The Dialog with Nihilism in Russian Polemical Novels of the 1860s-1870s By Victoria Thorstensson A dissertation submitted in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy (Slavic Languages and Literatures) at the UNIVERSITY OF WISCONSIN-MADISON 2013 Date of final oral examination: 1/17/2013 The dissertation is approved by the following members of the Final Oral Committee: Alexander Dolinin, Professor, Slavic Languages and Literatures David M. Bethea, Vilas Research Professor, Slavic Languages and Literatures Judith Kornblatt, Professor, Slavic Languages and Literatures Andrew Reynolds, Associate Professor, Slavic Languages and Literatures David McDonald, Professor, History © Copyright by Victoria Thorstensson 2013 All Rights Reserved i The Dialog with Nihilism in Russian Polemical Novels of the 1860s-1870s Victoria Thorstensson Under the Supervision of Professor Alexander Dolinin At the University of Wisconsin-Madison This dissertation examines the development of the polemical Russian novel concerning the “hero of the time” during the 1860s-1870s when the problem of nihilism was literature’s main concern. Most novels written during this era participated in the debate on nihilism and discussed the vitality and potential of the new “hero of the time,” the nihilist (or “new man”). This study examines the genesis of the literary images of the nihilist “heroes of the time;” it also explicates the connections between these works and illustrates common influences upon writers. This thesis reveals the extent to which the conversation about nihilism in Russian culture was many-voiced and contradictory; debate carried on not only on the pages of novels, articles in the “thick” journals, and newspapers, but also in everyday life and behavior, in fashion and linguistic usage, in personal interactions and in political trials. The debate over nihilism was more complex than previously assumed in literary scholarship, and this dissertation provides a detailed reconstruction of the process by which polemical novels of the time came into being. Novels analyzed in this dissertation include – apart from the works by Turgenev, Chernyshevsky and Dostoevsky – writing frequently overlooked by such novelists as Leskov, Pisemsky and Goncharov, as well as a broad range of fiction by minor writers, such as Avseenko, Kliushnikov, Kushchevsky, Sleptsov, Orlovsky, Markevich and others. The authors discussed in this study ii cover a wide spectrum of literary craftsmanship and ideological agendas. Through a close reading of these works, the dissertation aims to provide an archeology of nihilist themes and writings and to reveal their sources and origins in other publications. The study of minor novels by secondary authors highlights the “median literary norms of the epoch” (Lotman) and helps reconstruct the bigger picture of the development of the polemical novel, at the same time serving as a necessary prelude for more sophisticated readings of the politics and poetics of the great works by Turgenev, Dostoevsky, Leskov, Goncharov and other writers who engaged with nihilism. iii Acknowledgements First and foremost, I would like to thank my advisor, Alexander Dolinin, for sparking my interest in Herzen and in Leskov in my first years of graduate school and for giving me encouragement and support all these years. His inspirational teaching made me want to become a professor and his wisdom and demand for excellence made me into the scholar that I am now. Thank you to the members of my committee for their corrections and comments. Their expert recommendations and careful editing improved my manuscript significantly and all errors that remain are entirely my own. I owe an enormous debt of gratitude to David Bethea for his kindness and unwavering support and for letting me share, in classrooms and beyond, his passion for Russian literature and for humanity. David Stepanovich, you are my constant reminder of what is at stake in our profession and if I stick around, it will be because of you. I am also grateful to Judith Kornblatt for her support, for her thorough reading of this dissertation, for her insightful and perceptive comments, and for trying to keep me on schedule. I want to thank Andrew Reynolds for being my true friend, for being always ready to save me in moments of crisis, and for catching those widgeons and articles that everyone else missed. I am grateful for David McDonald for his input and for his flexibility. I also thank Lori Hubbard for always having all the answers. I express gratitude to my other mentors, colleagues and friends, from whose advice and input I benefited enormously at all stages of this project. I thank Ilya Vinitsky for being a genius, for reading my work and for sharing with me some seeds of his wisdom. I want to acknowledge Tatjana Lorkovic who opened for me the treasures of the Yale library, the best and the most beautiful sanctuary of knowledge in the world. I am also grateful to my colleagues at the iv University of Pennsylvania and Yale University: Kevin Platt, Julia Verkholantsev, Irina Dolgova and Julia Titus for helping me to find a balance between my research and teaching. I want to thank my friends at the University of Wisconsin: Amanda Murphy, for being the best and the sweetest; Kat Scollins, Vika Ivleva, Matt Walker, and Emily Shaw – for their friendship and for always being there for me. Thank you to Vika Kononova and to Olga and Jeff Campbell for putting up with me in the last weeks before the defense. Colleen Lucey’s last minute edits put a finishing touch on this work. Finally, I want to thank my family for believing in me all these years. Edi and Roland, thank you for being my safety net. Моя дорогая мамочка, без тебя я бы не справилась. All that I achieved here I owe to my wonderful husband, my first reader and editor, Martin Thorstensson, and to my beloved sons, Danil and Stiva. Their love and devotion sustained me. It is to them that I dedicate this dissertation. It was a long journey but it is with satisfaction that I now take off my blue spectacles and get out my ribbons and crinolines. v Table of Contents Abstract Acknowledgements Table of Contents Introduction i-ii iii-iv v-vii 1-52 1. The Russian Polemical Realist Novel The Problem of the Antinihilist Novel: An Overview a. Definitions b. Periodization c. Nineteenth-Century Perspectives d. The Soviet Approach to the Study of the Antinihilist Novel e. Western Studies: Charles Moser’s Antinihilism in the Russian Novel of the 1860s f. Contemporary Russian Studies of the Antinihilist Novel 2. Methods, Goals and Structure 1-22 22-42 22-27 27-29 29-33 33-38 38-40 40-42 42-52 Chapter 1 The Birth of the Hero: Bazarov at the Court of the Contemporary / the Contemporaries 1. Turgenev’s Novel as the Reflection of the “Body and Pressure of Time” 2. The 1860s: Major Signposts 3. The Search for a New Hero and the Coming of the Raznochinets 4. The Raznochinets and the Natural School 5. The Superfluous Raznochinets and the “Pushkinian” Tradition 6. The Literary Types of Pomialovsky’s Characters: Bourgeois Happiness and Molotov 7. The Question of Leadership: Turgenev or the Contemporary? 8. The Power Struggle inside the Contemporary 9. The Battle for Belinsky’s Legacy 10. “The Whistling” 11. The Campaign Against Fathers and Sons and the Final Split between two Generations 12. The Accusations against Turgenev 13. The Connotations of the Word “Nihilist” in 53-128 54-58 58-62 63-68 68-70 70-75 75-84 84-86 86-93 93-98 98-102 102-111 111-115 115-118 vi the Context of the Name Calling in the 1860s 14. The Types of Sitnikov and Kukshina Chapter 2 The Polemic about the “Hero of the Time” and the Positive Hero in the 1860-1870s: The Nihilists and the New Men after Bazarov 1. The Nihilist Epoch: An Historical Perspective 2. The “Nihilist” or “New Man”? 3. Ivan Kushchevsky and his Novel Nikolai Negorev, or The Successful Russian 4. Mathewson’s Concept of the “Positive Hero” 5. Bazarov and Rakhmetov 6. Bazarov and the “New Men”: Chernyshevsky and the Problem of the Typical 7. The Nihilist Fad: When Appearances Are Not Deceitful 8. The Rigorist and Don Quixote: “The Man of Action” as the “Hero of the Time” 9. The Nature of Action for “the Man of Action” 10. Imitations of Bazarov and Chernyshevsky’s “New Men” in Democratic Literature Chapter 3 Pisemsky, Leskov, Kliushnikov and the “Antinihilist Campaign” of 1863-1864 1. The Years 1863-1864 as the Turning Point and the Beginning of the “Antinihilist Campaign” 2. The Problem of Characters in Pisemsky’s The Troubled Sea: Baklanov as “an Ordinary Mortal from Our So-Called Educated Society” 3. Pisemsky’s “Salt of the Earth”: Proskriptsky and the Images of the Younger Generation. 4. The Genre of The Troubled Sea 5. A Path to “Our Famous Exiles in London”: Exploring the Image of Herzen in The Troubled Sea and in Other Novels of the 1860s-1870s. 6. “The Second Sally” in the “Antinihilist Campaign”: Leskov’s No Way Out as “Not 118-128 129-216 129-132 132-135 135-139 139-143 143-148 148-166 166-180 180-198 198-210 210-216 218-358 219-222 222-236 236-253 253-261 261-279 279-288 vii Literature” 7. Leskov’s “Deed”: Vasily Sleptsov and “The Znamenskaya Commune” in No Way Out 8. Leskov’s No Way Out and the Classification of Nihilists 9. Nikolai Strakhov and His Critique of Nihilism 10. Kliushnikov’s Mirage and the Creation of the Conservative Positive Hero 11. Kliushnikov’s Mirage and the Polish Conspiracy 288-301 301-312 312-317 317-331 331-358 359-448 Chapter 4 The Demonic Nihilist 1. The Demon as the Paterfamilias of Russian Nihilists: Andrei Osipovich (Novodvorsky) and His Episode from the Life of Neither a Peahen, Nor a Crow 2. Russian Demons: Ishutin’s “Hell” and Karakozov 3. Russian Demons: Sergei Nechaev 4. The Discourse on Infection, Sheep, Swine and Wolves and the Appearance of the First Demonic Nihilist Characters in Literature 5. The Immediate Literary Context of Leskov’s At Daggers Drawn and Dostoevsky’s Demons 6. The Demonic Nihilists of Leskov’s At Daggers Drawn and Dostoevsky’s Demons 359-367 367-386 386-400 400-409 409-417 417-448 Conclusion 449-460 Appendix 1 461-466 Appendix 2 466-472 Bibliography 473-501 1 Introduction Найдете вы теперь на улицах столицы хотя бы одного человека в пледе? Едва ли вам это удастся, а в те времена человек в пледе был злобой дня, и с чего бы не начиналась речь, все же, в конце концов, она сводилась к тому таинственному процессу, который совершается под этим пледом. Евгений Соловьев, Очерки из истории русской литературы, 1907.1 (1) The Russian Polemical Realist Novel (2) The Problem of the Antinihilist Novel: An Overview (a) Definitions (b) Periodization (c) Nineteenth-Century Perspectives (d) The Soviet Approach to the Study of the Antinihilist Novel (e) Western Studies: Charles Moser’s Antinihilism in the Russian Novel of the 1860s (d) Contemporary Russian Studies of the Antinihilist Novel (3) Methods, Goals and Structure 1. The Russian Polemical Realist Novel This study opens at the point in the development of the Russian realist novel at the beginning of the 1860s when, continuing the tradition of the socially-conscious Russian classical novel about the superfluous “hero of the time” and enriched with the experience of the Natural School of the 1840s-1850s, it acquired a potent new form in the works of Ivan Turgenev. The study continues through the age of Russia’s great reforms until the mid-1870s, during which the development of the Russian realist novel reached its apogee and Russian novelists started to “turn out one after another those masterpieces of prose fiction that still rank among mankind’s greatest artistic achievements.”2 Perhaps the most characteristic aspect of the classical Russian novel is its concern with the artistic reflection and discussion of the most important social issues of the time. 1 “Have you seen on the streets of our capital these days a single person wearing a plaid? I doubt you will manage to do it now but in those days a person in a plaid was the topic of the day. No matter what a conversation started with, by the end, it would always come down to that mysterious process that was happening under that plaid.” Evgenii Solov'ev, Ocherki iz istorii russkoi literatury (Saint Petersburg: 1907), p. 429. 2 I quote Hugh McLean’s entry on “Realism” in Victor Terras, ed., Handbook of Russian Literature (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1985), p. 366. 2 Scholars have long agreed that the social function of Russian literature is its prominent characteristic. Andy Byford has thus summarized this idea in a 2003 article: the role of Russian literature in not only “reflecting social reality or expressing its spirit” but also in providing an “active ideological contribution to social and national development” was a “matter of virtual consensus among Russian authors and critics alike.”3 Historically speaking, the 1860s-1870s were the years of Russia’s far reaching Great Reforms that transformed the social and economic life of the country, its legal system, army, system of education and form of local government. In no other sphere of life were major ideological and social rifts caused by the reforms reflected more fully and poignantly as they were in the debate on the meaning and role of nihilism. The debate on nihilism colored the discussion of the great reforms; it permeated journalism and literature. Most novels written during that time directly or indirectly participated in the debate on nihilism and discussed the vitality and potential of the new “hero of the time,” the nihilist (or “new man”).4 The degree to which the debate on nihilism in Russian literature shaped the role and the aesthetics of the Russian realist novel is the central problem of this study. In spite of a number of articles that have been written for one and a half centuries and still continue to be written, there does not seem to be much disagreement about either the history of the word “nihilism” or the history of the social phenomenon that this word gave its name to. Alekseev’s one-sentence summary of this history, taken from his seminal 1928 article, continues to serve as a starting point for all research into the subject: 3 Andy Byford, "The Politics of Science and Literature in French and Russian Criticism of the 1860s," Symposium Winter (2003), p. 213. 4 In this highly ideological age, nihilism itself can be seen as the central “hero of time.” Thus, in his analysis of Crime and Punishment, Chicherin speaks of Raskolnikov’s idea as the true “hero of the time”: “Герой романа – герой того времени – идея Раскольникова, ее величие и ее позор.” See A. V. Chicherin, Idei i stil': O prirode poeticheskogo slova (Moscow: Sovetskii pisatel', 1968), p. 283. 3 Known already in the first years of the 19 th century, the word nihilism traveled from one philosophical treatise to another, devoid of any stable and clear meaning; it was also used, from time to time, in critical and polemical articles but its real history starts only from that moment when Turgenev used it to refer to the typical psychology of the generation of the 1860s. Suddenly, and with miraculous speed, it acquired new meaning and a new sphere of influence. 5 The main facts concerning the origins of the term “nihilism” have been assembled by preRevolutionary and Soviet scholars over the past century. All previous findings were summarized during a discussion in the 1950s. The major contributions were made by M. P. Alekseev (“Towards the History of the Word ‘Nihilism’” [”К истории слова ‘нигилизм’”]),6 B. P. Kozmin (“Two Words about the Word ‘Nihilism’” [“Два слова о слове ‘нигилизм’”]7 and “Once Again about the Word ‘Nihilism’” [“Еще о слове ‘нигилизм’”]),8 A. I. Batiuto (“Towards the Question of the Origin of the Word ‘Nihilist’ in Turgenev’s Fathers and Sons” [“К вопросу о происхождении слова ‘нигилист’ в романе Тургенева Отцы и дети”]),9 and, later, by R. Iu. Danilevskii (“’Nihilism’: To the History of the Word after Turgenev” [“’Нигилизм’: к истории слова после Тургенева”]).10 Thus, the term started in Russia as a philosophical term, being first used by Nadezhdin to refer to skeptics and “deniers” 5 “Известное уже в первые годы XIX века, оно [слово ‘нигилизм’] долго странствовало по философским трактатам, лишенное постоянной и яркой смысловой окраски, изредка употреблялось и в критических и в полемических статьях, но его настоящая история начинается только с того момента, когда Тургенев применил его к типической психологии шестидесятника: внезапно, с чудодейственной быстротой, оно приобрело новый смысл и силу влияния.” See Alekseev, "K istorii slova nigilizm," p. 413. 6 Ibid. 7 B. P. Koz'min, "Dva slova o slove 'nigilizm,'" Izvestiia Akademii Nauk SSSR, Otdelenie literatury i iazyka 10.4 (1951). 8 B. P. Koz'min, "Eshche o slove 'nigilizm': (Po povodu stat’i A. I. Batiuto)," Izvestiia Akademii Nauk SSSR, Otdelenie literatury i iazyka 12.6 (1953). 9 A. I. Batiuto, "K voprosu o proiskhozhdenii slova 'nigilist' v romane Turgeneva 'Otsy i deti': (Po povodu stat’i B. P. Koz’mina 'Dva slova o slove 'nigilizm'')," Ibid. 10 R. Iu. Danilevskii, "'Nigilizm': k istorii slova posle Turgeneva," I. S. Turgenev. Voprosy biografii i tvorchestva (Leningrad: Nauka, 1990). 4 (отрицатели) in his article “The Multitude of Nihilists” (“Сонмище нигилистов,” 1829), published in the Herald of Europe (Вестник Европы). In his 1858 book entitled A Psychological and Comparative View on the Beginning and the End of Life (Психологический и сравнительный взгляд на начало и конец жизни) Kazan professor V. Bervi deployed the word again in the same meaning.11 Dobroliubov reviewed Bervi’s book, but his usage of the word in a mocking and denunciatory review went largely unnoticed, and it was truly Turgenev who made the word known to everybody after he named his Bazarov “a nihilist.” It might seem surprising that, after all this impressive and comprehensive research, the question of the origin and meaning of “nihilism” keeps resurfacing in scholarly articles. Of course, it is true that, for a long time both in Russia and, to some degree, in the West the scholarly discussion of this topic was paralyzed by the constraints of politics and ideology. Therefore, a need to reexamine some conclusions now seems understandable. Another part of the problem, one suspects, lies in the fact that the word “nihilism” has since entered into two very different discourses: a philosophical one (where nihilism is treated as a system of thought), and an everyday social and political one (where it was understood in a much narrower sense and given, mainly, pejorative connotations). First, it seems necessary to briefly state the place of “Russian nihilism” in political and ideological discourse. Russian critics and publicists have tried to interpret the history of the word since the 1860s. It is significant that one of the first occasions in which the West learned about the new Russian “malaise du siècle” was through a revolutionary: Herzen’s article “A New Phase in Russian Literature” (“Новая фаза в русской литературе”), which was published in the Belgian La Cloche in 1864. Indeed, this piece was one of the first to explain “nihilism” as a 11 I. E. Andreevskii, ed., Entsiklopedicheskii slovar', 41 vol. in 82 vols. (St. Petersburg: Semenovskaia tipografiia, F. A. Brokgauz (Leipzig), I. A. Efron (S.-Peterburg), 1890-1904), vol. 21, p. 11. 5 philosophical and political concept to the West. Four years later, in 1868, Pyotr Boborykin (who was also close to the Russian radical milieu) published in the British The Fortnightly Review a long article detailing the origins and philosophical subtleties of Russian nihilist thought. It is likely that these articles contributed to the creation in the West of an understanding of Russian nihilism as primarily a political, philosophical and revolutionary phenomenon. Ironically, this understanding was directly continued in later Soviet mainstream criticism, when “the nihilists” (as represented by Bazarov) became more or less identified with the “radical raznochinskaia intelligentsia” of the 1860s (i.e. with Chernyshevsky, Dobroliubov, and Pisarev). In nineteenth-century Russia, the debate about nihilism was featured prominently on the pages of thick journals, newspapers, and satirical supplements long after the 1860s ended. The fact of the publication of a long, three-part study, “The Nihilists and Nihilism” (“Нигилисты и нигилизм”) in Katkov’s the Russian Messenger12 in 1886 speaks to the significant interest in the matter within the Russian reading public. The study combined a philosophical approach to the term with its everyday social meaning, interpreted in a conservative and negative light. Generally, “nihilism” in Russian journalism became, first and foremost, a subject of the polemic among the warring factions of society: a progressive slogan for some and a virtual curse for others. As a result of a proliferation of meanings, the word “nihilism” came to simply mean too many different things to different people. The word “nihilist” can now refer to a literary character like Bazarov, or to a whole “type” of literary character – one modeled, in one way or another, on Bazarov (such as Mark Volokhov in Goncharov’s Precipice, Pavel Gordanov in Leskov’s At Daggers Drawn [На ножах], or Pyotr Verkhovensky in Dostoevsky’s The Demons), or to a Russian radical journalist of the 1860s like Dmitry Pisarev, or, more broadly, to 12 I. F. Tsion, "Nigilisty i nigilizm," Russkii vestnik 183, 184.6, 7, 8 (1886). 6 a Russian radical of the same time period (or even, of the whole second half of the 19 th century), to a revolutionary, to an atheist, and, finally, it can be used as a philosophical term which does not even describe a specifically Russian phenomenon. In reality, nihilism had little to do with the supposed histories written about it by such writers as Boborykin. Rather, these histories themselves add more confusion to the controversy that surrounds the term. It would be wrong to say the nihilist movement did not exist at all, but it certainly did not exist as an organized movement with a history and a distinct philosophy. What came to be called “nihilism” was mainly a social, un-unified and broad movement which was a product of concrete historical circumstances, and, as M. P. Alekseev says it reflected “the typical psychology of the generation of the 1860s.” As a broad and multi-faceted youth movement, it had many sides. Which of them would be called “nihilism” depended largely on the context and the speaker. In this connection, the analysis of one of the active participants in the youth movement of the 1860s, Pyotr Lavrov, is worth being reproduced in full. “It is common now to call that rather complicated social phenomenon in our society of the 1850s and 1860s, especially, among youth, nihilism,” writes Lavrov, and postulates: in spite of what has been said about the ridiculousness of this term, it remained in use.[…] The important circumstance is that this so-called nihilism… has many sides. In it there was an element of necessary physiological longing of the youth for a broader life, an element of inescapable consequences of the historical development of our society, an element of inescapable conditioning by background and environment, an element of idealistic striving towards truth and justice, of a patriotic wish for a better lot for the homeland, and a self-sacrificing fight with what appeared as moral evil; there was an element of personal irritation and personal ambition, an element of a fascination with superficial forms of expression, a share of a caricature and a play with words, and an element of selflove and hypocrisy. 13 13 “Весьма сложное социальное явление в нашем обществе 50-х и 60-х годов, особенно же в молодежи, принято называть нигилизмом. Много раз уже говорили о нелепости этого названия, но оно удержалось. [...] Но важно обстоятельство, что так называемый нигилизм... имеет очень много сторон. В нем была доля необходимого физиологического стремления молодежи к более широкой жизни; в нем была доля неизбежных следствий исторического развития нашего общества, неизбежных условий почвы и среды; в 7 Overall, in spite of the philosophical significance that the word “nihilism” had in Russia, the “social” component of its meaning seems to have been the driving force in its semantics. While the word “nihilist” gave a distant association with a philosophical or political system of thought to those being identified by it, it was the shared sets of social conventions (including not only a different ethical code but also elements of behavior, speech, clothing, reading preferences, etc.) that comprised an unwritten “nihilist code.” 14 In the public discourse, it was not the first, “philosophical,” meaning of the word that mattered the most but, rather, its various connotations. Thus, it was not accidental that Turgenev regretted that, through him, the word “nihilist” was given a wide circulation as a “nickname” (кличка). This pejorative usage seems to have almost instantaneously taken over the discussion of nihilism in Russia. As Ivan Ivanov observed, “Once you pronounce one word nihilism, any calm and impassive conversation about Bazarov becomes impossible. […] The word nihilist, from the very start, as we have seen, had a rather strange fate; it turned into a sort of moral and social stigma.” 15 The same word, stigma, is used in a statement about the novel issued by the Secret Police (the Third Department): Being one of the main Russian talents and enjoying popularity among educated part of society, Turgenev, with his novel, quite unexpectedly for the younger generation that not so long ago applauded him, placed a stigma on our under-age нем была доля идеалистических стремлений человека к истине и справедливости, патриотического желания лучшего для отечества, самоотверженной борьбы с тем, что представлялось как нравственное зло; была доля личного раздражения и личного честолюбия; была доля увлечений внешними формами; была доля карикатуры и игры словами; была доля себялюбия и лицемерия.” Lavrov, "Pis'mo provintsiala o nekotorykh literaturnykh iavleniiakh," p. 175. 14 The problems, raised by the existense of a distinct behavioral type of the Russian “nihilist,” codified in the 1860s, serve as an interesting parallel to the “special type of the everyday behavior” of the Decembrists, analyzed by Yuri Lotman. Lotman, Iu. M. “Dekabrist v povsednevnoi zhizni” in Besedy o russkoi kul’ture: Byt i traditsii russkogo dvorianstva (XVIII – XIX veka) (Sankt-Peterburg: “Iskusstvo – SPB,” 1994), pp. 331-384. 15 “Стоит произнести одно слово – нигилист, – и всякий спокойный, беспристрастный разговор о Базарове становится немыслим. [...] Слово нигилист с самого начала, как мы видели, превратилось в своего рода нравственное и общественное клеймо.” I. I Ivanov, Ivan Sergeevich Turgenev: zhizn’-lichnost’-tvorchestvo (St. Petersburg: Tipografiia I. N. Skorokhodova, 1896), p. 224. 8 revolutionaries in the form of a sarcastic name, “nihilists,” and, thus, shook the authority of the doctrine of materialism and its representatives.16 Having outlined the history and the meaning of the word “nihilism,” I now need to define another term that is of a particular importance to this study: the “hero of the time.” The source of the image of the “hero of the time” was not found in Russia, as Pushkin observed in 1829; it harkened back to Benjamin Constant who, “for the first time” introduced “this character who, subsequently, was made popular by the genius of Lord Byron.” 17 Lidiya Ginzburg points out that Constant’s and Byron’s characters represent “a page in the all-European ‘history of a young man.’”18 In the context of Russian prose, the theme of the “hero of the time” really starts with Lermontov. Lermontov’s A Hero of Our Time (Герой нашего времени) introduces a powerful set of conventions that continue to operate in the polemical novels of the 1860-1870s. Ginzburg observes that A Hero of Our Time represents “the beginning of the Russian psychological novel and of the novel of ideas which explores the fate of contemporary man in contemporary society.”19 After Pechorin, the term “hero of the time” was used primarily to describe the aristocratic protagonists of the Nicholaevan epoch who, due to their unique combination of 16 “Находясь во главе современных русских талантов и пользуясь симпатией образованного общества, Тургенев этим сочинением [Отцы и дети], неожиданно для молодого поколения, недавно ему рукоплескавшего, заклеймил наших недорослей-революционеров едким именем ‘нигилистов,’ и поколебал учение материализма и его представителей.” Quoted in N. F. Bel'chikov, "III otdelenie i roman "Ottsy i deti"," Dokumenty po istorii literatury i obshchestvennosti: vyp.2: I. S. Turgenev (Moscow-Petrograd: Gosudarstvennoe izd-vo, 1923), p. 165. 17 “Бенж. Констан первый вывел на сцену сей характер, впоследствии обнародованный гением лорда Байрона.” Aleksandr Sergeevich Pushkin, "O perevode romama B. Konstana 'Adol'f'," Polnoe sobranie sochinenii v shestnadtsati tomakh, vol. 11 (Moscow-Leningrad: Izd-vo Akademii Nauk SSSR, 1937-1959), p. 87. 18 “Творчество Байрона – этап (чрезвычайно существенный) в том течении романтизма, которое сосредоточилось на судьбе человеческой личности, раздел в общеевропейской ‘истории молодого человека.’” Lidiia Ginzburg, "Tvorcheskii put' Lermontova," Raboty dovoennogo vremeni, ed. S. A. Savitskii (St. Petersburg: Petropolis, 2007), p. 559. 19 “’Герой нашего времени’ – начало русской проблемной и психологической прозы, исследующей судьбу современного человека в современном обществе.” Ibid , p. 579. 9 heightened consciousness, good education, romantic appeal and absence of meaningful activity, have also been called “superfluous men.” The protagonists’ superfluity was not only a problem of their psychology; it was a problem of the society in which they lived. As Bazanov puts it, “already Lermontov understood… that the question regarding the path of intellectual and moral development taken by a person endowed with the highest inner potential for his epoch was, for Russia, as well as for all of humankind, one of the central questions ‘of the time.’” 20 It was mainly Turgenev who carried the essence of this superfluity into the later tradition: his Rudin, Lavretsky, Sanin, Bazarov, Nezhdanov and others all lay claim to be the “heroes” of the next moment in Russian historical time. Similarly, all novels belonging to Turgenev’s tradition depend on the central image of the new “hero of the time.” This Russian “hero of the time” is an imperfect, faulty, often non-heroic and passive protagonist. He personifies the ills of his time; he is imperfect in the same way that his time is also imperfect. Turgenev’s Bazarov is a character that is created fully in this tradition. Turgenev revealed this understanding of the character in a letter to Katkov written in October 1861, “[Bazarov] is, in my eyes, a true hero of our time. You would say: what a pitiful hero and how pitiful the time is… But it is so.”21 The conflicts within Bazarov’s soul are in tune with the conflicts of his time. He is an equal in the series of classical Russian heroes: Onegin, Pechorin, and Beltov. At times, Bazarov seems repugnant even to people who sympathize with the new generation. At the same time, Bazarov is undoubtedly heroic. As Mathewson observes, 20 “Уже Лермонтов... понял, что вопрос о путях интеллектуального и нравственного развития человеческой личности, одаренной высшими для его эпохи внутренними потенциями, был для тогдашней России, да и для всего человечества той эпохи одним из центральных вопросов ‘времени.’” G. M. Fridlender, "Dostoevskii i Tolstoi: k voprosu o nekotorykh obshchikh chertakh ikh ideino-tvorcheskogo razvitiia," Dostoevskii i ego vremia, ed. V. G. Bazanov (Leningrad: Nauka, 1971), p. 71. 21 “[O]н [Базаров] – в моих глазах – действительный герой нашего времени. Хорош герой и хорошо время – скажете Вы... Но оно так.” The quote is from Turgenev’s letter to Mikhail Katkov of October 30, 1861. Turgenev, Polnoe sobranie sochinenii i pisem, Letters, vol. 4, p. 303. 10 “Turgenev endowed Bazarov with a striking combination of good and bad qualities: he has in his make-up ‘coarseness,’ ‘heartlessness,’ ‘ruthless dryness and sharpness,’ yet he is ‘strong’ ‘honorable, just, and a democrat to the tip of his toes.”22 What makes the “hero of the time” heroic? On some level, the protagonist is ironically “heroic” in the sense that he willingly or unwillingly imitates other – literary, mythological and societal – heroes such as Hamlet, Don Quixote, Lord Byron, or Mephistopheles. On the other hand, although he is a reflection of the ills of Russian society, he still represents the best of what this society has. The malaise of the time reflected in his soul appears as a conflict between the new – or the humanity within him – and the old, the existing social and political order. That is why he deserves emulation. Just as Onegin once imitated Byron, he, in turn, was later imitated by numerous Russian Onegins. Byronism of Onegin’s kind became the fashionable form of discontent among the youth. Similarly, in spite of all the controversy around him, Bazarov, this faulty ideal, was widely emulated in the 1860-1870s. The controversies regarding the evaluation of the “hero of the time,” similar to the one that surrounded the appearance of Turgenev’s Bazarov, also unfailingly surrounded the appearance of each true hero of this caliber. Lidiya Ginzburg thus describes the reception of Pechorin: Heated arguments developed around Pechorin. Firstly, there was a debate about how to judge him. Is Pechorin a positive character or a negative? What is Pechorin, an ideal or a satire of the generation? Whereas, for Lermontov, it is already almost as difficult to answer the question – whether Pechorin is good or bad – as for Tolstoy it would be difficult to say if, let’s say, Vronsky is good or bad. Pechorin is a character that is depicted not to serve as an ideal or a scarecrow but because he exists.23 22 Mathewson, The Positive Hero in Russian Literature , p. 89. Letter to A. Fet, dated April 6, 1862, Sobranie sochinenii 11:212. 23 “Вокруг Печорина разгорелись страстные споры. В первую очередь – спор об оценке. Положительный Печорин герой или отрицательный? Что такое Печорин – идеал или сатира на поколение? ... Между тем, для 11 The concept of the “hero of the time” is indispensible for the analysis of “nihilists” and “new men” in Russian literature because, towering above the concerns of creating a positive hero or praising or lampooning the new phenomenon of nihilism in society, the authors were, first and foremost, interested in presenting a type of character who best represented the Zeitgeist and who had the combination of qualities that made him worthy of this task. In the history of the Russian realist novel, the 1860s were a crucial time when its foundations were fundamentally questioned, including the unique, almost prophetic, status of the Russian writer and the question whether he should serve “pure art” or respond to a social calling. At the height of Russian Romanticism, Pushkin proclaimed that, while the “rabble” may value a “useful pot” higher that the Apollo Belvedere, for a poet, there is no higher service than lofty service to pure art. In the second half of the nineteenth century, this worldview was turned upside down; the higher spheres where the romantics placed sacred art were stomped upon with the boots (“сапоги”) of the “thinking proletariat” (the nihilists of the 1860s). For them, these boots were now “more useful than paintings.” Moreover, the literary critic superseded the writer as a prophet of the new age. Radical critics Nikolai Chernyshevsky, Nikolai Dobroliubov and Dmitry Pisarev ruled over the minds of the entire generation. While the calling of the writer still mattered, civic duty became his highest virtue. In 1858, Nikolai Nekrasov, the main poet of the 1860s, reformulated Pushkin’s poetic credo in his poem “A Poet and a Citizen” to fit the demands of the changing times: “You do not have to be a poet / But you must be a citizen.” 24 Лермонтова уже почти так же трудно ответить на вопрос – хорош или плох Печорин, как Толстому было бы трудно ответить на вопрос – хорош или плох, скажем, Вронский. Печорин – характер, изображаемый не для того, чтобы служить идеалом или пугалом, но потому, что он существует.” Ginzburg, "Tvorcheskii put' Lermontova," p. 573. 24 “Поэтом можешь ты не быть, / Но гражданином быть обязан.” 12 Russia’s greatest novelists found themselves between the hammer and the anvil; they created their novels in a situation of unprecedented “double” censorship: tsarist censorship from the right and the censorship of radical critics from the left. In the 1860s, novels by Turgenev, Dostoevsky, Leskov and Goncharov often received hostile reviews from the major literary journals. In some ways, the radical critical discourse was plagued with internal contradictions, a fact that did not stop these critics from exerting immense power over the writers and the minds of the reading public. Thus, Chernyshevsky, Dobroliubov, Pisarev and other literary critics of the period simultaneously tried to disparage the role of literature (as “an inferior surrogate of reality”) in comparison to scientific knowledge, materialism and socialism, and demand that literature should assume a leading and didactical role in educating and enlightening the reading public and instilling the values of the new age in the society. Literature was called upon to respond to the most topical issues of the day and to reflect them in suitable and representative types. In their own way, by demanding a faithful representation of life in literature, Russian literary critics still addressed the central problem of realism: the problem of mimesis.25 Moreover, while Russia’s greatest novelists essentially parted ways with major literary critics in the 1860s, they still had a lot in common. Most writers who wrote realist polemical novels at that time were “people of the forties,” and their own understanding of realism, similarly to the radical critics’, owed much to Belinsky. In his famous 1835 article “About the Russian Novella and Gogol’s Tales” (“О русской повести и повестях Гоголя”), Belinsky wrote: the main characteristic [of real poetry] lies in its truthfulness to reality; it does not create life anew but, rather, it reflects and reassembles life and, as a magnifying 25 It is important to remember that the term “realism” itself enters Russian discourse on literature in the works of the radical critics of the 1860s, especially Dobroliubov. In their demands that literature should reflect life, Russian radical critics responded to similar developments in European Realism. In his famous 1888 essay “The Art of Fiction,” Henry James thus sums up the nineteenth century understanding of the task of Realism: “The only reason for the existence of a novel is that it does attempt to represent life.” See Henry James, "The Art of Fiction," The Art of Fiction and Other Essays (New York: Oxford University Press, 1948), p. 7. 13 glass, it reflects, through one point of view, the diverse phenomena, choosing from them those that are needed for the creation of a complete, living and unified picture.… to finish the characteristic of what I call real poetry, I will add that the eternal hero, the invariable subject of its inspiration, is a person, an independent creature who acts freely, an individual, a symbol of this world, its final manifestation, a curious enigma for himself, and the ultimate question for his own mind.26 Although literature found itself in the least advantageous position, it did not try to isolate itself from society. Instead, the Russian realist novel actively engaged in all debates about burning social questions and the role of literature in the changing world. While, in the 1860s, the poets and writers who still believed in the art-for-art’s sake idea were in the minority, socially-driven art and so-called “pure art” did not exist in separate realms. Instead, even the art-for-art-sake writers and poets were intimately connected to the social debates of their time. Their opposition to the radical tendencies in literature was expressed not only in their letters and journalistic articles but also in their presumably “pure” art as well. Either mediated (as in the philosophical content of Dostoevsky’s novels) or straightforward and open (as in Maikov’s and A. K. Tolstoy’s poems or Leo Tolstoy’s play The Infected Family [Зараженное семейство]), their responses to nihilism, the most important and topical social issue, figured prominently in the subject matter and message of these works. Although widely recognized by contemporaries, the specifically Russian type of realist novel that grew out of this struggle escapes easy definitions. In crucial ways, novelists of the 26 “[B]от поэзия реальная, поэзия жизни, поэзия действительности, наконец, истинная и настоящая поэзия нашего времени. Ее отличительный характер состоит в верности действительности; она не пересоздает жизнь, но воспроизводит, воссоздает ее и, как выпуклое стекло, отражает в себе, под одною точкою зрения, разнообразные ее явления, выбирая из них те, которые нужны для составления полной, оживленной и единой картины. Объемом и границами содержимого этой картины должны определяться великость и гениальность поэтического создания. Чтобы докончить характеристику того, что я называю реальною поэзиею, прибавлю, что вечный герой, неизменный предмет ее вдохновений, есть человек, существо самостоятельное, свободно действующее, индивидуальное, символ мира, конечное его проявление, любопытная загадка для самого себя, окончательный вопрос собственного ума, последняя загадка своего любознательного стремления.” V. G. Belinsky, O russkoi povesti i povestiakh g. Gogolia ("Arabeski" i "Mirgorod"), Polnoe sobranie sochinenii, vol. 1 (Moscow: Izdatel'stvo Akademii nauk SSSR, 1953), p. 267. 14 1860s maintained continuity with the traditions of Pushkin, Lermontov and Gogol, attempting to reflect important social problems while creating the psychological portraits of the most representative “heroes of the time.” 27 The Turgenev-style novel (Тургеневский роман) that scholars identify as a leading novelistic form of the period can be seen as a continuation of that tradition. Batiuto defines the Turgenev-style novel as “socio-heroic” (социально-героический) and “cultural-heroic” (культурно-героический).28 Batiuto calls it “social” because “it reflected, quickly and in a timely manner, new – and the most important – tendencies of the epoch.”29 The Turgenev-style novel is called “heroic” because Turgenev puts the image of the “hero of the time” at the center. Lev Pumpiansky highlights another important feature of the “heroic” novel of Russian classical tradition: “a continuous trial of a person goes on, not a trial over his actions, but a trial over him… [over his] general social productivity.” 30 27 In Soviet critical tradition, the classic Russian novel of this type was termed ‘social-psychological novel” (“социально-психологический роман”). See N. I. Prutskov, "Poreformennaia Rossiia i russkii roman vtoroi poloviny XIX veka," Istoriia russkogo romana, vol. 2 (Moscow-Leningrad: Nauka, 1964), p. 3. See also U. R. Fokht, ed., Rastsvet kriticheskogo realizma: 40-70-e gody, vol. 2:1, 3 vols. (Moscow: Nauka, 1973). The authors of this classical study of the “critical Realism” of the 1840s-1870s (“critical Realism” was the Soviet term for the highest step in the development of Russian Realism) speak about Turgenev’s role in continuing the traditions of Pushkin-style novel: “Соотнесенность действия с определенным историческим моментом в плане обусловленности характера эпохой не была художественным открытием Тургенева. Это явление было общим для литературы реализма. Осознание значения обстоятельств, среды – и шире – исторического времени в формировании личности, естественно, сказалось в принципиально новом подходе к датировке действия, к реалиям эпохи. Тургенев продолжает в данном отношении традицию пушкинского исторического романа о современной ему действительности,” p. 21. 28 A. I. Batiuto, Turgenev-romanist (Leningrad: Nauka, 1972). 29 “Заслуга Тургенева в более конкретной области романа заключается в создании и разработке особой разновидности этого жанра – романа общeственнoго, в котором своевременно и быстро отражались новые и притом важнейшие веяния эпохи” Ibid, p. 3. See also, Zatonsky’s description of the dominant feature of European Realism as a whole (“Опыт Бальзака, Стендаля, Флобера с определенностью указывает на социальную нацеленноость реализма. Его предмет – не просто действительность... а человеческий мир, оссмысляемый и воссоздаваемый как сложное, многообразное единство, движущееся и развивающееся на основе объективных законов. Это и есть дoминанта”). D. V. Zatonskii, Evropeiskii realism XIX v.: linii i liki (Kiev: Naukova dumka, 1984), pp. 273-274. 30 “В героическом романе совершается непрерывный суд над лицом, – не над поступками, а над лицом [это] суть романы общественной деятельности, конечно – в самом широком объеме этого понятия, разумея под ним социальную продуктивность человека” L. V. Pumpianskii, "Romany Turgeneva i roman "Nakanune": istoriko-literaturnyi ocherk," Klassicheskaia traditsiia: sobranie trudov po istorii russkoi literatury (Moscow: Iazyki 15 For a great number of Russian novelists of the 1860s, the Turgenev-style novel served as an important blueprint, with Fathers and Sons, in particular, being constantly evoked, quoted and used as a source of plot elements and ideological dilemmas. The ideological, political and social consequences of the debate over this novel and its treatment of the phenomenon of nihilism reached far into the 1880s. As a “product of the unique proximity in which fiction and journalism were produced within the literary environment dominated by the institution of the thick journal,”31 Fathers and Sons was a portrait of the epoch in ways that far transcend its strictly literary dimension. For example, the protagonist of this novel, the nihilist Evgeny Bazarov, was the epoch’s main “hero”; transcending literature, he became an object for emulation for an entire generation.32 In literature, the importance of Bazarov is enhanced by the central position that the russkoi kul'tury, 2000), pp. 381, 384. Among other sub-genres of the realist novel of the 1860s-1870s, Pyotr G. Pustovoit named the “social novel of everyday life” (“роман социально-бытовoй”) and “social psychological novel.” “Наконец, третьей разновидностью русского романа был роман социально-психологический. Его истоки восходят к сентиментальным повестям и Письмам русского путешественника Н. М. Карамзина. [...] Во многих произведениях Карамзина запечатлены наблюдения и факты, котрым суждено будет развиваться в романах и повестях 19 в.: это элементы разочарования и рефлексии, которые найдут более глубокое воплощение в произведениях Пушкина и Лермонтова; любовь и сочуствие к униженным и оскорбленным, т.е. тема, которая пройдет через романы Достоевского; противипоставление восторжeнной романтики и трезвой деловитости, которое станет главным объектом романа Гоначарова Обыкновенная история; одухотворение пророды, продолженное Тургеневым в его романах и повестях 50-х годов.” See P. G Pustovoit, I. S. Turgenev-khudozhnik slova (Moscow: Izdatel’stvo Moskovskogo universiteta, 1987), p. 124. 31 "The early 1860s and the Novel of the 'New People'," The Encyclopedia of the Novel, ed. Peter Melville Logan, vol. 1 (Blackwell Publishing, 2011), vol. 1, p. 712. 32 For example, Pisarev’s articles about Bazarov treat Turgenev’s protagonist as more than a literary character and provide a roadmap for emulations of Bazarov’s type in life. See D. I. Pisarev, "Novyi tip," Polnoe sobranie sochinenii i pisem v dvenadtsati tomakh, vol. 8 (Moscow: Nauka, 2004). This whole phenomenon is reminiscent of Yury Lotman’s idea of “double encoding.” According to his model, at first, a realist text “gives a name to the types of behavior that exist spontaneously and unconsciously in the depths of a given culture,” thus transferring them “to the field of the socially conscious.” (“[Реалистические образы] дают наименование спонтанно и бессознательно существующим в толще данной культуры типам поведения, тем самым переводя их в область социально-сознательного”). The identified and named “type” can then become a cultural emploi (“культурное амплуа”) that a person reenacts in his real life. In this respect, the emphatically “realist” 1860s exhibit the most proximity to the previous “idealistic” (Romantic) age. See Iu. M. Lotman, "O Khlestakove," O russkoi literature (St. Petersburg: Iskusstvo-SPb, 1997), p. 687. The idea that literature should not only reflect in a timely way the processes in life but also model them, “anticipate” (“упреждать”) and “promote their appearance” in society, like so many other critical ideas of the 1860s, goes back to Vissarion Belinsky. See his article V. G. Belinsky, Vzgliad na russkuiu literatury 1847 goda, Polnoe sobranie sochinenii, vol. 10 (Moscow: Izd-vo Akademii Nauk SSSR, 1956), p. 302. 16 image of the “hero of the time” plays in Russian literature. The central role of the “hero of the time” for Russian realism has been pointed out by a number of scholars. Thus, Lidiya Ginzburg defines Russian realism of the nineteenth century as a system, the mainspring of which is a man who is “determined,” historically, socially and biologically.” 33 In a definition that is most relevant for this study, she claims that “[o]nly “the determined” man in the literature of the second half of the nineteenth century tied together psychological analysis and richness of detail in descriptions, socially determined characterization and interest in everyday life, and historicism together with the regection of genre and stylistic hierarchies.”34 The transgression of genre boundaries that occurs in novels of the 1860s-1870s is a defining, but not sufficiently researched, step in the development of the Russian realist novel that will be explored in this study. A meaningful participation in the broader debate that gripped society in the 1860s: the debate about topical social issues, and, first and foremost, the problem of nihilism was seen by most novelists as an integral function of literature. Such participation necessitated the deeper penetration of life material into literature and the use of techniques generally associated with non-fiction, journalism and mass literature. The problem of a novel’s interaction with journalism in the 1860s is particularly important since so many of the novelists 33 “Реализм 19 века – это система, чей двигательной пружиной является человек, исторически, социально, биологически детерминированный.” Lidiia Ginzburg, Literatura v poiskakh real’nosti (Leningrad: Sovetskii pisatel', 1987), p. 8. This definition echoes a classical treatment of European Realism by Erich Auerbach who postulated that “the serious realism of modern times cannot represent man otherwise than as embedded in a total reality, political, social, and economic, which is concrete and constantly evolving.” See Erich Auerbach, Mimesis: The Representation of Reality in Western Literature, trans. William R. Trask (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2003), p. 463. 34 “Только детерминированный человек литературы второй половины 19 века связал воедино психологический анализ и предметность описания, социальную характерность и интерес к повседневному, историзм и отказ от жанровой и стилистической иерархии.” Ginzburg, Literatura v poiskakh real’nosti , pp. 1011. 17 whose works are analyzed here at one time or another were also journalists. 35 The role of their experience in navigating the world of polemical journalism for their work as novelists is an important problem that will be addressed by this dissertation. I see this question also as a fascinating phenomenon of a shared discourse.36 Other inter-genre boundaries were also transcended during this time. Old genres, such as the adventure novel,37 gothic novel and melodrama,38 became an important source of plots and character types, allowing an effective interaction with a broader readership. Overall, the “main feature of the Russian novel of the 1860s-1870s,” as Grigory Fridlender points out, was “its expanding broadness and universality,” by which he means that “philosophy, history, politics and the affairs of contemporary life freely 35 The study of the interrelation of literature and journalism is a productive new field of studies. Among the most revealing recent works on this subject, especially relevant for my research, is Barbara Leckie’s book that analyzes this phenomenon in European literature in the second half of the 19th century. See Barbara Leckie, Culture and Adultery: The Novel, the Newspaper, and the Law, 1857-1914, New Cultural Studies, eds. Joan DeJean, et al. (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1999). 36 Analyzing the role of science in the 1860s, Andy Byford argues that the “literary” and “scientific” discourses did not exist in “opposition” to one another; instead, the “high level of cultural exchange” between them constituted a “shared discourse.” Some of the consequences of this interaction were, according to Byford, the “proliferation of scientific popularization and the creation of the problematic domain of ‘scientism’ – the metaphorical (mis)application of scientific discourse to other domains (for example, ethical or literary).” See Byford, "The Politics of Science and Literature in French and Russian Criticism of the 1860s," p. 211. One of the manifestations of the “domain of ‘scientism,’” mentioned by Byford, so-called Social Darwinism, will be discussed in detail in this dissertation. For now, it would suffice to add that, just as with scientific discourse, we have ample reasons to also speak about the existence of a highest-level exchange and creation of a shared discourse between journalism and literature in the 1860s. 37 For the importance of genre models of the adventure novel for Dostoevsky in particular, see Mikhail Bakhtin, "Funktsii avantiurnogo siuzheta v proizvedeniiakh Dostoevskogo," Problemy tvorchestva Dostoevskogo (Kiev: NEXT, 1994), pp. 74-80. Many other novelists of the period used elements of the adventure novel in their works. In this study, the works of Pisemsky, Leskov and Vsevolod Krestovsky, among others, will be discussed from this perspective. 38 Julie Buckler speaks about the influence of nihilism and, specifically, the image of the Russian female nihilistrevolutionary on the development of melodrama in Russia in the second part of the 19 th century. See Julie A. Buckler, "Melodramatizing Russia: Nineteenth-Century Views from the West," Imitations of Life: Two Centuries of Melodrama in Russia, eds. Louise McReynolds and Joan Neuberger (Durham: Duke University Press, 2002), pp. 72-75. This influence was two-fold, and melodrama, in its turn, became an important source of genre models for realist writers of the period. 18 enter[ed] the novel and [did] not completely dissolve in its plot.”39 The novels of this period are, therefore, often called “polemical.” Thus, speaking about Alexei Pisemsky, the memoirist and literary critic Pavel Annenkov calls his novel The Troubled Sea: “our first attempt at a polemical novel.”40 Another 19th-century critic, Nikolai Strakhov, in his article “From the History of Literary Nihilism,” also employs this term. He defines the genre of the polemical novel as one in which the author “using dramatis personae, reenacts the still-ongoing struggle between ideas and convictions that agitate our society” and, in doing so, he “secretly sides with one of the opposing sides.”41 A polemical novel, as it is understood in this dissertation, includes various spectrums of political attitudes: radical, liberal and conservative. While the term “polemical novel” seems both neutral and inclusive and, thus, suitable for the purposes of this study, it should be noted that in order to define the hybrid genre of the Russian realist novel of the 1860s-1870s, several other terms have also been used by scholars over the years: the political novel,42 the intellectual novel (“русский интеллектуальный роман”), the philosophical novel (“русский философский 39 “Главная черта русского романа 69-70-х годов, отличающая его от романов предыдущего десятилетия, – это его еще большая широта и универсальность... Философия, история, политика, текущие интересы дня свободно входят в роман, не растворяясь без остатка в его фабуле.” G. M. Fridlender, Poetika russkogo realizma (Leningrad: Nauka, 1971), p. 177. 40 “[П]ервый у нас опыт полемического романа.” P. V. Annenkov, Literaturnye vospominaniia (Moscow: Khudozhestvennaia literatura, 1983), pp. 501-502. 41 “[‘Марево’ Клюшникова принадлежит] к полемическим романов вроде ‘Взбаламученного моря’; то есть он в лицах изображает борьбу идей и убеждений, еще в настояющую минуту волнующих общество, причем автор сам тайно становится на одну из борющихся сторон.” N. N. Strakhov, Iz istorii literaturnogo nigilizma, 1861-1865: Pis'ma N. Kositsy, Zametki Letopistsa i pr. (Petersburg: Tipografiia brat. Panteleevykh, 1890), p. 344. 42 The “political novel” is one of the three groups that Pyotr G. Pustovoit singles out among novels of the 1860s1870s. (“[Вид] романа политического, в котором ‘мысль ... есть главное.’ К произведениям этого типа можно отнести роман Кто виноват? А. И. Герцена, Что делать и Пролог Чернышевского, целую серию романов 60-70-х годов о новых людях. Сущность данной разновидности романа заключается в том, что каждый факт действительности здесь освещен самой прогрессивной идеологией эпохи”). Pustovoit, I. S. Turgenevkhudozhnik slova , p. 122. 19 роман”), the philosophical-intellectual novel,43 the publicist novel,44 the “didactic” novel,45 and the “novel of purpose.” The term “novel of purpose,” used in relation to the mid-19th-century European realist novels, is particularly productive if we seek to more closely integrate the study of Russian and European novelistic traditions. 46 Traditionally, the response within Russian and Soviet literary criticism to polemical novels was seldom neutral and, depending on the perceived bias of their writers, were praised or condemned for their “tendency.” Within this approach, most of the novels that are analyzed in this dissertation have been termed “tendentious” in the nineteenth century (a category which, at that time, included both “left-wing” and “right-wing” tendentious literature) and as “antinihilist” novels in the Soviet critical tradition (a category that included only “right-wing” tendentious literature). Moreover, the term “tendentiousness,” in the Soviet tradition, described the style of antinihilist novels. These novels expressed tendentiousness, i.e., the ideological or political bias 43 See I. V. Kondakov, "'Chto delat'?' kak filosofsko-intellektual'nyi roman," 'Chto delat'?' N. G. Chernyshevskogo: Istoriko-funktsional'noe issledovanie (Moscow: Nauka, 1990) For the discussion of the central role of “philosophical quests” in Russian realist novels, see A. V. Chicherin, Sila poeticheskogo slova (Moscow: Sovetskii pisatel', 1985), pp. 152-161. 44 D. Locys, Zur Entwicklung der publizistischen Romanform von Herzen zur Černyševskij, Zeitschrift für Slawistik; Bd. VII, Hf. 2 (1963). See also the chapter on “Publisticheskaia belletristika 60-70-kh godov” in I. I. Zamotin, Sorokovye i shestidesiatye gody: ocherki po istorii russkoi literatury XIX stoletiia, 2 ed. (Moscow-Petrograd: Izdanie tovarishchestva M. O. Vol’f, 1915). 45 “Беллетристика 60-х годов по преимуществу учительская. Она вела читателя, указывала ему смысл и цель жизни, отвечала на вопрос: Что делать?... задачи и средства художественного творчества были отодвинуты на второй план. Часто беллетристика являлась лишь иллюстрацией ко взглядам, изложенным в журнальных статьях.” Solov'ev, Ocherki iz istorii russkoi literatury, p. 281. 46 See, for example, an excellent study by a 19th-century prominent Polish literary scholar, Aleksander Brückner who applied the term “novel of purpose” to Russian polemical Realist novels of the 1860s-1870s. (See A. Brückner A Literary History of Russia (London: T. Fisher Unwin, 1908)). The appearance of the genre of the “novel of purpose” in societies living through periods of major reforms is analyzed in Amanda Claybaugh’s excellent study, Amanda Claybaugh, The Novel of Purpose: Literature and Social Reform in the Anglo-American World (Ithaca; London: Cornell University Press, 2007). Claybaugh discusses the term and genre of the “novel of purpose” on the material of Anglo-American literature. By the 1850s, the term “novel of purpose” in Anglo-American tradition was applied to “all novels that sought to intervene in the contemporary world” (p. 34). In the 1850s, that definition increasingly encompassed “almost any contemporary novel at all” (p. 35). When literary critics objected to the proliferation of the genre, their criticism, as Claybaugh remarks, “tended to mask sustentative objections to the particular purpose itself” (p. 35). 20 of their authors, which manifested itself in the abundance of caricatural descriptions, the creation of “flat” characters and, on a bigger scale, the transformation of a novel into roman à clef, a pamphlet, where the prototypes of its characters are easily identified. While the category of tendentiousness can be applied more easily to some minor authors (epigones), it becomes more problematic in relation to major writers such as Dostoevsky or Turgenev. The problem of tendentiousness in relation to both major and minor literature will be discussed in more detail later in this study. Most of the terms discussed above are productive and applicable to the analysis of the totality of the Russian polemical novels of the 1860s-1870s. The following list represents a wide spectrum of novels written in Russia during this time; most of them will serve as material for this study. Together these novels reflect the contemporary social, political and ideological situation and feature nihilist characters (also called “new men”). While being polemical, these novels remain realist, and the nihilist characters in them represent a part of contemporary reality and are perceived as necessary for the truthful depiction of that reality. 186047: Ivan Turgenev’s On the Eve (Накануне) 1861: Nikolai Pomialovsky’s Bourgeois Happiness (Мещанское счастье) and Molotov (Молотов) 1862: Ivan Turgenev’s Fathers and Sons (Отцы и дети) 1863: Nikolai Chernyshevsky’s What Is to Be Done? (Что делать?), Alexei Pisemsky’s The Troubled Sea (Взбаламученное море) 1864: Nikolai Bazhin’s Stepan Rulev (Степан Pулев), Nikolai Akhsharumov’s A Complex Affair (Мудреное дело), Fyodor Dostoevsky’s Notes from the Underground (Записки из подполья), Nikolai Leskov’s No Way Out (Некуда), Victor Kliushnikov’s Mirage (Марево) 1865: Vasily Sleptsov’s A Difficult Time (Трудное время), Nikolai Blagoveshchensky’s Before the Dawn (Перед рассветом), Victor Avenarius’s Fermenting Forces (Бродящие силы), Nikolai Leskov’s The Left Out Ones (Обойденные) 1866: Fyodor Dostoevsky’s Crime and Punishment (Преступление и наказание) 1867: Ivan Turgenev’s Smoke (Дым), Victor Avenarius’s The Plague (Поветрие) 47 The date refers to the year when the journal serialization of each novel started or when it was first published as a book. For a more detailed list of novels published during the 1860s-1870s, see Appendix 2. 21 1868: Dmitry Girs’s Old and Young Russia (Старая и новая Россия), Pyotr Boborykin’s The Twilight Offering (Жертва вечерняя), Fyodor Dostoevsky’s The Idiot (Идиот) 1869: Innokenty Omulevsky’s Step by Step (Шаг за шагом), Dmitry Mordovtsev’s The Signs of the Time (Знамения времени), Ivan Goncharov’s The Precipice (Обрыв), Vsevolod Krestovsky’s Panurge’s Herd (Панургово стадо), Vladimir Meshchersky’s Ten Years from the Life of a Journal Editor (Десять лет из жизни редактора журнала), Alexei Pisemsky’s The People of the Forties (Люди сороковых годов) 1870: Nikolai Leskov’s At Daggers Drawn (На ножах) 1871-1872: Ivan Kushchevsky’s Nikolai Negorev, or a Successful Russian (Николай Негорев, или Благополучный россиянин), Alexander Sheller (Mikhailov)’s You Can’t Make an Omelet without Breaking Eggs (Лес рубят, щепки летят), Vasily Sleptsov’s A Good Man (Хороший человек), Fyodor Dostoevsky’s Demons (Бесы), Alexei Pisemsky’s In the Whirlpool (В водовороте) 1873: Boleslav Markevich’s Marina from Alyi Rog (Марина из Алого Рога) 1874: Nikolai Leskov’s The Cathedral Folk (Соборяне), Vsevolod Krestovsky’s Two Forces (Две силы) (the 2nd part of the dilogy The Bloody Hoax (Кровавый пуф)) 1875-1876: Alexander Dyakov’s (Nezlobin’s) cycle of novellas The Circles (Кружковщина), Vladimir Meshchersky’s Secrets of Contemporary Petersburg (Тайны современного Петербурга) 1877: Ivan Turgenev’s Virgin Soil (Новь), Andrei Osipovich’s (Novodvorsky’s) An Episode from the Life of Neither a Peahen, Nor a Crow (Эпизод из жизни ни павы, ни вороны) 1878: Boleslav Markevich’s A Quarter of a Century Ago (Четверть века назад) (the 1st part of his epic trilogy about nihilism), Vasily Avseenko’s The Gnashing of Teeth (Скрежет зубовный) 1879: Nina Arnoldi’s Vasilisa (Василиса) 1880-1881: Boleslav Markevich’s The Turning Point (Перелом) (the 2nd part of his epic trilogy), Vasily Avseenko’s The Evil Spirit (Злой дух) 1882: Konstantin Orlovsky’s (Golovin’s) Out of the Rut (Вне колеи) 1883-1884: Boleslav Markevich’s The Abyss (Бездна) (the 3rd, unfinished, part of his epic trilogy) This list of novels is by no means new. It includes both classical novels by major Russian novelists and minor novels that serve as an indispensible context for them, highlighting the centrality of their polemical dimension, and specifically, the discourse on nihilism. A lot of these novels have been studied together before, both in the Soviet Union and the West, under the headings of the democratic and antinihilist novel. While novels studied here belong to both sides 22 of the political spectrum, the canonical ones belong to either the center of the spectrum or lean toward the right (Turgenev’s, Goncharov’s, Dostoevsky’s and Leskov’s novels). They tend, therefore, to fall under the heading of antinihilism. This term, which originated in Soviet criticism, is still widely in use. Generally, it refers to novels written in the 1860s and 1870s that are perceived to be hostile to contemporary nihilist and radical movements. While the term antinihilism is highly problematic, ideologically-charged and unproductive, it is impossible to avoid a serious engagement with it. To illustrate the necessity of reexamining the evolution of Russian polemical novels previously grouped under the heading of the antinihilist novel, I would first like to define the terms antinihilism and antinihilist novel as they have been used in the Soviet Union and the West, and to outline the history of their study. 2. The Problem of the Antinihilist Novel: An Overview a. Definitions The term “antinihilist novel” became established by Soviet literary critics (the history of other approaches to antinihilism will be analyzed in detail in the following sections). The main Soviet studies of the subject are by Tseitlin,48 Butenko,49 Bazanov,50 Sorokin,51 and Batiuto.52 Later 48 A. G. Tseitlin, "Siuzhetika antinigilisticheskogo romana," Literatura i marksizm.2 (1929), pp. 33-74. 49 F. Butenko, "Antinigilisticheckii roman," Literaturnaia ucheba 6-7 (1933). 50 V. G. Bazanov, Iz literaturnoi polemiki 60-kh godov (Petrozavodsk: 1940), V. G. Bazanov, "Turgenev i antinigilisticheskii roman," Kareliia 4 (1940), pp. 160-169. 51 Iu. S. Sorokin, "Antinigilisticheskii roman," Istoriia russkogo romana, vol. 2 (Moscow-Leningrad: “Nauka”, 1964), pp. 97-120. See also Bol’shaia Sovetskaia Entsiklopediia, vol. 29, 2nd ed., p. 71. 52 A. I. Batiuto, "Turgenev i nekotorye pisateli antinigilisticheskogo napravleniia," Turgenev i ego sovremenniki (Leningrad: 1977), A. I. Batiuto, "Antinigilisticheskii roman 60-70-kh godov," Istoriia russkoi literatury, vol. 3 (Leningrad: Nauka, 1982), pp. 279-314. 23 researchers include Terekhin53 and Starygina.54 Much of the Western understanding of antinihilism is based on the pioneering study by Charles Moser.55 Within the Soviet approach, the basic principle on which novels are grouped together as antinihilist is the presence of “conservative” and “reactionary” ideology in their contents and message. Yury Sorokin, in his chapter on the antinihilist novel in the second volume of the academic edition of the History of the Russian Novel, unites by this genre “the works published by writers of reactionary and, partly, liberal leanings who were hostile to the revolutionary democratic movement of the 1860s and 1870s.”56 According to Sorokin, the antinihilist novel is “political” in its content, and reactionary and conservative in its ideology.57 Batiuto’s definition similarly highlights the ideological dimension of the antinihilist novel. He argues that the antinihilist novel is a “reactionary novel in the broadest meaning of this word.” 58 Batiuto further elaborates on what it means to be “reactionary”: the antinihilist novel, he argues, “defends, above all, the firm traditions of state and family” and “maliciously denies the very thought of the possibility of ‘forced marches’ or revolutionary methods of solving the central problems of Russian life.”59 Together with the ideological dimension, Soviet critics also stress the polemical 53 Valerii Terekhin, "Protiv techenii": utaennye russkie pisateli: tipologiia "antinigilisticheskogo" romana (Moscow: Prometei, 1995). 54 N. N. Starygina, Russkii roman v situatsii filosofsko-religioznoi polemiki 1860-1870-kh godov, Studia philologica (Moscow: Iazyki slavianskoi kul'tury, 2003). 55 Charles A. Moser, Antinihilism in the Russian Novel of the 1860’s (The Hague: Mouton&Co, 1964). 56 Sorokin, "Antinigilisticheskii roman," p. 97. 57 “[A]нтинигилистический роман 60-80-х годов по основному своему содержанию – роман политический по преимуществу. По своему идеологическому направлению это роман реакционно-охранительный.” Ibid, p. 102. 58 59 Batiuto, "Antinigilisticheskii roman 60-70-kh godov," p. 279. “Антинигилистический роман в целом – это прежде всего роман, защищающий незыблемость государственных и семейных ‘устоев,’ злобно отрицающий самую мысль о правомерности ‘форсированных 24 intention of the antinihilist novel. Thus, Sorokin argues that “the antinihilist novel” is an answer of the reactionary, pro-tsarist circles of the nobility to the “democratic” novel of the day. While such a definition seemingly aligns the thinking about antinihilism with Soviet ideology at large, it is highly problematic from a historical point of view. Speaking about the “democratic novel,” Sorokin must refer primarily to Chernyshevsky’s What Is to Be Done, because in the 1860s1870s there had been no original democratic novel of equal value or impact to Chernyshevsky’s novel (that, itself, is consistently criticized as lacking in artistic qualities). Perhaps, only one other “democratic novel,” Sleptsov’s A Difficult Time, produced some discussion in the press. A Difficult Time, however, is not an original and ground-breaking work but, rather, an explicit response to Turgenev’s Fathers and Sons that heavily borrows from it in its structure and character types. Since, apart from Chernyshevsky’s novel, there was no other “democratic” novel that could instigate a wave of novels written “in response” to them, the Soviet “polemical” definition of antinihilism is just as problematic as its “ideological” approach. Overall, the Soviet term “antinihilism” is not a genre designation. It is a polemical and pejorative term, the purpose of which is not to facilitate a deeper understanding of novels described by it, but, on the contrary, to preclude scholars from serious critical engagement with them. Highlighting the unsuitability of antinihilist novels for serious literary study, Yury Sorokin writes that “the strictly artistic merits of these reactionary and tendentious novels, as a rule, are so insignificant, their ideas are so premeditated, and their devices so easily turn into clichés, that there is no need to analyze any work of this genre in detail.” 60 Sorokin’s reasoning demonstrates маршей,’ т.е. революционных методов решения центральных проблем русской действительности.” Ibid , p. 285. 60 “Чисто художественные достоинства этих реакционно-тенденциозных романов, как правило, столь малы, их идеи настолько предвзяты, а их приемы так легко перерождаются в шаблон и схему, что нет никакой необходимости подвергать подробному анализу все произведения этого рода.” Sorokin, "Antinigilisticheskii roman," p. 102. 25 that, besides the ideological and polemical dimension, Soviet scholars did, in fact, advance an artistic critique of the antinihilist novel. Apart from “clichéd devices,” Sorokin further names other artistic shortcomings in the characterization and style of the antinihilist novel: “in its approaches to characterization, it is a “novel-pamphlet,’ and, in its style, it is an eclectic phenomenon.”61 Overall, Soviet literary criticism saw the antinihilist novel as minor literature, as belle-lettres (беллетристика), i.e., as mass literature that crosses too far into the sphere of tendentious journalism. For Soviet scholars of virtually all Russian major novelists of the 1860s-1880s (Turgenev, Dostoevsky, Goncharov, Leskov), the Soviet term “antinihilist novel” presented significant problems and numerous ideological hurdles to overcome. It is apparent that, ideologically speaking, such novels as Turgenev’s Fathers and Sons, Smoke and Virgin Soil; Dostoevsky’s Notes from the Underground, Crime and Punishment and Demons; Goncharov’s The Precipice, and Leskov’s No Way Out and At Daggers Drawn do criticize the radical nihilist agenda and, to varying degrees, show significant affinity with conservative ideology. They are also polemical in their attacks against radical journalism and “democratic literature,” such as Chernyshevsky’s What Is to Be Done?; and in their style, they do make ample use of the elements of the pamphlet and are frequently eclectic in their choice of devices and styles. 62 Not surprisingly, Turgenev scholar Batiuto admits that “the traditional designation ‘antinihilist’ novel 61 По приемам характеристики представителей демократического движения это роман-памфлет.... по своему стилю антинигилистический роман – явление типично эклектическое.” Ibid , p. 102. 62 The problems that the term “antinihilism” presents for literary studies serve as a natural springboard for contemporary approaches to the problem. See, for example, Terekhin’s study, Terekhin, "Protiv techenii": utaennye russkie pisateli: tipologiia "antinigilisticheskogo" romana . In his analysis of Krestovsky’s The Bloody Hoax dilogy, Terekhin points out that “при всем желании резко дифференцировать Бесы и Кровавый пуф как несопоставимые в художественном отношении, исследователь, поставивший себе такую задачу, помимо своей воли будет обнаруживать типологическую близость – схожие реминисценции, вариации, аллюзии, сюжетные повороты, настроения,” p. 85. 26 (that is usually used to unite in a compact group a number of literary works by rather well-known and even great Russian writers) is admittedly not very precise.” 63 The controversial nature of the term “antinihilist novel” becomes further apparent if we consider the Soviet discussion of the genesis of this genre. Thus, Batiuto observes that up until the 1930s, Turgenev was considered to be the founder of the genre of the antinihilist novel. Pyotr Lavrov, one of the few 19 th-century sources to have used the term “antinihilism,” wrote in his “Letter of the Provincial Man” that “antinihilist literature started with the famous type of Bazarov.”64 In the early Soviet critical tradition, this view was supported by A. Tseitlin.65 However, as Turgenev’s Fathers and Sons became more anthologized and generally considered as a progressive novel sympathetic to nihilism, Turgenev’s role as a founder of the reactionary genre of the antinihilist novel was revised.66 Anticipating similar problems that could arise with another major realist writer, Pisemsky, a major Soviet study of the antinihilist novel claims the real history of the genre started not with Turgenev or even Pisemsky who, nevertheless, published the first antinihilist novel (The Troubled Sea, 1863), but with two other novels that appeared almost concurrently a year later: Leskov’s No Way Out (1864) and Kliushnikov’s Mirage (1864).67 Overall, while Soviet criticism increasingly narrowed the application of the 63 “Традиционное определение антинигилистический роман, с помощью которого обычно объединяется в компактное целое ряд произведений подчас весьма известных и даже выдающихся русских писателей, пожалуй, не совсем точно.” Batiuto, "Turgenev i nekotorye pisateli antinigilisticheskogo napravleniia," p. 49. 64 ”Антинигилистическая беллетристика началась знаменитым типом Базарова.” P. L. Lavrov, "Pis'mo provintsiala o nekotorykh literaturnykh iavleniiakh," Literaturnoe nasledstvo, vol. 76: I. S. Turgenev. Novye materialy i issledovaniia (Moscow: Nauka, 1967), p. 181. 65 Tseitlin’s position on this issue is discussed in Batiuto, "Turgenev i nekotorye pisateli antinigilisticheskogo napravleniia," p. 50. 66 Instrumental in this respect are Batiuto’s works on Turgenev. In particular, see the above-mentioned article, “Turgenev and Some Writers of the ‘Antinihilist’ Direction.” 67 Sorokin says, “The Troubled Sea, although it anticipates the series of subsequent antinihilist novels with its pamphlet and caricature-like depiction of people and events of the 1860s, still differs in many aspects from the 27 term “antinihilist novel” to refer to minor writers and epigones with a clearly-marked, right-wing agenda, scholarly studies of polemical novels by some important realist writers, especially Leskov and Pisemsky, continued to be hindered and remained controversial. b. Periodization Approaching the problem of the periodization of antinihilist novels, Sorokin provides a very definite and historically-determined temporal frame. According to him, antinihilist novels were written for the two decades between February 19, 1861, and March 1, 1881.68 Apart from being historical (the starting point is marked as the announcement of the Emancipation Proclamation and the end point is the assassination of Alexander II), this time frame shows an ideological dimension. In the Marxist-Leninist view of Russian history, the emergence of the antinihilist novel coincides with the reaction in the aftermath of the “first revolutionary situation” of 18591861. The second “wave” of “antinihilist novels” is timed at the outbreak of reaction after the Karakozov attempt, an event to be discussed extensively below, in Chapter 4. And the final, and third, period is located in the times of “the second revolutionary situation” of 1880.69 Thus, the evolution of the antinihilist novel seems to fit neatly into the overall Marxist vision of Russian typical examples of antinihilist literature.” (“Взбаламученное море хотя и предвосхищает последующий ряд антинигилистических романов памфлетно-карикатурным изображением людей и событий 60-х годов, однако во многом еще отличается от типичных образцов антинигилистической беллетристики.”). In Sorokin, "Antinigilisticheskii roman," pp. 102-103. 68 69 Ibid , p. 97. This last period is characterized, according to Sorokin, by the increased criticism of the government “from the right,” by the desire of the authors to create a new positive hero, one that would embody the ideals of the ultraconservative wing of the society (associated with the names of Katkov and Pobedonostsev), and, finally, by the “last attempt to equip the antinihilist pamphlet with psychological details, to imitate the big realist novel with its ability for a broad reflection of contemporary life.” (Авторы этих романов выступают с крайне реакционных аристократических позиций. Именно здесь особое значение получает критика петербургской администрации справа. Романистами этого ‘призыва’ предпринимается отчаянная попытка создать ‘положительного героя’ в духе программы Каткова и Победоносцева. Вместе с тем это и последняя попытка оснастить антинигилистический памфлет психологическим антуражем, подделаться под большой реалистический роман с его широкими рамками охвата современной действительности”). Ibid , p. 98. 28 history. Sorokin, to his credit, mentions some other facts that seem to put some weight on less “significant” events in Russian history that are not directly connected with the development of the “revolutionary situation,” such as the Petersburg fires of May 1862 and the Polish uprising of 1863. I will demonstrate in subsequent chapters that contemporaries saw crucial stimuli for the emergence of the novels by Pisemsky and Leskov precisely in these events. 70 In general, while the evolution of the Russian novel, no doubt, reflects important events in the social and political life of the country, the periodization suggested by Sorokin presents another instance of an overly-ideological approach. The periodization of antinihilist novels suggested by the American scholar Charles A. Moser is also unsatisfactory, since it is based instead on the birthdates of the antinihilist authors. Moser groups the authors into three generations, with the resulting division roughly corresponding to Sorokin’s three periods in the history of the antinihilist novel. Questioning the appropriateness of this criterion, William Edgerton rightly suggests that “a more useful classification” could possibly “have been based on the chronology of the works themselves, rather than their authors.”71 The chapter structure of this dissertation reflects a different approach to the periodization of the polemical novels of the 1860s-1870s. Historical events (such as the Polish Uprising and the Karakozov attempt) serve as important dividing points if they triggered crucial developments in the literary structure of the polemical novels, analyzed here (such as the appearance of new 70 The importance of the Petersburg fires (allegedly radically-minded students committed the arsons) and the Polish Uprising (hence “the Polish intrigue” as an important plot element of some antinihilist novels) as the starting points for antinihilist fiction had consistently been stressed by the 19th and early-20th century criticism. See, for example, A.I. Faresov, Protiv techenii: N. S. Leskov. Ego zhizn’, sochineniia, polemika i vospominaniia o nem (St. Petersburg: Tipografiia M. Merkusheva, 1904). 71 William Edgerton, B., "Review of Charles A. Moser's Antinihilism in the Russian novel of the 1860’s," The Slavic and East European Journal 9.1 (1965), p. 96. 29 character types or the use of the elements of journalistic style to reflect historical changes as they were happening). Generally, however, my approach is chronological, based on the publication dates of the novels. c. Nineteenth-Century Perspectives In their approaches to “reactionary” literature, Soviet critics, to a large degree, inherited the tradition of Russian radical literary criticism of the 19 th century which already had a strong ideological bias. Russian radical literary criticism claimed a certain “moral superiority” over “reactionary” artistic criticism. In the eyes of critics, the polemical function of literature outweighed its artistic achievements. The shortcomings of the radical critical tradition, however, were often addressed by nineteenth-century critics. Golovin, for example, observes that the “usual technique of all critics from the progressive camp consisted in finding social meaning in the analyzed text; that is, their approach had been to analyze, over the head of the characters and the author himself, the social phenomenon that was reflected in the story.” 72 In general, the emergence of literature with a distinct antinihilist agenda was noticed and described by nineteenth-century critics immediately after such novels started to appear. Saltykov-Shchedrin spoke of conservative literature descriptively, without using a specific term for it: There appeared a whole new literature, the purpose of which is to study the qualities of poisons pouring out of the younger generation – or, better to say, not to study these qualities but to represent in living (to a different degree) images the fact that the younger generation is worthless, that it does not have a future, and that its only talent is to spread around the gangrene of destruction. The meaningless word “nihilists” travels from mouth to mouth, from one periodical to another and from one literary work to the next. Writers clearly can’t have enough 72 “Обычный прием всех тогдашних критиков передового лагеря сводился к тому, чтобы изучить в разбираемом произведении его общественный смысл, т. е. через голову действующих лиц и самого автора анализировать общественное явление, отражающееся в рассказе.” K. Golovin, Russkii roman i russkoe obshchestvo (Petersburg: Tipografiia A. A. Porokhpovshchikova, 1897), p. 166. 30 of this word. Everybody seems to want to snatch a piece from the meager meal of the new phenomenon of nihilism.73 Later, nineteenth-century critics started using a variety of terms, most prominently “conservative” (“охранительная”), “tendentious,” and “reactionary” literature (“литература” or “беллетристика”). Among the sustained criticisms of antinihilist literature, Lavrov’s “A Letter about Some Literary Phenomena by a Provincial Man” deserves consideration.74 Lavrov views all antinihilist novels as polemical; therefore, his judgment of them is based on what is moral and truthful in the ideological feud between radicalism and conservatism. He argues that antinihilist literature (to which he refers as “quite loyal literature” – “вполне благонамеренная беллетристика”) started with Turgenev’s Fathers and Sons. Lavrov considers the type of Bazarov to be “one-sided” and hostile to nihilism. At the same time, he justifies Turgenev because, on the one hand, he wrote the novel when nihilism, as a “trend” in society, was strong and had supporters, “whose talent, in their sphere, far surpassed the talent of Turgenev, in his sphere” and, therefore, the novel was an acceptable argument in a situation of a true polemic. On the other hand, contrary to the intentions of the author, Bazarov emerged as a “strong” character and, as Lavrov argues, “If there was strength somewhere in Russian society, this strength was in people like Bazarov.”75 Contrary to Fathers and Sons, the subsequent “quite loyal literature” was 73 “[O]бразовалась целая литература, поставившая себе целью исследовать свойства ядов, истекающих из молодого поколения, или, лучше сказать, не исследовать, а представить в живых (более или менее) образах, что молодое поколение никуда не годно, что оно не имеет будущего и что оно сплошь одарено способностью испускать из себя гангрену разрушения. Бессмысленое слово ‘нигилисты’ переходит из уст в уста, из одного литературного органа в другой, из одного литературного произведения в другое. Беллетристы положительно упиваются им... Все спешат напитаться от убогой трапезы нигилистской.” In M. E. Saltykov-Schchedrin, "Nasha obshchestvennaia zhizn' 1863-1864: stat'i: Mart 1864 goda," Sobranie sochinenii v 20 tomakh, ed. S. A. Makashin, vol. 6 (Moscow: Khudozhestvennaia literatura, 1965), p. 315. 74 75 Lavrov, "Pis'mo provintsiala o nekotorykh literaturnykh iavleniiakh," p. 181-182. “Имея пред собой партию, силу которой переоценивали и преверженцы и противники, партию с влиятельными органами в прессе, с округленными нравственными идеалами, г. Тургенев имел собственно право отнестись к ней односторонне сo своей точки зрения: адвокатов у ней было тогда довольно, и они по силе таланта в своей сфере далеко превосходили г. Тургенева в его сфере.” “Назло автору из романа 31 produced at a time when “the direction” became weak and persecuted; it attacked when its opponents were powerless to defend themselves. In other words, Lavrov’s criticism of “the stinking streams”76 of works by Pisemsky, Kliushnikov, Leskov, Boborykin, Avenarius and Count A. Tolstoy (the authors that he names in the article) is moral rather than aesthetic. For him, the polemical function of these works takes precedence over their possible artistic merits. The two main flaws that he finds with antinihilist literature (the “one-sidedness” of its portrayal of nihilists and the mixing together of Polish intrigue and Russian nihilism – two things that were “essentially different”77) are, consequently, seen by him as the result of the biased or wrong political and ideological choices of their authors. Just like Lavrov, most nineteenth-century critics saw polemical right-wing literature as a counterbalance to equally polemical radical literature. This balance is critical to Zamotin’s view of the structure of the literary process in the 1860s. He starts by naming three elements in the literary movement of the 1860s: the “school of the 40s,” “the school of the 60s” and the “aesthetic” school. He further divides the “school of the 60s” into writers-publicists (беллетристы-публицисты) and writers-populists (беллетристы-популисты), maintaining that, as a whole, the literature of the 1860s remained journalistic (публицистическая беллетристика).78 He then separates this “publicistic literature” into two discrete camps: the progressive and conservative.79 When referring to polemical right-wing literature, the authors of получилось впечатление, что если где в русском обществе есть сила, эта сила в Базаровых, как они не неприглядны.” Ibid , p. 181. 76 “пахучие струи,” Ibid , p. 181. 77 “дв[е] вещ[и] существенно различны[е]” Ibid , p. 182. 78 Zamotin, Sorokovye i shestidesiatye gody: ocherki po istorii russkoi literatury XIX stoletiia , p. 256. 79 Ibid , p. 257. 32 Ovsianiko-Kulikovsky’s History of Russian Literature use descriptive phrases, such as “denunciatory (обличительная) literature directed against nihilism.” 80 Analyzing literary developments of the 1870s, they speak about a category of “tendentious literature,” which, according to Zamotin, who wrote the corresponding chapter in the History, unites both extreme left-wing authors like Sheller, and conservative right-wing authors like Markevich. While remarking that novels by Leskov, Turgenev and Goncharov might have served as a stimulus for the creation of right-wing literature, Zamotin differentiates these authors from the current of tendentious mass literature (тенденционная беллетристика).81 A similar gradation of tendentious novels is observed in Bagry’s analysis. He discusses a number of pro-nihilist novels that start with What Is to Be Done? (which serves as their model) and range from more successful works by Pomialovsky and Sleptsov to the “literature of a Bazarov-Rakhmetov type” (“беллетристика базаровски-рахметовского типа”). Similarly, the series of “denunciatory novels” (“обличительная беллетристика”) starts with Pisemsky’s The Troubled Sea and ranges from the novels of Leskov, Kliushnikov, Avenairus and Vsevolod Krestovsky to a more serious critique of nihilism by Dostoevsky, Nikolai Solovyev and Strakhov.82 Consideration of the few existing nineteenth-century Western studies of Russian literature provides another interesting perspective on Russian polemical novels. Aleksander Brückner uses 80 Ch. Vetrinskii, "Literaturnoe i kriticheskoe dvizhenie shestidesiatykh godov," Istoriia russkoi literatury XIX v, ed. D. N. Ovsianiko-Kulikovskii, vol. 3 (The Hague/Paris: Mouton, 1969), p. 116. 81 “Консервативная публицистическая беллетристика 60-70-х годов получила свое развитие на почве критического отношения к прогрессивному движению эпохи реформ; в этом отношении даже такие романы, как Отцы и дети, Дым и Новь Тургенева и Обрыв Гончарова, давали толчок правой тенденции, потому что были истолкованы консерваторами начала 60-х годов в свою пользу, как заключающие в себе критику послереформенного прогрессивного направления.” Zamotin, Sorokovye i shestidesiatye gody: ocherki po istorii russkoi literatury XIX stoletiia See also I. I. Zamotin, "Tendentsioznaia belletristika 70-kh godov," Istoriia russkoi literatury XIX v., ed. D. N. Ovsianiko-Kulikovskii, vol. 4 (Moscow: Izdanie T-va “MIR”, 1910), pp. 129-160. 82 A. V Bagrii, Russkaia literatura XIX-go-pervoi chetverti XX-go v.v.: posobie k lektsiiam (Baku: Izdanie Vostochnogo fakul’teta AGU, 1926), p. 112. 33 the European term “novel with a purpose” to describe the comparable Russian phenomenon. In Brückner’s opinion, “novels with a purpose” of the 1860-1880s derive from the work of a “typical Russian,” Pisemsky,83 and “fall naturally into two camps at feud with one another, the Radical and the Reactionary.”84 Both the works from the first camp (“at the forefront” of which stands What Is to Be Done?) and those by “informers and inquisitors, and hunters of orders, places, and heiresses” – conservative writers grouping around Katkov – are considered to be equally devoid of artistic merits, “stillborn productions.”85 Interestingly, however, Brückner explicitly separates the novels by Kliushnikov (Mirage) and Leskov (No Way Out and At Daggers Drawn) from the category of “stillborn productions.” He argues that the talents of these writers (just as the talent of Pisemsky) “quite considerably surpass” those of both the radical and conservative writers. In their criticism of nihilism and radicalism “as a movement without prospects,” “a new lie added to the others,” they manage without “supporting the old patriotic and Tory lies”; rather, they portray “interesting characters” in “successful, humorous” and satirical ways that “repay the reader.” Mentioning in passing the names of Turgenev and Goncharov (The Precipice) in connection with “novels with a purpose,” Brückner, unfortunately, does not comment on their relationship to this genre. d. The Soviet Approach to the Study of the Antinihilist Novel During the early Soviet years, an interest towards some writers of antinihilist novels first surfaced in the works of Formalists and then in the Marxist circle of Valerian Pereverzev, later 83 Brückner refers to Pisemsky’s novel, The Troubled Sea. 84 Brückner, A Literary History of Russia , p. 423. 85 Ibid , pp. 426-427. 34 “victoriously crushed” by RAPP and the literary establishment as “Menshevik.” 86 In the 1920s, the problem of the depiction of nihilism by antinihilist authors seems to have been a subject of extensive research at the Institute of Literature, Art and Language at RANION, as well as at the Institute of Red Professorship. Literature and Marxism (Литература и марксизм), a journal published by these institutes, in the 1928-1931, published articles by V. Pereverzev, A. Tseitlin, N. Bel’chikov, and other Marxist critics on the subject of antinihilist novels. A. G. Tseitlin’s “The Plots of the Antinihilist Novel” (“Сюжетика aнтинигилистического романа”), probably the most quoted work on the subject, was published in Literature and Marxism in 1929. Not devoid of political tendentiousness, this article, nevertheless, analyzes in detail various aspects of the artistic structure of antinihilist novels.87 Tseitlin’s article is a mix of the formal method and the Marxist approach. The author starts with a claim that there exist three basic methods of the artistic reflection of reality. The “dominant” (“доминанта”) of the first method is the depiction of everyday life (“быт”); the second method is based on the depiction of outstanding and complicated events; and the third one is psychological, resulting in the depiction of characters’ feelings and psychological reactions to the the outside reality.88 Tseitlin then applies this scheme to the analysis of antinihilist novels and, consequently, classifies these novels according to the type of artistic method used by the author in the novel. 86 See, in particular, Boris Eikhenbaum, "Leskov i sovremennaia proza," Literatura, kritika, polemika (Chicago: 1969). 87 Interestingly, according to Tseitlin’s understanding, novels by Turgenev, Leskov, Goncharov, and Dostoevsky also belong to the genre of the antinihilist novel. 88 See Tseitlin, "Siuzhetika antinigilisticheskogo romana," p. 36. Tseitlin points out that this approach finds its parallels in French criticism which differentiates between comédie des moeurs, comédie d’intrigue and comédie des charactères. 35 Turgenev’s Fathers and Sons and Virgin Soil, Kliushnikov’s Mirage, and Orlovsky’s Out of the Rut (Вне колеи) are analyzed in the third category, as novels devoted to the depiction of characters’ psyches. Tseitlin finds a direct correspondence between the method used by the author and the mentality and needs of the social class whose point of view the author reflects. According to him, the “class base” of this group of authors was the landed gentry of the 1860s– 1870s, the most intelligent and cultured people of their time who, while disliking nihilists, did not have a reason to hate them. This socio-cultural approach allows Tseitlin to claim that, for example, Nikolai Kirsanov’s criticism of Bazarov is subtle and careful because it is not in the nature of Kirsanov’s social class to uncritically oppose the nihilism of the children. According to Tseitlin, Turgenev does not try to expose nihilists; rather, he is interested in an analysis of the pathologies of their psyches. According to Tseitlin, Turgenev’s nihilists (including Bazarov) are weak people filled with self-doubt. The criticism of nihilists is based on the author’s analysis of the psychological reasons for their weaknesses, for their transformation into passivity, as well as for their abandonment of former ideas.89 Tseitlin then looks at the techniques of plot creation used by the authors of this group. He asserts that, at all stages, the plot (in the exposition of characters, onset [завязка] of action, frequency and length of parallel minor plot lines [Zwischengeschichte], different elements of plot construction, depictions of scenery, climax and finale) is dominated by the psychological method. Thus, he claims that the novels within this group abound in nature descriptions because they usually take place at a country estate, and the melancholy, romantic anguish and dreamy 89 Ibid, p. 41. 36 nature of Turgenev’s characters can be best portrayed against the background of the descriptions of nature.90 The same mixed approach is used by Tseitlin to analyze the other two types of antinihilist novels. The first type, which finds its “dominant” in the depiction of everyday life, includes novels by Pisemsky (The Troubled Sea) and Leskov (No Way Out and Cathedral Folk). The social class that “commissioned” these novels was, according to Tseitlin, the provincial bourgeoisie, impoverished gentry in government service and provincial clergy. Their opposition to nihilism is explained by the danger that nihilism can potentially bring to their way of life (быт) that had been maintained through centuries.91 Tseitlin then examines the mechanics of plot creation used by these authors to conclude that the depiction of everyday life dominates at all stages, to the detriment of the psychological motivation of the characters’ action. The plots of the novels of the second type, represented by Krestovsky’s The Bloody Hoax, Meshchersky’s The Secrets of Inspector Bob (Тайны инспектора Боба) and DyakovNezlobin’s Circles (Кружковщина), are driven by the depiction of outstanding and complicated events. This prompts Tseitlin to call them primarily a type of adventure novel (авантюрный роман). Tseitlin refers to the social base of this group of writers as “the most reactionary” part of the petty bourgeoisie (мещанство). This class, according to Tseitlin, both “commissioned” the creation of this fiction and was its main consumer. These novels are the most tendentious. They were written, as Tseitlin argues, from the position of the uncritical denial of nihilism, and, 90 Ibid, p. 44-45. 91 Ibid, p. 47-49. 37 therefore, lack both a psychological dimension and a basis in the everyday life of the Russian people.92 Due to political reasons, later Soviet studies of the antinihilist novel did not develop much upon Tseitlin’s approach. As I pointed out earlier, the antinihilist novel was defined by Soviet scholars as the type of novel which was written as a reaction to the “democratic novel,” and more specifically, in response to Chernyshevsky’s What Is to Be Done. In the Soviet Union, with its glorification of the radical thought of the second half of the nineteenth century, antinihilism, seen as the ideological enemy of radical democrats, was, naturally, out of favor. Realizing that an ideological and political framework alone cannot serve as the sole basis for a definition of a literary genre, Soviet scholars also argued for a thematic unity of antinihilist texts and the similarity in literary techniques and conventions used by their authors. All antinihilist novels, according to Yury Sorokin, the main Soviet authority on the genre, have the same core plot consisting of “a fight between two forces: good and evil.” 93 This fight is carried out by “the conservative hero” against either “the representatives of the ‘Polish party’” or rather, the “aristocratic wing of this party with close links to Jesuits” or, even, different sorts of domestic “adventurers, go-getters and crooks who only pretend to be nihilists and populists.”94 92 Ibid, p. 57-59. 93 The first “force” is composed of “the conservatives and keepers of traditional mores,” the second one of “dedicated democrats and revolutionaries.” Sorokin then refines this antagonism by defining the main conflict as a fight for the main character (“a man or, more often, a woman,” “a person who is often weak and lacking willpower, or, sometimes, strong and exalted but, always, suffering and unstable, restless and seeking something”) who becomes a victim of the “evil,” democratic force. 94 “Сюжетная схема многих антинигилистических романов действительно очень однотипна. В основу ее кладется борьба двух сил – ‘злой’ и ‘доброй.’ Первую силу представляют убежденные демократы и революционеры, вторую – охранители и сторонники устоев... Чаще всего героем произведения, вокруг которого сосредотачивается непосредственный романический интерес повествования, является лицо (мужского или, еще чаще, женского пола), которое соблазняет ‘злая сила’ и вовлекает в орбиту демократического движения... Это личность иногда безвольная и слабая, иногда сильная и экзальтированная, но всегда страдающая и неустойчивая, мятущаяся и чего-то ищущая... Обычным источником... интриги являются не демократы-революционеры сами по себе, а.... представители ‘польской 38 Overall, analyzing Sorokin’s definition, we might argue that the Soviet “antinihilist novel” appears to describe a genre of mass literature, adventure-oriented rather than realistic in its approach, which grew up around the big realist novel of the time that was preoccupied with the most topical problems of the day: the causes and consequences of nihilism and the emerging revolutionary movement. In his study of the antinihilist novel, Batiuto singles out its common ideological background (conservative patriotism as it was represented in Katkov’s Russian Messenger), its common polemical direction (against Chernyshevsky’s What Is to Be Done? and the worldview it represents), and its common themes that, in many ways, refine Sorokin’s list.95 e. Western Studies: Charles Moser’s Antinihilism in the Russian Novel of the 1860s In the West, the problem of the antinihilist novel became a subject of literary studies after the publication of Charles Moser’s 1964 book Antinihilism in the Russian Novel of the 1860s. Although criticized as being “undistinguished in style” and “marred by numerous infelicities of партии,’ и при этом аристократического крыла этой партии, тесно связанного с иезуитами... С другой стороны, интригу плетут разного рода авантюристы, карьеристы и проходимцы, лишь прикидывающиеся нигилистами и народниками.” Sorokin, "Antinigilisticheskii roman," pp. 99-100. The plot, constructed along these lines, according to Sorokin, is just a device, adopted by the authors to “compromise the movement as a whole,” because if the leaders of the “movement” (the Polish Jesuits and various crooks) are presented as scum and the only thing that the people they lead (the main characters-victims) do is blunder and sacrificing themselves as lambs, then the readers can assume that the “movement as a whole lacks true force, purpose and a future.” (“Если худшее руководит, а лучшее лишь заблуждается и покорно идет на жертвы, значит у этого движения нет истинной силы, нет своих целей, нет перспектив.” Sorokin, "Antinigilisticheskii roman," p. 100). 95 Among these themes he names: the family problem, the rejection of the ideas of female emancipation, the debunking of the main ideas and images of Chernyshevsky’s novel, the pro-government and chauvinistic portrayal of the main political events of the period (the consequences of the Emancipation Proclamation, peasant uprisings, the Petersburg fires of 1862, the 1863 Polish January Uprising), the journalistic and highly polemical approach to the portrayal of the contemporary “time of troubles,” the presentation of revolutionary and anti-Russian activities as parts of one larger anti-Russian conspiracy, planned and controlled by the Polish Jesuits. Thus, the break-up of traditional forms of marriage and family that was happening in society since the 1860s was interpreted in antinihilist novels, according to Batiuto, as a direct consequence of the “superficial family education” that was unable to shield the youth from blind following the nihilist fad. (“[O]дна из причин возникновения нигилизма – дурное или слишком поверхностное семейное воспитание, неспособное оградить молодежь от слепого увлечения ‘модными идейками.’” Batiuto, "Antinigilisticheskii roman 60-70-kh godov," p. 280). The problem of the family is solved in antinihilist novels as a return to traditional (often idealized) conceptions of marriage and family. In arguing their views on family and marriage, antinihilist novels explicitly and polemically contrast their views with Chernyshevsky’s portrayal of the mores of the “new family.” 39 phrasing” and some factual errors,96 Moser’s pioneering study remains the most authoritative and widely quoted work on the subject in America. The first of the three parts of this book contains an overview of the historical and political situation in Russia in the 1860s and a sociological analysis of the nihilist milieu. The second, and longest part of the book, deals with the portrayals of the nihilists in the antinihilist works. Moser is primarily interested in the factual base for the portraits of nihilists that the authors possessed, as well as in the search for possible prototypes of nihilist characters. The main question that Moser asks when approaching each author is: How well acquainted was he with the nihilist milieu, and, therefore, how accurate or stereotypical are these portrayals? He pays much attention to the violent attacks mounted by the radical press against the authors of antinihilist novels. As Dimitri von Mohrenschildt observes in his review of Moser’s study, this situation suggests that “radical censorship […] was perhaps as harmful as that of the tsar.” 97 Although the chapter on “radical censorship” is probably the best in the book, Part Three, entitled “Characteristic Aspects of the Antinihilist Approach in the Russian Literature of the 1860s” and devoted to the analysis of antinihilist novels, is of more interest to this study. In this chapter, Moser presents a typology of the titles and structure of antinihilist novels, in many ways developing Tseitlin’s approach. Among the characteristics of the antinihilist approach, he points out some common aspects in the portrayal of nihilists (their appearance, dwelling, philosophy of 96 See book reviews by William Edgerton (Edgerton, "Review of Charles A. Moser's Antinihilism in the Russian novel of the 1860’s," ) and by Dimitri von Mohrenschildt (Dimitri von Mohrrenschildt, "Rev. of Charles A. Antinihilism in the Russian novel of the 1860’s," Slavic Review 24.3 (1965), pp. 560-561). 97 Dimitri von Mohrrenschildt, "Rev. of Charles A. Moser's Antinihilism in the Russian novel of the 1860’s," Slavic Review 24.3 (1965), pp. 560-561. The desire to further address this problem, in fact, steered the subsequent research of Charles Moser. After the publication of some more articles on antinihilism as it was manifested in prose and poetry, and a book on Pisemsky (1969), Moser, in 1989, published an interesting study on this subject. See Charles A. Moser, Esthetics as Nightmare: Russian Literary Theory 1855-1870 (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1989). 40 life and art), as well as some recurrent plot developments: the escape of a woman from the tyranny of her family, the ultimate degradation or death of the nihilist protagonist, the Polish conspiracy as a driving force of some plots, the depiction of communes and their ultimate failure, the instigation of a revolution in the countryside with a common scene of propaganda at a rural tavern, and discussions of atheism and free love. In my view, one of the main drawbacks of Moser’s study is his classificatory treatment of literature. In the bulk of his study, he uses his analysis of the real-life nihilist milieu to classify “antinihilist novels” while the comparative analysis of the novels themselves is not given enough prominence. 98 After Moser, no booklength studies of antinihilist novels have been written in America, although some aspects of this problem were addressed in articles dealing with separate antinihilist novels and their authors, most importantly, Leskov’s No Way Out and At Daggers Drawn, Dostoevsky’s Demons, and Turgenev’s Fathers and Sons.99 In contrast to Moser’s study, I study all the polemical novels of the period (both “antinihilist” and “democratic”) together, with all their interconnections and dialogs, as one genre system. f. Contemporary Russian Studies of the Antinihilist Novel 98 Unfortunately, the last chapter, “Characteristic Aspects of the Antinihilist Approach in the Russian Literature of the 1860s,” is only 43 pages long, while the analysis of the nihilist milieu is three times longer. 99 See, for example, Serge V. Gregory, "The Literary Milieu of Dostoevsky’s The Possessed," University of Washington, 1977; Serge V. Gregory, "Dostoevsky’s The Devils and the Antinihilist Novel," Slavic Review 38.3 (Sep.) (1979); Thomas Eekman, "N.S. Leskov’s At Daggers Drawn Reconsidered," Miscellanea Slavica: to honour the memory of Jan M. Meijer, ed. B.J. Amsenga (Amsterdam: Rodopi, 1983); Peter C. Pozefsky, "Smoke as “Strange and Sinister Commentary on Fathers and Sons”: Dostoevsky, Pisarev and Turgenev on Nihilists and Their Representations," Russian Review: An American Quarterly Devoted to Russia Past and Present 54.4, October (1995); Russell Scott Valentino, Vicissitudes of Genre in the Russian Novel: Turgenev's Fathers and Sons, Chernyshevsky's What Is to Be Done? Dostoevsky's Demons, Gorky's Mother, Middlebury Studies in Russian Language and Literature, 24 (New York, NY: Peter Lang, 2001); Patrick Waddington, "No Smoke Without Fire: The Genesis of Turgenev's Dym," From Pushkin to Palisandriia: Essays on the Russian Novel in Honor of Richard Freeborn, MLA-IB (New York: St. Martin's, 1990). 41 In recent years, the rising scholarly and general public’s interest in the novels that were traditionally labeled “antinihilist” resulted in the publication of several well-researched and original studies on the subject. Most of these rejected the paradigms of Soviet criticism and reconsidered such controversial novels as Dostoevsky’s Demons and Leskov’s At Daggers Drawn.100 Finally, the first complete edition of Leskov’s works came out in 1996-2007.101 While the appearance of new studies of antinihilist novels in Russia can be welcomed as a long-overdue development, the radical reevaluation that these novels sometimes undergo in these studies can be problematic. For example, Natalia Starygina, in her work The Russian Novel in the Situation of Philosophical and Ideological Polemics of the 1860s-1870s,102 praises antinihilist novels for their defense of the religious concept of man and the spiritual tradition of Russian Orthodox Christianity, and applauds their fight against the “alien mentality” of nihilism.103 Terekhin, the author of a recent (1995) study of antinihilist novels entitled “Against the Current”: The Hidden Russian Writers,104 claims that the “best antinihilist novels” (he includes here the novels not only by Leskov and Dostoevsky but also Markevich and Orlovsky) are “highly artistic works in which the following things seamlessly come together: an absorbing plot and a true psychological approach to the depiction of the inner development of characters, 100 Lev Anninsky’s works, in particular, brought Nikolai Leskov’s and Alexei Pisemsky’s novels back to the attention of the scholarly community and the reading public. See L. A. Anninskii, Tri eretika (Moscow: Kniga, 1988); L. A. Anninskii, "Nikolai Leskov," Leskov, N. S. Sobranie sochinenii, vol. 1 (Moscow: AO “Ekran"); L. A Anninskii, "Katastrofa v nachale puti," Leskov, N. S. Sobranie sochinenii, vol. 1 (Moscow: AO "Ekran"). The 11part TV series At Daggers Drawn was made at the Gorky Studios in 1998 by the director Alexander Orlov (Russia: Kinostudiia im. M. Gor’kogo, Goskino, 1998). 101 N. S. Leskov, Polnoe sobranie sochinenii v 30-ti tomakh, eds. K. P. Bogaevskaia et al., 30 vols. (Moscow: "Terra" - "Terra", 1996- <2007>). 102 Starygina, Russkii roman v situatsii filosofsko-religioznoi polemiki 1860-1870-kh godov . 103 For the concise summary of Starygina’s approach see ibid , pp. 339-352. 104 Terekhin, "Protiv techenii": utaennye russkie pisateli: tipologiia "antinigilisticheskogo" romana . 42 real existential conflicts, skilled depictions of everyday life, bordering on Naturalism, the dramatic development of the plot, etc.” 105 Terekhin praises the writers of antinihilist novels for “revealing the essence” of the “social tumor – literary nihilism seasoned with Social Darwinist tenets.”106 Terekhin ultimately exalts the writers of antinihilist novels as the “hidden” authors and advocates their full acceptance into the literary canon. 3. Methods, Goals and the Structure of this Study In this study I examine a period in the development of the socially-conscious Russian classical novel about the “hero of the time”: the ideological age of the 1860s-1870s when the problem of nihilism was literature’s main concern. One of my main objectives is to explore the reflection of the debate on nihilism in Russian polemical novels. In this study, I examine the origins and the genesis of the literary images of “heroes of the time” in the literature of the 1860s-1870s: the “nihilists” and “new men,” and explore the connections between them and their mutual influences. I show that these connections and influences are manifestations of an ongoing dialog 105 “В процессе изучения узловых точек ‘антинигилистического’ романа исследователь неизбежно рискует впасть в соблазн упрoщенчества и идеологической вульгаризации: привычка выискивать политическую подоплеку в критике ‘новых’ людей, – которая или открыто содержится в авторских отступлениях или замаскирована в психологическом движении героев-идеологов-охранителей, может пагубно сказаться на отстраненном, художественном восприятии произведений охранительно-консервативного течения; ведь лучшие из них – Бесы, Обрыв, Соборяне, Марина из Алого Рога, Вне колеи – бесспорно высокохудожественные произведения, в которых слиты воедино увлекательный сюжет, подлинная психологичность внутреннего развития персонажей, реальные, жизненные конфликты, искусная бытопись, граничащая с хорошим натурализмом, драматизм повествования и т. п. ‘Антинигилистический’ роман вряд ли можно воспринимать как роман-памфлет хотя бы потому, что главным отличительным признаком памфлета (произведения малой формы и обличительного содержания), является злободневность этого содержания, которое чаще всего, рано или поздно ‘хоронит’ памфлет как литературное творение. Нет объективных оснований принижать до уровня памфлета целый ряд широкомасштабных произвелений русской прозы 60 – 80-х годов XIX века, – романы И. С. Тургенева, А. Ф. Писемского, Ф. М. Достоевского, Н. С. Лескова, И. А. Гончарова, Б. М. Маркевича, К. Островского (К. Ф. Головина).” Ibid , pp. 81-92. 106 “В отличие от произведений продемократического течения, в которых разоблачалась та или иная политическая линия или нравы, раздражавшие писателя, в ‘антинигилистическом’ романе раскрывалось содержание исследуемого явления, распознавалось вплоть до наиболее зараженного участка социальная опухоль – в данном случае, литературный, сдобренный социал-дарвинистскими установками нигилизм.” Ibid , p. 83. 43 among writers of these novels. Their often polemical textual responses to one another are especially interesting because they were writing contemporaneously in the 1860s-1870s. The novelty of my approach consists in its breadth. I study together a wide range of polemical novels. The proposed list of novels to be analyzed in this dissertation includes, apart from the much studied works by Turgenev, Chernyshevsky and Dostoevsky; major, but frequently underrated, novels by such important novelists as Leskov, Pisemsky and Goncharov; and a broad range of novels by minor writers, such as Avseenko, Kliushnikov, Kushchevsky, Sleptsov, Orlovsky, Markevich and others, a range which represents the entire spectrum of literary craftsmanship and ideological agendas. This thesis endorses the position of Yury Tynianov, who argued that we cannot fully understand the literary process by studying the canon of “great novels” in isolation. The study of the history of literature “without generals,” of which this current project is an example, exposes the “cultural, behavioral and social orders in the broad sense” without which we are bound to misunderstand the process of literary evolution. 107 By expanding my focus to include various minor novels that represent the broader literary context of Russian classical novels, I intend to reintroduce for future studies a whole new body of unduly forgotten literature. Most of the minor novels with which I work have not been seriously studied before. Moreover, many of them have not been reprinted since the 19th century, and most of them are not translated into English. By extending the boundaries of this study beyond a few works by major masters, I redefine the genre of the polemical novel. The study of minor novels by secondary authors (many of whom tend to be both highly imitative and more markedly partisan), highlights the 107 Iu. N. Tynianov, "O literaturnoi evoliutsii," Poetika. Istoriia literatury (Moscow: Kino, 1977), p. 270. 44 “median literary norms of the epoch”108 and, therefore, helps reconstruct the bigger picture of the development of the Russian polemical novel in the 1860s-1870s. By considering such “tributaries” of the big realist novel as journalism and mass culture, I highlight the vitality of the “reserved means” (“структурный резерв”) which were developed and accumulated by the polemical novel of the 1860s-1870s, and which provide material “for the innovative approaches of consecutive epochs.”109 Thus, the transgression of genre boundaries in the novels of the 1860s-1870s is one of the major areas that I explore in this dissertation. I pay particular attention to the penetration of the elements of the journalistic style (pamphlets, editorials, feuilletons) and mass literature (adventure novel, crime fiction) into the structure of the polemical novel. My approach to the study of the polemical novels of the 1860s-1870s can be characterized as contextual and historical in the broad sense. I am not only interested in the literary context of these novels, but also in the wider cultural context of Russian society during this period. Analyzing the cultural text of a society in flux (the post-Crimean War era of great reforms and revolutionary upheavals), I am especially concerned with the process of the creation of cultural icons (both based on historical personalities such as Herzen and Chernyshevsky, and literary characters such as Bazarov and Rakhmetov), and myths and conspiracy theories (such as the Polish conspiracy theory). I view literature not only as part of culture, but also of social history, and I study changes in the norms of behavior and value systems in the nihilist, literary and revolutionary milieus. Thus, large sections of this dissertation are devoted to the analysis of nihilism as a social practice. The novelty of my approach consists in viewing the literary process 108 See Iu. M. Lotman, "Massovaia literatura kak istoriko-kul'turnaia problema," o russkoi literature (St. Petersburg: Iskusstvo-SPb, 1997), p. 818. 109 Iu. N. Tynianov, Dostoevskii i Gogol'. (K teorii parodii) ([Petrograd]: Opoiaz, 1921), p. 5. See also Lotman, "Massovaia literatura kak istoriko-kul'turnaia problema," p. 818. 45 with the insight gained through analysis of primary political, historical, cultural, and social themes. One of the main goals of this study is to find new ways of reading the journalistic and the polemical contexts of the literary works of the 1860s-1870s. The fact that this period can be characterized by the phenomenon of a shared discourse of literature and journalism does not simplify my task; rather, it poses additional problems. For example, the fact that both literature and criticism are obsessed with the search for the typical “hero of the time” (and, in doing so, use the same language), only obscures the typological fallacy of both these writers and their critics. The analysis of the immediate critical reception of most novels is bound to consider the neverending discussions about which character better embodies the type. The criteria in such discussions entirely depend on the critics’ and writers’ points of view and their existing preconceptions. Additionally, this concern for typicality, perhaps, is embodied best of all in the widespread infatuation with the popularization of the sciences, and shows the transfer and uncritical application of pseudo-scientific criteria to literature. The critical engagement with discussions about the “typical” “heroes of the time” in literature and journalism of the period is necessary to understand the nature of the artistic and polemical concerns of the writers who are fully engaged in a dialog with each other and their critics. My analysis of the journalistic and the polemical context of the 1860s-1870s novels also confronts additional challenges of the period, mainly, the difficulty of working with the extreme language of the press (filled with personal and, often, rude attacks), its ideological content, and confronting the xenophobia and the search for internal and external enemies. The fact that the critical discourse of the period is plagued with internal contradictions presents an additional challenge for anyone rereading nineteenth-century texts. This dissertation employs close reading 46 and the reevaluation of journalistic and critical discourses in order to free the latter from the accumulated political and tendentious biases. Similarly, because literature, as I show, both reflected and reacted to these phenomena, the rereading of these novels poses the task of separating the attacks and polemical excesses (which is rarely done in existing scholarship) from the realities of these texts. Unfortunately, instead of engaging with these problems, twentieth-century Soviet criticism mainly perpetuated many nineteenth-century biases and (especially in the studies of “antinihilist novels”) accumulated many more. Not unlike nineteenth-century critical discourse, the Soviet approach to the novels of the 1860s-1870s is exemplified by a polarity of critical judgments and an obsession with class struggle, which served as the main prism the entire period is viewed. Additionally, in many ways the ideological literary criticism of the Soviet period disrupted the continuity that existed in the critical discourse on the role of nihilism in Russian society and literature. Many of the critical opinions of nineteenth-century authors and critics were censored or distorted to serve the official Soviet views on the history of literature and the revolutionary struggle. While the Soviet studies of literary texts that were critical of nihilism were hampered by censorship and ideology, the few Western studies suffered from a lack of interest of the larger scholarly community, prompted by insufficient context and limited access. Surprisingly little has changed since the fall of the Soviet system. The few existing contemporary Russian studies often conclude by mainly reversing the polarity of their judgments (Starygina, Terekhin). Overall, a mere reassessment of some works by individual writers (such as, for example, Dostoevsky’s Demons, Leskov’s At Daggers Drawn or Chernyshevsky’s What Is To Be Done?) that has gradually occurred in recent years cannot fully correct the situation, because it inherits the 47 contradictions and biases of more than a hundred years of ideological wars. Therefore, only a comprehensive reconstruction of the political, historical, social, polemical and literary context of the 1860s-1870s can open the way for an unbiased reevaluation of the polemical novels of that period. This context will need to establish the continuity of the discourse on nihilism across genres and disciplines, as well as its discontinuities: the displacements of concepts, shifts in meaning of words and concepts, mutations and transformations in discourse and mentality. This dissertation consists of an introduction, four chapters, a conclusion and two appendices. Chapter One opens with an overview of Russian society in the 1860s, a unique decade in which life and literature curiously intertwined and literary characters embodied the most significant questions, problems and aspirations of the time. I treat the amazing confluence of life and literature in the 1860s as an effect produced by the new type of novel that was developed and perfected by Ivan Turgenev. According to his contemporaries, Turgenev “reflected and embodied in literary types the quickly changing physiognomy of the Russian people” in his novels.110 In this chapter, I explore the literary and social origins of the type of “nihilist” which appeared, for the first time, in Turgenev’s novel Fathers and Sons. I locate the social origins of the nihilist subculture in the circles of youth of both noble and raznochinsky origin, grouped around the Contemporary and other radical journals and weeklies. I trace the literary origins of the “nihilist” type, from the superfluous characters of the Russian classical, “Pushkinian” tradition, through the Natural School representing the “Gogolian” tradition, to the concurrent appearance of Turgenev’s Bazarov and Pomialovsky’s Molotov (the protagonist of his dilogy The Bourgeois Happiness and Molotov and the first “new man” [“homo novus”] in Russian 110 I. S. Turgenev, Polnoe sobranie sochinenii i pisem, 30 vols. (Moscow: Izd-vo Akademii Nauk SSSR, 1960-), vol. 12, p. 303. 