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diff --git a/78377-h/78377-h.htm b/78377-h/78377-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6960db4 --- /dev/null +++ b/78377-h/78377-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,13507 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html lang="en"> +<head> + <meta charset="UTF-8"> + <title> + The Memoirs of Alexander Herzen, VI | Project Gutenberg + </title> + <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> + <style> + +a { + text-decoration: none; +} + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + +h1,h2,h3,h4,h5 { + text-align: center; + clear: both; +} + +h2.nobreak, h3.nobreak { + page-break-before: avoid; +} + +h2,h3,h4,h5 { + font-weight: normal; + font-size: 1.2em; +} + +h2 .smcap, h3 .smcap, h4 .smcap { + font-size: 80%; +} + +img.w100 { + width: 100%; +} + +div.chapter { + page-break-before: always; + margin-top: 4em; +} + +p { + margin-top: 0.5em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: 0.5em; + text-indent: 1em; +} + +p.dropcap { + text-indent: 0; +} + +p.dropcap:first-letter { + float: left; + margin: 0.1em 0.1em 0 0; + font-size: 250%; + line-height: 0.6em; + text-indent: 0; +} + +table { + margin: 1em auto 1em auto; + max-width: 40em; + border-collapse: collapse; +} + +td { + padding-left: 2.25em; + padding-right: 0.25em; + vertical-align: top; + text-indent: -2em; + text-align: justify; +} + +.in2 { + padding-left: 4.25em; +} + +.tdpg { + vertical-align: bottom; + text-align: right; + white-space: nowrap; +} + +blockquote { + margin: 1.5em 10%; +} + +.center { + text-align: center; + text-indent: 0; +} + +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; +} + +.footnotes { + page-break-before: always; + margin-top: 4em; + border: dashed 1px; +} + +.footnote { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + font-size: 0.9em; +} + +.footnote .label { + position: absolute; + right: 84%; + text-align: right; +} + +.fnanchor { + vertical-align: super; + font-size: .8em; + text-decoration: none; +} + +.hanging { + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -2em; + margin-top: 2em; +} + +.hanging2 { + padding-left: 2em; + text-indent: -2em; +} + +.larger { + font-size: 150%; +} + +.mt2 { + margin-top: 2em; +} + +.noindent { + text-indent: 0; +} + +.note1 { + text-align: center; + font-size: large; +} + +.note2 { + margin-left: 22.22%; + margin-right: 22.22%; + text-indent: 1em; + margin-top: 0.25em; + margin-bottom: 0.25em; +} + +.pagenum { + right: 1%; + font-size: x-small; + background-color: inherit; + color: silver; + text-indent: 0; + text-align: right; + position: absolute; + border: thin solid silver; + padding: 0.1em 0.2em; + font-style: normal; + font-variant: normal; + font-weight: normal; + text-decoration: none; +} + +.poetry-container { + text-align: center; + font-size: 0.9em; +} + +.poetry { + display: inline-block; + text-align: left; +} + +.poetry .stanza { + margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em; +} + +.poetry .verse { + padding-left: 3em; +} + +.poetry .indent0 {text-indent: -3.0em;} +.poetry .indent4 {text-indent: -1.0em;} + +.right { + text-align: right; +} + +.smaller { + font-size: 80%; +} + +.smcap { + font-variant: small-caps; + font-style: normal; +} + +.allsmcap { + font-variant: small-caps; + font-style: normal; + text-transform: lowercase; +} + +.titlepage { + text-align: center; + margin-top: 3em; + text-indent: 0; +} + +.x-ebookmaker p.dropcap { + text-indent: 0; +} + +.x-ebookmaker p.dropcap:first-letter { + float: none; + margin: 0; + font-size: 100%; +} + +.x-ebookmaker img { + max-width: 100%; + width: auto; + height: auto; +} + +.x-ebookmaker .poetry { + display: block; + margin-left: 1.5em; +} + +.x-ebookmaker blockquote { + margin: 1.5em 5%; +} + +/* Illustration classes */ +.illowp100 {width: 100%;} + </style> + </head> +<body> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78377 ***</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_i">[i]</span></p> + +<h1>THE MEMOIRS OF<br> +ALEXANDER<br> +HERZEN<br> +<br> +VI</h1> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_ii">[ii]</span></p> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p class="note1">NOTE</p> + +</div> + +<p class="note2">This translation has been made +by arrangement from the sole +complete and copyright edition +of <i>My Past and Thoughts</i>, that +published in the original Russian +at Berlin, 1921.</p> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_iii">[iii]</span></p> + +<p class="titlepage larger"><i>MY PAST AND THOUGHTS</i></p> + +</div> + +<p class="center larger">THE MEMOIRS OF<br> +ALEXANDER HERZEN</p> + +<p class="center"><i>THE AUTHORISED TRANSLATION<br> +TRANSLATED FROM THE RUSSIAN<br> +BY CONSTANCE GARNETT</i></p> + +<p class="titlepage">VOLUME VI</p> + +<figure class="figcenter titlepage illowp100" style="max-width: 6.25em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/doggo.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p class="titlepage">NEW YORK<br> +ALFRED A. KNOPF<br> +1928</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_iv">[iv]</span></p> + +<p class="titlepage smaller">PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN BY<br> +T. & A. CONSTABLE LTD. EDINBURGH<br> +*<br> +ALL RIGHTS<br> +RESERVED</p> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_v">[v]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CONTENTS">CONTENTS</h2> + +</div> + +<table> + <tr> + <td>INTRODUCTION</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#INTRODUCTION"><i>page vii</i></a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>ENDS AND BEGINNINGS</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#ENDS_AND_BEGINNINGS"><i>page 1</i></a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="in2"><span class="smcap">Letter 1</span></td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Letter_1"><i>page 3</i></a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="in2"><span class="smcap">Letter 2</span></td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Letter_2"><i>page 17</i></a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="in2"><span class="smcap">Letter 3</span></td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Letter_3"><i>page 26</i></a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="in2"><span class="smcap">Letter 4</span></td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Letter_4"><i>page 36</i></a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="in2"><span class="smcap">Letter 5</span></td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Letter_5"><i>page 45</i></a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="in2"><span class="smcap">Letter 6</span></td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Letter_6"> <i>page 51</i></a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="in2"><span class="smcap">Letter 7</span></td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Letter_7"><i>page 62</i></a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="in2"><span class="smcap">Letter 8</span></td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Letter_8"><i>page 76</i></a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>ANOTHER VARIATION ON AN OLD THEME</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#ANOTHER_VARIATION_ON_AN_OLD_THEME"><i>page 84</i></a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>THE SUPERFLUOUS AND THE EMBITTERED</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#THE_SUPERFLUOUS_AND_THE_EMBITTERED"><i>page 99</i></a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>PRINCESS EKATERINA ROMANOVNA DASHKOV</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#PRINCESS_EKATERINA_ROMANOVNA_DASHKOV"><i>page 113</i></a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td colspan="2">BAZAROV—</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="in2"><span class="smcap">Letter 1</span></td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#BAZAROV_Letter_1"><i>page 191</i></a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="in2"><span class="smcap">Letter 2</span></td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#BAZAROV_Letter_2"><i>page 204</i></a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>THE RUSSIAN PEOPLE AND SOCIALISM</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#THE_RUSSIAN_PEOPLE_AND_SOCIALISM"><i>page 210</i></a></td> + </tr> +</table> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_vi">[vi]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="TRANSLATORS_NOTE">TRANSLATOR’S NOTE</h2> + +</div> + +<p class="dropcap">This volume concludes the ‘Memoirs of Herzen.’ +Nothing in the complete Russian edition has been +omitted except two or three pages, which are practically +repetition of earlier passages, and a brief section, +Aphorismata, the humour of which has so evaporated +with the lapse of time that it could hardly be made +intelligible to an English reader.</p> + +<p>I have ventured to add to the volume Herzen’s +famous letter to Michelet, which is of interest in view +of what has actually happened in Russia during the +last ten years.</p> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_vii">[vii]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="INTRODUCTION">INTRODUCTION</h2> + +</div> + +<p class="dropcap">Herzen’s own story of his life as a connected +narrative breaks off with his arrival in London in +1852. A full description of his later years is given in +the Reminiscences of Madame Ogaryov-Tutchkov, from +which the following extracts are taken. As the latter +is the central figure in the picture of those years, some +account of her is essential.</p> + +<p>Natalya Alexyevna Tutchkov was born in 1827, and +came of a distinguished family. Her grandfather and his +four brothers were highly cultured men, remarkable for +their gifts and their character. Her father was a friend +of the Decembrists, was slightly implicated in the conspiracy, +and was for a time under arrest. When released, +he settled on his estate in the province of Penza, where +he was elected Marshal of Nobility and did much good +work for the welfare of the peasants and the administration +of the district. His two daughters, Elena and +Natalie, had a happy childhood. In 1846 Ogaryov, an +old friend of their father’s, came, after seven years’ absence, +to his estate near the Tutchkovs. He saw a great deal of +them, and the young girls became very fond of him. +In 1847 the Tutchkovs went abroad, and Ogaryov gave +them a letter of introduction to the Herzens, who were +at that time in Rome.</p> + +<p>The Herzens welcomed them warmly, and Natalie +Herzen and Natalie Tutchkov became deeply attached +to each other. Natalie Herzen called the young girl +‘Consuelo di mia alma,’ and many of her letters are +addressed to her. She is said to have expressed a wish +that in case of her death Natalie Tutchkov should have +charge of her children.</p> + +<p>After the happy time in Italy they all returned together +to Paris, where they witnessed the terrible days of +June 1848. Herzen (<a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/files/78360/78360-h/78360-h.htm#Page_11">volume iv. pp. 11-13</a>) describes +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_viii">[viii]</span>the mournful parting between his wife and her ‘Consuelo’; +the Tutchkovs went home to their estate in +Penza, where Ogaryov was a frequent visitor. His +affection for Natalya Alexyevna soon passed into love, +and he tried to obtain a divorce from his first wife, Marya +Lvovna, <i>née</i> Roslavlov, who had left him several years +before, and was living in Paris with the well-known +painter, Vorobyev, but out of spite she refused to release +him. In the end Natalie Tutchkov decided to dispense +with the legal ceremony, and in 1850 settled with +Ogaryov as his wife. In those days such a step required +a good deal of courage, and her parents were greatly +distressed, though they, like every one else, indeed, had +a warm affection for Ogaryov. Not long afterwards +Marya Lvovna died, and the Ogaryovs were legally +married.</p> + +<p>Herzen had, on his first arrival in London in 1852, +settled near Primrose Hill with his son Sasha (Alexander), +a boy of twelve, and his friend Haug. The latter +had quarrelled and left him by 1854. The two girls, +‘Tata’ (Natalie) and Olga, had joined him with their +governess, Malwide von Meysenbug, an excellent woman, +well known in her own day as the authoress of <i>Memoirs +of an Idealist</i>, but now remembered only for her correspondence +with Nietzsche and Wagner.</p> + +<p>Herzen repeatedly wrote to Ogaryov, begging him to +come to London. At last Ogaryov, who had been living +since his marriage in the province of Simbirsk, where he +had a paper-mill, decided to go to England. It took +him some time to obtain permission to leave Russia, but +“on April the 9th, 1856,” Madame Ogaryov writes,</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p class="noindent">“we crossed from Ostend to Dover on a very rough sea; +it was all I could do not to be ill. Ogaryov is a very good +sailor. When at last the steamer came to a standstill +before the dark, endless cliffs of Dover, dimly visible +through the thick yellow fog, my heart sank: I felt everything +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_ix">[ix]</span>about me somehow strange and cold; the unfamiliar +language ... everything overwhelmed me and made me +think of my home and my family so far away.... We +found our luggage, took a cab and drove to the station; +there we hardly had time to have our things put in and +to take our seats when the train moved off with incredible +swiftness—it was an express: the objects beside +the line flashed by, making an unpleasant impression on +unaccustomed eyes. I was vexed that we had not +managed to get breakfast. It was so important for +Ogaryov, who might easily have had an attack from +exhaustion and impatience to see his friend.⁠<a id="FNanchor_1" href="#Footnote_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> Four +hours later we saw London—grand, gloomy, for ever +wrapped in a fog, like a muslin veil—London, the finest +city I had ever seen. We hurriedly got into a cab and +set off to seek Herzen at the address given us by Dr. +Pikulin: Chomley Lodge, Richmond. But a cab is +not an express train, and we needed all our store of +patience; at last we arrived in Richmond; in spite of +the rain, the place made a great impression on me; it +was buried in verdure, even the houses were covered with +ivy, wild vines, and other creepers; in the distance we +caught sight of a magnificent immense park; I had +never seen anything like it! The cab stopped at the +gate of Chomley Lodge; the cabman, muffled up in a +great-coat, with a number of collars each wider than the +one above it, gave a loud ring at the bell. A woman +came out; scanning us with evident curiosity, for +we probably looked very different from Londoners, +she bowed very civilly to us. To Ogaryov’s enquiry +whether Mr. Herzen was living here, she replied with +alacrity:</p> + +<p>‘Yes, yes, Mr. Herzen used to live here, but he moved +a long time ago.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_x">[x]</span></p> + +<p>‘Where to?’ Ogaryov asked dejectedly.</p> + +<p>‘Where is he now?’ she rejoined. ‘Oh, a long way +from here; I’ll fetch you the address.’</p> + +<p>She went off, and returned with the address on a scrap +of paper. Ogaryov read, Peterborough Villa, No. 21 +Finchley Road, London. The cabman bent over the +paper and evidently read it for his own benefit.</p> + +<p>‘Oh ... oh!’ he said, shaking his head, ‘I’ll drive +you back to London, and there you must take another +cab, my horse wouldn’t get so far, it’s at the opposite +end of the town, and he’s tired already, here and back +again’s a tidy journey.’</p> + +<p>We sighed disconsolately and accepted his decisions +without protest. When we were back in London Ogaryov +owned that he would be glad to have a hasty meal, +while our luggage was being transferred to another cab; +and we succeeded in obtaining something to eat. Then +we got into the second cab and drove off again on the +hard resounding road; we did not talk on the way, but +looked anxiously out of window, only from time to time +exchanging the same thought: ‘What if he is not there +either?’ At last we arrived. The cabman climbed +down from the box and rang the bell. We had a view +of No. 21 above the gate; the neat, prosaic brick house +stood in the middle of a flower-garden, surrounded by a +high stone wall with bits of broken glass on the top of it; +the wall made the little garden look like a deep bath. +Herzen could not bear it and never sat in the garden. +The cook, François, a little, bald, middle-aged Italian, +opened the door of the house, looked at our trunks, and +closed it again; probably he was going to tell his master +of what he had seen. The impatient cabman rang again +more loudly. This time François came out briskly, ran +down to the garden gate, gave us a careless bow, and said +in French:</p> + +<p>‘<i>Monsieur pas à la maison.</i>’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_xi">[xi]</span></p> + +<p>‘How annoying!’ Ogaryov answered quietly in French, +and he gave me his hand to step out of the cab, then bade +the cabman lift down the luggage and carry it into the +house; then he asked him his fare and paid it. François +followed us in great perturbation. In the hall Ogaryov +turned to François and asked:</p> + +<p>‘Where are the children?’</p> + +<p>Herzen was standing at the top of the stairs. Hearing +Ogaryov’s voice, he ran down like a boy of twenty and +rushed to embrace him, then he turned to me. ‘Yes, +Consuelo?’ he said, and kissed me too.</p> + +<p>At the sight of the general rejoicing, François at last +recovered; at first he stood thunderstruck, thinking the +Russians were taking the house by storm.</p> + +<p>At Herzen’s summons the children appeared with their +governess, Malwide von Meysenbug. The younger, +Olga, a little girl with regular features, seemed lively and +somewhat spoilt; the elder girl, about eleven, was rather +like her mother in her dark-grey eyes, the shape of her +forehead, and her thick eyebrows and hair, though this +was fairer than her mother’s. There was a rather diffident, +forlorn look in her face. She could not readily +express herself in Russian, and so was shy of speaking. +Later on she liked talking Russian to me at bedtime, +and I used often to sit by her little bed while we talked +of her dear mother. Herzen’s son, Alexander, a lad of +seventeen, was delighted to see us. He was at that stage +when boyhood is over, but the youth is not yet a young +man. Until he left London, I was like an elder sister to +him, the friend to whom he confided all that was in his +heart.</p> + +<p>For the first days after our arrival in London Herzen +bade François admit no visitors whatever; even the +presence of Malwide was irksome to him: he wanted to +talk with us of all that had been aching in his heart these +last two years; he told us all the details of the terrible +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xii">[xii]</span>blows he had endured, told us of his wife’s illness and +death.</p> + +<p>Often the children or Malwide came in and interrupted +our conversation, and he preferred to begin talking +when they had all gone to bed, so we spent several nights +without sleep, and the dawn found us still up. I was +only anxious on Ogaryov’s account, but it could not be +helped. Afterwards, when he had relieved his heart +and shared his sorrowful memories with us, Herzen +regained his liveliness and activity. He went about +London with us, showing us what had struck him at first, +among other things the London public-houses, where +people sat partitioned off from each other like horses in +stalls, and the markets on Saturday nights lighted up by +torches, where only the poor make their purchases, and +where we heard on all sides: ‘Buy, buy, buy!’</p> + +<p>A few days after our arrival, a little lodging, consisting +of two rooms, was found for us with a Mrs. Bruce, a few +steps from Herzen’s house.... We were very comfortable +with that worthy woman, but we spent the +greater part of our time at Herzen’s. There we met +<i>émigrés</i> from almost every part of Europe; there were +Frenchmen, Germans, Italians, Poles, but at that time +only one Russian, Ivan Ivanovitch Savitch, a cousin of +the Savitch who suffered for his political views, I believe, +when Herzen was a student; that is, many years before. +Yet Ivan Ivanovitch, simply because he was his cousin, +felt that he was under suspicion, and so was afraid to +return to Russia. He had suffered great hardships and +privations, but when we arrived he had work as a private +teacher, and rarely asked for help from Herzen, who +assisted all the <i>émigrés</i> indiscriminately....”</p> + +</blockquote> + +<blockquote> + +<p>“Soon after our arrival the news came that the daring +revolutionary, Orsini, had escaped from an Austrian prison +and would soon be in London.... A few days afterwards +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xiii">[xiii]</span>Herzen, on returning from his daily excursion +into town, told us that Orsini had arrived, that he had +seen him, and that Orsini would be dining with us next +day. I had heard so much about him that I looked +forward with interest to seeing him.</p> + +<p>We were by then living at Herzen’s; this is how it +came to pass. One day Ogaryov and Herzen had gone +to town together, and I was alone in my lodging. +Suddenly Miss Mills, the old housemaid, appeared with +Herzen’s two little girls. The elder, Natasha, with a +happy face, threw her arms round my neck and said: +‘She has gone and taken all her things.’ Miss Mills +told me that Fräulein Meysenbug had left the house. I +could make nothing of it and went back with the children; +we were met by their brother Alexander. He +looked distressed, picked up little Olga and kissed her; +his eyes were full of tears.</p> + +<p>‘What is it for? what is it for?’ he said.</p> + +<p>Herzen was quite incensed at this typically German +proceeding.</p> + +<p>‘She might have explained and talked things over,’ +he said.</p> + +<p>Nothing would induce him to go and ask her to come +back.</p> + +<p>She lived henceforward in lodgings, and we moved +into Herzen’s house and said good-bye for ever to our +dear Mrs. Bruce.</p> + +<p>But to return to Orsini. He arrived at the hour fixed. +He was a typical Italian: tall, with black hair and eyes, +with a small black beard and regular but rather marked +features. Most likely he was even handsomer in Italian +military uniform, but in London he was in a frock-coat, +and he wore it with the peculiar <i>chic</i> with which all +military men wear civilian dress. When he talked, he +impressed one by his extraordinary earnestness, vivacity, +and fervour, and at the same time by knowing where to +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xiv">[xiv]</span>draw the line and avoid saying more than he meant to. +I asked him about his escape from prison, and he readily +told me what he could....”</p> + +</blockquote> + +<blockquote> + +<p>“I remember that we spent not more than six months +at Peterborough Villa. Herzen was fond of changing +from one house, and even from one neighbourhood, to +another:⁠<a id="FNanchor_2" href="#Footnote_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> he soon became aware of all the inconveniences +of any house he had taken, and could not bear seeing the +same faces in the omnibuses that plied backwards and +forwards between the centre of the city and the suburb. +Peterborough Villa had besides a great drawback. It +was not a detached house, but was joined by a party wall +to another next door to it. On Sundays various circles +gathered at our house: Czernecki and Tchorszewski +invariably, Germans, Italians, Frenchmen. Sometimes +one of them would bring a new casual visitor. Gradually +they all grew lively, some one would begin playing +the piano, sometimes they sang in chorus. The children, +too, took part in the singing, and soon there would be +laughter and an uproar of merriment. Then a knocking +at the wall would remind us that it was highly reprehensible +to spend a Sunday like this in England. That +used to make Herzen very indignant, and he would +declare that there was no living in England except in a +house standing quite apart and alone. He commissioned +his friend Saffi, who often took long walks in the remoter +parts of the town, to look out for a detached house for +him. When Saffi at last found Tinkler’s or Laurel +House (it was called by both names), he invited Herzen +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xv">[xv]</span>to go over it with him, and they were both very much +pleased with it.</p> + +<p>Laurel House was in every respect the opposite of +Peterborough Villa. With its iron roof painted red, it +looked more like an English farm than a town house, and +on the side next the garden it was entirely covered with +greenery; ivy twined from the bottom to the top of its +walls; in front of the house there was a big oval lawn +with little paths round it; there were bushes of lilac, +fragrant syringa, and other flowering shrubs on all sides; +there were masses of flowers, and there was even a little +greenhouse.</p> + +<p>Dear house, how happy we were in it, and how rapidly +and successfully all that made the life of the two friends +developed in it!</p> + +<p>Every day Herzen’s elder daughter and I used to gather +two nosegays, putting a big fragrant white lily in the +middle; one was for the drawing-room, the other for +Ogaryov’s room....”</p> + +</blockquote> + +<blockquote> + +<p>“We moved into our new abode and settled in happily. +Herzen could go into London by rail, the station was +only a few paces away. And when he was too late for +the train, he could take the omnibus which went from +Putney Bridge to the City every ten minutes.</p> + +<p>Herzen used to get up at six in the morning, which is +very early for London habits; but, not expecting the +same early rising from the servants, he used to read for +some hours in his study. He read for a little while, too, +when he went to bed; and we sat up till after eleven, +sometimes even later, so that he had hardly six hours’ +sleep. After dinner, as a rule, he was at home, and then +he usually read aloud something from history or literature +within the grasp of his elder girl, and, when she had gone +to bed, he read aloud books suitable for his son’s age. +Herzen followed every new scientific discovery and read +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xvi">[xvi]</span>everything new in the literary way that appeared in any +European country or in America.</p> + +<p>At nine o’clock in the morning coffee was served in the +dining-room. Herzen used to drink a whole glass of +very strong coffee, in which he would put a tablespoonful +of cream; he liked very good coffee. Then he read <i>The +Times</i>, made his own deductions, and told us various bits +of news. He did not like the politics of <i>The Times</i>, but +thought it essential to read it. Then he went into the +drawing-room, where he worked without a break till +lunch. Between one and two there was lunch, consisting +of two dishes, almost always cold meat and something +left from the previous day’s dinner. A jug of pale ale +and a little claret or sherry stood on the table. Herzen +was very fond of pale ale and drank it every day. Ogaryov +was always late in the morning; by the time that he +came down to the dining-room Herzen had always left +it. But at lunch we all gathered together, the door was +thrown open into the garden, and the children ran off to +play in the open air. Then the friends talked of their +work, of the articles they had to write, and so on. Sometimes +one of them brought a finished article and read it +aloud.</p> + +<p>One day, soon after we had moved into Laurel House, +Ogaryov said to Herzen after lunch, in my presence: +‘You know, Alexandr, the <i>Polar Star</i> and your <i>Past and +Thoughts</i> are all very good, but that’s not what’s wanted; +it’s not talking with our own people; we ought to bring +out a journal regularly, once a fortnight, or once a month; +we could state our views, our hopes for Russia, and so on.’</p> + +<p>Herzen was delighted with the idea. ‘Yes,’ he cried +eagerly, ‘we will bring out a journal, we will name it +the <i>Bell</i>, the bell that calls men to council, we two +together just as we were only two together on the Sparrow +Hills—and who knows, perhaps some one will answer +our call!’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_xvii">[xvii]</span></p> + +<p>From that day they began getting ready articles for +the <i>Bell</i>; soon afterwards the first number of the +Russian paper appeared in London. Trübner, who +always bought Herzen’s works, or took them on commission, +took the <i>Bell</i> also. He sent it about in all +directions, and soon it was heard of even in Russia. About +that time Turgenev arrived from Paris. Ogaryov and +Herzen told him the joyful tidings, and showed him the +first number of the <i>Bell</i>, but Turgenev did not at all +approve of the plan. As a refined writer with rare gifts +and exceptionally elegant taste, he was delighted at the +publication of the <i>Polar Star</i> and <i>My Past and Thoughts</i>, +but, never in close sympathy with political views and +movements, he refused to believe that two men living +isolated in England could carry on a real correspondence +with their far-away country, could find in themselves +anything to tell or could understand its needs.</p> + +<p>‘No, it’s impossible,’ said Turgenev; ‘give up this +fantastic notion, don’t waste your energies; you have +plenty of work as it is, the <i>Polar Star</i> and <i>My Past and +Thoughts</i>, and there are only you two.’</p> + +<p>‘Well, the thing is begun now, and we must go on +with it,’ they answered.</p> + +<p>‘It won’t and can’t be a success, and literature will +lose a great deal,’ Turgenev protested hotly.</p> + +<p>But the friends did not take his advice, whether from +a presentiment that the <i>Bell</i> would rouse many from +their slumber and find contributors, or from simple +obstinacy, I cannot say.</p> + +<p>With Turgenev, Vassily Petrovitch Botkin, author of +the <i>Letters from Spain</i>, came to see us. I knew something +of him from Herzen’s description and from the sketch +‘Basil and Armance,’⁠<a id="FNanchor_3" href="#Footnote_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> but I must own that he seemed to +me more eccentric than I had expected. He could speak +of nothing without theatrical affectation, and was, moreover, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xviii">[xviii]</span>a great gourmand, and moved, one may say, to +tenderness at the sight of dishes which he particularly +liked. He presented a complete contrast to our household, +in which no one cared enough even to order the +daily dinner. François himself chose the menu and +cooked the dinner for eight o’clock in the evening. When +anything was particularly nice we all praised it, but no +one except Herzen criticised the cooking, and he only +very rarely.</p> + +<p>After lunch Herzen and Ogaryov went off, each in +accordance with his tastes and inclinations. Herzen +would go by train or omnibus as far as the crowded +streets, and there stroll about, looking at the brightly +lighted shop windows, and he watched and observed a +great deal that went on in the street. He went into +different coffee-houses, generally asked for a tiny glass +of absinthe and a syphon of Seltzer water, and read there +newspapers of all kinds.... He often brought home +with him savouries or sauces, the choice of which he did +not care to leave to François’ taste. Often, too, he brought +us something we particularly liked, a lobster, or a special +cheese, occasionally curaçao, or sweet things for the +children, crystallised fruits or dried cherries. When +he was in a very good humour, he liked to make us all +guess whom he had met in London. I could read his +mobile, expressive features so well that I could always +tell; and so he would exclude me, and I was always +left to guess last.</p> + +<p>When Ogaryov went out of our peaceful suburb, +Fulham, he tried to find still more solitary places for his +walks. He lived in his inner life, people worried him, +but he was fond of them in his own way, was particularly +compassionate and excessively kind to every one. Instinctively +he held aloof from his fellow-men; but +when chance threw him into contact with them, he was +so good-hearted and unconstrained that none of the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xix">[xix]</span>people who talked to him imagined how oppressive +they all were to him. Herzen, on the contrary, was +fond of people, and though he was sometimes irritated +if some one came at the wrong time, his interest was +quickly aroused and he was glad to see them. Company +was necessary to him, he was only afraid of bores.</p> + +<p>On Sunday everything in England is locked up. +The whole of London is transformed into a sort of huge +cupboard; shops, bakeries, coffee-houses, restaurants, +even the milkshops, are closed. Silence reigns in the +streets, the only movement is in the parks, and even +there it is not like week-days. Here and there in the +distance one sees preachers surrounded by dense crowds +of people listening with strained attention in unbroken +silence. The children walk decorously, not one bowls +a hoop nor tosses a ball in the air—and all this irritated +Herzen. He did not like going out on Sundays, and +was obliged to keep in hiding from the unceremonious +visitors who called all day long from early morning. On +such days he stayed longer at work, while the two elder +children and I entertained the boring visitors in the +garden. Little by little more interesting people began +to arrive, the bell never stopped ringing; then Herzen +at last joined us. When he came out everything was +transformed and animated; there was a continual flow +of entertaining talk, discussion and interesting news, +mostly political. He was for his circle what the sun is +for nature. As a rule he had extremely good health.... +Once he caught a very bad chill and had a high +temperature and shooting pain in his side; both Ogaryov +and I were much alarmed and sent at once for our doctor +and friend, the exile Deville. The latter was very fond +of Herzen, and came several times a day while he was ill, +but in less than a week the patient was on his legs again.”</p> + +</blockquote> + +<blockquote> + +<p>“At that period so many Russians came that the servants +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xx">[xx]</span>were constantly making mistakes; at last Herzen arranged +that all newcomers should be shown into the other half +of the drawing-room, where I saw them and learned +who they were, how long they were to be in London, +and so on. Those who had come only for a day or two +on purpose to deliver manuscripts, had to see him at once, +for they always had a great deal they wanted to tell him +by word of mouth.... When people arrived who +were already known to him personally, or through their +works, Herzen was overjoyed, and gladly left his work +for their sakes; in such cases I called him to see them at +once, but as a rule I gave him the visitor’s name, etc., +and then asked them to come when he was at leisure, +that is, at two or three o’clock in the afternoon. Then +after sitting a little with his visitors, he would suggest +going with them into London, for he needed fresh air +and exercise after his sedentary work.</p> + +<p>Herzen used to try to keep Russians away on Sundays, +for we sometimes had so many visitors on that day that +it was impossible to be sure that no spy made his way in +with them. But it was not easy to induce the Russians +to be careful; they often would come on Sundays all +the same, and were often unnecessarily open with everybody, +mentioning their own surnames, though all of us +made it a rule when introducing visitors from Russia to +Poles or other Russians, to say: ‘Our fellow-countryman +whose name I have forgotten, or I have not heard,’ and +when introducing them to foreigners, we said: ‘Un +compatriote, le nom de famille est trop difficile à prononcer, +trop barbare pour les oreilles occidentales, +appelez-le par le nom de baptême—M. Alexandre,’ or +some Christian name.</p> + +<p>I believe that not a single person came to harm through +carelessness on the part of Herzen or any of his household. +He always refused to give a note in his own handwriting +addressed to anybody in Russia, and did not like +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xxi">[xxi]</span>giving his portrait, maintaining that to do so was unnecessary +imprudence.</p> + +<p>Unhappily I cannot say the same for Bakunin; later +on, when he came to London, he was guilty of thoughtless +actions which had deplorable consequences; he was +like a child playing with fire.”</p> + +</blockquote> + +<blockquote> + +<p>“One day a short, rather lame Russian came to see +Herzen, who had a great deal of conversation with him. +Now that he is no longer in this world I may reveal a +secret known only to me, I may tell the reason which +brought him to London. After his first visit Herzen +said to Ogaryov and me: ‘I am very glad N. has come, +he has brought us a treasure, only not a word must be said +about it in his lifetime. Look, Ogaryov,’ Herzen went +on, handing him a manuscript, ‘it’s the Memoirs of +Catherine the Second, written by her in French; look +at the spelling of the period; it’s an authentic copy.’ +By the time the Memoirs of Catherine were published, +N. was in Germany. From Germany he wrote to +Herzen that he would like to translate these Memoirs +into Russian. Herzen was delighted to send him a copy, +and a month later the translation was published by +Czernecki; I don’t remember who translated the book +into German and English, I only know that the Memoirs +of Catherine the Second appeared simultaneously in four +languages and made an extraordinary sensation throughout +Europe. The editions were quickly exhausted. Many +people maintained that Herzen had written the Memoirs +himself, others were puzzled to think how they came into +Herzen’s hands. Efforts were made to discover who +had brought them from Russia, but that was a secret +known only to N. himself and three other persons who +had been trained to silence under Nicholas the First.</p> + +<p>I forgot to say when speaking of Herzen’s character, +that he was very impressionable. Though as a rule of +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xxii">[xxii]</span>a serene and at times even gay and mirthful disposition, +he was apt to become suddenly gloomy if anything disagreeable +happened. Such depression was frequently +caused by his carelessness, which grew upon him in the +trifling affairs of daily life; he was very precise in business, +and never forgot anything relating to the printing-press, +to money matters, or to any questions affecting people. +When he set off after lunch to London he would think +he had remembered everything; his letters and his proofs +were ready—he would say good-bye, looking cheerful, +but five minutes later there would be a terrific ring at the +bell: this was Herzen back again with a gloomy face and +a voice of exasperation. ‘I have forgotten everything,’ +he would say in despair, ‘and now the train will be gone +before I can get back to the station.’</p> + +<p>‘Well, go by the omnibus, then,’ his son would tell him, +unable to help smiling at his despair.</p> + +<p>We all rushed to look for what was lost, ran to the +drawing-room where he had been writing, or to his +own room, and sometimes came back unsuccessful; no +letters, no proofs! Occasionally it turned out that they +were in his pocket; unluckily, he had so many pockets +in his coat and in the cloak which he wore over it to keep +off the London dust; then Herzen, more wrathful than +ever, would have to cross Fulham Bridge to the omnibus +office, and just as he approached it would see one going +off, and have to wait there ten minutes for the next.”</p> + +</blockquote> + +<blockquote> + +<p>“At Laurel House Ogaryov and I once got up some +theatricals for the children.... I made two red shirts for +Herzen and Ogaryov. Sasha put on a fur-lined coat inside +out to represent a bear, and Ogaryov, in a red shirt, was +the bear-leader. The red shirt was very becoming to him. +With his big fair beard and curly head he looked a typical +Russian peasant. On the other hand, the red shirt did +not suit Herzen at all, he looked like a foreigner in it. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xxiii">[xxiii]</span>Not supposing that he would mind, I blurted this out, +and Herzen would never put on the red shirt again.”</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p>[Somewhere about 1856 Herzen sent his son, who +had been a brilliant student of natural science in London, +winning a silver and then a gold medal in examinations, +to Geneva to study under his old friend, Karl Vogt. +After six months in Geneva, the young man entered the +University of Berne, and there lived in the family of old +Professor Vogt. In 1859 Herzen’s cousin,⁠<a id="FNanchor_4" href="#Footnote_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a> Madame +Passek, visited Berne and saw the young student there. +She writes:]</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p>“In Berne we stopped for a few days at the Hôtel au +Faucon, and at once sent a note to Alexandr’s son, who +was about to take his final in medicine at the University +of Berne, and was living in the family of Professor Vogt, +a man greatly respected by every one. A few minutes +later he arrived; he was a young man with long fair hair, +kind, pleasant face, and blue eyes like his mother’s. He +had left Russia as a child of seven, but had not forgotten +us; he was glad to see us, and at once made such friends +that with all the ardour and simplicity of youth he confided +to us his love for Emma, the thirteen-year-old +granddaughter of the Vogts. He said he had asked his +father’s permission to propose to her formally and after +the engagement to wait till she came of age; but his +father would not consent, and was vexed at his falling in +love so young. ‘I reminded my father,’ he said, ‘that +he was not much older than I am when he fell in love +and married; he did not like this, and now we are having +a disagreeable correspondence.’</p> + +<p>‘But why is your father against your love?’ I asked. +‘The Vogts are an excellent family, he respects them, and +is a friend of their son, the famous naturalist, Karl Vogt.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_xxiv">[xxiv]</span></p> + +<p>‘Well, you see, he has got it into his head that I should +marry a Russian, should live for Russia, love Russia. But +how can one love what one doesn’t know? I hardly +remember Russia, it is a foreign country for me, and what +can I do for it? I am not a politician, I am a man of +peace. If I had a plot of land in Switzerland, Emma, +and my books, that would be enough for me.’</p> + +<p>‘Do the Vogts know of your love for Emma, and what +is their attitude?’</p> + +<p>‘They know and strongly disapprove—that makes my +position all the more difficult.’</p> + +<p>We spent about a fortnight in Berne; Alexandr’s son +spent whole days with us. Through him we got to know +the Vogts; they treated us like old friends and often kept us +to dinner. We dined at their famous round family table, +which had served several generations of Vogts and Vollens.... +The gifted zoologist, Karl Vogt, came to see his +parents while we were in Berne. He was a man of clear, +realistic intellect and of the happiest disposition. He +did not waste his energies in yearning for impractical +ideals; he was passionately fond of nature, work was for +him a pleasure, not a task, and he did not ask from man +or nature more than they could give.... In Berne +Alexandr’s son introduced us to Emma. With her +grandmother’s permission he brought her from Zurich, +where she was at boarding-school. She was still a child, +fresh and rosy, with bright, merry blue eyes—still a +chrysalis, as Herzen said of her.</p> + +<p>After a fortnight in Berne we moved to Geneva.... +Our young friend soon came to see us there, and told us +that he had formally proposed to Emma, had informed her +grandparents, and obtained their consent, and had, as +her recognised betrothed, been with her to call on all +their friends and relations. He had done all this without +his father’s knowledge, and now asked me to break the +news to him and try to settle it all peaceably.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_xxv">[xxv]</span></p> + +<p>It was settled peaceably—in appearance; but Alexandr +was planning to put an end to the engagement.</p> + +<p>When his son came to London, however, with his +fiancée to introduce Emma to his family, Alexandr met +them at the railway station with a carriage and drove +the betrothed child to his house; everything there had +been prepared for her reception, and all the time she +spent with him she was surrounded with tenderness and +attention; but this was all.</p> + +<p>When Emma’s parents arrived in London, Alexandr +received them rather coldly, and advised them to take their +daughter, till she came of age, to live with them in South +America, where they were returning shortly. At the +same time he sent his son on a scientific expedition to +Norway and Iceland, undertaken, I believe, by Karl +Vogt. During the years of parting the young people +wrote to each other; the letters from America did not +always reach their destination: the correspondence grew +slacker and slacker, and finally ceased.</p> + +<p>I have heard that Emma married a rich banker in South +America; Alexandr’s son settled in Italy, where, later on, +he married; he has nine charming children, owns a +villa near Florence, is devoted to farming, does scientific +work, and is well known as a naturalist. The dreams of +the boy of twenty have come true.“⁠<a id="FNanchor_5" href="#Footnote_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a>⁠</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p>[It seems probable that Natalya Alexyevna had cherished +a girlish adoration⁠<a id="FNanchor_6" href="#Footnote_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a> for Herzen during the time she spent +in his company in Italy and in Paris. Now that she was +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xxvi">[xxvi]</span>in daily contact with him, this early passion revived, and +soon eclipsed her feeling for Ogaryov. About the same +time (possibly earlier) Ogaryov formed a permanent connection +with an Englishwoman, Mary (her surname is +never given), by whom he had two sons, Henry (born +1857) and ‘Toots.’ She seems to have been a kind, +good woman, but not of much education nor of intellectual +tastes. Herzen’s enemies have not hesitated to +accuse him of treacherously seducing the wife of his best +friend. It must be borne in mind that Ogaryov remained +on the warmest terms with Herzen, continuing +to live in his house so long as they were in England, and +no trace of resentment can be discerned. It is, indeed, +quite possible that his wife’s defection may have been +rather a relief than a subject of regret to him. Moreover, +the initiative and the responsibility seem to have +been hers. At first no one but Ogaryov and Herzen’s +elder children understood the real position, and Natalya +Alexyevna’s daughter, Liza, as a child looked upon +Ogaryov as her father. Twins, a boy and girl, were born +in 1861. Herzen seems to have found little happiness +in this new union, which was a constant source of anxiety +and misery. He was morbidly sensitive in regard to the +irregularity of the position, but accepted the tie as a +binding obligation and responsibility. Except for short +intervals of absence on business, or on visits to his children +or his friends, he lived with Natalya Alexyevna to the +end of his life, though he does in his letters to Ogaryov +talk of escaping from his bondage.</p> + +<p>In 1858, just after the birth of Liza, Natalya Alexyevna’s +mother arrived.]</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p>“Herzen now thought our house overcrowded, and +shortly afterwards took another, called Park House, also +in Fulham and not far away, with a big garden and a fairly +large vegetable patch. My mother moved with us and +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xxvii">[xxvii]</span>spent six weeks there. Though Park House was in some +respects very superior to Laurel House, I regretted the +beautiful flower-garden we had left. There was a very +spacious verandah along one whole side of the new house +looking into the garden, and there we used to spend the +greater part of the day. On the ground floor there +were the kitchen and a little room for washing up the +crockery, and another tiny closet with an open rack in +which the plates were stood to dry without being wiped. +These adjuncts to the kitchen are usual in all English +houses; in fact, Herzen used to say that English houses +were so exactly alike in the arrangement of the rooms +and even of the furniture, that he could find any room +and any object in them with his eyes bandaged....”</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p>[The difference between the Russian and the English +attitude (at that period) in regard to law and punishment +is well illustrated by the following domestic incident.]</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p>“We had four servants in Park House ... and on +Saturdays, as in all English houses, a charwoman came +to scrub and clean everything, even the front doorsteps. +Mazzini recommended Herzen an Italian cook, Tassinari, +a revolutionary and ardent patriot ... a stout, +fresh-looking man, in spite of his grey hair and long white +beard, with a clever, expressive face and big bright black +eyes. He was an excellent cook, and Herzen was well +satisfied with him ... but he had one great defect, +jealousy or envy—painful as it is to admit it, those two +feelings are closely akin. The Irish housemaid, who was +very much with us, as she looked after my little girl, +aroused this feeling particularly. He was always finding +fault with her, would not give her lunch in the morning +if she did not come in at once when the bell rang, and so +on. We brought from Laurel House with us a middle-aged +German called Trina, who took the children out +and read German with them. She had been with us +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xxviii">[xxviii]</span>for six months, and seemed to be fond of us. One day +Jules, our manservant, said to me: ‘Isn’t it sad for poor +Trina, madam; last Sunday she was taking the wages +you paid her to her sister’s, and in the crush in the omnibus +she had her pocket picked.’</p> + +<p>‘Why didn’t she tell me?’ I asked.</p> + +<p>‘I expect she didn’t like to,’ answered Jules.</p> + +<p>I went to Ogaryov and Herzen; they gave me the +money and I handed it to Trina. She thanked me, but +seemed overcome with confusion and did not look me in +the face. I imagine it was a clever trick on her part. +Not long after this, Trina was suddenly taken ill with +acute rheumatism, and could not move hand or foot; +we sent for a doctor and a nurse, but she soon begged +to be taken to the hospital. Herzen hired an omnibus, +she was with the greatest care carried down on a mattress +and driven at a walking pace to the hospital. Some +months later, when she had completely recovered, she +came back to us. That was just when we were leaving +Laurel House. Then Jules lost his silver watch; he could +not imagine who had taken it, but was inclined to suspect +the gardener and his wife. I was very much annoyed at +this suspicion, but I had no positive proofs by which I +could convince Jules that he was mistaken. We had +been for nearly two years at Laurel House, the same +gardener had been there all the time, and nothing had +ever been missed. After her return Trina went on +visiting her sister, who kept, I believe, a baker’s shop; +she even took to asking me to let her stay the night there, +as it was a long way off; this was very inconvenient, but +I put up with it, as I liked her.</p> + +<p>One day, when Trina was at her sister’s, Tassinari +came into the dining-room looking worried. ‘Madam,’ +he said, ‘they came yesterday from the chandler’s, where +we have an account; you know they are also carriers, +that is, they deliver parcels all over the town.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_xxix">[xxix]</span></p> + +<p>‘Well, what then?’ I asked.</p> + +<p>‘You will see in a minute,’ our cook answered. ‘Do +you know this address, madam?’ and he handed me a +piece of paper.</p> + +<p>‘It’s Trina’s sister’s name,’ I answered, glancing at it.</p> + +<p>‘They let us know,’ Tassinari went on, ‘parcels are +very often sent from Park House to that address, and that +there is often something that clinks in the parcels. It’s +always the same box; it comes back empty and is sent off +from here full.... I told them to keep back the box, +which was to be sent to that address yesterday; would +not you like to look what there is in it, madam?’</p> + +<p>‘Of course not,’ I answered warmly, ‘you can’t open +another person’s boxes. Trina is sending something to +her sister,’ I said, with a simplicity certainly excessive at +my years; but the thought that she was capable of stealing +did not enter my head; besides, I imagined this was +another instance of Tassinari’s fault-finding ways. The +Italian smiled.</p> + +<p>‘Then shall I ask Monsieur Herzen?’ and he went off +and knocked at the drawing-room door.</p> + +<p>Herzen listened to him and gave him leave to bring +in the box. Tassinari was triumphant; he quickly +reappeared with the box, deftly unfastened the lid, and +began picking things out with a gleeful face; there were +curtains, ribbons, children’s smocks, and I don’t know +what else; I stood overwhelmed.</p> + +<p>‘Herzen,’ I said, ‘could Trina really...?’</p> + +<p>He looked at me with sympathy for my distress.</p> + +<p>‘She could,’ he said.</p> + +<p>He told Tassinari to pack the things in the box again, and +put it in the other half of the room, then dismissed him.</p> + +<p>‘When Trina comes,’ said Herzen, ‘show her that +box; we shall see what explanation she gives. Of course, +it is all very clear and simple, but what matters is this: +by English law we are bound to prosecute a thief, or we +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xxx">[xxx]</span>are liable to a considerable fine, and nothing would induce +me to hand over a thief to the police. Let her go back +to Germany, for we can’t give her a character....’</p> + +<p>It was a long time before Trina returned; I suppose +she was waiting for the arrival of her box. At last she +came into the drawing-room, with apologies for having +stayed away so long, but turned pale and said no more +when she saw the box on the table. After listening to +her protestations that she had done wrong only once, I +gave her Herzen’s advice to go back to Germany, which +she at once agreed to do. Three days later she left our +house, together with the Irish housemaid, who had been +in the secret, and had carried the box to the chandler’s.”</p> + +</blockquote> + +<blockquote> + +<p>“Malwide von Meysenbug had all this time been +living apart from us, sometimes in lodgings and sometimes +with friends, but she looked forward to an independent +life and to visiting Paris and Italy, where she had never +been. She suggested that she should take Herzen’s +younger daughter, Olga, with her on a visit to Madame +Schwabe, the widow of a wealthy banker with a large +family and a splendid estate in England. As Madame +Schwabe was going to Paris for the winter, Malwide +asked Herzen to let Olga go with them.... Soon afterwards +Malwide left Madame Schwabe and settled alone +with little Olga.”</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p>[Olga, who was devoted to Malwide, remained with +her permanently. In a letter from Fräulein von Meysenbug +to Wagner she gives a charming picture of the little +girl’s enthusiasm at a performance in Paris of one of +Wagner’s operas, and her audible indignation when +some of the audience hissed the new music.]</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p>“Among the Russians who came to see Herzen at +Park House, I cannot pass over Alexandr Serno-Solovyovitch, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xxxi">[xxxi]</span>at that time a very young man. Herzen liked him +very much: it was evident that, in spite of his youth, he +had read and thought much; he was intelligent and +interested in all the important questions of the day. I +don’t remember where the rest of the family had gone, +but I know they were obliged to be out one day when +Serno-Solovyovitch particularly wanted to see the +Zoological Gardens. I went with him, taking Natasha, +Olga, and my baby Liza. Serno-Solovyovitch inspected +the Gardens thoroughly, and was very charming and +attentive to the children. He spent a few days more +in London, continually seeing Herzen and Ogaryov, +and showing them the greatest warmth and respect. At +that time his bad qualities were slumbering, and circumstances +had not yet arisen to develop them. I shall have +to speak of him later.... It is painful to think how +this intelligent and cultured man perished in a strange +land without being of any service to his country, brought +to ruin by vanity, envy, and despair; but I must speak of +him not so much on his own account as because in his +relations with him Herzen’s innate characteristics—a +magnanimity, kindness, and compassion almost passing +belief—were so strikingly displayed.”</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p>[In the summer of 1859 Natalya Alexyevna, hearing +from her sister, Madame Satin, that she was visiting +Germany with her children, went to Dresden with her +baby Liza and Natasha Herzen, then to Heidelberg +with her sister, where she saw many old friends and met +Madame Passek for the first time, and then to Berne to +stay with the Vogts. On returning to London the following +winter she found Herzen and Ogaryov installed in +Orsett House, a large house of five storeys, in Westburn +Terrace, Wimbledon.]</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p>“Herzen told me that while I was away an artist, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xxxii">[xxxii]</span>Madame O’Connell, a complete stranger, had written +asking him to give her five sittings. At the first sitting +she had been extremely kind, and had told him that +having heard a great deal about him she wanted to paint +a portrait of him for posterity.... What became of +the portrait I do not know.”</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p>[In the summer of 1861⁠<a id="FNanchor_7" href="#Footnote_7" class="fnanchor">[7]</a> Herzen went with his +daughter Natasha to Paris to see Olga, who was ill, and +there]</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p>“After long years of separation he met his cousin, +Tatyana Passek.⁠<a id="FNanchor_8" href="#Footnote_8" class="fnanchor">[8]</a> He told us a great deal about this, +and said that the Yakovlyevs⁠<a id="FNanchor_9" href="#Footnote_9" class="fnanchor">[9]</a> had treated her very badly +and taken possession of her share of the family property. +When she had been in need of money, Herzen had lent +her what she wanted and had never asked for repayment. +In his views he had moved far away from the friend of +his youth. Madame Passek was religious, and regarded +the monarchy as the salvation of Russia.</p> + +<p>They disputed hotly, both stoutly defending their +convictions, and parted with a smile, conscious that only +the grave could reconcile their divergent views, and that +as long as they lived they would be warriors in opposing +camps.”</p> + +</blockquote> + +<blockquote> + +<p>“Soon after Herzen’s return from France, he received +visitors who greatly interested us all—Sergey Ivanovitch +Turgenev and Lyov Nikolaevitch Tolstoy. The former +we had known for years, and we were used to his caprices +and little peculiarities; the latter we saw for the first +time.</p> + +<p>Not long before leaving Russia, Ogaryov and I had +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xxxiii">[xxxiii]</span>read Tolstoy’s <i>Childhood, Boyhood, and Youth</i>, and tales +of the Crimean War, with enthusiasm. Ogaryov was +constantly talking of these tales and of their author.</p> + +<p>When we came to London, we hastened to tell Herzen +about this new and exceptionally gifted writer. It +turned out that Herzen had read several of his works +already, and was delighted with them. He particularly +admired the boldness with which Tolstoy spoke of +feelings so subtle and deeply concealed that no one had +put them into words, though many had perhaps experienced +them. As regards his philosophical views, Herzen +thought them feeble, misty, and often unsupported by +evidence.</p> + +<p>‘Tolstoy is in our house!’ Natasha and I thought, and +we hurried into the drawing-room to have a look at the +illustrious fellow-countryman, who was being read by +all Russia. When we went in Count Tolstoy was carrying +on a heated argument with Turgenev. Ogaryov +and Herzen, too, were taking part in the discussion. At +that time (1861) Tolstoy looked about thirty-five; he was +of medium height, his features were ugly, there was a +piercing and yet dreamy look in his little grey eyes. It +was odd that his face never wore that expression of childlike +good-nature sometimes seen in Turgenev’s smile, and +so attractive in him.</p> + +<p>As we went in, the usual introductions began. Of +course, Tolstoy had no idea that we were so excited at +seeing him that we hardly dared to speak to him, but only +listened to what he said to other people. He came to +see us every day. It was soon obvious that he was far +more sympathetic as a writer than as a thinker, for he was +sometimes illogical; in defence of his fatalism, he often +had heated arguments with Turgenev, in the course of +which they said extremely disagreeable things to each +other. When there was no discussion going on, and when +Tolstoy was in a good humour, he would sit down at the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xxxiv">[xxxiv]</span>piano and sing us the soldiers’ songs composed in the +Crimea during the war:</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">‘On the eighth day of September,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">How the devil brought us here</div> + <div class="verse indent0">To camp upon the mountains,’ etc.</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p>We laughed as we listened, but in reality it was painful +to hear of what was done in the Crimea—the light-hearted +way in which the fate of thousands of soldiers was entrusted +to incompetent generals, and the incredible +amount of thieving that went on. Even lint was stolen +and sold to the enemy, while our long-suffering soldiers +were dying.”</p> + +</blockquote> + +<blockquote> + +<p>“Every year Turgenev paid one or two visits to +London.</p> + +<p>Once he came to see us soon after writing <i>Faust</i>. He +read it aloud to us, but neither Ogaryov nor Herzen liked +it; the latter was, however, very reserved in his observations, +while the former criticised it very severely. From +that day Turgenev lost all liking for Ogaryov.</p> + +<p>I remember on one visit to London Turgenev was +particularly good-humoured and sweet to Herzen.</p> + +<p>‘Do you know,’ he said to him, ‘I have not come +alone this time. Simply to see you, a queer fellow has +set off on his travels, without knowing a word of any +foreign language, and begged me to take him to London. +Isn’t that heroic? Guess who it is. But I tell you +what,’ he went on, ‘perhaps you had better call on him +first: Ogaryov may not care much about seeing him; +there were some misunderstandings....’</p> + +<p>‘Goodness,’ said Herzen, ‘surely it’s not Nekrassov? +He knows no foreign language. What makes him suppose +I should care to see him after the message he sent +Ogaryov through you, Sergey Ivanovitch?’</p> + +<p>‘But you know he has come all the way from Russia +on purpose to see you!’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_xxxv">[xxxv]</span></p> + +<p>‘He can go back again,’ said Herzen, and he was +not to be moved. He was always far more ready to +resent a slight to Ogaryov than to himself.</p> + +<p>For three days Turgenev went on trying to persuade +Herzen to see Nekrassov, but he was forced in the end to +submit, and to take the latter back without obtaining an +interview.”</p> + +</blockquote> + +<blockquote> + +<p>“When they met in Paris in 1869, they talked about +literature, and Herzen asked Turgenev what he was +writing.</p> + +<p>‘I am writing nothing,’ he answered, ‘I am no longer +read in Russia; I have begun writing in German for +Germans, and publishing in Berlin....’</p> + +<p>Turgenev joked, but he was inwardly sore at the +estrangement of his fellow-countrymen. From the age +of five-and-twenty he had been the spoilt darling of +fortune; his fame had grown steadily; later on, thanks +to Viardot’s translations, he became no less famous in +Europe, and the doors of all the best salons of Paris and +London were thrown open to him; he was being spoilt +by success, when his own country suddenly drew back +and turned away from him, and what for? His faithful +picture of Nihilism in <i>Fathers and Children</i>. He wrote +as the nightingale sings, with no idea of wounding any +one’s vanity; he wrote because writing was his vocation, +but the younger generation in Russia saw a spiteful +intention in it, were resentful, and were up in arms +against Turgenev. These strained relations with his +own people lasted for several years.</p> + +<p>Herzen disliked the anti-aesthetic side of Nihilism, and +was surprised at the indignation of young Russia with +Turgenev. He used to say to Russians: ‘Why, Bazarov +is the apotheosis of Nihilism; the Nihilists never rise to +his level. There is a great deal of humanity in Bazarov; +what is there for them to be offended at?’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_xxxvi">[xxxvi]</span></p> + +<p>Herzen and Turgenev had both fallen on evil days; +they were both ostracised by social opinion in Russia at +that time, Turgenev for his vivid presentation of Nihilism, +Herzen for his sympathy with Poland. The latter’s +views and principles always led him, of course, to espouse +the cause of the weaker, but he had taken no part in Polish +affairs. There were, however, evil-disposed persons who +hinted that he had done so, and this was enough to make +almost every one abandon him.”</p> + +</blockquote> + +<blockquote> + +<p>“In 1861, not long before the Emancipation of the +Serfs, Herzen had a letter with the London postmark, +and from a Russian, asking permission to call on him. +The letter was simply written and dignified, though not +free from mistakes in spelling. Herzen, as always, +answered that he would be glad to see a fellow countryman. +A young man appeared and explained that he was a +peasant of the Simbirsk province, and that his name was +Martyanov. He was a tall, graceful, fair man, with +regular features and a rather cold-looking, ironical expression +that seemed full of a sense of his own dignity. He +was engaged on translation of some sort, and had been for +some time in London. At first Herzen was rather mistrustful +of him, but soon Martyanov’s character showed +itself so clearly that it was unthinkable to suspect him of +being a spy. He was of an unusually straightforward +disposition and of sharply-defined views; he believed in +the Russian peasantry and in the Russian Tsar. He was +not very talkative as a rule, but at times he spoke with +great enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>Sad to relate, this perfectly loyal Russian citizen came +to a sad end. After the Emancipation of the Serfs, the +Polish demonstrations and the pacification of Poland, +Martyanov decided to return to Russia. At the frontier +he was detained and sent to Siberia. What for he never +knew.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_xxxvii">[xxxvii]</span></p> + +<p>The rumours of the Emancipation of the Serfs were at +last confirmed, ceased to be rumours and became truth, +the great and joyful truth. As he was reading the +<i>Moscow News</i> in his study one day, Herzen ran his eyes +over the preamble of the manifesto, gave a violent tug at +the bell, and, keeping the paper in his hand, ran out with +it on to the stairs, shouting loudly in his resonant voice:</p> + +<p>‘Ogaryov, Natalie, Natasha, come, make haste!’</p> + +<p>Jules was the first to run out, asking:</p> + +<p>‘Monsieur a sonné?’</p> + +<p>‘Je ne sais pas, peut-être, mais que diable, Jules, allez +les chercher tous, vite—vite; qu’est-ce qu’ils ne viennent +pas?’</p> + +<p>Jules looked at him with surprise and pleasure.</p> + +<p>‘Monsieur a l’air bien heureux,’ he said.</p> + +<p>‘Ah! diable! je crois bien,’ Herzen answered +carelessly.</p> + +<p>At that instant we all ran up from different directions, +expecting something out of the ordinary, and from +Herzen’s voice something good. He waved the paper +at us, but would not answer our questions till he was back +in his study with us following him.</p> + +<p>‘Sit down and listen,’ he said, and he began reading +the manifesto. His voice broke with emotion; at last, +he passed the paper to Ogaryov. ‘You read it,’ he said, +‘I can’t go on.’</p> + +<p>Ogaryov read the manifesto through in his quiet, gentle +voice, though he was inwardly as rejoiced as Herzen; +but his feelings were always differently expressed.</p> + +<p>Then Herzen suggested that they should go together +for a walk in the town; he wanted air and movement. +Ogaryov preferred his solitary walks, but on this occasion +he readily agreed. At eight o’clock they came back to +dinner. Herzen put a little bottle of curaçao on the +table and we all drank a glass, congratulating each other +on the great and joyful news.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_xxxviii">[xxxviii]</span></p> + +<p>‘Ogaryov,’ said Herzen, ‘I want to celebrate the great +event. Perhaps,’ he went on with feeling, ‘there may +be no happier day in our lives. You know we live like +workmen, nothing but toil and labour; we ought sometimes +to rest and look back over the distance we have +come, and to rejoice at the happy solution of the question +so near our hearts; perhaps we, too, have done our bit +towards it.’</p> + +<p>‘And you,’ he went on, turning to Natasha and me, +‘must get ready some coloured flags and sew big letters +in white calico on them; on one, “Emancipation of the +Peasants in Russia, February 19, 1861,” on another, +“Russian Free Press in London,” and so on. We will +have a dinner for Russians; I’ll write an article about +it and read it aloud; I have the heading already: “Thou +hast conquered, Galilean.” Yes, the Tsar has conquered +me by accomplishing the great task. At the Russian +dinner I will propose in my own house a toast to the +health of the Tsar. Whoever removes the obstacles that +hinder the advance of Russia towards progress and prosperity +is not acting against us. In the evening we will +invite not only Russians, but all foreigners who sympathise +with this great event, all who are rejoicing with us.’</p> + +<p>At last the day for this festival was fixed.... Flags +were made, English words were sewn on them, and little +glass lamps of different colours were procured for illuminating +the house. Prince Golitsyn,⁠<a id="FNanchor_10" href="#Footnote_10" class="fnanchor">[10]</a> hearing of Herzen’s +plan, undertook to write a quartet, which he called +‘Emancipation,’ and performed it on the occasion.</p> + +<p>On the morning of the festive day we had not very +many guests, only Russians and Poles. Among others +there were Martyanov, Prince Pyotr Dolgorukov, and +Count Uvarov. Tchorszewski came later than the rest; +I remember we were all in the drawing-room when he +arrived.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_xxxix">[xxxix]</span></p> + +<p>‘Alexandr Ivanovitch, it is not a day for rejoicing; +Russians are shedding Polish blood in Warsaw!’ said +Tchorszewski, breathless.</p> + +<p>‘What?’ cried Herzen.</p> + +<p>‘Impossible!’ exclaimed the others. Tchorszewski +took out of his pocket photographs of the slain which he +had just received from Warsaw.</p> + +<p>‘There have been demonstrations there,’ he told us; +‘the Poles were praying in the street; all of a sudden the +word of command rang out, and Russian bullets felled +several men who were kneeling in prayer.’</p> + +<p>All pressed round Tchorszewski and examined the +photographs. Herzen was pale and silent. His face +was overcast, the serene and happy expression was replaced +by a look of anxiety, trouble, and sadness.</p> + +<p>Jules announced that dinner was served. We all +went down to the dining-room, every face looked troubled.... +When champagne was handed round, Herzen +stood up and proposed a toast to Russia, to its prosperity, +its progress, and so on. We all stood glass in hand, every +one responded warmly, and other toasts were proposed.... +Herzen made a short speech, of which I remember +the first sentence: ‘Friends, our day of rejoicing is +darkened by unexpected news; blood is flowing in +Warsaw, Slav blood, and it is shed by brother Slavs!’</p> + +<p>There was a hush, and all sat down again in silence.</p> + +<p>In the evening the house was lighted up; flags fluttered +on it; Prince Golitsyn conducted his quartet in the +drawing-room. In response to Herzen’s invitation in +the <i>Bell</i>, there was a great gathering not only of our +Russian and Polish friends, but also of the Italian <i>émigrés</i>, +Mazzini and Saffi among them, the French exiles, among +whom Louis Blanc and Talandier were conspicuous, as +well as Germans, English people, and numbers of Poles +and Russians whom we did not know.</p> + +<p>At moments it seemed as though Herzen had forgotten +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xl">[xl]</span>the events at Warsaw and recovered his gaiety. Once +he even stood on a chair, and with great feeling said: +‘A new era is coming for Russia, and we shall be in +Russia again, friends; I do not despair of it, the nineteenth +of February is a great day!’ Kelsiev and some fellow-countrymen +whom we did not know responded. There +were so many people that nobody could sit down. Even +outside our house there was such a huge crowd that +policemen had to stand there all the evening to protect +the place from thieves.</p> + +<p>A photographer took a view of our house lighted up +and decked with flags. The figure of Prince Yury +Golitsyn was seen on the steps. This photograph was +reproduced on the cover of the published quartet +‘Emancipation.’ I preserved a copy, but it was +taken from me, together with my books, at the Russian +frontier.</p> + +<p>A few days after this celebration, Herzen wrote the +article headed ‘Mater Dolorosa,’ in which he expressed +his sympathy with the oppressed Poles, and published it +in the following number of the <i>Bell</i>.</p> + +<p>Martyanov came to Herzen after reading this article +and said:</p> + +<p>‘You have buried the <i>Bell</i> to-day, Alexandr Ivanovitch; +no, you can’t revive it now, you have laid it in its +grave.’</p> + +<p>And so the first blow to the <i>Bell</i> was given it by +Herzen himself through showing sympathy to suffering +Poland. Russian <i>amour-propre</i> was wounded, and little +by little every one turned away from the London publications. +The second blow to the <i>Bell</i> was dealt later by +Bakunin.</p> + +<p>One day after dinner the postman rang the bell, and +Herzen opened a huge letter. It was from Bakunin, +who wrote describing his escape from Siberia and the +sympathy shown him in America.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_xli">[xli]</span></p> + +<p>Bakunin expressed a hope that he would soon be in +London and helping his friends in their propaganda, +writing for the <i>Bell</i>, and so on. Herzen pondered after +reading the letter, then said to Ogaryov:</p> + +<p>‘I must own I am afraid of Bakunin’s coming, he will be +sure to ruin our work. You remember what Caussidière—or +Lamartine, was it?—said of him in 1848: “Notre +ami Bakounine est un homme impayable le jour de la +Révolution, mais le lendemain il faut absolument le faire +fusiller, car il sera impossible d’établir un ordre quelconque +avec un pareil anarchiste.”’</p> + +<p>Ogaryov agreed. He, too, thought that Bakunin +would not be satisfied with their propaganda, but would +insist on activity after the pattern of Western European +revolutionary movements. Moreover, Bakunin had +always figured abroad as the champion of Poland. +Herzen and Ogaryov sympathised with the sufferings of +Poland, but disliked the aristocratic character of the Poles, +their attitude to the lower classes, and so on. As for +Bakunin, he saw nothing....</p> + +<p>I very well remember Bakunin’s first appearance in +our house.</p> + +<p>It was between eight and nine in the evening, every +one was sitting at table, but, as I was not very well, I was +having dinner lying on the sofa. There was a loud ring +at the bell, Jules ran upstairs to the front door, and in a +few minutes came back with the visitor: it was Mihail +Alexandrovitch Bakunin. I don’t remember whether +I have spoken before of his appearance. He was very +tall, with an intelligent and expressive face; in his features +there was a great likeness to the Muravyovs, to whom he +was related. Every one stood up as Bakunin came in. +The men embraced each other, Herzen introduced the +children and Malwide, who happened to be dining with +us. After greeting all the rest, Bakunin came up to me. +He recalled our meeting in Berlin not long before the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xlii">[xlii]</span>Dresden barricades, when he was captured and handed +over to the Austrians.</p> + +<p>‘That’s bad—lying down,’ he said to me briskly; +‘you must get well; we must be acting, not lying down.’</p> + +<p>Bakunin sat down to the table, the dinner began to be +very lively. Afterwards he told us about his imprisonment +in Austria.... I should like to repeat his account +of it, as far as I remember it.</p> + +<p>Chained to the wall in an underground dungeon, he +was brought to such a pitch of misery that he resolved to +commit suicide and tried sucking phosphorus off matches. +This, however, had no satisfactory result; it gave him a +pain in his stomach, but he remained alive. After a year +and a half or two years of this existence, one night, +Bakunin told us, he was awakened by an unaccustomed +sound. Doors were being noisily opened and shut, +locks grated; at last footsteps approached nearer, and +various officials entered his cell: the governor of the +prison, warders, and an officer. They ordered Bakunin +to dress. ‘I was tremendously delighted,’ said Bakunin; +‘whether they were taking me to be shot or transferring +me to another prison, anyway it was a change, and so +anyway it was for the better. I was taken in a closed +carriage to a railway station and put in a closed compartment, +with tiny windows at the top. The compartment +must have been shunted, when we changed to +another train, for I was not led out at any station.... +To get a breath of fresh air, I said I was hungry, but that +did not lead to the desired result, they brought me food +to the carriage. At last we reached our destination. I +was brought out in fetters from the dark railway carriage +into the bright winter sunshine on the platform. Casting +a cursory glance round the station, I saw Russian soldiers; +my heart throbbed joyously, and I understood what was +happening.</p> + +<p>‘Would you believe it, Herzen, I was as delighted as +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xliii">[xliii]</span>a child, though I could not expect anything good for +myself. I was taken to a room apart, a Russian officer +appeared, and they began transferring me as though I +were an inanimate object; official documents in +German were read. The Austrian officer, a spare, lean +man, with cold, lifeless eyes, began demanding the return +of the chains riveted on me in Austria. The Russian +officer, a very young, shy fellow, with a good-natured +expression, agreed at once. The Austrian fetters were +removed and Russian ones put on. Ah, dear friends, the +chains seemed lighter, I was glad of them, and smiled +happily to the young officer and the Russian soldiers. +“Ah, lads,” I said, “so I may die in my own country.” +The officer interposed, “You are not allowed to speak.” +The soldiers looked at me with silent curiosity. Then +I was put in a closed carriage like a hen-coop, with little +openings at the top. It was a very frosty night, and I +was unused to fresh air. You know the rest; I wrote +that I was confined in the Peter-Paul Fortress and afterwards +in the Schlüsselburg, that Nicholas commanded +me to write an account of my doings abroad. I complied +with his desire, and at the end of my confession +added: “Sire, for my openness, forgive me my German +sins.” On the accession of Alexander I was sent to +Siberia; that blessed news reached me in the Solovetsky +monastery. In Siberia I was very well off. Muravyov +is a very sensible man—he did not worry me, but it is a +true saying: you may feed the wolf, but he’ll still yearn +for the forest. Though it was a shame to do it, I had to +deceive my friends, to break away to freedom.’