to +rot or die where it stands. And additional hay means additional meat +for the old, and additional milk for the children. Thus, in general +and in particular, the question of bread for each one of the mowers, +and of milk for himself and his children, in the ensuing winter, is +then decided. Every one of the toilers, both male and female, knows +this; even the children know that this is an important matter, and +that it is necessary to strain every nerve to carry the jug of kvas +to their father in the meadow at his mowing, and, shifting the heavy +pitcher from hand to hand, to run barefooted as rapidly as possible, +two versts from the village, in order to get there in season for +dinner, and so that their fathers may not scold them. + +Every one knows, that, from the mowing season until the hay is got +in, there will be no break in the work, and that there will be no +time to breathe. And there is not the mowing alone. Every one of +them has other affairs to attend to besides the mowing: the ground +must be turned up and harrowed; and the women have linen and bread +and washing to attend to; and the peasants have to go to the mill, +and to town, and there are communal matters to attend to, and legal +matters before the judge and the commissary of police; and the wagons +to see to, and the horses to feed at night: and all, old and young, +and sickly, labor to the last extent of their powers. The peasants +toil so, that on every occasion, the mowers, before the end of the +third stint, whether weak, young, or old, can hardly walk as they +totter past the last rows, and only with difficulty are they able to +rise after the breathing-spell; and the women, often pregnant, or +nursing infants, work in the same way. The toil is intense and +incessant. All work to the extreme bounds of their strength, and +expend in this toil, not only the entire stock of their scanty +nourishment, but all their previous stock. All of them--and they are +not fat to begin with--grow gaunt after the "suffering" season. + +Here a little association is working at the mowing; three peasants,-- +one an old man, the second his nephew, a young married man, and a +shoemaker, a thin, sinewy man. This hay-harvest will decide the fate +of all of them for the winter. They have been laboring incessantly +for two weeks, without rest. The rain has delayed their work. After +the rain, when the hay has dried, they have decided to stack it, and, +in order to accomplish this as speedily as possible, that two women +for each of them shall follow their scythes. On the part of the old +man go his wife, a woman of fifty, who has become unfit for work, +having borne eleven children, who is deaf, but still a tolerably +stout worker; and a thirteen-year-old daughter, who is short of +stature, but a strong and clever girl. On the part of his nephew go +his wife, a woman as strong and well-grown as a sturdy peasant, and +his daughter-in-law, a soldier's wife, who is about to become a +mother. On the part of the shoemaker go his wife, a stout laborer, +and her aged mother, who has reached her eightieth year, and who +generally goes begging. They all stand in line, and labor from +morning till night, in the full fervor of the June sun. It is +steaming hot, and rain threatens. Every hour of work is precious. +It is a pity to tear one's self from work to fetch water or kvas. A +tiny boy, the old woman's grandson, brings them water. The old +woman, evidently only anxious lest she shall be driven away from her +work, will not let the rake out of her hand, though it is evident +that she can barely move, and only with difficulty. The little boy, +all bent over, and stepping gently, with his tiny bare feet, drags +along a jug of water, shifting it from hand to hand, for it is +heavier than he. The young girl flings over her shoulder a load of +hay which is also heavier than herself, advances a few steps, halts, +and drops it, without the strength to carry it. The old woman of +fifty rakes away without stopping, and with her kerchief awry she +drags the hay, breathing heavily and tottering. The old woman of +eighty only rakes the hay, but even this is beyond her strength; she +slowly drags along her feet, shod with bast shoes, and, frowning, she +gazes gloomily before her, like a seriously ill or dying person. The +old man has intentionally sent her farther away than the rest, to +rake near the cocks of hay, so that she may not keep in line with the +others; but she does not fall in with this arrangement, and she toils +on as long as the others do, with the same death-like, gloomy +countenance. The sun is already setting behind the forest; but the +cocks are not yet all heaped together, and much still remains to do. +All feel that it is time to stop, but no one speaks, waiting until +the others shall say it. Finally the shoemaker, conscious that his +strength is exhausted, proposes to the old man, to leave the cocks +until the morrow; and the old man consents, and the women instantly +run for the garments, jugs, pitchforks; and