48 literature). My discussion of the editorial conflicts and politics within the Contemporary provides the background for these literary and social developments. I demonstrate how Nikolai Chernyshevsky and Nikolai Dobroliubov (as well as other radical literary critics and journalists who worked on the editorial board of the Contemporary, Russian Word and other influential radical press organs of the time) acquired control over both the minds of the younger generation and the discourse on nihilism in Russian society, journalism and literature. I closely examine the confused handling of this discourse by the Contemporary as is evident in its treatment of Turgenev’s Fathers and Sons and, specifically, of the image of the main nihilist, Bazarov, and the “lesser types” of Kukshina and Sitnikov (the type that Pomialovsky, in his novels, termed the “sham liberals”). I argue that the consequences of this handling were instrumental for the rift between the progressive and conservative wings of Russian society in the mid-1860s. In Chapter Two, I approach the “nihilist epoch” in Russian literature through the analysis of its main “hero of the time,” the literary image of the “nihilist” / the “new man.” 111 I explore the important concern of the 1860s, the search for a positive hero, by reconstructing and analyzing the dialog between major works of literary and social criticism of the period and novels by Nikolai Chernyshevsky, Nikolai Leskov, Vasily Sleptsov, Ivan Turgenev and other writers. I explore the boundaries and interconnectedness of terms used to describe the 1860s’ “heroes of the time,” “nihilists,” “new men,” and “men of action.” I show the generic ties between these types and, additionally, “superfluous men” and “quixotic” characters, in Russian literature. In contrast to previous studies of this problem, my analysis is enriched by the 111 As Nikolai Strakhov argued, “no matter how it might upset us, it seems that we will have to refer to [this] whole epoch in our literature as nihilist…for more than twenty years…nihilism was the reigning feature of our literature.” (“Как бы это нас не огорчало, но, кажется, целый период нашей литературы придется назвать нигилистическим. Именно, больше двадцати лет, от Парижского мира до войны за Болгарию, самою господствующею чертою в нашей литературе был нигилизм в различных его развитиях.” Strakhov, Iz istorii literaturnogo nigilizma, 1861-1865: Pis'ma N. Kositsy, Zametki Letopistsa i pr. , p. viii-ix). 49 simultaneous consideration of both “antinihilist” and “democratic” novels; it includes analyses of such novels as Chernyshevsky’s What Is to Be Done? and Prolog, Ivan Kushchevsky’s Nikolai Negorev, or The Successful Russian, and Leskov’s No Way Out and “Mysterious Man.” To further explore the topoi of the discourse on the “hero of the time” of the 1860s, I discuss the work of some literary epigones of Chernyshevsky and Turgenev. In this chapter, I analyze works by Nikolai Bazhin, Innokenty Omulevsky (Fedorov), Daniil Mordovtsev and Nina Arnoldi. I contextualize my discussion of the images of “new men” and “nihilists” in these novels in two major ways. First, I consider the full range of the nineteenth-century critical debate on nihilism and the input by such critics as Dmitry Pisarev, Nikolai Strakhov, Afanasy Fet, Vasily Botkin, Alexander Skabichevsky, Pyotr Tsitovich, Konstantin Golovin, Nikolai Mikhailovsky and Pyotr Kropotkin. Secondly, I analyze the sub-culture of the nihilist youth of the 1860s as a social phenomenon, including its genesis, social composition, values and such markers of selfidentification as the nihilist fashion. The purpose of this section is to demonstrate the vexed nature of the claim that the portrayals of the younger generation by “democratic” authors were more “typical” and true to life than those of its critics. I show that while the positive images of “new men” indeed reflected the spirit of enthusiasm and idealism of Russia’s younger generation, the portrayals of the appearance and behavior of “nihilists” by critics of the younger generation had a more solid basis in reality. This contradiction explains some of the internal inconsistencies in the radical discourse on the “new men.” I also argue that this contradiction explains the popularity of the novels that portray “nihilists” critically among broad strata of Russian society. Chapter Three is dedicated to the analysis of the critically portrayed images of the nihilists. I devote this chapter primarily to the discussion of three novels that were received 50 unfavorably by nineteenth-century radical critics: Pisemsky’s The Troubled Sea, Leskov’s No Way Out and Kliushnikov’s Mirage. These three novels were also later consistently named as originators of antinihilism in literature by Soviet literary critics. In this dissertation, I analyze three different ways of approaching the creation of the polemical novels offered by Pisemsky, Leskov and Kliushnikov. Picking up on one of the themes of Chapter One, I discuss how satirical versions of Kukshina and Sitnikov types were developed by these authors as polemical answers to Chernyshevsky’s and Turgenev’s characters. As an example of this, I analyze in detail the futility of Nikolai Leskov’s quest to separate the “good” and “bad” nihilists in his prose, essays and letters. The next major theme of this chapter is the creation of the alternative versions of the “hero of the time” by Pisemsky, Leskov and Kliushnikov in opposition to “new men” and “nihilists.” I analyze the successful and problematic aspects in the characterization of their “heroes of the time”: Baklanov, an “ordinary mortal from our so-called educated society” from Pisemsky’s The Troubled Sea; Dr. Rozanov, a partly autobiographical protagonist from Leskov’s No Way Out; and Rusanov, a conservative positive hero from Kliushnikov’s Mirage. In addition, I focus on the analysis of genre hybridization such as the instances of convergence between the journalistic and fictional discourses in these novels. Thus, Pisemsky and Leskov use elements of pamphlet and feuilleton, as well as topical and polemical pseudo-journalistic prose in order to find new ways to analyze the phenomenon of nihilism which can meet the challenges of the quickly changing times. My analyses of the Herzen theme in Pisemsky’s The Troubled Sea and the portrayal of the Znamenskaya nihilist commune in Leskov’s No Way Out illustrate a possible form that such an engagement could take. Overall, in this chapter I contextualize my study of Pisemsky’s, Leskov’s and Kliushnikov’s novels both by the discussion of the emergence of the sustained critique of nihilism in the Russian press (especially fully and coherently expressed by 51 Nikolai Strakhov) and in the growing conservative sentiments in Russian society in the mid1860s on the verge, and in the aftermath, of the 1863 Polish January Uprising. In my discussion of the conservative turn in Russian society, I attribute particular importance to the emergence of the popular Polish conspiracy theory and its varying uses. I discuss how Mikhail Katkov used this conspiracy theory to advance his polemical and political goals in Moscow News and Russian Messenger; how Vasily Ratch created a tendentious history of the Polish Uprising, and how fiction writers such as Victor Kliushnikov and Vsevolod Krestovsky used it to create polemical and symbolic dimensions of their novels. In Chapter Four, I conclude my study by examining demonic nihilist characters. I explore the use of demonic symbolism in self-portrayals of the members of the nihilist (and “progressive”) community, exemplified by Andrei Osipovich (Novodvorsky’s) novella An Episode from the Life of Neither a Peahen, Nor a Crow. Additionally, I consider references to the demonic in the portrayals of nihilists in conservative discourse, both in literature and journalism. I view these literary developments in the context of the birth of the discourse of demonic revolutionary insanity in Russian society in the mid-1860s. In particular, I view the unraveling of the Karakozov and Nechaev affairs as the most traumatic and transformational historical events of the period and a crucial factor in the emergence of a series of fascinating demonic nihilist characters in the literature of the late 1860s. The second, most important part of this chapter is dedicated to the comparative study of demonic nihilist characters in Dostoevsky’s Demons and Leskov’s At Daggers Drawn, which were serialized contemporaneously in Katkov’s Russian Messenger in 1870-1872. I explore the ways in which the reading public and critics understood these novels as one super-novel written on the same theme and using similar plot developments and characters. I also reconstruct the literary context in which these two novels 52 appeared by providing an overview of other novels on nihilism written around the same time, including Goncharov’s The Precipice and Krestovsky’s Panurge’s Herd. The creative dialog and polemic between Dostoevsky and Leskov, who wrote installments of their novels while reading each other’s work, is the main topic of my discussion in this chapter. I explore the ways in which Dostoevsky’s and Leskov’s use of symbolism and the web of literary and cultural allusions made their demonic nihilist characters richer and more complex than all previous portrayals of such characters. I also point out that Dostoevsky and Leskov managed both to preserve the topicality and distinct connections to the political and social reality of their time, and also move beyond this reality to universal and timeless topics and concerns which, ultimately, ensured the relevance of their novels in later historical periods. *** Quotations of the Russian texts are given in English with Russian originals in the footnotes. When possible, previously published translations are used, except on occasions when these translations are not precise enough for my purposes. In these cases, I use my own translations. Overall, unless otherwise attributed, all translations are my own. *** I use mostly conventional English forms of transliteration of the first and last names (for example, Pomialovsky instead of Pomialovskii and Alexander instead of Aleksandr) except for the bibliography where the LC transliteration system is used. 53 Chapter 1 The Birth of the Hero: Bazarov at the Court of the Contemporary / the Contemporaries112 Cамоуверенность ограниченного знания, непривычка владеть собою в разговорах и спорах, склонность сводить всякий обмен теоретических мнeний на личности, на ругань, чуть не на кулачную потасовку, циническая откровенность в вываливании на публичных прениях всех грязных подонков скабрезного остроумия – вот те злосчастные элементы, которые надолго замутили русскую журналистику. На нетронутой, плодородной почве русской литературы, удобренной этими публистическими помоями, пышно и густо разрослась крапива, цепкий чертополох, нелепые лопухи и всякая прочая мусорная трава, которою засорилась современная печать. Аким Волынский, Русские критики113 Известное уже в первые годы XIX века, оно [слово ‘нигилизм’] долго странствовало по философским трактатам, лишенное постоянной и яркой смысловой окраски, изредка употреблялось и в критических и в полемических статьях, но его настоящая история начинается только с того момента, когда Тургенев применил его к типической психологии шестидесятника: внезапно, с чудодейственной быстротой, оно приобрело новый смысл и силу влияния. Михаил Алексеев, “К истории слова ‘нигилизм’”114 112 A portion of this chapter was delivered on the panel “Aesthetics and the Rise of Russian Realism” at the 2007 annual meeting of AATSEEL (The American Association of Teachers of Slavic and East European Languages) and benefited greatly from the comments and suggestions of both panelists and audience members. 113 “The self-confidence of limited knowledge, the lack of ability to control oneself in civil conversations and disputes, the tendency to reduce all exchange of theoretical opinions to personalities, to swearing, almost to a fist fight; the cynical bluntness of dumping all the dirty excesses of one’s scabrous wit during public discussions – these are the unfortunate elements which, for a long time, troubled the sea of Russian journalism. Thick and luxurious, the nettles, the prehensile thistle, the ridiculous burdock, and all other unwanted weeds that poisoned the contemporary press grew on the virgin and rich soil of Russian literature.” See A. L. Volynskii, "Russkie kritiki," (1896), p. 420. 114 “Known already in the first years of the 19th century, the word nihilism traveled from one philosophical treatise to another, devoid of any stable and clear meaning; it was also used, from time to time, in critical and polemical articles but its real history starts only from that moment when Turgenev used it to refer to the typical psychology of the generation of the 1860s. Suddenly, and with miraculous speed, it acquired new meaning and a new sphere of 54 (1)Turgenev’s Novel as the Reflection of the “Body and Pressure of Time” (2) The 1860s: Major Signposts (3) The Search for a New Hero and the Coming of the Raznochinets (4) The Raznochinets and the Natural School (5) The Superfluous Raznochinets and the “Pushkinian” Tradition (6) The Literary Types of Pomialovsky’s Characters: Bourgeois Happiness and Molotov (7) The Question of Leadership: Turgenev or the Contemporary? (8) The Power Struggle inside the Contemporary (9) The Battle for Belinsky’s Legacy (10) “The Whistling” (11) The Campaign Against Fathers and Sons and the Final Split between the Two Generations (12) The Accusations against Turgenev (13) The Connotations of the Word “Nihilist” in the Context of Name Calling in the 1860s (14) The Types of Sitnikov and Kukshina 1. Turgenev’s Novel as the Reflection of the “Body and Pressure of Time” Like no other time in Russian history, the era of the Great Reforms, the famous 1860s, seems to be a creation of literature reflected fully and immediately in its major works and in journalistic articles that discuss them. Among the flow of this epoch-defining literature, Turgenev’s novel Fathers and Sons (Отцы и дети) occupies a unique position. Being one of the most artistically accomplished novels of the decade, it reflects and embodies in its characters the most significant questions, problems and aspirations of the time. It works creatively through the life material of the not-so distant past and immediate present, but also foretells and programs, as the artistic genius of a truly remarkable writer can sometimes do, the real life as it was to be played out and realized in the years to come. The title of the novel alone can serve as a key; the entire epoch can be named the epoch of fathers and sons. This amazing confluence of life and literature is partly an effect produced by the new type of novel that was developed and perfected by Ivan Turgenev, in which he “tried, as long as he had strength and talent, conscientiously and impartially, to reflect and embody in suitable types that which Shakespeare calls ‘the body and pressure of time,’ as well as that quickly influence.” See M. P. Alekseev, "K istorii slova nigilizm," Sbornik statei v chest’ akademika Alekseia Ivanovicha Sobolevskogo 101.3 (1928), p. 413. 55 changing physiognomy of educated Russian people which was almost exclusively the object of [his] observation.”115 Batiuto calls the type of novel Turgenev wrote “social” because “it reflected, quickly and timely, new – and the most important – tendencies of the epoch.”116 The vital connection between, on the one hand, rather chamber-like scenes at provincial country estates, and, on the other, big, ever-changing world outside have made a lasting impression on admirers of Turgenev’s art even abroad. Edward Garnett, comparing the worlds created by Turgenev and Jane Austen, wrote: “But each of Turgenev’s novels in some subtle way suggests that the people he introduces are playing their little part in a great national drama everywhere round us, invisible, yet audible through the clamor of voices near us.” 117 It is true that the desire to reflect “the body and pressure of time,” “the national drama,” audible through the “clamor” of characters’ voices, does not characterize Turgenev’s art exclusively, being, probably, one of the defining features of the genre as a whole at that time. This is evident, for example, in the fact that Turgenev not only prided himself for possessing the Shakespearean skill of reflecting “the body and pressure of time” but sincerely admired it in others. About Pyotr Boborykin, a journalist and a writer, he wrote: “I can easily imagine him on the ruins of the world, quickly scribbling a novel in which the last ‘tendencies’ of the dying world will be reflected. There is no other example in the history of world literature of such hasty fertility! Just look, he will end up recreating the facts 115 “[C]тремился, насколько хватало сил и умения, добросовестно и беспристрастно изобразить и воплотить в надлежащие типы и то, что Шекспир называет ‘the body and pressure of time,’ и ту быстро изменявшуюся физиономию русских людей культурного слоя, кoторый преимущественно служил предметом моих наблюдений.” Turgenev, Polnoe sobranie sochinenii i pisem, vol. 12, p. 303. (Turgenev here slightly misquotes the original). 116 “Заслуга Тургенева в более конкретной области романа заключается в создании и разработке особой разновидности этого жанра – романа общeственнoго, в котором своевременно и быстро отражались новые и притом важнейшие веяния эпохи” Batiuto, Turgenev-romanist , p. 3. 117 Edward Garnett, Turgenev: A Study (London: W. Collins Sons & Co. LTD, 1917), p. 101. 56 of life five minutes before they have emerged!” 118 Nevertheless, while undoubtedly being one of the main tenets of realism in Russia in this period, this “timely reflection of social life” was perceived by contemporaries as specifically a feature of Turgenev’s art. It gave him superior authority over other writers. Nikolai Dobroliubov, in his famous article, “When Will the Real Day Come” (1860), wrote: We can safely say that if Mr. Turgenev touched upon a certain question in his novel, if he described some new trend in social relations, this serves as a guarantee that this new question is, indeed, already being raised or will soon be raised in the consciousness of the educated society, that this new trend of life will start to become conspicuous and soon will show itself clearly and sharply in front of everybody’s eyes.119 What makes “Turgenev’s novel” unmistakably his own and what separates it from other realist novels of the period is not only his almost uncanny ability to anticipate the most important societal trends before they even fully emerge, but also his talent, as he himself put it, “to reflect and embody” those trends “in suitable types.” Lidiya Ginzburg says that “[l]iterature, first of all, models man; this is the reality it seeks.” 120 In her definition of realism, which I am adopting for this study, the reflection of societal life is inseparable from the depiction of man, the product of this reality. Ginsburg writes, “Realism of the 19 th century is a system, the mainspring of which is 118 “Я легко могу представить его на развалинах мира, строчащего роман, в котором будут воспроизведены самые последние ‘веяния’ погибающей земли. Такой торопливой плодовитости нет другого примера в истории всех литератур! Посмотрите, он кончит тем, что будет восcoздавать жизненные факты за пять минут до их нарождения!” Turgenev, Polnoe sobranie sochinenii i pisem, Letters, vol. XIII), p. 90. 119 “Мы можем сказать смело, что если уже г. Тургенев тронул какой-нибудь вопрос в своей повести, если он изобразил какую-нибудь новую сторону общественных отношений, – это служит ручательством за то, что вопрос этот действительно подымается или скоро подымется в сознании образованного общества, что эта новая сторона жизни начинает выдаваться и скоро выкажется резко и ярко пред глазами всех.” N. A. Dobroliubov, "Kogda zhe pridet nastoiashchii den'," Russkie klassiki: izbrannye literaturno-kriticheskie stat'i (Moscow: Nauka, 1970), vol. 3, p. 219. 120 “Литература прежде всего моделирует человека – это и есть искомая реальность.”Ginzburg, Literatura v poiskakh real’nosti , p. 12. 57 man, who is ‘determined’ historically, socially and biologically,” 121 and further, “[o]nly ‘the determined’ man of the second half of the 19 th century has tied together psychological analysis and the detailed description, socially determined characterization and interest in everyday life, historicism and rejection of genre and style hierarchies.”122 Man is also given a central place in Lev Pumpiansky’s concept of Turgenev’s novel, which he calls “heroic.” This is a novel in which “a continuous trial of a person goes on, not a trial of his actions but a trial of him… [of his] general social productivity.”123 Pumpiansky observes that the situation of a trial is, in general, a characteristic of the novelistic genre, in which “the social component dominates over the narration itself,” and which is “entirely built on the plane of what is “socially appropriate” and “socially significant.” 124 The importance of the social component brings Pumpiansky to further refine his definition of the genre of Turgenev’s novel, which he elsewhere in the same article calls “socio-heroic” (социально-героический) and “cultural-heroic” (культурно-героический), the latter in the sense that “the character’s actions in the plot are conditioned by the type of culture to which he belongs.”125 Overall, this definition works well with both Turgenev’s own concept of his art (in which he sought to reflect in 121 “Реализм 19 века – это система, чей двигательной пружиной является человек, исторически, социально, биологически детерминированный.” Ibid , p. 8. 122 “Только детерминированный человек литературы второй половины 19 века связал воедино психологический анализ и предметность описания, социальную характерность и интерес к повседневному, историзм и отказ от жанровой и стилистической иерархии.” Ibid , pp. 10-11. 123 “В героическом романе совершается непрерывный суд над лицом, – не над поступками, а над лицом… суть романы общественной деятельности, конечно – в самом широком объеме этого понятия, разумея под ним социальную продуктивность человека” Pumpianskii, "Romany Turgeneva i roman "Nakanune": istorikoliteraturnyi ocherk," pp. 381, 384. 124 “Тем более свойственны функции и признаки суда роману, который строится целиком в плоскости социально уместного и социально значительного и там отличается от всякого иного рода простого повествования, что социальный момент в нем доминирует над повествованием самим.” Ibid , p. 383. 125 “Мы имеем в виду обусловленность сюжетных действий героя типом культуры, которой он принадлежит.” Ibid , p. 391. 58 “suitable types” “the quickly changing physiognomy of Russian people of the cultural class”) and with Ginzburg’s definition of realism (in which she emphasizes the importance of the social component, which together with biological, historical, and, we can add, cultural ones, determine the man who towers in the center of the novel). 2. The 1860s: Major Signposts The changing physiognomy of the 1860’s most significant cultural type appeared for the first time in Turgenev’s Fathers and Sons wearing the mask of a future doctor, a man with “sandycolored drooping sideburns” and with a “quiet smile” that expressed “self-assuredness and intelligence,”126 the nihilist Bazarov. Before examining the genesis of the central “hero” of Turgenev’s novel and his development from “superfluous man” to a new literary type that emerges in the 1860s, it is necessary to give a brief historical and socio-cultural sketch of the epoch itself, because, as we have seen, the “hero” of this type of novel is inseparable from the reality of the social life that he embodies. The decade, with boundaries which can be roughly defined as 1855 to 1865, is known in Russian history as “the sixties.” It is common to further subdivide the decade into two parts. The first five years (until, approximately, 1861) was the time of unity between society and the government in the name of change, of growing enthusiasm and the development of public opinion and initiative, business, freer press and education. During the last five years, after student unrest, the Petersburg fires of 1862, and, especially, the suppression of the January 1863 Polish Uprising (Powstanie Styczniowe), the growing reaction undoes many of the achievements of the previous years. It embitters the former enthusiasts and turns them away from the government, sending some of them to Siberian exile, and turning others to clandestine revolutionary activities. It is mainly the first five years of the decade that will serve as a 126 Ivan Turgenev, Fathers and Sons, trans. Richard Freeborn (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1991), p. 7. 59 background for this chapter, with the culminating point coming in February 1862 and coinciding with the publication in the Russian Messenger (Русский вестник) of Turgenev’s Fathers and Sons. The beginning of the sixties was marked by the end of the reign of Nicholas the First, the painful defeat in the Crimean War and, simultaneously, a growing general longing in all strata of Russian society for change, for all-embracing transfiguration of life. This mood, which the Russian scholar Vetrinsky calls “the hazy vagueness of rejoicing” (туманная неопределенность ликования),127 united everybody: the Slavophiles and the Westernizers, the radicals and the conservatives, the citizens of both capitals and of the provinces. The public opinion which was stifled during Nicholas’s rule was beginning “to straighten its wings” as Kavelin wrote in 1856, noticing the seeds of change: You won’t be able to recognize this caravansary of soldiery, the cane, and ignorance. Everybody is talking, interpreting things correctly or not, and sometimes, in a silly way–but talking and, through it, naturally, learning. If it lasts for five or six years more, then public opinion, strong and enlightened, will become established, and the humiliation of yet recent, absence of live thoughts will partially get effaced.128 It seems that the change in the mood of society, from the “stifled thought” to “hazy rejoicing,” happened almost overnight: almost all memoirists recorded it post factum and only a 127 Vetrinsky observes that the poems by Ivan Aksakov, Nekrasov, Pleshcheev, Maikov, Benediktov, Zhemchuzhnikov, and others all reflected this mood, as, for example, this poem by Zhemchuzhnikov which he quotes: “ Мы долго лежали повергнуты в прах, / Не мысля, ни видя, не слыша; / Казалось, мы заживо тлели в гробах, / Забита тяжелая крыша; / Но вспыхнувший светоч вдруг вышел из тьмы, / Как будто бы речь прозвучала, – / И все, встрепенувшись, воспрянули мы, / Почуяв благое начало...” Vetrinskii, "Literaturnoe i kriticheskoe dvizhenie shestidesiatykh godov," p. 71. 128 “Нельзя и узнать больше этого караван-сарая солдатизма, палок и невежества. Все говорит, все толкует вкось и вкривь, иногда и глупо, а все-таки толкует и через это, разумеется, учится. Если лет пять-шесть так продлится, общественное мнение, могучее и просвещенное, сложится и позор недавнего еще безголовья хоть немного изгладится.” K. D. Kavelin, quoted in A. A. Kornilov, "Istoricheskii ocherk epokhi 60-kh godov," Istoriia russkoi literatury XIX v., ed. D. N. Ovsianiko-Kulikovskii, vol. 3, Slavistic Printings and Reprintings, 153/3 (The Hague/Paris: Mouton, 1969), p. 13. 60 few were perceptive enough to catch it in the process. One of these few, Pyotr Boborykin, recorded that, at the beginning of the Crimean War, there was no mood among the students […] the mood had not ripened yet in society […and] as far as I remember from the students’ accounts, up until the end of the 1850s, in Moscow and Saint Petersburg, there was the same absence of a common mood. [During the winter of 1855-1856,] in Petersburg, the youth – those students with whom we met – did not show any signs of a special elevation in mood, even in a direction of some new trends and hopes. […] When, after two years, I spent my winter break among the students again, the mood was already completely different.129 The change that had been ripening over the first couple of years after the war must have swept over the country in 1856-1857. A Russian diplomat, who came back to the country in 1858, observed that in appearance, things seem the same, but you feel an inner renewal in everything, you feel that a new era is beginning […] in these two years the public opinion has made huge advances. Read our newspapers and journals, listen to what is being said in brilliant salons and in modest homes, and you will be impressed at the work that is being done in peoples’ heads. From all sides, new ideas and bright opinions slowly are forcing out the old routine, which, earlier, even during the war, was not ashamed of anything and was strutting over its ignorance and stupidity.130 The change in the public mood was, perhaps, the most important engine of progress in those years. It also manifested itself on a level of palpable, real events – of which a few should 129 “В студенчестве совсем не было тогда духа [...] Не назрел дух ни в общественном смысле, ни в чисто университетском [...] Сколько я помню по рассказам студентов того времени, и в Москве и в Петербурге до конца 50-х годов было то же отсутствие общего духа [..зима 1855-56 гг.] И молодежь – те студенты, с какими мы виделись, – не выказывали никаких признаков особого подъема духа, даже и в сторону какихлибо течений и упований [...] Когда через два года мне привелось провести зимние вакации в студенческом обществе, дух уже веял совсем другой.” P. D. Boborykin, Vospominaniia, ed. N. K. Gudzii V. V. Grigorenko, S. A. Makashin, S. I. Mashinskii, Riurikov B. S., 2 vols. (Moscow: Khudozhestvennaia literatura, 1965), vol. 1, pp. 108-109, 132. 130 “По внешности все кажется то же, но вы чувствуете внутреннее обновление во всем, вы чувствуете, что начинается новая эра. [...] в эти два года общественное мнение в России сделало огромные успехи. Читайте наши газеты и журналы, послушайте, что говориться в блестящих салонах и скромных домах, и вы будете поражены работой, которая совершается в головах. Со всех сторон идеи и светлые взгляды вытесняют малопо-малу старую рутину, которая прежде – даже и во время войны – не стеснялась ничем, кичилась своим невежеством и своей глупостью.” Kornilov, "Istoricheskii ocherk epokhi 60-kh godov," p. 17. 61 be mentioned here. First of all, of course, all debate in the public sphere, and many of the government’s proposals and initiatives (commissions, projects, legislature) were dominated by preparations to the emancipation of the serfs, which was finally declared in the Emancipation Manifesto, signed on February 19 and announced publicly on March 5, 1861. The emancipation was the central event of the sixties, the cause of much of the euphoria that united the society and the government. It was the fulfillment of the Russian intelligentsia’s dearest dream from Radishchev to Herzen. An old Decembrist, Nikolai Turgenev, who begged in 1857, “It’s time! Several generations have lived without hope and died without joy under the undeserved yoke of serfdom. Finally, the time of redemption has come! Landowners! Don’t try to bargain. Redeem Russia with your sacred sacrifice!” 131 now cried from joy together with Ivan Turgenev in a Parisian church during a service devoted to the emancipation. There were other reactions, too. Herzen’s The Bell welcomed the reform and praised the tsar but very soon started to criticize both. Already in July of the same year, he heralded the beginning of a new era of discontent, the famous “Land and Freedom”: “What do the people want? […] Very simple: they want land and freedom.”132 The Contemporary (Современник) remained cold and unsatisfied; its attitude signaled a refusal to compromise and a turn on the part of more radical part of Russian youth away from the government and its reforms. Speaking about other signposts of the early 1860s, we should note the revival of the press. Major thick journals, which under Nicholas were reduced to filling their pages with dull long scientific treatises, were now allowed to write about politics both at home and abroad. 131 “Пора, несколько поколений жило без надежды и умерло без отрады под незаслуженным игом крепостного права. Наконец, настало время искупления! Помещики! не торгуйтесь. Святым пожертвованием искупите Россию.” Quoted in A. M. Skabichevskii, Istoriia noveishei russkoi literatury: 18481906 gg. (Saint Petersburg: Knigopechatnia Shmidt, 1906), p. 185. 132 “Что нужно народу? [...] Очень просто, народу нужна земля и воля.” Editorial, published in The Bell (No. 102) on July 1, 1861: Kolokol, Faksimil'noe izd. ed., 11 vols. (Moscow: Izd-vo Akademii nauk SSSR, 1962-1964). 62 Katkov’s Russian Messenger, like many other journals, opened a special section entitled the Contemporary Chronicle (Современная летопись) devoted entirely to the current affairs in 1856. In 1861 this section became a separate weekly publication. The Contemporary was allowed to restructure and open a current events section in 1859. From 1855 to 1864, a total of 60 new periodicals appeared in Russia. In the end of our period, in 1863, more than three hundred periodicals were being published.133 The reform of the press and of censorship practices took ten years, from 1855 to 1865; went through multiple drafts, commissions, the hands of four Ministers of Education, and resulted in a law which, while not as liberal as many had hoped for, allowed in 1865 for the appearance of the first uncensored publications in the history of the Russian press.134 The debates about the future of Russian peasants and the growing popularity of the periodical press were the products of that common mood, which can be called the mood of Enlightenment. Public obsession with education, natural sciences and teaching was huge. It resulted in the formation of Sunday schools, the reorganization of universities, and the staging of numerous public debates and lectures that took place from university halls to the sitting-rooms of private soirées (mostly called фиксы or журфиксы at the time). And, it was at these gatherings that such “burning” questions of the day as Women’s Emancipation and Women’s education were posed – issues that, to a large degree, became the lasting legacy of that time. Among the fruits (some of them, like the prohibition of Sunday schools, were quite bitter) that this mood of Enlightenment brought about in the end of the first five-year period of the 1860s was a new law prohibiting corporal punishment in civil offices, in the army and in the navy – adopted on April 133 Ocherki po istorii russkoi zhurnalistiki i kritiki, vol. 2, 2 vols. (Leningrad: Izd-vo Leningradskogo un-ta, 1950-), p. 31. 134 This refers to the exemption of publications from “preliminary censorship.” 63 17, 1863 – and new University Statutes (although a product of compromise) which were adopted on June 18, 1863. 3. The Search for a New Hero and the Coming of the Raznochinets It is impossible to give an exhaustive description of such a vibrant epoch – and it could not have been given in a literary work of comparatively short form like Fathers and Sons. Although the novel was written during the most important first years of the 1860s, the novel does not, strictly speaking, describe these years. The events of the plot and the problems that the novel discussed, while later proved to be common to the decade at large, were moved a few years back, to the late spring of 1859. The capturing of “the body and pressure of time” consisted not only in incorporating historical markers of the period but also in sensing and bringing out in words and images the most important longings and dreams of the people – longings and dreams not always connected to historical or social factors. One such longing was a longing for activism (or heroism). As a generational movement, the “1860s” strongly desired change and realized it must face numerous tasks in the way to its goal. It did not have an agent of change, a hero of the new time. Dobroliubov voiced this longing in his famous article “When Will the Real Day Come?” (1860), which was devoted to Turgenev’s novel On the Eve (Накунуне). The most important concern of society, he wrote, was a “need for action, for living action,” and, for that to become possible a “people of action” needed to appear, those who would not only understand the “longing for active good” burning the hearts of Russian Elenas but those who would take these women with them to walk the path of active heroism.135 Dobroliubov waited for a new hero (a 135 “Словом, нужны люди дела, а не отвлеченных, всегда немножко эпикурейских, рассуждений. […] Общественная потребность дела, живого дела […] Она [ Elena] готова к самой живой, энергической деятельности, но приступить к делу сама по себе, одна – она не смеет […] наши лучшие люди, каких мы видали до сих пор в современном обществе, только что способны понять жажду деятельного добра, 64 Russian – not a Bulgarian like Insarov, the protagonist of that novel and Elena’s husband) to appear, and this hero, according to him, had to appear in literature. 136 Dobroliubov sounded both desperate – “we need him, without him our life is passing without real results, and each day does not mean much by itself, and only serves as an eve of another day” – and hopeful: “we will not wait for long, our feverish impatience is but a guarantee of this.”137 Turgenev’s Bazarov seemed to be an answer to this plea, a man of action, a hero of the new time. I argue that in order to construct this character, Turgenev had to reach across the hero-less literature of the 1840s, and to rebuild the lost tradition that went back to Pushkin and Lermontov.138 In doing so, Turgenev was also trying to fulfill his dream to unite the “Pushkinian” and the “Gogolian” directions, and so to resolve the growing tension between the two schools and the two generations. One of the tasks he encountered was a necessity to adapt the traditional Russian type of the literary hero to the changing social and political surroundings, to make him a “type” in the new era, a representative of the most important social group. That meant that Bazarov had to become a raznochinets, and a “superfluous man” by extension. This double identification is extremely important, not only for a definition of the new type of literary hero that emerged as a result in Russian literature – the “nihilist” and the “new man” – but also for an understanding of its evolution in the course of the next decade, as well as for the reasons сжигающую Елену, и могут оказать ей сочувствие, но никак не сумеют удовлетворить этой жажды.” Dobroliubov, "Kogda zhe pridet nastoiashchii den'," pp. 222, 226, 246. 136 “For the satisfaction of our feeling, our longing, we need more: we need a man like Insarov, but a Russian Insarov.” (“Для удовлетворения нашего чувства, нашей жажды, нужно более: нужен человек, как Инсаров, – но русский Инсаров”). Ibid , p. 250. 137 “Он необходим для нас, без него вся наша жизнь идет как-то не в зачет, и каждый день ничего не значит сам по себе, а служит только кануном другого дня. […] И не долго нам ждать его: за это ручается то лихорадочное мучительное нетерпение, с которым мы ожидаем его появления в жизни.” Ibid , p. 252. 138 This is one of the central arguments in Pumpianskii’s article about On the Eve. For a detailed explanation, see Pumpianskii, "Romany Turgeneva i roman "Nakanune": istoriko-literaturnyi ocherk," especially p. 390. 65 leading to this hero’s eventual downfall. What follows, therefore, is a critical excursus on the significance of both terms and their application to the question of Bazarov’s portrayal. On the level of social structure, the 1860s are widely regarded as a time when raznochintsy came to the forefront of society, 139 became its leading cultural and political force (bringing about many of the transformative changes that characterize that epoch), and started to dominate literature. Ivanov-Razumnik considers the appearance of the raznochinets the central event of the period: The appearance of the raznochinets on the historical scene and his fight for hegemony on the level of ideas, his quick victory and the rapid ideological collapse – here is the entire outward side of the social development of Russian intelligentsia of the 1860s.140 Ivanov-Razumnik’s view is directly based on the famous words by the critic Mikhailovsky who answered in 1874 the question “what happened in the 1860s?”: What happened? The raznochinets came. Nothing else happened. But this event, no matter how one judges it, no matter how one sympathizes with it or does not sympathize with it, is an event of the utmost importance, making an epoch in Russian literature, and all sides of society should acknowledge the first-rate importance of it. Let some argue that this event has led to the downfall of Russian literature, or let others say that from this moment Russian literature has become worthy of its high name. One thing remains true: something that has significantly changed the character of literature appeared, and this something has a future the limits of which are still hard to foresee.141 139 “Raznochintsy” (sing., “raznochinets”) is a social term referring to “people of diverse ranks” or “people of no particular estate.” These people came from mixed backgrounds and included sons of the clergy who did not follow the calling of their fathers, offspring of petty officials and of impoverished noblemen, and individuals from the masses, who made their way, through education and persistent effort. This definition is adapted from Terras, ed., Handbook of Russian Literature , p. 363. 140 “Появление на исторической сцене ‘разночинца’ и его борьба за идейную гегемонию, быстрая победа и не менее стремительный идейный крах – вот вся внешняя сторона общественного развития русской интеллигенсии шестидесятых годов.” R. V. Ivanov-Razumnik, "Obshchestvennye i umstvennye techeniia 60-kh godov i ikh otrazhenie v literature," Istoriia russkoi literatury XIX v, ed. D. N. Ovsianiko-Kulikovskii, vol. 3 (The Hague/Paris: Mouton, 1969), pp. 45-46. 141 “Что случилось? Разночинец пришел. Больше ничего не случилось. Однако это событие, как бы кто ему сочувствовал или не сочувствовал, есть событие высокой важности, составившее эпоху в русской литературе; и первостепенную важность этого события должны признать решительно все стороны. Пусть одни утверждают, что отсюда идет падение русской литературы, пусть другие говорят, что с этих именно 66 The term raznochinets existed long before Mikhailovsky popularized it in the meaning that we still most often use today to describe collectively the radical intelligentsia of the 1860s.142 Raznochintsy themselves did not use the term; instead, they referred to themselves as “plebeians,” “the new people,” “the thinking proletariat,” “the younger generation,” or “the children” (from the “fathers and children” debate and controversy). 143 However, Mikhailovsky’s characterization of them became the accepted norm, especially following famous Lenin’s 1914 periodization of the stages in the revolutionary movement in Russia. In Lenin’s reconstruction, the central period (1861-1895) was dominated by raznochintsy, as opposed to the first period (1825-1861), dominated by the gentry, or the third (from 1895), the proletarian one. Lenin’s view became the framework for most Soviet studies of the period, and, as we have seen above, it also entered into American histories of Russian literature. The main problem here is not, of course, the fact that the term was not used selfreferentially in the 1860s, but rather the fact that some important misconceptions resulted from its uncritical use. One of them has to do with the core of Mikhailovsky’s definition, which has since migrated into all major encyclopedias and dictionaries. It is the critical importance of education, the access to which allegedly allowed people of different ranks to distinguish themselves in the spheres of intellectual and professional activity, as previously this access was пор она стала достойна своего имени, – одно верно: явилось нечто, значительно изменившее характер литературы и имеющее будущность, пределы которой трудно даже предвидеть.” N. K. Mikhailovskii, "Iz literaturnykh i zhurnal'nykh zametok 1874 g.," Polnoe sobranie sochinenii N. K. Mikhailovskago, 2nd ed., vol. 2 (St. Petersburg: Tipografiia M. M. Stasiulevicha, 1909), p. 623. 142 For the history of the term raznochinets, and its usage through the years, see Christopher Becker, "Raznochintsy: The Development of the Word and of the Concept," American Slavic and East European Review 18.1 (1959), pp. 63-74. 143 Ibid, p. 70. 67 granted only to the gentry. However, statistics show that the number of raznochintsy in Russian universities was steadily declining during Nicholas’s rule, and the proportion of raznochintsy in higher education shrank relative to that of the nobility toward the middle of the nineteenth century… this was not just a shortterm tendency confined to Nicholas’s reign. The number of university students from all estates increased absolutely during the new reign, but the raznochintsy’s proportional strength continued to decline.144 As university students in Russia were one of the major engines of reform and civil discontent, fostering many of the central events of the 1860s, and providing the prime readership for major journals, newspapers and literary works, as well as serving as a continuous source of new talented writers and journalists, one really needs to ask, who were these students? This question is important to this particular study. It also it directly borders on another and central question: who constructed the social base for the literary image of “the new generation,” for the types of “the children,” “the nihilist” or the “new man”? Literary history itself can put forward an initial correction to Mikhailovsky’s view that will eventually lead us to an answer to these questions. Raznochinets, in fact, had entered Russian literature long before the 1860s. Belinsky, the first famous Russian raznochinets, entered literature as a critic in 1833 (when he started writing for Nadezhdin’s monthly Telescope [Телескоп]). In the 1840s, raznochintsy (mostly, university students) became an integral part (although, often shunned and despised)145 of the Slavophile-Westernizers controversy, the central intellectual event of that epoch. It was at the same time that raznochintsy entered literature from “the other end” as well: as literary characters. Petenka Pokrovsky, a poor student from the lower 144 Philip Pomper, The Russian Revolutionary Intelligentsia, The European History Series, ed. Keith Eubank, 2nd ed. (Wheeling, Ill.: Harlan Davidson, Inc., 1993), p. 60. 145 As Pomper asserts, “Aristocratic rebels of the 1840s found the raznochintsy tedious, unpleasant, devoid of the intellectual grace and personal warmth that pervaded the circles of the 1830s and 1840s. The dvorianstvo circles of that period had displayed all the sensibility, warmth, and largeness of spirit that the intellectual climate of Romanticism had encouraged.” Ibid , p. 60-61. 68 ranks of society was the source of light and hope for Varenka in Dostoevsky’s Poor Folk (Бедные люди), which was begun in 1844 and published in 1846. The main characters of Herzen’s Who Is to Blame? (Кто виноват) (1846), Dmitry Krutsifersky and Vladimir Beltov, are both former university students of low birth or of otherwise compromised parentage like Herzen himself. Herzen’s Doctor Krupov, from a story of the same name (1847), is a doctor of psychiatry and the son of a priest. A circle of raznochintsy, identified by Tolstoy as people completely devoid of the comme il faut virtues of the nobility, who use informal “ty” when addressing each other, have dirty hands with bitten nails, who don’t use a handkerchief and wear dirty pink shirts with bibs, but who, somehow, are able to master the sciences and know European and Russian literature better than the more noble students (although without the brilliant pronunciation in French or German), these university students provide valuable life lessons to the autobiographical character of Tolstoy’s Youth (Юность), published in 1856. Therefore, the raznochinets had been a social force and a literary character long before the 1860s. 4. The Raznochinets and the Natural School Following its initial appearance, the image of the raznochinets in Russian literature went in two directions. First of all, this type of character appealed to the Natural School, which gained prominence in the 1840s, as an image of a suffering and often very ill man of low rank whose talents and future are ruined by the evil environment. Petenka Pokrovsky is just such a character, and his type, like most in the Natural School, was traced back to Gogol and to his depiction of the little man, and, specifically, to the petty clerk Akaky Akakievich in Gogol’s The Overcoat (Шинель). 69 The Natural School emphasized environment over individual character because its prime focus was on social commentary, on satirical and didactic goals, Gogol’s famous “laughter through tears.” For Belinsky, the Natural School embodied a turn from “an ideal” to “reality,” to the interest in the depiction of real life (life as it is) which required, first and foremost, that the attention of a writer turn “to the crowd, to the mass,” in order that he “depict ordinary people, and not only pleasant exceptions from a common rule which always entice poets to idealization and bear a trace of a foreign origin.” 146 In other words, the Natural School advocated a shift from individual suffering to common suffering and, as a result, as Bogdanova observes, individuality as such does not exist in naturalism because a character here is always a function of the environment; he does not possess any degree of freedom. Naturalism works with types, realism – with characters. The complete determination of a man by the environment is a characteristic of naturalism. Character, on the other hand, although it might be largely formed by the environment and is dependent on it to a large degree, is never subjugated to it entirely.147 Because of this formula, the raznochinets never became a “literary hero” of the school. Rather, he remained one of many equally important (or – unimportant, for that matter) social and literary types who all suffer from the ills of society. The emphasis in the Natural School was on the accumulation of these types (which, collectively, would better expose the societal ills, or, to 146 “Для этого нужно было обратить все внимание на толпу, на массу, изображать людей обыкновенных, а не приятные только исключения из общего правила, которые всегда соблазняют поэтов на идеализирование и носят на себе чужой отпечаток.” See Belinsky, Vzgliad na russkuiu literatury 1847 goda , p. 249. 147 “[В] натурализме личности как таковой не существует, ибо персонаж здесь всегда функция среды, он не обладает ни малейшей степенью свободы. Натурализм оперирует типами, реализм – характерами. Полная детерминированность человека средой – признак натурализма. Характер же, хотя и сформирован во многом средой и существенно от нее зависит, тем не менее не подчинен ей полностью.” O. A. Bogdanova, "Filosofskie i esteticheskie osnovy 'natural'noi shkoly,'" "Natural'naia shkola" i ee rol' v stanovlenii russkogo realizma, ed. I. P. Viduetskaia (Moscow: Nasledie, 1997), p. 17. 70 use the words from Belinsky’s article, “the poshly side of life”148), rather than on the development of one of them into a true “literary hero” of the epoch. Therefore, the legacy of the Natural School that was passed on to the literature of the 1860s was not the image of a raznochinets as a true literary hero, but, rather, a general direction, be it called real, natural, realistic or Gogolian, the origins of which were unanimously traced back to Belinsky and Gogol, and the general tone of which was that of negative criticism, of a search for truth that “hurts.” This direction created the so-called Denunciatory literature (обличительное направление) of the first five years of the epoch of the 1860s. 5. The Superfluous Raznochinets in the “Pushkinian” Tradition Raznochinets, as a literary character, also belonged to a different tradition: he was not only a part of the “Gogolian” tradition, but a part of the “Pushkinian” as well. The distinction between them became a huge, although somewhat confusing, debate in the second half of the 1850s, and, eventually, led to the split between two generations: the young radicals led by Chernyshevsky, and the old, “noble” generation in literature, represented by Ivan Turgenev. Like many epochdefining literary debates, this one centered on the journal the Contemporary. Since what was happening around the Contemporary is central to an understanding of the literary process of the 1860s as a whole, considerable attention will be devoted to it further in this study. Meanwhile, it should be noted, that the Pushkinian tradition, which was often defined as “artistic” as opposed to the “social,” Gogolian trend, was mostly understood as a tendency toward pure art, with no interest in any extraneous goals, social or political. Such Pushkin poems as “The Poet,” “The Poet and the Crowd,” and “To the Poet” provided the metaphors for both future adherents of this trend, as well as for its radical critics. Apollo Belvedere (Аполлон Бельведерский) as a symbol 148 “[П]ошлая сторона нашей действительности,” see V. G. Belinsky, "Otvet 'Moskvitianinu,'" Polnoe sobranie sochinenii, vol. 10 (Moscow: Izd-vo Akademii Nauk SSSR, 1956), p. 243. 71 of pure art and the opposing image of a clay pot (печной горшок) became the central metaphors of the generational conflict of the 1860s, together with the main question of the poem “The Poet and the Crowd” (“Поэт и толпа”) of whether art should have any “purpose” and “goal.” Apart from the debate on the meaning and function of art, the “Pushkinian” trend was perceived as a term which united literature of the previous epoch, the “noble” literature. This meant that its concerns and the types of characters it featured were a reflection of the mentality of one ruling class, the nobility. The character type that was refined and perfected by this tradition was the “superfluous man” (“лишний человек”). Defined today as a “traditional designation for a series of characters in Russian literature who are perceived – or regard themselves – as being in a state of disharmony with the world around them, rejecting or being rejected by it,”149 the term itself entered literature only in 1850, with the publication of Turgenev’s “The Diary of a Superfluous Man” (“Дневник лишнего человека”). However, there had been a whole gallery of literary characters that were associated with this “type” long before the appearance of the actual term,150 starting with Griboedov’s Chatsky and Pushkin’s Onegin. Moreover, almost any significant literary hero in Russian novels after Pushkin belonged, to some degree, to this type: Pechorin, Beltov, Oblomov, all of Turgenev’s main characters, Andrey Bolkonsky, Raisky, a number of Dostoevsky’s characters, etc. The genealogy of this literary type in Russia is traced by many scholars to sources in Western European literature (Lev Pumpiansky, for example, notes the significance of Benjamin Constant’s Adolphe in the case of Pushkin, 149 150 See Hugh McLean’s entry in Terras, ed., Handbook of Russian Literature , p. 454. Turgenev did not just “invent” the term: it was one of those words that had been probably “floating in the air.” The fact that Pushkin mentions it in a draft to Eugene Onegin (Кто там меж ними в отдаленьи, / Как нечто лишнее стоит) proves this point (See also A Lavretskii, "Lishnie liudi," Literaturnaia entsiklopediia, vol. 6 (Moscow: OGIZ RSFSR, 1932). 72 especially;151 the major role of George Sand and her numerous novels and characters is often cited by various studies). The prominence of this type in the novelistic genre as a whole is noted as one of its basic features, because the tragic alienation of such a character from life makes him into a complex figure, on the existence of which a novel is usually dependent.152 However, nowhere in world literature has the type gained such prominence and significance as it did in Russian literature. As the definition and genealogy of the “superfluous” type show, this model of literary heroism was steeped in the culture of the nobility.153 Most “superfluous” men in Russian literature, even after the appearance of the raznochinets on the literary scene, were noblemen. Consider, for example, the opposition of the typical noble “superfluous” man Raisky and his déclassé (even if by choice) rival Mark Volokhov in Goncharov’s The Precipice (Обрыв) (published in 1869). However, already before the 1860s, the raznochinets does become a part, although still somewhat marginal, of the “superfluous” type. This previously markedly noble type154 undergoes certain evolution in the 1840s-1850s, which was marked, at first, by the appearance of a certain flaw in the character’s genealogy, most commonly, the influx of common folks’ – peasant, of raznochinsky – blood. Vladimir Beltov (Who Is To Blame?, 1846), although a rich man and an estate owner, is the son of a rich nobleman (who died early, and, therefore, 151 See, for example, Pumpianskii, "Romany Turgeneva i roman "Nakanune": istoriko-literaturnyi ocherk," pp. 385387. 152 See Rufus W. Mathewson, Jr., The Positive Hero in Russian Literature (Evanston, Ill.: Northwestern University Press, 1975), p 15. 153 This fact is interesting, considering that the nobility, already after its release from the compulsory service by Catherine the Great in the 18th century, was a “superfluous” class itself, a condition that was only aggravated in the 19th century. 154 Consider Pechorin’s “dazzling white linen” which remains so in spite of his “dusty velvet coat”; his “small aristocratic hands” and “slender pale fingers” which he casually takes out of the “specially made for his hands,” although “stained gloves” which are specially underlined symbols of his nobility of the highest sort. M. Yu. Lermontov, A Hero of Our Time, trans. Paul Foote (New York: Penguin Books, 1979), p. 67. 73 could not be a substantial factor in his son’s upbringing) and a former serf (whose life of humiliation and suffering before marriage put a defining mark on Beltov’s character, and was, therefore, determinative of his “superfluous” stutus in the future). Herzen, this powerful representative of the previous, “noble” generation of the 1840s, was an illegitimate son himself. Turgenev’s characters also show a progression from a nobleman protagonist, to a “flawed” nobleman, and further, to a typical raznochinets. The Sportsman’s Sketches (Записки охотника) (1847-1852) are written from the point of view of a typical nobleman (like Turgenev himself). The title character of the novel Rudin (1856) is still a nobleman by birth, although not a rich one. But Rudin’s poverty and his constant need to look for rich benefactors or a paid position and, moreover, his “small and red hands,”155 already show signs of a movement away from a traditional “nobleman” to a new type of character, a raznochinets. Rudin’s “small and red hands” are especially important here. Turgenev is too attentive to descriptive details to give such a characteristic in vain; not only does he inscribe his character in the “Pushkinian” tradition where the size of hands is an important marker but he also distinguishes him from the traditional “type” by mentioning the color of the hands (“red”), which is a marker of less-than-noble, raznochinsky culture.156 The Nest of The Gentlefolk (Дворянское гнездо) (1859) is devoted, as the title suggests, to the problems of the nobility, which as a class deforms the lives and minds of excellent men like Lavretsky. Lavretsky may be a nobleman, but his appearance and behavior show potential signs of stepping beyond his class boundaries and adopting a “simpler way of life”: his “purely Russian” face with “red cheeks, large white forehead, and a somewhat thick 155 N. D. Noskov, Tumim, G. G., ed., Slovar' literaturnykh tipov: Literaturnye tipy Turgeneva vol. 1 (St. Petersburg: Izd-e redaktsii zhurnala "Voskhod", (1907)), p. 143. 156 No rough life could make Pechorin’s hands “red”; it could only stain his gloves. 74 nose” looks almost like a peasant’s; it is not accidental that Liza’s mother calls him a “seal” and a “muzhik.”157 I argue that the quintessential “superfluous man” himself, Chulkaturin (“The Diary of a Superfluous Man”), does not quite fit in the tradition of the “noble superfluous” men of Pushkin and Lermontov. Although he is a son of “rather rich landowners,” 158 he leads the life of a petty clerk, chinovnik, with its already clichéd characteristics (not unlike the “little man” Makar Devushkin in Poor Folk): “service in low ranks, retirement, small circle of friends, clean poverty, modest pleasure, humble routine, moderate desires.”159 It is not accidental that Chulkaturin finds a precedent for seeking a kind of perverse pleasure (“otrada”) in Lermontov’s “self-digging” and painful obsession with memories: “because the rest of my reminiscences about that time do not contain anything joyful, apart from that joy of a special kind which Lermontov had in mind when he was saying that there is fun and pain in stirring the ulcers of old wounds – why not to treat oneself to this joy.”160 This is how Turgenev establishes him as being genealogically connected to that tradition. However, Chulkaturin is but a travesty of Lermontov’s “superfluous man.” Pechorin, while not being able to fit into the society and to find purposeful activity, remained superior to that society. He did not seek people’s attention, friendships and love; other people sought his. He was a kind of an attractive devil, drawing his 157 N. D. Noskov, Tumim, G. G., ed., Literaturnye tipy Turgeneva, vol. 1 (St. Petersburg: Izd-e redaktsii zhurnala "Voskhod", 1907?), pp. 78-80. 158 “Родился я лет тридцать тому назад от довольно богатых помещиков” I. S. Turgenev, "Dnevnik lishnego cheloveka," Polnoe sobranie sochinenii, vol. 5 (Moscow-Leningrad: Izd-vo Akademii Nauk SSSR, 1963), p. 178. 159 “[C]лужение в низменных чинах, отставка, маленький кружок знакомых, чистенькая бедность, скромные удовольствия, смиренные занятия, умеренные желания.” Ibid , pp. 184-185. 160 “Впрочем, так как остальные мои воспоминания о том времени не представляют ничего отрадного, кроме той отрады особенного рода, которую Лермонтов имел в виду, когда говорил, что весело и больно тревожить язвы старых ран, то почему же и не побаловать себя?” Ibid , p. 197. 75 victims in out of boredom and disillusionment. Chulkatarin is the opposite: he gets confused and feels out of place in social situations; he begs for love and is rejected; and he challenges his rival to a duel only to lose his honor and to become the laughing stock for the provincial city. In a sense, he appears to be superfluous (сверхштатный человек) in his own estate, the nobility. His pains at fitting in are more “typical,” it seems, to pains of a raznochinets who tries to fit in and to find his place in the culture of nobility. Irina Paperno argues that social awkwardness and a desire to fit in the “noble” salons, as well as the painful inability to get closer to the young and desirable ladies describes the typical experience of that new type of university-educated former seminarian like Chernyshevsky, who tried to enter Petersburg society in the 1850s-1860s.161 It is true that Chernyshevsky’s diaries, filled with endless degrading analyses of personal social inadequacies, awkwardness and failures, read almost as a part of Chulkaturin’s text. Overall, one can argue that, in spite of conclusions drawn earlier, “the superfluous man” remained a part of the “noble” tradition in literature, with this important correction: the noble class itself changed by the middle of the 19 th century, and the impoverished but educated young men began more and more to lose touch with their former class identity, becoming almost indistinguishable from people of low birth, the various raznochintsy. However, the analysis of literature also shows that a raznochinets already in the 1840-1850s had the potential of becoming a “superfluous man.” He became more than a “small man” of the “Gogolian school” and a mere representative of a social class which, in itself, was a representation of a bigger societal problem. He developed real and complex personality and became a true literary hero. 6. The literary types of Pomialovsky’s characters: Bourgeois Happiness and Molotov 161 See Irina Paperno, Chernyshevsky and the age of realism (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1988). 76 In analyzing the raznochintsy characters in Russian literature that appeared before Turgenev’s Bazarov and that harkened back to the important literary type of the “superfluous man,” we need to consider two novels by Nikolai Pomialovsky, Bourgeois Happiness (Мещанское счастье), and Molotov (1861). Because Pomyalovsky was working on this Molotov cycle approximately at the same time as Turgenev was composing his Fathers and Sons, the question discussed here will not be that of influence. After all, Pomialovsky’s novel was published a year earlier than Turgenev’s. Turgenev, however, finished the manuscript of Fathers and Sons before he read Pomialovsky’s Molotov. He wrote about it in a letter to Countess Lambert: “If you have the time and inclination to do some reading, read the novel Molotov by Mr. Pomialovsky in the Contemporary (from the month of October). I would like to know your opinion. I think that it has signs of original thought and talent.” 162 Here, I will discuss these two novels in so far as they relate to the development of the Russian social novel and the emerging literary type of the nihilist. Nikolai Pomialovsky can probably be called a product of his time more than any other young literary talent of the 1860s. His personal biography mirrors “the biography” of the epoch itself. The son of a deacon from a suburban Petersburg church, he went through the horrors of the Nicholas-epoch’s style of seminary education, a style based on caning (he was beaten, as he recollects, more than 400 times) and endless stupefying drills. During his senior year in the seminary (he graduated in 1857),163 he, like most of his contemporaries, was swept up by the 162 See a letter to E. E. Lambert from December 10, 1861, in Turgenev, Polnoe sobranie sochinenii i pisem, Letters, vol.4, p. 313. Turgenev also wrote to Annenkov about his positive impressions after reading Pomialovsky’s novel: “And I read in the Contemporary Pomialovsky’s novel Molotov, and rejoiced in the appearance of something new and fresh. Although there are plenty of faults, these are the faults of a young talent.” See “Shest’ let perepiski s I. S. Turgenevym” in V.V. Grigorenko et al, ed., I. S. Turgenev v vospominaniiakh sovremennikov v dvukh tomakh, 2 vols. (Moscow: Khudozhestvenniaia literatura, 1969), vol. 1, p. 349. 163 For a more detailed biography of Pomialovsky see, for example, N. A. Blagoveshchenskii, "Nikolai Gerasimovich Pomialovskii: biograficheskii ocherk," Polnoe sobranie sochinenii N. G. Pomialovskago, ed. N. A. 77 new “mood” in society: he started reading, thinking, dreaming, and writing. Mostly self-taught, he also attended lectures at St. Petersburg University while never actually officially becoming a student; became an avid reader of the Contemporary; and actively participated in the new initiatives in public education. He worked as a teacher at Sunday schools and at the Smolny Institute – under the guidance of the famous pedagogue, Ushinsky. His first big novel, Bourgeois Happiness, was published by Nekrasov in the Contemporary in 1861, at the height of the 1860s, and Pomialovsky became one of the journal’s contributors, and a member of its “circle.” However, after writing Molotov and his most famous other work, Seminary Sketches (Очерки бурсы) (1862-1863), he became increasingly disillusioned and finally succumbed to his old vice, alcoholism, as well to poverty and illness, dying in 1863 at the age of just 28 years, from gangrene in his leg. Overall, his life and literary career blossomed together with the age, and died when the 1860s began to expire themselves in the fires of the Polish Uprising and growing reaction. This latter fact had prompted his biographer to speak of him as “an expiatory offering of his age.”164 The central character of Bourgeois Happiness and Molotov, Egor Molotov, is a typical raznochinets: son of a locksmith, a meshchanin by birth, who is uprooted from his family and social class with the early death of his father, taken in by a retired professor (for whom his father used to do some jobs), and given an education and an opportunity to cross class boundaries by Blagoveshchenskii, vol. 1 (St. Petersburg: Tipografiia Tovarishchestva "Prosvieshchenie", 1903); P. N. Sakulin, "Nikolai Gerasimovich Pomialovskii (1835-1863)," Istoriia russkoi literatury XIX veka, ed. D. N. OvsianikoKulikovskii, vol. 3 (The Hague/Paris: Mouton, 1969); Valerii Sazhin, Knigi gor'koi pravdy: N. G. Pomialovskii "Ocherki bursy," F. M. Reshetnikov "Podlipovtsy," V. A. Sleptsov "Trudnoe vremia" (Moscow: Kniga, 1989); I. Iampol'skii, "Pomialovskii," Literaturnaia entsiklopediia, vol. 9 (Moscow: OGIZ RSFSR, 1935); B. Glinskii, "Pomialovskii," Etsiklopediia (Brokgauz and Efron) (St. Petersburg); Iu. Aikhenval'd, "Pomialovskii," Siluety russkikh pisatelei (Moscow: Respublika, 1994). 164 “[И]скупительная жертва своего времени,” in Sakulin, "Nikolai Gerasimovich Pomialovskii (1835-1863)," p. 332. 78 earning a university degree and, possibly, obtaining a new life. The central problem that seems to direct and determine Molotov’s life, all the way through both novels which follow him from his birth to the symbolically charged age of 33 years, is, precisely, his uprootedness, his loss of “social background” (почва).165 This uprootedness is manifested in the novel in the leitmotif of the irretrievably lost linden-trees from his childhood: “And where are those linden-trees under which I passed my childhood? They do not exist now and, it seems, they have never existed.”166 Deprived of family and social ties, but equipped with university education, natural quickness of mind, able hands and dreams of finding and following his calling (призвание), with “all pores of his body,”167 he enters life outside the University as a happy “homo novus.” Pomialovsky was, perhaps, the first Russian writer to reinvent the literary type of a new man (homo novus) in the context of the 1860s. The Molotov cycle shows the literary origin of this term (homo novus) in the Rousseauist concept of “a natural man” in literature and philosophy of the previous century. Molotov’s character, as he finds himself in the real world outside the university, is characterized by natural goodness, love for the world and people, and a character completely unspoiled and untouched by the cruelty and the passions of the real world. In the luscious garden (symbolically, Eden) of the rich landowner Obrosimov’s estate where he is employed, this literally “new man,” a noble savage, is left to roam freely, sing, observe the life of nature and animals, and to eat as much fruit as he desires. Naturally, the real apples that he eats signal the harsh truth to be learned from the Obrosimovs (Molotov eventually overhears Obrosimov and his wife’s conversation in a 165 “Это много значило для него; он не был связан ни с какой почвой.” N. G. Pomialovskii, Polnoe sobranie sochinenii N. G. Pomialovskago, vol. 1, 2 vols. (St. Petersburg: Tipografiia Tovarishchestva "Prosvieshchenie", 1903), p. 61. 166 “А где же те липы, под которыми прошло мое детство? – Нет тех лип, да и не было никогда.” Ibid , p. 3. 167 “Я только одно понял: мое призвание – жить... всей душой, всеми порами тела жить хочу.” Ibid , p. 134. 79 gazebo): he is not their equal, he is just a plebeian, possessing the fatal “flaw” of the lack of “noble honor” (дворянский гонор), manners, and elegant clothing. He is a person with a “big appetite,” who can be bought with gifts and other little crumbs from the barin’s table. This revelation shreds to pieces Molotov’s hopes for finding a true calling and living a full life and “educates” him into life as it is lived in contemporary Russia by offering him the only two options available: a life of unsteady employment, similar to the teaching job he had at the Obrosimovs, with all the humiliation that it could bring, or a life in government service, which he is invited to enter by becoming a chinovnik, and by slowly earning his way up the staircase of ranks to the only possible light at the end: a bourgeois happiness. After about ten years of vacillating between these two options, experiencing poverty, illness, and the limits of human baseness (подлость), he finally chooses the second path. By leading an honest life of moderation, he saves enough money to carve himself a niche in life: his apartment is filled with books, microscopes, silver, china, paintings, a palm tree, a fig tree and an ivy plant on the window sill. This scene of bourgeois happiness illustrates the true tragedy of the life for an educated raznochinets like Molotov: the little personal world where he can live proudly, think, work and be free168 locks him away from the life of freedom and active work that he dreamt about as a youth and reduces him to a boring Gogolian space of well-behaved chichikovshchina.169 Molotov’s characteristics, his intelligence,170 and his big able hands,171 are not needed by society; they are, one might say, superfluous. 168 “I have money and my conscience […] Everything that I have… I earned with my head and hands. Neither materially, nor morally do I depend on anyone. […] I am… my own boss. I am… free, and I will not give an account to anybody of how I live and what I think.” (“[У] меня... есть деньги и совесть. [...] Все, что у меня есть... все добыто моей головой и руками. Ни материально, ни морально я ни от кого не зависим. [...] я.... сам себе владыка. Я... свободен, и никому не дам отчета, как я живы и что думаю”). Ibid , pp. 380-381. 169 “благонравная чичиковщина,” Ibid , p. 381. 80 Molotov’s tragedy is not a timeless story, an Enlightenment tale about a utopia of a naturally good man, a noble savage, who is educated in a mythic secluded space and, then, is initiated into the real world, full of grown-up cruelty and indifference. Rather, it is a very realistic and, at times, markedly physiological story, deeply rooted in the concrete experience and the realia of Russia of the late 1850s. In this sense, Molotov is that “new man,” whose appearance was so impatiently awaited by Nikolai Dobroliubov and the younger Russian generation at large. First of all, Molotov is a completely new type of character; for the first time in Russian literature, the role of the novel’s true hero is given to a person of less than noble origin. He is not just an illegitimate son, he is a true plebeian, the son of a locksmith. Secondly, as a new man, he embodies many of the ideals of the new generation of the 1860s: the desire for (practical) knowledge (Molotov taught himself how to do woodwork, to play violin, to draw; he collects herbarium, owns a microscope), a generally materialistic outlook (he is aware that the excitement of love is caused by chemical processes in the body), and atheism (towards which he is gradually moving by the end of the novel). Finally, with patience and human tact, he educates Nadia Dorogova, helps her grow from a naïve institutka to an independent young woman who will become his wife and friend. However, the homo novus Molotov did not become a true “hero of the new time” in Russia; the reason here is that Pomialovsky did not or could not find an application for Molotov’s energy and talents. The author closed the possibility of “living action” for his hero and made him reconcile to the confines of bourgeois happiness. In short, I argue that Pomialovsky’s experiment in creating a homo novus resulted in a variant of the old “superfluous 170 “[T]he intelligence shines in his huge grey eyes” / “the well-constructed forehead and grey eyes exhibited intelligence.” (“[B] серых огромных глазах светится ум ” / “хорошо устроенный лоб и серые глаза обнаруживали ум”). Ibid , pp. 50, 194. 171 “Egor Ivanovich had strong and muscular arms and big hands with short fingers with the nails cut short.” (“Егор Иванович имел большие руки, сильные и мускулистые, с толстыми пальцами и коротко остриженными на них ногтями”). Ibid , p. 50. 81 man.” What we now consider a recipe for the success of his work as a novel and an interesting insight into the laws of the novelistic genre as a whole (a tragic hero makes for a good novel, whereas a utopian and a faultless one usually does not) was, at the time, a sign of his failure in spite of all good intent. Pomialovsky, a self-taught seminarian who entered literature as a “naïve” writer, exhibits a startling attentiveness to, and a certain dependence on, tradition, a fact that seems doubly intriguing in a passionate follower of the Contemporary with its way of thinking based on the clear break with “noble” culture. The “estate” scenes of Molotov show a clear dependence on Turgenev’s aesthetics. The discussion of women’s emancipation and their roles in life are put in the context of Pushkin’s verse, the novels of George Sand and, again, Turgenev. 172 Molotov’s early life among simple workers and the sketches of the life on the Yekaterininsky canal in Petersburg follow the conventions of the “natural school.” The description of Molotov’s apartment, with its attentiveness and a loving concern for each minute detail in the world of “things,” has references both to Gogol (which seem to lead to his ideas of poshlost’ and boredom from a seemingly perfectly organized but stifling existence) and to Goncharov’s Oblomov (hinting at the idea of a “superfluous” life and the social roots of the self-imposed inactivity of the protagonist). The discussion of Pomialovsky’s role in the creation of this new type of literary hero in Russian literature would remain incomplete if we left out another important character of Borgeios Happiness, namely, the creator of the Cemetery philosophy (кладбищенство): 172 One of the signs of Nadya Dorogova’s development, and her ability and desire to step outside the closed world of her class, chinovnichestvo, is the fact that Turgenev becomes “her favorite poet”: “Her face was glowing from reading free and poetic pages; she had read everything that there was good in Russia at that time; Turgenev became her favorite poet.” (“Лицо ее горeло от свободных, поэтических страниц; все, что у нас есть лучшего, прочитала она в то время; Тургенев сделался ее любимым поэтом.”). Ibid , p. 213. 82 Cherevanin. As noted by Pomialovsky’s biographers, Cherevanin is an autobiographical character who reflects not only Pomialovsky’s own thoughts but, also, “his manner of expressing himself.”173 Like his author, Cherevanin is a former seminarian (one of the first characters of this type in Russian literature) and the son of a seminary professor, who spent his childhood (like Pomialovsky himself) near a church cemetery. A friend from Molotov’s university years, Cherevanin is his foil in the novel. Like his Chulkaturin, Cherevanin is a “superfluous man.” Pomialovsky never uses this term, but the identification is unmistakable: Yuli Aikhenvald even called him “the most superfluous of our superfluous men.” 174 He is constantly tortured by “accursed questions” about the meaning of life, truth and justice, and by his inability to give up his search for answers to the coziness of a bourgeois happiness. As he says to Molotov: Do you know what ruined me? […] Do you know what it means to think honestly, not to be afraid of one’s head and one’s mind, to look inside your soul not like a scoundrel, and if you do not believe something, then to say that you do not, and not deceive yourself? Oh, it is a hard thing! One who deceives oneself is always content, but I do not want your contentment.175 Instead of answers to his questions, life only offers him “pretty pictures” (весёленькие пейзажики) of perpetual human suffering, baseness and hopelessness. Lofty words like “work, honor, love, talent” do not mean much for him anymore: 173 “Но для знавших лично Помяловского эта повесть [Молотов] тем более дорога, что в ней, в лице Череванина, он во многом выразил свой собственный образ мыслей и даже свою манеру выражений.” Blagoveshchenskii, "Nikolai Gerasimovich Pomialovskii: biograficheskii ocherk," p. 39. 174 “самый лишний из наших лишних людей.” Aikhenval'd, Iu. "Pomialovskii" Siluety russkikh pisatelei. (Moscow: Respublika, 1994), p. 275. 175 “Знаешь, что меня сгубило? [...] Но знаешь ли, что значит честно мыслить, не бояться своей головы, своего ума, смотреть в свою душу не подличая, а если не веришь чему, так и говорить, что не веришь и не обманывать себя? О, это тяжкое дело! Кто надувает себя, тот всегда спокоен; но я не хочу вашего спокойствия.” Pomialovskii, Polnoe sobranie sochinenii N. G. Pomialovskago , p. 236. 83 Love, maiden, moon, poetry… […] There is no love in the world, only the appetite of a healthy man; there is no maiden, only babas; instead of poetry, life is full of some loathsomeness, boredom and perpetual misery; the moon, it seems, exists, but I do not give a damn about the moon. What have I not seen in that moon?176 Cherevanin feels empty and dead inside; he is an indifferent observer of “pretty pictures.” As he says, “It is not that there is nothing positive in me. There is nothing negative either, only complete indifference and emptiness.”177 This inner emptiness is the essence of Cherevanin’s “Cemetery philosophy,” and although he says that he does not blame either himself or the environment (среда) for his present condition, it is clear that he has carried the roots of his philosophy in him since his childhood, since his very birth in a priest’s home near a cemetery. Overall, in Cherevanin, Pomialovsky develops the theme of Turgenev’s Chulkaturin but exploring it in a different historic time, as relating to a representative of a different social class. A couple years later, Dostoevsky will continue this line of characters in his Notes from Underground (Записки из подполья). The philosophy of Chulkaturin, Cherevanin and the underground man has roots in the tragedy of a Russian “superfluous man.” However, it is also a variant of what will soon get a different name: a philosophy of nihilism. The author of an article on Pomialovsky in Ovsianiko-Kulikovsky’s History of Russian Literature, P. Sakulin, observes: “In Cherevanin’s psychology, we can clearly see what constitutes the existential and psychological base of nihilism. Cherevanin explains Bazarov to us.” 178 176 “Любовь, дева, луна, поэзия... [...] На свете нет любви, а есть аппетит здорового человека; нет девы, а есть бабы; вместо поэзии, в жизни мерзость какая-то, скука и тоска неисходная; ну, луна, пожалуй, и есть, да мне плевать на луну: какого черта я в ней не видал?” Ibid , p. 239. 177 “Во мне не только положительного, во мне и отрицательного ничего нет, – полное безразличие и пустота.” Ibid , p. 238. 178 “В психологии Череванина отчетливо сказалась вся бытовая и психологическая основа нигилизма. Череванин делает нам понятным Базарова.” Sakulin, "Nikolai Gerasimovich Pomialovskii (1835-1863)," p. 340. 84 Apart from the creation of two types of raznochintsy characters, Molotov and Cherevanin, which serve as an important (and most;y unobserved) link between the literature of the 1850s and Turgenev’s Bazarov, Pomialovsky is also responsible for creating an important precedent for the types of Sitnikov and Kukshina. In the scenes in Cherevanin’s bohemian apartment, where he spends his time drinking and “ruining his talent” as a painter, we meet a group of “sham liberals” (“квасные либералы”). These are mostly young people (although, among them, we see an officer with a devil-may-care face [с залихватской физиономией] and an old man) who organize noisy parties, or as they say, “décolleté,” which are full of cigarette smoke, alcohol, and empty talk about “Hegel and progress” and about solving “contemporary problems” by organizing a “scandalissimus.” 179 What will be interesting for us, as we follow the development of nihilist characters through the years, is the type of relationship that exists between the hero-nihilist (in this case, Cherevanin) and his “followers” (“квасные либералы”). In Bourgeois Happiness, Cherevanin is not the leader but an indifferent (though clearly-admired and imitated) observer, a provider of “room and booze,” a keeper of “a circus” for his own enjoyment; he sees through them, knows that their “convictions” are but superficial words,180 and that his guests are only interested in “fussing around, joining the crowd and shouting as loud as they can.”181 They surround Cherevanin without actually sharing his real thoughts and his philosophy; he is real and they are but pale imitators. 7. The Question of Leadership: Turgenev or the Contemporary? 179 Pomialovskii, Polnoe sobranie sochinenii N. G. Pomialovskago, pp 218-245. 180 “Это разве убеждения? [...] Просто дурь на себя напустили.” Ibid , p. 226. 181 “Горло драть хочется, ну, и дерут. Им бы только посуетиться, побыть в массе, покричать...” Ibid , p. 226. 85 The discussion of the development of raznochintsy characters in Russian literature leads us to the conclusion that both raznochinets as a social type and the literary characters that brought this type to the pages of Russian novels were not, as my analysis shows, new to Russian literature before the appearance of Turgenev’s Bazarov. Not only did these characters not represent a clear break from previous tradition; indeed, they were heavily dependent on that tradition; they were a logical continuation of it in the changing historical epoch. However, in the minds of contemporaries, Turgenev’s Bazarov was undoubtedly perceived as something radically new and different; moreover, he marked a whole epoch, became its symbol and gave it a name. What was the critical ingredient that Bazarov possessed and previous characters lacked? I would like to propose that the answer to this question be sought in Bazarov’s role as a leader and a teacher, both explicitly and implicitly present in the novel. It is the phenomenon of the curious symbiosis of life and literature in the 1860s that can explain why Bazarov’s role as a leader and a teacher was such a powerful factor in the novel’s tremendous success as well as in its, also tremendous, failure. In spite of being such a transformative epoch, the 1860s show a generally static social structure: as I have already noted above, the university students (who were important catalysts and agents of change at that time) remained largely representatives of the nobility (with the percent of the raznochintsy students actually going down); and, curiously, the authors of the most famous and vivid memoirs that make the epoch come to life for us today also belong to the nobility. 182 Therefore, the base of the youth movement of that time remained, largely, composed of young men and women of noble 182 Consider, for example, the following authors and their memoirs: E. A. Shtakenshnaider, Dnevnik i zapiski, 18541886 (Moscow-Leningrad: Academia, 1934); E. N. Vodovozova, Na zare zhizni, 2 vols. (Petersburg: 1911); N. V. Shelgunov, Shelgunova, L. P., Mikhailov, M. L., Vospominaniia, 2 vols. (Moscow: Khudozhestvennaia literatura, 1967); P. A. Kropotkin, Zapiski revoliutsionera (Moskva: Mysl', 1990); Liudmila Saraskina, Vozliublennaia Dostoevskogo: Appolinariia Suslova: biografiia v dokumentakh, pis'makh, materialakh (Moscow: Soglasie, 1994); A. Zasulich-Uspenskaia, "Vospominaniia shestidesiatnitsy," Byloe 18 (1922); S. V. Kovalevskaia, Vospominaniia i pis'ma (Moscow: Izd-vo AN SSSR, 1951). 86 origin. However, there was an important change that took place; a change in leadership.Those young men and women chose to follow leaders from the radical wing of the raznochintsy and, more specifically, from “former seminarists.” These new leaders were Chernyshevsky, Dobroliubov, and other members of the staff of the “new” Contemporary, as well as the journalists (close to them in ideology and in social class that they came from) who worked for the Contemporary and its satellites such as the Whistle (Свисток) and The Spark (Искра), and in publications close to them in their “direction,” such as the Russian Word (Русское слово).183 These people not only became the revered and highly influential leaders of the youth but, were also the ones who forged in the minds of the new generation the idea of the “new man,” the “new hero” in life, as well as in its perceived extension, in literature. They became the highest authorities that determined who (and which literary character) belonged to that type and who did not; they dictated the criteria for both literary and ethical criticism of the new type. The drama around Turgenev’s Fathers and Sons was, perhaps, the first and, certainly, the most important event in the history of this change in leadership. It determined and defined the course that literature, criticism and the reading public were to follow for years to come. Therefore, the history of the reception of Fathers and Sons as well as the further history of the evolution of the new literary hero, represented in the novel by Bazarov, cannot be fully explained by the peculiarities of the evolution of literary types. The key to what transpired around Fathers and Sons in the 1860s needs to be sought in what was going on in and around Nekrasov’s Contemporary. 8. The Power Struggle inside The Contemporary 183 Dmitry Pisarev, who was this journal’s leading critic, is the notable exception to this overall tendency, since he was a nobleman by birth. 87 In 1846, the Contemporary, a journal that was founded by Pushkin in 1836, and owned by Pletnev after Pushkin’s death, was bought by Nekrasov and Panaev. At that point, as Izmailov writes, the journal did not just change one editor for two other ones, but a whole “circle” of friends, journalists and writers, “a circle in the true meaning of this word, one that consisted of people united together not only by personal friendship but also by common sensibility, common interests, and common work.”184 This group came to constitute the nucleus of the editorial staff at the resurrected journal. Among these friends were Vissarion Belinsky, Vasily Botkin, Pavel Annenkov, Alexander Herzen, Ivan Turgenev, Dmitry Grigorovich, Konstantin Kavelin, Alexander Druzhinin, and others, all one-time members of the “circle culture” of the “Miraculous Decade.” They all, as far as Russian culture and literary history is concerned, were the so-called “men of the 1840s,” whose philosophical, ethical and literary tastes were formed during that time, and for whom Belinsky was the Critic, Hegel was the Philosopher, and Pushkin was the National Writer. It is not surprising, therefore, that their grouping around “Pushkin’s journal” had a special significance for all of them. The tensions within the Contemporary circle started almost immediately after Nikolai Chernyshevsky joined the staff in 1855, his rhetoric directed against aesthetics and the “people of the 1840s” being perceived by some members as a threat. The anti-Chernyshevsky faction in the journal was headed by Druzhinin, who was just four years older than Chernyshevsky and who, apparently, immediately felt the implications of Chernyshevsky’s rhetoric. Botkin, on the other hand, was fourteen years Chernyshevsky’s senior, and took everything, including the sobriquet “carrion” (мертвечина) given to Chernyshevsky rather philosophically. Druzhinin 184 “[К]руж[ок] в подлинном смысле слова, из людей тесно спаянных не только личными симпатиями, но и общими настроениями и интересами, и общую работой.” N. V. Izmailov, "Turgenev i krug Sovremennika," Turgenev i krug “Sovremennika”: neizdannye materialy, 1847-1861 (Moscow-Leningrad: Academia, 1930), p. vi. 88 sided with Grigorovich on the occasion they attempted to oust Chernyshevsky from the Contemporary.185 One of the first such attempts was undertaken by Druzhinin and Botkin, who tried to put pressure on Nekrasov in the summer of 1855.186 Later, in the spring of 1856, Botkin tried again by suggesting to Nekrasov that Apollon Grigoryev replace Chernyshevsky as the journal’s main critic. He failed again.187 At the time when Druzhinin understood the danger Chernyshevsky could pose for him as a representative of the generation of the 1840s, and indeed for the entire culture that generation represented, Turgenev’s attitude was less definite and more cautious, though still rather negative. He was wavering in his attitude toward Chernyshevsky, which did not prevent him from being greatly entertained during Druzhinin, Botkin and Grigorovich’s visit to Spasskoe in June of that year. In Spasskoe, the friends staged a play (later reworked by Grigorovich as The School of Hospitality (Школа гостеприимства) with “the one who smells of bedbugs”188 as one of the prime targets for ridicule. Turgenev could rarely harbor ill feelings towards anybody, but even he, with his meek and forgiving nature, got furious and indignant after reading Chernyshevsky’s thesis, The Aesthetic Relations of Art to Reality (Эстетические отношения искусства к действительности). In a letter to Annenkov dated 1 st of July, 1855, he sounded merciless: 185 Ibid , pp. xix-xxi. 186 As Druzhinin tells Turgenev in a letter from June 27th, 1855: “In Moscow, we stayed at Botkin’s and soon got together with Solianikov, Nekrasov, and some other people; we drank and dined together all the time, took trips to the countryside, and, during that time, kept instilling into Nekrasov’s mind some useful truths about the Contemporary – to which he reacted quite agreeably.” (“В Москве мы остановились у Вас. Петр. [Боткина] обрели Соляникова, Некрасова и разных других особ, пили, обедали постоянно вместе, ездили за город и мимоходом внушали Некрасову разные полезные истины насчет ‘Современника,’ принимаемые им весьма дружелюбно.”) (See Turgenev i krug “Sovremennika”: neizdannye materialy, 1847-1861 (Moscow-Leningrad: 1930), p. 175). What Nekrasov “listened to in a friendly manner” he was not willing to accomplish in practice. In order to keep the Contemporary’s “direction,” or for strictly reasons of business, Chernyshevsky was not fired. 187 O. M. Gabel', "Tvorcheskaia istoriia romana 'Rudin,'" Literaturnoe nasledstvo, vol.76: I. S. Turgenev: novye issledovaniia i materialy (Moscow: Nauka, 1967), p. 17. 188 Another nickname for Chernyshevsky used in the circle was “reeking of bedbugs” (“пахнующий клопами”). 89 “Chernyshevsky should be held up to shame for his book. What a loathsome thing and unheardof impertinence.”189 A little more than a week later, in quite the same key, he wrote to Panaev about a review of Chernyshevsky’s book in the Contemporary (which he just read): “Chernyshevsky’s book – that foul carrion, a product of wicked obtuseness and blindness – should have been reviewed differently.”190 In general, it seems that Turgenev, while being annoyed with Chernyshevsky, did not at that time consider him dangerous. In his mind, he was occupied with more worthy activities than pursuing such nuisances as Chernyshevsky’s “foul carrion” might have been: writing Rudin (the novel was written rapidly in the course of these summer months), editing Fet’s poems, reading Annenkov’s edition of Pushkin’s works, meeting with the Tolstoy family and reading the young Count Tolstoy’s Sevastopol Stories (Севастопольские рассказы), and hunting around Spasskoe.191 Besides, Turgenev, a product of Belinsky-era criticism, believed that the ultimate judgment would be the judgment of art itself. As he wrote in a letter to Panaev (of July 10th, 1855): “Fortunately, the book is so lifeless and dry that it can do no damage” and, in the very next sentence, he moved to a subject more worthy of his attention, “Tolstoy’s story about Sevastopol is a miracle. When I was reading it I was crying and shouting: ‘Hurray!’”192 It appears that in only next two weeks Turgenev’s initial negative reaction to the dissertation changed to a more positive one, due to, as Gabel’ argues, the 189 “Чернышевского за его книгу надо бы публично заклеймить позором. Это мерзость и наглость неслыханная.” Cited in M. K. Kleman, Letopis' zhizni i tvorchestva I. S. Turgeneva (Moscow-Leningrad: Academia, 1934), p. 78. 190 “Книгу Чернышевского, эту гнусную мертвечину, это порождение злобной тупости и слепости не так бы следовало разобрать, как это сделал г. Пыпин.” The anonymous review was written by Chernyshevsky himself, but Turgenev mistakenly thought it was done by a critic named Pypin. Ibid , p. 78. 191 192 Ibid , pp. 77-79. “К счаcтью, книга так безжизненна и суха, что вреда наделать не может.” / “Статья Толстого о Севастополе – чудо! – Я прослезился, читая ее – и кричал: ура!” See the letter to I. I. Panaev of July 10th, 1855, published in Turgenev i krug “Sovremennika”: neizdannye materialy, 1847-1861 , p. 39. 90 influence of Turgenev’s other correspondent, Botkin, who found in it “a lot of intelligent and useful stuff.”193 Botkin managed to read Chernyshevsky’s book in the light of his favorite German philosophy, and decided that Chernyshevsky was following the tradition of the “realist school” in his desire to perceive the “secret nature of things, i.e. reality itself.”194 Apart from justifying Chernyshevsky from the point of view of philosophy, this view implied that, in the battle between the “Pushkinian” (artistic) and “Gogolian” (critical) schools, Chernyshevsky was on the side of Gogol. Turgenev, with his Sportsman’s Sketches, was believed to be on that side too. Because of that, and because Turgenev usually trusted his friends’ opinions (and, especially, Botkin’s) more than his own, he abandoned his harsh tone when speaking about Chernyshevsky’s dissertation. The artist in him, however, could not but see a little “peg” in Chernyshevsky’s eye: in Chernyshevsky’s eyes, art is, as he himself states, only a surrogate of life and it, therefore, is only needed for immature people. No matter how you turn this around, this thought lies for him at the basis of everything. And this I think is nonsense.195 Soon after reading Chernyshevsky’s “Sketches of the Gogolian Period of Russian Literature” (“Очерки гоголевского периода русской литературы”), Turgenev’s changed his attitude toward its author and became even more conciliatory. As he wrote: I am vexed with his dryness and coarse taste, as well as with his unceremonious treatment of living men [Chernyshevsky wrote about the members of Belinsky’s 193 “[M]ного умного и дельного,” cited in Gabel', "Tvorcheskaia istoriia romana 'Rudin,'" p. 14. 194 “С самого начала реальной школы – вопрос был решен против абсолютного значения искусства. Прежде противупоставляли природу и искусство; теперь природа стала фундаментом искусству – Что такое собственно поэзия, как не прозрение в сокровеннейшую суть вещей? т.е. действительности.” Botkin’s letter to Turgenev of July 10, 1855, is quoted from Ibid , p. 14. 195 “[B] его [Чернышевского] глазах искусство есть, как он сам выражается, только суррогат действительности: жизни – и в сущности годится только для людей незрелых. Как не вертись, эта мысль у него лежит в основании всего. А это, по-моему, вздор.” See Turgenev, Polnoe sobranie sochinenii i pisem , Letters, vol. 2, p. 301. 91 circle, meaning Druzhinin, Annenkov, Botkin and others] as if they were already facts of the past, which both annoyed and scared them] but I do not see “carrion” in him, on the contrary, I feel in him a new fresh current – although, not of a kind that you would have liked to see in criticism. He doesn’t understand poetry but, you know, there is no tragedy in this; a critic does not make poets and does not kill them – but he understands, how do you say it? – the needs of real contemporary life; and this is not a sign of his liver problems, as our sweet Grigorovich said at one time but, rather, the root of his whole existence. But – enough of that – I consider Chernyshevsky to be useful, and time will show if I was right.196 In the next few years, these initial tensions between the “older” and “younger” contributors to the Contemporary only intensified and resulted in a series of small victories for Chernyshevsky and his circle: the members of the “older generation” started to leave the journal one by one. Chernyshevsky was not willing to compromise; he saw the conflict with the “men of the 1840s” not as a minor disagreement but as a serious battle. In his 1859 article “Last Year’s Literary Trifles” (“Литературные мелочи прошлого года”), Chernyshevsky’s closest collaborator, Dobroliubov, in a very straightforward manner, launched a major assault on the “older generation” of “superfluous men.” He called the people of the 1840s “ripe wise men” (зрелые мудрецы) who were so outdated that they could not possibly “stand on the level with contemporary needs” (стать в уровень с современными потребностями). For him, these men’s words in the present time, after a decade of almost complete silence, were nothing but “a repetition of something we’ve already learned” about things that are either “clear and indisputable” or “insignificant and poshly.”197 This open insult of everything that was dear to 196 “Я досадую на него за его сухость и черствый вкус – а также и за его нецеремонное обращение с живыми людьми [...] но “мертвечины” я в нем не нахожу – напротив: я чувствую в нем струю живую, хотя и не ту, которую вы желали бы встретить в критике. Он плохо понимает поэзию; знаете ли, это еще не великая беда; критик не делает поэтов и не убивает их; но он понимает – как это выразить? – потребности действительной современной жизни – и в нем это не есть проявление расстройства печени, как говорил некогда милейший Григорович – а самый корень всего его существования. Впрочем, довольно об этом; я почитаю Ч[ернышевско]го полезным, время покажет, был ли я прав.” See Ibid , Letters, vol. 3, p. 29-30. 197 “повторения задов” / “ясныe и бесспорныe” / “мелкиe и пошлыe.” Quoted in Gabel', "Tvorcheskaia istoriia romana 'Rudin,'" pp. 9-70, p. 50. 92 them infuriated Druzhinin and his close friends and even disturbed Herzen, who replied in the Bell (Колокол) with the famous article “Very dangerous!!!” In this article, Herzen defended “superfluous men” from the attacks of what he called “empty buffoonery,” “the dissipation of thought” and “bile” coming from some “journals that…. are splitting their sides with laughter over… glasnost’”198 (the reference to the Contemporary and its supplement the Whistle was quite transparent for the readers). Herzen claimed that “superfluous men” (as characters of Russian literature, and, by extension, as his generation, that of the people of the 1840s) were necessary; they were true heroes whose role was to identify and vocalize the protest. They were “absolutely truthful” and “expressed the existing sorrow and alienation of Russian life.” 199 In the historical circumstances of their time, they could not act, and this was their higher tragedy, and not a result of the absence of will or just laziness (as in Oblomov). Herzen thought that the needs of the present demanded that the young generation unite with the former “superfluous man,” the real hero of the previous epoch, and not stand in conflict with him. He wrote: “The time of Onegins and Pechorins is gone. Now, there are no superfluous men in Russia. On the contrary, there are not enough hands for all the work. Whoever can’t find work at this time has nobody to blame, he is truly an empty man, a widgeon (свищ), or a slacker.”200 Overall, in spite of the effect that this article had on the younger generation (Herzen was still very much respected among them, and Chernyshevsky even had to go to London on a mission, which turned to be a failed 198 “ пустое балагурство” / “разврат мысли” / “желчь” / “катаются со смеху... над неудачными опытами гласности” See A. I. Gertsen, "Very Dangerous!" Sochineniia v deviati tomakh, vol. 7 (Moscow: GIKhL, 1958), pp. 254-259. 199 “совершенно истинны” / “выражали действительную скорбь и разорванность тогдашней русской жизни.” Ibid , p. 256. 200 “Но время Онегиных и Печориных прошло. Теперь в России нет лишних людей, теперь, напротив, к этим огромным запашкам рук недостает. Кто теперь не найдет дела, тому пенять не на кого, тот в самом деле пустой человек, свищ или лентяй.” Ibid , p. 255. 93 one, of trying to mend the bridges between the Contemporary and the famous Russian émigré), the fate of the “superfluous men” was more or less decided: they were sent to the graveyard of history. In this context, it is clear why Turgenev’s Rudin was well-received by the young generation: I argue that it was because the novel made it easy, on the one hand, to criticize the drawbacks of the “superfluous men” and, on the other hand, it boosted the self-image of the young generation. Historically speaking, Turgenev wrote not a hymn to the best people of his time but a condemnation of them. Since the leaders and heroes of the younger generation were considered d to be so much better than Rudin, who himself, was a sort of a hero, Rudin was despised by the young generation as an empty, useless “babbler.” In their minds, his “superfluous” status was his own doing, the result of his laziness and being rooted in the old regime. 9. The Battle for Belinsky’s Legacy Dobroliubov’s assault on the “men of the 1840s” and on their literary representation, “the superfluous men,” was just one facet of a larger battle: the battle against literature of the previous epoch as a whole. By extension, it was a battle against the writer, who, traditionally, enjoyed a prophetic status in Russian literature, and more specifically, a battle for the supremacy of critic over writer. Characteristically, both warring sides fought under the banner of Vissarion Belinsky’s legacy. Therefore, the most important stake in this battle was the legacy of Belinsky. This seems only natural considering that Belinsky was the most important and influential Russian critic, someone who became the symbol of courage, conscience and the passion for truth. Indeed, Belinsky was one of the founders of the new Contemporary. As Izmailov writes, “to free Belinsky from servitude in Andrei Kraevsky’s The Annals of Fatherland (Отечественные записки), to give him an opportunity for independent and free work in his 94 own, friendly publication, this was the main purpose of, and an indispensable condition for the foundation of the journal [the Contemporary]”201 But the short history of Belinsky’s participation in the Contemporary – the critic died during the second year of the journal’s life – was not cloudless. Belinsky was pushed aside from direct participation in the editing of the journal as a result of a disagreement with Nekrasov.202 With regard to Turgenev, however, who did not share Nekrasov’s “guilt,” Belinsky’s name was sacred. For him, it defined his role as a Russian writer. From the Romantic Era in the beginning of the nineteenth century, a poet in Russia was given a special, almost messianic status. His life and his death became fatefully connected to his creative work, to his ability “to burn with truth the hearts of men.” Belinsky was among those who transformed this connection into a fundamental principle that guided Russian literature into the future. Adding to this principle a definite civic component, he wrote that “[t]he public […] sees in Russian writers its only leaders, defenders and saviors from the dark autocracy, Orthodoxy and the national way of life.” 203 In the 1860s, when prose replaced poetry as the highest form of literary expression, this fundamental perception of the role played by a writer in Russia did not change. Moreover, it seemed like the prose writer began to take on the prophetic status that had been previously granted to poets. In fact, we can see the beginning of such an elevation in the early career of Ivan Turgenev. His Sportsman’s Sketches were seen as an 201 “[O]свободить [Белинского] от подневольного положения в Отечественных записках Краевского и дать возможность независимой и свободной работы в своем, дружеском издании – было главною целью и неприменным условием основания журнала.” See Izmailov, "Turgenev i krug Sovremennika," p. vi-vii. 202 This fact was later seen by Belinsky’s friends as “the first major guilt” of Nekrasov and a sign of his aggressive business side. (“Тягостною размолвкой между Белинским и Некрасовым началась работа новой редакции – еще до выхода в свет 1-го номера. Недоразумение скоро сгладилось, и Белинским было забыто, – но вся история; т.е. устранение Белинского от прямого заведывания редакцией журнала наравне с Некрасовым и Панаевым, вспоминалaсь потом, при разрыве прежних друзей с Некрасовым, как его первая и существеннaя вина, как доказательство его жестокости и беспринципного кулачества в журнальном деле”). See Ibid , p. viiviii. 203 Vissarion Belinsky, "Open Letter to Gogol," (15 July 1847). 95 “assault on the hated institution of serfdom, a cry of indignation designed to burn itself into the consciousness of the ruling class.”204 With his first major novels, Rudin, The Nest of Gentlefolk, and On the Eve, Turgenev’s reputation added another component; now he was seen as a “sensitive manometer of Russian life,” 205 always the first one to “define the character of a phenomenon that everyone is already instinctively feeling yet no one is able to consciously define,”206 an insightful foreteller of current events. Meanwhile, the battle for Belinsky’s legacy was, for Turgenev, both highly important and personal. After all, it was with Belinsky’s blessing that Turgenev entered the literary scene to follow the special calling of a writer in Russia. Back in 1839, Belinsky became his first critic. Furthermore, Belinsky’s 1843 review of Turgenev’s long poem “Parasha” as “a poem not only written in beautiful, poetic verse, but also infused with a deep idea, possessing rich content, and distinguished by its humor and irony,” 207 truly marked the beginning of Turgenev’s career as a professional writer. It was a moment similar to that of the blessing allegedly given by Derzhavin to young Pushkin. In 1860 Turgenev made a move to reclaim his part of Belinsky’s legacy by writing a sketch “My Meeting with Belinsky” (“Моя встреча с Белинским”). This step, however, came a few years too late, for it was Chernyshevsky and Dobroliubov who, after more than a decade of censorship and the fearful, shameful silence of Belinsky’s friends, brought the 204 Isaiah Berlin, "Turgenev and the Liberal Predicament," Russian Thinkers (London: Penguin Books, 1994), p. 267. 205 Manometer is an instrument for measuring the pressure of gasses and vapors. Semen Afanas'evich Vengerov, Russkaia literatura v ee sovremennykh predstaviteliakh: Ivan Sergeevich Turgenev (kritiko-biograficheskie etiudy) (Saint Petersburg: Tipo-Litografiia Vil’kina i Еttingera, 1875), p. 57. 206 “Тургенев… чрезвычайно чуток ко всем движениям в русском обществе и первый определяет характер явления, всеми уже инстинктивно чувствоваемого, но к котором все же таки никто не может себя дать полного отчета.” Ibid , p. 57. 207 “[П]оэму, не только написанную прекрасными, поэтическими стихами, но и проникнутою глубокою идеею, полнотою внутреннего содержания, отличающуюся юмором и ирониею.” Vissarion Belinsky, Polnoe sobranie sochinenii, vol. 7, 9 vols. (Moscow: 1979), p. 66. 96 sacred name of Belinsky back to the Russian public. 208 It was, in fact, the mention of Belinsky’s name in Chernyshevsky’s 1858 article “Sketches of the Gogolian Period of Russian Literature” (“Очерки Гоголевского периода русской литературы”) that made Turgenev change his attitude toward Chernyshevsky. As the latter wrote, “I have been reading some pages with tenderness… I am happy that their appearance is now possible: I am glad to see reminiscences about B[elinsky], excerpts from his articles; I am glad that his name is now being pronounced with respect.”209 Although Turgenev never gave up his attempts to reclaim Belinsky’s heritage and, according to a memoirist “still in the 1880s was running around with Belinsky’s name, claiming that Belinsky saw something extraordinary in his works,”210 the battle over the great critic’s legacy was won by Chernyshevsky and Dobroliubov. These radical critics and their followers succeeded in proving to their young readership that they were the ones who continued “Belinsky’s line of criticism.” Backed by the authority of his name, radical critics became the new force in Russian society that managed to “dethrone” the writer as a potential “prophet figure” and, instead, to install themselves as the new prophets and the “rulers of the minds of the Russian public.” Radical critics successfully used Belinsky’s own words to to validate their claims for their high role. For example, the following quote from his 1842 article “A Word about 208 Chernyshevsky broke the ice in his “Sketches of the Gogolian Period of Russian Literature” in 1858, and Dobroliubov spoke of Belinsky in his small review “The Works of V. Belinsky” (“Сочинения В. Белинского”), published in the Contemporary in 1859 (Book 4, Section III, pp. 215-216). 209 “[Я] с сердечным умилением читал иные страницы [...] я радусь возможности их появления: радуюсь воспоминаниям о Б[елинском] – выпискам из его статей, радуюсь тому, что наконец произносится с уважением его имя.” Turgenev, Polnoe sobranie sochinenii i pisem , Letters, vol. 3, p. 23, 43. 210 G. A. Rusanov still in the 1880s “удивлялся Тургеневу, носившемуся с Белинским, видевшему что-то чрезвычайное в сочинениях его.” G. A. Rusanov, Rusanov A. G., Vospominaniia o L’ve Nikolaeviche Tolstom: 1883-1901 (Voronezh: 1972), p. 90. 97 Literary Criticism” (“Речь о критике”) speaks about the shifting balance of power between the writer and the critic and seems suitable to address the concerns of the 1860s: Today the question “What will be said about a great literary work?” is no less important than the great work itself. What is said about the work, and how it is said – believe me – that will be read first of all; it will awaken the passions, minds, and conversations. It cannot be otherwise: it is not enough for us now to enjoy something; instead, we want to know. There is no enjoyment for us without knowledge.211 I argue that the radical critics of the 1860s took from Belinsky the following pronciples: the requirement for topicality (the literary work has to be about “today”); the relative unimportance of the literary work compared with the critical reception of this work; the importance of the “tone” of the critic (“how it is said”); and the supremacy of knowledge over enjoyment (or, in other words, the literary work should provide information, facts, knowledge, be “real” rather than simply entertain and be “art”). In general, the radical critics of the 1860s adhered tenaciously to these principles. Turgenev’s ultimate defeat and the new balance of power are already evident in the story of Turgenev’s conflict with the Contemporary over his novel On the Eve. As we know, Nekrasov, while being allusive and apologetic, ultimately refused to remove passages that seemed offensive (i.e. unjust and harsh, несправедливые и резкие) to Turgenev from Dobroliubov’s famous article (“When Will the Real Day Come?”). As the editor, he valued Dobroliubov and Chernyshevsky and did not find it possible to limit their “freedom to freely express their opinions at their own risk.”212 It was not Dobroliubov’s comments about the 211 “Теперь вопрос о том, что скажут о великом произведении, не менее важен самого великого произведения. Что бы и как бы не сказали о нем, – поверьте, это прочтётся прежде всего, возбудит страсти, умы, толки. Иначе и быть не может: нам мало наслаждаться – мы хотим знать; без знания для нас нет наслаждения.” Belinsky, Polnoe sobranie sochinenii , vol. 7, p. 67. 212 “[Д]aвал бы им свободу высказываться на их собственный страх.” See Turgenev’s letter to Nekrasov and Nekrasov's letter to Turgenev (quoted in A. G. Ostrovskii, Turgenev v zapisiakh sovremennikov (Leningrad: Izd-vo pisatelei v Leningrade, 1919), p. 172, 181. 98 novel’s artistic value that upset Turgenev, although Dobroliubov’s general attitude toward him in the article was rather patronizing. Rather, it was the work’s alleged political agenda as the latter was stated in the article that angered him. According to the critic, Turgenev signed a death verdict to the “superfluous men” of the 1840s, the liberal reformers, and brought to light “a new man,” a type only emerging and not yet firmly rooted in the Russian soil, a hero who would “unlike Insarov, […] carry on the fight against the inner enemy in the way that the Bulgarians tried to fight against the alien occupier.” 213 Turgenev was always overly receptive to his friends’ and readers’ comments about his works and did not hesitate to make changes to his texts to accommodate criticism. However, what Turgenev welcomed was so-called “aesthetic criticism.” And, while for Turgenev himself the opinions of his correspondents, Botkin, Druzhinin, Countess Lambert, Fet, even Evgeniia Tur (who all criticized in various ways the novel’s aesthetic merits), mattered the most; it was for Dobroliubov to define what the novel was to be about, and how it was to be read. Again, “what was said about the work” and “how it was said” proved to be more important that the artistry. After Dobroliubov’s article, Turgenev became “a kind of specialist” on “catching the present moment,” not just a keen, responsive artist, but one who depicts “new people.”214 These words belonging to the critic Mikhailovsky seemed already slightly ironic, which fact alone meant that Turgenev was no longer an “untouchable” prophet. As far as the Contemporary was concerned, the general tone in its references to Turgenev became, around 1861-1862, that of not just irony, but of verbal abuse and sarcasm, especially 213 214 Leonard Schapiro, Turgenev: His Life and Times (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1978), p. 161. “[У]твердилась репутация какого-то специалиста по части ‘уловления момента,’ а именно не просто чуткого художника, а изобразителя ‘новых людей.’” N. K. Mikhailovskii, Literaturno-kriticheskie stat'i (Moscow-Leningrad: 1961), p. 35. 99 after the author’s new and most accomplished novel, Fathers and Sons, appeared in February of 1862. 10. The “Whistling”215 I would like now to take my discussion of the importance of the “tone” for the radical critic (“how something is said”) a little further. This new “tone” of the critic became a trademark of what has become known as the “muckraking trend.” By the late 1850s it began to dominate Russian literature and “progressive” journalism. On the one hand, it arose as a reaction to the stifling spiritual vacuum of the last years of Nicholas’s rule, and was a response to the strong need in society to cleanse the swampy waters of Russian life. On the other hand, it was a logical development of the leading school in Russian literature, the “Natural School,” which was heading along its “Gogolian” line, as this process was understood and endorsed by Belinsky in the 1840s. Nekrasov felt that this was the right direction to follow for his journal. Soon the Contemporary became the center of the “muckraking trend,” and once Chernyshevsky and, later, Dobroliubov, became its permanent critics, the journal enjoyed unprecedented popularity and such power over the hearts and minds of the younger generation that no other Russian journal could rival it. During all this time, the Contemporary stood in the vanguard of the Russian “progressive” press. Describing the tone of The Contemporary, the critic Akim Volynsky observed that the “Contemporary showed in its polemics […] the bad taste and the lack of manners in intellectual debate that characterized the progressive forces in Russian society,” and 215 The title of this sub-chapter (The “Whistling”) refers to the tone of catcalling that was used in the Contemporary and other radical publication, including the Contemporary’s satirical supplement the Whistle. Here, the word “whistling” is used with reference to that Whistle. 100 displayed “a contemptuous attitude toward any originality in the opinion of others.”216 This type of attitude characterized both the critical articles and editorials in the Contemporary itself and, to an even larger degree, characterized and defined the direction taken by the contributors to the Whistle (led by Chernyshevsky and Dobroliubov), a satirical supplement to the journal. As the critic of The Annals of the Fatherland explained regretfully in February of 1862 (just before Fathers and Sons was published in the Russian Messenger): Many people, while sympathizing with the Contemporary’s program, are disapproving of its farcical tone and its affectation. But the majority of the public likes in the Contemporary exactly what is so contrary to the interests of literature. Farce (балаган) is a festive pasttime for the common people, and the Contemporary uses this common people’s base, on which it is now standing firmly. […] No, gentlemen, “program” alone will not take you far nowadays; no matter if this program differs from that of the Contemporary’s or if it coincides with it or even surpasses it like that of the Russian Word; you will not be successful if you do not follow in the way of scandal. Now this is the only way to literary fame and to the well-being of your journal. I am speaking the word of truth to you; you are acting foolishly if you are not in a hurry to step onto this open and free road.217 The type of literary criticism and, especially, the type of satire and the tone of the “denunciations” that characterized the Contemporary under Chernyshevsky and Dobroliubov little resembled that of Belinsky. They lacked his perceptiveness, artistic sensitivity, and measured tone. In general, in the 1850s-1860s, the “denunciatory trend” in the Russian “progressive” press acquired a strong element of scandal. This new brand of “laughter mixed 216 “[B] полемике ‘Совеременника’ [...] дала себя показать умственная невоспитанность, даже некультурность передовой части русского общества” / “презрительное отношение ко всякой оригинальности в чужом мнении.” See Ibid , p. 419. 217 “Многие честные люди горячо сочуствуя стремлениям ‘Современника,’ сильно не одобряют его балаганного тона и кривляния. Но большинству, публике, нравится в ‘Современнике’ именно то, что противно интересам литературы. Балаган есть народное увеселение, и ‘Современник’ пользуется народною почвою, на которую стал твердой ногой. [...] Нет, господа, с одним направлением теперь далеко не уедете, будете ли вы расходится с ‘Современником,’ будете ли вы совпадать или даже превосходить его направление, подобно ‘Русскому слову’ – успеха все-таки не будете иметь, пока не обратитесь на пути безобразия. В настоящее время это один верный путь к литературной славе и журнальному благополучию. Истинно, истинно говорю вам: глупо делаете, что не спешите на этот открытый и свободный путь.” See /Progressistov/, "Pis’ma ob izuchenii bezobraziia," Otechestvennye zapiski.February (1862). 101 with scandal” (as opposed to Gogolian “laughter through tears”) was what Herzen so strongly warned about in his article “Very Dangerous!!!” And this was what many other journals which, otherwise, sympathized with publicity as a progressive phenomenon, tried to bring to their readers’ attention: Who appeared as Gogol’s successor? Look around yourself, and you will see the sad truth. Rozengeim’s lyre jingled loudly, Gromeka’s thick voice sounded, the brothers Meleants briefly appeared. Numerous Xs and Zs started boiling over with complaints about each other in newspapers and journals. Poets and prose writers appeared, yet these were the sorts of poets and prose writers who could have only been called forth by muckraking literature. Glasnost got mixed with literary scandal.218 Later a harsh but apt judgment of this sort of journalism was given by Volynsky: The self-confidence of limited knowledge, the lack of ability to control oneself in civil conversations and disputes, the tendency to reduce all exchange of theoretical opinions to personalities, to swearing, almost to a fist fight; the cynical bluntness of pouring out all the dirty excesses of one’s scabrous wit during public discussions: these are the unfortunate elements which have for a long time now troubled the sea of Russian journalism. Thick and luxurious, the nettles, the clinging thistle, the absurd burdock, and all other unwanted weeds that poisoned the contemporary press grew on the virgin and rich soil of Russian literature that was fertilized with these publicistic slops.219 Perhaps the popularity of the Contemporary, its tremendous influence and success among the broadest audience, from “the common people” to students and the educated elite, and despite this its widely recognized bad taste and frequent recourse to scandal in polemics, can be 218 “Кто явился приемником Гоголя? Посмотрите кругом себя, и вы увидите печальную правду. Громко звякнула лира Розенгейма, раздался густой голос Громеки, мелькнули братья Мелеанты. Закипели бесчетные иксы и зеты с жалобами друг на друга в газетах и повременных изданиях. Явились поэты, прозаики – такие поэты и прозаики, которых могла призвать к жизни только обличительная литература. Гласность смешалась с литературным скандалом.” "Kriticheskoe obozrenie," Vremia January (1861), p. 24. 