</p> + +<p>But Herzen’s foreboding was soon justified. With +Bakunin’s arrival the Polish note began to be more conspicuous +in the Free Russian Press. At first Bakunin +published his articles in the <i>Bell</i>; but Herzen, noticing +this tendency in them, suggested that he should bring +them out as separate pamphlets or print them in the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xliv">[xliv]</span>series called ‘Voices from Russia,’ as their views +diverged, and Herzen did not want to publish articles +in the <i>Bell</i> with which he was not usually in complete +agreement. What was most unfortunate was that Ogaryov +was nearer in his ideas to Bakunin, and the latter +acquired a great influence over him. And Herzen +always gave way to Ogaryov, even when he recognised +that Ogaryov was wrong.</p> + +<p>While Bakunin was in London there came among +other visitors from Russia an Armenian called Nalbandov. +He was a man of thirty, ugly, awkward, shy, but kind-hearted, +sensible, and full of sympathy for everything good. +He was a wealthy man.... After completing his studies, +I believe, in the University of Moscow, he had travelled +for his own pleasure, and had been in China; on his +return to Russia he heard of the <i>Bell</i> and of Herzen, and +made up his mind to visit London. The first time he +came to see Herzen he could scarcely speak for shyness. +Afterwards, however, delighted at the friendly welcome +given him, he used often to visit us. Bakunin completely +took possession of him; every day he used to go about +London with him, and he insisted on Nalbandov having +his photograph taken. This was done in a very original +way: Nalbandov had his photograph taken, back view, +reading a newspaper. This queer man spent two months +in London, well pleased with his stay in England, and +took no part at all in the work of Russian propaganda. +Yet on his way back to Russia he was arrested and clapped +into some fortress in the East, where he was probably +forgotten. He was ruined by the carelessness of Bakunin, +who sang his praises in a letter to some relative in Russia. +Bakunin’s letters were, of course, opened in the post; +word was sent to the frontier, and Nalbandov paid for +his friendship with Bakunin. We heard no more of the +fate of this truly good and worthy man.</p> + +<p>Sad to say, Nalbandov was not the only one who +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xlv">[xlv]</span>suffered from Bakunin’s recklessness. The latter had a +really childish inability to control his tongue.</p> + +<p>After the Warsaw risings, when repressive measures were +being taken by the Russian Government for the pacification +of the country, Herzen was visited by a Russian +officer, Potyebnya, who had left his regiment, but continued +living in Warsaw, where he showed himself everywhere +in public places, sometimes in civilian dress, sometimes +disguised as a Polish monk. Occasionally he came +across fellow-officers, but nobody recognised him. Potyebnya +was a fair man of medium height and attractive +appearance. Herzen and Ogaryov liked him very much +and tried to persuade him to remain in London, but he +would not. It was said that he was in love with a +Polish woman, and so had gone over to the side of +the Poles. He came several times when in London; +the last time he said: ‘I shall not fire on Russians, I +could not bring myself to it.’ ‘Do stay with us,’ +said Herzen. ‘I cannot,’ he answered, with a mournful +smile.</p> + +<p>Potyebnya was extraordinarily nice with children. +My eldest child, a little girl of four, was very fond of him. +She was often present when they were talking, busy +with her playthings, and we thought she noticed nothing. +But we were once struck by a saying of hers to Potyebnya. +It was on the last evening that he spent in Orsett House. +The young officer had taken the child on his knee and +was talking to her. Suddenly she said:</p> + +<p>‘Dear Potyebnya, don’t go away, stay with us.’</p> + +<p>‘I can’t,’ he answered, ‘but I will soon come back; +I am not going far, only to the South of France.’</p> + +<p>‘Oh no,’ she said; ‘you are going to Poland, and +they’ll kill you there.’</p> + +<p>Then Herzen cried out: ‘If you won’t listen to us, +listen to the child, who makes such a dreadful prophecy.’ +But Potyebnya could not be shaken in his determination, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xlvi">[xlvi]</span>and he went back to Poland next day. A Russian bullet +laid him low soon afterwards.”</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p>[In 1863 Bakunin left London with the expedition +described by Herzen in <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/files/78361/78361-h/78361-h.htm#Page_169">volume v. pp. 169-175</a>, and was +stranded in Sweden.]</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p>“Bakunin went to Stockholm to complain of the +captain’s treachery. He heard that the King’s brother +was a very cultured and liberal man, and hoped with his +support to force the captain to continue the voyage. But +Bakunin’s hopes were not realised. There was a highly +cultured society in Stockholm and great sympathy for +every liberal movement. He was throughout his stay +well received by the King of Sweden’s brother, and fêted +by Stockholm society as the Russian agitator of 1848. +Dinners and evening parties were given in his honour, +his health was drunk, and people were delighted to get +the chance of seeing him, but he received no help as +regards the captain. The other <i>émigrés</i> determined on +bold action; they hired boats and attempted to continue +on their way. But a terrible storm blew up, and all +those luckless and foolhardy men perished....</p> + +<p>While Bakunin remained in Sweden hoping that +another expedition would be arranged, his wife arrived +in London from Siberia. I was not at home at the time; +I had, on the advice of our doctor, gone to Osborne for +the sake of the children....</p> + +<p>One day Herzen was sitting at his writing-table when +Jules announced that a very young and pretty woman +was asking to see him.</p> + +<p>‘Ask her name, Jules, I am always telling you,’ said +Herzen, with some impatience.</p> + +<p>Jules went out, and at once came back with a look of +astonishment on his face.</p> + +<p>‘Eh bien?’ said Herzen.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_xlvii">[xlvii]</span></p> + +<p>‘Madame Bakunin! comment, monsieur, est-ce +possible?’ said Jules incoherently, as he probably compared +husband and wife in his mind. Herzen had heard +that Bakunin had married the daughter of a Polish clerk +in Siberia. ‘Surely she has not turned up?’ he thought. +Making himself a little tidier, he went into the drawing-room, +where he saw a fair, very young and handsome +woman in deep mourning.</p> + +<p>‘I am Bakunin’s wife; where is he?’ she said. ‘And +you are Herzen?’</p> + +<p>‘Yes,’ he answered. ‘Your husband is not in +London.’</p> + +<p>‘Where is he?’ she repeated.</p> + +<p>‘I have no right to tell you that.’</p> + +<p>‘What, not me, his wife!’ she said in a tone of offence, +and she turned crimson.</p> + +<p>‘We had better talk about the Bakunins. When did +you leave his brothers and sisters? What on earth is +the name of their place? You have stayed in the country +with them—what are the names of his brothers and +sisters? I have forgotten and mixed them all up....’</p> + +<p>Madame Bakunin gave the name of the country place, +and answered all the questions correctly. The Bakunins +had helped her to obtain a passport and had provided the +money for her journey....</p> + +<p>At last Herzen was convinced that she really was +Bakunin’s wife, and suggested that she should stay in our +house and for the time occupy my room. Calling my +maid, Herzen told her to look after Madame Bakunin, +which was rather difficult, simply because the latter did +not know one word of English.</p> + +<p>But all the same Herzen did not tell her where Bakunin +was, which offended her very much, and left a shade of +dislike for him in her heart.</p> + +<p>By the time I came back from Osborne she had moved +into lodgings, where she remained till she left London. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xlviii">[xlviii]</span>We were very good friends, but she got on best of all +with Varvara Timofyevna Kelsiev.⁠<a id="FNanchor_11" href="#Footnote_11" class="fnanchor">[11]</a> She told the latter +a great deal about her life and her marriage. ‘I liked a +young doctor much better,’ she said, ‘and I believe he +was attracted by me, but I preferred to marry Bakunin +because he is a hero and has always been for Poland. +Though I was born and grew up in Siberia, I love +my fatherland; I wear mourning for it and always +shall.’</p> + +<p>There was a great deal that was childish and naïve in +her, but at the same time much that was sweet and sincere. +Then a telegram came from Bakunin addressed to me: +‘Natalya Alexyevna, I commend my wife to you, take +care of her.’ Soon afterwards, however, he sent for her +to Sweden, and a great many of us went to the station +with her to see her off to Dover. Before she left London, +Madame Bakunin invited us all to dinner and regaled us +with Polish dainties, which were very nice and greatly +delighted our Polish friends, Czernecki and Tchorszewski. +The latter, however, was such an admirer of female beauty +that, however bad the dinner, he would have been in +raptures if the hostess were handsome.”</p> + +</blockquote> + +<blockquote> + +<p>“One summer we spent at Torquay. Malwide von +Meysenbug came from Italy with Olga, and I went down +from London with Natasha and my baby, Liza. Ogaryov +and Herzen could only come for visits, for they had to +be in London to look after the Russian Free Press, and to +receive the Russians who used to come to interview the +editors of the <i>Bell</i>, bringing a great deal of material for +publication. That summer Tatyana Petrovna Passek +decided to visit Herzen. She arrived in London and +telegraphed to him; he hurried back from Torquay and +met her at the station. We were all delighted to see her; +she had the gift of winning people by her gentleness and +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xlix">[xlix]</span>typically Russian good-nature. Unluckily, she only paid +us a brief visit. Soon Malwide went back to Italy with +both Herzen’s daughters; on the way they visited Nice, +where the girls’ mother was buried....</p> + +<p>In 1862, or 1863, we decided to leave London, as +Herzen thought it would be cheaper and more comfortable +to live in a suburb. There was, only fifteen minutes +by rail from London, a little place called Teddington, +consisting of a long street with country houses in large +luxuriant gardens, and several smaller houses, with little +shops of various sorts.... There Herzen found a +fairly roomy house with a big garden, and we all moved +into it, taking with us Varvara Timofyevna Kelsiev and +her little girl, Marusya. The printing-press was moved +to a little house not ten minutes’ walk from us. There +Czernecki was installed with the companion of his life, +Marianna; they had no children.</p> + +<p>Our new house had only one drawback: behind it +there was a factory from which often came a smell of burnt +tallow. But the doctor assured us that this would do the +children no harm, and so we meekly put up with the +unpleasantness of it. The only one of our intimate circle +left in London was Tchorszewski, and he came to Teddington +at least once a week, partly on business, and partly +from affection for the family, of which he was like an +indispensable member. His devotion to Herzen and all +of us was beyond all bounds, and he proved it indeed +after Herzen’s death.”</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p>[At Elmfield House, Teddington, they were visited, as +described in <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/files/78361/78361-h/78361-h.htm#Page_111">volume v. p. 111</a>, etc., by Gonchar, who +took Madame Kelsiev and her little girl Marusya with +him to Tulcea, the colony of Russian raskolniks to which +Kelsiev had previously gone, and there the mother and +child died. (<a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/files/78361/78361-h/78361-h.htm#Page_115">See volume v. p. 115.</a>) Soon afterwards +Garibaldi’s visit took place, <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/files/78361/78361-h/78361-h.htm#CAMICIA_ROSSA">as described in volume v.</a>]</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_l">[l]</span></p> + +<blockquote> + +<p>“After being a year in Teddington we spent a summer +by the sea at Bournemouth. Malwide von Meysenbug +joined us there with Herzen’s daughters. This was the +last time we were all together in England; but I will +say nothing of that stay, as nothing of general interest +occurred. After living in Italy neither Malwide nor the +girls were willing to hear of a change. Sometimes +Herzen spent a month or two with them in Italy....</p> + +<p>On our return to London Herzen began to make plans +for transferring the printing-press to Geneva. From the +time of the Polish rebellion the circulation of the <i>Bell</i> +had dropped; fewer manuscripts were sent us from +Russia than before. This was obviously a grief to Herzen. +‘We are old,’ he used to say; ‘the Nihilists look upon us +as reactionaries; it is time to retire, it is time to set to work +on some big job.’ But Ogaryov did not lose heart. He +thought that in Switzerland there would be more people +coming fresh from Russia, and that the Free Press would +begin to flourish again.</p> + +<p>While Herzen and Ogaryov were settling things up +and preparing to go, I went to Paris with my children, +thinking that it would be easier for my relations to come +there from Russia to see me.</p> + +<p>Then a calamity befell me from which I could not +recover; for several years afterwards I moved about +from place to place and could nowhere find peace.”</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p>[In 1864, in Paris, Natalya Alexyevna’s two younger +children, the twins, died of diphtheria.]</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p>“At midnight, on the 15th of December 1864, Herzen +and Ogaryov, accompanied by some other persons, whom +I did not notice at the time, put me with my daughter +Liza into the train for Montpelier. Some of the company +commended us to the care of the guard, others gave +us letters of recommendation to doctors and various other +persons.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_li">[li]</span></p> + +<p>Yielding to necessity, I set off with a heavy heart on +this long journey alone with my child; but I knew +Herzen could not take us. He promised to join us +shortly at Montpelier. The doctors insisted that we +should leave Paris as soon as possible, for diphtheria was +raging there. The well-known writer and journalist, +Emile Girardin, had just lost from this epidemic his +only daughter, a child of my Liza’s age.</p> + +<p>Herzen did in fact arrive in Montpelier soon afterwards. +Doctor Coste, who was attending us, beamed +all over with enthusiasm when he saw him. A few days +later he took Herzen in the evening to the ‘Cercle Démocratique’; +there many people were eager to make his +acquaintance, warmly shook his hand, and talked of his +writings. Herzen was much moved when, on his return, +he told me of the warm welcome given him; indeed, he +was extremely popular at that time in France, north and +south alike, with all classes of the population.</p> + +<p>From Montpelier Herzen went to Geneva, and there +meeting his son brought him to Montpelier. Alexandr +Alexandrovitch spent two days with me and then went +back to Florence.</p> + +<p>At the end of the winter we went to Cannes, and from +there again to Nice. In Cannes we made the acquaintance +of Dr. Bernacki;⁠<a id="FNanchor_12" href="#Footnote_12" class="fnanchor">[12]</a> he was recommended to us in +the hotel when my daughter had some trifling ailment. +Bernacki turned out to be a great admirer of Herzen; +he was a Polish <i>émigré</i>, an elderly man whose patriotism +was as keen as ever, though he had lived in France since +1830. He had married a widow, who died, leaving him +her son. Herzen saw all Bernacki’s surroundings; life +is hard for the rich Slav temperament in the narrow, petty +life of the French bourgeois. Bernacki brought up and +at last married this son who was not his own, and all his +love was centred on the latter’s children.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_lii">[lii]</span></p> + +<p>In the spring of 1865 we moved from Nice to a villa, +Château de la Boissière, near Geneva.”</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p>[Here the whole group, including Malwide, Herzen’s +two elder daughters, and Ogaryov, were for some time +together again.]</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p>“Prince Dolgorukov left London soon after we did, +and he too settled in Geneva.... He was an intelligent +man, but had a great deal of <i>amour-propre</i>, and, as +I have said already, his views were absolutely different +from Herzen’s, yet he seemed drawn to the latter by a +strange, inexplicable, and irresistible attraction. The +prince’s harsh, hasty, and despotic temper caused him +continual difficulties abroad.</p> + +<p>At the Château de la Boissière there was rather a curious +incident with Prince Dolgorukov. I was not in the +house at the time, but I well remember Herzen’s humorous +account of the quarrel between Prince Dolgorukov +and our servant, Jules.</p> + +<p>Dolgorukov, Vyrubov, and some other guests were +dining at the house. When they got up from the table, +Dolgorukov went out of the dining-room meaning to +give some order to our cook. He had to go down some +steps to reach the kitchen; there he halted, listening to a +conversation in which he caught his own name; Jules +in a loud voice was complaining of the prince, saying +that he gave the servants far more trouble than all the +rest of the visitors. Instead of calling Jules and pretending +to have heard nothing, Dolgorukov pushed open the +door and, drawing the blade out of his swordstick, began +waving it in the air while he scolded and shouted at Jules. +The latter gave him back as good as he got and raised his +fist to strike Dolgorukov. Hearing a great uproar below-stairs, +and knowing the prince’s troublesome temper, +Herzen, calling Vyrubov to follow him, hurried down to +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_liii">[liii]</span>the kitchen.... He seized Dolgorukov’s arms, and +asked Vyrubov to hold Jules; the prince was led away +to the dining-room, where, frantic with rage, he snatched +up a decanter and smashed it into splinters on the table, +then seized a chair and threw it on the floor so that it was +broken to pieces. Herzen gazed at him in mute amazement. +The prince, choking with fury, at last articulated: +‘Never again will I set foot in your house,’ and went off.</p> + +<p>But he could not do without seeing Herzen; and a +week later wrote asking him to dismiss Jules for his impertinence. +Only on this condition, said the prince, +could he visit Château de la Boissière again.</p> + +<p>To this missive Herzen replied that he was very sorry +for what had occurred, but that it was against his principles +to dismiss a servant simply for impertinence, the +more so as he ‘considered the prince more to blame than +Jules, since the latter could not be compared with Dolgorukov +as regards culture and education, and, moreover, +the prince had begun the quarrel.’ ‘We sometimes perhaps +complain of servants in their absence,’ wrote Herzen, +‘though we have many interests, and our relations +with our servants do not take the most prominent place +in them; but as for them, they may well pour out their +indignation with us pretty often to relieve all the unpleasantness +of their lot in life.’</p> + +<p>By degrees the prince began to calm down. He told +his cook to meet Jules in the market and to ask the latter +to come to him. Jules was buying provisions in the +market when the prince’s man went up to him with this +message. Jules followed the man, set down his basket +in the hall, and not without surprise walked into Dolgorukov’s +study. The latter, on his entrance, stood up +and came to meet him. In response to our cook’s bow, +the prince held out his hand.</p> + +<p>‘Je veux, Jules, me réconcilier avec vous, voulez-vous?’ +said the prince.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_liv">[liv]</span></p> + +<p>‘Je veux bien, je veux bien, monsieur le prince,’ Jules +answered good-humouredly, ‘il ne faut pas se fâcher +toujours.’</p> + +<p>‘Alors buvons à notre réconciliation,’ said the prince, +filling two glasses with some good red wine and offering +one to Jules. They clinked their glasses, and drained +them.</p> + +<p>From that time forward Prince Dolgorukov took to +visiting Herzen again, and never referred to the past.</p> + +<p>When we settled in Geneva there were a great many +Russians there; almost all of them were Nihilists. They +took up an extremely hostile attitude to Herzen.</p> + +<p>The greater number of them lived either in the Russian +hotel or in a boarding-house kept by Madame X., a +Russian who had several years before visited Herzen in +London, accompanied by her husband and the writer +Mihailov. Since then there had been many changes in +her life; her husband had long before returned to Russia, +lived somewhere in the wilds, and wrote constantly for +the reviews. Mihailov had been exiled. A year or two +after parting with Mihailov, she had succeeded not only +in forgetting him, but in replacing him by the younger +Serno-Solovyovitch.</p> + +<p>I permit myself to speak of the relations of Madame X. +with Mihailov and Alexandr Serno-Solovyovitch, because +every one knew of them at the time, and she made no +secret of them.... Serno-Solovyovitch was younger +than she was: hasty, jealous, and hot-tempered, he had +stormy scenes with Madame X., and she began to be +afraid of him. When a son was born, to put an end to +all relations with him she made up her mind to send +the baby off to her husband X. to be brought up. Two +other Russians assisted her in this, to my thinking, inhuman +action: I cannot see what right a mother has to +rob a father of his child, unless she keeps the child herself. +Serno-Solovyovitch was beside himself at the child’s +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_lv">[lv]</span>being sent away, he threatened to murder Madame X., +broke into her room, and really did become alarming, +‘You have taken everything from me,’ he said with +despair, ‘now I have nothing I care for.’ I do not know +how Madame X. managed it, but for the sake of her own +peace and comfort she got Serno-Solovyovitch put into a +lunatic asylum. Probably his friends helped her. O +Pushkin! how right you were! it is easier to defend +oneself from foes than from friends!</p> + +<p>One evening Herzen, Ogaryov, and I were sitting in +the dining-room; suddenly the door was thrown open, +and a man with a face of despair ran in, looked about him, +then fell on his knees before Herzen. It was Serno-Solovyovitch; +I recognised him.</p> + +<p>‘Get up, get up, how can you!’ said Alexandr Ivanovitch +in a voice full of emotion.</p> + +<p>‘No, no, I won’t get up. I have wronged you, +Alexandr Ivanovitch, I have slandered you, I have +slandered you even in print ... and yet it is from you +I ask help. Protect me from my friends, they will shut +me up again that <i>her</i> mind may be at rest. You see I +have run away from the madhouse and come straight to +you, my enemy.’</p> + +<p>Herzen and Ogaryov raised him up, shook his hand, +assured him that they harboured no malice against him, +and kept him in the house, but earnestly begged him not +to go where he would be irritated (namely, to Madame +X.’s).</p> + +<p>They looked on him with all-forgiving compassion, +and as I watched them I thought that the first Christians +must have loved and forgiven like them.</p> + +<p>Serno-Solovyovitch was fond of children; he liked to +walk about the garden and play with my little girl Liza. +Malwide and Olga had not yet arrived, and Natasha was +with her brother in Berne at Marya Kashparovna Reihel’s. +Suddenly we received from Malwide a telegram:</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_lvi">[lvi]</span></p> + +<p>‘We will stay on longer as Serno-Solovyovitch is with +you.’</p> + +<p>Herzen answered by telegram:</p> + +<p>‘As you like; Natalie is not afraid of him; he is playing +with Liza in the garden.’</p> + +<p>On the morning after the first night that Serno-Solovyovitch +slept at the Château de la Boissière we +all got up early and met in the dining-room; we hoped +that he was still peacefully reposing in freedom, and +yet we were a little uneasy. Suddenly Jules came in +with the coffee and said:</p> + +<p>‘You told me to keep an eye on our visitor, but really +no one could do that. He was there all the time,’ he went +on anxiously, ‘but now the room is empty, he’s not there, +M. Herzen,’ he said in despair.</p> + +<p>After waiting some time we began breakfast, but +Herzen was gloomy. ‘He will murder her,’ he said, +‘and I shall never forgive myself for not keeping watch +over him myself!’</p> + +<p>All at once we caught the sound of footsteps coming +nearer and nearer, and Serno-Solovyovitch walked into +the dining-room, looking almost cheerful. He apologised, +and told Herzen in a low voice that he had gone +out to buy a paper collar and cuffs, as he felt uncomfortable +at sitting down to table in a lady’s company without. +We felt as though a weight had been lifted off us when +he came in.</p> + +<p>But not long afterwards Serno-Solovyovitch’s self-control +gave way, he went where he was irritated to +frenzy, and he was taken back again to the asylum.</p> + +<p>Later on he was discharged, and then he joined a +society of working-class Socialists; but his success with +them did not fully satisfy him. He felt that he was +severed from his own country and grew more and more +gloomy. He wrote a great deal about socialism, but was +dull and depressed, and held aloof from every one.... +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_lvii">[lvii]</span>He ended by suicide—and what a terrible end! He +sought death in three ways: he poisoned himself, cut his +veins, and stifled himself with charcoal fumes. He had +suffered enough, and so escaped to freedom.</p> + +<p>While we lived near Geneva, Madame X. was only +twice in our house, and then not as an acquaintance but +on business. I found her very unattractive, and could +not understand how it was she had so much influence +over undoubtedly good men. Various persons came to +see us from her boarding-house, chiefly men, though I +remember one very handsome young woman, who had +married a very young Prince Golitsyn in order to go +abroad to study. She saw him for the first time in church +and never saw him again. Such marriages were a fashion +at that time and were treated as a joke, but later on, so it +was said, this reckless marriage was the cause of great +sorrow to Golitsyn: he fell in love, and could not marry +the girl he loved!</p> + +<p>Herzen did not like living in Geneva; the <i>émigrés</i> +were in too close proximity; having nothing to do, they +had plenty of time for gossip and tittle-tattle; their +antagonism to Herzen, an antagonism for which envy +of his material resources was chiefly responsible, irritated +him extremely, and his irritability was increased by the +state of his health, which began to fail from the year +1864.</p> + +<p>The Château de la Boissière was abandoned; I sought +solitude in Montreux with my little girl and her governess, +Miss Turner. Malwide went back to Italy with Olga. +Herzen remained with only Natasha in Geneva; he +moved into lodgings on the Quai du Mont Blanc, +while Ogaryov settled at Lancy, almost outside the +town. Living at Geneva was not a success; little good +work was done, and we had not what the English call +a <i>home</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_lviii">[lviii]</span></p> + +<p>I was drawn to Nice again, to the newly-dug graves.⁠<a id="FNanchor_13" href="#Footnote_13" class="fnanchor">[13]</a> +Herzen was fond of the scenery of the south; besides, +he had in Nice many precious memories, and his wife’s +grave, which he never forgot. Sending Natasha to +Italy, he accompanied us to Nice, and stayed there for a +time himself.</p> + +<p>Whether I wanted to or not, I had to make some +acquaintances for my daughter’s sake; a gloomy environment +is bad for a child. She used to play in the public +gardens every day with some children; she soon made +friends with them, and so I came to be acquainted with +two or three families. I arranged with a dancing-mistress +to form a class, and had no difficulty in finding +some among my little girl’s friends who were glad to +join it. And so the children came to us twice a week. +Among others, we made the acquaintance of the family +of Garibaldi (a cousin of the celebrated Garibaldi), whose +amiable wife and children were in friendly relations with +us till I went back to Russia for good.</p> + +<p>At that time Herzen was still in Nice. He wrote a +great deal in Nice—there was no one to hinder him; +then he used to go and read the papers at Visconte’s; +after dinner he liked to go a walk alone with Liza; sometimes +he took her to the theatre, and enjoyed her sallies, +her apt remarks, and intelligence. He was then writing +for the <i>Week</i> the series of articles entitled ‘To Pass the +Time.’ It was a comfort to him to be writing and being +printed in Russia. He was fond of reading aloud what +he had written before sending it off.”</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p>[Ogaryov was now settled with Mary and their two +children, Henry and ‘Toots,’ in Geneva.]</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p>“... While Herzen was in Nice, a telegram arrived +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_lix">[lix]</span>from Tchorszewski, telling him that Ogaryov had broken +his leg, and begging him to come to Geneva as soon as +possible. I was not in the house at the time, and on +returning home I found Herzen sitting on a chair in the +hall in a dazed condition; I was astounded at his being +there and looking so overwhelmed. He handed me the +telegram without a word. Glancing at it, I said: ‘Well, +Herzen, you must make haste and go; let us look at the +time-table and pack up your things; you must not +delay.’</p> + +<p>But Herzen sat mute as though he did not hear what I +said. ‘I feel,’ he said at last, ‘that I shall never see him +again.’</p> + +<p>However, I managed to pack what was needed, and to +see Herzen off at the station; I felt that if anything could +relieve his mind it would be seeing Ogaryov. Such an +accident was a serious thing at his age. Herzen wrote +afterwards, describing with what terror and anxiety he +travelled to Geneva; how, meeting Tchorszewski at the +station, he had not courage to ask ‘Is Ogaryov alive?’ +At last Tchorszewski, of his own accord, said that he +thought that there was no ground for anxiety in Ogaryov’s +condition. Doctor Meyer had set the bone and put the +leg in a splint. Ogaryov had borne the operation with +the greatest fortitude.</p> + +<p>I have searched in vain for the letter in which Herzen +described this unfortunate accident. I remember that +he wrote that Ogaryov was taking an evening stroll in +the outskirts of Geneva, when he had one of the fits to +which he was subject. On recovering consciousness, he +got up and tried to go on, but, as it was by then dark, he +did not see the ditch, stumbled, broke his leg, and was +sick from the pain; after lying there for a while, he tried +again to get up, but could not. Then he began to call to +passers-by, but nobody came to him. As ill-luck would +have it, he was lying in a pool just outside the lunatic +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_lx">[lx]</span>asylum, and this was why everybody hurried away when +he shouted, supposing him to be a lunatic.</p> + +<p>Seeing that no one would come, Ogaryov, with great +presence of mind, took a knife and a pipe out of his pocket, +cut off his boot, then lit his pipe, and lay there, I believe, +till next day. Early in the morning an Italian who +knew Ogaryov passed by, and, though the latter was +lying at some distance from the road, the Italian noticed +him, and began looking more closely; then Ogaryov called +to him. The Italian went up, said he would fetch a +carriage, and took him home, Ogaryov suffering great +pain when moved.”</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p>[Some months later—Natalya Alexyevna rarely gives +dates—when Ogaryov was able to hobble about, and the +accident was almost forgotten, there was a family gathering +again.]</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p>“Tchorszewski took an old château called ‘Prangius,’ +about an hour and a half’s drive from Geneva; here, +for the last time, the whole family were together again; +Liza and I, Malwide and Olga and Natasha.... Rather +later Ogaryov joined us with little ‘Toots.’ Last of all, +Alexandr (Herzen’s son) arrived with his young wife. +They were only just married, and Teresina did not yet +speak French, so we all had to talk Italian to her, which +curtailed conversation a good deal. Teresina liked going +for walks, sometimes with Herzen, sometimes with me.”</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p>[At the end of the summer.]</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p>“Alexandr and his wife went to spend the whole winter +in Berlin for the sake of his work.... Olga and Malwide +went back to Italy, where they were now so used to living +that they liked nothing else so well.... Herzen was intending +to go to Vichy for the first time. Ogaryov returned to Geneva +with little ‘Toots,’ who had amused us all with his +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_lxi">[lxi]</span>liveliness and originality.... But before going to +Vichy, Herzen went with us to Lucerne, and from there +he was summoned to Berne, as Prince Dolgorukov, who +was lying there seriously ill, wished to see Herzen once +more before his death.”</p> + +</blockquote> + +<blockquote> + +<p>“After spending some time in Geneva we went to +Paris, where Vyrubov and Herzen’s French friends +were very anxious that he should settle with all the +family.... To Herzen’s great delight we found +Sergey Petrovitch Botkin⁠<a id="FNanchor_14" href="#Footnote_14" class="fnanchor">[14]</a> and his family in Paris. +Botkin still hoped at that time that Herzen’s vigorous +constitution might successfully combat the diabetes from +which he was suffering, but this hope was not realised; +doctors cannot foresee the fatal accidents which have sometimes +a decisive effect on disease.</p> + +<p>We had rooms in the Grand Hotel, on the fourth +storey. Botkin was as charming and attentive as ever. +There was such serenity and kindness in his beautiful +smile that I thought him handsome; I particularly liked +to see his eyes rest upon Herzen with such unfeigned love +and admiration. Alexandr Ivanovitch was glad to be +with him too; he actually seemed better when Botkin +was present, for the latter had a charming and encouraging +effect on him.</p> + +<p>We were sitting in the little drawing-room talking +almost light-heartedly of how we should probably be able +to make a home here; here there would be suitable and +even interesting society for Natasha; and as regards educational +facilities, we could find everything that could be +desired.... All at once Herzen was handed a letter +from his son, telling him that Natasha was very seriously +ill, and begging him to go at once to Florence.</p> + +<p>Knowing his daughter’s strong constitution, Herzen +was perplexed, and sent a telegram asking what her illness +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_lxii">[lxii]</span>was. When he received the reply, he handed me +the telegram in silence, then said: ‘I would rather have +heard she was dead.’ The telegram read: ‘<i>Dérangement +des facultés intellectuelles.</i>’⁠<a id="FNanchor_15" href="#Footnote_15" class="fnanchor">[15]</a> These terribly alarming +words seemed to paralyse him. He remained sitting +with a pale face, in a sort of stupefaction, not attempting +to get ready: it was obviously impossible to let him go +alone, and indeed he said himself: ‘We had better all +go together.’</p> + +<p>I hurriedly packed the most necessary things and, not +staying to say good-bye to any one in Paris, we paid our +bill at the hotel and went off to the station on the chance +of getting a train—they go pretty often. We had not +to wait, but to hurry: Herzen took the tickets, while I +looked after the luggage, and Liza, who was then ten, +went to the buffet to buy some provisions for the journey. +We travelled without stopping. It was very exhausting +for us all, especially for the child. As though she understood +the gravity of the reason for our journey, she did +not complain, and was impatiently eager to arrive and +see Natasha. Herzen was silent almost the whole way; +his anxiety and impatience were apparent in his careworn +face. At last we reached Genoa; from there Herzen +went on alone, telling us to remain in Genoa till we heard +from him: if Natasha were fit to travel, Herzen would +bring her, and we would all return together to Paris; if +the doctor decided that she must stay on in Florence, he +would let us know, and we would join him there. Next +day we found a letter and a telegram for us at the post +office. The telegram only told us to await the letter; +in the letter we were directed to go at once to Florence, +which we accordingly did.</p> + +<p>When the train stopped at the station we saw Herzen +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_lxiii">[lxiii]</span>and his son, who had come to meet us. They took a +carriage, and we drove to the villa that young Herzen +had bought. There we saw Teresina with her first-born, +a charming baby whom Herzen found enchanting; then +we went in to Natasha, who was very glad to see us. +However, Herzen thought it more comfortable for the +patient and for all of us to be in the town, and so next +day we moved with Natasha to the Hôtel de France.... +There we spent about a fortnight; again I had to part +with Liza, whom I put for the time in the care of Malwide +and Olga, while I remained with Natasha. There was +nobody to nurse her but me. Malwide would not undertake +to look after the invalid, and I did not care to leave +her to strangers. It is true that before I came the doctor +had called in an acquaintance, a Miss Reynolds, to nurse +her, but though she was experienced, she only irritated +the patient. What was needed was not experience but +love.</p> + +<p>Anyway, my coming was crowned with success; the +patient began to recover, sleep and appetite returned, but +I looked in vain for any sign of joy in Herzen’s gloomy +face: he seemed crushed, and had not the strength to +hope or to believe in his beloved daughter’s recovery. +He lived in a state of morbid apprehension. The doctor +sanctioned Natasha’s leaving Florence.... Liza and +Natasha set off with us for Paris. Only Herzen’s son +saw us off. For some reason Malwide and Olga did not +come to say good-bye.</p> + +<p>This time we did not hurry; we travelled very slowly. +We stopped several times on the way to rest. We spent +a day in Genoa; I remember that there Herzen was +writing to Florence, and he said to me: ‘What am I to +say to Olga and Malwide: ask them to come to Paris +or leave them in Italy? They so dislike coming away!’ +But I advised him to send for them, because I saw that +Natasha still needed me, and Herzen himself was too +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_lxiv">[lxiv]</span>unhinged to be fit to look after Liza. He could not be +with the patient either; her overwrought nerves could +not stand her father’s resonant voice.</p> + +<p>We stayed two days in Nice, then rested at Lyons, and +at last reached Paris, where we went to the Pension +Rovigan. But it was not sufficiently comfortable for our +invalid, and so in his daily walks about the city Herzen +looked out for a spacious flat where there would be room +for us all. Soon after our return to Paris Malwide and +Olga arrived, though they certainly were very unwilling +to come. They were sorry to exchange Florence for +Paris. Then we moved into a big flat in the Pavillon +Rohan, No. 172 rue Rivoli, into that fateful house in +which he who, forgetful of himself, thought and lived for +his country, for humanity, and for his family, after some +five days’ illness left us for ever.”</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p>[Herzen had been suffering from diabetes since 1864, +but the doctors thought his strong constitution would +enable him to resist the disease, if only he received +no shocks. The alarm caused him by his daughter’s +illness made him worse. In January 1870 he had an +attack of pneumonia, of which he died four days later +at the age of fifty-eight. He was buried in Nice beside +his wife and children.</p> + +<p>That his life with Natalya Alexyevna was not a happy +one can be seen from his correspondence with Ogaryov. +They made more than one attempt at separation, but +Herzen could not bear parting from Liza. There seems +to have been something morbid and unbalanced in +Natalya Alexyevna’s character. Even Liza, to whom +she was devoted, was after Herzen’s death on very bad +terms with her. They lived near Herzen’s other children +in Italy, but Liza did not always get on well with them, +in spite of the unvarying patience and affection of Natasha +Herzen. Brilliantly intelligent, vain and capricious, Liza +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_lxv">[lxv]</span>committed suicide in 1875, at the age of seventeen, after +a dispute with her mother, who wished her to break off +an undesirable intimacy. Natalya Alexyevna went back +to Russia and lived in seclusion in the country. Later +on she adopted the daughter of a niece. The girl was +consumptive, and for the sake of her health Madame +Ogaryov took her to the Black Forest, where the adopted +daughter died. Natalya Alexyevna just succeeded in +reaching Russia before her own death in 1913.</p> + +<p>Ogaryov, who had become more or less of an invalid +from the time of his accident in 1866, was still living in +Geneva in 1873, when his old friend, Madame Passek, +visited him there. Not long afterwards he moved to +England with ‘Mary,’ who faithfully cared for him to +the end. Once a wealthy man, he had lost or given away +all he had and was maintained in his last years by Herzen’s +children. He died at Greenwich in 1877, and is buried +at Shooter’s Hill.</p> + +<p>The following extracts from letters written by Herzen +to Ogaryov throw light on the former’s state of mind +during his last years.]</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p class="right">“<span class="smcap">Nice</span>, <i>May 31, 1868</i>.</p> + +<p>“Ah, you dear, absurd person, you will hardly believe +me, I laugh at you and at myself quite genuinely—with +no tinge of anger or anything of the sort. I knew all +along and wrote to you in Geneva that whether it’s +Lausanne or Prangius—it’s a terror to you (you accepted +the suggestion too hastily and I made it too hastily)—you +are so comfortably and peacefully settled in your snug +little den that the very idea of travelling frightens you. +Well, so be it, but why did you wait till the trunks were +packed and everything was ready, to write of the difficult +position that Toots put you in...?</p> + +<p>It is too late not to go—you must think of some plan. +I see you want us to come to Geneva. Tell me how and +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_lxvi">[lxvi]</span>I will do it. The <i>only</i> difficulty is Liza (who remembers +you and has a romantic affection for you). Are you +really going to risk telling her straight away not only the +whole secret history, but two secret histories?... And +so I suggest that I should first come from Lyons by myself, +and all the rest we will put off and settle later. I cannot +guarantee that everything will be well at Prangius. +Below the surface of peace there are sometimes very bad +symptoms. One thing you might explain: why did you +tell me that I was wrong, and that you really did want to +come to Lausanne or anywhere else to see us all and to +have a change from the monotony of your life that I find +so trying? I would have arranged things accordingly. +But there is no harm done. Now it is no use sacrificing +yourself, for a sacrifice always makes itself felt. Believe +me, I will manage it all, including the shock to Liza’s +feelings and the ridicule. I cannot endure ridicule (that +is, being laughed at) as an insult, but everything else can +be settled, and you can trust me to do all I can to make it +right and not too conspicuous. Well, amen.”</p> + +</blockquote> + +<blockquote> + +<p class="right">“<span class="smcap">Mulhouse</span>, <i>June 30, 1868</i>.</p> + +<p>“... We are going to Basle to-night. I expect I +shall stay there till Tata⁠<a id="FNanchor_16" href="#Footnote_16" class="fnanchor">[16]</a> comes, or perhaps I shall go to +Lucerne and wait there till the question of Prangius is +settled. Lucerne is a beautiful place; I am quite ready +to spend a month there.</p> + +<p>But how I should like to settle down somewhere! +though I see no prospect of it.... You have always +preached immobility, and now you cannot walk; I, on +the contrary, was always for movement—and here, at +fifty-six, I am utterly homeless.... Liza is well, but +Natalie⁠<a id="FNanchor_17" href="#Footnote_17" class="fnanchor">[17]</a> is convinced that she is ill and wants to ask +Adolph Vogt’s advice.”</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_lxvii">[lxvii]</span></p> + +<blockquote> + +<p class="right">“<span class="smcap">Hotel Belle Vue, Lucerne.</span><br> +“<i>July 7, 1868. Tuesday.</i></p> + +<p>“... It is very nice here in the summer. The hotel +is expensive and the food is not up to much, but the view +from the windows—fields all round, gardens, and mountains +... right in front is the lake, and mountains again.</p> + +<p>Lucerne is infinitely more beautiful than Geneva, but +it probably begins to be cold here in October.... I +fancy Natalie, too, is tired of <i>vagabondage</i>, but as to where +are we to settle I must ask Tata’s advice. I am not equal +to deciding it alone! You can’t believe how tired I am. +Oh, for a house, a comfortable house, with a field adjoining—and +then rest!”</p> + +</blockquote> + +<blockquote> + +<p class="right">“<span class="smcap">Bernerhoff, No. 6, Berne.</span><br> +“<i>July 11, 1868.</i></p> + +<p>“... Yesterday I spent a long day which I shall not +soon forget. It began wretchedly with Natalie’s ill +humour; I set off <i>low-spirited</i>,⁠<a id="FNanchor_18" href="#Footnote_18" class="fnanchor">[18]</a> but all the way from +Olten I travelled with Lewes and his wife (you know, +who writes English novels): he cheered me up; he is +an extraordinarily intelligent and lively-minded man. +Among other things he asked me: ‘Est-ce que votre +“Golos” parait toujours?’ for which he caught it +severely.</p> + +<p>But to the tragedy. Dolgorukov is very bad, but his +strong constitution is like a fortress that will not surrender.... +He talks incoherently, his eyes are dim, he does not +know that the end is so near, but he fears it. The worst +of it is that there is a fearful conflict going on inside him. +His joy at seeing me was immense, but noiseless; he +keeps squeezing my hands and thanking me. There is +nobody in the world he trusts but me and my representative, +Tchorszewski. In the morning he summoned +Tchorszewski and Vogt ... then after all sorts of +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_lxviii">[lxviii]</span>dreadful incidents, he sent Vogt to tell N. to go +back at once.</p> + +<p>Vogt carried out this commission. N. of course +was furious. But Dolgorukov at once sent for him and +begged his forgiveness. When I went up, he sent them +all away, and taking both my hands, sat up and fixed his +dim eyes on me.</p> + +<p>‘Herzen, Herzen! For God’s sake, tell me, you are +the only one I trust, the only one I respect—is it madness, +is it nonsense?</p> + +<p>‘You see yourself,’ I said, ‘that it’s madness. What +reasons have you?</p> + +<p>‘Yes, yes, it’s obvious, it’s delirium—so you think it’s +delirium?’ (And so on a dozen times over.) Then +all at once, sinking back, he repeated slowly twice:</p> + +<p>‘No, but do you—for God’s sake, do keep a watch on +the way they are treating me,’ and he signified that I was +to say no more. After which he fell into a doze, and on +waking asked us to have dinner with his son, which we +did. The son was irritated at first, but after dinner, after +two or three bottles of wine and some absinthe, he recovered—he’s +a queer fellow. All this together affected +my nerves, so that I did not sleep all night and my head +aches.</p> + +<p>Tell me what impression this letter makes on you?</p> + +<p>Vogt says that there isn’t a chance of saving him, and +that if he is left like this, he’ll pop off. I fancy there is +a lot of strength in him yet....”</p> + +</blockquote> + +<blockquote> + +<p class="right">“<span class="smcap">Lucerne, Belle-Vue.</span><br> +“<i>July 14 (1868).</i></p> + +<p>“Well, at least I have escaped from the Dolgorukov +nightmare. An awful agony, and what’s more, he’s +actually better, he’s eating incessantly, and so keeps +himself up. Adolph Vogt quite worn out. The day +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_lxix">[lxix]</span>before yesterday there was a hideous scene with N. +in my presence; afterwards I made peace between them. +He is persuaded that the fellow is only waiting to snatch +his money and be off!... N. came in and protested +against something. Dolgorukov shouted:</p> + +<p>‘Hold your tongue and be off to Petersburg!’</p> + +<p>Then he sent Vogt to tell him not to come near him. +And though I did bring him to reason a bit, yet next +morning he told him to go away and let him die in peace +or recover. Tchorszewski is the only one who is not +moved to exasperation in this filthy slough, and though +fearfully depressed behaves well.”</p> + +</blockquote> + +<blockquote> + +<p>“... Vogt says I have a strong tendency to diabetes, +and advises me to drink the waters at Lucerne, and not go +to Berne again for a fortnight. Altogether I am better +now, though still far from well. Tata has come with +me....</p> + +<p>Auerbach and his wife are here; they have lately come +from Russia, and have been in Vevey. Bakunin belongs +heart and soul to Elpidin’s party, and they are as thick +as thieves.</p> + +<p><i>Caro mio</i>—it is time we retired and began on something +else; writing a great work or settling down to old +age.... Liza was very glad to see Tata, their meeting +was delightful. I am very much pleased with Tata.... +Tchorszewski has just arrived for a rest, and has brought +the news that Dolgorukov is immensely better. See +what medicine can do!”</p> + +</blockquote> + +<blockquote> + +<p class="right">“<span class="smcap">Lucerne, Belle Vue.</span><br> +“<i>July 23 (1868). Thursday.</i></p> + +<p>“... I posted you a letter at ten o’clock last night, +enclosing one from Liza, who, <i>entfesselt</i> from town life, +enjoys the woods and the fields so much that it is a pity +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_lxx">[lxx]</span>to take her away from here. She and Tata would have +got on well, but Liza’s rude pranks (her only serious +defect) irritate Tata. Natalie in such cases does, of +course, everything to make matters worse. It’s a bad +look-out.</p> + +<p>In my letter of yesterday I wrote to you about striking +work—the millstone is turning more slowly; we labour +listlessly and in vain, surrounded by jeers and vile envy. +Russia is deaf. The seed has been sown, it is covered +with dung—there is nothing to do till autumn. It has +occurred to me to write to you an official letter suggesting +<i>stoppage</i>⁠<a id="FNanchor_19" href="#Footnote_19" class="fnanchor">[19]</a>⁠—and I shall do so.</p> + +<p>But how could you imagine that by retiring and rest +from the <i>Bell</i> ... I meant empty inactivity, and how +could one set about it? For that, one must wait for +complete softening of the brain, hardening of the heart, +or terror over one’s health....</p> + +<p>All I want after burying the <i>Bell</i> is external peace, +being able to keep calm, almost indifferent to the annoyances +all about me. But the <i>Bell</i> won’t do that; there’s +no managing it, it’s a good thing you have got it—make +the most of it. Good-bye.”</p> + +</blockquote> + +<blockquote> + +<p class="right">“<span class="smcap">St. Gallen</span>, <i>Aug. 3, 1868</i>.</p> + +<p>“... Liza wants to write to you that we crossed the +Rhine under a waterfall. She is well, eats enough for +two, sleeps enough for three; and if one could persuade +Natalie not to spoil her, we could boast of her at Prangius. +But her temper and naughtiness are great defects.”</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p>[In September and October 1868 Herzen was at +Vichy first alone, then with his family, and had a quiet +and pleasant time there. It had been decided to go from +Vichy to Lyons and then to Zurich, but later the plan was +changed, and it was proposed to go to Lausanne.]</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_lxxi">[lxxi]</span></p> + +<blockquote> + +<p class="right">“<span class="smcap">Lyons, Hotel de l’Europe.</span><br> +“<i>Oct. 23, 1868.</i></p> + +<p>“Well, here we are at Lyons. <i>Le chapitre</i> of water +cure is over. What next?⁠<a id="FNanchor_20" href="#Footnote_20" class="fnanchor">[20]</a> In any case I shall come +to Geneva. Our plans are all unsettled. Natalie wants +to go to Nice—we are on the way to it here. I say that +Liza’s education ought to be our chief consideration. +She is growing up mentally every day and quite naturally, +<i>i.e.</i> it does not interfere with her health. Nice, of course, +has no educational advantages except its climate. Even +Lyons has plenty of the museums and other things that +Liza needs. One winter can be sacrificed, but I won’t +agree to more.”</p> + +</blockquote> + +<blockquote> + +<p class="right">“<span class="smcap">Marseilles</span>, <i>Dec. 4, 1868</i>.<br> +“Cafe at the railway station, 9 <span class="allsmcap">A.M.</span></p> + +<p>“... Our last meeting was confused. I am somehow +stunned and stupefied by such blows and shocks⁠<a id="FNanchor_21" href="#Footnote_21" class="fnanchor">[21]</a> +and want to be alone. It is over now, and thank God, +and in 1864 there was Lyola’s⁠<a id="FNanchor_22" href="#Footnote_22" class="fnanchor">[22]</a> operation. You know, I +have not till now had the courage to tell any one what +happened then: ‘It is wonderful what a man can endure.’ +Had Natalie understood that moment and my love now +for Liza, she would not be constantly pulling at the +strings, for fear of breaking them. I am ready to forgive, +for, as Kukolnik puts it, ‘only the strong can forgive.’ +But that’s not all.</p> + +<p><i>A propos</i>, do you know I was expecting that Bakunin +would send to inquire after Tata and so make peace. +But he hasn’t ... <i>é rotta l’altissima colonna</i>.</p> + +<p>It is summer here. All the windows are open. Sun +is shining. No, we’ll have to give up Zurich and Berne +and Geneva. It would be better to live in the same town +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_lxxii">[lxxii]</span>with you, but it is difficult. The irregularity of my +position and (in a different way) of yours makes it hard. +When Toots is sent to boarding-school, and you decide +on some career for Henry, we will talk about it.”</p> + +</blockquote> + +<blockquote> + +<p class="right">“<i>After Lunch.</i></p> + +<p>“... As to Tata, it would have been too dreadful +for me to lose her. Dear Natalie (my wife), you and +she, in spite of her youth and crudity, understand me +better than any one. But that menace is over. Natalie⁠<a id="FNanchor_23" href="#Footnote_23" class="fnanchor">[23]</a> +loves me, but she does not spare me. She never will be +a <i>sister</i> (you remember her last letter), but Tata can be.”</p> + +</blockquote> + +<blockquote> + +<p class="right">“<span class="smcap">Lyons, Hotel de l’Europe.</span><br> +“<i>Dec. 30, 1868.</i></p> + +<p>“... I am so sick of my irregular life that I keep +thinking about the future, about ‘a room of my own,’ +books, and a writing-table.... Ever since the end of +1864 I cannot settle down anywhere, and, of course, that +is chiefly Natalie’s fault. If something could be arranged +in Geneva or here (anywhere between Nice and Genoa)! +Florence does not attract me. However I shuffle the +cards, nothing turns up. Well, that’s an old story.”</p> + +</blockquote> + +<blockquote> + +<p class="right">“<span class="smcap">Nice</span>, <i>Feb. 20, 1869</i>.</p> + +<p>“... Tata has had a long letter from Olga. There +are hints and surmises in it so awful that I am afraid to +comment on them. It is a systematic intrigue on the +part of Meysenbug, who wants to estrange Olga from all +of us, from me in particular—an intrigue that involves +slander (I may have proofs of this). What is one to say +to it! I have written to Sasha and am waiting for his +answer.”</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_lxxiii">[lxxiii]</span></p> + +<blockquote> + +<p class="right">“<span class="smcap">Paris</span>, <i>Oct. 28, 1869</i>.</p> + +<p>“... I have found temporary lodgings in a small +but clean hotel in the Champs-Élysées, Avenue d’Antin, +No. 33. Not expensive as prices are here. Then I +have in view a very nice unfurnished flat right opposite +the Luxembourg Gardens. I think that after knocking +about all over the world one must at last fix somewhere +a home for one’s old age and settle the children and the +grown-ups in it. If I venture to take a house for <i>three +years</i>, I will offer you in a year’s time to move to Paris +too. For the present you had better stay in Geneva.... +I can easily find a flat with two bedrooms, a sitting-room, +and a kitchen somewhere near the Luxembourg +Gardens. The worst of it is one needs the courage of a +Suvorov to sign a contract for three years.”</p> + +</blockquote> + +<blockquote> + +<p class="right">“<span class="smcap">Genoa, Hotel Feder.</span><br> +“<i>Nov. 14, 1869.</i></p> + +<p>“... I don’t do anything at all, don’t want to do +anything, and don’t read anything—this is why I write +long letters.</p> + +<p>S. P. Botkin is a terrible medical prophet. He said to +me: ‘All will go well if you have no violent shocks.’ +Here is a shock,⁠<a id="FNanchor_24" href="#Footnote_24" class="fnanchor">[24]</a> and apparently—thanks to your Providence, +otherwise my stomach—all has gone off well ... +but no, Botkin is right. I shan’t get off a visit to Vichy +in the spring after all.”</p> + +</blockquote> + +<blockquote> + +<p class="right">“<span class="smcap">Paris, 8 rue Rovigo.</span><br> +“<i>Dec. 23, 1869.</i></p> + +<p>“Dr. Charcot came yesterday, stayed over half an +hour ... I did not even ask him about myself, I have no +thoughts to spare on myself so far. I eat and drink well, +but sleep badly. I drop off into a dead sleep when I go +to bed in the evening, but wake up about four o’clock +in terror that I shall not be able to sleep any more.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_lxxiv">[lxxiv]</span></p> + +<p>I have found a flat with full board, expensive but very +good, quiet though quite central—172 rue Rivoli. +By the end of two months I shall see whether we are +going to stay in Paris and then find a permanent flat; as +it is, I have to throw away 800 francs per month.</p> + +<p>I very much dislike doing it, but large rooms and a +certain amount of comfort are essential for the invalid.⁠<a id="FNanchor_25" href="#Footnote_25" class="fnanchor">[25]</a> +We are saved all trouble and worries about housekeeping, +etc.”</p> + +</blockquote> + +<blockquote> + +<p class="right">“<span class="smcap">8 rue Rovigo</span>, <i>Dec. 29, 1869</i>.</p> + +<p>“We are just going to move to Pavillon Rohan, 172 +rue Rivoli. It’s a huge house let out in big and small +flats, with or without board. We can rest there for a +month, or even two, and see what happens.... I have +earned this expensive rest by what I have been through +during the last two months.</p> + +<p>I cannot concentrate on anything, or settle down to +any work, and I am doing nothing but reading.</p> + +<p>... Best wishes for the New Year—from which I +expect nothing new—and nothing good. All I ask is +to keep what I have.”</p> + +</blockquote> + +<blockquote> + +<p class="right">“<span class="smcap">Paris, 172 rue Rivoli.</span><br> +“<i>Jan. 4, 1870.</i></p> + +<p>“Again I don’t know what to write—everything is +slow, dull, and not particularly smooth. Tata is getting +better and better. All the rest hobbles on in the usual +way.... I tell you candidly, it seems to me there is +no chance of arranging a common life here. Everything +hangs on a thread. With Tata alone we could manage +things better, and that is how it will end.”</p> + +</blockquote> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_1">[1]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="ENDS_AND_BEGINNINGS">ENDS AND BEGINNINGS</h2> + +</div> + +<p class="dropcap">A year ago, when I was writing ‘Ends and +Beginnings,’ I did not expect to conclude them +so abruptly. I wanted in two or three following letters +to define the ‘Beginnings’ more closely; the ‘Ends’ +seemed to me sufficiently clear of themselves. This I +could not do. My outlook changed: events gave me +neither peace nor leisure—they made their own commentaries +and their own deductions. The tragedy is still +developing before our eyes, and is more and more passing +from an individual conflict into the prelude to a world +struggle. Its prologue is complete; the plot is well +constructed; all is in a tangle; neither men nor parties +can be recognised. One cannot help recalling the +image of Dante’s wrestlers, in which the combatants’ +limbs were not only intertwined, but by some metamorphosis +subsequently transformed into each other.</p> + +<p>Everything youthful and enthusiastic, from the prayer +before the Crucifix to the feat of reckless daring, from the +woman dressed in black to the secret preserved by the +whole people—everything that had faded away in the old +world, from the mitre and the sword of chivalry to the +Phrygian cap—has appeared once more in all its poetic +brilliance in rebellious Poland, as though to deck with +the flowers of youth the <i>elders of civilisation</i>, as they +slowly move into the conflict that they dread.</p> + +<p>On the other hand, the ‘Beginnings’ glimmer faintly +through the smoke of burnt cities and villages.... What +is happening here is the exact opposite.... All the surviving +relics of the <i>old world</i> have risen up in defence of +the rule of Petersburg, and are defending its ill-gotten +gains with all the weapons bequeathed by the barbarous +ages of military violence and the corrupt period of diplomatic +intrigue. These range from the torture and murder +of prisoners to false amnesties and sham declarations, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_2">[2]</span>from the barbaric exile of whole sections of the population +to newspaper articles and the filigree rhetoric of +Gortchakov’s notes.</p> + +<p>The storms of recent days have ruffled the still waters +of our pool. Much that has lain buried in silence +under the coffin-lid of past oppression has come to +the surface and revealed its utter putrefaction. Only +now we can measure the depth of the corruption which +the Imperial Government has developed in the cause +of Germanising us for a century and a half. The +German lymph has matured in the coarse Russian blood, +the healthy organism has given it fresh strength, and, +while infected by it, has lost nothing of its own vice. +The inhuman narrow ugliness of the German officer and +the petty vulgarity of the German official has long ago +blended in Russia with the features of the Mongol, the +savage and unrelenting cruelty of the oriental slave and +of the Byzantine eunuch. But we have not been used to +seeing this composite personality outside the army barracks +and the government offices; it has never appeared so +strikingly outside the Service: scantily educated, it not +only wrote little but even read little. Now our Minotaurs +come to the surface not only in the palaces and +torture-chambers, but in society, in the universities, in +literature.</p> + +<p>We thought that our literature was so lofty, that our +professors were such apostles; we were mistaken in them, +and how painful it is! we are revolted by it as by every +display of moral degradation. We cannot but protest +against the dreadful things that are being said and done; +we cannot but be repelled by the frenzy of violence, the +inhuman butchery and still more inhuman applause. +Perhaps it may be our lot to fold our hands and die in our +retreat before this delirium of ‘cultured’ Russia is over.... +But this storm will not uproot the seed that lies +hidden in the soil; it will not hurt it, and maybe it will +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_3">[3]</span>strengthen it. A new vital force is strengthened by +everything—ill deeds and good alike. It alone can pass +through blood, unstained, and say to the savage combatants: +‘I know you not; you have worked for me, +but it was not for my sake you worked.’</p> + +<p>Look at the savage satrap in Lithuania: he strangles +the Polish element, but the Russian autocracy will bear +the marks of the struggle; he hunts down the Polish +nobles, but it will be the Russian nobles who will flee.</p> + +<p>Like house-porters, they know not for whom they are +sweeping, for whom they are clearing a path, as little as +the Roman she-wolf knew whom she was suckling, whom +she was rearing. Not Romulus, but Remus, wronged +in the past, will tread the bloodstained path: it is for him +that Tsar and satraps are clearing a road.</p> + +<p>But before he comes much blood yet will flow, and there +will be a fearful collision of two worlds. Why must it +flow? Why, indeed? There is no help for it, if men +gain no more sense. Events move rapidly and the brain +develops slowly. Under the influence of dark forces, +of fantastic images, the peoples move as though sleep-walking +through a succession of insoluble problems; +after fighting together, and seeing nothing clearly, +during all the fifteen hundred years from the fearful +collapse of the Roman world, they reach the nineteenth +century, which is no more civilised than the times of +Germanicus and Alaric.</p> + +<p class="right"><i>August 1, 1863.</i></p> + +<h3 id="Letter_1">Letter 1</h3> + +<p class="dropcap">And so, dear friend,⁠<a id="FNanchor_26" href="#Footnote_26" class="fnanchor">[26]</a> you will positively go no +further, you want to rest amidst the rich autumn +harvest, in shady parks, languidly ruffling their leaves +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_4">[4]</span>after the long, hot summer. You are not alarmed at the +days growing shorter, at the mountain-tops turning white, +and the cold, sinister wind that blows at times; you are +more afraid of our spring floods, of the knee-deep mud, +of the wild overflow of the rivers, of the bare earth showing +under the snow, and, in fact, of our dreams of a future +harvest from which we are separated by storms and hail, +by drought and deluge, and all the hard work we have +not yet accomplished.... Well, in God’s name, let +us part in love and concord like good fellow-travellers.</p> + +<p>You have only a little way further to go, you have +arrived, here is the brightly lighted house, the sparkling +river and the garden, and leisure and books at hand, while +I, like an old post hack, always in harness, shift from one +task to another till I drop dead between two stations.</p> + +<p>Believe me that I fully understand your dislike and +dread of a life with no order nor beaten paths, and your +affection for established civic and political forms, and, +moreover, such as may become ‘better,’ but are so far the +‘best’ existing.</p> + +<p>We men of European town civilisation can, as a rule, +only exist under the established conventions. Town +life accustoms us from early childhood to the fact that +discordant forces are balanced and kept in check behind +the scenes. When we are by chance thrown off the +beaten track on which, from the day of our birth, it guides +and carefully moves us, we are as completely at a loss as +the theoretical savant, accustomed to museums and herbariums +and to wild beasts in glass cases, is at a loss when +confronted with the traces of a geological cataclysm, or +with the dense population of the Mediterranean Sea.</p> + +<p>I have chanced to see two or three desperate haters of +Europe who have returned from beyond the ocean. +They had gone thither, so revolted by the Reaction after +1848, so exasperated against everything European, that +they had hastened on to Kansas or California, hardly +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_5">[5]</span>willing to stop at New York. Three or four years later +they reappeared in the familiar cafés and beer-shops of +old Europe, ready to make any concession to avoid seeing +the virginal forests of America and her untilled soil, to +avoid being <i>tête-à-tête</i> with Nature and meeting wild +animals, rattlesnakes, and men with revolvers. You +must not imagine, however, that they were simply terrified +by danger, material privations, or the necessity of +work; here, too, men die of hunger if they do not work, +and here, too, they work sixteen hours out of the twenty-four, +while the police and the spies in the old continent +are more dangerous than wild beasts and revolvers. They +were, above all, terrified and depressed by Nature untouched +by man, by the absence of that well-ordered +organisation, that peace secured by the administration, +that artistic and epicurean comfort which depend on +permanent habitation, are protected by a strong wall of +police, rest upon the ignorance of the masses, and are +defended by the Church, the Law, and the Army. For +the sake of this mess of pottage, <i>well served</i>, we sacrifice +our share of human dignity, our share of sympathy for +our neighbour, and give our <i>negative</i> support to the +<i>régime</i> which is in reality hateful to us.</p> + +<p>In France we have seen another example: the literary +men who lived in rhetoric, the artists who lived in art +for art’s sake and for money’s sake, were beside themselves +at the disturbance caused by the Revolution of +February. We have an acquaintance, a teacher of singing, +who, to escape 1848, moved from Paris to London, +to the home of sore throats, bronchitis, asthma, and +speaking through the teeth—only to avoid hearing the +alarm bell and the masses singing in chorus.</p> + +<p>In the Russia of to-day the causes which led men to +flee from Paris and from Arkansas are combined. In +America what was most alarming was naked Nature, wild +Nature with the dew of creation not yet dry upon its +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_6">[6]</span>leaves, the Nature we love so ardently in pictures and +poems. (The man with the revolver naïvely killing his +neighbour is as much in place in the Pampas as the naïve +tiger with teeth an inch long.) In France Nature is not +to be feared, it is swept and garnished, tigers do not walk +about, and the vine flourishes; but, on the other hand, in +1848, passions broke loose again, and again the foundations +of good order tottered. Among us in Russia, +while Nature is untouched, men and institutions, culture +and barbarism, the past that died an age ago, and the +future which will be born in ages to come—all are in +ferment and dissolution, being pulled down and built up, +everywhere there are clouds of dust, posts and rafters. +Indeed, if one adds to our primitive means of travel the +highly developed means of making money in the Service, +to the natural mud of our roads the filth of the life of our +landowners, to our winter tempests the Winter Palace, +together with the generals, the Cabinet Ministers, the +refreshment bars, and the Filarets, ‘the gendarme vanguard +of civilisation’ made in Germany, and the rearguard +with axes in their belt, primeval in their force and +their simplicity, one must have a great passion or a mighty +madness to plunge of free will into that whirlpool, which +redeems its chaos by the rainbow-lights of prophecy and +the grand visions, for ever glimmering behind the fog +and for ever unable to disperse it.</p> + +<p>Passion and madness are talents of a sort, and do not +come at will. One is irresistibly drawn into the whirlpool, +another is repelled by its froth and uproar. The +point is that to one man sleep is dearer than father and +mother, and to another his dream. Which is better? +I do not know: and, indeed, both may lead to the same +delirium.</p> + +<p>But we will not give way to these philosophic reflections; +they commonly by one path or another conduct us +to the unpleasant conclusion that whether you batten in +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_7">[7]</span>a feather-bed or fret yourself in a squirrel’s wheel, you +will do no good one way or the other, except perhaps to +enrich the soil when you are dead. Every life, as the +students’ song has it, begins with <i>Juvenes dum sumus</i>, +and ends with <i>Nos habebit humus</i>!</p> + +<p>We must not dwell on this mournful reduction of +everything in the world to nullity, or you will call me a +nihilist, and that is now the term of abuse which has +replaced Hegelian, Byronist, and suchlike.</p> + +<p>A living man thinks of what is living. The question +between us is not whether a man has the right to withdraw +into a peaceful retreat, to turn aside like an ancient +philosopher from the Nazarene madness and the influx +of barbarians. Of that, there can be no question. I +only want to make clear to myself whether the ancient +sanctuaries, built so solidly and overgrown with the moss +of mediaeval Europe, are so peaceful and convenient, +above all, so secure as they were; and, on the other +hand, whether there is not a magic spell in the visions +we see in the snowstorm and the ringing of the sledge-bells, +and whether there is not some real force in that +magic.</p> + +<p>There was a time when you defended the ideas of +Western Europe, and you did well; the only pity is that +it was entirely unnecessary. The ideas of Western +Europe, that is, scientific ideas, have long ago been recognised +by all as the inalienable property of humanity. +Science is entirely without latitude or longitude; it is like +Goethe’s ‘Divan,’ Western and Oriental.</p> + +<p>Now you want to maintain that the actual forms of +Western European life are also the heritage of mankind, +and you believe that the manner of life of the European +upper classes, as evolved in the historic past, is alone in +harmony with the aesthetic needs of human development, +that it alone furnishes the conditions essential for literary +and artistic life; that in Western Europe art was born +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_8">[8]</span>and grew up, and to Western Europe it belongs; and +finally, that there is no other art at all. Let us pause first +at this point.</p> + +<p>Pray do not imagine that I shall from the point of view +of civic austerity and Puritanism protest against the place +which you give to art in life. I am in agreement with +you on that point. Art—<i>c’est autant de pris</i>; together +with the summer lightnings of personal happiness, it is +our one indubitable blessing. In all the rest, we are +either toiling or drawing water in a sieve for humanity, +for our country, for fame, for our children, for money, +and at the same time are solving an endless problem. In +art we find enjoyment, in it the goal is attained; it, too, +is an ‘End’ in itself.</p> + +<p>And so, giving to Diana of Ephesus what is due to +Diana, I ask you of what exactly you are speaking, of the +present or the past? Of the fact that art has developed +in Western Europe, that Dante and Michael Angelo, +Shakespeare and Rembrandt, Mozart and Goethe, were +by birth and opinion ‘Westerners’? But no one disputes +it. Or do you mean that a long historical life has +prepared both a better stage for art and a finer framework +for it, that museums are more sumptuous in Europe than +anywhere else, galleries and schools richer, students more +numerous, teachers more gifted, theatres better decorated, +and so on? And that, too, is true. Or nearly so, for +ever since the great opera has returned to its primitive +state of performers strolling from town to town, only +grand opera is <i>überall und nirgends</i>. In the whole of +America there is no such Campo Santo as in Pisa, but still +Campo Santo is a graveyard. It is quite natural, indeed, +that where there have been most corals there you find most +coral-reefs.... But in all this where is the new living +creative art, where is the artistic element in life itself? +To be continually calling up the dead, to be repeating +Beethoven, to be playing Phèdre and Athalie, is all very +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_9">[9]</span>well, but it says nothing for creativeness. In the dullest +periods of Byzantium, Homer was read and Sophocles +recited at the literary evenings; in Rome, the statues of +Pheidias were preserved, and the best sculpture collected +on the eve of the Genserics and the Alarics. Where is +the new art, where is the artistic initiative? Is it to be +found in Wagner’s ‘music of the future’?</p> + +<p>Art is not fastidious; it can depict anything, setting +upon all the indelible imprint of the spirit of beauty, and +impartially raising to the level of the madonnas and demigods +every casual incident of life, every sound and every +form, the slumbering pool under the tree, the fluttering +bird, the horse at the drinking-trough, the sunburnt +beggar-boy. From the sinister, savage fantasy of hell and +the Day of Judgment to the Flemish tavern with the +back view of a peasant, from Faust to Faublas, from the +Requiem to the Kamarinsky, all lie within the domain +of art.... But even art has its limit. There is a +stumbling-block which neither the violinist’s bow nor the +painter’s brush nor the sculptor’s chisel can deal with; +art to conceal its impotence mocks at it and turns it into +caricature. That stumbling-block is petty-bourgeois +vulgarity. The artist who excellently portrays a man completely +naked, covered with rags, or so completely dressed +that nothing is to be seen but armour or a monk’s cassock, +is reduced to despair before the bourgeois in a swallow-tail. +Hence the necessity of flinging a Roman toga upon +Robert Peel; hence a banker is stripped of his coat and +his cravat, and his shirt is unbuttoned, so that if he could +see his own bust after death he would be covered with +blushes before his own wife.... Robert Macaire and +Prudhomme are great caricatures. Sometimes caricatures +are works of genius; in Dickens they are tragically +true to life, but still they are caricatures. Beyond +Hogarth that style cannot go. The Vandyke and Rembrandt +of petty bourgeoisie are Punch and Charivari, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_10">[10]</span>they are its portrait gallery and pillory; they are the +family records and the whipping-post.</p> + +<p>The fact is that the whole petty-bourgeois character, +both in its good qualities and its bad qualities, is opposed +to art and cramping to it; art withers in it like a green +leaf in chlorine, and only the passions common to all +humanity can at times, by breaking into bourgeois life, +or, even better, breaking out of its decorum, raise it to +artistic significance.</p> + +<p>Decorum, that is the real word. The petty bourgeois, +like Moltchalin,⁠<a id="FNanchor_27" href="#Footnote_27" class="fnanchor">[27]</a> has two talents, and he has the same +ones, Prudence and Punctuality. The life of the middle +class is full of petty defects and petty virtues; it is self-restrained, +often niggardly, and shuns what is extreme, +what is superfluous. The park is transformed into the +kitchen garden, the thatched cottage into the little town +house with an escutcheon painted on the shutters, but +every day they drink tea in it, and every day they eat +meat. It is an <i>immense step</i> in advance, but not at all +artistic. Art is more at home with poverty and luxury +than with crude prosperity, with comfort when it is an +end in itself; if it comes to that, it is more at home with +the harlot selling herself than with the respectable woman +selling at three times the cost the work of the starving +seamstress. Art is not at ease in the stiff, over-neat, careful +house of the petty bourgeois, and his house is bound +to be such; art feels instinctively that in that life it is +reduced to the level of external decoration such as wallpaper +and furniture, to the level of a hurdy-gurdy; if +the hurdy-gurdy man is in the way he is kicked out, if +they want to listen they give him a halfpenny and with +that have done with him.... Art which is pre-eminently +elegance of proportion cannot endure the yard-measure; +a life self-satisfied with its narrow mediocrity +is defiled for art by the worst of blots—vulgarity.