the old woman immediately +sits down just where she has been standings and then lies back with +the same death-like look, staring straight in front of her. But the +women are going; and she rises with a groan, and drags herself after +them. And this will go on in July also, when the peasants, without +obtaining sufficient sleep, reap the oats by night, lest it should +fall, and the women rise gloomily to thresh out the straw for the +bands to tie the sheaves; when this old woman, already utterly +cramped by the labor of mowing, and the woman with child, and the +young children, injure themselves overworking and over-drinking; and +when neither hands, nor horses, nor carts will suffice to bring to +the ricks that grain with which all men are nourished, and millions +of poods {33} of which are daily required in Russia to keep people +from perishing. + +And we live as though there were no connection between the dying +laundress, the prostitute of fourteen years, the toilsome manufacture +of cigarettes by women, the strained, intolerable, insufficiently fed +toil of old women and children around us; we live as though there +were no connection between this and our own lives. + +It seems to us, that suffering stands apart by itself, and our life +apart by itself. We read the description of the life of the Romans, +and we marvel at the inhumanity of those soulless Luculli, who +satiated themselves on viands and wines while the populace were dying +with hunger. We shake our heads, and we marvel at the savagery of +our grandfathers, who were serf-owners, supporters of household +orchestras and theatres, and of whole villages devoted to the care of +their gardens; and we wonder, from the heights of our grandeur, at +their inhumanity. We read the words of Isa. v. 8: "Woe unto them +that join house to house, that lay field to field, till there be no +place, that they may be placed alone in the midst of the earth! +(11.) Woe unto them that rise up early in the morning, that they may +follow strong drink; that continue until night, till wine inflame +them! (12.) And the harp and the viol, and tabret and pipe, and wine +are in their feasts; but they regard not the work of the Lord, +neither consider the operation of his hands. (18.) Woe unto them +that draw iniquity with cords of vanity, and sin as it were with a +cart-rope. (20.) Woe unto then that call evil good, and good evil; +that put darkness for light, and light for darkness; that put bitter +for sweet, and sweet for bitter! (21.) Woe unto them that are wise in +their own eyes, and prudent in their own sight--(22.) Woe unto them +that are mighty to drink wine, and men of strength to mingle strong +drink." + +We read these words, and it seems to us that this has no reference to +us. We read in the Gospels (Matt. iii. 10): "And now also the axe +is laid unto the root of the trees: therefore every tree which +bringeth not forth good fruit is hewn down and cast into the fire." + +And we are fully convinced that the good tree which bringeth forth +good fruit is ourselves; and that these words are not spoken to us, +but to some other and wicked people. + +We read the words of Isa. vi. 10: "Make the heart of this people +fat, and make their ears heavy, and shut their eyes; lest they see +with their eyes, and hear with their ears, and understand with their +heart, and convert and be healed. (11.) Then said I: Lord, how +long? And he answered, Until the cities be wasted without +inhabitant, and the houses without man, and the land be utterly +desolate." + +We read, and are fully convinced that this marvellous deed is not +performed on us, but on some other people. And because we see +nothing it is, that this marvellous deed is performed, and has been +performed, on us. We hear not, we see not, and we understand not +with our heart. How has this happened? + +Whether that God, or that natural law by virtue of which men exist in +the world, has acted well or ill, yet the position of men in the +world, ever since we have known it, has been such, that naked people, +without any hair on their bodies, without lairs in which they could +shelter themselves, without food which they could find in the +fields,--like Robinson {34} on his island,--have all been reduced to +the necessity of constantly and unweariedly contending with nature in +order to cover their bodies, to make themselves clothing, to +construct a roof over their heads, and to earn their bread, that two +or three times a day they may satisfy their hunger and the hunger of +their helpless children and of their old people who cannot work. + +Wherever, at whatever time, in whatever numbers we may have observed +people, whether in Europe, in America, in China, or in Russia, +whether we regard all humanity, or any small portion of it, in +ancient times, in a nomad state, or in our own times, with steam- +engines and sewing-machines, perfected agriculture, and electric +lighting, we behold always one and the same thing,--that man, toiling +intensely and incessantly, is