219 “[C]амоуверенность ограниченного знания, непривычка владеть собою в разговорах и спорах, склонность сводить всякий обмен теоретических мнeний на личности, на ругань, чуть не на кулачную потасовку, циническая откровенность в вываливании на публичных прениях всех грязных подонков скабрезного остроумия – вот те злосчастные элементы, которые надолго замутили русскую журналистику. На нетронутой, плодородной почве русской литературы, удобренной этими публистическими помоями, пышно и густо разрослась крапива, цепкий чертополох, нелепые лопухи и всякая прочая мусорная трава, которою засорилась современная печать.” See Volynskii, "Russkie kritiki," p. 420. 102 considered one of the most interesting, unsolved enigmas of the 1860s. In spite of its “tone,” the Contemporary was the leading Russian journal of the day. The educated Russians may have despised its contributors and the general tone of the journal, but they read it, and they had to read it in order to understand the rapid transformations taking place in society. This excerpt from Nadezhda Khvoshchinskaya’s220 letter of December 15, 1864, to her friend Olga Novikova is a good illustration of the love-hate relationship that many Russians had with the journal: You are asking […] which journal to subscribe to, and you are adding almost with horror, “Surely, not the Contemporary again?”, and I am replying with the composure of a person who looks straight in the face of all things in the world: “Of course, absolutely the Contemporary.” Know, my dear: qui n’entend qu’un cloche, n’entend qu’un son. But, honestly, the Contemporary is the only one that “rings” here, no matter how it “rings.” This is something one needs to know and to hear. If you see a copy of the Russian Messenger, smell it; it smells of rotten virtue; smell the Annals of the Fatherland – there has not been any smell there for a long time as if it has been cleaned with chlorine. Now you open the Library for Reading – isn’t it just a petty little shop? Zuckrig, bomboski, sulphuric matches, soap, and things like that, and the vignette shows tropical fruit in baskets like they drew during the Renaissance. All this is remarkable, my dear, and is worth knowing it all. My dear, the Epoch (Эпоха) is as dumb as a widgeon (свищ), and “bubochka” Zaitsev will start climbing walls next year; how can one miss it? And the Contemporary is the true essence of all these marvels, if you take it away, nothing makes sense. So, subscribe to the Contemporary, if such will be your will.221 220 221 V. Krestovsky, penname. “Ты спрашиваешь, [...] какой журнал выписать, и прибавляешь почти с ужасом: ‘Неужели опять Современник?’ – Неприменно, конечно, Современник, отвечаю я с хладнокровием человека, прямо смотрящего на всякую вещь на свете. Убедись, милка, (qui n’entend qu’un cloche, n’entend qu’un son). А по правде, и звонящих у нас только Современник, как бы он не звонил. Это надо знать и слышать. Если ты видишь Р.[усский] Bестник, понюхай, как от него пахнет гнилой добрoдетелью; обоняй От.[ечественные] Записки – там уже давно ничем не пахнет, будто выкурили хлором. Теперь ты раскрываешь Библиотеку – неправда ли, мелочная лавочка? Zuckrig, bomboski, cерные спички, мыло и прочее – а вывеска изображает тропические плоды в корзинках рисунка Возрождения. – Это все диковинки, душка, надо все знать. Милая моя Эпоха глупа как свищ, а Бубочка Зайцев в будущем году совсем на стены влезет – как же не смотреть? – а Современник – вытяжка всех этих прелестей: нет его, и все непонятно. Так Современник, если на то твоя воля.” See letter to O. A. Novikova of December 15, 1864 (RGALI, f. 345, op. 1, d. 851, ll. 56-58, quoted in Hilde Hoogenboom, Arja Rosenholm, eds., “Ia zhivu ot pochty do pochty…”: Iz perepiski Nadezhdy Dmitrievny Khvoshchinskoi (Fichtenwalde: Verlag F.K. Gopfert, 2001), p. 143. 103 For better or for worse, the “whistling” Contemporary took the place of the “ringing” (звонящий) Bell, and pushed it aside from its position as the most progressive Russian journal, in spite of all the protests and the criticism of its “general direction.” 11. The Campaign Against Fathers and Sons and the Final Split between the Two Generations The following developments of the early 1860s converged and became tied in one knot around Turgenev’s Fathers and Sons, which appeared in February 1862 in the Russian Messenger: public fascination and uneasiness about the “tone” of the Contemporary and “progressive” journalism as a whole; the beginning of a move of some journals to more conservative positions as a way of distancing themselves from the extreme radical views; the deepening conflict between generations; i.e. the people of the 1840s, the liberals, and the new radical young generation led by the former seminarists; the shifting balance of power between the writer and the (radical) critic; the growing tension between the government and the anti-government revolutionary activists with the appearance of the first proclamations; the restricting of certain freedoms (of the press, of speech), public initiatives (in organizing schools, libraries), and a series of first political arrests and processes. In the history of Russian literature, Fathers and Sons is notorious for what has since been referred to as a curious “misunderstanding.”222 What actually happened at the time was a long 222 Or, as P. Boborykin put it, “pathetic but understandable misunderstanding” (“жалкое, хотя и понятное недоразумение”). See P. D. Boborykin, "Pamiati Turgeneva," Vospominaniia v 2 tt., vol. 2 (Moscow-Leningrad: Khudozhestvennaia literatura, 1965), p. 384. The story of the bad reception of Fathers and Sons in Russia sounds even odder if we remember that it has always surprised foreigners. A. Brückner, the author of 1908 history of Russian literature, for example, wrote: “For, be it known, there occurred one of those miracles which are simply incomprehensible to other Europeans. This Bazarov, this hero who moves so high above the surrounding ruck of Kirsanovs and the like, much higher even than Rudin, say, above those about him, whose opponent, the Tory Kirsanov, is made so unpardonably ridiculous, was taken by the Russian Radicals as an outrage and a libel on themselves, and they have never to this day forgiven the most impressive and the only manly figure that Turgenev ever created.” See Brückner, A Literary History of Russia , p. 351. 104 and heated debate about the meaning and intentions of the novel which caused a final split between the fathers (and those considered to be on their side, both liberals and conservatives) and sons (the younger generation led by radical critics). Turgenev was partially responsible for the ambiguity that the image of Bazarov acquired in the eyes of the reading public. Whether he was simply seeking objectivity or, as it was quite in his character, was hesitant to commit to one particular viewpoint and, as he himself confessed, vacillated between a hatred of Bazarov and a love toward him, he managed to annoy even his close friends. Annenkov wrote, “The opinions about him [the type of Bazarov] diverge because of one reason: the author himself is apparently conflicted about of him and does not know what to take him for: a fruitful force of the future or a stinky abscess of hollow civilization which one needs to get rid of as soon as possible.”223 In the end, Turgenev was caught between the hammer and the anvil, and he found himself having to send apologies both ways in order to explain and justify himself. The conservatives blamed him for “lowering the flag before a radical,” and “saluting him as a distinguished soldier.” Katkov saw in the novel “the apotheosis of radicalism” that presented Bazarov as “reigning unconditionally over all and not meeting any purposeful resistance anywhere.” 224 The radicals, on the other hand, dismissed the novel as a libelous caricature of them. Some of the letters received by Turgenev were extremely harsh and accusatory. The author of one of them, as Ardov recollects, went as far as to say that “it won’t be shameful to shoot a person like this from around the corner.”225 The flow of accusations poured at Turgenev assumed, as V. Vengerov says, “the 223 “Мнения о нем [типе Базарова] разнствуют вследствие одной причины – автор сам перед ним несколько связан и не знает, за что его считать – за плодотворную ли силу в будущем или за вонючий нарыв пустой цивилизации, от которого следует поскорее отделаться.” Quoted in Pustovoit, I. S. Turgenev-khudozhnik slova , p. 260. 224 “Подумайте только, молодец этот Базаров, госоподствует безусловно надо всеми и нигде не встречает себе никакого отпора.” P. V. Annenkov, Literaturnye vospominaniia (Petersburg: 1909), p. 478. 225 E. (Apreleva) Ardov, "Iz vospominanii ob I. S. Turgeneve," Russkie vedomosti January 18 (30) 1904. 105 character of an epidemic: one would say somethin, and the others would carry on without thinking about what they were saying, and Russian muddle-headed journalists went on writing.”226 However, it appears that immediate public reaction to the novel was not negative. According to Shcherbania’s (Shcherbania was a member of the staff at the Russian Messenger) letter to Turgenev from March 20–April 2 (that is, written directly after the publication of Fathers and Sons, and before the first critical responses to it appeared in the next month’s journals), the novel produced a sensation. “Everybody is talking. The common opinion is that it is your best work. Everybody finds ‘remarkable,’ ‘incomparable’ objectivity in the novel. […] The students gathered at a meeting and decided that Bazarov is better than everybody.” 227 Therefore, the negative public opinion seems to have been largely dictated by journalistic criticism, and its authoritative tone forced the public to accept that opinion. The main assault on the novel, Antonovich’s article “An Asmodeus of Our Time,” 228 came out just two weeks after Fathers and Sons appeared in the February issue of the Russian Messenger. This article marked for Antonovich, Chernyshevsky’s protégé, the real beginning of his career at the Contemporary. He had become a member of the staff a year earlier, but did not publish much other than reviews and short polemical articles; certainly, nothing on the level of a review of Turgenev’s newest novel. But after Dobroliubov died in November of 1861, 226 “Обвинения, сыпавшиеся на Тургeнева, имели совершенный характер эпидемического явления: один сказал, другие подхватили, не размышляя о том, что говорили, и пошла писать бестолочь российская.” See Vengerov, Russkaia literatura v ee sovremennykh predstaviteliakh: Ivan Sergeevich Turgenev (kritikobiograficheskie etiudy), p. 141. 227 “Вообще сенсация здесь произведена большая. Толкуют везде. Общий голос, что это ваша лучшая вещь. Все находят в романе ‘удивительную,’ ‘неподражаемую’ объективность [...] Студенты... собрали митинг, на котором решили, что Базаров всех лучше...” Quoted in E. I. Kiiko, "K istorii vospriiatiia “Otsov i detei” (Po neizdannym pis’mam sovremennikov)," I. S. Turgenev (1818-1883-1958), ed. M. P. Alekseev (Orel: 1960), p. 258259. 228 M. A. Antonovich, "Asmodei nashego vremeni," Izbrannye stat'i: Filosofiia, kritika, polemika (Leningrad: Gos. Izd-vo "Khudozhestvennaia literatura", 1938). 106 Antonovich’s time had come, and he tried to use this opportunity to take Dobroliubov’s place and become not only the head of the Literary Criticism department at Russia’s most important journal, but also the ruler of minds and the leader of the younger generation. Trying to meet the challenge and maintain the tone of the Contemporary, he allowed himself, in his critical excesses, to proclaim the novel an evil caricature, a libel and a work completely devoid of any aesthetic merits, lower in quality than a third-rate reactionary novel by Askochensky. The nickname “Asmodeus” in his review did not refer to either Bazarov or any other character in the novel, but to Turgenev himself. A contemporary [Eliseev] wrote: “The name, or rather the nickname, ‘Asmodeus’ […] was not given accidentally and certainly, it was given with ill intent. […] Upon the first look at the article, the impression was that the Contemporary gave this name to Turgenev himself in order to insult him in the eyes of the reading public.”229 I think that the common ground for all attacks on Turgenev for his Fathers and Sons, from Antonovich’s “Asmodeus” to more liberal, friendly and forgiving memoirists like Elena Shtakenshnaider230 and Elizaveta Vodovozova231 was the accusation that, in Bazarov, he drew a caricature of Nikolai Dobroliubov. The rumors of Turgenev’s hatred of Dobroliubov were circulated by people close to the Contemporary circle long before the novel was completed. Even in his memoirs, written much later, Chernyshevsky still did not see anything redeaming in Turgenev’s, as it now seems, rather 229 “Название, или правильнее сказать, кличка ‘Асмодей нашего времени’ [...] дана им не случайно и не без злого умысла. [...] при первом взгляде на статью впечатление получается такое, что ‘Соврeменник’ окрестил этим именем самого Тургенева для вящего его унижения в глазах читателей.” Shestidesiatye gody (MoscowLeningrad, 1933), p. 274. 230 Shtakenshnaider, Dnevnik i zapiski, 1854-1886 . 231 Vodovozova, Na zare zhizni . 107 ingratiating attempts to court Dobroliubov when his break with the “seminarists” and “those reeking of bedbugs” was only beginning to surface: A long time ago Dobroliubov said to Turgenev, who got on his nerves with his sometimes tender, sometimes smart conversations: “Ivan Sergeevich, you bore me with your conversations, let’s stop talking.” Then Dobroliubov stood up and moved to the opposite side of the room. After that, Turgenev persistently tried to strike a conversation with Dobroliubov […]. After many such instances, Turgenev finally let him alone, and stopped seeking “heart-to-heart” talks with Dobroliubov.232 To Chernyshevsky and, following his lead, to all the readers of the Contemporary, Dobroliubov’s behavior here was that of a serious, honest and practical man who had no time to lose on trifles and useless small talk, and Turgenev’s attitude was insulting as much as it was annoying. According to Chernyshevsky and Panaeva’s memoirs, Turgenev’s ill intent and animosity towards Dobroliubov developed as a result of the failure of his attempts to establish a friendship with Dobroliubov: I, while talking to Turgenev, […] heard from him some opinions about Dobroliubov that sounded, it seemed to me, somewhat hostile. The tone was soft, as it always is in Turgenev, but through his compliments to Dobroliubov, which he always abundantly used in his conversations with me about him, there sounded, as it seemed to me, some animosity. 233 232 “[Д]авным давно когда-то Добролюбов сказал Тургеневу, который надоедал ему своими то нежными, то умными разговорами: ‘Иван Сергеевич, мне скучно говорить с вами, и перестанем говорить,’ – встал и перешел на другую сторону комнаты. Тургенев после этого упорно продолжал заводить разговоры с Добролюбовым каждый раз, когда встречался с ним у Некрасова... но Добролюбов неизменно уходил от него или на другой конец комнаты или в другую комнату. После множества таких случаев Тургенев отстал, наконец, от заискивания задушевных бесед с Добролюбовым, и они обменивались только обыкновенными словами встреч и прощаний.” N. G. Chernyshevskii, "Vospominaiia ob otnosheniiakh Turgeneva k Dobroliubovu i o razryve druzhby mezhdu Turgenevym i Nekrasovym (Otvet na vopros)," I. S. Turgenev v vospominaniiakh sovremennikov, eds. V. V. Grigorenko, et al., vol. 1, Seriia literaturnykh memuarov (Moscow: Khudozhestvennaia literatura, 1969), p. 356. 233 “Через несколько времени после того, как вышла книжка Современника с статьей Добролюбова о “Накануне,” я, разговаривая с Тургеневым ... услышал от моего собеседника какие-то сужедения о Добролюбове, звучайшие, казалось мне, чем-то враждебным. Тон бык мягкий, как вообще у Тургенева, но сквозь комплимты Добролюбову, которыми всегда пересыпал Тургенев свои разговоры со мной о нем, звучало, думалось мне, какое-то озлобление против него.” Liatskii, E. N. G. Chernyshevskii in Ostrovskii, Turgenev v zapiskakh sovremennikov, vol. 1, p. 355. 108 Furthermore, according to Chernyshevsky, Marko Vovchok,234 who entered the Contemporary circle after her return from Europe, where she was literally in Turgenev’s care and enjoyed his protection and tender friendship, allegedly called Turgenev “a coward” for “trying to blacken Dobroliubov’s reputation after his death” and described how she would scold Turgenev for “trying to take revenge on Dobroliubov out of his own vexation” and how she would try to prove to him that he would only “compromise himself by portraying Dobroliubov in an evil caricature.” According to Chernyshevsky, Turgenev finally admitted to Markovich that, in writing the novel, his intent had been to take revenge on Dobroliubov.235 Markovich’s accusation was, apparently, fully believed, as it confirmed the rumors that circulated earlier. As Panaeva writes, “So, among other things, the staff of The Contemporary was notified that Turgenev was going abroad so that he, in peace and quiet, could write a novel entitled The Nihilist, the protagonist of which would be Dobroliubov.”236 Because every word of Chernyshevsky and of the Contemporary was so influential and authoritative for the majority of the Russian public, their firm belief in the truthfulness of this story was enough to condemn the novel. Turgenev’s numerous attempts to clear himself of this accusation, to explain his true intentions in short articles, personal letters and autobiographical sketches, and to point out other real-life prototypes were, mostly, fruitless. The most well-known “alternative” prototype, according to a story, disclosed by Turgenev himself in the article “In connection with Fathers 234 Marko Vovchok is a penname of Maria Aleksandrovna Markovich, a famous Ukrainian writer of short stories from the life of common people. Her 1857 collection of short stories Folk Stories (Народні оповідання) was highly appraised by critics and some writers, such as Ivan Turgenev. 235 N. G. Chernyshevskii, "Vospominaniia ob otnosheniiakh Turgeneva k Dobroliubovu i o razryve druzhby mezhdu Turgenevym i Nekrasovym: otvety na voprosy," I. S. Turgenev v vospominaniiakh sovremennikov, vol. 1 (Moscow: Khudozhestvennaia literatura, 1969), pp 366-367. 236 “Так, между прочим, редакция ‘Современника’ была извещена, что Тургенев уезжает за границу, для того, чтобы на свободе писать повесть под заглавием ‘Нигилист,’ героем которой будет Добролюбов.” See Grigorenko, ed., I. S. Turgenev v vospominaniiakh sovremennikov v dvukh tomakh , vol.1, p. 164. 109 and Sons” (“По поводу Отцов и детей”), was a young provincial Doctor D.237 The only existing confirmation of this mysterious doctor’s existence comes from a memoirist, A. Polovtsev, to whom Turgenev, allegedly, related a story of how he met Dr. Dmitriev on a train, and said that “without a district doctor Dmitriev, there would be no Bazarov.”238 The existence of Dr. D. has not been confirmed, in spite of many Soviet scholars’ attempts to find the right candidate. The story has become something of a literary anecdote, which was probably invented by Turgenev. On the other hand, preliminary materials to Fathers and Sons show that Dobroliubov did in fact serve as (at least) an initial impulse for the creation of Bazarov’s image.239 Besides, numerous parallels linking Dobroliubov’s articles and Bazarov’s pronouncements in the novel have been pointed out. Other research shows an undeniable connection between Bazarov in the novel and, if not Dobroliubov personally, then the Contemporary circle in general.240 Of course, this fact cannot prove that Bazarov was actually modeled after Dobroliubov. After all, Russia at that time (and all of the “progressive” part of the younger generation) used phrases lifted directly from Dobroliubov and other contributors to the Contemporary. The jargon was an essential part of “belonging” to the vogue of the “nihilist” 237 Turgenev, Polnoe sobranie sochinenii i pisem , vol. 14, p. 97. 238 “Без уездного врача Дмитриева не было бы Базарова.” Quoted in P. G Pustovoit, Roman Turgeneva "Ottsy i deti": kommentarii (Moscow: Prosveshchenie, 1983), p. 12. 239 Dobroliubov was not the only prototype of Bazarov. Other inspirations included Ivan Pavlov, an acquaintance of Turgenev from the Mtsensk region (a landowner, a doctor, and a journalits) and [Nikolai?] Preobrazhensky, Dobroliubov’s friend and a journalist. The entry in “The list of characters” (“Формулярный список действующих лиц”) reads as follows: “A mixture of Dobroliubov, Pavlov and Preobrazhensky.” (“Смесь Добролюбова, Павлова и Преображенского”). See I. S. Turgenev, Polnoe sobranie sochinenii i pisem v tridtsati tomakh, 2, ispr. i dop. ed., 30 vols. (Moscow: Nauka, 1978-), vol. 7, pp. 566., 718-720. Other real-life sources for the image of Bazarov have been pointed out both by later scholars and by Turgenev himself. For example, in a letter to Annenkov from January 7(19), 1861, Turgenev speaks about a visit of a “misanthrope” Nikolai Uspensky, describing his behavior and quoting his words in which he dismissed Pushkin for his pro-Imperial and patriotic poems – the words that, later, he reproduced in one of Bazarov’s diatribes. See Turgenev, Polnoe sobranie sochinenii i pisem, vol. 4, p. 182. 240 See, for example, E. G. Plimak, "'Potainye' siuzhety I. S. Turgeneva. Ten' "Termidora" v povesti "Ottsy i deti": povest' "Ottsy i deti" Turgeneva - podtsenzurnoe proizvedenie?" Turgenevskie chteniia - 2 (Moscow: Russkii put', 2006). 110 sub-culture. What is curious, however, is that Turgenev, who felt a need to disclose his sources for the image of Bazarov, spoke of the dubious provincial doctor, but denied the role that the Contemporary circle played in it, and did not point out “literary” sources of Bazarov’s image. As the previous discussion in this chapter suggests, Bazarov undoubtedly has a strong connection to the superfluous man type of the as well as to the earlier tradition of the images of raznochintsy in Russian literature, especially to the part of that tradition that leads back to the “people of the 1840s,” like Herzen and Belinsky. 241 Bazarov is not a seminarian like Dobroliubov; instead, he is a doctor like Doctor Krupov from the eponymous Herzen story, and a son of a doctor (not a priest)242 like the great Belinsky himself.243 Turgenev confirms with his novel (much to the irritation and open anger of the radical youth) that “the new man” whom they are calling for will remain, much like the great “superfluous” heroes in Russian literature before, not needed in society, he will not find a suitable application for his “gigantic” strength and his tremendous energy will be wasted.244 Bazarov’s fate appears more heroic than Molotov’s; he 241 In a letter to Katkov, Turgenev claimed that, in Bazarov, he wanted to present a “Hero of Our Time.” This reference, more than anything else, establishes (for better or for worse) a clear connection between the “new man,” as seen by Turgenev, and the previous tradition of literary heroes in Russian literature that goes back to Lermontov and Pushkin. See Turgenev’s letter to Katkov of Oct 30, 1861: “Maybe I look at Russia in a more misanthropic fashion than you seem to think but, in my eyes, he [Bazarov] is truly a hero of our time.” (“Может быть, мое воззрение на Россию более мизантропично, чем Вы предполагаете: он – в моих глазах – действительно герой нашего времени.”). Quoted in Pustovoit, I. S. Turgenev-khudozhnik slova, p. 272. 242 Turgenev does establish a (less direct) connection between Bazarov and the “former seminarians” of the Contemporary circle. Although Bazarov is not a priest’s son, he is a priest’s grandson. 243 Significant parallels between Bazarov and Belinsky are discussed in Batiuto’s works. See, for example, A. I. Batiuto, Tvorchestvo I. S. Turgeneva i kritiko-esteticheskaia mysl’ ego vremeni (Leningrad: Nauka, 1990), pp. 3033. 244 Bazarov’s connection to other superfluous characters of Russian literature was already discussed by the 19 th century critics. Gradovsky, for example, wrote that “It was not accidental that Turgenev made his Bazarov die of typhus. The great artist did not know what to do with Bazarov because Bazarov himself did not know what he should do with himself. He was also a superfluous man like his predecessors of a different rank…” (“Недаром Тургенев заставил своего Базарова умереть от тифа. Великий художник не знал, что ему делать с Базаровым, ибо и сам Базаров не знал, что ему делать с собою. Он был тоже лишний человек, подобно своим предшественникам иного толка...” A. Gradovskii, "Reformy i narodnost'," Trudnye gody (1876-1880): ocherki i opyty (St. Petersburg: Tipografiia M. M. Stasiulevicha, 1880), pp. 442-443. 111 dies and does not reconcile himself to a version of bourgeois happiness (which is present in the novel in the story of Bazarov’s former pupil Arkady). In the end, however, both Turgenev and Pomialovsky can be credited with perceiving, by virtue of their talent, the fate of the movement of the 1860s as a whole which, in less than ten years will spend its energy, cheerfulness and faith, become discredited, and turn into common apathy and inertia.245 It has been noted before that unlike previous “heroes” of Turgenev’s novels, Bazarov is much less tied to the historical moment, to a certain social class. This fact has traditionally been explained by Bazarov’s relative “novelty” in Russian culture, meaning that Turgenev could not portray him in a more distinct way because Bazarov’s type was just being formed in society.246 As Bialy points out, “we never learn Bazarov’s history. We know his parents but we do not learn anything either about his childhood, or his education, or his life in Petersburg […] even about where he studies, we must only guess.” 247 In comparison with, for example, the detailed story of Lavretsky’s upbringing, Bazarov’s lack of socially determined qualities seems uncharacteristic for Turgenev. Reasons, already pointed out, seem to contain certain grains of truth. Thus, Bialy suggests that the type was still too new to be clearly visible, even for Turgenev. Other scholars say that Turgenev had to be deliberately vague in order to avoid problems with censorship. What seems more important, though, is the fact that the relative lack of social “determinism” in the novel is compensated for by Bazarov’s resulting “general” significance (as in common to all humankind). The drama of fathers and sons, the drama of Bazarov as an individual, is treated in 245 See Ivanov-Razumnik, "Obshchestvennye i umstvennye techeniia 60-kh godov i ikh otrazhenie v literature," various pages. 246 Such, for example, is the view of the Soviet scholar of Turgenev’s, Bialy. See G. Bialyi, Roman Turgeneva "Ottsy i deti" (Leningrad: Khudozhestvennaia literatura, 1968), p. 33. 247 “Характерно, что историю Базарова мы так и не узнаем. Мы знаем его родителей, но не знаем ничего ни о его детстве, ни о воспитании, ни о его петербургской жизни [...] даже о том, где Базаров учится, мы должны только догадываться.” Ibid , pp 32-33. 112 the novel as a tragedy that is bigger than the historical time that gave birth to it. In the end, curiously, the Shakespearean way of capturing “the body and pressure of time” in Fathers and Sons simultaneously paints a picture that is both very concrete and universal, in the same way that Turgenev’s own stories about the great “superfluous” heroes had been: “Hamlet of Shchigrovsk District” and “The Diary of the Superfluous Man.” This “universal” appeal of the novel contributed greatly to the success of Fathers and Sons in the long run, both at home and abroad, but it did not influence the immediate reception of the novel. 12. The Accusations against Turgenev To understand the difficult fate of Fathers and Sons and its main characters in Russia, it is necessary to look closer at the accusations that were directed at Turgenev, even if some of them now seem rather absurd. One of the accusations was that Turgenev failed to portray a typical representative of the younger generation. In this view, Bazarov is not a real living “type” in society. This persistent accusation was accepted as true even by some later critics. Yuli Aikhenvald, for example, writes: “Turgenev failed to depict Bazarov as a theoretician, Bazarov as a nihilist; this part of him he wrote falsely and could not prove. Besides, Bazarov is not a typical Russian phenomenon at all […] He does not seem young. He is not a type but an invention.”248 Bazarov’s main defining feature in the novel, his nihilism, consists in denial of principles, or, even broader, in universal denial. His criticism of the world and people is a sort of “negative” criticism. If we look closer at Russian society in the first half of the 1860s, we find that although these attributes of thought were very much characteristic of radical journalism and, more 248 “Базарова-теоретика, Базарова-нигилиста Тургенев не осилил и эту грань его написал фальшиво и недоказательно [...] Кроме того, Базаров – совсем не типичное русское явление [...] Он не кажется молодым. Базаров не тип, а выдумка.” Iu. Aikhenval'd, Siluety russkikh pisatelei (Moscow: Respublika, 1994), p. 257. 113 precisely, of the Contemporary’s style of journalism, they did not, in fact, describe the mentality of the younger generation. The 1860s were, for most young people, as Elizaveta Vodovozova recollects, “a spring of life, the epoch of a blooming of spiritual forces and social ideals, the time of passionate longing for light and new social activity.” 249 In spite of “all their materialism in words,” says Skabichevsky, the youth of the 1860s “showed a truly Schiller-like idealism in their actions.”250 The young people’s movement to work out a new moral code for themselves and live according to their own moral and social rules was just as “destructive” as it was “creative,” Petr Boborykin writes, adding: “the creative element was bigger.”251 This creative element in the younger generation was directed at working out new ethical and social codes, as well as at finding an application for them in active work. A participant of the “Land and Freedom” (“Земля и воля”) movement, Rymarenko, criticized Turgenev’s novel from this angle. He wrote that in the novel he could not find “a single hint of the contemporary work done by the younger generation.”252 In general, it seems unlikely that in Bazarov and the “type” that he personifies Turgenev desired to represent the younger generation with its enthusiasm and a longing for active, “living” work. For one thing, it would be wrong to accuse Turgenev of not knowing this side of Russian 249 “60-е гг. можно назвать весною нашей жизни, эпохою расцвета духовных сил и общественных идеалов, временем горячих стремлений к свету и к новой, неизвестной еще общественной деятельности.” Vodovozova, Na zare zhizni , vol. 2, p. 25. 250 “[M]олодежь 60-х годов, при всей своей приверженности к материализму на словах, проявляла в своих поступках чисто шиллеровский идеализм.” A. M. Skabichevskii, Literaturnye vospominaniia (MoscowLeningrad: 1928), p. 289. 251 “Но вот что тогда наполняло молодежь всякую [...] эта страстная потребность вырабатывать себе свою мораль, жить по своим новым нравственным и общественным правилам и запросам. Этим было решительно все проникнуто среди тех, кого звали и ‘нигилистами.’ Движение стало настолько же разрушительно, как и созидательно. Созидательного, в смысле нового этического credo, оказывалось больше.” Boborykin, Vospominaniia , vol.1, p. 314. 252 “Действительно, ни одного намека на современную деятельность молодого поколения нельзя было найти.” S. S. Rymarenko, "Lektsiia o romane 'Ottsy i deti,'" Literaturnoe nasledstvo, vol. 76: I. S. Turgenev. Novye materialy i issledovaniia (Moscow: Nauka, 1967), p. 158. 114 life. After all, during the time that he spent in Russia, he was a frequent guest at “open houses” like the Shtakenshneiders’ and a participant in public readings organized by the Literary Fund as well as by private individuals. While living abroad, he remained an avid reader of major Russian journals and maintained active contacts with Russians, including young Russians, living and studying in Europe. It would, perhaps, be more accurate to assume that, in Bazarov, Turgenev wanted to portray a member of a group within Russia’s younger generatuin that was less numerous but somehow more interesting to him. That subgroup, although it did not have a name yet, had a definite presence in 1860s society. Bazarov, as Turgenev created him, had an aspect of himself that was meant to capture precisely that “type.” I think that the name “nihilist” was intended for that aspect, and not for Russian youth at large. However, in the novel, Turgenev failed to make the distinction between his Bazarov and the younger generation. The distinction was either too minor to notice or too apparent to draw attention to, and this was confirmed not only by Turgenev’s contemporaries. Annenkov, for example, does not, seemingly, see such a distinction when he writes, “It needs to be mentioned that, together with Bazarov, an apt word was found. This word, nihilism, wasn’t new but it perfectly described the hero, people who shared his views, and the very time when they lived. […] Russian youth could not forgive Turgenev this word for a long time.”253 As a result, the term “nihilist,” as Vengerov puts it, “with a speed almost unbelievable for a literary type, became a common noun and, rightly or wrongly, a synonym of the younger 253 “Следует сказать, что вместе с Базаровым найдено было и меткое слово, хотя вовсе и не новое, но отлично определяющее как героя и его единомышленников, так и самое время, в которое они жили – нигилизм. [...] Русская молодежь долго не могла простить Тургеневу этого слова.” P. V. Annenkov, "Shest' let perepiski s I. S. Turgenevym (1856-1862)," I. S. Turgenev v vospominaniiakh sovremennikov v dvukh tomakh, vol. 1 (Moscow: Khudozhestvennaia literatura, 1969), p. 352. 115 generation.”254 Moreover, the word, in spite of the negative attitude toward it on the part of the youth, became a term that the younger generation began to use when referring to itself. Elena Shtakenshneider does not seem to feel the terminological inconsistency (“nihilists are full of faith”) when she describes in a very sympathetic light young “nihilist” women in the following passage: “These women […] are so young in spite of all their nihilism. Their nihilism is so full of faith that I, more than once, wished I were twenty too, and like they are, a nihilist. ”255 13. The Connotations of the Word “Nihilist” in the Context of the Name Calling in the 1860s The reasons why the word “nihilism” almost instantaneously suggested a stigma, a word with a clear pejorative meaning, becomes clearer if we consider the history of the name-calling in the early 1860s. The entrance of the “seminarians” into Russian journalism and literature in the middle of the 1850s was not, as we have seen, welcomed from the very beginning. Chernyshevsky, Dobroliubov and other journalists of the same social background were referred to not only by rather neutral words like “seminarians” (семинаристы or бурсаки), but also by words like “sextons” (пономари). The last word brings to mind a series of nicknames coined by the older members of the Contemporary’s staff: “reeking of bedbugs” (пахнущий клопами), its meaning suggesting an unpleasant smell, and “carrion” or “foul carrion” (мертвечина, гнусная мертвечина). These names were used mainly in reference to Chernyshevsky’s style of writing. 254 “[K]личка ‘нигилист’ с почти невероятною для литературного типа быстротой сделалась нарицательной и правильно или неправильно стала синонимом молодого поколения.” Vengerov, Russkaia literatura v ee sovremennykh predstaviteliakh: Ivan Sergeevich Turgenev (kritiko-biograficheskie etiudy) , p. 143. 255 “Эти девушки [...] они так юны, несмотря на весь свой нигилизм. Нигилизм их так полон веры, что я не раз желала быть тоже двадцатилетней, кака они, и, как они, нигилисткой.” Shtakenshnaider, Dnevnik i zapiski, 1854-1886 , p. 317. 116 Another series of nicknames is connected with the journalistic style or tone of the Contemporary and its satellites, the Whistle and the Spark. Here the name-calling started with the rather neutral term: “little boys” (мальчишки),256 used by Mikhail Katkov. Naturally, this word did not just describe Chernyshevsky and other radical journalists but was already transferable to their readers, the university students (whose protests against students’ records cards [матрикулы] during the student unrest of 1861 were often referred to by their professors, and, generally, by more conservative and older observers, as “boyish”).257 The semantic association between boys and “boyish” activities explains the link between the nickname “boys” (мальчишки) and the word “whistlers” (свистуны), which soon replaced the former as the debates grew more heated between the Contemporary, the Whistle, the Spark, on the one side, and journals like the Russian Messenger, the Annals of the Fatherland, the Time, on the other. This substitution came naturally as the Whistle (a satirical supplement to the Contemporary) became the most influential tone-setter in the radical camp. Herzen is responsible for a rather heavy contribution to the history of name-calling in the early 1860s: he introduced two powerful sobriquets: “widgeons” (свищи)258 and “bilious men” 256 One of the earliest times Katkov used the word “boys” (мальчишки) happened in his article “Some Words Instead of the ‘Contemporary Chronicle’” (“Несколько слов вместо ‘Литературной летописи’”) in the Russian Messenger on January 1861, vol. 31, p. 482. The Whistle immediately reacted with a satirical poem “The Literary Persecution or The Irritated Bibliographer” in No.7, 1861. The poem contained the following lines: “Что я сказал? “Мальчишки / Не годные мне в слуги! / Какие их чинишки? / Какие их заслуги? / Дудышкин, Чернышевский, / Какой-то Бов, Громека! / Один Андрей Краевский / Похож на человека! / ... Да если б и канальство / Зашло в мои делишки - / Карай меня начальство, / А вы молчать, мальчишки!’” Later, the Whistle and the Contemporary frequently used the word “boys” (“мальчишки”) in their polemical pieces, repeating this term after their critics and trying to laugh at it, while presenting the critics in a unfavorable light. See Svistok: sobranie literaturnykh, zhurnal'nykh i drugikh zametok. Satiricheskoe prilozhenie k zhurnalu "Sovremennik" 18591863 (Moscow: Nauka, 1981), p. 221, p. 514. 257 See, for example, A. V. Nikitenko, Dnevnik, 3 vols. (Leningrad: Gosudarstvennoe izd-vo khudozhestvennoi literatury, 1955-1956), pp. 211-252. 258 “Widgeon” appears in his article “Very Dangerous!!!” aimed against The Contemporary and the direction that it represented in Russian society. The Russian word “свищ” means “widgeon,” “knot hole,” “fistula,” an “empty nutshell.” In the context of that article it acquired a meaning of a “hollow person” (much more so than a “superfluous man” could have been), and a certain unhealthy phenomenon in society (hence the association with a disease). In 117 (желчевики).259 Both epithets have a strong association with disease, an unpleasant smell, and an unpleasant sickly bodily secretion. The first word additionally suggests a strong connection with the word “whistler” (свистун) through an association with “hollowness”260 as well as through the phonetic proximity in the series свищ-свистать-свистеть (the 1st person singular of the verb “to whistle” (свистеть/свистать) – свищу and its imperative form свищи are often used independently as a part of folk sayings like: “ищи, свищи”), while the second word suggests anger and wickedness (“bile”). Both of these words were used in various other journals and by the reading public as pejorative terms for radical youth. Considering this background, it is clear that the word “nihilist” could not escape the general tendency for name-calling. Ironically, in spite of Turgenev’s acceptance of his own guilt, the ill-starred history of this word started not with him but with Mikhail Katkov. Before being fully introduced to it in Fathers and Sons, the Russian reading public encountered it in the October 1861 issue of the Russian Messenger. Apparently acting on his impressions of Turgenev’s novel, the draft of which was given to him in September of 1861, Katkov used the word “nihilist” in reference to the radicals in his article “A Few Words about Progress” (“Кое- the same article, Herzen explicitly used the word “whistling” (освистание) in a clear reference to The Whistle (see Gertsen, "Very Dangerous!"). I am indebted in this translation of свищ to Andrew Reynolds who wrote, “I think that this use is connected with one of the forms of the word Свиязь; apparently hunters called this duck, the widgeon, svishch as well. My reasoning - a) the duck whistles - so it's loud, and that is the sense of the emptyheaded young men b) it is also stupid, easy to shoot. Incidentally, widgeon is an old English term for fool. So I suspect that's the explanation.” 259 See A. I. Gertsen, "Lishnie liudi i zhelcheviki," Sobranie sochinenii, vol. 14 (Moscow: Izd-vo Akademii nauk SSSR, 1954-1965). 260 Consider the following definitions for “свищ” in Dal’s dictionary: “сквозная дыра в чем-либо, в виде порчи, изъяна, дыра от выпавшего сучка в доске, в посудине; прокол в коже; течь в горшке, от рук гончара; проточенный червем и выеденный орех; дырочка, от костоеда, в зубу; язвина на теле, сквозная (сквозной свищ), или глухая (глухой свищ), рукавом, подкожным ходом, с узким отверстием.” Additionally, Dal gives the following saying: “Стар да нищ - гниль да свищ” which brings into this semantic field the word “гниль.” Vladimir Dal’, Tolkovyi slovar’ zhivogo velikorusskogo iazyka, 4 vols, (St. Peterburg-Moscow: Izd-e t-va M. O. Vol’f, 1909), vol. 4: C-V, p. 69. 118 что о прогрессе”). Shortly before that, in August 1861, Katkov referred to his adversaries from the radical camp of the Contemporary with a different word: “rotten stuff” (“гниль’”).261 As the Russian word “гниль” is phonetically very close to “нигилизм,” I think it is clear why the moniker “nihilism” almost instantaneously and permanently acquired its pejorative connotations. While the word “nihilism” as it was used by Turgenev in Fathers and Sons did not have this connotation, it could have been easily inferred by willing critical readers like Antonovich from some of the episodes. These might have included references to Bazarov’s scientific experiments and their association with frogs, dirt, and marshes. During his walk to collect frogs for his experiments, Bazarov gets his clothes soiled: “His linen coat and trousers were spattered with mud and a clinging marsh plant wound its way round the crown of his old round hat. In his right hand he was holding a small bag; the bag has something alive inside it.” 262 It is significant that this episode occurs in the same chapter where Arkady announces to his uncle that his friend Bazarov is a nihilist, and explains the meaning of this term. Further on in the novel, the association of Bazarov with mud appears during the scene of his parting with Arkady, where he reproaches his former friend: “The dust we kick up’ll eat your eyes, our mud’ll get all over you, but you, you’re not as grown up as we are…”263 Therefore, contrary to his intentions, Turgenev 261 Reacting against Chernyshevsky’s article “Polemical Embellishments” (“Полемические красоты”), Katkov wrote in his “Elegiac Note” (“Элегическая заметка”): “In reality, there is nothing, and all that ‘process,’ all those movements, all those changes in doctrines, all those phases of development – are but soap bubbles.” The leaders of the Contemporary have no positive views: “Our progressive journalists, the heroes of our ‘circles,’ the writing hounds of our journals do not possess any seeds of the future; all this is only decomposing rotten stuff. Let life begin, and all this rotten stuff will disappear by itself” (“В действительности ничего нет, и весь этот ‘процесс,’ все эти движения, все эти смены доктрин, все эти фазы развития – не более как мыльные пузыри,” “Наши прогрессисты, герои наших кружков, борзописцы нащих журналов; все это – одна гниль разложения. Пусть начнется жизнь, и гниль исчезнет сама собой.” The Russian Messenger, August 1861, pp. 162-166. Quoted in Koz'min, "Dva slova o slove 'nigilizm,'" p. 382. 262 263 Turgenev, Fathers and Sons , p. 24. Ibid , p. 181. The possible connection between Bazarov’s association with mud and the circle of the Contemporary is discussed in Plimak, "'Potainye' siuzhety I. S. Turgeneva. Ten' 'Termidora' v povesti 'Ottsy i deti': povest' 'Ottsy i deti' Turgeneva - podtsenzurnoe proizvedenie?" pp. 156-157. 119 might have contributed to the negative reception of his novel by enforcing the association with “mud” and the “rotten stuff” among some prejudiced readers. 14. The Types of Sitnikov and Kukshina Finally, returning to most important accusations directed at Turgenev in connection with Fathers and Sons, the young generation’s disapproval of the images of two other “nihilists” in the novel, Sitnikov and Kukshina, needs to be addressed. According to the “List of Characters,” Turgenev intended to portray in Sitnikov a rich conceited sycophant, a flibbertigibbet who follows fashionable beliefs if they can profit him, and who is, at the time when we meet him, something of a Slavophile. Kukshina was supposed to be modeled on a Mme Kittary, an extravagant emancipated woman and an acquaintance of Marko Vovchok in Germany, the stories about whom, apparently, amused Turgenev during his conversations with Markovich.264 While Turgenev does not explicitly call Sitnikov or Kukshina “nihilists,” they became embodiments of this type for a large part of the Russian readership (eventually, even more so than did Bazarov himself). Consequently, the younger generation accused Turgenev of creating yet another caricature of them. In determining whether Turgenev was, in fact, guilty of that, it is necessary to consider once again Antonovich’s “Asmodeus” and its resonance in the “progressive” press. In Antonovich’s article, both “Bazarov’s pupil,” Sitnikov, and the “progressive woman,” Kukshina, are treated as deliberate caricatures of the younger generation, meant by Turgenev to provide a contrast to “the fathers.” “Bravo, young generation” sarcastically remarks Antonovich, “how wonderfully it adapts to progress! What comparison there might even be with smart, kind, 264 Turgenev, Polnoe sobranie sochinenii i pisem v tridtsati tomakh, vol. 7, pp. 567, 570, 726. 120 moral and steady ‘fathers’?”265 Sitnikov and Kukshina, together with Arkady, are analyzed by Antonovich as typical representatives of the younger generation. Further in the article, Antonovich justifies Kukshina, saying: After all, Kukshina is not such an empty and narrow-minded person as Pavel Petrovich; after all, her thoughts are directed toward more serious subjects than ties, collars, toiletries and baths; she clearly does not care about such things. She subscribes to journals and does not cut them, but this is still better than ordering vests from Paris and morning suits from England as Pavel Petrovich does.266 Antonovich argues that through a caricaturized image of Kukshina, Turgenev wanted to humiliate all contemporary emancipated women, who do not care about such superficial things as excessive preoccupation with personal hygiene and clothes and who do not flinch at receiving men at their houses. Instead, they spend their time usefully, studying natural sciences, reading articles on contemporary issues and discussing “physiology, embryology, the problem of marriage, etc.”267 According to memoirists, types like Sitnikov and Kukshina existed in Russian society of the 1860s. Elizaveta Vodovozova, for example, gives a detailed description of Marya Sychova, a “nihilist” and a “blue stocking,” and Petrovsky, an “educator of young girls,” both of whom took part in the gatherings of young people. Even in terms of their physical appearance, Sychova and Petrovsky resemble Kukshina and Sitnikov. Here is how Vodovozova describes Sychova: 265 “Браво, молодое поколение! отлично подвизается за прогресс; и какое же сравнение с умными, добрыми и нравственно-степенными “отцами”?” Antonovich, "Asmodei nashego vremeni," p. 173. 266 “Все-таки Кукшина не так пуста как и ограничена, как Павел Петрович; все-таки ее мысли обращены на предметы более серьезные, чем фески, галстучки, воротнички, снадобья и ванны; а этим она видимо пренебрегает. Она выписывает журналы, но не читает и даже не разрезывает их, а все-таки это лучше, чем выписывать жилеты из Парижа и утренние костюмы из Англии, подобно Павлу Петровичу.” Ibid , p. 179. 267 Compare with: “Ходит она [Кукшина] “несколько растрепанная,” в “шелковом, не совсем опрятном платье,” бархатная шубка ее “на пожелтевшем горностаевом меху”; и в то же время почитывает кое-что из физики и химии, читает статьи о женщинах, хоть с грехом пополам, а все-таки рассуждает о физиологии, эмбриологии, о браке и проч.” Ibid , p. 178. 121 With a dark face, covered with blackheads, awkwardly built, tall, with her straight hair cut short, with disproportionally long arms and legs, with purulent myopic eyes – she was not at all presentable. Her physiognomy was unattractive also because she always looked as if she were displeased with something. 268 Vodovozova regrets that people like Sychova and Petrovsky – in her definition, “the formalists of the 1860s movement” – discredited younger generation and the social movement at large. They followed progressive ideas and activities of the epoch only superficially (“по внешности”), but in fact, under the sign of these ideals, “quite often did things which were rather disgraceful and poshly either out of their limited intelligence or in order to fish in troubled waters.”269 The need to differentiate the “true” movement of the 1860s from these and similar “formalists” was often an everyday necessity for young man and women like Vodovozova; it was also a task for progressive journalists who advocated the younger generation in print. Shchedrin spoke of those who attach themselves to the movement (“примазавшиеся”) in his article “Our Social Life” (“Наша общественная жизнь”), thus explaining the whole phenomenon: It is inevitable that there are people who attach themselves to every popular social movement, people who are completely alien to its spirit but who have grasped it by appearance. Taking this appearance to the absurd, to caricature, using the popular social movement in selfish interests, in the interests of career, or to attain even baser gains, these people only disgrace the movement and harm it in a very substantial way.270 268 “[C] темным, угреватым лицом, неладно скроенная, высокая, с коротко остриженными прямыми волосами, с непропорционально длинными руками и ногами, с гнойными подслеповатыми глазами, она была очень непрезентабельна. Ее физиономия была антипатична и потому, что она всегда имела вид чем-то недовольной.” Vodovozova, Na zare zhizni , vol. 2, p. 41. 269 “До их [знакомых Водовозовой] ушей доходили обыкновенно толькo курьезы и пошлости, выкидываемые, если можно так сказать, ‘формалистами движения’ этой эпохи, которые только по внешности придерживались идей и стремлений 60-х гг. Под их покровом они проделывали вещи нередко весьма безобразные и пошлые, одни – вследствие своего скудоумия, другие – для того, чтобы ловить рыбу в мутной воде.” Ibid , vol. 2, p. 8. 270 “[K]о всякому популярному общественному течению неизбежно примазываются люди чуждые его духу, но ухватившие его внешность. Доводя эти внешние признаки до абсурда, до карикатуры, пользуясь популярным общественным движением в интересах личного самолюбия, карьеры или еще более низменных 122 By 1864, when Shchedrin’s article appeared in the Contemporary, it had become a common and winning tactic in the progressive camp to differentiate and distance themselves completely from the “formalists.” In 1862, however, Antonovich wrote his “Asmodeus,” this was not the case, and the attempted defense of the younger generation as represented by Kukshina and Sitnikov undertaken by him proved to be a wrong move. It was probably an unwillingness to acknowledge this mistake that can explain why the Contemporary and its followers persisted in denouncing Turgenev’s Fathers and Sons for misrepresenting Russian youth, thus maintaining the ambivalence that kept surrounding the novel, even after Pisarev’s “Bazarov” and other positive responses changed the critical paradigm in Turgenev’s favor. On the other hand, it is true that certain ambivalence in authorial views of “mock nihilists” does exist in the novel. It comes not from Turgenev’s desire to portray the younger generation in Sitnikov and Kukshina (this remains a rather absurd claim), but from the description of Sitnikov’s relationship with Bazarov. Sitnikov claims to be Bazarov’s pupil: “I am an old friend of Evgeny Vasilich’s and I can even say I’m a pupil of his. It’s to him I owe the fact that I’ve been reborn.”271 In his turn, Bazarov explicitly shows his disdain for Sitnikov: he does not stop to properly greet him, grumbles responses to Sitnikov’s questions, etc. However, Bazarov does not deny a connection between him as a teacher and Sitnikov as his disciple. He says to Arkady, revealing “the limitless depth” of his “conceit”: “Look, mate, I see you’re still bloody silly. We need Sitnikovs. I – know what I mean – I need such cretins. It’s not for the выгод такие личности только опошляют движение и приносят ему огромный вред.” N. (Saltykov Shchedrin, M. E.), "Nasha obshchestvennaia zhizn'," Sobranie sochinenii v 20 tt., vol. 6 (Moscow: 1968), vol. 6, p. 322. 271 Turgenev, Fathers and Sons , p. 64. 123 Gods, in fact, to bake the pots!”272 It is precisely this teacher-disciple relationship between the Contemporary and its ardent followers that the journal failed to deny at first (as evident in Antonovich’s article), and started to deny vigorously soon after. As for Turgenev, his treatment of Sitnikov and Kukshina lies within a broader tradition of Russian literature. G. A. Bialy observes that chaaracters of this kind can be found in Griboedov, “who represented in Woe from Wit a truly “new man” of his time, the good Chatsky, and at the same time, somewhere in the background of the comedy, showed a caricatural follower of “new men,” the silly Repetilov.”273 Bialy also remarks that Turgenev had used a similar type in On the Eve, portraying Lupoyarov, a Moscow acquaintance of Insarov. 274 Lupoyarov employs a lot of loud phrases like “progress,” and “younger generation” and greatly vexes Insarov who, in his turn, calls him a “whistler.” In Pomialovsky’s Bourgeois Happiness, Cherevanin is also surrounded by characters of the Sitnikov’s type, only, as we have seen above, he distances himself from them, and does not claim to be their “teacher.” In spite of Turgenev’s intentions and quite contrary to the actual language and imagery with which Sitnikov and Kukshina are portrayed in Fathers and Sons, they, together with Bazarov, quickly became stereotypical images of “nihilists,” from whom “true” Russian progressive youth would try to distance themselves for the next decade. With the new balance of power between the writer and the critic, Turgenev’s actual words in the novel meant little. Far more important was what Antonovich, Chernyshevsky, and other influential radical critics had to say about it. This discrepancy looks stunning if we compare the following three passages describing Bazarov and his pupil, Sitnikov. The first one 272 Ibid , p. 108. 273 Bialyi, Roman Turgeneva "Ottsy i deti" , p. 60. 274 Ibid , p. 60. 124 comes from Fathers and Sons, the second one is from Chernyshevsky’s 1862 article “Bezdenezh’e” (“Without Money”) (which was not published during his lifetime), and the third one is from Antonovich’s “Asmodeus.” Passage 1 Turgenev, Fathers and Sons Bazarov: “… a tall man in a long, loose, canvas garment with tassels… Nikolai Petrovich firmly squeezed his ungloved red hand… [his face:] Long and thin, with broad temples, a nose flattened at the top and sharp toward the tip, with large greenish eyes and sandy-colored drooping sideburns, the face was enlivened by a quiet smile and expressed self-assuredness and intelligence.”275 Sitnikov: “a small man in a Slavophile jacket… pulling off his far too elegant gloves. An anxious and vacant expression could be discerned in the small, quite pleasant features of his well-scrubbed face.”276 Passage 2. Chernyshevsky, “Without Money” “What kind of faces are these: emaciated, green with wondering expressions and mouths, distorted by wicked grins, with unwashed hands and with bad cigars clenched between their teeth? These are the nihilists as they are portrayed by Turgenev in his novel, Fathers and Sons. These unshaved and uncombed youth reject everything, everything: they reject paintings, statues, a violin and a bow, opera and theater, a woman’s beauty–they reject all, and so that’s how they introduce themselves: we are, you know, nihilists, we reject and destruct all.” 277 Passage 3. Antonovich, “Asmodeus of Our Time” [Not] a live personality but a caricature, a monster with a tiny head and a gigantic mouth, a little face and a huge nose–a caricature of a most wicked kind. […] he does not have a heart at all; his is insensible as a rock, cold as ice and ferocious as a tiger […] he is not a human being but some terrible creature, simply, a devil or, to put it more poetically, an Asmodeus. He systematically hates and persecutes everything, starting from his kind parents, whom he can’t stand, to poor frogs, whom he dissects with relentless cruelty. Never has any feeling crawled into his cold heart; there is no trace of any interest or passion in him […] he teaches immorality and nonsensical ideas […] he kills noble instincts and elevated feelings with his mocking grin, with this same grin, he keeps [his followers[ from performing acts of kindness […] in disputes, he is completely lost, utters gibberish and propagates the kind of nonsense that is unforgivable 275 Turgenev, Fathers and Sons , p. 7. 276 Ibid , p. 64. 277 “Что это за лица – исхудалые, зеленые, с блуждающими глазами, с искривленными злобной улыбкой ненависти устами, с немытыми руками, с скверными сигарами в зубах? Это нигилисты, изображенные г. Тургеневым в романе ‘Отцы и дети.’ Эти небритые, нечесанные юноши отвергают все, все: отвергают картины, статуи, скрипку и смычок, оперу и театр, женскую красоту, – все, все отвергают, и прямо так и рекомендуют себя: мы, дескать, нигилисты, все отрицаем и разрушаем.” N. G. Chernyshevskii, "Bezdenezh'e," Polnoe sobranie sochinenii, vol. 10 (Moscow: 1951), p. 185. 125 even to a most narrow mind [..] a glutton who only thinks about an opportunity to eat and drink […] if he gets invited anywhere, his first question is whether he would be given champagne. 278 After comparing these excerpts, what doubts might still exist as to which Bazarov was to live in the memory of the readers would disappear if we examine a more visual source: some of the cartoons from Fathers and Sons: A Novel in Caricatures279 that appeared in the satirical newspaper the Spark six years after the publication of Turgenev’s Fathers and Sons. Bazarov is represented on them as a dirty, hairy monster dressed in rags, being painted with black paint by Ivan Turgenev (See Figure 1), leaping at Odintsova as a ferocious tiger (see Figure 2), with his feet on the table while eating and drinking heavily in clouds of cigarette smoke at Kukshina’s (See Figure 3). In 1865, after the heat of the polemic had subsided, Pisarev came back to the incident regarding Antonovich’s criticism. In his article “The New Type” (“Новый тип” – also known as “Thinking Proletariat” [“Мыслящий пролетариат”]), he retold the story in the neutral language of a literary historian: Turgenev was the first in our belle-lettres to contemplate the existence of “new men” […] Bazarov was an outstanding representative of the new type but Turgenev did not, apparently, have enough material to show his hero from all sides. Besides, Turgenev, due to his age and some qualities of his personal character, could not fully sympathize with the new type. Some false notes crept 278 [H]е живая личность, а карикатура, чудовище с крошечной головкой и гигантским ртом, маленьким лицoм и пребольшущим носом, и притом карикатура самая злостная.[…] cердца у него вовсе нет; он бесчувственен – как камень, холоден – как лед и свиреп – как тигр […] это не человек, а какое-то ужасное существо, просто дьявол, или, выражаясь более поэтически, асмодей. Он систематически ненавидит и преследует все, начиная от своих добрых родителей, которых он терпеть не может, и оканчивая лягушками, которых он режет с беспощадной жестокостью. Никогда ни одно чувство не закрадывалось в его холодное сердце; не видно в нем и следа какого-нибудь увлечения или страсти […] он учит безнравственности и бессмыслию […] благородные инстинкты и возвышенные чувства он убивает своей презрительной насмешкой, и ею же он удерживает их от всякого доброго дела […] в спорах он совершенно теряется, высказывает бессмыслицы и проповедует нелепости, непростительные самому ограниченному уму […] oбжор[a], который только и думает о том, как бы поесть и попить […] приглашают ли его куда-нибудь, он прежде всего справляется, будет ли ему шампанское. Antonovich, "Asmodei nashego vremeni," pp. 145, 148, 149. 279 A Volkov, "Ottsy i deti: karikaturnyi roman," Iskra April 7 - June 2, 1868. 126 into his novel that provoked, on the side of The Contemporary, a harsh and unjust criticism by Antonovich. That article was a mistake. 280 Pisarev wrote several articles about Fathers and Sons: “Bazarov” (1862), “Realists” (1864), “The New Type” (1865), but the damage done to the cause of the radical party in Russia was, perhaps, never repaired. The caricatural image of Bazarov (the “nihilist”) had a long future in front of him. 280 “Над существованием новых людей прежде всех задумался в нашей беллетристике Тургенев... Базаров явился очень ярким представителем нового типа; но у Тургенева, очевидно, не хватило материалов для того, чтобы полнее обрисовать своего героя со всех сторон. Кроме того, Тургенев, по своим летам и по некоторым свойствам своего личного характера, не мог вполне сочувствовать новому типу; в его последний роман вкрались фальшивые ноты, которые вызвали со стороны ‘Современника’ строгую и несправедливую рецензию г. Антоновича. Эта рецензия была ошибкою.” Pisarev, "Novyi tip," p. 209. 127 Figure 1 128 Figure 2 129 Figure 3 130 Chapter 2 The Polemic about the “Hero of the Time” and the Positive Hero in the 1860-1870s: The Nihilists and the New Men after Bazarov 281 Покорись, о ничтожное племя! Неизбежной и горькой судьбе. Захватило вас трудное время Неготовыми к трудной борьбе, Вы еще не в могиле, вы живы, Но для дела вы мертвы давно, Суждены вам благие порывы, Но свершить ничего не дано... Николай Некрасов, “Рыцарь на час” (1) The Nihilist Epoch: An Historical Perspective (2) The “Nihilist” or “New Man”? (3) Ivan Kushchevsky and his Novel Nikolai Negorev, or The Successful Russian (4) Mathewson’s Concept of the “Positive Hero” (5) Bazarov and Rakhmetov (6) Bazarov and the “New Men”: Chernyshevsky and the Problem of the Typical (7) The Nihilist Fad: When Appearances Are Not Deceitful (8) The Rigorist and Don Quixote: “The Man of Action” as the “Hero of the Time” (9) The Nature of Action for the “Man of Action” (10) Imitations of Bazarov and Chernyshevsky’s “New Men” in Democratic Literature 1. The Nihilist Epoch: An Historical Perspective The question whether literary periods – with their predominant literary forms, genres and types of characters – should be determined by certain signposts in history, such as deaths of rulers, victories and defeats in wars, certain reforms or “revolutionary situations,” nowadays seems rather inappropriate for literary scholars. Such a question assumes that the direction of literature is determined not by its inner artistic laws, creative influences, or tradition and innovation, but by some extraneous, politically and ideologically motivated factors. For almost a century, official Soviet histories of literature developed a rigid scheme based on this second approach. In this 281 A portion of this chapter was delivered on the panel “Social Types in Nineteenth-Century Prose” at the 2009 AATSEEL Conference and benefited greatly from the comments and suggestions of panelists and audience members. 131 system, the literary epoch of the 1860s is viewed as a mirror image of the political epoch of the 1860s. In spite of all ideological controversies, I would like to argue that dismissing the political and ideological view of literary history – at least, when it comes to the 1860s – is inappropriate. The degree of interpenetration and interdependency of literature (art) and history (life) is not a constant. For example, the Golden Age of Russian Poetry was aware of the political and ideological climate in Russia and abroad, but it would be an unnecessary stretch to propose a strict correlation between literature and history at that time. The 1860s were fundamentally different. Political events and ideological battles defined novels to such a degree that it almost becomes possible to study literature with reference to government decrees, records of political trials and issues of daily and monthly periodicals. In the same way, historical trends of this period are often enlightened by novels. Moreover, both history and literature, at that time, were acutely aware of this interdependency and they consciously built upon it. The dominant genre of the second half of the century – prose and, more specifically, the novel – developed an ideal form for politically and ideologically-inspired art. This type of novel, called social, polemical and the novel of ideas (among other names) was introduced and developed to perfection by Turgenev and, subsequently, widely reproduced and modified. Thus, the core of my approach involves not dismissing politics and ideology, but in engaging them. I am interested in looking into the nature of their influence on literature, the interdependency between them and the consequences of the uneasy balance between the requirements of art and ideology. The framing of the literary epoch of the 1860s by major historical events was not exclusively a fallacy of Marxist historians of literature. Unaware of their approach, Nikolai Strakhov (1828-1896), the most influential 19th-century critic of nihilism, a proponent of 132 pochvennichestvo and Dostoevsky’s collaborator in his journals Time (Время) and Epoch (Эпоха), also put historical bookends on the timeline of literary history, claiming that the “epoch of nihilism” in Russia stretched “from the Paris Peace Treaty up until the war for Bulgaria.” 282 Directly superimposing life onto art, Strakhov lamented that “no matter how it might upset us, it seems that we will have to refer to [this] whole epoch in our literature as nihilist…for more than twenty years…nihilism was the reigning feature of our literature.” 283 He observed that “with small exceptions, all the writers of that period portrayed nihilists, often focusing on them for the overall meaning of their works.”284 Strakhov’s suggestions for the beginning and end points of the “nihilist epoch” (1856-1878) closely approximate the Soviet view, which shows that there is probably a correlation between historical events and shifts of paradigms of social and literary consciousness. The comparison between Strakhov’s and the Soviet views also reveals that historical events, chosen as markers of the periods in literary history, necessarily endow that history with a certain ideological perspective. The Soviet terminology describing “revolutionary situations” and “conservative reaction” gives the epoch a narrative of continuous revolutionary struggle against the tsarist regime. By the same token, but from the opposite ideological perspective, Strakhov’s “history” casts this epoch in a patriotic light. Without further analyzing the ideological coloring Strakhov gave to the “nihilist epoch” placing it in between the wars with Turkey, I would only like to mention one very intriguing point that stems from this Turkish connection. As we know, 282 Strakhov refers here to the Paris Treaty of 1856 which put an end to the Crimean war and the Russo-Turkish war of 1877-1878. Strakhov, Iz istorii literaturnogo nigilizma, 1861-1865: Pis'ma N. Kositsy, Zametki Letopistsa i pr., p. viii. 283 “Как бы это нас не огорчало, но, кажется, целый период нашей литературы придется назвать нигилистическим. Именно, больше двадцати лет, от Парижского мира до войны за Болгарию, самою господствующею чертою в нашей литературе был нигилизм в различных его развитиях.” Ibid , p. viii. 284 Ibid , p. ix. 133 Turgenev’s On the Eve (1860) presented one of the first and, certainly, most significant literary heroes of the new epoch – the Bulgarian Insarov, a “man of action.” The foreigness of Insarov underlined one of the main tasks of the generation of the 1860s: to prove that possibilities for meaningful action can also exist in Russia itself. In the end, as a result of the Russo-Turkish war of 1877-1878, Bulgaria regained independence, whereas the promise for meaningful activity within Russia slowly died by that time under the weight of reactionary forces. Thus, what lies between Insarov and the “anonymous Insarovs” is the rise and fall of the “new” literary hero in Russian literature, with powerful lessons to be learned both by social and literary historians. 2. The “Nihilist” or “New Man”? In the first chapter, I argued in support of Lidiya Ginzburg’s idea that man represents the ultimate reality that literature seeks and that the historically, ideologically and socially “determined” man – the image of the protagonist – is central for Russian realism in the second half of the 19th century. 285 In the next chapters, I will survey the central problem of literature of the 1860-1870s: the variations on the image of the protagonist, the various types of so-called “new men” and women and “nihilists.” The two most popular names for the most important literary hero of the period, “nihilist” and “new man,” bring with them, again, a huge ideological valence. At the source of this naming controversy lies, of course, the juxtaposition of two “gold standards” against which all images of literary heroes of the period would be created and judged: Turgenev’s Bazarov, the first character to be called a “nihilist,” and Chernyshevsky’s “new men”: Lopukhov, Kirsanov and, especially, Rakhmetov. 285 “Литература прежде всего моделирует человека – это и есть искомая реальность.” “Реализм 19 века – это система, чей двигательной пружиной является человек, исторически, социально, биологически детерминированный.” Ginzburg, Literatura v poiskakh real’nosti , pp. 8, 12. 134 The similarity between these two types (as well as their prototypes in society) has been pointed out numerous times before: both are literary representations of the younger generation, the youth of the 1860s. Moreover, they represent the part of this generation which shares the same social background (mainly, raznochintsy) and upholds the same values and beliefs (materialism, atheism, belief in utopian socialist ideas, etc.). Pisarev observed in his article, “The New Type,” that “if Chernyshevsky had to depict real people in Bazarov’s circumstances, people who are surrounded by all kinds of old rags, then his Lopukhov, Kirsanov and Rakhmetov would have had to behave almost exactly like Bazarov behaves.” 286 In spite of sharing a common origin in society, the names “nihilists” and “new men” exist in literary history as opposites. The mainstream (radical) criticism would undoubtedly have held the view that Chernyshevsky’s “new” (Lopukhov, Kirsanov) and “peculiar” (Rakhmetov) men and their literary emulations were created as types explicitly different from Turgenev’s (and Katkov’s) “nihilists.” For Chernyshevsky and his followers, the type of “new man” characterized “us,” whereas Bazarov and other “nihilists” were “them” or, their ideological enemies’ faulty caricatures of them (as we have seen in the analysis of Antonovich’s scurrilous critique of Fathers and Sons). The use of the terms “nihilists” and “new men,” from their appearance in the beginning of the 1860s, was parallel to and dependent on the ideological position of the user. What is more interesting and, perhaps, unavoidable, is that these terms are used in much the same way today. In his 1941 study From the Literary Polemic of the 1860s, the Soviet scholar Vasilii Bazanov acknowledges the presence of the same underlying social reality in both terms and sums 286 “Если бы г. Чернышевскому пришлось изображать живых людей, поставленных в положение Базарова, то есть окруженных всяким старьем и тряпьем, то его Лопухов, Кирсанов, Рахметов стали бы держать себя почти совершенно так, как держит себя Базаров.” In Pisarev, "Novyi tip," p. 210. 135 up the ideological distinctions of their usage. He writes that “the same material, the same topic of ‘new people’ was taken by such writers of democratic literature as Fedorov-Omulevsky287 or Sofya Kovalevskaya288 ‘to promote the democratic ideals’ and by such anti-nihilist writers as Leskov, Krestovsky, Pisemsky, Kliushnikov, Markevich – ‘to refute them.’”289 Elsewhere in that study he states that “In spite of the general vagueness of the terms ‘nihilism’ and ‘nihilists,’ the specific historical meaning that it had for conservatives is clear. They used the term ‘nihilists’ to refer to the ‘new people’ – the revolutionary democrats and radical raznochintsy.”290 The author of a recent Russian study of the polemical novel of the 1860-1880s,291 Natalya Starygina, also argues that “the same phenomenon of social reality, the Russian raznochinstvo,” stands behind both terms, the “nihilist” and “new man.” She then proceeds to argue that the term “nihilist” describes this reality from the point of view of conservatives as “negative” and the term “new man” describes this same reality from the point of view of radicals as “positive and progressive.”292 287 Inokenty V. Omulevskii (Fedorov) is a democratic writer known for his novel Step by Step (Шаг за шагом), 1869, written in the footsteps of Chernyshevsky. 288 Sofya Kovalevskaya penned a novel practically forgotten in Russia but popular now in American universities: The Nihilist Girl (Нигилистка), 1891. 289 “Достаточно, например, напомнить ‘Что делать?’ Чернышевского и ‘Шаг за шагом’ ФедороваОмулевского, или, наконец, сослаться на малоизвестную повесть Ковалевской “Нигилистка” и сравнить их с антинигилистическими романами Лескова, Крестовского, Писемского, Клюшниковa, Маркевича и других, чтобы убедиться, как один и тот же материал, одна и та же тема о ‘новых людях’ в первом случае являлась одним из способов утверждения революционной действительности, а во втором – своеобразной формой ее отрицания.” V. G. Bazanov, Iz literaturnoi polemiki 60-kh godov (Petrozavodsk: Gosudarstvennoe izdatel'stvo Karelo-Finskoi SSR, 1941), p. 75. 290 “При всей туманности термина ‘нигилизм’ и ‘нигилисты’ совершенно-ясным становится то конкретноисторическое содержание, которое вкладывали в это понятие охранители. Под “нигилистами” они имели в виду ‘новых людей’ – революционных демократов и радикальных разночинцев.” Ibid , p. 35. 291 292 Starygina, Russkii roman v situatsii filosofsko-religioznoi polemiki 1860-1870-kh godov. “Бытовавшие в качестве альтернативных по отношению друг к другу образы-понятия ‘новый человек’ и ‘нигилист’ воплотили представления об одном явлении социальной действительности: русском разночинстве. Но это была реакция (общественное мнение) разных по умонастроению социальных групп: 136 It is also worth remembering that “the same phenomenon of social reality, the Russian raznochinstvo,” had been a rather amorphous entity until it was taken up by literature. Moreover, even if the social base that gave rise to the terms might have been the same, in the end the two lines of literary discourse – one “nihilist” and the other belonging to the “new men” – are remarkably different. Literary types of the “nihilists” and “new men” created within these lines of discourse contain unusually high ideological constituents in their meaning; a purely artistic critique of them is rarely possible. 3. Ivan Kushchevsky and his Novel Nikolai Negorev, or The Successful Russian To further complicate matters, the discussion of the terminological difference between the “nihilist” and “new man” will not be complete if we exclude literary works whose authors either did not have a clear ideological bias, or were conflicted about their ideological stance, and who did not see ideological boundaries between types in the same way as their contemporaries. Ivan Kushchevsky’s 1871 novel, Nikolai Negorev, or The Successful Russian (Николай Негорев, или Благополучный россиянин), is an example of such a work. The literary career of Ivan Kushchevsky, whose novel the literary critic Arkady Gornfeld called a “remarkable literary event,” and a “talented work” that “attracted the attention of the larger reading public and literary critics alike,” 293 lasted for only five years.294 Kushchevsky’s радикальной и консервативной. В образе-понятии ‘новый человек’ отражено понимание деятельности новых людей как положительной и прогрессивной. В образе-понятии ‘нигилист’ выражено, напротив, негативное восприятие этой же деятельности.” Ibid , p. 55. 293 A. G. Gornfel'd, "N. A. Kushchevskii," O russkikh pisateliakh, vol. 1: Minuvshii vek (Petersburg: Prosveshchenie, 1912) vol. 1, p. 51. 294 Ivan Kushchevsky’s biography and creative work, most importantly, his novel Nikolai Negorev is discussed in the following 19th and 20th century sources: A. G. Gornfel'd, "Zabytyi pisatel'," Russkoe bogatstvo.12 (1896), pp. 143-80; "Novye knigi," Vestnik Evropy 2 (1872), pp. 846-51; see also the biographical article on Kushchevsky by M. Goriachkina in I. A. Kushchevskii, Nikolai Negorev: roman i malen'kie rasskazy (Moskva: Sovetskaia Rossiia, 1984) and in the Soviet Encyclopedia: M. S. Goriachkina, "Kushchevskii," Bol'shaia Sovetskaia entsiklopediia, vol. 14 (Kuna--Lomami) (Moscow: Sovetskaia entsikklopediia, 1973), p. 65. Biographical information on Kushchevsky can also be found in earlier encyclopedia entries such as "Kushchevskii," Entsiklopedicheskii slovar', vol. 33: 137 social background (the son of a provincial, low-ranking civil clerk) and sympathies (he published his work in the radical The Spark and Nekrasov’s The Annals of the Fatherland) equally determined his affiliation with the group of radical writers and critics. Nikolai Negorev is written as a family chronicle detailing the childhood and adult life of the protagonist, his brother Andrei, his sister Liza, and a group of his school friends, including the most memorable character of the entire novel, Sergei Overin. Soviet critic Maria Goriachkina claims that the theme of the novel is “the education of the new generation and the search for ways to fight for a fair social order” and that the characters in his novel and short stories are modeled on Chernyshevsky’s “new men.” 295 In its treatment of the deficiencies of the Russian educational system, Kushchevsky’s novel is reminiscent of Nikolai Pomialovsky’s Seminary Sketches (Очерки бурсы, 1863) and the unfinished novel Brother and Sister. Nikolai Negorev, however, stands out among other democratic novels of the time because of its highly problematic treatment of the protagonist. Possessing a number of positive (intelligence, certain integrity) as well as negative ones (a tendency to lie, selfishness, hypocrisy) and exposed to the progressive and revolutionary ideas of the youthful subculture to which he belongs, Negorev, in the course of the novel, develops not into a “new man” (like his brother and best friends), but a conceited, selfish and cruel petty bourgeois. The first-person narration employed by Kushchevsky makes Negorev’s transformation almost unnoticeable, psychologically believable and, therefore, convincing. Kultagoi-Led (St. Petersburg: Izd-vo Brokgauz, Efron, 1896), p. 147; "Kushchevskii." Istoriia russkoi literatury XIX veka: Biograficheskii ukazatel'. Ed. K. D. Muratova Moscow-Leningrad: Izd-vo Akademii Nauk, 1962, pp. 397-98; "Kushchevskii." Russkie pisateli: XIX vek: Biobliograficheskii slovar’ v dvukh chastiakh; ch. 1: A-L P. A. Nikolaev, Ed., 2nd ed. (Moscow: Prosveshchenie, 1996), pp. 403-405. 295 “Тема его – воспитание нового поколения и поиски путей борьбы за справедливый общественный строй; в образах положительных героев сказалось влияние романа Н. Г. Чернышевского Что делать.” Goriachkina, "Kushchevskii," p. 65. 138 Critics have tried to come to grips with the apparent contradiction between Kushchevsky’s views and the critique of the “new man” that is implicit in the message of the novel. Nikolai Negorev, makes his petty bourgeois dream come true by making a career and a modest fortune and by marrying a general’s daughter. At the end of the novel, he is inclined to break all ties with his former school friends, who had either turned into exiled revolutionaries or drunkards and vagabonds and who kept coming to him for money and favors. The last sentence in Nikolai Negorev (“Oh, God! at one time, these were my friends! at one time we were equals!”296) reads as Negorev’s final moral judgment on his former friends. This pronouncement leaves the reader with a dilemma about whether to take the statement at face value. The novel is a bildungsroman. Its subject is Negorev’s growing up from childhood into adulthood, but it also works as a kind of a bildungroman for the reader, who, while watching Negorev gradually give up his interest in the ideals and passions of “new men” for more conventional life goals – marriage,297 connections and the advancement of his career, might come to the conclusion that such a transition is a natural part of maturation process and parting with the illusions of youth is natural for someone entering a world governed by money and bureaucracy. This harsh and poignant lesson does not then substantially differ from the message of Pomialovsky’s 1861 dilogy, Molotov and Bourgeois Happiness.298 Nikolai Negorev might be a less worthy and a less likable character than Egor Molotov, but this fact does not automatically diminish the truth value of this idea. After all, sentiments about the collapse of the ideals of the 1860s were also exposed 296 “Господи! когда-то эти были моими товарищами! когда-то мы все были равны!” Kushchevskii, Nikolai Negorev: roman i malen'kie rasskazy , p. 320. 297 Negorev says, “according to my nature and convictions, I wanted to be a quiet family man and had a true aversion to love affairs” (“[П]о своей натуре и по своим убеждениям я хотел быть спокойным семьянином и имел положительное отвращение ко всяким любовным интригам”). Ibid , p. 273. 298 For the discussion of Pomialovsky’s dilogy, see Chapter 1. 139 by such a respected democratic author as Vasily Sleptsov in his 1865 novel, The Difficult Time (Трудное время),299 and in the first chapters of his unfinished novel, A Good Man (Хороший человек),300 which were published in the same February 1871 issue of the Annals of the Fatherland (Отечественные записки) where Nikolai Negorev was serialized. Critical interpretations of Nikolai Negorev depend on its perceived ideological stance. Pointing to the protagonist’s “dissatisfaction with the ideal,” an anonymous 19th-century critic remarked that it came from within “the depth of the liberal party.” 301 A contemporary scholar praised Kushchevsky’s critique of “new men” as an example of self-searching permissible within the boundaries of his own ideological “camp.” 302 In other words, in spite of its critical attitude towards “new men,” Kushchevsky’s novel is still viewed as an integral part of the democratic literature about them.303 299 V. A. Sleptsov, "Trudnoe vremia," Sochineniia, vol. 1, Russkie pisateli, XIX vek (Moscow-Leningrad: Academia, 1932) 300 V. A. Sleptsov, "Khoroshii chelovek: povest' (pervonachal'naia redaktsiia)," Vasilii Sleptsov: neizvestnye stranitsy, vol. 71, Literaturnoe nasledstvo (Moscow: Izd-vo Akademii nauk SSSR, 1963) 301 “Здесь – по мнению критика – обозначается недовольство идеалом, который удовлетворял прежде, отречение от этого идеала, отречение, обнаружившееся в самих недрах либерально-прогрессивного направления и сказавшееся невольно, как нечто такое, что нашептывалось самим временем.” Quoted Kushchevskii, Nikolai Negorev: roman i malen'kie rasskazy , pp. 81-83. 302 “Но неприязни к новейшему общественному движению [...] не было в Кущевском. [...] он [...] сознава[л] ясное значение слабых сторон движения, которые оказавали ему дурную службу. Принятые за сущность мощного кризиса, эти слабые стороны были не раз и раньше объектом яростных обличений в беллетристике иного направления. С этой беллетристикой сравнивать роман Кущевского не приходится. С тактом даровитого художника и умного человека, он сумел уловить ту меру в отрицательном отношении к людям нового склада, какая могла быть принята в его лагере. С силой и самоотвержением истинного друга движения, он разоблачал его ложных и ‘услужливых’ друзей. Такими для истинного прогрессиста являлись, с одной стороны, те ‘новые люди,’ те умеренные и аккуратные практики и дельцы, которые под флагом новых идей умело проводили свое и только свое ‘благополучие,’ с другой же, мечтатели-идеологи, оторванные от почвы, чуждые настоящего понимания движения, не соразмерившие своих сил с той громадой многовековой истории, которую они пытались сдвинуть.” Quoted from the introduction to Ibid , pp. 81-83. 303 Natalya Starygina places Kushchevsky’s novel within the tradition of the “nihilist novel” (her term for the “democratic novel about new men”). She calls his work, along with the works of Mordovtsev (a mild sympathizer with the movement), “contextually polemical novels,” suggesting that the criticism of the “new men” in these works is not foregrounded, which allows the reader to choose between possible interpretations (See Starygina, Russkii 140 However, for today’s reader who is unaware of the subtleties of the ideologically charged discourse that would place of Kushchevsky’s characters among “new men” rather than “nihilists,” there is not much difference between, for example, Negorev and Baklanov or Basardin, characters in Pisemsky’s novel The Troubled Sea (Взбаламученное море).304 For Negorev, as well as for Baklanov, the ardent youthful infatuation with “liberal ideas” is temporary and superficial. Trying to keep up with the popular liberal sentiments in society, they nevertheless keep pursuing material goals, i.e. career, connections and wealth quite contrary to the elevated ideals of “new men.” In addition, both Kushchevsky’s and Pisemsky’s characters are portrayed as negative characters, in spite of Pisemsky’s partial identification with Baklanov, who exemplifies some of the common follies among the youth of Pisemsky’s own generation. The conventional criticism of Kushchevsky’s novel, however, shows how ideology both determines and constrains the understanding of a character. 4. Mathewson’s Concept of the “Positive Hero” The analysis of artistic and ideological differences between the “nihilist” and “new man” as dominant representations of the protagonist in novels of the 1860-1870s would not be complete without consideration of Rufus Mathewson’s argument, put forward in his seminal The Positive Hero in Russian Literature. In this study, the author discusses the dichotomy between the “new man” (a perfect, exemplary hero) and the classical (imperfect) protagonist of Russian literature. He explores the process by which this dichotomy unfailingly resurfaces throughout history up until the Stalinist period, where the same underlying principles contrast socialist realist novels and the works of Soviet dissident writers. roman v situatsii filosofsko-religioznoi polemiki 1860-1870-kh godov , p. 113). It is hard to fully agree with this position because the artistic structure of the novel is actually not open and dialogic, but rather unequivocally suggests only one, “correct” interpretation. 304 This novel is analyzed in detail in Chapter 3. 141 Mathewson sees the origins of the protagonist problem in the critical debates of the 1860s and its first, most vivid manifestation. In the juxtaposition of Bazarov and Rakhmetov. Mathewson argues that “the crux of the entire argument may be found in the distance that separates Bazarov and Rakhmetov, seen as two views of the same social type.” However, for Mathewson, that 19th-century argument does not involve the difference between a “nihilist” and a “new man”; in a somewhat broader fashion, it comes down to “two opposing views of two distinct social types, members of successive generations which were loosely identified as the “men of the forties” and the “men of the sixties.”305 The difference between the “men of the forties” and the “men of the sixties” lies in their relation to the problem of the “positive hero.” According to Mathewson, Rakhmetov (a “man of the sixties”) embodies the ideal of the radical critics, “who advanced a systematic aesthetic in which the positive hero was central.” Rakhmetov, the best example of such a positive hero, serves as an “emblematically virtuous image of a political man.”306 The distinctive feature of a “virtuous man” is that he “serves as a pattern” and “deserves imitation.” 307 This concept “of the positive hero,” as Mathewson observes, “had been developed as a weapon of argument in the pivotal debate in the 1860s […] about the nature and function of literature.” On the other side of this debate were the classical writers who opposed this view and “rejected any suggestion that they devote themselves merely to the celebration of political virtue in literature, and who defended their art as an autonomous kind of exploration, concerned with politics but finally independent of any political claims made upon it.”308 305 Mathewson, The Positive Hero in Russian Literature , p. 97. 306 Ibid , p. 1. 307 Ibid , p. 7. 308 Ibid , p. 3. 142 The main conflict in Fathers and Sons is between the two generations, with Bazarov personifying the values of the “man of the sixties.” Mathewson sees a certain kinship of Bazarov and the “man of the forties” he despises since he, like them, is an ego-centered hero manqué “with his special personality failure.”309 Therefore, better terms for Mathewson’s dichotomy would probably be “strong man” and “weak man.” While being infinitely broader and less historically restrictive, this dichotomy also reiterates the terms of the 1859 argument between Chernyshevsky and Annenkov. Chernyshevsky attacked the “men of the forties,” the superfluous men, in his article “Russian Man at a Rendezvous”310 which was published in the short-lived journal of “artistic” direction, Athenaeum (Атеней). The article was a critique of Turgenev’s “Asya” and, as many scholars suggest, Chernyshevsky’s finest work of literary criticism. Chernyshevsky referred to the hero of this story as a weak and indecisive scoundrel. Pavel Annenkov’s article “The Literary Type of a Weak Man,” polemicizing with Chernyshevsky, is a defense of the “men of the forties” (those “superfluous” and “weak men”). 311 Mathewson sees the character’s weakness and “overwhelming predilection for defeat” as the crucial feature that characterized the “men of the forties,” and that “the politically minded critics, Belinsky, Dobroliubov and Chernyshevsky” isolated and “wanted to replace.” 312 The fallibility of the protagonist that lies at the core of the difference between the “man of the forties” (“weak man”) and the “man of the sixties” (“strong man”) is important to Mathewson because 309 Ibid, p. 15. 310 N. G. Chernyshevskii, "Russkii chelovek na rendez-vous: Razmyshleniia po prochtenii povesti g. Turgeneva 'Asia'," Sobranie sochinenii v piati tomakh, vol. 3 (Moscow: Pravda, 1974). 311 P. V. Annenkov, "Literaturnyi tip slabogo cheloveka: po povodu Turgenevskoi 'Asi'," Vospominaniia i kriticheckie ocherki: sobranie stateii i zametok: 1849-1868 gg. Otdel vtoroi (St. Petersburg: Tipografiia M. Stasiulevicha, 1879). 312 Mathewson, The Positive Hero in Russian Literature , pp. 14-15. 143 only an imperfect character is able to solicit the type of identification for the reader that characterizes true art. “The reader’s identification with the hero may take many forms,” says Mathewson but it must not… be complete or blindly subordinate. Reader and hero must meet in some sense as equals, and yet an essential distance between them must be maintained. It is this remove, preserved by Aristotle’s catharsis that permits tragedy, and frees the reader of the terrible burden of the hero’s suffering. 313 The ultimate flaw in Chernyshevsky’s own characters and their imitations in socialist realist novels is their infallibility that prevents reader identification and instead, requires only blind emulation. A hero of the new generation, the “man of the sixties,” had, according to Mathewson, an opportunity to develop into a true (“fallible”) character, as seen in Dostoevsky’s work,314 but this opportunity was not taken. While accepting Mathewson’s argument, I object somewhat to its assumptions. Strictly speaking, Bazarov, a “strong, angry, honest” figure, “somber” and “wild” “half-grown out of the soil”315 is presented by Turgenev, decisively, as a strong character. Bazarov’s “restless and melancholic,”316 heart was meant by Turgenev not as a sign of fatal weakness but one of humanity. In fact, while striving for perfection is, undoubtedly, the powerful driving force of 313 Ibid , p. 8. 314 “[T]he Russian revolutionary… was indeed an excellent subject, provided he was kept at a distance, and shown in all his dimensions. He had energy, passion, courage, and principle, he lived dangerously, and his life was full of pain, deprivation, and defeat. He was often disfigured in his collision with life, and was, as a result, badly flawed in a human or moral sense. As such he became a fitting subject for tragic investigation, as Dostoevsky, among all others, found out.” Ibid , p. 9. 315 “Мне мечталась фигура сумрачная, дикая, большая, до половины выросшая из почвы, сильная, злобная, честная – и все-таки обреченная на погибель – потому, что она все-таки стоит еще в преддверии будущего, – мне мечтался какой-то странный pendant c Пугачевым...” Turgenev, Polnoe sobranie sochinenii i pisem v tridtsati tomakh , Letters, vol. 4, p. 381. 316 “[Б]еспокойного и тоскующего Базарова (признак великого сердца), несмотря на весь его нигилизм…” F. M. Dostoevsky, "Zimnie zametki o letnikh vpechatleniiakh," Sobranie sochinenii v desiati tomakh, ed. L. P. Grossman, Dolinin, A. S., et al, vol. 4 (Moscow: Gosudarstvennoe izdatel'stvo khudozhestvennoi lit-ry., 1956), p. 79. 144 Chernyshevsky’s heroes, the idea of imperfection is one of great importance as well, especially in his depiction of male characters. It is symptomatic, perhaps, that for his dichotomy Mathewson selects Rakhmetov rather than the “less perfect” Lopukhov and Kirsanov. For example, Volgin in Chernyshevsky’s other novel about the “new men,” Prolog (Пролог),317 is the epitome of imperfection: he is “unattractive, clumsy” (некрасив, неловок), his speech is “flabby” (вялый), he is extremely near-sighted, cowardly, does not know how to behave in society and is prone to lying, even to his adoring wife.318 My second objection to Mathewson’s approach is that I see the debate over the “positive hero” not as a two-fold, but a three-fold, affair. Writers of democratic literature sought to introduce a “positive hero” as an improvement on the “superfluous man” of Russian literary tradition, but writers of conservative novels also sought to invent a character who would become a vehicle for their ideas of virtue. Needless to say, these two types of characters were very different. On the whole, the creation of a “positive hero” was, certainly, a concern for Russian literature of the period. A more immediate need, however, was to create a character who would not simply assume a position in relation to some abstract ideas of virtue but who, with his perfections or imperfections, would truthfully reflect the concerns and ideals of his time. Thus, a more appropriate heading under which to situate my argument here is not a “positive hero” but a “hero of the time.” 5. Bazarov and Rakhmetov The concerns of the entire “nihilist” period in literature are best understood in the context of the juxtaposition between the “nihilist” Bazarov and Chernyshevsky’s “new men,” created as a 317 N. G. Chernyshevskii, Prolog: roman iz nachala shestidesiatykh godov (Moscow: Sovetskaia Rossiia, 1988). 318 Ibid , pp. 7, 21. 145 debunking of Turgenev’s images of the younger generation. An anonymous reviewer in the September 1863 issue of The Annals of the Fatherland attests to this common perception: “Chernyshevsky’s novel is written against Fathers and Sons; that is why even the last name Kirsanov appeared in it.” The reviewer sees the essence of Chernyshevsky’s polemic with Turgenev in the opposition Bazarov-Rakhmetov: “In this novel, Rakhmetov is set off against Bazarov… there, Bazarov, a medical student, dissects frogs; here, Rakhmetov saves people.”319 Drawing a parallel between Bazarov and Rakhmetov was quite common already among the 19 thcentury readers who considered Rakhmetov to be the central character of What Is to Be Done. Similarly, Soviet critics also saw Rakhmetov as Chernyshevsky’s main protagonist. Thus, Chernyshevsky scholar Pinaev writes that “from the moment of the episodic visit to Vera Pavlovna” more than halfway through the novel, Rakhmetov becomes “its central character.” 320 For Pinaev, Rakhmetov represents “a type of professional revolutionary, artfully discovered by Chernyshevsky” who “had influenced generations” of revolutionaries.321 Rakhmetov’s role in the development of the revolutionary process in Russia is, in fact, paramount: his image set on fire the hearts of people who were destined to change the course of history, from Dmitry Karakozov to Vladimir Lenin. The success of Rakhmetov can be explained by a combination of two sides of his image: a highly idealized and heroic side and an earthy one. 319 “Роман Чернышевского написан против ‘Отцов и детей’ Тургенева, почему в нем появилась даже фамилия Кирсанова: в нем Базарову противопоставлен Рахметов, старикам Кирсановым (Тургенева) – Сторешниковы, родители Веры Павловны; там Базаров, студент медицинского факультета, режет лягушек, – здесь спасает людей.” “Literaturanaia letopis’”, Otechestennye zapiski, September (1863), quoted in Bazanov, Iz literaturnoi polemiki 60-kh godov , p. 131. 320 M. T. Pinaev, "N. G. Chernyshevskii - romanist i 'novye liudi' v literature 60-70-kh godov," Istoriia russkoi literatury v 4 tomakh, ed. N. I. Prutskov, vol. 3 (Leningrad: Nauka, 1982), p. 100. 321 “Рахметовский тип профессионального революционера, художественно открытый Чернышевским, оказал oгромное влияние на жизнь и борьбу нескольких поколений революционных борцов.” Ibid , p. 106. 146 First, as Irina Paperno writes, Rakhmetov “introduces an image of the ideal human being into the novel.”322 Chernyshevsky constructs the image of this ideal man on the basis of the most common literary model known to him due to his religious upbringing and education: that of a hagiography. It has been noted before that “Chernyshevsky patterned Rakhmetov, at least in part, on the medieval ascetic saint.”323 Rakhmetov’s story (in the same way that a hagiography would have been) is written to be emulated. On the other hand, Chernyshevsky provides a clear and detailed recipe of how to successfully emulate this ideal; and anybody, no matter how imperfect a person is in the beginning can become a Rakhmetov by virtue of systematic, ideologically streamlined and dedicated learning and exercise. And although Rakhmetov’s role as a “revolutionary,” even a “professional revolutionary,” is never explicitly stated, the implications of his clandestine activities are absolutely clear, and the reader is to admire and emulate his methods of achieving the implied goals.324 These hints were more than enough for Chernyshevsky’s contemporaries, who were accustomed to reading between the lines. In fact, the youth of the 1860s, were more interested in “recipes” of how to develop into Rakhmetovs than in the exact goals of such a development. The Rakhmetov types, as Skabichevsky writes, were not rare among the youth: at that time, Rakhmetovs could be met everywhere. All of them, with their strict rigorism, executed with pedantic exactness in all minor details of everyday practice (in food, clothing, entertainment, relationships with friends and family), were a living protest against the dissipated way of life of the nobility of the 322 Paperno, Chernyshevsky and the age of realism , p. 25. 323 Andrew M. Drozd, "N. G. Chernyshevskii's "what is to be done?": A Reevaluation." Indiana University, 1995. United States -- Indiana: Dissertations & Theses @ CIC Institutions; ProQuest Dissertations & Theses (PQDT). Web. 10 Jan. 2013, p. 236. 324 Cf.: “Rakhmetov’s goals are never openly stated. His methods for achieving them, however, are specified in detail.” Marcia Morris, Saints and Revolutionaries: The Ascetic Hero in Russian Literature (Albany, New York: State Univerisity of New York Press, 1993), p. 139. 147 previous epoch and a beginning of the process of “simplifying” oneself and a flight towards “the people” that grew out of this seed later on, in the 1870s.325 Although some critics have remarked that Rakhmetov is an abstract idea and not a fullfleshed character,326 this impression might be due only to Chernyshevsky’s poor literary technique. If we compare the male characters in What Is To Be Done, Rakhmetov, in spite of his episodic role, is the most developed of them. He alone possesses a detailed biography without significant gaps; only his upbringing and development present a causal (if not altogether believable) structure. Before I move to the discussion of other protagonists in the novel, one important modern controversy about the role and significance of the image of Rakhmetov needs to be mentioned. Andrew Drozd, in his study N. G. Chernyshevskii: A Reevaluation,327 argues that the critics and readers misunderstood the author’s intention: “Rakhmetov is not to be taken as positive, his actions are not held up for emulation by the author.” 328 According to Drozd, Rakhmetov cannot be an ideal because he is egotistical and vain. Marcia Morris, whose conclusions Drozd supports, sees Rakhmetov’s “ultimate shortcomings” in his egoism; he undertakes tremendous “efforts to improve himself, and only himself” and never does “anything remotely connected” with the task 325 “Рахметовых можно было в то время встретить на каждом шагу, и все они своим суровым ригоризмом, проводимим с педантическою точностью во всех мелочах домашнего обихода, в пище, одежде, удовольствиях, отношениях к родным и знакомым – представляли собою живой протест потив прежней распущенности помешечьих нравов и начало того опрощения и тяги к народу, которые развились из этого зерна впоследствии, в семидесятые годы.” Skabichevskii, Istoriia noveishei russkoi literatury: 1848-1906 gg. , p. 92. 326 “Рахметов – фигура, сконструированная Чернышевским по рецептам его статьи ‘Антропологический принцип.” “Rakhmetov is a figure constructed by Chernyshevsky with the help of recipes coming from his article “The anthropological principle.” Valerii Mil'don, Sanskrit vo l'dakh, ili vozvrashchenie iz Ofira, Rossiiskie propilei (Moscow: Rosspen, 2006), p. 60. 327 Andrew M. Drozd, Chernyshevskii's What Is To Be Done? A Reevaluation, Studies in Russian Literature and Theory, ed. Caryl Emerson (Evanston, Ill: Northwestern University Press, 2001). This book closely follows the text of the original dissertation. 328 Ibid , p. 273. 148 of improving the people’s lot.329 Drozd argues further that “Rakhmetov is motivated…by his search for perfection” and appears vain (physical strength is important for him because “it inspires respect and love of the common people”).330 In support of this claim, Drozd quotes the words of other positive characters. Rakhmetov’s housemaid, a representative of the common folk, does not understand him. And even Vera Pavlovna initially thinks him to be “terrible” (ужасный) and boring.”331 Drozd claims that Rakhmetov cannot be a positive hero because he is not heroic, but ridiculous (смешной):”He himself [says the narrator] was so peculiar that it would have been absurd to take offense; I could only laugh.” According to Drozd, “Rakhmetov and the narrator are not co-fighters for the same cause; rather, the narrator has quite explicitly rejected Rakhmetov, dismissing him as eccentric.”332 Drozd does consider Rakhmetov’s eccentricity could have been seen by Chernyshevsky in the light of the Russian tradition of religious eccentrics, the holy fools, but he dismisses this common interpretation because of “other elements…that lead one to question whether he is meant to be a positive hero,” including [Rakhmetov’s] wasteful practice of gymnastics and his unpardonable gentry origin. 333 In trying to subvert the meaning of Chernyshevsky’s words, Drozd does not give enough justice to 329 Evgeny Solovyev’s interpretation of Rakhmetov’s obsession with personal improvement and apparent detachment from others presents an interesting explanation confirming Rakhmetov’s image as a positive character: “Rakhmetov does not care a bit about the life that surrounds him. He stays on the sidelines because he is only preparing for action. This is a hero of the 1870’s, the coming of whom he is expecting. Then, truly, all the ideas of duty and self-denial that give him life now will turn out to be the most suitable and infectious.” (“Рахметову нет не малейшего дела в окружающей его жизни. Оттого-то он и держится в стороне; он готовится. Это герой 70-х годов, которых он и ждет. Тогда на самом деле все идеи долга и самоотречения, дающие ему жизнь, окажутся наиболее подходящими и заражающими.”) E. A. Solov’ev, Ocherki iz istorii russkoi literatury XIX veka, 3 ed. (St. Petersburg: Izdanie N. P. Karbasnikova, 1907), p. 291. 330 Drozd, Chernyshevskii's What Is To Be Done? A Reevaluation , p. 241. 331 Morris, Saints and Revolutionaries: The Ascetic Hero in Russian Literature , pp. 223-224. 332 Drozd, Chernyshevskii's What Is To Be Done? A Reevaluation , p. 234. 333 Ibid , p. 234-237. 149 Chernyshevsky’s peculiar sense of humor, which was often quite self-deprecating. We should be cautious not to accept this self-irony at face value: Chernyshevsky was known, for example, to present himself as ridiculous and still expect admiration (the image of Volgin in Prolog is a good illustration of this). Also, one senses that when Chernyshevsky calls Rakhmetov “ridiculous,” he directs this remark to his “perspicacious reader”; however, those privy to the world of the “new men,” would take Rakhmetov very seriously and imitate his idiosyncratic habits. Overall, Drozd’s reevaluation does not seem convincing. Firstly, being “ridiculous” cannot automatically exclude heroism. On the contrary, the model for a heroic character in this period was Don Quixote, Turgenev’s archetype for the “man of action,” who is funny be definition. Secondly, such deficiencies of Rakhmetov’s character character as his egocentricity were cherished and cultivated by the generation it was meant to represent. However the role that Rakhmetov was to play in the history of Russian literature and the Russian revolution would probably appear somewhat unexpected to Chernyshevsky. Rakhmetov was meant to be an example for the few. He is, after all, a secondary character; he is not meant to be one of the “new men.” Chernyshevsky calls him “a peculiar (особенный) man.” This “peculiar man” is not a type, if only because there are too few of them in existence (eight, according to Chernyshevsky or, strictly speaking, six – since two of them are women). In spite of what the reviewer of Annals of the Fatherland wrote and what the readers took the image of Rakhmetov to be, Chernyshevsky presumably considered that “humanity will follow the ordinary people,”334 his “new men.” 6. Bazarov and the “New Men”: Chernyshevsky and the Problem of the Typical 334 See K. N. Lomunov, ed., 'Chto delat'?' Chernyshevskogo: Istoriko-funktsional'noe issledovanie (Moscow: Nauka, 1990), p. 35. 150 If we view What Is To Be Done? as a polemical answer to Fathers and Sons, a more appropriate point of comparison should involve the opposition between Bazarov on the one hand, and Lopukhov and Kirsanov, on the other. This relationship was easily perceived by contemporaries as the following comments about Chernyshevsky’s novel by one of the 1860s censors prove: From what has appeared in print up to this point, one can already guess the main idea of the novel. Apparently, it is written as an answer to the famous novel Fathers and Sons and, very likely, composes a counterweight to the characterization of nihilism, embodied by Turgenev in the form of Bazarov…in his main features, Chernyshevsky’s Lopukhov is just like Bazarov, supplemented and ennobled by motivations of higher humanity, which, according to the opinion of the author, is a distinguishing feature of the new people (they are nihilists, as one should infer).335 Russian and Western scholars, who viewed What Is To Be Done? as a polemical answer to Fathers and Sons, assembled a list of parallels between the two novels. This lists includes the following: 1. the name of Turgenev’s characters, the brothers Kirsanovs, is echoed in the name of Alexander Kirsanov, one of the two “new men” in Chernyshevsky’s novel; 2. possibly, the name of Chernyshevsky’s second “new man,” Lopukhov is an echo of Fathers and Sons, since burdock – (лопух) grows on Bazarov’s grave; 3. like Turgenev’s Bazarov, Lopukhov and Kirsanov have a habit of dissecting enormous quantities of frogs; 4. the title of one of the chapters in Chernyshevsky What Is to Be Done?, “First Love and Legal Marriage,” can be seen as a reference to Turgenev’s novella “First Love,” the plot of which is parodied in What Is To Be Done? in the story of Rakhmetov’s love affair with a mistress of his father. 335 Quoted in Drozd, N. G. Chernyshevskii's What Is To Be Done? A Reevaluation, p. 108. 151 Appalled by Turgenev’s perceived assumption that Bazarov constitutes a new type in Russian life, Chernyshevsky answers the challenge by creating the images of Lopukhov and Kirsanov and stressing that, contrary to the image of Bazarov, they are truly typical characters. Since Belinsky’s times, Russian literature and criticism were obsessed with the problem of the typical in literature. “Characters embodying essential personal, social or national traits peculiar to a large number of individuals, a class, or a people” were called typical. 336 Portraying the “typical” traits of a character that associate him with a distinct “type” in social life, the authors were expected to simultaneously individualize this character in order to give “originality and profundity” to their literary works.337 Mathewson thus summarizes the double significance of this task: The typical character and the typical circumstance, recorded in all their detail and color – their “realness” – would not, if they were properly selected, lose any of their broader meanings in the particularity of their representation. Belinsky thought that the genuinely typical character was endowed with energy, individuality and significance by the same “vital idea” that informed the writer’s view of experience.338 Chernyshevsky’s understanding of what is typical in the younger generation is polemically directed at Turgenev’s Fathers and Sons. According to Chernyshevsky, Bazarov appears to be a singular character rather than a type and this fact undermines his social utility. In contrast, Chernyshevsky presents his “new men” as a “sizable” group: “Yet, there is among you, dear readers, a particular group of people – by now a fairly sizable group – which I [i.e. 336 Terras, ed., Handbook of Russian Literature , p. 491. 337 Ibid , p. 491. 338 Mathewson, The Positive Hero in Russian Literature , p. 32. 152 [Chernyshevsky] respect.”339 Furthermore, this sizable group is steadily multiplying in quantity: “But nowadays…decent people have started to meet one another. This development is inevitable, since each year the number of decent people has been growing.” 340 Another proof of his characters’ typicality is their contemporariness; according to Chernyshevsky, they represent true “heroes of the time” though they are “transient.” The author “captures” the type during the brief period of its existence; they appeared no earlier than “three years ago” and will disappear again in a matter of a few years, if not a few months: These people couldn’t even be found six years ago; three years ago they were despised; and now – but it doesn’t really matter what people think of them now. In a few years, very few, people will call out to them, “Save us!” What this type says will be done by all. A few years later, perhaps not even years, but a few months later, they will be cursed, driven from the stage, hissed at, and insulted.”341 At the same time Chernyshevsky plays down the individual in the typical. He claims that there is no need to look at his characters closer, because individual traits in them are blurred by their “general characteristics”: “Well, what difference do you see between these two men? All of their most outstanding traits belong not to the two individuals but to a type – one so different from those to which you are accustomed, O perspicacious reader, that any individual differences are masked by general similarities … These general 339 Nikolai Chernyshevsky, What Is To Be Done? (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1989), p. 49. “Но есть в тебе, публика, некоторая доля людей, – теперь уже довольно значительная доля, – которых я уважаю....” Chernyshevskii, Chto delat'? Iz rasskazov o novykh liudiakh , p. 14. 340 Chernyshevsky, What Is To Be Done, p. 89. “Но теперь чаще и чаще стали другие случаи: порядочные люди стали встречаться между собой. Да и как же не случаться этому все чаще и чаще, когда число порядочных людей растет с каждым новым годом.” Chernyshevskii, Chto delat'? Iz rasskazov o novykh liudiakh, p. 47. 341 Chernyshevsky, What Is To Be Done, p. 212. “Шесть лет назад этих людей не видели; три года тому назад презирали; теперь... но не все равно, что думают о них теперь; через несколько лет, очень немного лет, к ним будут взывать: ‘спасите нас!,’ и что будут они говорить, будет исполняться всеми; еще немного лет, быть может не лет, а месяцев, и станут их проклинать, и они будут согнаны со сцены, ошиканные, срамимые,” p. 149. 153 characteristics are so prominent that any individual differences behind them are blurred.”342 Different in their “external appearances” (brown eyes versus blue, thick lips versus a small mouth, a Roman nose versus a Greek one, etc.), Chernyshevsky’s characters appear virtually indistinguishable in all other aspects: When I spoke of Lopukhov, it was difficult to distinguish him from his closest friend, and I was unable to say anything about him that could not also be said about Kirsanov. All that the perspicacious reader can really discover from the following list of Kirsanov’s characteristics will be a repetition of the description of Lopukhov… 343 The “external appearance” of Lopukhov and Kirsanov is remarkably idealized. Even if one of them is slightly more handsome than the other, both are definitely extraordinary good-looking, combining between them, the variations of Greek and Roman standards of human beauty. Their almost perfect looks reflect their almost perfect personalities:344 Each of them is a man of courage, unwavering and unyielding, capable of grappling with any task; upon doing so, he keeps a firm grasp on that task so that it does not slip away. This is one side of their character. On the other hand, each of them is a man of such irreproachable honesty that it never even occurs to us to ask, “Can this man be relied upon unconditionally?” This is as clear as a fact that each man is alive and breathing. As long as his chest continues to rise and fall with each breath, it’s both passionate and true: you can lean your head upon it confidently and rest it there.345 342 Ibid , p. 211. “Ну, что же различного скажете вы о таких людях? Все резко выдающиеся черты их – черты не индивидуумов, а типа, типа, до того разнящегося от привычных тебе, проницательный читатель, что его общими особенностями закрываются личные разности в нем...” Chernyshevskii, Chto delat'? Iz rasskazov o novykh liudiakh , p. 148-149. 343 “Когда я рассказывал о Лопухове, то затруднялся обособить его от его задушевного приятеля и не умел сказать о нем почти ничего такого, что не надобно было бы повторить и о Кирсанове. И действительно, все, что может (проницательный) читатель узнать из следующей описи примет Кирсанова, будет повторением примет Лопухова.”, p. 146. Chernyshevsky, What Is To Be Done, p. 208. Chernyshevsky, What Is To Be Done, p. 213. 344 Chernyshevsky, What Is To Be Done, p. 49. “ Добрые и сильные, честные и умеющие, недавно вы начали возникать между нами, но вас уже не мало, и быстро становится все больше.” Chernyshevskii, Chto delat'? Iz rasskazov o novykh liudiakh, p. 14. 345 Chernyshevsky, What Is To Be Done? , p. 211. “Ну, что же различного скажете вы о таких людях? Все резко выдающиеся черты их – черты не индивидуумов, а типа, типа, до того разнящегося от привычных тебе, 154 The “typical” traits of Chernyshevsky’s ideal characters include apparent atheism, the insatiable thirst for (scientific) knowledge, the demonstrative opposition to societal norms, desire to fundamentally rearrange the traditional way of life, the positions vis-à-vis the widely discussed Woman Question, a cultivated appearance of coarseness of manners and contempt for genteel behavior, French utopian socialism and English utilitarianism, and probably most significantly, firm and optimistic belief in the possibility and achievability of human and universal happiness. The secret of the popularity of Chernyshevsky’ novel with the younger generation lies in the fact that his images of the “new people” appealed to the readers as both idealized construct of men of the socialist future and flattering self-portraits. Encoded in the novel, the “typical” traits of the “new man,” were almost immediately projected by the younger generation upon their own lives. This double encoding of the literary “type” of “new man” is the most important consequence of the novel that was never intended to be strictly a work of literature. To be a “new man” in life for Russia’s young people meant to confirm to a set of rules, derived, to a large degree, from Chernyshevsky’s novel. One of the most important radical literary critics of the period, Dmitry Pisarev, summarized the principal rules of the “code” of the “new men” in one of his articles: 1. The new men took to useful community work; 2. The new men’s personal benefit coincides with the benefit of humanity and their egoism includes the universal love for humanity; 3. The mind of the “new men” is in the most complete harmony with their feelings because neither their mind nor their feelings are distorted by animosity towards other people.346 проницательный читатель, что его общими особенностями закрываются личные разности в нем... Каждый из них – человек отважный, не колеблющийся, не отступающий, умеющий взяться за дело – и если возмется, то уже крепко хватающийся за него, так что оно не выскольнет из рук,– это одна сторона их свойств; с другой стороны, каждый из них человек безукоризненной честности, такой, что даже и не приходит в голову вопрос: можно ли положиться на этого человека во всем безусловно? Это ясно, как то, что он дышит грудью; пока дышит эта грудь, она горяча и неизменна, – смело кладите на нее свою голову, на ней можно отдохнуть.” Chernyshevskii, Chto delat'? Iz rasskazov o novykh liudiakh , p. 148-149. 346 “1. Новые люди пристрастились к общеполезному труду. 2. Личная польза новых людей совпадает с общей пользой и эгоизм их вмещает в себе самую широкую любовь к человечеству. 3. Ум новых людей 155 Pyotr Kropotkin, a famous Russian “man of the 1860s” – a scientist, revolutionary, populist, anarchist, political immigrant, and the author of the influential book Memoirs of a Revolutionist (Записки революционера, 1899) – thus summarized the influence of What Is To Be Done? on his generation: “Bazarov did not satisfy us, but in Chernyshevsky’s nihilists, presented in a far less artistic novel What Is To Done?, we already saw better portraits of ourselves.”347 From the literary point of view, however, Chernyshevsky’s characters are a failure. He was not able to overcome the contradiction between his obsession with generalizations and didacticism on the one hand, and the need for creating living literary characters, on the other. Since every action of Lopukhov and Kirsanov is immediately preceded or followed by a detailed authorial commentary, it is never spontaneous or independent but illustrates Chernyshevsky’s own views. Lengthy authorial digressions with frequent addresses to the reader cancel out mimetic illusion. As a result, Lopukhov and Kirsanov do not get integrated into the time and space of the novel as such; they remain in limbo between the fictional world of the novel and the more immediate realm of journalism. Valery Mildon, a modern Russian scholar of Chernyshevsky, expresses the problem thusly: These threads are too apparent, and the author cannot hide them because the characters depend on his anthropological principles; they do not have an artistic will of their own, only the one that the author endowed them with. To avoid accusations that he created characters “on stilts,” he hurries to assure us that, yes, he “leads” his characters but such is his plan… the characters behave this way because their each step depends on the authorial will; that this is a more находится в самой полной гармонии с их чувствами, потому что ни ум, ни чувство их не искажены враждой против остальных людей.” D. Pisarev, Izbrannye sochineniia, vol. 2, 2 vols. (Moscow: 1935), p. 398. 347 “Бaзaров не удовлетворял нас, в нигилистах Чернышевского, выведенных в несравненно менее художественном романе “Что делать?,” мы уже видели лучшие портреты самих себя.” In P. A. Kropotkin, Zapiski revoliutsionera (Moscow: Moskovskii rabochii, 1988); Terekhin, "Protiv techenii": utaennye russkie pisateli: tipologiia "antinigilisticheskogo" romana . 156 convenient way for him to express the ideas that he had conceived before writing a novel. The novel became only a means for their expression.348 Chernyshevsky’s attitude is dictatorial not only in relation to his characters but also to his readers. Those of them who do not agree with the “absolute truthfulness” of his views and descriptions, including the so-called “perspicacious reader,” are continuously humiliated. Usually, novels depend on the possibility of multiple interpretations made possible by an artistic (and not journalistic) mode of reading. Chernyshevsky, however, insists on a singular correct reading by moving the criteria of evaluating his work from the sphere of art to the sphere of ideology. Thus, readers who admire the novel on ideological grounds are “us,” whereas the readers who interpret the characters for what they actually do in the novel and not for what the author says they do in the novel, are “them,” the ideological adversaries of the Contemporary. Thus, again, just as it was in the case with Fathers and Sons, it was the radical journalists associated with the Contemporary (here, Chernyshevsky himself) who set the terms of the reader’s perception of the book so as to intentionally polarize it, and insult and outlaw any difference of opinion. It is to Chernyshevsky, therefore, that we owe the existence of two critical traditions: we are talking of the “new men” when we discuss what Chernyshevsky says that his characters do and feel, while they become “nihilists” when we discuss what Lopukhov and Kirsanov actually do in the novel, once the authorial voice is muted. Two critical interpretations of the latter kind, penned by Chernyshevsky’s contemporaries, both detailed and fascinating in their own right, need to be mentioned in this connection. The first is the unpublished (until recently) article by the famous poet, Afanasy Fet (written in collaboration with Vasily Botkin, a 348 “Подобные нити слишком заметны, и автор не может их спрятать, ибо герои зависят от его антропологических принципов, не имеют собственной художественной воли, но только ту, которой их наделил писатель. Чтобы избежать обвинений в ходульности, он спешит сообщить, что да, он ведет персонажей, но таков его план... герои потому и поступают так, что всякий их шаг зависит от воли автора; что ему так удобнее излагать сoбственные представления, обдуманные задолго до романа, явившегося лишь средством для их изложения.” Mil'don, Sanskrit vo l'dakh, ili vozvrashchenie iz Ofira , p. 56. 