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_11">[11]</span></p> + +<p>But that does not in the least prevent the whole cultured +world from passing into petty bourgeoisie, and the +vanguard has arrived there already. Petty bourgeoisie +is the ideal to which Europe is everywhere striving and +ascending. It is the ‘hen in the soup,’ of which Henry +the Fourth dreamt. A little house, with little windows +looking into the street, a school for the boy, a dress for the +girl, a servant for the hard work—all that makes up +indeed a haven of refuge—Havre de Grace! The man +turned off the soil which he had tilled for ages for his +master, the descendant of the villager, crushed in the +struggle, the homeless workman, doomed to everlasting +toil and hunger, the day-labourer, born a beggar and +dying a beggar, can only wipe the sweat from their brows +and look without horror at their children by becoming +property owners, masters, bourgeois; their sons will not +be kept in lifelong bondage for a crust of bread, their +daughters will not be condemned to the factory or the +brothel. How should they not strive to be bourgeois? +The bright image of the shopkeeper—who has replaced +the knight and the priest for the middle classes—hovers as +the ideal before the eyes of the casual labourer, until his +tired and horny hands drop on his sunken chest, or until +he looks at life with that Irish tranquillity of despair +which precludes every hope, every expectation, except the +hope of a whole bottle of whisky next Sunday.</p> + +<p>Bourgeoisie, the last word of civilisation, founded on +the absolute despotism of property, is the ‘democratisation’ +of aristocracy, the ‘aristocratisation’ of democracy. +In this order Almaviva is the equal of Figaro—everything +below is straining up into bourgeoisie, everything above +sinking down into it through the impossibility of maintaining +itself. The United States present the spectacle +of one class—the middle class—with nothing below it +and nothing above it, and the petty bourgeois manners +and morals are retained. The German peasant is the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_12">[12]</span>petty bourgeois of agriculture; the workman of every +country is the petty bourgeois of the future. Italy, the +most poetical land in Europe, was not able to hold out, +but at once forsook her fanatical lover, Mazzini, and +betrayed her husband, the Hercules Garibaldi, as soon +as Cavour, the petty bourgeois of genius, the little fat man +in spectacles, offered to keep her as his mistress.</p> + +<p>With the coming of bourgeoisie, individual characters +are effaced, but these effaced persons are better fed; +clothes are made by the dozen, not to measure or to order, +but there are more people who wear them. With the +coming of bourgeoisie, the beauty of the race is effaced, +but its prosperity increases, the statuesque beggar from +Transteverino is employed for rough work by the puny +shopkeeper of the Via del Corso. The crowds of holiday-makers +in the Champs-Élysées or Kensington Gardens, +or the audiences in churches or theatres, depress one with +their vulgar faces, their dull expressions; but the holiday-makers +in the Champs-Élysées, the audiences listening +to the sermons of Lacordaire or the songs of Levasseur,⁠<a id="FNanchor_28" href="#Footnote_28" class="fnanchor">[28]</a> +are not concerned at that, they do not notice it. But +what is very important to them and very striking is that +their fathers and elder brothers were not in a position to +go holiday-making or to the theatre as they are; that their +elders sometimes drove on the box of carriages, but they +drive about in cabs, and very often too.</p> + +<p>It is for this reason that bourgeoisie is triumphing and +is bound to triumph. It is useless to tell a hungry man, +‘It suits you much better to be hungry; don’t look for +food.’ The sway of bourgeoisie is the answer to emancipation +without land, to the freeing of men from bondage +while the soil is left in bondage to a few of the elect. The +masses that have earned their halfpence have come to +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_13">[13]</span>the top and are enjoying themselves in their own way and +possessing the world. They have no need of strongly +marked characters, of original minds. Science cannot +help stumbling upon the discoveries that lie closest at +hand. Photography—that barrel-organ version of +painting—replaces the artist; if a creative artist does +appear he is welcome, but there is no desperate need of +him. Beauty, talent, are altogether out of the normal; +they are the exceptions, the luxury of Nature, its highest +limit or the result of great effort, of whole generations. +The voice of Mario, the points of the winner of the Derby, +are rarities. But a good lodging and a dinner are necessities. +There is a great deal that is bourgeois in Nature +herself, one may say; she very often stops short in the +middle, half-way, and evidently has not the spirit to go +further. Who has told you that Europe will have it?</p> + +<p>Europe has been through a bad quarter of an hour. +The bourgeois were all but losing the fruits of a long +lifetime, of prolonged efforts, of hard work. A vague +but terrible protest has arisen in the conscience of +humanity. The petty bourgeois have been reminded +of their wars for their rights, their heroic age and biblical +traditions. Abel, Remus, Thomas of Münster have been +slain once more, and long will the grass grow upon their +tombs as a warning how the all-powerful bourgeoisie +punishes its enemies. Since then all has returned to +its normal routine, which seems secure, which is based +on reason, which is strong and growing, but has no +artistic plan, no aesthetic chord: it does not seek to have +them; it is too practical; it agrees with Catherine II. +that it is not becoming for a serious man to play the piano +well; the Empress, too, regarded men from the practical +point of view. The gardens are too heavily manured +for flowers to grow; flowers are too unprofitable for +the petty bourgeois’ garden; if he does sometimes grow +them, it is for sale.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">[14]</span></p> + +<p>In the spring of 1850 I was looking for lodgings in +Paris. By that time I had lived so long in Europe that +I had grown to hate the crowding and crush of civilisation, +which at first we Russians like so much. I looked with +horror mixed with disgust at the continually moving, +swarming crowd, foreseeing how it would rob me of half +my seat at the theatre and in the diligence, how it would +dash like a wild beast into the railway carriages, how it +would heat and pervade the air—and for that reason I +was looking for a flat, not in a crowded place, and to +some extent free from the vulgarity and deadly sameness +of the lodgings <i>à trois chambres à coucher de maître</i>.⁠<a id="FNanchor_29" href="#Footnote_29" class="fnanchor">[29]</a>⁠</p> + +<p>Some one suggested to me the lodge of a big old house +on the further side of the Seine in the Faubourg St. +Germain, or close by. I went there. The old wife of +the concierge took the keys and led me by the yard. The +house and the lodge stood behind a fence; within the +courtyard behind the house, there were green trees. +The lodge was neglected and deserted-looking, probably +no one had been living there for many years. The somewhat +old-fashioned furniture was of the period of the +First Empire, with Roman straight lines and blackened gilt. +The lodge was by no means large or sumptuous, but +the furniture and the arrangement of the rooms all pointed +to a different idea of the conveniences of life. Near the +little drawing-room to one side, next the bedroom, was +a tiny study with cupboards for books and a big writing-table. +I walked through the rooms, and it seemed to +me that after long wanderings I had come again upon a +dwelling for a man, <i>un chez soi</i>, not a hotel room nor a +human stall.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_15">[15]</span></p> + +<p>Everything—the theatre, holiday-making, books, pictures, +clothes—everything has gone down in quality and +gone up terribly in numbers. The crowd of which I +was speaking is the best proof of success, of strength, of +growth; it is bursting through all the dams, overflowing +and flooding everything; it is content with anything, and +can never have enough. London is crowded, Paris is +cramped. A hundred railway carriages linked on are +insufficient; there are forty theatres and not a seat free; +a play has to be running for three months for the London +public to be able to see it.</p> + +<p>‘Why are your cigars so inferior?’ I asked one of the +leading London tobacconists.</p> + +<p>‘It is hard to get them, and, indeed, it is not worth the +trouble; there are few connoisseurs and still fewer well-to-do +ones.’</p> + +<p>‘Not worth while? You charge eightpence each for +them.’</p> + +<p>‘That brings us hardly any profit. While you and a +dozen like you will buy them, is there much gain in that? +In one day I sell more twopenny and threepenny cigars +than I do of these in a year. I am not going to order any +more of them.’</p> + +<p>Here was a man who had grasped the spirit of the age. +All trade, especially in England, is based now on quantity +and cheapness, and not at all on quality, as old-fashioned +Russians imagine when they reverently buy Tula penknives +with an English trademark on them. Everything +has a wholesale, ready-made, conventional character, +everything is within the reach of almost every one, but +does not allow of aesthetic distinction or personal taste. +Everywhere the hundred-thousand-headed hydra lies in +wait close at hand round a corner, ready to listen to everything, +to look at everything indiscriminately, to be dressed +in anything, to be fed on anything—this is the all-powerful +crowd of ‘conglomerated mediocrity’ (to use Stuart +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_16">[16]</span>Mill’s expression) which purchases everything, and so +dominates everything. The crowd is without ignorance, +but also without culture. To please it art screams, +gesticulates, falsifies, and exaggerates, or in despair turns +away from men and paints animal portraits and pictures +of cattle, like Landseer and Rosa Bonheur.</p> + +<p>Have you seen in the last fifteen years in Europe an +actor, a single actor, who is not a clown, a buffoon of sentimentality, +or a buffoon of burlesque? Name him!</p> + +<p>Many blessings have been vouchsafed to the epoch of +which the last expression is to be found in the notes of +Verdi, but the artistic vocation was certainly not among +them. Its own creation—the <i>café chantant</i>—an amphibious +product, half-way between the beer-cellar and the +boulevard theatre, is precisely on its level. I have +nothing against <i>cafés chantants</i>, but I cannot give them +serious artistic value; they satisfy the ‘average customer,’ +as the English say, the average purchaser, the average +bidder, the hundred-headed hydra of the middle class, +and there is nothing more to be said.</p> + +<p>The way out from this position is far off. Behind the +multitude now ruling stands an even greater multitude +of candidates eager to enter it, to whom the manners, +ideas, and habits of life of the middle class appear as the +one goal to strive for. There are enough to multiply +their numbers ten times over. A world without land, +a world predominated by town life, with the rights of +property carried to the extreme point, has no other way +of salvation, and it will all pass through petty bourgeoisie, +which in our eyes has not reached a high level, but in the +eyes of the agricultural population and the proletariat +stands for culture and progress. Those who are in +advance live in tiny cliques like secular monasteries, taking +no interest in what is being done by the world outside +their walls.</p> + +<p>The same thing has happened before, but on a smaller +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">[17]</span>scale and less consciously; moreover, in the past there +were ideals, convictions, words which set both the simple +heart of the poor citizen and the heart of the haughty +knight beating; they had holy things in common, to +which all men did homage as before the sacrament. +Where is there a hymn nowadays which could be sung +with faith and conviction in every storey of the house +from the cellar to the garret? Where is our ‘Ein feste +Burg ist unser Gott’ or our ‘Marseillaise’?</p> + +<p>When Ivanov was in London he used to say with +despair that he was looking for a new religious type, and +could find it nowhere in the world about him. A pure +artist, dreading falsehood in his painting like blasphemy, +understanding rather by imagination than by analysis, he +asked us to show him where were the picturesque features +in which a new Atonement would shine forth. We +could not show them. ‘Perhaps Mazzini will,’ he +thought.</p> + +<p>Mazzini would have pointed him to the unity of Italy, +perhaps to Garibaldi in 1861, to that <i>last of the great men</i> +as to a <i>forerunner</i>.</p> + +<p>Ivanov died knocking in vain, the door was not opened +to him.</p> + +<p class="hanging"><span class="smcap">Isle of Wight.</span></p> + +<p class="right"><i>June 10, 1862.</i></p> + +<h3 id="Letter_2">Letter 2</h3> + +<p class="dropcap">Apropos of Mazzini. A few months ago the +first volume of his collected works appeared. +Instead of a preface or notes, Mazzini connected the +articles written by him at various times, by means of a +series of amplifications; there is a mass of the most living +interest in these explanatory pages. The poem of his +monastic life dedicated to one god and one service is +unintentionally revealed in these disconnected jottings, +possibly more fully than he meant.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_18">[18]</span></p> + +<p>An enthusiast, a fanatic with Ligurian blood in his +veins, Mazzini was from youth up irrevocably devoted +to the great cause of the freedom of Italy, and to that +cause he remains faithful for ever—<i>ora e sempre</i>, as his +motto says: he finds his youth, love, family, faith, duty, +all in that. Espoused to one wife, he has not betrayed +her, and grey-headed, emaciated, sick, he holds off death, +he refuses to die before Rome is the capital of United +Italy and the lion of Saint Mark tears to tatters the black-and-yellow +rag which flies above him.</p> + +<p>The testimony of such a man, one, too, who attacked +scepticism, socialism, and materialism, a man who lived +in every heart-throb of European life for forty years, is +extremely important.</p> + +<p>After the first schoolboy enthusiasm of every revolutionary +career, after the romance of conspiracies, mysterious +passwords, meetings at night, vows over bloodless +daggers, the young man reconsiders things.</p> + +<p>In spite of the fascination for a youthful Latin soul +of the setting and ritual, the earnest and ascetic Mazzini +soon discerned that there was in Carbonarism far more +ceremony and empty form than action, far more meeting +and preparing than doing. We, too, perceived long ago +that the political liturgy of the priests of conspiracy, like +the church liturgy, is only a dramatic performance; +however much feeling and sincerity the priests sometimes +bring to the service, still the Lamb is slain in bread and +bleeds in wine. Mazzini noticed that thirty-five years +ago.</p> + +<p>Having reached that point, it was hard for the young +Carbonaro to stop. Watching recent events in the +crumbling Empire, an eye-witness of monarchical restorations, +revolutions, constitutional attempts and republican +failures, Mazzini reached the conclusion that contemporary +European life had, as he expressed it, ‘no initiative of +any sort,’ that the conservative idea and the revolutionary +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">[19]</span>idea have only negative significance: one destroys, not +knowing to what end, the other preserves, not knowing +to what end; that in everything that was going on (and +the revolution of 1830 was going on at that time) there +was nothing inaugurating a new order of things.</p> + +<p>In these words of the future rival of the Pope there +are echoes of the funeral knell struck by the Pope’s friend, +Maistre.</p> + +<p>The void of which Mazzini was sensible may well be +understood.</p> + +<p>The flood-tide of the revolutionary sea rose triumphantly +in 1789 and, untroubled by any doubts, drowned +the old world. But when everything was covered by its +waves, and when mitres, plumed hats, and heads without +bodies (among them one wearing a crown) had bobbed +up for a moment and sunk again to the bottom, then for +the first time a fearful freedom and emptiness was felt. +The forces set free attacked one another, then stopped, +exhausted; they had nothing to do, they waited for +the events of the day as casual labourers wait for work. +Those standing armies of the Revolution boiled with +martial energy, but there was no war to fight; above all, +there was no clear aim to fight for. And when there is +no aim, anything may become the aim. Napoleon assured +them that he was the aim, that war was the aim, and +set blood flowing faster than the revolutionary tide had +flooded the world with ideas.</p> + +<p>Mazzini saw that, and, before uttering his final verdict, +he looked beyond the political walls. There he was met +by the colossal egotism of Goethe, his serene callousness, +his interest as of a naturalist in human affairs; there he +was met by the self-consuming colossal egotism of Byron; +the poetry of scorn beside the poetry of contemplation; +lamentation, laughter, proud flight, and revulsion from the +modern world beside the haughty satisfaction in it. The +heroes of Byron impress Mazzini; he tries to discover the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">[20]</span>origin of these strange hermits with no religion and no +monastery, these egoists, concentrated on themselves, useless, +unhappy, without work, without fatherland, without +interests, these ascetics, ready for sacrifices which they +know not how to make, ready to despise themselves as +human beings. And again Mazzini stumbles upon the +same cause. Byron’s heroes are lacking in faith, in an +objective ideal; the poet’s vision, turning aside from his +barren, repellent surroundings, was reduced to the lyrical +expression of states of feeling, to the impulses of activity +turned inwards, to morbid nerves, to the spiritual abysses +where madness and sense, vice and virtue, lose their limits +and turn to phantoms, to gnawing remorse and, at the +same time, morbid ecstasy.</p> + +<p>Mazzini’s active spirit could not stop at this analysis +of the malady. At all costs he longed to find motive for +action, the word of a new faith,—and he found them.</p> + +<p>Now the lever is in his hands. He will turn the world +upside-down, he will re-create Europe, he will exchange +the coffin for the cradle, will turn the demolishers into +architects, will solve the problem of society and the +individual, of freedom and authority, will give faith to +the heart without robbing the mind of reason.... What, +you may wonder, is this <i>magnum ignotum</i>? <i>The unity and +freedom of Italy with ancient Rome for its centre.</i></p> + +<p>In all this, of course, there is no place for analysis nor +for criticism. Was it not because Mazzini had found a +new revelation, a new redemption of the world, and an +Italian <i>resorgimiento</i>, that he failed to foresee one thing—Cavour? +He must have hated Cavour more than +Antonelli. Cavour was the prose translation of his poem, +he fulfilled the prosaic part of Mazzini’s programme, <i>à +la longue</i> Rome and Venice will follow suit. Cavour +is the Italian Martha, thwarting the all-absorbing dream +of the Italian Mary with household trivialities; and while +Mary, with tender ecstasy, saw the redemption of the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">[21]</span>world in liberated Italy, Martha was cutting out a Belgian +dress for Italy, and the country, pleased that the new +garment did not pinch her, went along the beaten +European track, the great trade route, though there is no +reaching a regeneration of the world without risking a +more perilous path.</p> + +<p>The fanatic Mazzini was mistaken; the immensity of +his error made Cavour and United Italy possible. But +for us it matters little how Mazzini solved the question; +what is of interest to us is that as soon as a Western +European stands on his own feet and shakes off ready-made +formulas, as soon as he begins to look at the state of contemporary +Europe, he is conscious of something amiss, he +feels that things are not going the right way, that progress +has taken the wrong turning. Revolutionaries and conservatives +can easily cheat this feeling by replacing what +they lack with the principle of nationalism, especially if, +luckily for them, their native country is under foreign +rule. But what comes next? What are they to do +when they have established the independence of their +people? Or what are they to do if it is already +independent?</p> + +<p>Mazzini, conscious of the emptiness of the democratic +idea, points to the emancipation of Italy from the +‘Tedeschi.’ Stuart Mill sees that everything around +him is growing vulgar and petty; he looks with despair +at the overwhelming myriads of petty bourgeois massed +together like pressed caviare, with no initiative, no understanding, +but in England they have no Austrian yoke, no +Pope, no Neapolitan Bourbon. What is to be done +there?</p> + +<p>I foresee the wrath of our bond-slaves of the factories +of learning and the foundries of scholasticism; I can see +how malignantly in the light of day they will look at me +with their night-owls’ eyes and say: ‘What nonsense is +he talking? As though historical development could +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">[22]</span>turn aside, as though it did not move according to its laws, +like the planets which never turn aside, and never break +away from their orbits.’</p> + +<p>To this last contention it may be said that anything may +happen, and that there is no reason why a planet should +not sometimes break away from its orbit. Saturn’s ring +has been preserved and revolves with it, while Jupiter’s +necklace has broken into separate beads, and the earth +has one moon like a cataract in the eye. But one has +but to glance into a hospital instead of an observatory to +see how the living <i>go off the track</i>, develop in their abnormality +and carry it to comparative perfection, distorting +and sometimes destroying the whole organism. The +delicate equilibrium of every living creature is uncertain +and to some extent adapts itself to abnormalities: but +one step too far in that direction, and the overstrained +knot is broken and the elements released form into new +combinations.</p> + +<p>The general laws, of course, remain the same, but they +may vary in their particular applications, till they appear +absolutely opposite in their manifestations. Fluff flies +and lead falls in obedience to the same law.</p> + +<p>In the absence of a set plan and fixed date, of a yard-measure +and a clock, development in nature and in history, +far from not being able to turn aside, is bound to be continually +turning aside, in accordance with every influence +and by virtue of its irresponsible passivity and lack of +definite aim. In the individual organism the deviation +reveals itself by pain, and the warning of pain often comes +too late. Complex, composite organisms fly off at a +tangent and are carried downhill, unconscious of the road +or the danger, owing to the constant change of generations. +There is very little possibility of stopping the deviation, +arresting the downward flight or overtaking it, and there +is little desire to do so; such a desire would in every case +presuppose consciousness and aim.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">[23]</span></p> + +<p>Consciousness is a very different thing from practical +application. Pain does not cure, but calls for treatment. +The diagnosis may be correct, but the treatment may be +bad; one may have no knowledge of medicine, yet clearly +perceive the disease. To demand a cure from a man +who points out some evil is exceedingly rash. The +Christians who wept over the sins of this world, the +socialists who exposed the sores of the social order, and +we, dissatisfied, ungrateful children of civilisation, we are +not the physicians, we are the pain; what will come of +our moaning and groaning we do not know; but the +pain is recorded.</p> + +<p>We are confronted with a civilisation which has developed +consistently on the basis of a landless proletariat +and the unlimited right of the owner over his property. +What Sieyès prophesied has come to pass: the middle +class has become all-important because it possesses property. +Whether we know how to emerge from petty-bourgeois +rule to the rule of the people or not, we have +the right to regard bourgeois rule as a one-sided development, +a monstrosity.</p> + +<p>By the word monstrosity, disease, we commonly understand +something unnatural, exceptional, not reflecting +that abnormality and disease are more <i>natural</i> than the +normal, which is merely the algebraical formula of the +organism, an abstraction, a generalisation, an ideal formed +from different particulars by the exclusion of what is +accidental. The deviation and the abnormality follow +the same law as the organisms; if they were not subjected +to it, the organism would die. But, in addition to that, +they rest on their peculiar rights, they have their private +laws, the consequences of which we have again the right +to deduce, apart from any ability to correct them. Seeing +that the forepart of the giraffe has acquired a one-sided +development, we could surmise that this development +was at the expense of the hind part, and that in consequence +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">[24]</span>there would infallibly be a series of defects in his organism +corresponding with his one-sided development, but for +him natural and comparatively normal.</p> + +<p>Bourgeoisie makes up the forepart of the European +camelopard; that might be disputed, if the fact were +not so obvious; but, once that is accepted, we cannot +overlook all the consequences of this supremacy of the +shop and trade. It is clear that the man at the helm of +this world will be the tradesman, and that he will set his +trademark on all its manifestations. The ineptitude +of an aristocracy by birth and the misery of a proletariat +by birth are equally helpless against him. The +government must die of hunger or become his menial; +its comrades in unproductivity, the guardians of the +human race in its immaturity, the lawyers, notaries, judges +and such, are equally under his yoke. Together with his +supremacy, the whole of moral life is degraded, and +Stuart Mill, for instance, did not exaggerate when he +talked of the narrowing of men’s minds and energies, the +filing down of individuality, life continually becoming +more shallow, and wide human interests being continually +more excluded from it by its being confined to the interests +of the counting-house and bourgeois prosperity. Mill +says plainly that, going by that road, England will become +a second China; to which we would add, and not England +alone.</p> + +<p>Perhaps some crisis will save us from the Chinese +decay. But whence and how will it come, and will the +aged body survive it? That I cannot tell, nor can +Stuart Mill. Experience has taught us; more cautious +than Mazzini, we humbly adhere to the point of view of +the dissector. We know of no remedies and have little +faith in surgery.</p> + +<p>I have been particularly fortunate, I have lived next +door to the hospital and have had a first-rate seat in the +anatomical theatre; I had not to look in the atlas, nor to +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_25">[25]</span>attend lectures on parliamentary therapeutics, nor theoretical +pathology; disease, death, and dissolution were taking +place before my eyes.</p> + +<p>The death agony of the July monarchy, the fever of +the Papacy, the premature birth of the Republic and her +death, the June days following on the February twilight, +all Europe in a fit of somnambulism falling from the roof +of the Pantheon into the muddy pond of the police! +And then ten years in the spacious museum of pathological +anatomy, the London Exhibition of specimens of all the +progressive parties in Europe, side by side with the indigenous +specimens of every form of conservatism from +the times of the Judean high priests to the Puritans of +Scotland.</p> + +<p>Ten years!</p> + +<p>I had leisure to look deeply into that life, into what was +going on around me; but my opinion has not changed +since in 1848 I ventured, not without horror, to decipher +on the brow of those men the <i>Vixerunt</i> of Cicero!</p> + +<p>With every year I struggle more and more against the +lack of comprehension of men here, their indifference +to every interest, to every truth, the trivial frivolity +of their senile intellects, the impossibility of persuading +them that routine is not the infallible criterion, and that +habit proves nothing. Sometimes I stop short, I fancy +that the worst time is over, I try to be inconsistent: I +fancy, for instance, that suppressed speech in France is +growing into thought.... I expect, I hope.... Exceptions +do happen sometimes.... Something +seems to be dawning.... No, nothing!</p> + +<p>And no one feels this.... People look at you with a +sort of pity as at one deranged.... But I have happened +to meet with old, old men who shake their heads very +mournfully. Evidently these old men are ill at ease with +the strangers of their household, that is, with their sons +and grandsons....</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_26">[26]</span></p> + +<p>Yes, <i>caro mio</i>, there is still in the life of to-day a great +type for a poet, a type altogether untouched.... The +artist who would look intently at the grandfathers and +grandsons, at the fathers and children, and fearlessly, +mercilessly embody them in a gloomy, terrible poem, +would be the laureate at the graveside of this world.</p> + +<p>That type—the type of the Don Quixote of the Revolution, +the old man of 1789, living out his old age on the +bread of his grandsons, French petty bourgeois grown +rich—has more than once moved me to horror and depression. +Think of him a little and your hair will stand +on end.</p> + +<p class="hanging"><span class="smcap">Isle of Wight, Cowes.</span></p> + +<p class="right"><i>July 20, 1862.</i></p> + +<h3 id="Letter_3">Letter 3</h3> + +<p class="dropcap">... Phew, what a disgusting summer! Cold, +darkness, sleet, continual winds, constant +irritation of the nerves and also of the membrane of the +nose; and all that has been going on for three months, +and there were seven months before that on this side of +the Sign of the Ram.</p> + +<p>At last the sun has come out in a cloudless sky. The +sea is smooth and sparkling. I am sitting at my window +in a tiny farm; I cannot take my eyes off it; it is so long +since I saw the sun and the distance. To-day it is actually +warm. I am simply delighted, seeing that Nature is not +played out yet. The rejoicing is endless: bees and birds +are flying, buzzing, singing, droning; in the little yard +of the farm the cock, dry at last, is crowing his loudest; +and the old dog, oblivious of his age and social position, +lies on his back like a puppy, with his legs in the air, +rolling from side to side with an unconscious epicurean +growl. There are no people to be seen from my window, +but fields, trees, and gardens without end; in spite of the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_27">[27]</span>sea on one side, this view reminds one of our great Russian +landscapes, and there is the scent of grass and trees, too.</p> + +<p>It was more than time for the weather to improve, for +I had really begun to be afraid not of a social, but of a +geological catastrophe; I had begun to expect that after +ten months of bad weather Europe would crack, and by +volcanic means cut the Gordian knot of contemporary +problems and <i>impasses</i>, bidding those who will to begin, +not from their ABC, but from a second Adam.</p> + +<p>You, as a poet and idealist, probably don’t believe in +such nonsense, but Lamé,⁠<a id="FNanchor_30" href="#Footnote_30" class="fnanchor">[30]</a> as one of the greatest mathematicians +of our age, is not of that opinion. He fancies that +the equilibrium of the crowded continents is very insecure, +and that, taking also into account their rapid movement in +one direction, and certain facts of the shifting of contours +in Iceland, the earthly globe may crack in Europe at any +moment. He has even drawn up a series of formulas +and made a series of calculations.... But there is no +need to frighten you; the crack won’t reach as far as the +province of Orel.</p> + +<p>We had better, taking advantage of the phenomenally +fine weather, return to our discussion of ‘Ends and +Beginnings,’ and if the earthquake comes it will settle +things.</p> + +<p>The Don Quixote of the Revolution sticks in my head. +That austere, tragic type is vanishing, vanishing like the +aurochs of the White Russian forest, like the Red Indian, +and there is no artist to record his old clear-cut features, +marked with the traces of every sorrow, every grief that +comes from general principles and faith in humanity and +reason. Soon these features will perish, still unyielding, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_28">[28]</span>still wearing an expression of proud and reproachful disdain, +then their image will be effaced and the memory of +man will lose one of its noblest and loftiest types.</p> + +<p>These are the peaks in which the mountain range of +the eighteenth century ends; with them it reaches the +limit; with them a series of ascending efforts breaks off. +There is no reaching a higher level through volcanic +action.</p> + +<p>Titans, left after the struggle, after defeat, representatives +of unsatisfied ambitions, for all their Titanic effort +turn from great men into melancholy Don Quixotes. +History rises and falls between the prophets and the +Knights of the Grievous Countenance. Roman patricians, +republicans, stoics of the early ages, hermits fleeing +into the wilderness from a Christianity vulgarised into the +official religion, Puritans who passed a whole century +gnashing their teeth over failure to attain their tedious +ideal—all these, left by the retreating tide, obstinately +struggling forward and sticking in the mud, unsupported +by the wave, all are Don Quixotes, but Don Quixotes +who have found their Cervantes. For the champions of +the early church, there are volumes of legends, there are +ikons and paintings, there are mosaics and sculpture. The +type of Puritanism is firmly fixed in English literature and +in Dutch painting, but the type of the Don Quixote of +the Revolution is fading before our eyes, growing rarer +and rarer, and no one thinks of even photographing it.</p> + +<p>Fanatics of earthly religion, dreamers not of the Kingdom +of Heaven, but of the Kingdom of Man, they are left +the last sentinels of the ideal, long ago deserted by the +army; in gloomy solitude they stand for half a century, +incapable of changing, still expecting the coming of the +republic on earth. The ground sinks lower and lower; +they refuse to see it. I still come upon some of these +apostles of the ’nineties; their clear-cut, melancholy, +striking figures, standing out above two generations, seem +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_29">[29]</span>to me like austere, immovable Memnons, falling into +ruins stone by stone in the Egyptian desert.... While +at their feet tiny men and little camels swarm, bustle, +drag their goods, hardly visible through the whirling +sand.</p> + +<p>Death gives more and more warning of his approach; +the aged, lustreless eye is sterner, grows weary with the +effort of seeking a successor, looking for one to whom to +yield place and honour. Son?—the old man frowns. +Grandson?—he waves his hand in despair. Poor King +Lear in democracy, whenever he turns his dimming +eyes upon those of his own household, everywhere he is +met by lack of understanding, lack of sympathy, disapproval, +half-concealed reproach, petty considerations +and petty interests. They are afraid, before strangers, +of his Jacobin words; they beg pardon for him, pointing +to his scanty grey hair. His daughter-in-law worries +him to be reconciled with the Church, and a Jesuit <i>abbé</i> +flits in at times, like a passing crow, to see what strength +and consciousness is left, so as to catch him for God in his +deathbed delirium. Well it is for Citoyen Lear if there +is somewhere in his neighbourhood a Citoyen Kent who +finds that ‘he is every inch’ a hero of 1794, some obscure +comrade of Santerre,⁠<a id="FNanchor_31" href="#Footnote_31" class="fnanchor">[31]</a> a soldier of the army of Marceau +and Hoche, Citoyen Spartacus Brutus junior, childishly +faithful to his tradition, and proudly keeping shop with +the hand which held a lance crowned with the Phrygian +cap. Lear will visit him sometimes to relieve his heart, +to shake his head, and to recall old days, with their immense +hopes, with their great events, to abuse Tallien⁠<a id="FNanchor_32" href="#Footnote_32" class="fnanchor">[32]</a> ... and +Barras⁠<a href="#Footnote_32" class="fnanchor">[32]</a> ... the Restoration, with its <i>cafards</i>, the +shopkeeper king, and <i>ce traître de Lamartine</i>. Both +<i>know</i> that the hour of revolution will strike, that the people +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_30">[30]</span>will awaken like a lion and again hoist the Phrygian cap, +and one of them will fall asleep in these dreams.</p> + +<p>Scowling Lear will follow the coffin of Spartacus +Brutus junior, or Spartacus Brutus junior, not concealing +his profound loathing of all the kindred of the deceased, +will follow the coffin of Lear, and of the two majestic +figures one only will be left, and that one absolutely +superfluous.</p> + +<p>‘He, too, is no more; he, too, has not lived to see it,’ +thinks the old man who is left, as he comes back from the +funeral. Can superstition and monarchy, the party of +Pitt and of Coburg, have triumphed for good and all? +Can all our long lifetime, our efforts, our sacrifices?... No, +that cannot be; the truth is on our side, and the +victory will be with us.... Reason and justice will +triumph, in France first of all, of course, and then in all +humanity, and ‘Vive la République Une et Indivisible’! +The old man at eighty prays with his aged lips, just as +another old man, giving up his soul in peace to his Maker, +murmurs ‘Thy Kingdom come,’ and both tranquilly +close their eyes and do not see that neither the Kingdom of +Heaven on earth nor the sole and indivisible Republic in +France is coming at all, and do not see it, because not +the Lord but their decaying body has received their soul +in peace.</p> + +<p>Holy Don Quixotes, the earth rest lightly upon you!</p> + +<p>This fanatical conviction of the possibility of bringing +about harmonious order and the common weal, of the +possibility of realising the truth because it is the truth, +this renunciation of everything private and personal, this +devotion which survives every ordeal, every blow, is the +topmost peak.... The mountain ends there; higher, +beyond, is icy air, darkness, nothing. We must go down +again. Why cannot we go on? Why does not Mont +Blanc stand on Chimborazo and one of the Himalayas +continue them? That would be a mountain!</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_31">[31]</span></p> + +<p>But no—every geological cataclysm has its romance, +its mountain poem, its individual peaks of granite and of +basalt, whose mass towers above the lower slopes. Monuments +of the revolutions of the planets, they have long ago +been overgrown with forest and moss, bearing witness to +thousands of years of immobility. Our pioneers of the +Revolution have left their Alps in history; the traces +of their titanic efforts have not passed away, and it +will be long before they pass. What more would you +have?</p> + +<p>Yes, that is enough for history. It has its own wholesale, +ruthless valuation; in it, as in the description of +battles, we have the movement of companies, the action +of artillery, the attack of the left flank, the retreat of the +right; it has its leading figures, the ‘30th Light Cavalry +and afterwards the 45th.’ The bulletin goes no further; +it is satisfied with the sum total of the dead, but the +‘fifth act’ of every soldier goes further, and it has a purely +civilian interest.</p> + +<p>What was not endured by these men of the latest flood-tide, +left stranded in the slime and mud by its ebb! +What did not these fathers endure—more solitary in their +own families than monks in their cells! What terrible +conflicts every hour, every day!... What moments of +weariness and despair?</p> + +<p>Is it not strange that in the long series of ‘<i>Misérables</i>’ +brought before us by Victor Hugo there are old men +... but <i>the</i> miserable old man <i>par excellence</i> is thrust +into the background, neglected? Hugo scarcely noticed +that side by side with the agonising sense of guilt there +is another anguish, the agonising sense of one’s useless +rectitude, the recognition of one’s fruitless superiority +over the feebleness of every young creature near that has +survived.... The great rhetorician and poet, while +dealing with the sorrowful lives in modern France, scarcely +touches upon the greatest sorrow in the world—that of +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_32">[32]</span>the old man, young in soul, surrounded by a generation +growing more and more shallow.</p> + +<p>Beside them what are the poignant but useless and +purely subjective sufferings of Jean Valjean described +with such wearisome minuteness in Hugo’s omnibus of +a novel? Of course, one may feel compassion for every +form of unhappiness, but one cannot feel deep sympathy +for all. The pain of a broken leg and the pain of a +broken life stir a different kind of sympathy.</p> + +<p>We are not sufficiently Frenchmen to understand such +ideals as Jean Valjean, and to sympathise with such heroes +of the police as Javert. To us Javert is simply loathsome. +Probably Hugo had no idea, when he drew this typically +national figure of the jackal of Law and Order, how he +was branding his ‘charming France.’ In Jean Valjean +all we can understand is his external struggle of the good-luckless +wild beast, baited by a whole pack of hunting +dogs. His inner conflict does not touch us; this man, so +strong in will and muscles, is in reality a singularly weak +man. A saintly convict, an Ilya Muromets⁠<a id="FNanchor_33" href="#Footnote_33" class="fnanchor">[33]</a> from the +galleys of Toulon, an acrobat at fifty, and a lovesick boy +at almost sixty, he is a mass of superstition. He believes +in the brand on his shoulder, he believes in his sentence, +he believes that he is an outcast, because thirty years ago +he stole a loaf, and that not for himself. His virtue is +morbid remorse, his love is senile jealousy. His strained +existence is raised to truly tragic significance only at the +end of the book by the heartless narrow-mindedness of +Cosette’s husband and the boundless ingratitude of herself. +And here Jean Valjean really has something in common +with our old men—the remorse of the one and the rectitude +of the others blend in burning suffering. The +mercury frozen in the thermometer scalds like the molten +lead of the bullet. The consciousness of rectitude, consuming +half the heart, half the existence, is as painful as +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_33">[33]</span>the gnawings of conscience, and worse indeed. In the +latter case there is the relief of confession, the prospect of +reward; in the former there is nothing. Between the +old man of the ’nineties—fanatic, dreamer, idealist—and +the son, older than he in prudence, good sense, and +disillusionment, the son so extremely well satisfied with +things on a lower plane, and the grandson who, swaggering +in his uniform of <i>Guide Impérial</i>, dreams of how to +get a berth as a <i>sous-préfet pour exploiter sa position</i>, the +natural relation is violated, the balance is destroyed, and +the normal succession of generations is distorted.</p> + +<p>Jean Valjean in his aged virginity, in his lyrical personal +concentration, did not himself know what he wanted from +the younger generation. What did he really want from +Cosette? Could she have been a friend to him? In +the inexperienced innocence of his heart, he went beyond +the love of a father.... He wanted to love her exclusively +for his own sake, and a father’s love is not like +that. Moreover, though he has mentally been draping +himself all his life in the jacket of a convict, he is crushed +under the burden of repulsion evinced for him by the +very narrow-minded young man—the typical representative +of a generation sinking into vulgarity.</p> + +<p>I don’t know what Hugo meant to make of his Marius, +but to me he is as much a type of his generation as Javert +is of his. In the instincts of the young man there is still +a glimmer of the virtues of another period—warm and +generous impulses, with no reflection, no roots, almost +no significance, springing from tradition and example. +There is in him no trace of the leaven of the eighteenth +century, that restless itch for analysis and criticism, that +menacing summons of everything in the world to the test +of the intellect; he has no intellect, but he is still a good +comrade; he goes to the barricades, not knowing what is +to come afterwards; he lives by routine, and, knowing +<i>à code ouvert</i> what is good and what is evil, troubles his +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_34">[34]</span>head as little about it as a man who knows for certain +that it is sinful to eat meat in Lent. With this generation, +the revolutionary epoch comes finally to a standstill +and begins its descent; another generation, and there will +be no more generous impulses; everything will fall into +its commonplace routine, personality will be effaced, and +the succession of individual specimens will be scarcely +perceptible in the daily routine of life.</p> + +<p>I imagine that there must have been something of the +sort in the development of animals. The species in course +of formation stirring towards what is above its strength, +while failing to make the most of its powers, has gradually +gained equilibrium and proportion, and lost its anatomical +eccentricities and physiological excesses while gaining +fertility, and beginning from generation to generation, +from age to age, to repeat its distinct form and its individuality +in the image and semblance of the first forefather +who adopted steady habits.</p> + +<p>When the species is evolved development almost stops; +at any rate, it is slower and on a humbler scale, as it is +with our planet. Having reached a certain stage of +cooling, it changes its crust very slowly; there are floods, +but there are no world-wide deluges; there are earthquakes +here and there, there is no universal cataclysm. +Species become stationary, and are consolidated in various +forms more or less one-sided in one direction or another, +and are satisfied with them; they are scarcely able to +escape from them, and if they did, or if they do, the result +would be just as one-sided. The mollusc does not try +to become a crab, the crab a trout, or Holland Sweden.... +If we could presuppose ideals in animals, the ideal +of a crab would still be a crab, but with a more perfect +equipment. The nearer a country is to its final condition, +the more it regards itself as the centre of all civilisation +and of every perfection, like China, which stands +unrivalled; like England and France, which in their +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_35">[35]</span>antagonism, in their rivalry, in their mutual hatred, never +doubt each that she is the foremost country in the world. +Some species are at rest in the position they have attained; +development continues in the unfinished species, beside +the finished which have completed their cycles.</p> + +<p>Everywhere where human swarms and ant-heaps have +attained comparative prosperity and equilibrium, progress +becomes slower and slower, imagination and ideals are +dimmed. The satisfaction of the rich and the strong +suppresses the efforts of the poor and the weak. Religion +appears as the comforter of all the heavy laden. Everything +that gnaws at the heart, that makes men suffer, every +craving left unsatisfied on earth, all are set right and +satisfied in the eternal realm of Ormuzd, loftier than the +Himalayas at the foot of Jehovah’s throne. And the more +unrepiningly men endure the temporary sorrows of earthly +life, the fuller the heavenly consolation, and that for no +brief period, but for ever and ever. It is a pity that we +know little of the inner story of the Asiatic peoples who +have dropped out of history, know little of those uneventful +periods which preceded the violent inroads of savage +races who devastated everything, or the predatory civilisation +which uprooted or reconstructed everything. It +would show us in simple and elementary form, in those +plastic biblical images which only the East creates, the +transition of the people from historical upheavals into a +peaceful <i>status quo</i> of life, persisting in the accepted, +untroubled sequence of generations, like winter into +spring, spring into summer....</p> + +<p>With slow, untroubled steps England is advancing to +that repose, to that unruffled stagnation of forms, ideas, +convictions. The other day <i>The Times</i> congratulated her +on the lack of interest in parliamentary debates, on the +unrepining submission with which workmen starve to +death, ‘while so lately their fathers, the contemporaries +of O’Connor,’ agitated the country with their menacing +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_36">[36]</span>murmurs. As firmly as an aged oak stands the English +Church, its roots deep in the soil, graciously tolerating +all forms of Dissent, and convinced that they will not +move far away.</p> + +<p>Swaggering and resisting, as is her wont, France is +shoved backwards while making a show of progress. +Behind these giants will come in two columns others, +once prophetically united under one sceptre ... on the +one hand, the thin, austere, ascetic type of the Spaniard, +brooding without thought, enthusiastic without an object, +anxious without cause, taking everything to heart, unable +to improve anything, in short, a type of a true Don +Quixote de la Mancha; on the other, the sturdy Dutchman, +content when he has had a good meal, reminiscent +of Sancho Panza.</p> + +<p>Is not the reason that the children of to-day are older +than their fathers, older than their grandfathers, and +able <i>à la</i> Dumas junior to talk of their ‘prodigal fathers,’ +that senility is the leading characteristic of the present +age? At any rate, wherever I look I see grey hairs, +wrinkles, bent backs, last wills and testaments, balanced +accounts, funerals, <i>ends</i>, and I am always seeking and seeking +beginnings. They are only to be found in theories +and abstractions.</p> + +<p class="right"><i>August 10, 1862.</i></p> + +<h3 id="Letter_4">Letter 4</h3> + +<p class="dropcap">Last summer a friend, a Saratov landowner, and a +great Fourierist, came to see me in Devonshire.</p> + +<p>Please don’t be angry with me (it was not the landowner +who said that to me, but I who say it to you) for so continually +wandering from the point. Parentheses are my +joy and my misfortune. A French literary man of the +days of the Restoration, a classic and a purist, more than +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_37">[37]</span>once said to me, taking a pinch of snuff in the prolonged +academic fashion which will soon have passed away altogether: +‘<i>Notre ami abuse de la parenthèse avec intempérance!</i>’ +It is for the sake of digressions and parentheses +that I prefer writing in the form of letters, especially letters +to friends; one can write without check whatever comes +into one’s head.</p> + +<p>Well, so my Saratov Fourierist came to Devonshire and +said to me: ‘Do you know what is odd? I have just +been for the first time in Paris. Well—of course ... +it is all very fine, but, seriously speaking, Paris is a dull +place—really dull!’</p> + +<p>‘What next?’ I said to him.</p> + +<p>‘Upon my soul, it is.’</p> + +<p>‘But why did you expect it to be amusing?’</p> + +<p>‘Upon my word, after the wilds of Saratov!’</p> + +<p>‘Perhaps it is just owing to that. But were not you +bored in Paris because it’s so excessively gay there?’</p> + +<p>‘You are just as silly as you always were.’</p> + +<p>‘Not at all. London, looking like a permanent autumn, +is more to our taste; though the boredom here, too, is +awful.’</p> + +<p>‘Where is it better, then? It seems the old proverb +is right. It is where we are not!’</p> + +<p>‘I don’t know: but it must be supposed that it is not +very nice there either.’</p> + +<p>This conversation, though it is apparently not very +long, nor particularly important, stirred in me a whole +series of old notions concerning the absence of a sort of +fish-glue in the brain of the modern man; that is why his +mind is cloudy and thick with sediment—new theories, +old habits, new habits, old theories.</p> + +<p>And what logic! I say it is dull in Paris and London, +and he answers, ‘Where is it better, then?’ Not noticing +that this was the line of argument employed by our +house-serfs of the old style: in reply to the observation, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_38">[38]</span>‘I fancy you are drunk, my boy,’ they answered, ‘Well, +did you stand treat?’ What grounds are there for the +idea that men are happy anywhere? that they can or +ought to be happy? And what men? And happy in +what? Let us assume that men do have a better life +in one place than another. Why are Paris and London +the pinnacles of this better life?</p> + +<p>Is it from Reichardt’s guidebook?</p> + +<p>Paris and London are closing a volume of world-history—a +volume in which few pages remain uncut. People, +trying with all their might to turn them as quickly as +possible, are surprised that as they approach the end there is +more in the past than in the present, and are vexed that the +two fullest representatives of Western Europe are setting +together with it. The audacity and recklessness in general +conversations which float, as once the Spirit of God, over +the waters, are terrific, but as soon as it comes to action, or +even to a critical appreciation of events, all is forgotten, +and the old weights and measures are hauled out of the +grandmother’s storeroom. Worn-out forms can only be +restored by a complete rebirth: Western Europe must +rise up like the Phoenix in a baptism of fire.</p> + +<p>‘Oh, well, in God’s name, into the flames with it.’</p> + +<p>What if it does not rise up again, but singes its beautiful +feathers, or maybe is burnt to ashes?</p> + +<p>In that case continue to baptize it with water, and don’t +be bored in Paris. Take my father, for example: he +spent eight years in Paris and was never bored there. +Thirty years afterwards he was fond of describing the +fêtes given by the maréchals and by Napoleon himself, +the suppers at the Palais Royal in company with actresses +and opera dancers, decked in diamonds that had been +wrenched out of conquered royal crowns, of the Yussupovs, +the Tyufyakins and other <i>princes russes</i> who lost +there more souls of peasants than were laid low at Borodino. +With various changes and <i>un peu plus canaille</i> the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_39">[39]</span>same thing exists even now. The generals of finance +give banquets as good as those of the generals of the army. +The suppers have moved from the Rue St. Honoré to the +Champs-Élysées and the Bois de Boulogne. But you are +a serious person; you prefer to look behind the scenes of +world-history rather than behind the scenes of the Opera.... +Here you have a parliament, even two. What more +do you want?... With what envy and heartache I used +to listen to people who had come home from Europe in +the ’thirties, as though they had robbed me of everything +they had seen and I had not seen. They, too, had not +been bored, but had great hopes, some of Odilon Barrot, +some of Cobden. You, too, must learn not to be bored; +and in any case be a little consistent; and if you still feel +dull, try to find the cause. You may find that your +demands are fantastic, then you must try to get over it; +that it is the boredom of idleness, of emptiness, of not +knowing how to adapt yourself. And perhaps you will +find something else: that you are bored because Paris and +London have no answer to make to the yearnings that +are growing stronger and stronger in the heart of the man +of to-day—which does not prevent their standing for the +highest culture and most brilliant result of the past, and +being rich endings of a rich period.</p> + +<p>I have said this a dozen times. But it is impossible to +avoid repetitions. Persons of experience are well aware +of it. I spoke to Proudhon of the fact that articles which +are almost identical, with only slight variations, often +appeared in his journal.</p> + +<p>‘And do you imagine,’ Proudhon answered, ‘that once +a thing has been said, it is enough? That a new idea +will be accepted straight off? You are mistaken. It +has to be repeated, it has to be dinned into people, repeated +over and over again, so that the mind is no longer surprised +by it, so that it is not merely understood, but is assimilated, +and obtains real rights of citizenship in the brain.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_40">[40]</span></p> + +<p>Proudhon was perfectly right. There are two or three +ideas which are particularly precious to me; I have been +repeating them for about fifteen years; fact upon fact +confirms them with unnecessary abundance. Part of +what I anticipated has come to pass, the other part is +coming to pass before our eyes, yet these ideas seem as +wild, as unaccepted, as they were.</p> + +<p>And what is most mortifying, people seem to understand +you; they agree, but your ideas remain like aliens +in their heads, always irrelevant, never passing into that +integral part of consciousness and the moral being, which +as a rule forms the undisputed foundation of our acts and +opinions.</p> + +<p>It is owing to this inconsistency that people apparently +highly cultured are continually being startled by the unexpected, +caught unawares, indignant with the inevitable, +struggle with the insurmountable, pass by what is +springing into life, and apply all sorts of remedies to +those who are at their last gasp. They know that their +watch was properly set, but, like the late ‘unlamented’ +Kleinmihel, cannot grasp that the meridian is not the +same.</p> + +<p>Pedantry and scholasticism prevent men from grasping +things with simple lively understanding more than do +superstition and ignorance. With the latter the instincts +are left, hardly conscious, but trustworthy; moreover, +ignorance does not exclude passionate enthusiasm, and +superstition does not exclude inconsistency, while pedantry +is always true to itself.</p> + +<p>At the time of the Italian war a simple-hearted, worthy +professor lectured on the great triumphs of ‘international +law,’ describing how the principles of Hugo Grotius had +developed and entered into the conscience of nations and +governments, how questions which had in old times been +decided by rivers of blood and the miseries of entire provinces, +of whole generations, were now settled, like civil +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_41">[41]</span>disputes between private persons, on the principles of +national right.</p> + +<p>Who, apart from some old professional condottiere, +would not agree with the professor that this is one of the +greatest victories of humanity and culture over brute +violence? The trouble is not that the lecturer’s judgment +is wrong, but that humanity is very far from having gained +this victory.</p> + +<p>While the professor in eloquent words was inspiring +his young audience to the contemplation of these triumphs +of peace, very different commentaries on international +law were taking place on the fields of Magenta and Solferino. +It would not have been easy for any international +court to avert the Italian war, since there was no international +cause for it, for there was no subject in dispute. +Napoleon waged this war as a remedial measure to pacify +the French by the gymnastics of liberation and the galvanic +shocks of victory. What Grotius or Vattel⁠<a id="FNanchor_34" href="#Footnote_34" class="fnanchor">[34]</a> could +have solved such a problem? How was it possible to +avert a war which was essential for domestic interests? +If it had not been Austria the French would have had +to beat somebody else. One can only rejoice that the +Austrians presented themselves.</p> + +<p>Then, India, Pekin—war waged by democrats to +maintain the slavery of the blacks, war waged by republicans +to obtain the slavery of political unity. And the +professor goes on lecturing; his audience are touched; +they fancy that they have heard the last creak of the gates +of the temple of Janus, that the warriors have laid down +their weapons, put on crowns of myrtle and taken up the +distaff, that the demobilised armies are tilling the fields.... +And all this at the very moment when England is +covered with volunteers, when at every step you meet a +uniform, when every shopkeeper has a gun, when the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_42">[42]</span>French and Austrian armies stand with lighted matches, +and even a prince—I think it was of Hesse Cassel—put on +a military footing and armed with revolvers the two +hussars who had from the time of the Congress of Vienna +ridden peacefully without weapons behind his carriage.</p> + +<p>If war breaks out again—and that depends on thousands +of chances, on one casual shot—in Rome or on the borders +of Lombardy, a sea of blood would flow from Warsaw to +London. The professor would be surprised, the professor +would be pained. But one would have thought +he should not be surprised nor pained. The trend of +history is plain for all to see! The misfortune of the +doctrinaires is that they, like our Diderot, shut their eyes +when arguing, that they may not see that their opponent +wants to retort; and their opponent is nature itself, +history itself.</p> + +<p>To complete the absurdity we ought not to lose sight of +the fact that in abstract logic the professor is right, and that +if not a hundred but a hundred million men had grasped +the principles of Grotius and Vattel, they would not +slaughter each other either for the sake of exercise or for +the sake of a bit of land. But the misfortune is that +under the present political <i>régime</i> only a hundred and +not a hundred million men can understand the principles +of Grotius and Vattel.</p> + +<p>That is why neither lectures nor sermons have any +effect, that is why neither the learned fathers nor the +spiritual fathers can bring us any relief; the monks of +knowledge, like the monks of ignorance, know nothing +outside the walls of their monasteries, do not test their +theories by facts, their deductions by events, and, while +men are perishing from the eruption of the volcano, they +are blissfully beating time, listening to the music of the +heavenly spheres and marvelling at its harmony.</p> + +<p>Lord Bacon long ago divided the learned into the +spiders and the bees. There are periods in which the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_43">[43]</span>spiders are distinctly in the ascendancy, and then masses +of spiders’ webs are spun, but little honey is gathered. +There are conditions of life which are particularly favourable +to spiders. Lime trees, thickets, and flowering +meadows, above all, wings and a social conception of life, +are necessary for the production of honey. A quiet +corner, untroubled leisure, plenty of dust, and lack of +interest in anything outside the inner process, is all that is +needed for producing spiders’ webs.</p> + +<p>At ordinary times it is even possible to saunter along the +dusty, smooth highroad without breaking the spiders’ +webs, but as soon as it comes to crossing rough ground +and hillocks there is trouble.</p> + +<p>There was a really good, quiet period of European +history beginning with Waterloo and lasting till the year +1848. There was no war then, but plenty of international +law and standing armies.</p> + +<p>The governments openly encouraged ‘true enlightenment’ +and quietly suppressed the <i>false</i>; there was not +much freedom, but there was not much slavery; even the +despotic rulers were all good-natured in the style of the +patriarchal Francis <span class="allsmcap">II.</span>, the pious Friedrich Wilhelm, and +Alexander the friend of Araktcheyev. The King of +Naples and Nicholas came by way of dessert. Manufactures +flourished, trade flourished even more, factories +worked, masses of books were written; it was the golden +age for all the spiders; in academic retreats and in the +libraries of the learned endless spiders’ webs were +spun!...</p> + +<p>History, criminal and civil law, international law, and +religion itself, were all brought into the region of pure +science and thence dropped in lacy fringes of spider’s +web. The spiders swung at their own sweet will in their +meshes, never touching the earth. Which was very +fortunate, however, since the earth was covered with +other crawling insects, who stood for the idea of the state +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_44">[44]</span><i>armed for self-defence</i>, and clapped over-bold spiders into +Spandau and other fortresses. The doctrinaires understood +everything most perfectly <i>à vol d’araignée</i>. The +progress of humanity was as certain in those days as the +route mapped out for the Most High when he travelled +incognito—from stage to stage with horses ready at the +stations. And then came—February the 24th, June the +24th, the 25th, the 26th, and December the 2nd.</p> + +<p>These flies were too big for a spider’s web.</p> + +<p>Even the comparatively slight shock of the July revolution +gave the final death-blow to such giants as Niebuhr +and Hegel. But its triumph was still to the advantage of +the doctrinaires; the journalists, the Collège de France, +the political economists sat on the top steps of the throne +beside the Orleans dynasty, those who remained alive +recovered and adapted themselves somehow to 1830; +they would have probably got on all right even with the +republic of the troubadour, Lamartine.</p> + +<p>But how could they compromise with the days of +June?</p> + +<p>How could they live with the 2nd of December?</p> + +<p class="mt2">Of course, Gervinus teaches us that an epoch of centralisation +and despotism necessarily follows a democratic +revolution, but yet something seemed amiss. Some began +asking whether we should not go back to the Middle Ages, +others simply urged a return to Catholicism. The fakirs +of the Revolution pointed out with undeviating finger +along the whole railway line of time to the year 1793; +the doctrinaires went on lecturing regardless of facts, in +the expectation that mankind will have had its fling and +return to Solomon’s temple of wisdom.</p> + +<p>Ten years have passed.</p> + +<p>Nothing of all that has come off. England has not +become Catholic, as Donoso-Cortès desired; the nineteenth +century has not become the thirteenth, as some of +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_45">[45]</span>the Germans desired; the peoples resolutely refuse French +fraternity (or death!), international law after the pattern +of the Peace Society, honourable poverty after Proudhon, +and a Kirghiz diet of milk and honey.</p> + +<p>While the Catholics....</p> + +<p>The mediaevalists....</p> + +<p>The fakirs of 1793....</p> + +<p>And all the doctrinaires go on preaching....</p> + +<p>Where is humanity going since it despises such +authorities?</p> + +<p>Perhaps it does not know.</p> + +<p>But we ought to know for it.</p> + +<p>Apparently not where we expected it to go. And, +indeed, it is hard to tell where one will get to, travelling +on a globe which a few months ago only just missed a +comet, and may any day crack, as I informed you in my +last letter.</p> + +<p class="right"><i>September 1, 1862.</i></p> + +<h3 id="Letter_5">Letter 5</h3> + +<p class="dropcap">In the early days of my youth I was struck by a +French novel which I have not met since; it was +called <i>Arminius</i>. Possibly it has no great merits, but at +the time it had a great influence on me, and I remember +the chief incidents to this day.</p> + +<p>We all know something of the meeting and conflict +between two different worlds; the one, the classical world +of culture, corrupt and effete; the other, savage as a wild +beast of the forest, but full of slumbering forces and +chaotic impulses. But we only, for the most part, know +the official public side of this contact, not that side concerned +with details and the privacy of home life. We +know the events in the rough, but not individual fortunes; +not the dramas in which lives were silently broken +and perished in personal struggle, in which blood was +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_46">[46]</span>replaced by bitter tears, and devastated towns by ruined +families and forgotten graves.</p> + +<p>The author of <i>Arminius</i> tried to reproduce these two +worlds—the one moving from the jungle to history, the +other from history into the grave—as they met at the +domestic hearth. In this, world history is reduced to +personal gossip, is brought nearer to us, more within our +grasp and comprehension.⁠<a id="FNanchor_35" href="#Footnote_35" class="fnanchor">[35]</a>⁠</p> + +<p>It never entered my head then that I should find myself +in a similar conflict, that a similar conflict would +come into my own life with all its ruinous force, and +that my hearth would be devastated and shattered at the +meeting of two historic worlds.</p> + +<p>In our attitude to the Europeans, in spite of all the +points of difference, which I understand quite well, there +are points of resemblance to the attitude of the Germans +to the Romans. In spite of our exterior, we are still +barbarians. Our civilisation is skin-deep, our corruption +is crude, our coarse hair bristles through the powder on +our heads, and our sunburn shows through the powder +on our cheeks. We have plenty of the cunning of savages +and the evasiveness of slaves. We are ready to give +blows indiscriminately and to fall at a man’s feet, when +we are guiltless, but I obstinately repeat we are very +far behind the corrosive hereditary subtleties of West +European corruption.</p> + +<p>Among us, intellectual development serves as a purification +and a guarantee—at least it has done so hitherto;⁠<a id="FNanchor_36" href="#Footnote_36" class="fnanchor">[36]</a> +exceptions are exceedingly rare, culture among us is a +barrier which much that is infamous never crosses; and +it is owing to this that all through the reign of Nicholas +the government could not succeed in establishing a secret +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_47">[47]</span>police nor a literature in the pay of the police, like the +French.</p> + +<p>In Western Europe this is not so, and that is how it is +that Russian dreamers who have made their way into +freedom readily surrender to any man who touches with +sympathy on their holy things, who understands their +cherished thoughts, forgetting that for him these holy +things have long ago passed into a commonplace, into a +convention, that, for the most part, they repeat them +possibly even sincerely, but in the way in which a priest, +thinking of something else, blesses any one he meets. We +forget how many other elements are tangled in the complex, +exhausted, morbidly struggling soul of the Western +European, how utterly he is exhausted, worn out with +envy, penury, vanity and <i>amour-propre</i>, and into what a +terrible epicureanism of the higher morbidly nervous +kind the humiliation, poverty, and struggle of competition +have developed.</p> + +<p>We find out all this when the blow has fallen; it stuns +us. We feel ourselves made fools of, and want to revenge +ourselves. Looking at this I sometimes think that much +blood will flow from the ‘conflict of these two different +forms of culture....’ These lines were written some +years ago.</p> + +<p>I am still of the same opinion despite the fact that in +Europe Russians enjoy the reputation of a most depraved +people. This is due to the lack of polish in our conduct +and the rustic habits of our landowners. We have convinced +the whole world of our viciousness, just as the +English have convinced it of their domestic virtue. As a +matter of fact, neither the vice nor the virtue goes very +deep. Russians abroad not only lead a disorderly life, +but boast of their savage and dissolute habits. Unfortunately, +being brought into contact as soon as they pass +the frontier with the clumsy and servile country of <i>kellners</i> +and <i>hofraths</i>, the Russians, like half-educated people in +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_48">[48]</span>general, cease to stand on ceremony, and let themselves +go further and further, and in this reckless mood arrive +in Paris and London. It has happened to me many times +to observe how conspicuous Russians make themselves by +absolute trifles, and they keep up the first impression by +the sort of defiant <i>nargue</i> with which they refuse to obey +the received conventions (though they are models of +submissiveness and correctness at home!). A man is +recognised as a Russian in the big hotels, because he +shouts in the public room, guffaws loudly, and invariably +protests at smoking being forbidden in the dining-room. +All this aggressiveness of an upper servant outside his +master’s house shows far more immaturity and unfamiliarity +with freedom than deep depravity; bragging always +goes with this moral ‘unripeness.’ Like boys of fourteen, +we not only want to drink too much, but to show off to all +the world: ‘Look how I have been going it!’ But all +the world judges differently. Looking at what the +Russians lay bare, it thinks, shaking its head, ‘What must +they have concealed?’ And all the while there is +nothing there, just as there is nothing in the soldier’s +haversack on parade, though it looks as though it were +stuffed.</p> + +<p>Ages of civilisation, passing from generation to generation, +acquire a special bouquet which one does not catch +at once; in this the fate of man is similar to the fate of +Rhine wine. There is nothing particularly attractive +about the propriety that is gained, though it is pleasanter +to go by its rules, as it is to go along a well-swept path. +We, it must be admitted, are badly swept, and there are +a good many hard stones and plenty of mud on our path.</p> + +<p>Our breaking-in to culture is fresh in our memory: it +was accomplished by rough-and-ready means, just as a +peasant taken into the master’s house is shaved like a +German and turned into a servant. Renouncing at the +command of the Most High the whole structure of the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_49">[49]</span>national life, the nobility have obstinately retained all +its bad qualities; flinging overboard together with its +prejudices the severe decorum and propriety of the +national manners, they have retained all the coarse habits +of the master and the Tatar lack of respect for self and for +others. The oppressive traditional morality of old days +has been replaced neither by the aristocratic conception +of honour nor the citizen’s conception of public duty +and independence; it has been replaced much more +simply by German barrack discipline <i>in the army</i>, mean +servility and cringing dependence <i>in the public service</i>, +and nothing at all <i>outside it</i>.</p> + +<p>Outside the government service, the nobleman was +transformed from the servant who is beaten to a Peter +the Great who is beating; in the country he had full +scope: there he became at once corporal, emperor, grand +gentleman, and father of his domain. This life of both +wolf and enlightener produced colossal monstrosities, +from torturers like Bühren and Potyomkin on the grand +scale to the hangmen and Potyomkins on a microscopic +scale; from Izmailov flogging police captains to Nozdryov +with one whisker torn off; from the ‘Araktcheyev of all +the Russias’ to the minor Araktcheyevs of battalions and +companies who flogged the soldier into his grave; from +the bribe-takers of the first three grades to the hungry +swarms of clerks who scribbled the poor peasants into +their graves; with endless variations of drunken officers, +bullies, cardsharpers, heroes of fairs, dog-fanciers, brawlers, +devotees of flogging, and seraglio-keepers. Here and +there among them is a landowner who has turned a +foreigner in order to remain a human being, or a ‘noble +soul,’ a Manilov,⁠<a id="FNanchor_37" href="#Footnote_37" class="fnanchor">[37]</a> a turtle-dove of a nobleman, cooing in +his mansion beside the stable where chastisement was +administered.</p> + +<p>One might wonder what good thing could arise, grow, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_50">[50]</span>and flourish in this soil between the Araktcheyevs and the +Manilovs? What could be reared by these mothers +who sent men for soldiers, cut off women’s hair, and beat +their servants, by these fathers who fawned on all above +them and were savage tyrants to all below them? Yet +it was among them that the men of the 14th of December +arose, a phalanx of heroes, suckled like Romulus and Remus +on the milk of a wild beast.... Finely they throve on +it! They were heroes, wrought out of pure steel from +head to foot, martyr warriors who went forth consciously +to inevitable ruin to awaken the younger generation to +new life and to purify the children, born in the midst of +brutality and slavishness. But who cleansed their souls +with the fire of purification, what virgin force renounced +in them its filth and its corruption, and made them the +martyrs of the future?</p> + +<p>It was in them; that is enough for me for the present. +I make a note of it and return to what I was saying: there +is a sort of unstable, unbalanced ferment and frenzy in +the pothouse debauchery of our vice; it is the delirium +of intoxication which has taken hold of an entire class, +that has strayed off the path with no serious plan and +aim. But it has not that deeply penetrating, deeply +rooted, subtle, nervous, intelligent, fatal depravity from +which the educated classes of Western Europe are suffering, +dying, and decaying.</p> + +<p>But how has it come to pass, what moral simoom has +blown on the civilised world?... There has always +been progress and more progress, there are free institutions, +railways, reforms, and telegraphs.</p> + +<p>Much that is good is being accomplished, much that +is good is being accumulated, but the simoom still blows +and blows like a <i>memento mori</i>, continually increasing, and +sweeping everything in the world before it. To be +wroth at this is as useless as to be wroth with the squirrels +for losing their fur, at the sea because after full tide, as +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_51">[51]</span>though to mock us at its very best moment, it begins to +ebb. It is high time that we accepted this fluctuation, +this rhythm of all creation, this alternation of night and +day.</p> + +<p>The period of ‘moulting’ in which we have found +Western Europe is the hardest; the new fur is scarcely +showing while the old skin has grown stiff, like that of the +rhinoceros; here is a crack, there is a crack, but <i>en gros</i> it +holds fast. This position between two skins is extremely +disagreeable. Everything strong suffers, everything weak +that struggles to the surface is ruined; the process of +renewal is inextricably connected with the process of +decay, and there is no telling which will get the upper +hand.</p> + +<p>Let me explain my thought further in the next letter. +Perhaps I shall succeed in proving to you that this is not +a <i>manière de dire</i>, not subjective indignation (indeed, it is +difficult to have a personal quarrel with world history), +but a few facts noted by eyes free from the myopia of +scholastic pedantry and the blindness of mysticism.</p> + +<h3 id="Letter_6">Letter 6</h3> + +<p class="dropcap">We stopped at the reflection that we must not be +angry with squirrels for losing their fur, nor at +the winter for following the summer every year. To +recognise the inevitable is a source of strength. It is +only by knowing the currents of the sea and the continually +shifting equatorial winds, apart from any desire to +correct them, that one can navigate the ocean.</p> + +<p>Look how things are done as a rule in Nature. In +every species, in the shaping of every form, development +goes on the principles by which the germ was determined.</p> + +<p>It grows, is defined, and acquires a more or less unalterable +character from the mutual interaction of the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_52">[52]</span>elements and environment. New factors may arise, new +conditions may alter the direction of growth, may arrest +what has begun, and change it into something quite +different; but if the development does not lose its individuality, +if it continues, the form will inevitably progress +on the same lines, with its own special characteristic, and +will develop its one-sidedness, that is, its individual case. +This does not in the least hinder its neighbours, either in +space or time, from developing all sorts of variations on +the same theme with various complements and differences, +with their own one-sidedness in accordance with other +conditions and another environment. Only at the beginning +of the development of forms there is an undefined +and characterless epoch, an epoch of, so to speak, the pre-zoological +stage in the egg and the embryo.