not able to earn for himself and his +little ones and his old people clothing, shelter, and food; and that +a considerable portion of mankind, as in former times, so at the +present day, perish through insufficiency of the necessaries of life, +and intolerable toil in the effort to obtain them. + +Wherever we have, if we draw a circle round us of a hundred thousand, +a thousand, or ten versts, or of one verst, and examine into the +lives of the people comprehended within the limits of our circle, we +shall see within that circle prematurely-born children, old men, old +women, women in labor, sick and weak persons, who toil beyond their +strength, and who have not sufficient food and rest for life, and who +therefore die before their time. We shall see people in the flower +of their age actually slain by dangerous and injurious work. + +We see that people have been struggling, ever since the world has +endured, with fearful effort, privation, and suffering, against this +universal want, and that they cannot overcome it . . . {35} + + + +Footnotes: + +{1} The fine, tall members of a regiment, selected and placed +together to form a showy squad. + +{2} [] Omitted by the Censor in the authorized edition printed in +Russia, in the set of Count Tolstoi's works. + +{3} Reaumur. + +{4} A drink made of water, honey, and laurel or salvia leaves, which +is drunk as tea, especially by the poorer classes. + +{5} [] Omitted by the censor from the authorized edition published +in Russia in the set of count Tolstoi's works. The omission is +indicated thus . . . + +{6} Kalatch, a kind of roll: baranki, cracknels of fine flour. + +{7} An arshin is twenty-eight inches. + +{8} A myeshchanin, or citizen, who pays only poll-tax and not a +guild tax. + +{9} Omitted in authorized edition. + +{10} Omitted by the censor in the authorized edition. + +{11} Omitted by the Censor in the authorized edition. + +{12} Omitted by the Censor in the authorized edition. + +{13} Omitted by the Censor in the authorized edition. + +{14} Omitted by the Censor from the authorized edition. + +{15} Omitted by the Censor in the authorized edition. + +{16} Omitted by the Censor in the authorized edition + +{17} Omitted by the Censor in the authorized edition. + +{18} Omitted by the Censor in the authorized edition. + +{19} A very complicated sort of whist. + +{20} The whole of this chapter is omitted by the Censor in the +authorized edition, and is there represented by the following +sentence: "And I felt that in money, in money itself, in the +possession of it, there was something immoral; and I asked myself, +What is money?" + +{21} Omitted by the Censor in the authorized edition. + +{22} Omitted by the Censor in the authorized edition. + +{23} The above passage is omitted in the authorized edition, and the +following is added: "I came to the simple and natural conclusion, +that, if I pity the tortured horse upon which I am riding, the first +thing for me to do is to alight, and to walk on my own feet." + +{24} Omitted in the authorized edition. + +{25} Omitted in the authorized edition. + +{26} "Into a worse state," in the authorized edition. + +{27} Omitted in the authorized edition. + +{28} Omitted in the authorized edition. + +{29} Reaumur. + +{30} In the Moscow edition (authorized by the Censor), the +concluding paragraph is replaced by the following: --"They say: The +action of a single man is but a drop in the sea. A drop in the sea! + +"There is an Indian legend relating how a man dropped a pearl into +the sea, and in order to recover it he took a bucket, and began to +bail out, and to pour the water on the shore. Thus he toiled without +intermission, and on the seventh day the spirit of the sea grew +alarmed lest the man should dip the sea dry, and so he brought him +his pearl. If our social evil of persecuting man were the sea, then +that pearl which we have lost is equivalent to devoting our lives to +bailing out the sea of that evil. The prince of this world will take +fright, he will succumb more promptly than did the spirit of the sea; +but this social evil is not the sea, but a foul cesspool, which we +assiduously fill with our own uncleanness. All that is required is +for us to come to our senses, and to comprehend what we are doing; to +fall out of love with our own uncleanness,--in order that that +imaginary sea should dry away, and that we should come into +possession of that priceless pearl,--fraternal, humane life." + +{31} An arshin is twenty-eight inches. + +{32} The fast extends from the 5th to the 30th of June, O.S. (June +27 to July 12, N.S.) + +{33} A pood is thirty-six pounds. + +{34} Robinson Crusoe. + +{35} Here something has been omitted by the Censor, which I am +unable to supply.--TRANS. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Thoughts Evoked By The Census Of Moscow, by Tolstoi + diff --git a/old/tecom10.zip b/old/tecom10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..e8f6834 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/tecom10.zip |