157 member of the original Contemporary circle and a man of the 1840s par excellence),349 and the second a brochure by Pyotr Tsitovich,350 What They Did in “What Is to Be Done?” (“Что делали в романе Что делать?), published in Odessa in the 1870s.351 Afanasy Fet’s metaphor for Lopukhov, Kirsanov and the “new men” of their ilk, is Homo habilis (человек умелый). One aspect of their ability is their masterful imposturing. Analyzing the plot of What Is to Be Done?, Fet mentions numerous occasions during which the “new men” act like imposters. For example, Lopukhov gained access to the actress he was in love with by pretending to be “a lackey of the count so-and-so”;352 while searching for a governess position for Vera Pavlovna, he put another (decent and established) person’s name under the advertisement;353 he called himself “the governess’s nephew” when he met with people interested in hiring Vera Pavlovna;354 a false address was given to the coachman who carried Vera Pavlovna from her mother’s home;355 the marriage ceremony performed by Mertsalov was illegal, according to the Russian Criminal Code;356 Lopukhov’s decision “to step down from the 349 A. A. Fet, "'Chto delat'?' Iz rasskazov o novykh liudiakh. Roman N. G. Chernyshevskogo ('Sovremennik' 1863 goda za mart, aprel' i mai)," Literaturnoe nasledstvo 1936, pp. 477-544. 350 Pyotr Tsitovich (1843-1913) is an “atypical” man of the 1860s. A village priest’s son, Tsitovich went to become not a “new man” but a prominent lawyer, a government official, and a conservative professor of Kiev University. Tsitovich is famous for his attacks on the “nihilists.” 351 P. P. Tsitovich, Chto delali v romane "Chto delat'?" Khrestomatiia "Novago slova", 2nd ed. (Odessa: Tipografiia G. Ul'rikha, 1879). 352 Fet, "'Chto delat'?' Iz rasskazov o novykh liudiakh. Roman N. G. Chernyshevskogo ('Sovremennik' 1863 goda za mart, aprel' i mai)," p. 495. 353 Ibid, p. 499. 354 Ibid, p. 499. 355 Ibid, p. 504. 356 Ibid, p. 504. 158 stage” was yet another instance of forgery357 as was his ability to procure a fake passport; Kirsanov’s marriage to Vera Pavlovna was also illegal; as for Lopukhov’s second marriage, Fet calls it “a double imposture”: “a man got married under a false name while having a living wife.”358 Tsitovich’s indignation with Chernyshevsky’s novel assumes the voice of a prosecutor. As a lawyer, he accuses the “new men” of violating the following articles of the Russian criminal code (Уложение о наказаниях уголовных и исправительных): Article 1549 regarding the elopement with an unmarried woman without parental consent, Article 1554 and 1555 regarding polygamy (with and without forgery of documents), Article 1566 regarding matrimony without parental consent, Article 1592, regarding a stubborn neglect of parental authority, dissipated life and other adolescent vices, Articles 958-999 regarding procuring your spouse to other men, Articles 976-977 regarding the use of fake passports, and so on.359 Although the disregard for the law in What Is To Be Done? is apparent and persistent, one can argue that the real reason for it is the “new men’s” civil disobedience stemming from their unacceptance of the Russian monarchy and its criminal code. However, their moral character is a different story, and its deficiencies cannot be so easily dismissed. As different as the moral code of the “new men” might have been, Chernyshevsky does explicitly call his characters “decent men”; therefore some of the violations of morality, social norms and common sense that Lopukhov and Kirsanov commit, according to Fet and Tsitovich, are beyond any reasonable justification. 357 Ibid, p, 513. 358 “Женился человек от живой жены под фальшивым именем.” Ibid, p. 525. 359 “Но для полной оценки этих деяний рекомендуем читателю справится с некоторыми из статей ‘Уложения о наказаниях уголовных и исправительных.’ Таковы статьи 1549, о похищении незамужней с ее согласия, ст. 1554 и 1555 о двоебрачии с подлогом и без подлога...; ст. 1566, о вступлении в брак без согласия родителей, ст. 1592, – где говорится об упорном неповиновении родительской власти, развратной жизни и других явных пороках детей; ст. 958-999 – о сводничестве мужьями своих жен, ст. 976-977 об употреблении чужих паспортов и т. д.” Tsitovich, Chto delali v romane "Chto delat'?" , p. 18. 159 In the “new men’s” disregard for the Russian criminal code, Tsitovich sees only a symptom of graver immorality on the part of Chernyshevsky’s enterprise. Tirades of “independence, emancipation, love for the poor, the interests of science, etc,” are, according to Tsitovich, empty frames for the scenes of immoral behavior, for “two things are carefully banished from this novel: conscience and the notion of responsibility.” 360 His denunciations of the “new men’s” code of (im)morality is passionate and biased, his verdict harsh: These people are unfit to live in society: they are unfit, first of all, because they do not recognize responsibility and know only “enjoyment.” People of this kind do not possess means to differentiate good from evil, truth from lies, nobility from baseness. The outbursts of animal lust, their insatiability are valued higher than the rights and grief of others. One cannot rely on them for anything. When their “enjoyment” and “benefit” are concerned, they do not stop at anything: lies, slander, theft, violence, or murder. Everything they have is fake: names, signatures, passports, marriage, life, even death. 361 Fet’s critique is not as sweeping but is still very pointed. He claims that Chernyshevsky’s answer to the question “What is to be done?” is “to tell oneself: I am a progressive man, and then to treat everybody with insolence.”362 Lopukhov’s theory of egoism is, for Fet, just what it is: the justification of any behavior that leads to one’s profit and the attainment of that which is “enjoyable.” No wonder, observes Fet, that this theory unites Marya Alekseevna (Vera 360 “Но сцены грубейшей чувственности оправлены в намеки о независимости, окрашены в тирады о свободе, о любви к бедным, об интересах науки, и проч. Заботливо из романа изгнаны две вещи: совесть и понятие обязанности.” Ibid , p. v. 361 “Такие люди негодны к человеческому общежитию: они негодны прежде всего потому, что не признают обязанности, а знают лишь одно ‘наслаждение.’ У подобных людей нет средств различать добро от зла, правду от неправды, благородство от низости; разгул своих животных похотей, свое ‘досыта,’ они ценят выше чужого права, чужого горя. Положиться на них ни в чем нельзя: для своего ‘наслаждения’ и ‘своей пользы’ им все ни по чем: ложь, клевета, воровство, насилие, убийство. У них все фиктивно: имена, подписи, паспорта, брак, жизнь, сама смерть.” Ibid , p. 49. 362 “А вы еще спрашиваете: что делать?...Достаточно сказать себе: ‘я челевек передовой,’ а затем нагло обращаться со всеми.” Fet, "'Chto delat'?' Iz rasskazov o novykh liudiakh. Roman N. G. Chernyshevskogo ('Sovremennik' 1863 goda za mart, aprel' i mai)," , p. 496. 160 Pavlovna’s evil mother) and Lopukhov in “moral solidarity.”363 Insolence defines Lopukhov’s behavior during Serge’s visit. Lopukhov sits, sprawled on the sofa, and smokes; when his cigarette goes out, he nonchalantly takes Serge’s; such manners showcase “a game of having a certain position in society” that can only fool and impress a cook (in whose narration this episode is presented in the novel).364 Additionally, the “new men’s’” actions contradict their words. For example, Lopukhov’s material scruples before the marriage show, according to Fet, that his love for science (medicine) is not as disinterested (бескорыстная) as the reader would be inclined to believe from his speeches. And, finally, the ultimate charge against the novel comes from the artistically fine-tuned poet Fet, and not the conservative landowner Afanasy Shenshin. What Is to Be Done? is a novel about love, and Fet rises up precisely against Chernyshevsky’s conception and description of love. He argues that “Wanting to depict the mutual love of progressive people, [Chernyshevsky] could not strike a single, truly human, chord in their relationship. This is not love but some sort of a chimera, hatched out from a dumb, false and moralizing idea.” 365 One consequence of this chimerical notion of love is that moral scruples such as taking his intimate friend’s wife are presented not as a result of honesty, but “inexcusable stupidity.” 366 Chernyshevsky’s descriptions of love, together with his absurd (according to Fet) denial of jealousy, culminate in the 363 Ibid, p. 498. 364 Ibid, p. 506. 365 “Желая изобразить взаимность двух передовых любящихся, он не мог найти ни одной истинно человеческой струны в их отношениях. Это не любовь, а какая-то химера, высиженная тупым, фальшивым и резонерским представлением.” Ibid, p. 510. 366 “Весь роман написан на тэму (sic), как увидим далее, что нет ничего бесчестного отбивать жену у самого близкого человека. Что совестливость в таком деле не есть честность, а непростительная глупость.” Ibid, p. 510. 161 description of the communal living of the future (фаланстер) which represents “nothing new.” Brothels, remarks Fet, have existed for a very long time, and “they do not present any attraction even for young men, and, as one of Ostrovsky’s respectable merchants says, ‘when a man reaches a certain age, then, for him, all these women’s attractions are nothing, even quite filthy.’”367 Fet’s and Tsitovich’s readings are, by no means, an exceptional phenomenon. Colored and intensified by polemical intent, they nevertheless serve as proof of a certain gap between Chernyshevsky’s portrayal of the new “type” and the discourse on “nihilists” in broader circles of society. Finally, I would like to address the question of prototypes for Chernyshevsky’s characters, a typical ingredient in all arguments about “typicality” of literary characters in the 19th century. After all, the main objection to Fathers and Sons from the Contemporary had to do with the incorrect treatment of Dobroliubov, the assumed prototype for Bazarov. The question of Lopukhov’s and Kirsanov’s prototypes interested contemporaries from the moment the novel was published. The most common interpretation has been that, in the love triangle of Lopukhov, Kirsanov and Vera Pavlovna, Chernyshevsky depicted the life story of the some “typical” people of the 1860s: the Bokovs and their intimate friend Sechenov.368 In his article, “Some Problems in 367 “[B]се это давно есть и не представляет прелести даже для молодежи, а один почтенный купец г. Островского выражается, что ‘когда человек войдет в настоящие года, то ему все эти женские прелести – ничего, даже скверно.’” Ibid, p. 523. 368 Maria Bokova, nee Obruchev, was a typical woman of the 1860s. She entered into a fictitious marriage in 1861 with Pyotr Bokov, a doctor and a radical activist, who was close to Chernyshevsky and Life and Liberty, in order to become legally independent from her parents and pursue a higher education. She later became one of the first female doctors in Russia. In spite of the fact that her marriage to Bokov became a real one, she left him four years later for Ivan Sechenov, a famous Russian physiologist. 162 the Study of the Novel ‘What Is to Be Done,”369 the Soviet critic Reiser summarizes the traditional interpretation that has been prominent both in critical and memoirist traditions and is reflected, for example, in the famous book by Bogdanovich, The Love of the People of the 1860s.370 However, as Reiser demonstrates, the family story of the Bokovs and Sechenov could not have been known to Chernyshevsky in 1863 because Maria left her husband only at the end of the 1860s. In this sense, the reverse is far more probable: “it was not Chernyshevsky who copied the characters of What Is to Be Done? from them, but it was they who imitated the novel, a true textbook of life for them and the entire generation.”371 Another family story, whose participants were much better known to Chernyshevsky, involved Nikolay Shelgunov, his wife Ludmila and their common friend Mikhailov.372 While conforming to earlier details of Chernyshevsky’s love plot, this story did not have a happy ending like Vera Pavlovna’s story: Mikhailov died in Siberian exile and Shelgunov’s wife rather quickly moved on and found another love interest. As a whole, such stories, as suggested by the vast memoir literature, were 369 S. A. Reiser, "Nekotorye problemy izucheniia romana 'Chto delat'?'" N. G. Chernyshevskii. Chto Delat': Iz rasskazov o novykh liudiakh, Literaturnye pamiatniki (Leningrad: Nauka, 1975), pp. 819-822. 370 T. A. Bogdanovich, Liubov' liudei shestidesiatykh godov (Leningrad: Academia, 1929). 371 “Не Чернышевский списал героев с тройки Обручева – Боков – Сеченов, а они поступали по роману, который был для них и всего поколения подлинным учебником жизни.” Reiser, "Nekotorye problemy izucheniia romana 'Chto delat'?'" p. 825. 372 Nikolai Shelgunov (1824-1891) was a well-known radical journalist who wrote for such publications as the Contemporary, the Russian Word, and the Deed. His wife, Ludmila Shelgunova, was a distant relative of his whom he “educated” in the fashion of the 1860s since she was a young girl. Later, she became a translator and collaborated in the same journals as her husband. Mikhail Mikhailov (1829-1865) was a minor poet, a prose writer and a journalist who wrote for the Contemporary. He is famous as the originator of the discussion of the Women Question in Russia. Mikhailov’s love affair with Shelgunova which did not stand in the way of the two men’s friendship was well-known to his contemporaries. Mikhailov was arrested for writing the proclamation “To the Younger Generation” and died in Siberia in 1865. 163 by no means an exception in the 1860s: fictitious marriages had been already widespread before Chernyshevsky’s novel was published.373 An autobiographical interpretation of the sources for “new men” in What Is to Be Done? is considerably more probable. Nabokov is not the only one to locate the origin of the solution to the love story in What Is to Be Done? in Chernyshevsky’s youthful fantasies about his friends’ wives. The diary that Chernyshevsky kept during the time of his courtship to Olga Sokratovna already contains future components of the plot of What Is to Be Done. The fact that Vera Pavlovna was modeled on Chernyshevsky’s wife did not escape contemporaries. The wife of Antonovich, a close friend of Chernyshevsky, was reported to have said that “in Vera Pavlovna, Chernyshevsky wanted to depict Olga Sokratovna whom he terribly idealized.” 374 This idealization is also the key word in the portrayal of Lopukhov and Kirsanov, who are ultimately perfected and considerably “beautified” versions of Chernyshevsky and his friend Dobroliubov. While Chernyshevsky’s romantic fantasies played a role in the creation of the love plot in What Is to Be Done, the autobiographical nature of the major characters in the novel is extremely significant. It will be fair to assume that Chernyshevsky saw himself and, moreover, Dobroliubov, as embodiments of the new type of “new men.” Moreover, since Chernyshevsky was convinced that Bazarov was a caricature of Dobroliubov, his “new men” were envisioned as a tribute to his friend and as a more truthful version of his character. As evident in Veselovsky’s A History of the Newest Russian Literature, the vision of Dobroliubov as a “new man” was not only Chernyshevsky’s: “Undoubtedly, the image of Dobroliubov, who disappeared from our horizon so very early, alone deserved to 373 See, for example, Sofya Kovalevskaya’s letters to her fictitious husband, V. O. Kovalevsky in Kovalevskaia, Vospominaniia i pis'ma, pp. 205-316. 374 “[B] лице Веры Павловны Чернышевский хотел изобразить Ольгу Сократовну, которую он страшно идеализировал.” Quoted in Reiser, "Nekotorye problemy izucheniia romana 'Chto delat'?'" p. 825. 164 embellish the type of the ‘new man.’ He alone could serve as an answer to the question as to whether these men exist.”375 In addition, the same pair of autobiographical characters is also present in Prolog, Chernyshevsky’s other novel. The protagonists of that work, Volgin and Levitsky, are far more individualized; their concrete features (Volgin’s very appearance, manners, even the boominge sounds [“рулады”] of his laughter, so characteristic of Chernyshevsky himself) refer to Chernyshevsky and Dobroliubov even more explicitly. Samuil Lurye, a modern Russian scholar of Chernyshevsky, gives this ironic analysis of the apparent affinity between real-life Chernyshevsky and Dobrolyubov and the characters of Prolog: Volgin is depicted with unbearable coquetry. In Dickens’s novels, the shy philanthropists behave in this manner. He thinks only about how ridiculous and ugly he is and what kind of unemotional and cowardly person he is, and he doesn’t seem not notice at all the superhuman nobility of his actions and motivations. Obviously, Chernyshevsky intentionally slanders himself by this Volgin: firstly, out of presumably superhuman modesty; secondly, presumably, for conspiracy and to fool the censor; thirdly, in order, precisely, for the reader to guess how to love the author even more; but, mainly, of course, out of vanity.376 To quote Valery Mildon, “all the characters in Chernyshevsky’s novels have one face – his own: all men as one are logicians and analytics; they check their every step by logic and therefore never make a misstep.”377 Perhaps, though, these characters have not one face, but two: Chernyshevsky’s as well as Dobroliubov’s. 375 “Несомненно, что самый образ Добролюбова, так рано исчезнувшего с нашего горизонта, один уже стоил того, чтобы украсить собой тип новых людей. Он один прежде всего мог бы ответить на вопрос, есть ли они?” A. N. Veselovskii, Istoriia novieishei russkoi literatury: lektsii, chitannye na Vysshikh Zhenskikh kursakh v 1914/15 uch. godu, 2 vols. (Moscow: Tipo-Litografiia t/d. Sofronov, A. Priadil’shchikov i Ko, 1915), p. 79. 376 “Волгин изображен с нестерпимым кокетством: так ведут себя в романах Диккенса застенчивые филантропы – только и думает, как он нелеп и некрасив, и какой сухарь и трус, – и будто бы совершенно не замечает нечеловеческого благородства своих поступков и побуждений; очевидно, что Чернышевский Волгина этого нарочно на себя наговаривает: во-первых, из нечеловеческой же якобы скромности, вовторых – якобы для цензуры и конспирации, в-третьих – именно, чтобы читатель догадался полюбить автора еще сильней, чем героя... но главное – конечно был гордец.” Samuil Lur'e, Takoi sposob ponimat' (Moscow: Nezavisimaia firma "Klass", 2007), p. 263. 377 “[B] качестве довода автор берет ‘новых людей романа’: вот таковы будут все, когда исправится общество. Правда, эти персонажи у Чернышевского на одно лицо – его собственное... Мужчины как один – 165 Consequently, Chernyshevsky’s “new men” are images of a specific degment of the younger generation, namely, former seminarians like himself and Dobroliubov grouped around The Contemporary. As Konstantin Golovin, a writer and critic, observed about the generation of the 1860s (of which he was a member himself), [the men] of the sixties did not busy themselves with the people’s cause; they did not fight for it, but for the interests of raznochintsy, that insignificantly scanty and rootless class which grew as a parasite on the mighty tree of Russian life. Covering that tree with its greedy shoots, it tried to persuade itself and the others that it, that parasite, contained all the strength of the Russian land. 378 Sociologically speaking, the “nihilists” of the early 1860s, the rebellious youth of Moscow and Saint Petersburg, consisted of two major groups: the “aristocratic nihilists” (who, in literature, can to be known as the type of the “repentant nobleman”) and raznochintsy (or the brown [бурые] nihilists). An important difference between these types (apart from their unequal social standing) concerned their mode of behavior, as outlined by the populist critic Mikhailovsky: [“Repentant noblemen”] concentrated all their thoughts on forming rules for private life: how to live like a saint. A great deal of effort had been squandered on getting a clear picture of the most peculiar details of the “saintly life,” a great deal of sincerity and self-sacrifice had been revealed in following these rules…. Somebody or other after surviving a horrifying domestic tempest left his wealthy parents and started to support himself on his own, because this is what the code demanded; somebody, swallowing his own tears, left his wife with the man she fell in love with, because the code demanded the abolition of jealousy; somebody rejected a successful career, etc., etc., etc. Microscopic details of the Code were developed with pedantic accuracy: how to live, on what, with whom, how to treat people, how to eat, sleep, drink, how to study, what to learn, etc. Everything was weighed and measured…. As for the raznochinets, generally speaking, he was not логики, аналитики, всякий шаг по жизни проверяют теорией и потому не промахиваются.” Mil'don, Sanskrit vo l'dakh, ili vozvrashchenie iz Ofira , p. 68. 378 “А сами они [the men of the sixties] хлопотали и боролись не за народное дело, а лишь за интересы разночинца, того ничтожного по численности и беспочвенного класса, который паразитом вырос на могучем дереве русской жизни и, покрывая его своими жадными побегами, уверял себя и других, что в нем, в этом паразите, вся сила земли русской.” Golovin, Russkii roman i russkoe obshchestvo , p. 201. 166 prepared for such a moral attitude.… The raznochinets had not committed anything to repent of afterwards; he demanded repentance from the other.…379 The world of the 1860s is a world of contradictions. Chernyshevsky’s descriptions of the “new” and “peculiar” men reflect the values and ideals of the “brown” nihilists, but it was the “aristocratic nihilists” (who constituted the majority of politically and socially active Russian youth in the capitals) who uncritically adopted the mantras of What Is to be Done? in their own daily lives. The resulting hodgepodge of styles and values only appeared homogeneous because it was guided by the same ideology. However, at the time when Chernyshevsky’s novel came out, the youth of the 1860s had already developed an anti-culture, which regulated both their mentality and physical appearance. Chernyshevsky’s characters differed considerably, even from the point of view of appearance, from these young men and women. It needs to be noted that, although not figuring in What Is to be Done, the typical attire of a young radical was depicted by more observant writers and quickly became a recognizable marker of a “nihilist.” Failing to depict this typical characteristic and, instead, drawing an abstract and idealized version of the “new man,” Chernyshevsky bears primary responsibility for the inherent contradictions that ultimately led to the divergence of two discourses in the world of the 1860s: one of the “new man” (in “democratic literature” that followed in the footsteps of Chernyshevsky) and the other of the “nihilist” (in literature that “dared” to look at the younger generation from a different 379 “[Кающееся дворяне] теперь сосредоточили все свои помыслы на выработке правил личного поведения: как жить свято? Много труда расходовалось на уяснение мельчайших подробностей святой жизни, много искренности и самопожертвования сказалось в следовании этим правилам... такая-то или такой-то, вытерпев страшную домашнюю бурю, ушел из полного, как чаша, родительского дома и стал жить своим трудом, потому что того требовал кодекс; такой-то, глотая слезы, привел к своей жене любимого ею человека, потому что кодекс требовал изгнания ревности; такой-то отказался от блестящей карьеры и проч., и проч., и проч. Микроскопические детали кодекса разрабатывались с педантичной тщательностью: как жить, чем жить, с кем жить, как с кем обращаться, как есть, спать, пить, как учиться, чему учиться и т. д. Все было смерено и взвешено... Разночинец же, вообще говоря, не был склонен к такому формализму. Да оно и понятно: с чего ему было накладывать на себя какие-бы то ни было эпитемии... когда он ни за собой, ни за близкими своими не чувствовал того греха, в котором каялись сектанты... Разночинцу не в чем было каяться: он от других требовал покаяния.” N. K. Mikhailovskii, "Raznochintsy i kaiushchiesia dvoriane," Sobranie sochinenii, vol. 2 (St. Petersburg: 1896-1897), pp. 648-649. 167 angle). To visually illustrate the extent of these contradictions in the youth culture of the 1860s, I will now turn to an analysis of the fashion of the young nihilist of that time. 7. The Nihilist Fad: When Appearances Are Not Deceitful The nonconformist youth of the 1860s, the nihilists, established a subculture in which the protest against mainstream society was expressed not only through beliefs and values, but also through manners and appearance. In spite of the nihilist mantra that “real beauty is in delivering men from hunger,” the question of clothing was of paramount importance. 380 The shock that nihilist anti-fashion caused in Russia, and the gap between the new and old that it exposed, was strongly felt by contemporaries. The persecution of young nihilist girls (many of whom belonged to high society) for the “strict simplicity of their dress” was compared to that of “the tens and hundreds of thousands of Russian men “when Peter the Great cut their beards, mustaches and long hair.”381 And, in reality, in the 1860s-1870s, there were instances (some of which were rather comical) of police persecution simply for wearing clothes associated with nihilist fashion. In the late 1860s, a special government commission was created in response to a report of an arrest in Feodosiya of a young woman who was accused of free-thinking. The arrest was made because of her way of dressing. Consequently, the commission proposed to prohibit nihilists from “wear[ing] external markers and emblems of their doctrines,” such as “long hair and blue spectacles,” and to arrest the transgressors.382 Although no such regulation was adopted, the case of the Feodosiian woman did not remain a single occurrence. A similar event is related by 380 “[A] вам бы давно пора понять, что настоящая красота в том, чтобы избавить человека от голода.” Vodovozova, Na zare zhizni , vol. 1, p. 44. 381 Vladimir Stasov, Nadezhda Vasil'evna Stasova: vospominania i ocherki (St.Peterburg: Tipografiia M. Merkusheva, 1899), pp. 58-59. 382 P. Gurevich, "K kharakteristike reaktsii shestidesiatykh godov," O minuvshem (Saint Petersburg: 1909), pp. 108109. 168 Nikitenko in his diary. In March 1872, he wrote that schoolteacher E. A. Latysheva had been arrested on the street and brought to the police station for questioning because she was wearing blue spectacles and sported cropped hair. It turned out that the young lady belonged, in fact, to a good family (her father was a Councilor of State – действительный статский советник). She had to cut her hair after a long illness and wore dark spectacles because of a “weakness of her eyes.”383 Not until a visit to Trepov, the governor, was paid by her enraged parents, and questioning that demonstrated an absence of “nihilist beliefs” completed, was the young lady released and allowed to go home. The true scope of the transformation and shock that nihilist anti-fashion brought to Russia can only be understood when we consider its foil: mainstream fashion. Stating that the simple dress of the nihilist woman displayed “her repudiation of the ribbons, ruffles, feathers, parasols, hoops and crinolines of the world of the pampered, helpless young ladies of high style and fashion”384 understates the scope of her protest. In women’s fashion, the middle of the 19 th century was a period of the dome-shaped skirt. Full skirts that had made their appearance in the 1840s continuously grew in volume. The 1850s saw the introduction of crinolines; that is, horsehair used as “stiffening fabric in the outermost of multiple petticoats.”385 By the 1860s, skirts “swelled out to the maximum capacity which materials, flounces, under-stiffening and multiple petticoats can produce.”386 A revolution in fashion came in 1856, when the so-called “artificial crinoline” (“concentric whale-bone, wire, or watch-spring hoops suspended on strips of material, 383 Nikitenko, Dnevnik , vol. 3, p. 232. 384 Margaret Maxwell, Narodniki Women: Russian Women Who Sacrificed Themselves for the Dream of Freedom (New York: Pergamon Press, 1990), p. 25. 385 Charles H. Gibbs-Smith, The Fashionable Lady in the Nineteenth Century, Victoria and Albert Museum (London: Her Majesty's Stationary Office, 1960), p. 5. 386 Ibid , p. 5. 169 with or without covering fabric”387) was invented. This allowed women to get rid of the multiple petticoats, reduce the weight of the skirt,388 and completely transform its “contour and outline” and the nature of its movement.389 The fullness of the skirt “reached the maximum that any woman could wear decently and comfortably” in the 1860s and thereafter, “the skirt fullness” started to diminish in various ways until the skirt “became a figure-hugging hobble in the period of the late 1870s-1880s.”390 In other words, the most stunning thing about the protest against crinolines in nihilist women’s anti-fashion is that it did not come at the time when women were tired of crinolines, but precisely at the time when they were the most excited about them: in the very years when crinolines were introduced. Public outrage against nihilist fashion should be measured against the women’s excitement about mainstream fashion. In this context, Vera Pavlovna’s activities in What Is to Be Done? appear in a completely different light. Her sewing workshops reflect a fascination with the world of new fashion and the crinolines which, undoubtedly, was shared by her prototype, Olga Sokratovna Chernyshevskaya. Oriented to the gain of maximum profit, Vera Pavlovna’s workshop could not, and did not, produce simple, unadorned dresses for nihilist women. Therefore, how Vera Pavlovna and her sewing workshops could become the icon of the nihilist generations remains a mystery. The world of men’s fashion, with its obligatory waistcoats, frock-coats, high starched colors and cravats, dark top hats and gloves also saw somewhat of a revolution in the 1860s, 387 Ibid , p. 5. 388 Naomi Tarrant, The Development of Costume (Edinburgh: Routledge, 1993), p. 74. 389 Gibbs-Smith, The Fashionable Lady in the 19-th Century , pp. 5-6. 390 Tarrant, The Depelopment of Costume , p. 38. 170 when the three-piece suit was introduced for the first time.391 The true extent of the generation gap between fathers and sons, and the degree to which a nihilist in his clothing differed from the “fathers” will be evident if we consider this description of the fashion-conscious Turgenev in the time of his youth: I remember as if it were today that I saw Turgenev for the first time at Ivan Ivanovich’s [Panaev’s]. He had come from paying visits to members of high society and was dressed in a blue tailcoat with golden buttons, depicting lion heads, light checkered knickers, a white vest and a bright tie. Such was the fashion at that time.392 The young men of the nihilist generation strove to attain a very different look. The nihilist antifashion existed, according to the memoirist and literary historian Skabichevsky (1838-1911), throughout the 1860s and 1870s. Constituting a demonstrative protest against the philistine morals of the rest of society, it consisted of the following items: Plaids and gnarled clubs…shoulder-length manes, blue spectacles, hats á la Fra Diavolo and konfederatka hats – … what a poetic halo did all this have in those times and how it made all the young hearts beat! It should be taken into account that all this was worn not only because of rational considerations and not only out of a desire to “simplify” oneself but demonstratively, in order to showcase one’s belonging to the host of the elect.393 391 Valerie Cumming, Exploring Costume History 1500-1900 (London: Batsford Academic and Educational Limited, 1981), pp. 77-79. 392 “Помню, как теперь, что я увидел Тургенева у Ив. Ив. [Панаева] первый раз приехавшим после светских визитов и одетым в синий фрак с золотыми пуговицами, изображающими львиные головы, в светлых клетчатых панталонах, в белом жилете и в цветном галстуке. Такого рода была в то время мода.” V. A. Panaev, "Kruzhok I. I. Panaeva," Literaturnye salony i kruzhki: Pervaia polovina XIX veka, ed. N. L. Brodskii (Moscow-Leningrad: Academia, 1930), p. 480. 393 “Пледы и сучковатые дубинки, стриженные волосы и космы сзади до плеч, синие очки, фра-дьявольские шляпы и конфедератки, – Боже, в каком поэтическом ореоле рисовалось все это в те времена и как заставляло биться молодые сердца, причем следует принять в соображение, что все это носилось не из одних только рациональных соображений и не ради одного желания опроститься, а демонстративно, чтобы открыто выставить свою принадлежность к сонму избранных.” Skabichevskii, Literaturnye vospominaniia , pp. 291-292. Apart from Skabichevsky’s excellent and compact summary, another interesting account deserves to be quoted in full. Vera Broido, the daughter of Eva Broido, a prominent Russian revolutionary (she was a Menshevik), gave this description of the nihilist anti-fashion of the 1860s (she based her summary on her own childhood memories of the Siberian exile and the accounts of friends and contemporaries): “The true Russian nihilist wore his baggy trousers tucked into unpolished and clumsy boots, his peasant blouse of cheap cotton was held around the waist by a leather strap; a so-called plaid, or rug, was hung over one shoulder. The hair was worn long and the face overgrown with a beard and further obscured with dark glasses. Many of the students were indeed very poor and 171 The origin of the various elements of the nihilist costume is a fascinating subject for research. Undoubtedly, it developed among university students, spricisely those studying at European universities, especially in Germany. Every element of the nihilist costume can be traced back to a Western European origin: the nihilist anti-fashion, which became a recognizable universal marker of a Russian nihilist, was, in fact, imported. Long hair for men, traditionally associated with free-thinking and nonconformism, became one of the markers of the nihilist image. A well-known “woman of the sixties,” active participant in communal living experiments and an interesting memoirist, Ekaterina Zhukovskaya, mentions that before the type of the nihilist was described by Turgenev, she met its earlier representative, named Gvozdikov. His distinguishing trait was his beard and long hair that, as she notes, soon became a symbol of nihilism. 394 The long hair in the 1860s looked different than that of the preceding generation of students: it was less frequently combed and washed. This change signified a shift of priorities: the serious study of sciences did not leave time for such “trifles.” Another “woman of the 1860s” and a memoirist Elizaveta Vodovozova tells about her well-meaning relatives who cautioned her, a young institutka, not to let herself get seduced by “young men [who] walk around with hair uncombed (лохматыми).” “Nowadays,” underfed, and this contributed in some measure to their drab appearance. The female counterpart – a very new phenomenon … also dressed with deliberate plainness: heavy boots showed under somber black skirts topped by high-necked blouses; the hair was worn short; and there were, of course, the dark glasses and, worse yet, cigarettes.” See Vera Broido, Apostles into Terrorists: Women and the Revolutionary Movement in the Russia of Alexander II (New York: The Viking Press, 1977), p. 18. 394 E. I. Zhukovskaia, Zapiski: vospominaniia (Moscow: Agraf, 2001), p. 55. 172 lamented the well-meaning relatives, “the young men are ceasing to wash themselves, comb and dress properly, and all this in order to get more time for the study of sciences!” 395 Hats á la Fra Diavolo and konfederatka hats worn by the nihilists are another Western European import, associated with the spirit of revolt. Fra Diavolo, a popular Italian guerilla leader and fighter against the Napoleonic invasion of the Kingdom of Naples, was a character in numerous works of fiction and a famous opera by Auber which premiered in St. Petersburg in 1831 and, after that, became a permanent part of the theatrical repertoire in Russia. Hats á la Fra Diavolo, were big, round and wide-brimmed. Konfederatka hats (rogatywkas), or four-cornered Polish hats, became popular in Russia as early as the end of the 18 th century as an informal hat of the officers. After Kosciuszko’s insurrection, they spread in revolutionary France and throughout Europe. In the 1820-1840s, konfederatka hats started to be worn by liberal university youth, as in the following image (Figure 2) featuring German students in the 1820s.396 It is likely, that Russian youth of the 1860s adopted the konfederatka hats via Germany. Figure 2397 395 “Этак, пожалуй, вас скоро увлекут... молодые люди, разгуливающие лохматыми! Да-с, теперь молодежь перестает мыться, чесаться и прилично одеваться, и все это чтобы выгадать время для изучения наук!” Vodovozova, Na zare zhizni , vol. 2, p. 9. 396 P. E. Kuznetsov, Kratkaia istoriia konfederatki, 2007, Available: http://sarmata.livejournal.com/121643.html?view=2833451#t2833451, May 26 2010. sarmata, Kratkaia istoriia konfederatki, 2007, Available: http://sarmata.livejournal.com/121643.html?view=2833451#t2833451, May 26 2010. 397 Würzburger, Studententrachten um 1820, Watercolor by Philipp Carl Vornkeller, Public domain. 173 Plaids (пледы) were another common feature of the nihilist costume. They appeared as a fashionable item in Europe and in Russia at the beginning of the 19 th century. Their popularity was, in some part, due to the success of the historical novels of Sir Walter Scott who romanticized Scottish national dress. Plaids were worn as outerwear, in place of traditional coats. In the famous 1827 portrait by Kiprensky, Pushkin is wearing plaid. In the 1840s, the use of plaids underwent a revival, on a wave of Anglomania. For Russian nihilists, plaids were a desired addition to their dress, presumably adding to the informal look, being easy to wear and care for. Two of the most sympathetic representations of Russian students of the period, Yaroshenko’s paintings “The Student” (1881) (Figure 3)398 and “Kursistka” (1883) (Figure 4)399 portray a young man and a woman wearing plaids and attest to the fact that plaids were typical for both genders. According to a Soviet art critic’s analysis of the first painting, the student’s plaid, widebrimmed hat and “the hand, inserted behind the lapel of his coat in a Napoleonic gesture” look romantic.400 The Napoleonic association might be an implicit reference to Dostoevsky’s student Raskolnikov, especially considering a stern expression in the student’s eyes that reminds us of Raskolnikov’s “idea.” However, the perception of something “romantic” in the student’s otherwise rather bleak and troubled look might come from the aura of the nihilist costume. The combined effect of the young woman’s costume, especially of the unisex hat and the plaids, also transcends its material dimension. The hat and plaids signify a shift in the role that she wants to play in society: she is not only a woman now – she is a person. According to the same critic, we 398 Painting by N. A. Iaroshenko, 1881, oil, Tretyakov Gallery. 399 Painting by N. A. Iaroshenko, 1883, oil, Tretyakov Gallery. 400 “Есть нечто романтическое в этом силуэте с живописной драпировкой пледа, широкополой шляпой и рукой, по-наполеоновски заложенной за борт пальто.” F. Roginskaia, Iaroshenko Nikolai Aleksandrovich: 18461898 (Moscow-Leningrad: Iskusstvo, 1944), p. 12. 174 see in her how “the young woman’s and young man’s features” combine in one face, in one figure, “upon whom has dawned upon neither by a woman’s, nor a man’s, but a human thought.”401 Figure 3 Figure 4 The nihilist costume was a geteway into the new world; simply wearing it was sometimes enough to enter into the world of progressive ideas. In other words, adopting nihilist ideology and wearing a nihilist costume were two sides of the same coin: a move to the fringes of society, away from families and the traditional way of life. On closer analysis, however, it is hard to say what made one a “nihilist,” the ideology or costume. In the following quote from The Idiot, Dostoevsky expresses this idea very well: 401 “[И]зящнейшее, не выдуманное и притом реальнейшее слияние девических и юношеских черт в одном лице, в одной фигуре, осененной не женской, не мужской, а человеческой мыслью...” Ibid , p. 13. 175 As soon as some of our young ladies cut their hair short, put on blue spectacles, and called themselves Nihilists, they became convinced at once that, having put on the spectacles, they immediately began to have their own convictions.402 Тhe blue spectacles (or eyeglasses) mentioned by Dostoevsky were the central marker of nihilist costume. Their color (blue) did not seem as odd as it does nowadays. After all, modern glasses (with double-hinged side pieces), invented in 1752 by James Ayscough, did not favor clear lenses. On the contrary, “the use of green and blue lenses” was considered to be better for the eyes, since they eliminated the “offensive glaring light.” 403 At that time, tinted spectacles were not used as sunglasses; they corrected vision problems. Before blue spectacles become associated with nihilism, they appear in literature in quite neutral contexts as common reading glasses. For example, in Herzen’s 1846 short story “In Passing” (“Мимоходом”), an assistant to the chairman of the Criminal Chamber in a provincial Russian town, characterized as “a most honest man and a big eccentric,”404 wears blue spectacles, a detail that, in this story, signifies nothing more than the fact that this man is a “learned man.” Similarly, in Druzhinin’s Polinka Saks (Полинька Сакс, 1847), the unscrupulous civil servant Pisarenko, “an old man of dignified appearance with gray hair,”405 wears blue spectacles when he is working with papers. Around the same time, in 1848-1849, a Ukrainian poet Taras Shevchenko he bought a pair of “blue 402 “Cтоило некоторым из наших барышень остричь себе волосы, надеть синие очки и наименоваться нигилистками, чтобы тотчас же убедиться, что, надев очки, они немедленно стали иметь свои собственные ‘убеждения.’” F. M. Dostoevsky, Idiot: roman v chetyrekh chastiakh, Sobranie sochinenii v 15-ti tomakh, vol. 6, 15 vols. (Leningrad: Nauka, 1988), 4:1. 403 Richard D. Jr. Drewry, M.D., What Man Devised That He Might See, http://www.teagleoptometry.com/history.htm, May 21 2010. 404 “Я знавал когда-то товарища председателя, честнейшего человека в мире и большого оригинала.” A. I. Gertsen, "Mimokhodom," Kto vinovat? roman, povesti, rasskazy, Klassiki i sovremenniki. Russkaia klassicheskaia literatura (Moscow: Khudozhestvennaia literatura, 1979). 405 “То был старик почтенного вида, с седой головой; на носу его надеты были синие очки. Вся фигура его отличалась удивительною подвижностью.” A. V. Druzhinin, "Polin'ka Saks," Povesti. Dnevnik (Moscow: Nauka, 1986), p. 41. 176 spectacles with side shields” in Moscow.406 Finally, at a provincial ball described in Turgenev’s 1854 short story “The Lull” (“Затишье”),407 a young man wearing blue spectacles is presented under the name of “Death” to a young woman during a mazurka. She does not choose him. This “Death” does not play any other role in the story; his blue spectacles are just an insignificant detail. But, tellingly, these spectacles are already worn in public as a statement, a part of one’s image. Wearing spectacles and, especially, blue spectacles, in public, became fashionable among Russian students around the 1860s. Partly, they became an accessory to the nihilist costume due to their associations with disdain for society and intellectualism; as a symbol they implied that a bespectacled nihilist can see what the unenlightened other can not. Stereotypical portraits of nihilists in the literature of the second half of the 19 th century almost universally include blue spectacles. Quite often, they appear on the noses of those characters for whom nihilism is, first of all, a matter of appearances and, only then, ideology. For example, the leader of the nihilist commune in Vsevolod Krestovsky’s novel Panurge’s Herd (1869), Ardalion Poloyarov, is vain; he cares about his appearance above all other things. Poloyarov is described as a “tall man in blue spectacles and in an intentionally crumbled felt hat from under which long, thick, curly and uncombed hair was falling on his shoulders in disarray.”408 By covering the eyes, blue spectacles can draw attention to other parts of the face as 406 M. S. Shaginian, Shevchenko (Moscow: Khudozhestvennaia literatura, 1941), p. 202. 407 I. S. Turgenev, "Zatish'e," Polnoe sobranie sochinenii i pisem v 30-ti tomakh, ed. M. P. Alekseev, 2 ed., vol. 4 (Moscow: Nauka, 1980), vol. 4, pp. 380-451. 408 “В середине стоял высокого роста господин, в синих очках и войлочной, нарочно смятой шляпе, из-под которой в беспорядке падали ему на плечи длинные, густые, курчавые и вдобавок нечесанные волосы.” Vsevolod Vladimirovich Krestovskii, "Krovavyi puf: romany: Panurgovo stado i Dve sily," Sobranie sochinenii Vsevoloda Vladimirovicha Krestovskago, vol. 3 (Saint Petersburg: Izd-e tovarishchestva "Obshchestvennaia pol'za", 1904), p. 28. 177 appears to be the case with Leviafanov, a former seminarian and a teacher of the main character, Marina, from Boleslav Markevich’s novel Marina from Alyi Rog (1873). Leviafanov wears “blue spectacles in a metal frame” that hide his eyes and make his interlocutors concentrate on his “thin and long lips that always form a sarcastic and unpleasant grin.”409 In Leskov’s novella “Mysterious Man” (“Загадочный человек,” 1870), Nichiporenko, “the dull-witted, sickly, puny and disgustingly untidy person,”410 a homegrown parody of a revolutionary, also wears blue spectacles to attain a “serious” look.411 Sometimes, blue spectacles figure in portrayals of more sympathetic nihilist characters. Thus, Reiner, one of the main positive nihilist characters in Leskov’s No Way Out (1864), is rumored to have moved to Petersburg where he lives in hiding, wearing a disguise that includes blue spectacles.412 Nihilist women also wear blue spectacles. For example, Nadenka Lipetskaya, the main female heroine of Victor Avenarius’s novel The Plague (Поветрие, 1867) starts wearing spectacles when she joins the nihilist circles. Blue spectacles “unfortunately” hide “her expressive dark-blue eyes”; overall, she is portrayed as naturally lively and feminine in spite of these spectacles.413 In all these descriptions of nihilists, blue spectacles 409 “[Г]лаза [Левиафанова] исчезали за синими стеклами стальных очков, и все выражение его лица сосредоточивалось в узких и длинных губах, постоянно складывавшихся в саркастическую, некрасивую усмешку.” B.M. Markevich, "Marina iz Alogo Roga," Polnoe sobranie sochinenii B. M. Markevicha, vol. 3 (Saint Petersburg: Tipografiia (byvshaia) A. M. Kotomkina, 1885), p. 178. 410 “Едучи с недалеким, болезненным, чахлым и до противности неопрятным чиновником Ничипоренко, Бенни...” N. S. Leskov, "Zagadochnyi chelovek: istinnoe sobytie," Sobranie sochinenii v odinnadtsati tomakh, ed. V. G. Bazanov, vol. 3 (Moscow: Gos. izd-vo khudozhestvennoi lit-ry, 1957), p. 298. 411 “Нечипоренко поскорее схватил с себя синие консервы, которые надел в дорогу для придания большей серьёзности своему лицу.” Ibid , p. 303. 412 “Одни утверждали, что он [Райнер] в Петербурге, но что его нельзя узнать, потому что он ходит переодетый, с синих очках и с выкрашенными волосами.” N. S. Leskov, "Nekuda: roman v trekh knizhkakh, 1864," Polnoe sobranie sochinenii, vol. 4 (Moscow: Terra, 1997), p. 398. 413 “Ничем не связанные пышные кольца остриженных по плечи каштановых волос вольно раскачивались вкруг хорошенькой ее головки, лучшую часть которой – выразительные, темно-синие глаза – cкрывали, к сожалению, синего же цвета очки.” In V. P. (Vasilii Petrovich) Avenarius, "Povetrie: Peterburgskaia povest'," Sobranie sochinenii, vol. 3 (Moscow: Terra, 1996), p. 543. 178 have a symbolic meaning. They “hide” the eyes of the nihilist man or woman and, therefore, suggest an idea of duplicity, deception, fraud. Not surprisingly, blue spectacles were especially popular among the writers whose attitude to nihilism was the most negative (Krestovsky, Markevich, Avenarius). They are also a powerful symbol of the specifically nihilist type of distorted worldview. The nihilist creed of negation is represented as a consequence of looking at the world through dark glasses that obscure their vision. In the West, where wearing blue spectacles acquired an association with Russian nihilists (in 1870-1880s), their original symbolic meaning was rather similar. As Oscar Wilde says in An Ideal Husband, “Optimism begins in a broad grin and Pessimism ends with blue spectacles.”414 The purpose of blue spectacles is to hide one’s eyes. The reasons for this can be various: from the absence of eyes altogether as in Herbert Wells’ “The Invisible Man,” who “wore big blue spectacles with sidelights,”415 to a desire to hide the look of a ruthless capitalist as in Balzac’s Illusions perdues (1839),416 or to pass for someone else, as in O. Henry’s short story “Conscience in Art.”417 All items of the nihilist costume – plaids, coarse boots, dark, simple dress, and a frequent absence of collars and cuffs – produce an overall impression of negligence and often uncleanliness. But the sported negligence itself actually was a deliberate and not inexpensive performance; procuring the right items for the costume required knowledge, attention to detail 414 Oscar Wilde, An Ideal Husband ([n.p]: BiblioBazaar, 2008), p. 15. 415 “[S]he noticed that he wore big blue spectacles with side-lights, and had a bushy side-whisker over his coat-collar that completely hid his cheeks and face.” H. G. Wells, The Invisible Man (New York, N.Y.: Dover Publications, 1992), p. 2. 416 417 Honoré de Balzac, 1799-1850., Les illusions perdues, vol. 1 (Paris: Librairie Droz, 1946-). “I got a pair of blue spectacles, put on my frock coat, rumpled my hair up and became Professor Pickleman.” O. Henry, The Gentle Crafter, The Complete Writings of O. Henry, vol. 6 (New York, N. Y.: Doubleday, Page and Company, 1917), p. 97. 179 and the investment of considerable time, money and effort. For example, Vera Zasulich, famous for her attempt upon the life of St. Petersburg governor Trepov, took great care to construct her, seemingly, careless appearance. Rosaliya Bograd, the future wife of Georgy Plekhanov, who first saw Vera in 1875 at the Kharkov train station, left the following detailed description of Vera’s costume: Vera wore a shapeless grey outfit that might be described as a good-sized piece of linen, in the center of which there had been cut a hole for her head and, on the sides, two holes for her arms. This piece of linen was held in with a narrow belt, but its edges hung down on all sides, fluttering in the wind. On her head there was something – not a hat, but more like a pirog – made out of cheap grey material. On her feet there were wide, clumsy-looking boots that, she later explained to me, had been specially made for her according to her own design. Her linen body covering, of course, had no pockets, so in place of a handkerchief, she simply picked up the edge of one of the hanging corners of the material. 418 Preparing for a terrorist act, Vera, as Margaret Maxwell observes, Vera “planned very carefully the costume she would wear to shoot Trepov, knowing she would be photographed in it and that the photograph would receive publicity.” 419 The nihilists’ way of dressing, seemingly simple and unpremeditated, could not be easily imitated by the uninitiated. As Stepniak-Kravchinsky’s testifies, the spies of the Third Department, trying to look like nihilists, could not fool anybody: The spies, who were “recruited temporarily,” looked much more comical. They were evidently just dressed-up soldiers. They walked around in small groups and, as people used to marching in formation, could not stand or walk independently…. They were dressed in a very funny way. Because, apparently, it was hard to get different clothes for them, the entire detachments wore identical hats, coats and pants. Some put on huge blue glasses trying to look like students. This whole scene was so comical that it was hard not to laugh at them. 420 418 Maxwell, Narodniki Women: Russian Women Who Sacrificed Themselves for the Dream of Freedom , p. 25. 419 Ibid , p. 26. 420 “Шпионы ‘временно исполняющие’ выглядели гораздо комичнее. Это были, очевидно, просто переодетые солдаты. Они прогуливались небольшими партиями и, как люди, привыкшие к строю, никак не могли ни стоять, ни ходить врассыпную: нет-нет да и выстроятся в полувзводики. Одеты они были очень забавны. Так как трудно было впопыхах добыть для них различные костюмы, то целые отряды были в 180 One of the reasons why the youthful anti-fashion movement of the 1860s had such a firm association with nihilism, actually serving as its most precise visual representation, is because the temporary boundaries of its popularity coincided with the period when the so-called generation of the 1860s was in the forefront of the Russian society. In the 1870s, nihilists gave way to populists, who, in their turn, brought in a new fashion. The most important attribute of a populist’s dress was a red shirt, worn by both men and women. The red shirt or light coat (поддевка), just as the costume of the nihilists, was borrowed from abroad. Undoubtedly, it owed its glamour to the famous Italian Redshirts (Camicie rosse), the volunteers who fought with Giuseppe Garibaldi in southern Italy, and among whom there were Russians.421 In Siberian exile, nihilists and populists, with their distinct fashion, looked like people of two separate generations: The nihilists wore plaids, spectacles (without exception), and wide-brimmed hats. The populists wore red shirts, poddyovkas, blacked boots and, like the nihilists, also had blue or dark-tinted spectacles, and long, shoulder-length hair. Both groups carried obligatory clubs. The best clubs were made of juniper, procured from dense Domshinsk woods. The nihilist women cut their hair short, wore the same kind of glasses, red side-fastened blouses, short black skirts and small black coachman’s hats.422 одинаковых шапках, одинаковых пальто и брюках. Иные понапяливали себе на нос огромные синие очки, надеясь таким образом придать себе вид студентов. Все это представляло зрелище до такой степени уморительное, что трудно было удержаться от смеха.” S. M. Stepniak-Kravchinskii, Podpol'naia Rossiia, Sochineniia v 2-kh tomakh, vol. 1, 2 vols. (Moscow: Khudozhestvennaia literatura, 1987). 421 Russian volunteers participated in Garibaldi’s campaign in Sicily in May of 1860. M. T. Pinaev, Kommentarii k romanu N. G. Chernyshevskogo "Chto delat'?" (Moscow: Gos. uchebno-pedagogicheskoe izd-vo Ministerstva Prosveshcheniia RSFSR, 1963), p. 172. 422 “Ходили нигилисты в пледах, очках обязательно и широкополых шляпах, а народники – в красных рубахах, поддевках, смазных сапогах, также носили очки синие или дымчатые, и тоже длинные, по плечам, волосы. И те и другие были обязательно вооружены самодельными дубинами – лучшими считались можжевеловые, которые добывали в дремучих домшинских лесах. Нигилистки коротко стриглись, носили такие же очки, красные рубахи-косоворотки, короткие черные юбки и черные маленькие шляпки, вроде кучерских.” V. A. Giliarovskii, Moi skitaniia, Sobranie sochinenii v chetyrekh tomakh, vol. 1, 4 vols. (Moscow: Poligrafresursy, 1999), Ch. 1. 181 In exile, having given away everything else, the nihilists and populists kept what to them was as dear as their convictions: their fashion. 8. The Rigorist and Don Quixote: the “Man of Action” as the “Hero of the Time” With the image of Rakhmetov, Chernyshevsky pleased his readers as well as radical critics by portraying the “man of action” who could become the successor to the “superfluous man” and the “hero of the time.” The main distinction between the “superfluous man” and the new type (heralded by the radical critics423) lay in the latter’s attitude toward action and the ability to act. The “superfluous man” had been characterized by his “disastrous alienation from other human beings and purposeful activity.”424 This condition of disharmony between the hero and society excluded any possibility of action; his protest against political oppression and the stifling moral atmosphere in Russian society could only manifest itself in his suffering and through his speech. With the change in political climate during the 1860s, the individual possibilities for action seemed to have matched the public desire to act. As Nikolai Strakhov observed, “political ambition, the universal desire to be active in the field for the common good is one of the widespread features of our time.” “We need men of action and not of abstract… argument,” 425 preached Dobroliubov; “Russian life has at last reached the stage where virtuous and esteemed, but weak and spineless, individuals no longer satisfy the public conscience and are regarded as totally useless. An urgent 423 See Dobroliubov, "Kogda zhe pridet nastoiashchii den'." 424 Mathewson, The Positive Hero in Russian Literature , p. 15. 425 “Словом, нужны люди дела, а не отвлеченных... рассуждений.” Dobroliubov, "Kogda zhe pridet nastoiashchii den'," p. 195. 182 need is felt for men who, if less beautiful in character, are more active and energetic.” 426 To direct and encourage activism in society, the critics needed to find a hero in contemporary literature that would serve as a model to this contemporary man of action. The most original and influential framework for the discussion of the two types of literary characters was provided by Turgenev in his famous article “Hamlet and Don Quixote” (1860). For Turgenev, the symbol of the “men of the 1840s” (aka the “superfluous man”) and the basis for some of his characters was Hamlet. Egoism, lack of faith, skepticism, doubt, loathing of one’s inadequacies and of one’s entire self, a combination of the absence of faith in oneself and vanity, of the love for life and a desire to end one’s life are the distinctive features of the (Russian) Hamlet.427 He may appear weak, but Turgenev perceives that his weakness is his source of strength, because “all self-consciousness makes for strength.” 428 The main difference between Hamlet and Don Quixote (who, in the context of Turgenev’s article, is the symbol of a “man of action”) lies in their relation to the ideal of “the truth, the beautiful, the good.” 429 Unlike Hamlet, Don Quixote finds his ideal outside of his ego; he adopts it uncritically, blindly; he does not analyze, discuss or doubt it; instead, he transforms his life to serve it. For Don Quixote, following his ideal requires “faith in something eternal and immutable, in the truth… that 426 This translation is quoted in Mathewson, The Positive Hero in Russian Literature , p. 52, footnote. 427 I. S. Turgenev, "Gamlet i Don-Kikhot," Polnoe sobranie sochinenii i pisem v 28-mi tomakh: Sochineniia v 15-ti tomakh, ed. M. P. Alekseev, vol. 8 (Moscow, St. Petersburg: Nauka, 1964), pp. 174-176. 428 Elizabeth Cheresh Allen, ed., The Essential Turgenev (Evanston, Ill.: Northwestern University Press, 1994), p. 552. “[O]н сознает свою слабость, но но всякое самосознание есть сила.” Turgenev, "Gamlet i Don-Kikhot," , p. 176. 429 Allen, ed., The Essential Turgenev , p. 548. “Все люди живут – сознательно или бессознательно – в силу своего принципа, своего идеала, т.е. в силу того, что они почитают правдой, красотою, добром.” Turgenev, "Gamlet i Don-Kikhot," p. 172. 183 demands service and sacrifice.” 430 To serve his ideal, Don Quixote “is ready to endure hardship, to sacrifice his life.”431 His own life is just a means for attaining his ideal, for “securing truth and justice on earth.”432 In his novels On the Eve and Fathers and Sons, Turgenev portrayed Don Quixotic characters of his times. Insarov, in spite of some vagueness of characterization, was received sympathetically. Basistov, a critic from The Notes of the Fatherland, wrote in his review of On the Eve in May 1860: for us, the time of Hamlets has passed... we’ve talked enough about the fact that we need Don Quixotes, men of action, men who are able to sacrifice themselves, who would do everything that we have dreamt about. So far, we have had only Hamlets, self-defeaters, self-doubters, etc. Now we need real people, heroes, to fight internal enemies – not talkers and men of reflection, but practical and active men – it is necessary that they should wish to cure, with all the strength of their souls, our wounds; dedicate themselves fully to the idea of the common good… 433 Insarov’s biggest flaw was that he was not Russian. Nikolai Dobroliubov, in his famous review of On the Eve, summarized the public’s emotions and expectations by concluding that the answer to his famous question, “When will the real day come?” (that is, when a new positive hero, a Russian man of action, would finally enter the literary scene), is still not found. Turgenev’s next 430 Allen, ed., The Essential Turgenev , p. 549. “[Ч]то выражает собою Дон-Кихот? Веру... в нечто вечное, незыблемое, в истину... требующую служения и жертв...” Turgenev, "Gamlet i Don-Kikhot," p. 173. 431 “Дон-Кихот проникнут весь преданностью идеалу, для которого он готов подвергаться всевозможным лишениям, жертвовать жизнью; самую жизнь свою он ценит настолько, насколько она может служить средством к воплощению идеала, к водворению истины, справедливости на земле. ” Turgenev, "Gamlet i DonKikhot," p. 173. 432 433 Allen, ed., The Essential Turgenev , p. 549. Turgenev, "Gamlet i Don-Kikhot," p. 173. “[Д]ля нас прошла пора гамлетов... довольно мы рассуждали, что нам нужны дон-кихоты, люди дела, люди, способные к самопожертвованию, которые бы привели в исполнение то, что мы до сих пор только придумывали. До сих пор у нас были гамлетики, грызуны, самоеды и пр. Теперь нам нужны люди, герои для борьбы с врагами внутренними, не говоруны и не рефлектеры, а практические деятели; надобно, чтобы они всею силою души своей захотели уврачевать наши раны, вполне отдались идее общего блага...” P. Basistov, "Review of Turgenev's 'Nakanune,' "Otechestvennye zapiski' 1860, No. 5," Sobranie kriticheskikh materialov dlia izucheniia proizvedenii I. S. Turgeneva, ed. V. Zelinskii, 3 ed., vol. 2:1 (Moscow: 1899), p. 139. 184 attempt to offer a positive hero, Bazarov, “a somber, wild, huge figure, half grown out of the soil,”434 failed to satisfy all, especially the Russian youth, who saw a sign of weakness in Bazarov’s “restless and melancholic,” 435 heart. Thus, from the very beginning, the public did not respond well to Turgenev’s ambivalent characterization endowing Bazarov a dose of selfconsciousness. But Turgenev remained true to himself for, in his view, “according to the wise order of nature, there are no complete Hamlets just as there are no complete Don Quixotes; no, they are only the extreme manifestations of the two trends.”436 Starting with the idea of a character “half-grown from the soil” who is dedicated to his ideals and blind to the distractions of the patriarchal world, Turgenev, in the course of the novel, uprooted Bazarov, made him lose his faith, start doubting and analyzing himself; in short, injected some Hamlet into Don Quixote. Chernyshevsky, in What Is to Be Done, published a year later, steered clear of Turgenev’s path by successfully banishing any trace of the tragic (through which a Hamlet might have inseminated himself into the novel). His Don Quixote, Rakhmetov, in his attitude to ideological doctrines, food, clothing and the matters of romance, stays surprisingly close to Turgenev’s recipe: Don Quixote is “patient and long-suffering, he accepts the most meager food, the shabbiest clothing – he is indifferent to such things. Simple of heart, he is great and bold of spirit: his benign resignation does not constrain his freedom. Foreign to vanity, he has no doubts about himself, about his purpose, even about his physical prowess; his will is an unbending will. Constant striving toward one and the same goal imparts a certain singularity to his thoughts, a one-sidedness to his 434 “Мне мечталась фигура сумрачная, дикая, большая, до половины выросшая из почвы, сильная, злобная, честная – и все-таки обреченная на погибель – потому, что она все-таки стоит еще в преддверии будущего, – мне мечтался какой-то странный pendant с Пугачевым...” Turgenev, Polnoe sobranie sochinenii i pisem v tridtsati tomakh , Letters, vol. 4, p. 381. 435 “[Б]еспокойного и тоскующего Базарова (признак великого сердца), несмотря на весь его нигилизм…” Dostoevsky, "Zimnie zametki o letnikh vpechatleniiakh," p. 79. 436 “[П]о мудрому распоряжению природы, полных Гамлетов, точно так же как и полных Дон-Кихотов, нет: это только крайние выражения двух направлений.” Turgenev, "Gamlet i Don-Kikhot," p. 189. 185 mind; he knows little, but then, he does not need to know much. He knows what matters to him, he knows why he is alive on earth – and this is the most important knowledge of all.437 He “takes upon himself to correct the evil and to protect the oppressed (unknown to him) in the entire world.” 438 “Don Quixote does not have the slightest trace of sensuality; all his dreams [of Dulcinea] are shy and innocent.”439 The image of Rakhmetov became the model for the new type of personality, blending traits of the ascetic saint and the revolutionary, Christ and the Devil. It opened a door to a literary quest for a new “man of action” among numerous imitators as well as some first-rate novelists. Leskov’s Reiner from No Way Out (1864) and Dostoevsky’s Prince Myshkin from The Idiot (1868) are two of the most remarkable Don Quixotic characters in Russian literature of the period. Leskov’s character, as the closest in time to Rakhmetov and still riding the wave of the journalistic polemic about him, is perhaps the most interesting case to explore in detail. The article “Nikolai Gavrilovich Chernyshevskii in his novel What Is to Be Done,” Leskov’s immediate and emotional response to Chernyshevsky’s novel, was published in The Northern Bee (Северная пчела) in May 1863, when the last installment of Chernyshevsky’s novel appeared in the Contemporary. The article contains an enthusiastic praise of the novel and its characters, and is written in exuberantly emotional language, in spite of the fact that Leskov’s attitude toward the “nihilists” was rather negative at that time. Somehow, Chernyshevsky’s novel succeeded in convincing Leskov that the “nihilists” were not a uniform phenomenon. Rather, 437 Allen, ed., The Essential Turgenev , p. 549-550. “[O]н бесстрашен, терпелив, довольствуется самой скудной пищей, самой бедной одеждой: ему не до того. Смиренный сердцем, он духом велик и смел; умилительная его набожность не стесняет его свободы; чуждый тщеславия, он не сомневается в себе, в своем призвании, даже в своих физических силах; воля его – непреклонная воля. Постоянное стремление к одной и той же цели придает однообразие его мыслям, односторонность его уму; он знает мало, да ему и не нужно много знать: он знает, в чем его дело, зачeм он живет на земле, а это – главное знание.” Turgenev, "Gamlet i DonKikhot," p. 174. 438 “А Дон-Кихот берет на себя... исправлять зло и защищать притесненных (совершенно ему чужих) на всем земном шаре.” Turgenev, "Gamlet i Don-Kikhot," pp. 177-178. 439 “Чувственности и следа нет у Дон-Кихота; все мечты его стыдливы и безгрешны...” Ibid , p. 181. 186 they consisted of “good nihilists” (“good people,” “kind people” and “smart people,” as Leskov refers to the characters of What Is to Be Done?),440 and “bad nihilists” (whom Leskov, in this article, calls “impotents, pretending to be Rudins or Bazarovs; “sugar-coated riffraff,” “poisonous white-mouthed puppies,” “rabid curs,” and “Robespierres riding on Pugachevs”).441 Learning that “the devil is not as black as he is painted,”442 Leskov started his own search for a positive hero among representatives of the younger generation. His 1864 novel No Way Out (Некуда) is relatively unsympathetic to the nihilist milieu as a whole. It was written as a response to Chernyshevsky’s What Is to Be Done.443 In this novel, Leskov gives at least three positive images of nihilists: Liza Bakhareva, Justin Pomada and Vasily (Wilhelm) Reiner. Liza Bakhareva is one of the two heroines of the novel. She is a highly likable character: strong, passionate, determined and vulnerable. Against the will of her parents, Liza becomes involved in the nihilist movement, which she joins with all her heart and soul. She participates in a nihilist commune and falls in love with Reiner, who is another positive nihilist character, reminiscent of Turgenev’s Insarov. Like the latter, Reiner is a foreigner, a “man of action.” He is idealistic and pure of heart. Justin Pomada is a minor character who loves Liza and selflessly serves and helps her throughout the book. A year before 440 “’Новые люди’ г. Чернышевского, которых по моему мнению, лучше бы назвать ‘хорошие люди,’ не несут ни огня, ни меча.” “Нужно только для этого добрых людей, каких вывел г. Чернышевский, а их, признаться сказать, очень мало.” “[У]мные люди могут стать твердо и найти себе, что делать.” N. S. Leskov, "Nikolai Gavrilovich Chernyshevskii v ego romane "Chto delat'?" (pis'mo k izdateliu "Severnoi pchely")," Polnoe sobranie sochinenii, vol. 3 (Moscow: 1996-), p. 177, p. 183, p. 184. 441 “рудинствующие импотенты,” “импотенты базарствующие,” “дрянцо с пыльцой,” “щеночки белогубые... такие ядовитые,” “шальные шавки,” “Робеспьер на Пугачеве.” Ibid , pp. 178-183. 442 443 “Черт не так страшен, как его рисуют!” is an epigraph to Leskov’s article. Ibid , p. 175. Another, even more polemical answer to What Is to Be Done? will be given by Leskov a year later, in 1865, in his novel The Left Out Ones (Обойденные). 187 his death, Leskov was still convinced that nobody in the hostile camp of “progressive writers” had succeeded in creating so appealing nihilist characters as he had in No Way Out.444 Although Rakhmetov is not mentioned in Leskov’s article about What Is to Be Done, the influence of this character on that of Reiner is striking if not immediately perceivable. Modeled upon Leskov’s most beloved friend among the nihilists, Herzen’s unlucky envoy, Arthur Benni,445 Reiner became somewhat of an obsession for Leskov; not only did he make him one of the central characters of No Way Out, he also wrote an essay, “A Mysterious Man,” about his life story. Like Chernyshevsky in the case of Dobroliubov, Leskov wanted to perform “an honest deed” (“дело честное”) and to refute the libel circulating around the character’s prototype who was suspected of being a spy for the Third Department .446 The introduction of quixotic characters in What Is to Be Done? and No Way Out occurs in inserted chapters which outline their full biographies. Both Rakhmetov and Reiner (whose name means “pure” in German) are presented as acquaintances of the authors,447 and therefore the real people of the 1860s. Being quite distinct, their origins share an idea of certain “foreignness”: 444 “Выводя низкие типы нигилистов, я дал, однако в ‘Некуда’ Лизу, Райнера, Помаду, каких не написал ни один апологет нигилизма.” From a letter to M. O. Men’shikov from February 12, 1894. N. S. Leskov, Sobranie sochinenii v odinnadtsati tomakh, ed. V. G. Bazanov, 11 vols. (Moscow: Khudozhestvennnaia literatura, 19561958), vol. 11, p. 574. 445 For more information on Benni, see in "Rev. of "Zagadochnyi chelovek. Epizod iz istorii komicheskogo vremeni na Rusi s pis'mom avtora k Ivanu Sergeevichu Turgenevu" N. S. Leskova-Stebnitskogo, SPb. 1871," Otechestvennye zapiski t. CXCVII.8 (avg.), II otd. (1871); Boborykin, Vospominaniia , vol. 1, pp. 361-364; William Edgerton, "Leskov, Artur Benni i podpol'noe dvizhenie nachala 1860-kh godov (O real'noi osnove 'Nekuda' i 'Zagadochnyi chelovek')," Literaturnoe nasledstvo 101.1 (1997); H. McLean, "Leskov and His Enigmatic Man," Harvard Slavic Studies IV (1957). 446 “[M]оя попытка восстановить истину в этой запутанной истории есть дело честное...” Leskov, "Zagadochnyi chelovek: istinnoe sobytie," p. 277. 447 Chernyshevsky says that he knew Rakhmetov (as well as seven other “examples of his breed”) whom he met “in Lopukhov and Kirsanov’s circle,” and with whom, as with “his intimate friend” he laughed at his “amusing,” and presumably, quixotic traits. Chernyshevsky, What Is to Be Done, p. 274. Leskov presents Reiner in No Way Out as a friend of Dr. Rozanov, a thoroughly autobiographic character. Leskov writes that although he “does not share socialist views,” he portrayed “such a sympathetic character because [he] saw such a person in front of [him].” In “A Mysterious Man,” he talks of Arthur Benni (=Reiner) as his own intimate friend. 188 Rakhmetov has a strain of Tatar blood on his father’s side while Reiner has a Swiss father. Both of them, the “peculiar man” Rakhmetov and the “foreign man” (чужой человек448), Reiner remain detached from the world of other characters. Rakhmetov cultivates his own detachment while Reiner is never fully accepted by the Russians: he remains a foreigner, an outside observer and a cosmopolite par excellence. Apart from these biographical details, Rakhmetov and Reiner share some common personality traits. Both have low esteem for the material side of life. Rakhmetov, a rich heir to his father, frees the 400 “souls” on his estate and, apparently, gives away 5,500 desyatinas of land, living on a meager 400 rubles a year while giving most of his income to the needy and providing scholarships for poor students.449 Reiner gives up his comfortable life and substantial income in London as a clerk in James Smith’s trading house, rents out his farm in Switzerland to poor workers “on the most unprofitable conditions,” and gives most of his monthly income of 300 silver rubles to ruthless “radicals” who live in his apartment, eat his food, wear his clothes and take his personal belongings.450 Both Rakhmetov and Reiner remain chaste. Rakhmetov takes a vow “I shall not touch any women”451 and sticks to it regardless of circumstances. Reiner honors the last words of his dying mother, “Keep yourself clean, Vasya…. Think what an insult it is to a woman… when the man has not waited for her. Think again how disgusting it is… and how honest, how pleasant it is to keep yourself clean.” 452 When Reiner and Liza Bakhareva fall in love, their relationship remains pure. Although their 448 Leskov, "Nekuda: roman v trekh knizhkakh, 1864," p. 253. 449 Chernyshevsky, What Is To Be Done, p. 276. 450 Leskov, "Nekuda: roman v trekh knizhkakh, 1864," see pp. 273-274, p. 519. 451 “Я не прикасаюсь к женщине.” Chernyshevskii, Chto delat'? Iz rasskazov o novykh liudiakh , p. 206. Chernyshevsky, What Is To Be Done, p. 280. 452 “Храни ты, Вася, себя чистым... подумай, какая обида женщине... когда ее не ждали. Подумай опять, как это гадко... и как честно, как приятно сберечь себя.” Leskov, "Nekuda: roman v trekh knizhkakh, 1864," p. 267. 189 prototypes, Arthur Benni and a woman of the 1860s, Kopteva, were married in real life, it remains unclear in the novel whether the love between Reiner and Liza is ever consummated. It is, however, in the attitude toward love that a larger difference between Reiner and Rakhmetov and the polemical side of the former first becomes manifest. Reiner’s decision to remain chaste is selfless and stems from his respect toward women (he will only experience physical love if it leads to marriage), whereas Rakhmetov’s chastity is profoundly selfish and connected to his desire to train his mind and body. Rakhmetov’s attitude toward love, as with most other impulses of his nature, is taken to the extreme; he knows no compromise or middle ground. Nothing can make him doubt the inevitability of a socialist world order, or eat an apricot, a fruit not accessible to the common people. Rakhmetov has no doubts and no guilt; he is never disappointed. The story about Rakhmetov’s love affair with the (noble) lady in a chariot whose life he saves betrays his self-centeredness. He reveals to her that people like him “have no right to bind their destiny to someone else’s…. I must suppress any love in myself: to love you would mean to bind my hands…. But I’ll manage. I must not love.” 453 Somehow, the question about whether the lady herself “will manage” never occurs to Rakhmetov. Rakhmetov’s egoism is “boundless” like the egoism of “new men” should be, according to Chernyshevsky and his followers. Pisarev, for example, writes that “the new men love themselves to a degree of passion, respect themselves to a degree of veneration.” 454 For Pisarev, however, this passionate love for oneself must be balanced by constant retrospection and merciless judgment of one’s missteps, so that, in case a vile act is committed, the “sensible 453 Chernyshevsky, What Is To Be Done, p. 291. “[T]акие люди как я не имеют права связывать чью-нибудь судьбу с своею... я должен подавить в себе любовь: любовь к вам связывала бы мне руки... они и так уж связаны... Но развяжу. Я не должен любить.” Chernyshevskii, Chto delat'? Iz rasskazov o novykh liudiakh, p. 213. 454 “Вот эгоизм новых людей, и этому эгоизму нет границ; ему они действительно приносят в жертву всех и все. Любят они себя до страсти, уважают до благоговения...” Pisarev, "Novyi tip," p. 218. 190 egoist” will drive him to either suicide or madness.455 Rakhmetov’s rigor pertains only to the physicality and excludes any critical introspection of his moral side. His attitude makes one wonder how this man, who is apparently unable to look away from his own self and reach out to to the woman he loves, will be able to save the world. However, for Chernyshevsky and his young followers, the question was easily, if not persuasively, dismissed. In the life of this woman there was to be a “great crisis” from which she was to emerge as yet another “extraordinary person.”456 Needless to say, she disappears from the novel from that point on. There might be some truth to the words of a contemporary, who felt that Rakhmetov’s heartlessness is a reflection of Chernyshevsky’s own: the seeds of heartlessness [in Chernyshevsky’s soul] gave…cruel shoots in Rakhmetov’s soul and made him a father of nihilism, the famous ringleader of those who deny private property, love and soap whom Chernyshevsky’s adversaries loved to portray as ‘An assemblage of thieves and robbers / Who distress their parents.’457 The result of this trial by love puts a finishing touch on Rakhmetov’s cultivated detachment from the passions of this world. According to Chernyshevsky, Rakhmetov becomes even stronger. However, to prove this, as also happens in the novel with other ideological doctrines that are supposed to replace the conventional “human” morale, Chernyshevsky needs to engage the reader in a game of “what seems to be what.” 455 “Если он сделает такую гадость, которая произведет в нем внутренний разлад, то он знает, что от этого разлада не будет другого лекарства, кроме самоубийства или сумасшедствия.” Ibid , p. 218. 456 “Что было потом с этою дамою? В ее жизни должен был произойти перелом; по всей вероятности, она и сама сделалась особенным человеком.” Chernyshevskii, Chto delat'? Iz rasskazov o novykh liudiakh , p. 213. 457 “[З]ачатки бессердечности [в душе Чернышевского] дали... жестокие всходы в душе Рахметова и сделали его отцом нигилизма, знаменитым коноводом тех отрицателей собственности, любви и мыла, которых противники Чернышевского так любили изображать как ‘Сброд воришек и грабителей, / Огорчающих родителей.’” L. Voitolovskii, Ocherki istorii russkoi literatury XIX i XX vekov: Part 2: Reshetnikov-Gor’kii, Slavistic Printings and Reprintings, ed. C. H. Schooneveld, vol. 183 (The Hague-Paris: Mouton, 1969), p. 7. 191 Tongue-in-cheek innuendo, one of Chernyshevsky’s main devices in What Is to Be Done, meant to get a subversive message past the censor, is also used to gloss over the tensions that exist between the ideal, ideologically streamlined life of the characters, and the requirements of human life and passions. Afanasy Fet was especially annoyed by Chernyshevsky’s noncommittal and thoroughly ambiguous psychology, “based on ‘she thought, she did not think; it seemed, it did not seem; she dreamt, she did not dream.’”458 The ambiguity of Rakhmetov’s quest and the revolutionary mortification of flesh is one instance where Chernyshevsky’s flipflopping psychology is evident. Creating an ideal heroic character based on two complementary models, the evangelical Christ and Turgenev’s Don Quixote, Chernyshevsky maintains their main traits, including that of “ridiculousness.” “Don Quixote,” writes Turgenev, “is profoundly funny. His figure is, probably, the most comical that has ever been created by a poet.” 459 According to him, a person needs to be funny, even a little insane, in order to be a blind servant of one idea and to “move mankind ahead.”460 Chernyshevsky follows this lesson and calls his Rakhmetov “funny” but then, he backpedals, as if this could tarnish Rakhmetov’s image. As a result, Rakhmetov becomes one of the flip-floppers, so disliked by Fet; he is both funny and not funny: Yes, people like Rakhmetov are funny, very amusing indeed. I say this for their own benefit, because I feel sorry for them… So you see, O perspicacious reader, it isn’t to you but to another part of the public that I admit that people like 458 “[A]втор... человек умеющий и сильный в психологии, основанной на: думала, не думала; казалось, не казалось, снилось, не снилось.” Fet, "'Chto delat'?' Iz rasskazov o novykh liudiakh. Roman N. G. Chernyshevskogo ('Sovremennik' 1863 goda za mart, aprel' i mai)," p. 491. 459 “Дон-Кихот... положительно смешон. Его фигура едва ли не самая комическая фигура, когда-либо нарисованная поэтом.” Turgenev, "Gamlet i Don-Kikhot," pp. 176-177. 460 Ibid , p. 189. 192 Rakhmetov are funny. To you, O perspicacious reader, I shall say that these people aren’t bad people. Otherwise, you might not understand it by yourself… 461 Leskov took a different route. His Reiner is both heroic and funny, an ideal, unbending revolutionary and a deeply feeling human being; in short, a truly tragic character. For Reiner, “a young socialist with a kind soul and tender and honest motives,” 462 the world does not consist of two contrasting realms: good and evil. In the course of his journey from Herzen’s home in London to Russia’s provincial world and revolutionary circles in the two capitals, Reiner loses his good name, health and faith in the Russian revolution and the people that this dream brought him in contact with. Reiner comes to understand that in Russia, where all revolutionary activity remains empty hustle and bustle, for a true revolutionary, “there is nowhere to go” (некуда идти).463 Overall, Leskov’s interpretation of the quixotic individual seems to be more humane than that of Chernyshevsky. Doubts and disappointments that Reiner incurs in the course of the novel are not signs of imperfection or fallibility. If he is rejected by Russian progressives, it is not because he is weak; it is because his purity and nobleness of spirit expose their pretentiousness, insincerity and foulness. Like Dostoevsky’s Prince Myshkin, Reiner is a Christ-like figure, betrayed and rejected by the philistines. Biblical imagery is not accidentally evoked in No Way 461 Chernyshevsky, What Is to Be Done, pp. 292-293. “Да, смешные это люди, как Рахметов, очень забавны. Это я для них самих говорю, что они смешны, говорю потому, что мне жалко их... Так видишь ли, проницательный читатель, это я не для тебя, а для другой части публики говорю, что такие люди, как Рахметов, смешны. А тебе, проницательный читатель, я скажу, что это недурные люди; а то ведь ты, пожалуй, и не поймешь сам-то; да, недурные люди. ” Chernyshevskii, Chto delat'? Iz rasskazov o novykh liudiakh , p. 215. 462 “В лице Райнера представлен молодой социалист с доброй душой и с нежными, честными побуждениями.” From an open letter to P. K. Shchebalsky (December 10, 1884). N. S. Leskov, "Avtorskoe priznanie: otkrytoe pis'mo k P. K. Shchebal'skomu," Sobranie sochinenii v 11-ti tomakh, vol. 11 (Moscow: Gos. izdvo Khudozhestvennoi literatury, 1958), vol. 11, p. 230. 463 N. S. Leskov, "Nekuda: roman v trekh knizhkakh," Sobranie sochinenii v odinnadtsati tomakh, vol. 2 (Moscow: Gos. izd-vo khudozhestvennoi lit-ry, 1956), p. 599. 193 Out: it is in following in the footsteps of his father and grandfather who died as martyrs for the freedom of their homeland that Reiner’s path lie. The evangelical words of Wilhelm Tell – “The honest man thinks about himself in the last place.” 464 The nickname Christuskopf, given to Reiner by “the sentimental German ladies of Heidelberg” for his striking and unusual beauty, becomes Reiner’s “real name” and a key to his character.465 Two other characters in the literature of the period directly inspired by the image of Rakhmetov are worth mentioning here, as they develop upon two different sides of it. The first presents the quixotic Sergei Overin from Ivan Kushchevsky’s novel Nikolai Negorev (1871) and the second the demonic Arkady Karamanov from Daniil Mordovtsev’s novel The Signs of Times (Знамения времени, 1871).466 The portrayal of Sergei Overin, an attractive eccentric-turned-revolutionary, is the highlight of Kushchevsky’s 1871 novel Nikolai Negorev, fondly remembered by contemporaries even at the end of the 19-th century. Kushchevsky’s biographer Arkady Gornfeld wrote, “We would occasionally see people in their advanced years who become livelier and younger when they recollect the name of Overin… as if that name brings to them a wave of some dear and irrevocable memories.”467 Two interdependent metaphors of the character of Overin are that of a “holy fool” and a Don Quixote. We first meet this character as a young boy in school where he already has a reputation of a class idiot. A classmate cautions Negorev, who is new to the school, 464 “[И] в ушах его звучат простые, евангельские слова Вильгельма Телля: ‘Честный человек после всего думает сам о себе.’” Leskov, "Nekuda: roman v trekh knizhkakh, 1864," p. 268. 465 Ibid , p. 272. 466 See A. I. Bogdanovich, "Voskresshaia kniga. - 'Znamenie vremeni' g. Mordovtseva," Gody pereloma (18951906). Sbornik kriticheskikh statei (St. Petersburg: Mir Bozhii, 1908). 467 “Нам случалось видеть пожилых уже людей, которые оживлялись и молодели, вспоминая имя Оверина... точно это имя приносило им волну каких-то дорогих и невозвратных воспоминаний.” A. Gornfel'd, "Zabytyi pisatel'," Russkoe bogatstvo.12 (1896), p. 12. 194 not to spend too much time listening to Overin. “What’s the use of talking to this lunatic!” he exclaims, “He has gone mad… He is starving himself to death. He is a fool.” 468 Overin’s lunacy is that of a religious fanatic; it is not accidental that the word “вера” (faith) is a root of his name. The evolution of Overin’s character unmasks a surprising affinity between the motives of a religious fanatic and those of a devoted revolutionary. When, as a result of a consciously staged experiment, during a final exam in religious history, he suddenly loses faith in God, Overin begins his quest for another object of faith and for a higher cause to serve: from fighting in the Crimean war to becoming a propagandist and revolutionary in the 1860s. The allegiance to revolutionary cause is for him, as for Rakhmetov, a matter of blind faith in its righteousness that makes him a quixotic individual. The references to Don Quixote in the novel are explicit. Having bought a straw hat (deciding that “the lighter the hat, the less pressure it has on the brain and the less it interferes with the process of thinking”), Overin would stand for hours “in the pose of a statue of Don Quixote,” reading a book that he held in his extended arms and not paying any attention to the young boys who laughed at him.469 This identification is reinforced further on in the novel. Overin’s activities as a propagandist among peasants are presented as a quixotic enterprise: walking from village to village, accompanied by an old and grey-haired peasant, “thin and pale” (a real Sancho Panza, according to Overin’s friends), Overin even looks like the knight of the sad countenance with his kind, attractive eyes and “a strict line of the mouth,” a sign of his “fanatical implacability and unbending will.” 470 The general ironic tone of the presentation of 468 “[Ч]то с этим сумасшедшим говорить!.. он немного помешавшись...тон сам себя голодом морит. Дурак!” Kushchevskii, Nikolai Negorev: roman i malen'kie rasskazy , p. 57. 469 “[O]н купил себе соломенную шляпу (рассуждая, что, чем легче головной убор, тем он меньше отягощает голову и мешает мыслить)...” Ibid , pp. 165-166. 470 “[Г]лаза его даже довольно симпатичны; только очень строгий очерк рта свидетельствует о фанатической неумолимости и непреклонности этого человека... он очень бледен, впрочем, может быть, вследствие голода 195 Overin’s story (the narration in the novel is from the point of view of the unsympathetic Negorev, a “successful Russian”) reinforces the combination of the tragic and the ridiculous. Naturally, Overin is especially popular among women. His portrait, drawn in the image of Don Quixote by one of his friends, is photographed and, as Negorev ironically remarks, “a lot of women would part with half of their belongings to buy this photograph.”471 Being the combination of an ascetic saint and a Don Quixote, Overin’s personality, as depicted by Kushchevsky, corresponds to the Rakhmetov’s type. Overin’s attitude toward studying and reading is characteristic in this regard. He puts together an individual plan of studies and follows it with determined dedication (“first, he will learn all of mathematics, then will proceed with natural sciences, then social sciences, then philosophy, and then he will become a great writer”472). While doing so, he shows surprising and unsuspected disregard for rules and conventions; he does not prepare or attend examinations, and stops attending university lectures because, as he says, “everything is already known, it is boring.”473 His attitude toward money is also typical for the quixotic characters of that generation: he contrives to give all his money away and starve for days; when he gets 200 rubles from his guardian, he gives 25 of them to feed some stray dog, 25 to the servants in a boarding house, and 50 to a beggar whom he и дальних переходов. Старик, его сопровождающий, тоже очень худ и бледен; он высокого роста и совершенно седой.” Ibid , p. 282. 471 “С карикaтуры, набросанной Андреем, где Оверин, нарисованный довольно похоже, ехал на ободранном Россинанте, в сопровождении изнуренного Санчо Пансо, с котомкой за плечами, сделали фотографический снимок, и многие женшины, кажется, не пожалели бы половины своего имущества, чтобы приобрести этот рисунок. ” Ibid , p. 283. 472 “Он начертил себе следующую программу: прежде всего он изучит математику, потом примется за естественные науки, зайтем перейдет к социальным, изучит философию и сделается великим писателем.” Ibid, p. 192. 473 “Всё знакомое, скучно!” Ibid , p. 226. 196 meets on the street.474 Unlike Rakhmetov, Overin’s indifference to money is not deliberate: he seems ignorant of its significance for other people. In general, Overin’s idiosyncrasies stem less from conscious training of his mind and flesh and more from his almost childish naiveté. Overin’s moral values show a typical mix of kindness and cruelty, of burning with universal love for mankind, and not being able to care for other people and appreciate love. When a young girl, Liza declares her love for him and asks for a kiss, he behaves like a “stone idol.” He asks “what for?” and does not move in any way to respond to her passionate embrace. At the same time, he is persuaded that he loves her – “Why not love?” – and even contemplates marriage, being impressed by her “brave” behavior.475 Liza, however, understands that Overin cannot love her: “I thought that he also loves me but he says that he loves everybody.” 476 Overin’s incapability to empathize seems to be at the root of his tendency to blindly follow his higher cause, without regard for traditional morals. Overin is meek and kind-hearted but, even as a young boy, he shows that he will grow into a cold-blooded warrior for his cause. Angered by the unfairness demonstrated by the director of the school, Overin declares “with conviction” and “without a trace of impulsiveness”: “Some day I will stab this villain, [he] has to be stabbed… if I had a knife, I would stab him.” 477 Overall, for Kushchevsky, Overin is one of the “peculiar” people, whose image explicitly goes back to Chernyshevsky’s prototypes. Overin’s “civil execution” is a rewriting of Chernyshevsky’s own: from the sentence itself (fifteen years of hard 474 Ibid , p. 199. 475 Ibid , pp. 200, 304. 476 “[Я] думала, что и он меня любит, а он говорит, что он всех любит...” Ibid , p. 205. 477 “Я зарежу когда-нибудь этого злодея, – с убеждением сказал Оверин, без всякого оттенка горячности. – Его нужно зарезать. Если б был ножик, я бы и зарезал.” Ibid , p. 76. 197 labor in Siberia) to the absent-minded and seemingly “lost” behavior at the execution and, finally, to the bouquet of flowers thrown to the pillory by a woman. 478 If Sergei Overin is a “white knight” of the sad countenance, ridiculous and childish but thoroughly honest and good, then Arkady Karamanov, a Rakhmetov-like character from Mordovtsev’s The Signs of Times, is a “dark knight” of nihilism. A positive and truly exceptional character in the eyes of the author, Karamanov does not “ask” to be loved by the readers. His appearance, from “stagnant” eyes that reflect nothing of the inner life of their owner but “shine with a strange fire,” to his jet-black short hair that seems not “to have been touched by a hairbrush or comb for a long time,” to his thin jet-black beard and wide cheek-bones, brings to mind something Asiatic, a steppe wolf, or even a werewolf.479 At first glance, his manners and moral values appear equally beastly: his speech is abrupt and emotionless and his attitude toward others is detached and contemptuous. A key to his personality seems to lie in his orphanhood. He hates and rejects his father, a rich landowner, referring to him bluntly as “that scoundrel.” Having lost his mother in early childhood, he seems also to have lost touch with humanity and become “fully concentrated on his inner world, rich in fantasies.”480 He receives his moral education through dry and categorical maxims of his teacher, a student of Moscow University, who believes that the world could have been beautiful if everybody had not lied. 478 “Из толпы к приступку позорного столба полетел букет.” Ibid , p. 308. A bouquet was also thrown to the pillory during Chernyshevsky’s “civil execution.” This fact is mentioned in many sources. See, for example, Shtakenshnaider, Dnevnik i zapiski, 1854-1886 , p. 333. 479 “Он сидел на крыльце, положив голову на руки, и когда... поднял эту голову, глаза его сверкнули какимто странным огнем, хотя глаза были, по-видимому, из таких, которые называются стоячими и которые редко отражают то, что делается внутри человека. Волосы были черны, как смоль, и хотя острижены были гладко, однако, показывали, что до них давно не касались ни гребенка, ни щетка. Реденькая, такая же смоленая, как и голова, борода и широкие скулы напоминали облик не русский, ни европейский. Такие облики встречаются только на востоке, да иногда в южной России и Поволжье.” D. L. Mordovtsev, Znameniia vremeni, Sobranie sochinenii D. L. Mordovtseva, vol. 49-50 (St. Petersburg: Izd-e A. F. Marksa, 1902), p. 212. 480 “Матери Аркадий лишился в раннем детстве и потому, не любя отца, он весь сосредоточился в своем детском мирке, богатом фантазиями.” Ibid , p. 225. 198 Karamanov’s idealistic and quixotic notions and dreams determine the direction of his life, making him walk along the path that Rakhmetov blazed for all “peculiar” “new men.” A fruitless search “for an honest man” becomes Karamanov’s mission, to which he dedicates all strength of body and spirit, wandering all over the country, like seekers of good life in Nekrasov’s famous poem “Who Lives Happily in Russia.” In the end, he decides to “try to make that one step that people are afraid of and can’t make themselves in order to be happy”; in short, as a nineteenth-century critic remarks, “no more, no less, but to renew and transform society.” 481 The elemental revolutionary force that shines in the “glassy” eyes of this “steppe wolf,” setting his heart on fire, brings him a vision of a future communist society that would be primordial, nomadic and male-centered. Having sold his huge hereditary estate, he intends to buy uninhabited land in the steppes beyond the Volga, and populate it with “new tribe of hunters” who would have “to cut all ties with all old peasant ways of life.” 482 His friends critical of Karamanov’s utopia compare his vision to that of American Mormons that underlines an affinity between the convictions of the “new men” and religious fanaticism. 483 This association confirms again the existing affinity between the activities of the “new men” and religious fanaticism. In other aspects of his personality, Karamanov also conforms to Rakhmetov’s blueprint. He rejects love; as his “demonic and pitiless”484 mind implants fear in the hearts of young 481 “[Н]аши герои приступают к делу… ‘обновления общества,’ ни больше, ни меньше.” Bogdanovich, "Voskresshaia kniga. -- 'Znamenie vremeni' g. Mordovtseva," p. 293. 482 “[Я] ищу пустыню, никем не заселенную, куплю эту пустыню и заселю ее. Здесь в заволжских степях, по соседству с Азией, всего удобнее будет осуществить мою заветную мысль: сделать тут великий, последний шаг… Я куплю здесь свободные земли и заселю их охотниками… земли свои я отдам даром своим колонистам, с условием, чтобы они разорвали всякую связь со старыми крестьянскими порядками.” Mordovtsev, Znameniia vremeni, pp. 282-283. 483 “Ты точно Брейгам-Юнг… как тот на рубеже нового образованного мира, посреди новых индейских племен, основал царство мормонов, так и ты хочешь создать свою новую общину на рубеже Европы и Азии. Твои попытки отдают мормонством.” Ibid, p. 283. 484 “дьявольский, безжалоcтный ум.” Ibid , p. 305. 199 women. Karamanov’s love story is as untamed and demonic as everything else about him. At first, Marina, a provincial maiden who develops her mind by reading “useful literature” and talking often to Varya, a schoolmistress of a village school and a “new woman,” starts to hate Karamanov for “the fear that he instills in her.”485 Then, gradually, “the dark-faced demon” finds his way into Marina’s heart. Her love-hate grows into a passion, and only by becoming “a whitefaced, gold-braided, big-eyed demon” she penetrates the “dark demon’s” heart.486 However, surrending to the woman whose love will “cut off Samson’s hair” and “chop off his legs,” is impossible for Karamanov, for it will prevent him from making “that last step toward the freedom and happiness of mankind.” 487 When Marina offers herself to Karamanov, “jumping at him like a cat,” he pushes her away.488 Marina’s fate is predictable: to work at herself till she becomes a “person” or to die of consumption. 9. The Problem of the Nature of Action for the “Man of Action” In his article “The New Type,” dedicated to Chernyshevsky’s novel What Is to Be Done?, Pisarev remarked that “new people consider work to be the necessary condition of human life.”489 However, in that particular novel, the question of purposeful activity for the male heroes 485 “[O]на ненавидит eго за тот страх, который он ей вселяет.” Ibid , p. 309. 486 “[A] в сердце Марины уже демон поселился, демон темноликий, щетинистоволосый, холодноглазый, и боится она этого демона, и как тень ходит по пятам его...И к самому темноликому демону в сердце затeсался демон белоликий, золотокосый, большеглазый...” Ibid , p. 310. 487 “Вы отрезали волосы у Самсона...Я думал начать великое дело, и я бы его сделал, этот последний шаг к свободе и счастью человечества. А вы рубите мне пополам обе ноги, за моим великим делом я буду думать не о деле, а о вас.” Ibid , p. 317. 488 “Девушка прыжком кошки достигает Караманова...Караманов...силился отрвать от себя девушку...он отталкивает от себя обеими руками грудь дeвушки...Пальцы Марины разнимаются, и она падает на землю.’ Ibid , p. 317. 489 “Новые люди считают труд абсолютно необходимым условием человеческой жизни.” Pisarev, "Novyi tip," p. 210. 200 remains unresolved. In spite of their professed love for hard work, Lopukhov and Kirsanov mostly become Vera Pavlovna’s errand boys. To further the heroine’s emancipation, Lopukhov gives up his degree and dream of becoming a professor. Kirsanov fully dedicates himself to satisfying Vera Pavlovna’s whims, spending each day at her workshop: he “escorts” her to the workshop in the morning; during the day, he is “her most active associate in matters pertaining” to her business; he “has a lot to do” granting “favors” and “requests” to her thirty employees, “chatting with the children” in between these tasks; he reads to the young women A Thousand and One Arabian Nights and talks about Mrs. Beecher Stowe. Upon his return home with Vera Pavlovna, he drinks tea with her, then, in the course of the long evening, listens to music, plays piano, or accompanies her to the opera.490 The life and work choices of Chernyshevsky’s male characters differ sharply not only from Vera Pavlovna’s but even from those of Bazarov, whom Chernyshevsky despised so much. Turgenev’s medical doctor, Bazarov, reflected an important direction of the progressive movement of Russian youth. The Medical-Surgical Academy (where Bazarov presumably studied) in St. Petersburg was the center of youthful nihilist culture: both an emblem of the fascination with natural sciences and medicine and of political unrest. For Russian women, emancipation was often synonymous with getting a doctor’s diploma (Vera Pavlovna, at the end of the novel, also embarks on a medical career). Nadezhda Suslova, a symbol of women’s emancipation, was a student of the Medical-Surgical Academy. When the Academy closed its doors to women, she went to Western Europe to continue her studies, and became, in 1868, the first Russian woman to become certified as a doctor. To be a doctor, for the youth of the 1860s, was not simply to “dissect enormous quantities of frogs.” Backward Russia badly needed educated and skillful surgeons equipped with the latest scientific knowledge and capable of 490 Chernyshevsky, What Is to Be Done, pp. 230-231. 201 fighting devastating epidemics and numerous diseases. Thus, in No Way Out, along with the ideal revolutionary Reiner, Leskov portrays another man of action, the hard-working Doctor Rozanov who is a direct descendant of Bazarov.491 Chernyshevsky, however, did not explore further the symbolic potential of the medical profession. For him, a doctor’s daily work couldn’t serve as the “new man’s” ultimate activity because it is much better to engage in illegal revolutionary struggle than to follow any legal career path. In fact, only journalistic work (which he no doubt perceived as subversive and revolutionary in its own right) was seen by him almost as worthy as revolutionary activities. The search for the new type of “man of action” exhibited a common tendency among writers of the “progressive” movement; when solving all “burning problems of the day” they were not satisfied with half-answers or willing to stop half-way. The youth of the 1860s desired the complete overthrow of the traditional way of life, or nothing at all. It is true that, at least in the beginning, the young public desired action: any action was preferable to the “superfluous man’s” inactivity. However, the “men of action” that had already existed in Russian literature and were similar to the bourgeois types in Western literature were rejected by radical critics on ideological grounds. As is evident in the critical reception of such characters as Goncharov’s Stoltz,492 progressive Russian critics did not mean to suggest that any action on behalf of a literary character was acceptable as long as it presented a contrast to the superfluous man’s laziness and passivity. So, praising Stoltz’s “usefulness” as a step forward, 491 He is also an important link in the chain of doctors in Russian literature that includes Chekhov’s doctors and Pasternak’s Doctor Zhivago. 492 Andrei Stoltz is the half-German friend of Ilya Oblomov, the protagonist of the eponymous novel by Ivan Goncharov. Unlike his friend, Stoltz is energetic and active; he is the epitome of a “man of action.” The most representative 19th-century critical articles that discuss the character of Stoltz include Nikolai Dobroliubov’s “What is Oblomovism” (“Что такое обломoвщина,” 1859), Alexander Druzhinin’s “Oblomov. A novel by I. A. Goncharov” (“Обломов. Роман И. А. Гончарова,” 1859), and Dmitry Pisarev’s “The Novel Oblomov by I. A. Goncharov” (“Роман И. А. Гончарова Обломов,” 1859). 202 Dobroliubov ultimately rejected the “self-disciplined, practical businessman” 493 for allegedly lacking “effective motivation… [and] an inner life that [could have] explain[ed] his selfconfident behavior.”494 In reality, Dobroliubov was not interested in discussing Goncharov’s skills as a writer; “inner life,” in the case of Stoltz, meant the presence of a certain “beauty” in his character which Dobroliubov understood as a “love for mankind.” This love for mankind was supposed to separate the “new man” from the bourgeois values of earlier “men of action.” The insistence that “useful” action is to be based on “the love for mankind” both explains why the work of a medical doctor did not “rise” to the task and, at the same time, opens a door for criticism. It is true that, according to Dobroliubov’s view, Turgenev’s Bazarov cannot be considered a useful “man of action.” His discontent and his “nihilism” remain just words; and instead of engaging in activities that could bring a reorganization of the social order, he breaks down and goes on to treat typhus in villages. By contrast, Chernyshevsky’s portrayal of the “new” and “peculiar” men remains in line with the understanding of “useful” activity according to progressive critics. Lopukhov’s and Kirsanov’s neglect for the daily hard work of a doctor is explained by their following the calling of their “bride” to look for better ways to serve their general “love for mankind.” This approach was countered, among others, by Leskov, whose Doctor Rozanov from No Way Out explicitly revolts against the “new men’s” preference for abstract “love for mankind” over caring for an individual patient. Rozanov exclaims that their “love” is just “dreams” whereas he, Rozanov, knows Russia “not from books”: 493 I quote Rufus Mathewson’s translation of Dobroliubov’s article “What is Oblomovism.” Mathewson, The Positive Hero in Russian Literature, p. 55. 494 Ibid , p. 55. 203 Russia lives her own life; you won’t be able to do anything with her. If something is to be done, you need to do it together with the people, not rush forward on your own. Nobody will follow you.… 495 Looking at What Is to Be Done, it appears that the truly useful work for “new” and “peculiar” men is their revolutionary activity. This created an artistic trap for “progressive authors”: the “man of action” could not be a successful character without a description of his activities that was impossible be definition. The reader can only guess what Rakhmetov would do after he goes through all the countries in Europe and learns about the needs of people there or what exactly is the nature of Lopukhov-Beaumont’s propaganda at the factory. In any case, propaganda, as the main activity for the “new man,” can hardly be called “action.” The “new man,” ultimately, remains no better than the “superfluous man”: his so-called actions are just “words” about different “undertakings” (предприятия) that cannot materialize. It is true, though, that the “new man’s” words, potentially, might have more disastrous consequences for him than those of a “superfluous man” – arrest, exile, hard labor. Nevertheless, these words are still only that. The practical Leskov was one of the first men to see this. This is what he wrote in his sketch about the bitter fate of Arthur Benni: The writers of a rather strange literary trend have been talking for a long time about some restless people who would, it seems, leave Petersburg to travel into the depths of Russia and who would perform there some sort of “undertakings.” Regretfully, not one of these writers has yet depicted a remotely palpable “undertaking” of that kind, and the mystery about what exactly is the nature of those “undertakings” remains unsolved… and many people even begin to doubt whether those doing the “undertakings” have ever existed.496 495 “Это всё мечтания... Я знаю Русь не по-писаному. Она живет сама по себе, и ничего вы с нею не поделаете. Если что делать еще, так надо ладом делать, а не на грудцы лезть. Никто с вами не пойдёт...” Leskov, "Nekuda: roman v trekh knizhkakh, 1864," p. 252. 496 “Повествователи одного довольно странного литературного направления долго рассказывали о каких-то непоседливых людях, которые все будто уезжали из Петербурга в глубь России и делали там какие-то ‘предприятия’; но, к сожалению, ни один из писателей... не воспроизвел сколько-нибудь осязательного типа упомятых им предпринимателей, и тайна, в чем именно заключаются их ‘предприятия,’ остается для всех...тайною, что множество людей даже сомневаются в том, были ли в действительности самые предприниматели.” Leskov, "Zagadochnyi chelovek: istinnoe sobytie," p. 278. 204 Dmitry Pisarev, an enfant terrible of nihilism, had a special opinion on the nature of activity suitable for the “new man.” In his review of On the Eve, Pisarev claims that Turgenev’s Insarov was a puppet, inferior to Stoltz. The only venue for action in Russia (or, in broader terms, Russian literature) is “a path of rejection.” Pisarev sees the longing for “a positive hero” as a deadly trap, the road that had led Gogol to Selected Passages from Correspondence with Friends. The man of action should not be an idealized positive character but a “man who rejects.”497 Later, Bazarov, a nihilist, a man of denial, met Pisarev’s utmost approval. It is, perhaps, not surprising that one of the most successful literary portrayals of the “new man” in democratic literature is found in Vasily Sleptsov’s The Difficult Time.498 Its protagonist, Riazanov, is, undoubtedly, a man of universal denial. In spite of it, according to some critics, Riazanov is a “positive hero for the entire epoch.”499 Unlike most novels by Chernyshevsky’s epigones, A Difficult Time is closer to Fathers and Sons than to What Is to Be Done. The opening scene – the protagonist’s arrival to his friend’s estate followed the protagonist’s arrival to his friend’s estate followed by his brief visits to provincial towns located nearby, the conflict between the protagonist’s militant nihilism and his friend’s liberalism, the plot that is structured around dialogs about the characters’ values and beliefs, liberal reforms and 497 “Кто в России сходил с дороги чистого отрицания, тот падал. Чтобы осветить ту дорогу, по которой идет Тургенев, стоит назвать одно великое имя Гоголя. Гоголь тоже затосковал по положительным деятелям, да и свернул на переписку с друзьями.” D. Pisarev, "Review of 'Nakanune,' 'Russkoe slovo' 1861, No. 12," Sobranie kriticheskikh materialov dlia izucheniia proizvedenii I. S. Turgeneva, ed. V. Zelinskii, 3 ed., vol. 2:1 (Moscow: 1899), p. 208. 498 See D. I. Pisarev, "Podrastaiushchaia gumannost' (Sel'skie kartiny)," Polnoe sobranie sochinenii i pisem v dvenadtsati tomakh, vol. 8 (Moscow: Nauka, 2004), P. Tkachev, "Podrastaiushchie sily," Delo.8 (1968), Sazhin, Knigi gor'koi pravdy: N. G. Pomialovskii "Ocherki bursy," F. M. Reshetnikov "Podlipovtsy," V. A. Sleptsov "Trudnoe vremia" , William C. Brumfield, "Bazarov and Rjazanov: The Romantic Archetype in Russian Nihilism," Slavic and East European Journal XXI.4 (1977). 499 “ В образе разночинца Рязанова воплощены черты положительного героя эпохи.” "Sleptsov, Vasilii Alekseevich," Bol'shaia Sovetskaia entsiklopediia, vol. 39 (Moscow: 1956), p. 322. 205 fruitlessness of Western-style agricultural innovations,– all these are clear parallels to Turgenev’s masterpiece. On the other hand, A Difficult Time was written under ideological and aesthetic precepts of the Contemporary circle and, therefore, had to provide a program of purposeful activity as illuminated by a “lofty’ ideal. The problem of activity is at the core of the conflict between the revolutionary nihilist Riazanov and his former university friend, the liberal Shchetinin. Shchetinin’s life is guided by his desire to act. Asking his future wife, Marya Nikolaevna, to marry him, he says: “we will work together, we will participate in the great deed which might ruin us and all the others who are like us, but I am not afraid of this.” 500 He plunges into work to reorganize the life at his estate: he gives away his land to peasants for free and then tries to build a new economy based on “the common people’s rule” (на народных началах). Confronted with the peasants’ inertness, backwardness, passivity, the absence of any desire to learn, and the lack of interest in liberal reforms and civic virtues, Shchetinin becomes disillusioned in his former radical ideas but, surprisingly, does not give up activity. Sleptsov, through the eyes of his protagonist, the contemptuous Riazanov, portrays a “new” liberal, who moves from the radicalism of his youth to a belief in “small deeds” that bring about gradual improvements. The scenes at Shchetinin’s office present a picture of a disillusioned but busy liberal who is in the process of turning into a regular businessman. Riazanov openly condemns his friend for this transformation. In his view, it is a betrayl and he bluntly mocks Shchetinin telling his wife Marya Nikolaevna that marriage to such a man is a disgrace. Falling in love with her liberator who rejects her, she, in turn, undergoes the typical transformation into a “person” and leaves her husband to go to St. Petersburg and start a new life. 500 “[M]ы будем вместе работать, мы будем делать великое дело, которое, может быть, погубит нас, и не только нас, но и всех наших, но я не боюсь этого.” Sleptsov, "Trudnoe vremia," p. 136. 206 In his article “The Emerging Humanism” (“Подрастающая гуманность”), Pisarev blasted Shchetinin and his liberal activities. He called Shchetinin “complete trash” (“совершеннейшая дрянь”), his words – “liberal meowing” (“либеральное мяуканье”), his soul a “calf’s” (“телячья”) and “shallow” (“мелкая душонка”), his thoughts, feelings and desires – “inauthentic” (“все это прицеплено, пришито и приклеено”)501: Shchetinin is a complete zero in all respects, a creature without face, color, or form who is not capable of love or of faith, of doubt or of knowing, of thinking or of acting – a creature who can only obey the impulse, once communicated to him, inertly and dispassionately.502 Pisarev’s malice toward Shchetinin (who seems a rather unhappy, perhaps weak but, otherwise, thoroughly likeable individual), is, of course, wholly ideological. In Pisarev’s monistic philosophy of man, ideology is equaled to physiological secretion, and a person who holds wrong beliefs is automatically seen as rotten inside. What Pisarev condemns then is the ideology of liberalism: the belief that society can be reformed gradually, transformed by “small deeds,” while its foundations remain untouched. This underlying principle was easily perceived by a censor who made cuts in the article. He summarizes the ideas of the critic as follows, the article is written around the time of the emancipation of the peasants that attracted to the field of agricultural work people who were completely unprepared for such activity. The author shows such type… and sets out to prove that in today’s organization of economic relations, one can either be an exploiter of other people’s labor or be exploited one, and that, no liberal or humane innovations can change anything without the fundamental reorganization of the state economy on the basis of the ideas of the “new men.”503 501 Pisarev, "Podrastaiushchaia gumannost' (Sel'skie kartiny)," pp. 252, 273. 502 “Щетинин во всех отношениях чистейший нуль, существо безличное, бесцветное, бесформенное, не способное ни любить, ни верить, ни сомневаться, ни знать, ни мыслить, ни действовать, а способное только вяло и бесстрастно повиноваться, по силе инерции, данному толчку.” Ibid , p. 251. 503 “[C]татья написана в эпоху освобождения крестьян, вызвавшего на поприще сельскохозяйственной деятельности совсем не подготовленных деятелей. Выставив... одного из таких типов... автор старается доказать, что при настоящих экономических отношениях можно быть или эксплуататором чужого труда, или подвергаться эксплуатации других, и что никакие либеральные и гуманные нововведения не могут ничего изменить без коренного изменения всего экономического строя по идеям новых людей.” A. A. 207 Thus, according to Pisarev, without radically transforming the foundations of society, the liberal’s words about “humanism” will always be in conflict with his deeds, exploitation and profit. Pisarev condemns all actions that result from Shchetinin’s “toy liberalism” (“игрушечный либерализм”): from agricultural innovations to the foundation of village schools and participation in the work of newly established local centers of self-government. Shchetinin acts but, according to Pisarev, his actions are meaningless and even harmful because he not only constantly “deceives himself” but also ruins, in the process of this life of lies, the lives of others (most notably, that of his wife who, otherwise, would not have married him and dedicated her life to the true cause). Demanding all or nothing, the enemy of the middle ground, reconciliation and compromise, Riazanov himself, however, does not do anything. As Yuli Aikhenvald puts it, Riazanov “only cools off the outbursts of other people’s enthusiasm and accumulates stocks of irony in his soul.”504 His very denial is seen as an activity in itself. That is why a critic Davilkovsky found The Difficult Time to be “the answer by a student of Chernyshevsky to the question of the master: what is to be done?” 505 Yet later, when populism brought about a shift in attitude towards “small deeds,” Riazanov’s denial lost much of its appeal. As Tkachev wrote about Riazanov in his article “The Emerging Forces” (“Подрастающие силы”), he “is a puppetlike character who is not capable of anything. He does not have any sensible and distinct purpose Roberti de, [exerpt from the report about Pisarev's article 'Podrastaiushchaia gumannost'], D. I. Pisarev Polnoe sobranie sochinenii i pisem v 12-ti tomakh, vol. 8 (Moscow: Nauka, /1872/), p. 539. 504 “Требуя всего или ничего, враг середины, примиренности и перемирия, Рязанов сам, однако, ничего не делает, только охлаждает вспышки чужого энтузиазма и копит в душе много иронии.” Iu. Aikhenval'd, "Sleptsov," Siluety russkikh pisatelei (Moscow: Respublika, 1994), p. 305. 505 “’Трудное время’ является ответом ученика Чернышевского на вопрос ‘Что делать?’, поставленный учителем.” A. A. Davil'kovskii, "Vasilii Alekseevich Sleptsov," Istoriia russkoi literatury XIX v., ed. D. N. Ovsianiko-Kulikovskii, vol. 3 (The Hague-Paris: Mouton, 1969), p. 351. 208 in life and, therefore, all his actions, all his life are as empty and useless as his phrases.”506 Another critic Ignatov argued that in the depiction of positive characters Sleptsov showed lack of constructive ideas.507 Ignatov judged Riazanov’s inability to answer the question “what is to be done?” as “a total bankruptcy.”508 Pisarev himself offers a positive program of action for people who want to live honestly in the turbulent times of 1860s. For him, living “hygienically” means “working” and doing only “the thing to which one is well disposed.” But what does Riazanov really do in The Difficult Time beyond his denial? The consensus of the novel’s critics is that he accomplishes only two deeds: the emancipation of Shchetinin’s wife, Marya Nikolaevna, and a priest’s son whom Riazanov takes from his family in order to send him to a university. The young man thus begins his ascension to the host of radical raznochintsy. It is hard to disagree with Davilkovsky,who observes that Riazanov’s “sphere of possible activity” is “much narrower than for the ‘new people’ in What Is to Be Done.”509 Vasilisa, a novel by a woman writer Nina Arnoldi, published outside Russia in 1879 and featuring another character of Bazarov’s type, Borisov, brings together Chernyshevsky’s ideals of a purposeful life as revolutionary and Turgenev’s understanding that the life forces of love and death can be more powerful than convictions and principles. Like Rakhmetov, Borisov comes from the nobility, but cuts all ties with his family and social circle “to go to the people to 506 “Это ходульный герой, ни на что не годный, ни на что не способный... Он не имеет никакой разумной определенной цели, и поэтому вся его деятельность, вся его жизнь так же бессодержательна и бесполезна, как и его фразы.” Tkachev, "Podrastaiushchie sily," p. 18. 507 “[В]идно отсутствие в Слепцове созидательных идей, когда он переходит к изображению лиц, которым сочувствует.” I. Ignatov, "Sleptsov," Entsiklopedicheskii slovar', ed. B. A. Vvedenskii, 7 ed., vol. 39 (St. Petersburg: Izd-e russkogo bibliograficheskogo obshchestva Granat, 1890-1904), p. 559. 508 509 “Рязанов... совершеннейший банкрот при ответе на вопрос, что делать и куда стремиться.” Ibid , p. 559. “Горизонт возможной деятельности представляется ему гораздо более суженным, чeм у новых людей из Что делать?”Davil'kovskii, "Vasilii Alekseevich Sleptsov," p. 352. 209 preach about freedom and equality.” 510 But like Bazarov, he possesses an air of nobility of spirit and his manners make him stand out in the world of true raznochintsy. He is another trained doctor but in contrast to the protagonist of Fathers and Sons he practices medicine only occasionally, placing a much higher value on his revolutionary activities that brings him closer to Chernyshevsky’s “new men.” Unharnessed by censorship, Arnoldi depicts Borisov’s revolutionary work in detail: as a political émigré, a citoyen de l’univers, he travels around Europe (to Paris, London, and Geneva), attends lectures at universities, studies natural sciences, meets with “useful people,” coordinates propaganda activities in Russia, organizes libraries, works in the printing office of a revolutionary newspaper The Alarm (Тревога), writes, translates articles from foreign newspapers, and engages in propaganda himself. To unsympathetic observers from his former social class, Borisov seems a fanatic. For Vasilisa, it is clear that he is on a noble quest that requires “much will power and ardent faith.”511 In the novel, the unbending dedication to revolutionary causes is compared once again to religious faith, the revolutionaries – to ascetic saints, and their activities – to crusades. More than anything else, it is their faith that acts as a force that converts Vasilisa, an unhappily married young woman of high society. In Fathers and Sons, Bazarov holds to his beliefs and convictions firmly but, ultimately, accepts that they can be changed if life proves them faulty. Borisov’s firmness of convictions is unbending like Rakhmetov’s: they are “tempered like iron,” 512 and no love or death can change them. He does not know doubt because “doubt weakens and paralyzes 510 “Добро бы был Сидоров или Карпов, а ведь он из нашего круга, человек с состоянием, с именем и – вдруг бросил все и пошел в народ проповедовать про какую-то свободу, какое-то равенство! Такого рода фанатиков не всякий день встретишь.” N. A. Arnol'di, Vasilisa: roman v chetyrekh chastiakh (Berlin: 1879), p. 6. 511 “[Д]ля этого нужно много силы воли и горячую веру.” Ibid , p. 7. 512 Ibid , p. 36. 210 the moral strength of a man.”513 In general, Borisov lives according to the moral values of the “new men”: “if a certain deed is useful and necessary, we do it and we do not care how our actions will affect the other person, whether or not they will satisfy his notions of moral elegance.”514 His moral values are fully determined by the demands of his higher goal: he would not blush if he had to lie in a situation when “it is necessary and useful;”515 he would not consider it improper to take Vasilisa’s money for “the cause” if it becomes “necessary.” 516 For the success of the revolution that will end exploitation and inequality, he accepts the necessity of “spilling streams of blood,” believing that “to save the thousands one needs to be able to sacrifice the hundreds.”517 Borisov’s attitude toward love is a mix of Lopukhov’s and Kirsanov’s acceptance of life’s pleasures, Bazarov’s capacity for deep and passionate love, and Rakhmetov’s ascetic denial of human bondage. His ideal of happiness and “harmonious life” lies in the happy union of “hard work” and, for the time of rest, “strong passion.”518 Like Bazarov and the “new men” after him, Borisov understands human passions in physiological terms. According to him, “the mechanism of most phenomena in the moral world is as extremely simple as it is in the material world.” Man 513 “Нет ничего хуже сомнения, оно расслабляет, парализует нравственные силы человека.” Ibid , p. 71. 