</p> + +<p>Of the transmutation of animal species we know very +little. Their whole history has taken place behind +man’s back and covers whole periods of time in which +there has been no witness. We are confronted now +with finished, settled types, so far removed from each +other that any interchange between them is impossible. +Behind every animal there glimmers a long history—of +efforts, of progress, of <i>avortements</i>, and of reaching the +equilibrium, in which its forms have come to rest at last, +not reaching its vague ideal, but coming to a standstill at +the possible, at what will just do.</p> + +<p>Needless to say, there are no sharp limits nor irrevocable +decisions in any natural phenomena. The creative +process that has come to a standstill, that has been reduced +to mere repetition, may always be re-awakened; in some +cases it has passed from the influence of the stars under +the influence of man; by his cultivation he has developed +vegetable and animal species which would not have +developed of themselves.</p> + +<p>All this casts an immense light on the question we are +considering.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_53">[53]</span></p> + +<p>History presents us with a formation, caught in the +very act, not yet settled but settling, and preserving in its +memory the leading phases of its development and their +ebbs and flows. Some sections of the human race have +attained consistent forms and have conquered their +history, so to speak; others in the heat of struggle and +activity are creating it; while others, like the bottom of +a sea that has only recently dried up, are ready for any +sort of seeds, any sort of sowings, and give an unexhausted +rich soil for everything.</p> + +<p>As it is impossible looking at a calm sea to say that it +will not within an hour be ruffled into a storm, so we +cannot positively assert that China, for instance, or Japan, +will for ages and ages maintain their aloof, cramped, stagnant +form of existence. How can we tell that some +word will not fall like a drop of yeast among those sleepy +millions, and rouse them to a new life? But if we have +no right to form a final, unconditional conclusion, it does +not follow that after careful observation we have not the +right to draw some conclusions. The fisherman, looking +at a cloudless sky, and noting that there is no wind, will +almost certainly be right if he concludes there will not +be a storm for an hour.</p> + +<p>This is all I ask in my scrutiny of modern history. To +me it is evident that Western Europe has developed up +to certain limits ... and at the last moment has not the +spirit either to cross them, or to be satisfied with what it +has gained. The difficulty of the position to-day rests +on the fact that at this moment the active minority does not +feel itself capable, either of creating forms of existence +consistent with modern thought, or renouncing its old +ideals, or frankly accepting the petty-bourgeois state that +has been built up incidentally, as a form of life suitable for +the Germanic Latin people just as the Chinese civilisation +is for China.</p> + +<p>This agonising state of hesitation and uncertainty makes +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_54">[54]</span>the life of Europe unendurable. Whether it will come to +rest by casting off the prejudices of the past and the hopes +of the future, or the restless spirit of the Western +European heights and depths will wash away the new +dams, I do not know; but in any case I consider the +present condition a period of agony and exhaustion. +Life is impossible between two ideals.</p> + +<p>History provides us with one example in full detail.</p> + +<p>The long process of the decline of the ancient world +and the rise of the Christian world presents us with every +form of historical death, transmigration of souls and rebirth. +Whole States stood still, remained outside the +movement, did not come into the Christian formation, +grew decrepit, and fell into ruins. Savage races, as yet +hardly gathered into orderly herds, developed at their +side into new and powerful State-organisations.... +While Rome, pre-eminently the classical city, was transformed +into a city pre-eminently Catholic.</p> + +<p>Those who deny the inner inevitability of the death of +ancient Rome, and hold that it was slain by violence, +forget one thing, that every death is violent. Death does +not enter into our conception of the living organism; it +is outside it, beyond its limit. Old age and disease protest +against death in their sufferings, and do not invoke +it, and, if they could find strength in themselves, or means +outside themselves, they would conquer death.</p> + +<p>The barbarians are all very well, but we must not +assume that the whole sickness of the ancient world was +due to their onslaughts. From the days of Tacitus, its +thought had unmistakably become gloomy and despondent. +The depression, the misery, reached the pitch of +suicide; such a pitch, in fact, that all the world almost +went out of its mind and really became unhinged, believing +in the most incredible theodicy and the most unnatural +salvation, taking despair for consolation and the +religion of death for a new life. Men who could not +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_55">[55]</span>go out of their minds withdrew from the general saturnalia +of death, the funerals in wreaths of roses, with amphoras +of wine, the funerals in crowns of thorns, with lamentations +over the sins of this world, and withdrew through +the two narrow gates of stoicism and scepticism.</p> + +<p>Beside the men who disdained death, beside the men +who disbelieved in life, beside the fanatics who went +forth to destroy the ancient world to the last stone, and the +fanatics who expected the old world to rise up again with +all the virtues of the days before the Punic Wars, there +was a pinchbeck mediocre class, a crowd of those who +were neither blind nor seeing, a crowd of the myopic who +saw nothing, neither Catiline nor death behind the bustle +of their daily cares, the news of war, the affairs of the +senate, the gossip of the Court, the puzzles of scholasticism +and the endless problems of household management, who +shrugged their shoulders, listening to the ravings of the +Christian Jacobins, despised the barbarians and laughed +at their uncouthness, never guessing that these forest +Hottentots, with their long hair and flaxen eyebrows, +were coming to take their place in history.</p> + +<p>The barbarians, too, have played their part, their duty +is over; an immensely rich and ample period was developed +by them, but they have reached the limits of their +formation; they must reject their fundamental principles +or come to a standstill in them.</p> + +<p>It is very hard for the modern civilised world to come +to terms with the new principles which are harassing it. +What could be improved has been improved, what could +be overturned has been overturned; it has next to preserve +what it has gained, or to move out of the <i>one-sidedness</i>, +the individual variation which constitutes its personality. +The last word of Catholicism was uttered by the Reformation +and the Revolution; they revealed its mystery; +the mystic redemption was solved by the political emancipation. +The Nicene Creed founded on the remission of +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_56">[56]</span>sin to the Christian was expressed in the recognition of +the rights of every man in the Creed of the last œcumenical +council, that is, the Convention of 1792. The +morality of the Judean proletarian, Matthew the Evangelist, +is the same as that professed by the Geneva proletarian +and deist, Jean Jacques Rousseau. It came in +as faith, hope, and charity, and goes out as liberty, fraternity, +and equality.</p> + +<p>The Germanic Latin world reached its climax in the +storms and the hurricanes that followed the triumphal +year 1789. The upheaval of the French Revolution +went on by summits and abysses, the great and the terrible, +victories and the Terror, partial landslides and earthquakes, +till 1848; then came <i>Amen, Ne plus ultra</i>. The +cataclysm that had begun with the Renaissance and the +Reformation was over.</p> + +<p>The work goes on inwardly: the weaving of the microscopic +web, the slow growth of drift from wind and water, +the scurrying to and fro of history, the volcanic labours +underground, the impenetrable passing of last year’s +autumn into this year’s spring. Overhead are terrible +apparitions, dead men in old armour and old tiaras, and +fantastic figures, incredibly radiant shapes, agonisings, +sufferings, frantic hopes, the bitter consciousness of weakness +and the impotence of reason. Below is the bottomless +pit of elemental passions, of primeval slumber, of +childish dreams, of cyclopean mole-like labour. The +voice of man does not reach to these depths, as the wind +does not reach to the bottom of the sea; only at times +the trumpet-blasts and drum-beats of war are heard +there, calling to blood, promising slaughter and dealing +destruction.</p> + +<p>Between the fantastic dreamers at the top and the +savages beneath hovers the middle class, having neither +the strength proudly to utter its: I am king! nor the +self-sacrifice to join the Jesuits or the Socialists.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_57">[57]</span></p> + +<p>Hesitating between two moralities, they furnish precisely +by this hesitation the material for developing that +corruption of which I am speaking.</p> + +<p>But how is it between two moralities? What does it +mean, ‘between two moralities’? And are there two +moralities? Is there not one eternal morality, <i>une et +indivisible</i>?</p> + +<p>Absolute morality is bound to share the fate of everything +absolute; it has no existence at all outside theory, +outside abstract thought. There are several moralities, +and they are all very relative, that is, historical.</p> + +<p>The first Christians stated this very directly, very boldly, +without beating about the bush, and, having announced +that the new Adam brought a new morality, that the +heathen virtues were for the Christian but brilliant vices, +they closed Plato, closed Cicero, and proceeded to drag +from their pedestals golden-haired Aphrodite, ox-eyed +Hera, and the other sinful saints of the old morality.</p> + +<p>Pliny looked upon them as fools, Trajan despised them, +Lucian laughed at them, but they ushered in a new +world and a new morality. Their new morality has +grown old in its turn. And that is just what we are +talking about.</p> + +<p>The Revolution secularised what it could out of the +catechism, but the Revolution, like the Reformation, +took its stand in the precincts of the Church. Egmont +and Alva, Calvin and Guise, Louis <span class="allsmcap">XVI.</span> and Robespierre, +had the same general convictions; they differed, like +Dissenters, in shades only of opinion. Voltaire, who +arrived wrapped up in a fur cloak, in a carriage, to see the +sunrise, and who fell on his trembling knees with a +prayer on his lips, Voltaire, who blessed Franklin’s grandson +‘in the name of God and liberty,’ is as religious as +St. Basil the Great and Gregory of Nazianzus, only of a +different sect. The cold moonlight of Catholicism has +passed through all the vicissitudes of revolution, and at its +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_58">[58]</span>last gasp has unfurled a new standard inscribed <i>Deo +et Popolo</i>!</p> + +<p>Somewhere on the heights the dawn of a new day +is struggling with the moonlight, revealing the glaring +incompatibility of faith and knowledge, of church and +science, of law and conscience; but of that they know +nothing in the plains below—that is for the small band of +the elect.</p> + +<p>The union of science and religion is impossible, but +there <i>is</i> an irregular union, from which one can draw +one’s conclusion as to the morality which rests on such a +union. The fact is that Reason, fearing a scandal, conceals +the truth she knows; Science conceals that she is +with child, not by Jehovah but by Pan, and will bear a +new redeemer; and both are keeping it quiet, whispering, +talking in cypher or simply lying, leaving men in an utter +chaos of confused ideas, in which prayers for rain are +mixed up with barometers, chemistry with miracles, +telegraphs with rosaries. And all this is somehow through +routine, through habit; you may believe or not, so long +as you maintain certain forms of propriety. Who is +deceived? What is it all for? One obligatory rule has +remained, strong and accepted. Think what you please, +but lie like the rest.</p> + +<p>Prophets may guide the people by visions and passionate +words, but they cannot guide them if they conceal +the gift of prophecy or bow down to Baal.</p> + +<p>Is it any wonder that life grows emptier with terrible +rapidity, driving men by lack of understanding and by +deadly dullness to every kind of frenzy, from gambling +on the Exchange to playing at turning tables?</p> + +<p>Apparently everything is going in the usual way; +respectable people are occupied with their daily cares +and business, with practical objects, they hate every +sort of Utopia and all far-reaching ideals; but in reality +this is not so, and the most respectable people as well as +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_59">[59]</span>their forefathers have won everything good that they have +won by constantly running after the rainbow and accomplishing +impossibilities, such as Catholicism, the Reformation, +the Revolution. These rainbow visions are no more, +or, at any rate, the optical illusion deceives no more.</p> + +<p>All the old ideals are dead, every one of them, from the +Crucifixion to the Phrygian cap.</p> + +<p>Do you remember that awful picture after the style of +Jean Paul Richter’s inspired rhapsody, in which he +depicts, apropos of what I forget, all the penitent nations +on the dread Day of Judgment fleeing terrified to the Cross, +praying for salvation and the good offices of the Son of +God? Christ answers briefly: ‘I have no father!’</p> + +<p>A similar answer is heard now from all the crosses, to +which the yearning peoples, worn out with struggle, weary +and heavy laden, appeal. From every Golgotha the +answer comes more and more loudly: ‘I have no liberty!’ +‘I have no equality!’ ‘I have no fraternity!’ And +one hope after another grows dim, casting its last dying +light on the melancholy figures of the Don Quixotes, who +obstinately refuse to hear the voices from Golgotha ... +they beckon to men to follow them more quickly, and +one after another vanish in the dark night of winter.</p> + +<p>And that is not all; with redoubled horror men have +begun to discern that the Revolution not only has no +father, but no son.</p> + +<p>The terrible fruitless days of June 1848 were the +protest of despair; they did not create, they destroyed +... but what they attacked turned out to be the +strongest. With the taking of the last barricade, with +the deportation of the last batch of untried exiles, came the +era of order. The Utopia of the democratic republic +proved to be as evanescent as the Utopia of the kingdom +of heaven on earth. Emancipation has turned out to be +as much a failure as redemption.</p> + +<p>But the social ferment has not calmed down sufficiently +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_60">[60]</span>to allow people to be occupied with their own affairs; +they must occupy their minds, and without Utopias, without +epidemics of enthusiasm for ideals, they are badly off. +It would not be so bad if the masses of the people, disappointed +in their expectations, would simply rot and +mildew in the Irish manner, like stagnant water; but, as +it is, they may rise up in exasperation and test their +Samson-like muscles, and see how strong are the pillars +of the social edifice in which they are fettered!</p> + +<p>Where are we to find ideals that are free from danger?</p> + +<p>No need to look far—in the soul of man are many +mansions. The classification of man by nationalities +becomes more and more the wretched ideal of this world +which has buried the revolution.</p> + +<p>Political parties have dissolved into national parties: +that is not merely a backsliding from the Revolution, it is +a backsliding from Christianity. The human ideals of +Catholicism and the Revolution have given place to a +heathen patriotism; and the honour of the flag is the one +honour of the peoples that has remained inviolate.</p> + +<p>When I recall how twelve years ago the rake and buffoon +Romieu⁠<a id="FNanchor_38" href="#Footnote_38" class="fnanchor">[38]</a> used to preach in the Paris salons to all who +would listen that the revolutionary forces that had been +roused should be turned from their path to national, +maybe dynastic, questions, I cannot help blushing with +shame at the memory.</p> + +<p>There must be fighting whatever it is for, or a Chinese +slumber will fall upon the people in this stagnation, and +it will be long before there is an awakening. But is there +any need of an awakening? That is just the question.</p> + +<p>The last of the Mohicans of the eighteenth century, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_61">[61]</span>the Don Quixotes of the Revolution, the Socialists, some +of the literary men, the poets, and the eccentric folk of all +sorts, are not sleepy, and, as far as they can, they prevent +the masses from sleeping.</p> + +<p>The taciturn bourgeois is ashamed to confess that he is +sleepy and, half-asleep, goes on muttering incoherent +phrases about progress and liberty....</p> + +<p>He needs war to awaken him. And is there in all the +arsenal of the past a standard, a banner, a word, an idea +for which men would go out to fight, which they have not +seen put to shame and trampled in the mud?... Universal +suffrage, perhaps?...</p> + +<p>No; no man of our day will go out to fight for a deposed +idol with the radiant self-sacrifice with which his forefather +went to the stake for the right to sing psalms, with +the proud self-confidence with which his father faced the +guillotine for the sake of the one and indivisible republic. +To be sure, he knows that neither psalms sung in German +nor the emancipation of the people <i>à la française</i> will lead +to anything.</p> + +<p>And no one can die for a god of whom he knows +nothing, and who keeps hidden behind a wall. Let him +first speak out who he is, let him own himself for a god, +and with the impertinence of St. Augustine declare in +the face of the old world that ‘its virtues are vices, its +truths falsehood and absurdity.’</p> + +<p>Well, that will not be to-day nor to-morrow.</p> + +<p>The sensible man of our age is like Frederick <span class="allsmcap">II.</span>, an +<i>esprit fort</i> in his study and an <i>esprit accommodant</i> in the +market-place. When he entered his study from which +his lackeys were dismissed, the king became a philosopher; +but when he came out of it, the philosopher became a +king....</p> + +<p>Here, too, ‘the bulls stand before the mountain.’ +And yet it cannot be denied that the light of reason is more +and more widely dissipating the darkness of prejudice.... +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_62">[62]</span>What is most annoying is that people have no time +and die early—a man is only beginning to grow sensible +when in a trice he is carried to the cemetery. One +cannot help recalling the celebrated horse whose master +trained it to eat nothing, but death interfered with his +plans.</p> + +<p>In the Alpine glaciers every summer a crust of ice +melts, but its mass is so great that the autumn always +catches the work of the sunbeams half-way, and the crust +begins to freeze again, though sometimes it does not +attain its former thickness. The meteorologists have +reckoned many times how many ages and ages the summer +will need to beat the winter at its work and melt all the +ice. Many doubt whether the sun itself will last long +enough to do all the work: possibly a volcanic eruption +will help.</p> + +<p>A similar calculation has not yet been worked out in +history.</p> + +<p class="right"><i>October 20, 1862.</i></p> + +<h3 id="Letter_7">Letter 7</h3> + +<p class="dropcap">Six days for labour and the seventh for rest. Moses +and Proudhon were right to defend the Sabbath +day. Monotonous work is terribly exhausting. A man +must have periodical pauses, in which, after washing his +hands and putting on clean clothes, he can go out, not to +work but for a walk, have a look at his fellow-creatures +and at Nature, possess his soul, breathe freely, be +<a id="FNanchor_39" href="#Footnote_39" class="fnanchor">[39]</a>⁠‘resurrected.’⁠<a id="FNanchor_40" href="#Footnote_40" class="fnanchor">[40]</a>⁠</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_63">[63]</span></p> + +<p>Here I, too, have made of my periodical chatter about +‘Ends and Beginnings’ my Sunday rest, and in it I withdraw +from the daily discords, the journalistic rascalities +and the workaday wrangles, in which the hours and days +of the month change, but opinions and the expression of +them remain the same.... I withdraw as into some +remote cell from the windows of which many details are +unseen, many sounds unheard, though the silent outlines +of mountains, far and near, are clearly visible, and the +murmur of the sea comes in distinctly.</p> + +<p>Perhaps you will think that I am not spending my +holiday very gaily; remember that I am in England, +where of all the dull days Sunday is the dullest.</p> + +<p>Well, there is no help for it. You must be bored once +more, while, for my part, I will try to tell you as amusingly +as I can about the melancholy matters which we discuss.</p> + +<p>But are they really melancholy? And if it really is so, +is it not high time we were resigned to them? We really +should not talk for ever about things which it is not in +our power to change. Would it not be better, like a +sensible man, to make up the account-books we have +inherited, and, forgetting our inordinate expenses and +irreparable losses, accept the total in meekness of spirit +as a new starting-point. Grieve as you will, you will +not mend things; there are plenty of ways of using +inherited capital; there are plenty of dreams men cherish +when they receive it. We have had such dreams too.... +The <i>symphonia heroica</i> is over, practical life is beginning. +The wine has gone flat, let us drink the dry <i>tisane +de champagne</i>. It is not so nice, but they say it is more +wholesome. Part of the cultured world pines, with the +old maid’s yearning for happiness which she has not lost +but has never had, and, instead of firmly making up her +mind to widowhood without marriage, laments that the +<i>ideal</i> of her youth has not carried her off.... Well, +what is to be done? It has not, and now it is too late.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_64">[64]</span></p> + +<p>People are vexed at not having wings, and so will not +trouble to be well shod. The painfulness of European +life in its more cultured classes is directly due to their +false position between dreams of what is not and contempt +for what is.</p> + +<p>Side by side with the ideals of seraphic wings which are +retreating more and more into the darkness of the past +and the ideals of other wings that are vanishing into the +future, there is a whole independent world at which the +dreamers are incensed, because it has achieved what it +could and not what the dreamers expected, that is, not +wings. So long as the authority and power of this world +is not recognised, so long will the feverish ferment, the +perpetual falsity in life, the involuntary faithlessness both +to its ideal and to practical life, which is revealed in the +continual contradiction of words and deeds, phrases and +conduct, continue. That world is not nimble in words +and not eloquent, although it has created a great lever, +comparable with steam and electricity, the lever of advertisement, +of proclamation, of <i>réclame</i>.</p> + +<p>With all that, it cannot stand at its full height in all its +breadth and say aloud to the people: ‘I am the alpha and +omega of your development; come to me and I will +comfort you, I will give what can be given; but leave off +knocking at all the doors which are not opened to you, some +because there is no one to open them, others because they +lead nowhere. Remember at last that you have no other +god but me, and cease to bow down to all sorts of idols and +desire all sorts of wings. Understand that you cannot +preach at the same time Christian poverty and political +economy, socialist theories and the unlimited right of +property. So far my power exists as a fact, but not as +the recognised foundation of morality, not even as a flag, +and, what is worse, I am denounced, I am insulted in +churches, in academies, in aristocratic halls and clubs, +in speeches and in sermons, in novels and in newspapers.... +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_65">[65]</span>I am sick of playing the part of a provincial relation +from whom city fops take money and domestic supplies, +but about whom they keep quiet or speak with a blush. +I want not only to rule, but to wear the purple.’</p> + +<p>Yes, my dear friend, it is time to come to recognising +with all meekness and humility that bourgeoisie is the +final form of Western European civilisation, its coming +of age—<i>état adulte</i>; this closes the long series of its +visions; with this the epic of its growth, the romance of +its youth, everything that has brought so much poetry +and calamity into the life of the nations, ends. After all +men’s dreams and efforts ... this offers them modest +repose and a less troubled life and a comfort within their +capacity, not beyond the reach of any one, though insufficient +for the majority. By hard work the nations of the +West have won their winter quarters. Let others show +their mettle. From time to time, of course, men of a +different leaven, of heroic times, of other formations—monks, +knights, Quakers, Jacobins—will be seen again, +but their transient appearance will not be able to affect +the prevailing tone.</p> + +<p>The mighty elemental hurricanes, that tossed up the +whole surface of the European sea, have sunk into a quiet +sea-breeze, not perilous for ships, but helping them to +sail along the coast. Christianity has grown shallow and +quietened down into the calm stony haven of the Reformation; +the Revolution, too, has grown shallow and sunk +into the calm sandy haven of liberalism. Protestantism, +a religion austere in trifles, has found the secret of reconciling +the Church which despises earthly goods, with the +supremacy of commerce and profit. Liberalism, austere +in political trifles, has learned even more artfully to unite +a continual protest against the government with a continual +submission to it.</p> + +<p>With so indulgent a Church, with so docile a Revolution, +Western Europe has begun to settle down, to find +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_66">[66]</span>its equilibrium: everything that hindered it has been +drawn gradually into the solidifying waves, like insects +caught in amber. Byron, unable to breathe, let out a +scream of anger and fled, one of the first, anywhere ... +to Greece.⁠<a id="FNanchor_41" href="#Footnote_41" class="fnanchor">[41]</a> Stoically remaining in Frankfort, Schopenhauer +slowly expired, noticing, like Seneca when his veins +had been opened, the progress of death and welcoming it +as his deliverer.... This did not in the least hinder +the tendency of all European life towards stillness and +crystallisation; on the contrary, this tendency grew more +and more distinct. Individuality was effaced, the racial +type concealed everything strikingly original, restless, or +eccentric. Men, like goods, were turned into something +wholesale, ready-made, cheaper, and commoner, individually, +but stronger and more numerous in the mass. Individual +characteristics were lost, like the drops of a cataract +in the general flood, without even the poor consolation of</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">‘Gleaming bright in the rainbow’s passing streak.’</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p>Hence their hateful but natural indifference to the life +of their neighbours and the fate of individuals; it is the +type, the race, the work that matters, not the person. +To-day one hundred men are buried in a coal-mine, to-morrow +fifty more will be buried; to-day ten men are +killed on one railway, and to-morrow five more will be; +and every one looks on this as individual misfortune. +Society suggests insurance.... What more can it do?... +There can be no shortage in the transport of stock +because somebody’s son or father has been killed; there +can be no shortage in the living apparatus for coal-mining +either. A horse is needed, a workman is needed, and +whether it is a bay, or whether it is Tom or Harry, is +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_67">[67]</span>absolutely no matter. In this <i>no matter</i> lies the whole +secret of persons being replaced by masses, of individuals +being swallowed up by the race.</p> + +<p>A storm seemed about to arise, threatening to awaken +every one and hinder the bourgeois crystallisation, to +bring down belfries and towers and frontiers and customs-houses, +but it was turned aside in time by the lightning +conductors, and had not a chance. It is easier to picture +Europe returning to the Catholicism of the times of +Gregory Hildebrandt at the summons of Donoso Cortès +and Count Montalembert, than turning into a socialist +republic of Fourier’s or Cabet’s pattern. But who speaks +seriously of socialism nowadays? The European world +may rest easy on that score; the shutters are put up, there +are no lightnings on the horizon, the storm is far away ... +the bourgeois can quietly tuck himself up in his quilt, tie +his kerchief round his head, and put out his candle.</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">‘Gute Nacht, gute Nacht,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Liebe Mutter Dorothee!’</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p>But poor Mother Dorothy, like Gretchen, has a brother +a soldier, and like all soldiers he is fond of noise and fighting +and will not let her sleep. She would have got rid +of him long ago, but she has some valuable belongings, +so she must have a guard in case of hungry neighbours. +Well, it is not enough for her brother to be her guard; +he is ambitious. ‘I am a knight,’ he says, ‘I thirst for +heroic deeds and promotion.’</p> + +<p>Yes, if the army could be reduced to the defenders of +property, the bodyguard of capital, everything would +quickly reach its stable final order. But there is nothing +perfect in this world, and the hereditary knightly spirit +keeps up the ferment and prevents life from settling down. +However tempting is plunder and however natural is +blood-thirstiness to men in general, the dash of a hussar, +the aggressiveness of a Suvorov, are not compatible with +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_68">[68]</span>maturity, with quiet unruffled culture. The dislike for +everything military in China is much more comprehensible +in a mature people than the passion of a Nicholas +for ‘braid and epaulettes and buttonholes.’</p> + +<p>That is just the trouble. What is to be done with the +great people which boasts of being a military people, which +is all made up of Zouaves, <i>pioupious</i>, and Frenchmen, who +are also soldiers?</p> + +<p><i>Peuple de France, peuple de braves!</i></p> + +<p>It is absurd to talk about quiet nights, moonlight walks, +free trade, political freedom, or freedom of any sort, +while five hundred thousand bayonets, bored and idle, +are clamouring for their ‘right to work.’</p> + +<p>The Gallic cock sees to it that no turkey, duck, or +goose in Europe can sleep in peace.</p> + +<p>As a matter of fact, if France would abandon the army +and enter the Civil Service (she cannot exist without being +an official of some sort) everything would go swimmingly. +England would fling the useless guns bought for her +riflemen into the sea, my grocer Johnson (and Son) +would be the first to exchange his weapon for a fishing-rod, +and go fishing in the Thames. Cobden would +weaken everything that Palmerston had strengthened, +and the Duke of Cambridge would be elected President +of the Peace Society.</p> + +<p>But France does not dream of leaving military service—and, +indeed, how could she? Who would look after +Mexico, the Pope, and the <i>almost</i> united Italy? The +honour of the flag is involved, there is no help for it!</p> + +<p><i>Peuple de France, peuple de braves!</i></p> + +<p>What is to be done?</p> + +<p>Allow me to break off here and to describe another +meeting with an old friend: he from his ‘crazy’ standpoint +has found a bolder solution of these questions than +I have.</p> + +<p>Some two years ago I was walking along the Strand, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_69">[69]</span>when I saw busily engaged in the doorway of a big shop of +travelling requisites a fat, nimble little figure, startlingly +out of place in London, and in various ways suggestive of +Italy, wearing a light grey hat, and a thin yellow overcoat, +and adorned with an immense black beard: I fancied I +had seen this figure before somewhere.... I looked +more closely ... it was he, it really was he, my vigorous, +jolly medical student, with teeth like a wolf’s and the +good humour of a good digestion, the demonstrator with +whom in old days I had ‘cut up cats and dogs,’ as he +expressed it, and not in Italy, but in the anatomical +theatre of the Moscow University.</p> + +<p>This time I said to my Russian-Italian, ‘You can’t claim +to be the first to recognise an old friend.’</p> + +<p>‘<i>Eccolo!</i> How charming! Upon my soul!’ and he +impetuously kissed me, so intimately had he come to know +me during his absence.</p> + +<p>‘If you often fling up both hands like that,’ I observed +to him, ‘you certainly will have your travelling wallet +stolen.’</p> + +<p>‘I know, I know. It is the traditional home of thieving.... +Do you remember Don Juan, at the end of the +poem, when he goes back to London?’</p> + +<p>‘I remember. Well, and is your eccentric friend with +you?’</p> + +<p>‘To be sure. He is expecting me at the hotel; he did +put his nose out into the street, but went back at once. +He said it was so crowded and stuffy that he was afraid +he would be sea-sick. So he sent me to buy a few things +for the journey. To-morrow we are setting out for +Texas.’</p> + +<p>‘Where?’</p> + +<p>‘To Texas, you know, in America.’</p> + +<p>‘What for?’</p> + +<p>‘What we lived in Calabria for. My Telemachus has +not changed one bit, only he discourses with more assurance +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_70">[70]</span>than ever. You remember how he used to explain +to you that the terrestrial globe was sick, and that it was +high time for men to be cured of civilisation, so now he +is convinced that the cure is progressing too slowly in +Europe, so he is going off to Texas or somewhere. I am +used to him; we spend the whole day, as we always did, +in arguing, and it is wonderful what a tie that is. Oh, +well, we’ll have a look at America!’</p> + +<p>‘And how did you get on in Calabria?’</p> + +<p>‘At first he liked it there, though to my thinking the +humblest district town in the province of Saratov, say, is +superior to the whole of Calabria. You can get billiards +there, anyway, and, maybe, some little widow, or at any +rate a soldier’s wife in a neighbouring village, but we +found none but brigands, shepherds, and priests, and there +was no telling which was a brigand, which was a shepherd, +and which was a priest. We took a tumbledown ruin of +a Radcliffe castle; lizards, the beasts, ran over the floor in +broad daylight, while at night the bats flew about the +drawing-room, <i>flop, flop</i>, against the wall. But I did +go away several times to Naples and to Palermo.... And +what do you think of Garibaldi? Now he is a man! +you can depend upon him!... But our friend stayed +on in his castle; he only once left it to go to Rome. Rome +suited him, as though the choir had just left off singing, +“May he rest in peace with the Saints.” He is a Hamlet, +a grave-digger!’</p> + +<p>‘Well, will your Hamlet show himself?’</p> + +<p>‘Not a doubt. He has mentioned you several times; +you are still astray at times, but are on the right path, he +says. Ha, ha, ha!’</p> + +<p>‘I am glad to hear it. Let us go to him.’</p> + +<p>‘Delighted.’</p> + +<p>I found Yevgeny Nikolayevitch greatly aged. His +face, much calmer, had gained a shade of a sort of clerical +pensiveness: the dry, even pallor of his face gave it a +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_71">[71]</span>lifeless appearance; the dark rings round his eyes, which +were more sunk than ever, gave a sinister look to their old +melancholy expression.</p> + +<p>‘You are fleeing from us across the ocean, Yevgeny +Nikolayevitch,’ I said to him.</p> + +<p>‘And I advise you to do the same.’</p> + +<p>‘Why so?’</p> + +<p>‘It is very wearisome here.’</p> + +<p>‘Well, you knew that in the past. You told me so +eight years ago.’</p> + +<p>‘That is true. But I confess I thought there would be +war.’</p> + +<p>‘What war?’</p> + +<p>‘War!’ and he waved his hand.</p> + +<p>‘Have you grown so bloodthirsty in Calabria?’</p> + +<p>‘It does not matter to me personally, but it is painful +to be the witness of it; I am sorry for the young +generation.’</p> + +<p>‘But what do you want war for? To help the young +generation?’</p> + +<p>‘I can’t help it. That is what it has come to.’</p> + +<p>‘I frankly confess I do not clearly understand what +you mean.’</p> + +<p>‘You have hit on a knotty point!’ put in Filipp +Danilovitch.</p> + +<p>‘That is because you both doubt and believe. That is +the trouble. It is clear that tables do not turn, but when +the question arises: but what if tables really do turn, +then it is not clear. Filipp Danilovitch here is quite a +different matter; he is orthodox; he knows that there is +progress, and that everything is for the best. But however +I look at it, I see that men have kicked over the traces +and are plunging deeper and deeper into the morass.’</p> + +<p>‘The horse has kicked over the trace, so off with his +leg, amputate it at once. Drastic treatment!’ observed +Filipp Danilovitch.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_72">[72]</span></p> + +<p>‘Find a remedy and amputation will not be necessary. +But since there is none, would you leave the invalid alone? +The nations of West Europe are tired out, and they have +reason to be; they want to rest, to live for their own +pleasure; they are sick of perpetually remodelling and +reconstructing, and knocking down each other’s houses. +They have everything they need—capital and experience +and order and moderation ... what hinders them? +They had difficult problems, they had cherished dreams: +all that is over. Even the problem of the proletariat +has subsided. The hungry have become zealous admirers +of other men’s property in the hope of obtaining their +own; they have become the quiet lazzaroni of industry, +whose murmuring and indignation have been stifled, +together with all their faculties, and that is undoubtedly +one of the greatest debts we owe the factory system.... +But still there is no peace, no peace ... armies are kept +up, fleets are kept up, all that is gained is wasted on defence—and +what can put an end to armaments except +war?’</p> + +<p>‘That is knocking out one nail with another in the +homeopathic way,’ observed Filipp Danilovitch.</p> + +<p>‘Is it possible,’ my queer friend continued, ‘to work +in one’s own little garden, with a light heart, knowing +that there is a gang of bandits, pandours, janissaries, in a +cave close by?’</p> + +<p>‘Allow me one word,’ Filipp Danilovitch interrupted. +‘I bet you a bottle of Burgundy that you don’t know who +these brakes on the wheels of progress and enlightenment, +these pandours and janissaries, are!’</p> + +<p>‘Austria and Russia, I suppose.’</p> + +<p>‘Ha, ha, ha! I knew I should win it. Pay up with +a bottle of Chambertin; it is the only wine I care for.’</p> + +<p>‘Upon my word,’ Yevgeny Nikolayevitch observed +reproachfully, ‘what can Austria do? The country is +exerting every effort to keep alive, straining every muscle +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_73">[73]</span>to hold its parts together. How could she be a menace +to any one? She is like a man holding his leg with one +hand for fear it should walk off without him, and his head +with the other for fear it should drop off his shoulders, +and then people talk of her rushing into a quarrel. It is +high time after the last campaign to strike Russia, too, off +the list of bogeys: far from any one’s being afraid of her, +no one even builds any hopes on her now, neither Serbs +nor Bulgars, nor any of the Slav patriots who have been +trying ever since the fourth century to discover their +fatherland and their independence. And a good thing +too! Let Russia “look for the life of the world to come,” +while in the present she is teaching her officials not to steal +and her landowners not to use their fists. In Europe there +are systems of oppression better organised which prevent +the lungs from breathing and the heart from being at rest.’</p> + +<p>‘So it is England and France whom you honour in this +way?’</p> + +<p>‘Of course, one might put up with England still, though +she is stealthily, indirectly, negatively oppressive, on the +one hand supporting what is decayed, on the other +oppressing what is young, so that it cannot grow: she +tells the hungry man when she meets him: “Go your +way and God bless you, you are a free man, I won’t keep +you.” While France ... oh, well—it is one battalion: +all France will follow the drum and fife wherever you like—to +Kazan or Ryazan, while she would make a dash at +England even without a drum if only to play the master +of the house in the docks and in the City, as she does in +the Palace of Pekin. Who can hope that these two sworn +foes will go on calmly gazing at each other with a hatred +which centuries, education, and commercial interests +have been unable to overcome, while they move closer +and closer together, so that already it is only ten hours’ +journey between Paris and London? On the one side +of the Channel the <i>légion d’honneur</i>, on the other the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_74">[74]</span><i>Habeas Corpus</i>, and they put up with each other! Do +you understand what it means to cherish that passionate +hatred, and not to have the spirit to fight? It makes me +decide to go to Texas.’</p> + +<p>‘It is difficult to understand, that’s true, but it is not +altogether a bad thing that it is so. You know, when your +war does come and the French cross the Channel to +emancipate England, then I shall start for Texas too.’</p> + +<p>‘<i>À la bonne heure!</i>’ exclaimed Filipp Danilovitch, +delighted.</p> + +<p>‘It is drainage; war is a system of drainage for the +purification of the soil and the air. How could they +remain in London? Moscow is not London, and even +the Russians picked up Germans on the way, and invaded +Paris.’</p> + +<p>‘Have you got a Louis <span class="allsmcap">XIX.</span> up your sleeve?’</p> + +<p>‘He won’t be wanted.’</p> + +<p>‘Yevgeny Nikolayevitch,’ I said, after a pause, ‘and +all this is simply in order to reach a Dutch stagnation, and +for this mess of pottage to part with the finest dreams, the +most sacred aims.’</p> + +<p>‘And what is wrong,’ observed Filipp Danilovitch, +showing his white teeth again, ‘with eating herrings and +pancakes, with a clear conscience and a clean table-napkin +in a house which has just been scrubbed, with a wife of +Rubens contours, and a ring of little toddlers about you! +Schiedam, faro, and curaçao, they are the only things +Dutch I know. Ha, ha, ha! What were all your +Fouriers and Owens struggling to find?’</p> + +<p>‘Not only they: the Catholics and the Protestants, the +Encyclopaedists and the Revolutionists ... what were +they all struggling for ... and their toil, their faith, +their doom, does it all count for nothing? Do you expect +the City of God and the <i>Feste Burg</i> and the Phalanstery +and the Jacobin Republic all to be realised in fact? I +remember ...’ he paused, and then, with some inner +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_75">[75]</span>emotion, asked me: ‘Have you ever experienced what a +man feels when he imparts his outlook to another and +sees how it grows up in him?’</p> + +<p>‘That is all very well, saving your presence,’ the pupil +of Hippocrates interrupted, ‘but what is the use of idle +talk, what is the use of bothering?’</p> + +<p>‘<i>Ech</i>, Filipp Danilovitch, what is the use of you or me +bothering? we have not succeeded in finding a remedy +for death, and you know the peace of death is worse than +Dutch stagnation. But there, God will forgive you; +you are orthodox. But you, now, how can you make +such a blunder?’ he added, turning to me, and shaking +his head mournfully.</p> + +<p>And then suddenly breaking into his nervous, mirthless +laugh, he said: ‘I have just remembered a German book +in which the laborious existence of the mole is described—it +is very funny. The little beast, with big paws and +little chinks instead of eyes, tunnels in the dark, underground, +in the damp, tunnels day and night, without +weariness, without recreation, with passionate persistence. +It barely stops to eat some little grains and worms and sets +to work again, but the hole is ready for the children, and +the mole dies in peace, while the children begin boring +holes in all directions for their children. What is the +price paid for the lifetime of toil underground? What +correspondence is there between effort and attainment? +Ha, ha, ha! The funniest thing about it is that after +making his splendid corridors and passages which cost him +the labour of a lifetime, he cannot see them, poor mole!’</p> + +<p>With this moral drawn by my crazy friend, I will conclude +the first part of my ‘Ends and Beginnings,’ and the +last month of 1862. Within two days we shall have the +New Year, and I wish you a happy one; in it we must +gather up fresh strength for our mole-like labour; my +paws are itching to begin.</p> + +<p class="right"><i>December 29, 1862.</i></p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_76">[76]</span></p> + +<h3 id="Letter_8">Letter 8</h3> + +<blockquote> + +<p class="center"><i>Be a man, stop and make answer?</i></p> + +</blockquote> + +<p class="dropcap"><i>‘Halte-là! Stop!</i>’ was said to me this time, +not by a lunatic, but, quite the contrary, by a +very sane gentleman who walked into my room with a +number of the <i>Bell.</i> in his hand. ‘I have come,’ he +said, ‘to have it out with you. Your “Ends and Beginnings” +have passed every limit; it is high time to take +leave and put an end to them, with regrets for having +begun them.’</p> + +<p>‘Has it really come to that?’</p> + +<p>‘It has. You know I love you, I respect your +talent....’</p> + +<p>‘Well,’ I thought, ‘it’s a bad look-out; it is clear +that he means to abuse me in earnest, or he wouldn’t +have attacked me with such a flattering introduction.’</p> + +<p>‘Here is my heart,’ I said; ‘strike.’</p> + +<p>My resignation, together with the classical allusion, +had a happy effect on my irritated friend, and with a more +good-natured air he said: ‘Listen to me quietly, laying +aside the vanity of the author and the narrow exclusiveness +of the exile: with what object are you writing all +this?’</p> + +<p>‘There are many reasons for it; in the first place, I +believe what I write to be the truth, and every man who +is not indifferent to the truth has a weakness for spreading +it abroad. Secondly ... but I imagine the first reason +is sufficient.’</p> + +<p>‘No. You ought to know the public whom you are +addressing, the stage of development it has reached, and +the circumstances in which it is placed. I’ll tell you +plainly: you have the most fatal influence on our young +people, who are learning from you to despise Europe and +her civilisation, and consequently do not care to study it +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_77">[77]</span>seriously, but are satisfied with a smattering of the newest +ideas and think that the breadth of their own nature is +enough.’</p> + +<p>‘Ough! how elderly you have grown since I saw +you last! you abuse the young and want to rear them on +falsehoods, like nurses who tell children that the midwife +brings the babies, and the difference between the boy +and the girl is the cut of their clothes. You had better +consider for how many centuries men have been lying +shamelessly with a moral object, and morality has been +none the better. Why not try speaking the truth? If +the truth turns out to be bad, the example would be good. +As to my bad influence on the young—I’ve long been +resigned to that, remembering how all who have been of +any use to the younger generation have invariably been +accused of corrupting it, from Socrates to Voltaire, from +Voltaire to Shelley and Byelinsky. Besides, I am comforted +by the fact that it is very difficult to corrupt our +young Russians. Brought up on the estates of slave-owners +by Nicholas’ officials and officers, completing their +studies in army barracks, government offices, or the houses +of the gentry, they are either incapable of being corrupted, +or their corruption is already so complete that it +would be hard to add to it by any bitter truth about +Western Europe.’</p> + +<p>‘Truth!... But allow me to ask you whether your +truth really is the truth?’</p> + +<p>‘I can’t answer for that. You may rely on one thing, +that I say conscientiously what I think. If I am mistaken, +unaware of it, what can I do? It is more your +job to open my eyes.’</p> + +<p>‘There’s no convincing you—and you know why; +it’s because you are partly right; you are a good dissector, +as you say yourself, and a bad accoucheur.’</p> + +<p>‘But you know I am not living in a maternity hospital, +but in a clinic and an anatomical theatre.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_78">[78]</span></p> + +<p>‘And you are writing for nursery-schools. Children +must be taught that they may not snatch each other’s +porridge and pull each other’s hair. But you regale +them with the subtleties of your pathological anatomy, +and keep on telling them besides: Look here, how nasty +the entrails of these old Europeans are! What is more, +you use two different measures and two different standards. +If you do take up the scalpel, you should be fair in your +dissection.’</p> + +<p>‘What, am I dissecting the living too? How awful! +And children too! You do make me out a Herod!’</p> + +<p>‘You may joke as you like, you won’t put me off with +that. With great insight you diagnose the malady of +modern man, but when you have analysed every symptom +of chronic disease, you say that it is all due to the patient’s +being French or German. And our people at home +actually imagine that they have youth and a future. +Everything that is precious to us in the traditions, the +civilisation, and the history of the Western nations you +cut open relentlessly and unsparingly, exposing horrible +sores, and in that you are performing your task as a +demonstrator. But you are sick of messing about for +ever with corpses. And so, abandoning every ideal in +the world, you are setting up for yourself a new idol, not +a golden calf, but a woolly sheepskin, and you set to +bowing down to it and glorifying it as “The Absolute +Sheepskin, the Sheepskin of the Future, the Sheepskin of +Communism, of Socialism!” You who have made for +yourself a duty and a profession of scepticism, expect from +a people, which has done nothing so far, a new and +original form of society in the future and every other +blessing; and, in the excess of your fanatical ecstasy, you +stuff up your ears and close your eyes that you may not +see that your god is as crude and hideous as any Japanese +idol, with its threefold belly and flattened nose and +moustaches like the King of Sardinia. Whatever you are +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_79">[79]</span>told, whatever facts are brought forward, you talk in +“ardent ecstasy” of the freshness of spring, of rising crops, +of beneficent tempests, of rainbows full of promise! It +is no wonder that our young people, after drinking deep +of your still fermenting brew of Slavophil socialism, are +staggering, drunk and dizzy, till they break their necks +or knock their noses against our <i>real</i> reality. Of course, +it is as hard to sober them as it is to sober you—history, +philology, statistics, incontestable facts, go for nothing +with both of you.’</p> + +<p>‘But excuse me, I, too, must tell you to call a halt. +What are these incontestable facts?’</p> + +<p>‘There are masses of them.’</p> + +<p>‘Such as?’</p> + +<p>‘Such as the fact that we Russians belong both by race +and language to the European family, <i>genus europaeum</i>, +and consequently by the most inevitable laws of physiology +we are bound to follow the same line of development. +I have never heard of a duck belonging to the genus of +ducks breathing with gills....’</p> + +<p>‘Only fancy, I haven’t either.’</p> + +<p>I pause at this agreeable moment of complete agreement +with my opponent to turn to you again and submit to your +judgment such attacks on the honour and virtue of my +epistles.</p> + +<p>My whole sin lies in avoiding dogmatic statement and +perhaps relying too much on my readers; this has led +many into temptation and given my <i>practical</i> opponents +a weapon against me—not always of the same quality and +equal purity. I will try to condense into a series of +aphorisms the grounds of the theory on the basis of which +I thought myself entitled to draw the conclusions, which +I have passed on like apples without mentioning the ladder +which I had put up to the tree, nor the pruner with which +I picked them. But before I proceed to do this, I want +to show you by one example that my stern judges cannot +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_80">[80]</span>be said to be on very firm ground. The learned friend +who came to trouble the peace of my retreat takes it as +you see for an incontestable fact, for an invariable physiological +law, that if the Russians belong to the European +family the same line of development awaits them as +that followed by the Latin and Germanic peoples. But +there is no such paragraph in the laws of physiology. It +reminds me of the typically Moscow invention of all sorts +of institutions and regulations in which every one believes, +which every one repeats, and which have never existed. +One friend of mine and of yours used to call them the laws +of the English Club.</p> + +<p>The general plan of development admits of endless +unforeseen deviations, such as the trunk of the elephant +and the hump of the camel. There are any number of +variations on the same theme: dogs, wolves, foxes, harriers, +wolf-hounds, water-spaniels, and pugs.... A common +origin by no means implies a similar biography. Cain +and Abel, Romulus and Remus, were brothers, but what +different careers they had! It is the same in all spiritual +societies or communities. Every form of Christianity +has similarities in the organisation of the family, of the +Church, and so on, but it cannot be said that the history +of the English Protestants has been very similar to that of +the Abyssinian Christians, or that the most Catholic +Austrian Army has much in common with the extremely +orthodox monks of Mount Athos. That the duck does +not breathe through gills is true; it is even truer that +quartz does not fly like a humming-bird. You certainly +know, however, though my learned friend does not, that +there was a moment’s hesitation in the duck’s life when +its aorta had not taken its downward turn, but branched +out with pretensions to gills; but having a physiological +tradition, the habit and possibility of development in the +duck did not stop short at the inferior form of breathing, +but passed on to lungs.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_81">[81]</span></p> + +<p>It only comes to this, that the fish has become adapted +to the conditions of aquatic life and does not advance +beyond gills, while the duck does. But why the fish’s +breathing should blow out my theory, I do not understand. +It seems to me, on the contrary, to illustrate it. +In the <i>genus europaeum</i> there are peoples that have grown +old without fully developing a bourgeoisie (the Celts, +some parts of Spain, of Southern Italy, and so on), while +there are others whom the bourgeois system suits as water +suits gills. So why should not there be a nation for whom +the bourgeois system will be a transitory and unsatisfactory +condition, like gills for a duck?</p> + +<p>Why is it a wicked heresy, a desertion of my own +principles, and a contradiction of the absolute laws of +creation and rules and doctrines, human and divine, that +I do not regard the bourgeois system as the final form of +Russian society, the organisation towards which Russia +is striving and to attain which she will probably pass +through a bourgeois period? Possibly the European +peoples will themselves pass to another order of life, +perhaps Russia will not develop at all; but just as that is +possible, there are other possibilities too. Especially as +the order in which problems arise, the accidents of time +and place and development, the conditions and habits +of life and the permanent traits of character, may give +endlessly varied direction to development.</p> + +<p>The Russian people, covering such wide spaces between +Europe and Asia, and standing to the general family of +European peoples somewhat in the relationship of a +cousin, has taken scarcely any part in the family history of +Western Europe. Developing late and with difficulty, +it must either show a complete incapacity for progress, or +must produce something of its own under the influence +of the past and of its neighbours’ examples and its own +point of view.</p> + +<p>Hitherto Russia has developed nothing of its own, but +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_82">[82]</span>has preserved something; like a river, she has reflected +things truly but superficially. The Byzantine influence +has perhaps been the deepest; all the rest has passed like +Peter’s innovations: beards have been shaved, heads have +been cropped, the skirts of kaftans have been cut off, the +people have been silent and given way, while the minority +changed their costumes and went into the Service, while +the State, after receiving the general European outline, +grew and grew.... It is the usual history of childhood. +It is over, that no one doubts, neither the Winter Palace +nor Young Russia. It is time to stand on our own feet: +why must we take to wooden legs because they are of +foreign make? Why should we put on a European +blouse, when we have our own shirt with the collar +buttoning on one side?</p> + +<p>We are vexed at the feebleness, at the narrow outlook +of the Government, which in its impotence tries to +improve our life by putting on the tricolor <i>camisole de +force</i> cut on the Parisian pattern, instead of the yellow +and black <i>Zwangsjacke</i>, which it wore for a hundred and +fifty years. But here we have not the Government, but +the mandarins of literature, the senators of journalism, +the university professors preaching to us that such is the +inevitable law of physiology, that we belong to the <i>genus +europaeum</i>, and must therefore cut all the old capers to a +new tune, that we must stumble like sheep over the same +ditch, fall into the same pit, and afterwards settle down as an +everlasting shopkeeper selling greens to other sheep. A +plague on their physiological law! And why is it Europe +has been luckier, why has no one made her play the part +of Greece and Rome over again? There are in life and +nature no monopolies, no measures for preventing and +suppressing new biological forms, new historical destinies +and political systems—they are only limited by practical +possibility. The future is a variation improvised on a +theme of the past. Not only the phases of development +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_83">[83]</span>and the forms of life vary, but new nations are created, +new nationalities whose destinies are on other lines. +Before our eyes, so to speak, a new race has been formed, +a variety European by free choice and elemental composition. +The manners, morals, and habits of the +Americans have developed a peculiar character of their +own; the Anglo-Saxon and the Celtic physical types +have so changed beyond the Atlantic that you can scarcely +ever mistake an American. If a fresh soil is enough to +make an individual characteristic nation out of old peoples, +why should a nation that has developed in its own way +under completely different conditions from those of the +West European States, with different elements in its life, +live through the European past, and that, too, when it +knows perfectly well what that past leads to? Yes, but +what are those elements?</p> + +<p>I have said what they are many times, and not once +have I heard a serious objection, but every time I receive +again the same answers, and not from foreigners only, +but from Russians.... There is no help for it; we +must repeat our arguments again, too.</p> + +<p class="right"><i>January 15, 1863.</i></p> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_84">[84]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="ANOTHER_VARIATION_ON_AN_OLD_THEME">ANOTHER +VARIATION ON AN OLD THEME<br> +<span class="smaller"><i>A Letter to X</i></span></h2> + +</div> + +<p class="dropcap">No, dear friend, I am not going to keep the promise +I made you to write an article in explanation of +what I said of Western Europe and what I said of Russia.</p> + +<p>After you had gone, under the influence of your criticisms +and the criticisms made by our common friends, +I looked through part of what I had written and found +I had nothing to add. I had said all that was in my heart, +what I understood, and how I understood it. If I have +not succeeded in making my outlook clear in whole books, +in a series of articles, and a series of letters, how can I +succeed in doing so in a few pages? Even if my view +were really simply morbid, partial, and personal when I +wrote ‘From the Other Side’ eight years ago, time has +so terribly confirmed it that it has become a more settled +conviction, and has merely cooled without being changed +in anything essential. I refuse to repeat coldly what I +said then with warmth, and I write now rather to show +you that I listened to you attentively and took our friends’ +criticisms sincerely to heart. The chief points of their +censure may be reduced to two: first, that my attitude to +Western Europe weakens convictions which are still +essential in Russia; secondly, that my attitude to +Russia approximates to that of the Slavophils. These +criticisms are themselves the proof that your feud with +the Moscow Old Believers has not subsided; that is +a pity.</p> + +<p>Carried away by your polemics, you do not notice how +tedious and boring your disputes have become. Your +quarrel with the Slavophils has lost all interest, especially +since the death of Nicholas. It is high time to apply the +manifesto of August 26, 1856, to all these wretched +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_85">[85]</span>wrangles, and to consign them to oblivion with the other +transgressions of Nicholas’ reign.</p> + +<p>A new life is unmistakably surging up in Russia; even +the Government is carried away by it. Questions, each +more pressing than the last, are arising on all sides; hopes +crushed to the earth are reviving; one wants to know +what is being thought in Russia about the Emancipation +of the Serfs, about the abolition of spiritual and corporal +punishment—the censorship and the stick—about the +restraint of official plundering and the irresponsible +tyranny of the police, and one reads instead scholastic +controversies about the precedence of races and the +nationality of truth. I have never denied that the +Slavophils have a true sense of the <i>living soul</i> in the people, +that they ‘look for the world to come,’ but unhappily +I must repeat that their instinct is clearer than their understanding, +clearer, indeed, than their conscience. I have +read with horror and repulsion some articles in Slavophil +reviews; they stink of the torture chamber, of slit nostrils, +penances, and the Solovetsky monastery. If power came +into the hands of these gentry, they would be worse than +the ‘Third Section,’ and am I supposed to be like these +savages in sympathy and opinion and language? Why, +then, did one of them not so long ago, under the protection +of the irresponsible police, fling at me a handful of +patriotic mud with the insolence of a flunkey protected +from the stick by his safe perch behind the carriage, +diffusing such a national stench of the servants’ hall, and +such a flavour of orthodox lenten oil, that for several +minutes I fancied myself in one of the remote quarters of +Moscow?</p> + +<p>But your controversy with them is of no use; +leave them alone or beat them on their own ground. +They do not know the real Russia, they are changelings +and corpses; not one of them will take up +your challenge; they have distorted their understanding +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_86">[86]</span>by a false show of orthodoxy and a pretence of +nationalism.</p> + +<p>It would be difficult to confute them by holding up +Western Europe as an example (here I am answering +another criticism) when a single copy of any newspaper +you like is enough to show the terrible malady from +which Europe is suffering. To ignore her wounds and +to preach reverence not only for the ideas which she has +worked out and which are inconsistent with her life of +to-day, but for her herself, is as impossible as to persuade +us that the fanatically crazy lucubrations of the followers +of Buddha, or the Carpathian Dissenters, are of more +value and significance than all the problems that occupy us.</p> + +<p>You love European ideas—I love them too; they are +the ideas of all history, they are the monument on which +is inscribed what has been bequeathed not only by the +men of yesterday, but by Egypt and India, Greece and +Rome, Catholicism and Protestantism, the Latin peoples +and the Germanic peoples. Without them we should +sink into Asiatic quietism or African blankness of mind. +With those ideas, and only with them, can Russia be +brought into possession of that great part of the heritage +which comes to her share. About that we are completely +in agreement. But you are unwilling to recognise that +contemporary life in Europe is not in harmony with her +ideas. You are alarmed for them; ideas which fail to +find their realisation at home seem to you unrealisable +anywhere. Historical embryology scarcely warrants +such a conclusion. From the fact that the new social +ideas are not applied in the contemporary life of the +European peoples (even if this were completely proved) +you cannot deduce that they are impossible of realisation, +that they cannot be applied in practice anywhere. Has +not the European ideal in one form, to wit, the Anglo-Saxon, +found complete expression on the other side of +the Atlantic Ocean?</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_87">[87]</span></p> + +<p>The ways of development are very hard, and far from +simple in nature and in history; they make use of a +terrible number of forces and forms. That is not very +obvious to us, because we are always confronted with the +complete result, with what has been accomplished and +successful. Numbers of unsuccessful forms were evolved +by the way, did not attain a full life (in comparison with +those that follow), and were replaced by others of which +we know nothing. They were not sacrificed, for +they lived for themselves, but when they passed away +they handed on their heritage not to their own offspring, +but to strangers, the mammoths and ichthyosaurians to the +elephants and crocodiles, Egypt and India to Greece and +Rome. It may very well be that the whole creative +ability of the Western European peoples has been spent +and is exhausted in evolving their social ideal, their science, +in striving towards it, and in realising separate partial +phases of it with all the passion and fervour of the +struggle, in which men are ready to die because at every +step they fancy they are attaining the whole of their ideal.</p> + +<p>Will the down-trodden masses wrest out of the hands +of the monopolists the powers evolved by science, and +all the accumulation of technical improvements, and make +of them the common weal? Or will the propertied +classes, resting on the force of government and the ignorance +of people, keep the masses down? In either case +the ideas are saved, and that is what is of first importance +for you. Science, independent of political systems and +nationality, remains as the grand achievement of European +life, ready to transform men’s hard existence of the past +everywhere where it meets a suitable soil, understanding +and, together with understanding, strength and freedom. +The question of the future of Europe I do not regard as +finally settled; but, looking at it conscientiously with +the humble desire to see the truth and with prejudices +rather in favour of Western Europe than opposed to it, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_88">[88]</span>studying it for ten years, not in theories and books, but in +clubs and in market-places, in the centre of its political +and social life, I am bound to say that I see neither a +speedy nor a happy solution. Looking on the one hand +at the feverish, one-sided development of industry, at the +concentration of all riches, moral and material, in the +hands of the minority of the middle class, at the way in +which that minority has taken hold of the Church and +the Government, the machines and the schools, at the +fact that the army obeys it, that the judges interpret the +law in its favour, and, looking on the other hand at the +undeveloped state of the masses, the immaturity and +instability of the revolutionary party, I cannot predict +the speedy downfall of the bourgeoisie and the reform of +the old political order without a most terrible and bloody +struggle.</p> + +<p>It is of no use to dream now of the ordinary revolutions +of the past, made half in jest, with a song of Béranger +and a cigar in the mouth; now there is no Charles <span class="allsmcap">X.</span> +ready to flee at the sight of danger, no Louis Philippe +who would not bombard Paris; now there is no silly +Austrian Emperor who would give a Constitution at the +first musket-shot. Though the Prussian King is the +same, he would not now take the cap off his drunken +head at the sight of murdered revolutionaries; even +Pius <span class="allsmcap">IX.</span> has grown wiser. The June days of 1848 and +Cavaignac have shown the world what massacres of St. +Bartholomew, what September days, await the future +conflict. Whether Europe will emerge rejuvenated +from this ordeal, or be drowned like Seneca in her own +blood, I do not know; but I fancy neither you nor I will +live to see the day. Your hair is grey, while I am +forty-four.</p> + +<p>Is it not natural under these circumstances for an +enlightened man to enlarge his horizon, to look about him, +to enquire how other lands, not drawn into the death-struggle +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_89">[89]</span>of Europe, stand in regard to the future, what +can be expected from them, whither they are tending, +and whether there is no inconspicuous preliminary work +being done there. But outside Europe there are only +two progressive countries, America and Russia, with +possibly Australia just beginning. All the rest lie in +unbroken slumber or struggle in convulsions which are +alien to us and outside our comprehension, like the +Chinese rebellion, with its piles of corpses and revolting +butchery.</p> + +<p>America is Europe colonised, the same race (predominantly +Anglo-Saxon), but living under different conditions. +Wave after wave carries the overflow to her +shores further and further. Just as in Cromwell’s days +England sailed across the ocean and was scattered over +the northern plains and forests, so now crowds of +European fugitives sail thither to escape from hunger, +from the stifling atmosphere, from persecution, ‘from the +future,’ foreseeing troubles at home. It is the continuation +of the age-long movements to the West. Three +millions of Irishmen have settled there since the days of +Robert Peel; the German monarchs who, in the eighteenth +century, traded in herds of their subjects for +making war against independence, for settling Pennsylvania, +and so on, pause when they see how the population +is flowing away. The movement goes on in America +itself: the newcomers make their way through the settled +population, sometimes draw it with them, and keep +pressing, crowding, and hurrying to the South; to-day to +the equator, where there will be a new meeting and a +new combination of the Anglo-Saxon element with the +Latin-Spanish.</p> + +<p>We see that all this is but the clearing of the ground, +the marking out of the arena, and that no power can +prevent the North Americans with their overflowing +strength, plasticity, and untiring energy from reaching +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_90">[90]</span>Central America and Cuba. While in Europe Venice +is falling into ruins, Rome is reduced to beggary, the little +towns of Italy and Spain are declining from lack of capital +and labour, from indolence and lack of energy, in California, +in Honduras and Nicaragua, deserts are in a few +years being transformed into cultivated fields and clearings +into towns, the plains are lined with railways, capital is +abundant, and the restless vigour of the Republic absorbs +more and more. What is growing is young.</p> + +<p>The growth of Russia has been vigorous too, and it +can hardly be over yet, it can hardly have reached its +natural limits; that is evident, not only from its geographical +physiology, but also from the unceasing aggression +of the Government, from the perpetual striving to get +hold of every morsel of land. But Russia is extending by +a different law from America; because in its present state +it is not a colony, not an overflow, not a migration, but an +independent world advancing in all directions, yet sitting +tight on its own soil. The United States, like an avalanche +torn away from its mountain, carries everything +before it; every step gained by it is a step lost by the +American Indians. Russia saturates all about it like +water, surrounds races on all sides, then covers them with +the uniform layer of the ice of autocracy—and under it +makes of the worshippers of the Grand Llama defenders +of orthodoxy, of Germans uncompromising Russian +patriots. There is the same youthful plasticity here. +Why did Joseph <span class="allsmcap">II.</span> laugh at laying the foundation of +Ekaterinoslavl, saying that the Empress had laid the first +stone of the city, and he the last? It was not a city that +was founded then, but a State. The Novorossisk region +is the best proof of the plastic power of Russia. And all +Siberia? And the settlements on the banks of the Amur, +where to-morrow the Stars and Stripes of the American +Republics will be fluttering? And indeed the Eastern +Provinces of European Russia themselves.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_91">[91]</span></p> + +<p>Reading the chronicle of the Bagrov family,⁠<a id="FNanchor_42" href="#Footnote_42" class="fnanchor">[42]</a> I was +struck by the resemblance of the old man who migrated +into the Province of Ufa to the settlers who migrate from +New York to Wisconsin or Illinois. It is a completely +new clearing of uninhabited places, and the turning of +them to agriculture and civilised life. When Bagrov +summons the people from all parts to dig the dam for the +mill, when the neighbours come singing and bring the +earth, and he triumphantly crosses the conquered river +at their head, one fancies one is reading Fenimore Cooper +or Washington Irving. And all that happened only a +hundred years ago; it was the same thing in the Saratov +province and in Perm. In Vyatka, in my day, it was +hard to keep the peasants from migrating into the forests +and there making new clearings; the land was still in +their eyes common property, the <i>res nullius</i> to which +every man has a right.</p> + +<p>America presents no new elements; it is a further +development of Protestant Europe, set free from its +historic past, and put under different conditions of life. +The grand idea developed by the Northern States is purely +Anglo-Saxon, the idea of self-government, that is of a strong +people with a weak government, the home rule of every +tract of land without centralisation, without bureaucracy, +held together by an inner moral unity. What attitude +America will take up to socialism is hard to say; the +spirit of comradeship, of association, of enterprise in +common is highly developed in her, but it has not common +ownership nor our <i>artel</i>, nor the village community; the +individual combines with others only for a definite task, +apart from which he jealously guards his complete independence.</p> + +<p>Russia, on the contrary, is a quite special world, +with her own natural habit of life, with her own physiological +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_92">[92]</span>character—not European, not Asiatic, but Slav. +She takes her share in the destinies of Europe, though +she has not its historical traditions and is free from +its obligations to the past. ‘What good fortune for a +Russian lawgiver,’ said Bentham to Alexander <span class="allsmcap">I.</span>, when +the latter was in London after the Napoleonic Wars, +‘that he has not to contend with Roman law at every +step!’ And we add, nor with feudalism, nor with +Catholicism, nor with Protestantism. The Book of +Church Law and the Civil Code do not cover every +aspect of life, do not govern every action; other institutions +have been introduced by force and are maintained +by force. We have nowhere those hard-and-fast prejudices +which, like a paralysis, deprive the Western +European of the use of half his limbs. The village +commune lies at the basis of our national life with the +re-division of fields, with the common ownership of land, +with an elective control, with the equality of duties laid +on each workman (the <i>tyagla</i>). All this is in an oppressed, +distorted state, but it is all living, and has outlived its +worst period.</p> + +<p>If there is any truth in all this, one need not be a +Russian to turn special attention to Russia in these black +days for Europe. And, as a matter of fact, many vigorous +minds are occupied with Russia. I have myself chanced +to speak of Russia with serious men like Proudhon and +Mazzini ... and I assure you that the attitude of +hatred and fear, fully deserved by the thirty years’ reign +of Nicholas, is being replaced by hesitation and a desire +to gain a closer knowledge of this newcomer, whose rights +and power for the future they are neither able nor willing +to deny.</p> + +<p>Russia could not really be understood by Western +Europeans so long as the latter had faith in themselves, +and were advancing; but they are convinced of the impossibility +of progressing by way of revolutions, having +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_93">[93]</span>lost at one blow all the fruits of them, except the lesson +of failure. ‘The equality of slavery’ has let them look +more closely at each other, and this is why it is in England +that there is least understanding of Russia; the English +have not taken an equal share in the Continental revolutions, +nor in the general downfall that has followed. +Free after their own fashion, they look with indifference +at the land of slavery and despotism. But other nations +in their fetters feel instinctively that, though a temporary +necessity may yesterday have forced the discipline of the +barracks on a peaceful agricultural people and turned all +Russia into military settlements, another necessity may +to-morrow do away with all that, just as Alexander <span class="allsmcap">II.</span> +has done away with Araktcheyev’s settlements; the period +of military despotism will pass, leaving behind a political +unity indissolubly welded together and forces hardened +in a harsh and bitter school. The stumbling-blocks over +which Europe has tripped scarcely exist for us. In the +natural simplicity of our peasant life, in our uncertain +and unsettled economic and judicial conceptions, in our +vague sense of property, in our lack of a strong middle +class, and in our extraordinary capacity for assimilating +foreign ideas, we have an advantage over nations that are +fully organised and exhausted. The Russian State has +been firmly established by terrible means; by slavery, the +knout, and executions, the Russian people have been +driven into making a vast empire, through torture they +have moved to the achievement of their destinies. It is +idle to waste anger on the past; it is the task of the living +to take advantage of all forces alike, whether they have +been won by good means or ill, by bloodshed or by the +ways of peace. The military settlements, as I have said, +are passing away, but the villages remain. In our shifting +primitive soil there is nothing conservative but the +village commune; that is, nothing but what ought to be +preserved.