514 “У нас своя нравственность: полезно и нужно какое-нибудь дело, мы его делаем, не заботясь о том, как оно отзовется на нашем нравственном индивидууме, удовлетворит ли оно или нет каким-то личным потребностям душевного изящества.” Ibid , p. 438. 515 Ibid , p. 32. 516 “[Д]еньги необходимый фактор... когда... деньги непременно будут нужны для дела, неужели, вы думаете, я останавлюсь попросить их у вас? Мне и в голову не придет разбирать, благовидно это или нет; нужно – и все тут.” Ibid , p. 341. 517 “Что же делать? Чтобы спасти тысячи, нужно уметь, в данный момент, жертвовать сотнями.” Ibid, pp. 291-292. 518 “По-моему, самый естественный идеал счастья... есть сильная работа и, для отдыха, сильная страсть. Жизнь тогда полна; настает гармоническое равновесие двух противуположных потребностей, – потребности деятельности и потребности наслаждения.” Ibid , p. 47. 211 is the “only one modification of the eternally working matter”; his ideals are just secretions of his “moral liver and spleen.”519 Consistent with the beliefs of the “new men,” love for Borisov is an irritation of the nerves.520 In healthy doses, it is necessary for a harmonious and hygienic life. At the same time, in the early stages of love and courtship, Borisov is not heartless. He shows compassion, understanding and self-sacrifice. However, like all “new men,” he rejects jealousy and faithfulness as merely “tired nerves.” He declares to Vasilisa that he loves her no more than any other woman who can provide “healthy irritation” of his nerves and that he hopes that she can develop enough to become his friend in revolutionary struggle. Jilted, Vasilisa cannot overcome her despair and drowns herself in Lake Geneva. Unlike Bazarov, whose humanity overcomes his nihilism in the face of love and death, Borisov remains mostly untouched by the death of Vasilisa. He is sorry for her death as he would be for the death of “any creature that perishes in full strength when one is still is able to work, feel and give happiness.”521 This attitude is consistent with his conviction that the “individual person does not mean anything by himself; he is an insignificant figure in the common force. It is the principle that matters.”522 11. Imitations of Bazarov and Chernyshevsky’s “New Men” in Democratic Literature. Literary activity, the only “legal” activity that was encouraged and eagerly pursued by the revolutionary generation, attracted numerous writers of novels about “new men,” most of whom 519 “[B]аша нравственная печень и селезенка все будут продолжать вырабатывать... идеальчики... тоже и человек – одно видоизменение вечно работающей материи, один момент... Механизм большинства явлений в нравственном, как и в материальном мире так прост...” Ibid , pp. 410-411. 520 “[M]ои нервы не застрахованы...” Ibid , p. 439. 521 “Жаль, как всякого существа, которое погибает в полной силе, когда ему еще можно было поработать, испытывать и давать счастье.” Ibid , p, 454. 522 44. “Индивидуум сам по себе ничего не значит, ничтожная единица в общей силе; важен принцип.”Ibid , p. 212 displayed more good intentions than literary craftsmanship. Nikolai Bazhin’s Stepan Rulev (“Rulev” comes from the word “руль’” [“steering wheel”]) and Innokenty Omulevsky’s Step by Step (Шаг за шагом, 1870) (whose protagonist’s name, Svetlov, comes from the word “свет” [“light]) are examples of this derivative literature. Stepan Rulev, published in the Contemporary in 1864, is one of the first responses to What is To Be Done. Bazhin, as Viduetskaia shows in her article,523 structures the characterization of his protagonist along the same line that Chernyshevsky elaborated for Rakhmetov, presenting him “through authorial digressions, rather than through action or dialog.”524 However, the device that worked well for an episodic character (both, for Chernyshevsky’s Rakhmetov and Leskov’s Reiner) proved ineffective as a way to structure the entire narrative. The novel turns into a sequence of biographical, or better, “hagiographical” sketches that repeat all the stereotypes of the democratic life-story: he enormous physical strength of the model hero, his “correct” education with a help of a manuscript bequested to him by a progressive teacher and voracious reading that gave him “a gigantic amount of knowledge” and ability to tell “ the truth from lies,” an early understanding of the Woman Question, wanderings across Russia and contacts with “simple folks”, a love affair with a sensible (дельная) woman that resulted, for him, in the suppression of feelings and, for her, in a total internal “makeover” (переворот) and death.525 As Viduetskaia argues, Rulev’s feats, resulting from his enormous physical strength and unrealistically happy circumstances, make him a 523 I. Viduetskaia, "Pisateli-demokraty 1860-kh - nachala 1880-kh godov i roman Chernyshevskogo Chto delat''," 'Chto delat'?' N. G. Chernyshevskogo: Istoriko-funktsional'noe issledovanie, ed. K. N. Lomunov (Moscow: Nauka, 1990). 524 525 “[O]н [Рахметов] дан больше в рассказе от автора, чем в действии или в диалоге.” Ibid, p. 42. N. F. (Kholodov) Bazhin, "Stepan Rulev," Poviesti i rasskazy (St. Petersburg: Izdanie knigoprodavtsa N. A. Shigina, 1874), pp. 291-385. 213 character out of a fairy-tale.526 Bazhin’s failure to create a viable protagonist who would serve as a representation of the “hero of the time” appears even more serious when we consider the author’s inability to offer his Rulev any possibility for action within the novel. Bazhin admits to this omission but states that it was intended: But I find it irrelevant and uninteresting for the readers to follow his [Rulev’s] wanderings through all kinds of deserts... In the final analysis, it might seem that all these encounters with different people, appearing in the novel, are only secondary in the life of Rulev, and that the main thing is Rulev’s undertaking – but the author only hints at it. But I did not intend to write a novel or a novella with different obstacles and conflicts – this is only a sketch of Rulev’s life. I related to you his views on life and it won’t be hard for you to guess his activities. But I find it irrelevant, as I’ve said before, to speak about these activities in any detail.527 The story of Rulev’s life breaks down here. In the space of the novel, there is nothing for “the hero” to do; any (revolutionary) activity remains outside the scope of representation. In contrast, Svetlov, the protagonist of Omulevsky’s 1870 Step by Step, seems the epitome of a “man of action.” Unlike Rulev, Svetlov is modeled less on the saintly Rakhmetov and more on “ordinary new men” like Lopukhov and Kirsanov. As if following in their steps, Svetlov does everything that they do in Chernyshevsky’s novel, plus a selection from Rakhmetov’s repertoire: he works as a tutor, an organizer of a school for lower classes and a teacher, a “developer” of women, an educator of workers at a factory and a participant in the 526 “Рулев у Бажина вырастает в героя сказочного.” Viduetskaia, "Pisateli-demokraty 1860-kh - nachala 1880-kh godov i roman Chernyshevskogo 'Chto delat'," p, 42. 527 “Но я нахожу неуместным, да и мало интересным для читателя, следить за его путешествиями по всяким пустыням... В конце концов, может быть, почувствуется, что все эти столкновения с разными, являющимися здесь людьми – в жизни Рулева – дело второстепенное; главное же есть его преприятие, а на него только намекается. Но я не думал писать роман или повесть с разными затруднительными положениями и коллизиями, а просто пишу очерк развития Рулева. Его взгляд на жизнь я рассказал, а за этим нетрудно определить и деятельность Рулева. Говорить же подробно об этой деятельности, повторяю, нахожу неуместным.” Bazhin, "Stepan Rulev," p. 347. 214 strike of factory workers.528 Unlike Lopukhov and Kirsanov, who tend to give up their career to further female emancipation, Svetlov continues his activities along Rakhmetov’s path. He does not marry the woman he “developed” for himself and becomes a professional revolutionary, emigrating to Western Europe and continuing his work in Zürich. Therefore, the author’s apparent dissatisfaction with the depictions of Svetlov’s activities might, at first, seem surprising: An unsatisfied and a perplexed reader might ask now: “And that’s it?..” Here we must stop even if it is against our will... As the frozen soil does not let the seeds that had been thrown into it grow, and as the first spring flowers cannot reflect all colors of the sun – so the growth and the colors of a literary work are slowed down by the severe breath of our northern climate… And where is that practical activity that Svetlov talked about? Yes, it seems that it is not visible in the novel. … But even in the short period of time depicted here, at least something good was accomplished by our hero – and now it is up to you, reader, to deduct from this what his future activity will be or might be. 529 The impossibility of publishing in Russia a novel that would describe openly and in detail revolutionary activities of “new men” can, undoubtedly, explain to a certain degree why such a novel fails to fill in this.530 However, writers of a more conservative direction managed to get into print scenes of revolutionary activities that were far more detailed and explicit than anything that came from under the pen of their “democratic” counterparts. Besides, the ‘“democratic” novels enjoyed wide readership in illegal, hand-bound or hand-copied format and were valued, in this shadowy existence, as guidelines for action. In case of Step by Step, the author’s refusal to 528 Bazanov, Iz literaturnoi polemiki 60-kh godov , pp. 175-178. 529 “И только? – спросит, пожалуй, неудовлетворенный, а может быть – и недоумевающий читатель... здесь мы должны поневоле остановиться... Как неоттаявшая почва мешает зреть брошенным в нее семенам, как не могут отливать всеми красками солнца подснежные цветы, – так точно задерживаются рост и краски художественного произведения суровым дыханием нашей северной непогоды... а где же она, эта проповедуемая Светловым практическая деятельность? Да, действительно, ее как будто не видно в романе... и в названный нами короткий промежуток времени кое-что хорошее сделано нашим героем... твое уже дело вывести отсюда, какова будет или какова может быть его дальнейшая дорога.” I. V. Omulevskii, Shag za shagom (Moscow: Gosudarstvennoe izdatel'stvo khudozhestvenoi literatury, 1957), pp. 427-429. 530 See the publication history of Step by Step that outlines the difficulties of getting the novel past the censor in Bazanov, Iz literaturnoi polemiki 60-kh godov . 215 write a narrative of revolutionary’s “open struggle with the eternal enemies – darkness and ignorance”531 – reflects not only the restrictions of censorship but, also, another schism in nihilism: the major disagreement among progressives about the nature of practical activity. The very title of Omulevsky’s novel – Step by Step – reflects a major shift in the understanding of the role of “new men” in transforming society, a move from an uncompromising war of words to a path of “small actions”: from nihilism to populism. The failure of Pisarev’s path of pure denial was best expressed in Vasily Sleptsov’s The Difficult Time, a dark work full of denial, completely subsumed by the pessimistic worldview of its bitter protagonist, is a book that offers no way out of that darkness. The transformation of Riazanov’s dark pessimism into Svetlov’s bright optimism is a result of finding a solution to the problem of “activity.” For Svetlov, the transformation of society occurs step by step and “nail by nail.” 532 Gradually improving society through giving education to peasant children or founding village school and hospitals becomes the activity for a “new man” who moved from the nihilism of the 1860s to the populism of the 1870s. Yet in spite of Omulevsky’s enthusiastic portrayal of Svetlov, the program of “small actions” as a blueprint for the protagonist’s activities involved, at least, two major problems. Firstly, the honest life of positive heroes who are described, in the tradition of the literature about “new men,” as virtuous, beautiful and perfectly psychologically balanced individuals, slowly advancing toward a better world along the path of “small actions” and skirmishes with villaneous antagonists, is not much different from that of stereotypical virtuous 531 “[H]о где... та широкая общественная арена, на которой она [деятельность] могла бы показать свои действительные силы, борясь открыто, лицом к лицу, с своими исконными врагами – тьмой и невежеством?... долго ли раздавить... упорного труженика, прокладывающего... дорогу будущему торжеству идеи, на благоденствие грядущих поколений?” Omulevskii, Shag za shagom , p. 428. 532 “[П]остепенно... садить... по гвоздику... – И многo вы заколотили таких гвоздиков?... – … много уж приколотил... но еще больше, несравненно больше остается приколотить...” Ibid , pp. 228-229. 216 characters in Dickens’s novels. Numerous writings of Alexander Sheller-Mikhailov, a collaborator of Sovremennik who tried to popularize “progressive” ideas of the day, provide a good example of this. Even viewed by his more sympathetic contemporaries, Sheller, with his “starry-eyed sentimentalism” (“сентиментальное прекраснодушие”),533 was seen as an epigone of Dickens and Thackeray.534 He actually understood himself and his characters to be a type of “petty-bourgeois man of action” (труженник-мещанин),535 a term that, apparently, was in tune with his understanding of the place of a raznochinets. However, the petty-bourgeois hero type has always been dismissed and heavily criticized in the Russian literary tradition, and “new men” of “small actions” could not avoid becoming a target for such criticism. After all, the critical gun powder that had been spent on Stoltz and tutti quanti, the populist hero’s program of “small actions,” could not have been seen as anything but a defeat and a step back. Secondly, the hero whose life in the novel becomes a succession of “small steps” and loses the explicit guiding light of the “lofty idea” that inspired the life of Chernyshevsky’s heroes can hardly be distinguished from another type of character. It is the positive hero whose values lie not in the culture of nihilism but in a tradition that opposes it: the conservative culture of traditional civil and moral values. There is hardly a significant distinction between the “step by step” transformation of Russian society offered by the “new men” and the reformation of society suggested by their antagonists: Goncharov’s Tushin (The Precipice), Turgenev’s Lezhnev (Rudin) and Solomin (The Virgin Soil), Sleptsov’s Shchetinin (The Difficult Time), Tolstoy’s 533 Andreevskii, ed., Entsiklopedicheskii slovar', vol. 39: Chuguev – Shen, p. 439. 534 A. M. Skabichevskii, "Aleksandr Konstantinovich Sheller," Polnoe sobranie sochinenii A. K. ShelleraMikhailova, ed. A. M. Skabichevskii, 2 ed., vol. 1, Prilozhenie k zhurnalu 'Niva' (St. Petersburg: Izd-e A. F. Marksa, 1904), p. 24. 535 “Нам ли, труженикам-мещанам, писать художественные произведения, холодно-задуманные, расчетливоэффектные и с безмятежно-ровным полированным слогом?” Quoted in Ibid , p. 24. 217 Levin (Anna Karenina), Orlovsky’s brothers Dmitry and Vladimir Koretsky (Out of the Rut), Krestovsky’s Khvalyntsev (Panurge’s Herd), Kliushnikov’s Rusanov (The Mirage), or even Markevich’s conservative noblemen-reformers like Count Zavalevsky (Marina from Alyi Rog) or general Troekurov (The Abyss). It is the work of the epigones of ‘democratic literature” that best illuminates the literary failure of the type of “new man,” or “man of action” in Russian literature. 218 Chapter 3 Pisemsky, Leskov, Kliushnikov and the “Antinihilist Campaign” of 1863-1864 Таксы нет на гражданские слезы, Но и так они льются рекой. Образцы изумительной прозы Замечаются в прессе родной: Тот добился успеха во многом И удачно врагов обуздал, Кто идею свободы с поджогом С грабежом и убийством мешал; Тот прославился другом народа И мечтает, что пользу принес, Кто на тему: вино и свобода На народ напечатал донос. Николай Некрасов, “Газетная” “В обществе проявилось желание иметь новые картины, захватывающие большие кругозоры и представляющие на них разом многообразные сцены современной действительности с ее разнообразными элементами, взбаламученными недавним целебным возмущением воды и ныне осeдающими и кристаллизующимися в ту или другую сторону.”536 Николай Лесков, На ножах “Много русской молодежи, омороченной с одной стороны Герценом, а сдругой стороны польскими своими друзьями, во имя прогресса пошли блуждать во тьме и во мгле истинным панурговым стадом.”537 Василий Рач, Сведения о польском мятеже 1863 года в северо-западной России (1) The Years 1863-1864 as the Turning Point and the Beginning of the “Antinihilist Campaign” (2) The Problem of Characters in Pisemsky’s The Troubled Sea: Baklanov as “an Ordinary 536 “A desire appeared in society for new pictures which embrace broad horizons and represent on them different scenes from contemporary society with its diverse elements that have been upturned by the latest salubrious disturbance of waters and are now settling and crystallizing in one or another direction.” N. S. Leskov, Na nozhakh, Sobranie sochinenii v shesti tomakh, ed. L. A Anninskii, vol. 2:2, 6 vols. (Moscow: AO "Ekran", 1993), pp. 119120. 537 “ In the name of progress but deceived, on the one side, by Herzen and, on the other, by their Polish friends, a lot of Russian youth started to roam about in the darkness and shadows as a true Panurge’s herd.” V. F. Ratch, Svedeniia o pol'skom miatezhe 1863 goda v severo-zapadnoi Rossii, vol. 1, 2 vols. (Vil'na: Tipografiia gubernskago pravleniia, 1867-1868), p. 150. 219 Mortal from Our So-Called Educated Society” (3) Pisemsky’s “Salt of the Earth”: Proskriptsky and the Images of the Younger Generation. (4) The Genre of The Troubled Sea (5) A Path to “Our Famous Exiles in London”: Exploring the Image of Herzen in The Troubled Sea and in Other Novels of the 1860s-1870s. (6) “The Second Sally” in the “Antinihilist Campaign”: Leskov’s No Way Out as “Not Literature” (7) Leskov’s “Deed”: Vasily Sleptsov and “The Znamenskaya Commune” in No Way Out (8) Leskov’s No Way Out and the Classification of Nihilists (9) Nikolai Strakhov and His Critique of Nihilism (10) Kliushnikov’s Mirage and the Creation of the Conservative Positive Hero (11) Kliushnikov’s Mirage and the Polish Conspiracy 1. The Years 1863-1864 as the Turning Point and the Beginning of the “Antinihilist Campaign” The most fascinating thing about the turbulent epoch of the 1860s is not the heat and excesses of the literary polemic, not the tremendous role that the youth played in the formation of ideas and behaviors that defined it, and not even the curious interpenetration of people’s life and literature at that time: it is the rate and scope of the shifts of whole paradigms of life. Only a couple of years had passed from the time when the hopelessly voiceless and stagnant rule of Nicholas I gave way to the most lively, hopeful and idealistic time in Russian history, the time of its best reforms and the highest political involvement of the entire society, and it took only a few more years for the dramatic and irrevocable turn in the mainstream mindset from liberalism to a most blind embrace of the doctrines of conservatism, nationalism and orthodoxy. The Polish Uprising of 1863 was, perhaps, the most important factor in that change but it was the coincidence of a whole cluster of events that brought that change about: the student unrest of 1861-1862538 that resulted in the temporary closing of St. Petersburg university and coincided with the publication and the circulation of the inflammatory revolutionary proclamations “To the Younger 538 The first public protest took place on September 25, 1861. See N. Iakovlev, "Poeticheskie otzvuki studencheskogo dvizheniia 60-kh godov," Literaturnoe nasledstvo 25-26 (1936), p. 618. 220 Generation” (“К молодому поколению”) and “The Great Russian” (“Великорус”);539 the formation and activities of the secret revolutionary society “Land and Liberty” (“Земля и воля”); and the ill-boding Petersburg fires of the summer of 1862.540 The reactionary turn originated from the government, which suspended the Contemporary, the Russian Word, and the Day (Aksakov’s publication) for eight months; arrested Chernyshevsky, Nikolai SernoSolovyevich, Pisarev, as well as a number of troublesome students; and started a campaign against Herzen (by the publication and open circulation in 1862 of an anti-Herzen booklet by a government agent Scheddo-Férroti). This turn was supported from the beginning by more conservative circles of Russian society. After the onset of the Polish Uprising and on the wave of the anti-Polish and anti-revolutionary sentiment, led by Katkov in his the Russian Messenger (Русский Вестник) and Moscow News (Московские ведомости), reactionary sentiments received overwhelmingly enthusiastic public support. The Polish Uprising united “broad circles of Russian society” in “patriotic animation,” resulting in the composition of various “addresses,” demonstrations and the discredit of “nihilists, revolutionaries and, especially, Herzen’s the Bell” due to their connections to, and sympathies for, the Poles.541 539 “To the Younger Generation” was written by Nikolai Shelgunov with the collaboration of Mikhail Mikhailov and circulated in September of 1861. Three illegally published installments of “The Great Russian” circulated that winter. Kornilov, "Istoricheskii ocherk epokhi 60-kh godov," , p. 30. The proclamation has also been attributed to Chernyshevsky, especially by Soviet scholars who continuously stressed his role as the leader of the “Land and Liberty.” See R. G. Eimontova, "Velikorus": spornye voprosy, Biblioteka Tsentra Ekstremal'noi Zhurnalistiki, Available: http://www.library.cjes.ru/online/?a=con&b_id=619, November 19 2012. 540 “Брожение, развившееся в зиму 1861 – 1862 г. во всех кругах общества и завершившееся летом 1862 г. известными петербургскими пожарами, породило не только серьёзные опасения в правительственном кругу и панику среди обывателей, но отразилось и за границей, где составилось довольно распространенное убеждение, что Россия находится накануне революции.” Kornilov, "Istoricheskii ocherk epokhi 60-kh godov," , p. 30. 541 “Патриотическое одушевление охватило тогда широкие слои русского общества и выразилось в ряде резко и горячо составленных адресов и других демонстраций. [...] ‘Нигилисты,’ революционеры и в особенности Колокол Герцена в глазах широких общественных кругов были сильно скомпроментированы своими связями с польским движением.” Ivanov-Razumnik, "Obshchestvennye i umstvennye techeniia 60-kh godov i ikh otrazhenie v literature," , pp. 34-35. 221 Literature, on par with journalism, served as a platform for this ongoing and heated public debate about the deeper meaning and consequences of the unprecedented transformations of Russian society and the public mood, the terms for which were set by Turgenev’s Fathers and Sons and Chernyshevsky’s What Is To Be Done. Literature followed on the heels of life, and the years 1863-1864 became the turning point in the development of the theme of the “new man” / the “nihilist” and brought about new interpretations of the image of the “hero of the time” in the context of new plot structures and genres. In the aftermath of Fathers and Sons and What Is To Be Done, Russian literature exploded with novels, stories, plays and poems which all were a part of the same dialog, including Pisemsky’s The Troubled Sea (Взбаламученное море, 1863), Leskov’s “Musk Ox” (“Овцебык,” 1863), Tolstoy’s “The Infected Family” (“Зараженное семейство,” written in 1863 but not published), Dostoevsky’s “Winter Notes on Summer Impressions” (“Зимние записки о летних впечатлениях,” 1863) and Notes from Underground (Записки из подполья, 1864), Bazhin’s Stepan Rulev (Степан Рулев, 1864), Akhsharumov’s A Complex Affair (Мудреное дело, 1864), Leskov’s No Way Out (Некуда, 1864)542 and Kliushnikov’s Mirage (Марево, 1864). This first wave in the dialog about nihilism and nihilists started to die out by 1865, the year of publication of such important works as Sleptsov’s A Difficult Time (Трудное время), Blagoveschensky’s Before the Dawn (Перед рассветом), Avenarius’s A Contemporary Idyll (Современная идиллия), the first part of the dilogy Fermenting Forces (Бродящие силы), and Leskov’s The Left Out (Обойденные). As this list shows, the debate about nihilism and the problem of defining a new hero of the time was of 542 The fact that some of these works stand in thematic relationship to others was noted by scholars. Bazanov, for example, talks about No Way Out being a part in the dialog about What is To Be Done: “Not being a direct answer to this novel, No Way Out relates to Chernyshevsky’s What Is To Be Done? in the same way that Chernyshevsky’s novel relates to Turgenev’s Fathers and Sons. (“Не являясь прямым ответом на ‘Что делать?’ Чернышевского, ‘Некуда’ имеет приблизительно такое же отношение к этому роману, какое роман Чернышевского имеет к ‘Отцам и детям’ Тургенева”). Bazanov, Iz literaturnoi polemiki 60-kh godov , p. 131. 222 paramount concern for writers of all calibers and, what is important, every major writer of the period directly addressed it during these years. 543 Scholars of antinihilist literature see the years 1863-1864 as the birth of the so-called “antinihilist campaign.” Out of the list of all literature dealing with the subject of nihilism, three novels are traditionally selected as the most important originators of this “campaign”: Pisemsky’s The Troubled Sea, Kliushnikov’s Mirage and Leskov’s No Way Out. In this chapter, I will evaluate this approach by examining these novels’ major contributions to the conservative / reactionary view of nihilism and the nihilists, one that is mainly associated with the idea of “antinihilism” in literature. Against the background of major social, literary and intellectual developments of the early 1860s, I will examine the search for new “heroes of the time” in these novels and I will trace the creation of themes / motifs that will later become identified with antinihilism in literature. 2. The Problem of Characters in Pisemsky’s The Troubled Sea: Baklanov as an “Ordinary Mortal from Our So-Called Educated Society” In terms of its publication history, The Troubled Sea is Pisemsky’s least fortunate novel; it underwent only four publications since its serialization in The Russian Messenger in 1863 and, since the Marks edition of 1910-1911, it has never again been published in Russia or the Soviet Union, having been censored by the heirs of the radicals of the 1860s. As was commonly done in Soviet critical practice, ideological objections to the novel were confirmed, post-factum, by the resulting deficiencies in the artistic execution. According to Pustovoit, The Troubled Sea was produced according to “recipes” provided by Katkov’s editorials in the Moscow News and the Russian Messenger and could not be objective in its depictions of characters’ psychological and 543 Goncharov did not publish anything during these years but, all through the 1860s, he was working on his novel The Precipice (Обрыв) that treated the problem of nihilism and the contemporary hero. The Precipice was published in 1869. 223 social reality.544 But nineteenth-century reviewers, too, apparently uneasy about the novel’s harsh judgments on their time, disliked the novel: the radicals condemned it outright for drawing caricatures of them, while the “aesthetic” critics, such as Apollon Grigoryev, were outraged by Pisemsky’s distorted descriptions of the generation of the 1840s. On the other hand, those contemporaries who did not recognize themselves in the novel attested to its absorbing and highly entertaining character,545 while the educated eye of a foreign literary historian, Aleksander Brückner,546 saw in The Troubled Sea not only a “gauntlet flung down by Pisemsky to the Radicals” but “the best work” that Pisemsky ever wrote, “most vigorously executed and, in places, quite masterly.”547 To understand the novel’s “bitter fate,” we have to immerse ourselves in the context of the time of its composition and publication, while still enjoying the benefit of a healthy distance, being finally removed from the disputes of that context even further than Brückner. Like Turgenev’s Fathers and Sons, The Troubled Sea is a novel about a new Russia that comes from an older tradition with which it keeps important ties. In the case of Pisemsky, however, this tradition is not the novel about the superfluous hero but the Russian Natural 544 For the discussion about how Pisemsky uses Katkov’s “recipes” in the creation of The Troubled Sea, see P. G. Pustovoit, Pisemskii v istorii russkogo romana (Moscow: Izdatel'stvo MGU, 1969). 545 “Speaking about the execution of Mr. Pisemsky’s novel,” writes A. Miliukov in a otherwise unfavorable review published in 1863, “it has one important merit which makes it different from the mass of our novels published in contemporary journals, and even from other novels of the author of One Thousand Souls, it is its incessantly entertaining character […] you will not put this novel aside, you will read it to the end without fail.” (“Но говоря об исполнении романа г. Писемского, нельзя не сказать, что [...] в нем есть одно важное достоинство, отличающее его от массы наших журнальных романов и даже от других, более художественных произведений автора Тысячи душ: это постоянная занимательность [...] вы не бросите романа и непрeменно дочтете его до конца”). A. P. Miliukov, "Mertvoe more i vzbalamuchennoe more (razbor romana g. Pisemskago)," Otgoloski na literaturnyia i obshchestvennyia iavleniia (St. Petersburg: Tipografiia F. S. Sushchinskago, 1875), pp. 201-202. 546 A. Brückner was a professor of Slavonic Languages and Literature in the University of Berlin; his A Literary History of Russia was published in 1908. 547 Brückner, A Literary History of Russia, p. 420. 224 School. Pisemsky’s project in The Troubled Sea is reminiscent of Gogol’s idea for his Dead Souls: he is not primarily writing a contemporary political novel but is undertaking an epic search for the sources of the current ills in Russian society, which lie in its culture of serfdom and in the follies of Russian national character. In the last lines of The Troubled Sea, Pisemsky makes explicit his intentions to expose the bad sides of Russian life: “Let the future historian read our tale with attention and trust: we are putting before him a truthful if not exhaustive portrait of the morals of our time: maybe this portrait does not reflect the whole of Russia but, at least, it collects all its lies.”548 Additionally, The Troubled Sea also bears a certain affinity to Tolstoy’s project in War and Peace (to be published five years later), that is, to explain the current state of society by a comprehensive excursion into its past. But in his own approach, Pisemsky still remains closer to Gogol (or, rather, to the “Gogolian tradition”) than to Tolstoy, since the exposing of evils interests him more than the deeper mechanisms of history or even the psychology of his characters. For Pisemsky, this also means being true to himself: he continues to work largely within the aesthetic of the Natural School to which all his previous literary production likewise belonged and which brought him his fame as a first-rank novelist of his time. In the fall of 1861, knowing that Pisemsky is working on a new novel, Nekrasov even sent Saltykov-Shchedrin to try to acquire it for the Contemporary. The Troubled Sea, as it existed then, was still a typical muckraking novel of the beginning of the emancipation period, falling completely within the Contemporary’s program and direction.549 At all stages of its composition, 548 “Пусть будущий историк со вниманием и доверием прочтет наше сказание: мы представляем ему верную, хотя и не полную картину нравов нашего времени, и если в ней не отразилась вся Россия, то зато тщательно собрана вся ее ложь.” P. V. Annenkov, "Russkiaia belletristika v 1863 godu: G-n Pisemskii," Vospominaniia i kriticheskie ocherki: sobranie statei i zametok P. V. Annenkova, 1849-1868 gg.: otdel vtoroi. (St. Petersburg: Tipografiia M. Stasiulevicha, 1879), p. 314. 549 For the story of Saltykov-Shchedrin’s visit to Pisemsky and contemplation of the bitter irony of the situation when the Contemporary was so eager to publish the novel which it eventually whole-heartedly condemned when it 225 The Troubled Sea shows the most affinity to Chernyshevsky’s novel – its prime ideological enemy. For both, George Sand is the greatest literary influence: coarse language and sensuality as the distinguishing marker of the style; self-referentiality and the insertion of the authorial voice as the main innovation that they brought to the contemporary social novel. The rude physicality and manners, “unspoiled” by “proper” education and “conventions” – loud laughter, jumping, chasing, “simple” speech – also distinguish the style of both novels, being a result of contempt and ignorance, in the case of Chernyshevsky, and of a cultivated “peasant”-like manner, in the case of Pisemsky. Pisemsky’s “simplicity” of manners was noticed and commented on by various commentators, including Orest Miller, who remarks that Pisemsky’s “field of action is mainly the sphere of everyday life with all its vulgarity.” 550 In the late 1850s, when Pisemsky shared Contemporary’s preference for muckraking, he was close to the journal’s circle. In 1857, however, he started to work for the Library for Reading (Библиотека для чтения) which was edited by Druzhinin, who, by that time, had already left the Contemporary. Then when Druzhinin left the Library for Reading in 1860, Pisemsky became its main editor and headed the journal until 1863. In this capacity as the editor of one of Russia’s main “thick journals,” Pisemsky found himself engaged in the dialog about the country’s main social, political, economic and literary issues.551 To express the journal’s finally appeared in the Russian Messenger, see Boborykin, Vospominaniia , v. 1, p. 207. See, also, L. A. Anninskii, "Slomlennyi: povest’ o Pisemskom," Tri eretika (Moscow: Kniga, 1988), p. 118. 550 “Область Писемского – область будничности по преимуществу, будничности с ее пошлостью.” O. F. Miller, "A. F. Pisemskii," Russkie pisateli posle Gogolia (St. Petersburg: 1874), p. 38. 551 The period of Pisemsky’s work in the Library for Reading is studied in a number of sources. See, for example, I. G. Iampol'skii, Satiricheskaia zhurnalistika 1860-kh godov: Zhurnal revoliutsionnoi satiry "Iskra," 1859-1873 (Moscow: Khudozhestvennaia literatura, 1964), pp. 157-158, A. A. Roshal', Pisemskii i revoliutsionnaia demokratiia (Baku: Azerbaidzhanskoe gosudarstvennoe izd-vo, 1971), Ocherki po istorii russkoi zhurnalistiki i kritiki , pp. 183-192, and Charles Moser, Pisemskii: A Provincial Realist (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1969), especially the chapter “Upon the Heights” as well as his article Charles Moser, "Pisemskii’s Literary Protest: An Episode from the Polemics of the 1860s in Russia," Etudes slaves et est-européennes 8.1-2 (Spring-Summer) (1963). 226 position on some of these issues, Pisemsky started to write feuilletons under the pseudonym “state councilor Salatushka.” Already in the second installment of his feuilletons in the Library for Reading, Salatushka hinted at Nekrasov and his affair with Avdotya Panaeva.552 In the third one, he attacked the pseudo-scientific beliefs of the “nihilists.” Soon after that his feuilletons started to appear under another pseudonym, Nikita No-Snout (Bezrylov). In December 1861Nikita No-Snout mocked feminine emancipation, Sunday schools (where peasant students were addressed as “вы” and which Pisemsky had supported in the past) and charitable literary “evenings” (at which he had performed readings from his texts) and, naturally “aroused radical anger.” 553 The progressive forces in Russia (to which Pisemsky had long considered himself belonging) attacked him mercilessly. The satirical newspaper The Spark called Pisemsky “the most pitiful clown, […] a person endowed by nature with limited brainpower, inveterate in his constant laziness and destitute.”554 The more centrist The Northern Bee bluntly called Pisemsky “a cretin.”555 His literary and personal reputation was under assault. Trying to justify himself in further feuilletons, Pisemsky got in deeper trouble, which went as far as his having to refuse to fight an actual duel with The Spark’s editors, Kurochkin and Stepanov,556 and a failed letter of protest which Pisemsky envisioned would be signed by leading Russian writers but which never materialized. The final blow came when the editors of the Contemporary openly sided with those of the Spark. Other publications, such as the Northern Bee (Северная пчела), the Annals of the 552 See this feuilleton quoted in Moser, Pisemskii: A Provincial Realist , p. 114. 553 Ibid , p. 117. 554 “[C]амый жалкий паяц [...] человек, наделенный ограниченным умом от природы, закосневший в постоянной лени и беспутстве” Quoted in Roshal', Pisemskii i revoliutsionnaia demokratiia , pp. 48-49. 555 556 Quoted in Moser, "Pisemskii’s Literary Protest: An Episode from the Polemics of the 1860s in Russia," p. 65. See Anninskii, "Slomlennyi: povest’ o Pisemskom," p. 108-109, Pustovoit, Pisemskii v istorii russkogo romana , p. 148. 227 Fatherland (Отечественные записки) the Russian Word (Русское слово), and the Contemporary participated in the controversy that Nikita No-Snout’s feuilletons unleashed. As a result, in 1862 Pisemsky fled abroad “to allow domestic passions to cool.” 557 He “dragged around Europe”558 and visited England where he met with Herzen.559 The central idea and ideological thrust of Pisemsky’s novel, The Troubled Sea, changed dramatically after his journalistic battles with The Contemporary and its sympathizers, his fiasco as the feuiletonist Salatushka and Nikita No-Snout (Bezrylov) and the resulting loss of his reputation with the younger generation that could not even be undone by a personal visit to Herzen. In the winter of 1863, Pisemsky worked feverishly to complete the novel. In the process, Pisemsky reinvented himself and created a new form of the polemical novel which reads as a mixture of Gogol and Turgenev. Still interested in writing a muckraking novel, Pisemsky went on to explore the contrast between the warring generations (the generation of the 1840s and the generation of the 1860s). The main problem in bringing together in one work the approaches of the Natural School and of the Turgenev-style social novel lies in the treatment of the main character: in the Natural School, the typical, the ordinary, takes priority over the individual, while the Turgenev style novel, although it presents its main character as a “type,” relies on that type being unique and individual: the extraordinary. Therefore, when Lydia M. Lotman remarks that in The Troubled Sea “not one of the main characters of the novel can, on good grounds, be viewed as ‘a hero of 557 Moser, Pisemskii: A Provincial Realist , p. 119. 558 A phrase from his letter to Andrei Kraevsky from May 10, 1862, translated and quoted in Ibid , p. 120. See also Roshal', Pisemskii i revoliutsionnaia demokratiia , pp. 66-72. 559 See sub-chapter 5 (“A Path to ‘Our Famous Exiles in London’: Exploring the Motif of the Pilgrimage to Herzen in The Troubled Sea and Other Novels of the 1860s-1870s”) for the continuation of the theme of Pisemsky’s visit to Herzen. 228 the time,’”560 she identifies the source of this very problem: Pisemsky’s deliberate intention to posit his protagonist as an ordinary, typical, and non-heroic “hero of the time.” Although Pisemsky ultimately fails to successfully reconcile the contrasting demands of the two genres, his treatment of the main hero creates an important precedent for a whole new tradition of discovering an alternate “hero of the 1860s” in an “ordinary mortal from educated society.” Presenting a panorama of Russian life from “the last twenty years,” Pisemsky draws a picture of Russian society with all the ugliness of its mores. Most characters of the novels are unattractive with Pisemsky’s main protagonist, Alexander Baklanov, being no exception. In some way, Baklanov represents Pisemsky’s “hero of the time.” Baklanov is a representative of the generation of the 1840s whose evolution – from childhood and youth spent in “the swamp” of pre-Crimean War Russia, to adulthood in the turbulent times of the reforms – becomes the organizing thread of the narrative. Curiously and quite contrary to the established view (based on the excesses of radical criticism), the group of characters who represent the people of the 1840s is much more numerous in the novel than the portraits of the younger generation. The first group includes Proskriptsky, a skeptic and a precursor561 of Bazarov; Baklanov’s women (his wife Evpraksiya, his lovers Sophie Leneva and Pani Kazimira); and a group of anti-heroes, the villains, who quickly adjust to the new times, adopting the new language, but who remain concerned only about their own profit – Galkin and Basardin. The images of the representatives of the generation of the 1860s are episodic; there are only two characters worth mentioning – 560 “Ни один персонаж романа не может с достаточным основанием рассматриваться в качестве ‘героя времени.’” L. M. Lotman, "A. F. Pisemskii," Istoriia russkoi literatury v 4 tomakh, ed. N. I. Prutskov, vol. 3 (Leningrad: Nauka, 1982), p. 229. 561 Although The Troubled Sea was written later than Fathers and Sons, the sceptic Proskriptsky is presented as a character from an earlier time period than Turgenev’s Bazarov. See also p. 246. 229 Valerian Sobakeev and Elena Bazelein. Therefore, Pisemsky’s novel on the level of characters is more concerned with the new life as it affects the generation of the fathers, not the sons. Paradoxically, the image of the main protagonist, the “hero of the 1840s,” Baklanov, infuriated the critics from the “aesthetic” camp, such as Apollon Grigoryev, while the radical critics did not find him objectionable. For them, Baklanov was a typical “father” who is shown to be thoroughly devoid of character and who is superficial and egoistic, his professed love for aesthetics being no more than a justification of his enjoyment of trifles, such as theatre and actresses. For Apollon Grigoryev, however, mediocre Baklanov was unacceptable in principle – as a type. Grigoryev could not agree to think of Baklanov as a typical representative of the Moscow student body of the 1840s. He explains: “Is this all, Mr. Pisemsky, that you took from Moscow University? Have you not noticed Aksakov? […] Have you not listened to Granovsky […] Have you not read Belinsky? […] Oh, what blindness!”562 While Baklanov cannot be more different from such traditional “heroes of the 1840s,” like Turgenev’s Rudin (who does seem to embody the spirit of the Moscow University circle culture), he appears to represent an alternate student culture of the same period: the one to which Pisemsky himself belonged. Undoubtedly, Pisemsky’s experience of the 1840s was different from Grigoryev’s, and his Baklanov, being an autobiographical character, 563 closely adhered to his own idea of the typical. According to Pisemsky’s biographers, he indeed seemed not to notice the circle of Granovsky and did not 562 “И это все, что вы, г. Писемский вынесли из Московского университета?! А Аксакова, который в восторге рукоплескал своему ‘врагу-другу’ Грановскому, вы не заметили?! А самого Грановского – не слышали? А Белинского, которого тупицы выгнали из университета, не читали? […] О, слепота!” Quoted in Anninskii, "Slomlennyi: povest’ o Pisemskom," p. 125. 563 See, for example Roshal', Pisemskii i revoliutsionnaia demokratiia, p. 75-76. Roshal’ writes, “The image of Baklanov is, to a large degree, autobiographical. […] In Baklanov, Pisemsky […] explored his own faults. The writer did not just fight Baklanov; in Baklanov, he was fighting himself.” (“Образ Бакланова в известной мере автобиографичен. […] В Бакланове Писемский [...] исследовал и свои собственные недостатки. Писатель не только боролся с Баклановым, но и в Бакланове боролся с собой”). 230 participate in any of its intellectual debates; instead, he was interested in theatre and did not read Belinsky. Soviet critics traditionally agreed with Grigoryev’s criticism and did not accept the possibility of an existence of a “parallel” reality of the 1840s, thus condemning Baklanov for his “mediocrity.” For example, Pustovoit sees the main fault of Pisemsky’s novel in the choice of the character Baklanov who is supposed to represent a link between two generations but who, in fact, is a weathercock, a “patented mediocrity,” a person without any depth of character, a character who lies, boasts, pretends and looks for personal gain.564 I would argue, however, that Pisemsky’s choice of Baklanov as a “hero of the time” requires more serious consideration. Not looking for “heroic” traits in his protagonist, Pisemsky places in the center of his novel an “ordinary mortal from [the] so-called educated society” who turns out to be, essentially, the same superfluous man. 565 This time, he finds himself in the situation of the 1860s where he is finally given an opportunity to act. Pisemsky investigates the fate of an “ordinary man” of the “superfluous” period who, being a product of the stifling and valueless 1840s, enters the 1860s with an enthusiasm and desire to join forces with the radical youth, but who discovers, once again, his incompatibility with the epoch and, ultimately, chooses the quiet “middle road.” 566 Pisemsky liked this type and used it again in his 1871 novel, In the Whirlpool (the main protagonist of this novel, prince Grigorov, is, in many ways, similar to Baklanov). 567 This type 564 Pustovoit, Pisemskii v istorii russkogo romana , pp. 158-159. 565 “[O]быкновенный смертный из нашей так называемой образованной среды.” A. F. Pisemskii, Vzbalamuchennoe more, Polnoe sobranie sochinenii A. F. Pisemskogo, 3 ed., vol. 4 (Saint Petersburg: Izdanie t-va A. F. Marksa, 1910), p. 407. 566 A Soviet scholar Roshal writes, “In the image of Baklanov, Pisemsky shows not only a superfluous man but also one of the first representatives of Russian liberal bourgeois intelligentsia seeking a “middle ground.’” (“В образе Бакланова показан не только тип ‘лишнего’ человека, но и один из первых представителей русских либерально-буржуазных интеллигентов, ищущих ‘срединную линию”). Roshal', Pisemskii i revoliutsionnaia demokratiia , p. 75. 567 Pisemsky inserts himself in the novel to remark, on one occasion that “He [Baklanov] was becoming infinitely pleasing to me: I saw in him the reflection of this very common phenomenon of this life which was stirring around 231 was developed again in many novels about the 1860-1870s, such as Leskov’s No Way Out (Doctor Rozanov) and At Daggers Drawn (Podozerov), Kliushnikov’s Mirage (Rusanov), Avenarius’s The Plague (Lastov), Turgenev’s Smoke (Litvinov), Goncharov’s The Precipice (Raisky), Krestovsky’s Panurge’s Herd (Khvalyntsev), Golovin-Orlovsky’s Out of a Rut (Dmitry Koretsky), and Markevich’s Abyss (Grisha Yushkov). Not being exceptional or outwardly “heroic” is an important marker for all these characters. Through these characters, the new ideas and morals are being tested by common, that is, by typically “Russian” values and way of life, in a sense, by Russia herself. These characters share a number of features that later proved to be essential to the artistic success of the novels in which they appeared. An “ordinary mortal from educated society” provides an invaluable perspective on the epoch of the 1860s because this individual is both involved with the new ideas and distanced from them; his situation works well for a novel – he is both inside and outside of the described events. He positions himself as an observer, and even when he seems to be carried off by new ideas, he is able to distance himself and to pass a judgment as an outsider. Such distancing is also possible because the characters of this type possess strong autobiographical elements and embody their author’s views and ideals. Occupying a middle ground between heroes and villains, such a character is also relatively free of the pressure of stereotypes that tend to dominate the characterization of the nihilists / new men. With minimum tendentiousness in the characterization, “the ordinary mortal” is open to a deeper psychological analysis which, naturally, makes him a more interesting and complex character. me.” (“Он становился мне бесконечно мил: какое общее я видел в нем явление всей этой шумящей около меня, как пущенная шутиха, жизни!”). A. F. Pisemskii, "Vzbalamuchennoe more: roman v shesti chastiakh," Sochineniia A. Pisemskogo, posmertnoe polnoe izdanie, vol. 8, 9 (Moscow, St. Petersburg: Izdaniia tovarishchestva M. O. Vol’f, 1884), vol. 9, p. 137. 232 The interesting perspective and creative possibilities that such characters (including those who belong to the type of the “repentant nobleman”) bring to the novelistic form are often outweighed by their limitations and deficiencies, of which the failure in love is, perhaps, the most telling. While most of the above-mentioned characters are involved in believable, psychologically well-defined love plots acting as contenders for the heart of the most interesting woman character, they turn out to be too weak and unable to follow that remarkable woman (Rusanov – Inna [Mirage]; Litvinov – Irina [Smoke]; Raisky – Vera [The Precipice]) and/or appear bleak and lacking in character and lose the battle for the heroine to the active and, often, romantic and demonic nihilist (Prince Grigorov – Elena – Zukwicz [In the Whirlpool]; Doctor Rozanov – Liza – Reiner [No Way Out]; Podozerov – Larisa – Gordanov [At Daggers Drawn]; Rusanov – Inna – Prince Bronsky [Mirage]; Raisky – Vera – Mark Volokhov [The Precipice]). In the situation of love that requires boldness and decisiveness, these characters appear to lack personal will; they are too cerebral and unable to act. This hero’s ultimate decision to end his involvement with the strong and romantic heroine, th era’s new ideas and with the democratic movement as a whole in order to settle down and marry a “good woman,” the bearer of traditional values, speaks more about his defeat than about his common sense. Such is, for example, Zhernov, in Dyakov’s (Nezlobin’s) novella “From the Notes of a Social Democrat,” who decides to leave the corrupted and immoral Russian revolutionary circles abroad and to marry Vera Chuzhaeva, a good woman (and a rich bride). He says, “I do not wish for anything other than my personal happiness. From this minute on, I do not have anything in common with social democracy. I have changed my beliefs and I openly join the ranks of your bourgeois enemies.”568 So openly preferring a small “bourgeois happiness” to active work for a higher 568 “Я ничего не желаю кроме личного счастья. С этой минуты я не имею ничего общего с социалдемократией. Я изменил свои убеждения и становлюсь открыто в ряды буржуазных врагов ваших.” In 233 cause, even if such a choice is explicitly marked as the novel’s positive value, can be understood as a moral defeat. Thus, Tolstoy’s positive heroes, such as Pierre Bezukhov and Levin, also fall short of becoming “heroes of the time.” As Rufus Mathewson remarks, “It might seem that Tolstoy’s ‘blundering’ heroes, Pierre Bezukhov in War and Peace and Levin in Anna Karenina, qualify as affirmative figures. But the modest lesson they affirm – that life, defined in terms of love, family and work, is somehow preferable to death – lacks the combative spirit and the specifically social orientation sought by radical critics,”569 and, we should add, by the Russian readership, grown and cultivated by this particular school of criticism. Similarly, a different alternative to the new man / nihilist “man of action,” Turgenev’s “sluggish” Solomin (Virgin Soil), could not become the “hero of the time” in spite of Turgenev’s honest intentions because he is “so well armed against failure […] because he ventured so little, [and is] a ‘helper’ not a ‘leader.’”570 While the democratic movement (or, nihilism) may have been criticized, belonging to it, sharing its values, was still interpreted to be progressive rather than retrograde; it signified being mentally and socially active. Essentially, in a different epoch and with a different “hero of the time,” this problem is already given shape in Turgenev’s Rudin: we may not like Rudin or his behavior towards Natalya, but he still stands higher than Lezhnev, a precursor of the “ordinary mortal of the 1860s.” As if sensing this “unheroic strain” in their characters, the authors themselves often insisted on the non-heroic status of their protagonists. Observing an affinity between Litvinov (Turgenev’s Smoke) and Khvalyntsev (Krestovsky’s The Bloody Hoax), Batiuto observes that Terekhin, "Protiv techenii": utaennye russkie pisateli: tipologiia "antinigilisticheskogo" romana , p. 75. 569 Mathewson, The Positive Hero in Russian Literature, p. 16. 570 Ibid , p. 111. 234 they “are not heroes of the novel in the usual meaning of the word.” 571 He quotes Turgenev’s letter to Pisarev, where the former declares that “there is no need to talk about Litvinov… He is an ordinary, honest man – that’s all.”572 Although, as Batiuto reminds us, the friendship between Pisarev and Krestovsky had already ended and, therefore, Krestovsky could not have seen Turgenev’s letter, he, in his turn, spoke of his protagonist in exactly same manner as Turgenev. In the introduction to the separate edition of The Bloody Hoax, claiming that his Khvalyntsev cannot be considered the “hero of the novel,” Krestovsky writes, “Some critics and reviewers tried hard to thrust on me one of my characters (I mean Khvalyntsev) as the hero of my novel… [He is] not a hero, neither a strong, independent character, nor a strong independent mind; rather, he is an ordinary and complaisant Russian man with a kind, easily carried-away heart and honest instincts.”573 Overall, the Baklanovs of the 1860s fail because they are so intentionally un-heroic in a time that demanded heroism. They lack a crucial element in their potential for broader appeal – they fail to inspire or generate a following. In short, they fail to embody the dissident spirit of the time, to the degree that the nihilists and the new men – with all their negative associations – succeeded in doing (often, contrary to the intention of the authors). 571 “[C] неименьшим основанием можно говорить и о родстве Хвалынцева с тургеневским Литвиновым. Близость между ними обнаруживается прежде всего в том, что оба – не герои романа в обычном смысле этого слова.” Batiuto, "Turgenev i nekotorye pisateli antinigilisticheskogo napravleniia," p. 67. 572 “А о Литвинове и говорить нечего... он дюжинный честный человек – и все тут.” Turgenev, Polnoe sobranie sochinenii i pisem, Letters, vol. 6, p. 261. 573 “Некоторые критики и рецензенты усиленно старались навязать мне в герои одно из моих действующих лиц, а именно Хвалынцева. Признаюсь, я его никогда не трактовал как моего главного героя. Он мне нужен просто затем, чтобы связать посредством его ряд событий избранной мною эпохи. ... [Он] не герой, не сильный самостоятельный характер, а просто себе обыкновенный и достаточно податливый человек, с добрым, увлекающимся сердцем и честными инстинктами.” Vsevolod Vladimirovich Krestovskii, Krovavyi puf, 2 vols. (Saint Petersburg: 1875), pp. ii-iv, quoted in Batiuto, "Turgenev i nekotorye pisateli antinigilisticheskogo napravleniia," pp. 67-68. 235 In spite of the “ordinary mortal’s” failure to defeat the momentum of the Russian radical critical tradition, he consistently resurfaces, in the literature of this period, as a powerful continuation of a larger tradition in Russian literature. Moreover, attempts to define these characters in terms of their “typicality,” their broader theoretical and societal basis, appear in later novels with surprising consistency. Perhaps the most comprehensive and concise theoretical characterization of this type is found in Markevich’s The Abyss (Бездна), where it is presented by the blundering but likeable Grisha Yushkov, one of this novel’s positive characters. Grisha, a “typical” product of the 1860s, opens up to Masha Troekurova, the author’s ideal of feminine beauty who serves as a guarantee of Russia’s survival through difficult, “nihilist,” times: I am a son of my age, and all men of this age, as you know, are lacking in character… Take, for example, all the male types in Turgenev: will you be able to find among them a single character of the type that you admire in Walter Scott or even in your contemporary English novels? All our types are Hamlets of sorts… or, even, little Hamlets: smaller, narrower Hamlets. […] but they all have a common feature: the predominance of the mind, fantasy, reflection over action, as they say. […] We all grew up in conditions that did not give a foundation for the development in ourselves of an element of will, and there was nowhere to use that will. […] We, my generation, grew up on the fresh wreckage of the old and in the chaos, accompanying the building of the new, of the half-thought-out, half-done, half-said. They tore out of our hands the threads that connected us to the old but did not give us the light that would guide us through the darkness of the future that’d been promised to us.574 To borrow Grisha Yushkov’s metaphor, the fate of the “ordinary mortal” in Russian literature was firmly set in the same debate that once again goes back to Turgenev: Hamlet 574 “Я сын своего века, а люди этого века все, как известно, бесхарактерны... Возьмите хоть все мужские типы у Тургенева; разве в них вы найдете хоть одного героя, которыми восхищаетесь вы в Вальтер-Скотте или даже в ваших нынешних английских романах? Все они в своем роде Гамлеты... или вернее даже Гамлетики, маленькие, узенькие Гамлетики. [...] но во всех их одна общая им черта: преобладание рассудка, фантазии, рефлективности, как говорится, над волей, над действием. [...] все мы выросли под условиями, при которых не на чем было развиваться в нас элементу воли, некуда было употребить ее. [...] А ведь мы, мое поколение, мы взросли на свежих обломках старого и в хаосе посторойки нового, недодуманного, недоделанного, недосказанного. У нас из рук вырвали нити, связывавшие нас с прошлым, а света не дали, чтобы разобраться в темноте обещаемого нам будущего.” B.M. Markevich, Bezdna (Chast' vtoraia), Polnoe sobranie sochinenii B. M. Markevicha, vol. 9 (Saint Petersburg: Tipografiia A. M. Kotomina, 1885), 192-193. 236 versus Don Quixote. However, the merging of their features in a harmonious new type (an ideal that Turgenev himself dreamed of) once again escaped the power of Russian literature. 3. Pisemsky’s “Salt of the Earth”: Proskriptsky and the Images of the Younger Generation. The object of the radical critics’ violent criticism of Pisemsky’s novel The Troubled Sea was not his portrayal of pre-1860s Russia and the images of the generation of the 1840s but the depictions of the younger generation in the novel and the artistic techniques that Pisemsky used in talking about the contemporary period. Leaving the question of Pisemsky’s literary techniques for the next section, I will concentrate now on the problems arising from his depictions of the younger generation. In discussions of his depictions of the new men of the 1860s, Pisemsky was accused by his critics of partiality, blindness, faulty and hasty judgments and, to use the language of that time, of being unable to “give typical images.” The same critical approach that Pisemsky used in portraying the fathers seemed to the radical critics to be somehow out of place in his depictions of the younger generation. Such double standards were generally widely accepted and rarely dwelled upon at that time, although an anonymous reviewer of The Annals of the Fatherland thus commented on this practice in his review of The Troubled Sea: “the slightest word of exposure directed against the youth, even if the word be conscientious and just, even if it be called forth by sympathy, though not the blind sort of sympathy which can only pat people on the head – any such word our literary milieu takes for an intentional attack.” 575 This was, however, a voice in the desert. And the very same journal condemned Pisemsky’s “atypical” portrayals of the radicals already in the next month’s issue: “Depicting various Galkins and Basardins, the author 575 "Literaturnaia letopis'," Otechestvennye zapiski October (1863), p. 201. Translation by Charles Moser is given in Moser, Pisemskii: A Provincial Realist , p. 128. 237 did not err with his over caricatural approach; where he erred was in his assumption that they represent the essence of the whole generation.” 576 The “furious” Varfolomei Zaitsev, a famous nihilist and a radical critic who wrote, primarily, for the Russian Word (Русское слово), compared Pisemsky’s novel unfavorably to even Turgenev’s Fathers and Sons (then muchcriticized in the radical circles) and attacked him by saying: “you took a lackey who is pretending to be the master for the master and started to get angry, blow steam, and lose your temper… you took Sitnikovs for the representatives of the younger generation as a whole.” 577 Even a later, generally witty and sympathetic essay on Pisemsky by Aikhenvald sticks to the branding of Pisemsky’s characters as “atypical”: “From the movement of the 1860s, he [Pisemsky] reproduced mainly funny and dark sides, that is, the untypical ones, and thus quarreled both with the critics and the readers.”578 Pisemsky was certainly more inclined to present his characters from the generation of the 1860s as Sitnikovs rather than as Rakhmetovs. He did so because he preferred the critical, expository approach and also because his opinion of these people was rather unfavorable. With time, Pisemsky’s own attitude toward the radicals (if we consider them to be the “typical” representatives of the younger generation) went from curiosity to open hostility. 579 Boborykin 576 “Рисуя Галкиных и Басардиных, автор не погрешил перед этими лицами излишней карикатурностью рисунка – погрешил он тем, что дал им родовое значение целого поколения.” "Rev. of Vzbalamuchennoe more," Otechestvennye zapiski December.12: Section II, "Literaturnaia letopis'," p. 97. 577 “Лакея, корчащего из себя господина в его отсутствии, вы приняли за барина, и злитесь, горячитесь, выходите из себя... вы Ситниковых приняли за представителей всего молодого поколения!” V. A. Zaitsev, "Vzbalamuchennyi romanist," Russkoe slovo 10.October, Section 2 (1963), p. 10. 578 “Из движения шестидесятых годов воспроизвел он преимущественно смешные и темные стороны, то есть не типичные, поссорив себя с критикой и большинством читателей.” Iu. Aikhenval'd, "Pisemskii," Siluety russkikh pisatelei (Moscow: Respublika, 1994), p. 268. 579 Apparently, he was interested in Chernyshevsky and asked his colleague in the Library for Reading, Boborykin, about him: “What kind of man is he? Is he a good man? Does he himself believe in what he is saying?” (“[…] какой это человек, хороший ли, действительно ли верит сам в то, что говорит?”) Boborykin, Vospominaniia , p. 378379. 238 attested to Pisemsky’s vehement dislike of the radicals during the time of Pisemsky’s polemic with them and termed Pisemsky’s attitude and critical approach “subjective,” “prone to overgeneralization, hasty (скороспелый), not sufficiently ‘thought-through,’” “confused” and “reactionary:”580 that is, characteristic of the generation of fathers who held on to the values of the 1840s, which remained dear to Pisemsky’s heart.581 At the same time, Pisemsky’s attitude toward the younger generation was not entirely one-sided. Rather, he believed that the radical ideas had the power to fool and seduce even the best among the young men and women. Moreover, he never supported Katkov in his total condemnation of the radicals and the nihilists. In fact, it was not unlike him to ask for mercy for those representatives of the 1860s who suffered from persecution. Pisemsky did consider his novel to be a powerful testimonial of the worthlessness of the radical “direction” in Russian youth, as is evident from his letter to the minister of Internal Affairs, Pyotr A. Valuev (dated January 10, 1864) that accompanied two copies of his novel (one of them being intended for the tsar). In this letter, Pisemsky claimed that his main intention was to describe, in the first three parts, the environment in which Russian “pseudo-revolution” emerged, the “the insignificant, anti-national and even laughable” sides of which he portrayed later in the novel. In the same letter, however, he showed his “involuntary sympathy” towards the idealism of the youth, for their “sincere passion for the good and the truth,”582 and attempted to defend those “pseudo-revolutionaries” as “the unfortunate people 580 An opinion that is, no doubt, explained in part by Boborykin’s own cautiousness when it came to antinihilist tendencies in literature (since he himself, suffered major financial and other losses as the editor of The Library for Reading as a result of his decision to publish Leskov’s novel No Way Out in 1864 and the resulting smear campaign in the press). 581 582 Boborykin, Vospominaniia , vol. 2, pp. 376-379. Ch. Vetrinskii, "Aleksei Feofilaktovich Pisemskii (1820-1881)," Istoriia russkoi literatury XIX v., ed. D. N. Ovsianiko-Kulikovskii, vol. 3 (The Hague/Paris: Mouton, 1969), p. 251. 239 whose actions were mostly words and not deeds,” and pleaded with the tsar to show mercy towards them.583 Two of the novels’ negative characters, Basardin and Galkin, are not, strictly speaking, representatives of the generation of the 1860s. Rather, they belong to the type of ruthless goodfor-nothings that are quick to associate themselves with any popular movement. Like Baklanov, they come from the generation of the 1840s. The youth of the 1860s is represented in the novel primarily by two characters: Valerian Sobakeev and Elena Bazelein. In the storm of unfavorable criticism of The Troubled Sea, the voices of the main “nihilist” publications, the Contemporary and the Russian Word, sounded, relatively speaking, quieter and more forgiving than most other journals. The attitude of these journals implies that the portrayals of these two representatives of the younger generation in the novel are actually rather positive. Moreover, as the heat of the polemic subsided, in 1867, Pisarev went as far as to put forward a rhetorical question: “Who turns out to be the most lucid and pure character in The Troubled Sea?” and answered: “Valerian Sobakeev.” Sobakeev, “a broad-faced young man with blue eyes” who recently graduated from a university,584 is one of the novel’s positive characters. Honest, open, ardent and, at the same time, firm and capable of a major sacrifice and unable to betray or to lie, Sobakeev may be deceived by the new ideas that appear to him in a romantic light but his fate deserves respect. Vetrinsky sees the manifestation of Pisemsky’s sympathy towards him in the kind, forgiving 583 “Первые три части посвящены мною на то, что6ы изобразить почву, на которой в последнее время расцвела наша псевдо-революция. В какой мере все ничтожно, не народно и даже смешно было это, мною подробно и достоверно описано – и да исполнится сердце государя милосердием к несчастным, котороые, во всех своих действиях, скорей говорили фразы, чем делали какое-нибудь дело...” A. F. Pisemskii, Pis'ma, Literaturnyi arkhiv, ed. M. K. Kleman and A. P. Mogilianskii (Moscow-Leningrad: Izdatel’stvo Akademii nauk SSSR, 1936), p. 165. 584 Pisemskii, Vzbalamuchennoe more: roman v shesti chastiakh, vol. 9, p. 49. 240 words that Pisemsky’s positive heroine, Sobakeev’s sister Evpraksiya, utters about the fate of her brother. After Sobakeev’s arrest for smuggling proclamations from London into Russia, Evpraksiya exclaims: “Valerian has not yet done anything truly bad!” She is persuaded that he was “carried away” into the world of the radicals by the “general flow.” 585 When Evpraskiya and her old mother learn that Valerian got sentenced to twelve years of hard labor, the otherwise cold and unemotional Evpraksiya starts crying, while her mother, breathing hard, looks at an icon. 586 Therefore, Sobakeev’s integrity and bravery make it hard for Pisemsky and for the readers to reproach or condemn him. Elena Bazelein is a less positive character than Valerian Sobakeev. However, Pisemsky’s portrayal of an emancipated woman of the new generation cannot be said to belong to the “type” of Kukshina which was described earlier by Turgenev. Elena Bazelein, Sobakeev’s fiancée, belongs to the generation of the 1860s; her young age is reinforced by Baklanov’s statement that he remembers her when she was still a small child. This “young and brave creature” (“юное и смелое существо”) is hopelessly silly and naïve. Being “stuffed” with fashionable radical “phrases,” she values people “with character” and “with firm convictions” and despises her fiancé for not acting with enough determination.587 She enthusiastically applauds the speeches of the corrupt Basardin and Galkin about starting a revolt among the peasants and the schismatics.588 She is also shockingly open about her support of the fashionable views on love and marriage and the right (and duty) of a husband or wife to leave the other if they happen to 585 “Валериан Арсеньич был втянут общим потоком.” Ibid , vol. 9, p. 321. 586 Ibid , p. 323. 587 Ibid , p. 290. 588 Ibid , p. 295. 241 fall in love with somebody else.589 Pisemsky, like many conservative readers of What Is to Be Done, apparently thought that the new generation’s views on love and marriage can lead to immorality and aid the spread of pornography. This criticism is evident in his mentioning of Elena’s lack of modesty in declaring that she “has already read” Russian “secret poems” (“потаенные стихотворения”).590 But in spite of the fact that Elena does not blush (like everyone else around her) when she declares that she should be allowed to travel alone to England in the company of Sobakeev because “it is all the same whether she is married to Sobakeev or not,” her innocence and naiveté are apparent.591 Brückner justly places her in the type of “advanced girls” who “start their diaries with denying God and professing free love, when in reality they have hardly shaken a man’s hand and weep to God when they have a toothache.”592 Elena’s innocence and naiveté is what distinguishes her from Kukshina. Although Elena follows new nihilist ideas in her dress and her speech, this fashion does not become her nature. Rather, it feels like a superficial layer that may still conceal a helpless and vulnerable young creature. Therefore, Lidiya Lotman’s single critical judgment of Elena Bazelein – “Elena Bazelein fantasizes and lies. Her desire to strike a pose makes her incapable of true love and devotion” does not adequately characterize her. 593 The key to Elena’s character is, again, found in Evprasksiya’s judgment of her. Evpraksiya, who is the moral center of Pisemsky’s novel, displays a mixture of maternal attitude toward Elena and a silent disapproval which is evident in 589 Ibid , p. 292. 590 Elena, however, is more naïve than corrupt. She declares that Valerian “should have made her to read” these poems because, in reading this “illegal” literature, they would be “making opposition to the government”: “They did not want us to know this, and we know everything now!” Ibid , p. 293. 591 Ibid , p. 295. 592 Brückner, A Literary History of Russia , p. 421. 593 “Елена Базелейн фантазирует и лжет. Страсть к позе сделала ее неспособной на подлинную любовь и привязанность.” Lotman, "A. F. Pisemskii," p. 231. 242 her avoidance of an answer to Baklanov’s question whether she thinks that her future young sister-in-law is “a nice person” (“милая особа”).594 Consequently, Pisemsky’s not fully unsympathetic portrayals of the people of the 1860s, Valerian Sobakeev and Elena Bazelein, could not have provided enough material for the critical outrage directed at Pisemsky’s novel. In determining the real targets of criticism of The Troubled Sea, we need to turn to the novel’s polemical content, specifically, to the polemic with Chernyshevsky. It is surprising how little is said in the secondary literature about Pisemsky’s literary polemic with Chernyshevsky. Their two novels, Chernyshevsky’s What Is to Be Done and Pisemsky’s The Troubled Sea, can be seen as two “utterances” in the heated polemic between the circle of the Contemporary and the editor of the Library for Reading. These novels were written literally at the same time in 1862-1863, their first installments appearing in March of 1863 (Pisemsky’s – in the Russian Messenger, Chernyshevsky’s – in the Contemporary), and the last ones – in May (What Is to Be Done?) and August (The Troubled Sea). These two novels about the state of contemporary Russia, one by the most important journalist of the time and the other by its most important novelist (as Pisemsky was regarded then), could not have been read by contemporaries in any way other than side by side. The Troubled Sea, in its entirety, was written and received as a polemical challenge to the radical ideas of the 1860s. Its first three parts argue that the radicalism of the day is a direct consequence of the previous period of Russian history, while Parts Four to Six ridicule the superficial, uprooted and self-assured elements that came to the surface in the “troubled” contemporary “waters” and attached themselves to the “progressive” party. The critics seemed to have come down upon this conception of the novel as a whole and did not comment on the more pointed and personal level of the polemic with “the ringleader” of the younger generation, 594 Pisemskii, Vzbalamuchennoe more: roman v shesti chastiakh, vol. 9, p. 285. 243 Chernyshevsky, which they, undoubtedly, could not fail to notice. The Troubled Sea contains rebuttals to Chernyshevsky’s views on art, work and love; the exposes of his images of the new men; and portrays Chernyshevsky himself in the image of Proskriptsky. One of the several instances of a direct polemic with the radicals’ views on art appears in Chapter XVII of Part Four of The Troubled Sea in the form of a discussion about the relative value and “usefulness” of Apollo Belvedere and a clay pot. This theme evokes Pushkin who thought that, while the “crowd” may value a “useful pot” higher that Apollo Belvedere, for a poet, there is no higher service than the lofty service to pure art. The radical critics of the 1860s turned Pushkin’s worldview upside down. Chernyshevsky argued that beauty in life is “higher” than beauty in art. Preference for “useful” and, therefore, beautiful objects like the clay pot over obsolete ancient ideals of beauty like the statue of Apollo Belvedere (as Chernyshevsky remarked in his Aesthetic Relations, there are no statues of Apollo Belvedere in St. Petersburg) became a commonplace in the nihilist sub-culture.595 Nikolai Nekrasov, in his 1864 poem “The Railroad” (“Железная дорога”), ridiculed a general who said, trying to discredit the progressive views: “What, for you, Apollo Belvedere / Is worse than a clay pot?” (“Или для вас Аполлон Бельведерский / Хуже печного горшка?”).596 In talking about Apollo Belvedere, Pisemsky echoes the polemic on the value of art started by Fathers and Sons and What Is to Be Done. In The Troubled Sea, Pisemsky sides with Turgenev’s views. In this chapter, the title of which, “The Forty-Year Old Idealist And a Twenty-Year Old Materialist,” effectively sums up the essence of the conflict between the two generations. Baklanov exclaims: “Apollo Belvedere is 595 “В Петербурге нет ни Венеры Медицейской, ни Аполлона Бельведерского…” N. G. Chernyshevskii, Esteticheskie otnosheniia iskusstva k deistvitel'nosti: dissertatsiia, Sobranie sochinenii v 5-ti tomakh, ed. Iu. S. Melent'ev, vol. 4, 5 vols. (Moscow: Pravda, 1974). 596 N. A. Nekrasov, Polnoe sobranie sochinenii i pisem v 15-ti tomakh, vol. 2, 15 vols. (Leningrad: Nauka, 1981). 244 more valued for me than a clay pot” and gets an unemotional answer from Valerian Sobakeev, the new man: “The clay pot is a very useful object.”597 Naturally, the reader is made to understand that the author’s heart is on the side of Baklanov, whereas Valerian Sobakeev’s unemotional answer, hence one not coming from the essence, the “soil” of life, is entirely cerebral. Pisemsky’s best-known and frequently-cited direct condemnation of the younger generation comes from Part Five of the novel in an authorial digression that can also be read as a dramatic soliloquy uttered by Pisemsky himself. In this section of the novel, as if unable to contain his emotions in the role of an objective observer, the author inserts himself as the “writer Pisemsky.” The character Pisemsky is infuriated with the views of the progressives, expressed by the minor character Petzolov, who is the son of a provincial governor, a young officer and another good-for-nothing (à la Galkin and Basardin), who blends comfortably and effortlessly into the world of the “progressives,” especially when it comes to taking advantage of “the modern” views on love and marriage.598 In the authorial digression that immediately follows this episode, Pisemsky exclaims: and who are, finally, those “salt of the earth” [соль земли], those chosen ones who came to our common meal!.. The witty praters who think that the essence of things [соль дела] lies in a deft phrase! The salesmen who are able to put into endless circulation the limited supply of their soul’s bitterness! All sorts of grown and young widgeons, ready to fill their own emptiness with anything they find. 599 597 “[Baklanov]: Аполлон Бельведерский все-таки дороже мне печного горшка. – Печной горшок – очень полезная вещь! – сказал Собакеев и ни слова не прибавил в пользу Аполлона Бельведерского.” Pisemskii, Vzbalamuchennoe more: roman v shesti chastiakh, vol. 9, p. 64. 598 “And this one is also a progressive! Oh, my unhappy, unfortunate motherland!” (“И это тоже прогрессист! Несчастная, несчастная моя родина!”) Ibid , vol. 9, p. 158. 599 “[И] кто наконец эта соль земли, эти избранные, пришедшие к общественной трапезе! [...] Остроумные пустозвоны, считающие в ловкой захлестке речи всю соль дела! [...] Торгаши, умеющие бесконечно пускать в ход небольшой запасец своей душевной горечи! [...] Всевозможных родов возмужалые и юные свищи, всегда готовые чем вам угодно наполнить свою пустоту!..” Ibid , vol. 9, p. 158. 245 Pisemsky’s emotional tirade has, at least, two allusions, both leading to Chernyshevsky. “The salt of the earth,” is a reference to the “new men.” In his novel, Chernyshevsky uses the Biblical phrase from the “Sermon on the Mount” (Mathew 5:13, “Ye are the salt of the earth: but if the salt have lost his savour, wherewith shall it be salted?”) to praise the “new men”: Great is the number of good and honest people, but such men are rare. They are like the bouquet in fine wine, its strength and its aroma. They are the best among the best, they are the movers of the movers, they are the salt of the salt of the earth.600 Pisemsky implies that the “new men” are Chernyshevsky’s inventions, and that the fans, flocking around the Contemporary, are, to a large degree (we already know the exceptions: Valerian Sobakeev), those salesmen601 (Galkin) and praters (Basardin, Petzolov) whom he depicts in The Troubled Sea. Pisemsky lowers the pathos of Chernyshevsky’s words, suggesting a light pun on the word “salt”: “the “salt of the earth” is equated with the “salt” of the matter (“salt” in this context can have the subtext of a “spice” in a scabrous joke or affair). The Biblical language of the phrases “the chosen ones” and “the common meal” also parodies Chernyshevsky’s hagiographic approaches to his characters and his aspirations of becoming a new secular Christ, bringing the gospel about the “new men” who will save the world. 602 The names “praters” 600 N. G. Chernyshevsky, What Is to Be Done? Tales about New People, trans. Benjamin R. Tucker (New York: Vintage Books, 1961), p. 241. 601 It is, likewise, not impossible, that Pisemsky referred here to Nekrasov, “the salesman,” running “radical direction” in the Contemporary because it was profitable. 602 See, for example, Chernyshevsky’s diary entry from May 28, 1849, detailing his conversation with an intimate friend from his student years, Vasily Lobodovsky. Lobodovsky told Chernyshevsky that he should be “a second Christ.” This suggestion answered Chernyshevsky’s intimate thoughts that Jesus Christ did not do enough to “liberate people from their physical needs.” Chernyshevsky’s status as some sort of a new messiah was also felt by his contemporaries. In 1864, responding to the verdict from Chernyshevsky’s trial, Herzen referred to his pillory as the “friend of the Cross” in the Bell. Chernyshevsky’s prophetic role was felt much later as well. Thus, in 1874, Nekrasov wrote a poem “Prophet” (“Пророк”), allegedly dedicated to Chernyshevsky which had the following lines: “Его еще покамест не распяли, / Но час придет – он будет на кресте; / Его послал Бог Гнева и Печали / Рабам Царям земли напомнить о Христе.” I quote Chernyshevsky’s diary entry, Nekrasov’s poem entry from Alexander Dolinin’s commentary to Nabokov The Gift: Vladimir Nabokov, 1935-1937: Priglashenie na kazn': Dar: 246 (“oстроумные пустозвоны”) and “widgeons” (“свищи”)603 refer to the critique of the radical culture of “whistling” and echo Herzen’s polemic with Chernyshevsky.604 Here, Pisemsky cautiously sides with Herzen in his condemnation of “empty-headed” radicals who try to “expose” and “whistling” at everything, including the remnants of common sense and morality. One more implicit reference to Chernyshevsky that was present in Pisemsky’s manuscript was excluded from the final version published by Katkov. In a passage about “our genius from abroad” (Herzen), Pisemsky originally remarked: “We also have another ‘genius’! And he is also considered a leader… What a misfortunate country!”605 The phrase “another one” referred to Chernyshevsky. However, the most striking polemical challenge to Chernyshevsky and his followers is the image of Proskriptsky, and the fact that it went largely unnoticed by contemporaries can only be explained by Chernyshevsky’s arrest, since it was unwise to mention his name in print. The idea that Chernyshevsky is the prototype of Proskriptsky, although mentioned in the critical literature, has not been given sufficient prominence. Nineteenth-century critics often connected Proskriptsky with Bazarov. Brückner referred to Proskriptsky as “the materialist and skeptic, the precursor of Bazarov.”606 Soviet scholars (L.M. Lotman, G. Pustovoit, A. Roshal) also commented on Bazarov’s traits in Proskriptsky – with the addition of some traits of Rasskazy: Esse, Sobranie sochinenii russkogo perioda v 5-ti tomakh, vol. 4, 5 vols. (St. Petersburg: "Simpozium", 2004) , p. 707-708. 603 For the significance of the name “widgeons” see Chapter 1, sub-chapter 14. 604 Although there are no doubts about the echoes of the critique in the radical press, I would argue that it is the polemic between Herzen (“Very Dangerous!”) and Chernyshevsky that is the main point of reference here. See Chapter 1 for the discussion of the polemic between Herzen and Chernyshevsky. Further in Chapter 3 the Herzen theme in The Troubled Sea will be analyzed in more detail. 605 “У нас другой ведь еще есть! И того, пожалуй, за вождя признают... Несчастнейшая страна...” Quoted in Anninskii, "Slomlennyi: povest’ o Pisemskom," p. 119. 606 Brückner, A Literary History of Russia , p. 421. 247 Chernyshevsky. 607 Roshal’s observation exemplifies the typical Soviet view on the sources of the image of Proskriptsky: “Pisemsky tried to combine in his character Proskriptsky some ‘peculiarly’ understood features of Chernyshevsky with some peculiarly interpreted features of Bazarov.”608 His elaboration on this idea, unfortunately, does not dwell on the “peculiarities of Pisemsky’s interpretations” and does not reveal any concrete textual correspondences between Bazarov and Proskriptsky apart from the statement that the “peasant-like (мужицкий) character of Bazarov was understandable and dear” to Pisemsky. 609 However, there is nothing “peasantlike” in the image of Proskriptsky: a city-dweller, a seminarian and a typical “armchair philosopher.” Similarly, Roshal does not provide any textual support for his statement that Proskriptsky possesses “peculiarly understood” features of Chernyshevsky. His discussion of Chernyshevsky’s traces in the image of Proskriptsky is limited to the mention of Pisemsky’s curiosity about the character of Chernyshevsky (he uses the line from Boborykin’s memoirs cited above), to his approval of Chernyshevsky’s “hard-working habits, broad scientific knowledge and his knowledge of up to five foreign languages,’” and to a statement that “Proskriptsky is depicted with a certain sympathy.”610 Calling Proskriptsky a “precursor of Bazarov,” Brückner does not make a chronological error (Proskriptsky appeared in 1863, exactly a year after Bazarov was introduced by Turgenev); rather, he observes an interesting typological phenomenon. Pisemsky challenges Turgenev’s 607 Lidiya Lotman argues that Proskriptsky is a portrait of Chernyshevsky, “with the addition of some traits of Bazarov.” L. M. Lotman, "Pisemskii-romanist," Istoriia russkogo romana, ed. A. S. Bushmin et al., vol. 2 (MoscowLeningrad: 1964), vol. 2, p. 136. 608 “Своеобразно понятые черты Чернышевского Писемский попытался совместить в своем герое Проскриптском со своеобразно интерпретированными базаровскими чертами.” Roshal', Pisemskii i revoliutsionnaia demokratiia, p. 76. 609 “Во многом ‘мужицкий’ характер Базарова, понятный и близкий писателю, делал этот образ для него дорогим.” Ibid , p. 77. 610 “Проскриптcкий дан с известным сочувствием.” Ibid , p. 76. 248 discovery of a “new type” in Russian society and presents his Proskriptsky as “the father” of the nihilists like Bazarov. The reason why it is problematic to connect Proskriptsky with either Bazarov or Chernyshevsky is that, in Pisemsky’s novel, Proskriptsky is a character from the previous epoch. He appears in the chapter “Britannia” which describes the life of Moscow University students in the 1840s. Proskriptsky is not a nihilist of the 1860s inserted in the previous epoch to mask the polemical intent of the author; instead, he supports Pisemsky’s idea of the responsibility of the fathers for the generation of the children and his skepticism about the total “novelty” of the “new men’s” culture and ideas.611 In the epoch of the 1860s, Pisemsky sees not a break with the past but its logical continuation, which is why The Troubled Sea starts in the 1840s. Proskriptsky possesses the following features that are presented by Turgenev in his Bazarov as “new”: total skepticism (which is not yet referred to as nihilism) and a belief in the ability of sciences to account for the totality of all phenomena of real life. He is also similar to Bazarov in the sense that he is surrounded by followers: in the restaurant “Britannia,” he is accompanied by a “young student with sunken eyes” and by “another one, extremely longhaired, uncombed, who constantly kept peering into his patron’s eyes.” 612 However, while Fathers and Sons is certainly present in The Troubled Sea on the level of its ideological content and as an important interlocutor in the dialog about the phenomenon of the nihilism and “the new men,” the observed correspondences between Proskriptsky and Bazarov are too general and inconclusive, whereas the similarities between Proskriptsky and Chernyshevsky are specific and 611 612 Cf.: This is similar to Dostoevsky’s interpretation of events in Demons. “Около Проскриптского поместились двое его поклонников, один – молоденький студент со впалыми глазами, а другой – какой-то чрезвычайно длинноволосый, нечесанный и беспрестанно заглядывающий в глаза своему патрону.” Pisemskii, Vzbalamuchennoe more: roman v shesti chastiakh, vol. 8, p. 143. 249 irrefutable. 613 In addition, everything that has been observed as possible links between Pisemsky’s character and Bazarov can equally apply to Chernyshevsky: skepticism, belief in the scientific explanation for all phenomena of life, and his role as the teacher and leader of the youth. Similarities between Proskriptsky and Chernyshevsky go deeper, to the level of appearance, behavior and character traits, making Proskriptsky a satirical portrayal of Chernyshevsky. The depictions of Proskriptsky’s appearance, the tone of his voice and his habit of giggling suggest that Pisemsky’s acquaintance with Chernyshevsky was more personal than has been suggested, and also confirm Pisemsky’s skills as a keen observer. Proskriptsky is a “slightly stooping student with a face of an old man who wears glasses.”614 His voice is described as “squeaky”615 and “venomous” (ядовитый “treble” (дискант).616 Much is made of his annoying habit of constant giggling (“хи-хи-хи”).617 These features defined Chernyshevsky in real life, as multiple memoirs of his contemporaries prove. For example, this is how Druzhinin describes him in his diary in 1856: “The critic who smells of bedbugs. Anger. His manner of walking. Glasses in the golden frame. Squeaking sounds. Contempt for everything. He is angry 613 Yuri Batiuto, in his seminal study of antinihilist novels, analyzes the possible connections between Bazarov and Proskriptsky and also comes to the conclusion that these characters are “genetically incompatible,” that “the hypothetical similarity” between them is “completely pushed into the background by many essential differences between them.” See Batiuto, "Antinigilisticheskii roman 60-70-kh godov," p. 290. 614 “[C]утоловатый студент, с несколько старческим лицом и в очках.” Pisemskii, Vzbalamuchennoe more: roman v shesti chastiakh, vol. 8, p. 140. Chernyshevsky’s near-sightedness has been noted by memoirists (for example, A. I. Rozanov who notes his “extreme near-sightedness” (“крайняя близорукость”). 615 “пискливый голос.” Ibid , vol. 8, p. 140. 616 Ibid , vol. 8, p. 141. 617 In the chapter “Britannia” where Proskriptsky appears for the first time and which consists of dialogs among a large group of students who gather in the restaurant “Britannia,” Proskriptsky’s malicious “хи-хи-хи” occurs three times on page 141, once on page 145, once on page 144, and once on page 146. 250 but not strong.”618 A memoirist Artelyev notes the “squeaky voice” of Chernyshevsky and his “giggling,” saying that Chernyshevsky produced a bad impression on him. 619 Later, Nabokov summarized the memoir accounts of Chernyshevsky and produced a powerful image of him in The Gift.620 In Pisemsky’s novel, the combination of Proskriptsky’s (“Chernyshevsky’s”) appearance, voice and opinions is mortifying and domineering: his presence makes Baklanov’s tongue stick to his throat.621 Proskriptsky’s opinions and beliefs are characteristic for Chernyshevsky, but they possess an element of caricature and polemical exaggeration. He laughs at the art of theater, calling it “the art of doing more skillfully the same thing that other people are doing all the time – the art of not being oneself” and accepts only ballet for being, “at least,” more explicitly sexy.622 He does not believe in anything that he cannot see with his own eyes, including “thought” and “truth,” because “what is truth today can become an empty phrase tomorrow.”623 His attitude toward the “men of the forties” (as this type was described by 618 “Январь – начало мая 1856 г. [...] Критик, пахнущий клопами. Злоба. Походка. Золотые очки. Пищание. Презрение ко всему. Зол, да не силен.” A. V. Druzhinin, Povesti. Dnevnik (Moscow: Nauka, 1986), p. 389. 619 “На меня как-то неприятно подействовала его наружность (хотя вполне приличная) и в особенности пискливый его голос и хихиканье.” A. I. Artem'ev, "Iz vospominanii A. I. Artem'eva o N. G. Chernyshevskom," Literaturnoe nasledstvo, ed. B. Bukhshtab, vol. 25-26 (Moscow: Zhurnal'no-gazetnoe ob''edinenie, 1936), p. 234. 620 In The Gift, Nabokov uses various sources to produce this memorable portrait of Chernyshevsky: “Прислонившись к камину и что-нибудь теребя, он говорил звонким, пискливым голосом, а ежели думал о другом, тянул что-то однообразное, с прожевкой, с обильными ну-с, да-с. У него был особенный тихий смешок (Толстого Льва бросавший в пот), но когда хохотал, то загатывался и ревел оглушительно (издали заслышав эти рулады, Тургенев убегал).” Nabokov, 1935-1937: Priglashenie na kazn': Dar: Rasskazy: Esse , p. 427. 621 “Между тем у Бакланова, с приходом этого лица, как бы язык прилип к гортани.” Pisemskii, Vzbalamuchennoe more: roman v shesti chastiakh, vol. 8, p. 140. 622 “Что же такое искусство актера?.. искуснее сделать то, что другие делают... искусство не быть самим собой. [...] Балет я еще люблю; в нем, по крайней мере, насчет клубнички кое-что есть.” Ibid , vol. 8, p. 141. This is another instance where Pisemsky links the radical views on love and women with immorality and pornography. 623 “А что такое мысль, истина? Что сегодня истина, завтра может быть пустая фраза.” Ibid , vol. 8, p. 143. 251 Turgenev) is negative. He calls Granovsky “an old impressionable maid.” 624 However, the center of the polemic between Pisemsky and Chernyshevsky (the radicals) does not lie in the condemnation of Proskriptsky’s / Chernyshevsky’s dislike of the arts and their cynicism, but in Pisemsky’s insistence on their disconnectedness from “the roots” of Russian life and from reality as it exists outside their books. That’s why Proskriptsky is a “bookish” type, “an armchair philosopher,” who does not know real life and who has lost touch with common sense. As a metaphor for this, Proskriptsky is extremely near-sighted (another of Chernyshevsky’s traits)625 and does not look people straight in the eyes, does not notice “what’s in the air: rain or sun,”626 or whether it is the country, clean air, or the city air; he does not drink wine and he eats “hastily” (“как-то торопливо”), as if he does not understand or notice the taste of food. 627 Having disappeared in the central part of the novel, Proskriptsky makes another episodic appearance in the chapters devoted to the agitation in society, stirred by the peasant reforms of the 1860s. In the 1860s, Proskriptsky remains surrounded by fans, and the number of his followers grows dramatically. Like Chernyshevsky of the 1860s, Proskriptsky rules over the minds and hearts of many young men and women.628 Chernyshevsky’s followers shared such blind faith in him that, even during his shockingly unsuccessful performance during the Literary 624 “Старая чувствительная девка!” Ibid , vol. 8, p. 145. 625 Chernyshevsky’s near-sightedness, understood as a metaphor for his inability to see and understand both life and art, is used by Nabokov as one of the central motifs in his critique of Chernyshevsky in The Gift. Pisemsky’s critique of Chernyshevsky foreshadows Nabokov’s. 626 “Я никогда не замечаю, что в воздухе: дождь или ясно.” Pisemskii, Vzbalamuchennoe more: roman v shesti chastiakh, vol. 8, p. 231. 627 628 “[B] пище вкуса не понимает.” Ibid , vol. 8, p. 232. One of the reasons for the government’s persecution of Chernyshevsky was the belief that he, alone, is responsible for the revolutionary agitation in Russia. Boris Chicherin, a man of the 1860s and a historian said that “the revolutionary ferment began and everything got messed up, and so it goes to this very day. It’s all Chernyshevsky’s fault: it was he who injected the revolutionary poison into our life.” I quote Irina Paperno’s translation of this quote, reproduced in Paperno, Chernyshevsky and the age of realism, pp. 20-21. 252 Soirée on May 2, 1862, they “clapped their hands until they got bruised and tore their lungs in order to drown out that whistling and hissing.”629 During that evening, dressed in a regular jacket instead of a tail coat and wearing a multi-colored tie, Chernyshevsky delivered his worst public speech in memory of Dobroliubov. In Pisemsky’s novel, when Baklanov visits Proskriptsky’s apartment of “three tiny rooms,” he finds there “up to fifty people” who are all either young or behave like empty-headed “boys” (мальчишки).630 While Proskriptsky’s role in these chapters is more modest than in the beginning of the novel, Proskriptsky of the 1860s provoked much more negative criticism by the critics than the earlier Proskriptsky. Most of this criticism is surprisingly biased and misdirected. Pustovoit argues that Proskriptsky “is the most typical hero of antinihilist literature, made according to Katkov’s prescriptions.”631 Lidiya Lotman asserts that Proskriptsky is “blind in his fanaticism; deceiving the youth with his ideas, he is mistaken himself and does not see that he is surrounded not by dedicated fighters but by fools and scoundrels.”632 Vetrinsky bends the facts when he asserts that “the nihilist Proskriptsky” talks “utter nonsense” (“непроходимый вздор”).633 On the contrary, in the novel, Pisemsky 629 Boborykin wrote that, during Chernyshevsky’s awful performance “нашлись ревнители прогресса, которые разразились аплодисментами и силились подавить шиканье, раздавшееся с разных сторон.” The Northern Bee also reported that “рьяные адепты г. Чернышевского до синяков отбивали себе руки и надрывали легкие, чтобы заглушить этот свист и это шиканье.” I quote G. V. Krasnov, "Vystuplenie N. G. Chernyshevskogo s vospominaniiami o N. A. Dobroliubove 2 marta 1862 g. kak obshchestvennoe sobytie," Revoliutsionnaia situatsiia v Rossii v 1859-1861 gg., vol. 4 (Moscow: Nauka, 1965), p. 156. 630 Pisemskii, Vzbalamuchennoe more: roman v shesti chastiakh, p. 117. 631 Pustovoit, Pisemskii v istorii russkogo romana , p. 163. 632 “Проскриптский слеп в своем фанатизме; обманывая молодежь своими идеями, он сам заблуждается и не видит, что его окружают не идейные борцы, а глупцы и мошенники.” Lotman, "A. F. Pisemskii," p. 230. 633 Vetrinskii, "Literaturnoe i kriticheskoe dvizhenie shestidesiatykh godov," p. 117. 253 charactures Proskriptsky as “an intelligent man, with all kinds of knowledge,” 634 and, instead, caricaturizes his followers: There are all kinds of men: civil and military, and it is hard to imagine somebody more ridiculous: there is absolutely nothing in their heads! total emptiness! And now a couple of modern silly ideas have crept somehow into this empty space… What are they? Where did they come from? These people even don’t care to know this […] and some of them are talkers, in addition to everything: they are like mills that lack wheels that are necessary for their functioning and have only unnecessary ones: everything moves, makes noise but produces nothing. […] Then there are landowners like us: one of them, for example, who, as I [Baklanov] am personally convinced, is a most hellish advocate of serfdom, here, he keeps shouting and demanding that people in Russia live in phalansteries. […] Finally, there are crammers-seminarians, whose livers had been beaten out of them with canes during their lessons in rhetoric, and who had developed hatred to everything that exists in the world. […] And finally, there are local students who do not do anything and do not study.635 While Pisemsky caricatures the funny sides of Chernyshevsky’s appearance, his main criticism of him consists in the accusation that “the armchair philosopher” seduces the minds of young men like Valerian Sobakeev with lofty ideas that have no basis in real life. However, this criticism of Proskriptsky and the idealistic youth is by no means the novel’s polemical charge. The main “exposure” in this novel is that of those scoundrels and “widgeons” who do not believe in the ideas professed by Proskriptsky and held dear by Valerian Sobakeev, but flock around them like ravens in search of personal gain and easy fame. 4. The Genre of The Troubled Sea 634 “[C]ам хозяин очень умный человек, со сведениями, кабинетный только...” Pisemskii, Vzbalamuchennoe more: roman v shesti chastiakh, vol. 9, p. 118. 635 “Разные господа, и статские и военные, нелепее которых трудно что-нибудь и вообразить себе: в голове положительно ничего! пусто! свищ!.. Заберутся в это пустое пространство две-три модных идейки... Что они такое, откуда вытекают? [...] а другие при этом еще и говоруны; точно мельницы, у которых нет нужных колес, а есть лишние: мелет, стучит, а ничего не вымалывает [...] Во-вторых, наша братия помещики: один из них, например, я глубоко убежден, крепостник адский, а кричит и требует в России фаланстерии. [...] Наконец, семинаристы-дуботолки [...] им еще в риторике лозами отбили печени и воспитали в них ненависть ко всему, что есть сущего в мире. [...] наконец, здешние студенты, которые ничего не делают и ничем не занимаются.” Ibid , vol. 9, pp. 119-120. 254 Surprisingly, the rich history of the critical debate about the genre of The Troubled Sea and, more specifically, its belonging to antinihilist literature fails to answer some important questions about the nature of the new genre introduced by Pisemsky, and its position vis-à-vis the discourses of fiction and journalism. While in the Soviet critical tradition Pisemsky’s unfortunate novel has been referred to as the originator of the antinihilist genre in literature, this claim is seriously undermined by the differences that have been pointed out between The Troubled Sea and other antinihilist novels, thus making the whole terminology questionable. The reason for the designation of Troubled Sea as the first antinihilist novel is chronological, since it was the first novel among others, later designated as antinihilist, to be published. On the other hand, Pisemsky’s novel does not appear to contain many of the thematic and structural elements that have been called antinihilist by the critics. This is why Lidiya Lotman writes, “The Troubled Sea differs from the antinihilist novels that followed in its footsteps by the absence of a rigid plot structure and stereotypical motifs.” 636 Talking about the novel’s difference from other antinihilist novels, Yury Sorokin writes “The Troubled Sea, although it anticipates the flow of antinihilist novels that followed it by depicting people and events of the 1860s in the manner of a pamphlet and a caricature, it differs in many respects from the typical examples of antinihilist literature.”637 Although The Troubled Sea does not contain many of the elements of an antinihilist novel, it is certainly one of the first polemical novels that were written in the 1860s. In the section of his memoirs devoted to Pisemsky, Annenkov calls The Troubled Sea “our first attempt 636 “Взбаламученное море отличается от последующих антинигилистических романов отсутствием жесткой художественной структуры и стереотипных мотивов.” Lotman, "A. F. Pisemskii," vol. 3, p. 229. 637 “’Взбаламученное море’ хотя и предвосхищает последующий ряд антинигилистических романов памфлетно-карикатурным изображением людей и событий 60-х годов, однако во многом еще отличается от типичных образцов антинигилистической беллетристики.” Sorokin, "Antinigilisticheskii roman," pp. 102-103. 255 at a polemical novel.”638 In his article “From the History of Literary Nihilism,” likewise referring to The Troubled Sea as a “polemical novel,” Nikolai Strakhov defines this genre as one in which the author “using dramatis personae, reenacts the still-ongoing struggle between ideas and convictions that agitate our society” and, in doing so, he “secretly sides with one of the opposing sides.”639 Annenkov’s and Strakhov’s term “polemical novel” picks up the dialogic, polemical, quality of such novels. Other terms have also been used to refer to the genre of novels of which Pisemsky’s novel was seen as a first representative. Brückner talked about a “novel with a purpose,” saying that “‘novels with a purpose’ directly derive from his [Pisemsky’s] work.” 640 The Troubled Sea has also been seen as an originator of the genre of “the novel of exposure” (обличительный роман). Vetrinsky, for example, argued that “the series of novels of exposure was started by The Troubled Sea.”641 However, Soviet scholars who later used the term “novel of exposure” (обличительный роман) narrowed down its already limited potential by including in this category only novels that portray critically one specific side of life in the 1860s: nihilism. The term “novel of exposure” is limiting, in a different sense, because it accounts only for one aspect of the use of journalistic discourse used in novels of the 1860s, specifically, the practice of “exposure,” muckraking. In nineteenth-century critical literature, The Troubled Sea was also referred to as a novelpamphlet and a novel-feuilleton; both terms are used to highlight the novel’s hybrid genre that 638 “[П]ервый у нас опыт полемического романа.” Annenkov, Literaturnye vospominaniia , pp. 501-502. 639 “[‘Марево’ Клюшникова принадлежит] к полемическим романов вроде ‘Взбаламученного моря;’ то есть он в лицах изображает борьбу идей и убеждений, еще в настояющую минуту волнующих общество, причем автор сам тайно становится на одну из борющихся сторон.” Strakhov, Iz istorii literaturnogo nigilizma, 18611865: Pis'ma N. Kositsy, Zametki Letopistsa i pr., p. 344. 640 641 Brückner, A Literary History of Russia , p. 423. “Cерия обличительных романов была начата ‘Взбаламученным морем’ Писемского.” The same exact formulation was often repeated in later Soviet histories of literature. See for example, Bagrii, Russkaia literatura XIX-go-pervoi chetverti XX-go v.v.: posobie k lektsiiam, p. 112. 256 made use of certain journalistic techniques. The following discussion of journalistic devices needs to start with the observation that the terms “pamphlet” and “feuilleton” are used in Russian criticism more often and more consistently than in the West. 642 However, since any in-depth discussion of the Russian literary polemic of the 1860s is impossible without an understanding of the exact meaning of these terms, it is necessary to analyze them here. When used to describe a novel, the word “pamphlet” implies that the genre of the work is satirical. Its purpose is to expose, disgrace and ridicule a certain phenomenon of social life or a certain individual. Its approach consists in making use of real facts and real people instead of literary generalizations; and the literary devices used by the author include various types of irony and hyperbole.643 When critics refer to a novel as a “novel-pamphlet” they suggest that its publicistic dimension dominates over its literary dimension, subjugating all artistic elements in it (characters, imagery, plot) to the author’s preconceived ideological and political conception of the novel. According to A. Miliukov, the author of a review of The Troubled Sea, the main problem with the novel has to do with the lack of objectivity. Thus, the author’s “artistic conception turns into a preconceived idea; the scene of action – into satire and exposé; love – into dissipation; and a transient ailment – into chronic malaise.”644 While most of Pisemsky’s 642 Another critical term used in this context is pasquinade (or pasquil), usually, a “work with satirical distortions and malicious attacks intended to insult and compromise an individual, group, party, or social movement. The pasquinade is most often used to discredit political opponents. […] In Russian literature, the anti-nihilist novel acquired certain features of the pasquinade (for example, V.P. Kliushnikov’s Mirage and A.F. Pisemsky’s The Troubled Sea). Unlike the pamphlet, which it resembles in its denunciatory style, the pasquinade is not an officially recognized literary genre.” A. L. Grishunin, "Paskvil'," Bol'shaia Sovetskaia entsiklopediia, ed. A. M. Prokhorov, 3 ed. (Moscow: Sovetskaia entsiklopediia, 1970-1978). 643 See, for example the definition of “памфлет” in D. Zaslavskii, L. Timofeev, "Pamflet," Literaturnaia entsiklopediia, vol. 8 (Moscow: OGIZ RSFSR, Sovetskaia entsiklopediia, 1934). This early Soviet source outlines the literary uses of the pamphlet better than many later sources. 644 “[В] отношении его [Писемского] к обществу веет нескрываемое пристрастие. Здесь художественная идея обратилась в предвзятую мысль, картина в обличительную сатиру, любовь выродилась в разврат, минутный недуг в повальную и хроническую заразу.” Miliukov, "Mertvoe more i vzbalamuchennoe more (razbor romana g. Pisemskago)," p. 198. 257 literary production was written within the aesthetic of the Russian Natural School, and therefore, presupposed the use of satire and had the purpose of exposure, none of his works before The Troubled Sea was criticized as a “pamphlet.” The following quote from Vetrinsky can shed more light on which elements of the novel, according to Pisemsky’s critics, were instrumental in labeling the novel a “pamphlet”: The series of novels of exposure was started by Pisemsky’s The Troubled Sea. […] the author crudely equated the seeming awkwardness of superficial nihilism with the whole of the democratic movement of his day and thus began the tradition of a superficial understanding of the events in this literature of “pamphlets.”645 Pisemsky’s choice “to expose” the ills of the day did not transform his novel into a “pamphlet”; it was, rather, the satirical depiction of the “democratic movement,” or, in other words, his perceived conservative or “retrograde” agenda. This explanation, however, does not answer the question why critics of the “aesthetic” view equally did not approve of The Troubled Sea. While the tag “novel-pamphlet” appears to be used mainly as a polemical weapon and does not provide sufficient insights into the artistic structure of the novel, another term – “novelfeuilleton” – used more or less interchangeably with “novel-pamphlet,” can highlight some features of the novel that irritated contemporaries so keenly and led literary critics of very different political orientations to criticize the novel. Feuilletons were popular in Russia in the 1860s as they (on par with editorials) served as a format in which much of the polemic with other journals and individual writers and journalists 645 “Cерия обличительных романов была начата ‘Взбаламученным морем’ Писемского [...] автор грубо отожествил с современным ему демократическим движением внешние угловатости поверхностного нигилизма и положил начало именно такому поверхностному пониманию дела в этой литературе памфлетов.” Vetrinskii, "Literaturnoe i kriticheskoe dvizhenie shestidesiatykh godov," p. 116-117. 258 took place.646 Pisemsky himself wrote feuilletons in The Library for Reading in the years directly preceding the publication of his novel. Making use of his experience as a feuilletonist and of the techniques and conventions of the genre, Pisemsky transformed the already traditional novel of exposure into a polemical novel-feuilleton. Analyzing the last chapters of The Troubled Sea, Miliukov names some specific features that give these contemporary chapters of Pisemsky’s novel “the character of a feuilleton.” Among them he points out the fragmentary nature of scenes that resemble newspaper articles and do not allow for the “artistic development of the plot”; the fact that new characters that appear in these chapters do not get sufficiently developed, appearing not as portraits but “careless sketches with incomplete and angular features”; and, finally, the fact that the tone of the author loses its calm and becomes the voice of a columnist who follows the news of the day with a preconceived agenda.” 647 To give specific examples of the text being analyzed was not in the practice of literary criticism of that time, and some of the observations (like the “sketches with angular features”) remain impossible to corroborate but, overall, Miliukov strikes the right chord. Thus, both in the nineteenth century and during Soviet times, literary scholars tended to use both terms (“novel-pamphlet” and “novel-feuilleton”) as derogative markers that assigned Pisemsky’s novel – and other novels that were likewise 646 In his 1847 article “Contemporary Notes: Dostoevsky, Yazykov,” Belinsky thus defined the notion of a feuilleton: “What is a feuilleton? It is a chatterer who appears to be kind-spirited and sincere but who, in reality, is angry and evil-tongued. He knows everything, sees everything, does not talk about much but says decidedly everything, pierces with epigrams and hints, and entices with the lively and intelligent word and with the rattle of a joke.” / “Что такое фельетон? Это болтун, по-видимому, добродушный и искренний, но в самом деле часто злой и злоречивый, который все знает, все видит, обо многом не говорит, но высказывает решительно все, колет эпиграммою и намеком, увлекает и живым словом ума и погремушкою шутки.” V. G. Belinskii, Sobranie sochinenii v 9-ti tomakh (Moscow: 1982), vol. 8, p. 521. 647 “Художественного развития тут нет уже и следов: сцены являются случайно, становятся отрывочными, можно сказать – газетными; рассказ принимает тревожный, лихорадочный тон, превращается в какие-то беллетрические афоризмы. Вновь появляющиеся лица – нисколько не характеры, даже не портреты, а небрежные эскизы, с чертами неполными и угловатыми. [...] романист c каждой новой сценою, все более и более теряет спокойствие, превращается в публициста, в газетного фельетониста, который следит только за новостями текущего дня, с заранее взятой программой.” Miliukov, "Mertvoe more i vzbalamuchennoe more (razbor romana g. Pisemskago) ," p. 201. 259 characterized – to the group of antinihilist novels and did not attempt any in-depth analysis of the artistic consequences of blurring genre boundaries between journalism and literature. Lev Anninsky, was the first one to approach this interesting phenomenon. In his essay about Pisemsky, he referred to The Troubled Sea as “a novel-feuilleton, which quickly and keenly captures the topical character of the day” but which “does not tie its elements in any serious way to either a general authorial conception or deeply understood characters.”648 Further observing the publicistic, feuilleton-like quality of the novel and resulting fragmentary nature of its narrative, Anninsky sees it as a suitable form for the expression of Pisemsky’s view of the epoch, claiming that, on some level, it is not the novel that lacks form and not the protagonists that lack character, but, in line with Pisemsky’s view of the world, is it rather the time itself that was spineless and amorphous. According to Anninsky, the novel reflects […] this universal Russian lack of character and structure, or spinelessness, seen as a universal stream which carries everybody. Life happens under its own momentum which nobody can control. The faceless crowd or the faceless idea rules over people while concrete individuals are absolved of responsibility. The total amorphousness resonates in various corners of the novel. However, this vague intuitive perception is neither adequately thought through by Pisemsky, nor even successfully grasped by him in the novel. 649 In general, Anninsky suggests that, although Pisemsky was up to something new and important in his conception of the contemporary novel, he ultimately failed to find a suitable artistic form for the content and message that he intuited. When other critics speak about a 648 “Роман – фельетон, быстро и остро схватывающий злободневности, но никак всерьез не связывающий их воедино ни общей авторскoй мыслью, ни глубоко понятыми характерами.” Anninskii, "Slomlennyi: povest’ o Pisemskom," p. 116. 649 “[Э]та всеобщая бесхарактерность, бесхребетность, бесстройность российская – общий поток, в котором всех несет. Жизнь по инерции, в которой никто не властен. Власть безликой толпы или безликой идеи, при полной безответственности отдельных лиц. [...] Тотальная аморфность откликается в разных концах романа. [...] Однако эта смутная, интуитивно чуемая в романе Писемкого закономерность не только не продумана до конца, но даже и не схвачена как следует.” Ibid , p. 116. 260 certain incompleteness of The Troubled Sea, they, very likely, also feel this transitional, experimental nature of Pisemsky’s novel.650 An analysis of nineteenth-century criticism and a survey of today’s literary scholarship reveal that, although the attitude to Pisemsky’s novel has been overwhelmingly negative, the critics of The Troubled Sea provide surprisingly few specific textual examples of the novel’s shortcomings. The Troubled Sea has been criticized for being a “novel-pamphlet” that satirized the younger generation / “the nihilists” in a biased tone for being a “novel-feuilleton” with a loose episodic structure and a polemical journalistic tone, and for being the first antinihilist reactionary novel that started a war with the Russian progressive democratic movement. It would also be erroneous, however, to refer to this criticism of the novel as purely emotional and groundless. One specific accusation in the criticism of The Troubled Sea stands out as both very concrete and most persistent: it is the accusation that Pisemsky, in his novel, used his own experience of a visit to Herzen and a real-life episode of the arrest of Vetoshnikov (who was caught while trying to smuggle proclamations from London across the Russian border) in a biased and, allegedly, artistically unmediated manner. The London chapters of The Troubled Sea are especially interesting for the study of the interconnections between literature and journalism in polemical novels of the 1860s-1880s. By the 1860s, the image of Herzen acquired symbolic attributes. Serving as a case study of the phenomenon of blurred distinctions between life and fiction (or, between literature and journalism), the Herzen motif in Pisemsky’s The Troubled Sea, the novel’s most distinctive and controversial innovation, demands closer examination. Such 650 For example, Lidiya Lotman remarks, “Pisemsky was still searching for a form of a novel-pamphlet.” (“Писемский еще только искал формы романа-памфлета”). Lotman, "A. F. Pisemskii," vol. 3, p. 229. 261 examination is equally important for an understanding of Pisemsky’s contribution to the “antinihilist” campaign. 5. A Path to “Our Famous Exiles in London”: Exploring the image of Herzen in The Troubled Sea and in Other Novels of the 1860s-1870s. In the late 1850s – early 1860s, at the dawn of the Great Reforms, no one in Russia (with the exception, possibly, of the new tsar) enjoyed such profound and awed respect mixed with idolatry and curiosity as the tsar’s famous namesake, Alexander Herzen. If earlier educated Russians, upon leaving their motherland, would pay visits to all the luminaries of European thought and letters, now “almost all who travel[ed] abroad, especially to London, consider[ed] it to be their duty to visit Herzen.” 651 Among the visitors were people from all walks of life and strikingly different political convictions, “generals who were liberals, liberals who were councilors of state, ladies of the court with a thirst for progress, aides-de-camp of literature.”652 “Whom, indeed, did we not see at that time!” commented Herzen later, in My Past and Thoughts, adding “we were the fashion, and in a tourist’s guide-book, I was mentioned as one of the curiosities of Putney.”653 The Herzen fad can be explained by the fact that with the establishment of The Free Russian Press and the beginning of the publication of The Bell in 1857, Herzen succeeded in giving meaning to the broad movement for emancipation of social and political life, a movement that, for a brief period, united the whole country: from the seminarians at the Contemporary to 651 “Что побывать у него считают как бы долгом все отправляющиеся за границу, в особенности в Лондон, почти не тайна.” Shtakenshnaider, Dnevnik i zapiski, 1854-1886 , p. 275. 652 A. I. Herzen, My Past and Thoughts: The Memoirs of Alexander Herzen (Berkeley and Los Angeles, CA: University of California Press, 1982), p. 533. 653 “Кого и кого мы ни видали тогда!.. Как многие дорого заплатили бы теперь, чтоб стереть из памяти, если не своей, то людской, свой визит [...] Но тогда, повторяю, мы были в моде, и в каком-то гиде туристов я был отмечен между достопримечательностями Путнея.” Ibid , p. 531. 262 the anglophile Katkov. A visit to Herzen then was more than a mere stop; it was a symbol of personal and political liberation, courage, and dedication to a sacred and noble fight. However, a few years later, when the surge in patriotism surrounding the Polish Uprising of 1863 replaced the era of liberalism in Russia, many of Herzen’s visitors were ready to “pay dearly to wipe out their visit from memory, if not of themselves, then of humanity.” 654 When complete “wiping out” was not possible, re-writing, re-figuring, (self)-editing, fictionalizing of these narratives, often replaced the undoing of collective and private memory. That a pilgrimage to Herzen would enter literature is not surprising. After all, Herzen’s presence in, and influence on, the epoch was not only profound but also quite mythogenic. But the fact that such a visit would customarily be reflected in literature not as a noble and daring act but, simply, something base and criminal, that it would become simplified, flattened, criminalized and turned into a link in the chain of one or another conspiratorial theory in, often, a clichéd plot, needs to be further explained.655 In this section, I will show how Pisemsky’s use of the scene of the pilgrimage to Herzen inscribed him in a tradition that quickly overshadowed his novel and became a staple of popular literature based on adventure plots and heavy intrigue. Herzen fell out of favor with the Russian public in the middle of the 1860s. The tragic concurrence of a number of events (Petersburg fires, the appearance of the most inflammatory leaflets and Polish unrest) brought about a powerful surge of patriotism in Russia and a longing for a decisive autocratic suppression of revolutionary and insurgent activities, a request that the tsarist government was quick to exploit. However, Herzen’s role in the events was just as exaggerated as the role of Chernyshevsky. While Herzen was indirectly involved with the 654 655 Ibid , p. 531. See also the last section in this chapter for a discussion of the Polish intrigue in literature where the figure of Herzen and his role in Russian revolutionary movement will be of utmost significance. 263 proclamations by, for example, agreeing to the printing of Shelgunov and Mikhailov’s proclamation “To the Younger Generation” by The Free Russian Press, he “did not approve of it” and even “adjured” Mikhailov “not to print” it.656 Herzen had welcomed “Land and Liberty,” giving them much attention in the Bell, but he was by no means a mastermind behind this secret revolutionary group. He had absolutely no insight into the famous Petersburg Fires.657 Finally, while wholeheartedly supporting the Polish movement for independence, he was not personally involved in the activities of the rząd narodowy.658 The tsarist government, sometimes ingratiating itself with Herzen, sometimes selectively punishing his visitors, was a major plotter in Herzen’s narrative. According to the law, both the circulation of the Bell and the maintaining of a relationship with Herzen were criminal offences that could result in imprisonment, hard labor and exile. In reality, though officially forbidden, the Bell enjoyed broad circulation and readership inside Russia.659 Furthermore, exiled for his political convictions, Herzen was figuratively seated at the table of the Peasant Affairs Committee, the members of which were urged to “borrow from The Bell (a copy of which was regularly sent to them by the Third Department) and to take into account everything that can be useful and applicable to the improvement of [their] work and the draft of the reform.” 660 Overall, 656 “Мы заклинали его не печатать этой покламации.” Quoted in S. D. Gurvich-Lishchiner, ed., Letopis' zhizni i tvorchestva A. I. Gertsena: 1812-1870, vol. 3: 1859 - iiun' 1864 (Moscow: Nauka, 1983), p. 228. 657 In a private letter, for example, Herzen wrote, “The fires are inexplicable – we only see the glow from afar.” (“Пожары непонятны, – нам видно одно зарево издали.” Quoted in Ibid , p. 327. 658 Connections between Herzen and Polish revolutionaries are well-studied. See, for example, I. M. Beliavskaia, A. I. Gertsen i pol'sko-natsional'no-osvoboditel'noe dvizhenie 60-kh godov XIX veka (Moscow: Izdatel'stvo MGU, 1954). 659 See, for example, A. G. Dement'ev, "Izdaniia A. I. Gertsena i N. P. Ogareva," Ocherki po istorii russkoi zhurnalistiki i kritiki, eds. V. G. Berezina, et al., vol. 2 (Leningrad: Izd-vo Leningradskogo un-ta, 1965), pp. 107108. 660 “На заседании Ред. комиссии при Главном комитете по крестьянскому делу Я. И. Ростовцев сообщает, что ‘по особому разрешению’ из 3 отд. будет присылаться в комиссии экземпляр ‘Колокола,’ чтобы члены 264 the approach seems to have been to restrict the Bell’s readership to higher circles and not to allow its circulation among lower classes, tradesmen and students. Ports and the incoming ships were regularly searched and copies of the Bell were confiscated (one cannot but speculate that it was these copies that eventually ended up on the desks of the tsar and the broad circle of his officials). As a result, it was not so much the laxity of the authorities to enforce the prohibition but the ambiguity of the official stance on Herzen that was a factor in the rising tide of intrigue around him. When it came to the actual persecution of those who were charged with “maintaining relations” with Herzen, the decision whether or not to press charges often depended on the way the story was narrated to the authorities. As a result, some quite literary narratives were produced. The records of visitors to Herzen’s homes in London show that at the very end of the 1850s and the beginning of the 1860s, a surprising number of Russian literati, including some great novelists, made a journey to London in order to visit Herzen. Chernyshevsky arrived in June 1859 with a signed copy of his Aesthetic Relations of Art to Reality.661 Turgenev, Botkin, Kavelin, Dmitry Grigorovich and Marko Vovchok visited that same summer. In 1860, “steady caravans of Russian visitors”662 arrived to London, including Turgenev, Annenkov, Botkin, комиссий ‘знали, что [...] будут писать за границей’ об их деятельности. ‘Я буду вас просить, – чтобы вы и из ‘Колокола’ заимствовали и приняли в соображение все, что только может быть полезно и применимо к исправлению наших трудов и усовершенствованию проекта положений.” Quoted in Gurvich-Lishchiner, ed., Letopis' zhizni i tvorchestva A. I. Gertsena: 1812-1870 , p. 30. See also Kazimierz Waliszewski, A History of Russian Literature (New York: D. Appleton and company, 1900), p. 305. 