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_94">[94]</span></p> + +<p>I have read your discussions about the commune; they +are very interesting, but less to the point than appears on +the surface. Whether the village commune is racial in +origin or the work of the Government, whether the land +belonged in the past to the commune, to the landowners, +or to the princes, whether the institution of serfdom +strengthened the commune or not, all that ought to be +investigated; but what is most important for us is the +present position of affairs. The fact, whether distorted +or not, whether right or wrong, forces itself upon us. +The Government and the institution of serfdom have, in +their own fashion, maintained our native commune; the +stable, permanent principle left in it from patriarchal days +is not lost. The common ownership of land, the <i>mir</i>, +and the village elections form a groundwork upon which +a new social order may easily grow up, a groundwork +which, like our black earth, scarcely exists in Europe.</p> + +<p>That is why, dear friend, in the midst of the gloomy, +heartrending requiem, in the midst of the dark night which +is falling upon the sick and weary West, I turn away from +the death agony of the mighty warrior whom I honour, +but whom I cannot aid, and look with faith and hope to +our native East, inwardly rejoicing that I am Russian.</p> + +<p>The period upon which Russia is now entering is +extraordinarily important; instead of small political +reforms for which we are too old, not in experience, but +in intelligence, we are confronted with a vast economic +revolution, the emancipation of the peasants. And that +is not all: our problems are so set that they can be solved +by social and political measures without violent upheavals. +We are called to overhaul the rights of land ownership +and the relations of the workman to the means of production. +Is this, perhaps, our solemn entry upon our +future growth? The whole new programme of our +historical activity is so simple that there is no need of +genius for it, but merely eyes to see what to do. It is +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_95">[95]</span>only the timidity, the clumsiness and bewilderment of +the Government that hinder it from seeing the way, and +it is letting the marvellous chance slip by. Good Lord! +What might not be done in this spring sunshine after the +winter of Nicholas! The blood is thawed in the veins +and the oppressed heart beats more freely, and what +profit might be made of it!</p> + +<p>Few feelings are more painful and oppressive than the +sense that one might make a dash forward now at once, +that everything is in readiness, and that the only thing +lacking is understanding and courage on the part of the +leaders. The machine is stoked up and ready, the fuel +is burning for nothing, energy is being wasted, and all +because there is no bold hand to turn the key without +fear of an explosion. Our leaders should know that +nations pardon a great deal—the barbarism of Peter and +the dissoluteness of Catherine; they pardon violence and +wickedness, if only they are aware of strength and boldness +of mind. But however good the heart may be, lack +of understanding, colourless vacillation, incapacity to +take hold of circumstances and turn them to account, in a +ruler whose power is unlimited, is never forgiven, either +by the people or by history.</p> + +<p>My passionate impatience in this case is in no way a +contradiction of my resigned acceptance of the tragic +fate of Europe. In Russia I see the chance at hand. I +feel I can touch it; there is no such possibility in Western +Europe, at any rate, at this moment. If I were not a +Russian, I should long ago have gone away to America. +You know that I am not a fatalist, and do not believe in +anything ordained beforehand, not even in the famous +‘Perfectibility of Humanity.’</p> + +<p>Nature and history plod along from day to day and +from age to age, stepping aside, making new ways, stumbling +upon old ones, amazing us now by their swiftness, +now by their slowness, now by their sense, now by their +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_96">[96]</span>folly, pressing in all directions, but advancing only where +the gates are open. When I talk of possible development +I am not talking of its inevitability; what part of all that +is possible will be accomplished I do not know, because +very much in the life of nations depends on persons and +will. I feel in my heart and in my mind that history is +knocking at our door; if we have not the strength to +open it, and those who have are unwilling or incapable, +progress will find fitter means in America or in Australia, +where political life is being formed on quite a different +basis. Perhaps even Europe herself will be renewed, will +rise up, will take up her bed and walk on her Holy Land, +under which so many martyrs are buried, and on which +so much sweat and blood has been spent. Perhaps!</p> + +<p>But is it really possible that after setting one foot on the +beaten track we shall sink back into the swamp, giving +the world the spectacle of immense strength and complete +incapacity to use it? Something forbids the heart +to accept that!</p> + +<p>How bitter are these doubts, how bitter this loss of +time and strength!... When will the scales fall from +their eyes? And why are they afraid to answer the loud +summons of the future? ‘A new period has come for +Russia,’ we said, when we heard of the death of Nicholas; +now all the Russian journals are saying it, the Tsar himself +is saying it in other words. Well, then let it be new.</p> + +<p>Everything that is being done shows our unhappy +passion for prefaces and introductions at which we love +to stop short complacently. As though it were enough +to decide to do something, for the thing to be done.</p> + +<p>The Petersburg Government has but few traditions, +yet those are like fetters on the legs of Alexander <span class="allsmcap">II.</span> How +slowly and indirectly he advances along the path of +reform, of which he has himself said so much! In what +shallow waters the boat of his autocracy floats! At this +rate it will take us over two hundred years to catch up the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_97">[97]</span>Prussia of to-day. And it is all due to the Nicholas +tradition, the Nicholas policy, and, what is perhaps worst +of all, the Nicholas men.</p> + +<p>It is high time to give up this stupid fear of free speech +and daylight through dread of some phantom revolution, +for which there are no elements ready. It is high time to +abandon the futile meddling in every European squabble, +always in support of despotism, of brute force, and of +flagrant injustice. To the devil with this diplomatic +influence which makes all the nations hate us. It is not +the Russian, but the Holstein policy of Nicholas. Nicholas +turned the sentimental Holy Alliance into a police compact. +Why does Alexander go on playing the same part? +The Russian Tsardom is not bound up in any way with +the fate of the decrepit European thrones, so why will he +needlessly share all their abominations and bring upon +himself all the hatreds gained by them?</p> + +<p>With the partition of Poland the attitude of the new +Empire to old Europe was transformed. But the memory +of that crime ought not to lead to mere dread of losing +the ill-gotten gains, but to pangs of conscience and to +repentance. What has Alexander <span class="allsmcap">II.</span> done to show +repentance? All that remains in our memory is the +refrain of the song with which he concluded his speech +at Warsaw—<i>Pas de rêveries! Pas de rêveries!</i></p> + +<p><i>Pas de rhétorique! Pas de rhétorique!</i> we say in +our turn. We have no dreams! Crushed by authority, +by injustice, by bribery, by the suppression of free speech +and the contempt for personal freedom, we want to speak +out fearlessly, to exchange ideas with each other and to +unmask the abuses of which even the Government is +ashamed and which it will never check without publicity. +We want the peasants to be freed from the power of the +landowners and all subject Russia to be freed from the +stick; of course, that is not <i>rêverie</i>, but is something very +practical and extremely little. Yes, it is very little, but +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_98">[98]</span>it is just our youthfulness and our strength which makes +us need so little in order to push ahead boldly and rapidly. +We ask no help from the Government; all we ask of it +is not to meddle. Western Europe, on the contrary, +having so much, cannot make use of its riches; they have +cost it so much that it is miserly over them; it is conservative, +like every property-owner. We have nothing to +preserve. Of course, poverty is not of itself a claim to a +different future, nor are years of slavery a claim to freedom, +but here, starting from the opposite principles to opposite +ends, I meet not the Slavophils but some of their ideas.</p> + +<p>I believe in the capacity of the Russian people; I see +from the seedling crop what the harvest may be; I see in +their life, poor and oppressed as it is, an unconscious +fitness for the social ideal which European thought has +consciously reached.</p> + +<p>So that, dear friend, is why it is that you have found +a similar strain in my views and in those—worse than +false—mischievous and dangerous views of the Moscow +literary Old Believers, those orthodox Jesuits who reduce +every one to despondency. And that is why, warmly +accepting the new social religion that is arising on the +blood-soaked fields of reformation and revolution, repeating +with throbbing heart the great legends of those days, +I turn away from contemporary Europe and have little +sympathy with the pitiful heirs of mighty fathers.</p> + +<p>Do not let us dispute about methods, our aim is the +same. Let us devote all our efforts, each according to his +strength at his own post, to throw down every barrier that +hinders the free development of the abilities of our people +and maintains the present worthless <i>régime</i>, let us stir the +minds of the people and the Government alike. And so I +conclude my long letter to you with the words: to work, +to toil, to toil for the Russian people, which has toiled +enough for us!</p> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">London</span>, <i>February 3, 1857</i>.</p> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_99">[99]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_SUPERFLUOUS_AND_THE_EMBITTERED">THE +SUPERFLUOUS AND THE EMBITTERED</h2> + +</div> + +<blockquote> + +<p><i>The Onyegins⁠<a id="FNanchor_43" href="#Footnote_43" class="fnanchor">[43]</a> and the Petchorins⁠<a id="FNanchor_44" href="#Footnote_44" class="fnanchor">[44]</a> +were perfectly true to life, +they expressed the real misery and dislocation of the Russian life of the +period. The melancholy type of the superfluous man, lost merely because +he had developed into a man, was to be seen in those days not +only in poems and novels but in the streets and the villages, in the +hotels and the towns.... But the days of the Onyegins and the +Petchorins are over. There are no superfluous men now in Russia: +on the contrary, now there are not hands enough to till the vast fields +that need ploughing. One who does not find work now has no one else +to blame for it. He must be really a frivolous person, a wastrel or a +sluggard.</i>—‘The Bell,’ 1859, p. 44.</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p class="dropcap">These two classes of superfluous men, between +whom Nature herself raised up a high mound of +Oblomovs,⁠<a id="FNanchor_45" href="#Footnote_45" class="fnanchor">[45]</a> and History, marking out its boundaries, dug +out a ditch—the one in which Nicholas is buried—are +continually confounded. And so we want, with a +partiality like that of Cato for the cause of the vanquished, +to champion the elder generation. Superfluous men +were in those days as essential, as it is now essential that +there should be none.</p> + +<p>Nothing is more lamentable than, in the midst of the +growing activity as yet unorganised and awkward, but +full of enterprise and initiative, to meet the flustered, +nervously overwrought lads who lose their heads before +the toughness of practical work, and hope and expect +to arrive without effort at a solution of difficulties, and to +find answers to problems, which they can never state +clearly.</p> + +<p>We will lay aside these voluntary superfluous men, and +just as the French only recognise as real grenadiers <i>les +vieux de la vieille</i>, so we will recognise as honourably +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_100">[100]</span>and truly superfluous men only these of the reign of +Nicholas. We ourselves belong to that unhappy generation, +and, grasping very many years ago that we were +superfluous on the banks of the Neva, very practically +took our departure as soon as the rope was loosened.</p> + +<p>There is no need for us to defend ourselves, but we are +sorry for our former comrades and want to distinguish +them from the batch of invalids that followed them from +the hospital of Nicholas.</p> + +<p>One cannot but share the healthy realistic attitude of +one of the best Russian magazines, in attacking the effete +moral point of view which in the French style seeks +personal responsibility for public events. Historical +formations can no more be judged by a criminal court +than geological ones. And men who say that one ought +not to direct one’s thunders and lightnings against bribe-takers +and embezzlers of Government funds, but at the +environment which makes bribes a characteristic symptom +of a whole tribe, such as the whole race of <i>beardless</i> +Russians for instance, are perfectly right. All we desire +is that the superfluous men of Nicholas’s reign should +have the rights of bribe-takers and enjoy the privileges +granted to the embezzlers of public funds. They deserve +it the more, since they are not only superfluous, but +almost all dead; while the bribe-takers and embezzlers +are alive, and not only prosperous, but historically +justified.</p> + +<p>Whom have we here to attack, whom have we here to +ridicule? On the one hand, men who have fallen from +exhaustion; on the other, men crushed by the machine; +to blame them for it is as ungenerous as to blame scrofulous +and lymphatic children for the poorness of their +parents’ blood.</p> + +<p>There can be but one serious question about them: +were these morbid phenomena really due to the conditions +of their environment, to their circumstances?...</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_101">[101]</span></p> + +<p>I think it can hardly be doubted.</p> + +<p>There is no need to repeat how cramped, how painful, +was the development of Russia.</p> + +<p>We were kept in ignorance by the knout and the +Tatars: we were civilised by the axe and by Germans: +and in both cases our nostrils were slit and we were branded +with irons. Peter the Great drove civilisation into us +with such a wedge that Russia could not stand the shock +and split into two layers. We are only just beginning +now, after a hundred and fifty years, to understand how +this split was made: there was nothing in common +between the two parts; on the one hand, robbery and +contempt; on the other, suffering and mistrust: on the +one hand, the liveried lackey, proud of his social position +and haughtily displaying it; on the other, the plundered +peasant, hating him and concealing his hatred. Never +did Turk, slaughtering men and carrying off women to +his harem, oppress so systematically, nor disdain the +Frank and the Greek so insolently, as did the Russia of +the privileged class despise the Russia of the peasant. +There is no instance in history of a caste of the same race +getting the upper hand so thoroughly and becoming so +completely alien as our military nobility.</p> + +<p>A renegade always goes to the extreme, to the absurd +and the revolting, to the point at last of clapping a literary +man in prison for wearing the Russian dress, refusing to +let him enter a restaurant because he is wearing a kaftan +and has a sash tied round his waist. It is colossal, and +reminds one of Indian Asia.</p> + +<p>On the margins of these savagely opposed worlds +strange figures appeared, whose very distortion points to +latent forces, cramped and seeking something different. +The Raskolniks and Decembrists stand foremost among +them, and they are followed by all the Westerners and +Easterners, the Onyegins and the Lenskys, superfluous +and disillusioned people. All of them, like Old Testament +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_102">[102]</span>prophets, were at once a protest and a hope. By +them Russia was striving to escape from the Petersburg +period, or to transform it to her real body and her healthy +flesh. These pathological formations called forth by the +conditions of the life of the period invariably pass away +when the conditions are changed, just as superfluous +people have passed away now; but it does not follow that +they deserved judgment and condemnation unless from +their younger comrades in the Service. And this is on +the same principle on which one of the inmates of Bedlam +pointed with indignation at another inmate who called +himself the Apostle Paul, while he who was Christ himself +knew that the other was not the Apostle Paul, but simply +a shopkeeper from Fleet Street.</p> + +<p>Let us recall how superfluous people were evolved.</p> + +<p>The hangings of the 13th of July 1826 on the Kronverg +Courtyard could not at once check the current of +ideas, and as a fact the traditions of the reign of Alexander +and the Decembrists persisted through the first half of +Nicholas’s reign, though disappearing from sight and +turning inwards. Children still at school dared to hold +their heads erect, they did not yet know that they were +the prisoners of education.</p> + +<p>They were the same when they left school.</p> + +<p>These were far different from the serene, self-confident, +enthusiastic lads, open to every impression, that Pushkin +and Pushtchin⁠<a id="FNanchor_46" href="#Footnote_46" class="fnanchor">[46]</a> were when they were leaving the Lyceum. +They have neither the proud, unbending, overwhelming +daring of a Lunin,⁠<a id="FNanchor_47" href="#Footnote_47" class="fnanchor">[47]</a> nor the dissipated recklessness of a +Polezhaev,⁠<a id="FNanchor_48" href="#Footnote_48" class="fnanchor">[48]</a> + nor the melancholy serenity of Venevitinov.⁠<a id="FNanchor_49" href="#Footnote_49" class="fnanchor">[49]</a> +But yet they preserved the faith inherited from their +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_103">[103]</span>fathers and elder brothers, the faith that ‘It is coming—the +dawn of radiant happiness,’ the faith in Western +liberalism in which all—Lafayette, Godefroi Cavaignac, +Börne, and Heine—believed. Frightened and disconsolate, +they dreamed of escaping from their false and unhappy +position. This was like that last hope which every +one of us has felt before the death of one we love. Only +doctrinaires (whether red or parti-coloured, makes no +difference) readily accept the most terrible deductions, +because they really accept them <i>in effigy</i>, on paper.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile every event, every year, confirmed for them +the dreadful truth that not only the Government was +against them, with gallows and spies, with the irons with +which the torturer compressed Pestel’s head, and with +Nicholas putting those irons on all Russia, but that the +people, too, were not with them, or at least were completely +alien. If the people were discontented, the +objects of their discontent were different. Together +with this crushing recognition they suffered, on the other +hand, from growing doubt of the most fundamental +principles of the Western European outlook. The +ground was giving way under their feet; and in this perplexity +they were forced either to enter the Service or to +fold their hands and become superfluous, idle. We +venture to assert that this is one of the most tragic positions +in the world. Now these superfluous people are an +anachronism, but, of course, Royer Collard or Benjamin +Constant would be an anachronism now, too. But they +cannot be blamed for that.</p> + +<p>While men’s minds were kept in misery and painful +hesitation, not knowing where to find an outlet, how to +move, Nicholas went his way with dull elemental obstinacy, +trampling down the tilled fields and every sign of +growth. A master in his work, he began from the year +1831 his war upon children; he grasped that he must +beat out everything human in the years of childhood, in +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_104">[104]</span>order to make faithful subjects in his own image and +semblance. The training of which he dreamed was +organised. A simple word, a simple gesture was reckoned +as much an insolence and a crime as an open neck, as an +unbuttoned collar. And this torture of the souls of +children went on for thirty years!</p> + +<p>Nicholas—reflected in every inspector, every school +director, every tutor—confronted the boy at school, in +the street, in church, even to some extent in the parental +home, stood and stared at him with pewtery unloving +eyes, and the child’s heart ached and grew faint with fear +that those eyes might detect some budding of free thought, +some human feeling.</p> + +<p>And who knows what chemical change in the composition +of a child’s blood and nervous system is +caused by intimidation, by the checking of speech, +by the concealment of thought, by the repression of +feeling?</p> + +<p>The terrified parents helped Nicholas in his task; to +save their children by ignorance, they concealed from them +their one noble memory. The younger generation grew +up without traditions, without a future, except a career +in the Service. The Government office and the barracks +gradually conquered the drawing-room and society, +aristocrats turned gendarmes, Kleinmihels turned aristocrats; +the stupid character of Nicholas was gradually +imprinted on everything, vulgarising everything and +giving everything a formal red-tape aspect.</p> + +<p>Of course, in all this misery, not everything perished. +No plague, not even the Thirty Years’ War, exterminated +every one. Man is a tough creature. The craving for +humane culture, the striving for independent initiative, +survived, and most of all in the two Macedonian phalanxes +of our culture, the Moscow University and the +Tsarskoe Syelo Lyceum. On their youthful shoulders +they carried across the whole kingdom of dead souls the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_105">[105]</span>Ark in which lay the Russia of the future, her living +thought, her living faith in what was to come.</p> + +<p>History will not forget them.</p> + +<p>But in this conflict they lost, for the most part, the +youthfulness of their early years: they were overstrained, +grew up prematurely. Old age reached them before +their legal coming of age. These were not idle, not +superfluous people; these were embittered people, sick in +body and soul, people who had been wrecked by the +insults they had endured, who looked at everything +askance, and were unable to shake off the bitterness and +venom accumulated more than five years before. They +unmistakably stand for a step in advance, but still it is a +morbid step; it is no longer a heavy, chronic lethargy, but +an acute suffering which must be followed by recovery +or death.</p> + +<p>The superfluous people have made their exit from the +stage, and the embittered, who are more angry with the +superfluous than any, will follow them. Indeed, they +will be gone very soon. They are too forbidding, and +they get too much on one’s nerves to last long. The world, +in spite of eighteen centuries of Christian austerities, is +in a very heathen fashion devoted to epicureanism and <i>à +la longue</i> cannot put up with the depressing faces of +Nevsky Daniels, who gloomily reproach them for dining +without gnashing their teeth, and for enjoying pictures or +music without remembering the troubles of this life.</p> + +<p>Others are coming to take their place; already we see +men of quite a different stamp, with untried powers and +stalwart muscles, coming from remote universities, from the +sturdy Ukraine, from the sturdy North-east, and perhaps +we old folks may yet have the luck to hold out a hand +across a sickly generation to the newcomers, who will +briefly bid us farewell and go on their wide road.</p> + +<p>We have studied the type of embittered people, not on +the spot, and not from books, we have studied it from +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_106">[106]</span>specimens who have crossed the Nieman and sometimes +even the Rhine since 1850.</p> + +<p>The first thing that struck us in them was the ease +with which they despaired of everything, the vindictive +pleasure of their denial, and their terrible ruthlessness. +After the events of 1848 they saw themselves at once in a +superior position, from which they looked down on the +defeat of the Republic and the Revolution, on the decay +of civilisation, on the defilement of banners, and could +feel no compassion for those who still struggled on. +Where we stopped short, tried to restore animation, and +looked to see if there were no spark of life, they went +further into the desert of logical deduction, and easily +arrived at those final, violent, abrupt conclusions, which +are alarming in their radical audacity, but which, like the +spirits of the dead, are but the essence gone out of life, +not life itself. In these deductions the Russian enjoys +a terrible advantage over the European; he has no +traditions, no habits, nothing akin to him to lose. The +man who has no wealth of his own or of others goes most +safely along dangerous roads.</p> + +<p>This emancipation from everything traditional fell to +the lot not of healthy youthful characters, but of men +whose heart and soul had been strained in every fibre. +After 1848 there was no living in Petersburg. The autocracy +had reached the Hercules’ Pillars of absurdity; +they had reached the instructions issued to teachers at +the military academies, Buterlin’s scheme for closing +universities, the signature of the censor Yelagin on patterns +for stencils. Can one wonder that the young men who +broke out of this dungeon were nervous wrecks and +invalids?</p> + +<p>So they faded without ever blossoming, knowing +nothing of space and freedom, nothing of frank speech. +They bore on their countenances deep traces of a soul +roughly handled and wounded. Every one of them had +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_107">[107]</span>some special neurosis, and apart from that special neurosis +they all had one in common, a sort of devouring, irritable, +and distorted vanity. The denial of every right, the +insults, the humiliations they had endured developed a +secret craving for admiration; these undeveloped prodigies, +these unsuccessful geniuses, concealed themselves +under a mask of humility and modesty. All of them +were hypochondriacs and physically ill, did not drink +wine, and were afraid of open windows; all looked with +studied despair at the present, and reminded one of monks +who from love for their neighbour came to hating all +humanity, and cursed everything in the world from +desire to bless something.</p> + +<p>One half of them were continually remorseful, the other +half continually damning and denouncing.</p> + +<p>Yes, the iron had entered deeply into their souls. The +Petersburg world in which they had lived was imprinted +on themselves; it was thence they took their restless tone, +their language—<i>saccadé</i>, yet suddenly passing into bureaucratic +vapidity—their elusive meekness and haughty fault-finding, +their intentional frigidity and readiness on any +occasion to break out into abuse, the insulting way in +which they scorned to justify themselves, and the uneasy +intolerance of the director of a department.</p> + +<p>This tone of a director’s reprimand, uttered contemptuously +with eyes screwed up, is more hateful to us +than the husky shout of the general, like the deep bark of +an old dog, who growls in deference to his social position +rather than from spite.</p> + +<p>Tone is not a matter of no importance.</p> + +<p><i>Das war innen—das ist draussen!</i></p> + +<p>Extremely kind at heart and noble in theory, they, I +mean our embittered people, may drive an angel to fighting +and a saint to cursing by their tone. Moreover, they +exaggerate everything in the world with such <i>aplomb</i>—and +not to amuse but to wound—that there is simply no +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_108">[108]</span>bearing it. To every criticism, to every censure, they +are always ready to add gloomier details. ‘Why do +you defend these sluggards (an embittered friend, <i>sehr +ausgezeichnet in seinem Fache</i>, said to us lately), drones, +cumberers of the earth, white-handed laggards <i>à la +Onyegin</i>?... They were formed differently, if you +please, and the world surrounding them was too dirty +for them, not polished enough; they will dirty their +hands, they will dirty their feet. It was much nicer to +go on moaning over their miserable position, at the same +time eating and drinking in comfort.’</p> + +<p>We put in a word for our classification of the superfluous +people into those of the Old Dispensation and those +of the New. But our Daniel would not hear of a distinction: +he would have nothing to say to the Oblomovs nor +to the fact that Nicholas cast in bronze had been gathered +to his fathers, and just for that reason had been cast in +bronze. On the contrary, he attacked us for our defence +and, shrugging his shoulders, said that he looked upon us +as on the fine skeleton of a mammoth, as at an interesting +bone that had been dug up and belonged to a different +world with a different sun and different trees.</p> + +<p>‘Allow me on that ground and in the character of a +<i>Homo Benkendorfii testis</i> to defend our contemporaries. +Surely you do not really imagine that these men did +nothing, or did something silly of their own choice?’</p> + +<p>‘Most certainly; they were romantics and aristocrats; +they hated work, they would have thought themselves +degraded if they had taken up an axe or an awl, and it +is true they would not have known how to use them.’</p> + +<p>‘In that case I will quote names: for instance, Tchaadayev. +He did not know how to use an axe, but he knew +how to write an article which thrilled all Russia, and was +a turning-point in our understanding of ourselves. That +article was his first step in the literary career. You +know what came of it. The German Vigel took offence +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_109">[109]</span>on behalf of Russia, the Protestant and future Catholic +Benkendorf took offence on behalf of orthodoxy, and, by +the falsehood of the Most High, Tchaadayev was declared +mad and forced to sign an undertaking not to +write. Nadyezhdin, who published the article in the +<i>Telescope</i>, was sent to Ust Sysolsk; the old rector +Boldyryev was dismissed: Tchaadayev was turned into +an idle man. Granting that Ivan Kireyevsky could not +make boots, yet he could publish a magazine; he published +two numbers, the magazine was forbidden; he +contributed an article to the <i>Dennitsa</i>, and the censor, +Glinka, was put in custody: Kireyevsky was turned into +a superfluous man. N. Polevoy cannot, of course, be +charged with idleness; he was a resourceful man, and +yet the wings of the <i>Telegraph</i> were clipped, and, I +confess in my weakness, when I read how Polevoy told +Panayev that he, as a married man, handicapped by a +family, was afraid of the police, I did not laugh, but +almost cried.’</p> + +<p>‘But Byelinsky could write and Granovsky could give +lectures; they did not sit idle.’</p> + +<p>‘If there were men of such energy that they could +write and give lectures in sight of the police-chaise and the +fortress, is it not clear that there were many others of less +strength, who were paralysed and suffered deeply from +it?’</p> + +<p>‘Why did they not take to making boots or splitting +logs—it would have been better than nothing?’</p> + +<p>‘Probably because they had money enough not to be +obliged to do such dull work; I have never heard of anyone +taking to cobbling for pleasure. Louis <span class="allsmcap">XVI.</span> is the +only example of a king by trade and a carpenter by +inclination. However, you are not the first to observe +this lack of practical work in these superfluous men; to +correct it, our watchful Government sent them to hard +labour.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_110">[110]</span></p> + +<p>‘My antediluvian friend, I see that you still look down +upon work.’</p> + +<p>‘As on a far from entertaining necessity.’</p> + +<p>‘Why should they not have taken their share of the +general necessity?’</p> + +<p>‘No doubt they should, but in the first place they were +born, not in North America, but in Russia, and unluckily +were not brought up to it.’</p> + +<p>‘Why were they not brought up to it?’</p> + +<p>‘Because they were born, not in the tax-paying classes +of Russia, but in the gentry; perhaps that really is reprehensible, +but, being at that period in the inexperienced +position of unborn infants, they cannot, owing to their +tender years, be held responsible for their conduct. And +having once made this mistake in the choice of their +parents, they were bound to submit to the education of +the day. And by the way, what right have you to demand +of men that they should do one thing or another? This is +some new compulsory organisation of labour; something +in the style of socialism adapted to the methods of the +Ministry of Crown Estates.’</p> + +<p>‘I don’t compel any one to work; I simply state the +fact that they were idle, worthless aristocrats, who led +an easy and comfortable life, and I see no reason for +sympathising with them.’</p> + +<p>‘Whether they deserve sympathy or not, let every one +decide for himself. Every human suffering, especially +if it is inevitable, awakens our sympathy. And there is +no sort of suffering to which one could refuse it. The +martyrs of the early centuries of Christendom believed +in redemption. They believed in a future life. The +Roman Muhanovs, Timashevs, and Luzhins compelled +the Christians to bow down in the dust before the august +image of the Caesar; the Christians would not make this +trivial concession, they were thrown to the beasts in the +arena. They were mad, the Romans were half-witted, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_111">[111]</span>there is no place here for sympathy or admiration.... +But if so, farewell, not only to Thermopylae and Golgotha, +but also to Sophocles and Shakespeare, and incidentally +the whole long and endless epic poem which is +continually ending in frenzied tragedies and continually +going on again under the title of history.’</p> + +<p>As is usual in argument, our Daniel did not give in. I +began to be tired of it and, taking advantage of my +palaeontological importance, said to him: ‘Have it your +own way, but you know it is a silly business pitching +into people who are either dead or not far off dying, +and to pitch into them in a society where almost all the +living—military and civilian, landowners and priests—are +worse than they are; I tell you what, if you are so +particularly attracted by <i>censura morum</i>, are so fond of the +harsh duty of a moralist, do pick out something original. +If you like, I can pick you out types more pernicious than +any superfluous persons, dead or living.’</p> + +<p>‘What types?’</p> + +<p>‘Well, the literary ruffian, for instance.’</p> + +<p>‘I don’t understand.’</p> + +<p>‘In our pale literature, maltreated by the censorship, +there have been numbers of queer fishes of all sorts, but +until lately they were for the most part clean, honest men. +If there were any of the mercenary, the disingenuous, +the dealers in false coin and genuine police reports, they +were either on the side of the Government, or they scuttled +about underground and never crawled into conspicuous +places, like the London black beetles, which confine themselves +to the kitchen and do not appear in the drawing-room. +And so we have preserved a naïve faith in the +poet and the writer. We are not used to the thought +that it is possible to lie in the spirit and trade in talents, +as prostitutes delude with the body and sell their beauty. +We are not used to the money-grubbers who make +profit out of their tears over the people’s sufferings, or the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_112">[112]</span>traders who turn their sympathy for the proletariat into +a well-paid article. And there is a great deal that is good +in this confidence, which has not existed for years in +Western Europe, and we ought all to try and maintain it. +Believe me, that the man who denounces duplicity, +crying shame and curses upon the disgrace and decay +of to-day, and at the same time locks up in his cash-box +money evidently stolen from his friends, is in the present +ferment of ideas, with our looseness and impressionability, +more pernicious and contaminating than all the idle and +superfluous people, all the embittered and the lachrymose!’</p> + +<p>I do not know whether my Daniel agreed.</p> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_113">[113]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="PRINCESS_EKATERINA_ROMANOVNA_DASHKOV">PRINCESS +EKATERINA ROMANOVNA DASHKOV</h2> + +</div> + +<p class="dropcap">‘I very much wish,’ Miss Katharine Wilmot +writes to her relations in Ireland, from the +Princess Dashkov’s country estate, ‘that you could see the +Princess herself. Everything about her—dress, language, +everything—is original; whatever she does, she is absolutely +unlike any one else. It is not only that I have +never seen such a creature, I have never even heard of +one. She teaches the masons how to build walls, helps +make the paths, goes to feed the cows, composes music, +writes articles for the Press, knows the Church ritual +perfectly and corrects the priest if he makes a mistake in +the prayers, understands the theatre perfectly and corrects +her serf-actors when they go wrong in their parts; she is +a doctor, a chemist, a sick-nurse, a blacksmith, a carpenter, +a judge, a legislator; every day she does the most opposite +things in the world, and carries on a correspondence with +her brother, who holds one of the foremost posts in the +Empire, with savants, with literary men, with Jews, with +her son, and with all her relations. Her conversation, +charming in its simplicity, sometimes borders upon childlike +<i>naïveté</i>. Without stopping to think she speaks at +once French, Italian, Russian, and English, mixing all +the languages together.</p> + +<p>‘She was born to be a minister or a general, her place +is at the head of a State.’</p> + +<p>All that is true, but Miss Wilmot forgets that, in addition +to all that, Princess Dashkov was born a woman, +and remained a woman all her life. She was exceptionally +developed on the side of the heart, of tenderness, of +feeling, of devotion.</p> + +<p>For us that is particularly important. In Princess +Dashkov the Russian woman, awakened by the revolution +made by Peter the Great, emerges from her seclusion, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_114">[114]</span>displays her capacity, demands her share in politics, in +science, in the civilisation of Russia, and boldly takes her +stand beside Catherine the Great.</p> + +<p>In Princess Dashkov we are conscious of that force, +still formless, which was struggling into life and freedom +from under the mildew of Moscow stagnation, something +powerful, many-sided, active, something of Peter the +Great and of Lomonossov, but softened by aristocratic +breeding and womanliness.</p> + +<p>Catherine <span class="allsmcap">II.</span>, in making her President of the Academy, +recognised the political equality of the sexes, which is +perfectly consistent in a country which accepted the civic +equality of woman before the law, while in Western +Europe they still remain bound to their husbands or in +perpetual tutelage.</p> + +<p>The memoirs of a woman who took a foremost part in +the <i>coup d’état</i> of 1762, and who was a close witness of +all the events from the death of Elizabeth to the Peace +of Tilsit, are exceedingly important in Russian history, so +poor in striking individualities; they are the more so as +we know very little of our eighteenth century. We like +to go much further back in history. We see the Varangians, +the men of Novgorod, and the men of Kiev, and they +block out our view of yesterday; the turreted walls of the +Kremlin screen the flat lines of the Peter-Paul fortress +from us. Going carefully through the royal records, +we know little of what was being written in bad Russian +in the Government offices of Petersburg, while sedition +and tumult were roaring under the windows of the Winter +Palace, menacing its inhabitants with Siberia and death, +and the throne had not yet the strength and security which +it gained not more than seventy-five years ago. To +repeat the story of that period is very profitable, both for +the Government, that it may not forget, and for us, that +we may not despair.</p> + +<p>I should like, however briefly, to explain what I mean.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_115">[115]</span></p> + +<p>All Europe and, what is far worse, all Russians accept +the power of the Tsar in its present form as an eternal +and immutable element of Russian life, which has the +right to jeer at all rash assaults on it and boldly withstands +every onslaught, resting firmly and securely on roots that +spread far into the earth.</p> + +<p>The power of the Tsar has, on the contrary, been +firmly established only very recently. Even to this day +it carries the traces of its revolutionary origin; in it, as +in the strata of the earth, the granite of ancient times, the +alluvial sands, the fragments casually brought down from +above, or thrust up from below, in places tightly compressed +together, but not chemically united, are mingled +chaotically to this day.</p> + +<p>The Byzantine necklet of Monomah, the throne of +the Tsar Ivan the Terrible, the Uspensky Cathedral, +lead us astray. Did not Napoleon array himself in the +mantle of Charlemagne and put the iron crown on his +head at Milan? That is all forgery in the style of Chatterton; +the venerated emblems of what is old and past +are borrowed to invest the new with respect, and to +persuade us of its durability, of its eternity, so to speak.</p> + +<p>The Russian Imperial autocracy developed from the +power of the Tsar in response to the acute need for a +different manner of life. It is a military and civil dictatorship +with far more resemblance to the Caesarism of +Rome than to a feudal monarchy. A dictatorship may +be very strong and may absorb every power, but it +cannot be permanent. It exists so long as the circumstances +that have called it forth remain unaltered and so +long as it is true to its destiny.</p> + +<p>Of course, when, on landing from a steamer, one +meets a freshly pipe-clayed, spick-and-span regiment of +Guards, an unquestioning bureaucracy, galloping couriers, +motionless sentinels, Cossacks with whips, policemen +with fists, half the town in uniform, half the town standing +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_116">[116]</span>at attention, and the whole town hurriedly taking off +its hat, and when one reflects that they are all deprived +of every kind of independence, and simply acting as the +fingers, teeth, and nails of one man who combines in his +own person every form of authority—that of landowner, +priest and executioner, mother and sergeant—one may +turn giddy, be terrified, perhaps feel moved to take off +one’s hat oneself, and to bow down while one’s head is +still on one’s shoulders. And it may even more forcibly +make one wish to return to the steamer and sail away +elsewhere. All that is so, and all that (except the last +item) was felt by the worthy Westphalian baron, +Haxthausen.</p> + +<p>The Tsardom acquired this grimly gloomy, oppressive +aspect of brute force especially in the thirty years of +the reign of Nicholas; terrorism was with him a principle. +But here we cannot avoid asking why Nicholas could +not, in the course of those thirty years, forget the +‘bad quarters of an hour’ he spent during the defence +of the Winter Palace on the 14th of December 1825. +Why was it that he remembered that day on his deathbed +and sent his thanks to the Guards for it?</p> + +<p>It was because from the very beginning of his reign +he grasped that his throne was only strong through <i>force</i>. +By force alone he maintained his position, but he felt +that there was no lasting security in bayonets and physical +oppression; and he was seeking other means of support. +The allies to which he turned his attention could be +relied upon; beside autocracy he set orthodoxy and +nationalism. But this was a reaction against the movement +inaugurated by Peter the Great, the whole gist of +which lay in the secularisation of the Tsardom and the +diffusion of European culture. Nicholas stood in direct +contradiction to the living principle of the Tsardom as +it had been from the time of Peter the Great, and so there +is nothing surprising in the fact that the immediate result +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_117">[117]</span>of his reign was a dumb breach between him and Russia. +If he had lived another ten years, his throne would have +collapsed of itself; everything was ceasing to work, +everything had grown slack and begun to wilt; the spirit +had gone out of everything, the irregularities of the +administration had reached monstrous proportions. He +understood that, had he followed Alexander’s lead, he +would inevitably have had to replace the autocratic power +by more humane forms of government, but this he would +not do, and he imagined that he was so far independent of +the principles of Peter the Great that he could be another +Peter without them.</p> + +<p>He would have succeeded perhaps if the revolution +wrought by Peter had really been, as Moscow Old +Believers hold, the consequence of personal will and the +caprice of genius. But it was not at all a matter of chance, +it came in response to the instinctive craving of Russia +to develop its forces. How else can its success be +explained?</p> + +<p>The political development of Russia moved slowly and +was very late in coming. Russia lived from hand to +mouth and, harried by Tatars, with difficulty gathered +herself together into the ikon-like Suzdal-Byzantine +kingdom of Muscovy; its political forms were clumsy +and coarse, everything moved awkwardly, apathetically. +The power of the Tsar was insufficient even for the defence +of the country, and in 1612 Russia was saved without the +help of the Tsar. And meanwhile something, that speaks +to this day in the heart of every one of us, whispered that +there was an immense vigour and strength under the old-fashioned +burdensome garments. That something is +youth, self-confidence, consciousness of strength.</p> + +<p>The abrupt break with the old order wounded—yet +pleased; the people liked Peter the Great; they put +him into their legends and their fairy tales. It was as +though the Russians divined that at all costs our sloth +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_118">[118]</span>must be broken up and our slackness be braced by a strong +political order. The inhuman discipline of Peter the +Great, and of such of his successors as Bühren, aroused, +of course, horror and loathing, but all that was borne with +for the sake of the wide horizons of the new life. It was +just as the Terror was endured in France.</p> + +<p>The period initiated by Peter the Great was from the +first more national than the period of the Muscovite +Tsars. It has entered deeply into our history, into our +manners, into our flesh and blood; there is something +in it youthful and extraordinarily akin to us; the revolting +mixture of barrack-room insolence and Austrian red-tape +is not its chief characteristic. With that period the +precious memories of our mighty growth, our glory, and +our misfortunes are bound up; it has kept its word and +created a powerful State. The people love success and +strength.</p> + +<p>One side of its ideal was accomplished when, in Paris, +Alexander dictated the laws for all Europe. What was +the next step? To go back again to the period before +1700, and combine a military despotism with a Tsardom +bereft of everything human. This was what was desired +by Nicholas and a dozen crazy Slavophils—and nobody +else.</p> + +<p>If the people hate the alien German Government, +which fully deserves it, it does not follow that it loved the +Muscovite rule; it forgot it in one generation and knows +absolutely nothing about it.</p> + +<p>After Peter the Great what hindered the return to the +period that was only just over? The whole Petersburg +system was hanging on a thread. Drunken and dissolute +women, dull-witted princes who could scarcely speak +Russian, German women and children, ascended the +throne, and descended from it; the palace became the +nearest way to Siberia and prison; the Government was +in the hands of a handful of intriguers and <i>condottieri</i>. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_119">[119]</span>Yet through all this chaos we see no special desire to return +to the earlier period. On the contrary, what remains +constant through all these convulsive changes, what +develops in spite of them and gives them a striking unity, +is precisely the fidelity to the ideas of Peter the Great. +One party overthrows another, taking advantage of the +fact that the new <i>régime</i> is not yet in working order; but +whoever gained the day, no one touched the principles of +Peter the Great, but all accepted them—Menshikov and +Bühren, Minih and even the Dolgorukys, who wanted to +limit the Imperial power, though not by the old Boyar +Duma.⁠<a id="FNanchor_50" href="#Footnote_50" class="fnanchor">[50]</a> Elizabeth and Catherine <span class="allsmcap">II.</span> flatter orthodoxy, +and flatter nationalism in order to possess the throne, but, +once securely seated on it, they keep to the same way, +Catherine <span class="allsmcap">II.</span> more so than any one.</p> + +<p>The only opposition to the new order of things after +its cruel installation we see in the unorthodox <i>raskolniks</i> +and the passive lack of sympathy of the peasants. The +obstinate grumblings of a few old men meant nothing. +The crushed submission of all the ‘Old Believers’ was +the admission of their impotence. If there had been anything +living in their outlook there would certainly have +been attempts, unsuccessful, impossible, impracticable +perhaps, but they would have been made. All the Anna +Leopoldovnas, the Anna Ivanovnas, the Elizabeth Petrovnas +and Catherine Alexyevnas, found bold and devoted +men ready to face the block and prison for their sakes. +The Cossacks, faced with ruin, and the serfs, crushed +under the heel of the nobility, had their Pugatchov, and +Pugatchov his two hundred thousand fighting men; the +Kirghiz-Kaisaks moved into China; the Crimean Tatars +joined the Turks; Little Russia murmured loudly; +everything injured or crushed by the Autocracy made its +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_120">[120]</span>protest, but the Old Russian party in Russia never did. +It had neither voice nor devoted followers, neither a +Polubotok nor a Mazeppa!⁠<a id="FNanchor_51" href="#Footnote_51" class="fnanchor">[51]</a>⁠</p> + +<p>And it was not until one hundred and fifty years after +Peter the Great that it found a representative and a leader, +and that representative and leader was Nicholas. It +would have been a calamity if he had, with the support +of Church intolerance and nationalistic sentiment, succeeded +in transforming the Autocracy, and changing it +from a dictatorship into a purely monarchical or imperial +government; but that was impossible. As soon as +Nicholas was dead, Russia broke again into the path +traced out by Peter the Great—not in the conquering +or martial direction he had given it, but towards the +development of its material and moral powers.</p> + +<p>Peter the Great was one of the first of the leading +figures of the great eighteenth century, and he acted in its +spirit, he was saturated through and through with it, like +Frederick <span class="allsmcap">II.</span> of Prussia, like Joseph <span class="allsmcap">II.</span> of Austria. His +revolutionary realism gets the upper hand of his royal +dignity—he is a despot, but not a monarch.</p> + +<p>We all know how Peter crushed the old order and how +he built up the new. To the burdensome, immovable +Byzantine decorum he opposed the manners of the pothouse, +the tedious Granovitaya Palata was transformed +under him into a palace of debauchery; instead of the +legal succession to the throne he, on one occasion, endowed +the Tsar with the right of appointing his successor; on +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_121">[121]</span>another occasion, wrote to the Senators that they should +themselves select the most suitable one in case he should +perish in a Turkish prison, and thereupon took the crown +from his own son to give it to the servant-girl who, after +passing through many men’s hands, had come into his. +He left vacant the post of the most holy Patriarch, forbade +the display of holy relics, and wiped dry all the sorrowing +tears of the wonder-working ikons. In the land of unalterable +precedence, he placed above all the rest the +plebeian Menshikov, he associated with foreigners, even +with negroes, got drunk in the company of skippers and +sailors, rioted in the streets—in fact, in every way outraged +the rigid propriety of the Old Russian life and the +dignified formality of a Tsar.</p> + +<p>He set the tone. His successors maintained it, +exaggerating and distorting it; for half a century after +him, there was one unbroken orgy of drink, blood, and +debauchery—<i>l’ultimo atto</i>, as an Italian writer expresses +it, <i>d’una tragedia representata nel un lupanar</i>.</p> + +<p>Where was orthodoxy, where was the principle of +monarchy and chivalry, in all this?</p> + +<p>If in the second half of the reign of Catherine the +tragic character pales, the <i>locale</i> remains the same; the +history of Catherine <span class="allsmcap">II.</span> cannot be read aloud before +ladies. Versailles, corrupted in the monarchical style, +looked with as much astonishment at the debauchery of +the Russian court as at the philosophical liberalism of +Catherine <span class="allsmcap">II.</span>, for the French court did not understand +that the foundations of the Imperial power in Russia were +utterly different from those on which the Royal power of +France was founded.</p> + +<p>When Alexander said at Tilsit to Napoleon that he did +not agree with the significance which the latter ascribed +to the hereditary character of the Tsardom, Napoleon +thought that he was deceiving him. When he said to +Madame de Staël that he was only a ‘happy accident,’ +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_122">[122]</span>she took it for a phrase. But it was a profoundly true +saying.</p> + +<p>Moved to wrath by the cowardice of the German +sovereigns, the Emperor Alexander said in his proclamation +of 22nd February 1813 to their subjects: ‘Terror +restrains your Governments, do not let that hold you +back; if your sovereigns, under the influence of cowardice +and servility, do nothing, then the voice of their subjects +must be heard and must compel the rulers who are leading +their peoples into slavery and misery to lead them into +freedom and honour.’</p> + +<p>The fact is, that Alexander retained a full understanding +of the tradition of Peter the Great; he was too close +to the first period of Imperial rule to pose as the military +pope of all the reactions. Indeed, it was with obvious +doubt and uncertainty that he read the police reports of +Sherwood and Mayboroda.</p> + +<p>With no doubt and no reflection, Nicholas sat down in +his place and made of his power a machine which was +to turn Russia back in her tracks. But the Tsardom +ceased to be strong as soon as it became conservative. +Russia had given up everything human, she had given up +peace and freedom, and had gone into the German bondage +only to escape from the cramped and stifling condition +which she had outgrown. To turn her back by +the same means was impossible.</p> + +<p>It is only by going forward towards real objects, it is +only by more and more actively promoting the development +of the national forces with humane education, that +the Tsardom can maintain itself. The oil with which +the engines on the new railways are greased will be better +for anointing the Tsars at their coronation than the holy +unguents of the Uspensky Cathedral.</p> + +<p>Whether our interpretation of the Imperial rule is +correct will be clearly and vividly shown by the excellent +memoirs of Princess Dashkov.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_123">[123]</span></p> + +<p>Our object will be fully attained if our brief sketch of +its contents drives readers to open the book itself.</p> + +<p class="mt2">In the year 1744, the Empress Elizabeth and the +Grand Duke Peter stood godfather and godmother to +Ekaterina, the baby daughter of Count Roman Vorontsov, +brother of the great Chancellor. The Vorontsovs belonged +to that small number of oligarchic families which, +together with the paramours of the Empresses, ruled +Russia at that time as they liked, while the country passed +abruptly from one reign to another. They played the +master in the Empire, just as nowadays in the houses of +wealthy landowners house-serfs govern districts far and +near.</p> + +<p>The Empress Elizabeth was loved, not at all because +she deserved it, but because her predecessor, Anna +Ivanovna, had kept Bühren, a German, as steward, and +we Russians cannot endure German stewards. She was +nearer to the people than Anna Ivanovna and Anna +Leopoldovna; in addition to the blood of Peter, she had +all the defects of the Russian character—that is, she +sometimes had regular drinking bouts, and every evening +drank till she could not wait for her maids to undress her, +but ripped her laces and her dresses off. She used to go +on pilgrimages, fasted, was superstitious and passionately +fond of fine clothes—she left fifteen thousand dresses; +above all, she loved precious stones, as our wealthy +merchants’ wives do, and probably had just as much +taste as they, of which we can judge by the fact that she +had a whole room decorated with amber.</p> + +<p>The gentry in those days lived on quite a different +footing with their serfs from now; there was a certain +intimacy and familiarity between them, and, in spite of +outbursts of domineering, they felt the novelty of their +power and the necessity of support.</p> + +<p>All of a sudden, for instance, Elizabeth takes Shuvalov +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_124">[124]</span>and drives with him to Count Vorontsov’s to drink tea, +to try on his Hungarian jacket, to gossip with him a little, +while if any one told lies too wildly she would clip or cut +out his tongue according to the degree of his guilt; and all +this in a motherly, homely way without fuss, while she +refused from motives of humanity to sign a single death-warrant.</p> + +<p>When the Empress’s god-daughter had reached the +age of fourteen she had measles: measles and smallpox +were no joke in those days, and almost reached the proportions +of a political crime; measles or smallpox might +attack Paul, that future hope of all Russia! A special +Imperial decree forbade families in which there was this +terrible illness to have any contact with the court. Our +sick countess was hurriedly packed up and sent off into +the country some fifty miles away; it must be assumed that +the air there was not bad for the measles. With the +countess were sent an old German lady and the rigidly +decorous widow of a Russian major: the clever, plucky, +and lively girl, on recovering from measles, almost died +of boredom with her two companions; luckily, she found +in the country a fairly good library. At fourteen our +young countess knew four languages besides Russian, +which she did not know, but after her marriage learnt +thoroughly to please her mother-in-law. She did not +attack novels but Voltaire, Bayle, and so on. Reading +became a passion with her, yet books did not dispel her +depression; she pined, and went back to Petersburg +languid and unwell. The Empress sent her own doctor +to her—and that doctor was Boerhaave; he said there +was nothing wrong, that she was physically well, but that +her imagination was ailing—in fact, that she was fourteen.</p> + +<p>After Boerhaave, relations from all parts pounced on +the poor girl, and with inexhaustible cruelty undertook +to entertain her, to distract her mind, to feed her up; +they tormented her with questions and advice. While +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_125">[125]</span>she only asked for one thing, to be left in peace; she was +at the time reading Hélvetius’ <i>De l’Entendement</i>.</p> + +<p>The remedy soon arrived of itself.</p> + +<p>One evening the young countess, who was fairly free +to make her own arrangements, went to Madame +Samarin’s and stayed to supper, ordering the carriage to +be sent to fetch her home. At eleven o’clock the carriage +drove round and she came out; but the night was so fine +and there was no one in the streets, so she went home on +foot, accompanied by Madame Samarin’s sister. At the +corner they met a tall graceful, man, who was acquainted +with her companion; he began talking to the latter, and +addressed a few words to the young countess.</p> + +<p>The countess arrived home and dreamed of the handsome +officer. The officer arrived home in love with the +handsome countess.</p> + +<p>No need to lose precious time; the countess was no +longer a child (it was 1759), and she was fifteen; the +officer was young, handsome, brilliant, and very tall, +he was in the Preobrazhensky regiment, and belonged to +an old family. The relations blessed the match, the +Empress sanctioned it, and they were married. And so +our young countess became Princess Dashkov.</p> + +<p>A year and a half after their wedding, being on the +eve of her second confinement, she remained alone in +Moscow, while her husband went to Petersburg. His +furlough was over, and he was asking for an extension of +leave. The Grand Duke was at that time in command +of the Preobrazhensky regiment; he would have given +Dashkov the extension of leave at once, but the position +was serious, and he wanted to make friends with his +officers. The Empress was almost breathing her last; +the Shuvalovs, the Razumovskys, and the Panins were +intriguing with and without the Grand Duchess in +favour of Paul, even in favour of the luckless Ivan—and +most of all in their own favour. The Grand Duke was +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_126">[126]</span>not liked; he was not a bad man, but he had every quality +that the Russian temperament detests in the German—<i>gaucherie</i>, +a coarse heartiness, a vulgar tone, a pedantry +and a haughty self-complacency bordering on contempt +for everything Russian. Elizabeth, though herself perpetually +tipsy, could not forgive him for being drunk +every evening. Razumovsky hated him for wanting to +make Gudovitch Hetman; Panin for his guard-room +manners; the Horse Guards for preferring his Holstein +soldiers to them; the ladies for his inviting actresses and +German women of all sorts to sit down at his banquets +beside them; while the clergy detested him for his undisguised +contempt for the Orthodox Church. Seeing +that Elizabeth’s end was near, and afraid of being deserted +by every one, the tactless Peter attempted to make up to +his officers and win their favour, and set about it with +excessive clumsiness. Among others he wanted to make +sure of Dashkov, who was in command of a company; +and therefore, without refusing him his leave, he invited +him to Oranienbaum.</p> + +<p>Dashkov, after his interview with Peter, set off for +Moscow; on the way he was taken ill with a sore throat +and feverishness. Anxious not to worry his wife, he bade +them take him to his aunt, Madame Novosiltsov, for he +fancied that the pain in his throat was somewhat easier, +and that his voice was coming back a little; instead of +that, the illness turned out to be quinsy, and he was soon +in a high fever.</p> + +<p>At that very time, Prince Dashkov’s mother, with her +sister, Princess Gagarin, was sitting in our young princess’s +bedroom, together with a midwife, expecting the birth +of the child in a few hours. The young mother was still +able to move about, and she went to fetch something in +another room, where her maid had long been awaiting her. +The girl told her in secret of her sick husband’s return, +saying that he was at his aunt’s, and begging her mistress +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_127">[127]</span>not to betray her, as all were strictly forbidden to tell her +the news. The young princess uttered a shriek at these +unexpected tidings; recovering herself, she went upstairs +to the bedroom, as though nothing had happened, +assured them that they were all mistaken, that her confinement +was not coming so soon, and persuaded them to go +and rest, promising by all that was holy to send for them +if anything should happen.</p> + +<p>No sooner had the old ladies retired than the young +princess flew with all the impetuosity of her character to +entreat the midwife to take her to her husband. The +kind-hearted German thought she had gone out of her +mind, and began trying in her Silesian accent to dissuade +her, continually adding: ‘No, no, I shall have to answer +to God afterwards for the slaughter of the innocent.’ +The princess told the midwife resolutely that, if she would +not accompany her, she should go alone, and no force on +earth should stop her. The old woman was worked +upon by terror, but when the young lady told her that +they must go on foot that her mother-in-law might not +hear the crunch of the sledge-runners, she again resisted +and stood motionless, ‘as though her legs had sent down +roots into the floor.’ At last this difficulty, too, was +overcome; but on the stairs the young princess’s pains +returned, and so violently that the midwife tried to dissuade +her, but, clutching on to the stair-rail, she was not +to be turned from her resolution.</p> + +<p>They walked out of the gate, and in spite of the pains +reached the Novosiltsovs’ house. Of the interview with +her husband she remembered only that she saw him pale, +ill, lying unconscious, that she only had time to take one +look at him, and fell in a swoon on the floor. In this +condition the Novosiltsovs’ servants carried her on a +stretcher home, where, however, no one had suspected +her absence. Fresh and more acute pains restored her +to consciousness, she sent for her husband’s mother +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_128">[128]</span>and aunt, and an hour later gave birth to her son +Mihail.</p> + +<p>At six o’clock in the morning her husband was brought +into the house; his mother put him in another room, forbidding +any intercourse between the two sick-rooms on +the pretext that the young mother might catch the quinsy, +though in reality from a petty jealousy. The young +couple at once began a sentimental correspondence, which +was, of course, attended with much more risk for the +young mother than quinsy, which is not in the least +infectious, could be; they were writing notes to each +other at all hours of the day and night, till the old lady +found them out, scolded the maids, and threatened to +take away pens, pencils, and paper.</p> + +<p>A woman who was capable of such love and such +determination in getting her own way in spite of danger, +fear, and pain was bound to play a great part in the times +in which she lived and in the circle to which she belonged.</p> + +<p>On the 28th of July 1761, the Dashkovs moved to +Petersburg. ‘The day,’ she said, ‘which twelve months +later became so memorable and so glorious for my +country.’</p> + +<p>In Petersburg she found awaiting her an invitation +from the Grand Duke to move to Oranienbaum. She +did not want to go, and her father had difficulty in persuading +her to take his summer villa not far from Oranienbaum. +The fact is that by then she could not endure +the Grand Duke, while she was sincerely devoted to his +wife. Before she had left her father’s house she had +been presented to the Grand Duchess; Catherine had +been gracious to her, the clever and highly cultured girl +had taken her fancy. With the smile, the <i>abandon</i> with +which Catherine for thirty years fascinated all Russia, +and the diplomatists and learned men of all Europe, she +won the devotion of Princess Dashkov for ever. From +the first interview the young girl loved Catherine passionately, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_129">[129]</span>‘adored her’ as schoolgirls adore their elder companions; +she was in love with her as boys are in love +with women of thirty.</p> + +<p>On the other hand, she felt as genuine an aversion for +her godfather, Peter. And a pleasant person he was, +there is no denying. We shall see it directly.</p> + +<p>Her own sister, Elizaveta Romanovna, was openly +Peter’s mistress. He considered that Saltykov and +Poniatowski, the fortunate predecessors of the Orlovs, +Vassiltchikovs, Novosiltsovs, Potyomkins, Lanskys, +Yermolevs, Korsakovs, Zoritches, Zavodovskys, Mamonovs, +Zubovs, and a whole phalanx of stalwart <i>virorum +obscurorum</i> gave him the right not to be over-niggardly in +his affairs of the heart, and not to conceal his preferences.</p> + +<p>His attitude to his wife was already such that, on +Princess Dashkov’s first being presented to him, he said +to her: ‘Allow me to hope that you will bestow upon us +no less time than upon the Grand Duchess.’</p> + +<p>For her part the impetuous young princess did not +dream of concealing her preference for Catherine. The +Grand Duke observed it, and a few days later led the +young princess aside, and said to her, ‘in the simplicity of +his head and the kindness of his heart,’ as she puts it: +‘Remember that it is safer to have to do with simple, +honest people like your sister and me than with great +intellects who squeeze every drop out of you and then +throw you out of window like the skin of an orange.’</p> + +<p>Princess Dashkov evasively observed that the Empress +had expressed her urgent desire that they should show respect +equally to the Grand Duchess and to His Highness.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, she could not avoid sometimes attending +the Grand Duke’s drinking-parties. These festivities +were of a German barrack-room character, coarse and +drunken. Peter, surrounded by his Holstein generals +(that is, in her words, by corporals and sergeants of the +Prussian army, sons of German artisans whose parents +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_130">[130]</span>did not know what to do with them, and sent them for +soldiers on account of their dissolute habits), with the +pipe always between his lips, sometimes went on drinking +till his flunkeys carried him out.</p> + +<p>At one such supper-party in the presence of the Grand +Duchess and numerous visitors, the conversation turned +on Tchelishtchev, a sergeant of the Guards, and his +supposed <i>liaison</i> with the Countess Hendrikov, a niece +of the Empress.</p> + +<p>Peter, who was already very drunk, observed that +Tchelishtchev ought to have his head cut off as a warning +to other officers not to get up love affairs with the female +relations of the royal family. The Holstein sycophants +expressed their approval and sympathy by every possible +token, while the young princess could not refrain from +observing that it seemed to her very inhuman to inflict +the death penalty for so trivial a crime.</p> + +<p>‘You are still a child,’ answered the Grand Duke, +‘your words prove it; otherwise you would know that +to be sparing with the death penalty means to encourage +insubordination.’</p> + +<p>‘Your Highness,’ answered Princess Dashkov, ‘you +are trying to frighten us; with the exception of the old +generals, all of us who have the honour to be sitting at +your table belong to a generation which has never seen +the death penalty in Russia.’</p> + +<p>‘That does not signify,’ retorted the Grand Duke; +‘fine sort of order there has been in everything in consequence. +I tell you, you are a child and know nothing +about these things.’</p> + +<p>All remained silent. ‘I am ready,’ the young princess +replied, ‘to acknowledge that I am incapable of understanding +you; but I cannot help rejoicing when I think +that your aunt is still on the throne and is still well and +strong.’</p> + +<p>All eyes were turned upon the bold young woman. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_131">[131]</span>The Grand Duke did not answer in words; he confined +himself to putting out his tongue—a charming trick to +which he often resorted instead of a verbal reply, especially +when he was in church.</p> + +<p>This conversation, which was the beginning of Princess +Dashkov’s political career, was the more remarkable for +the fact that these Nero-like speeches were uttered by +the mildest man in the world, who had never put any one +to death. There were a large number of the officers of the +Guards and of the cadets sitting at the table, and Princess +Dashkov’s words were carried with lightning swiftness +all over the town. They gave her a great notoriety, +which at first she was far from appreciating, and which +made of her one of the centres, and almost the principal +one, round which discontented officers rallied. At first +the young princess was delighted that the Grand Duchess +was exceedingly pleased by her answer. ‘Time,’ she +mournfully adds, ‘had not then taught me how dangerous +it is to tell the truth to sovereigns; if they can sometimes +forgive it, their courtiers never do.’</p> + +<p>Her affection for Catherine increased. Elizabeth was +then living at Peterhof, and there the Grand Duchess +was permitted <i>once a week</i> to see her son. On her way +back from the Palace she usually drove to the Dashkovs’, +took the princess with her, and kept her for a whole +evening. When it was impossible to visit her, Catherine +wrote a brief note to her; from this there sprang up the +friendly, intimate correspondence between them which +lasted even after the Dashkovs had left the summer villa. +They write about literature, about their day-dreams, about +Voltaire, and about Rousseau, in verse and in prose.</p> + +<p>‘Such verse and such prose!’ writes Catherine, ‘and +at seventeen! I entreat you not to neglect such a talent. +Perhaps I am not altogether an impartial critic; your +flattering attachment to me is to blame for your having +chosen me for the subject of your poem. Blame me for +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_132">[132]</span>pride if you like, but still I will say that it is long since I +have read such correct and such poetical work.’</p> + +<p>Catherine, too, sends her essays and very emphatically +insists that they are to be shown to no one. ‘In the +circumstances under which I am compelled to live, +everything serves as a ground for unpleasant suppositions.’ +She is so anxious that she begs Princess Dashkov to have +letters addressed to her maid, Katerina Ivanovna, and +burns them when she has read them. What she calls +‘trifling grounds’ may be surmised from one letter in +which she again speaks of her manuscript. The young +princess had returned it to her with much praise, assuring +her that she had never let it go out of her own hands. +Not a word is said of the contents of the manuscript, but +it is evident from the following words (letter 21): ‘You +relieve me of my duties in regard to my son; I see in that +a fresh proof of the goodness of your heart. I was profoundly +agitated by the tokens of devotion with which I +was greeted by the people on that day. I have never +been so happy.’</p> + +<p>That letter was written soon after Elizabeth’s death, +but we have not yet reached that stage of our narrative.</p> + +<p>Towards the end of December 1761, there was a +rumour that Elizabeth was very ill.</p> + +<p>Princess Dashkov was lying in bed with a very bad +cold when the news reached her. The thought of +Catherine’s danger struck her; she could no more lie still +in bed with it than with the thought of her husband’s +illness; and so, wrapped in a fur coat, on the frosty night +of the 20th of December, she set off for the wooden palace +on the Moika, where the royal family lived at that time. +Not wishing to be seen, she left the carriage at a little +distance from the Palace, and walked towards the little +entrance at the side of the Grand Duchess’s apartments, +though she did not know the way to them. Fortunately +she met Katerina Ivanovna, the Grand Duchess’s maid; +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_133">[133]</span>the latter said that the Grand Duchess was in bed; but +Princess Dashkov insisted on being announced, saying +that she absolutely must see her at once. The maid, +knowing her and her devotion to the Grand Duchess, +obeyed. Catherine, who knew the Princess Dashkov was +seriously ill, and so would not have come out at night in +the frost without specially important reasons, ordered her +to be shown up.</p> + +<p>At first she showered reproaches on the princess for +not taking care of herself, and, seeing that she was cold, +said to her: ‘Dear princess, first of all you must get +warm; come, get into my bed’; and only after tucking +her up, she asked her at last what was the matter.</p> + +<p>‘In the present position of affairs,’ said Princess +Dashkov, ‘when the Empress has only a few days, perhaps +a few hours, to live, you must, without loss of time, take +measures against the danger with which you are threatened +and steps to avert it. For God’s sake, trust me; I will +show you that I am worthy of your trust. If you have +any definite plan, make use of me, dispose of me, I am +at your service.’</p> + +<p>Catherine burst into tears and, pressing her friend’s +hand to her heart, said: ‘I assure you that I have no +plan whatever; there is nothing I can do, and I imagine +that all that is left me is to await the course of events with +fortitude. I resign myself to the will of God, and rest +all my hopes on Him alone.’</p> + +<p>‘In that case your friends must act for you. As for +me, I feel I have strength and energy enough to carry +them all with me; and believe me, there is no sacrifice +which would hinder me.’</p> + +<p>‘For God’s sake,’ Catherine interrupted, ‘do not +expose yourself to danger in the hope of resisting evil +which seems really inevitable. If you ruin yourself for +my sake, you will only add an everlasting grief to my +unhappy lot.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_134">[134]</span></p> + +<p>‘All that I can tell you is that I will not take a step +which could possibly involve you, or put you in danger. +Whatever happens, may it come upon me, and, if my +blind devotion to you leads me to the scaffold, you shall +never be its victim.’</p> + +<p>Catherine would have protested, but Princess Dashkov⁠<a id="FNanchor_52" href="#Footnote_52" class="fnanchor">[52]</a> +interrupting her, took her hand, pressed it to her lips, and, +saying that she was afraid to continue the conversation, +asked leave to withdraw. Deeply touched, they remained +for some minutes in each other’s arms, then the princess +cautiously went out, leaving Catherine in great agitation.</p> + +<p>We must add to this affecting scene that Catherine had +all the same deceived the princess; she had not entrusted +her fate to God alone, but also to Grigory Orlov, with +whom she had thought out her plan, and Orlov was already +secretly trying to enlist the co-operation of the officers.</p> + +<p>At Christmas the Empress died. Petersburg received +the news gloomily; and Princess Dashkov herself saw +the Semyonovsky and Izmailovsky regiments march +sullenly past her house with muffled murmurs.</p> + +<p>Peter <span class="allsmcap">III.</span>, proclaimed Emperor, paid no regard to +decorum; the drinking bouts went on. A few days +after Elizabeth’s death he visited the father of Princess +Dashkov, and through her sister announced his displeasure +at not seeing her at court. There was no +escaping it; she went. Peter <span class="allsmcap">III.</span>, dropping his voice, +began telling her that she would end by drawing upon +herself his anger, and might very bitterly repent of it +later on, ‘because there may easily come a time when +Romanovna’ (that was what he called his mistress) ‘will +be in <i>that woman’s</i> place.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_135">[135]</span></p> + +<p>Princess Dashkov made a show of not understanding, +and hurriedly took her place at Peter <span class="allsmcap">III.</span>’s favourite game. +In this game (<i>campis</i>) each player has several counters; +the player who keeps one till the last wins the game. +Every one put down ten imperials, which, considering +Princess Dashkov’s income at that time, was not a trifling +sum for her, particularly as, when Peter <span class="allsmcap">III.</span> lost, he used +to take a counter out of his pocket and lay it on the pool, +so that he almost always won. As soon as the game was +over, the Tsar proposed a second; she refused. He +pestered her so much to play that, taking advantage of her +‘position as spoilt child,’ she told him that she was not +rich enough to lose for certain, that if His Majesty played +like other people she would, at any rate, have a chance of +winning. Peter <span class="allsmcap">III.</span> responded with his ‘usual buffooneries,’ +and the princess made her bows and withdrew.</p> + +<p>As she walked through the suite of rooms filled with +courtiers and persons of various grades, she felt as though +she were at a masquerade, there was no one she could +recognise. She could not help laughing when she saw +Prince Trubetskoy, who was seventy, for the first time +in his life dressed up in a military uniform, standing at +attention, in high boots with spurs, all ready, in fact, for +the most desperate battle. ‘The pitiful little old man,’ +she adds, ‘pretending to be ill and suffering, as beggars +do, lay in bed while Elizabeth was dying; he felt a little +better when Peter <span class="allsmcap">III.</span> was proclaimed, and, learning that +everything had gone off well, he leapt up at once, armed +himself from head to foot, and showed himself like a hero +in the Izmailovsky regiment to which he was attached.’</p> + +<p>Apropos of uniforms, the fatal passion for them was +handed down from Peter <span class="allsmcap">III.</span> to Paul, from Paul to all his +children, to all the generals, staff and higher officers; +Panin, who supervised the education of Paul, complained +that Peter <span class="allsmcap">III.</span> was never present at his examinations. The +Holstein princes, his uncles, persuaded Peter to attend +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_136">[136]</span>one at least; he was very much pleased, and promoted +Panin to be a general in the infantry. To perceive the +full absurdity of this, one must picture the pale, sickly +figure of Panin, who liked to be correctly dressed and +scrupulously groomed, and was rather like a courtier of +the days of Louis <span class="allsmcap">XIV.</span> Panin detested Peter <span class="allsmcap">III.</span>’s +barrack-room tone, he hated uniforms and all that nonsense. +When Melgunov brought him the joyful tidings +that he was a general, Panin would have fled to Switzerland +and lived there in preference to wearing the uniform. +News of this reached Peter <span class="allsmcap">III.</span>; he transferred him to +the corresponding civilian grade. He never got over +his surprise at Panin. ‘Why,’ he used to say, ‘I always +thought Panin was a sensible man!’</p> + +<p>While Peter <span class="allsmcap">III.</span> was dressing his courtiers up as heroes, +the usual funeral ceremonies were taking place. The +Empress did not leave her rooms, and only appeared at +the requiem service. Peter <span class="allsmcap">III.</span>, too, only rarely showed +himself, and then always behaved improperly, whispering +with the ladies, laughing with his adjutants, mocking at +the clergy, scolding the officers, and even the common +soldiers, over buttons or some such trifle. ‘The new +Emperor,’ the English ambassador, Keith, said to Prince +Golitsyn, ‘is beginning his reign imprudently; if he goes +on like this he will come to be despised by his people +and afterwards to be hated by them.’</p> + +<p>Peter <span class="allsmcap">III.</span> did everything as though on purpose to arouse +this hatred. One evening, when Princess Dashkov was +present, the Tsar was holding forth, as his habit was, on +the subject of his respect for Frederick <span class="allsmcap">II.</span>, and suddenly +turning to the Secretary of State, Volkov, who had been +Chief Secretary of the Privy Council under Elizabeth, he +asked him whether he remembered how they used to +laugh over the perpetual failure of the secret instructions +sent to the army in the field. Volkov, who together with +Peter, then Grand Duke, had communicated to the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_137">[137]</span>Prussian King all the army orders, and so stultified them, +was so taken aback by Peter <span class="allsmcap">III.</span>’s words that he almost +fainted. But the Tsar went on, jocosely describing how +in time of war they had betrayed to the enemy the country +in which he was heir to the throne.</p> + +<p>At the conclusion of the peace with the Prussian King, +in which he shamefully yielded everything that had been +won by Russian blood, there was no end to the delight +and rejoicing. There was festivity after festivity. +Among others Peter <span class="allsmcap">III.</span> gave a great dinner, to which all +the ambassadors and members of the three first grades +were invited. After dinner the Tsar proposed three +toasts, which were drunk to the firing of cannon—to the +health of the Imperial Family, to the health of the Prussian +King, to the permanence of the peace that had been +concluded.</p> + +<p>When the Empress drank the toast to the Imperial +Family, Peter <span class="allsmcap">III.</span> sent his adjutant, Gudovitch, who +was standing by his chair, to ask her why she did not +stand up. Catherine answered that since the Imperial +Family consisted only of her husband, her son, and herself, +she had not supposed that it would be His Majesty’s +pleasure that she should stand up. When Gudovitch +repeated her answer, the Tsar bade him go back and tell +the Empress that she was ‘a fool,’ and ought to know that +his uncles, the Holstein princes, belonged to the Imperial +Family too. This was not enough; afraid that Gudovitch +would soften his rudeness, he repeated what he +had said across the table, so that the greater number of +the guests heard it. For the first minute the Empress +could not refrain from shedding tears, but, anxious to end +the scandal as quickly as possible, she turned to the +<i>kammerherr</i>, Strogonov, who was standing behind her +chair, and begged him to begin some conversation. +Strogonov, who was himself deeply shocked, began +babbling something with a show of liveliness. As he +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_138">[138]</span>went out of the palace, he received the command to +go to his country estate, and not to leave it without +permission.</p> + +<p>This incident was exceedingly prejudicial to Peter <span class="allsmcap">III.</span> +Every one pitied the unfortunate woman, who had been +grossly insulted by a drunken boor. Princess Dashkov +was naturally bound to take advantage of this state of +public feeling. She became a desperate conspirator, +persuading, sounding, enlisting sympathisers, and at the +same time she went to balls and danced to avoid arousing +suspicion. Prince Dashkov, insulted by Peter <span class="allsmcap">III.</span>, made +him some answer on parade. The princess, afraid of +the consequences, succeeded in procuring him a commission +to Constantinople, and gave him the advice to +‘make haste slowly’ with it. Having sent him off, she +surrounded herself with officers who put the fullest +confidence in their eighteen-year-old leader.</p> + +<p>There were other people about Peter <span class="allsmcap">III.</span> who were +dissatisfied, but owing to their age and position took no +part in the conspiracy; they were glad to take advantage +of a change, but the risk of losing their heads on the +scaffold was too much for a Razumovsky or a Panin. +The real conspirators were Princess Dashkov with her +officers, and Orlov with his adherents.</p> + +<p>Of Razumovsky Princess Dashkov says: ‘He loves +his country as much as the apathetic man can love anything. +Sunk in the bog of wealth, surrounded by marks +of respect, well received at the new court, and liked by +the officers, he has dropped into indifference and grown +sluggish.’</p> + +<p>Panin was a statesman and looked further ahead than +the rest; his aim was to proclaim Paul Tsar and Catherine +Regent. So doing he hoped to curtail the power of the +Autocracy. Moreover, he thought to attain his object +by legal means through the Senate.</p> + +<p>All this was far from being approved by Princess +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_139">[139]</span>Dashkov. Moreover, the dissatisfaction and murmuring +among the soldiers were growing. The disgraceful +peace, on the one hand, and the insane war with Denmark +which with no serious object Peter <span class="allsmcap">III.</span> wanted to wage +over Holstein, exasperated men’s minds. This war +became an insane obsession with him; even Frederick <span class="allsmcap">II.</span> +tried by letter to persuade him to defer it.</p> + +<p>It is said that the young conspiratress used peculiarly +eloquent weapons to induce stubborn Panin to co-operate +with her party. Panin was so attracted by her intelligence, +her energy, and, above all, her beauty, that, old as +he was, he fell passionately in love with her. Princess +Dashkov rejected his love with mirth, but finding no other +means of persuading him she made up her mind to bribe +him with herself. After this Panin was in her hands. +It is only just to say that in two passages of her memoirs +she denies this rumour with indignation.⁠<a id="FNanchor_53" href="#Footnote_53" class="fnanchor">[53]</a>⁠</p> + +<p>Although the conspirators could reckon on Razumovsky +and Panin, and, what was more, on the Archbishop +of Novgorod, and although a number of officers +adhered to the conspiracy, they had no definite plan of +action. Though at one in a common object, they could +not agree on the steps to be taken; Princess Dashkov, +devoured by burning energy, was angry with their +deliberateness, did not know what to do, and at last went +off to her summer villa at Krasny Kabak. This summer +villa was the first possession she had entirely of her own: +she at once set to work rebuilding, digging ditches, laying +out gardens. ‘In spite,’ she said, ‘of the affection I had +for that first bit of ground which was my own, I did not +want to give it my name, as I wished to dedicate it to the +name of the saint on whose day success crowns our great +enterprise.’ ‘Make haste and give a name to my villa,’ +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_140">[140]</span>she writes to the Empress, when laid up with a fever, +which she had caught through riding up to her waist in +a bog. Catherine could make nothing of it, and thought +that her friend was delirious.</p> + +<p>But it was Peter <span class="allsmcap">III.</span> who was really delirious; while +Princess Dashkov was planting acacias and clearing paths, +he was moving rapidly on his downward path; one folly +succeeded another, one unseemly vulgarity was followed +by another twice as unseemly. Keith’s prophecy was +coming true: public feeling was passing from contempt +into hatred.</p> + +<p>The Austrian persecution of the Greek Church in +Serbia had driven many Serbs to appeal to the Empress +Elizabeth, begging her to assign them lands in the south +of Russia. In addition to lands, Elizabeth ordered a +considerable sum of money to be given them for the +expenses of their moving and resettlement. One of their +agents, Horvat, a wily, intriguing fellow, took possession +of the lands and money and, instead of carrying out the +conditions on which the land was given, began to dispose +of the emigrants as though they were his serfs. The +Serbs presented a complaint, Elizabeth ordered an +enquiry, but before it was over she died. Horvat, +hearing of her death, went to Petersburg and began by +giving two thousand gold pieces to each of the three +persons who were in closest relations with Peter <span class="allsmcap">III.</span>—L. +Naryshkin, who was something in the way of a court +buffoon, General Melgunov, and the Prosecutor-General +Glyebov. The two latter went to the Tsar and told +him straight out of the bribe. Peter <span class="allsmcap">III.</span> was much +pleased at their openness, he praised them for it, and +added that if they would give him half he would go himself +to the Senate and command them to decide the case in +favour of Horvat. They divided the spoils, the Tsar +kept his word, and for two thousand gold pieces lost +hundreds of thousands of new settlers; seeing that their +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_141">[141]</span>comrades had been cheated by the Government, those +who had not yet started did not venture to move.</p> + +<p>When the case was over, Peter <span class="allsmcap">III.</span> heard that Naryshkin +had concealed his bribe, and, to punish him for this lack of +friendly confidence, took the whole sum from him. And +for a long time afterwards he used to tease Naryshkin by +asking him what he was doing with Horvat’s gold pieces.</p> + +<p>Here is another charming anecdote of Peter <span class="allsmcap">III.</span> One +day the Tsar returned home with Razumovsky after +parade, much pleased with the Izmailovsky regiment; +suddenly he heard a noise a little way off; his favourite +negro was fighting with the fencing-master. At first +Peter <span class="allsmcap">III.</span> was delighted with the spectacle, but all at once +he pulled a solemn face and said: ‘Narcisse exists no +longer for us.’ Razumovsky, who could make nothing +of it, asked what had so suddenly distressed His Majesty. +‘Why, don’t you see,’ he cried, ‘that I cannot keep a man +about me who has fought with a fencing-master? he is +disgraced, disgraced for ever.’ Razumovsky, pretending +to enter into these deep considerations, observed that the +negro’s honour might be restored by passing him under +the flag of the regiment. This idea delighted Peter <span class="allsmcap">III.</span>; +he at once called the negro, bade him pass under the flag, +and, feeling this was not quite sufficient, ordered that he +should be scratched with the lance of the flag that he +might wash out his offence with his own blood. The +poor negro almost died of fright, the generals and the +officers could hardly restrain their indignation and laughter. +Only Peter <span class="allsmcap">III.</span> performed the whole ritual of the +negro’s purification with perfect solemnity throughout.</p> + +<p>And this buffoon was Tsar!... But not for long!</p> + +<p>On the evening of the 27th of June Grigory Orlov +came to Princess Dashkov to tell her that Captain Passek, +one of the most desperate conspirators, was arrested. +Orlov found Panin with her; to lose time, to procrastinate, +was now impossible. Only the lymphatic, slow, and +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_142">[142]</span>cautious Panin counselled waiting till the morrow, and +first finding out how and why Passek was arrested. This +did not please Orlov or her. The former said that he +would go to find out about Passek. Princess Dashkov +asked Panin to leave her, pretending that she was excessively +tired. As soon as Panin had driven off, she threw +on a man’s grey overcoat and set off on foot to see Roslavlev, +one of the conspirators.</p> + +<p>Not far from home she met a man on horseback galloping +full speed. Although she had never seen Orlov’s +brothers, she guessed that it was one of them; when she +reached him, she called his name. He pulled up the +horse, and she made herself known to him. ‘I was +coming to you,’ he said. ‘Passek has been seized as a +political criminal. There are four sentries at the doors +and two at the window. My brother has gone to Panin, +and I have been to Roslavlev.’</p> + +<p>‘Is Roslavlev much alarmed?’</p> + +<p>‘He is indeed.’</p> + +<p>‘Send word to our men, Roslavlev, Lasunsky, Tchertkov, +and Bredihin to gather at once to the Izmailovsky +regiment, and to make ready to receive the Empress. +Then say that I advise your brother or you to ride as fast +as you can to Peterhof for the Empress; tell her that I +have a carriage ready, tell her that I beseech her not to +delay, but to drive full speed to Petersburg.’</p> + +<p>On the previous evening Princess Dashkov, who had +heard from Passek of the great discontent of the soldiers, +and was afraid that something might happen, had by way +of precaution written to the wife of Catherine’s <i>kammerdiener</i>, +Shkurin, telling her to send a carriage with four +post-horses to her husband at Peterhof, and to bid him +await her in his yard. Panin laughed at this unnecessary +fuss, supposing that the <i>coup d’état</i> was not so imminent; +events proved how necessary Princess Dashkov’s precautions +were.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_143">[143]</span></p> + +<p>On parting from Orlov, she returned home. In the +evening a tailor was to have brought her a man’s dress, +but did not bring it, and she was not free enough dressed +as a woman. To avoid rousing suspicion, she dismissed +her maid and went to bed; but half an hour had not +passed before she heard a knock at the outer door. It +was the youngest Orlov, who had been sent by his elder +brothers to ask her whether it was not too soon to disturb +the Empress; Princess Dashkov was beside herself, and +showered reproaches upon him and all his brothers: +‘As though it were a question,’ she said, ‘of disturbing +the Empress; better bring her unconscious, fainting, to +Petersburg than expose her to imprisonment or to sharing +the scaffold with us. Tell your brothers that some one +must go this very minute to Peterhof.’</p> + +<p>The young man agreed with her.</p> + +<p>Then followed agonising hours of solitude and suspense; +she trembled for her Catherine, and pictured her +pale, worn out, in prison, going to be beheaded, and all +‘through our fault.’ Exhausted and feverish, she waited +for news from Peterhof. At four o’clock it came: the +Empress had gone to Petersburg.</p> + +<p>How Alexey Orlov went in the night to the pavilion +to where Catherine was calmly asleep; how, though, like +Princess Dashkov, she did not know the younger Orlov +by sight, she instantly determined to set off in the carriage +that was waiting for her at Shkurin’s; how Orlov sat +on the box-seat as coachman, and knocked the horses up +by his driving, so that the Empress was obliged to walk +with her maid; how they afterwards met an empty cart; +how Orlov hired it, and brought Catherine to Petersburg +in democratic style—all that is well known.</p> + +<p>The soldiers of the Izmailovsky regiment received +Catherine with enthusiasm; they were told that Peter <span class="allsmcap">III.</span> +had tried that night to kill her and her son. With shouts +and uproar the soldiers escorted her from the barracks +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_144">[144]</span>to the Winter Palace, proclaiming her the reigning +Empress as they passed through the streets; they met +with no hindrance of any kind. The people flocked in +crowds to the Palace, the leading noblemen gathered +together in the Cathedral, and the Archbishop, surrounded +by clergy, awaited the new sovereign with holy water.</p> + +<p>When, after terrific efforts, Princess Dashkov succeeded +in reaching Catherine, they rushed into each other’s arms, +and could only say: ‘Well, thank God, thank God!’ +Then Catherine told her how they had driven from +Peterhof, then they fell to embracing each other again. +‘I do not know,’ writes Princess Dashkov, ‘whether a +mortal has ever been happier than I was at that minute!’</p> + +<p>‘And,’ she adds, ‘when I think by what extraordinarily +small means this revolution was effected, with no +thought-out plan, by men who were not agreed among +themselves, who had different aims in view, and were +not in the least alike either in breeding or character, it is +clear to me that the finger of Providence was in it.’</p> + +<p>The revolution, of course, was essential, but if the +finger of Providence was so directly concerned in it, then +the divine hands were far from being clean on that day.</p> + +<p>After they had kissed each other to their hearts’ content, +Princess Dashkov noticed that the Empress was wearing +the Catherine and not the Andrew ribbon; she ran at +once to Panin, took off his ribbon, put it on the Empress, +and put the Catherine ribbon and star in her pocket.</p> + +<p>The Empress expressed a desire to put herself at the +head of the troops and to march to Peterhof. At the +same time she ordered the princess to accompany her. +The Empress took a uniform from Captain Talyzin, +Princess Dashkov one from Sergeant Pushkin. Both +uniforms were of the old Preobrazhensky pattern. As +soon as the Empress had arrived in Petersburg, the soldiers +had, of their own initiative, cast off their new uniforms +and put on their old ones.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_145">[145]</span></p> + +<p>While Princess Dashkov was changing her dress, +Catherine was presiding over an Extraordinary Council, +consisting of the highest dignitaries and senators who +happened to be on the spot. The sentinels stationed at +the doors admitted to it a young officer with a bold +carriage and reckless air. No one but the Empress +recognised him as Princess Dashkov; she went up to +Catherine and said that the guard was very inefficient, +that they would perhaps admit Peter <span class="allsmcap">III.</span> himself if he +should suddenly appear (how little even she knew the +buffoon!); the guard was immediately strengthened; +meanwhile, the Empress, who was dictating a manifesto +to Tyeplov, broke off to tell the members of the Council +who this young officer was who had come up <i>sans façon</i>, +and begun whispering to her. All the senators stood up +to greet her. ‘I blushed to my ears at this honour,’ says +the charming sergeant, ‘and indeed I was rather embarrassed +by it.</p> + +<p>‘Then, after taking the necessary measures to ensure +the tranquillity of the capital, we mounted our horses, +and on the road to Peterhof reviewed ten thousand men, +who cheered the Empress with enthusiasm.’</p> + +<p>At Krasny Kabak the insurrectionary army halted: +the men, who had been on their legs for twelve hours, +needed a rest. Catherine and Princess Dashkov, who +had not slept at all the last few nights, were much +exhausted. The princess took an overcoat from Colonel +Kar, spread it over the solitary sofa in the little room they +had taken at the inn, and stationed sentries; then she and +Catherine stretched themselves on the sofa, not taking +off their uniforms, but firmly resolved to get a little +sleep; they could not sleep, however, but spent the whole +time talking, making plans, and entirely forgetting the +danger they were in.</p> + +<p>There is no denying that there is something extraordinarily +fascinating in this daring exploit of two women, who +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_146">[146]</span>changed the destinies of an empire, in this revolution +wrought by a handsome, clever woman, surrounded by +young men in love with her, and with the leading +figure among them a beauty of eighteen on horseback +in the Preobrazhensky regiment, with a sabre in her +hand.</p> + +<p>The unlucky Peter was meanwhile driving from +Oranienbaum to Peterhof, and from Peterhof to Oranienbaum, +unable to think what to do or to decide upon +anything. He looked for Catherine through all the +rooms of the pavilion, behind doors and cupboards, as +though she were playing ‘hide-and-seek’ with him, +and, not without complacency, repeated to ‘Romanovna’: +‘There, you see I was right; I was sure she would do +something; I always said that woman was capable of +anything.’</p> + +<p>The old champion, Minih, still stood by him, all +Russia and part of Petersburg was still not against him, +but he had already lost his head entirely. Displaying +incredible cowardice at Cronstadt, he bade the Imperial +yacht sail not to the fleet, but back to Oranienbaum; the +ladies were afraid of sickness and the sea, he was afraid +of everything. It was a calm moonlight night; the +pitiful Tsar hid in the cabin with his courtiers, while the +two heroes, Minih and Gudovitch, sat in gloomy brooding +on deck, with shame and anger and sorrow in their hearts; +they saw that there is no saving people against their will. +At four o’clock in the morning they reached Oranienbaum +again, and crestfallen stealthily returned to the Palace. +Peter sat down to write a letter to Catherine.</p> + +<p>At the same time two fiery steeds were being saddled, +one for Catherine, the other for Princess Dashkov, and +again, full of gaiety and energy, they were at the head of +their soldiers, who set off on the march at five o’clock, and +halted to rest at the Troitsky Monastery. Then Peter’s +envoys began appearing one after another, bringing proposals +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_147">[147]</span>each more foolish than the last; he abdicated +from the throne, begged leave to go to Holstein, and +owned himself to blame and unfit to rule. Catherine +insisted on his unconditional surrender to avert greater +troubles, and promised in return to arrange his life as +comfortably as possible in whichever he preferred of +the palaces away from the town.</p> + +<p>Catherine’s troops calmly occupied Peterhof; Orlov, +who had ridden on to reconnoitre, had found no one +there. The Holsteiners, who were about Peter in +Oranienbaum and were devoted to him, were ready to +die for him, but he told them to make no defence; he +meant to flee, ordered a horse to be brought, but did not +mount it; instead, he got into a carriage with Romanovna +and Gudovitch, and mournfully went to surrender to his +guilty wife. He was led secretly into a remote room of +the Palace. Gudovitch, who even then behaved with +extraordinary dignity, was arrested, together with +Romanovna; Peter was given food and drink, and taken +to Ropsha in the escort of Alexey Orlov, Passek, Baryatinsky, +and Baskakov. He selected Ropsha himself; it +had belonged to him when he was Grand Duke. Other +authorities state, however, that he did not go to Ropsha +at all, but was on the estate of Razumovsky.</p> + +<p>Princess Dashkov saw his letters to Catherine. In +one he speaks of his abdication, in another of the persons +he would like to keep about him, and enumerates everything +he needed for his daily life, making special mention +of a store of Burgundy and tobacco. He asked further, +it is said, for a violin, a Bible, and various novels, adding +that he meant to become a philosopher.</p> + +<p>On the evening of the day when Peterhof was taken, +Princess Dashkov, coming back from the Princess of +Holstein’s to the Empress’s apartments, came upon Orlov, +who was lying at full length on a sofa in one of the +Empress’s inner rooms. He apologised for doing so, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_148">[148]</span>alleging that he had hurt his foot. He was opening +a big envelope; Princess Dashkov had seen such envelopes +in the hands of her uncle, the Vice-Chancellor; +they were used for the most important affairs of state +communicated from the Privy Council to the Tsar.</p> + +<p>‘What are you doing?’ she asked, with amazement.</p> + +<p>‘The Empress told me to.’</p> + +<p>‘Impossible,’ she answered. ‘You have no official +status for doing it.’</p> + +<p>At that moment word was brought that the soldiers +had broken into the cellars, and were drinking Hungarian +wine in their helmets, taking it for mead. Orlov did +not stir. Princess Dashkov at once went downstairs, +assumed a threatening air, and with her thin girlish voice +restored discipline. Pleased with her success, she distributed +among them all the money she had on her; then, +turning her purse inside out, told them that her means +were less than her goodwill, but that on their return to +Petersburg they should have leave to drink at the Government’s +expense; after this she went back.</p> + +<p>Beside the sofa on which Orlov was lying she found a +table laid for three. The Empress came in, took her +seat, and invited the princess to sit down. All this so +impressed the latter that she could not conceal her +emotion. The Empress noticed it, and asked her what +was the matter.</p> + +<p>‘Nothing,’ she answered; ‘most likely I am tired from +sleepless nights and excitement.’</p> + +<p>Catherine, wishing to draw the princess into being +civil to Orlov, told her that in spite of her urgent wishes +he was giving up military service, and begged the princess +to help her to dissuade him. ‘I shall be charged,’ she +said, ‘with horrible ingratitude if he leaves the army.’ +But Princess Dashkov, mortified by her discovery, answered +that Her Majesty had so many means of rewarding his +services that she had no need to constrain him.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_149">[149]</span></p> + +<p>‘It was only then,’ she adds, ‘that I was convinced +there was <i>une liaison</i> between them.’</p> + +<p>It has been thought that she was mortified at this +through jealousy, and it is not a mistake. Only, she was +not jealous on Orlov’s account; she never liked and never +respected either him or his brothers; she was jealous +over the Empress; she liked neither the choice nor the +tone; moreover, her dreams of exclusive confidence, of +romantic friendship, of all-powerful influence, paled and +vanished at her discovery. And as a fact, from that +evening she had a rival and an enemy; she felt that the +very day after the <i>coup d’état</i>.</p> + +<p>Crazy Peter’s saying about the orange skin began +coming true with extraordinary rapidity. The very day +after ascending the throne the Empress began appraising +and rewarding Princess Dashkov’s services, she began +to be grateful—that is, ceased to be her friend.</p> + +<p>After her triumphal entry into Petersburg, Princess +Dashkov went away to see her father, her uncle, and, most +of all, to have a look at her little one. It must not be +forgotten that our Preobrazhensky sergeant had a little +daughter Nastya, whom she passionately loved, and with +whom she longed to play, after having played enough with +the Tsar’s crown. Her father’s house was full of soldiers, +stationed there partly for his protection, and partly because +‘Romanovna’ had been brought to his house. Vadkovsky +sent to ask the officer on duty whether all the +guard was needed; Princess Dashkov, speaking to him +in French, told the officer that half of the soldiers were +not needed, and that she was dismissing them.</p> + +<p>When she went back to the Palace, Catherine received +her with a look of displeasure; the officer of the guard +was present and was talking to Orlov. The Empress +reprimanded Princess Dashkov for acting on her own +initiative, and even observed that she had spoken French +before the soldiers. The princess, deeply wounded, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_150">[150]</span>listened to the reprimand, made no reply, and, to change +the conversation, gave Catherine the ribbon and the +order which she had put in her pocket the day before.</p> + +<p>‘Not so fast, not so fast,’ said the Empress. ‘I had +to reprimand you for your impetuosity—you had no +right to dismiss the soldiers on your own authority; but +I must also reward you for your services.’ With this she +put around her neck the ribbon that had been restored.</p> + +<p>Instead of kneeling down before the Empress, as is +done on such occasions, Princess Dashkov said to her +sorrowfully: ‘Your Majesty, forgive me for what I +want to say; the time is coming when truth must be +banished from your presence; before it comes, I beg you +to take back that order: as a decoration I cannot sufficiently +value it; if it is a reward—however great it +might be, it could not reward my services, they cannot be +paid by anything, for they were not to be bought.’</p> + +<p>‘But,’ said the Empress, embracing her, and leaving +the ribbon, ‘friendship has its claims; surely I am not +deprived of them now?’</p> + +<p>Princess Dashkov, pleased again, kissed her hand, and +the spirits of a girl of eighteen got the upper hand; half a +century later she does not forget to add with pleasure: +‘Fancy me in a uniform, with a spur on one high boot, +looking like a boy of fifteen, with the red Catherine ribbon +across my shoulder.’ The new cavalier galloped back +again to Nastya, to show herself to the baby, to be present +at her supper, and at last undressing flung herself into +bed; but this time, too, sleep fled from her fretted +nerves, or terrified her with dreams: the amazing scenes +of the preceding days, which she had not merely lived +through, but had partly brought about, passed incessantly +before her imagination.</p> + +<p>The Empress herself did not deny the important share +Princess Dashkov had taken in the revolution of the +28th of June; on the contrary, when the wily old +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_151">[151]</span>Bestuzhev was presented to her, she said to him: ‘Who +could have imagined that the daughter of Roman Vorontsov +would have helped me to ascend the throne!’</p> + +<p>The news of the murder of Peter filled Princess +Dashkov with horror and aversion; she was so distressed +and revolted by this stain on the ‘revolution which has +not cost one drop of blood,’ that she could not bring +herself to go next day to the Palace. She omits in her +memoirs all the details of the revolting proceeding, in +which three officers, one of whom was of gigantic stature, +were at work for half an hour stifling with a napkin the +poisoned prisoner, as though they could not wait for a +quarter of an hour. She assumed that Catherine did not +know beforehand of Alexey Orlov’s design;⁠<a id="FNanchor_54" href="#Footnote_54" class="fnanchor">[54]</a> it is more +probable that she simply had no idea of the connivance +of Catherine, who could carefully conceal her wishes. +Not only Panin and the other conspirators knew nothing +of her intrigue with Grigory Orlov, but, as we have just +seen, Princess Dashkov had not suspected it.</p> + +<p>Catherine perceived what was in the latter’s heart, +and when she saw her began to speak with horror of what +had happened.</p> + +<p>‘Yes, your Majesty,’ answered Princess Dashkov, +‘this death has come too quickly and too soon for your +fame and for mine.’</p> + +<p>As she walked through the drawing-room, she said in +a loud voice before every one that, of course, Alexey +Orlov would spare her his acquaintance. For over +twenty-five years they did not bow nor say a word to +each other.</p> + +<p>It is very possible that Catherine had not given instructions +to murder Peter. Alexander went further: he +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_152">[152]</span>positively insisted that they should not <i>kill</i> Paul, when +he sent a gang of the rebel nobles to him. We know +from Shakespeare how these orders are given by a glance, +a hint, a silence. Why did Catherine entrust the care +of the pusillanimous Peter to his worst enemies? Passek +and Baskakov had meant to kill him several days before +the 27th of June, and did not she know that? And why +were the murderers so shamelessly rewarded?</p> + +<p>Princess Dashkov quotes in Catherine’s defence a letter +from Orlov, written immediately after the murder, which +the Empress showed her. This letter, she says, bore +unmistakable traces of uneasiness, distress, consternation, +and tipsiness. It was preserved by the Empress in a +special case, together with other important documents. +After her death Paul ordered Prince Bezborodka +to go through these papers in his presence; when they +got to this letter, Paul read it aloud to the Tsarina in the +presence of Madame Nelidov.⁠<a id="FNanchor_55" href="#Footnote_55" class="fnanchor">[55]</a> Then he ordered +Rastoptchin to read it aloud to the Grand Dukes.</p> + +<p>I have heard what the letter contained from a trustworthy +man who had read it himself; it was in this style: +‘Little Mother, Empress, how am I to tell you what we +have done! such a misfortune has happened! We came +to see your husband, and were drinking with him; you +know what he is like when he is drunk; word followed +word. He so insulted us that we came to blows. All +of a minute he dropped dead. What is to be done? +Take our heads if you like, or, merciful Little Mother, +think that what is done cannot be undone, and overlook +our offence.’⁠<a id="FNanchor_56" href="#Footnote_56" class="fnanchor">[56]</a>⁠</p> + +<p>Princess Dashkov, carried away by her love for +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_153">[153]</span>Catherine, believed, or professed to believe, that Mirovitch,⁠<a id="FNanchor_57" href="#Footnote_57" class="fnanchor">[57]</a> +too, acted without her knowledge; and the worst, +most disgraceful and loathsome story of her whole reign, +the abduction by Alexey Orlov and De Ribasse of Princess +Tarakanov,⁠<a id="FNanchor_58" href="#Footnote_58" class="fnanchor">[58]</a> she does not mention at all.</p> + +<p>It was, among other things, because she believed and +wanted to believe in the ideal Catherine that she could not +maintain herself in favour. And she would have been +a splendid minister. Though indisputably gifted with +political insight, she had besides her enthusiastic temperament +two great defects which hindered her from making +a career: she could not be silent, her tongue was sharp +and biting, and it spared no one except Catherine; moreover, +she was too proud, and she could not, and would +not, conceal her antipathies—in short, she could not ‘abase +her personality,’ as the Moscow Old Believers express it.</p> + +<p>As a matter of fact, a friendship between Catherine and +Princess Dashkov was impossible. Catherine wanted not +only to be sovereign by the Imperial power, but to rule +over every one in the world by her genius and her beauty; +she wanted to attract the attention of all to herself alone; +she had an insatiable desire to please. She was still in the +full flower of her beauty, but she was thirty. She could +probably have borne to have about her a weak woman, +lost in the radiance of her glory and adoring her, not +very handsome and not very clever. But she could not +endure at her side the vigorous Princess Dashkov, who +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_154">[154]</span>spoke of <i>her own fame</i>, with her wit, her fire, and her +nineteen years.</p> + +<p>She withdrew herself from her with the rapidity of +truly royal ingratitude. In Moscow, after the Coronation, +the old sinner Bestuzhev proposed writing an +address to the Empress, and begging her, in the name of +all her subjects, to take another husband. Grigory +Orlov, who had already been created a prince of the +Empire, dreamed of being Tsar. This roused the indignation +of all decent people. Chancellor Vorontsov asked +for an audience, and warned Catherine, on the supposition +that she did not know what was being done. +Catherine was surprised, and wanted to reprimand +Bestuzhev.</p> + +<p>Hitrov, one of the devoted conspirators of the 27th of +June, loudly declared that he would sooner kill Orlov, or +go to the scaffold, than acknowledge him Emperor. It +need hardly be said that Princess Dashkov’s voice, too, +was heard in the general murmur of displeasure; her +words were carried to Catherine. Suddenly one evening, +Tyeplov, the secretary of the Empress, came to Prince +Dashkov and demanded to see him. The Empress had +written him the following note: ‘I sincerely desire not +to be compelled to consign to oblivion the services of +the Princess Dashkov on account of her imprudent behaviour. +Tell her to remember this next time she +permits herself an indiscreet freedom of language amounting +to threats.’</p> + +<p>Princess Dashkov did not answer a word to this letter; +she held herself aloof, and after the death of her husband +in 1768 asked leave to visit foreign lands. ‘I might +very well go without question,’ she said (probably never +dreaming that in another eighty years a stupid law would +almost completely deprive Russians of the right of crossing +the frontier, and still less, that the Government would +force every traveller to pay ransom), ‘but my position as +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_155">[155]</span>a lady of the court lays upon me the obligation to ask +the sanction of the Most High.’</p> + +<p>Receiving no answer, she went to Petersburg, and at +her first reception asked Catherine to allow her to go +abroad for the sake of her children’s health.</p> + +<p>‘I am very sorry,’ answered Catherine, ‘that such a +distressing cause obliges you to go. But, of course, +Princess, you are perfectly free to make what arrangements +you like.’</p> + +<p>Where was the time when they had lain in one bed, +under one quilt, and had wept and embraced each other, +or, lying on Colonel Kar’s overcoat, had dreamed for a +whole night of political reforms?</p> + +<p>Abroad Princess Dashkov revived, and became again +the same proud, indefatigable, indomitable, active woman, +interested in every one and throwing herself into +everything.</p> + +<p>On the wall in the hotel at Dantzig there hung a big +picture representing some battle between Prussians and +Russians, in which, of course, the Russians were being +beaten. In the foreground there was a group of our +soldiers on their knees before the Prussians begging for +mercy. Princess Dashkov could not stand this. She +induced two Russians to creep by night into the room, +with oil-paints and brushes, locked the door, and set to +work with her companions to repaint the uniforms, so +that by the morning the Prussians were on their knees +begging the Russians to spare them. When she had +finished the picture, she sent for post-horses, and before +the hotel-keeper had grasped the situation, she was racing +along the road to Berlin, laughing at the thought of his +amazement.</p> + +<p>In Hanover she went to the Opera alone with Mlle. +Kamensky. They were so unlike the worthy German +women that the Prince of Mecklenburg, who was the +chief authority in the town, sent to find out who they +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_156">[156]</span>were. His adjutant went unceremoniously into the box +in which there were also two German ladies, and asked +our Russians whether they were not foreigners. Princess +Dashkov said ‘Yes.’</p> + +<p>‘His Highness,’ added the adjutant, ‘wishes to know +with whom I have the honour of speaking.’</p> + +<p>‘Our name,’ answered Princess Dashkov, ‘can be of +no interest either to you or to the Duke; as women we +have the right not to say who we are, and not to answer +your question.’</p> + +<p>The adjutant went away in confusion. The German +ladies, who had from the first felt involuntary respect +for our ladies, gazed at them with awe when they heard +Princess Dashkov’s valiant answer. Seeing that the +Germans took them for very great ladies, Princess +Dashkov, turning courteously to them, said that though +she would not answer the Prince’s impudent question, +she had no reason to conceal from them her identity. +‘I am an opera-singer, and my friend is a dancer; we +are both out of a job, and on the look-out for a good +engagement.’ The German ladies opened their eyes +wide, blushed to their ears, and not only abandoned +their polite attentions, but tried so far as the size of +the box permitted to sit with their backs turned on +them.</p> + +<p>In Paris Princess Dashkov was surrounded by all the +celebrities and made friends with all of them except +Rousseau; him she would not go to see on account of his +hypocritical humility and affected originality. Diderot, +on the other hand, became an intimate friend, spent whole +evenings <i>tête-à-tête</i> with her, and discussed everything +under the sun with her. Princess Dashkov proved to +him that serfdom was not so bad as was supposed, trapped +him into contradictory statements, and the susceptible +Diderot was ready to agree with her instantly.</p> + +<p>A servant came in and announced that Madame +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_157">[157]</span>Necker⁠<a id="FNanchor_59" href="#Footnote_59" class="fnanchor">[59]</a> + and Madame Geoffrin⁠<a id="FNanchor_60" href="#Footnote_60" class="fnanchor">[60]</a> had arrived. ‘Don’t +receive them!’ cried Diderot, without asking Princess +Dashkov’s wishes; ‘say that she is not at home.’</p> + +<p>‘There is not a better woman in the world than +Madame Geoffrin, but she is the greatest gossip in Paris; +I positively won’t have her talking all sorts of nonsense +about you before she has time to know you properly. I +won’t have blasphemy against my idol.’ And Princess +Dashkov sent word that she was unwell.</p> + +<p>Rulhière,⁠<a id="FNanchor_61" href="#Footnote_61" class="fnanchor">[61]</a> who was writing about Russia and the year +1762, also urgently wished to see her. Diderot would +not have him received either: he wanted to keep Princess +Dashkov to himself.</p> + +<p>In London Princess Dashkov made the acquaintance +of Paoli, but she did not like his ‘Italian grimaces,’ which +were unbecoming in a great man. In Geneva she visited +Voltaire and marvelled at him, though she could not help +laughing with some doctor over the way Voltaire lost his +temper at losing a game of draughts, and at the killing +faces he made. The doctor, observing that it was not +only Voltaire who could make such faces, bade his dog +lift up his head, and Princess Dashkov could not control +her laughter at the extraordinary resemblance. From +Geneva she went to Spa; there she made great friends +with Mrs. Hamilton⁠<a id="FNanchor_62" href="#Footnote_62" class="fnanchor">[62]</a> and, when she parted from her, +romantically swore to come again in five years to see her, +if they did not meet before, and, what was even more +romantic, actually came.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_158">[158]</span></p> + +<p>The feeling of the most ardent, most active affection +was almost the strongest emotion in this proud and strong-willed +woman. Deeply wounded by Catherine’s treatment +of her,⁠<a id="FNanchor_63" href="#Footnote_63" class="fnanchor">[63]</a> she looked prematurely old. Diderot says +that she looked nearly forty, though she was at that time +twenty-seven. Whether she loved any man after her +husband’s death, or was beloved by one, is not to be seen +from her Memoirs; but it may be said for certain that no +man played a significant part in her life. After Catherine +she attached herself, with all the ardour of a hungry heart, +to Mrs. Hamilton. And in her old age an infinitely +tender motherly affection brought warmth into her +life; I am speaking of Miss Wilmot, who edited her +Memoirs.</p> + +<p>From Spa she went back to Moscow to the house of +her sister, Madame Polyansky; this sister, with her +humble, prosaic name, was no other than the notorious +‘Romanovna,’ who, if she had not been Madame +Polyansky, might easily have been Empress of all the +Russias.</p> + +<p>The clouds which had overcast Princess Dashkov’s sky +were beginning to clear away. The influence of the +Orlovs had waned. The Empress, hearing of her arrival, +sent her sixty thousand roubles to buy an estate.</p> + +<p>But the princess was utterly unable to get on with the +favourites, and there was no real intimacy between her +and the court. Now she began to be deeply absorbed +in the education of her son; an ardent admirer of England +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_159">[159]</span>and English institutions, she made up her mind to go +with her son to Edinburgh. Moreover, she saw that she +was completely superfluous in the Winter Palace.</p> + +<p>While she was preparing for this journey she betrothed +her daughter to Shtcherbinin. On the way to +the estate of the young man’s brother, to which she was +going with the whole party, a servant fell off the box, and +three sledges passed over him; he was badly hurt and +stunned; he had to be bled, but how? Princess +Dashkov had with her a case of surgical instruments +bought in London; she took out a lancet, but no one +would undertake to use it; the injured man lay unaided +until, overcoming an intense feeling of disgust, she opened +his vein, and after successfully performing the operation, +almost sank into a swoon herself.</p> + +<p>In Edinburgh she was soon surrounded by the leading +celebrities, Robertson, Blair, Adam Smith, Fergusson. +She wrote long letters to Robertson, and explained to him +in detail her plan of education; she wanted her son, who +was at that time fourteen, to complete his studies in two +years and a half, and then, after making a tour of the +whole of Europe, to go into the Service.</p> + +<p>Robertson presumed that he would need four years; the +mother thought that was too much. She wrote out in +detail what her son knew already, and what he must know.</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p class="hanging2">‘<i>Languages</i>:</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p class="hanging2">Latin.—The initial difficulties are overcome.</p> + +<p class="hanging2">English.—The prince has a very good understanding +of prose, and to some extent of verse.</p> + +<p class="hanging2">German.—He understands it perfectly.</p> + +<p class="hanging2">French.—He knows like his mother tongue.</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p class="hanging2">‘<i>Literature</i>: He is familiar with the best classical +works. His taste is more formed than is +common at his age. He has an excessive tendency +to be critical, which is perhaps his only +defect.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_160">[160]</span></p> + +<p class="hanging2">‘<i>Mathematics</i>: A very important branch of study. +He has been fairly successful in the solution of +advanced problems, but I should like him to +go further in algebra.</p> + +<p class="hanging2">‘<i>Civil and Military Architecture</i>: I want him to +make a particular study of these subjects.</p> + +<p class="hanging2">‘<i>History and Political Institutions</i>: He has a knowledge +of general history, and particularly of +Germany, England, and France, but he ought +to go through a course of history more in detail; +he can study it at home with a tutor.</p> + +<p>‘Now this is what I want him to study: 1. Logic and +the Philosophy of Reasoning. 2. Experimental Physics. +3. A little Chemistry. 4. Philosophy and Natural +History. 5. Natural Law, International Law, public +and private Law in its application to the legal systems of +European nations. 6. Ethics. 7. Politics.’</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p>This extensive programme she divides into five sessions, +and then, as always, carries it out exactly. Her son +passed his M.A. examination in 1779; it is commonly +said that she exhausted him, and, certainly, he never did +anything; moreover, he died very young, but whether +his education is to blame for that it is hard to say.</p> + +<p>After the examination Princess Dashkov went at once +to Ireland, queened it in Dublin society, and composed +church music, which was sung in the Chapel of Magdalen +in the presence of a vast concourse of people, ‘desirous,’ +as she expresses it, ‘of hearing how the bears of the North +compose.’ Probably it was a successful experiment, +for later on she was busy negotiating with David Garrick +for the performance on the stage of her musical works. +She was also writing long instructions to her son in the +style of the counsels of Polonius concerning the conduct +of his travels....</p> + +<p>From England she went to Holland; in Haarlem she +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_161">[161]</span>went to see a doctor of her acquaintance, and there met +Prince Orlov, by now married and out of favour. The +same day Orlov came to call on her, and just at dinner-time. +His visit was to Princess Dashkov ‘as unexpected +as it was disagreeable.’</p> + +<p>‘I have come to you not as an enemy, but as a friend +and ally,’ said Orlov, sitting down in a low chair. Then +followed a silence on both sides. He looked intently at +young Dashkov, and observed: ‘Your son is enrolled in +the Cuirassiers, and I am in command of a regiment of +the Horse Guards; if you like, I will ask the Empress +to transfer him to my regiment; that will give him +promotion.’</p> + +<p>Princess Dashkov thanked him for his kind suggestion, +but said that she could not take advantage of his offer, +because she had already written on his behalf to Prince +Potyomkin, and did not want without good reason to +do anything in opposition to him.</p> + +<p>‘What could there be disagreeable to him in it?’ +asked Orlov, feeling the sting of this. ‘However, as +you please; you may rely on me; your son will make +a great career; it would be hard to find a <i>handsomer</i> +young man.’</p> + +<p>The mother flushed crimson with anger, and the +conversation dropped. But at the next meeting Orlov, +addressing young Dashkov, said: ‘What a pity that I +shall not be in Petersburg when you arrive! I am certain +that you will oust the present favourite as soon as you +appear at court; I should be pleased to carry out my +present duties—comforting the forsaken.’</p> + +<p>Beside herself with indignation, Princess Dashkov sent +her son out of the room, and told Orlov that she thought +it extremely improper to speak to a boy of seventeen in +that way, and that in so doing Orlov was compromising +the Empress, whom she had brought her son up to respect; +that, as for favourites, she begged him to remember +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_162">[162]</span>that she had never known and never recognised one +of them.</p> + +<p>After that they parted. Orlov went to Switzerland, +Princess Dashkov to Paris. Then we meet her inspecting +the French fortresses with her son and Colonel Samoylov, +by special permission of Maréchal de Biron.⁠<a id="FNanchor_64" href="#Footnote_64" class="fnanchor">[64]</a> From +France she went to Italy, and there was completely +absorbed in pictures and statues, cameos and antiques, +bought a picture of Angelica Kauffmann’s as a present for +the Empress, went to see the Pope and Abbé Galiani,⁠<a id="FNanchor_65" href="#Footnote_65" class="fnanchor">[65]</a> +and finally returned to Russia through Vienna.</p> + +<p>In Vienna she had a heated argument with Kaunitz, +with whom she was dining. He called Peter the Great +the political creator of Russia; Princess Dashkov observed +that this was a European misconception. Kaunitz was +not ready to yield his point; she was even less so. She +admitted that Peter had done a very great deal for Russia, +but thought that the material was ready, and that, together +with his masterly use of it, he had inhumanly oppressed +and distorted it.</p> + +<p>‘If he had really been a great statesman, he would by +his intercourse with other nations, and by trade, have +gained without haste what he attained by violence and +cruelty. The nobility and the serfs were both left worse +off through his unbridled passion for innovations; from +the latter he took the protective tribunal to which alone +they could appeal in case of oppression, from the former +he took all their privileges. And to what end was it +all? To clear the way for a military despotism, that is, +for the very worst of all existing forms of government. +From simple vanity he was in such a hurry to build +Petersburg that he sent thousands of workmen to die in +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_163">[163]</span>the marshes. He not only forced the landowners to +provide a certain number of peasants, but compelled +them to build themselves houses according to his own +plans, without asking whether they needed them. One +of his principal buildings, the Admiralty and Docks, +which cost immense sums, was constructed on the bank +of a river which no human efforts could make navigable +even for merchant vessels, much less for ships of the +Navy.’</p> + +<p>‘However,’ observed Kaunitz, ‘no one can help being +touched at the sight of a monarch learning shipbuilding +with the axe in his hand.’</p> + +<p>The ruthless lady would not let this pass. ‘Your +Excellency,’ she answered, ‘is doubtless joking. Who +can know better than you how precious is a monarch’s +time, and whether he has the leisure to practise a handicraft? +Peter <span class="allsmcap">I.</span> was in a position to command the services +not only of shipbuilders, but even of admirals. To my +mind, when he was wasting time in Saardam working +with the axe and learning the slang of the Dutch market, +and sailors’ words with which he distorted the Russian +language, he was simply neglecting his duty.’</p> + +<p>I foresee how the good Orthodox souls of our Moscow +Slavophils will rejoice at reading these words; they +certainly ought, on days for commemorating the dead, +to keep the memory of our princess with pancakes and +lenten oil.</p> + +<p>Joseph <span class="allsmcap">II.</span> was ill, and wanted Princess Dashkov to +remain a few days longer, but she had received an invitation +from Frederick <span class="allsmcap">II.</span> for herself and her son to be +present at his manœuvres. She had, however, an informal +interview with Joseph <span class="allsmcap">II.</span> in the study he devoted +to natural history.</p> + +<p>A week later Princess Dashkov was at the manœuvres +at which Frederick <span class="allsmcap">II.</span> drilled forty-two thousand men, +and to which he had never before admitted women, but +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_164">[164]</span>she was specially invited. The Prussian Princess herself +drove to fetch her, brought her to the spot where the +King was to meet her, and asked her to get out of the +carriage, saying: ‘Dear Princess, as I have not the +slightest desire to see the old grumbler, I will drive on,’ +and Princess Dashkov was left to an innocent <i>tête-à-tête</i> +with Frederick <span class="allsmcap">II.</span>, who took her and her son with him +to a military inspection of the provinces.</p> + +<p>In July 1782 she returned to Petersburg. The Empress +appointed her President of the Academy of Science. +Princess Dashkov was apparently for the first time in her +life disconcerted, and wanted to decline the honour. +She wrote a sharp letter to the Empress, and at twelve +o’clock at night drove with it to Potyomkin. Potyomkin +had gone to bed; however, he received her. He read +the letter, tore it up and threw it on the floor, but, seeing +that she was angry, said to her: ‘Here are pen and +paper, by all means write it again; only, it is all nonsense; +why do you refuse? The Empress has been full of the +idea for the last two days. In that position you will +be frequently seeing her, and the fact is, to tell the +truth, she is dying of boredom, perpetually surrounded +by fools.’</p> + +<p>Potyomkin’s eloquence overcame her opposition; she +went to the Senate to take the oath for her new duties, +and from that moment became a consummate president. +She asked old Euler, the great mathematician, to +introduce her at the assembled Academy; she wanted +to appear under the aegis of learning before the academicians. +She presented herself to them not in silence, as +Russian presidents usually do, but with a speech, after +which, seeing that the first place next the president was +occupied by Stehlin,⁠<a id="FNanchor_66" href="#Footnote_66" class="fnanchor">[66]</a> she turned to Euler and said: ‘Sit +where you prefer; whatever place you occupy will be the +first.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_165">[165]</span></p> + +<p>Then with her habitual energy she set to work to +eradicate abuses, that is, thefts; she increased the number +of the pupils, improved the printing-press, and finally +proposed to the Empress the founding of a Russian +Academy. Catherine appointed her president of this +new academy too. Again Princess Dashkov made a +speech. ‘You all know, gentlemen,’ she said, among +other things, ‘the wealth and splendour of our language. +The powerful eloquence of Cicero, the measured grandeur +of Virgil, the fascinating charm of Demosthenes, and the +light language of Ovid, translated into Russian, lose nothing +of their beauties.... But we are without exact rules, +the limits and meanings of words have not been defined, +and many foreign phrases have crept into our language,’ +and therefore she proposed that the Russian Academy +should work at a grammar and dictionary of the language. +She herself prepared to share the labours of the academicians, +and did, in fact, work at the dictionary. The +Empress seemed to be pleased with her. Her energy at +this period was amazing. She undertook the publication +of special geographical maps of the different provinces, +and edited the periodical, <i>Lovers of the Russian Language</i>, +to which the Empress herself, Von Vizin, Derzhavin, and +others contributed.</p> + +<p>Her relations with the Empress were unmistakably +improved. A correspondence sprang up between them +again; the letters deal with a review they were publishing +and various literary subjects. These letters, which +are of little general interest, are a striking proof of the +degree to which good manners, culture, and humanity +have since sunk in the Winter Palace. Catherine gives +no orders, does not command in her notes, does not confine +herself to set forms, is not afraid of jesting; she has +confidence in herself, and the Empress often gives way to +the woman of intelligence. The Prussian Gatchina +tone, translated into official red tape by Nicholas, has +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_166">[166]</span>replaced with brutal illiteracy the gentleness of cultured +language.</p> + +<p>All would have been well if only Princess Dashkov +could have kept on good terms with the favourites; she got +on better with Potyomkin than with any of the rest, perhaps +because Potyomkin was the cleverest of them; with +Lanskoy, and afterwards with Manonov, she was at +daggers drawn. Zubov gossiped spitefully against her, +and did her a great deal of mischief.</p> + +<p>In the summer of 1783 she was in Finland with the +Empress, who had an interview there with the King of +Sweden. Lanskoy kept pestering her to know why in +the news published under the auspices of the Academy +her name was the only one mentioned of the persons +who were with the Empress. Princess Dashkov explained +to him that it was not her doing at all, that the +Court news was sent and printed without alteration. +Lanskoy went on sulking and grumbling till she was +sick of it.</p> + +<p>‘You ought to know,’ she said to him, ‘that, though +it is always an honour and a happiness to me to dine with +the Empress, I cannot really be so much overwhelmed by +it as to publish it in the papers. I am too much accustomed +to it; as a little child I used to dine on the Empress +Elizabeth’s knee, as a little girl I sat at her table; it is so +natural that it could not be a matter for boasting to me.’</p> + +<p>Lanskoy grew heated, but Princess Dashkov, seeing +that the room was beginning to fill up, raised her voice, +and said: ‘Sir, people whose whole life has been devoted +to the public welfare are not always particularly powerful +or happy, but they always have the right to insist on being +treated without insolence. They quietly go their own +way and outlive those meteors of a day which burst and +fall, leaving no trace.’</p> + +<p>The doors were flung open and the Empress walked in. +Her arrival put an end to the conversation. How could +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_167">[167]</span>Lanskoy fail to hate her? It was as well for her that +he died soon after.</p> + +<p>On her return from Finland Princess Dashkov received +her friend, Mrs. Hamilton, to stay with her. She took +her to her new estate; there she kept a village holiday, +met with bread and salt the peasants newly settled there, +introduced them to the Englishwoman, and informed +them that henceforth the new village would be called +Hamiltonovo. After this she travelled with her to other +estates in the provinces of Kaluga, Smolensk, Kiev, and +Tambov.</p> + +<p>The following year Princess Dashkov received a cruel +blow in her personal life. Her son was in Rumyantsev’s +army, and she was glad that he was not in Petersburg. +Latterly even Potyomkin had designs upon him. He +once sent Samoylov to fetch him late one evening, and +Samoylov gave the mother a hint of their project. She +refused to have anything to do with it, and said that if +it happened she would take advantage of her son’s influence +to obtain leave of absence abroad for many years. +For this reason she was relieved that her son was away in +Kiev. But there love had another arrow in store for him, +aimed not from above, but from below.</p> + +<p>One day, as she came out of the Empress’s bedroom, +she met Rebinder, who warm-heartedly congratulated her +on her son’s marriage. She was thunderstruck. Rebinder +was disconcerted; he had had no idea that young Dashkov’s +wedding was a secret. She was wounded in her +motherly feelings and in her pride; on the one hand, +the <i>mésalliance</i>, on the other, the lack of confidence. It +was a heavy blow, it made her ill.</p> + +<p>Two months later her son wrote her a letter, asking +for her permission to marry; this was a fresh blow—falsity, +cowardice, deceit. Moreover, he had so little understanding +of his mother’s character that together with his +own letter he sent one from Field-Marshal Rumyantsev +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_168">[168]</span>obviously written at his request. Rumyantsev tried to +persuade Princess Dashkov to sanction her son’s marriage, +spoke of the prejudices of aristocratic birth and of the +instability of fortune, and, in her words, ‘reached such a +pitch of futility as to give advice in a matter of such +gravity between mother and son, though nothing in their +relations gave him a right to meddle.’</p> + +<p>Wounded on two sides at once, she wrote a sarcastic +letter to Rumyantsev, in which she explained to him that, +‘among the various foolish ideas with which her head +was filled, there was happily no exaggerated respect for +aristocratic birth; but that, if she had been endowed +with such remarkable eloquence as the Count, she would +have used it to show the superiority of good breeding +over bad.’</p> + +<p>To her son her letter was strikingly simple; here it is: +‘When your father intended to marry a Countess Vorontsov, +he drove post-haste to Moscow to ask his mother’s +sanction. You are married; I knew this before you +wrote, and I know, too, that my mother-in-law had done +no more to deserve to have a friend in her son than I have.’</p> + +<p>The discussions that followed this and other family +affairs must have cost her much mortification. Her +daughter parted from her husband. Miss Wilmot has +omitted several pages in the Memoirs, after which Princess +Dashkov goes on like this: ‘All was black in the future +and the present.... I was so worn out by suffering +that I was at times visited by the thought of suicide.’</p> + +<p>And so the demon of family troubles crushed her, as it +has crushed many strong characters. Family misfortunes +wound so deeply, because they steal upon one in silence +and to combat them is almost impossible. Victory in +the struggle makes it worse. They are like those poisons +whose presence is only recognised when their effect is +shown in pain, that is, when the man is already saturated +with them.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_169">[169]</span></p> + +<p>Meanwhile, the French Revolution had come. +Catherine, who was growing old, worn out by a life of +vice, threw herself into reaction. This was no longer +the conspirator of the 27th of June, who said to Betsky: +‘I reign by the will of God and the election of the +people,’ not the Petersburg correspondent of Voltaire and +the translator of Beccaria and Filangier,⁠<a id="FNanchor_67" href="#Footnote_67" class="fnanchor">[67]</a> who proclaimed +in her famous <i>Nakaz</i>⁠<a id="FNanchor_68" href="#Footnote_68" class="fnanchor">[68]</a> the evils of the censorship and the +advantage of an assembly of deputies from the whole +realm of Russia. In 1792 we find her an old woman +afraid of thought, a worthy mother of Paul.... And +like a pledge that a savage reaction would crush for long +years every branch of free development in Russia, +Nicholas was born before her death. Catherine’s dying +hand was still there to caress this awful monster who was +destined to cry <i>Halt!</i> to the epoch of Peter’s reforms, and +to delay the progress of Russia for thirty years.</p> + +<p>Princess Dashkov, an aristocrat and an admirer of +English institutions, could not sympathise with the +Revolution; but still less could she share the feverish terror +of free speech and applaud the punishment of thought.</p> + +<p>Catherine was alarmed by Radishtchyev’s pamphlet;⁠<a id="FNanchor_69" href="#Footnote_69" class="fnanchor">[69]</a> +she saw in it the ‘signal of revolution.’ Radishtchyev +was seized and sent without trial to Siberia. Princess +Dashkov’s brother, Alexandr Vorontsov, who loved +Radishtchyev, and had been a benefactor to him, retired +from the Service and went to Moscow.</p> + +<p>Her own turn came next. Knyazhnin’s⁠<a id="FNanchor_70" href="#Footnote_70" class="fnanchor">[70]</a> widow asked +her, for the benefit of her children, to publish under the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_170">[170]</span>auspices of the Academy her husband’s last tragedy. The +subject was taken from the history of the subjugation of +Novgorod. Princess Dashkov directed that it should be +published. Field-Marshal Saltykov, ‘who,’ as she says, +‘could not be charged with ever having read a book of +any sort,’ read this one and talked to Zubov of its +pernicious tendency. Zubov spoke to the Empress +about it.</p> + +<p>Next day the Petersburg police-master arrived at the +Academy bookshop to seize the copies of the Jacobin +Knyazhnin’s inflammatory tragedy; and in the evening +the Prosecutor-General, Samoylov, came himself to tell +Princess Dashkov of the Empress’s displeasure at the +publication of the dangerous play. Princess Dashkov +answered coldly that probably no one had read the +tragedy, and that it was certainly less pernicious than +the French plays which were being performed at the +Hermitage.</p> + +<p>The ex-liberal Catherine met her with a frowning +face. ‘What have I done,’ she asked her, ‘that you +publish such dangerous books against me and my +authority?’</p> + +<p>‘And does your Majesty really think that?’ the +princess asked.</p> + +<p>‘That tragedy ought to have been burnt by the hand of +the hangman.’</p> + +<p>‘Whether it is burnt by the hand of the hangman or +not is no concern of mine. I shall not have to blush for +it. But for God’s sake, madam, before you decide on +an action so opposed to your character, read the whole +play.’</p> + +<p>At that the conversation ended. Next day Princess +Dashkov attended a great court reception, and made up +her mind that if the Empress did not send for her to her +dressing-room, as she always did, she would resign her +post. Samoylov came out from the inner apartments. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_171">[171]</span>With a patronising air he went up to Princess Dashkov +and told her not to be uneasy, that the Empress was not +angry with her.</p> + +<p>She could not brook this, and answered, as her habit +was, in a loud voice: ‘I have no reason to be uneasy, my +conscience is clear. It would greatly distress me if the +Empress retained an unjust feeling towards me; but I +should not be surprised even then: at my age injustice +and misfortune have long ceased to surprise me.’</p> + +<p>The Empress was reconciled with her, and tried once +more to explain why she had acted as she did. Instead of +answering her, Princess Dashkov replied: ‘A grey cat has +run between us, madam: let us not awaken her again.’</p> + +<p>But Petersburg was becoming distasteful to her; she +was sick of it. She felt ‘utterly alone in these surroundings, +which became every day more hateful to her.’ This +feeling of repulsion was so great that she made up her +mind to leave the court, Petersburg, her public activity, +her Academy of Science, and her Russian Academy, and +finally her Empress, and to go and live on her estate in +the country.</p> + +<p>‘With deep sorrow I thought of parting, perhaps for +ever, from the Sovereign whom I loved passionately, and +loved long before she was on her throne, when she had +less means of bestowing benefits on me than I found +occasions for serving her. I still loved her, although she +did not always treat me as her own heart, her own brain, +would have prompted her.’</p> + +<p>That is all! Not one word of anger, of condemnation +for complete lack of heart, for ingratitude; even here she +gives us to understand that it was not Catherine’s fault, +but other people’s.</p> + +<p>The parting of these women was remarkable. The +Empress said to her drily, and with an angry face: ‘I +wish you a good journey.’ Princess Dashkov was +amazed; she did not understand it, and went away after +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_172">[172]</span>kissing her hand. Next morning Troshtchinsky, the +Secretary of the Empress, arrived, and in her name handed +the princess an unpaid bill, the unpaid bill of a tailor who +had done work for Shtcherbinin. The Empress sent +word that she was surprised that the princess should leave +Petersburg without carrying out her promise to pay her +daughter’s debts. Zubov, who hated Princess Dashkov, +and was a patron of the tailor’s, had carried these paltry +details to the Empress. To crown it all, it appeared that +the bill had nothing to do with her daughter, but had been +incurred by her husband, Shtcherbinin, who was living +apart from her.</p> + +<p>Princess Dashkov, utterly revolted at this humiliation, +firmly resolved to leave Petersburg for ever.</p> + +<p>But people of her temperament do not fold their hands +at a little over fifty, in the full possession of their faculties. +She became a capital manager of her estates; she built +houses, drew maps, and laid out parks. There was not +a tree nor a bush in her garden which she had not planted +or to which she had not at least assigned its position. She +built four houses, and says with pride that her peasants +were among the most prosperous in the neighbourhood. +While she was engaged in these rustic pursuits, Serpuhovsky, +the Marshal of the Nobility, suddenly arrived, +looking distressed.</p> + +<p>‘What is the matter with you?’ she asked.</p> + +<p>‘Don’t you know?’ answered the Marshal; ‘the +Empress is dead.’</p> + +<p>Princess Dashkov’s daughter rushed to her, thinking +that she would faint. ‘No, no, don’t worry about me,’ +said her mother; ‘I am quite well, though it would be +happiness to die at this moment. My fate is worse; I +am destined to see all the reforms that had been begun +destroyed, and my country ruined and unhappy.’</p> + +<p>With these words she fell into convulsions, and gave +way to prolonged grief.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_173">[173]</span></p> + +<p>It was not long before she felt the heavy, weighty, +autocratic hand of Peter’s crazy son.⁠<a id="FNanchor_71" href="#Footnote_71" class="fnanchor">[71]</a> First she received +a decree discharging her from her post; she asked the +Prosecutor-General, Samoylov, to testify to the Tsar her +gratitude for relieving her from the burden which had +become too great for her strength.</p> + +<p>A little later she went to Moscow, but the Governor-General +of Moscow called on her at once and informed +her that she should go back to the country immediately, +and there think of the year 1762. She answered, ‘that +she never forgot that year, but that in accordance with +the Tsar’s will she would think of that time, which had +left her neither stings of conscience nor remorse.’</p> + +<p>Her brother Alexandr, anxious to soothe her, told her +that Paul was doing all this now for the rehabilitation of +his father’s memory, but that after his coronation things +would go better. On reaching Troitskoye she wrote to +him: ‘Dear brother, you write that Paul will leave me +in peace after the coronation. Believe me, you are +much mistaken in his character. When the tyrant has +once struck his victim, he will repeat his blows until he +has crushed the victim utterly. The consciousness of +innocence and the feeling of indignation serve to give me +courage to endure discomfort so long as his growing spite +does not assail all of you, my relations, also. Of one +thing you may rest assured, that no circumstances will +compel me to do anything or say anything to demean +myself.</p> + +<p>‘Examining my past life,’ she adds, ‘I am not without +inner consolation, aware in myself of sufficient strength of +character, tested by many calamities, to feel certain that +I shall find again strength to endure misfortune.’</p> + +<p>She correctly gauged the character of the relentless, +petty, frenzied tyrant. Only a few days after she had +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_174">[174]</span>reached Troitskoye, a courier from the Governor-General +arrived from Moscow. Paul commanded Princess +Dashkov to go at once to her son’s estate in a remote +district of the Novgorod Province, and there to await +his further commands.</p> + +<p>She answered that she was ready to obey the Sovereign’s +will, and that it was a matter of complete indifference to +her where she ended her days, but that she knew nothing +of the estate nor of the roads thither, that she would +have to write from Moscow either for her son’s steward +or for a peasant from that village to guide her by the cross-country +roads.</p> + +<p>When she was ready and had obtained a guide, she +drove off into her exile in the winter frost, travelling slowly +with her own horses, surrounded by the spies of Arharov, +and accompanied by her kind-hearted kinsman, Laptyev, +whom she tried in vain to dissuade from coming and +exposing himself to the persecution of the frenzied +autocrat.</p> + +<p>But as the foremost symptom of madness is inconsistency, +she was here mistaken: when it was reported to +Paul that Laptyev had accompanied her, he said: ‘He is +not such a petticoat as our young men; he knows how to +wear the breeches.’</p> + +<p>As a rule far more value is attached to such momentary +flashes of humane feeling in Paul and others than they +deserve. What would Paul have done if all the young +men had known ‘how to wear the breeches’ like +Laptyev? he had plenty of Arharovs, Araktcheyevs, and +Obolyaninovs to torture them, fetter them in chains, and +send them into exile. (Pahlen and Bennigsen⁠<a id="FNanchor_72" href="#Footnote_72" class="fnanchor">[72]</a> did show +him, however, that there was an even better way to ‘wear +the breeches’!)</p> + +<p>This approbation of the victim is the final outrage on +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_175">[175]</span>him, the miscreant sets his conscience at rest with it. +On one occasion, in the presence of Ségur, Potyomkin +gave some colonel a blow, and, recollecting himself, said +to the ambassador: ‘How is one to treat them differently +when they put up with everything?’</p> + +<p>And what would Potyomkin’s answer have been, if +the colonel had given him a blow or a challenge?</p> + +<p>Princess Dashkov settled in a peasant’s hut. She took +another for her daughter, and a third as a kitchen. To +add to the discomforts of this life in the wilds in winter, +exiles from Petersburg to Siberia were brought by her +windows. The figure of one young officer haunted her +long afterwards; he was some distant relative of hers. +Learning that she was here, he wanted to see her. Risky +as such an interview was, she received him. She was +shocked to see the convulsive twitching of his face, and +how ill he looked; this was the result of the tortures in +which his limbs had been twisted and dislocated. What +had this criminal done? He had said something about +Paul in the barracks, and some one had informed against +him. Yet perhaps he, too, knew how to ‘wear the +breeches,’ till his arms were wrenched out of their sockets.</p> + +<p>Before the spring flooding of the rivers, which would +have cut off Princess Dashkov from all communication +for a long period, she wrote a letter to the Empress Marya +Feodorovna, and enclosed in it a request for permission +to move to her Kaluga estate. Paul could not have +liked the tone of her letter; she said in it that it was as +little to her honour to write this letter as it was to her +Majesty’s to read it, but that religion and humanity +compelled her to make a final effort to save all her people +from this cruel exile.</p> + +<p>Paul, as usual, flew into a fury, and gave orders that +pen and paper should be taken from Princess Dashkov, +that she should be forbidden all correspondence, be kept +under stricter supervision, and I do not know what else. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_176">[176]</span>‘It is not so easy,’ he said, ‘to turn me off the throne.’ With +these orders a courier was despatched, but the Empress +and Madame Nelidov induced the Grand Duke Michael +Pavlovitch to beg his infuriated father for mercy, and +the little boy, with the help of the wife and mistress, +succeeded. Paul took up a pen and wrote: ‘Princess +Ekaterina Romanovna, since you desire to return to your +Kaluga estate, I give you permission for the same. I +remain well disposed to you.—<span class="smcap">Paul.</span>’</p> + +<p>Arharov had to despatch another courier: fortunately +the second overtook the first.</p> + +<p>In 1798 Paul suddenly took a fancy to Prince Dashkov, +showered undeserved favours of all sorts upon him, and +made him the present of an estate. Dashkov asked +Kurakin to submit to Paul that, instead of an estate, he +would prefer permission for his mother to live where she +chose. Paul gave the permission with the proviso that +she should never remain in the same town where he was.</p> + +<p>The mother was forgiven. Now came the son’s turn. +A certain Altesti was tried for misappropriation of public +money, but really for being a friend of Zubov. Dashkov +said to Lopuhin that Altesti was innocent. In the +evening he received the following note: ‘Since you +meddle in affairs that have nothing to do with you, I have +dismissed you from your duties.