661 For the circumstances of Chernyshevsky’s visit to Herzen, see, for example, Solov'ev, Ocherki iz istorii russkoi literatury , pp. 187-188 and B. P. Koz'min, "Poezdka N. G. Chernyshevskogo v London v 1859 godu i ego peregovory s A. I. Gertsenom," Izvestiia Akademii Nauk SSSR 13.2 (1953). 662 “[П]остоянные караваны русских посетителей, которые поглощают время.” Gurvich-Lishchiner, ed., Letopis' zhizni i tvorchestva A. I. Gertsena: 1812-1870 , p. 25. 265 Konstantin Staniukovich and Count Aleksei K. Tolstoy. In March 1861, Count Lev Tolstoy came; in June 1862, Aleksei Pisemsky; one month later, Dostoevsky.663 At least several of these people were questioned, either directly upon their return or when, amidst a certain wave of political trials, their names surfaced in connection with some political case. Letters that Turgenev (who was summoned to Russia to testify) wrote explaining his old friendship with Herzen in spite of their very different political views were meant to be made public, almost like his fictional work. Turgenev ultimately escaped prosecution in spite of (as we now know) being a contributor to the Bell and Herzen’s occasional messenger. The opposite example is the case of Chernyshevsky. When he was arrested in July 1862 he was charged with, among other things, being in relations with Russian émigrés living in London who distribute propaganda with criminal intent. He used up a lot of paper and ink trying to explain his apparent innocence, not without some cunning and superior argumentation. Chernyshevsky was, however, ultimately found guilty. The story of Mikhail Katkov’s involvement with the Herzen plot is no less interesting. In general, literary criticism that discusses popular antinihilist literature habitually gives Mikhail Katkov full credit for being the one to establish and promote in the Russian Messenger the clichéd versions of the Herzen plot.664 Meeting with approval from the government, the polemical attacks on Herzen in Katkov’s editorials in the Moscow News and the Russian Messenger tied together the insinuations of Herzen’s involvement with the fires, his unpatriotic involvement with the Polish uprising, and his turning of Russian youth into fanatics and sending 663 Dostoevsky’s visit to Herzen is discussed in such works as E. N. Dryzhakova, "Dostoevskii i Gertsen (pervaia vstrecha)," F. M. Dostoevskii, N. A. Nekrasov: sbornik nauchnykh trudov, ed. N. N. Skatov (Leningrad: Izd-vo Gosudarstvennogo pedagogicheskogo universiteta im. A. I. Gertsena, 1974) and E. N. Dryzhakova, "Dostoevskii i Gertsen (U istokov romana "Besy")," Dostoevskii: materialy i issledovaniia, ed. V. G. Bazanov, vol. 1 (Leningrad: Nauka, 1974). 664 See, for example, Sorokin, "Antinigilisticheskii roman," p. 99. 266 them “from the other shore” to shed blood on Russian streets.665 Katkov seemingly understood the fictional nature of the Herzen plot. After all, the main target for debunking in the above mentioned editorial was Herzen’s “sacred and untouchable position within Russian literature.”666 While completely following the tone and idiom of journalistic polemic of that time period, Katkov’s use of defamatory language (“бойкий остряк и кривляка,” “помешательство генерала от революции,” “социалистические бредни” etc) and his accusations of Herzen’s being involved in unfair games and intrigues position Katkov’s version of the Herzen plot within the popular adventure genre. In a May 1863 editorial in the Moscow News, Katkov wrote, “[And to think that] Russian people of all social estates went on a pilgrimage to these voluntarily released patients of the madhouse… [Now] these degenerates openly crossed over to the camp of Russia’s enemies.”667 In this newly emplotted story of a pilgrimage to Herzen, Mikhail Katkov, apparently, modestly considered himself to be some sort of “a lost sheep,” for was he himself not one of a more smooth-tongued guests who, as an “old friend,” visited Herzen just four years prior to the publication of that editorial? In August 1859, on the Isle of Wight, was it not he who sang praises to the significance of the Bell for the reforms in Russia.668 However, in spite of his 665 See, for example, the editorial entitled “The Note to the Editor of The Bell” (“Zametka dlia izdatelia “Kolokola” in No. 6 of The Russian Messenger from 1862. Quoted in Gurvich-Lishchiner, ed., Letopis' zhizni i tvorchestva A. I. Gertsena: 1812-1870 , p. 347. 666 “[Герцен] до последнего времени [...] был для русской литературы неприкосновенною святыней.” Quoted in Ibid , p. 347. Emphasis is mine. 667 “Русские люди разных сословий пилигримствовали к этим вольноотпущенным сумасшедшего дома. [...] эти выродки перешли открыто в лагерь врагов России.” Moscow News, No 86, 1863, quoted in Ibid , p. 500. See also the original source: M. N. Katkov, 1863 god: sobranie statei po pol'skomu voprosu pomieshchavshikhsia v moskovskikh Viedomostiakh, Russkom Viestnike i Sovremennoi Lietopisi., vyp. 1 - vyp. 2. (Moscow: V universitetskoi tipografii, 1887), p. 116. 668 Katkov arrived to England on August 23, 1859, along with his wife. He vacationed on the Isle of Wight with Botkin, at the time when Herzen also lived there. Katkov allegedly said then that “The Bell is power,” adding that the publication lay on Rostovtsev’s desk so that he could consult there if he had questions on the peasant situation.” (“Колокол – власть!” – прибавлял, что он у Рoстовцева лежит на столе для справок по крестьянскому вопросу”). Quoted in Gurvich-Lishchiner, ed., Letopis' zhizni i tvorchestva A. I. Gertsena: 1812-1870 , p. 74. 267 polemical talent, Katkov (who later went on to boast that he “three times went face to face after Iskander [Herzen],”669) was hardly the main villain; he was simply riding the wave of widespread public sentiment. A young Russian woman who visited Herzen in London in the end of June 1862 can serve as another example of a less sophisticated carrier of this sentiment. She apparently demanded an explanation of Herzen’s role in the fires, saying “Vindicate yourself! Or remember my words – your friends and supporters will turn their backs on you.”670 Herzen called this visitor “a peaceful Charlotte Corday” and a “foreteller of his break up with public opinion.”671 At this point, I would like to look at some examples of literary texts of the period that contain references to their characters’ associations with Herzen, in order to see how circumstances in the lives of the authors, as well as the political and social events surrounding the creation of these works, prompted these individuals to include this twist of plot in their fictional works. All attention, once again, turns to Pisemsky. The episode of a visit to Herzen by characters of Pisemsky’s 1863 novel The Troubled Sea lies at the source of the motif of a pilgrimage to Herzen in Russian literature. Like the history of Katkov’s role in the creation of the conspiracy theory around Herzen, the real-life story of Pisemsky’s own trip to London serves as an excellent illustration of the phenomenon of the interpenetration of literature and journalism. The analysis of the Herzen connection in Pisemsky’s novel also shows how different layers of 669 “[T]рижды один на один ходил на Искандера.” Quoted in Solov'ev, Ocherki iz istorii russkoi literatury, p. 259. 670 “[O]правдывайтесь – или вспомните мои слова: друзья ваши и сторонники ваши вас оставят.” Quoted in Gurvich-Lishchiner, ed., Letopis' zhizni i tvorchestva A. I. Gertsena: 1812-1870 , p. 333. 671 “[M]ирная Шарлотта Корде,” “правозвестница нашего распадения с общественным мнением.” Quoted in Ibid, p. 334. 268 emplotment brought about the “bitter fate” of the novel. Pisemsky’s journey to London was undertaken as a search for a remedy to the deeply “unfair” insult to his pride and literary reputation.672 In April 1862,673 Pisemsky obtained a foreign passport and went to London to seek a resolution to his literary battles with the Russian press from Alexander Herzen. With expectations set this high, Pisemsky’s pilgrimage to Herzen was bound to turn into a disaster. Herzen, who was familiar with the journalistic escapades of Nikita No-Snout as well as other Pisemsky pseudonyms, initially did not want to receive Pisemsky at all, in spite of the latter’s respectful offering of a copy of his collected works in a beautiful morocco binding.674 The meeting that Pisemsky was finally able to obtain took place in the presence of a mediator, Herzen’s old friend, Valentin Korsh and consisted of “long and unpleasant explanations.”675 In addition, at a reception at Herzen’s house a few days later, to which Pisemsky was also invited, Pisemsky was spotted by Grigory Peretz (a spy of the 3 rd Department) and his name was included in the list of people (which Herzen was later able to obtain and publish in The Bell) to be interrogated or arrested upon their arrival back to Russia.676 In the Petersburg port of Kronstadt, Pisemsky and his luggage were thoroughly searched, but nothing criminal was found. This was not the case with the luggage of another passenger, Vetoshnikov, a merchant who was carrying Herzen’s letter to Nikolai Serno-Solovyevich and whom Pisemsky had met during that 672 See Sub-Chapter 2 (“The Problem of Characters in Pisemsky’s The Troubled Sea: Baklanov as ‘an Ordinary Mortal from Our So-Called Educated Society’) for the history leading to Pisemsky’s visit to Herzen. 673 Roshal', Pisemskii i revoliutsionnaia demokratiia , p. 66. The history of interactions between Pisemsky and Herzen in studied in V. P. Koz'min, "Pisemskii i Gertsen: k istorii ikh vzaimootnoshenii," Zven'ia VIII (1950). 674 Herzen discusses his hesitations about seeing Pisemsky in his letters to his son, Alexander (on June 14) and to Nikolai Ogarev (on June 15). See A. I. Herzen, Sobranie sochinenii v tridtsati tomakh, 30 vols. (Moscow: Izdatel'stvo Akademii nauk, 1954-1966), vol. 27:1, pp. 235-239. 675 “С Писемским и Коршем – были сильные и неприятные объяснения.” From Herzen’s letter to N. A. Tuchkova-Ogareva (June 21, 1862). Ibid , vol. 27:1, p. 241. 676 See Roshal', Pisemskii i revoliutsionnaia demokratiia, p. 71. 269 reception at Herzen’s. That letter – in which Herzen suggested that Chernyshevsky publish The Contemporary (which was closed by authorities) in either London or Geneva677 – later became a key piece of evidence in Chernyshevsky’s case. Vetoshnikov was convicted and sent to hard labor in Siberia, where he died. Pisemsky finished his novel The Troubled Sea one year later. In its last chapters, the characters seem to reenact Pisemsky’s own journey. Alexander Baklanov, his wife Evpraksiya, and her brother Valerian Sobakeev travel to London. Many of the other, negative, characters of the novel also assemble there: Basardin, Galkin, and Petzolov. These “pseudo-liberals” advise Baklanov and his family to visit “the local gentlemen” (“здешних господ”) who “treat young people very well” (“ласкают молодежь”).678 Baklanov and Sobakeev contact Herzen (who is, of course, one of the unnamed “local gentlemen”), receive proclamations, and hide them on their bodies. Curiously, Pisemsky (who, as a good acquaintance of his fictional characters, appears under his own name in earlier chapters) is not mentioned among the passengers on that ship. Upon return, while going through customs, the characters are searched by the police. Baklanov narrowly escapes arrest because, in the course of their trip, his wife Evpraksiia discovers the proclamations and, without telling him, throws them into the sea. Another bearer of illegal proclamations, Evpraksiya’s brother Valerian Sobakeev, suffers for his “foolishness.” He is arrested and, subsequently, sentenced to twelve years of hard labor in Siberia. The Troubled Sea greatly annoyed and angered Herzen, who saw it as political denunciation. Comparing Pisemsky unfavorably to Turgenev, whose Fathers and Sons he considered to be a work of art in spite of its political urgency and topicality, Herzen wrote, 677 Ibid , p. 71. 678 Pisemskii, Vzbalamuchennoe more: roman v shesti chastiakh, pp. 303-304. 270 “What was stopping him [Turgenev] from sending Bazarov to London? Despicable Pisemsky was more than happy to provide travel expenses to his troubled freaks.” 679 Herzen disliked the fact that Pisemsky made him (as a literary character) receive his “freaks” as guests,680 and by the description of this visit in which he saw a satirical retelling of the circumstances of Vetoshnikov’s arrest.681 In his novel, Pisemsky does not mention names or dates, and all conversations happen outside of Herzen’s house. However, if we compare the topics discussed by the characters682 with the records of Herzen’s activities and concerns at that time, 683 close correspondences that point to Pisemsky’s meeting with Herzen and the reception he attended at Herzen’s house become evident. Pisemsky could not have written these scenes using only public information, such as the articles in the Bell. In fact, some Soviet scholars have used the London chapters of The Troubled Sea to reconstruct the conversations that could have occurred between Herzen and Pisemsky. 684 It is also possible that, knowing that the unfortunate Vetoshnikov received letters and documents from Herzen during the same reception that was attended by 679 “Что бы ему было прислать Базарова в Лондон? Плюгавый Писемский не побоялся путевых расходов для взбаламученных уродцев своих.” A. I. Herzen, "Eshche raz Bazarov," Sobranie sochinenii v tridtsati tomakh, vol. 20:1 (Moscow: Izdatel'stvo Akademii nauk SSSR, 1960), p. 339. 680 As Baklanov remarks to his wife, “They [“our émigrés”] wanted to see me themselves” (“...они сами пожелали меня видеть”). Pisemskii, Vzbalamuchennoe more: roman v shesti chastiakh, p. 300. 681 Herzen blamed himself for not being careful when he gave Vetoshnikov the letters. See commentary to Herzen’s letter to his daughter Tata and Malwida Meysenbug from January 15, 1864 in Herzen, Sobranie sochinenii v tridtsati tomakh , vol. 27:2, p. 812. 682 They talk about the need for Zemskaia Duma, establishing contacts with the leaders of the schismatics, the common people’s understanding of the revolutionaries’ agenda, etc. 683 684 See Gurvich-Lishchiner, ed., Letopis' zhizni i tvorchestva A. I. Gertsena: 1812-1870 . After citing an excerpt from the novel in which two characters, Baklanov and Galkin, discuss the call for the assembly of Zemskaia duma and the request to take to Russia some proclamations, A. Roshal’ concludes, “Если учесть, что образ Бакланова автобиографичен, то процитированный отрывок приобретает особенную ценность. Он подтверждает правильность наших представлений о возможном содержании беседы между Писемским, Герценом и Огаревым, позволяет судить о характере отношений, которые пытались с ним установить лондонские эмигранты.” Roshal', Pisemskii i revoliutsionnaia demokratiia , p. 79. 271 Pisemsky, Herzen (and, presumably, some other people) saw in the novel’s London chapters an instance of direct denunciation. To turn someone’s personal tragedy into an entertaining story of some “freaks’” adventures abroad would certainly have been a heartless and inappropriate gesture for any writer. In any case, Herzen was quite sure of the real meaning of Pisemsky’s story. In a letter to Tata and Malwida Meysenbug, Herzen wrote, “Pisemsky wrote a novel called The Troubled Whirlpool (a curious mistake, since in 1871, Pisemsky would indeed write a novel, In the Whirlpool,685 which continued the discussion of nihilism) where he, in the most foul manner, told the story of how Vetoshkin (sic) was arrested and how we gave him printed materials.”686 But was Pisemsky a renegade? Did he write a political denunciation? Herzen himself rewrote Pisemsky’s visit in a fictional manner at least twice: in part one of Chapter Seven of My Past and Thoughts, and as a “picture from a novel” in his satirical article “The Bringing of Feces to London” (“Ввоз нечистот в Лондон”).687 In My Past and Thoughts, Herzen appears as a cautious and gentle host:688 he does not give letters to Vetoshnikov; instead, Vetoshnikov asks 685 In Russian, these are synonyms: “Взбаламученный омут” and “В водовороте.” 686 “Писемский написал роман “Взбаламученный омут,” в котором самым гнусным образом рассказал историю о взятии Ветошникова, о том, что мы ему дали печатные вещи.” Herzen, Sobranie sochinenii v tridtsati tomakh , vol. 27:2, p. 417. 687 A. I. Herzen, "Vvoz nechistot v London," Sobranie sochinenii v tridtsati tomakh, vol. 17 (Moscow: Izdatel'stvo Akademii nauk, 1959). 688 “Говоря о том и сем, между тостами и анекдотами, говорили, как о самопростейшей вещи, что приятель Кельсиева Ветошников едет в Петербург и готов с собою кое-что взять. Разошлись поздно. Многие сказали, что будут в воскресенье у нас. Cобралась действительно целая толпа, в числе которой были очень мало знакомые нам лица и, по несчастию, сам Ветошников; он подошел ко мне и сказал, что завтра утром едет, спрашивая меня, нет ли писем, поручений. Бакунин уже ему дал два-три письма. Огарев пошел к себе вниз и написал несколько слов дружеского привета Н. Cерно-Соловьевичу – к ним я приписал поклон и просил его обратить внимание Чернышевского (к которому я никогда не писал) на наше предложение в ‘Колоколе’ ‘печатать на свой счет ‘Современник’ в Лондоне.’ Гости стали расходиться часов около двенадцати; двоетрое оставались. Ветошников взошел в мой кабинет и взял письмо. Очень может быть, что и это осталось бы незамеченным. Но вот что случилось. Чтоб поблагодарить участников обеда, я просил их принять в память от меня по выбору что-нибудь из наших изданий или большую фотографию мою Левицкого. Ветошников взял фотографию; я ему советовал обрезать края и свернуть в трубочку; он не хотел и говорил, 272 for them. Herzen urges Vetoshnikov to hide the letters and another gift (a photograph of Herzen) to not arouse suspicions, and he is mindful of possible spies in the room. In “The Bringing of Feces to London,” Herzen plays the role of a stern Superior, while Pisemsky is represented as an ingratiating Subordinate who addresses the “Superior” as “Your Excellency” (ваше превосходительство). The Superior uses the informal “ты” while chastising this new Akakii Akakievich for his bad behavior, of which “there [are] some rumors.”689 As for Pisemsky, he seemed to not understand the reasons for his persecution by Russian liberal and progressive circles, and he definitely did not understand why his novel would anger them so much. Indeed, he was very proud of this novel, in which he “attempted to present a panorama encompassing twenty years of contemporary Russian history, including elements of corruption, anarchy and bold ignorance which all surfaced in society when it was shaken to the foundation by a moral and material crisis that unexpectedly befell it.” 690 In spite of the bitter experience of his visit to Herzen, Pisemsky preserved respect for Herzen until the end of his life.691 что положит ее на дно чемодана, и потому завернул ее в лист ‘Теймса’ и так отправился. Этого нельзя было не заметить.” Herzen, My Past and Thoughts: The Memoirs of Alexander Herzen, p. 305. 689 “Глава XVIII: Подчиненный и начальники/ Подчиненный. Находясь проездом в здешних местах, счел обязанностью явиться к вашему превосходительству. / Начальник А. Хорошо, братец. Да что-то про тебя ходят дурные слухи? / Подчиненный. Невинен, ваше превосходительство, все канцелярская молодежь напакостила, а я перед вами, как перед богом, ни в чем-с. / Начальник В. Вы не маленький, чтоб ссылаться на других. Ступайте...” Herzen, "Vvoz nechistot v London," p. 299. 690 “Он взялся именно изобразить последнее двадцатилетие современной нашей истории и все те элементы порчи, анархии, легкомыслия и бойкого невежестваа, которые оказались в обществе, когда оно потрясено было до основания моральным и материальным кризисом, неожиданно посетившим его.” Annenkov, "Russkiaia belletristika v 1863 godu: G-n Pisemskii," p. 314. 691 See, for example, Anninskii, "Slomlennyi: povest’ o Pisemskom," p. 113: “Сам Писемский, надо сказать, до последних дней испытывает к Герцену что-то вроде неразделенной любви, и следы этой любви, противно речивые, наивные и странные, разбросаны по его романам семидесятых годов.” 273 Regardless of Pisemsky’s own intentions, his novel The Troubled Sea paved the road for other novelists who also strived to capture the mood of the time. Not only was it the first literary work to present the story of a pilgrimage to Herzen; it also associated this pilgrimage with the Polish intrigue and the Petersburg fires. In the novel, immediately after the arrest of Sobakeev, the passengers on the ship see the glare of the fires and, upon their arrival to St. Petersburg, they witness the capture of their friends’ former coachman Mikhailo, who confesses that he and his lover Irodiada were paid by the Poles to set Petersburg ablaze.692 After The Troubled Sea, the image of Herzen became a constant presence in polemical novels. His presence was often felt “behind the scenes, a super-nihilist figure,” as a contemporary Russian scholar Valerii Terekhin says, “in whose name nihilist-soldiers sacrifice their honor, conscience, morality and peoples’ lives.”693 In Vsevolod Krestovsky’s dilogy The Bloody Hoax (Кровавый пуф, 1869-1874), subtitled, “The Chronicle of the New Time of Troubles,” Herzen is a major presence. Providing extensive excerpts from the Bell, elaborating on Herzen’s influence on the Russian radical press and his role in “Land and Liberty” and the Polish Uprising, Krestovsky presents him as one of the orchestrators of “the new time of troubles” who, while holding the threads of the novel’s intrigue, stays behind the scenes. Herzen does not act as a character; he influences the scene through his “conveyed” word. Consequently, there is no scene of a visit to London. However, one particular scene from the novel deserves attention. The novel’s antihero, a leader of a 692 693 Pisemskii, "Vzbalamuchennoe more: roman v shesti chastiakh," pp. 313-316. “[B] любом из антинигилистических романов незримо присутствует Герцен, – искусно обыгрывается его образ как некоего закулисного старшего нигилиста, на которого молятся как на икону рядовые нигилисты: читают его ‘Колокол,’ считают его самого незыблемым авторитетом, во имя которого, как на алтарь – идолу, приносятся на заклание и честь, и совесть, и нравственность, и сами люди, чаще всего, безвинные жертвы, – и которого цинично используют в своих целях сверхнигилисты, давно во всем разуверившиеся, все и всех презирающие.” Terekhin, "Protiv techenii": utaennye russkie pisateli: tipologiia "antinigilisticheskogo" romana , p. 77. 274 commune in St. Petersburg, Ardalyon Poloyarov, forges a letter from Herzen to secure his reputation among his followers. Desperate to secure his leadership in the commune and to cover up his mismanagement of the commune’s finances, Poloyarov, with “proud and condescending calmness,” shows his friends a letter written by Herzen from London that touches upon “concerns, more important and more far-reaching” than their little fights. Herzen, allegedly, addresses Poloyarov as his successor in the “sacred fight for a noble cause” and blesses him to win or become a martyr in the upcoming fight. Interestingly, this letter alone does not save Poloyarov’s reputation – his friends are unconvinced and still demand a financial report. Poloyarov decides that only an arrest can elevate him in the opinion of his friends, and he denounces himself to the police for keeping a correspondence with Herzen. He signs this denunciation with the name of one of the novel’s positive heroes, Ustinov, whose reputation he wants to stain in this manner. Poloyarov is not only a scoundrel and a trickster; he is also a coward: he decides to aim for the arrest because he is sure that the police will not find any incriminating evidence against him. In the end, Poloyarov is arrested, “Herzen’s” letter is found and its forgery is exposed. Both Ustinov and the police are equally disgusted with Poloyarov’s baseness and do not want to get their hands dirty with pressing charges against him: This terrible, pitiful situation, insulting to all notions of human dignity, that Poloyarov had put himself into, excluded even the possibility of being indignant with him. It excluded any possibility of coming in contact with him, even through criminal persecution. One could only spit upon him and try to forget as soon as possible that there are situations in life when what is referred to as “man” can fall so low.694 694 “Это ужасное, жалкое, оскорбительное для всякого человеческого достоинства положение, в какое поставил себя Ардальон Михайлович Полояров, исключало уже возможность негодования на него. Оно исключало всякую возможность соприкосновения с ним, даже возможность преследования его путем закона. Можно было только плюнуть и постараться поскорее забыть, что бывают в жизни случаи, когда то, что называется человеком, может падать так низко.” Krestovskii, "Krovavyi puf: romany: Panurgovo stado i Dve sily," Part 4, Chapter 11. The story with Herzen’s letter, denunciation and the arrest happens in Chapters 8-11. The letter appears in Chapter 8, called “From the Other Shore,” a clear reference to Herzen’s famous book, From the Other Shore (1848-1850). 275 The leader of the small group of Russian radicals in Switzerland, Vasily Elbrusi from Dyakov’s 1876 novella “To the People,” constantly “fusses” and “hurries” from New York to London, to Paris, and chases the big names in international revolutionary circles. In doing so, he tries to maintain his comrades’ fascination with his, otherwise, vain and empty persona.695 The image of Elbrusi is clearly a parody, a clichéd representation of a “super-nihilist” type, modeled on similar characters presented by Turgenev, Krestovsky, Leskov and Dostoevsky (Elbrusi’s activities are an echo of Pyotr Verkhovensky’s in Demons). Elbrusi’s reputation, his “unbridled self-aggrandizement,” – is entirely based on the ease and significance with which he throws around empty phrases and revolutionary slogans – clichés that he allegedly brings back from his trips to where “he has clandestine connections and business.” His reports that “the organization is strong,” that “everything has ripened” and that “everything is ready” are met with the “ingratiating servility” of his followers. His written accounts of these meetings (entitled “Tremble!”) are read by them with “stifling awe.” 696 Clearly, Elbrusi’s trips are farcical; the bustling (mostly – verbal) activities of “the circle” are not directed from either London or Paris. “The circle” is not a real revolutionary organization; it unites vain power-seekers and criminals feeding on nihilist ideas, disoriented and aimless youth and their exalted female followers who are enticed into the revolution by the easy access to forbidden literature and socialist theories that Western Europe provides. As Petr Dernov, a professor from a provincial Russian university, and 695 A. (D'iakov) Nezlobin, Kruzhkovshchina: "Nashi luchshie liudi - gordost' natsii": rasskazy, vol. 1 (Odessa: V tipografii G. Ul'rikha, 1879), p. 167. 696 “Он постоянно торопился куда-нибудь бежать – то в Нью Йорк, то в Лондон, то в Париж; везде у него были таинственные связи и дела, отовсюду он привозил вести о ‘сильной организации,’ о том, что ‘все созрело,’ ‘все готово.’ Трудно передать то необузданное величие, с каким он возвращался из своих поездок, то умиленное раболепство, с каким его встречали в кружке, тот удушливый восторг, с каким читались его ‘Трепещи!’ ” In Ibid , p. 167. 276 a character from another Dyakov’s novella, “The Fatal Sacrifice,” remarks, “far from home, in the free, away from any control, who does not become a liberal when he is abroad!” 697 In the context of Russian literature, the image of Herzen is part of a broader theme of Russia’s direct encounter with the West. Russian travelers, steeped in the European literary and philosophical tradition who often revered that tradition more than anything coming from the backward mother-Russia, saw their travels abroad as a sort of a pilgrimage. The tragedy of such an encounter was often the realization that Europe was not what it seemed from afar. People walking the streets of German towns habitually fell short of being the likes of Goethe or a Young Werther and turned out to be plain town bürgers. In much a similar way, when Chernyshevsky met Herzen in London, he disliked him and became disappointed in this beacon of progressive ideas. He wrote to Dobroliubov that Herzen was “boring,” and compared him unfavorably to the liberal Kavelin (“Kavelin to the second power.”)698 The disappointment with revolutionary activities and the sincerity and worthiness of the Polish cause felt by Inna Gorobets, the female protagonist of Viktor Kliushnikov’s Mirage (1864),699 starts well before her trip to England. When she arrives in London, she finds herself “completely alone, in a foreign country” where she “can’t say a living word with anybody or see a friendly face anywhere.”700 In this atmosphere, she sees the people whom she knew during the 697 “[B]дали от родины, на свободе, вне контроля. Кто же за границей не либеральничает!..” In Ibid , p. 84. 698 “Оставаться здесь долее было бы скучно. Разумеется, я ездил не понапрасну, но если б знал, что дело так скучно, не взялся бы за него... Кавелин в квадрате...” (from a letter to Dobroliubov, written on the 27th or the 28th of June, 1859. See Gurvich-Lishchiner, ed., Letopis' zhizni i tvorchestva A. I. Gertsena: 1812-1870 , p. 56. 699 Kliushnikov’s Mirage will be discussed in more detail in Sub-Chapters 10, “Kliushnikov’s Mirage and a New Positive Hero” and 11, “Kliushnikov’s Mirage and the Motif of the Polish Intrigue.” 700 “Я одна, совершенно одна, на чужой стороне; слова живого не с кем перемолвить, лица симпатичного негде встретить.” V. Kliushnikov, Marevo: roman v chetyrekh chastiakh (Moscow: V universitetskoi tipografii (Katkov i Ko), 1865), p. 174. 277 Polish Uprising (in which she participated), like Count Bronsky (one of its aristocratic participants and Inna’s romantic interest), in a different light: “Now I see through this handful of ambitious men who greedily tear power from each other’s hands as a flock of vultures tear the entrails of carrion.”701 Herzen himself does not appear in Mirage, but since Count Bronsky joins the circle of “local expatriates” (здешние выходцы), there is little doubt that it is Inna’s disappointment in Herzen that she talks about in this excerpt: “The local expatriates lost all meaning in my eyes… Their images wrapped in togas of mystery and placed on a pedestal turned out to be clumsily made when I saw them up close.”702 The description of an assemblage of these “dethroned idols” is, indeed, disheartening: the room, lighted as if it were day, was full of guests and bustling servants […] it was hard to recognize the former dandy Bronsky. His still young face grew terribly thin and bilious and was surrounded with the blue of an unshaved beard… [There was] a gentleman with a goatee, scampering away… [It was] a motley group… [There was] not a single benevolent look… [There was] a visibly impudent gentleman with a snub nose on a round ruddy face and a sort of a twitching smile.703 Inna’s disappointment is even more profound considering that she gets involved in the revolutionary struggle so that she could grant the last wish of her dying father, who was Herzen’s friend and correspondent (Kliushnikov cites Herzen’s letters to Inna’s father earlier in the novel). Ultimately, Inna does not see a place for herself among the émigrés; she is tired and ill: 701 “Теперь я вижу насквозь эту горсть честолюбцев, жадно рвущих друг у друга власть, как стая коршунов тащит друг у друга из клева требуху дохлой скотины.” Ibid , p. 174. 702 “[Здешние выходцы] потеряли в моих глазах всякое значение... Эти образы, закутанные тогой таинственности, стоявшие на высоких пьедесталах, оказались топорною работой, как только я рассмотрела их поближе.” Ibid , pp. 174-175. 703 “[K]омната, освященная как день, полная народа и суетившихся слуг... трудно было узнать прежнего красавца Бронского, в этом, все еще молодом, но страшно осунувшемся желчном лице, окаймленном синевой небритой бороды... юркий господин с козлиною бородкой... пестрое сборище.... ни одного доброжелательного взгляда... господин весьма нахального вида со вздернутым носиком на румяном лице и какою-то дергающеюся улыбкой.” Ibid , pp. 209-214. 278 I feel tired in this muddle of filth and baseness which I meet at every turn. I walked cheerfully while I could glimpse fleetingly something vague but iridescent like a heat haze in our steppes, but the whirlwind that enveloped them recently has chased away the mirage; behind it boils up the meaningless, swollen and fierce sea which threatens us with a new Flood.704 In the end, Inna not only abandons the cause that she sacrificed so much for, but also embraces conservative and patriotic values: Truly, what is left for me? To write about Russia in The Free Russian Press? First of all, this “free press” will not allow any free word and, secondly… [you will be very surprised but] it is only possible to write the truth about Russia in Russia where this truth is immediately discussed by everybody; only this way it can be useful. All so-called illegal publications do not reach outside a very limited circle of readers, and, within this circle, they remain a sort of a wild bird, or a magot chinois. We saw how these publications led some dare-devils to Siberia – this is the only result.”705 A similar feeling of disappointment attaches itself to “democratic literature” as well. The main character of Sleptsov’s unfinished novel, A Good Man, when not finding any outlets for action either at home or abroad, remarks with desperation, “Previously also the serfs were running away to Khiva, and the educated – to London. Now, people have learned of another such place – America. But this is all in vain.”706 704 “Я шла бодро, пока впереди мелькало что-то неясное, но радужное, переливчатое, как марево наших родных степей; вихрь, охвативший их в последнее время, разогнал мираж; за ним бурлит бессмысленное, вздутое, свирепое море, грозящее всеобщим потопом...” Ibid , p. 178. This “fierce sea” seems to be an echo of Pisemsky’s image of the “troubled sea” in the title of his novel. 705 “И в самом деле, что мне остается? Писать о России в вoльной русской книгопечатне? Во-первых, эта вольная книгопечатня не даст хода свободному слову, а во-вторых... Ты очень удивишься, но я все-таки доскажу мысль: писать правду о России можно только в России, где она тотчас же всеми обсуживается; только так может она быть плодотворною. Все так называемые запрещенные издания не выходят из очень ограниченного кружка читателей, да и там они остаются чем-то вроде редкого попугая или какого-нибудь magot chinois. На глазах наших они довели несколько смельчаков до Сибири, – вот и весь результат.” Ibid , p. 177. 706 “Прежде вот также крепостные бегали в Хиву, а образованные в Лондон. Теперь узнали еще одно местечко – Америку. Только это напрасно.” Sleptsov, "Khoroshii chelovek: povest' (pervonachal'naia redaktsiia)," p. 33. 279 Additionally, it is worth remembering that the theme of Herzen’s corruptive influence is connected to the idea of the West being a source of un-Russian ideas. Russian Nihilism as a system of ideas and values (as well as liberalism) was justly seen as borrowing from the West and as such was often conceptualized as “foreign” to Russian soil. Therefore, any journey abroad often symbolically meant a corrupting and degrading twist in character’s lives. In Dostoevsky’s famous novel-pamphlet, Stavrogin and his “demons” bring their destructive theories from the West. Another example is Dostoevsky’s short story “Crocodile, An Extraordinary Incident,” in which he caricatures the fascination of many “educated” Russians with the word “progress” and other popular liberal “ideas.” These “ideas” lure people, like the story’s main character, Ivan Matveich to the West. When such a trip metaphorically brings Ivan Matveich into a crocodile’s belly, his superior exclaims, “What did possess him, please tell me, to go abroad?” He considers Ivan Matveich’s outcome a natural result of “poking [by over-educated people] into all sorts of places, especially where they are not invited.” 707 “Progress” and “the [liberal] ideas” appear, therefore, to be coming out of the darkness of a cold-blooded beast. 6. “The Second Sally” in the “Antinihilist Campaign”: Leskov’s No Way Out as “Not Literature” At the time of the literary wars of the second half of the nineteenth century, novels that approached the subject of nihilism critically were often referred to not as fictional literature. Instead, they were considered by the authorities of radical criticism to be polemical statements and their artistic qualities were thought to be, in the best case, only secondary factors. Ultimately, they were viewed as the continuation of their author’s journalistic work. Leskov’s 707 “Ибо люди образованные лезут во всякое место-с и преимущественно туда, где их вовсе не спрашивают. […] Но зачем, скажите, потянуло его за границу?” F. M. Dostoevsky, "Krokodil, neobyknovennoe sobytie ili passazh v Passazhe," Sobranie sochinenii v desiati tomakh, ed. L. P. Grossman, Dolinin A. S., Ermilova, V. V., et al, vol. 4 (Moscow: Khudozhestvennaia literatura, 1956), p. 256. 280 novel No Way Out, published in the Library for Reading in January-May, 1864 (edited, at that time, by Pyotr Boborykin), became viewed as another sally in the so-called “campaign against nihilism.” Ultimately, this novel became the last straw that broke the patience of the radical critics. The bilious criticism of The Troubled Sea and the mockery directed against the young Kliushnikov were nothing compared to the ostracism and campaign to discredit the whole of Leskov’s past and future literary career that he had to battle with as a result of the publication of No Way Out. Echoes of this critical war, the mindless repetitions of the most scathing lines from the furious Pisarev and the sarcastic Saltykov-Shchedrin, followed Leskov throughout his life and posthumously and, up until now, they have been dutifully reproduced by diligent scholars. Curiously, since the very first reviews of No Way Out, it has become traditional not to quote any specific examples from the text of the novel in support of one’s accusations; therefore, any attempts at “vindication” of the novel or the author’s reputation were destined to remain fruitless, as Leskov came to realize early on. As a whole, No Way Out was judged up until very recently not as a work of literature but as an action, as deed. Immediately after its publication in the Library for Reading, No Way Out was viewed as a sally from the enemy camp in the war started by The Troubled Sea and Mirage, not as an independent work. Immediately following the end of the serialization of No Way Out, Varfolomei Zaitsev wrote in his June installment of “The Pearls and Diamonds of Russian Journalism”: To speak the truth, the authors of such novels as No Way Out fully reach one of their goals – to arouse curiosity. The amazement of the reader has been increasing during the last two years. With The Troubled Sea, it seemed that one could not invent anything viler. The Mirage came out. But in Mirage, even the filth has some cover: the author takes non-existent personalities and tries to turn them into types. And here comes a monster that can confuse everyone: you read it and do 281 not believe your eyes – everything is pitch dark. In reality, this is just poorly overheard rumors transferred into literature. 708 A month later, in a review published by the Contemporary, Leskov’s one-time friend, Grigory Eliseev (1821-1891),709 gave the very label of “a campaign” to the sequence of novels that had been singled out by Varfolomei Zaitsev: We ascribe Fathers and Sons, The Troubled Sea, Mirage and even No Way Out to such campaigns [against liberalism in Russia]. By the way, the last one of them is considered remarkable only by the editor of the journal in which it was published. We cannot but feel sorry for his lack of literary taste. Can’t he see that such dirty and talentless vulgarity that the novel No Way Out represents […] is even below his own editorials, colorless and, at places, […] positively devoid of common sense? The campaign of the writers-retrogrades against nihilism is a petty, unprincipled and personal matter. Fathers and Sons was a campaign of the envy and anger of a dying talent. The Troubled Sea was a campaign of slow-wittedness and a claim to renewed popularity by an extinguished talent. Mirage was a campaign of stupidity of a young talent. No Way Out was a campaign of deftness by one of the talents which bear the same relation to literature as porters who write congratulatory verses.710 708 “Надобно правду сказать, что одной из своих целей – возбуждения любопытства – авторы таких романов, как ‘Некуда,’ достигают вполне. Изумление читателя вот уже втoрой год постоянно возрастает. При ‘Взбаламученном море’ казалось, что гаже уже нельзя было выдумать. Вышло ‘Mарево.’ Но в ‘Мареве’ даже гадость имеет хотя какое-нибудь прикрытие, берутся небывалые личности, которые автор усиливается возвести в типы. А вдруг является чудище, которое уж совершенно всякого с толку сбивает: читаешь и не веришь глазам, просто зги даже не видно. В сущности, это просто плохо подслушанные сплетни, перенесенные в литературу.” V. Zaitsev, "Perly i adamanty russkoi literatury," Russkoe slovo 6.June (1864). I quote this excerpt from Anninskii, Tri eretika, p. 256. 709 Grigory Eliseev was a radical journalist who collaborated in the Spark, in the Contemporary and other publications. Later, he became one of the editors of Nekrasov’s Annals of the Fatherland (1868-1881). 710 “К таковым походам [против либерализма] мы относим ‘Отцов и детей,’ ‘Взбаламученное море,’ ‘Марево’ и даже ‘Некуда.’ Последнее, впрочем, замечательным признается только редактором того журнала, где оно напечатано. Не можем не пожалеть о литературном его безвкусии. Неужели он не видит, что такая грязная и бесталанная пошлость, какую представляет собой ‘Некуда’ [...] ниже даже бесцветнейших и местами [...] положительно лишенных здравого смысла передовых статей его журнала? […] Поход ретроградных писателей против нигилизма дело мелкое, безыдейное, чисто личное. ‘Отцы и дети’ было походом зависти и злости отживающего таланта. ‘Взбаламученное море’ было походом бестолковости и претензии вновь на известность таланта отжившего. ‘Марево’ было походом глупости таланта юного; ‘Некуда’ было походом ловкости одного из талантов, которые имеют такое же отношение к литературе, какое имеют к ней швейцары, пишущие поздравительные стихи.” Quted in L. A Anninskii, "Katastrofa v nachale puti," Leskov, N. S. Sobranie sochinenii, vol. 1 (Moscow: AO "Ekran", 1993), p. 673. 282 The near-sightedness of the militant criticism of the kind quoted here from the Contemporary and the Russian Word, which discovered an organized “ideological campaign” of retrogrades in the works of writers who were not even closely acquainted with one another, became an established way to read these novels and precluded any serious literary study of them. Since the same reality (Russian life of the early 1860s) provided the basis for the plots of these novels, there are naturally numerous explicit parallels between them. However, the same parallels can also be found between these novels and many so-called “democratic novels.” On the other hand, all these novels reflect, in different degrees, the same events as the background for their action: the emancipation of the serfs, the student unrest, the proclamations, the Polish Uprising, the popularity of fictitious marriages, the opening of Sunday schools, the popularity of natural sciences, etc. However, there are also other correspondences between them. Such are, for example, several strange acoustic echoes. The family estate of Liza Bakhareva in No Way Out is called Merevo, while Marevo (Mirage) is the title of Kliushnikov’s novel. The main character of Mirage is named Rusanov, while Leskov’s protagonist is Rozanov (with Sleptsov’s Riazanov and Chernyshevsky’s Kirsanov, they all are tied to Turgenev’s Bazarov). These correspondences attest to the presence of a dialog that these authors lead with one another. Thus, Nikolai Solovyev, quite in line with the established tradition, had once called No Way Out “a continuation of The Troubled Sea.”711 Had he elaborated on that statement, he might have discovered an unexpected continuity between these two novels in the development of the Herzen theme. Thus, as we have seen, the second half of Pisemsky’s The Troubled Sea was inspired by his unsuccessful visit to Herzen. Leskov, in his turn, worked on his novel during the winter of 1863, immediately following his own return from a European trip. Just like Pisemsky, 711 “’Некуда’ было как бы продолжением ‘Взбаламученного моря.’” N. I. Solov'ev, "Dva romanista," Vsemirnyi trud 12 (1867), p. 53. 283 Leskov also planned a visit to Herzen in London, but he decided against it after he had heard an unsympathetic account of Herzen from another Russian traveler and, suddenly, became disappointed in Herzen.712 Instead, in Leskov’s novel, Herzen himself (described, nevertheless, quite sympathetically as “very tactful, gentle and talented man” 713) visits the family of Wilhelm (Vasily) Reiner. The polemic with Herzen’s ideas that Leskov sees as being disconnected from the reality of Russian life becomes an important theme in the novel. Unfortunately, serious literary criticism of the three novels, constituting the so-called “campaign,” was not even possible after radical critics like Pisarev and Saltykov-Shchedrin defined the terms of the argument, labeling Pisemsky, Kliushnikov and Leskov “cowardly and obtuse haters of the future” and their works – “destructive novels,”714 and insisting that the criticism of these novels would never be literary but, instead, would remain exclusively personal. Five years after the publication of No Way Out, reviewing a collection of Leskov’s works that did not include this novel, Saltykov-Shchedrin once again sealed Leskov’s reputation by pronouncing his judgment on the author, and, in passing, on all his past, present and future literary output. Saltykov-Shchedrin, anonymously, in probably one of the most disparaging book reviews ever written, compared Leskov to Bulgarin and attributed to the former’s “famous” 712 As Leskov explained in his last “Letter from Paris”: “Уезжая из России: я имел неприменное намерение увидать Герцена и поговорить с ним. [...] Первого русского, недавно видевшего Герцена и говорившего с ним, я встретил в Париже. Случилось, что это был человек солидный и умный. [...] Сверх всякого ожидания [...] он удивил меня своим равнодушием к Герцену. [...] Он говорил о нем с такой холодностью, с какою это для меня тогда было немыслимо. [...] Что же мне было после этого ехать к Герцену и о чем говорить с ним?” See Anninskii, Tri eretika, p. 244. 713 “Этот русский был очень чуткий, мягкий и талантливый человек.” Leskov, "Nekuda: roman v trekh knizhkakh," vol. 2, p. 276. 714 “Бойкие и задорные, но, в сущности, трусливые и тупоумные ненавистники будущего пишут истребительные романы и повести вроде ‘Взбаламученного моря,’ ‘Марева’ и ‘Некуда.’” D. I. Pisarev, "Progulka po sadam rosiiskoi slovesnosti," Polnoe sobranie sochinenii i pisem v 12 tomakh, vol. 7: Stat'i 1865 (ianvar'-avgust) (Moscow: Nauka, 2003), D. Pisarev, "Progulka po sadam rossiiskoi slovesnosti," Russkoe slovo 3.March (1865), vol. 7, p. 142. 284 novel No Way Out, the “most fateful and tragic significance”: to define, “once and for all,” “the literary reputation” of its author, and to pass his own “sentence” which cannot be changed by anyone. “Anything that he [Leskov] had written before it or anything that he would write after,” says Saltykov-Shchedrin, “did not and could not have any influence on his literary career because that career has already been completed.” 715 Saltykov-Shchedrin observed that all critical reactions that had appeared since the novel’s publication consisted entirely of abuse, where nobody cared to cite any pages or give any specifics but only tried to tear it to pieces better than each preceding “review.”716 According to Saltykov-Shchedrin, such reactions were natural and appropriate since No Way Out is not a “literary work,” but an “event of real [not-literary] life,” a personal “deed” of the author that cannot be subject to literary criticism. 717 Saltykov-Shchedrin also observed subsequently that No Way Out had been justly reduced to a mere “abusive” word with which “one party attacked the other.” 718 715 “Имя г. Стебницкого получило известность с 1863 года, то есть с того времени, когда его знаменитый роман ‘Некуда’ в первый раз появился в печати. Это произведение пера г. Стебницкого имело для него самое роковое и почти трагическое значение: по милости этого романа литературная репутация его сразу была составлена, известность упрочена и судьба его, как писателя, тут же решена была навеки. Этим романом он сам собственноручно подписал себе приговор, которого уже не в силах изменить никто, даже сам г. Стебницкий. Все, что было им писано прежде, и все, что он писал впоследствии, уже не имело и не могло иметь существенного влияния на его литературную карьеру по той причине, что она была уже сделана. ” M. E. Saltykov-Schchedrin, "Povesti, ocherki i rasskazy M. Stebnitskogo (avtora romanov 'Nekuda' i 'Oboidennye'). 2 toma. S portretom avtora. 1868 i 1869," Sobranie sochinenii v 20-ti tomakh, vol. 9 (Moscow: Khudozhestvennaia literatura, 1970), p. 335. 716 “О романе кричали много, он был руган и преруган несчетное число раз [...] Авторы ‘отзывов,’ говоря о романе, даже не трудились указывать страницы, по их мнению достойные порицания; никто не приводил ни одной цитаты, никто не выписывал ни одной строки из романа в подтверждение своих слов, а все его ругали; ругали огулом, ‘за все,’ ругали сплеча, кратко, но сильно, даже с каким-то соревнованием: точно каждый спешил от своего усердия принести посильную лепту в общую сокровищницу и только боялся, как бы не опаздать к началу. ” Ibid , p. 336. 717 “[И]зделие г-на Стебницкого [...] никогда не было литературным произведением [...] журналистика признала его [роман ‘Некуда’] не подлежащим суду литературной критики, а смотрела на него как на житейское дело, как на личный подвиг г-на Стебницкого, за который он обязан отвечать перед судом общественного мнения.” Ibid , p. 336. 718 Ibid , p. 336. 285 The proponents of the opposing, “conservative” camp did not attempt to rescue Leskov but, rather, more or less adopted the “common view” on him. The situation perfectly illustrates the power of a “personal” attack that has a “smell” of denunciation, libel, of probable dealings with the Third Department while remaining vague and lacking in specific examples, to which one might direct one’s justification. For example, Konstantin Golovin, a man of conservative convictions and himself a prolific author of “antinihilist novels,” remarked in his History of the Russian Novel and Russian Society that “Leskov, who by the makeup of his convictions, did not belong to the reactionary literary camp, turned against the people of the 1860s with more malice than all other critics, including Markevich.” 719 The insinuations of Leskov’s alleged ties with the police were not merely quiet gossip; they were circulated openly in the press. Already on September 11, 1864, Evgeny Korsh published in St. Petersburg’s Gazette (СанктПетербургские ведомости) an article criticizing Leskov’s novel in which he wrote: Mr. Stebnitsky [Leskov’s nom de plume] is a man not without talent. Indeed, he possesses a very original one. His talent consists in his ability to describe well (even extremely well) people’s distinguishing features. I think that Mr. Stebnitsky cannot only supply novels with descriptions of individual people but he can also be employed successfully in investigation agencies, for example as a clerk to some police officer, or as a guard, or as some sort of expert. 720 Suggesting these other spheres where Leskov could apply his talent, Korsh, of course, implied that Leskov could be (or was) working as a Third Department agent. Korsh hinted at the fact that some readers easily recognized the prototypes of several of Leskov’s characters who, in the novel, did not always act in a dignified manner. I have already discussed Vasily Reiner, and his 719 “Лесков, по складу своих убеждений вовсе не принадлежавший к реакционной беллетристике, ополчился против шестидесятников с большей злобой, чем делали это все прочие их обличители, в том числе и Маркевич. ” Golovin, Russkii roman i russkoe obshchestvo , p. 381. 720 “Г. Стебницкий, человек не без дарования, и притом оригинального. Дарование это заключается в том, что автор хорошо описывает приметы, даже очень хорошо. Я думаю, что г. Стебницкий может не только поставлять романы с описанием примет отдельных лиц, но даже с упехом мог бы служить по следственной части, например, письмоводителем частного пристава, надзирателем или каким-нибудь экспертом.” 286 prototype, Arthur Benni in Chapter 2. Below, I will discuss other prototypes of Leskov’s characters. These critics’ verdicts had little to do with “literary criticism”; they came from “the court of public opinion” that judged not the novels but the personalities of their writers. Pisarev’s famous conclusion captures the essences of this “verdict”: “All sensible people look at such gentlemen as Mr. Pisemsky, Mr. Kliushnikov and Mr. Stebnitsky as at arrant good-for-nothings. Nobody discusses “trends” with them; they are avoided with the cautiousness with which a smart walker avoids a bog.”721 Leskov did not exaggerate when he complained about the persecution and injustices he met with throughout his literary career. As he bitterly remarked to Faresov, his biographer, “As I came in, people would pick up their hats and leave; at restaurants, if I was present, they would loudly start abusing the author of No Way Out.”722 As much as Leskov saw through the unfairness of this treatment and the absence of any grounds for it, he could only “smile” at it. The absurdness of the situation is evident in this anecdote, conveyed by one of Leskov’s few sympathizers, the well-known memoirist Pyotr Bykov: Once, Leskov was present among a large company at a small restaurant. One individual, who often heaped scorn on [Leskov’s] literary activities, having gotten slightly drunk, said to Leskov: “A lot can be forgiven you, Nikolai Semenovich, for your Trifling Details of the Life of Archbishops [Мелочи архиерейской жизни] – with the exception of your novels No Way Out and Mirage where you so angrily attack the students.” “Have mercy!” cried out Leskov, smiling good-naturedly. “Firstly, Mirage is not mine but Kliushnikov’s and, secondly, in No Way Out, I have not included anything that you are accusing me of… You must have forgotten the content of the novel…” 721 “На таких джентельменов, как гг. Писемский, Клюшников и Стебницкий, все здравомыслящие люди смотрят как на людей отпетых. С ними не рассуждают о направлениях; их обходят с тою осторожностью, с какою благоразумный путник обходит очень топкое болото.” Pisarev, "Progulka po sadam rosiiskoi slovesnosti," p. 143. 722 “При моем появлении в обществе люди брали шапки и уходили вон; в ресторанах нарочно при мне ругали автора ‘Некуда.’” Faresov, Protiv techenii: N. S. Leskov. Ego zhizn’, sochineniia, polemika i vospominaniia o nem, p. 60. 287 “To tell you the truth, I’ve never even read it. But there isn’t a single writer (from the liberal camp, of course) who would not reprove your novel,” remarked Leskov’s interlocutor cynically. “As for Mirage, since it is always mentioned together with No Way Out, I thought it was also your work…”723 Even the uncompromising Leskov, who all his life made his own way against the current, could not find in this case any better self-defense than a “good-natured smile.” His interlocutor was undoubtedly a boor, but he was part of that force which held “public opinion” together for more than a century. And, as if firmly placed inside a dense cloud of suspicion, No Way Out, as an empty abusive word, became forever suspended in the thick air of gossip next to another empty word, Mirage. To this “public opinion,” literature as such did not matter. The role played by “public opinion” as formed by the radical critics becomes even more controversial if we consider the other side of the history of No Way Out. Leskov had something to be proud of when, in a letter, he remarked that “its success [the success of No Way Out] was very big. The first edition was sold out in three months, and the last copies were being sold for 8 and, even, 10 rubles.”724 (To compare, the yearly cost of a subscription to The Library for Reading, in which the novel was published, was 15 rubles). Nikolai Solovyev in 1867 called No Way Out Leskov’s best novel. In a critical article “Two novelists,” dedicated in part to Leskov, 723 “В довольно большой компании в одном кабачке присутствовал и Лесков. Субъект, поносивший литературную деятельность его, слегка подпив, сказал Лескову: – За ваши ‘Мелочи архиерейской жизни,’ Николай Семенович, вам можно многое простить, но только не романы ‘Некуда’ и ‘Марево,’ где вы так ожесточенно нападаете на учащуюся молодежь и прочее. – Помилосердствуйте, – возопил Лесков, добродушно улыбаясь, – во-первых, ‘Марево’ – не мое, а Клюшникова, и во-вторых, в ‘Некуда’ у меня нет ничего подобного, в чем вы меня обвиняяете... Вы просто забыли содержание романа... – Да я, признаться, не читал его, – но ведь нет такого писателя, из либерального лагеря, конечно, кто бы не бранил ваш роман, – цинично заметил противник Лескова. –А что касается ‘Марева,’ то, как как его всегда ставят рядом с ‘Некуда,’ я и думал, что это тоже ваше произведение...” P. V. Bykov, Siluety dalekogo proshlogo (Moscow-Leningrad: Zemlia i fabrika, 1930), pp. 162-163. 724 “Успех его [романа ‘Некуда’] был очень большой. Первое издание разошлось в три месяца, и последние экземпляры его продавались по 8 и даже по 10 рублей.” N. S. Leskov, "/O romane 'Nekuda'/," Nekuda: roman v trekh knizhkakh, ed. N. I. Liban, et al, vol. 4, Polnoe sobranie sochinenii v tridtsati tomakh (Moscow: Terra-TERRA, 1997), p. 687. 288 he remarked that “the second edition” of Leskov’s first novel was published and is “selling out,” and reproached the critics for not paying due attention to it. 725 Overall, Leskov’s novel underwent five editions during his lifetime but did not receive serious consideration from literary critics. Only in 1890, after Leskov’s death, did Leo Tolstoy (who read contemporary literature at his own pace and without the guidance of the Contemporary or the Russian Word), write: He [Leskov] was, in the 1860s, the first idealist of the Christian type and the first writer to show, in his No Way Out, the insufficiency of material progress and the danger that vicious people present for freedom and ideals… In the 1860s, political tasks were prioritized and it was assumed that the progress of morality would follow… Only the author of No Way Out demanded progress of morality first and foremost and pointed to the absence of its foundations even in the lives of the best people of that time.726 7. Leskov’s “Deed”: Vasily Sleptsov and “The Znamenskaya Commune” in No Way Out The scathingly negative and abusive reactions to No Way Out by contemporaries, although not stemming from any substantive textual analysis, can, paradoxically, help understand the nature of Leskov’s innovations in the genre of the polemical novel. Feeling the urgency to chronicle and depict the “comical times” of 1863-1864, which he also referred to as the turning point in the “troubled and original”727 epoch, Leskov turned to many of the same methods employed by Pisemsky. For Leskov, the use of journalistic techniques for this task was natural and organic. No Way Out was his first novel; as Lev Anninsky observes, Leskov came to serious literature as a 725 “Роман ‘Некуда’ вышел уже вторым изданием и, как слышно, расходится, критика нaшa поэтому сделала большое упущение, не обратив на него до сих пор должного внимания.” Solov'ev, "Dva romanista," p. 52. 726 “Он [Лесков] был первым в шестидесятых годах идеалистом христианского типа и первым писателем, указавшим в своем ‘Некуда’ недостаточность материального прогресса и опасность для свободы и идеалов от порочных людей... В шестидесятых годах на очереди стояли государственные задачи, а моральный прогресс подразумевался сам собой... Один автор ‘Некуда’ требовал его прежде всего и указывал на отсутствие его начал в жизни даже лучших людей того времени.” Lev Tolstoi ob iskusstve i literature, vol. 2 (Moscow: Sovetskii pisatel', 1958), p. 136. 727 “[Б]еспокойное и оригинальное время” in Leskov, "Zagadochnyi chelovek: istinnoe sobytie," p. 279. 289 writer of sketches,728 a semi-documentary genre of literature. As commentators of the latest edition of Leskov’s Collected Works observe, “Leskov does not oppose the task of an artist with the task of a journalist but, striving to unite them on a literary and artistic basis, in No Way Out, he turns to the means of a pamphlet.” 729 Admittedly, Leskov’s first critics were unwilling to explore the benefits of uniting the tasks of writer and journalist. Seeing No Way Out as another novel-pamphlet and a roman a clef, they were more inclined to transfer the worst stereotypes of a journalist’s work to the evaluation of Leskov as a writer. As Saltykov-Shchedrin wrote, in Leskov’s works, instead of talent, we see expediency; instead of keenness of observation – insinuation. Precisely these qualities predominate in Mr. Stebnitsky’s works. He does not write a novel, he assembles it.730 In contrast, admitting that No Way Out contains elements of a pamphlet, Leskov appreciated the creative possibilities that this genre experimentation brought to his novel. In a letter to Aksakov of December 9, 1881, he wrote, No Way Out is partly a historical pamphlet. This is its drawback, but also its merit. As somebody said about the novel somewhere, “it preserved for the memory of future generations the true pictures of its most absurd movement which would have definitely slipped past the historian; and the historians will definitely refer to this novel. No Way Out contains some prophesies that have completely come true. I was only guilty of describing reality too accurately... 731 728 “[P]оманом [‘Некуда’] Лесков пришел из очеркистики в литературу.” Anninskii, Tri eretika , p. 249. 729 “Лесков не противопоставляет задачи художника и публициста, но стремится на литературнохудожественной основе синтезировать их, смело обращаясь в ‘Некуда’ с этой целью даже к средствам памфлета.” Leskov, "Nekuda: roman v trekh knizhkakh," quoted from the commentary by I. Viduetskii and V. Nedzvetskaia, pp. 694-750, p. 699. 730 “Вместа таланта выступает сноровка, вместо наблюдательности – инсинуация. Вот эти-то качества именно и преобладают в произведениях г. Стебницкого. Он не пишет повесть, а делает ее.” SaltykovSchchedrin, "Povesti, ocherki i rasskazy M. Stebnitskogo (avtora romanov 'Nekuda' i 'Oboidennye'). 2 toma. S portretom avtora. 1868 i 1869," p. 343. 731 “’Некуда’ частию есть исторический памфлет. Это его недостаток, но и его достоинство, – как о нем негде писано: ‘он сохранил на память потомству истинные картины нелепейшего движения, которые непременно ускользнули бы от историка, и историк непрeменно обратится к этому роману’... В ‘Некудa’ есть пророчества, все целиком исполнившиеся. Вина моя вся в том, что описал слишком близко 290 In No Way Out, Leskov’s use of the elements of pamphlet merges with other elements of his style and understanding of the task of a contemporary novelist, notably, with his approach to reality from the position of a chronicler who does not refrain from making explicit his own judgment on the time and people. Overall, No Way Out is Leskov’s first experimentation with the genre of the chronicle and, not surprisingly, the novel shows some unevenness in the results. In the chapters devoted to his main female heroines, Liza Bakhareva and Jennie Glovatskaya, Leskov produces, essentially, a family chronicle, whereas in Part Three of the novel, in depicting the Moscow and St. Petersburg radical circles, his journalistic keenness in capturing the characteristic details in surroundings, portraits, attitudes and conversations results in what was understood by contemporaries as a pamphlet or even slander. However, any direct correspondences between Leskov’s characters and actual people, at least on the level of the authorial intentions, were unplanned. Unlike Turgenev, who in his outlines for the novels often named specific people as inspirations for particular characters, Leskov appeared to have proceeded from generalizations. In the “General Program for Part Three” of No Way Out, Leskov wrote, The private life of so-called Petersburg nihilists will constitute the main subject of the story … The private life of these people in the commune will not present any delicate questions with respect to censorship and will result in the dissolution of the commune and in the flight of its members. The commune will consist of those who are easily carried away, of swindlers and of fools. [The smart ones], the ones carried away, having had time to look around, are the first ones to flee; the fools remain there for some time, while the swindlers still have desire and can benefit from ruling over them, then the swindlers leave too, and only fools remain. 732 действительность…” A. Leskov, Zhizn’ Nikolaia Leskova: po ego lichnym, semeinym i nesemeinym zapisiam i pamiatiam (Moscow: Gosudarstvennoe izd-vo khudozhestvennoi literatury, 1954), p. 180. 732 “Главным предметом рассказа будет домашняя жизнь так называемых петербургских нигилистов […] Домашняя жизнь этих людей в общине не будет представлять никаких щекотливых вопросов в цензурном отношении и окончится распадением общины и бегством ее членов. Община будет состоять из увлекающихся, из плутов и из дураков. [Умные] Увлеченные, поосмотревшись, бегут прежде всех, дураки на некоторое время останутся, пока плутам есть охота и выгода им начальствовать, потом плуты тоже 291 Ironically, Leskov was accused of slandering specific people whom critics and readers recognized among the residents of his commune, beginning with the commune’s leader, Beloyartsev. The image of Beloyartsev was immediately and universally perceived to be based on one St. Petersburg’s leading radicals, Vasily Sleptsov. As Vetrinsky summarized this popular opinion, Leskov produced “an unseemly caricature of Sleptsov’s efforts to organize female labor in the form of an artel.”733 Leskov’s depiction of “Domus Concordae,” a commune organized by radical youth in St. Petersburg, and its leader, Beloyartsev, is arguably the single most important target for all critical outrage directed at Leskov; it is also the culminating scene in the novel both for the development of the plot and the development of the characters. The analysis of the character of Beloyartsev can serve as a vivid illustration of Leskov’s innovative techniques in developing the “hero of the time” image. The author’s contribution to the “antinihilist campaign” is also seen in the array of character types that would later become stock building blocks in the novels of his epigones. Vasily Sleptsov (1836-1878), the author of popular ethnographic sketches (очерки) as well as fiction, including a well-known novel, The Difficult Time (Трудное время) discussed in Chapter 2, was a wanderer (he walked all over Russia living like a peasant and exploring the life of simple people), a famous social activist, and a supporter of women’s emancipation. He was, undoubtedly, a typical “man of the sixties.” Similar to Mikhailov, Vodovozov, Ushinsky, Mechnikov, Sechenov, and other famous people of the 1860s, Sleptsov came from nobility and received a good education. Like many of his contemporaries, he became absorbed by the spirit of отходят и остаются одни дураки.” N. S. Leskov, "Obshchaia programma 3-i knigi romana "Nekuda"," Polnoe sobranie sochinenii, vol. 4 (Moscow: Terra, 1997-), p. 689. 733 “[H]еблаговидный пасквиль на попытки Слепцова дать артельную организацию женскому труду.” Vetrinskii, "Literaturnoe i kriticheskoe dvizhenie shestidesiatykh godov," p. 117. 292 the liberation movement of the 1860s; but, unlike most, his character possessed what his biographer Davilkovsky calls “a strong practical streak,” which compelled him to turn many of the dreams of the 1860s into reality.734 He organized public lectures, performances, Sunday schools, public libraries, artels and workshops, but he is primarily remembered as an organizer and leader of the so-called Znamenskaya (or Sleptsov’s) commune. It is in this latter connection that Leskov used Sleptsov as a prototype of his Beloyartsev. Inspired by the vision of an idealized organization of life à la Chernyshevsky’s What Is To Be Done, Sleptsov’s commune was not the only attempt to realize fiction in life. Memoirs of that period preserved some reports about other communes, but, apart from the Wanderers Group (Передвижники), barely any of them survived in the cultural memory. During its comparatively short life (from the fall of 1863 to the spring of 1864), the Znamenskaya commune produced a huge resonance in society: from admiration and the desire to imitate, to gossip about sexual promiscuity and immorality among its members. Life on the commune was closely monitored by the 3rd Department. A secret police agent was on duty near the building; police agents attended “Tuesdays” at the commune and compiled reports of them to the authorities. This added to the already existing notoriety. Leskov’s acquaintance with the private details of life in the commune was first-hand, for he not only knew Sleptsov and other communards personally, but also visited the commune a number of times. However, in spite of thorough research undertaken by 734 “Он получил хорошее дворянское воспитание... хорошо знал французский и немецкий языки и литературу, учился в московском университете… Какое же обстоятельствo обосновало переход на сторону радикальных разночинцев, ‘пономарей и нигилистов’ этого блестящего представителя класса крепостников… Кроме общей причины – освободительного течения, господствовавшего в России после севастопольского краха... особые личные качества: от природы он был одарен, наряду с большой добротой, сильной практической жилкой, жаждой непосредственно-полезного дела... Всю жизнь свою Слепцов вечно возился с устройством разных общеполезных предприятий – дешевых общежитий (коммун), публичных лекций, спектаклей, школ, библиотек...”Davil'kovskii, "Vasilii Alekseevich Sleptsov," p. 348. 293 Chukovsky in his book People and Books (Люди и книги),735 little is still known about everyday life there. For example, we cannot say whether the gossip about the laxity of the inhabitants’ sexual life was actually true or not. Ekaterina Zhukovskaya (one of the members of the commune) dismisses such gossip in her memoirs.736 Chukovsky makes a vague statement about “Sleptsov’s pernicious weakness for women.”737 As for Leskov, he writes in a letter to Aleksei Suvorin (the journalist and publisher) later that “all that period was an all-round stupidity… Sleptsov’s communes: bed-swapping for the night and morning tea for three. You have never been dissolute, but I have sunk in that whirlpool and been afraid of that abyss.”738 If this is a truthful statement, we can credit Leskov for a certain prudence because, with the exception of one seduction scene in the novel, there is no mention of sexual liberties in the description of life in the commune. Be this as it may, No Way Out, including its description of the Znamenskaya commune and its leader Beloyartsev, produced a huge scandal. Amid this scandal, Leskov published “An Explanation” in the Library for Reading (the journal in which No Way Out was serialized). He wrote that the critics “latched onto a similarity in appearance (found by someone for this purpose) between the novel’s characters and some of the living people from the literary milieu – and started writing their criticisms.” 739 Leskov italicized the word “in appearance,” and based his 735 Kornei Chukovskii, Liudi i knigi (Moscow: Gosudarstvennoe izdatel’stvo khudozhestvennoi literatury, 1958). 736 Zhukovskaia, Zapiski: vospominaniia . 737 “[K]левета его партийных врагов, воспользовавшихся его пагубной слабостью к женщинам, чтобы набросить тень на основанный им фаланстер.” Quoted in Anninskii, p. 248. 738 “Весь тот период был сплошная глупость... ‘ложепеременное спанье’ и утренний чай втроем. Вы ведь никогда не были развратны, а я и в тот омут погружался и испугался этой бездны.” Quoted in Anninskii, Tri eretika , p. 248. 739 “[П]ридрались к подысканному кем-то внешнему сходству некоторых лиц романа с лицами живыми из литературного мира, – и пошли писать... Положительно утверждаю, что во всем романе ‘Некуда’ нет ни 294 public defense on the argument that, although some characters in his novel may have looked like real people, the similarity ended there, and all the actions of the characters, as well as their general conception, were fully fictional. This line of defense proved disastrous for Leskov. First of all, in the case of Vasily Sleptsov, his appearance was, arguably, one of the most important markers of his character. “Looking at portraits now,” Pyotr Bykov writes in his memoirs, “it is impossible to imagine how handsome Sleptsov was. […] He was a tall, slim brunet, with a magnificent thick beard and similar chevelure, with unusually thin, regular features. [His] smile alone, […] which showed his teeth, even and remarkably white, won people over at first sight.”740 Sleptsov’s beauty is noted in the memoirs of Ekaterina Zhukovskaya, who tends to be sarcastic, blunt and vindictive in her writing. At the time of the commune, Sleptsov (according to her) was “a tall and slim brunet of about thirty years of age, with thick hair and a thick beard that set off his beautiful face.”741 In Leskov’s novel, Beloyartsev (Sleptsov) is introduced first by mentioning his hair color (as “a brunet”).742 In the passage that comes later in the book, Leskov’s Beloyartsev is described as a handsome man: On that day Beloyartsev was groomed as an exhibition horse and carried himself ostentatiously, allowing people to admire him from all sides. He sat as a doll, not leaning against the wall but advancing forward – a model of worldly modesty, of peculiar Moscow-style elegance and good manners. He held his smoothly одного слова, вскрывающего неприкосновенность чьих бы то ни было семейных тайн. Все лица этого романа и все их действия есть чистый вымысел, а видимое их сходство (кому такое представляется) не может никого ни обижать, ни компроментировать.” N. S. Leskov, "Ob''iasnenie g. Stebnitskogo," Polnoe sobranie sochinenii, vol. 4 (Moscow: Terra, 1997-), pp. 677-678. 740 “Высокий, стройный брюнет, с роскошной густой бородою и такой же шевелюрой, с необыкновенно тонкими, правильными чертами лица... По портретам нельзя себе и представить, насколько был красив Слепцов, одна улыбка которого, открывавшая его зубы, ровные и поразительно белые, располагала к нему с первого взгляда.” Bykov, Siluety dalekogo proshlogo , p. 181. 741 “То был высокий стройный брюнет, лет тридцати, с густыми волосами и густой бородой, обрамлявшей его красивое матовое лицо.” Zhukovskaia, Zapiski: vospominaniia , p. 192. 742 Leskov, "Nekuda: roman v trekh knizhkakh," p. 230. 295 cleaned, beautiful hat on his knees and his aristocratic hands in tightly fitting kid gloves – on the hat’s brim.743 The satirical comparisons to “a groomed horse” and “a doll,” as well as the mocking tone with which Beloyartsev’s presents himself in order to be universally liked and admired, could have been entirely invented by the author, if they did not somehow refer to certain traits of Sleptsov’s character. Zhukovskaya, for example, writes that Sleptsov “was fond of showing off his beauty and his thoughtful look, especially in front of women,” that he spent his leisurely morning hours in his finely furnished room in the commune not working but “grooming himself,” and that he was accustomed to being admired by women and was “displeased if his eloquence and beauty did not produce the desired effect” on the opposite sex.744 Later in No Way Out, Leskov mentions Beloyartsev’s weakness for “the fair sex,” 745 his elusive and proverbial manner of speech – first dictated by his adherence to the “aesthetic approach,” later (when he abandoned the latter due to the changing climate in society) by his 743 “Белоярцев был нынче выхолен, как показной конь на вывод, и держался показно, позволяя любоваться собою со всех сторон. Он сидел, как куколка, не прислоняясь к стенке, но выдвигаясь вперед, – образец мирской скромности, своего рода московской изящности и благовоспитанности; гладко вычищенную шляпочку он держал на коленях, а на ее полях держал свои правильные руки в туго натянутых лайковых перчатках.” Ibid , p. 327. 744 “Слепцов был недоволен, что ни на одну из нас не действовали ни его красота, ни красноречие... Только один Слепцов по целым дням был занят прибиранием своей комнаты и собственной особы или перечитыванием раздушенных записочек с приглашениями от светских дам... Комната Слецова... самая уютная, с мраморным камином и с изящною и комфортабельною мебелью...” Zhukovskaia, Zapiski: vospominaniia , pp. 192, 214. 745 “Брюхачев стоял за женою и по временам целовал ее ручки, а Белоярцев, стоя рядом с Брюхачевым, не целовал рук его жены, но далеко запускал свои черные глаза под ажурную косынку, закрывавшую трепещущие, еще почти девственные груди Марьи Маревны, Киперской королевы.” “Белоярцев сейчас же усики по губке расправил и ножки засучил, как зеленый кузнечик: ‘мы, дескать, насчет девочки всегда как должно; потому женский пол наипаче перед всем принадлежит свободному художеству.” “Нет, это так, – примирительно заметил Белоярцев. – Что семья – учреждение безнравственное, об этом спорить нельзя…– Отчего же нельзя? Неужто вы находите, что и взаимная любовь, и отцовская забота о семье, и материнские попечения о детях безнравственны? …– Все это удаляет человека от общества и портит его натуру, – попрежнему бесстрастным тоном произнес Белоярцев…– расслабляет ее, извращает. – Боже мой! Я не узнаю вас, Белоярцев. Вы, человек, живший в области чистого искусства, говорите такие вещи.” Leskov, "Nekuda: roman v trekh knizhkakh," pp. 334, 370, 538. 296 embrace of new, nihilist ideas746 – his quick tongue,747 his desire to be in control and in the center of everybody’s attention.748 Similar traits can be observed in both biased (like Zhukovskaya’s) and friendly and flattering (like Bykov’s) reminiscences of Vasily Sleptsov. Besides pinpointing traits that make Sleptsov recognizable, and mercilessly dwelling on his vulnerabilities, Leskov uses certain biographical details. For example, his Beloyartsev is married, just like the real-life Sleptsov. Sleptsov’s wife was living in the village estate at that time. When she decided to pay him a visit, he rented her a separate apartment because she did not share his views and could not stay at the commune. Therefore, quite contrary to Leskov’s “Explanation,” as well as to the until-recently unpublished “A General Program for Part Three of the Novel No Way Out,” the image of Beloyartsev points to the real-life man, Vasily Sleptsov. 749 And, naturally, in the close-knit community of literati, to which both Leskov and Sleptsov, as well as all the writers of literary reviews of No Way Out, belonged, this resemblance was quite apparent. In his review, 746 “Впрочем, Белоярцев тем и отличался, что никогда не вмешивался ни в какой разговор, ни в какой серьезный спор, вечно отходя от них своим художественным направлением.” Ibid , p. 538. 747 “Он, например, не тронул Кусицына… и не выругал его перед своими после его отъезда, а так, спустя денька два, начал при каждом удобном случае представлять его филантропию в жалко смешном виде. И уж при этом не позабыто было ничто, ни его лисья мордочка, ни его мычащий говор, ни его проживательство у Райнера, ни даже занятые, по его бесцеремонному требованию, три рубля. И все это делалось всегда так вовремя, так кстати… Так и всегда поступал Белоярцев со всеми, и, надо ему отдать честь, умел он делать подобные дела с неподражаемым артистическим мастерством. Проснется после обеда, покушает в своей комнате конфеток или орешков, наденет свой архалучек и выйдет в общую залу пошутить свои шуточки – и уж пошутит!” Ibid , pp. 578-579. 748 “[Ж]енщины молчали, недоумевая, что с ними делают и что им делать, чтобы все шло иначе. Они уже ясно начинали чувствовать, что равноправия и равносилия в их ассоциации не существует, что вся сила и воля сосредоточивались в Белоярцеве. Так прошел первый и другой месяц совместного житья.” Ibid , p. 568569. 749 This “General Program” was published for the first time in 1997 from an autograph that was dated 1864 and kept in RGALI. In it, he writes that “in Book III, just like in the two preceding parts, there will be no denunciatory chapters and all characters will be invented.” (“В третьей книге, точно так, как в двух первых [не будет никаких обличительных], все лица будут вымышленные”). Leskov, "Obshchaia programma 3-i knigi romana "Nekuda"," p. 689. 297 Varfolomei Zaitsev compared Leskov’s novel to articles in German journals like Bayerischer Geheim Polizei Anzeiger and Deutscher Geheim Polizei Zentralblatt (the names were invented), noting that the difference between them is that No Way Out is accompanied with photographs. More conservative critics pointed with amusement at “the copying of small details and the anecdotal side of life of our mischievous progressives” in the novel. 750 And Vasily Sleptsov remarked in print with a reserve that bespoke his wounded pride: “I do not have the pleasure of knowing the persona of Mr. Stebnitsky.”751 Of course, Leskov and Sleptsov were acquainted. However, the critical reception of the image of Beloyartsev could have been different. The strengths and weaknesses of Sleptsov that Leskov so masterfully captured, in their entirety, describe not “a new man” whose defense was the prime objective of radical critics, but rather, a typical example of the old and much-criticized type of the “repentant nobleman.” In this sense, the image of Beloyartsev in No Way Out bears a resemblance to the parodic portrayal of Turgenev in the image of Karmazinov in Dostoevsky’s Demons. As an interesting commentary on Leskov’s search for the “typical” image of a commune leader of the 1860s, the character of Beloyartsev became a model for emulation in literature. Poloyarov, the leader of the commune in Vsevolod Krestovsky’s Panurge’s Herd, represents an interesting version of this type. Even Poloyarov’s name seems to echo acoustically that of Beloyartsev. Krestovsky preserves the root “яр” which points to “ярость” (“frenzy”), a characteristic trait of “red” (or “бурые” [“brown“]) nihilists. Vsevolod Krestovsky, a university friend of Dmitry Pisarev, was acquainted with the radicals he described; he knew the details of life at the commune no less intimately than Leskov. 750 “Все большею частью ограничивались копированием частностей или анекдотической стороной жизни наших проказников-прогрессистов.” Solov'ev, "Dva romanista," p. 53. 751 “Личность г-на Стебницкого я не имею удовольствия знать.”Quoted in Anninskii, Tri eretika , p. 248. 298 While diligently reproducing the main events in the life of Sleptsov’s commune, Krestovsky’s portraits of the main characters bear much less similarity to their prototypes than Leskov’s portraits do. Poloyarov is described by Krestovsky as a tall gentleman in blue eyeglasses and an intentionally rumpled felt hat, from under which long, thick, curly and uncombed hair fell on his shoulders in disarray. His wedge-shaped, dark-brown beard perfectly complimented this hairstyle and his whole dress showed a somewhat strange mix: over his red calico shirt, he wore a heavy woolen coat which was once evidently made with some claim to fashion; his wide à la zouave tricot trousers were carelessly tucked into his blacked boots, and in his hand, he carried a thick knotty cudgel of the kind being manufactured in the town of Kozmo-Demyansk.752 Analyzing this description, it is easy to notice the development that the image of Leskov’s Beloyartsev underwent. It is impossible to reproach Krestovsky for copying Sleptsov’s appearance. The progression of the image had been a movement from a more realistic depiction to a decisively stereotypical one. Poloyarov possesses all the markers of a typical “nihilist.” At the time of the composition of the novel, these markers had already become stereotypical and trite. They include blue glasses; long, messy and unclean hair; a crumpled hat; a wedge-shaped beard; a red, calico shirt; boots; a rough cudgel; and a deliberate indifference to one’s own appearance. From this stereotypical description we can see not only the conceited character of Poloyarov but also infer that he is a “fake” nihilist. His coat and trousers were made to satisfy a different fashion that he followed before, while it suited him, in the same way that he now follows the nihilist fad. In the novel, Poloyarov is a heartless scoundrel without any redeeming features, and if Sleptsov were to recognize himself in this caricature then, it would certainly be 752 “[B]ысокого роста господин, в синих очках и войлочной, нарочно смятой шляпе, из под которой в беспорядке падали ему на плечи длинные, густые, курчавые и вдобавок нечесанные волосы. Клинообразная, темнорусая борода как нельзя более гармонировала с прической, и весь костюм его являл собой несколько странное смешение: поверх красной кумачовой рубахи-косоворотки на нем было надето драповое пальто, сшитое некогда с очевидной претензией на моду; широкие триковые пантaлоны, покроем à la zouave небрежно засунуты в голенища смазных сапог; в руке его красовалось толстая суковатая дубинка, из породы тех, которые выделываются в городе Козьмо-Демьянске.” Krestovskii, "Krovavyi puf: romany: Panurgovo stado i Dve sily," p. 28. 299 not from the appearance of Poloyarov but, rather, from some of the details of the character’s life. These details, although distorted, still point to Sleptsov’s commune and its depiction in Leskov’s novel, which was the source for Krestovsky’s depictions in Panurge’s Herd. Apart from No Way Out and Panurge’s Herd, Sleptsov serves as a prototype for characters in other novels, including Sleptsov’s own novel A Difficult Time (Трудное время)753 (the image of the protagonist, Riazanov, is widely regarded as autobiographical) and Pyotr Boborykin’s novel The Twilight Offering (Жертва вечерняя),754 which has among its main characters a certain Styopa, a cousin of the main heroine, who was also perceived by contemporaries to have been modeled after Sleptsov. In A Difficult Time, Riazanov’s wry and merciless mind and humor, his most characteristic features, resemble in their tone Sleptsov’s own manner of talking and writing. These features, together with Riazanov’s perceived engagement in anti-government activities, his dismissal of the results of the reforms, his homeless and monastic life, and ecclesiastic background and education – are all meant to turn him into “a hero of the time” (a hero of the younger generation) and to mask the “faults” of Sleptsov himself (his noble origin and a superior education). In contrast, in Boborykin’s novel, Styopa is a European-educated nobleman, and a representative of the so-called “lost generation” – one that, according to Boborykin, came in-between “the people of the 40s” and “the new people.” Boborykin’s attempts to construct and glorify a concept of this generation (of which he clearly saw himself as a characteristic representative) went unnoticed by his contemporaries. However, the readers and the critics noticed the similarity between Styopa’s universal and inexplicable success among women, his groomed looks, manner of speaking in riddles, and role as an advocate of women’s “development,” and the person of Vasily Sleptsov. Styopa was 753 Sleptsov, "Trudnoe vremia." 754 P. D. Boborykin, "Zhertva vecherniaia," Vsemirnyi trud 1,2,4,5,7 (1868). 300 perceived as a clear portrayal of Sleptsov, and his appearance in the novel, which contained scenes of high-society depravity, detailed descriptions of the city’s brothels, and an alleged likeness of some characters of the novel to some detestable members of society, like Boleslav Markevich, was widely seen as an unacceptable association, damaging and offensive to Vasily Sleptsov. To conclude this discussion of Vasily Sleptsov as a prototype of literary characters in the polemical novels of the 1860s, I would like to address the cruelty and the “higher justice” of literature. While analyzing No Way Out, Nikolai Solovyev, interestingly, did not see a particular problem with characters in Leskov’s novel having recognizable real-life prototypes. He considered this device to be both “not offensive” and “not new,” and observed: “because who (except for several people) can tell that this is that person and not somebody else?” 755 The associative horizons of readers nowadays do not include Vasily Sleptsov, his friend, Levitov, Countess Salias de Turnemir, Arthur Benni, Markelova, Kopteva and other people who served as prototypes for different characters in No Way Out. Scholars, rather, talk about Leskov’s ability to convey ideas of “the anti-human essence of the arithmetic approach to life” of the “new people,” “the danger of extremist tendencies in youth,” the failure of people of the sixties to turn their dreams into reality and find “real work” for themselves, and about how easily the ideas of the perfect and progressive communal organization of life transformed into familiar petty bourgeois squabbles and mentality. 756 Musing over the laws of literature, Anninsky says: “Naturally, literature is cruel, and it was unflattering to Turgenev to recognize himself in Karmazinov… 755 “Таков прием в сущности не обиден и даже не нов: потому что кто же, кроме немногих может узнать, что это именно то, а не другое лицо.”N. I. Solov'ev, "Dva romanista," Ibid12 (1867), p. 57. 756 See I. V. Stoliarova, "Povest' "Ovtsebyk". Roman "Nekuda"," V poiskakh ideala (Leningrad: Izd-vo Leningradskogo un-ta, 1978), pp. 69-75. 301 [but] the cruelty of literature in the final analysis becomes cruel necessity, and if a book remains in history, the history itself smiles at its own cruelty.” The same can be said about Vasily Sleptsov. 8. Leskov’s No Way Out and the Classification of Nihilists While the radical critics and the public were interested in discussing the prototypes for Leskov’s characters in No Way Out, Leskov himself was more interested in creating a typology of nihilist characters. As a result, in Leskov’s novels we can find a most complete inventory of various types of nihilist characters that will appear later in the novels of the 1860s-1870s written by other writers. Even before the beginning of his work on No Way Out, Leskov had already been thinking about the problem of finding the right ways to represent and make sense of the problem of nihilism. In his review of Chernyshevsky’s What Is To Be Done, Leskov established that nihilists can be “good” and “bad” and confessed that, although he knew (from personal experience) “what a good nihilist was,” he could not make sense of how “to separate real nihilists from the rabid curs who [kept] calling themselves nihilists.”757 Lev Anninsky insightfully remarks that this “Biblical” problem of separating “the sheep from the goats,” with its “excruciating insolubility,” moves as a thread through Leskov’s whole life and art.758 Leskov had a relatively easy time creating the “good nihilist type.” While he approved of the “good” (“kind,” “smart”) “people” in Chernyshevsky’s novel, his own positive images of nihilists are much more rounded and psychologically believable. Leskov’s “pure nihilists” in No 757 “Я знаю, что такое настоящий нигилист, но я никак не доберусь до способа отделить настоящих нигилистов от шальных шавок, окричавших себя нигилистами.” See Anninskii, "Katastrofa v nachale puti," pp. 659-660. 758 “Сам он решал вопрос так: есть нигилисты плохие и есть нигилисты хорошие. Эта мысль, мучительной неразрешимостью прошедшая через всю жизнь Лескова, изложена им при начале работы над романом ‘Некуда’ в рецензии на роман Чернышевского ‘Что делать?’” Ibid , p. 659. 302 Way Out, – Justin Pomada, Wilhelm (Vasily) Reiner and, especially, Liza Bakhareva, 759 – remain among the most successful images in literature of the generation of the 1860s. Even Leskov’s polemical enemy, Pisarev, called Liza Bakhareva “the purest and most lucid character” in No Way Out.760 A prototypical “man of the 1860s,” the journalist and critic Nikolai Shelgunov, in his article “The People of the 1840s and 1860s” (“Люди сороковых и шестидесятых годов”), written after the heat of the polemic around Leskov’s novel subsided, placed Liza Bakhareva next to Bazarov and “higher” than Turgenev’s heroines. He praised Liza, although he added that Leskov, “wishing to degrade this type, failed to do so and, alone, portrayed the ‘new woman’ better than any friends of that [political] persuation.”761 Furnishing Leskov with invaluable material for the portrayal of “pure” nihilists, the careful observation of “the nihilist anthill”762 presented him with yet another and far more complicated task: the task of making sense of the “goats,” the “rabid curs” or the negative types of nihilists. Having separated the “good” from the “bad,” Leskov seemed to think that the “bad” nihilists more so than the “good” presented a heterogeneous crowd and needed to be classified further. Charles Moser observes that “the radical movement attracted all sorts of individual adherents, ranging from cranks, idiots and people who became radicals simply because it seemed the fashionable thing to do, to self-sacrificing men and women who believed fiercely and sincerely that radical doctrines pointed the way to a better life for all the Russian people.” 763 Two 759 “чистые нигилисты.” See Stoliarova, "Povest' 'Ovtsebyk.' Roman 'Nekuda,'" p. 51. 760 “Кто оказывается самым чистым и светлым характером […] в ‘Некуда?’ – Лиза Бахарева.” D. I. Pisarev, "Nashi usypiteli," Polnoe sobranie sochinenii i pisem v 12-ti tomakh, vol. 9 (Moscow: Nauka, 2005), p. 385. 761 “Шелгунов и Цебрикова восхваляют доднесь Лизу, говоря, что я, ‘желая унизить этот тип, не унизил его и один, написал ‘новую женщину’ лучше друзей этого направления.’” Leskov, "/O romane 'Nekuda'/," p. 688. 762 “[H]аблюдения над нигилистическим муравейником” Solov'ev, "Dva romanista," p. 57. 763 Moser, Antinihilism in the Russian Novel of the 1860’s , p. 17. 303 out of three groups in Moser’s observation – “cranks and idiots,” on one side, and people, adhering to nihilism as to a “fashionable thing to do” (or, as Leskov called them, “the buffoons and fools who sided with the new men”), on the other – are Leskov’s negative types of nihilists. Such classifications that tortured Leskov later continued to attract the attention of the scholars of antinihilist novels. But why do we need today to keep immersing ourselves in the same conversation? Various classifications that traditionally constitute the meat of scholarly discussions of antinihilist novels,764 their plots and characters, might seem unnecessary and unessential, except for one reason: the need to account for the fact that the writers of these novels themselves were quite often engaged in producing these classifications, and that some of them, like Leskov, engaged in them wholeheartedly. Leskov tried to produce classifications of various types of nihilists in order to illuminate his main problem: why did scoundrels of all kinds associate themselves with nihilism. In Fathers and Sons, Turgenev provided the basic structure for all further classifications of nihilists: there was Bazarov and there was Sitnikov, the teacher and the pupil, the God and a cretin “to bake his pots.” The main idea behind Sitnikov is that he is a weather-vane who follows fashionable ideas as long as they remain fashionable and, once the wind changes, so does he. Although some radicals, in their near-sighted criticism of Fathers and Sons, equated the types of Bazarov and Sitnikov, ultimately causing the public to refer to all representatives of the younger generation as “nihilists” and to equate them with the types of Sitnikov and Kukshina, the important distinction between these two types soon became a commonplace of literary criticism. Tseitlin, for example, observes that nihilism as a phenomenon of social life was characterized by a variety of forms. Alongside the “idealistic, radical raznochintsy, as it usually happens, there 764 See Tseitlin, "Siuzhetika antinigilisticheskogo romana," Sorokin, "Antinigilisticheskii roman," Moser, Antinihilism in the Russian Novel of the 1860’s . 304 were a lot of those who attached themselves to the movement” (“примазавшиеся”). Tseitlin says that the “nihilists consisted not only of Bazarovs but also of Sitnikovs, and the latter group was considerably more numerous than the former.” 765 As Valery Terekhin observes, “immediately after the publication of What Is To Be Done and Fathers and Sons, critics of the radicaldemocratic camp tried to draw a polarized distinction between the literary types of nihilists who became the symbols of the raznochintsy generation and their caricatured reflections in real life (Sitnikov, Kukshina).”766 The need to immediately draw this dividing line was felt by the radicals already in 1862, when even a reviewer from the Library for Reading could see some unsettling parallels. This reviewer claimed that “Chernyshevsky and Nekrasov, with all their staff, as well as V. and N. Kurochkins, constitute that part of society which Turgenev presented, very faithfully indeed, in his Sitnikov.” 767 Simultaneously, to spite the Contemporary768 and to correct its critical blunder, in his 1863 review of Pisemsky’s The Troubled Sea, Varfolomei Zaitsev made a distinction: “Mr. Turgenev understands the youth; that is why his Bazarov is a living being. And you, Mr. Pisemsky, can only manage to produce Baklanovs and Varegins; otherwise, you will always be deceived by lackeys and fools pretending to be Bazarovs, whom 765 “Явление это [нигилизм] отличалось чрезвычайным разнообразием форм, обилием разновидностей. Наряду с идейными, радикально настроенными разночинцами, в популярном общественном движении, как это обычно бывает, числилось немало ‘примазавшихся.’ В нигилистах состояли не только Базаровы, но и Ситниковы, вторая категория была куда многочисленнее первой.” Tseitlin, "Siuzhetika antinigilisticheskogo romana," p. 66. 766 “[C]разу после выхода в свет романов ‘Что делать?’ и ‘Отцы и дети’ критика радикальнодемократического лагеря общества постаралась развести по разным полюсам художественные типы литературного нигилизма (Базаров, Рахметов), превратившиеся в символы поколения разночинцев, и их карикатурное отражение в реальной жизни (Ситников, Кукшина).” Terekhin, "Protiv techenii": utaennye russkie pisateli: tipologiia "antinigilisticheskogo" romana , p. 50. 767 “Чернышевский и Некрасов со всеми своими сотрудниками, В. и Н. Курочкины, представляют ту часть общества, которую Тургенев действительно очень верно олицетворил в своем Ситникове.” "/Review of Fathers and Sons/," Biblioteka dlia chteniia May (1862), p. 192. Vasily Kurochkin and Nikolay Kurochkin were radical journalists, the editors of the satirical Spark who also collaborated in other radical journals and publications. 768 This was the time of the important polemic between the Contemporary and the Russian Word known as “the schism among the radicals.” 305 Turgenev presented so well in his Sitnikov.” 769 Later critics further differentiate the types of Bazarov and Sitnikov. Konstantin Golovin observed in his history of the Russian novel: “[Bazarov is] a nihilist who is not timid in the face of anything, [he is] only a nihilist in the sphere of the mind; he does not resemble in any way the throng of long-haired youth whom he passed his name to.”770 This difference between Bazarov and Sitnikov later became a cliché in Soviet criticism, an example of which is L.A. Irsetskaya’s analysis: “There is nothing in common between the nihilism of Bazarov and that of Sitnikov and Kukshina. Bazarov is a worker, a man dedicated to medicine who is able to experience deep feelings. Kukshina and Sitnikov are, in their nature, worthless and squalid. Their nihilism is that of worthless people who falsely imagine themselves to be the creators of a new society.” 771 One key word applies to all variations of the Sitnikov type in literature: superficiality. The superficial following of the nihilist fashion was such a widespread phenomenon that even the radical writers were disturbed by it. It is true that “flotsam attached to the radical movement” (to use the translation of Charles Moser), that various pseudo-liberals and pseudo-democrats were a favorite subject for ridicule, exposure and satire in radical journals and leaflets like the Whistle and the Spark. 772 In his unfinished novel A Good Man, Sleptsov portrayed the superficial 769 “Г. Тургенев знает молодежь: оттого его Базаров – живой человек. А вам, г. Писемский, могут удасться только Баклановы и Верегины, иначе вас всегда будут обманывать лакеи и шуты, корчащие Базарова, которых так удачно представил г. Тургенев же в лице Ситникова.” Zaitsev, "Vzbalamuchennyi romanist," p. 42. 770 “Базаров [...] ни перед чем не робеющий нигилист, [...] только нигилист в чисто умственной сфере, ничуть не похожий на то сонмище длинноволосых юношей, которым он передал свою кличку.” Golovin, Russkii roman i russkoe obshchestvo , p. 295. 771 “Hигилизм Базарова и нигилизм Ситникова и Кукшиной по сути своей не имеют ничего общего. Базаров – труженик; человек, преданный медицине, способный глубоко чувствовать. Кукшина и Ситников ничтожны и убоги по сути своей. Их нигилизм – это нигилизм ничтожных дюдей, возомнивших себя создателями нового общества.” L. A. Irsetskaia, "I.S. Turgenev i N.I. Nadezhdin o nigilizme," Turgenevskii sbornik 1 (1998), p. 28. 772 Moser, Antinihilism in the Russian Novel of the 1860’s , p. 17. 306 brand of nihilism in a character named Sapozhnikov, who is a variation on the Sitnikov type. For the duration of two years after his return to Petersburg from “liberal Switzerland,” Sapozhnikov, while remaining an empty and vain person, manages to carefully preserve his external attributes of nihilist fashion: a velvet jacket, a small hat, and a plaid.773 Other democratic writers also attempted a more in-depth analysis of the Sitnikov phenomenon. Saltykov-Shchedrin gave an eloquent expression of the radical party’s position of on the problem of various “Sitnikovs.” His argument was expressed in a feuilleton from the series “Our Social Life” (“Наша общественная жизнь”) in March of 1864: People, completely alien to the spirit of each popular societal movement, inevitably attach themselves to it and take up its superficial side. Bringing these superficial characteristics to a degree of absurdness, to a caricature, using the popular social movement in the interests of their selfishness, career or even, in the interests of much baser profits, these individuals only debase the movement and cause it deep harm.774 773 “Спустя два года по приезде в Петербург, он все еще имел вид человека, только что откуда-то приехавшего и опять в скором времени куда-то уезжающего: на нем был тот же бархатный пиджак, в которoм он лазил по горам Швейцарии, та же маленькая шелковая шляпа и тот же плед, в который он умел драпироваться на разные манеры и из которого зимою делал даже что-то вроде шинели.” L. A. Evstigneeva, ""Khoroshii chelovek": pervonachal'naia redaktsiia," Vasilii Sleptsov: neizvestnye stranitsy, vol. 71 (Moscow: Izdatel'stvo Akademii nauk SSSR, 1963), p. 46. 774 “[K]о всякому популярному общественному течению неизбежно примазываются люди, совершенно чуждые его духу, но ухватившие его внешность. Доводя эти внешние признаки до абсурда, до карикатуры, пользуясь популярным общественным движением в интересах личного самолюбия, карьеры или еще более низменных выгод такие личности только опошляют движение и приносят ему глубокий вред.” Further, Saltykov-Shchedrin also refers to the superficial adherents of nihilist ideas as the “lop-eared” (“вислоухиe”) who “most of all contribute to the misleading of the public” (“всего более содействуют заблуждению публики”) and who, “with vulgar bravado, attach themselves to the cause which is supported by the younger generation, and, having appropriated only the superficial features of that cause, sincerely preach that all the strength of the cause lies in these features.” (“[C] ухарской развязностью прикомандировывают себя к делу, делаемому молодым поколением, и, схватив одни наружные признаки этого дела, совершенно искренно исповедуют, что в них-то вся и сила.”) Saltykov-Shchedrin writes further, “these people consider themselves to be the exclusive representatives of the younger generation, forgetting that filth is a phenomenon, common to all centuries and countries, and that it is completely unjust and impermissible to impose it exclusively onto the contemporary Russian younger generation.” (“Эти люди считают себя какими-то сугубыми представителями молодого поколения, забывая, что дрянь есть явление общее всем векам и странам и что совершенно несправедливо и даже непозволительно навязывать ее исключительно современному русскому молодому поколению.”) SaltykovSchchedrin, "Nasha obshchestvennaia zhizn' 1863-1864: stat'i: Mart 1864 goda," p. 321-323. 307 Saltykov-Shchedrin’s approach dominated throughout the 19th-century tradition of progressive criticism and was echoed in 1920 by Vetrinsky who, essentially, repeated it when he argued that “a sediment” was attracted to nihilism because it was truly a popular, “grassroots” movement: As any grassroots movement, nihilism attracted to itself a huge amount of various sediment, and such parodies of Bazarov as Sitnikov and Kukshina began, in reality, to push into the background the ideological content of this movement. And true, there existed in life the superficial Fronde in appearance, a Fronde of untidiness, dirty colors, unclean nails, and so on; uncut hair on men and cropped hair on women etc., and this seemed so important that the menacing “orders” written by Governor Generals turned against “the nihilist costume” as a sign of the revolutionary way of thinking.775 Later, however, Soviet criticism did not support the idea that the ‘“scum” of nihilism, the “lopeared,” “the fools in nihilism” (or, the Sitnikov type) appeared as a “grassroots” phenomenon. For critics like Bazanov, these were just individual distortions of the ideals of the progressive youth and the real problem lay, instead, with the writers (retrogrades) who generalized these “exceptions” and consciously propagated them as typical portrayals of “revolutionary democrats.”776 In other words, Soviet critics of antinihilist novels argued that the Sitnikov type 775 “Нигилизм привлек к себе, как всякое течение, идущее из низов, великое множество всякой мути, и пародии Базарова – вроде Ситникова и Кукшиной – стали заслонять собою в жизни идейное содержание этого течения. Действительно, существовала в жизни поверхностная фронда внешностью, фронда неряшливости, грязных воротничков, нечищенных ногтей и пр., нестриженных волос у мужчин и стриженных у женщин и т.п. и это казалось даже столь важным, что грозные циркуляры генералгубернаторов ополчились на ‘нигилистические костюмы,’ как признак революционного образа мыслей.” Vetrinskii, "Literaturnoe i kriticheskoe dvizhenie shestidesiatykh godov," p. 116. 776 “Изображая накипь ‘нигилизма,’ ‘вислоухих’ и ‘юродствующих’ среди молодого поколения, романистыохранители обобщали этот образ, придавали ему всеобщее значение, под этот тип они сознательно стремились подвести революционных демократов.” Bazanov, Iz literaturnoi polemiki 60-kh godov , p. 57. The stereotypical and simplified nature of this opinion can be curiously revealed through a consideration of a passage from Konstantin Golovin’s History of the Russian Novel. Here, Bazanov’s opinion repeats almost verbatim the words of the conservative writer and literary critic, Golovin. Golovin, the creator of several nihilists, including the textbook example of the demonic nihilist Neradovich from the 1882 novel Out of a Rut (Вне колеи), dismisses Leskov’s novel No Way Out on the basis of the presence of the caricatural images of Russian revolutionaries. He writes, “There were, of course, some abnormalities among the younger generation of the 1860s as well as some comical sides, but one thing one could not take away from them – at least from the majority of them – the sincerity of their impulses and selflessness of their motives, and, if there emerged in their environment, not only badly deformed people but also vicious and base people – but where would you not find such people, what environment is free of them? (“Уродливостей было, конечно, много у шестидесятников, и комичного тоже, но одного у них отнять нельзя, – нельзя, по крайней мере у большинства, – искренности порыва и бескорыстия мотивов, и 308 was not prominent in reality and that it was created by writers of antinihilist novels in order to defame the progressive movement. Leskov, in his turn, was fully invested in portraying the type of Russian pseudo-liberals. He searched for the “scum” of nihilism in the world of Petersburg and Moscow belles-lettres. He knew that that he could find Sitnikovs among Russian pseudo-liberals in those circles. He then represented them and their infatuation with fashionable ideas (which he called “a deliberate cultivation of the civil wound”) in graphic and recognizable form in his novel. Superficial adherence to progressive ideas makes the nihilism in Leskov’s negative characters appear rootless, empty, pretentious, “artificial, illusory, and farcical.” 777 Doctor Rozanov, one of the positive characters in No Way Out (and the closest one to the author), perceives the infatuation with progressive ideas as something artificial and remarks sarcastically that “so many selfless people as have suddenly appeared at this time do not even get born at once.” 778 Analyzing Leskov’s criticism of the liberals who crowd the Moscow salon of Marquise de Baral 779 and who show off their progressive ideas in the provinces, Stoliarova notices that Leskov points out the “lack of moral fiber” of these people, “the emptiness, rootlessness and pretentiousness” of their “fashionable” phrases.780 Ultimately, the bravado of their liberalism is superficial while their если в среде их попадались не только изуродованные, но прямо порочные, низкие личности, то где же таких личностей не отыщется, какая среда от них свободна?”). Golovin, Russkii roman i russkoe obshchestvo , p. 382. 777 I. V. Stoliarova, "Roman-khronika Leskova," Istoriia russkogo romana (Moscow-Leningrad: Nauka, 1964), p. 68. 778 “Самоотверженных людей столько сразу не родится, сколько их вдруг откликнулось в это время.” Leskov, "Nekuda: roman v trekh knizhkakh," vol. 2, p. 464. 779 A fictional character modeled on Countess Elizaveta Salias-de-Turnemir (Evgeniia Tur, penname) whose Moscow salon Leskov frequented during the time of his own involvement with the radical ideas. He satirically described the Countess and her salon in No Way Out. 780 Stoliarova, "Povest' "Ovtsebyk". Roman 'Nekuda,'" p. 67. 309 consistent attempts to secure their careers and marry rich brides are real (behaviors satirized especially in the image of Viazmitinov, the future husband of Jennie Glovatskaya). Seeking an answer to the question when and why the Sitnikov type appears in society, Leskov felt that the key lay in the nature of the time itself. According to Leskov, the “comical, troubled and original times” of 1863-1864 brought all that “sediment” to the surface.781 In Demons, Dostoevsky expresses a similar idea: Always and everywhere, in a troubled time of hesitation or transition, various trashy sorts appear. … I am speaking only of scum. This scum, which exists in every society, rises to the surface in any transitional time, and not only has no goal, but has not even an inkling of an idea, and itself mere expresses anxiety and impatience with all its might. And yet this scum, without knowing it, almost always falls under the command of that small group of the “vanguard” which acts with a definite goal, and which directs all that rabble wherever it pleases, provided it does not consist of perfect idiots itself – which, incidentally, also happens.782 So, it is the time itself that creates the conditions under which the “scum” comes to the surface and attaches itself to the movement. As to the answer to the question why the Sitnikov type attaches so easily and naturally to the progressive movement, Leskov thought that these people were moved and directed by their superficiality, “their petty egoism and ambition, their moral and spiritual retardation and primitivism” and not by any “need that appeared in society to look 781 782 “[Б]еспокойное и оригинальное время” in Leskov, "Zagadochnyi chelovek: istinnoe sobytie," p. 279. F. M. Dostoevsky, Demons: A Novel in Three Parts, trans. Richard Pevear and Larissa Volokhonsky (New York: Vintage Books, 1995), p. 461-462. / “В смутное время колебания или перехода всегда и везде появляются людишки... я говорю лишь про сволочь. Во всякое переходное время поднимается эта сволочь, которая есть в каждом обществе, и уже не только безо всякой цели, но даже не имея и признака мысли, а лишь выражая собою изо всех сил беспокойство и нетерпение. Между тем эта сволочь, сама не зная того, почти всегда подпадает под команду той малой кучки ‘передовых,’ которые действуют с определенной целью, и та направляет весь этот сор куда ей угодно, если только сама не состоит из совершенных идиотов, что, впрочем, тоже случается.” F. M. Dostoevsky, Besy, Polnoe sobranie sochinenii v tridtsati tomakh, vol. 10, 30 vols. (Leningrad: Nauka, 1974), p. 354. 310 for more humane forms of social and personal life.”783 Leskov’s answer, however, arouses further questions. Lev Anninsky argues that Leskov, in spite of his life-long attempts to solve the problem of “bad” nihilists, “never knew or understood real nihilism.” “Had he understood it,” continues Anninsky, “he would not have been happy. If he had not gotten bogged down with the procedural question of separating the sheep from the goats… he would have had to address a more substantive issue: why does it constantly happen that various rabid curs and rowdies cling to nihilism?”784 Anninsky suggests that perhaps nihilist ideas themselves possessed that rotten element that attracted the “rabid curs and the rowdies.” But while Leskov might not have been able to perceive fully the existence of the rotten core inside nihilism, his inquiry into the nature and reasons for superficial adherence to progressive ideas led to other important conclusions. For example, as the commentators of the latest edition of No Way Out claim, he understood the dangers that “vulgarized ideology of the new men” possessed for public morale. 785 Indeed, in Russian society, the superficial form of nihilist ideas – fashion, idiom, norms of behavior – was appropriated with alarming rapidity. Therefore, it is not accidental that, in literature as well, 783 “Не общественная потребность в поиске гуманных форм социальной и семейно-личной жизни, но мелочное самолюбие и честолюбие, нравственная и духовная неразвитость или примитивность двигали и руководили ими.” Leskov, "Nekuda: roman v trekh knizhkakh, 1864," Commentary, p. 701. 784 “Он искренне думал так... Но мы [...] все-таки должны признать сегодня, что он, увы, ошибался. Он не знал ‘настоящих нигилистов.’ Ни через десять лет, когда изображал в качестве положительного нигилиста пресно-добродетельного майора Форова из романа ‘На ножах.’ Ни в конце жизни, когда писал о ‘превосходных людях освободительной поры,’ которым ‘мешали Болоярцевы.’ Лесков никогда не узнал и не понял настоящего нигилизма. А если бы он его понял, это вряд ли доставило бы ему радость. Если бы он не застрял на процедурном вопросе отделения овец от козлищ, то есть ‘настоящих нигилистов’ от ‘шальных шавок’ и ‘архаровцев,’ ему бы пришлось отвечать на вопос более существенный: откуда, в самом деле, напасть такая, что вечно липнут к нигилизму ‘шавки’ и ‘архаровцы’? А вдруг в самой структуре нигилистических идей есть что-то ‘архаровцам’ сподручное?” Anninskii, Tri eretika , p. 249. 785 “Среди тематически близких ему произведений 60-70-х гг. лесковский роман был первым, где значительное место было отведено анализу вульгаризированной идеологии новых людей, прежде всего ее нравственно-этической грани, ввиду особой опасности последней для массового сознания.” Leskov, "Nekuda: roman v trekh knizhkakh, 1864," Commentary, p. 702. 311 various Sitnikovs and Kukshinas are shown to imitate to the letter Chernyshevsky’s recommendations about marriage and family. It is interesting that more complex characters are less frequently depicted in this manner. In Leskov’s No Way Out, for example, it is a simple young provincial girl Agatha (and not the main heroine Liza Bakhareva) who falls victim to the Social Darwinist ideas about free love expressed by a “bad nihilist,” Krasin. In Avenarius’s The Plague (Поветрие, 1867), it is not the main heroine Nadenka Lipetskaya, but the simple and dissolute wife of Kunitsyn who uses What Is To Be Done as justification for leaving her husband for a lover: “He is Kirsanov, you are Lopukhov, and I am Vera Pavlovna… Am I to blame that you failed to diversify yourself?” 786 In Krestovsky’s Panurge’s Herd, Poloyarov uses the arsenal of nihilist verbal clichés to justify himself in the eyes of the young woman whom he seduced and is about to leave: “People like me… are like ascetics. When it comes to the idea, there is no father or mother, no house, no lover, no money – you sacrifice everything, you negate everything.”787 Nihilist ideas not only spread rapidly but they quickly became accepted even in respected society. In No Way Out, Leskov shows how Arapov and Bychkov, two scoundrels obsessed by the thirst for violence and blood, become fully accepted in liberal and progressive circles of Moscow and Petersburg. Visiting the Moscow salon of Marquise de Baral, Leskov’s alter-ego, Doctor Rozanov, is shocked to see that Arapov is well received by the Marquise and her guests. Arapov swears in a frenzy “with foam at his mouth, clenched fists and sparks of implacable 786 “Он – Кирсанов, ты – Лопухов, я – Вера Павловна... виновата ли я, что ты не умел разнообразить себя?” Avenarius, "Povetrie: Peterburgskaia povest'," vol. 3, pp. 601-602. 787 “Наш брат [...] это тот же аскет: там, где дело идеи, там нет ни отца с матерью, ни дома, ни любовницы, ни капитала: всем жертвуешь, все отвергаешь!” Krestovskii, "Krovavyi puf: romany: Panurgovo stado i Dve sily," p. 52. 312 hatred in his eyes,”788 displays indifference to human life and an obsession with revolutionary fire. Another “bad nihilist” who is welcomed by the Marquise, Bychkov, is obsessed with “blood,” a trait that does not arouse indignation and is seen only as a minor excess of his progressive ideas. Only Rozanov seems disturbed by Bychkov’s promise “to flood Russia with blood, to knife everything that has pockets sown unto its pants. Make it five hundred thousand; make it a million, five million. Who cares about these numbers? We need to slaughter five million so that fifty-five million will live and be happy!” 789 Bychkov’s speeches are accompanied with a beastly appearance: the expression of his face “reminded one, with repulsive faithfulness, of the muzzle of a borzoi who is licking the blood-stained mouth of a young fallow deer.”790 9. Nikolai Strakhov and Some Aspects of His Critique of Nihilism Leskov was not alone in trying to understand the dark side of nihilism. The most influential voice in this discourse belonged to Nikolai Strakhov, who became the most powerful critic of nihilism in 19 th-century journalism. Strakhov (1828-1896) was a philosopher, journalist, literary critic and a friend of Fyodor Dostoevsky, in whose journals Time and Epoch he worked in the early 1860s. In his articles, published in the 1860s-1870s, Strakhov mounted a comprehensive philosophical and intellectual critique of nihilism. 791 Here follow some of the 788 “[C] пеною у рта, сo сжатыми кулаками и с искрами неумолимой мести в глазах...” Leskov, "Nekuda: roman v trekh knizhkakh," p. 257. 789 “Залить кровью Россию, перерезать все, что к штанам карман пришило. Ну, пятьсот тысяч, ну, миллион, ну, пять миллионов, – Ну что ж такое? Пять миллионов вырезать, зато пятьдесят пять останется и будут счастливы.” Ibid , p. 301. 790 “[Eго лицо] до отвращения верно напоминало морду борзой собаки, лижущей в окровавленные уста молодую лань.” Ibid , p. 307-308. 791 See Strakhov, Iz istorii literaturnogo nigilizma, 1861-1865: Pis'ma N. Kositsy, Zametki Letopistsa i pr. 313 elements of this critique that explain why nihilism had such a grip on Russian society of the early 1860s. Claiming that “nihilism is a phenomenon of our intellectual life that consists of a great deal of ugliness,”792 Strakhov proceeded to analyze and expose the nature and the root causes of this ugliness as well as the reasons for its grip on society. Strakhov drew attention to the fact that people who imposed themselves on society as “the representatives of new wisdom that ought to change the entire world” were very young, inexperienced and immature: [Society] was terrorized by worthless and unworthy people, by lice and mould [тля и гниль]. These lice and mould were characterized by their practice of “senselessness and insanity,” or so-called nihilism. Taking themselves for, and being taken for, “the heralds of the new wisdom that would change the entire world,” and for “revolutionary elements,” they were also characterized by the fact they were boys, even twelve-year olds, in other words, minors, ignorant students, that is, they were young and immature people.793 Well-educated in European philosophy, Strakhov pointed out that the nihilists’ pride in their “intellect and knowledge, in some sort of ‘correct’ notions and sensible views which our time has allegedly reached,” did not stand up to criticism. Their wisdom, he argued, did not “constitute anything important, deep or complicated. Mostly, it was a type of the crudest and most senseless materialism, that is a simple theory that demands very little understanding and provides very 792 “Нигилизм есть явление нашей умственной жизни, представляющее великое множество безобразий.” N. N. Strakhov, Biednost' nashei literatury: kriticheskii i istoricheskii ocherk (St. Petersburg: V tipografii N. Nekliudova, 1868), p. 45. 793 “Пугали [общество]... люди ничтожные и недостойные, пугали тля и гниль. Эта тля и гниль характеризуется, во-первых, тем, что она исповедывала ‘нелепости и безумства,’ или так называемый нигилизм, что она принимала себя и была принимаема другими за ‘представителей новой мудрости, долженствующей преобразить целый мир’; что она представляла собой революционные элементы; вовторых, она характеризуется тем, что состояла из мальчишек, даже из двенадцатилетних мальчишек, или воспитанников, невежественных студентов, т. е. вообще из молодежи, из людей незрелых.” Strakhov, Iz istorii literaturnogo nigilizma, 1861-1865: Pis'ma N. Kositsy, Zametki Letopistsa i pr. p. 194-195. 314 little food for thought. It is accessible to the most undeveloped and ignorant minds.” 794 In the ease with which this so-called wisdom can be acquired, Strakhov saw the explanation of the problem why the “lice and mold” so easily attach themselves to this popular movement. Therefore, according to Strakhov, nihilism is a philosophically unsophisticated system that can be easily acquired by the untrained and underdeveloped minds of Russia’s youth. Strakhov’s analysis also reveals that nihilism’s contagiousness and the ease of its penetration into all spheres of Russian society has another root cause in the universal Russian semieducatedness. Strakhov writes, “Russia is a country in which, more than any other country, semieducation reigns.”795 In these circumstances, Strakhov considers the position held by contemporary journals, especially the radicals ones, most inexcusable. In particular, the Contemporary, Strakhov says, not only does not combat semi-education among its readers; it breeds and propagates it: Nowadays, our literature is exceedingly fantastic. The Contemporary reminds me of some fairy-tale fabled world in which great miracles are performed. In this world, either Chernyshevsky or some other knight like the new Prince Bova can perform thousands of heroic exploits. He whistles – and dozens of scientists are destroyed; he strikes with his pen – and a whole science disappears or the entire history of some country is swept away like dust. But this can happen only in the fantastic world of the Contemporary because if you look around, you’ll see that, in the real world, both the scientists and the sciences are safe and sound and continue to do their job.796 794 “Коренная черта нигилизма есть гордость своим умом и просвещением, какими-то правильными понятиями и разумными взглядами, до которых наконец-то достигло, будто бы, наше время. Никак нельзя сказать, однако же, чтобы мудрость, исповедуемая этими мудрецами, представляла что-нибудь важное, глубокое, трудное. Большею частию это грубейший и бестолковейший материализм, учение столь простое, так мало требующее ума и дающее пищи уму, что оно доступно самым неразвитым и несведущим людям.” Ibid , pp. 76-77. 