—<span class="smcap">Paul.</span>’</p> + +<p>Dashkov, afraid of worse to follow, went off to his +Tambov estate.</p> + +<p>At last, on the 12th of March 1801, Paul’s life ‘came +to an end,’ as Princess Dashkov says. With deep emotion +and intense joy she learned that this pernicious man had +ceased to exist. ‘How many times,’ she goes on, ‘have +I thanked Heaven that Paul exiled me! by so doing he +saved me from the humiliating obligation of appearing +at the court of such a sovereign.’</p> + +<p>She breathed freely again in the reign of Alexander +... she could appear at his court without the loss of +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_177">[177]</span>her human dignity, but she did not feel at home in the +new surroundings. Many things had changed since +Catherine had sent her the tailor’s bill. Princess +Dashkov, now an old woman, is angry with the younger +generation surrounding Alexander, and thinks that they +are all Jacobins or martinets.</p> + +<p>One pure presence arrested her, and with respectful +love, with reverence, she looked upon her and attached +herself to her; sorrowful and unappreciated, this melancholy +being moved thoughtfully through the halls of the +Winter Palace, and vanished like a shadow; she would +have been forgotten, if we did not sometimes come across +a well-known picture of the year 1815, in which the +Emperor Alexander and the Empress Elizabeth are +represented as the peacemakers of Europe.</p> + +<p>Miss Wilmot has appended to Princess Dashkov’s +Memoirs a well-drawn portrait of the Empress Elizabeth; +the unhappy woman is standing with her arms folded, +she looks out mournfully from the paper, a hidden grief +and a sort of perplexity can be seen in her eyes, the +whole figure expresses one thought: ‘I am a stranger +here’; indeed, she is holding up her skirt and wraps as +though on the point of departure.</p> + +<p>How strange was her destiny, and that of Anna Pavlovna, +the wife of the Tsarevitch!</p> + +<p>After the coronation Princess Dashkov saw that there +was really no place for her at the new court, and she +began making plans for repose at Troitskoye. In her +honoured seclusion she again became a power.</p> + +<p>Friends and relations, celebrities whose fame was +waning, and rising stars visited her.</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent4">‘Crossing your threshold</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I am back in Catherine’s days.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Taking no share in the world’s hopes and fears,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">You at your window stand with mocking gaze</div> + <div class="verse indent0">To watch at times the flying wheel of change.</div> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_178">[178]</span> <div class="verse indent0">E’en so, withdrawing from the busy whirl</div> + <div class="verse indent0">To court the Muses and their idle ease,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">In porphyry baths and marble palaces,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Grandees in Rome endured their world’s decay.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And to them from afar the young men came,—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Dictator, consul, tribune, warrior chief—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">To rest in peace, to heave luxurious sighs,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Then off at once upon the road again.’</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p>She often visited Moscow. There she was held in +the highest respect; active and inexhaustible, she was +seen at balls and dinners, and arrived there indeed earlier +than any. Young ladies trembled at her criticisms and +observations, men sought the honour of being presented +to her.</p> + +<p>At the other end of Moscow, not far from the Donsky +Monastery, another living monument of the reign of +Catherine was passing his last days in a palace surrounded +by gardens. He led a gloomy life, retaining in spite of +his age his athletic frame and savage energy of character. +In 1796, with a scowling brow but unrepentant, he +carried all over Petersburg the crown of the man whom +he had murdered; hundreds of thousands of people +pointed the finger at him; his companion, Prince +Baryatinsky, turned pale and nearly fainted; old Orlov +merely complained of his gout.</p> + +<p>But his sombre life was not to pass uncheered. At his +side a gentle, tender little girl, exceptionally graceful and +talented, was growing up. The haughty old man began +to live for her; he became her nurse, petted her, cared +for her, waited on her, and loved her beyond all measure, +as no one but her dead mother could have loved her.</p> + +<p>Sitting on his sofa, he made his daughter dance gipsy +and Russian dances, watched her movements with fond +tenderness and unspoken pride, sometimes wiping a tear +from eyes which had, dry and cold, looked on so many +horrors.</p> + +<p>At last the time came for the old man to bring his +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_179">[179]</span>treasure out into the world; but to whom was he to +confide her, into what woman’s care was he to entrust +this cherished flower? There was, indeed, one woman +whom he could have trusted, who with her marvellous +tact might have directed her first steps; but they were not +on good terms. She had not forgiven him for the stain he +had brought on her revolution forty-two years before.</p> + +<p>And now the haughty Alexey Orlov, the Orlov of +Chesme,⁠<a id="FNanchor_73" href="#Footnote_73" class="fnanchor">[73]</a> whom even Paul could not crush, sought the +favour of an interview with Princess Ekaterina Romanovna, +and, receiving permission to present his daughter to her, +joyfully hastened to take advantage of it and went with +his Annushka to see her.</p> + +<p>Princess Dashkov came in to greet him; bowing, the +old man kissed her hand; both were agitated; at last +Princess Dashkov said to him: ‘So many years have passed +since we have met, Count, and so many events have transformed +the world in which we once lived that, indeed, I +feel that we are meeting now as shades in the other world. +The presence of this angel’ (she added, feelingly pressing +to her bosom the daughter of her former enemy) ‘who +has brought us together again makes that feeling even +stronger.’ In his delight Orlov kissed the hand of Miss +Wilmot, who was afraid of him, in spite of the fact that +she calls him ‘a majestic old man,’ and saw with surprise +the portrait of Catherine on his breast, framed in nothing +but diamonds, and the <i>heiduks</i> standing in the hall, and +with them a dwarf dressed like a jester.</p> + +<p>The Count invited Princess Dashkov, and gave one +of those fabulous banquets of which we used to hear +traditions in our childhood, feasts reminiscent of Versailles +and the Golden Horde. The gardens were +brilliantly lighted up, the house was thrown open, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_180">[180]</span>throngs of house-serfs in gorgeous masquerade costumes +filled the rooms, an orchestra played, the tables groaned +under the viands; in short, a royal banquet. He had +some one now to whom to entrust his daughter!</p> + +<p>At the height of the festivities, the father called her, +the guests formed a circle, and she danced, danced with +a shawl and danced with a tambourine in the Russian style. +The old father beat time and watched Princess Dashkov’s +face; the old lady was pleased, the crowd was silent +through respect for the father’s rank and the daughter’s +extraordinary grace. ‘She danced,’ says Miss Wilmot, +‘with such simplicity, such natural charm, such dignity +and expression, that her movements seemed her language.’</p> + +<p>After each dance, she ran to her father and kissed his +hand. Princess Dashkov praised her; her father bade +her kiss the princess’s hand too. But he fancied that she +was overheated, and with his own hands wrapped her in +a shawl that she might not take cold. At supper, with a +blare of trumpets and kettledrums, the Count, standing, +drank the health of Princess Dashkov. Then followed +her favourite Russian songs accompanied by a full +orchestra. Then the strains of the polka were heard, +and Orlov led Princess Dashkov into the drawing-room, +where the music of the wind instruments astonished our +Irish girl, who had never before heard serfdom put to +the service of art. At last Princess Dashkov got up to +take leave, and the Count, bowing and kissing her hand, +thanked her for honouring his poor house.</p> + +<p>This was how Orlov of Chesme celebrated his reconciliation +with old Princess Dashkov, and this was how the +grim, harsh man loved his daughter.</p> + +<p>I, too, like Princess Ekaterina Romanovna, am almost +reconciled to him. Savage were the days in which he +lived, and savage were his actions; the Russia of Peter’s +creation was still in the melting-pot: let us not judge him +more severely than Princess Dashkov did, and, if the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_181">[181]</span>prayers of parents can do much in the next world, +let us forgive Orlov much in this for his love for his +daughter.</p> + +<p>Her fate, too, was a strange one.</p> + +<p>As a boy I saw her once or twice, then I saw her again +in 1841 at Novgorod; she was living near the Yurev +Monastery. Her whole life was one prolonged, sorrowful +penitence for a crime that she had not committed, one +prayer for the remission of her father’s sins, one act of +atonement for them. She could not overcome the horror +inspired in her by the murder of Peter <span class="allsmcap">III.</span>, and was +crushed at the thought of her father’s eternal punishment. +All her mind, all her Orlov energy, she fixed on this one +object, and little by little abandoned herself completely +to gloomy mysticism and superstition. Called by birth, +by wealth, and by talent to one of the foremost positions +not only in Russia, but in Europe, she spent her days +with tedious monks, with old bishops, with all sorts of +paralytics, sanctimonious hypocrites, crazy saints. I am +told that after 1815 German hereditary princes sought +her hand; Alexander showed her marked attention; she +withdrew from the court. Her palace grew emptier +and emptier, and at last sank into complete silence; +neither the clatter of old-fashioned goblets nor the +choruses of singers were heard in it, and no one cared +about the cherished racehorses. Only the black figures of +bearded monks moved gloomily about the garden avenues +and looked at the fountains, as though Count Alexey’s +funeral were not yet over—and, indeed, the prayer for +the repose of his soul still went on.</p> + +<p>In the drawing-room, where she had spun and twirled +in the gipsy dance in her girlish purity, innocent of the +significance of the ardent movements of the Asiatic dance, +where smoothly, with downcast eyes, she had danced +with modestly raised hand our languid feminine dances, +and where her terrible father had gazed at her with tears +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_182">[182]</span>in his eyes, the bigoted fanatic, Foty,⁠<a id="FNanchor_74" href="#Footnote_74" class="fnanchor">[74]</a> sat now uttering +incoherent speeches, and bringing even greater horror +into her crushed soul; the daughter of the haughty +conqueror of Chesme meekly listened to his sinister words, +carefully covering his feet with a shawl, perhaps the very +one in which her father had wrapped her!</p> + +<p>‘Anna,’ Foty would say, ‘fetch me water,’ and she +ran for water. ‘Now sit and listen,’ and she sat and +listened. Poor woman!</p> + +<p>Her palace and gardens in Moscow she presented to +the Tsar. What for? I do not know. The immense +estates, the stud-farms, all went to adorn the Yurev +Monastery; thither she transferred, too, her father’s +coffin; there in a special vault a lamp for ever burned, and +a prayer was muttered over him, there her own sarcophagus, +still empty when I saw it, was prepared. In the +church twilight, the wealth of the Orlovs, transformed +into rubies, pearls, and emeralds, glitters mournfully in +the settings of ikons and the caps of archimandrites. With +them the luckless daughter tried to bribe the Heavenly +Judge.</p> + +<p>Catherine had robbed the monasteries of their estates +and distributed them among the Orlovs and her other +lovers. What a nemesis!</p> + +<p>Princess Dashkov’s Memoirs fail us about this time. +The very details of her interview with Orlov we have +taken from the letters of the two Wilmot sisters.</p> + +<p>Miss Mary Wilmot, grieving for the loss of her +brother and dull at home, received an invitation from +Princess Dashkov to spend a year or two with her. Miss +Mary did not know the princess personally, but (she was +Mrs. Hamilton’s niece) she had from her childhood heard +of this wonderful woman, had heard how at eighteen +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_183">[183]</span>she had been at the head of a conspiracy, how she had +dashed on horseback before revolting troops, how afterwards +she had lived in England and stayed in Ireland, had +been President of the Academy, and had written passionate +letters to Mrs. Hamilton. The young girl imagined +her something fantastic, ‘a fairy and partly a witch,’ and +for that very reason decided, in 1803, to go to her.</p> + +<p>When she reached Troitskoye, however, she felt so +scared and homesick that she would have been glad to +return if it had been possible.</p> + +<p>A short old lady, in a long dark cloth dress with a +star on the left side, and something like a peaked hat, came +to meet her. Round her neck she had a shabby old kerchief—one +damp evening, when out for a walk, twenty +years earlier, Mrs. Hamilton had given her that kerchief, +and from that time forward she had kept it as a holy relic. +But if her attire really was suggestive of a witch, the noble +features of her face and the expression of infinite tenderness +in her eyes fascinated the Irish girl from the first +moment. ‘There was so much truth, so much warmth, +dignity, and simplicity in her manner, that I loved her +before she said anything.’</p> + +<p>Miss Mary was completely under her influence from +the first day, was surprised at it, and angry with herself, +but could not resist the attraction of the splendid old +lady. She liked everything in her, even her broken +English, which gave something childlike to her words. +‘Tears and life,’ she says, ‘have given serenity and +softness to her features, and their expression of pride, +of which slight traces still remain, has been replaced by +indulgence.’</p> + +<p>But how Princess Dashkov loved her! She loved her +passionately, as she had once loved Catherine. Such +freshness of feeling, such feminine tenderness, such +craving for love, such youthfulness of heart, are astounding +at sixty. The solicitude of a mother, the solicitude +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_184">[184]</span>of a sister, a lover, are what Miss Mary found at Troitskoye; +for her entertainment Princess Dashkov went to +Moscow, took her to balls, showed her monasteries, +presented her to Empresses, adorned her room with flowers, +spent evenings with her reading the letters of Catherine +and other celebrities.</p> + +<p>Miss Wilmot begged and besought her to write her +Memoirs. ‘And what I would never do for my relatives +or my friends, I am doing for her.’</p> + +<p>She wrote her Memoirs for her, and dedicated them +to her.</p> + +<p>In 1805 Princess Dashkov invited Miss Mary’s sister, +Miss Katharine, who was then in France and was obliged +to leave that country, being persecuted as an Englishwoman. +The sisters were not in the least alike. Mary +was a soft, tender creature, delighted to have some one to +protect her, and to nestle under some one’s wing; she +attached herself to Princess Dashkov, as the weak twig +to a strong old tree; she calls her ‘my Russian mother’; +she came to her from a little town, and had seen nothing +before except her ‘Emerald Isle.’ Her sister, who had +lived in Paris, was lively and hot-tempered, independent +in her opinions, clever and ironical, not particularly loving +or tolerant, and rather free in her speech. Moreover, +there was a great deal in Russia that she positively disliked—and +so her letters have for us a special interest of +their own.</p> + +<p>‘Russia,’ she says, ‘is like a girl of twelve—wild and +awkward, who has been dressed up in a fashionable +Parisian hat. We are living here in the fourteenth or +fifteenth century.’⁠<a id="FNanchor_75" href="#Footnote_75" class="fnanchor">[75]</a>⁠</p> + +<p>She was far more shocked by serfdom than her kind-hearted +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_185">[185]</span>sister. In vain Princess Dashkov pointed out to +her the prosperity of her peasants.</p> + +<p>‘They are well off,’ writes Miss Katharine, ‘while the +princess lives, but what will happen to them afterwards?’ +Every landowner seems to her an iron link in the fetters +of Russia.</p> + +<p>In the pitiful cringing, the shameless servility of our +society she very correctly sees the reflection of slavery. +With amazement she sees again in assembly halls and +drawing-rooms slaves devoid of all moral feeling and +personal dignity. She is astonished at visitors who dare +not sit down, and stand for hours at a time at the door, +shifting from one foot to the other, till they are dismissed +with a nod. ‘The conceptions of good and evil are in +Russia mixed up with the idea of being in favour or out +of favour. A man’s worth is easily ascertained from the +address calendar, and it depends on the Tsar whether a +man is unreservedly taken for a snake or an ass.’</p> + +<p>The Moscow grandees did not overawe her with the +galaxy of their stars, with their ponderous dignity and +boring dinners.</p> + +<p>‘I feel,’ she writes after the festivities of 1806, ‘that +I have been floating all this time among the shades and +spirits of Catherine’s palace. Moscow is the imperial +political Elysium of Russia. All the personages of power +and authority in the reigns of Catherine and Paul, who +have long ago been succeeded by others, retire into the +luxurious idleness of this lazy city, maintaining a supposed +consequence which is allowed them out of courtesy. +Influence and power have passed years ago to another +generation; nevertheless, the <i>oberkammerherr</i> of the +Empress Catherine, Prince Golitsyn, is still hung all over +with orders and decorations under the burden of which +his ninety years are weighed down to the ground; still, +as in the palace of Catherine, a diamond key is tied to his +skeleton, which is dressed in an embroidered kaftan, and +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_186">[186]</span>he still majestically accepts tokens of respect from his +companion shades who once shared power and honour +with him.</p> + +<p>‘By his side is another gaudy <i>revenant</i>, Count Osterman, +once the great Chancellor; he is hung with ribbons +of every possible colour, red, blue, and striped; eighty-three +years are piled upon his head, but still he drives his +skeleton about with the bones rattling behind a team of +six horses, dines with <i>heiduks</i> waiting at his table, and +keeps up the solemn etiquette by which he was surrounded +when he was in power.’ Among the shades she +saw, too, Count Alexey Orlov.</p> + +<p>‘The hand that murdered Peter <span class="allsmcap">III.</span> is studded with +diamonds, among his gifts from royalty the portrait of +the Empress is particularly conspicuous; Catherine +smiles from it in everlasting gratitude.’</p> + +<p>Miss Wilmot mentions, too, Korsakov, ‘who might +have been taken for a glittering vision of diamonds,’ +Prince Baryatinsky and some other figures from this world +of the past, ‘from which they have retained the habit +of court gossip about important nonentities, haughtiness, +vanity, and the empty bustle in which they find their +joy and their sorrow.’</p> + +<p>And she concludes with indignation: ‘And yet the +open coffin stands at their tottering feet threatening to +consign their paltry existences to speedy oblivion.’</p> + +<p>‘All these old grandees are surrounded by wives, +daughters, and granddaughters, dressed up to the nines, +and sitting in gilded apartments, in patriarchal fashion +making their maids dance for their amusement, and +incessantly regaling one on jam. There is something +French in their appearance, and, being brought up by +Frenchwomen, they speak that language well and dress +in the latest Parisian mode. But there is very little real +politeness in these ladies; their education is absolutely +superficial, and there is not a trace here of the charming +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_187">[187]</span>lightness of French society. When a Moscow lady has +scanned you from head to foot and kissed you five or six +times (though twice, one would think, would be more +than enough), has assured you of her everlasting affection, +told you to your face that you are sweet and charming, +asked you the price of everything you have got on, and +babbled about the coming ball at the Hall of the Nobility, +she has nothing more to say.’</p> + +<p>Both sisters were greatly shocked by the vulgar habit +of wearing other people’s diamonds at balls. Moreover, +every one knew whose they were; thus a Princess Golitsyn +used to lend her friends a girdle of diamonds and a headdress +of marvellous beauty that was known to the whole +town. On one occasion she adorned the shoulders of a +niece of Princess Dashkov’s with her jewels; the young +lady had completely forgotten that the princess was to be +present; the stern and implacable old lady, it need +hardly be said, detested these displays of other people’s +wealth. The young lady was so terrified at the sight +of Princess Dashkov that she kept out of sight all the +evening. But the fatal hour of supper arrived; Miss +Mary, feeling cold, put on her shawl; this struck the +young lady as a way of salvation, and she took hers to +conceal the rivers of diamonds from Princess Dashkov. +They sat down, the aunt opposite; the soup tureen +screened the niece a little, but her headdress burnt her +like fire. Princess Dashkov stared at it. Red patches +came out on the poor girl’s face and tears came into her +eyes. The princess said not a word.</p> + +<p>The sisters, who in many ways disagreed over people +and incidents, are completely at one whenever Princess +Dashkov is spoken of. Miss Katharine’s sarcastic pen +loses all its venom when writing of the princess. We +have put her description of her at the beginning of this +account. In it she has shown least appreciation of the +tender, womanly side, for which love was a necessity. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_188">[188]</span>This side of her nature was far better understood by Miss +Mary, and yet she abandoned her.</p> + +<p>In 1807 Miss Katharine went away. Mary meant +to leave a little later. She was detained by a terrible +blow which fell upon Princess Dashkov.</p> + +<p>Though the latter loved her son devotedly, she had +never quite forgiven his marriage, and would never +receive his wife; she was in correspondence with her son, +however, but did not see him. In spite of all entreaties, +and in particular those of Miss Wilmot, whose influence +was so immense, the mother’s wounded heart, which they +had not known how to soften immediately after the +marriage, could not do violence to itself and be fully +reconciled. In 1807, immediately after Princess Dashkov +had arrived in Moscow, her son was taken ill, and a few +days later he died.</p> + +<p>This was a terrible blow for her, it shortened her life; +repentance too late laid all its irrevocable burden of regret +upon her. She sent for her daughter-in-law. And +these women, who had done each other so much harm, +who had never met and had openly and senselessly hated +each other, fell sobbing in each other’s arms, and were +reconciled for ever beside the coffin of the man whom +they had so much loved.</p> + +<p>Life was shattered for the princess. One consolation +was left her—that was her child, her friend, her ‘Irish +daughter,’ and <i>she</i> was preparing to leave her.</p> + +<p>Why she went away I do not understand. It is hard +to restrain a feeling of vexation, seeing how unnecessarily +Miss Wilmot abandoned Princess Dashkov for the sake of +her Irish relatives, who played an extremely limited part in +her life, and with whom she must have been very dreary.</p> + +<p>Princess Dashkov, frightened of her isolation, wanted +to go with her to Ireland, there to end her existence, +‘which has no heirs and must die out.’ Miss Wilmot +persuaded her not to go and promised to come back to +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_189">[189]</span>her. The old woman felt it bitterly. Miss Mary, to +spare her, set off secretly, but, detained in Petersburg by +the departure of the ship and the incredibly stupid police +measures taken against the English on account of the war +which had then been declared, she made up her mind +to go back for some months to Moscow; the figure of +the old lady with tears in her eyes rent her heart; she +wrote to her of her intention.</p> + +<p>Princess Dashkov’s joy and gratitude knew no bounds, +and how did she celebrate the news? She sent to the +prison for five men who were there for debt to be released, +and charged them to celebrate a thanksgiving service +for her.</p> + +<p>But the bitterness of separation was only deferred; +the obstinate Miss Mary would have her way, and went +after all. Princess Dashkov, heartbroken at parting from +her friend, had gone to bed. At night Miss Wilmot +stole quietly once more into her room. The princess, +who had been weeping the whole day, had fallen asleep: +‘The expression of her face was serene as a child’s. I +softly kissed her and went away.’ They never saw each +other again.</p> + +<p>The last days of our princess were passed in complete +emptiness, through which those dreary ‘shades’ flitted +from time to time, covered with stars and powder, and +growing still more decrepit. Her thoughts were concentrated +on the young girl with a sorrow and dreamy +tenderness which makes the heartache; one has a distinct +feeling that this grief must go uncomforted.</p> + +<p>‘What am I to say to you, my beloved child, not to +grieve you?’ she writes on the 25th of October 1809. ‘I +am sad, very sad, tears are flowing from my eyes, and I +cannot get used to our separation. I have built a few +bridges. I have planted a few hundred trees, I am told +successfully; all that distracts me for a minute, but my +sadness comes back again.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_190">[190]</span></p> + +<p>On the 29th of October she writes: ‘And how changed +everything is in Troitskoye since you left! The theatre +is shut up, there has not been a single performance, the +pianos are mute, and even the maids do not sing. But +why am I telling you this? you are surrounded by your +kinsfolk, you are happy, contented....’</p> + +<p>She writes her a few more lines on the 6th of November, +and ends her letter with the English words: ‘God bless +you!’ Did Mary know that that blessing came from +a dying hand? Less than two months later, on the 9th of +January 1810, Princess Ekaterina Romanovna was no +more.</p> + +<p>Five years before her death, on the 22nd of October +1806, she concluded her Memoirs with these words: +‘With an honest heart and pure intentions I have had to +endure many calamities; I should have been crushed +under them if my conscience had not been clear ... +now I look forward without fear and uneasiness to my +approaching dissolution.’</p> + +<p>What a woman! What a rich and vigorous life!</p> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_191">[191]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="BAZAROV">BAZAROV</h2> + +</div> + +<h3 id="BAZAROV_Letter_1">Letter 1</h3> + +<p class="dropcap">Instead of a letter, dear friend, I am sending you +a dissertation, and an unfinished one too. After +our conversation I read over again Pisarev’s article on +Bazarov, which I had quite forgotten, and I am very +glad I did—that is, not that I had forgotten it, but that I +read it again. The article confirms my point of view. +In its one-sidedness it is more true and more worth consideration +than its opponents have supposed. Whether +Pisarev has correctly grasped the character of Bazarov +as Turgenev meant it, does not concern me. What does +matter is that he has recognised himself and his comrades +in Bazarov, and has added to the portrait what was lacking +in the book. The less Pisarev has adhered to the narrow +framework in which the exasperated ‘Father’ has tried +to confine the obstinate ‘Son,’ the more freely has he +been able to treat him as the expression of his ideal.</p> + +<p>‘But what interest can Mr. Pisarev’s ideal have for us? +Pisarev is a smart critic, he has written a great deal, he +has written about everything, sometimes about subjects +of which he had knowledge, but all that does not give +his ideal any claim on the attention of the public.’</p> + +<p>The point is that it is not his own individual ideal, +but the ideal which both before and since the appearance +of Turgenev’s Bazarov has haunted the younger generation, +has been embodied not only in various heroes in +novels and stories, but in living persons who have tried +to take Bazarovism as the basis of their words and actions. +What Pisarev says I have seen and heard myself a dozen +times; in the simplicity of his heart, he has let out the +cherished thought of a whole circle and, focussing the +scattered rays on one centre, has shed a light on the +typical Bazarov.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_192">[192]</span></p> + +<p>To Turgenev, Bazarov is more than alien; to Pisarev, +more than a comrade; to study the type, of course, one +must take the view which sees in Bazarov the desideratum.</p> + +<p>Pisarev’s opponents were frightened by his lack of +caution; while denouncing Turgenev’s Bazarov as a +caricature, they repudiated even more violently his transfigured +double; they were displeased at Pisarev’s having +put his foot in it, but it does not follow from this that he +was wrong in his interpretation.</p> + +<p>Pisarev knows the heart of his Bazarov through and +through; he makes a confession for his hero. ‘Perhaps,’ +he says, ‘at the bottom of his heart Bazarov does accept +a great deal of what he denies in words, and, perhaps, it +is just what is accepted and concealed that saves him from +moral degradation and from moral insignificance.’</p> + +<p>We regard this indiscreet utterance, which looks so +deeply into another soul, as very important.</p> + +<p>Further on, Pisarev describes his hero’s character thus: +‘Bazarov is extremely proud, but his pride is not noticeable’ +(clearly this is not Turgenev’s Bazarov) ‘just because +it is so great. Nothing would satisfy Bazarov but +an <i>eternity of ever-widening activity and ever-increasing +enjoyment</i>.’⁠<a id="FNanchor_76" href="#Footnote_76" class="fnanchor">[76]</a>⁠</p> + +<p>Bazarov acts everywhere and in everything only as he +wishes, or as he thinks advantageous and convenient; he +is guided only by his personal desire or personal calculation. +He acknowledges no Mentor above him, without +himself nor within himself. Before him is no lofty aim, +in his mind is no lofty thought, and with all that his +powers are immense. If Bazarovism is a malady, it is a +malady of our age, and will have to run its course in spite +of any amputations or palliatives.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_193">[193]</span></p> + +<p>Bazarov looks down on people, and rarely gives himself +the trouble, indeed, to conceal his half-contemptuous +and half-patronising attitude to those who hate and to +those who obey him. He loves no one. He thinks it +quite unnecessary to put any constraint on himself whatever. +There are two sides to his cynicism, an internal +and an external, the cynicism of thought and feeling and +the cynicism of manner and expression. The essence of +his inner cynicism lies in an ironical attitude to feeling of +every sort, to dreaminess, to poetical enthusiasm. The +harsh expression of this irony, the causeless and aimless +roughness of manner, are part of his external cynicism. +Bazarov is not merely an empiricist; he is also an unkempt +Bursch. Among the admirers of Bazarov there will +doubtless be some who will be delighted with his rude +manners, the vestiges left by his rough student life, and will +imitate those manners, which are in any case a defect and +not a virtue.⁠<a id="FNanchor_77" href="#Footnote_77" class="fnanchor">[77]</a> Such people are most often evolved in the +grey environment of hard work: stern work coarsens the +hands, coarsens the manners, coarsens the feelings; the +man is toughened, casts off youthful dreaminess, and gets +rid of tearful sentimentality; there is no possibility of +dreaming at work; the hard-working man looks upon +idealism as a folly peculiar to the idleness and soft self-indulgence +of the well-to-do, he reckons moral sufferings +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_194">[194]</span>as imaginary, moral impulses and heroic deeds as far-fetched +and absurd. He feels a repulsion for high-flown +talk.’</p> + +<p>Then Pisarev draws the genealogical tree of Bazarov: +the Onyegins and Petchorins begat the Rudins and the +Beltovs,⁠<a id="FNanchor_78" href="#Footnote_78" class="fnanchor">[78]</a> the Rudins and the Beltovs begat Bazarov. +(Whether the Decembrists are omitted intentionally or +unintentionally I do not know.) The bored and disillusioned +are succeeded by men who strive to act, life +rejects them both as worthless and incomplete. ‘It is +sometimes their lot to suffer, but they never succeed in +getting anything done. Society is deaf and inexorable +to them. They are incapable of adapting themselves to +its conditions, not one of them ever rises so high as head +clerk of a government office. Some are consoled by +becoming professors and working for future generations. +Their negative usefulness is incontestable. They increase +the numbers of men incapable of practical activity, in +consequence of which practical activity itself, or more +precisely the forms in which it usually finds expression +now, slowly but steadily sink lower in public esteem.’</p> + +<p>‘It seemed (after the Crimean War) that Rudinism +was over, that the period of fruitless ideals and yearnings +was succeeded by a period of seething and useful activity. +But the illusion has faded. The Rudins have not become +practical workers, and a new generation has come forward +from behind them and taken up a reproachful and ironical +attitude towards its predecessors. “What are you +whining about, what are you seeking, what are you +asking from life? You want happiness, I suppose? I +daresay you do! Happiness has to be fought for. If +you are strong, take it. If you are weak, hold your +tongue; we feel sick enough without your whining!” +A gloomy, concentrated energy is expressed in this unfriendly +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_195">[195]</span>attitude of the younger generation to their +Mentors. In their conceptions of good and evil the +young generation and the best men of the preceding one +are alike, the sympathies and antipathies of both are the +same; they desire the same thing, but the men of the past +generation were in an everlasting fuss and ferment. The +men of to-day are not in a fuss, they are not trying to find +anything, they will not give in to any compromise, and they +hope for nothing. They are as helpless as the Rudins, +but they recognise their helplessness. “I cannot act +now,” each of these new men thinks, “and I am not going +to try. I despise everything that surrounds me, and I +am not going to conceal my contempt. I shall enter on +the battle with evil when I feel myself strong.” Having +no possibility of acting, men begin to reflect and investigate. +Superstitions and authorities are torn to shreds, +and the philosophy of life is completely cleared of all +sorts of fantastic conceptions. It is nothing to them +whether the public is following in their footsteps. They +are full of themselves, of their own inner life. In short, +the Petchorins had will without understanding, the +Rudins understanding without will, the Bazarovs both +understanding and will. Thought and action are blended +in one firm whole.’</p> + +<p>As you see, there is everything here (if there is no +mistake), both character-drawing and classification. All +is brief and clear, the sum is added up, the bill is presented, +and perfectly correctly from the point of view from +which the author has attacked the question.</p> + +<p>But we do not accept this bill, and we protest from +our premature coffins which have not yet arrived, though +bespoken. We are not Charles <span class="allsmcap">V.</span>, and have no desire to +be buried alive.</p> + +<p>How strange has been the fate of <i>Fathers and +Children</i>! That Turgenev created Bazarov with no +idea of patting him on the head is clear; that he meant +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_196">[196]</span>to do something for the ‘Fathers’ is clear too. But +when he came to deal with such pitiful and worthless +‘Fathers’ as the Kirsanovs, Turgenev was carried away +by Bazarov in spite of his harshness, and instead of +thrashing the son he chastised the fathers.</p> + +<p>And so it has come to pass that some of the younger +generation have recognised themselves in Bazarov. But +we entirely fail to recognise ourselves in the Kirsanovs, +just as we did not recognise ourselves in the Manilovs +nor the Sobakevitches, although Manilovs and Sobakevitches +existed all over the place in the days of our +youth, and are existing now.</p> + +<p>Whole herds of moral freaks live at the same date in +different layers of society and in its different currents; +undoubtedly they represent more or less general types, +but they do not represent the most striking and characteristic +side of their generation, the side which most fully +expresses its force. Pisarev’s Bazarov is, in a one-sided +sense, to a certain extent the extreme type of what +Turgenev called the ‘Sons’; while the Kirsanovs are +the most commonplace and ordinary representatives of +the ‘Fathers.’</p> + +<p>Turgenev was more of an artist in his novel than is +thought, and that is why he turned out of his course, and +to my thinking he did well in so doing—he meant to go +one way, and he went another and a better one.</p> + +<p>He might just as well have sent his Bazarov to London. +That insignificant creature, Pisemsky, did not shrink from +travelling expenses for his sorely tried freaks. We could +perhaps have shown Bazarov on the banks of the Thames +that, without rising to the post of head clerk of an office, +one might do quite as much good as any head of a department; +that society is not always deaf and inexorable when +the protest finds a response; that action does sometimes +succeed; that the Rudins and the Beltovs sometimes have +will and perseverance; and that, seeing the impossibility +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_197">[197]</span>of carrying on the work to which they are urged by their +inner impulse, they have forsaken many things, gone +abroad, and without ‘fuss and ferment’ have established +a Russian printing-press, and are carrying on a Russian +propaganda. The influence of the London press from +1856 to the end of 1863 is not merely a practical fact, +but an historical fact. It cannot be effaced, it has to be +accepted. In London Bazarov would have seen that it +was only from a distance that we seemed to be waving +our arms in despair, and that in reality we were keeping +our hands hard at work. Perhaps his wrath would have +been changed to lovingkindness, and he would have given +up treating us with ‘reproach and irony.’</p> + +<p>I frankly confess this throwing of stones at one’s predecessors +is very distasteful to me. I repeat what I have +said already: ‘I should like to save the younger generation +from historical ingratitude, and even from historical +error. It is high time that the fathers gave up devouring +their children like Saturn, but it is time the children +ceased to follow the example of those savages who +slaughter their old people. Surely it is not right that +only in natural science the phases and degrees of development, +the variations and the deviations, even the <i>avortements</i>, +should be studied, accepted, considered <i>sine ira et +studio</i>, while as soon as one approaches history the physiological +method is abandoned, and the methods of the +Criminal Court and the House of Correction are adopted.’</p> + +<p>The Onyegins and Petchorins have passed away.</p> + +<p>The Rudins and the Beltovs are passing.</p> + +<p>The Bazarovs will pass ... and very quickly, as a +matter of fact. It is a too artificial, bookish, overstrained +type to persist for long.</p> + +<p>A type has already tried to thrust himself forward to +replace him, one rotten in the spring of his days, the type +of the orthodox student, the conservative patriot trained +at Government expense, in whom everything loathsome +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_198">[198]</span>in Imperial Russia was incarnate, though even he felt +embarrassed after serenading the Iversky Madonna, and +singing a thanksgiving service to Katkov.</p> + +<p>All the types that arise pass, and all, in virtue of the +law of the conservation of energy which we have learnt +to recognise in the physical world, persist and will spring +up in different forms in the future progress of Russia +and in her future organisation.</p> + +<p>And so would it not be more interesting, instead of +pitting Bazarov against Rudin, to analyse what are the +salient points connecting them, and what are the reasons +of their appearing and their transformation? Why +have precisely these forms of development been called +forth by our life, and why have they passed one into the +other in this way? Their dissimilarity is obvious, but +in some respects they are alike. Typical characters readily +pounce on distinctions, exaggerate the angles and prominent +features for the sake of emphasising them, paint +the barriers in vivid colours, and tear apart the bonds. +The shades are lost and unity is left far away, hidden in +mist, like the plain that joins the foot of the mountains, +whose tops, far apart from each other, are brightly lighted +up. Moreover, we load on the shoulders of these types +more than they can carry, and ascribe to them in life a +significance they have not had, or have only in a limited +sense. To take Onyegin as the finest type of the intellectual +life of the period between 1820 and 1830, as the +integral of all the tendencies and activities of the class +then awakening, would be quite a mistake, although he +does represent one of the aspects of the life of that time.</p> + +<p>The type of that period, one of the most splendid types +of modern history, was the Decembrist and not Onyegin. +He could not be touched by Russian literature for all these +forty years, but he is not the less for that.</p> + +<p>How is it the younger generation have not the clearness +of vision, the imagination, or the heart to grasp the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_199">[199]</span>grandeur and the virtue of those brillant young men who +emerged from the ranks of the Guards, those spoilt darlings +of wealth and high rank who left their drawing-rooms +and their piles of gold to demand the rights of man, to +protest, to make a statement for which—and they knew +it—the hangman’s rope and penal servitude awaited +them? It is a melancholy and puzzling question.</p> + +<p>To resent the fact that these men appeared in the one +class in which there was some degree of culture, of leisure, +and of security, is senseless. If these ‘princes, boyars, +voyevods,’ these secretaries of state and colonels, had not +been awakened by moral hunger, but had waited to be +aroused by bodily hunger, there would have been no +whining and restless Rudins, nor Bazarovs, priding themselves +on their combination of will and knowledge: in +their place there would have been a regimental doctor +who would have done the soldiers to death, robbing them +of their rations and medicines, and have sold the death +certificate to a Kirsanov’s bailiff when he had flogged a +peasant to death, or there would have been a court clerk +taking bribes, for ever drunk, fleecing the peasants of their +quarter-roubles, and handing overcoat and goloshes to +his Excellency, a Kirsanov and Governor of the province; +and what is more, serfdom would not have received its +death-blow, nor would there have been any of that underground +activity under the heavy heel of authority, gnawing +away the imperial ermine and the quilted dressing-gown +of the landowners. It was fortunate that, side by side +with men who found their gentlemanly pastimes in the +kennels and the serfs’ quarters, in outraging and flogging +at home and in cringing servility in Petersburg, there +were some whose ‘pastime’ it was to tear the rod out of +their hands and fight for freedom, not for licence but +freedom for mind, for human life. Whether this pastime +of theirs was their serious work, their passion, they +showed on the gallows and in prison ... they showed +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_200">[200]</span>it, too, when they came back after thirty years spent in +Siberia.</p> + +<p>If the type of the Decembrist has been reflected at all +in literature, it is—faintly but with kindred features—in +Tchatsky.⁠<a id="FNanchor_79" href="#Footnote_79" class="fnanchor">[79]</a>⁠</p> + +<p>His exasperated, bitter feeling, his youthful indignation, +betray a healthy impulse to action; he feels what it is +he is displeased with, he beats his head against the stone +wall of social conventions and tries whether the prison +bars are strong. Tchatsky was on the straight road for +penal servitude, and if he survived the 14th of December +he certainly did not turn into a passively suffering or +proudly contemptuous person. He would have been +more likely to rush into some indignant extreme, like +Tchaadayev, to become a Catholic, a Slav-hater or a +Slavophil, but he would not in any case have abandoned +his propaganda, which he did not abandon either in +the drawing-room of Famussov or in his entrance-hall, +and he would not have comforted himself with the +thought that ‘his hour had not yet come.’ He had that +restless energy which cannot endure to be out of harmony +with what surrounds it, and must either crush it or be +crushed. This is the ferment which makes stagnation +in history impossible and clears away the scum on its +flowing but dilatory wave.</p> + +<p>If Tchatsky had survived the generation that followed +the 14th of December in fear and trembling, and grown up +crushed by terror, humiliated and suppressed, he would +have stretched across it a warm hand of greeting to us. +With us Tchatsky would have come back to his natural +surroundings. These <i>rimes croisées</i> across the generations +are not uncommon even in zoology. And it is my profound +conviction that we should meet Bazarov’s children +with sympathy and they us ‘without bitterness and +sarcasm.’ Tchatsky could not have lived with his hands +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_201">[201]</span>folded, neither in capricious peevishness nor in haughty +self-admiration; he was not old enough to find pleasure +in grumbling sulkiness, nor young enough to enjoy the +conceit and self-sufficiency of adolescence. The whole +character of the man lies in this restless ferment, this +leaven of energy. But it is just that aspect that displeases +Bazarov, it is that that incenses his proud stoicism. ‘Keep +quiet in your corner if you have not the strength to do +anything; it is sickening enough as it is without your +whining,’ he says; ‘if you are beaten, well, stay beaten.... +You have enough to eat; as for your weeping, that’s +just an idle diversion’ ... and so on.</p> + +<p>Pisarev was bound to speak in that way for Bazarov; +the part he played required it.</p> + +<p>It is hard not to play a part so long as it is liked. Take +off Bazarov’s uniform, make him forget the jargon he +uses, let him be free to utter one word simply, without +posing (he so hates affectation!), let him for one minute +forget his bristling duty, his artificially frigid language, +his rôle of castigator, and within an hour we should understand +each other in all the rest.</p> + +<p>In their conceptions of good and evil the new generation +are like the old. Their sympathies and antipathies, says +Pisarev, are the same; what they desire is the same +thing ... at the bottom of their hearts the younger +generation accept much that they reject in words. It +would be quite easy then to come to terms. But until +he is stripped of his ceremonial trappings Bazarov consistently +demands from men who are crushed under every +burden on earth, outraged, tortured, deprived both of +sleep and of all possibility of action when awake, that they +should not speak of their misery; there is a smack of +Araktcheyev about it.</p> + +<p>What reason is there to deprive Lermontov, for +instance, of his bitter lamentation, his upbraidings of his +own generation which sent a shock of horror through so +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_202">[202]</span>many? Would the prison-house of Nicholas be really +any better if the gaolers had been as irritably nervous +and carping as Bazarov and had suppressed those +voices.</p> + +<p>‘But what are they for? What is the use of them?’ +‘Why does a stone make a sound when it is hit with +a hammer?’</p> + +<p>‘It cannot help it.’</p> + +<p>And why do these gentlemen suppose that men can +suffer for whole generations without speech, complaint, +indignation, cursing, protest? If complaint is not of +use for others, it is for those who complain; the expression +of sorrow eases the pain. ‘<i>Ihm</i>,’ says Goethe, ‘<i>gab +ein Gott zu sagen, was er leidet.</i>’</p> + +<p>‘But what has it to do with us?’</p> + +<p>Nothing to do with you, perhaps, but something to +do with others, maybe; moreover, you must not lose +sight of the fact that every generation lives for itself also. +From the point of view of history it leads on to something +else, but in relation to itself it is the goal, and it cannot, +it ought not to endure without a murmur the afflictions +that befall it, especially when it has not even the consolation +which Israel had in the expectation of the Messiah, +and has no idea that from the seed of the Onyegins and +the Rudins will be born a Bazarov. In reality, what +drives our young people to fury is that in our generation +<i>our</i> craving for activity, <i>our</i> protest against the existing +order of things was <i>differently</i> expressed from theirs, and +that the motive of both was not always and completely +dependent on cold and hunger.</p> + +<p>Is not this passion for uniformity another example of +the same irritable spirit which has made of formality and +routine the one thing of consequence and reduced military +evolutions to the goose-step? That side of the +Russian character is responsible for the development of +Araktcheyevism, civil and military. Every personal, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_203">[203]</span>individual manifestation or deviation was regarded as +disobedience, and excited persecution and incessant +bullying. Bazarov leaves no one in peace; he provokes +every one with his scorn. Every word of his is a reproof +from a superior to a subordinate. There is no future +before that. ‘If,’ says Pisarev, ‘Bazarovism is the malady +of our age, it will have to run its course.’ By all means. +This malady is only in place before the end of the university +course; like teething, it is quite unseemly in the +full-grown.</p> + +<p>The worst service Turgenev did Bazarov was putting +him to death by typhus because he did not know how to +get rid of him. That is an <i>ultima ratio</i> which no one +can withstand; had Bazarov been saved from typhus, he +would certainly have grown out of Bazarovism, at any +rate in science, which he loved and prized, and which +does not change its methods, whether frog or man, +embryology or history, is its subject.</p> + +<p>‘Bazarov rejected every sort of convention, and was +nevertheless an extremely uncultured man. He had +heard something about poetry, something about art, and, +without troubling himself to think, abruptly passed +sentence on the subject of which he knew nothing. This +conceit is characteristic of us Russians in general; it has +its good points, such as intellectual daring, but at times +it leads us into crude errors.’</p> + +<p>Science would have saved Bazarov; he would have +ceased to look down on people with deep and unconcealed +contempt. Science even more than the Gospel teaches +us humility. She cannot look down on anything, she does +not know what superiority means, she despises nothing, +is never false for the sake of a pose, and conceals nothing +to produce an effect. She stops short at the facts to +investigate, sometimes to heal, never to punish, still less +with hostility and irony.</p> + +<p>Science—I anyway am not compelled to keep some +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_204">[204]</span>words hidden in the silence of the spirit—science is love, +as Spinoza said of thought and vision.</p> + +<h3 id="BAZAROV_Letter_2">Letter 2</h3> + +<p class="dropcap">What has been leaves an imprint by means of +which science sooner or later restores the past +in its fundamental features. All that is lost is the particular +atmosphere in which it has occurred. Apotheoses +and calumnies, partialities and envies, all fade and are +blown away. The faint track on the sand vanishes; +the imprint which has force and persistence stamps itself +on the rock and will be brought to light by the honest +investigator.</p> + +<p>Connections, degrees of kinship, testators and heirs, +and their mutual rights, will all be revealed by the +heraldry of science.</p> + +<p>Only goddesses are born without predecessors, like +Venus from the foam of the sea. Minerva, more intelligent, +sprang from the ready head of Jupiter.</p> + +<p>The Decembrists are our noble fathers, the Bazarovs +our prodigal sons.</p> + +<p>The heritage we received from the Decembrists was +the awakened feeling of human dignity, the striving for +independence, the hatred for slavery, the respect for +Western Europe and for the Revolution, the faith in the +possibility of an upheaval in Russia, the passionate desire +to take part in it, the youth and freshness of our energies.</p> + +<p>All that has been recast and moulded into new forms, +but the foundations are untouched.</p> + +<p>What has our generation bequeathed to the coming +one? Nihilism.</p> + +<p>Let us recall the position of affairs a little.</p> + +<p>Somewhere about 1840 our life began to force its way +out more vigorously, like steam from under a closed lid. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_205">[205]</span>A scarcely perceptible change passed all over Russia, the +change by which the doctor discerns before he can fully +account for it that there is a turn for the better, that the +patient’s strength, though very weak, is reviving—there +is a different <i>tone</i>. Somewhere inwardly in the moral +invisible world there is the breath of a different air, +more stimulating and healthier. Externally everything +was deathlike under the ice of Nicholas’s government, but +something was stirring in the mind and the conscience—a +feeling of uneasiness, of dissatisfaction. The terror +had grown weaker, men were sick of the twilight of the +kingdom of darkness.</p> + +<p>I saw that change with my own eyes, when I came back +from exile, first in Moscow, afterwards in Petersburg. +But I saw it in the literary and scientific circles.</p> + +<p>Another man, whose Baltic antipathy for the Russian +movement places him beyond the suspicion of partiality, +described not so long ago how, returning at that period to +the Petersburg aristocracy of the barracks after an absence +of some years, he was puzzled at the decline of discipline. +Aides-de-camp and colonels of the Guards were murmuring, +were criticising the measures taken by the +Government, and were displeased with Nicholas himself. +He was so overwhelmed, distressed, and alarmed +for the future of the Autocracy that in the tribulation of +his spirit he felt when dining with the aide-de-camp B., +almost in the presence of Dubbelt himself, that Nihilism +had been born between the cheese and the dessert. He did +not recognise the new-born spirit, but the new-born spirit +was there. The machine wound up by Nicholas had +begun to give way; he turned the screw the other way +and every one felt it; some spoke, others kept silent +and forbade speech, but all knew that things were really +going wrong, that every one was oppressed, and that this +oppression would bring no good to any one.</p> + +<p>Laughter played its part too; laughter, never a good +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_206">[206]</span>companion for any religion, and Autocracy is a religion. +The vileness and degradation of the lower ranks of the +officials had reached such a pitch that the Government +abandoned them to the satirist. Nicholas, roaring with +laughter in his box at the Mayor and his Derzhimorda,⁠<a id="FNanchor_80" href="#Footnote_80" class="fnanchor">[80]</a> +helped the propaganda, never guessing that after the +approval of the Most High the mockery would soon be +promoted to the higher ranks.</p> + +<p>It is difficult to apply Pisarev’s rubrics to this period +without modification. Everything in life consists of +<i>nuances</i>, hesitations, cross-currents, ebbing and flowing, +and not of disconnected fragments. At what point did +the men of will without knowledge cease to be and the +men of knowledge without will begin?</p> + +<p>Nature resolutely eludes classification, even classification +by age. Lermontov was in years a contemporary of +Byelinsky; he was at the university when we were, but +he died in the hopeless pessimism of the Petchorin movement, +against which the Slavophils and ourselves alike +rose in opposition.</p> + +<p>And by the way, I have mentioned the Slavophils. +Where are Homyakov and his brethren to be put? +What had they—will without knowledge, or knowledge +without will? Yet the position they filled was no +trifling one in the modern development of Russia, they +left a deep imprint on the life of that time. Or in what +levy of recruits shall we put Gogol, and by what standard? +He had not knowledge, whether he had will I don’t +know, I doubt it; but he had genius, and his influence +was colossal.</p> + +<p>And so, leaving aside the <i>lapides crescunt, planta crescunt +et vivunt</i> ... of Pisarev, let us pass on.</p> + +<p>There were no secret societies, but the secret agreement +of those who understood was immense. Circles consisting +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_207">[207]</span>of men who had felt the bear’s claw of the Government +on their own persons, more or less, kept a vigilant +watch on their membership. Every action was impossible, +even a word must be masked, but great was the +power of speech, not only of the printed but even +more of the spoken word, less easily detected by the +police.</p> + +<p>Two batteries were quickly moved forward. Journalism +became propaganda. At the head of it, in the full +flush of his youthful strength, stood Byelinsky. University +lecture-rooms were transformed into pulpits, +lectures into the preaching of humane culture; the personality +of Granovsky, surrounded by young professors, +became more and more prominent.</p> + +<p>Then all at once another outburst of laughter. Strange +laughter, terrible laughter, the laughter of hysteria, in +which were mingled shame and pangs of conscience, and +perhaps not the tears that follow laughter, but the laughter +that follows tears. The absurd, monstrous, narrow world +of <i>Dead Souls</i> could not endure it; it sank and began +to disappear. And the propaganda went on gathering +strength ... always unchanged; tears and laughter +and books and speech and Hegel⁠<a id="FNanchor_81" href="#Footnote_81" class="fnanchor">[81]</a> and history—all roused +men to the consciousness of their position, to a feeling of +horror for serfdom and for their own lack of rights, +everything pointed them on to science and culture, to the +purging of thought from all the litter of tradition, to the +freeing of conscience and reason. That period saw the +first dawn of Nihilism—that complete freedom from all +established conceptions, from all the inherited obstructions +and barriers which hinder the Western European +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_208">[208]</span>mind from advancing in its historical fetters, from taking +a step forward.</p> + +<p>The silent work of the ’forties was cut short all at once. +A time even blacker and more oppressive than the beginning +of Nicholas’s reign followed upon the revolution of +February. Byelinsky died before the beginning of the +persecution. Granovsky envied him and wanted to +leave Russia.</p> + +<p>A dark night that lasted seven years fell upon Russia, +and in it that intellectual outlook, that way of thinking +that is called Nihilism, took shape, developed, and gained +a firm hold on the Russian mind.</p> + +<p>Nihilism (I repeat what I said lately in <i>The Bell</i>) is +logic without structure, it is science without dogmas, it +is the unconditional submission to experience and the +resigned acceptance of all consequences, whatever they +may be, if they follow from observation, or are required +by reason. Nihilism does not transform something into +nothing, but shows that nothing which has been taken for +something is an optical illusion, and that every truth, +however it contradicts our fantastic ideas, is more wholesome +than they are, and is in any case what we are in +duty bound to accept. Whether the name is appropriate +or not does not matter. We are accustomed to it; it is +accepted by friend and foe, it has become a police label, +it has become a denunciation, an insult with some, a word +of praise with others. Of course, if by Nihilism we are +to understand destructive creativeness, that is, the turning +of facts and thoughts into nothing, into barren scepticism, +into haughty passivity, into the despair which leads to +inaction, then true Nihilists are the last people to be +included in the definition, and one of the greatest Nihilists +will be Turgenev, who flung the first stone at them, and +another will be perhaps his favourite philosopher, +Schopenhauer. When Byelinsky, after listening to one +of his friends, who explained at length that the <i>spirit</i> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_209">[209]</span>attains self-consciousness in man, answered indignantly: +‘So, I am not conscious for my own sake, but for the +spirit’s?... Why should I be taken advantage of? I +had better not think at all; what do I care for its consciousness?...’ +he was a Nihilist.</p> + +<p>When Bakunin convicted the Berlin professors of +being afraid of negation, and the Parisian revolutionaries +of 1848 of conservatism, he was a Nihilist in the fullest +sense.</p> + +<p>All these discriminations and jealous reservations lead +as a rule to nothing but artificial antagonism.</p> + +<p>When the Petrashevsky group were sent to penal +servitude for ‘trying to uproot all laws, human and +divine, and to destroy the foundations of society,’ in the +words of their sentence, the terms of which were stolen +from the inquisitorial notes of Liprandi, they were Nihilists. +Since then Nihilism has broadened out, has to some extent +become doctrinaire, has absorbed a great deal from science, +and has produced leaders of immense force and immense +talent. All that is beyond dispute. But it has brought +forth no new principles. Or if it has, where are they? +I await an answer to this question from you, or perhaps +from some one else, and then I will continue.</p> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_210">[210]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_RUSSIAN_PEOPLE_AND_SOCIALISM">THE RUSSIAN +PEOPLE AND SOCIALISM<br> +<span class="smaller"><i>A Letter to J. Michelet</i></span></h2> + +</div> + +<blockquote> + +<p>This letter was first published at Nice in 1851, but only circulated +in Piedmont and Switzerland, as the French police seized almost +the whole edition in Marseilles.</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p class="dropcap">Dear Sir,—You hold so high a position in the +esteem of all thinking men, and every word which +comes from your noble pen is received by the European +democracy with such complete and deserved confidence, +that I cannot keep silent in a matter that touches upon +my deepest convictions. I cannot leave unanswered the +description of the Russian people which you have included +in your legend of Kosciuszko.⁠<a id="FNanchor_82" href="#Footnote_82" class="fnanchor">[82]</a>⁠</p> + +<p>This answer is necessary for another reason also. The +time has come to show Europe that when they speak +about Russia they are not speaking of something absent, +defenceless, deaf and dumb.</p> + +<p>We who have left Russia, only that free Russian speech +may be heard at last in Europe, we are on the spot and +deem it our duty to raise our voice when a man wielding +an immense and deserved authority asserts that ‘Russia +does not exist, Russians are not men, they are devoid of +moral significance.’</p> + +<p>If by this you mean official Russia, the parade-Tsardom, +the Byzantine-German Government, then you are right. +We agree beforehand with everything that you tell us; +it is not for us to play the part of champion there. The +Russian Government has so many agents in the press that +there will never be a lack of eloquent apologies for its +doings.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_211">[211]</span></p> + +<p>But not official society alone is dealt with in your work; +you touch on a deeper question; you speak of the people +itself.</p> + +<p>Poor Russian people! There is no one to raise a voice +in its defence! Judge whether I can in duty be silent.</p> + +<p>The Russian people, my dear sir, is alive, strong, and +not old; on the contrary, indeed, very young. Men do +die even in youth, it does happen, but it is not the normal +thing.</p> + +<p>The past of the Russian people is obscure, its present +is terrible, but it has claims on the future. It does not +<i>believe</i> in its present position; it has the temerity to expect +the more from time, since it has received so little hitherto.</p> + +<p>The most difficult period for the Russian people is +drawing to its close. A terrible conflict awaits it; its +enemies are making ready.</p> + +<p>The great question, ‘to be or not to be,’ will soon be +decided for Russia, but it is a sin to despair of success +before the fight has begun.</p> + +<p>The Russian question is assuming immense and fearful +proportions; it is the object of interest and anxiety to all +parties; but I think that too much attention is paid to +Imperial Russia, to official Russia, and too little to the +Russia of the people, to voiceless Russia.</p> + +<p>Even looking at Russia solely from the point of view +of its Government, do you not think it would be as well +to become more closely acquainted with this inconvenient +neighbour who makes himself felt throughout +the whole of Europe, in one place with bayonets, in +another with spies? The Russian Government extends +its influence to the Mediterranean by its protection of the +Ottoman Porte, to the Rhine by its protection of its +German uncles and connections, to the Atlantic by its +protection of <i>order</i> in France.</p> + +<p>It would not be amiss, I maintain, to appraise at its +true value this universal protector, to inquire whether +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_212">[212]</span>this strange realm is destined to play no other part than +the repulsive one assumed by the Petersburg Government, +the part of a barrier continually thrown up on the path +of human progress.</p> + +<p>Europe is approaching a terrible cataclysm. The +mediaeval world is falling into ruins. The feudal world +is drawing to a close. Political and religious revolutions +are flagging under the burden of their impotence; they +have accomplished great things, but have not carried out +their tasks. They have destroyed faith in the Throne +and the Altar, but have not established freedom; they +have kindled in men’s hearts desires which they are incapable +of satisfying. Parliamentarianism, Protestantism, +are only stop-gaps, temporary havens, weak bulwarks +against death and resurrection. Their day is over. +Since 1849 it has been grasped that petrified Roman law, +subtle casuistry, thin philosophic deism, and barren +religious rationalism are all equally powerless to hold +back the workings of destiny.</p> + +<p>The storm is approaching, it is impossible to avert it. +Revolutionaries and reactionaries are at one about that. +All men’s minds are perturbed; the oppressive, vital +question lies heavy on the hearts of all. With growing +uneasiness all men ask themselves whether there is still +strength for recovery in old Europe, that decrepit +Proteus, that decaying organism. The answer to that +question is awaited with horror, and the suspense is +terrible.</p> + +<p>Indeed, it is a fearful question! Will old Europe +have the power to infuse new blood into its veins and fling +itself into the boundless future to which it is drawn by an +invincible force, to which it is being borne headlong, the +path to which is perhaps over the ruins of its ancestral +home, over the fragments of past civilisations, over the +trampled riches of modern culture?</p> + +<p>On both sides the full gravity of the moment has been +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_213">[213]</span>understood; Europe is plunged in dim, stifling gloom, +on the eve of the momentous conflict. It is not life, but +an oppressive, agitating suspense. There is no regard +for law, no justice, no personal freedom even; everywhere +the sway of the secular inquisition is supreme; +instead of order upheld by law, there is a state of siege, +all are governed by a single feeling—fear, and there is +plenty of it. Every question is thrown into the background +before the all-devouring interests of the reaction. +Governments, apparently most hostile, are united into a +single world-wide police. The Russian Emperor, without +concealing his hatred for the French, rewards the +Prefect of the Parisian police; the King of Naples bestows +a decoration on the President of the Republic. The +Prussian King, donning the Russian uniform, hastens to +Warsaw to embrace his foe, the Emperor of Austria, in +the gracious presence of Nicholas; while the latter, the +schismatic of the one Church of salvation, proffers his aid +to the Pope of Rome. In the midst of these Saturnalia, +in the midst of this Sabbath of the reaction, nothing is +left to safeguard freedom from the caprices of tyranny. +Even the guarantees which exist in undeveloped societies, +in China, in Persia, are no longer respected in the capitals +of the so-called civilised world.</p> + +<p>One can hardly believe one’s eyes. Can this be the +Europe which once we knew and loved?</p> + +<p>Indeed, if it were not for free and haughty England, +‘that jewel set in a silver sea,’ as Shakespeare calls it, if +Switzerland were, like Peter, in fear of Caesar, to renounce +its principles, if Piedmont, that branch still left of Italy, +that last refuge of freedom, which has been hunted beyond +the Alps, and cannot cross the Apennines, were led +astray by the example of her neighbours, if those three +countries were infected by the spirit of death that breathes +from Paris and Vienna, it might be thought that the +Conservatives had succeeded already in bringing the old +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_214">[214]</span>world to its final dissolution, that the days of barbarism +had already returned in France and Germany.</p> + +<p>In the midst of this chaos, in the midst of these pangs +of death and agonies of birth, in the midst of a world +falling into dust about the cradle of the future, men’s eyes +involuntarily turn to the East.</p> + +<p>There a hostile, menacing empire is seen standing out +behind the mists, like a dark mountain; at times it seems +as though it is falling upon Europe like an avalanche, that +like an impatient heir it is ready to hasten her tardy death.</p> + +<p>This empire, absolutely unknown two hundred years +ago, has suddenly made its appearance, and with no right +to do so, with no invitation, has loudly and bluntly raised +its voice in the council of European Powers, demanding +a share in the booty, won without its assistance.</p> + +<p>No one has dared to oppose its pretensions to interfere +in the affairs of Europe. Charles <span class="allsmcap">XII.</span> tried to do so, but +his sword, till then invincible, was broken; Frederick <span class="allsmcap">II.</span> +attempted to resist the claims of the Petersburg Court; +Königsberg and Berlin became the prey of the foe from +the North. Napoleon, with half a million men, penetrated +to the very heart of the giant, and stole away alone +in the first peasant sledge he came upon. Europe gazed +with astonishment at Napoleon’s flight, at the crowds of +Cossacks racing in pursuit of him, at the Russian troops +marching to Paris, and giving the Germans their national +independence by way of alms on the road. Since then +Russia has lain like a vampire over the fate of Europe, +watching the mistakes of rulers and peoples. Yesterday +she almost crushed Austria, assisting her against Hungary; +to-morrow she will proclaim Brandenburg a Russian +province to appease the Prussian King.</p> + +<p>Is it credible that on the very eve of conflict nothing is +known of this combatant? Yet he stands already menacing, +fully armed, prepared to cross the frontier at the +first summons of reaction. And meanwhile men scarcely +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_215">[215]</span>know his weapons, or the colour of his flag, and are satisfied +with his official speeches and the vague, incongruous +tales that are told of him.</p> + +<p>Some tell us only of the unlimited power of the Tsar, +of the capricious tyranny of his Government, of the +slavish spirit of his subjects; others assert, on the contrary, +that the Imperialism of Petersburg has nothing in common +with the people, that this people, crushed under the twofold +despotism of the Government and the landowners, +bears the yoke, but is not resigned to it, that it is not +crushed, but only unfortunate, and at the same time +declare that it is this very people which gives unity and +power to the colossal Tsardom that crushes it. Some +add that the Russian people is a <i>contemptible rabble of +drunkards and knaves</i>; others maintain that Russia is +inhabited by a competent and richly gifted race. It +seems to me that there is something tragic in the senile +heedlessness with which the old world mixes up the +different accounts it hears of its antagonist. In this confusion +of contradictory opinions there is apparent so much +senseless repetition, such distressing superficiality, such +petrified prejudice, that we are involuntarily moved to a +comparison with the days of the fall of Rome.</p> + +<p>Then, too, on the eve of catastrophe, on the eve of the +victory of the barbarians, men loudly proclaimed the +eternity of Rome, the impotent madness of the Nazarenes, +and the insignificance of the movement that was arising +in the barbarian world.</p> + +<p>You have performed a great service: you first in +France have spoken of the Russian people, you have, +unawares, touched on the very heart, the very source of +life. The truth would have been revealed to your eyes +at once, if you had not, in a moment of anger, pulled +back your outstretched hand, if you had not turned away +from the source because its waters were not clear.</p> + +<p>I read your bitter words with deep distress, with +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_216">[216]</span>melancholy, with anguish in my heart. I confess I +looked in vain in them for the historian, the philosopher, +and, above all, the tender-hearted man whom we all +know and love. I hasten to explain, I fully understood +the cause of your indignation; sympathy for unhappy +Poland prompted your words. We, too, deeply cherish +this feeling for our Polish brothers, and in us the feeling +is not merely one of pity, but of shame, and pangs of +conscience. Love for Poland! We all love her, but is +it necessary to combine with that feeling hatred for another +people as unhappy, a people forced to aid with its fettered +hands the misdeeds of its savage Government? Let us +be magnanimous, let us not forget that before our eyes +the nation decked with all the trophies of recent revolution +has consented to the establishment of <i>order</i> in Rome +like that in Warsaw. And to-day ... look yourself +what is going on about you ... yet we do not say that +the French <i>have ceased to be men</i>.</p> + +<p>It is time to forget this unhappy conflict between +brothers. Among us there is no conqueror. Poland and +Russia are crushed by a common foe. Even the victims +and the martyrs turn their backs upon the past, which is +equally sorrowful for them and for us. I, like you, appeal +to your friend the great poet, Mickiewicz.</p> + +<p>Do not say of the Polish bard’s opinions that they are +‘due to mercifulness, a sacred delusion.’ No; they are +the fruits of long and conscientious thought and a profound +understanding of the destinies of the Slav world. +The forgiveness of enemies is a glorious achievement, +but there is an achievement still more glorious, more +humane; that is, the understanding of enemies, for +understanding is at once forgiveness, justification, +reconciliation.</p> + +<p>The Slav world is striving towards unity; that tendency +became apparent immediately after the Napoleonic period. +The idea of a Slavonic federation had already taken shape +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_217">[217]</span>in the revolutionary plans of Pestel and Muravyov. +Many Poles had a hand in the Russian conspiracy of +December 1825.</p> + +<p>When the Revolution of 1830 broke out in Warsaw, +the Russian people displayed not the slightest animosity +against the disobedient subjects of their Tsar. The +young were in complete sympathy with the Poles. I +remember with what impatience we awaited tidings from +Warsaw; we cried like children at the news of the +memorial services held in the capital of Poland for our +Petersburg martyrs. Sympathy for the Poles exposed +us to the risk of cruel punishments, we were forced to +conceal it in our hearts and to be silent.</p> + +<p>It may well be that during the war of 1830 a feeling of +exclusive nationalism and quite intelligible hostility +prevailed in Poland. But since those days the influence +of Mickiewicz, the historical and philological works of +many Slav scholars, a closer knowledge of other European +nations, purchased at the bitter price of exile, has given +a very different turn to Polish thought. The Poles have +come to feel that the battle is not between the Russian +people and themselves; they have learned that for the +future the only way they can fight is <i>for their and our +freedom</i>, the words inscribed on their revolutionary +banner.</p> + +<p>Konarski, who was tortured and shot by Nicholas at +Vilna, called upon Russians and Poles without distinction +of race to rise in revolt. Russia showed her gratitude by +one of those almost unknown tragedies with which every +heroic action ends amongst us under the military heel of +our German rulers.</p> + +<p>Korovazev, an army officer, resolved to save Konarski. +The day when he would be on duty was approaching, +everything was in readiness for the escape, when +the treachery of one of the Polish martyr’s comrades +brought his plans to ruin. The young man was arrested +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_218">[218]</span>and sent to Siberia, and nothing has been heard of him +since.</p> + +<p>I spent five years in exile in the remote provinces of +the Empire. There I met many Polish exiles. Almost +in every district town there is either a whole group, or at +least one of the luckless champions of independence. +I would gladly appeal to their evidence; certainly they +cannot complain of lack of sympathy on the part of the +people around them. Of course, I am not speaking here +of the police or members of the higher military hierarchy. +They are nowhere conspicuous for their love of freedom, +and least of all in Russia. I might appeal to the Polish +students exiled every year to Russian universities to remove +them from the influences of their native land; let them +describe how they were received by their Russian comrades. +They used to part from us with tears in their eyes.</p> + +<p>You remember that when in 1847 the Polish emigrants +in Paris celebrated the anniversary of their revolution, +a Russian mounted their platform to beg for their +friendship, and forgiveness for the past. That was +our unhappy friend Bakunin.... But not to quote +my fellow-countrymen, I will pick out one of those who +are reckoned our enemies, a man whom you have yourself +mentioned in your legend of Kosciuszko. For evidence +on this subject I will refer you to one of the veterans of +the Polish democracy, Bernacki, one of the ministers of +revolutionary Poland. I boldly appeal to him, though +long years of grief might well have embittered him against +everything Russian. I am convinced that he will confirm +all that I have said.</p> + +<p>The solidarity binding Russia and Poland to each other +and to the whole Slav world cannot be denied; it is +obvious. What is more, there is no future for the Slav +world apart from Russia; without Russia it will not +develop, it will fall to pieces and be swallowed up by the +German element; it will become Austrian and lose its +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_219">[219]</span>independence. But in our opinion that is not its fate, +not the end for which it is destined.</p> + +<p>Following the gradual development of your idea, I +must confess that I cannot agree with your view of Europe +as a single individual in which every nationality plays the +part of an essential organ.</p> + +<p>It seems to me that all the German-Latin nationalities +are necessary in the European world, because they exist +in it, in consequence of some necessity. Aristotle long +ago drew a distinction between pre-existent necessity and +the necessity involved in the sequence of events. Nature +is subject to the necessity of the accomplished fact, but +her hesitation between various possibilities is very marked. +On the same principle the Slav world can claim its right +to unity, especially as it is made up of one race.</p> + +<p>Centralisation is alien to the Slav spirit—federation is +far more natural to it. Only when grouped in a league +of free and independent peoples will the Slav world at +last enter upon its genuine historical existence. Its past +can only be regarded as a period of growth, of preparation, +of purification. The political forms in which the +Slavs have lived in the past have not been in harmony +with their national tendency, a tendency vague and +instinctive if you like, but by that very fact betraying an +extraordinary vitality and promising much in the future. +The Slavs have until now displayed in every phase of +their history a strange unconcern—indeed, a marvellous +receptivity. Thus Russia passed from paganism to +Christianity without a shock, without a revolt, simply +in obedience to the Grand Duke Vladimir, and in imitation +of Kiev. Without regret they flung their old idols +into the Volhov and accepted the new god as a new idol.</p> + +<p>Eight hundred years later, part of Russia in precisely +the same way accepted a civilisation imported from +abroad.</p> + +<p>The Slav world is like a woman who has never loved, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_220">[220]</span>and for that very reason apparently takes no interest in +what is going on about her. She is a stranger to all, +unwanted everywhere, but there is no answering for the +future; she is still young, and already a strange yearning +has taken possession of her heart and sets it beating faster.</p> + +<p>As for the richness of the national spirit, we need only +point to the Poles, the one Slavonic people which has +been at once free and powerful.</p> + +<p>The Slav world is not in reality made up of nationalities +so different in kind. Under the outer crust of chivalrous +Liberal and Catholic Poland, and of imperial enslaved +Byzantine Russia, under the democratic rule of the Serb +Voyevod, under the bureaucratic yoke with which Austria +oppresses Illyria, Dalmatia, and the Banat, under the +patriarchal authority of the Osmanlis and under the +blessing of the Archbishop of Montenegro, live nations +physiologically and ethnographically identical.</p> + +<p>The greater number of these Slav peoples have never +been enslaved by conquest. The dependence in which +they are so often found has for the most part consisted +only in the recognition of a foreign potentate and the +payment of tribute. Such, for instance, was the character +of the Mongol power in Russia. Thus the Slavs have +through long centuries preserved their nationality, their +character, their language.</p> + +<p>Have we not therefore the right to look upon Russia +as the centre of the crystallisation, the centre towards +which the Slav world in its striving toward unity is gravitating, +especially as Russia is so far the only nation of the +great race organised into a powerful and independent +state?</p> + +<p>The answer to this question would be perfectly clear +if the Petersburg Government had the faintest inkling of +its national destiny, if that dull-witted, deadly despotism +could make terms with any humane idea. But in the +present position of affairs, what honest man will bring +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_221">[221]</span>himself to suggest to the Western Slavs their union +with an empire which is perpetually in a state of siege, +an empire in which the sceptre has been turned into a +bludgeon that beats men to death?</p> + +<p>The Imperial Pan-Slavism, eulogised from time to time +by men who have been suborned, or who have lost their +bearings, has, of course, nothing in common with a +union resting on the foundations of freedom.</p> + +<p>At this point we are inevitably brought by logic to a +question of primary importance. Assuming that the +Slav world can hope in the future for a fuller development, +are we not forced to enquire which of the elements that +have found expression in its undeveloped state gives it +grounds for such a hope? If the Slavs believe that their +time has come, this element must be in harmony with +the revolutionary idea in Europe.</p> + +<p>You indicated that element, you touched upon it, but +it escaped you, because a generous sentiment of sympathy +for Poland drew your attention away from it.</p> + +<p>You say that ‘the fundamental basis of the life of the +Russian people is <i>communism</i>,’ you maintain that ‘their +strength lies in their agrarian law, in the perpetual re-division +of the land.’</p> + +<p>What a terrible <i>Mene Tekel</i> has dropped from +your lips!... Communism—the fundamental basis! +Strength resting on re-division of the land! And you +were not alarmed at your own words?</p> + +<p>Ought we not here to pause, to take thought, to look +more deeply into the question, and not to leave it before +making certain whether it is a dream or truth?</p> + +<p>Is there in the nineteenth century an interest of any +gravity which does not involve the question of communism, +the question of the re-division of the land?</p> + +<p>Carried away by your indignation you go on: ‘They +(the Russians) are without any true sign of humanity, of +moral sensibility, of the sense of good and evil. Truth +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_222">[222]</span>and justice have for them no meaning; if you speak of +these things—they are mute, they smile and know not +what the words signify.’ Who may those Russians be +to whom you have spoken? What conceptions of <i>truth +and justice</i> appeared beyond their comprehension? This +is not a superfluous question. In our profoundly revolutionary +epoch the words ‘truth and justice’ have lost all +absolute meaning identical for all men.</p> + +<p>The <i>truth and justice</i> of old Europe are falsehood and +injustice to the Europe which is being born. Nations +are products of Nature, history is the progressive continuation +of animal development. If we apply our moral +standards to Nature, we shall not get very far. She cares +nought for our blame or our praise. Our verdicts and +the Montyon prizes⁠<a id="FNanchor_83" href="#Footnote_83" class="fnanchor">[83]</a> for virtue do not exist for her. The +ethical categories created by our individual caprice are +not applicable to her. It seems to me that a nation cannot +be called either bad or good. The life of a people +is always true to its character and cannot be false. Nature +produces only what is practicable under given conditions: +all that exists is drawn onwards by her generative ferment, +her insatiable thirst for creation, that thirst common to +all things living.</p> + +<p>There are peoples living a prehistoric life, others living +a life outside history; but once they move into the broad +stream of history, one and indivisible, they belong to +<i>humanity</i>, and, on the other hand, all the past of humanity +belongs to them. In history—that is, in the life of the +active and progressive part of humanity—the aristocracy +of facial angle, of complexion, and other distinctions is +gradually effaced. That which has not become human +cannot come into history: so no nation which has become +part of history can be reckoned a herd of beasts, just as +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_223">[223]</span>there is no nation which deserves to be called an assembly +of the elect.</p> + +<p>There is no man bold enough, or ungrateful enough, +to deny the importance of France in the destinies of the +European world; but you must allow me the frank confession +that I cannot share your view that the sympathetic +interest of France is the <i>sine qua non</i> of historical progress +in the future.</p> + +<p>Nature never stakes all her fortune on one card. Rome, +the Eternal City, which had no less right to the hegemony +of the world, tottered, fell into ruins, vanished, and pitiless +humanity strode forward over its grave.</p> + +<p>On the other hand, unless one looks on Nature as madness +incarnate, it would be hard to see nothing but an +outcast race, nothing but a vast deception, nothing but a +casual rabble, human only through their vices, in a people +that has grown and multiplied during ten centuries, that +has obstinately preserved its nationality, that has formed +itself into an immense empire, and has intervened in +history far more perhaps than it should have done.</p> + +<p>And such a view is the more difficult to accept since this +people, even judging from the words of its enemies, is +far from being in a stagnant condition. It is not a race +that has attained social forms approximately corresponding +to its desires and has sunk into slumber in them, +like the Chinese; still less, a people that has outlived its +prime and is withering in senile impotence, like the people +of India. On the contrary, Russia is a quite new State—an +unfinished building in which everything smells of fresh +plaster, in which everything is at work and being worked +out, in which nothing has yet attained its object, in which +everything is changing, often for the worse, but anyway +changing. In brief, this is the people whose fundamental +principle, to quote your opinion, is communism, and +whose strength lies in the re-division of land....</p> + +<p>With what crime, after all, do you reproach the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_224">[224]</span>Russian people? What is the essential point of your +accusation?</p> + +<p>‘The Russian,’ you say, ‘is a liar and a thief; he is +perpetually stealing, he is perpetually lying, and quite +innocently—it is in his nature.’</p> + +<p>I will not stop to call attention to the sweeping character +of your verdict, but will ask you a simple question: +who is it that the Russian deceives, from whom does he +steal? Who—if not the landowner, the Government +official, the steward, the police officer, in fact the sworn +foes of the peasant, whom he looks upon as heathens, as +traitors, as half Germans? Deprived of every possible +means of defence, the peasant resorts to cunning in dealing +with his torturers, he deceives them, and he is perfectly +right in doing so.</p> + +<p>Cunning, my dear sir, is, in the words of the great +thinker,⁠<a id="FNanchor_84" href="#Footnote_84" class="fnanchor">[84]</a> the irony of brute force.</p> + +<p>Through his aversion for private property in land, so +correctly noted by you, through his heedless and indolent +temperament, the Russian peasant has gradually and imperceptibly +been caught in the snares of the German +bureaucracy and of the landowners’ power. He has +submitted to this humiliating disaster with the resignation +of a martyr, but he has not believed in the rights of the +landowner, nor the justice of the law-courts, nor the +legality of the acts of the authorities. For nearly two +hundred years the peasant’s existence has been a dumb, +passive opposition to the existing order of things. He +submits to coercion, he endures, but he takes no part in +anything that goes on outside the village commune.</p> + +<p>The name of the Tsar still stirs a superstitious sentiment +in the people; it is not to the Tsar Nicholas that the +peasant does homage, but to the abstract idea, the myth; +in the popular imagination the Tsar stands for a menacing +avenger, an incarnation of Justice, an earthly providence.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_225">[225]</span></p> + +<p>Besides the Tsar, only the clergy could possibly have an +influence on orthodox Russia. They alone represent +old Russia in governing spheres; the clergy do not shave +their beards, and by that fact have remained on the side +of the people. The peasantry listen with confidence +to the monks. But the monks and the higher clergy, +occupied exclusively with life beyond the grave, care +little for the people. The village priests have lost all +influence through their greed, their drunkenness, and +their intimate relations with the police. In their case, +too, the peasants respect the idea but not the person.</p> + +<p>As for the dissenters, they hate both person and idea, +both priest and Tsar.</p> + +<p>Apart from the Tsar and the clergy every element of +government and society is utterly alien, essentially antagonistic +to the people. The peasant finds himself in the +literal sense of the word an outlaw. The law-court is +no protector for him, and his share in the existing order of +things is entirely confined to the twofold tribute that lies +heavy upon him and is paid in his toil and his blood. +Rejected by all, he instinctively understands that the +whole system is ordered not for his benefit, but to his +detriment, and that the aim of the Government and the +landowners is to wring out of him as much labour, as +much money, as many recruits as possible. As he understands +this and is gifted with a supple and resourceful +intelligence, he deceives them on all sides and in everything. +It could not be otherwise; if he spoke the truth +he would by so doing be acknowledging their authority +over him; if he did not rob them (observe that to conceal +part of the produce of his own labour is considered theft +in a peasant) he would thereby be recognising the lawfulness +of their demands, the rights of the landowners +and the justice of the law-courts.</p> + +<p>To understand the Russian peasant’s position fully, +you should see him in the law-courts; you must see his +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_226">[226]</span>hopeless face, his frightened watchful eyes, to understand +that he is a prisoner of war before the court-martial, a +traveller facing a gang of brigands. From the first +glance it is clear that the victim has not the slightest trust +in the hostile, pitiless, insatiable robbers who are questioning +him, tormenting him and fleecing him. He knows +that if he has money he will be acquitted; if not, he will +be found guilty.</p> + +<p>The Russian people speak their own old language, the +judges and the attorneys write in a new bureaucratic +language, hideous and barely intelligible; they fill whole +folios with ungrammatical jargon, and gabble off this +mummery to the peasant. He may understand it if he +can and find his way out of the muddle if he knows how. +The peasant knows what this performance means, and +maintains a cautious demeanour. He does not say one +word too much, he conceals his uneasiness and stands +silent, pretending to be a fool.</p> + +<p>The peasant who has been acquitted by the court +trudges home, no more elated than if he had been condemned. +In either case the decision seems to him the +result of capricious tyranny or chance.</p> + +<p>In the same way, when he is summoned as a witness +he stubbornly professes to know nothing, even in face of +incontestable fact. Being found guilty by a law-court +does not disgrace a man in the eyes of the Russian peasant. +Exiles and convicts go by the name of <i>unfortunates</i> with +him.</p> + +<p>The life of the Russian peasantry has hitherto been +confined to the commune. It is only in relation to the +commune and its members that the peasant recognises +that he has rights and duties. Outside the commune +everything seems to him based upon violence. What is +fatal is his submitting to that violence, and not his refusing +in his own way to recognise it and his trying to protect +himself by guile. Lying before a judge set over him +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_227">[227]</span>by unlawful authority is far more straightforward than a +hypocritical show of respect for a jury tampered with by +a corrupt prefect. The peasant respects only those +institutions which reflect his innate conception of law and +right.</p> + +<p>There is a fact which no one who has been in close +contact with the Russian peasantry can doubt. The +peasants rarely cheat each other. An almost boundless +good faith prevails among them; they know nothing of +contracts and written agreements.</p> + +<p>The problems connected with the measurement of their +fields are often inevitably complicated, owing to the perpetual +re-division of land, in accordance with the number +of taxpayers in the family; yet the difficulties are got +over without complaint or resort to the law-courts. The +landowners and the Government eagerly seek an opportunity +of interference, but that opportunity is not given +them. Petty disputes are submitted to the judgment of +the elders or of the commune, and the decision is unconditionally +accepted by all. It is just the same thing in +the <i>artels</i>. The <i>artels</i> are often made up of several +hundred workmen, who form a union for a definite period—for +instance, for a year. At the expiration of the year +the workmen divide their wages by common agreement, +in accordance with the work done by each. The police +never have the satisfaction of meddling in their accounts. +Almost always the <i>artel</i> makes itself responsible for every +one of its members.</p> + +<p>The bonds between the peasants of the commune are +even closer when they are not orthodox but dissenters. +From time to time the Government organises a savage +raid on some dissenting village. Peasants are clapped +into prison and sent into exile, and it is all done with no +sort of plan, no consistency, without rhyme or reason, +solely to satisfy the clamour of the clergy and give the +police something to do. The character of the Russian +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_228">[228]</span>peasants, the solidarity existing among them, is displayed +again during these hunts after heretics. At such times +it is worth seeing how they succeed in deceiving the +police, in saving their comrades and concealing their +holy books and vessels, how they endure the most awful +tortures without uttering a word. I challenge any one to +bring forward a single case in which a dissenting commune +has been betrayed by a peasant, even by an orthodox one.</p> + +<p>The peculiarity of the Russian character makes police +enquiries excessively difficult. One can but heartily +rejoice at the fact. The Russian peasant has no morality +except what naturally, instinctively flows from his communism; +this morality is deeply rooted in the people; +the little they know of the Gospel supports it; the flagrant +injustice of the landowner binds the peasant still more +closely to his principles and to the communal system.⁠<a id="FNanchor_85" href="#Footnote_85" class="fnanchor">[85]</a>⁠</p> + +<p>The commune has saved the Russian people from +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_229">[229]</span>Mongol barbarism and Imperial civilisation, from the +Europeanised landlords and from the German bureaucracy. +The communal system, though it has suffered +violent shocks, has stood firm against the interference of +the authorities; it has successfully survived <i>up to the +development of socialism in Europe</i>. This circumstance +is of infinite consequence for Russia.</p> + +<p>The Russian Autocracy is entering upon a new phase. +Having grown out of an anti-national revolution,⁠<a id="FNanchor_86" href="#Footnote_86" class="fnanchor">[86]</a> it has +accomplished its destined task. It has created an +immense empire, a formidable army, a centralised government. +Without real roots, without tradition, it was +doomed to ineffectiveness; it is true that it undertook a +new task—to bring Western civilisation into Russia; and +it was to some extent successful in doing that while it +still played the part of an enlightened government.</p> + +<p>That part it has now abandoned.</p> + +<p>The Government, which severed itself from the people +in the name of civilisation, has lost no time in cutting +itself off from culture in the name of autocracy.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_230">[230]</span></p> + +<p>It renounced civilisation as soon as the tri-coloured +phantom of liberalism began to be visible through its +tendencies; it tried to turn to nationalism, to the people. +That was impossible—the people and the Government +had nothing in common; the former had grown away +from the latter, while the Government discerned deep +in the masses a new phantom, the still more terrible +phantom of the Red Cock.⁠<a id="FNanchor_87" href="#Footnote_87" class="fnanchor">[87]</a> Of course, liberalism was +less dangerous than the new Pugatchovism, but the terror +and dislike of new ideas had grown so strong that the +Government was no longer capable of making its peace +with civilisation.</p> + +<p>Since then the sole aim of Tsarism has been Tsarism. +It rules in order to rule, its immense powers are employed +for their mutual destruction, for the preservation of an +artificial peace. But autocracy for the sake of autocracy in +the end becomes impossible; it is too absurd, too barren.</p> + +<p>It has felt this and has begun to look for work to do in +Europe. The activity of Russian diplomacy is inexhaustible; +notes, threats, promises, councils are scattered +on all sides, its spies and agents scurry to and fro in all +directions.</p> + +<p>The Russian Emperor regards himself as the natural +protector of the German Princes; he meddles in all the +petty intrigues of the petty German courts; he settles +all their disputes, scolding one, rewarding another with +the hand of a Grand Duchess. But this is not a sufficient +outlet for his energy. He undertakes the duty of +chief gendarme of the universe; he is the mainstay of +every reaction, every persecution. He plays the part +of the representative of the monarchical principle in +Europe, assumes the airs and graces of the aristocracy, +as though he were a Bourbon, or a Plantagenet, as though +his courtiers were Gloucesters or Montmorencys.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_231">[231]</span></p> + +<p>Unhappily there is nothing in common between feudal +monarchism with its definite basis, its past, and its social +and religious ideas, and the Napoleonic despotism of the +Petersburg Tsar with no moral principle behind it, +nothing but a deplorable historic necessity, a transitory +usefulness.</p> + +<p>And the Winter Palace, like a mountain top toward +the end of autumn, is more and more thickly covered +with snow and ice. The vital sap artificially raised to +these governmental heights is gradually being frozen; +nothing is left but mere material power, and the hardness +of the rock which still resists the onslaught of the waves +of revolution.</p> + +<p>Nicholas, surrounded by his generals, his ministers, +and his bureaucrats, tries to forget his isolation, but +grows hour by hour gloomier, more morose, more uneasy. +He sees that he is not loved; he discerns the deadly +silence that reigns about him through the distant murmur +of the far-away tempest, which seems to be coming +nearer. The Tsar seeks to forget, he proclaims aloud +that his aim is the aggrandisement of the Imperial power.</p> + +<p>That avowal is nothing new; for the last twenty years +he has unwearyingly, unrestingly laboured for that sole +object; for the sake of it he has spared neither the tears +nor the blood of his subjects.</p> + +<p>He has succeeded in everything: he has crushed Polish +nationalism; in Russia he has suppressed liberalism.</p> + +<p>What more does he want, indeed? Why is he so +gloomy?</p> + +<p>The Emperor feels that Poland is not yet dead. In +place of the liberalism which he has persecuted with a +savagery quite superfluous, for that exotic flower cannot +take root in Russian soil, another movement menacing +as a storm-cloud is arising.</p> + +<p>The peasantry is beginning to murmur under the yoke +of the landowners; local insurrections are continually +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_232">[232]</span>breaking out; you yourself quote a terrible instance of +this.</p> + +<p>The party of progress demands the emancipation of +the peasants; it is ready to sacrifice its own privileges. +The Tsar hesitates and holds it back; he desires emancipation +and puts hindrances in its way. He sees that +freeing the peasants involves freeing the land; that this +in its turn is the beginning of a social revolution, the +proclamation of rural communism. To escape the +question of emancipation is impossible, to defer its solution +to the next reign is, of course, easier, but it is a +cowardly resource, and only amounts to the respite of a +few hours wasted at a wretched posting-station in waiting +for horses....</p> + +<p>From all this you see how fortunate it is for Russia that +the village commune has not perished, that personal +ownership has not split up the property of the commune; +how fortunate it is for the Russian people that it has +remained outside all political movements, outside European +civilisation, which would undoubtedly have undermined +the commune, and which has to-day reached in socialism +the negation of itself.</p> + +<p>Europe, as I have said in another place, has not solved +the problem of the rival claims of the individual and the +State, but has set herself the task of solving it. Russia +has not found the solution either. It is in this problem +that our equality begins.</p> + +<p>At the first step towards the social revolution Europe +is confronted with the people which presents it with a +system, half-savage and unorganised, but still a system, +that of perpetual re-division of land among its cultivators. +And observe that this great example is given us not by +educated Russia, but by the people itself, by its actual +life. We Russians who have passed through European +civilisation are no more than a means, a leaven, mediators +between the Russian people and revolutionary Europe. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_233">[233]</span>The man of the future in Russia is the peasant, just as +in France it is the workman.</p> + +<p>But, if this is so, have not the Russian peasantry some +claim on your indulgence, sir?</p> + +<p>Poor peasant! Every possible injustice is hurled at +him: the Emperor oppresses him with levies of recruits, +the landowner steals his labour, the official takes his last +rouble. The peasant endures in silence but does not +despair, he still has the commune. If a member is torn +from it, the commune draws its ranks closer. One would +have thought the peasant’s fate deserved compassion, yet it +touches no one. Instead of defending, men upbraid him.</p> + +<p>You do not leave him even the last refuge, in which he +still feels himself a man, in which he loves and is not +afraid; you say: ‘His commune is not a commune, his +family is not a family, his wife is not a wife; before she +is his, she is the property of the landowner; his children +are not his children—who knows who is their father?’</p> + +<p>So you expose this luckless people not to scientific +analysis but to the contempt of other nations, who receive +your legends with confidence.</p> + +<p>I regard it as a duty to say a few words on this subject.</p> + +<p>Family life among all the Slavs is very highly developed; +it may be the one conservative element of their +character, the point at which their destructive criticism +stops.</p> + +<p>The peasants are very reluctant to split up the family; +not uncommonly three or four generations go on living +under one roof around the grandfather, who enjoys a +patriarchal authority. The woman, commonly oppressed, +as is always the case in the agricultural class, is treated +with respect and consideration when she is the widow of +the eldest son.</p> + +<p>Not uncommonly the whole family is ruled by a grey-haired +grandmother.... Can it be said that the family +does not exist in Russia?</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_234">[234]</span></p> + +<p>Let us pass to the landowner’s relation to the family +of his serf. For the sake of clearness, we will distinguish +the rule from its abuses, what is lawful from what is +criminal.</p> + +<p><i>Jus primae noctis</i> has never existed in Russia.</p> + +<p>The landowner cannot legally demand a breach of +conjugal fidelity. If the law were carried out in Russia, +the violation of a serf-woman would be punished exactly +as though she were free, namely by penal servitude or +exile to Siberia, with deprivation of all civil rights. Such +is the law, let us turn to the facts.</p> + +<p>I do not pretend to deny that with the power given by +the Government to the landowners, it is very easy for +them to violate the wives and daughters of their serfs. +By privation and punishment the landowner can always +bring his serfs to a pass in which some will offer him their +wives and daughters, just like that worthy French nobleman +who, in the eighteenth century, asked as a special +favour that his daughter should be installed in the Parc-aux-Cerfs.</p> + +<p>It is no matter for wonder that honourable fathers and +husbands find no redress against the landowners, thanks +to the excellent judicial system of Russia. For the +most part, they find themselves in the position of Monsieur +Tiercelin, whose daughter of eleven was stolen by +Berruyer, at the instigation of Louis <span class="allsmcap">XV.</span> All these +filthy abuses are possible; one has but to think of the +coarse and depraved manners of a section of the Russian +nobility to be certain of it. But as far as the peasants are +concerned they are far indeed from enduring their masters’ +viciousness with indifference.</p> + +<p>Allow me to bring forward a proof of it.</p> + +<p>Half of the landowners murdered by their serfs (the +statistics give their number as sixty to seventy a year) +perish in consequence of their misdeeds in this line. +Legal proceedings on such grounds are rare; the peasant +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_235">[235]</span>knows that the judges show little respect for his complaints; +but he has an axe; he is a master of the use of +it, and knows that he is.</p> + +<p>I will say no more about the peasants, but beg you to +listen to a few more words about educated Russia.</p> + +<p>Your view of the intellectual movement in Russia is +no more indulgent than your opinion of the popular +character; with one stroke of the pen you strike off all +the work hitherto done by our fettered hands!</p> + +<p>One of Shakespeare’s characters, not knowing how to +show his contempt for a despised opponent, says to him: +‘I even doubt of your existence!’ You have gone +further, for it is not a matter of doubt to you that Russian +literature does not exist. I quote from your own +words:</p> + +<p>‘We are not going to attach importance to the attempts +of those few clever people who have thought fit to exercise +themselves in the Russian language and cheat Europe +with a pale phantom of Russian literature. If it were +not for my deep respect for Mickiewicz and his saintly +aberrations, I should really censure him for the indulgence, +one might even say charity, with which he speaks of this +trifling.’⁠<a id="FNanchor_88" href="#Footnote_88" class="fnanchor">[88]</a>⁠</p> + +<p>I search in vain, sir, for the grounds for the contempt +with which you greet the first frail cry of a people that has +awakened in its prison-house, the groan suppressed by +its gaoler.</p> + +<p>Why are you unwilling to listen to the shuddering +notes of our mournful poetry, to our chants through which +a sob can be heard? What has concealed from your eyes +our hysterical laughter, the perpetual irony behind which +the deeply tortured heart seeks refuge, in which +our fatal helplessness is confessed? Oh, how I long +to make you a worthy translation of some poems of +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_236">[236]</span>Pushkin and Lermontov, some songs of Koltsov! +Then you would hold out to us a friendly hand at +once, you would be the first to beg us to forget what +you have said!</p> + +<p>Next to the communism of the peasants, nothing is so +deeply characteristic of Russia, nothing is such an earnest +of her great future, as her literary movement.</p> + +<p>Between the peasantry and literature there looms the +monster of official Russia. ‘Russia the deception, +Russia the pestilence,’ as you call her. This Russia +extends from the Emperor, passing from gendarme to +gendarme, from official to official, down to the lowest +policeman in the remotest corner of the Empire. Every +step of the ladder, as in Dante, gains a new power for +evil, a new degree of corruption and cruelty. This living +pyramid of crimes, abuses, and bribery, built up of policemen, +scoundrels, heartless German officials everlastingly +greedy, ignorant judges everlastingly drunk, aristocrats +everlastingly base: all this is held together by a community +of interest in plunder and gain, and supported on six +hundred thousand animated machines with bayonets. +The peasant is never defiled by contact with this governing +world of aggression; he endures its existence—only +in that is he to blame.</p> + +<p>The body hostile to official Russia consists of a handful +of men who are ready to face anything, who protest +against it, fight with it, denounce and undermine it. +These isolated champions are from time to time thrown +into dungeons, tortured, sent to Siberia, but their place +does not long remain empty, fresh champions come +forward; it is our tradition, our inalienable task. The +terrible consequences of speech in Russia inevitably give +it a peculiar force. A free utterance is listened to with +love and reverence, because among us it is only uttered +by those who have something to say. One does not so +easily put one’s thoughts into print when at the end of +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_237">[237]</span>every page one has a vision of a gendarme, a troika, and, +on the far horizon, Tobolsk or Irkutsk.</p> + +<p>In my last pamphlet⁠<a id="FNanchor_89" href="#Footnote_89" class="fnanchor">[89]</a> I have said enough about Russian +literature. Here I will confine myself to a few general +observations.</p> + +<p>Melancholy, scepticism, irony, those are the three chief +strings of the Russian lyre.</p> + +<p>When Pushkin begins one of his finest poems with +these terrible words:</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">‘All say—there is no justice upon earth....</div> + <div class="verse indent0">But there is no justice—up above us either!</div> + <div class="verse indent0">To me that is as clear as A B C,’</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class="noindent">does it not grip your heart, do you not through the show +of composure divine the broken life of a man grown +used to suffering? Lermontov, in his profound repulsion +for the society surrounding him, turns in 1830 to +his contemporaries with his terrible</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">‘With mournful heart I watch our generation,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Tragic or trivial must its future be.’</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p>I only know one contemporary poet who touches the +gloomy strings of man’s soul with the same power. He, +too, was a poet born in slavery and dying before the +rebirth of his Fatherland; that is the singer of death, +Leopardi, to whom the world seems a vast league of +criminals ruthlessly persecuting a handful of righteous +madmen.</p> + +<p>Russia has only one painter who has won general +recognition, Bryullov. What is the subject of his finest +work which won him fame in Italy?</p> + +<p>Glance at this strange painting.⁠<a id="FNanchor_90" href="#Footnote_90" class="fnanchor">[90]</a> On an immense +canvas groups of terrified figures are crowded in confusion, +seeking in vain for safety. They are perishing +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_238">[238]</span>from an earthquake, a volcanic eruption in the midst +of a perfect tempest of cataclysms. They are overwhelmed +by savage, senseless, ruthless force, to which +any resistance is impossible. Such are the conceptions +inspired by the Petersburg atmosphere. The Russian +novel is occupied exclusively in the sphere of pathological +anatomy. In it there is a perpetual reference to the evil +consuming us, perpetual, pitiless, peculiar to us. Here +you do not hear voices from heaven, promising Faust +forgiveness for sinful Gretchen—here the only voices +raised are those of doubt and damnation. Yet if there is +salvation for Russia, she will be saved only by this profound +recognition of our position, by the truthfulness +with which she lays bare before all her plight. He who +boldly recognises his failings feels that there is in him +something that has been kept safe in the midst of downfalls +and backslidings; he knows that he can expiate +his past, and not only lift up his head, but turn from +‘Sardanapalus the profligate to Sardanapalus the hero.’</p> + +<p>The Russian peasantry do not read. You know that +Voltaire and Dante, too, were not read by villagers, but +by the nobility and a section of the middle class. In +Russia the educated section of the middle class forms part +of the nobility, which consists of all that has ceased to be +the peasantry. There is even a proletariat of the nobility +which merges into the peasantry, and a proletariat of the +peasantry which rises up into the nobility. This fluctuation, +this continual renewal, gives the Russian nobility a +character which you do not find in the privileged classes +of the backward countries of Europe. In brief, the whole +history of Russia, from the time of Peter the Great, is only +the history of the nobility and of the influence of enlightenment +upon it. I will add that the Russian nobility +equals in numbers the electorate of France established by +the laws of the 31st of May.</p> + +<p>In the course of the eighteenth century, the new +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_239">[239]</span>Russian literature fashioned that rich, sonorous language +which we possess now: a supple and powerful language +capable of expressing both the most abstract ideas of +German metaphysics and the light sparkling play of +French wit. This literature, called into being by the +genius of Peter the Great, bore, it is true, the impress of +the Government—but in those days the banner of the +Government was progress, almost revolution.</p> + +<p>Till 1789 the Imperial throne complacently draped +itself in the majestic vestments of enlightenment and +philosophy. Catherine <span class="allsmcap">II.</span> deserved to be deceived with +cardboard villages and palaces of painted boards.... +No one could dazzle spectators by a gorgeous stage effect +as she could. In the Hermitage there was continual +talk about Voltaire, Montesquieu, Beccaria. You, sir, +know the reverse of the medal.</p> + +<p>Yet in the midst of the triumphal chorus of the +courtiers’ songs of praise, a strange unexpected note was +already sounding. That was the sceptical, fiercely satirical +strain, before which all the other artificial chants were +soon to be reduced to silence.</p> + +<p>The true character of Russian thought, poetical and +speculative, develops in its full force on the accession of +Nicholas to the throne. Its distinguishing feature is a +tragic emancipation of conscience, a pitiless negation, a +bitter irony, an agonising self-analysis. Sometimes this +all breaks into insane laughter, but there is no gaiety in +that laughter.</p> + +<p>Cast into oppressive surroundings, and armed with a +clear eye and incorruptible logic, the Russian quickly +frees himself from the faith and morals of his fathers. +The thinking Russian is the most independent man in +the world. What is there to curb him? Respect for +the past?... But what serves as a starting-point of +the modern history of Russia, if not the denial of nationalism +and tradition?</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_240">[240]</span></p> + +<p>Or can it be the tradition of the Petersburg period? +That tradition lays no obligation on us; on the contrary, +that ‘fifth act of the bloody drama staged in a brothel’⁠<a id="FNanchor_91" href="#Footnote_91" class="fnanchor">[91]</a> +sets us completely free from every obligation.</p> + +<p>On the other hand, the past of the Western European +peoples serves us as a lesson and nothing more; we do +not regard ourselves as the executors of their historic +testaments.</p> + +<p>We share your doubts, but your faith does not cheer us. +We share your hatred, but we do not understand your +devotion to what your forefathers have bequeathed you; +we are too down-trodden, too unhappy, to be satisfied +with half-freedom. You are restrained by scruples, +you are held back by second thoughts. We have neither +second thoughts nor scruples; all we lack is strength. +This is where we get the irony, the anguish which gnaws +us, which brings us to frenzy, which drives us on till we +reach Siberia, torture, exile, premature death. We +sacrifice ourselves with no hope, from spite, from boredom.... +There is, indeed, something irrational in our lives, +but there is nothing vulgar, nothing stagnant, nothing +bourgeois.</p> + +<p>Do not accuse us of immorality because we do not +respect what you respect. Can you reproach a foundling +for not respecting his parents? We are independent +because we are starting life from the beginning. We +have no law but our nature, our national character; it +is our being, our flesh and blood, but by no means a +binding authority. We are independent because we +possess nothing. We have hardly anything to love. All +our memories are filled with bitterness and resentment. +Education, learning, were given us with the whip.</p> + +<p>What have we to do with your sacred duties, we +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_241">[241]</span>younger brothers robbed of our heritage? And can we +be honestly contented with your threadbare morality, +unchristian and inhuman, existing only in rhetorical +exercises and speeches for the prosecution? What +respect can be inspired in us by your Roman-barbaric +system of law, that hollow clumsy edifice, without light +or air, repaired in the Middle Ages, whitewashed by the +newly enfranchised petty bourgeois? I admit that the +daily brigandage in the Russian law-courts is even worse, +but it does not follow from that that you have justice in +your laws or your courts.</p> + +<p>The distinction between your laws and our Imperial +decrees is confined to the formula with which they begin. +Our Imperial decrees begin with a crushing truth: ‘The +Tsar has been pleased to command’; your laws begin +with a revolting falsehood, the ironical abuse of the name +of the French people, and the words Liberty, Equality, +and Fraternity. The code of Nicholas is drawn up for +the benefit of the Autocracy to the detriment of its subjects. +The Napoleonic code has absolutely the same character. +We are held in too many chains already to fasten fresh +ones about us of our own free will. In this respect we +stand precisely on a level with our peasants. We submit +to brute force. We are slaves because we have no possibility +of being free; but we accept nothing from our +foes.</p> + +<p>Russia will never be Protestant, Russia will never be +<i>juste-milieu</i>.</p> + +<p>Russia will never make a revolution with the object of +getting rid of the Tsar Nicholas, and replacing him by +other Tsars—parliamentary representatives, judges, and +police officials. We perhaps ask for too much and shall +get nothing. That may be so, but yet we do not despair; +before the year 1848 Russia could not, and should not, +have entered on a career of revolution, she had to learn +her lesson—now she has learnt it. The Tsar himself +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_242">[242]</span>observes it, and is ferociously brutal in his opposition to +universities, to ideas, to knowledge; he is trying to cut +Russia off from Europe, to destroy culture. He is doing +his job.</p> + +<p>Will he succeed in it? As I have said before, we must +not have blind faith in the future; every seed has its +claim to development, but not every one develops. The +future of Russia does not depend on her alone, it is +bound up with the future of Europe. Who can foretell +the fate of the Slav world, if reaction and absolutism +finally vanquish the revolution in Europe?</p> + +<p>Perhaps it will perish.</p> + +<p>But in that case Europe too will perish....</p> + +<p>And progress will pass to America.</p> + +<p class="mt2">After writing the above I received the last two instalments +of your legend. My first impulse on reading +them was to throw what I had written in the fire. Your +warm and generous heart has not waited for some one +else to raise a voice on behalf of the despised Russian +people. Your heart was too tender for you to play the +part you had undertaken of the <i>relentless</i> judge, the +avenger of the outraged Polish people. You have been +drawn into inconsistency, but it is the inconsistency of a +noble mind.</p> + +<p>I thought, however, on reading over my letter that +you might find in it some new views on Russia and the +Slav world, and I made up my mind to send it you. I +confidently hope that you will forgive the passages in +which I have been carried away by my Scythian impetuosity. +It is not for nothing that the blood of the +barbarians flows in my veins. I so longed to change your +opinion of the Russian people, it was such a grief, such a +pain to me to see that you were hostile to us that I could +not conceal my bitterness, my emotion, that I let my pen +run away with me. But now I see that you do not +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_243">[243]</span>despair of us, that under the coarse smock of the Russian +peasant you discern the man. I see this, and in my +turn confess that I fully understand the impression the +very name of Russia must produce on every free man. +We often ourselves curse our unhappy Fatherland. You +know it, you say yourself that everything you have written +of the moral worthlessness of Russia is feeble compared +with what Russians say themselves.</p> + +<p>But the time for funeral orations on Russia is past for +us too, and with you we say ‘in that thought lies hid the +spark of life.’ You have divined that spark by the +power of your love; but we see it, we feel it. That +spark will not be quenched by streams of blood, by the +ices of Siberia, nor the suffocating heat of mines and +prisons. May it spread under its layer of ashes! The +cold, deadly breath which blows from Europe cannot +put it out.</p> + +<p>For us the hour of action has not come; France may +still be justly proud of her foremost position. That +painful privilege is hers until 1852. Europe will doubtless +before us reach the goal of the grave or of the new +life. The day of action is perhaps still far away for us; +the day of recognising the idea, the day of utterance, has +already come. We have lived long enough in sleep and +silence; the time has come to tell what we have dreamed, +what conclusions we have reached.</p> + +<p>And indeed whose fault is it that we have had to wait +until 1847 for a German (Haxthausen) to <i>discover</i>, as +you express it, the Russia of the peasantry, as unknown +before his time as America before Columbus?</p> + +<p>Of course, it is we who are to blame for it, we poor +dumb creatures with our cowardice, our halting words, +our terrified imagination. Even abroad we are afraid +to confess the hatred with which we look upon our fetters. +Convicts from our birth up, doomed to the hour of death +to drag the chains riveted to our legs, we are offended +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_244">[244]</span>when we are spoken of as though we were voluntary +slaves, as though we were frozen negroes, and yet we +do not openly protest.</p> + +<p>Ought we to submit meekly to these denunciations, or +to resolve to check them, lifting up our voice for Russian +freedom of speech? Better for us to perish suspected of +human dignity than to live with the shameful brand of +slavery on our brow, than to hear ourselves charged with +voluntary servility.</p> + +<p>Unhappily, free speech in Russia arouses terror and +amazement. I have tried to lift only a corner of the +heavy curtain that hides us from Europe, I have indicated +only the theoretical tendencies, the remote hopes, +the organic elements of our future development; and yet +my book of which you speak in such flattering phrases +has made an unpleasant impression in Russia. Friendly +voices which I respect condemn it. In it they see a +denunciation of Russia, denunciation!... For what? +for our sufferings, our hardships, our desire to force our +way out of this hateful position.... Poor precious +friends, forgive me this crime, I am falling into it again.</p> + +<p>Heavy and dreadful is the yoke of years of slavery with +no struggle, no hope at hand! In the end it crushes +even the noblest, the strongest heart. Where is the hero +who is not overcome at last by weariness, who does not +prefer peace in old age to the everlasting fret of fruitless +effort?</p> + +<p>No, I will not be silent! My words shall avenge those +unhappy lives crushed by the Russian autocracy which +brings men to moral annihilation, to spiritual death.</p> + +<p>We are bound in duty to speak, else no one will know +how much that is fine and lofty is locked for ever in those +martyrs’ breasts and perishes with them in the snows of +Siberia, where their criminal name is not even traced upon +their tombstone, but is only cherished in the hearts of +friends who dare not utter it aloud.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_245">[245]</span></p> + +<p>Scarcely have we opened our mouth, scarcely have we +murmured two or three words of our desires and hopes, +when they try to silence us, try to stifle free speech in its +cradle! It is impossible. A time comes when thought +reaches maturity and can no longer be kept in fetters by +the censorship, nor by prudence. Then propaganda +becomes a passion; can one be content with a whisper +when the sleep is so deep that it can scarcely be awakened +by an alarm-bell? From the mutiny of the Stryeltsy to +the conspiracy of the Fourteenth of December there has +been no political movement of consequence in Russia. +The cause is easy to understand: there were no clearly +defined cravings for independence in the people. In +many things they were at one with the Government, in +many things the Government was in advance of the +people. Only the peasants, who had no share in the +Imperial benefits and were more oppressed than ever, +tried to revolt. Russia from the Urals to Penza and +Kazan was, for three months, in the power of Pugatchov. +The Imperial army was defeated, put to flight by the +Cossacks, and General Bibikov, sent from Petersburg to +take the command of the army, wrote, if I am not mistaken, +from Nizhni: ‘Things are in a very bad way; +what is most to be feared is not the armed hordes of the +rebels, but the spirit of the peasantry, which is dangerous, +very dangerous.’ After incredible efforts the insurrection +was at last crushed. The people relapsed into +numbness, silence, and submission....</p> + +<p>Meanwhile the nobility had developed, education had +begun to fructify their minds, and like a living proof of +that political maturity, of that moral development which +is inevitably expressed in action, those divine figures +appeared, those heroes as you justly call them, who +‘alone in the very jaws of the dragon dared the bold +stroke of the Fourteenth of December.’</p> + +<p>Their defeat and the terror of the present reign have +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_246">[246]</span>crushed every idea of success, every premature attempt. +Other questions have arisen; no one has cared to risk +his life again in the hope of a Constitution; it has +been too clear that any stroke won in Petersburg +would be defeated by the treachery of the Tsar; +the fate of the Polish Constitution has been before +our eyes.</p> + +<p>For ten years no intellectual activity could betray itself +by one word, and the oppressive misery has reached the +point when men ‘would give their life for the happiness +of being free for one moment’ and uttering aloud some +part of their thoughts.</p> + +<p>Some, with that frivolous recklessness which is only +met with in us and in the Poles, have renounced their +possessions and gone abroad to seek distraction; others, +unable to endure the oppressive atmosphere of Petersburg, +have buried themselves in the country. The young men +gave themselves up, some to Pan-Slavism, some to German +philosophy, some to history or political economy; in +short, not one of those Russians whose natural vocation +was intellectual activity could or would submit to the +stagnation.</p> + +<p>The case of Petrashevsky and his friends, condemned +to penal servitude for life, and exiled in 1849, because +they formed some political societies not two steps from +the Winter Palace, proves by the insane recklessness of +the attempt, and the obvious impossibility of its success, +that the time for rational reflection had passed, that +feeling was beyond restraint, that certain ruin had come +to seem easier to endure than dumb agonising submission +to the Petersburg discipline.</p> + +<p>A fable very widely known in Russia tells how a Tsar, +suspecting his wife of infidelity, shut her and her son in +a barrel, then had the barrel sealed up and thrown into +the sea.</p> + +<p>For many years the barrel floated on the sea.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_247">[247]</span></p> + +<p>Meanwhile, the Tsarevitch grew not by days but by +hours, and his feet and his head began to press against the +ends of the barrel. Every day he became more and more +cramped. At last he said to his mother: ‘Queen-mother, +let me stretch in freedom.’</p> + +<p>‘My darling Tsarevitch,’ answered the mother, ‘you +must not stretch, the barrel will burst and you will drown +in the salt water.’</p> + +<p>The Tsarevitch thought in silence for a while, then he +said: ‘I will stretch, mother; better stretch for once +in freedom and die.’</p> + +<p>That fable, sir, contains our whole history.</p> + +<p>Woe to Russia if bold men, risking everything to stretch +in freedom for once, are no more to be found in her. +But there is no fear of that....</p> + +<p>These words involuntarily bring to my mind Bakunin. +Bakunin has given Europe the sample of a free Russian.</p> + +<p>I was deeply touched by your fine reference to him. +Unhappily, those words will not reach him.</p> + +<p>An international crime has been committed; Saxony +has handed over the victim to Austria, Austria to Nicholas. +He is in the Schlüsselburg, that fortress of evil memory +where once Ivan, the grandson of the Tsar Alexis, +was kept caged like a wild beast, till he was killed +by Catherine the Second,⁠<a id="FNanchor_92" href="#Footnote_92" class="fnanchor">[92]</a> who, still stained by her +husband’s blood, first ordered the captive’s murder, +then punished the luckless officer who carried out her +command.</p> + +<p>In that damp dungeon in the icy waters of Lake Ladoga +there is no place for dreams or hopes! May he sleep the +last sleep in peace, the martyr betrayed by two Governments, +whose hands are stained with his blood.... +Glory to his name! And revenge! But where is the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_248">[248]</span>avenger?... And we too, like him, shall perish with +our work half done; but then lift up your stern and +majestic voice, and tell our children once more that there +is a duty before them....</p> + +<p>I will close with the memory of Bakunin and warmly +press your hand for him and for myself.</p> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Nice</span>, <i>September 22, 1851</i>.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="FOOTNOTES">FOOTNOTES</h2> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_1" href="#FNanchor_1" class="label">[1]</a> Ogaryov suffered from some form of epilepsy.—(<i>Translator’s +Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_2" href="#FNanchor_2" class="label">[2]</a> Herzen lived twelve years in London, and during that time took +no less than seven different houses: (1) ‘a house in one of the +remotest parts of the town, near Primrose Hill’; (2) Chomley +Lodge, Richmond; (3) Peterborough Villa, Finchley Road; (4) +Laurel House, Fulham; (5) Park House, Putney Bridge; (6) +Orsett House, Wimbledon; (7) Elmfield House, Teddington.—(<i>Translator’s +Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_3" href="#FNanchor_3" class="label">[3]</a><a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/files/78332/78332-h/78332-h.htm#Page_403"> See vol. ii. p. 403.</a>—(<i>Translator’s Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_4" href="#FNanchor_4" class="label">[4]</a> <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/files/76599/76599-h/76599-h.htm#Page_67">See vol. i. p. 67.</a>—(<i>Translator’s Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_5" href="#FNanchor_5" class="label">[5]</a> Natalya Alexyevna’s version is slightly different. She gives +Emma Vogt’s age as sixteen, and says that when the girl’s parents +were returning to America Herzen begged them to leave her in +London, ‘but they insisted on taking her with them.’ Neither +Madame Passek nor Madame Ogaryov can be relied upon for perfect +accuracy, but I think the latter is the more trustworthy.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_6" href="#FNanchor_6" class="label">[6]</a> This is how I interpret the cryptic passage on <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/files/78360/78360-h/78360-h.htm#Page_113">page 113, vol. iv.</a>—(<i>Translator’s +Notes.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_7" href="#FNanchor_7" class="label">[7]</a> <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/files/78361/78361-h/78361-h.htm#Page_245">See vol. v. p. 245.</a></p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_8" href="#FNanchor_8" class="label">[8]</a> <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/files/76599/76599-h/76599-h.htm#Page_55">See vol. i. chapter iii.</a></p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_9" href="#FNanchor_9" class="label">[9]</a> Yakovlyev was the surname of the two brothers, Ivan, Herzen’s +father, and Pyotr, Madame Passek’s father.—(<i>Translator’s Notes.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_10" href="#FNanchor_10" class="label">[10]</a> <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/files/78361/78361-h/78361-h.htm#Page_82">See vol. v. p. 82.</a>—(<i>Translator’s Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_11" href="#FNanchor_11" class="label">[11]</a> <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/files/78361/78361-h/78361-h.htm#Page_105">See vol. v. pp. 105 and 106.</a>—(<i>Translator’s Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_12" href="#FNanchor_12" class="label">[12]</a> <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/files/78360/78360-h/78360-h.htm#Chapter_4">See vol. iv. chap. iv.</a>—(<i>Translator’s Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_13" href="#FNanchor_13" class="label">[13]</a> The two children who died in Paris were buried at Nice.—(<i>Translator’s +Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_14" href="#FNanchor_14" class="label">[14]</a> The famous doctor.—(<i>Translator’s Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_15" href="#FNanchor_15" class="label">[15]</a> As a matter of fact, Natalya Alexandrovna Herzen’s illness was +what would now be called a ‘nervous breakdown,’ and was followed +by a complete and permanent recovery.—(<i>Translator’s Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_16" href="#FNanchor_16" class="label">[16]</a> Herzen’s elder daughter Natalie, also called Natasha.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_17" href="#FNanchor_17" class="label">[17]</a> Madame Ogaryov.—(<i>Translator’s Notes.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_18" href="#FNanchor_18" class="label">[18]</a> English in the original.—(<i>Translator’s Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_19" href="#FNanchor_19" class="label">[19]</a> English in the original.—(<i>Translator’s Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_20" href="#FNanchor_20" class="label">[20]</a> English in the original.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_21" href="#FNanchor_21" class="label">[21]</a> The news that Tata had an attack of smallpox.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_22" href="#FNanchor_22" class="label">[22]</a> Baby daughter who died.—(<i>Translator’s Notes.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_23" href="#FNanchor_23" class="label">[23]</a> Natalya Alexyevna Tutchkov-Ogaryov.—(<i>Translator’s Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_24" href="#FNanchor_24" class="label">[24]</a> Tata’s nervous illness.—(<i>Translator’s Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_25" href="#FNanchor_25" class="label">[25]</a> Tata.—(<i>Translator’s Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_26" href="#FNanchor_26" class="label">[26]</a> Turgenev was the friend to whom these letters were addressed.—(<i>Translator’s +Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_27" href="#FNanchor_27" class="label">[27]</a> A character in the play <i>Woe from Wit</i>.—(<i>Translator’s Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_28" href="#FNanchor_28" class="label">[28]</a> A famous singer who made his début in <i>La Caravane</i> in 1813. +He is frequently mentioned in French memoirs of the period.—(<i>Translator’s +Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_29" href="#FNanchor_29" class="label">[29]</a> A very intelligent man, Count Oscar Reichenbach, said to me +once, speaking of the better-class houses in London: ‘Tell me the +rent and the storey, and I will undertake to go on a dark night +without a candle and fetch a clock, a vase, decanters ... whatever +you like of the things that are invariably standing in every middle-class +dwelling.’—(<i>Author’s Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_30" href="#FNanchor_30" class="label">[30]</a> Lamé, Gabriel, born 1795, was a French mathematician who +for many years held an important post in the Transport Department +of the Russian Government. He published <i>Leçons sur la Théorie +Mathématique de l’Élasticité</i>, and many other works.—(<i>Translator’s +Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_31" href="#FNanchor_31" class="label">[31]</a> A brewer who was in command of the ‘Garde Nationale’ in +1793.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_32" href="#FNanchor_32" class="label">[32]</a> Members of the ‘Convention’ of 1792.—(<i>Translator’s Notes.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_33" href="#FNanchor_33" class="label">[33]</a> A traditional hero of Russian legend.—(<i>Translator’s Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_34" href="#FNanchor_34" class="label">[34]</a> Vattel (1714-1767), a Swiss writer, author of <i>Traité du Droit +des Gens</i>.—(<i>Translator’s Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_35" href="#FNanchor_35" class="label">[35]</a> I was so interested by <i>Arminius</i> that I began writing a series +of similar scenes, and the chief police-master, Tsinsky, made a critical +analysis of them in my presence at the committee in 1834.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_36" href="#FNanchor_36" class="label">[36]</a> This was written in 1855.—(<i>Author’s Notes.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_37" href="#FNanchor_37" class="label">[37]</a> A character in Gogol’s <i>Dead Souls</i>.—(<i>Translator’s Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_38" href="#FNanchor_38" class="label">[38]</a> Auguste Romieu, celebrated in Paris for his wit and droll +adventures, began by writing vaudevilles (1822-1834). The Government +of July turned him into <i>un homme politique</i>, appointing him +prefect of several places in succession, and in 1849 he wrote <i>De +l’Administration sous le Régime républicain</i>.—(<i>Translator’s Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_39" href="#FNanchor_39" class="label">[39]</a> The Russian word for Sunday means Resurrection.—(<i>Translator’s +Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_40" href="#FNanchor_40" class="label">[40]</a></p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Sie feiern die Auferstehung des Herrn,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Denn Sie sind selber auferstanden</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Aus niedrigern Häuser dumpfen Gemächer.—<i>Faust.</i></div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class="right">—(<i>Author’s Note.</i>)</p> + +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_41" href="#FNanchor_41" class="label">[41]</a> The intensity with which cultivated people felt their isolation +at that time, and tried to devise a life, pursuits, and so on for themselves, +you can see clearly in Trelawney’s <i>Recollections of the Last Days +of Shelley and Byron</i>.—(<i>Author’s Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_42" href="#FNanchor_42" class="label">[42]</a> <i>A Family Chronicle</i>, by Aksakov. There is an excellent translation +by Mr. Duff.—(<i>Translator’s Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_43" href="#FNanchor_43" class="label">[43]</a> Onyegin, hero of Pushkin’s poem.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_44" href="#FNanchor_44" class="label">[44]</a> Petchorin, hero of Lermontov’s novel, <i>A Hero of Our Time</i>.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_45" href="#FNanchor_45" class="label">[45]</a> Oblomov, hero of Goncharov’s novel of that name.—(<i>Translator’s +Notes.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_46" href="#FNanchor_46" class="label">[46]</a> Ivan Ivanovitch Pushtchin was a great friend of the poet +Pushkin.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_47" href="#FNanchor_47" class="label">[47]</a> One of the Decembrists.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_48" href="#FNanchor_48" class="label">[48]</a> <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/files/76599/76599-h/76599-h.htm#Page_193">See vol. i. page 193.</a></p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_49" href="#FNanchor_49" class="label">[49]</a> A young poet of the greatest promise who died in 1827 at the +age of twenty-two.—(<i>Translator’s Notes.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_50" href="#FNanchor_50" class="label">[50]</a> Of which Koshihin so picturesquely writes that the Boyars +sat silent with their eyes fixed on their beards to show their profundity.—(<i>Author’s +Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_51" href="#FNanchor_51" class="label">[51]</a> Polubotok was a candidate for the office of Hetman after +Mazeppa’s treason. Peter the Great appointed the weak Skuropadsky, +saying that Polubotok was ‘much too clever’ and might be +another Mazeppa. He owned more than two thousand peasant +homesteads, and was one of the richest men in Little Russia; he +did his utmost to defend the interests of his country against the +encroachments of the Tsar’s officials, and for some time with success, +but in 1723 he was imprisoned in the Peter-Paul fortress, where he +died a year later.—(<i>Translator’s Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_52" href="#FNanchor_52" class="label">[52]</a> Diderot, in his extremely interesting account of his acquaintance +with Princess Dashkov, speaking of this interview, adds that Catherine +said to her: ‘You are either an angel or a demon.’ ‘Neither +the one nor the other,’ she answered; ‘but the Empress is dying and +you must be saved.’—(<i>Author’s Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_53" href="#FNanchor_53" class="label">[53]</a> Diderot in the above-mentioned essay relates that Princess +Dashkov told him of this rumour with the greatest resentment.—(<i>Author’s +Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_54" href="#FNanchor_54" class="label">[54]</a> There are no grounds for supposing that Catherine knew of any +plan to murder Peter; there is strong evidence, indeed, that she did +not know, and that in fact there was no such plan. It is obvious that +Peter was killed in a drunken scrimmage.—(<i>Translator’s Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_55" href="#FNanchor_55" class="label">[55]</a> A mistress of Paul’s, and a friend of his wife’s.—(<i>Translator’s +Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_56" href="#FNanchor_56" class="label">[56]</a> This is the drift of the letter; I cannot answer for the exact +words. I repeat what I heard long ago from memory.—(<i>Author’s +Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_57" href="#FNanchor_57" class="label">[57]</a> Mirovitch plotted to rescue Ivan <span class="allsmcap">VI.</span> from the Schlüsselburg +and put him on the throne. Ivan’s jailers had been instructed by +the Empress Elizabeth to kill him if any attempt were made to effect +his escape—and did so. For an impartial account of Catherine’s +reign see Sir Bernard Pares’ <i>History of Russia</i>.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_58" href="#FNanchor_58" class="label">[58]</a> Princess Tarakanov was an adventuress who claimed to be one +of the natural children of the Empress Elizabeth (there were several). +Alexey Orlov captured her, by pretending to make love to her. She +was imprisoned in the Peter-Paul fortress, where she died of consumption.—(<i>Translator’s +Notes.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_59" href="#FNanchor_59" class="label">[59]</a> Madame Necker, wife of the great minister of finance and +mother of Mme. de Staël.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_60" href="#FNanchor_60" class="label">[60]</a> Madame Geoffrin, a lady noted for her wit, whose salon was the +favourite resort of the philosophers of the day.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_61" href="#FNanchor_61" class="label">[61]</a> Rulhière, Claude de (1735-1791), a French historian and poet.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_62" href="#FNanchor_62" class="label">[62]</a> Hamilton, Elizabeth (1758-1816), a Scotswoman, authoress of +<i>Letters of a Hindoo Rajah</i>, <i>Letters on Education</i>, and also <i>On the Moral +and Religious Principle</i>, and <i>The Cottagers of Glenburnie</i>.—(<i>Translator’s +Notes.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_63" href="#FNanchor_63" class="label">[63]</a> An impartial reader of the Memoirs of both ladies will probably +be surprised at Catherine’s forbearance with Princess Dashkov, +whose tediously reiterated insistence on her own virtue and impeccability +must have been a severe tax on the quick-witted Empress’s +patience and good nature. Only on one occasion she permitted herself +the gentle retort: ‘Dear princess, your reputation is better +established than that of the whole calendar of saints,’ the irony of +which was probably not apparent to Princess Dashkov.—(<i>Translator’s +Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_64" href="#FNanchor_64" class="label">[64]</a> The duc de Biron, afterwards a general in the service of the +government of the Revolution, was beheaded in 1793.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_65" href="#FNanchor_65" class="label">[65]</a> An Italian writer on philosophy, history, and economics (1728-1789).—(<i>Translator’s +Notes.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_66" href="#FNanchor_66" class="label">[66]</a> The former tutor of Peter <span class="allsmcap">III.</span>—(<i>Translator’s Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_67" href="#FNanchor_67" class="label">[67]</a> An Italian writer of the school of the physiocrats.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_68" href="#FNanchor_68" class="label">[68]</a> See Pares’ <i>History of Russia</i>, p. 241.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_69" href="#FNanchor_69" class="label">[69]</a> The pamphlet referred to is <i>A Journey from Petersburg to +Moscow</i>, an impassioned protest against serfdom. (<a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/files/78361/78361-h/78361-h.htm#Page_313">See vol. v. p. 313.</a>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_70" href="#FNanchor_70" class="label">[70]</a> Knyazhnin translated tragedies from the French and wrote +imitations of them. This last one was called <i>Vadim of Novgorod</i>.—(<i>Translator’s +Notes.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_71" href="#FNanchor_71" class="label">[71]</a> Catherine’s own Memoirs make it clear that, though crazy, +Paul was not the son of Peter <span class="allsmcap">III.</span>—(<i>Translator’s Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_72" href="#FNanchor_72" class="label">[72]</a> By their successful conspiracy to assassinate Paul.—(<i>Translator’s +Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_73" href="#FNanchor_73" class="label">[73]</a> In 1770, Alexey Orlov, in command of the Russian fleet, defeated +and burnt the Turkish fleet at Chesme Bay.—(<i>Translator’s +Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_74" href="#FNanchor_74" class="label">[74]</a> The archimandrite of the Yurev Monastery, famous for his +fanaticism and ascetic exploits. Alexander <span class="allsmcap">I.</span> once had an interview +with him, but was repelled by his crassness.—(<i>Translator’s Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_75" href="#FNanchor_75" class="label">[75]</a> Miss Wilmot meant to say something biting, but paid us a +compliment. It is only a pity that she does not see how old the girl +is now! It is not something to be reckoned by years.—(<i>Author’s +Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_76" href="#FNanchor_76" class="label">[76]</a> Youth is fond of expressing itself in all sorts of incommensurables, +and striking the imagination by images of infinite magnitude. +The last sentence reminds me vividly of Karl Moor, Ferdinand, and +Don Carlos.—(<i>Author’s Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_77" href="#FNanchor_77" class="label">[77]</a> The prophecy has now been fulfilled. This mutual interaction +of men on books, and books on men, is a curious thing. The book +takes its whole shape from the society in which it is conceived; it +generalises, it makes it more vivid and striking, and afterwards is +outdone by reality. The originals caricature their vividly drawn +portraits, and actual persons live in their literary shades. At the +end of last century all young Germans were a little after the style +of Werther, while all their young ladies resembled Charlotte; at +the beginning of the present century the university Werthers had +begun to change into ‘Robbers,’ not real ones, but Schilleresque +robbers. The young Russians who have come on the scene since +1862 are almost all derived from <i>What Is to be Done?</i> with the +addition of a few Bazarov features.—(<i>Author’s Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_78" href="#FNanchor_78" class="label">[78]</a> The hero of Herzen’s novel, <i>Who Is to Blame?</i>—(<i>Translator’s +Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_79" href="#FNanchor_79" class="label">[79]</a> The hero of <i>Woe from Wit</i>.—(<i>Translator’s Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_80" href="#FNanchor_80" class="label">[80]</a> The reference is to the performance of Gogol’s <i>The Government +Inspector</i>.—(<i>Translator’s Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_81" href="#FNanchor_81" class="label">[81]</a> Hegel’s dialectic is a terrible battering-ram, in spite of its double-facedness +and its Prussian Protestant cockade; it dissolved everything +existing and dissipated everything that was a check on reason. +Moreover, that was the period of Feuerbach, <i>der kritischen Kritik</i>.—(<i>Author’s +Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_82" href="#FNanchor_82" class="label">[82]</a> It appeared in a feuilleton of the journal <i>l’Événement</i>, 1851, +and was later on included in a volume entitled <i>Democratic Legends</i>.—(<i>Note +to Russian Edition.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_83" href="#FNanchor_83" class="label">[83]</a> A philanthropist, Baron de Montyon (1733-1820) endowed +prizes for virtue and literary distinction to be distributed by the +Institut in Paris.—(<i>Translator’s Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_84" href="#FNanchor_84" class="label">[84]</a> Hegel.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_85" href="#FNanchor_85" class="label">[85]</a> A peasant commune belonging to Prince Kozlovsky bought +their freedom. The land was divided amongst the peasants in proportion +to the sum contributed by each to the purchase-money. +This arrangement was apparently most natural and just. The +peasants, however, thought it so inconvenient and inconsistent with +their habits that they decided to regard the purchase-money as a debt +incurred by the commune and to divide the lands according to their +accepted custom. This fact is vouched for by Baron von Haxthausen. +The author himself visited the village in question.</p> + +<p>In a book recently published in Paris and dedicated to the +Emperor Nicholas, the writer says that this system of the +division of land seems to him unfavourable to the development of +agriculture (as though the object of it were the success of agriculture!); +he adds, however: ‘It is difficult to escape these disadvantages, +because this system of land division is bound up with +the organisation of our communes, which it would be <i>dangerous to +touch</i>; it is established on the fundamental idea of the unity of the +commune, and the right of every member of it to a share in the +communal property in proportion to his strength, and so it supports +the communal spirit, that trusty prop of the social order. At the +same time it is the best defence against the increase of the proletariat +and the diffusion of communistic ideas.’ (We may well believe that +for a people in actual fact possessing their property in common, +communistic ideas present no danger.) ‘The good sense with +which the peasants avoid the inconveniences of their system where +such are inevitable is extremely remarkable; so is the ease with +which they agree over the compensation for inequalities arising from +differences of soil, or the confidence with which every one accepts +the decisions of the elders of the commune. It might be expected +that the continual re-divisions would give rise to continual disputes, +and yet the intervention of the higher authorities is only necessary +in the very rarest cases. This fact, <i>very strange in itself</i>, can only +be explained through the system, with all its disadvantages, having +so grown into the morals and conceptions of the peasants that its +drawbacks are accepted without a murmur.’</p> + +<p>‘The idea of the commune is,’ says the same author, ‘as natural +to the Russian peasant, and as fully embodied in all the aspects of his +life, as the corporate municipal spirit that has taken shape in the +bourgeoisie of Western Europe is distasteful to his character.’—(<i>Author’s +Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_86" href="#FNanchor_86" class="label">[86]</a> <i>I.e.</i>, from the revolutionary changes made by Peter the Great.—(<i>Translator’s +Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_87" href="#FNanchor_87" class="label">[87]</a> To ‘let fly the Red Cock’ is the popular Russian phrase for +arson.—(<i>Translator’s Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_88" href="#FNanchor_88" class="label">[88]</a> The last sentence is omitted in the version of the ‘Légende’ in +Michelet’s Collected Works.—(<i>Translator’s Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_89" href="#FNanchor_89" class="label">[89]</a> <i>Du Développement des Idées révolutionnaires en Russie.</i></p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_90" href="#FNanchor_90" class="label">[90]</a> The picture is called ‘The Last Day of Pompeii.’—(<i>Translator’s +Notes.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_91" href="#FNanchor_91" class="label">[91]</a> Quoted from the excellent expression of one of the contributors +of <i>Il Progresso</i> in an article on Russia, August 1, 1851.—(<i>Author’s +Note.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_92" href="#FNanchor_92" class="label">[92]</a> This is not a correct version either of the murder of Peter <span class="allsmcap">III.</span> +or of Ivan <span class="allsmcap">VI.</span> Catherine was certainly not directly responsible for +either of those crimes.—(<i>Translator’s Note.</i>)</p></div> + +</div> + +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78377 ***</div> +</body> +</html> |