795 796 “Россия есть страна, в которой больше, чем где-нибудь, господствует полуобразование.” Ibid , p 204. “В действительности, наша литература чрезвычайно фантастична. ‘Современник’ часто напоминает мне какой-то сказочный, баснословный мир, в котором совершаются большие чудеса. Чернышевский или другой рыцарь, как новый Бова-королевич, делает в этом мире тысячи богатырских подвигов. Он свистнет – и десятки ученых уничтожены; махнет пером – смотришь, какой-нибудь науки как не бывало, или история целого народа – развеяна прахом. Но все это так кажется нам только в фантастическом мире ‘Современника.’ Если же оглядеться кругом в действительности, то окажется, что и ученые, и науки, и 315 The mock-heroic exploits of Chernyshevsky and Dobrolyubov create the magical atmosphere around the Contemporary as a result of two fundamental characteristics of Russian society of the 1860s: the public’s inability to think independently and the exceeding popularity of popularized knowledge. The first was the result of the stifling intellectual atmosphere of the oppressive years of Nicholas’s rule. This phenomenon was observed and commented on even by Pisemsky. In The Troubled Sea, describing and explaining the agitation in Russia after the Crimean War, Pisemsky wrote: “In a society not accustomed to independent thinking, following the slavish obedience to authority and tradition, the beginning of a similar form of forcible and instinctive submission to new ideas was becoming apparent.”797 Thick journals and, especially, the Contemporary, had undoubtedly contributed immensely to the growth of popularity of learning and sciences in Russia, contributing to the creation of Sunday Schools, the growth of elementary education among peasants (largely due to the efforts of Russian youth who went to villages to work as country teachers in the 1870s-1880s), the opening of university education and scientific careers to women, and so on. However, popular scientific articles that filled the pages of Russia’s thick journals also did the sciences disservice by making them appear easy, sensational, and accessible to all. As Strakhov writes, “[our age] is crazy about popularization of knowledge, about transmitting already arrived-at results, ‘the latest words’ of science; it invents less thorough and simplified ways of teaching, as if the laboring of thought, the serious work of the mind is the most pernicious thing in the world, as if the whole purpose of education is to prepare as many of those light-minded chatterboxes who repeat the trendiest scientific terms but история здравы и невредимы и продолжают делать свое дело.” N. N. Strakhov, "Pis'mo k redaktoru 'Vremeni'," Vremia May (1861), p. 21. 797 “[B] обществе, не привыкшем к самомышлению, явно уже начиналось, после рабского повиновения властям и преданиям, такое же насильственное и безотчетное подчинение модным идейкам.” Pisemskii, Vzbalamuchennoe more: roman v shesti chastiakh, p. 382. 316 who are alien to the true scientific spirit as possible.”798 For Strakhov, mental laziness and the false self-assuredness of one’s scientific talents are the natural results of semi-education promoted by popularized knowledge in journals like the Contemporary. Moreover, it is a quality of Chernyshevsky’s own knowledge as well. Strakhov cites a journalist from the newspaper Moscow (Москва) who referred to works by Chernyshevsky as “undercooked leftover scraps of somebody else’s thoughts.”799 Strakhov was especially annoyed not by the contents of the thoughts expressed by Chernyshevsky and the radical journalists of the Contemporary, but by their “strange absence of logic, the crippled thought process by which they arrived at their conclusions,” “the emptiness and the vacillation of their minds,” and the rootlessness of their education.800 For other observers of the “comical times,” like the censor and professor Nikitenko, realist aesthetics and popular materialistic knowledge were not as dangerous in themselves as the resulting self-assuredness, smugness and intolerance in the minds of the young adepts of nihilism. In his diary of 1858, Nikitenko wrote of the tyranny of thought that he observed in radical circles: With their total denial and despotism, today’s extreme liberals are almost frightful. They are, essentially, the same despots, only turned inside out: they possess the same egoism and the same intolerance as the ultra-conservatives. Truly, what freedom do they defend? Believe them at their word and express a desire to be free. Start with the greatest, most legitimate, most desired freedom for 798 “[Наш век] помешан на популяризации знаний, на сообщении готовых результатов, последних слов науки; он придумывает всякие облегченные и упрощенные способы обучения, как будто труд мысли, серьезная работа ума есть зловреднейшая вещь в мире, как будто вся задача образования – приготовить как можно больше легкомысленных болтунов, твердящих самые модные научные слова, но совершенно чуждых настоящего научного духа.” Strakhov, Iz istorii literaturnogo nigilizma, 1861-1865: Pis'ma N. Kositsy, Zametki Letopistsa i pr., p. 102. 799 “[H]едоваренные объедки чужих мыслей.” Moskva, 1867, No. 97, quoted in Strakhov, Biednost' nashei literatury: kriticheskii i istoricheskii ocherk , p. 5. 800 “[Б]ольше всего меня занимала не дикость и бессмысленность высказываемых мнений, а та странная нелогичность, которая к ним приводила, тот уродливый ход мыслей, который их порождал. В огромных размерах обнаружилась у нас пустота и зыбкость умов.” Strakhov, Iz istorii literaturnogo nigilizma, 1861-1865: Pis'ma N. Kositsy, Zametki Letopistsa i pr., p. xi. 317 a man, without which any other freedom does not make sense – the freedom of opinion. You will see what horror will result from this, how they will all rush at you for the slightest disagreement, what anathema you’ll become to them, and how they will try to prove that all freedom consists in the blind submission to them in their doctrine.”801 The intellectual critique of nihilism voiced by Strakhov was, undoubtedly, informed not only by the critical and pseudo-scientific writings of the contributors to the Contemporary but also by more artistic representations of the ills of popular contemporary ideas in the works of Pisemsky, Leskov and, of course, Dostoevsky, in whose journals Strakhov published his articles. In their turn, Strakhov’s ideas influenced these writers and their later works. 10. Kliushnikov’s Mirage and the Creation of the Conservative Positive Hero The story of Mirage (Марево), the “third sally” in the “antinihilist campaign,” is, undoubtedly, the most unusual of the three. Characterized by critics as “a novel just as helpless as it is sincere,”802 Mirage was immediately perceived to be a representative voice of a new literary direction that nobody (including the author) knew existed. A novel by a literary debutant, Victor Kliushnikov,803 Mirage was published in the first three volumes of the Russian Messenger in 801 “Нынешние крайние либералы со своим повальным отрицанием и деспотизмом просто страшны. Они, в сущности, те же деспоты, только навыворот: в них тот же эгоизм и та же нетерпимость, как и в ультраконсерваторах. На самом деле: какой свободы являются они поборниками? Поверьте им на слово: возымейте, в вашу очередь, желание быть свободными. Начните со свободы самой великой, самой законной, самой вожделенной для человека, без которой всякая другая не имеет смысла, – свободы мнений. Посмотрите, какой ужас из этого произойдет, как они на вас накинутся за малейшее разногласие, какой анафеме предадут, доказывая что вся свобода в безусловном и слепом повиновении им в их доктрине.” Nikitenko, Dnevnik, vol. 2, p. 35. 802 803 Anninskii, Tri eretika, p. 254. Not much is written about Victor Kliushnikov (1841-1892) who was a minor writer and a journalist. After Mirage, Kliushnikov wrote some other polemical novels, including Big Ships (Большие корабли), 1866, and Not a Mirage (Не-Марево), 1871 which went largely unnoticed. In the 1870s, he wrote fiction for young readers. In 18701892, intermittently, Kliushnikov edited the journal Field (Нива). See P. V. Bykov, "V. P. Kliushnikov," Vsemirnaia illustratsiia.1244 (1892), pp. 405-06; D. Pisarev, "Serditoe bessilie," Polnoe sobranie sochinenii i pisem v 12 tomakh. vol. 7: Stat'i 1865 (ianvar'-avgust). Moscow: Nauka, 2003. 101-33; M. E. Saltykov-Schchedrin, 'Tsygane': Roman v trekh chastiakh. Soch. V. Kliushnikova. SPb. 1871, Sobranie sochinenii v dvadtsati tomakh, ed. S. A. Makashin, vol. 9: Kritika i publitsistika (1868-1883), 20 vols. (Moscow: Khudozhestvennaia literatura, 1970); "V. P. Kliushnikov," Russkie pisateli: Biobibliograficheskii slovar', ed. P. A. Nikolaev, vol. 1: A-L (Moscow: Prosveshchenie, 1990); Terras, ed., Handbook of Russian Literature, p. 228. 318 1864. As it happened, at the same time, Leskov’s No Way Out was being serialized in the Library for Reading (Nos. 1-5, 7, 8, 9-12). Therefore, although Kliushnikov and Leskov did not know each other (and neither of them was friends with Pisemsky), their novels were read as parts of the same narrative. Just like the names of Leskov’s and Kliushnikov’s protagonists which inexplicably sounded essentially the same – Rozanov in No Way Out and Rusanov in Mirage – the names of the authors also became forever intertwined. For the critics and for the Russian public, No Way Out and Mirage merged into one literary phenomenon. Even several years after the publication of both novels, critical articles which mention one of the writers do not fail to mention the other one in close proximity. For example, Saltykov-Shchedrin’s review of Kliushnikov’s later historical novel, The Gypsies, has the following digression: “had the respectful author [Kliushnikov] not abandoned his direction, he might not only have avoided losing the race to Mr. Stebnitsky but might have even surpassed him.”804 In the last two sections of this chapter, I will also look at the image of Rusanov as a variation of Leskov’s Rozanov but, more importantly, I will explore differences between them and point out Kliushnikov’s contributions to the search for the positive hero in the novels of the 1860s-1870s. Additionally, I will examine the main theme of Mirage, the Polish uprising of 1863, and analyze Kliushnikov’s role in the creation of the motif of the Polish plot in Russian literature. The story of Victor Kliushnikov’s life represents, much like the story of Pisemsky and his Baklanov, a “parallel world” of the entire generation. Kliushnikov was born in 1841 in the city of Kzhatsk (Smolensk province) to a noble family. Having graduated from the mathematics and physics department of Moscow University in 1861, he started working as a math teacher. Two 804 “[H]е откажись почтенный автор от направления, он, быть может, не только не уступил бы г. Стебницкому, но и сокрушил бы выю его.” Saltykov-Schchedrin, 'Tsygane': Roman v trekh chastiakh. Soch. V. Kliushnikova. SPb. 1871, p. 428. See also Golovin, Russkii roman i russkoe obshchestvo, p. 375. 319 years later, he wrote Mirage. By any logic, the 23-year-old Kliushnikov, who studied natural sciences (seen as the most popular and progressive discipline) in Russia’s major university, graduated in the year of major student disturbances, went to work to educate Russian children, and wrote a novel in which he “wanted to talk talk with the public about the problems of his generation,” would have more insight into the problems faced by the younger generation than either Turgenev, Chernyshevsky, Leskov or Pisemsky. 805 Instead, precisely the voices of that younger generation, represented by its leading critics – Dmitry Pisarev, Varfolomei Zaitsev and Mikhail Saltykov-Shchedrin – categorically denied Kliushnikov the right to speak on behalf of his generation. One of the “authorities” in the progressive camp, Zaitsev, referred to Kliushnikov as “one gentleman, specifically, Kliushnikov,” denying him any significance, including even the right to a name. 806 Pisarev, in “the most insulting literary review” he had ever written, 807 referred to the novel and its author in the same manner: “if you permit me so to say – Mr. Kliushnikov” and “if you permit me to call it so – the novel Mirage.”808 Pisarev compares Kliushnikov’s novel with “doodles drawn by a five-year-old child,” “trash,” “an inexhaustible 805 Anninskii, Tri eretika, p. 254. 806 Varfolomei Zaitsev, in an installment of (“The pearls and adamants of Russian journalism” (“Перлы и адаманты русской журналистики”) in the Russian Word, calls Mirage: “the creation by one gentleman, specifically, Kliushnikov” (“произведение одного господина, а именно Клюшникова”). See this article quoted in Ibid , p. 255. 807 In a letter to Blagosvetlov from February 8, 1865, Pisarev writes: “My article about Mirage is almost ready. It has a most explicit political intent and it will deal Kliushnikov and Katkov most insidious blows from the side where no censorship can protect them… I have never written such an insulting review.” (“Статья о ‘Мареве’ почти готова. Она написана чрезвычайно политично и наносит Клюшникову и Каткову коварнейшие удары с той стороны, с которой их не защитит никакая цензура... Я никогда еще не писал такой оскорбительной рецензии.”) From the commentary to D. I. Pisarev, "Serditoe bessilie," Polnoe sobranie sochinenii i pisem v 12 tomakh (Moscow: Nauka, 2003), vol. 7: Stat'i 1865 (ianvar'-avgust), 12 vols., p. 522. 808 “Невозможно говорить просто: ‘г. Клюшников,’ ‘роман ‘Марево.’’ Надо непрeменно говорить так: ‘с позволения сказать, г. Клюшников,’ ‘с позволения сказать, роман ‘Марево.’’” Pisarev, "Serditoe bessilie," p. 101. 320 sea of incoherent babble,” and “a price list of wines and colonial wares”809 good only “for wrapping soap, cheese or smoked fish in.” The author, according to Pisarev, is a “charlatan” and “an ambitious lamb,” characterized by “glaring feeble-mindedness” who cannot write novels as a “hen cannot give birth to a calf and a piglet cannot hatch an egg,” who writes just like “village priests read the Psalter,” “unconsciously, in fits of chronic somnambulism.” 810 To Pisarev, Kliushnikov cannot possibly represent his generation because of the dimwitttedness of his mind. Moreover, Kliushnikov cannot even possibly understand “theoretical discussions” and he knows nothing about the “strong, ardent and serious work of the mind” of contemporary youth. 811 However, even some of the disparaging criticism from the progressive camp hints at the seriousness of the impact that Kliushnikov’s novels had on his contemporaries. For example, Saltykov-Shchedrin’s attitude toward Mirage is not as dismissive as his overall criticism might suggest. Claiming that the main idea of the novel is “thinking is harmful,” Saltykov-Shchedrin admits that Mirage contains a “thought and a direction” (albeit erroneous, in SaltykovShchedrin’s opinion). Moreover, thanks to the presence of a thought and a direction, Mirage, as Saltykov-Shchedrin also admits, “was read by the public.”812 The extent of the popularity of 809 “Каракульки, написанн[ые] или нарисованн[ые] пятилетним ребенком,” “хлам,” “неисчерпаемое море бессвязной болтовни,” “прейскурант вин и колониальных товаров… во все эти вещи можно, пожалуй, завертывать мыло, сыр или копченую рыбу.” Ibid, pp. 101, 103-104. 810 “Неискусн[ое] и неудачн[ое] шарлатанств[о]”; “честолюбив[ый] ягнен[ок]”; “вопиющие слабоумие автора”; “И когда же это видано и когда же это слыхано, чтобы курочка бычка родила, поросеночек яичко снес?”; “Он пишет так, как деревенские дьячки читают псaлтырь”; “он пишет бессознательно, в припадках хронического сомнабулизма.” Ibid, pp. 106, 122-123, 132. 811 “Я слишком уважаю самого себя, чтобы вступать с г. Клюшниковым в какие бы то ни было теоретические препирательства; это совсем не его ума дело… Об этой крепкой, страстной и серьёзной деятельности юношеской мысли г. Клюшников не имеет ни малейшего понятия.” Ibid, p. 104, 115. 812 “Мы помним роман ‘Марево,’ который в свое время читался, но читался именно потому, что в нем была мысль. […] Мысль этого романа заключается в следующем: мыслить не надобно, ибо мышление производит беспорядок и смуту. […] ‘Мышление вредно’ – согласитесь, что в этом афоризме заключено целое миросозерцание. […] Благодаря ‘направлению,’ ‘Марево’ остается единственным произведением г. Клюшникова, которое прочтено публикой. […] И хотя ‘направление,’ высказавшееся в ‘Мареве,’ имело характер административно-полицейский, но все-таки его нельзя назвать иначе как направлением, то есть 321 Mirage can be inferred from Saltykov-Shchedrin’s reactions to it in his chronicle “Our Social Life” (“Наша общественная жизнь”), the installments of which were published immediately following the installments of Kliushnikov’s novel. In March 1864, Saltykov-Shchedrin ridicules the novel’s ideas and characters, calling it “disgusting wishy-washy liberalism,”813 but notes that Mirage “enjoys considerable success among the public.”814 Trying to explain the success of the novel that is so “disgusting” to him, Saltykov-Shchedrin first characterises the readership of the novel as belonging to “some spheres of Russian society” (implying that it is read by not the most progressive spheres of the society). Later he elaborates on what “some spheres” means. He declares that the novel is successful for two reasons: “the majority of Russian readers have simple taste” and the “attacking thought” (meaning, the conservative direction in literature) has developed the freedom of its expression “to the fullest extent that it is capable of.” 815 In April of the same year, Saltykov-Shchedrin attests to the popularity of Mirage: The entire service world of Saint Petersburg is agitated, executors are frightened, provincial secretaries and Senate Registrars rush about like pets before an earthquake. “Will Miss Inna Gorobets repent? 816 Will she understand where her таким словом, котoрое влечет за собой представление об участии в процессе творчества мысли или миросозерцания.” Saltykov-Schchedrin, 'Tsygane': Roman v trekh chastiakh. Soch. V. Kliushnikova. SPb. 1871 , p. 427-428. 813 “[П]ротивная либерально-размазистая болтовня,” see Saltykov-Schchedrin, "Nasha obshchestvennaia zhizn' 1863-1864: stat'i: Mart 1864 goda," p. 319. 814 “Для примера возьму недавно появившийся роман ‘Марево,’ имеющий в публике довольно значительный успех.” Ibid , p. 315. 815 “Тем не менее, несмотря на явную внутреннюю несостоятельность, нападающая мысль в некоторых сферах русского общества пользуется значительными успехами, а незамысловатые ее подвиги имеют привилегию возбуждать шумные рукоплескания. Причина такого явления, кажется мне, заключается, вопервых, в неприхотливости вкусов большинства русского читающего люда и, во-вторых, в некоторой степени свободы, которую присвоила себе нападающая мысль и которая позволяет ей выражаться, по крайней мере, с тою ясностью, на какую она способна.” Ibid , p. 319. 816 Inna Gorobets is the main heroine of Mirage who, fulfilling the wish of her diseased father, dedicates her life to the revolutionary cause. According to Kliushnikov, who supported the conservative interpretation of the events of 1863, Inna mistakes the Polish fight for independence, which was executed in the interests of the Polish aristocracy for the true cause. Later, as discussed previously (see the Sub-Chapter “A Path to “Our Famous Exiles in London”: Exploring the image of Herzen in The Troubled Sea and in Other Novels of the 1860s-1870s”), she becomes 322 true well-wishers are?” These are the questions that, like fire, engulfed the grey heads of these innocent people.817 However, in the next sentence we learn that not only grey-haired service clerks but also the “Petersburg progressives” are excited to learn about the fate of Inna Gorobets, although her repentance and renunciation of progressive ideas are allegedly met with disappointment and despondency by this category of readers. Overall, as we learn from Saltykov-Shchedrin, the fate of Inna Gorobets excites “all of Petersburg.”818 Even Pisarev admits with disdain that, in 1864, “this novel was read like hot cakes,” which, to him, is a sign of the “scandalous dominance of charlatanism” in contemporary literature and the poor taste of the reading public.819 On the other side of the political spectrum, Kliushnikov’s novel was received far more favorably. For example, remarking that Kliushnikov was “true to the lessons of his great teachers” (presumably, Russian great writers), Golovin (Orlovsky) observes in Mirage the “diligent treatment of the plot both in its conception and in details” and remarks that, in some episodes, Kliushnikov achieves “perfect craftsmanship and the fullness of design.”820 Although Inna Gorobets is, undoubtedly, disillusioned in the Polish fight for independence, in Herzen and other Russian émigré revolutionaries whom her father had admired and in the revolutionary cause as a whole. 817 “Весь петербургский чиновничий мир взволновался, экзекуторы в страхе, провинциальные секретари и сенатские регистраторы мятутся, как домашние животные перед землетрясением. ‘Исправится ли девица Инна Горобец, поймет ли она, где ее истинные доброжелатели?’ – вот вопрос, который, словно пожаром, охватил убеленные сединами головы этих невинных людей.” M. E. Saltykov-Schchedrin, Nasha obshchestvennaia zhizn': Aprel' 1864 goda, Sobranie sochinenii v dvadtsati tomakh, ed. S. A. Makashin, vol. 6, 20 vols. (Moscow: Khudozhestvennaia literatura, 1966), pp. 359-360. 818 “Итак, весь Петербург взволнован – взволнован чем? – будущими судьбами девицы Инны Горобец! Как хотите, а это явление любопытное...” Ibid , p. 361. 819 “[A] между тем в прошлом году этот роман читался нарасхват. Что же делать критике против этого скандального торжества бездарности?” Pisarev, "Serditoe bessilie," p. 112. 820 “[У] Клюшникова, верного традициям великих учителей, заметна старательная обработка сюжета и в концепции, и в деталях. Благодаря вдумчивой работе, он... достигает иногда полной законченности и выпуклости рисунка.” Golovin, Russkii roman i russkoe obshchestvo, p. 375. 323 the most interesting character in Mirage, Kliushnikov’s attempt at creating a “hero of the time” in the image of Rusanov deserves careful attention. The protagonists of the three novels, the so-called originators of the “antinihilist” campaign, are portrayed very differently. They differ in their respective ties to the generation of the 1860s and in their ability to embody the spirit of the time. Pisemsky, in The Troubled Sea, explores the type of “the ordinary mortal.” Baklanov is a representative of the generation of the 1840s who tries to find his place in the new world of the 1860s. Although Leskov’s doctor Rozanov seems to represent another “ordinary mortal,” both the character and role that he plays in the novel are more complex. Firstly, he is much closer to being a true “hero” of the novel. With his psychological complexity and with the philosophy of his “un-heroic” little deeds receiving a thorough literary exploration and philosophical foundation, 821 Rozanov may be said to represent the main idea of Leskov’s novel. Additionally, Rozanov’s connection to the line of Russian literary “heroes” has been noticed by scholars. The authors of the commentary to the latest academic edition of No Way Out compare Rozanov to the two most successful “heroic” representatives of the generation of the 1860s in Russian literature: Bazarov (Fathers and Sons) and Riazanov (The Difficult Time), noting correspondences that start with the phonetic proximity between their names but also go far beyond that.822 According to them, Rozanov is an improved variant of Bazarov. In No Way Out, Leskov was certainly responding to Turgenev’s novel as well as to Chernyshevsky’s What Is to Be Done. Analyzing types of literary characters in his 821 See, in particular, Rozanov’s characterization in Chapter 11, Part 1 (p. 73); his biography in Chapter 24, Part 1 (pp. 162-163); his relationship with Liza Bakhareva in Chapter 28 Part 1, pp. 184-190; his philosophizing on the theme “there is nowhere to go” on pp. 226-229. In Part 2 of the novel, Rozanov becomes the central character and the critique of the Moscow liberal circles is given through his perceptions and experience; his doctrine of “small steps” is presented in Chapter 25 Part 2, p. 435; his personal life and the relationship with Polinka Kalistratova is an important plot line in Part 3. 822 See Commentary to No Way Out in Leskov, Nekuda: roman v trekh knizhkakh, p. 707. 324 article “Nikolai Chernyshevsky in his novel What Is to Be Done?” (“Николай Гаврилович Чернышевский в его романе ‘Что делать?’”), Leskov writes, “Personally, I like [Bazarov], but I would allow myself to wish him to be somewhat more gentle, not to show off too much in front of the unaccustomed eye, not to irritate the other’s ear-drums without reason and even, perhaps, not to close his own heart to most tender feelings because they do not stand in the way of heroism.”823 Arguably, doctor Rozanov becomes an embodiment of this improved type: he is witty and critical without irritating the ear, and he opens his heart to the feeling of love. On the other hand, Rozanov is more closely tied to the generation of the 1860s than Pisemsky’s Baklanov. Baklanov (like Pisemsky) remains intimately connected to the ideals of the previous generation. Rozanov (like Leskov), although by his chronological age “older” than the youth of the 1860s, does not have any spiritual connection to the generation of the 1840s and is able not only to submerge himself into the world of the 1860s, but also to become an organic part of this new world. Kliushnikov’s protagonist embodies a different relationship to the generation of the 1860s. The hero of Mirage, Vladimir Rusanov, is a product of the 1860s who bears no ties to the previous generation. Most significantly, upon graduating from Moscow University (as we infer from the novel, this happened in 1861 or 1862), Rusanov enters the adult world as an orphan (with his father and his mother dead, he decides to live with his uncle, a kind but characterless man). Rusanov is, therefore, cut off from the spiritual guidance of the generation of the “fathers” and is free to search for his own place in the world. In contrast, Inna is portrayed as a tortured soul, living under the spiritual and intellectual shadow of her diseased father, a typical man of the 823 “Мне лично он нравится, но я бы позволил себе пожелать ему быть несколько мягче, не мусолить собою без нужды непривычного глаза, не раздражать без дела чужой барабанной перепонки и даже, пожалуй, не замыкать сердца для чувств самых нежных, ибо они не мешают героизму.” Leskov, "Nikolai Gavrilovich Chernyshevskii v ego romane "Chto delat'?" (pis'mo k izdateliu "Severnoi pchely")," p. 178. 325 1840s, a friend of Belinsky, Bakunin and Herzen. 824 On his deathbed, Inna’s father begs her to continue his life’s work, to fight for freedom. Towards the end of the novel (an echo of Tatiana’s visit to Onegin’s library in Eugene Onegin), the lovesick Rusanov gains access to Inna’s library and correspondence. Meanwhile, Inna, crushed by the failure of the Polish Uprising, in which she participated, and disappointed in the London revolutionaries, whom she is forced to join, is slowly dying in London. Leafing through letters of Inna’s father who appears to have been “the center, around which everyone who was a thinking man in Russia at that time was grouped,”825 Rusanov is not reverent; instead, he is shocked and angered. He exclaims: “And this is a father! A father! Confuses an innocent girl, and why? That she would avenge his failures, his anger? Haha-ha! This is some madhouse!”826 Upon encountering the legacy of the 1840s, Rusanov rejects it. The full significance of Kliushnikov’s contribution to the development of the image of the “hero of the time” can be better understood in the context of its reception by the critics. The democratic criticism argued that Rusanov was retrograde and a failure both as a lover and a man of action. Saltykov-Shchedrin wrote that Rusanov is “still a young man who, nevertheless, already found a secure position in the camp of thought that rests in safe triumph and attacks 824 Interestingly, Kliushnikov endows his Inna with parts of his own biography and heritage. Kliushnikov’s uncle, Ivan Petrovich Kliushnikov, a poet, an eccentric and a member of the Stankevich circle, was esteemed by Belinsky. Kliushnikov’s father was also, apparently, acquainted with the circle for he was a doctor who unsuccessfully tried to save Bakunin’s sister from death. See Moser, Antinihilism in the Russian Novel of the 1860’s , pp. 105-106. 825 “Ясно было, что отец Инны был центром, вокруг которого группировалось сначала все мыслящее в России, а потом, когда он отшатнулся от этого кружка, вокруг него стали собираться всевозможные элементы революции 1848 года.” Kliushnikov, Marevo: roman v chetyrekh chastiakh , p. 329. 826 “Это отец, [...] это отец! Смущает невинную девочку; для чего? Чтоб она отoмстила за его неудачи, за его озлобление? Ха-ха-ха! Это какой-то сумасшедший дом!” Ibid , p. 334. 326 incontrovertibly,”827 whose task becomes “to fight the younger generation and its convictions” 828 (as if Rusanov does not himself belong to this generation). Overall, some aspects of SaltykovShchedrin’s critiques of Rusanov recall the criticism of the superfluous man. To SaltykovShchedrin, Rusanov seems lukewarm and “poor in spirit.” Saltykov-Shchedrin implies that, in denying himself the mental agitation and rebelliousness that should be a natural attribute of youth, Rusanov appears prematurely old. Most importantly, this denial only hides Rusanov’s limited nature and intellect. Loving “something,” caring for “something” and striving for “something” in a deliberately rational, thorough and efficient manner, Rusanov appears “not to love anything, not to care about anything, not to strive for anything.” 829 As other superfluous men, Rusanov fails miserably: he “does foolish things, speaks platitudes, commits gaffes, and fails to persuade anyone or prove anything to anyone.” 830 Interestingly, in his critique of Rusanov as a superfluous man, Saltykov-Shchedrin uses the image of Don Quixote, calling Rusanov a “Don Quixote of conservatism.”831 Similarly, Pisarev, for whom the problem of creating a new “hero of the time” in literature was of paramount importance, did not think that Rusanov could be an interesting character because he was created by the “retarded charlatan” 827 “Герой этого романа, Русанов, человек еще молодой, едва начинающий свое жизненное поприще, но уже спокойно располoжившийся в лагере мысли безопасно торжествующей и неотразимо нападающей.” Saltykov-Schchedrin, "Nasha obshchestvennaia zhizn' 1863-1864: stat'i: Mart 1864 goda," p. 315-316. 828 “Русановы всевозможных оттенков выступают на борьбу с молодым поколением и теми убеждениями, которых оно, по праву или не по праву, считается носителем.” Ibid , p. 318. 829 “Он что-то любит, о чем-то волнуется, к чему-то стремится, но все это делает до такой степени разумно, основательно и аккуратно, что читателю кажется, что он вовсе ничего не любит, вовсе ни о чем не волнуется и вовсе ни к чему не стремится.” Ibid , p. 316. 830 “Русанов делает глупости, говорит пошлости, попадает впросак, никого не убеждает, никого за собой не увлекает и ничего никому не доказывает.” Ibid , p. 317. 831 “Дон-Кихот консерватизма” Ibid , p. 317. 327 Kliushnikov and, therefore, bears “a permanent stamp of his creator.” 832 Pisarev calls Rusanov “flabby” and “feeble” and considers his dreams to be “permeated with the aroma of salted pig’s fat and dishes in the kitchen.” Similarly to Saltykov-Shchedrin, Pisarev declares that Rusanov cannot represent the younger generation because, in his “colorless sluggishness,” he stepped “from childhood right into old age” and is marked now by “canine senility.” 833 Pronouncing Rusanov a failure both in his activities and spiritual quest, SaltykovShchedrin and Pisarev are, of course, overly prejudiced and completely unfair. Moreover, just as in the case of the criticism of No Way Out, these critics do not and cannot find any plausible textual support for their attacks. Pisarev’s so called “close reading” is entirely based on tendentious and deliberate misreading. In the novel, Rusanov, a young university candidate, arrives in the provinces with a strong determination to serve in the local government. It is true that, throughout the novel, his noble aspirations are crushed; his desire to be an arbitrator (мировой посредник) is not satisfied because of the backwardness and corruption of the local government. Later, his career as a secretary in the local council is also cut short by an intrigue. He is forced to resign when he becomes an object of libel and persecution, instigated by the local Polish party which spins a net of criminal, anti-government intrigue in the province. In their critique, radical critics do not take seriously Kliushnikov’s criticism of the corruption and backwardness of provincial authorities and ignore the finale of the novel where Rusanov emerges as a victor (a participant in the Russian campaign to crush the Polish Uprising), with authority and justice on his side and, 832 “И Бронский, и Русанов, и всякие Горобцы мужеского и женского пола наводят на читателя уныние и оцепенение, потому что на всех этих особах сияет неизгладимая печать их общего фабриканта.” Pisarev, "Serditoe bessilie," p. 111. 833 “[C]имптом... вялости и хилости, такой собачьей старости”; “ русановские мечты проникнуты ароматом свиного сала и кухонной посуды”; “Русанов – бездарный, вялый, тряпичный человек, перешедший прямо из детства в старость”; “бессилие автора выражается вполне в бесцветной вялости героя.” Ibid, pp. 121, 123, 129. 328 presumably, ready to become a man of action on a completely new level. Emotionally, after suffering the pangs of unhappy love throughout most of the novel, Rusanov remains lonely, but the open ending of the novel plants seeds for his revival and a new love. Essentially belonging to the already-analyzed type of the “gradualist,” the seeker of the “middle road,” the man of modest action, the “ordinary mortal from educated society” – together with Turgenev’s Lezhnev, Litvinov and Solomin, Pisemsky’s Baklanov and Prince Grigorov, Krestovsky’s Khvalyntsev, Leskov’s Rozanov and Podozerov, Markevich’s Yushkov, Dyakov’s Zhernov, Golovin’s (Orlovsky’s) Koretsky, and others – Rusanov nevertheless differs from his predecessors in an important way: he both aspires to be a true hero of the novel and offers a positive, albeit conservative, program of action. Throughout Mirage, while juggling several threads in the narrative and a significant number of characters, Kliushnikov maintains the focus on Rusanov and his inner world. This consistency was noticed by some critics and undoubtedly contributed to the literary success of the novel. In his study of the anti-nihilist novel, Tseitlin puts Kliushnikov’s Mirage in the category of the “psychological” type, together with Turgenev’s Fathers and Sons and Virgin Soil, and Golovin’s (Orlovsky’s) Out of a Rut, suggesting that the psychological approach (психологизм) is the genre dominant (жанровая доминанта) of these novels. The latter is manifested in the construction of the plot, in the exposition (where the psychological genesis of the characters is given), as a motivation for the onset of the action (завязка), in the culmination based on a psychological conflict, and in the finale. Consequently, Tseitlin places high value on Kliushnikov’s ability to portray his protagonist, Rusanov, as a psychologically rounded character, with his emotional experiences, his suffering, melancholy and sadness, and to convey the “psychological truth of his class.”834 Rusanov is not only a 834 Tseitlin, "Siuzhetika antinigilisticheskogo romana," pp. 40-47, p. 60. 329 psychologically complex character; he is also an active character, a defender and a bearer of a definite set of values. While generally dismissing Kliushnikov’s novel (as he does all “antinihilist” literature), the Soviet critic Sorokin nevertheless singles out Mirage as a novel that contributed something new to the creation of the positive hero. In his definitive article on antinihilism, Sorokin observes that all participants in the “antinihilist campaign” (Pisemsky, Leskov and Kliushnikov) attempted to create their versions of the conservative positive hero. As Sorokin argues further, Kliushnikov’s effort was the most sustained one as he “took upon himself this ungratifying task.” Kliushnikov ultimately did not succeed, concludes Sorokin, and his “characterless” Rusanov is a fiasco; he can only “complain about his fate and remain a raisonneur.” 835 Much like Saltykov-Shchedrin’s, Sorokin’s approach places ideology higher than textual analysis, and his verdict on Rusanov can hardly find support in the novel. Nowadays, Soviet negative views on antinihilist novels have been abandoned, the conservative program of action reevaluated, and, consequently, one of the most recent studies of Kliushnikov’s novel gives a completely different evaluation of Rusanov. Natalia Starygina goes to the other extreme, arguing that the image of Rusanov was the “first attempt at creating the image of a working humanist (трудящийся гуманист).” According to her, the images of “working humanists” created in antinihilist literature amounted to the creation of the positive hero-activist (положительный герой-деятель) in Russian literature of the 1860s-1870s. Moreover, analyzing religious imagery that she observes as woven around Rusanov in the novel, 835 “Лишь Клюшников попытался взять на себя неблагодарную задачу сделать героем своего романа Русанова, стоящего на страже устоев. Но этот бесхарактерный охранитель терпит в романе полное фиаско, ему остается только плакаться на свою судьбу и резонерствовать.” Sorokin, "Antinigilisticheskii roman," p. 107. 330 Starygina calls him “a hero of the good and the light,” 836 that is, the bearer of the novel’s positive moral and religious values. Vladimir Rusanov is then the first, and, arguably, one of the best examples of the positive conservative hero and the “man of action” in the literature of the 1860s-1870s. Rusanov is capable of true love; he is honest, just, kind and considerate to others, patriotic and selfsacrificing. Overall, Rusanov is more than “an ordinary mortal,” and he is meant to be such. Perhaps naively, Kliushnikov tried to make Rusanov the hero of the novel and a representative of his generation. However, if we consider Rusanov side-by-side with another conservative hero who is closest to him in values and circumstances – Golovin’s (Orlovsky’s) Dmitry Koretsky from the novel Out of the Rut (Вне колеи) (1882) – we will see both the sources of Rusanov’s artistic success and his flaws. In Out of the Rut, Koretsky deeply loves the repented nihilist woman, Nadia; just like Rusanov, he is honest, just, kind, considerate, patriotic and selfsacrificing. Unfortunately, Golovin does not preserve consistent psychological focus on the character of Koretsky. With his manifest virtues, Koretsky is just as flat and artificial as the heroes-ascetics of democratic literature like Rakhmetov. But the real flaw of Rusanov’s and Koretsky’s characters does not lie in the impeccability of their moral and spiritual values. In spite of all their virtues, there is something missing in them. The key to this missing element is their blindness. Rusanov’s and Koretsky’s flaw is in their patronizing and self-righteous attitude toward Inna’s and Nadia’s nihilism. Specifically, it is their inability to grasp the force, attraction, freshness and power of the youth counter-culture of the 1860s. Unable to see their enemy, nihilism, for what it truly is, Rusanov and Koretsky (as well as their respective creators) appear to miss the “spirit of the time” and, ultimately, fail to confront it in the manner that it deserved. 836 “Русанов – герой добра и света.” Starygina, Russkii roman v situatsii filosofsko-religioznoi polemiki 18601870-kh godov, pp. 158-166. 331 This inability to capture the spirit of the time was, undoubtedly, one of the reasons why these novels failed to leave a lasting imprint in the history of Russian literature. 11. Kliushnikov’s Mirage and the Polish Conspiracy Kliushnikov’s Mirage is not only the first novel of the 1860s to portray the conservative positive hero but also one of the first novels to devote itself to the theme of the Polish January uprising of 1863. In the novel, the Polish theme is not vaguely hinted at, as in The Troubled Sea, or represented as one of the secondary themes, as in No Way Out. Instead, it unites all plot lines into one dramatic and tightly-woven narrative. Both the novel’s popularity with the reading public and its condemnation by democratic critics are explained by its timely appearance on the crest of the wave of patriotism after the suppression of the uprising. In this aspect Kliushnikov did capture the Zeitgeist. In the course of just a few years, the public mood in Russia changed dramatically. In 1862, when Turgenev published his Fathers and Sons, the public supported the enthusiasm of the younger generation, its revolutionary spirit, nihilism and progressive ideas. By 1864, after the Polish Uprising, the public was already on the side of the government, counter-reform, and nationalist impulses. Elena Shtakenshnaider commented on the change in attitudes toward the Poles. She wrote that if, in 1861, people “disliked them by force of habit, instinctively … but tried to learn to love them in the name of progress, freedom and other beautiful words,” in 1864, “the instinctive disgust justified itself and was no longer concealed.”837 837 “В 1861 году на поляков смотрели не так, как смотрят теперь, в 1864 году. Их тогда не любили, по старой памяти, по преданию, инстинктивно, но во имя прогресса, свободы, во имя многих прекрасных слов – силились полюбить. Теперь отношения яснее обозначились, инстинктивное отвращение оправдало себя и уже не скрывается. Прогресс и прочее – скинуты, как парадное платье, и заменены преданием – этим покойным халатом. Теперь прогресс надобно спрятать под спуд, благо он из моды вышел. Чем все были увлечены тогда?” Shtakenshnaider, Dnevnik i zapiski, 1854-1886 , p. 337. 332 Among other things, after the Polish uprising, Russian society fundamentally reevaluated the role of Herzen and his alleged goals as well as the origins, aims and sources of power of the domestic revolutionary movement (with nihilism as its manifestation). Loyal newspapers and journals spoke of the inappropriateness and dangers of the spread of liberalism for the very existence of the Russian Empire. Powerful propaganda, encouraged by the government and supplied by mass media (most successfully, by Mikhail Katkov in the Russian Messenger and the Moscow News) solidified the Zeitgeist into one master narrative – that of the Polish plot. The change in the public mood was reflected in literature as well. The Polish problem had a profound influence on the development of the Russian polemical novel and, specifically, on the development of the representation of nihilism and nihilists in literature. The theme of the Polish conspiracy appeared in numerous novels which were written after 1864 and which dealt with the subject of nihilism. While The Troubled Sea and No Way Out contributed to the emergence of the theme of the Polish conspiracy in literature, Kliushnikov’s Mirage was the first novel to be fully dedicated to this theme. 838 Observing that “the Polish disturbances gave stimulus to this literature of exposé to mix in one pile even more motley and murky elements,” Vetrinsky remarks that Victor Kliushnikov’s Mirage “was the first example of this kind of literature.” 839 Moser argues that Mirage “was the first to treat the subject of Polish intrigue in Russia as a factor contributing to 838 “Подобное извращенное изображение и польского движения и русской революционной борьбы мы найдем в романах Крестовского ‘Панургово стадо,’ ‘Две силы,’ в ‘Мареве’ Клюшникова и др. В романе Лескова ‘Некуда’ польская тема занимает сравнительно скромное место...” N. I. Totubalin, "Nekuda," Nekuda: roman v 3-kh knizhkakh, ed. V. G. Bazanov, et al, vol. 2, Sobranie sochinenii v 11-ti tomakh (Moscow: Gos. izd-vo Khudozhestvennoi literatury, 1956), p. 716. 839 “Польское движение дало повод этой обличительной беллетристике смешивать в одну кучу еще более пестрые и мутные элементы. Первым образцом в этом роде был роман Виктора Петровича Клюшникова (1841-1892) ‘Марево’ (1864)” Vetrinskii, "Literaturnoe i kriticheskoe dvizhenie shestidesiatykh godov," p. 117. 333 the rise of nihilism and the development of the Russian revolutionary movement.” 840 To evaluate Kliushnikov’s role in the creation of the theme of Polish conspiracy in Russian literature, we will first need to examine the narrative of the Polish theme itself that took shape in the publications in the Russian press. Additional insights will also be gained through the analysis of later novels, most importantly of Krestovsky’s The Bloody Hoax, the longest and most ambitious of the narratives that are dedicated to the theme of the Polish conspiracy. In trying to understand why the Polish uprising produced such a dramatic turnabout in public opinion regarding liberalism and reform. It is important to remember that, in 1863, the growing sympathies in the West towards the Polish revolutionary movement were perceived as a real threat to the existence of the Russian Empire,841 and the threat of another war, similar to the recent Crimean War, was seen as real.842 In the face of this danger, Russia saw an unprecedented rise of patriotism, which united all strata of society behind the tsar. In his diary, Nikitenko describes an episode that occurred in April 1863 on the square near the Winter Palace, where “huge crowds of people gathered around the balcony… and kept chanting loud ‘hurrahs’ until His Majesty appeared on the balcony.” On the same day, at a charitable concert to benefit disabled veterans, “His Majesty was greeted with ecstasy,” and musicians “had to repeat the 840 Moser, Antinihilism in the Russian Novel of the 1860’s , p. 66. 841 In addition to independence, the Poles also demanded a “restoration of the Polish borders of 1772, which included Lithuania, White Russia and much of the Ukraine.” Quoted from Joseph Frank, Dostoevsky: The Stir of Liberation, 1860-1865 (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1986), p. 210. 842 While Bismarck expressed support for the tsar, England, France and Austria all sided with the Polish cause. The actions of Louis-Napoléon, who, in a letter to Alexander II, demanded that the Polish Kingdom be restored, were met with special anger by Russian society, who remembered both his anti-Russian position in the Crimean War and his uncle’s support of the Poles during the campaign of 1812. (See M. Lemke, Epokha tsenzurnykh reform: 18591865 godov [Saint Petersburg: Tipo-litografiia "Gerol'd", 1904] pp. 276-277). Fears of an impending war mounted as other European countries adopted their positions vis-à-vis the Polish question: for example, Sweden was widely believed to be arming until the Swedish parliament (Riksdag) finally voted against providing military help to Poland. These fears are reflected, for example, in Nikitenko's memoirs. (See Nikitenko, Dnevnik, pp. 326-327). 334 hymn ‘God, save the tsar’ four times.” 843 At the same time, the government increased security measures and tightened censorship. Dostoevsky’s journal Time (Время) was closed in April 1863 after the publication of Nikolai Strakhov’s article “The Fatal Question” (“Роковой вопрос”), “which, although intended as a public avowal in favor of the Russian cause,” was misread by the censor “as a justification of the desperate Polish revolt.”844 On the pages of his widely popular Moscow News, Mikhail Katkov shaped the public mood and created a coherent and all-embracing conspiracy theory. His editorials spun odd facts, gossip and prejudices into one narrative about a web of ever-developing, ominous, Jesuit intrigue, responsible for seducing Russian youth into revolution, setting Russian towns on fire, starting revolts among the peasantry, attempting to destroy the unity of the Russian Empire, and assassinating the tsar. As Joseph Frank summarizes, “Katkov was carrying on a blistering campaign against the Poles and the Russian radicals, whom he threw together (not without some justification…) into one unsavory heap; and he became the much-applauded man of the hour, the admired voice of Russian patriotic indignation.”845 The following excerpt from the diary of 843 “В воскресенье на площади у Зимнего дворца была огромная манифестация. Несметные толпы народа собрались перед балконом, выходящим к Адмиралтейству, и подняли страшное ‘ура,’ так что государь показался, наконец, на балконе. Толпы встретили его с неописанным восторгом. [...] Во время концерта в пользу инвалидов государь был принят также с необыкновенным восторгом. Музыканты, между прочим, принуждены были четыре раза повторить гимн: ‘Боже, царя храни.’” (Nikitenko, Dnevnik , p. 324). Common people likewise shared these patriotic sentiments, being additionally filled with enthusiasm, as a law abolishing corporal punishment was issued. Various circles of Russian society sent their “addresses” with expressions of patriotic feelings in support of the government policy towards the Poles. (See, for example, Nikitenko’s diary where, with pride and satisfaction, he compares various “addresses.” Nikitenko, Dnevnik, p. 326). 844 Frank, Dostoevsky: The Stir of Liberation, 1860-1865 , p. 211. Strakhov’s “tortured and elusive” (Frank, Dostoevsky: The Stir of Liberation, 1860-1865 , p. 211) language was misunderstood by other readers as well. For example, Nikitenko called it “impermissible” and remarked that, in it, “the Poles are eulogized, called civilized people, and the Russians are berated and called barbarians.” “В апрельской книжке журнала ‘Время’ напечатана статья под названием ‘Роковой вопрос’ и подписанная Русский, самого непозволительного свойства. В ней поляки восхвалены, названы народом цивилизованным, а русские разруганы и названы варварами.” Nikitenko, Dnevnik, p. 335. 845 Frank, Dostoevsky: The Stir of Liberation, 1860-1865 , p. 211. Katkov was not fantasizing based on his own persecution manias; instead, he was satisfying a public desire for an all-embracing nationalistic story. As a reflection of his success, in 1865-1866, the circulation of Moscow News reached an impressive 12,000. For a good 19th century 335 professor and censor Nikitenko shows how pervasive these kinds of sentiments, captured by Katkov, had been among broad circles of Russian society. In November 1863, Nikitenko wrote in his diary that he became persuaded that “the only way to pacify the country is to burn the Polish element to the ground.” He added that “radical annihilation” is necessary, since there could be no other relationship between Russians and Poles, and if one nation must go, it has to be the Poles. Russia has to win and save the oppressed people who, as Nikitenko argues, “hate them [the Poles] terribly.”846 Further, he concluded: “humankind needs Russia more than Poland.” 847 The narrative of the Polish conspiracy developed to such a degree that the government tried to step in to keep it at bay. In October 1865, the Minister of Internal Affairs, Count Valuev, declared in the government publication the Northern Post (Северная почта) that, based on statistical research, arsonists were to blame only for a small number of fires in the Western provinces of the Russian Empire, and that there was no evidence to suggest that the causes of the fires in Russia of 1864-1865 could be blamed on a Polish or any other plot.848 In his “witchhunt,” Katkov continuously met with disapproval from the Russian government and the tsar. The account of Katkov’s handling of the Polish problem, see Skabichevskii, Istoriia noveishei russkoi literatury: 18481906 gg. , pp. 190-196. It is unlikely that Katkov himself was the author of the insinuation that “all fires” in Russia were started by the Poles; his articles only skillfully used and amplified the public paranoia. 846 “[E]единственный способ умиротворить страну – это истребить дотла польский элемент. Они непримиримы во вражде к нам и непоколебимы в уверенности, что полькое королевство и может и должно существовать в пределах, существовавших до раздела. [...] Между тем народ их страшно ненавидит, и если бы не правительство, то в первом взрыве восстания он растерзал бы каждого поляка. Из всего этого следует, что между двумя национальностями не может быть других отношений, кроме радикального истребления одной другою. Россия, разумеется, не может согласиться на уничтожение себя, и как она сильнее, то дело должно кончится истреблением польской национальности.” Nikitenko, Dnevnik , p. 380. 847 “Если уж пошло на то, так Россия нужнее для человечества, чем Польша.” Ibid , p. 324. 848 Skabichevskii, Istoriia noveishei russkoi literatury: 1848-1906 gg. , p. 194. 336 Moscow News was made to pay fines and received two “warnings”; finally, the government threatened to close it.849 Although Katkov was not its only chronicler, it is possible to trace all major themes of this conspiracy theory as it developed in the popular Russian imagination to the pages of Katkov’s publications: Moscow News, Russian Messenger, and Contemporary Chronicle (Соврменная летопись). Analyzing Katkov’s articles on the Polish question, it is possible to identify the following major themes in this conspiracy theory: 1) All events with traces of pro-Polish, revolutionary and other anti-government intentions (often, including liberal reforms and ideas) were seen as threads in an allembracing Polish Catholic-Jesuit conspiracy. The term “conspiracy” (“интрига”) was explicitly used by Katkov on a number of occasions. In the Moscow News editorial of June 15, 1863, he explains why some events cannot be described otherwise: 849 The mysterious force that Katkov “felt” behind the daily events of Russian life occasionally became more than a figment of his imagination and struck powerful blows from the realm of the symbolic into the real. Three years later, on April 3, 1866, Katkov publicly announced his recalcitrance to the government’s warning to the Moscow News and threatened to close it if he was not listened to. The next day, Karakozov made his attempt on the life of the tsar, thus confirming that Katkov was right in his defense of Russia. Katkov believed that a true Russian would never engage in subversive activity if he were not prodded by Polish plotters and Jesuits. Therefore, Katkov refused to believe that Karakozov could be a Russian and produced a telegram announcing that Karakozov’s real name was Olszewski. Katkov wrote in The Moscow News: “Let them stop telling us about our nihilists, about our so-called ‘red’ party – it is a lie with which they want to distract our attention; the source of this crime can only be that antiRussian nationalist cause in the Russian Empire that, in its patriotism, cannot act otherwise but through revolts, secret intrigues and lies, the cause that is barbarically organized and that had already put forward so many assassins recruited from political fanatics, from hired criminals and from deceived lunatics.” (“Пусть не говорят нам о наших нигилистах, о наших, так называемых, ‘красных,’ это обман, которым хотят отвести нам глаза, источником этого злоумышления может быть только то антирусское, национальное дело в России, которое в своем патриотизме не может действовать иначе, как мятежами, тайными подкупами и обманами, дело, варварски организованное и уже выставившее столько убийц из политических фанатиков, из подкупленных негодяев, из обманутых безумцев.” /Katkov/, Moskovskie vedomosti 1866, No. 7). At that time, even the students were on Katkov’s side. On April 11, they marched to the publishing house that published the Moscow News, where they sang the Russian anthem six times and chanted to Katkov: “Do not stop your work!” (Skabichevskii, Istoriia noveishei russkoi literatury: 1848-1906 gg. , p. 193). 337 The Polish uprising is not a people’s uprising: it is not the people who rebelled, but szlachta and clergy. This is not a fight for freedom; it is a struggle for power. It is a wish of the weak to subjugate the strong. That’s why an open and honest struggle cannot be the method of this uprising. In its seeds as well as its development, this uprising has been an intrigue and nothing else. If this intrigue had considerable success, it was only because it found in Russia a favorable soil.850 The purpose of this conspiracy was understood to be the final collapse of the Russian Empire and the subjugation of the Russian Orthodox Church.851 According to Katkov, Polish-Catholic priests, equipped with an arsenal of Jesuit techniques, are the masterminds behind the plot and are organizing all the disturbances (“the uprising is mostly held up by the księża”).852 2) The Polish fight for independence is only a pretence for voracious territorial claims by the Jesuits. The real purpose of the uprising is not “freedom” and “independence”; it is a desire to annex a half of the Russian territory. As Katkov writes, the insurgents desire “full independence for Poland with the constitution of 1815 and, in addition, half of Russia.”853 The Poles envision, “in place of today’s’ mighty Russia,” a mighty Poland that would stretch “up to Kiev and Smolensk, from the Baltic to the 850 “Польское восстание вовсе не народное восстание: восстал не народ, а шляхта и духовенство. Это не борьба за свободу, а борьба за власть – желание слабого подчинить себе сильного. Вот почему средством польского восстания не может быть открытая, честная борьба. Как в семенах своих, так и в своем развитии, оно было и есть интрига и ничего более. Если эта интрига имела значительный успех, то лишь потому что она нашла у нас благоприятную для себя почву.”See the editorial in No. 139 of Moscow News (1863) in Katkov, 1863 god: sobranie statei po pol'skomu voprosu pomieshchavshikhsia v moskovskikh Viedomostiakh, Russkom viestnike i Sovremennoi Lietopisi, p. 255. 851 “Полько-езуитская интрига замышляет конечную пагубу для Русского государства и вместе для русской православной церкви.” See the editorial in No. 139 of Moscow News (1863) in Ibid , p. 258. 852 “Наиболее точные сведения убеждают в том, что восстание преимущественно держится ксендзами.” See the editorial in No. 139 of Moscow News (1863) in Ibid , p. 263. 853 “Потребовалась полная самостоятельность Польши с конституцией 1815 года и с пол-Россией в придачу.” From an article in No. 71 (1863) in Moscow News. Ibid , p. 63. 338 Black Sea.”854 Polish patriots, continues Katkov, consider “all those age-old Russian provinces where, in the old days, the Polish yoke was spread with fire and sword, and with Catholic propaganda” to be theirs. 855 3) In spite of the Polish schemers’ attempts to provoke and frighten peasants into participating in the uprising, the people hate the Poles and love the Russian tsar. The Poles use the peasantry by promising them land and freedoms that they do not intend to grant them while, at the same time, hating and despising them. To further their Jesuit aims, the Poles want to deprive the peasants of their age-old language, religion, and national identity. Katkov reveals the true Polish views of the “Russian” peasants, the inhabitants of the SouthWestern provinces that they wish to conquer. According to his reporting, the Poles refer to Russian peasants as cattle (быдло), a herd (стадо), and “dead economic material.”856 To make the “cattle” act according to their wishes, the schemers forcefully Polonize them. Katkov dedicates a series of articles to the topic of forceful Polonization and Latinization of Russian South-Western provinces where he claims that the “patriots” “try to wean away the local population from Russian literacy and even the alphabet by setting up Polish schools and printing the works of local Russian literature in the Latin alphabet.”857 Again, the main culprits are 854 “[H]а месте нынешней могущественной России должна стать могущественная Польша по Киев, по Смоленск, от Балтийского до Черного моря,” from from the editorial in No. 11 of Moscow News, 1863. Ibid , p. 24. 855 “[П]ольский патриотизм... считает Польшей все те исконно-русские области, где, в прежние времена, огнем и мечом и католическою пропагандой распространялось польское владычество.” From the editorial in No. 11 of Moscow News, 1863. Ibid , p. 28. 856 “[M]ертвый экономический материал,” From the article “The Fight against Polish Propaganda in SouthWestern Russia” in No. 1 of Contemporary Chronicle. See Ibid , p. 6. 857 “Польские патриоты... усиливаются отучить тамошнее население от русской грамоты и даже азбуки, учреждая для него польские школы и печатая произведения местной русской литературы латинским 339 Roman-Catholic priests (księża) who, by “various swearwords and unseemly tricks, try to debase, in the eyes of the peasant, his language and nationality.”858 To enact these dirty tricks, “the power-thirsty Polish clergy who wish to enslave the Russian Orthodox Church” hold out their hand “to the power-thirsty szlachta who wish to dominate over the Russian people.”859 According to Katkov, the treacherous attitude of the Polish Jesuits toward the “Russian” peasants is evident in the commonly occurring cases where, by their empty promises and false propaganda, “rebellious Pans bring peasants to disobedience,” then send for the authorities, asking the Russian army “to reinstall order by military force.” 860 Polish Jesuits also deceive the peasantry by promising freedom and land and not giving them either. Katkov illustrates this with an analysis of two proclamations, issued in Vilna, where the first promises “freedom of religion and people’s rights,” and the second, issued three weeks later condemns Russian Orthodox priests.861 However, as Katkov optimistically remarks, Russian peasants are often able to see through the plot. They rise against the Polish Pans: “The people rise for the Tsar and the Fatherland; they capture the rebels and burn their houses.”862 4) The Poles are ethnically, linguistically and culturally an alien element in the lands that they wish to “liberate.” Moreover, at this stage of historical development, there is алфавитом.” See the article “The Fight against Polish Propaganda in South-Western Russia” in No. 1 of Contemporary Chronicle. See Ibid , p. 7. 858 “Римско-католические ксендзы... всяческими ругательствами и недостойными выходками... стараются унизить в глазах крестьянина его язык и национальность.” See the editorial in No. 139 of Moscow News (1863) in Ibid , p. 259. 859 See the editorial in No. 139 of Moscow News (1863) in Ibid , p. 255. 860 “[M]ятежные паны... доводили народ до неповиновения, и требовали потом от русских властей чтобы они установляли порядок военною силой.” See the editorial in No. 92 of Moscow News in Ibid , p. 135. 861 862 See the editorial in No. 139 of Moscow News (1863) in Ibid , p. 261. “Русский народ восстает в ответ на восстание польских панов. Он восстает за Царя и Отечество; он захватывает мятежников, сжигает дома их.” See the editorial in No. 92 of Moscow News in Ibid , p. 135. 340 no Polish nation to speak of: what is left of Poland is only the corrupt and degenerate estate of the szlachta. Katkov argues that the Polish element is alien to the Western Provinces of Russia863: “how alien they are to this country in their language and education, in their nationality and religion!” 864 According to him, the peasants inhabiting the Western provinces are ethnically Russian, not Polish; moreover, “the Polish nation does not exist in reality – there is only Polish szlachta”865: The Polish state is a work of Polish szlachta, and not of the Polish people. The people do not know this state; they never participated in its formation; they never acted in Polish history… The Polish state was a state without people; it was the property of the szlachta who did not have roots and soil, and who, inevitably, had to degenerate. 866 863 By “Western” and “South-Western” provinces of Russia, the people at that time meant provinces and regions that comprise Ukraine, Belorussia and Lithuania. 864 “[K]ак чужды они этой стране по своему языку и образованию, по своей народности и религии.” See the article “The Fight against Polish Propaganda in South-Western Russia” in No. 1 of Contemporary Chronicle. See Katkov, 1863 god: sobranie statei po pol'skomu voprosu pomieshchavshikhsia v moskovskikh Viedomostiakh, Russkom viestnike i Sovremennoi Lietopisi, p. 6. 865 “[П]ольского народа нет в действительности ... есть только польская шляхта.” See the article in No. 71 (1863) in Moscow News. Ibid , p. 64. 866 “Польское государство есть дело польской шляхты, а не польского народа. Народ не знает его, он никогда не принимал участия в государственном деле; он не разу не действовал в польской истории... Польское государство было государство без народа; оно было достоянием шляхты, у которой не было почвы, и которая неминуемо должна была выродится.” (See the editorial in No. 105 of Moscow News (1863) in Ibid , pp. 164-165). Nikolai Kostomarov, a famous historian and personality once popular in radical circles, in his “Last years of Rzeczpospolita” (1868), expressed a similar opinion. Coming from a famous historian, these sentiments gave additional weight to Katkov’s allegations. Kostomarov wrote: “The reasons for the downfall of Poland are not as much in those wicked sides which could be found in the moral outlook of this nation, as in the absence of any good sides. […] The root cause of the downfall of Poland is found in the intellectual and moral demoralization of the estate of the szlachta which deprived good institutions of any force and increased the power of bad institutions. Getting further to the root of it, we have to say that the root cause of the downfall of Poland is in those qualities of the people which so easily lured them to demoralization and made the Poles, in general, incapable of independent statehood.” (“Причины падения Польши не столько в тех дурных сторонах, которые были в нравах нации, сколько в отсутсвии хороших. [...] Корень падения Польши в той деморализации шляхетского сословия, умственной и нравственной, которая лишала силы хорошие учреждения и увеличивала власть дурных; восходя далее к началу, придется сазать, что корень падения Польши в тех качествах народа, которые так легко увлекли его к деморализации и вообще делали поляков неспособными к самостоятельной государственной жизни”). Further, Kostomarov analyzed in detail the “moral qualities of the Polish nation” and generalized in a narrative which Petr Lavrov, in whose article these passages are cited, called “pseudo-scholarly.” (See Lavrov, "Pis'mo provintsiala o nekotorykh literaturnykh iavleniiakh," pp. 176-180). 341 5) Not being able to act openly, the Polish plotters employ a number of secret and unseemly tricks to advance their purposes. The arsenal of these plotters includes assassinations, poisonings, false proclamations, agitation, propaganda, arson, as well as disguising themselves in peasant dress when needed. In his articles, Katkov often reports about the cases of Poles masquerading in Russian peasants’ dress to advance their purposes. He writes, “The Pans put on Ukrainian shirts (свитки) and Cossack hats and invite peasants to come with them to their church (kościół),”867 where they disseminate propaganda. Polish cruelty, treacherousness and inhumanity are symbolized in Katkov’s publication by the mass slaughter of unarmed, sleeping Russian soldiers at the onset of the uprising, when the soldiers were “killed in their homes, one by one.” 868 This report especially outraged and disgusted the public.869 According to Katkov, the plot unleashed murderous instincts in the Polish population: “there began clandestine assassination attempts; and numerous Russian soldiers, treacherously caught unawares, were slaughtered in a barbaric 867 “Паны надевают украинские свитки и казачьи шапки, приглашают крестьян с собою в костел...” See the article “The Fight against Polish Propaganda in South-Western Russia” in No. 1 of Contemporary Chronicle. See Katkov, 1863 god: sobranie statei po pol'skomu voprosu pomieshchavshikhsia v moskovskikh Viedomostiakh, Russkom viestnike i Sovremennoi Lietopisi, p. 7. 868 “[P]усских солдат убивают в домах, по одиночке,” from the editorial in No. 11 of Moscow News, 1863. Ibid , p. 9. 869 Katkov was not the only person to be angered by the dirty tricks of Jesuit schemers. Outraged by the means that the Poles used in their fight against Russia, Botkin wrote in a letter to Turgenev: “The means used by the Poles to instigate civil strife in Russia: forged manifestoes, manufactured in London, the so-called “golden charters” (золотые грамоты), disguising themselves in peasants’ clothing, arsons, etc. would enrage anybody. […] Among the people spreading forged manifestos on the Volga were Russians too! What kind of people must be these contemptible instruments in the hands of the Poles!” (“Средства, употребляемые поляками к произведению смут в России, фальшивые манифесты, напечатанные в Лондоне, так называемые ‘золотые грамоты,’ переодеванья в мужицкое платье, поджоги и пр. остервенят здесь всякого. [...] Между людьми, раздававшими фальшивые манифесты на Волге, – были и русские! Каковы должны быть эти презренные орудия поляков!” V.P. Botkin i I.S. Turgenev: Neizdannaia perepiska: 1851-1869 (Moscow-Leningrad: Academia, 1930), pp. 176-177). 342 manner, one by one.”870 Thirsty for more blood, the insurgents set up secret courts that, “by threatening peaceful citizens with secret murder, recruit supporters, force the people to obey them, and steer the masses of townspeople as they wish.”871 One of the ways in which the Jesuits were able to manipulate townspeople is to make them wear mourning clothes. This “mourning for the Fatherland,” is also, according to Katkov, provoked by fear. This “effective and touching mourning that fills the streets” is deceptively designed to provoke “sympathy and reconciliation,”872 while furthering the means of the Jesuits. 6) The most consequential claim as far as Russian nihilists were concerned is Katkov’s assertion that there exists an intrinsic and intimate connection between the Polish conspirators and Russian revolutionaries.873 Elaborating on the extent of this connection, Katkov argues that the secret organization “Land and Liberty” is organized and directed from Poland. “Land and Liberty’s” main production – the inflammatory proclamations – are allegedly commissioned by the Poles and timed to promote the aims of the revolt. The proclamation “The Great Russian” (“Великорус”) is mentioned by 870 “Начались тайные покушения исподтишка, начались тайные убийства, и множество русских солдат, изменнически застигнутых врасплох, были варварски зарезаны по одиночке.” See the article in No. 71 (1863) in Moscow News. Katkov, 1863 god: sobranie statei po pol'skomu voprosu pomieshchavshikhsia v moskovskikh Viedomostiakh, Russkom viestnike i Sovremennoi Lietopisi, pp. 62-63. 871 “Зачем вдруг в Царстве Польском начали действовать какие-то тайные судилища, страхом тайного убийства вербовавшие себе преверженцев, принуждавшие мирных жителей к повиновению, и двигавшие городскими массами по своим замыслам.” See the article in No. 71 (1863) in Moscow News. Ibid , pp. 61-62. 872 “А между тем, траур по ‘отчизне,’ траур уличный, эффектный, трогающий, вызывающий на участие и примирение…” From the article “The Fight against Polish Propaganda in South-Western Russia” in No. 1 of Contemporary Chronicle. See Ibid , p. 7. 873 Polish sources also claim that there was significant support for the Polish cause among Russian “revolutionary party,” due to the success of propaganda in its midst. See, for example, Wydawnictwo materyalow do powstania 1863-1864, vol. 4, 5 vols. (Lwow: 1888-1894), p. 54. 343 Katkov as a work produced to further the cause of Polish revolutionaries.874 Discussing the proclamation, Katkov writes: On the 19th of February… the anniversary of the liberation of many millions of people, a new product of our underground press was disseminated in Moscow. It was a new proclamation with the stamp of “Land and Liberty.” Speaking on behalf of the Russian people, the authors of this anonymous sheet appeal to our officers and soldiers in Poland asking them to abandon their banners and to turn their weapons against their Fatherland. This is even worse than starting fires. This proclamation, like so many other things, is a deed of the emissaries of Polish revolution.875 Katkov believes that the domestic revolutionaries are, essentially, a foreign product: they were “educated” by the Polish agitators, and are now contemptuously and ruthlessly manipulated to further the Polish cause. Katkov argues that revolutionary “absurdities” (нелепости) – all that “delusion” and “mold” on society – could not have been organically Russian. A skillful hand was needed to stir these elements and “galvanize” them.876 In general, not only radical revolutionary organizations like “Land and Liberty” were powerfully implicated in the conspiracy story of the Polish intrigue, but also all brands of nihilists, materialists, atheists, proponents of female emancipation, emancipated young women, and even more liberal government officials. Katkov lays down his wrath on all of them: The Polish-Jesuit intrigue managed to organize and lay its hands on all unclean, rotten and insane elements that appeared in our society. Our pathetic revolutionaries, consciously or unconsciously, became its tools. Our absurd 874 See the editorial in No. 110 of Moscow News (1863) in Katkov, 1863 god: sobranie statei po pol'skomu voprosu pomieshchavshikhsia v moskovskikh Viedomostiakh, Russkom viestnike i Sovremennoi Lietopisi, p. 189. 875 “19 февраля... в годовщину освобождения стольких миллионов народа... разбрасывалось в Москве новое изделие нашей подземной печати... новая прокламация со штемпелем Земля и Воля. Авторы этого подметного листа, говоря от лица русского народа, взывают к нашим офицерам и солдатам в Польше, убеждая их покинуть свои знамена и обратить свое оружие против своего отечества... Это еще хуже пожаров... прокламация это, как и многое другое, есть дело эмиссаров польской революции.” See the editorial in No. 11 of Moscow News, 1863. Ibid , p. 25. 876 “Польские агитаторы образовали у нас домашних революционеров, и презирая их в душе, умеют ими пользоваться”; “нужно было... чтобы какая-нибудь ловкая рука поддержала это обольщение, дала этим нелепостям опору, гальванизировала эту гниль.” See the editorial in No. 11 of Moscow News, 1863. Ibid , p. 26. 344 materialism, atheism, all brands of emancipation – both ridiculous and scandalous – found in it most active support. Gladly, it patronized all that dissipation and worked to spread it by all means available. The plot succeeded in calling forth some administrative regulations from which it could profit. It knew how to use to its advantage the extreme anarchy that reigned in our system of education: it seated itself on the students’ bench; it climbed the professor’s rostrum to preach cosmopolitism and atheism.877 7) In light of the previous point, it is not surprising that Herzen and other “London agitators” who openly showed support for the Polish cause, were seen by Katkov as agents of the Polish revolution, their activities anti-Russian in nature. In his editorials, Katkov dedicates quite a few inflammatory pages to Herzen, denigrating him and his activities and ridiculing those segments of the Russian public who used to venerate Herzen and read his publications voraciously, trusting every one of his words. Katkov exclaims that Herzen and London agitators “try to assist the Polish uprising as much as they can.” In the process, they “abuse the Russian people and declare that Russia is a silly phantom that ought to disappear from the face of the world without a trace.” 878 8) As the uprising was suppressed in Poland and Russian Western provinces, Katkov called for increased vigilance and warned about the dangers of the Polish infection spreading into the heart of Russia. Katkov would not let the panic subside. He kept supplying reports about the development of the Polish plot inside Russia. Consider the report about the confiscation of phosphorous, allegedly 877 “[B]се что завелось в нем [нашем обществе] нечистого, гнилого, сумасбродного, она [польско-иезутская интрига] сумела прибрать к рукам и организовать для своих целей. Наши жалкие революционеры, сознательно или бессознательно, стали ее орудиями. Наш нелепый материализм, атеизм, всякого рода эмансипации, и смешные и возмутительные, нашли в ней деятельную себе поддержку. Она с радостью покровительствовала всему этому разврату и распрoстраняла его всякими способами. Она умела вызывать некоторые выгодные ей административные распоряжения; она отлично умела пользоваться крайней анархией в системе нашего народного просвещения; она садилась на школьную скамью, она влезала на учительскую кафедру... проповедуя космополитизм или безверие...” See the editorial in No. 136 of Moscow News (1863) Ibid , p. 273. 878 “[B]сячески стараются пособлять польскому восстанию... ругаются над русским народом вообще, объявляют Россию ничем иным как глупою выдумкой, которая должна бесследно исчезнуть с лица земли.” 345 sent to Moscow via a front company called “Hope” (“Надежда”) in Vilna, presumably to be used (not for the first time) by arsonists.879 Katkov declared that the Revolutionary Central Committee is moving the “fire” eastward and, in order to provoke unrest in Russia, “some individuals who used to wear Polish czamarkas are now putting on peasant Russian dress.”880 Conspiracy theories about the 1863 Polish Uprising did not disappear after its suppression. They continued to be expressed in Russian publications for many years. These conspiracy theories got an additional boost after the Karakozov attempt on April 4, 1866. For example, noting the “huge number of recent assassinations,” the author of the chronicle “Political and Social Observations” in the journal Worldwide Labor (Всемирный труд) delivered perhaps the most concise and coherent summary of the popular conspiracy theory about the Polish plot as it existed in Russia at that time. This account sums up the major components of the Polish plot as they were already expressed in Katkov’s Moscow News: The investigation of the events of April 4 and the investigation of the Polish rebellion and dealings of the Poles with their foreign rządy made clear to us that the initial influence of revolutionary ideas on the congenitally blind segment of our journalism was achieved through the agents of foreign Polish rządy and that those agents, acting in St. Petersburg, spread the net of their influence even into the administrative sphere. As a consequence of that influence, a large part of our journalism, for a long time, forcibly sustained in the youth and, in general, in the inexperienced part of Russian society the artificially-agitated, unnatural and groundless resentment against the government. Our nihilists were the executors of this rather unflattering assignment of the Polish revolutionary szlachta. 879 See the editorial in No. 110 of Moscow News (1863) in Katkov, 1863 god: sobranie statei po pol'skomu voprosu pomieshchavshikhsia v moskovskikh Viedomostiakh, Russkom viestnike i Sovremennoi Lietopisi, pp. 187-188. 880 “В Москве уже замечают, что некоторые лица, ходившие прежде в чамарках, надели теперь русский народный костюм.” (See the editorial in No. 110 of Moscow News (1863) in Ibid , p. 188). In his survey of conservative literature of the 1860s-1870s, Evgeny Solovyov writes that, after 1863, Katkov continued to insist that “the Polish plot did not stop”: “It only hid and, while not appearing on the stage openly, it continues to act through Russian revolutionaries. Its hand is above all visible in the student disturbances; it finances our nihilists, and is the constant ferment of any discontent.” (“Польская интрига, – проповедовал он, – не замерла после 1863 года. Oна только спряталась. Не выступая на сцену лично, она продолжает действовать через посредство русских революционеров. Ее рука видна в студенческих беспорядках прежде всего; она снабжает деньгами наших нигилистов, она является постоянным ферментом недовольства.” Solov'ev, Ocherki iz istorii russkoi literatury , p. 446). 346 Karakozov was a victim of that influence and one of his closest mentors was, as we know, a member of a foreign revolutionary society – of course, the Polish one because, in Europe, there are no other organized revolutionary centers except for Polish ones and, additionally, no revolutionary society can have as its goal the unrealizable world-wide revolution. The threads of the events of April 4th are suddenly cut short abroad. There, as the investigation of the former Chief General of Police in Królestwo Polskie, General Trepov, reveals, two Polish societies had existed even prior to April 4: one that consisted of arsonists, and another one – of régicides. Here is what General Trepov’s report states: “Some members of the London society (Polish) united with émigrés residing in Switzerland, and formed a society of clandestine arsonists. [...] The people, whose juices were sucked out for centuries by the szlachta, are now taken away from it forever. Therefore, how can the szlachta’s attitude toward Russia not be malicious? Combine this malice with the Jesuit doctrine – the end justifies the means – and you will get the whole essence of Poland’s and the szlachta’s ethics and attitude toward Russia; everything else, naturally, follows logically from this doctrine. With a most false insolence, the szlachta calls itself the Polish people but it comprises only a relatively small handful of the privileged estate, only a tiny, pathetic fragment of the defeated and lost Poland. As seeds of evil, they scattered over the vast expanses of Russia’s western provinces. At first sight of the reforms, started by the His Majesty in 1861, the Polish szlachta saw that, around them, a free and national atmosphere was being formed; an atmosphere which they cannot breathe and with which they will, sooner or later, suffocate. Królestwo Polskie started to stir, and it covered Europe with secret societies of arsonists, counterfeiters and régicides. Nowadays, they appease their anger on the sly, through secret plots and assassination attempts, various kinds of slander, the fabrication of counterfeit money and other similar means. The mass of people who were a part of former Poland permanently merged with Russia because, in her, they found guarantees for the free development of their lives and the deliverance from oppression by their former rulers.881 881 “Следствие о 4 апреле и следствие о польском мятеже и сношении поляков с заграничными их жондами объяснили нам, что первое влияние революционных идей на слепорожденную часть нашей журналистики произведено было агентами польских заграничных жондов и что агенты эти, действуя в Петербурге, распространили сеть своего влияния даже на административные сферы. Последствием этого влияния было то, что немалая часть русской журналистики долго поддерживала насильственно-возбужденное и неестественное, беспричинное раздражение молoдежи и, вообще, неопытной части русского общества против правительства. Исполнителями столь нелестного поручения польской революционной шляхты были наши нигилисты. Каракозов был жертвой этого влияния, а один из ближайших наставников его, как известно, был членом заграничного революционного общества, конечно, польского, потому что в Европе нет никаких других организованных революционных цeнтров кроме польских, и притом, никакое революционное общество не может полагать своей целью неосуществимую всеобщую революцию... Нити следствия о 4 апреле обрываются за границей, где, где по исследованиям бывшего генерал-полицеймейстера царства польского, генерала Трепова, обнаружены еще прежде 4 апреля два польских общества: одно – поджигателей, а другое – цареубийц... Вот что говорится в отчете генерала Трепова: ‘Некоторые из членов лондонского общества (польского) соединились с эмигрантами, проживающими в Швейцарии и составили общество тайных поджигателей.’[...] Народ, из которого шляхта в течение нескольких веков высасывала все соки, теперь отнят у нее безвозвратно. [...] Может ли она шляхта без злобы относится к России? Соедините эту злобу с иезуитской доктриной – цель оправдывает средства–и вы получите весь субстат польскошляхетской нравственности и чувств ее к России, все остальноe, конечно, следует уже логически из этой 347 This widely popular conspiracy theory that was reflected in Russian journalism of the 1860s made its way into Russian polemical novels as well.882 The presence of the Polish conspiracy in the polemical novels of the 1860s-1870s was considered by Soviet scholars to be an important marker of tendentiousness and antinihilism. Yuri Sorokin writes that the main sources of the Polish conspiracy in such novels “are not democrats-revolutionaries” but the “representatives of the Polish Party, specifically, the aristocratic wing of that party, closely connected with the Jesuits.”883 Soviet scholars, however, did not refute the connections between the Polish insurgents and the Russian “revolutionary movement. “Russo-Polish” revolutionary connections are explored, for example, in the multi-volume academic series The Revolutionary Situation in Russia in 1859-1861 (Революционная ситуация в России в 1959-1961 гг.).884 According to the Soviet view, revolutionary circles, founded around Russia’s main universities and in the army in доктрины. [...] Шляхта с самой лживой дерзостью называет себя польским народом, но она составляет лишь небольшую сравнительно горсть превилегированного сословия, один лишь жалкий осколок разбитой и погибшей Польши, и только как злое семя рассеялось на огромном пространстве западных русских провинций. [...] В виду реформ, начатых Государем с 1961 года польская шляхта увидела, что около них создается свободная и народная атмосфера, в которой она не привыкла дышать и в которой рано или поздно ей придется задохнуться. [...] Царство Польское зашевелилось... и покрыло Европу тайными обществами поджигателей, фальшивых монетчиков и цареубийц, и теперь удовлетворяет своей злобе из-за куста, посредством тайных заговоров и покушений, всяческой клеветы, фабрикации фальшивых денег и тому подобными средствами. [...] Народная масса, входившая в состав бывшей Польши, окончательно слилaсь с Россией, потому что нашла в ней обеспечение для свободного развития своей жизни и избавление от прежних притеснений своих влaстителей.” "Politicheskie i obshchestvennye zametki," pp. 198-211. 882 A post-Soviet Leskov scholar, Totobalin, remarks, “The Polish revolutionary movement was one of the pivotal themes of reactionary literature, inspired by Katkov. This literature attempted to present Russian revolutionaries as obedient ‘agents’ of the Polish movement, and their activities – as ‘the Polish cause.’” (“Польское движение также было одной из стержневых тем реакционной литературы, вдохновлявшейся Катковым. Она пыталась представить русских революционеров как послушных ‘агентов’ польского движения, всю их деятельность – ‘делом поляков’”). Totubalin, "Nekuda," p. 716. 883 “Основным источником этой интриги являются не демократы-революционеры сами по себе... Это обычно и чаще всего представители ‘польской партии,’ и при этом аристократического крыла этой партии, тесно связанного с иезуитами. Именно они заправляют действием, они прежде всего сеют и подогревают смуту, а русские демократы являются лишь их слепым орудием.” Sorokin, "Antinigilisticheskii roman," p. 100. 884 Revoliutsionnaia situatsiia v Rossii v 1859-1861 gg., ed. M. V. Nechkina, 7 vols. (Moscow: Izd-vo Akademii nauk SSSR, 1960-). 348 the early 1860s, were inspired by Polish revolutionary sentiments that shaped the popular antigovernment mood among Russian youth that was mostly vague and unfocused. For example, analyzing Polish and Russian revolutionary songs and poems from the period, the Soviet historian Katsnelson shows how the authority of Russian revolutionaries, including the Decembrists and Herzen, was used in revolutionary poems, songs and slogans to attract followers from the Russian public, mainly students and officers, to the Polish cause. 885 The proPolish position of Herzen and his Bell has also been studied by Soviet historians. Analyzing the impact of Herzen’s position on the Polish Uprising, V.B. Bikulich shows that the Bell, as well as proclamations and revolutionary appeals published in London, flooded Russian South-Western provinces in 1863-1864 and were confiscated in large quantities.886 Arguing against the notion that Herzen was cautious in his support of the Poles, the author of one of the most thorough studies on the subject, I.M. Beliavskaya, claims that Herzen not only, in the fullest and open way, expressed the views of Russian revolutionaries-democrats on the Polish question and systematically advanced on the pages of the Bell the demands for independence for Poland; he also, in practice, was connected with the Polish movement for liberation.887 885 For the high-school student (гимназист) Aloizii Vitkovskii, among whose papers the police found numerous handwritten copies of revolutionary poems and diary entries that read: “Poles, don’t be discouraged! God and the Russians will help you” (“Поляки, не унывайте! Вам бог и русские помогут”). See D. B. Katsnel'son, "Russkie i pol'skie stikhi v zapisiakh uchastnikov revoliutsionnykh vystuplenii nachala 60-kh godov," Revoliutsionnaia situatsiia v Rossii v 1859-1961 gg., ed. M. V. Nechkina, vol. 5 (Moscow: Nauka, 1965), p. 223), for the captain of the Yekaterinburg infantry regiment, Lepekhin, who was exiled to Orenburg for going to a kościół and singing revolutionary hymns with the Poles, or for the numerous Russian students who, as Elena Shtakenshnaider notes, went in mid-March 1861 with the Poles to their church and “served a funeral service for martyred Poles” (See Shtakenshnaider, Dnevnik i zapiski, 1854-1886 , pp. 338-339) the causes of the Polish revolution and their own revolutionary spirit were parts of the same sentiment. 886 V. B. Bikulich, "O russko-pol'sko-litovsko-belorusskikh sviaziakh perioda vosstaniia 1863-1864 gg.," Revoliutsionnaia situatsiia v Rossii v 1859-1861 gg, ed. M. V. Nechkina, vol. 4 (Moscow: Nauka, 1970), pp. 301311. 887 “Герцен не только наиболее полно и открыто высказал взгляды русских революционеров-демократов по польскому вопросу и систематически пропагандировал со страниц ‘Колокола’ требование независимости Польши, но и практически был связан с польским освободительным движением.” Beliavskaia, A. I. Gertsen i pol'sko-natsional'no-osvoboditel'noe dvizhenie 60-kh godov XIX veka, p. 6. 349 Of no less interest is the Soviet view on the unrest among the peasantry of the South-Western provinces and the degree of the peasants’ participation in the uprising. The notion of a “revolutionary situation” relies on the presence of active discontent among the base; therefore, it was essential to show the broad-based ferment among the peasantry in order to claim that Russia experienced a revolutionary situation in 1863-1864. Thus, many of the articles in the Revolutionary Situation in Russia in 1859-1861 reveal that most of the cases of peasant revolts in Russia were located in the South-Western provinces and brought about by the Polish uprising.888 Curiously, it appears that, apart from the ideological bias, there is no essential difference between the Soviet picture of the discontent of the masses and Katkov’s claim that peasants were led astray by the agents of the Polish conspirators. An understanding of the components of Katkov’s version of the Polish conspiracy theory is necessary for an understanding of the ideological climate in which Kliushnikov and other authors of polemical novels worked while the Soviet interpretation of the Russo-Polish revolutionary connections in the early 1860s helps to contextualize the Soviet critics’ analysis of antinihilism in literature. Writing Mirage in 1863, simultaneously with the publication of Katkov’s articles on the Polish problem, Kliushnikov created a work that was permeated with the same facts, fears, interpretations and feelings that were shared by a large portion of the Russian population. With timing being his best alibi, Kliushnikov did not write his novel using “Katkov’s prescriptions,” as Soviet scholars habitually claimed. Comparing the story of the uprising as it emerges from Kliushnikov’s novel with Katkov’s version of the components of the Polish intrigue as outlined above, we can see that, while it contained some elements of the conspiracy 888 See, for example V. I. Neupokoev, "K voprosu o prichinakh neudachi vosstaniia 1863 g. v Litve," Revoliutsionnaia situatsiia v Rossii v 1859-1861 gg, ed. M. V. Nechkina, vol. 4 (Moscow: Nauka, 1965), pp. 284300; and V. B. Bikulich, K voprosu ob uchastii litovskikh krest'ian v vosstanii 1863-1864 gg., Revoliutsionnaia situatsiia v Rossii v 1859-1861 gg., ed. M. V. Nechkina, vol. 3, 5 vols. (Moscow: Nauka, 1970), pp. 115-143. 350 theory, Mirage lacked the frame: in the novel, there is no Polish-Jesuit intrigue to speak of. Critics of Mirage can find examples in the plot of the novel to illustrate some points in Katkov’s articles. Thus, the anti-hero of Mirage is the young and handsome Count Bronsky, an heir to a rich and powerful aristocratic Polish family residing in one of Russia’s Ukrainian provinces, a recent graduate of Moscow University who, in his search for a name for himself and a broad arena for action, decides to organize an uprising and win independence for Poland. Bronsky’s ardent revolutionary energy captivated both local authorities and local Russian (or, rather, Ukrainian) youth and, specifically, members of the Gorobets family: Inna (who is the main heroine of the novel), Leon and a young schoolboy (гимназист), Kolya. These characters are portrayed as having been educated on Herzen’s publications and being tormented by a desire to improve the lot of humanity. They desperately search for a cause to which they can dedicate their lives. Inna’s infatuation with the Polish fight for independence is presented in a sympathetic light. She follows Bronsky into the uprising, being drawn there by a tragic and powerful force, explained partly by an oath with which her father bound her on his deathbed. Shortly after being drawn into the whirlwind of the uprising, and then defeat and immigration, Inna, Leon and Kolya are betrayed by Bronsky and the Poles. Early on, Bronsky shows his true colors: his complete disregard and contempt for the peasant population and his aristocratic nature and goals. Ultimately, Inna discovers that “the mask of nationalism covers the lowest aims,” 889 and that Count Bronsky and his aristocratic friends in exile do not care about humanity; they are only obsessed with a thirst for power. Disillusioned and lonely, Inna dies in England. Apart from its consistent and substantial focus on the psychological world of the main characters, the plot of Mirage is moved forward by a chain of events that can illustrate the components of the Polish conspiracy theory as outlined by Katkov. Thus, Bronsky is shown to 889 Brückner, A Literary History of Russia, p. 427. 351 entice the youth (Kolya Gorobets) with revolutionary ideas, inflammatory proclamations and pornography, while consciously deceiving them about the true goals of the uprising. In order to spread his influence on the local authorities and rid himself of his enemies (mainly the novel’s protagonist, Rusanov, who is his political and personal rival for Inna), Bronsky unscrupulously employs libel, denunciations, bribes and toadyism. In the novel there are scenes of propaganda among the peasants (including a scene where Inna spreads propaganda in a tavern, disguised as a peasant boy), fake manifestos (announcing to the peasants the “real emancipation”), revolutionary propaganda in schools, a secretly manufactured printing press, executions of peaceful peasants by rebels, and apocalyptic fires that destroy the main scene of action in the novel (Inna’s family estate). Both Katkov and Kliushnikov use the same factual background and share the same patriotic feelings and belief in the Polish conspiracy theory in depicting the events of the Polish uprising. However, Katkov’s narrative is different from Kliushnikov’s. Most importantly, Katkov claims that the events of the Polish Uprising are planned and executed by a clandestine Polish-Jesuit-aristocratic organization the aim of which is to destroy the Russian Empire; secondly, he maintains that the domestic revolutionary movement is just a wing of this conspiracy. Both of these points are missing from Mirage. Kliushnikov does not borrow from Katkov; rather, he operates with the same facts and themes which widely circulated in society at that time. A striking feature in Kliushnikov’s portrayal of the Polish Uprising in Mirage is the novel’s localized character. The uprising in a few villages in the Western province where the action of the novel takes place is not organized by a “revolutionary center” or an all-powerful ksiądz but, more or less single-handedly, by Bronsky. Both his aging father, hater of Russia and a 352 participant in the uprising of 1830, and the ksiądz who lives on his estate, are unaware of the preparations for the new uprising and even oppose it initially as “hasty” and “not prepared.” Kliushnikov’s novel can be contrasted with Krestovsky’s dilogy The Bloody Hoax (Кровавый пуф, 1869), a novel about the Polish Uprising that is written with manifest tendentiousness and which fully organizes and subjugates all levels of its plot to its message. Krestovsky admitted that tendentiousness was his explicit goal: “By no means do I exclude my chronicle from the group of tendentious writings. On the contrary, it follows a most definite political tendency.”890 In general, the novel is written to illustrate and prove two main ideas: 1) Russia and Poland are like “two seeds thrown in the same soil too close to one another.”891 The story of their coexistence, therefore, is the story of a deadly struggle: one of them is destined to subjugate the other. Naturally, national interest and the very survival of Russia depend on her victory in this struggle. 2) Krestovsky’s secondary task is to prove that Poland’s territorial claims –Western Russian provinces – are ethnically, linguistically and culturally Russian. To argue these two points in his dilogy, Krestovsky employs a number of strategies. Krestovsky makes full use of the Polish conspiracy narrative as it was formulated by Katkov in his articles, by the tsarist court which persecuted the participants in the uprising, and by Russian historians like Vasily Ratch, the author of the controversial History of the Polish Revolt of 1863 in North-Western Russia (1867-1868) (Сведения о польском мятеже 1863 года 890 “Я никак не исключаю мою хронику из числа произведений тенденциозных. Напротив, она имеет самую определнную политическую тенденцию.” Quoted in Iu. L. Elets, "Biografiia Vsevoloda Vladimirovicha Krestovskogo," Sobranie sochinenii V. V. Krestovskogo, ed. Iu. L. Elets, vol. 1 (Saint Petersburg: Izdanie Tovarishchestva "Obshchestvennaia pol'za", 1904), p. xv. 891 See Ibid , p. xxx. 353 на северо-западе России), and other journalistic, literary, and archival sources. According to Krestovsky’s conception, which permeates the entire novel (in Batiuto’s summary), already before 1863, the entire Russian Empire, from the capital to the most remote provinces, was entangled in the firm but invisible net of the conspiracy, the treacherous goal of which was to undermine Russian statehood from within. Nihilists of all ranks, liberals of all colors, schoolchildren, students, army officers, representatives of high society in provinces and in the capitals, the mass of Russian citizens who were flirting with politics – all of them were obedient pawns in the hands of foreign emissaries who received their instructions from the Jesuits and the magnates.892 The Polish conspiracy gradually encircles all spaces in Krestovsky’s novel. Its working in the novel’s provincial chapters center around the governor’s wife, Mme. Grzib, who, in her search for popularity and pleasures, capitalizes on her Polish descent and indulges the spread of liberal ideas (specifically, pro-Polish sentiments) and persecutes manifestations of everything Russian and patriotic, from the Russian Orthodox Church to the teaching of Russian literacy to peasants in the town’s Sunday school, labeling anybody who promotes these causes as “retrogrades” and “spies of the Third Department.” In the capital, the Polish conspiracy is centered around the “Publishing House of I. Koltyshko,” a front organization that coordinates the work of the “Petersburg Center” of the central Polish revolutionary organization, the recruitment of new members of the conspiracy and propaganda efforts among Russian domestic revolutionaries and, more importantly, in the Russian army. Polish-Catholic priests, księża, control the development of the conspiracy, providing oversight and coordination between its provincial, Petersburg and Warsaw centers. Youth is led astray with the help of Herzen’s Bell and other revolutionary publications and proclamations, which are disseminated in high schools, Sunday schools, and 892 “[П]еред 1863 вся Россия от столицы до самой глухой провинции была опутана прочной, но невидимой сетью ‘интриги,’ коварно нацеленной на подрыв русской государственности изнутри. Послушными пешками в руках чужеземных эмиссаров, получающих тайные инструкции от иузуитов и магнатов, оказываются... нигилисты всех рангов, либералы всех оттенков, гимназисты, студенты, военные, представители губернского и столичного ‘высшего света,’ масса политиканствующих российских обывателей.” Batiuto, "Antinigilisticheskii roman 60-70-kh godov," p. 283. 354 nihilist “circles.” The emerging political dissent is then skillfully steered in two directions: to destabilize (and, consequently, weaken) Russia from within, and to develop a feeling of sympathy toward the Poles (and, hopefully, recruit some of these nihilists into the revolt). Nihilists are recruited to conduct propaganda among the peasants, supplied with fake “manifestos,” proclamations, and peasant clothing, and sent to agitate peasants in taverns. Ivan Shishkin, a schoolboy who resembles Kliushnikov’s Kolya Gorobets, follows this path in Krestovsky’s novel from the beginning to the end under the leadership of Vasily Svitka, an experienced and powerful conspirator and recruiter.893 Taking full advantage of the conspiracy narrative that, at the time of the novel’s publication in 1869, was recognized by the reading public through stock images, Krestovsky dramatically increases the work’s credibility by presenting it as a historical “chronicle.” As Charles Moser writes, of all anti-nihilist novelists, Vsevolod Krestovsky took his vocation as a historian most seriously of all. The internal evidence for this in Panurge's Herd is impressive. The second novel, Two Forces […] bears the pretentious subtitle “A Chronicle of the New Time of Troubles for the Russian State.” Panurge's Herd is embellished with a number of footnotes, which give it an almost scholarly appearance, and many of its pages describe historical events to which the author was apparently an eye-witness. […] Genuine happenings, only thinly if at all disguised, and actual historical documents are incorporated in the fabric of the novel. 894 The pages of The Bloody Hoax are full of quotations from the Bell, revolutionary proclamations such as “The Great Russian,” the Contemporary and other radical journals and newspapers, from 893 Krestovsky increases the credibility of this episode by making Shishkin and Svitka disseminate the manifesto that was actually distributed in that part of Russia during the uprising. Investigating this episode, Moser writes: “Thus, when a schoolboy Shishkin and the disguised Polish agent Svitka set out to conduct revolutionary propaganda among the people, they employ a counterfeit manifesto, purporting to grant the people complete political and economic emancipation, which has allegedly been suppressed by the Tsar's evil advisers. This document coincides almost word to word with the text of a ‘manifesto’ published in historical literature as the genuine fraudulent one circulated by real-life radicals in the area around Kazan in 1862.” (A. Ershov “Kazanskii zagovor 1863 g. Epizod iz pol'skogo vosstaniia 1863 g.” in Golos minuvshego, No. 6 June 1913, pp. 221-222.) See Moser, Antinihilism in the Russian Novel of the 1860’s , p. 73. 894 Ibid , p. 72. 355 Chernyshevsky’s articles, Herzen’s books and memoirs, government decrees and publications of the Polish rząndy.895 Krestovsky used his experience as a government agent in Warsaw where he was sent to investigate the city’s catacombs to write the Warsaw chapters.896 He also undertook other research trips. Thus, in the spring of 1867, he went to Kazan to research the circumstances of the famous 1862 Bezdna peasant uprising which later served as the opening for the action of Panurge’s Herd.897 Borrowing from a wide range of documentary sources, Krestovsky relies most heavily on Vasily Ratch’s tendentious study of the Polish uprising, History of the Polish Revolt of 1863 in North-Western Russia (1867-1868). Ratch’s study starts with the premise that he is dealing with a conspiracy. The opening sentence of the book reads as follows: “The revolt of 1863 was the fruit of conspiratorial activities, the threads of which are extended to the time of the downfall of Poland.”898 In his study, Ratch creates the narrative of Polish conspiracy, which draws together the Polish uprising, student disturbances, and Chernyshevsky and Nekrasov’s Contemporary.899 Additionally, Krestovsky borrows the symbolic dimension of his novel from the authors of the Polish conspiracy in Russian journalism (Katkov) and Russian historiography (Ratch). In 895 For example, citing Herzen’s own statements that a participant in Polish revolutionary movement, Wortzel, helped him open the printing press in London, Krestovsky concludes that Herzen was a Polish agent. See Sorokin, "Antinigilisticheskii roman," p. 109. 896 “After the Polish rebellion of 1863 Krestovsky was sent to Warsaw as a member of an official investigating committee whose task it was to inspect the catacombs of the Polish capital wherein the underground had operated.” See Moser, Antinihilism in the Russian Novel of the 1860’s, p. 73. 897 See Ibid , p. 73. 898 “Мятеж 1863 года был плодом заговорной деятельности, которой нити тянутся со времен падения Польши.” Ratch, Svedeniia o pol'skom miatezhe 1863 goda v severo-zapadnoi Rossii, p. i. 899 For example, he claims that a Polish revolutionary by the name of Sierakowski excersized power over Chernyshevsky and, through him, over the Contemporary. See Bazanov, Iz literaturnoi polemiki 60-kh godov, p. 79. 356 one of the editorials from 1863, Katkov used the word “hoax” (“небывалый пуф” and “чудовищный пуф” 900) to describe the ephemeral quality of the Polish conspiracy. He wrote, In this uprising, there is not a single sign of inner strength of a nation being resurrected; this is only a desecration of the body of a dead nation. This uprising, with all its horrors, is nothing more than a monstrous hoax; this uprising is no more than an intrigue: it started with intrigue, it multiplies by intrigue, it gives birth to intrigue and uses all intrigue that it encounters in its way. 901 Using the word “hoax” (“пуф”) in the title of his dilogy, Krestovky implies that the purpose of his novel is to expose the conspiracy. For the symbolical dimension of his novel, Krestovky is indebted primarily not to Katkov but to Ratch, who, in his history of the Polish uprising, deploys the images of “Panurge’s herd” (the title of the first book of Krestovsky’s dilogy). Ratch writes: “In the name of progress but deceived, on the one hand, by Herzen and, on the other, by their Polish friends, many Russian young men and women, as a true Panurge’s herd, started to roam about in the darkness and shadows.”902 900 See the editorial in No. 136 of Moscow News (1863) in Katkov, 1863 god: sobranie statei po pol'skomu voprosu pomieshchavshikhsia v moskovskikh Viedomostiakh, Russkom viestnike i Sovremennoi Lietopisi, p. 276. 901 “В этом восстании нет ни малейшего признака внутренней силы воскресающего народа; это только поругание над трупом народа умершего; все это восстание, со всеми свoими ужасами, есть не более как чудовищный пуф; все это восстание есть не более как интрига; она началось интригой, плодится интригой, пораждает интригу и пользуется всякой интригой, какую только встречает на своем пути.” See the editorial in No. 141 of Moscow News (1863) in Ibid , p. 283. 902 “Много русской молодежи, омороченной с одной стороны Герценом, а сдругой стороны польскими своими друзьями, во имя прогресса пошли блуждать во тьме и во мгле истинным панурговым стадом.” Ratch, Svedeniia o pol'skom miatezhe 1863 goda v severo-zapadnoi Rossii , p. 150. The correspondence between this passage and the title of Krestovsky’s novel is noted in Bazanov, Iz literaturnoi polemiki 60-kh godov , p. 79. The image of Panurge’s herd, or “moutons de Panurge,” comes from François Rabelais’ Pantagruel, where it signifies a blind following of others: “Suddenly, I do not know how, it happened, I did not have time to think, Panurge, without another word, threw his sheep, crying and bleating, into the sea. All the other sheep, crying and bleating in the same intonation, started to throw themselves in the sea after it, all in a line. The herd was such that once one jumped, so jumped its companions. It was not possible to stop them, as you know, with sheep, it's natural to always follow the first one, wherever it may go.” François Rabelais, Pantagruel (Paris: Le Livre de poche, 1994), Book IV, Chapter VIII. 357 Therefore, Krestovsky’s title goes back to both Katkov and Ratch. Krestovsky, ultimately, argues that “the bloody hoax,” or the Polish conspiracy, that brought about so much bloodshed and suffering was the result of the work of “two forces” (the title of the second book of the dilogy): the Polish force and the Russian force, the latter being composed of “Panurge’s herd,” that is, mindless and sheepish Russian followers (domestic revolutionaries and the younger generation) of the Polish shepherds. To conclude this discussion of the “antinihilist campaign” of 1863-1864 in Russian literature, it should be said that neither Pisemsky, nor Leskov nor Kliushnikov were the obscurantists and haters of youth presented to the public by radical critics. As writers of polemical novels, they attempted to capture and reflect the Zeitgeist and create a new type of “hero of the time.” Each of these writers was faced with the same reality and problems that resulted in some striking parallels and echoes between their novels, a fact that shows, above all, that they were interlocutors in the same dialog about the fate of Russia at a critical point in its history. Each of them walked on new ground, experimented with style and genre and created genre hybrids which suited the form of their polemical novels. Their types of heroes, techniques and new genre models were used and modified by later writers. Although the tendentious term “anti-nihilist campaign” cannot be applied to these novels, the consequences of their publication and critical reception included the changing perception of nihilism and nihilists in Russian society and literature. In the mid-1860s, Russian revolutionary youth had to deal with a growing association between the domestic and international revolutionary movement and the anti-Russian criminal conspiracy which was allegedly organized, sponsored and directed by Polish nationalists, “Jesuit” Catholic priests and Polish aristocrats. Condemning the desire of “loyal” (blagonamerennye) belletrists to outdo one another in condemning the Polish conspiracy and 358 Russian nihilism, Petr Lavrov argued that these two things were “essentially different,” 903 but, for Russian radicals, it turned increasingly harder to prove this. 903 Lavrov, "Pis'mo provintsiala o nekotorykh literaturnykh iavleniiakh," p. 182. 359 Chapter 4 The Demonic Nihilist Тип расплодился, но с тем вместе из его среды выработалась дaльнейшая метаморфоза. Коммуны незлобивых юношей и дев в венках и афинских костюмах, высело приходящих и уходящих, превратились в шайки чисто разбойничьего характера Михаил Катков, “Нигилизм по брошюре Проф. Цитовича,” 1879.904 Признано, что нигилизм составляет как бы естественное зло нашей земли, болезнь, имеющую свои давние и постоянные источники и неизбежно поражающую известную часть молодого поколения. Николай Страхов “Из истории литературного нигилизма, 1861-1865,” 1890. 905 (1) The Demon as the Paterfamilias of Russian Nihilists: Andrei Osipovich (Novodvorsky) and His Episode from the Life of Neither a Peahen, Nor a Crow (2) Russian Demons: Ishutin’s “Hell” and Karakozov (3) Russian Demons: Sergei Nechaev (4) The Discourse on Infection, Sheep, Swine and Wolves and the Appearance of the First Demonic Nihilist Characters in Literature (5) The Immediate Literary Context of Leskov’s At Daggers Drawn and Dostoevsky’s Demons (6) The Demonic Nihilists of Leskov’s At Daggers Drawn and Dostoevsky’s Demons 1. The Demon as the Paterfamilias of Russian Nihilists: Andrei Osipovich (Novodvorsky) and His Episode from the Life of Neither a Peahen, Nor a Crow In June of 1877, Annals of the Fatherland (Отечественные записки) published a novella by a literary debutant, Andrei Osipovich (Novodvorsky),906 entitled An Episode from the Life of 904 “The type multiplied and further metamorphoses took place amongst its midst. Communes that used to consist of gentle young men and women who wore wreaths and Athenian clothes and who “joyfully [kept] leaving and coming back,” have now turned into gangs of clearly criminal character.” M. N. Katkov, "Nigilizm po broshiure Prof. Tsitovicha," Ideologiia okhranitel'stva, ed. O. Platonov (Moscow: Institut russkoi tsivilizatsii, 2009), p. 389. 905 “ It is an accepted truth that nihilism contains the so-to-say natural evil of our world; a disease that has its old and continual sources and inevitably strikes at a certain portion of younger generation.” Strakhov, Iz istorii literaturnogo nigilizma, 1861-1865: Pis'ma N. Kositsy, Zametki Letopistsa i pr. , p. 71. 360 Neither a Peahen, Nor a Crow (Эпизод из жизни ни павы, ни вороны).907 Written in a highly inventive and defiantly original manner, only slightly reminiscent of Saltykov-Shchedrin’s style, Osipovich’s novella is also a literary manifesto of the raznochinets-populist generation of the 1870s. Conceptualizing the bankruptcy of populist ideology and practice, and faced with the reality of having to live through “difficult times,” Osipovich puts forward a new version of the “hero of the time.” He defines him as “neither a peahen, nor a crow.” 908 The “crows,” in Osipovich’s usage of the term, are the lower classes, who turn out not to be bearers of any supreme Russianness or truth (as the populists had hoped), but of the “dark kingdom”: spiritually, intellectually and aesthetically stifling society. In Osipovich’s novella, the “peahens” represent another parallel world, the world of aristocratic, educated classes. The world of the “peahens” is bright and lies “at the foot of the deity.” The peahens are calm and peaceful; they do not experience any doubts or suffering. Osipovich’s novella is written as a fable. At the core of this fable lies the tragedy of the “hero of the time.” The essence of this tragedy consists in being stuck between two worlds, the world of crows and the world of peahens, and not really belonging to either of them. The hero of 906 Not much is known about the life of the minor writer Andrei Novodvorsky (Osipovich) (1853-1882). Born to an impoverished noble family in Ukraine, he did not receive a higher education. Until Novodvorsky was able to move to Petersburg and start his literary career, his main source of income was private lessons. In Petersburg, he collaborated in the Annals of the Fatherland. His literary work was influenced by Saltykov-Shchedrin. Novodvorsky died of tuberculosis at the age of 29. For more information about Novodvorsky’s life and work, see "Novodvorskii, Andrei Osipovich," Russkie pisateli: Biobibliograficheskii slovar', ed. P. A. Nikolaev, vol. 2 (Moscow: Prosveshchenie, 1990), pp. 87-90; M. G. Popova, A. O. Osipovich-Novodvorskii: ocherk tvorchestva (Kazan': 1970); E. A. Solov'ev; Ocherki iz istorii russkoi literatury XIX veka, 3 ed. (St. Petersburg: Izdanie N. P. Karbasnikova, 1907), pp. 429-435. 907 A. O. Osipovich-Novodvorskii, Epizod iz zhizni ni pavy, ni vorony, Literaturnye pamiatniki, ed. V. I. Bazanova (St. Petersburg: Nauka, 2005). 908 Ibid , pp. 5-8. Unless otherwise noted, occasional small quotes in the discussion of the predicament of “neither a peahen, nor a crow” on the next few pages also come from pages 5-8 of this edition. 361 the novella is a raznochinets, as his name, Preobrazhensky, suggests.909 The hero’s spiritual genealogy is revealed when he, at the beginning of the novella, is summoned to the deathbed of his dying relative, just as Eugene Onegin had once been.910 The paterfamilias of the Russian literary “hero of the time” turns out to be none other than the Demon himself, whose defining epithet is, naturally, “the Spirit of negation, the Spirit of doubt” (“Дух отрицанья, дух сомненья”).911 Since the markers of rebellious youth, from the “deniers” of the 1860s to the “destroyers” of the “People’s Will,” from Bazarov to Pyotr Verkhovensky, have been nihilism, denial, negation and destruction, it is perfectly justifiable that Demon is seen as the spiritual “grandfather” of all of them. In Osipovich’s novella, the Demon’s own denial, however, appears less than universal and largely posed. The dying Demon laments, “The Spirit of Denial, the Spirit of Doubt”… but what did I deny? I denied everything or, to rephrase it: I denied nothing… I only tried to make myself look interesting and to be naughty and mischievous. I did not accept anything – that’s true. My denial was only a manifestation of complete indifference to everything in the world. Oh, if only I could deny things, deny them with knowledge! If only I knew what to deny! 912 These last words of the dying Demon are addressed to his progeny, assembled around his deathbed: to his son, Pechorin, and his three grandsons – Rudin, Bazarov, and “Neither a Peahen 909 Preobrazhensky was a common last name among Russian clergy, the main supplier of raznochintsy. 910 Osipovich-Novodvorskii, Epizod iz zhizni ni pavy, ni vorony , p. 11. 911 This line comes from Alexander Pushkin’s poem “Angel” (1827): “Дух отрицанья, дух сомненья На духа чистого взирал / И жар невольный умиленья / Впервые смутно познавал.” Mikhail Lermontov plays with Pushkin’s poem in his own “Demon.” 912 “Дух отрицанья, дух сомненья... а что же я отрицал? Я все отрицал, т.е. говоря другими словами, ничего не отрицал, а так интересничал, баловался... И не признавал, впрочем, ничего. Это было просто полнейшее равнодушие ко всему на свете! О, если б я мог отрицать, т.е. со смыслом отрицать! Если б я знал, что отрицать!” Ibid , p. 15. 362 nor a Crow.”913 Onegin, Pechorin’s distant relative (and not his “brother as some people suggest”) and Oblomov, Onegin’s son, are said to be absent.914 The Demon addresses his son, Pechorin, as the most sensible of the four. Pechorin “has no wings and can’t fly anymore” but he has “more muscle and blood” than the Demon ever had. He is more closely attached to the world of men; the subject of his denial and doubts is better defined. In spite of these qualities, the Demon thinks that Pechorin chose the “wrong road,” and his three sons are a “living reproach to his frivolity.” The Demon wants to warn Pechorin of something, but he suddenly dies before he can. His last words are, somewhat incomprehensibly, “Go to the wilderness!”915 Upon hearing this, and without wasting any words of his own, Pechorin mounts his horse and gallops away (presumably, to disappear forever into the wilderness in search of some higher truth), leaving his three sons to care for themselves. The meaning of the Demon’s call to the desert remains unclear. He may be summoning his progeny to go “the people,” to the Russian “wilderness.” Or he may be suggesting that Russian “heroes of the time” failed to provide the answers and the direction. In the end, no answers to this question are available to “neither a peahen nor a crow,” the protagonist of Osipovich’s novella. Osipovich’s perception of the spiritual continuity between the generation of the first Russian raznochintsy, symbolized by Belinsky, and the post-Virgin Soil generation of Russian populists to which he himself belonged is likewise important. Belinsky, for Osipovich, is the first “neither a peahen nor a crow.” He is described as “impressionable, warm-hearted and kind” and, therefore, suffocating in the crows’ kingdom. Dissatisfied, he strives upwards for the ideal. Later, 913 In spite of being Pechorin’s son, “Neither a Peahen nor a Crow” is a true raznochinets. He does not remember Princess Mary, his mother. He was adopted and brought up by the widow of a country priest, Feoktista Eleazarovna Preobrazhenskaya, whose last name he came to bear. See Ibid , p. 44. 914 Apparently, they are not considered “close family.” 915 Osipovich-Novodvorskii, Epizod iz zhizni ni pavy, ni vorony , p. 15. 363 when he is almost ready to reach it, he realizes that, even if he enters the world of the peahens, “he will never become a peahen” himself. He still “loves the crows” but, more importantly, he would never belong among the “peahens” because “there is too much crow in him.” In desperation, he “reaches down and calls for the crows to fly up and join him.” When he realizes that the “crows have no intention of flying so high,” he tries to pull the deity down to the crows’ level, but all is in vain. Defeated, sick and exhausted, he dies as “neither a peahen, nor a crow.” The fact that Novodvorsky views the Demon, a Romantic literary idol of the “grandfathers,” as a progenitor of the nihilist/populist generation is not contradictory. The otherwise fatherless raznochintsy could certainly find ways to identify spiritually with Lermontov’s Demon. Like the Demon who was cast away by God from his creation, raznochintsy could not enter the world of the “peahens.” The Demon’s love story could also be looked at through the prism of the concerns of the 1860s-1870s. The Demon could be reinterpreted as Tamara’s enlightener who wants to make her into a “new woman.” Approaching Tamara “ready to love, with a soul, open to the good,”916 Demon had also an educational purpose. In opening to Tamara his soul and exposing the inner drama of “To always regret but not to want, / To know, feel and to see all / To try to hate everything / But only to despise the world,”917 the Demon did not only want to seduce her; he wished to open to her the depths of “different raptures and suffering”: “the abyss of proud knowledge.” The theme of knowledge connects Lermontov’s Demon with Goethe’s Mephistopheles, who can also be seen as a spiritual predecessor of Russian nihilism. Consider the following parallel. When Lermontov’s Tamara 916 “любить готовый, / С душой открытой для добра.” M. Yu. Lermontov, "Demon: vostochnaia povest'," Polnoe sobranie sochinenii v piati tomakh, vol. 3: Poemy i povesti v stikhakh (Moscow-Leningrad: Academia, 1935), p. 471. 917 “Всегда жалеть и не желать, / Все знать, все чувствовать, все видеть, / Стараться все возненавидеть / И все на свете презирать!..” Ibid , p. 475. 364 exclaims in horror, “Beg, say: who are you! Do reply!,” the Demon responds with a beautiful monologue that starts, “I am the one whom you listened to / In the dark of the night, / …I am the one, whose glance kills all hope; / I am the one whom nobody loves; / I am the scourge of my earthly slaves, / I am the king of knowledge and of freedom, / I am heaven’s enemy and nature’s evil.”918 This scene parallels the first encounter between Faust and Mephistopheles. “Thy Name?” asks Faust who, like the Russian nihilists, is a fanatic of science who believes in deeds rather than words. Mephistopheles replies that he is a “part of that power which still / Produceth good, while ever scheming ill.”919 Therefore, Mephistopheles’s main ideological weapon, not surprisingly, is denial: The spirit I, which evermore denies! And justly; for whate’er to light is brought Deserves again to be reduced to naught; Then better t’were that naught should be. Thus all the elements which ye Destruction, Sin, or briefly, Evil, name As my peculiar element I claim.920 Mephistopheles thinks that creation is faulty without exception and, therefore, needs to be denied, “reduced to naught” and destroyed. Destroying what deserves no pity, Mephistopheles, the “doctor,” seeks to commit the “necessary” Evil that, in the final analysis, will turn out to be the Good. This monologue of Mephistopheles foreshadows many of the beliefs of the Russian nihilists. 918 “Тамара: Но молви, кто ты? отвечай... / Демон: Я тот, которому внимала / Ты в полуночной тишине... / Я тот, чей взор надежду губит; / Я тот, кого никто не любит; / Я бич рабов моих земных, / Я царь познанья и свободы, / Я враг небес, я зло природы.” Ibid p. 472-473. 919 Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, Goethe's Faust, trans. Anna Swanwick (New York: White, Stokes and Allen, 1884), p. 62. (“Ein Theil von jener Kraft / Die stets das Böse will und stets das Gute schafft.”) Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, Faust: Eine Tragödie (Stuttgart: 1867), p. 50. 920 Goethe, Goethe's Faust , p. 62. (“Ich bin der Geist, der stets verneint! / Und das mit Recht; denn alles, was entsteht / Ist werth, daf es zu Grunde geht; / Drum besser wär’s, daß nichts entstünde. / So ist denn alles, was ihr Sünde, / Zerstörung, kurz das Böse nennt, Mein eigentliches Element.”) Goethe, Faust: Eine Tragödie , p. 50. 365 In spite of the nihilists’ desire to dismiss Pushkin because of his disregard for “boots,” Pushkin’s Romantic demonology could also be attractive to “neither peahens nor crows.” Onegin, a sarcastic denier of societal values and an exile, is named Pechorin’s cousin in Novodvorsky’s reconstruction of the family tree of Russian literary “heroes of the time.” Additionally, we should not forget about Pushkin’s version of the Demon. Like the hero of Lermontov’s narrative poem, Pushkin’s Demon also foretells some of the nihilists’ aesthetic sensibilities: he calls beauty “an illusion” and despises “artistic inspiration.” Furthermore, like them, he does not believe in the empty words such as “life” and “freedom.” Evaluating his surroundings with a “derisive look,” he does not want to “bless anything in the whole world.” 921 Another figure of significance in the Romantic Demon genealogy is, of course, Byron, the “father” of both Pushkin’s and Lermontov’s Demons. As William Leatherbarrow correctly notes, Byron’s “works perhaps contributed more than any other literary model to establishing the typology of the demon in Russian Romantic literature.” 922 A symbol of demon or, rather, of a theomachist, Byron is an especially important spiritual paterfamilias for Dostoevsky’s demons.923 In particular, Dostoevsky repeatedly emphasizes Byron’s lameness, one of the traditional marks of the demonic.924 In his 1876 notebooks, Dostoevsky appears to be obsessed with Byron’s demonic lameness: “Cain is the reason: Byron is lame”; “Cain, Byron are lame”; 921 “Он звал прекрасное мечтою; / Он вдохновенье презирал; / Не верил он любви, свободе; / На жизнь насмешливо глядел – / И ничего во всей природе / Благословить он не хотел.” Aleksandr Sergeevich Pushkin, "Demon ('V te dni, kogda mne byli novy.')," Polnoe sobranie sochinenii v 10-ti tomakh, vol. 2: Stikhotvoreniia 1820-1826 (Leningrad: Nauka, 1977), p. 144. 922 W. J. Leatherbarrow, A Devil's Vaudeville: The Demonic in Dostoevsky's Major Fiction, Studies in Russian Literature and Theory, eds. Robert Belknap, et al. (Evanston, Ill: Northwestern University Press, 2005), p. 11. 923 For the discussion of Dostoevsky’s understanding of Byron’s demonic influence on Russian literature of the Romantic period, see Ibid , pp. 11-13. 924 See Ibid , p. 13. Lameness is also a symbol of a theomachist. During his journey back to Canaan, Jacob wrestled with God for the whole night and was made lame. See Genesis 32:1 – 33:11. 366 “Byron is lame; had he had a straight leg – he would have been calmer”; “Byron is a pathetic lame man”; “Lord Byron (a lame leg)…”925 Byron’s lameness, for Dostoevsky, is also the metaphorical “lameness” of (un-)Russian Westernizers, whom he sees as Byron’s followers.926 Thus, Dostoevsky (through his Stepan Trofimovich) observes Byron’s mark on the first Russian nihilist (and, therefore, a Westernizer), Bazarov: “Bazarov is a mix of Nozdrev and Byron.” 927 The demonic nihilists of Dostoevsky’s Demons are also affected with the malaise of Byronic demonic lameness. In Osipovich’s novella, one of the first Russian Westernizers and raznochintsy, Belinsky, is also implicated in the demonic plot of universal negation. In fact, negation, denial and destruction were indeed vital to Belinsky’s criticism. As he wrote in a letter to Botkin, “My heroes are the destroyers of the old, Luther, Voltaire, the Encyclopaedists, the Terrorists, Byron… and so on.”928 As Rufus Mathewson remarks, during his career “sought these exposers and destroyers among the men of thought and imagination,” hailed them among “the writers whose critique of the reigning order seemed to him to be doing history’s work,” and, incessantly, worked himself to “make his own contribution.”929 To conclude, the main spiritual legacy of the Romantic Demon to Russian nihilism is the “spirit of denial, the spirit of doubt.” And it is of paramount importance for the development of 925 “Каин – причина: Байрон хромой”; “Каин, Байрон хром”; “Байрон хром, будь его нога пряма – он был бы спокойнее”; “Байрон – жалкая хромоножка”; “Лорд Байрон (хромая нога).” See F. M. Dostoevsky, Polnoe sobranie sochinenii v 30-ti tomakh, 30 vols. (Leningrad: Nauka, 1972-1990), Vol. 24, pp. 75, 82, 102, 133. 926 See Leatherbarrow, A Devil's Vaudeville: The Demonic in Dostoevsky's Major Fiction , p. 12. 927 “Базаров это [...] смесь Ноздрева с Байроном.” Dostoevsky, Polnoe sobranie sochinenii v 30-ti tomakh , Vol. 10, p. 171. 928 Vissarion Belinsky, Selected Philosophical Works (Moscow: Foreign Languages Pub. House, 1956), Mathewson, The Positive Hero in Russian Literature p. 164. 929 Mathewson, The Positive Hero in Russian Literature , p. 34. 367 various forms of nihilism that it is the “spirit” of denial and doubt, rather than a “program” of denial and doubt, that lies at the core of this legacy. After all, as Osipovich observes, “the Demon had no task, only the famous spiritual mood that we all inherited.”930 Symptomatically, the Demon’s last offspring, “neither a peahen, nor a crow” has the name that remains a bare negation. 2. Russian Demons: Ishutin’s “Hell” and Karakozov With his powerful and strong-willed personality and his inner drama, the Romantic Demon, the cosmopolitan grandfather of Russian nihilists and populists, fundamentally differs from his progeny, the new brand of demonic radicals some of whom became terrorists in 1865-1869. In this chapter, discussing the new generation of Russian “demons,” I will speak not about powerful individuals but about souls “possessed by demonic forces” and balancing on the verge of insanity. In the section on cultural and literary representations of the Polish Uprising of 1863, I have already discussed some lost nihilist souls, possessed by cunning and demonic Jesuit priests, rootless Polish szlachta and beautiful and aristocratic femmes fatales. But as hard as the autocracy, its investigative organs, and the general public will try to uncover an international revolutionary or Polish conspiracy in the end of the 1860s, the demonic literary nihilist of the new type will, to everybody’s shock, act alone and prove to be purely Russian. I would argue that, historically, the sources of this type in cultural mythology and literature can be traced to Dmitry Karakozov and his co-conspirators from the “Organization,” who were inspired and led by his cousin, Nikolai Ishutin. After the end of the Polish Uprising, Dmitry Karakozov’s attempt on the life of Alexander II on April 4, 1866, is both the first terrorist act in modern Russian 930 “Никакой задачи у Демона не было, а было только известное нравственное настроение, доставшееся и нам в наследство.” Osipovich-Novodvorskii, Epizod iz zhizni ni pavy, ni vorony , p. 16. 368 history and the first most powerful “demonized” event in the history of the Russian radical movement.931 The activities of Nikolai Ishutin’s circle, as well as Karakozov’s attempt itself, is a wellresearched subject, both in the context of the development of the Russian revolutionary tradition932 and, lately, as the first major modern terrorist and media event. 933 At the most basic level, the emergence of the demonic nihilist as a new type occurred in the public mindset when legitimate information about the event of April 4 was supplied in limited and highly (mis)managed fashion and the most wild gossip was allowed to go unchecked.934 Therefore, we should first consider the conspiracy theories that appeared as a result of this situation. As Alexander Kornilov writes in his course on Russian history, Karakozov’s attempt on the life of 931 Although, in Demons, Dostoevsky mentions an even earlier source of the “demonic” ideas – the Petrashevsky circle where thoughts of regicide (professed by P. A. Chernosvitov) and the ideas of “mixing-in some aristocrats” into the conspiracy had circulated – it was, undoubtedly, Karakozov’s case which enabled him to make this connection and rethink his experiences as a young member of the Petrashevsky circle. See N. F. Budanova, et al., "Primechaniia," Besy: Rukopisnye redaktsii: Nabroski 1870-1872., ed. V. G. Bazanov, vol. 12, F. M. Dostoevskii: Polnoe sobranie sochinenii v 30-ti tomakh (Leningrad: Nauka, 1975), p. 219. 932 See, for example, these important sources: M. M. Klevenskii and K. G. Kotel'nikov, eds., Pokushenie Karakozova: Stenograficheskii otchet po delu D. Karakozova, I. Khudiakova, N. Ishutina i dr., vol. 1, 2 vols. (Moscow: Izd-vo Tsentrarkhiva RSFSR, 1928); V. Bazilevskii, ed., Gosudarstvennyia prestupleniia v Rossii v XIX viekie: Sbornik izvlechennykh iz ofitsial'nykh izdanii pravitel'stvennykh soobshchenii, vol. 1, 3 vols. (St. Petersburg: "Russkaia skoropechatnia", 1906); Materialy dlia istorii revoliutsionnago dvizheniia v Rossii v 60-kh gg: Pervoe prilozhenie k sbornikam 'Gosudarstvennyia prestupleniia v Rossii', Zhurnal Russkaia istoricheskaia biblioteka; no. 2 (St. Petersburg: Sklad pri Kn-vie "Donskaia riech", [1906]); M. M. Klevenskii, Ishutinskii kruzhok i pokushenie Karakozova, Populiarnaia biblioteka zhurnala "Katorga i ssylka," no. 4 (Moscow: Izadtel'stvo Vsesoiuznogo Obshchestva politkatorzhan i ss.-poselentsev, 1927); I. A. Khudiakov and M. M. Klevenskii, Zapiski karazovtsa, Revoliutsionnoe dvizhenie Rossii v memuarakh sovremennikov (Moscow: Molodaia gvardiia, 1930); Avrahm Yarmolinsky, Road to Revolution (New York: The Macmillan Company, 1959), E. S. Vilenskaia, Revoliutsionnoe podpol'e v Rossii (60-e gody XIX v.) (Moscow: Nauka, 1965); V. G. Bazanov, "Khudiakov i pokushenie Karakozova," Russkaia literatura.4 (1962). In addition, these Western studies need to be mentioned: Franco Venturi, Roots of Revolution: A History of the Populist and Socialist Movements in Nineteenth Century Russia (London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 1960); Abbott Gleason, Young Russia: The Genesis of Russian Radicalism in the 1860s (New York: The Viking Press, 1980); Adam B. Ulam, Prophets and Conspirators in Prerevolutionary Russia (New Brunswick, N. J.: Transaction Publishers, 1998). 933 Claudia Verhoeven, The Odd Man Karakozov: Imperial Russia, Modernity, and the Birth of Terrorism (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 2009). 934 In her study of Karakozov’s case, Verhoeven definitively and elegantly proves that “terrorism virtually emerged from the Russian autocracy’s mishandling of April 4, 1866.” See Ibid , p. 10. 369 the tsar shocked society to such an extent that people “did not want to believe that one person could have thought and carried it out,” and “ascribed it to some powerful demonic organization, some unknown secret society.”935 Trying to make sense of this unthinkable event and staying within the popular post-1863 demonology, Russia both feared and hoped that this “powerful demonic organization” would prove to be of Polish origin. Thus, one of the two questions that the Emperor asked when his would-be assassin was seized after firing a shot and attempting to flee from the scene of his crime was: “Who are you?” His majesty was just as shocked to hear Karakozov’s incomprehensible reply, “a Russian,” as millions of Russian citizens were shocked to read about it in the papers.936 The problem of Karakozov’s nationality, that is, the desire to cast his crime as the work of a Polish conspiracy dominated not only public discourse, fueled primarily by gossip, but also the preliminary investigation and, to some extent, the trial itself. 937 Mikhail Muravyov and the Investigative Commission that he led (not to mention Katkov and the Russian conservative press) obsessively tried to project a Polish conspiracy onto the case. 938 Final hopes of finding such a conspiracy crumbled only on October 3, 1866, when the Northern 935 This approach reflected popular sentiment as well. Consider the following entry from Nikitenko’s diary from April 7, 1866: “It appears to be beyond doubt the [the criminal] is only a tool to carry out the plans of some gang, and the search for the threads of this should even lead, perhaps, abroad.” (“Но, кажется, не подлежит сомнению, что он только орудие замыслов какой-то шайки, нити которых надо искать, может быть, даже за границей.”) Nikitenko, Dnevnik, vol. 3, p. 24. 936 Russian citizens reacted to the event in a similar way. For example, after telling the awful news of the attempt on the Emperor’s life, of which he had just heard, Nikitenko exclaimed, “Here, finally, is what Russia have come to. Are these the Poles? Or our nihilists?” (“Вот, наконец, до чего дошла Россия. Поляки это? Или наши нигилисты?”). Consider also his diary entry from April 9: “Incessant questions: who is he? A Pole or a Russian? A common wish that he would not be a Russian.” (Беспрестанные вопосы: кто он? [преступник] – поляк или русский? Общее желание, чтобы это был не русский.) Ibid, vol. 3, p. 23. 937 For a good summary of the gossip about various conspiracies at work in April 4, see Verhoeven, The Odd Man Karakozov: Imperial Russia, Modernity, and the Birth of Terrorism, pp. 42-49. 938 Mikhail N. Muravyov (1796-1866), who was appointed by the tsar to lead the Investigative Commission in the Karakozov Case (see the Northern Post [Sievernaia pochta] from April 10, 1866, quoted in Bazilevskii, ed., Gosudarstvennye prestupleniia v Rossii v XIX veke: Sbornik izvlechennykh iz ofitsial'nykh izdanii pravitel'stvennykh soobshchenii, p. 135), had distinguished himself as a ruthless suppressor of the Polish Uprising of 1863, earning himself the epithet “the Hangman of Vilnius.” 370 Post published the court verdicts from the trial of Karakozov’s co-conspirators, announced in court on September 24.939 The public was only partially rewarded with some traces of the Polish connection left in the case, such as the symbolic but comforting notion that the tsar’s savior, Osip Komissarov, came from the same guberniia, uezd and even volost as Ivan Susanin, the mythical 17th-century hero savior of Mikhail Romanov from the Polish threat.940 Gossip and popular conspiracy theories about Karakozov and the mysterious secret organization that was perceived to stand behind his attempt flourished in a sinister informational vacuum. After rather scarce initial reports of the crime and the criminal’s identity and education that all appeared in April-early May, there were no official publications on the topic until August 2. Overall, public knowledge about what really happened on April 4, what had led to it, and why it became conceivable, was formed by two official documents. 941 The former of them was the report of the Investigative Commission, authored by Muravyov and published in the Northern Post on August 2, 1866 (to be reprinted by all major newspapers) two weeks before the trial of 939 Muravyov had fallen ill and died shortly before this. 940 Osip Komissarov, a trader’s apprentice of peasant origin, allegedly noticed the criminal and jostled his elbow trying to prevent the shot. Osip Komissarov was instantly elevated to heroic status and awarded a noble title. His act, image and symbolic role as a new “Ivan Susanin” were widely publicized in the Russian media. See, for example, the article published in the Northern Post (Severnaia pochta) on April 13, 1866, quoted in Bazilevskii, ed., Gosudarstvennyia prestupleniia v Rossii v XIX viekie: Sbornik izvlechennykh iz ofitsial'nykh izdanii pravitel'stvennykh soobshchenii , p. 135. For the investigation of Komissarov’s role as the first modern Russian media icon, see Chapter 3 (“’A Life for the Tsar’: Tsaricide in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction”) of Claudia Verhoeven’s study (Verhoeven, The Odd Man Karakozov: Imperial Russia, Modernity, and the Birth of Terrorism ). 941 The hunger for information on the part of the Russian people was also serviced by gossip, popular conspiracy theories, and tidbits of news and analysis that got into papers, especially, into editorials published by Katkov in Moscow News. 371 Karakozov and his co-conspirators in St. Petersburg.942 The latter of these documents was the publication of the verdicts of the Supreme Court, which occurred over the next two months.943 The two documents stood in jarring contradiction to one another and, thus, dramatically expanded the mythological aura around April 4. On the one hand, Muravyov’s report (which detailed the findings of the Investigative Commission over “two and a half months of intensive labor”944) announced that the Commission had established the existence of ties between the student “Organization,” the secret society “Hell,” to which Karakozov allegedly belonged, and foreign revolutionary circles and Polish conspirators. Thus, it effectively supported the most widespread conspiracy theories that held that Karakozov and his collaborators acted only as tools of some mysterious and sinister forces. On the other hand, the verdicts of the Supreme Criminal Court avoided mentioning “Hell” (with which Muravyov had terrified the public on August 2) altogether. In the case of Karakozov, the court claimed that his attempt on the life of the tsar was “such a huge crime,” that it alone was enough for a death sentence and that a final investigation into whether Karakozov really belonged to a secret society “Hell” (as the bill of indictment had it) or suffered from a “morbid nervous condition” (as the defendant claimed in court) could not “legitimately serve as a lawful reason to postpone the announcement of the court’s verdict.” 945 With the publication of the court verdicts for the remaining defendants, the alleged co942 See Bazilevskii, ed., Gosudarstvennyia prestupleniia v Rossii v XIX viekie: Sbornik izvlechennykh iz ofitsial'nykh izdanii pravitel'stvennykh soobshchenii, pp. 137-141. 943 The verdicts for Karakozov was published on September 2, 1866, for Aleksandr Kobylin (a doctor from whom Karakozov allegedly procured the poisons) on September 6, 1866, and for the rest who stood trial in connection with this case – on October 3, 1866. See Ibid , pp. 141-151. 944 “Несмотря на постоянное упорство и продолжительное запирательство подвергшихся более или менее сильному подозрению в преступных замыслах, комиссия в течение 2 ½ месячных усиленных трудов, обнаружила сообщников злодея и привела в ясность как намерения и действия злоумышленников, предшествовавшие преступлению, так и влияние заграничных революционных обществ и связи их с польской пропагандой.” Ibid , p. 137. 945 Ibid , pp. 141-142. 372 conspirators, it became clear to the public that the devilish conspiracy was largely an invention of Muravyov, and that it had most certainly crumbled in court. In spite of the most ardent fervor with which Muravyov carried out the investigation, the public had to conclude that “no conspiracy directed against the tsar was discovered; instead, only a circle of youth (insignificant with respect to its resources and possibilities and led by Karakozov’s cousin, Ishutin) was found in Moscow.”946 Summarizing the feelings of outrage and disbelief of the more critically minded (and radical) sections of society, Alexander Herzen wrote in the Bell: What chaos! A death, an execution, an absolute sovereign reigning over nothing absolutely, an immense lie about a conspiracy that’s popped like a soap bubble… It’s some sort of absurd, dismal assemblage, torn from Michelangelo’s Last Judgment or stepping out of a Non-Divine Comedy. Where can we find a combination of Tacitus and Dante [to capture the history of the Karakozov case]?947 As it appears, the significance of the Karakozov trial reached far beyond the fates of the conspirators; it had long-lasting effects on the future of the Russian autocracy, the legal system, and the development of legal consciousness and radical tradition. 948 This trial succeeded in 946 See A. Kornilov, Kurs istorii Rossii XIX vieka, Slavistic Printings and Reprintings; 201/3, ed. C. H. Van Schooneveld, reprint ed., vol. 3, 3 vols. (The Hague: Mouton, 1969), p. 1. The pitiful outcome of the investigation was partly Muravyov’s own fault. As Adam Ulam points out, “General Muravyov was much better at hanging people than uncovering the roots of treason and plots,” and, as a result of his failed investigation, he was able to only turn in for persecution “a handful of lunatics and a bunch of deluded adolescents.” (See Ulam, Prophets and Conspirators in Prerevolutionary Russia , p. 163). 947 The quote from Herzen’s “The Gallows and Muravyov” is given here in the translation by Claudia Verhoeven in Verhoeven, The Odd Man Karakozov: Imperial Russia, Modernity, and the Birth of Terrorism , p. 11. Herzen’s article appeared in the Bell on October 1, 1866. (“Что за хаос! Смерть, казнь, самодержец, ничего сам не держащий, огромная клевета заговора, лопнувшая, как мыльный пузырь.. Где найти Тацита и Данта вместе, [чтоб уловить, остановить, заклеймить эту историю во всем безумии, во всей гадости настоящего, с ее раболепием, ханжеством, с ее успехами крепостников, дураков – не утратив пророческий смысл беснованья, не забывая, что этот тяжелый, кровавый, грязный период – период родов, а не предсмертного бреда и бешенства?”] Alexander Herzen, "<Viselitsa i Murav'ev>," Sobranie sochinenii v 30-ti tomakh, vol. 19 (Moscow: Izd-vo Akademii Nauk SSSR, 1960), p. 138). 948 The last, but not least, consequence of the Karakozov affair was that it ushered in the infamous White Terror. Repressive measures were taken against those people who had previously been noted for their sympathies toward radical and liberal ideas. Censorship was intensified: the Contemporary, Russian Word, and some other publications 373 altering the public image of the radical revolutionary both in the minds of the radicals and the non-sympathetic public. Simply put, what happened in court during the Karakozov trial had an immense historical role. First of all, the Karakozov case was exceptional in the history of Russia’s legal system in that it was the first political trial to be held in the reformed court. As it is widely known, Alexander II’s judicial reform of 1864 “created a modern judicial system and introduced necessary preconditions to a rule of law in Russia.” 949 The Statutes of the reformed court, which were adopted and signed by the tsar in November, 1864 established a system that “brought the judicial function under the control of professional jurists.”950 Further quoting Richard Wortman’s straightforward summary of the new Statutes, the reform created an independent court system, open to the public, that incorporated adversary procedures, and trusted judges’ discretion in the determination of verdicts. It necessitated the creation of a bar of trained and respected lawyers who could make judicial expertise available to the population. Perhaps most controversial was the reformers’ prescription of the jury system, an institution that had been considered suited only to more advanced nations with constitutional governments.951 The actual enactment of the reform took more time, and on April 17, 1866, the new courts were finally opened.952 Although, formally, the trial of Karakozov and his co-conspirators was the first political trial to follow the new Statutes, it followed them only partially. The trial was closed to the public, not all records of what happened in the courtroom were published, etc. To be sure, the government’s decision to limit public exposure to the trial’s records made it clear that the courts’ were closed. Education reform, aimed at minimizing the effects of radical ideas on young minds through the implementation of principles of classical education, became a priority. 949 Richard Wortman, The Development of a Russian Legal Consciousness (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1976), p. 269. 950 Ibid , p. 259. 951 Ibid , p. 259. 952 N. A. Troitskii, Bezumstvo khrabrykh: Russkie revoliutsionery i karatel'naia politika tsarizma 1866-1882 gg. (Mosow: Mysl', 1978), p. 6, p. 71. 374 autonomy would never be complete. However, as some scholars claim, this attachment to old practices (censorship, the direct intervention of the tsar in the legal process, etc.), in the final analysis, proved not to be entirely beneficial to the interests of the autocracy. 953 Perhaps, even more intriguingly, the government’s failure to adhere to the new Statutes proved to advance the cause of the revolutionary activists instead of fully discrediting it. As Adam Ulam argues, “the most fundamental mistake the government made was not to publish the minutes of the investigation or court proceedings… No subsequent ‘affair,’ not even Dostoevsky’s great novel, could have made the people see terrorism in its real light as this true story would have, compounded as it were of madness, criminality, and youth’s immature delusions.” 954 In court, the contours of the drama of the Karakozov conspiracy were revealed to be roughly the following: a circle of young, radically-minded students and ex-students that grouped around Nikolai Ishutin came into existence around September 1863.955 In 1865, these youths formed a society called the “Organization” and, at the end of the same year, started talking about “Hell.” According to the bill of indictment, Karakozov, who was a member of the “Organization,” also joined “Hell,” the sole purpose of which was regicide. 956 Together with the 953 As Pyotr Valuev, the minister of the Interior, declared: “No major system of European law placed the administration in such a ‘defenseless position’ as did the new court statutes.” Quoted in Wortman, The Development of a Russian Legal Consciousness, p. 272. 954 Ulam, Prophets and Conspirators in Prerevolutionary Russia, p. 164. Dostoevsky expressed a similar opinion in his discourse on the dangers of censorship in a letter to Mikhail Katkov in the wake of the Karakozov attempt. He wrote, “Even if they, the nihilists, were given freedom of speech, even then it would be more advantageous: they would make all Russia laugh by the positive explanation of their teachings. While now they are given the appearance of sphinxes, an enigma, wisdom, secrecy, and this fascinates the inexperienced.” The letter (see Dostoevsky, Polnoe sobranie sochinenii v 30-ti tomakh, vol. 28:2, pp. 153-155) is quoted in the translation given by Joseph Frank. See the discussion of this important letter in Joseph Frank, Dostoevsky: The Miraculous Years, 1865-1871 (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1995), pp. 49-54. 955 Gleason, Young Russia: The Genesis of Russian Radicalism in the 1860s, p. 301. The date, naturally, suggests a sinister connection to the revolutionary unrest (manifested also in the student unrest at major universities of the empire) surrounding the Polish uprising. It has not been decisively confirmed by scholars. 956 See the stenographic report from the Karakozov trial: Klevenskii and Kotel'nikov, eds., Pokushenie Karakozova: Stenograficheskii otchet po delu D. Karakozova, I. Khudiakova, N. Ishutina i dr., p. 8. 375 actual attempt on the life of the tsar on April 4, 1866, these were the crimes for which he was charged.957 The court, however, failed to establish the truth about the “Organization” and “Hell.” And today, scholars are still debating whether the “Organization” and, especially, “Hell,” ever existed. As Abbott Gleason argues, “in a situation like this, the line demarcating an organization from the idea of an organization is rather blurred,” and “it is far from clear that ‘Organization’ ever actually did anything as a body except discuss what it should be.” 958 There was no membership as such, and even the leaders could not say in court when their “Organization” was founded. The existence of “Hell,” the cornerstone of the persecution case, proved even more elusive. Although some scholars (both Soviet and Western) assume that “Hell” existed, there is hardly any proof that it existed in any form besides a conversation topic in the circle.959 Adam Ulam calls conversations about “Hell” “group psychosis.”960 The European Revolutionary 957 Ibid , p. 10. 958 Gleason, Young Russia: The Genesis of Russian Radicalism in the 1860s, p. 320. Yarmolinsky concludes that “certainly here was an explosive mixture of irresponsible talk and adolescent thrill-seeking.” See Yarmolinsky, Road to Revolution , p. 138. 959 See, for example, Ronald Seth, The Russian Terrorists: The Story of Narodniki (London: Barrie and Rockliff, 1966), p. 29. Yarmolinsky’s account of the activities of the “Organization” and “Hell” is one of the most sinister and, not surprisingly, rather far-fetched (see Yarmolinsky, Road to Revolution, pp. 135-141). Yves Ternon gives a similarly romantic, but fully distorted, picture of the conspiracy in his chapter on Russian terrorism, completely mistaking “words” for “deeds.” He writes, “[Ishutin’s student followers] formed the secret society known as the ‘Organization.’ At its center was a cell called ‘Hell,’ whose purpose was to carry out terrorism against the government and the landowners. The members of ‘Hell’ were ascetics who broke all ties with the outside world and lived in deep hiding – all the while keeping a watchful eye on the rest of the ‘Organization.’” See Yves Ternon, "Russian Terrorism, 1878-1908," The History of Terrorism: From Antiquity to Al Qaeda, eds. Gerard Chaliand and Arnaud Blin (Berkley: University of California Press, 2007), p. 138. Ana Siljak, relying mainly on the secondary sources (Gleason, Venturi and Ulam) paints a similar picture: the “Organization” and “Hell” existed, the latter was “designed to be a terrorist organization … [it] carefully plotted the simultaneous assassinations of key figures in the Russian government … ‘Hell’ planned the assassination of the tsar down to the last detail.” See Ana Siljak, Angel of Vengeance: The "Girl Assassin," the Governor of St. Petersburg, and Russia's Revolutionary World (New York: St. Martin's Press, 2008), pp. 82-83. 960 Ulam, Prophets and Conspirators in Prerevolutionary Russia , p. 158. 376 Committee (which, according to the persecution, was a parent organization for “Hell”) was certainly proven to be an invention of Ishutin and Khudiakov. 961 As for the “Organization,” its activities and the program were revealed by the court to be naïve, unrealizable, mostly harmless and, overall, quite in the general spirit of the early 1860s: seamstresses’ cooperatives, book binderies, Sunday schools for workers and peasants, various artels, public lectures and propaganda. According to Karakozov’s testimonies, the “program” of the “Organization” consisted in work that was “useful to society,” i.e. the establishment of schools and trade associations, and did not have any “terrible aims” or bear any “terrible names.”962 Two aspects of the activities and ideas behind the “Organization,” however, made it an exemplary case for the development of the Russian radical movement, showing a clear progression from the early to the late 1860s. Firstly, the “Organization” manifested the change in the overall spirit and mentality of the younger generation. True, a significant part of the ideology 961 Philip Pomper thinks that some members of Ishutin’s circle may have in fact been led to believe that they were part of “an international conspiracy.” See Pomper, The Russian Revolutionary Intelligentsia , p. 86. It was Ivan Khudiakov who first brought Ishutin the “news” about the existence of European Revolutionary Committee from his European trip and Ishutin happily picked up the story, embellishing it along the way. The version of the story that Ishutin circulated in the “Organization” had it approximately this way: “There exist[s] a European Revolutionary Committee whose aim [is] the assassination of all monarchs. Soon, in Bukovina… this committee [will] hold a meeting with Mazzini, Ogarev, and Herzen in attendance. They [will] provide the Russian revolutionaries with 10,000 rubles and special new bombs.” (See Ulam, Prophets and Conspirators in Prerevolutionary Russia , p. 157). The behavior of the defendants in court (who otherwise seemingly did all they could to incriminate themselves and their friends, pleaded for forgiveness, sobbed and “sang”) makes clear that the doubts about the existence of the “Organization” and “Hell” have a firm ground. When asked about “Hell,” the “nervous” Karakozov replied that he did not know “of such a society,”961 nor did Stranden or Ermolov, two alleged members of it. (“‘Ад’ не существовал, – это было не больше, ни меньше, как одни глупые речи под впечатлением выпитого вина.” Klevenskii and Kotel'nikov, eds., Pokushenie Karakozova: Stenograficheskii otchet po delu D. Karakozova, I. Khudiakova, N. Ishutina i dr., p. 28). The defendant Motkov claimed that there had only been “an idea of forming such a society” (“an intention, a conversation, maybe a criminal one”) but this idea had not been carried out. Nikolai Ishutin claimed that “Hell did not exist – it was no more and no less than only stupid talks under the influence of wine.” (Klevenskii and Kotel'nikov, eds., Pokushenie Karakozova: Stenograficheskii otchet po delu D. Karakozova, I. Khudiakova, N. Ishutina i dr. , p. 27, 31). 962 Klevenskii and Kotel'nikov, eds., Pokushenie Karakozova: Stenograficheskii otchet po delu D. Karakozova, I. Khudiakova, N. Ishutina i dr., p. 15. 377 of “Organization” was clearly consistent with the spirit of the early 1860s; as Franco Venturi points out, the spirit of asceticism and the “desire for self-sacrifice was in fact the dominant idea of the group.”963 But Ishutin’s circle also represented an historically important development. At this stage, the enthusiasm in student circles about the imminent coming of socialism through the implementation of the program in What Is To Be Done? started to wane. As the enthusiasm metamorphosed into pessimism, an interest in terrorism, including a proclivity for violence and for using Jesuit practices slowly developed. This interest, hoever, was still manifested only in words.964 Secondly, the authorities’ “unhealthy” obsession with new mentality revealed also a change in the attitude of the government and ruling classes towards the post-1863 “nihilists”: the stereotyping of Russian radical youth had reached a new stage. In court, while the members of the Ishutin circle tried to emphasize the economic and the humanitarian activities of the “Organization,” the prosecution shifted its attention from their real activities toward the imagined activities of “Hell,” and more specifically, toward the “Jesuit” components of the so-called program of the “Organization”:965 the idea that “the end justifies the means,”966 the proposed absolute power of the leader (Ishutin), the death penalty for those 963 Venturi, Roots of Revolution: A History of the Populist and Socialist Movements in Nineteenth Century Russia , p. 332. In addition to organizing their seamstresses’ cooperatives, book-binding artels, schools and shops on Chernyshevsky’s principles, Ishutin and the members of his circle emulated the characters of the “bible of the 1860s,” What Is to Be Done? In the summer of 1864, Ishutin, clearly modeling his life on Rakhmetov, worked as a barge hauler on a Volga steamboat. See Gleason, Young Russia: The Genesis of Russian Radicalism in the 1860s , p. 304. 964 See, for example, Gleason, Young Russia: The Genesis of Russian Radicalism in the 1860s , pp. 302-303. 965 See, for example, Seth, The Russian Terrorists: The Story of Narodniki , pp. 28-29. Although, in spite of Karakozov’s statement to the tsar after the shooting, “I am Russian,” the authorities “succeeded” in uncovering the traces of Polish “connections.” For example, in developing their naïve plans to liberate Chernyshevsky, the members of Ishutin’s circle had contacts with some Polish revolutionaries and even assisted in the escape of Yaroslaw Dombrowski, the achievement of which became their only successful act of “revolutionary” work (see Gleason, Young Russia: The Genesis of Russian Radicalism in the 1860s , p. 309). 966 Naturally, this slogan is loaded and is meant to connect the case with the Polish conspiracy. The slogan “the end justifies the means” was seen as a modus operandi of Polish (Jesuit) Catholic priests and their congregations. For the prosecution in this case, “the end” meant the necessity of “overthrowing the existing order and inaugurating the 378 members who disobeyed or betrayed the “Organization,” the rule of “respect and fear,” etc. The draft of this program (apparently, in fact, never adopted or acted upon) was authored by one of the student members of the Ishutin circle, Shaganov, who went on to receive twelve years of hard labor in Siberia (the sentence was ultimately cut in half by the tsar).967 Most significantly, this program had outlined the role of potential “Hell” members, the assassins, or mortusy: The potential assassins were to draw lots to determine who should make the attempt, and the man chosen was to cut himself off from his colleagues and adopt a way of life quite at variance with that of a revolutionary. He was to get drunk, find friends in the most doubtful circles, and even denounce people to the police. On the day of the assassination he was to use chemicals for disfiguring his face, so as to avoid being recognized, and have in his pocket a manifesto explaining his reasons for what he was doing. As soon as he had carried out his attempt, he was to poison himself, and in his place another member of “Hell” would be chosen to continue the work which he had begun.968 The most shocking part of the Karakozov affair is that, amidst ideological wars, conversations about the future of the great reforms and the development of the revolutionary tradition, the image of the assassin, Dmitry Karakozov, stands obscure, strange (“odd” as Claudia Verhoeven would have it), and ill-fitting. Considering that Karakozov’s role for the development of the literary image of the demonic nihilist is of paramount importance, his curious absence from his own story demands critical attention. In the remaining part of this section, I would like to address this phenomenon in a three-fold fashion. I will take one set of evidence to consider the handling of Karakozov’s oddity by the court and the public. Next, examining the social republic.” For the importance of this slogan for Ishutin, see Gleason, Young Russia: The Genesis of Russian Radicalism in the 1860s, p. 303, p. 320-321. Today some scholars describe these ideas within Ishutin’s circle as Machiavellian rather than “Jesuit” (“amateur Machiavellianism” in Yarmolinsky – see Yarmolinsky, Road to Revolution , p. 137; “[Russian] terrorism thrust its roots into this amalgam of revolutionary Machiavellianism and full-blown populism” – Franco Venturi, Les Intellectuels, le peuple et la révolution: histoire du populisme russe au XIXe si cle, Bibliothèque des histoires (Paris: Gallimard, 1972), p. 636., translated and quoted in Ternon, "Russian Terrorism, 1878-1908," p. 137). 967 Bazilevskii, ed., Gosudarstvennyia prestupleniia v Rossii v XIX viekie: Sbornik izvlechennykh iz ofitsial'nykh izdanii pravitel'stvennykh soobshcheni , pp. 146, 150-151. 968 Venturi, Roots of Revolution: A History of the Populist and Socialist Movements in Nineteenth Century Russia, p. 336. 379 facts that the public could not know, I will point to what such writers as Dostoevsky could (and did) intuit about Karakozov and what deserves to be studied today. Lastly, I will take a look at what happened to Karakozov as he became irreversibly mythologized in two warring ideological systems: the conservative and pro-government, on the one hand, and progressive and revolutionary, on the other. The “odd” Karakozov did not fit into the official narrative offered to the public by the court, forever obscuring the true image of the first Russian terrorist. The Supreme Criminal Court would have reached much deeper into the seeds of the new phenomenon of revolutionary terrorism evil if it had seriously considered the explosive mixture of the singular and common in Karakozov. The phenomenon of Karakozov is a combination of his own mental instability and the common malaise of the age: the unbearable weight of the oppressive environment in which student raznochintsy of the late 1860s lived and thought. The most important thing to know about the real Karakozov was, indeed, his sickness. Karakozov’s ill health and proneness to “fits of melancholia and hypochondria” were among the first pieces of information (after his name and the fact that he had been a student at Moscow University) that the public received from official newspapers. Incidentally, it was also the first and last thing that was discussed by the court. The trial opened by addressing and dismissing Karakozov’s claim that his crime had “organic” reasons, lying fully in the condition of his health.969 The trial closed with the verdict, half of which, again, had to do with the final dismissal of Karakozov’s line of defense and the statement that the state of his health had no bearing on the crime. 970 Throughout his trial, 969 Klevenskii and Kotel'nikov, eds., Pokushenie Karakozova: Stenograficheskii otchet po delu D. Karakozova, I. Khudiakova, N. Ishutina i dr. , p. 10. 970 Bazilevskii, ed., Gosudarstvennye prestupleniia v Rossii v XIX veke: Sbornik izvlechennykh iz ofitsial'nykh izdanii pravitel'stvennykh soobshchenii , pp. 141-142. 380 Karakozov kept obsessively talking to the court about his sickly, “nervous, irritable” state of mind.971 Today it is evident that he not only pleaded temporary insanity but, most likely, was indeed suffering from mental illness. The incongruity between the image of an assassin, derived by the prosecution from the program of “Hell,” and the sickly and nervous defendant is shocking. In reality, Karakozov, the “miserable and suicidal person,”972 was not chosen as an assassin by other members of “Hell.” Instead, he picked the mission himself as a desperate solution to his own problems: fears of approaching death and constant thoughts of suicide combined with a desire to make a sacrifice “for the people.”973 Characteristically, when asked directly whether, as a member of “Hell,” he supported the “terrible idea of regicide,” Karakozov replied, “I was simply first a student and then became a sick person – and nothing else.”974 Karakozov’s sickness and the oddity of his character is, perhaps, a singular fact, but his mental instability deserves to be placed in a broader perspective. It is not accidental that scholars call Karakozov “a soul possessed” (Yarmolinsky),975 and name the chapters that open with a discussion of Karakozov’s attempt “Demons” and “The Possessed” (Ana Siljak and Adam 971 Klevenskii and Kotel'nikov, eds., Pokushenie Karakozova: Stenograficheskii otchet po delu D. Karakozova, I. Khudiakova, N. Ishutina i dr. , p. 6, 10-11, 16-17. Karakozov’s constant depression, hypochondria and unstable mental state were noted in court by many of his acquaintances as well as stressed by Karakozov himself. In November of 1865, Karakozov was treated for one month (or, as it appears, he was mistreated) in a clinic at the University of Moscow. His complaints included “wracking pain in his stomach, frequent constipation, an unpleasant sensation of heat in the area of his spinal vertebrae, difficulty with intellectual activities and poor psychological condition” (see Klevenskii and Kotel'nikov, eds., Pokushenie Karakozova: Stenograficheskii otchet po delu D. Karakozova, I. Khudiakova, N. Ishutina i dr. , vol. 1, p. 298.). At this time of his life, Karakozov was also obsessed with the idea of suicide. 972 Philip Pomper gives this epithet to Karakozov in Pomper, The Russian Revolutionary Intelligentsia , p. 86. 973 See Northern Post (Severnaia pochta) from April 13, 1866, quoted in Bazilevskii, ed., Gosudarstvenye prestupleniia v Rossii v XIX veke: Sbornik izvlechennykh iz ofitsial'nykh izdanii pravitel'stvennykh soobshchenii , p. 145. 974 “Я просто был сначала студентом, а потом сделался больным человеком – и больше ничего.” Klevenskii and Kotel'nikov, eds., Pokushenie Karakozova: Stenograficheskii otchet po delu D. Karakozova, I. Khudiakova, N. Ishutina i dr. , p. 16. 975 Yarmolinsky, Road to Revolution, p. 138. 381 Ulam).976 Whether it was a bizarre coincidence or part of a larger pattern, the mental illness of the two real leaders of the conspiracy, Nikolai Ishutin and Ivan Khudiakov, transforms the history of the “Organization” and “Hell” into the story of madness and “possession.” Scholars agree today that Karakozov, Ishutin, Khudiakov, as well as their direct follower Sergei Nechaev, were mentally ill. Karakozov exhibited signs of deranged behavior in prison and court (which “the authorities chose to disregard” 977), while Ishutin and Khudiakov eventually descended into madness while doing hard labor in Siberia. Khudiakov went insane in 1870 and died in an asylum in 1876; Ishutin’s descent into madness started in 1869, and he died in 1879.978 The real “face” of madness in their case went largely unnoticed and was censored. More striking, therefore, are the literary portrayals of revolutionary madness that we will soon see in Dostoevsky’s “demons” and Leskov’s “no-nonsense nihilists.” In order to appreciate the fragments of the reality of “Hell” in the literary portrayals of demonic nihilists, let us also turn to the depictions of Ishutin and Khudiakov. Nikolai Ishutin appears to have been a sickly child, suffering, as Adam Ulam writes, from ailments of a “mental nature,” which delayed his entrance to the gymnasium.979 Within the circle, Ishutin was a clear and authoritative leader. There, using Abbott Gleason’s description, “neither eloquent nor learned” and “sometimes described as a hunchback,” Ishutin was, nevertheless a charismatic leader.980 His ability to attract listeners and subjugate them to his will is often likened by scholars to Nechaev’s. Ishutin may have carried 976 Siljak, Angel of Vengeance: The "Girl Assassin," the Governor of St. Petersburg, and Russia's Revolutionary World , p. 79. Ulam, Prophets and Conspirators in Prerevolutionary Russia, p. 141. 977 Yarmolinsky, Road to Revolution , p. 140. 978 See F. M. Lur'e, Nechaev: Sozidatel' razrusheniia, Zhizn' zamechatel'nykh liudei (Moscow: Molodaia gvardiia, 2001), p. 96. 979 Ulam, Prophets and Conspirators in Prerevolutionary Russia, p. 154. 980 Gleason, Young Russia: The Genesis of Russian Radicalism in the 1860s, p. 300. 382 seeds of madness within him since childhood, but the trial and verdict were, undoubtedly, the factors that aided his final descent into madness. According to the court’s verdict, Ishutin was to be hanged but, as had been the case with Dostoevsky earlier, his death sentence was commuted to penal servitude at the last instant. Madness soon followed. Ivan Khudiakov, the scholar of folklore and leader of the Petersburg wing of the conspiracy, 981 was described by Herman Lopatin as a “short, lean, sickly and extremely nervous” man “with a high-pitched voice and small, restless eyes” who possessed “a turbulent, active, fanatical nature.” 982 Other, less sympathetic observers, also consistently mention Khudiakov’s high-pitched voice (in childhood, he was kicked hard in the testicles by a horse), nervous manners and his flickering, nervous, seemingly impudent half-smile. All his life, Khudiakov, described by Adam Ulam as “an eternal malcontent and killjoy,”983 battled with numerous psychological, emotional and sexual problems. His insanity, which started in Siberia with obsessive vegetarianism, is well-documented. In the absence of factual information or an open debate, the public discourse was mostly sustained by mythologized images of Karakozov and his co-conspirators. Depending on which side of the ideological divide one stood, Karakozov appeared as a hero or a demon. For ordinary, law-abiding citizens, the following ingredients in the discursive cocktail that effectively demonized Karakozov and transformed him into a new, more sinister type of nihilist can be distinguished. The demonization started in the immediate reactions to the crime as the anxiety about the criminal’s nationality led to the confirmation of his “otherness.” As soon as the wouldbe assassin’s real name became known to the public, Nikitenko wrote in his diary, quoting the 981 Ivan Khudiakov was, in fact, a folklorist of some merit. He worked with a famous Russian philologist, historian and folklorist Fedor Buslaev and has an impressive bibliography of his own. 982 Quoted in Gleason, Young Russia: The Genesis of Russian Radicalism in the 1860s, p. 311. See also Notes in the same volume on p. 411. 983 Ulam, Prophets and Conspirators in Prerevolutionary Russia, p. 149. 383 Russian Invalid, “[Karakozov] is a Tatar name. It means a ‘black eye.’”984 Karakozov was, after all, deemed to be not entirely Russian. Karakozov’s ties with Polish and other international, revolutionary conspiracies (which do not reportedly stop at regicide in order to destroy the existing political and social order and unleash complete anarchy) were not proven in court. Although the court seemed to confirm that Karakozov acted alone and the “Organization” (and “Hell”) was not effective in controlling the activities of its members, the public assumed that Karakozov was “a soul possessed” who served as a blind instrument and “tool” for Ishutin, Khudiakov, and other, more sinister, revolutionary organizations.985 The image of Karakozov in Russian revolutionary circles was also mythologized. What mattered to them was not who Karakozov actually was but the fact that Karakozov became “the first Russian revolutionary since the Decembrists to be executed.” 986 For the revolutionary movement, Karakozov became a hero-martyr.987 His influence on the minds of Russian radicals 984 “Это татарская фамилия, означающая ‘черный глаз.’” Nikitenko, Dnevnik , Vol. 3, p. 27. Naturally, in reality, Karakozov was blond with light, blue or green, eyes. See the high quality reproduction of his photograph in Verhoeven, The Odd Man Karakozov: Imperial Russia, Modernity, and the Birth of Terrorism , p. 2. 985 Here, I quote Yarmolinsky’s analysis of the Karakozov affair which is, undoubtedly, not sufficiently grounded in actual facts and research. The account is interesting, however, precisely because of the ideological content that dominates it and the mentality that it reflects. Yarmolinsky writes, “Dmitry Karakozov, a morose, self-centered youth, deaf in one ear, whose grey eyes were set in a lean, sickly face. At the gatherings he listened carefully, but hardly ever opened his mouth. The talk of self-immolation, of daring action fascinated him. He was a soul possessed… It is possible that Ishutin nurtured the idea in his cousin’s sick mind, intending to use him as a tool for the execution of his design.” Yarmolinsky, Road to Revolution , p. 138. Adam Ulam also speaks about Ishutin’s and Khudiakov’s responsibility for Karakozov’s actions: ‘Karakozov himself would today doubtless be declared not responsible for his actions by reason of insanity, and he was a tool in the hands of two people who had exhibited signs of serious mental instability and who were to end their lives in madness: Nicholas Ishutin and Ivan Khudiakov.” Further, Ulam suggests that it was Khudiakov who came up with the initiative for the deed of April 4. Ulam, Prophets and Conspirators in Prerevolutionary Russia , p. 148, 159. 986 987 Pomper, The Russian Revolutionary Intelligentsia , p. 87. This is how Vera Broido presents Karakozov in her 1977 book on the history of the women’s revolutionary movement in Russia: “Karakozov had been one of those idealistic landowners who had given away all their money to their former serfs. Disenchanted by the peasant reform, he had joined a secret group in Moscow which called itself “Hell” and resolved to eliminate the tsar as the main obstacle to a better future for Russia… His was a foolhardy attempt to rid Russia of autocracy or, at least, to shock society and rouse it to action.” Broido, Apostles into Terrorists: Women and the Revolutionary Movement in the Russia of Alexander II , p. 43. Several generations of Russian revolutionaries were to be raised on the romanticized version of Karakozov’s story. Thus, Karakov’s 384 and revolutionaries was cemented by the famous article “White Terror” which was published in the Bell in January of 1867.988 The article desribes the tortures to which Karakozov and his comrades were allegedly subjected by the tsar’s investigators, painting in rich detail the extent of Muravyov’s cruelty and “animal-like ferocity” and Karakozov’s “limitless courage and iron willpower”: He refused to answer questions, even when subjected to the most barbarous treatment; he even had the fearlessness to stand up to Muravyov, rattle his chains, and growl, “We’ll see who will get whom.” 989 In Ana Siljak’s summary of Karakozov’s influence on the minds of Russian radicals, the accused’s (fully fictional) bravery under torture became the model of revolutionary behavior. His failed assassination attempt was forgotten, and his martyr-like behavior was idealized. Like his literary model, Rakhmetov, Karakozov was believed to have accustomed himself to torture. Generations of radicals believed that, in the end, they would suffer the same fate at the hands of the same devils.990 attempt left a strong impression on Andrey Zhelyabov (see Seth, The Russian Terrorists: The Story of Narodniki , p. 43). Another point of interest for the development of the Russian revolutionary movement (one of those little incidents that tend to tie together loose ends and produce one coherent narrative) is the fact that the famous General Trepov (who had distinguished himself in the silencing of the Polish Uprising earlier) was transferred to St. Petersburg after the Karakozov attempt on the life of the tsar. General Trepov would later become the target of Vera Zasulich, the most famous woman terrorist in Russia. (See, for example, Seth, The Russian Terrorists: The Story of Narodniki , p. 53.). Ana Siljak discusses the influence of Karakozov on Russian radicals and, specifically, on Vera Zasulich in her book Angel of Vengeance (see Siljak, Angel of Vengeance: The "Girl Assassin," the Governor of St. Petersburg, and Russia's Revolutionary World , pp. 86-87, 105-107, 213, 304-305). Vera Zasulich wrote in 1880: “Oh Karakozov! If the Russian people one day achieve a human existence, if freedom and popular justice have not disappeared from Russian soil… then to you, to you above all, they will erect a monument in the forum of the new age.” (quoted and translated in Siljak, Angel of Vengeance: The "Girl Assassin," the Governor of St. Petersburg, and Russia's Revolutionary World , pp. 304-305). 988 The article was allegedly authored by Nikolai Vorms (1845-1870), a radical poet who arrived as a political émigré to Geneva in 1866 (see M. M. Klevenskii, "Gertsen-izdatel' i ego sotrudniki," Literaturnoe nasledstvo 41/42 (1941), p. 587). 989 The article is quoted in the form that it was translated and summarized in Siljak, Angel of Vengeance: The "Girl Assassin," the Governor of St. Petersburg, and Russia's Revolutionary World , pp. 105-106. 990 Ibid , pp. 106-107. 385 The mentioning of Rakhmetov (who was an important character for conscious and deliberate emulation in Ishutin’s circle) as Karakozov’s predecessor is not accidental. It is worth remembering that Chernyshevsky’s What Is to Be Done? was, effectively, the textbook and “Bible” in the circle. All economic and pedagogical projects of the group, all their ideas for cooperatives, artels, lectures, Sunday schools and so on were directly lifted from the pages of this book. In fact, establishing a connection with Rakhmetov was quite typical for Russian radicals (both terrorists and populists) in the 1870s. But the result of the merger of Chernyshevsky’s “new man” (and the “extraordinary man”) and the first Russian terrorist, Karakozov, is most extraordinary. Rakhmetov is the most improbable of all Chernyshevsky’s “new people.” Karakozov is the oddest and most improbable of Russian political criminals. Merged together, they formed a character onto which the revolutionary myth could be projected. This character became an idealized version of a revolutionary: selfless, accustomed to torture, not trapped in emotional ties to anyone, determined to dedicate his life entirely to the fight for a Socialist future, and not stopping at blood and violence if they were absolutely necessary for the cause. This literary portrait of a “positive hero,” an idealized revolutionary, was not the only interpretation of the Karakozov myth and not its predominant and most popular version. In fact, Claudia Verhoeven convincingly suggests a more natural development of a new literary type. She argues that one of the direct consequences of Karakozov’s attempt was the emergence of a “particular kind of conspirator, a decisive image of the revolutionary.” She characterizes this type as a “revolutionary” whose “amoral, all-or-nothing, end-justifying-means modus operandi” are still perceived as reliably traceable to Rakhmetov.991 Of course, here we are presented with a 991 “Not that this image will surprise anyone. It shows a revolutionary whose amoral, all-or-nothing, end-justifying means modus operandi can be recognized in later, better-known figures such as Sergei Nechaev, Andrei Zheliabov, and Lenin… scholars have identified the source of this strand… it is Rakhmetov, the “extraordinary man”… of 386 reading of the same myth by a more conservative segment of the public. This is exactly what Verhoeven means when she writes that the transformation of Rakhmetov into a Karakozov-like terrorist occurred after April 4 as a result of the “reactionary reception of Karakozov’s political action.” She sums up her view by saying that Karakozov is Rakhmetov plus “layers of dread, intimidation and fear that accumulated on top of the original figure after Karakozov happened to Russia on April 4.”992 In the ideological battle for the creation of the “hero of the time,” the conservative reading of the demonic version of the nihilist won over the reading advanced in the opposite camp (Pisarev’s romantic demonization of Bazarov, Novodvorsky’s fables about the genealogy of “Neither a Peahen nor a Crow,” the later terrorists’ memoirs and literary works). Reworking larger sections of the same popular myth, the conservative version proved to be more convincing to the wider public. 3. Russian Demons: Sergei Nechaev In scholarly discussions about the historical prototypes for demonic nihilist characters in Russian literature (and, first and foremost, prototypes of Dostoevsky’s “demons”), Sergei Nechaev and his People’s Vengeance drew more attention than any of his predecessors or followers. In my argument, I stress the secondary nature of the Nechaev phenomenon. This argument relies on the analysis of the continuities and discontinuities between the Nechaev and Karakozov affairs (and, importantly, through Karakozov, on the connection to Chernyshevsky’s What Is To be Done? and the nihilist mentality of the early 1860s). By establishing these links, I put Dostoevsky’s Chernyshevsky’s What Is to be Done.” Verhoeven, The Odd Man Karakozov: Imperial Russia, Modernity, and the Birth of Terrorism, p. 39. 992 Verhoeven, The Odd Man Karakozov: Imperial Russia, Modernity, and the Birth of Terrorism, p. 41. 387 work in Demons (and works of other writers on the same theme) in a more accurate historical, polemical, psychological and philosophical context. Before addressing the nature of the links between Nechaev and Karakozov, it is necessary to give the main facts concerning the Nechaev conspiracy. As an exercise in reading between the lines, let us follow the publications in the Russian press to briefly outline the arc of Nechaev’s life and activities.993 Nechaev was first mentioned in a Moscow News editorial on May 24, 1869,994 when the first act of his drama (the initiation into the Moscow underground circle structure, the bookish part of his revolutionary education, the acquaintance with leaders of the movement and first attempts to attain popularity) had already led to a highly theatrical and fully staged flight abroad on exaggerated grounds of political persecution. In the editorial, Katkov retold the mythical version of Nechaev’s biography (publicized by Nechaev himself) that stressed his (clearly overstated) role as a leader of student unrest, his legendary escape from arrest and flight abroad.995 During the six months of his European sojourn, Nechaev disappeared from Katkov’s field of vision. Nechaev’s feverish activity in Geneva, his acquaintance and, later, friendship with Ogarev and Bakunin, his penning of proclamations, pamphlets and the infamous 993 Nechaev’s life and activities, the trial over his collaborators and the Nechaev trial itself, as well as the significance of the Nechaev affair for literature and, especially, for Dostoevsky’s Demons, are well studied. The following sources give a comprehensive picture of the phenomenon of Nechaev: B. P. Koz’min, ed., Nechaev i nechaevtsy: sbornik materialov (Moscow-Leningrad: Gosudarstvennoe sotsial'no-ekonomicheskoe izdatel'stvo, 1931); Lur'e, Nechaev: Sozidatel' razrusheniia; M. E. Saltykov-Schchedrin, "Tak nazyvaemoe "Nechaevskoe delo" i otnoshenie k nemu russkoi zhurnalistiki," Sobranie sochinenii v 20-ti tomakh, vol. 9: Kritika i publitsistika (18681883) (Moscow: Khudozhestvennaia literatura, 1970); Troitskii, Bezumstvo khrabrykh: Russkie revoliutsionery i karatel'naia politika tsarizma 1866-1882 gg.; V. D. Spasovich, Sochineniia, vol. 5, 10 in 8 vols. (St. Petersburg: V. Rymovich, 1889-1902); Yarmolinsky, Road to Revolution; Ulam, Prophets and Conspirators in Prerevolutionary Russia; L. A. Nikolaeva, "Problema 'zlobodnevnosti' v russkom politicheskom romane 70-kh godov," Problemy realizma russkoi literatury XIX veka (Moscow-Leningrad: AN SSSR, 1961); Gleason, Young Russia: The Genesis of Russian Radicalism in the 1860s; Budanova, et al., "Primechaniia." 994 Budanova, et al., "Primechaniia," p. 197. 995 Ibid , p. 199. 388 “Catechism of a Revolutionary,”996 will surface only at the trial, while his extraordinary success at laying his hands on half of the famous Bakhmetyev fund will occupy scholars much later. 997 Following his return to Moscow, Nechaev embarked on the creation of the People’s Vengeance and proceeded to build a network of revolutionary cells according to the prescriptions of his “Catechism.” The first mention of Ivanov’s murder appeared in Moscow News on November 21, 1869.998 Nechaev was first cited as Ivanov’s murderer in Moscow News on December 25, 1870. After the murder, Nechaev escaped abroad (this time the persecution was real) and went into hiding. His accomplices and other students, either directly or indirectly involved in his circles, were arrested and stood trial. This first trial of Nechaev’s collaborators started on July 1, 1871 and lasted until September of the same year.999 While the Karakozov trial was the first political trial to follow the new Statues of the reformed court, the 1871 trial of Nechaev’s accomplices in the murder of Ivanov was the first 996 In the context of the eternal search for the roots of anything “demonic” and “Jesuit” in Russian nihilism in the Polish revolutionary movement, the sinister parallels between Nechaev’s manifesto “The Catechism of a Revolutionary” and Adam Czartoryski speech “Prince Adam Czartoryski’s Admonition to the Conspiratorial Activities among the Aliens” (“Наставление Князя Адама Чарторыйского к конспиративной деятельности туземцев”), published in Russia for the first time in Rach’s study Information about the Polish Revolt (Сведения о польском мятеже), could not escape the notice of the Russian public. The Polish/Jesuit connections of Russian nihilists will continue to be reflected in the novels about nihilism until the genre exhausts itself. For the study of the Polish connection of Dostoevsky’s Stavrogin and the significance of the theme of the Polish uprising of 1863 for Dostoevsky’s Demons, see Liudmila Saraskina, "“Pol’skaia kramola i “Katekhizis revoliutsionera”: tainyi sled voennoi kar’ery Nikolaia Stavrogina”," Dostoevskii v sozvuchiiakh i pritiazheniiakh (ot Pushkina do Solzhenitsyna) (Moscow: Russkii Put', 2006). 997 The “Bakhmetyev fund” is a significant sum of money which was entrusted to Alexander Herzen by P.A. Bakhmetyev, a young Russian nobleman turned revolutionary, in 1858. The money was to be used for the needs of revolutionary propaganda. After entrusting his money to Herzen, Bakhmetyev allegedly went to the Marquesas Islands with a desire to establish there an agricultural commune. All attempts to find what happened to him after he sailed off from London did not produce any results. The money remained in Herzen’s care until Ogarev demanded “his half” in order to hand it over to Nechaev. Herzen, who disliked Nechaev and opposed the idea of giving him the money, unwillingly paid. Further information about the “Bakhmetyev fund” can be found in N. Ya. Eidel'man, "Pavel Ivanovich Bakhmet'ev: Odna iz zagadok russkogo revoliutsionnogo dvizheniia," Revoliutsionnaia situatsiia v Rossii v 1859-1961 gg., vol. 4 (Moscow); S. A. Reiser, "'Osobennyi chelovek' P.A. Bakhmet'ev," Russkaia Literatura 1 (1963). 998 Budanova, et al., "Primechaniia," pp. 198-199. 999 Ibid , p. 202. 389 open political trial in Russia.1000 Russian authorities seemingly learned their lesson from the Karakozov trials: by making the Nechaev trials open and, especially, by trying Nechaev as a murderer and not a political criminal, they wanted to expose the dark underbelly of nihilism. A measure that would have been effective in a more open, European-style society proved to be another disaster in Russia. By making the courtroom the only platform for uncensored free speech, the authorities undermined their own legitimacy. Slogans calling for a revolution, which could not be pronounced anywhere else, sounded from the courtroom and ended up in the newspapers. Among other documents, the text of the “Catechism of a Revolutionary” was also published.1001 Open access to the speeches of the defense lawyers, 1002 and open readings of the texts of the proclamations and the organization’s documents and defendants’ correspondences, all led to the rise of public interest in, and a certain sympathy towards the defendants. Alexander II had good reasons to remark to the deputy defense minister von Essen: “Your good expectations for the Nechaev case did not come true.” 1003 The first sentence in the trial (for those 1000 Nechaev’s collaborators and sympathizers were arrested and tried in connection with the case of “the conspiracy, which was discovered in certain parts of the Empire, that aimed to overthrow the established government.” (“Дело ‘об обнаруженном в различных местах империи заговоре, направленном к ниспровержению установленного в государстве правительства’”). See Ibid , p. 195 and p. 203. 1001 It was also read in the court during the first Nechaev trial. Ibid , p. 195, 209. Affinities between Dostoevsky’s Demons and the Catechism are well studied. For a summary of the Soviet studies of this topic, see Ibid, p. 210. 1002 1003 V. D. Spasovich, A. I. Urusov, Ye. I. Utin. Budanova, et al., "Primechaniia," p. 195-196. As Nikitenko writes in his diary, “People express the most contradictory opinions about the Nechaev trial. Some see in it the triumph of the new courts while others condemn it for its weakness and leniency. The latter are especially dissatisfied with the actions of the court’s chairman, [A. S.] Lyubimov. They say that he did not interrupt the defense lawyers in those places where they indulged their overly liberal tendencies and touched upon questions that have no bearing on the case. The latter tendency was especially characteristic of the speech by [V. D.] S[pasovich] who transformed it into a lecture about how revolutionary movements are created through the fault of the government and by virtue of circumstances which drag young people against their will onto the path where the accused found themselves.” (“В обществе самые противоречивые суждения о суде по нечаевскому делу. Одни находят его торжеством нового судопроизводства, другие сильно порицают его за слабость и потворство. Последние особенно недовольны действиями председателя [А. С.] Любимова. Он, говорят они, не останавливал защитников в тех местах, в которых те развивали черезчур либеральные тенденции и касались вопросов, не относящихся к делу. Последнее особенно приписывается речи [В. Д.] С[пасовича], который сделал из нее лекцию о том, как происходят 390 directly involved in the murder of Ivanov) was pronounced on July 15, 1871.1004 As for Nechaev, he was arrested by Swiss authorities in 1872 and extradited to Russia where he was tried as a murderer, the condition of his extradition.1005 In January 8, 1873, Nechaev was convicted; the sentence was published in the Government Herald on January 12, 1873.1006 He was locked in Peter-and-Paul fortress where he remained until his death on November 21, 1882. After this brief summary of the Nechaev case, we are ready to return to my main argument. The comparative analysis of the Karakozov and Nechaev cases should start with the consideration of several important aspects in which the latter was seen as a repetition of the former. The following three points deserve to be mentioned. Firstly, Nechaev seemed to have been acting on a program of the [fictional] “Hell” that was known to the public through the newspaper publications related to the trial. Secondly, Nechaev’s persona seemed to have absorbed Ishutin’s style of leadership and many of his character traits. Finally, the muchdiscussed connections between the native radical student circles and some sinister all-European revolutionary organization which proved to be Ishutin’s fantasies and the prosecutors’ delusions, революционные движения по вине правительства и в силу обстоятельств, невольно увлекающих молодых людей на путь, где очутились подсудимые”). Nikitenko, Dnevnik, vol. 3., pp. 210-211. 1004 By that time, a significant portion of Dostoevsky’s Demons had been already published (255 pages out of 603). Chapter 3 of the novel (published in September) was finished by the time the trial was concluded. See Viacheslav Polonskii, "Bakunin i Dostoevskii," Pechat' i revoliutsiia March-April.2 (1924), p. 32. 1005 As Nikitenko notes in his diary, “It was printed in today’s newspapers that Nechaev’s trial ended. During the entire trial he denied the jurisdiction of Russian courts over him and insisted that he was not a simple murderer but a political prisoner. This all makes it clear that this is a political fanatic.” (“Процесс Нечаева окончился, о чем публиковано в сегодняшних газетах. Во все время процесса он не признавал себя подсудным русским судам и настаивал на том, что он не простой убийца, а политический преступник. По всему видно, что это политический фанатик”). Nikitenko, Dnevnik, vol. 3, p. 268. 1006 Budanova, et al., "Primechaniia," p. 194. 391 in Nechaev’s case turned out to be the truth, albeit a somewhat farcical one. 1007 Discussing what is mentioned here as the first item in this chain, Adam Ulam writes: Nechaev’s activity was a replay, almost certainly consciously so, of one act of the Karakozov drama: the plan of some members of the “Organization” to create a special subgroup of assassins, appropriately named “Hell,” who would perpetrate acts of terror not only against government officials, wealthy nobles, merchants, etc., but also against such of their comrades as refused to submit to their rule.1008 In short, Nechaev seems to have been working off a charter for a new type of organization, written for Khudiakov by his associate P. F. Nikolaev in St. Petersburg in November of 1865. 1009 According to Gleason, this document (which did not survive), set forth a program and structure that combined the “Organization’s” commitment to Chernyshevsky’s cooperative program with a new stress on hierarchical organization and direct action that included creation of a network of revolutionary circles, the delegation of “unlimited powers” to the head of the “Organization,” tight subordination, propaganda among the peasants and religious schismatics, the dogma that the end justifies the means enshrined as a ruling principle, and even the “need to have recourse to ‘the knife’” which was to be used “against political enemies and internal deviants.”1010 The difference between Nechaev and the Ishutin circle is that, of course, Nechaev tried to put this theory into practice. The parallels between the Ishutin and Nechaev groups are also evident on the level of membership: while Nechaev seemed to be an improved-upon version of Ishutin, many of the rank-and-file members of both circles could have been the same people. In many ways, Nechaev was a reincarnation of Ishutin, “a man, who operated mainly through mystification and 1007 Nechaev’s credentials that Bakunin and Ogarev put together for him make his alleged connections to the Comité general of the Alliance révolutionnaire européenne more a parody of reality than anything real or sinister. 1008 Ulam, Prophets and Conspirators in Prerevolutionary Russia, p. 148. 1009 In the previous section, it was pointed out that this charter was discussed in Ishutin’s circles but was never adopted. 1010 Gleason, Young Russia: The Genesis of Russian Radicalism in the 1860s, p. 317. 392 consciously invented nonexistent organizations and plots to impress and gain power over the minds of his fellow conspirators.”1011 Like Ishutin’s, Nechaev’s personality and leadership style were based on simultaneously dominating and intimidating others and making them worship him.1012 Speaking about the rank-of-files members of both conspiracies, Joseph Frank argues that “[t]here can be little doubt that Ishutin’s group prepared the way for Sergey Nechaev a few years later, and many of the people Nechaev recruited had been initiated into revolutionary activity by Ishutin.”1013 Even in the circumstances of Ivanov’s murder, there is a curious trace of the Ishutin circle: the gossip about a printing press, allegedly buried in the park of the Moscow Agricultural Academy by the Ishutin circle, circulated among Moscow University students and was used by Nechaev to lure Ivanov to the site of murder.1014 Another significance of the Karakozov-Nechaev connection can be found in the grey zone where speech acts become real action. Like Karakozov, Nechaev was a groundbreaker in 1011 Ulam, Prophets and Conspirators in Prerevolutionary Russia , p. 154. Ulam also points out to the differences between Ishutin, “the pale preview” of Nechaev, and Nechaev himself: “To be sure Ishutin was but a pale preview of Nechaev: he lacked the latter’s personal magnetism, enormous energy and gall, and was somewhat of a coward, which certainly cannot be said of the latter psychopath.” Ulam, Prophets and Conspirators in Prerevolutionary Russia , p. 154. 1012 This is how Kapatsinsky, one of Nechaev’s followers, described Nechaev’s personality in his testimony: “The first impression that Nechaev gives is unpleasant but pointedly luring; he is selfish to the point of morbidity… in disputes, he tries using all possible tricks to humiliate the opponent – he is a master of the most developed dialectics and can touch the most sensitive strings of youth… So, the main quality of his character is despotism and selfishness. All his speeches are filled with passion but also with bile. He incites interest toward himself and in people who are more impressionable and sillier – even worship, the existence of which is the necessary condition for any friendship with him.” (“Первое впечатление, которое производит Нечаев неприятное, но остро заманчивое; он самолюбив до болезненности... в спорах старается какими то ни было уловками унизить противника, – диалектикой он обладает богатой и умеет задевать за самые чувствительные струны молодости... Таким образом главная черта его характера – деспотизм и самолюбие. Все речи его пропитаны страстностью, но очень желчны. Он возбуждает интерес к себе, а в людях повпечатлительнее и поглупее просто обожание, существование которого есть необходимое условие для дружбы с ним.”). Quoted in Lur'e, Nechaev: Sozidatel' razrusheniia , p. 47. 1013 Frank, Dostoevsky: The Miraculous Years, 1865-1871 , p. 52. 1014 Lur'e, Nechaev: Sozidatel' razrusheniia , p. 165. 393 his own right:1015 he followed the ideas that fed the Ishutin circle (and the whole post-1863 generation of nihilists) to their ultimate conclusion.1016 In this case, however, the slight dissimilarities are more telling than the striking similarities. Ishutin’s tall claims about his connections to the (fictional) European Revolutionary Committee were fake, but Karakozov’s assassination attempt was real and politically consequential. In Nechaev’s case, while his claims that the People’s Vengeance was working together with the [farcical] Alliance Révolutionnaire Européenne were true (Nechaev was, effectively, Bakunin and Ogarev’s emissary1017), his action was banal and not political. The shock of the Nechaev affair comes from the revelation that the revolutionary enthusiasm of Russian youth can lead not to a better future, but instead to ordinary crime – a senseless murder, the rationale for which stays entirely within the mentality of the old world that they so much desired to destroy. Like Karakozov, Nechaev was also demonized in the public consciousness. Here is one excerpt from an exchange between two defense lawyers, Spasovich and Sokolovsky, which shows how comparisons to the devil were used in discussions of the Nechaev affair. Spasovich 1015 Felix Lurye writes the following about Nechaev: “Having organized the murder of a comrade who refused to obey, he was the first to commit ‘violence within violence…’ It was Nechaev who announced all-permissiveness to be the main means of the revolutionary movement. That’s why we will use the word ‘Nechaevism’ to refer to the principle of ‘all-permissiveness’ in political struggle.” (“Организовав убийство отказавшегося повиноваться товарища, он первый осуществил ‘насилие внутри насилия’... Именно Нечаев провозгласил вседозволенность главнейшим средством революционного движения. Поэтому назовем нечаевщиной вседозволенность в политической борьбе”). Ibid , p. 12. 1016 Felix Lurye argues that Nechaev was a culmination of a forty-year process within Russian revolutionary movement in which the Ishutin circle played the most important role. A “very durable structure was built” on that foundation, and Nechaev, “having gathered and multiplied everything amoral and criminal that had accumulated in the Russian liberation movement before him, could engage in his satanic business.” (“Их [предшественников Нечаева] было много... Фундамент нечаевщины возводился более четырех десятилетий. Каждый из предшественников вложил в него свою лепту. Получилось прочнейшее сооружение, на котором Нечаев, аккумулировав и приумножив все аморальное и преступное в российском освободительном движении, мог творить свое сатанинское дело”). Ibid , p. 96. 1017 Nechaev’s friendship and cooperation with Pyotr Tkachev, the theoretician of the populist movement, which started in 1868, also deserves to be mentioned. Tkachev’s mental illness which started in 1882 is yet another sinister reminder of the streak of madness that followed in the footsteps of Russian terrorism. See Ibid , pp. 56-60. 394 defended one of the murderers, Aleksei Kuznetsov, and his strategy was to put all the blame on Nechaev, whom he characterized as a liar like Khlestakov, a man of action (“человек дела”), a charismatic demonic seducer (“страшный роковой человек”) who like the devil induced gullible youngsters to sign a contract sacrificing their soul to the cause. Spasovich described Nechaev’s personality as demonic and compared his influence to the plague. He said, “There is a legend that depicts the plague as a woman with a bloody shawl. Wherever she appears, people die in the thousands. It seems to me that Nechaev completely resembles this fantastic depiction of the plague.”1018 Sokolovsky’s immediate response was that Nechaev is not the “devil” but an “insignificant personality… a person with inflated self-esteem.”1019 However, the impossibility to resist the demonic attraction of Nechaev’s personality was a factor that the defense lawyers relied on in order to explain their clients’ involvement in the conspiracy. 1020 With the figure of Nechaev, the process of demonization of the Russian nihilist movement becomes complete – in life. Now we will turn to the analysis of a corresponding process in literature. That the murder of Ivanov by Sergei Nechaev and his associates from the People’s Vengeance (Народная расправа) served as a direct inspiration for Dostoevsky’s Demons is a 1018 “Есть легенда, изображающая поветрие в виде женщины с кровавым платком. Где она появится, там люди мрут тысячами. Мне кажется, Нечаев совершенно походит на это сказочное олицетворение моровой язвы.” See Spasovich, Sochineniia , p. 153. See also the discussion of this speech in Budanova, et al., "Primechaniia," p. 204. It is important to remember that the word for plague, поветрие, had already been used as sobriquet for nihilism. One of the most resonant Russian novels about nihilism, the second part of Vasily Avenarius’s dilogy Fermenting Forces (Бродящие силы), was entitled The Plague (Поветрие). It was published in 1867 in the journal Worldwide Labor (Всемирный труд). The novel was widely discussed by all the main journals and critics. See the most influential critical response to the novel: M. E. Saltykov-Schchedrin, ""Brodiashchie sily." Dve povesti V. P. Avenariusa. I. Sovremennaia idilliia. II. Povetrie. SPb. 1867," Sobranie sochinenii v 20-ti tomakh, vol. 9:Kritika i publitsistika (1868-1883) (Moscow: Khudozhestvennaia literatura, 1970). 1019 “Я готов до некоторой степени согласиться с г. Спасовичем, что Нечаев это Хлестаков, но не могу согласиться, что это Протей, это дьявол. Я просто вижу в нем человека с болезненным сaмолюбием.” The speech was originally published in the Government Herald on July 15, 1871, and is quoted in Budanova, et al., "Primechaniia," p. 204. 1020 See the commentary to Dostoevsky’s Demons: “Рядовые участники... стали жертвами... программы Нечаева, стремившегося перенести в революционное движение чуждые ему иезуитские лозунги и средства борьбы.” Ibid , p. 154. 395 well-known fact.1021 For example, in a letter to Katkov from October 8, 1870,1022 Dostoevsky wrote: One of the main events in my novel will be the famous Moscow murder of Ivanov by Nechaev. I hasten to stress, however, that I never knew and still do not know either Nechaev or Ivanov, or the circumstances of that murder beyond the newspaper accounts. Even if I knew more I would never copy any of that. I am only borrowing the fact itself.1023 Dostoevsky, however, consistently denied that he wanted to depict Nechaev or represent the circumstances of the Ivanov murder trial. Instead, he claimed that he was only interested in the event (the “fact” as he says) itself and in how it could become possible in contemporary society.1024 It seems that the singular fact of this murder was, for Dostoevsky, a manifestation of a more general (in fact, typical) phenomenon of spiritual malaise that characterized his “remarkable and “transitioning” time. But, essentially, Dostoevsky made the argument not only for the typicality of the event but also for the “typicality” of Verkhovensky and his other demons, the “our people” in the novel. Within the framework of the literary conventions of the 1021 Of course, the Nechaev case cannot be considered the sole source of ideological and political conflict in the novel. The commentators on Demons, for example, convincingly prove that Dostoevsky’s experience of belonging to the Petrashevsky circle (the ideas that were discussed by the conspirators, and the personalities of some of the leaders) is directly reflected in the novel. See Ibid pp. 218-223. The Petrashevsky parallel to Nechaev is also reflected in his article “One of Contemporary Falsities” (Diary of a Writer, 1873). 1022 The letter was written soon after Dostoevsky sent Katkov the first installment of Demons. 1023 “Одним из числа крупнейших происшествий моего рассказа будет известное в Москве убийство Нечаевым Иванова. Спешу оговориться: ни Нечаева, ни Иванова, ни обстоятельств того убийства я не знал и совсем не знаю, кроме как из газет. Да если б и знал, то не стал бы копировать. Я только беру совершившийся факт.” Dostoevsky, Polnoe sobranie sochinenii v 30-ti tomakh, vol. 29:1, pp. 141-143. 1024 See, for example, Dostoevsky’s article “One Contemporary Falsity” (“Одна из современных фальшей”), first published in the Citizen on December 10, 1873, where he starts by asserting that, in Demons, he wanted “to put forward a question and, in the form of a novel, give as clear an answer to it as possible: how can Nechaevs (and not only that particular Nechaev) be possible in our transitional and remarkable contemporary society and how does it become possible that these Nechaevs can assemble followers for themselves?” (“Я хотел поставить вопрос и, сколько возможно яснее, в форме романа дать на него ответ: каким образом в нашем переходном и удивительном современном обществе возможны – не Нечаев, а Нечаевы, и каким образом может случиться, что эти Нечаевы набирают себе нечаевцев?”) See F. M. Dostoevsky, Dnevnik pisatelia, 1873, Polnoe sobranie sochinenii v 30-ti tomakh, vol. 21, 30 vols. (Leningrad: Nauka, 1980), p. 125. 396 time, the image of Verkhovensky could only escape the accusation of being a caricature of Nechaev if it were presented as a “type.” 1025 Dostoevsky’s understanding of the Nechaev case and, consequently, its influence on Demons, changed as he continued to work on the novel. As commentators note, before the Nechaev trial started, the Verkhovensky figure represented a “swindler with political ambitions.”1026 After the trial, the pamphlet became more of an allegory and the “constantly lying, comic, Khlestakov-like character” grew into a sinister, dark and even demonic figure. 1027 Later, when Stavrogin became central to the plot, the Verkhovensky-Nechaev character lost its pivotal position, and the connection to the Nechaev case became even more tenuous. However, Dostoevsky’s main evaluation of Nechaev’s “principle” and “new word” – to start an “insurrection… but let it be a live one, the more rioting, disorders, bloodshed and general collapse, fire and destruction of traditions, the better… ‘I do not care what will be later: what’s most important is that the existing order be shaken, shattered, and exploded’”1028 – remained important to the novel. 1025 After all, the essence of his character was planned by Dostoevsky from the very start as a direct interpretation of Nechaev’s character and his particular crime. See the letter to Katkov from October 8, 1870: “… мой Петр Верховенский может нисколько не походить на Нечаева; но мне кажется, что в пораженном уме моем создалось воображением то лицо, тот тип, который соответствует этому злодейству.” Ibid , vol. 29:1, pp. 141143. 1026 Budanova, et al., "Primechaniia," p. 203. 1027 “Кроме того, процесс способствовал углублению образа Верховенского, который из хлестаковствующего, беспрерывно лгущего, ‘комического’ лица вырастает в фигуру зловещую, мрачную и даже демоническую.” Ibid , p. 203-204. 1028 “Принцип же Нечаева, новое слово его в том, чтобы возбудить, наконец, бунт, но чтобы был действительный, и чем более смуты и боспорядка, крови и провала, огня и разрушения преданий, тем лучше. Мне нет дела, что потом выйдет, главное, чтоб существующее было потрясено, расшатано и лопнуло.” Dostoevsky, Polnoe sobranie sochinenii v 30-ti tomakh. English translation is quoted from F. M. Dostoevsky, The Notebooks for The Possessed, trans. Victor Terras, ed. E. Wasiolek (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1968). 397 In contrast to the scholarship on Demons, the influence of the Nechaev trial on Leskov’s novel At Daggers Drawn is rarely discussed. Unlike Dostoevsky, Leskov does not explicitly point to Nechaev and his accomplices as sources for his inspiration. However, the role of the Ivanov murder trial on At Daggers Drawn deserves scrutiny. Naturally, Leskov did not leave unnoticed the murder of the student Ivanov. His reaction to this murder was expressed, as the commentators to At Daggers Drawn point out, in an article “Russian Social Notes” (“Русские общественные заметки”), published in The Herald of the Stock Exchange (Биржевые ведомости) in January of 1870, soon after Nechaev was first identified as Ivanov’s murderer and after the first three installments of At Daggers Drawn had already come out.1029 The publication of At Daggers Drawn ended in October of 1871, a month after the last verdicts in the trial over Nechaev’s collaborators were pronounced in court. Although the influence of the Nechaev trial on Leskov’s novel is mostly “mediated,”1030 contemporaries could not have missed the fact that the investigation into Ivanov’s murder was conducted simultaneously with Leskov’s fictional depiction of the trial of two nihilists, Gordanov and Vislenev, who, in his novel, are accused of murder. The significance of this fact seems even more striking if we consider other parallels that exist between At Daggers Drawn and Nechaev’s trial. The main intrigue of Leskov’s second major novel about nihilism lies in the unraveling of a conspiracy organized by Glafira Bodrostina.1031 Glafira is a former member of the nihilist circles of the early 1860s and the novel’s main anti-heroine. The purpose of this conspiracy is the 1029 The publication of At Daggers Drawn in the Russian Messenger started in October of 1870 and continued regularly through October, 1871. For the discussion of Leskov’s article in the Herald of the Stock Exchange, see N. S. Leskov, Na nozhakh: roman v shesti chastiakh, Polnoe sobranie sochinenii, ed. N. I. Liban, et al, vol. 9, 30 vols. (Moscow: TERRA-Knizhnyi klub, 2004), p. 806. 1030 Ibid , p. 806. 1031 His first was No Way Out. 398 murder of Glafira’s elderly husband, the “owner of estates in three provinces,” a “millionaire” and “entrepreneur,” Mikhail Bodrostin.1032 While the murder of Bodrostin is not political, Leskov implies that the arc of the development of contemporary nihilism leads to immorality and crime. In At Dagger Drawn, Glafira entrusts the task of organizing the murder to Pavel Gordanov, the leader and ideologue of “no nonsense nihilism” (“негилизм”), the doctrine that refers to conventional morality and “tender feelings” as “nonsense” (“гиль”) and proclaims that the main purpose in life is to win the battle for survival and to become rich by employing “Jesuitism” (including “cunning and trickery” [“хитрость и лукавство”]).1033 Gordanov arrives in the provincial town where Bodrostin lives and bring with him his accomplice, Iosaf (Иосаф or Жозеф) Vislenev, a weak, submissive and “nature-less” (“безнатурный”) native of this town, a former student and nihilist and new convert to Gordanov’s “no-nonsense nihilism.” Gordanov manipulates Vislenev and stages the events so that the murder of Bodrostin’s cousin, Kiulevein (who stands between Glafira and her husband’s inheritance), and then Bodrostin himself are committed by Vislenev’s hand. The manipulative and ruthless personality of Gordanov and the Jesuit methods adopted by “no-nonsense nihilists” under his leadership echo Nechaev (and Ishutin) and his methods and style of leadership, based on submissiveness and the adoration of the leader. There are other parallels between At Daggers Drawn and both the Nechaev and Karakozov (and Ishutin) cases. The relationship between Gordanov and Vislenev presents the same kind of master-slave dynamics that existed in the relationship between the leader of these 1032 N. S. Leskov, Na nozhakh, Sobranie sochinenii v shesti tomakh, ed. L. Anninskii, vol. 2:1, 2:2, 6 vols. (Moscow: Ekran, 1993), vol. 2:1, p. 110. 1033 L. A Anninskii, "“Na nozhakh” s nigilizmom," Leskov, N. S. Sobranie sochinenii, vol. 2 (Moscow: AO “Ekran”), vol. 2:1, p. 162. 399 conspiracies (Nechaev and Ishutin) and their followers. The parallel between the GordanovVislenev relationship and the relationship between Nechaev and his followers has been addressed by A. Shelaeva, who commented on Vislenev’s “economically and psychologically dependent” relationship to Gordanov that is “reminiscent of the relationships that existed in Nechaev’s group.” 1034 There are other echoes of the Nechaev, Karakozov, and Ishutin cases that can be glimpsed in the scenes detailing Vislenev’s behavior during the trial. Like Nechaev’s accomplices, while not denying his involvement in the crime, Vislenev “tries to attribute a noble quality” to the crime and speaks about “socialist theories.”1035 In these scenes, Leskov’s rendering of Vislenev’s speeches in the courtroom is explicitly satirical. Thus, Vislenev says that “no-nonsense nihilists” “do not look at such things” as the fact that Bodrostin might not have been an “evil person.” They are not “guarded by personal sentiments.” Overall, Vislenev is “glad that Bodrostin got killed” because the latter “despised the people’s interests.” In committing the crime, Vislenev “stood with the interests of the people” and “sacrificed everything.” The money that the “no-nonsense nihilist” Vislenev hoped to acquire after Bodrostin’s death would be used “for building schools and organizing good libraries,” and for “in general, doing lots of good things.” As an echo of Khudiakov’s “European Revolutionary Committee” and Nechaev’s “Alliance révolutionnaire européenne,” Vislenev invokes the support of a powerful organization and proclaims himself a “forerunner to other most powerful and terrible innovators who, having 1034 “В эпилоге романа в полной мере раскрывается значение образа Висленева. В его странной судьбе слышны отголоски нечаевского дела... Тем не менее взаимоотношения Горданова и Висленева, который оказывается в психологической и экономической зависимости от первого, Лесков строит, вероятно, по подобию отношений, существовавших в нечаевской группе.” А. Shelaeva, "Zabytyi roman," N.S. Leskov: "Na nozhakh" (Moscow: Russkaia kniga, 1994), p. 7-8. 1035 Here and below, I quote Chapter 25 of Leskov, Na nozhakh , vol. 2:1, pp. 298-307. 400 been raised ‘at daggers drawn,’ will soon come with knives to install their new universal truth.”1036 Finally, I would like to emphasize the important parallel between the image of Vislenev in At Dagger Drawn and the mythologized image of the mentally unstable members of the Karakozov conspiracy.1037 Throughout the novel, there is an association between Vislenev and madness. Initially, the degree of his submissiveness and constant victimization suggests simplemindedness. Throughout the novel, he plays the role of an idiot. Although this role is suggested to him by Gordanov and Glafira as a possible cover for their crime, the readers are never sure whether his madness is staged or not. Ultimately, after the trial, we learn that “there could not have been a different conclusion drawn from his testimony other that he was truly mad.”1038 He undergoes a medical examination, his madness is officially diagnosed, and he is sent to an insane asylum.1039 4. The Discourse on Infection, Sheep, Swine and Wolves and the Appearance of the First Demonic Nihilist Characters in Literature Although the possibility of fashioning a type of Demonic nihilist as the main protagonist of a novel (and a “hero of the time” in its own right) had emerged together with nihilism itself, it remained latent and was only fully actualized by Nikolai Leskov and Fyodor Dostoevsky in 1036 “До некоторой степени как намеки на нечаевский процесс воспринимаются и злые отчаянные пророчества Висленева, в представлении Лескова, вероятно, связанные с революционными идеями нечаевцев, а, может быть, с тем, как они интерпретировались в прессе. Во всяком случае, герой Лескова на допросах по следствию об убийстве Бодростина выставляет себя ‘предтечей других сильнейших и грозных новаторов, которые, воспитываясь на ножах, скоро придут с ножами же водворять свою новую вселенскую правду.’” А. Shelaeva, Zabytyi roman, 2006, pp. 7-8. 1037 There are signs of madness (or, a demonic possession) that are associated with Gordanov and Glafira. 1038 “Таким образом, общего вывода из его показаний нельзя было сделать никакого, кроме того, что он действительно помешан.” Leskov, Na nozhakh , vol. 2:2, p. 300. 1039 “За все эти заслуги Жозеф был официально признан сумасшедшим, и как опасный сумасшедший, совершивший в припадке безумия убийство Бодростина, посажен в сумасшедший дом, где он и будет доживать свой доблестный век.” Ibid , vol. 2:2, p. 317. 401 1870-1872. Since these two authors engaged the deepest levels in the ongoing dialog about the philosophical and psychological implications of nihilism, it is understandable that it was their Gordanov, Vislenev, Verkhovensky and Stavrogin who became the culmination of a whole series of demonic characters in Russian novels of the 1860s-1870s. By the time Leskov and Dostoevsky created their demonic nihilists, several defining and widely recognizable characteristics of this literary type had already been formulated. Among them we should name the nihilists’ predisposition to ordinary crime and to violence; their use of fire as the tool of universal destruction; and their propensity to subjugate their will and souls to powerful and sinister forces, acting to destroy the Russian state. The nihilists’ predisposition to violence had been a constant leitmotif in the most controversial literary portrayals of the movement. It would be wrong, however, to assume that the nihilist movement turned to violence as a means of achieving a bright future only when methods of peaceful propaganda failed. On the contrary, violence attracted the nihilists from the very start. Consider, for example, this appeal for the violent imposition of liberty by one of the quintessential real-life nihilists, Varfolomei Zaitsev: If the necessity to forcefully impose education upon the people has been realized, then I cannot understand why a false shame for compromising some stupid democratic conventions can hinder our realization that the bestowal on the people of another common good – that which is just as necessary as education and without which the former is impossible – freedom must be also achieved forcefully. 1040 Demonic nihilist characters in the literature of the 1860s-1870s exploit the rhetoric of real-life radicals (nihilists), often finding in it justifications for their own goals (money, power, 1040 “[E]сли сознана необходимость навязывать насильно народу образование, то я не могу понять, почему ложный стыд перед демократическими нелепостями может мешать признать необходимость насильственного дарования ему другого блага, столь же необходимого, как образование и без которого последнее невозможно, – свободы.” V. Zaitsev, Izbrannye sochineniia v 2-kh tomakh, vol. 1 (Moscow: 1934), p. 96. 402 dominance). Demonic seeds can, in fact, be located at the roots of basic nihilist ideas, such as the popular version of Darwinism, so-called social Darwinism, which applies Darwin’s theory of evolution and natural selection to society. Social Darwinism could easily provide approval for criminal behavior, including theft and murder, because it justified these actions as both necessary and justifiable. They are necessary because they are a part of the natural order of things (the fight for survival, the survival of a stronger species) and justifiable because as a natural process they necessarily lead to further progress, that is, to a better and happier world order for humankind.1041 Social Darwinism lies at the core of Gordanov’s “no nonsense nihilism.” It also constitutes the context for this remark of the Chronicler in reference to Verkhovensky: “Of course, there is the struggle for existence in everything, and there is no other principle, everybody knows that, but still…” (Part 3, Chapter 1).1042 The idea of depicting nihilists as criminals reveals a deeply concealed truth about the outer limits of nihilism. The criminalization of literary portrayals of nihilists had been a marginal phenomenon long before Leskov’s At Daggers Drawn and Dostoevsky’s Demons shook the reading public in 1870-1872. In fact, in claiming the affinity between certain activities of nihilists and ordinary criminals, the novels about nihilism complete a full circle during the decade that started in 1863. Pisemsky’s The Troubled Sea had already depicted a turbulent reforming society, where traditional morality eroded as ordinary crime was justified by progressive ideological discourse. Discussing The Troubled Sea, Lidiya Lotman sees the roots of this phenomenon in the combined effect of shifting moral and social values and the post-Crimean 1041 Thus asserting the “natural” rights of an individual and his right for self-gratification, Social Darwinism can be seen as a natural extension of Chernyshevsky’s “rational egoism” of the new people. 1042 F. M. Dostoevsky, Demons, trans. Richard Pevear and Larissa Volokhonsky (New York: Vintage Books, 1995), p. 551. (“Конечно, во всем борьба за существование, и другого принципа нет, это всем известно, но ведь всетаки...” Dostoevsky, Besy, p. 421). 403 War economic boom. She observes: “The pessimistic picture of the social and moral condition of the country is supplemented in the novel by the depiction of the growing significance of money, thirst for personal gain and speculation that enveloped the society and made dissipation, blackmailing, stealing and other crimes widespread in everyday life.”1043 In Pisemsky’s novel, it is Basardin and a young Galkin, two secondary characters, who combine speech clichés and behavioral modes of nihilism with criminal (economic) activities. In this context, Leskov’s battle with trying to understand how the “rabid curs of nihilism” become accepted into the movement and his difficulty in separating the “good” from the “bad” nihilists can be seen as trying to solve this core problem of nihilism’s relation to violence.1044 All early demonic nihilists are depicted as tools of powerful and manipulative forces standing behind their backs, and not as independent characters. In The Troubled Sea, liberal ideas and the nihilists themselves are exploited and directed by the unscrupulous tax-farmer Emmanuil Zakharych Galkin, a Jew. Within a year, however, the theory of the Polish conspiracy gained popularity.1045 The Poles are depicted as the manipulators of the nihilists in Kliushnikov’s Mirage (1864), Leskov’s No Way Out (1864), Krestovsky’s The Bloody Hoax (1868), and Pisemsky’s own In the Whirlpool (1871). In the popular mythology of the 1860-1870s, nihilist violence was associated with fire, a concept which, undoubtedly, started from the gossip that the nihilists stood behind the 1862 St. 1043 “Пессимистическая картина социального и нравственного состояния страны дополняется в романе изображением роста значения денег, жажды наживы и спекуляций., охвативших общество и сделавших разврат, шантаж, воровство и другие преступления обычными явлениями повседневной жизни.” Lotman, "A. F. Pisemskii," p. 231. 1044 See Chapter 3, subchapter “Leskov’s No Way Out and the Classification of Literary Nihilists,” for a detailed discussion of Leskov’s predicament. “Я знаю, что такое настоящий нигилист, но я никак не доберусь до способа отделить настоящих нигилистов от шальных шавок, окричавших себя нигилистами.” See Anninskii, "Katastrofa v nachale puti," pp. 659-660. 1045 See Chapter 3, Sub-Chapter 11: Kliushnikov’s Mirage and the Polish Conspiracy. 404 Petersburg fires.1046 This gossip was first reflected in literature in 1863, in Pisemsky’s symbolic ending to The Troubled Sea. In general, these fires did indeed cast their shadow over the entire nihilist movement. For most people, however, fire is also a symbol of Hell and, therefore, the nihilist’s desire to destroy the old world in a fire always had the potential to be seen as a satanic destruction of the world. The following are the most important literary images of fire in the 1860s: the fire at Inna Gorobets’ estate in Kliushnikov’s Mirage (1864) and Arapov and Bychkov’s obsession with arson in Leskov’s No Way Out (1864). Turgenev’s 1866 Smoke was an ironic twist on the theme; it depicted smoke without a fire. And the images of apocalyptic fires serve as culmination points in Leskov’s At Daggers Drawn and Dostoevsky’s Demons. Two other important and interconnected metaphorical images of nihilist danger need to be mentioned. These are the representation of nihilism as an infectious disease and of the nihilist younger generation as a flock of senseless and easily manipulated animals (sheep or swine), led to an abyss by sinister forces, sometimes materialized as a predatory animal, such as a wolf. Katkov, whose journalism during this time stood in the vanguard of dominant public opinion, exploited this metaphorical language ad nauseum.1047 The nihilist infection was simultaneously seen as a “disease of the age” and a universal phenomenon, striking a particularly impressionable part of the population. The first idea can be illustrated by the famous passage from the epilogue of Crime and Punishment, which narrates Raskolnikov’s frightful vision of a “terrible, unknown pestilence”: 1046 The nihilists were, again, suspected to have played a hand in the destructive fires of 1864-1865. During those years, the devastation created by fires was aggravated by the crop failure and the resulting famine. (See, for example, Moscow News’ editorials for these years in M. N. Katkov, Sobranie peredovykh statei Moskovskikh vedomostei: 1863-[1887] g., 25 vols. (Moscow: Izdanie S. P. Katkovoi, 1897-1898). 1047 Compare Katkov’s articles on the Polish question and on the Karakozov affair: Katkov, 1863 god: Sobranie statei po pol'skomu voprosu pomieshchavshikhsia v moskovskikh Vedomostiakh, Russkom viestnike i Sovremennoi Lietopisi. , Katkov, Sobranie peredovykh statei Moskovskikh viedomostei: 1863-[1887] g. 405 He had dreamt in his illness that the whole world was condemned to fall victim to a terrible, unknown pestilence which was moving on Europe out of the depth of Asia. All were destined to perish, except a chosen few, a very few. There had appeared a new strain of trichinae, microscopic creatures parasitic in men’s bodies. But these creatures were endowed with intelligence and will. People who were infected immediately became like men possessed and out of their minds. But never, never, had any men thought themselves so wise and so unshakeable in their truth as those who were attacked. Never had they considered their judgments, their scientific deductions, or their moral convictions and creeds more infallible. Whole communities, whole cities and nations, were infected and went mad… The plague grew and spread wider and wider. In the whole world only a few could save themselves, a chosen handful of the pure, who were destined to found a new race of men and a new life, and to renew and cleanse the earth; but nobody had ever seen them anywhere, nobody had heard their voices or their words.1048 In spite of the given biological detail (a new strain of trichinae), the disease that engulfs Europe is clearly of mental origin. The most prominent symptom of the “plague” is insanity with a clearly discernible turn toward nihilism’s most prominent creeds: unshakable, blind belief in one’s judgments, scientific deductions and moral convictions. An understanding of the nihilist infection as universal phenomenon, also characteristic of the mid-to-late 1860s, can be illustrated by Nikolai Strakhov’s comment that the evil of nihilism “inevitably” strikes the youth of a certain age. For him, nihilism is also an infectious disease, a sort of demonic delusion, and young people are the victims of this disease, not its sources. Strakhov writes, “It is an accepted truth that nihilism contains the natural evil of our world, so-to-speak, a disease that has its old and continual sources and inevitably strikes at a certain portion of the younger generation.” 1049 Dostoevsky carries Raskolnikov’s vision of the “terrible pestilence” to his novel Demons. In his letter to Maikov of October 9, 1870, containing the much-quoted explanation of the title of the novel, Dostoevsky evokes the same demonized conception of nihilism (“the sores, all the 1048 F. M. Dostoevsky, Crime and Punishment, A Norton Critical Edition, ed. George Gibian (New York: W.W Norton & Company, 1989), pp. 461-462. 1049 “Признано, что нигилизм составляет как бы естественное зло нашей земли, болезнь, имеющую свои давние и постоянные источники и неизбежно поражающую известную часть молодого поколения.” Strakhov, Iz istorii literaturnogo nigilizma, 1861-1865: Pis'ma N. Kositsy, Zametki Letopistsa i pr., p. 71. 406 miasmas, all the uncleanliness”).1050 Apart from the notion of nihilism as an infection, the title and epigraph to the novel contain the popular metaphorical images of the flock of senseless animals (here, the swine), possessed by the demons that lead the animals into an abyss. Apart from the obvious relation of the title and the epigraph of Dostoevsky’s Demons to the Gospel from Luke,1051 the discourse on the flock of animals that is led into an abyss as a result of being infected by the bacilli of nihilism, which are sent amidst them by demonic forces, goes back to the same fighter against the Polish evil, Vasily Ratch, and to his two important popularizes, Mikhail Katkov and Vsevolod Krestovsky. 1052 1050 “Правда факт показал нам тоже, что болезнь, обуявшая цивилизованных русских, была гораздо сильнее, чем мы сами воображали, и что Белинскими, Краевскими и проч. дело не кончилось. Но тут произошло то, о чем свидетельствует евангелист Лука: бесы сидели в человеке и имя им было легион, и просили Его: повели нам войти в свиней, и Он позволил им. Бесы вошли в стадо свиней, и бросилось все стадо с крутизны в море и все потонуло... Точь в точь случилось так и у нас. Бесы вышли из русского человека и вошли в стадо свиней, то есть в Нечаевых, в Серно-Соловьевичей и проч. Те потонули или потонут наверно, а исцелившийся человек, из которого вышли бесы, сидит у ног Иисусовых. Так и должно было быть. Россия выблевала всю эту пакость, которою ее окормили, и, уж конечно, в этих выблеванных мерзавцах не осталось ничего русского. И заметьте себе, дорогой друг: кто теряет свой народ и народность, тот теряет и веру отеческую и бога.” Dostoevsky, Polnoe sobranie sochinenii v 30-ti tomakh , vol. 29:1, pp. 144-147. See also the scene of Stepan Trofimovich’s final journey and his religious revelation and conversion (Part 3, Chapter 7): “Terribly many thoughts occur to me now: you see, it’s exactly like our Russia. These demons who come out of a sick man and enter into swine–it’s all the sores, all the miasmas, all the uncleanliness, all the big and little demons accumulated in our great and sick man, in our Russia, for centuries, for centuries! Oui, cette Russie que j’aimais toujours. But a great will and a great thought will descend to her from on high, as upon that insane demoniac, and out will come all these demons, all the uncleanness, all the abomination that is festering on the surface… and they will beg of themselves to enter into swine. And perhaps they already have! It is us, us and them, and Petrusha… et les autres avec lui, and I, perhaps, first. At the head, and we will rush, insane and raging, from the cliff down into the sea, and all be drowned, and good riddance to us, because that’s the most we’re fit for. But the sick man will be healed and sit ‘at the feet of Jesus’… and everybody will look in amazement.” Dostoevsky, Demons , p. 655. (“Мне ужасно много приходит теперь мыслей: видите, это точь-в-точь как наша Россия. Эти бесы, выходящие из больного и входящие в свиней, – это все язвы, все миазмы, вся нечистота, все бесы и все бесенята, накопившиеся в великом и милом нашем больном, в нашей России, за века, за века!... Но великая мысль и великая воля осенят ее свыше, как и того безумного бесноватого, и выйдут все эти бесы, вся нечистота, вся эта мерзость, загноившаяся на поверхности... и сами будут проситься войти в свиней. Да и вошли уже, может быть! Это мы, мы и те, и Петруша... и я, может быть, первый, во главе, и мы бросимся, безумные и взбесившиеся, со скалы в море и все потонем, и туда нам дорога, потому что нас только на это ведь и хватит. Но больной исцелится и ‘сядет у ног Иисусовых’... и будут все глядеть с изумлением...” Dostoevsky, Besy, p. 499). 1051 1052 Budanova, et al., "Primechaniia," p. 190. Ratch, Svedeniia o pol'skom miatezhe 1863 goda v severo-zapadnoi Rossii; Krestovskii, "Krovavyi puf: romany: Panurgovo stado i Dve sily"; Katkov, 1863 god: sobranie statei po pol'skomu voprosu pomieshchavshikhsia v Moskovskikh Viedomostiakh, Russkom viestnike i Sovremennoi Lietopisi. In Moscow News, Katkov repeatedly 407 The grip of the conservative discourse on nihilism, and its metaphors and symbols, is visible even in the memoirs of such an unlikely person as Alexander Skabichevsky. His assessment of the public mood in Russian society of the 1870s shows the extent to which thinking in categories of infections, defenseless flocks of animals and predators that attack them became normative among the general public. Skabichevsky writes that in the 1870s, “people crowded together as flocks sensing the arrival of a predator.”1053 In his metaphor, “people” are the intelligentsia and “the predator” (“хищный зверь”) is the government or, more precisely, the conservative reaction. In the sphere of journalism, critical discussions of newly published novels also explicitly employ the imagery of disease (isolated cases, epidemic, and infection). 1054 For example, criticizing Vasily Avenarius’s novel The Plague (1867), Nikolai Shelgunov argues that the downfall of the novel’s heroine (she is seduced by a demonic nihilist character) is a common but completely “untypical” case of a girl being deceived. “The plague,” argued Shelgunov, “presupposes generality of a phenomenon, but if one lost sheep falls into a wolf’s clutches it is hardly reasonable to raise the alarm and shout to the whole world that the wolves have eaten up all the sheep.”1055 claimed that Polish conspirators viewed Russian peasants and nihilists as cattle (быдло), a herd (стадо), and “dead economic material,” while manipulating them into serving Polish interests. Krestovsky used the image of the “herd” in the title of his novel Panurge’s Herd. This title goes back to Vasily Ratch, who deployed the symbol in his tendentious historical study of the Polish Uprising. Ratch wrote: “In the name of progress but deceived, on the one hand, by Herzen and, on the other, by their Polish friends, a lot of Russian youth, as a true Panurge’s herd, started to roam about in the darkness and shadows.” For the detailed discussion of this symbol, see Chapter 3, Sub-Chapter 11. Ratch, Svedeniia o pol'skom miatezhe 1863 goda v severo-zapadnoi Rossii , p. 79. 1053 “Люди жались друг к другу, словно стада, усматривающие приближение хищного зверя.” Skabichevskii, Literaturnye vospominaniia, p. 385. 1054 These discussions were still conducted under the pretence of the discussion of typicality – the critical cliché of the period. 1055 N. V. Shelgunov, "Tipy russkogo bessiliia," Delo.3 (1868), translated in Moser, Antinihilism in the Russian Novel of the 1860’s, p. 120. 408 A symbolic manifestation of demonic forces, predators manipulating Russian youth (flocks of defenseless sheep or pigs) was necessary to complete the picture. The Karakozov case shifted the search for a demonic mastermind from the outdated Polish conspiracy to the mysterious European Revolutionary Committee and, soon after that, the Nechaev case brought to light the sinister European Revolutionary Alliance. In spite of the fact that both organizations were fictional, the Russian revolutionary milieu in Europe did exist and its purpose was, in fact, to overthrow the existing political system. By the late 1860s, the specter of Bakunin comes to haunt the conservative discourse on nihilism. Interestingly, in his figure, OsipovichNovodvorsky’s genealogy of Russian nihilists gets real-life confirmation. The new paterfamilias, Mikhail Bakunin, signals nihilism’s curious return to the image of the Romantic Demon. For Mikhail Katkov, Fyodor Dostoevsky, and other men of the 1840s, Bakunin remained a “Russian Hegelian” par excellence, a lover of German Romantic philosophy and the German Romantic fascination with the demonic.1056 As Fyodor Stepun writes, for Bakunin the devil was the eternal “rebel” and “heretic,” “the first revolutionary” who started the great battle to free the people from the “humiliation of not knowing their enslaved condition.” Freedom, for him, lies in the destruction of the world as it was created by God.1057 1056 In thinking about Mikhail Bakunin as a Romantic Demon, I am indebted to the contemporary Russian philosopher Vladimir Kantor. For his discussion of Bakunin’s engagement with German demonism with its locus in Dresden, see V. K. Kantor, "Drezdenskie razmyshleniia: rossiiskie motivy (prilozhenie - pis'ma F. A. Stepuna i D. A. Obolenskogo)," Voprosy filosofii 3 (2012), pp. 136-150. Particularly interesting is his observation that Dostoevsky noticed the contemporary European fascination with the satanic beauty of destruction (as evident in his comments to Strakhov about the fire of Paris in May of 1871). According to Kantor, this satanic beauty of destruction by (the revolutionary) fire enticed Bakunin. See Kantor, "Drezdenskie razmyshleniia: rossiiskie motivy (prilozhenie - pis'ma F. A. Stepuna i D. A. Obolenskogo)," p. 145. 1057 “Бакунин, как и Ставрогин, верит в дьявола, быть может, даже канонически. В своих размышлениях о Боге и государстве Бакунин, во всяком случае, восторженно славит этого извечного ‘бунтаря’ и ‘безбожника’ как ‘первого революционера,’ начавшего великое дело освобождения человека от ‘позора незнания рабства.’ Бог и свобода для Бакунина несовместимы, а потому он и определяет свободу как действенное разрушение созданного Богом мира.” F. A. Stepun, Sochineniia (Moscow: ROSSPEN, 2000), p. 631-632. 409 The proclamation “A Few Words to Our Younger Brothers in Russia”1058 is a direct product of Bakunin’s involvement in the “demonic” phase of Russian nihilism. Written in Geneva, in May 1869, under the influence of his meeting and friendship with Sergei Nechaev, this proclamation famously urges Russian youth to leave universities and “go to the people.” 1059 Bakunin also calls for the demolition of the state performed “in a wild and destructive frenzy.” He praises the “all-destructive” spirit as a “sacred disease,” and declares that if the younger generation ever recovers from it, they would turn into “animals.” By “animals” he means the mass, the conformists, and the supporters of autocracy, whom he calls “all-Russian patriots.” For Mikhail Katkov, Bakunin’s proclamation was a gift, a natural and easy target. In the Moscow News editorial, published on January 5, 1870, Mikhail Katkov shared what he knew about Bakunin’s stormy Hegelian youth, his “nihilist” habit to live at the expense of others, his lack of scruples, etc., and went on to narrate the contents of Bakunin’s latest proclamation. For Katkov, Bakunin’s assertion that the “‘spirit of universal destruction’ is a holy illness and if the ‘younger brothers’ recovered from it, they would ‘turn into swine,’” 1060 read as if it were lifted directly from Ratch or Krestovsky, the year-long serialization of whose novel Panurge’s Herd in the Russian Messenger ended less than a month prior. From his European hideout, Bakunin was still speaking the language of infectious diseases and herds of swine. 5. The Immediate Literary Context of Leskov’s At Daggers Drawn and Dostoevsky’s Demons 1058 The proclamation was published in Geneva in May of 1869; it was reproduced later, in 1896, in the collection of Bakunin’s letters to Herzen and Ogarev (see M. A. Bakunin, Pis'ma M. A. Bakunina k A. I. Gertsenu i N. P. Ogarevu: s biograficheskim vvedeniem i ob''iasnitel'nymi primechaniiami M. P. Dragomanova, Slavistic printings and reprintings (The Hague: Mouton, 1968). 1059 For a discussion of Bakunin’s social program at the time of his friendship with Nechaev, see Mark Leier, Bakunin: the Creative Passion (New York: Thomas Dunne Books / St. Martin's Press, 2006) and N. M. Pirumova, Sotsial'naia doktrina Bakunina (Moscow: Nauka, 1990). 1060 Quoted in Budanova, et al., "Primechaniia," pp. 199-200. 410 The demonization of the image of the nihilist in journalistic and literary discourse of the 1860s made possible the appearance of Leskov’s and Dostoevsky’s anti-heroes, the demons Gordanov, Verkhovensky and Stavrogin. In the following sections, I will look at the most important readings and misreading of these characters, consider their differences from earlier demonic nihilists. Abiding by the practice of serialization of newly written works, both Leskov and Dostoevsky wrote and published their novels in installments. Therefore, the immediate literary context of these novels needs to be considered first as it is an important factor that not only determined the way At Daggers Drawn and Demons were read, but also directly influenced and explained Leskov’s and Dostoevsky’s polemical and artistic intentions. Concurrent serialization of At Daggers Drawn and Demons in the Russian Messenger in 1870-1872 forced these novels into dialogue with each other on three major levels. On the first level, the polemic occurred between the genre, form and the philosophical content of each novel and the political “line” of the Russian Messenger and, more globally, the reception and role of this journal in Russian society. Secondly, these two novels were part of a larger literary context and polemic, appearing at the heels of the long serialization of Krestovsky’s Panurge’s Herd in the same Russian Messenger (February through December of 1869), the serialization of Goncharov’s Precipice in the Herald of Europe (January through May of 1869), and in the light of such publications in the Dawn as Pisemsky’s novel People of the Forties (Люди сороковых годов, January through September, 1869) and the series of Danilevsky’s articles Russia and Europe (Nos. 1-6 and 8-10). 1061 Additionally, Pisemsky’s best novel on the theme of nihilism, In 1061 Other literary works that appeared in 1869 should also be considered. Among them we should mention Nekrasov’s Who Lives Happily in Russia (Prologue and Chapter 1, Annals of the Fatherland, No. 1, 1869), Shchedrin’s The History of a Town (Annals of the Fatherland, No. 1, 1869 [for the importance of Shchedrin’s History for understanding the literary context of Dostoevsky’s Demons, see Vladimir Svirskii, Demonologiia: Posobie dlia demokraticheskogo samoobrazovaniia uchitelia (Riga: Zvaigzne, 1991)); Nos 1-4 and 9, 1870], Mordovtsev’s Signs of the Time (1869), Omulevsky’s (Fedorov’s) Step by Step (The Deed, Nos. 1-4, 6 and 12, 1870), Meshchersky’s Ten Years from the Life of the Editor of a Journal (1869). 411 the Whirlpool (В водовороте), was published in 1871. Finally, alternating chapters of At Daggers Drawn and Demons on the pages of the same issue of the journal were naturally read against one another, such a reading being additionally prompted by the similarity of their subject matter. Although Dostoevsky and Leskov wrote their novels at roughly the same time and published them in the same journal, the list of works with which each author directly or indirectly engaged the most is slightly different. While Dostoevsky spent four years away from Russia, his letters from the late 1860s-early 1870s contain references to the newly-published works of such writers as Herzen, Turgenev, Pisemsky and Leskov. 1062 Not physically present in Russia, Dostoevsky was, nevertheless, keeping track of the dialogue with nihilism in his country’s literature. Apart from Leskov’s At Daggers Drawn, the immediate literary and polemical context for Dostoevsky’s Demons includes the following works: Granovsky’s biography by Stankevich (1869), a cycle of Danilevsky articles entitled “Russia and Europe” (1869),1063 Strakhov’s study The Struggle with the West in Our Literature (1869-1871), Turgenev’s memoirs “Literary and Everyday Recollections” (1869), chapters from Herzen’s My Life and Thoughts, and memoirs by Kelsiev (1868).1064 As this list shows, Dostoevsky was primarily absorbed with the problem of the destructive ideological influence of the West on Russian society. Paradoxically, he sides with Russian radicals in their designation of the group of people who are guilty for Russia’s present condition. For both Dostoevsky and the Russian nihilists, these are the “people of the 1840s” 1062 See Budanova, et al., "Primechaniia," p. 166. 1063 For the significance of Danilevsky and his ideas for Dostoevsky, see also K. A. Lantz, The Dostoevsky Encyclopedia (Wesport, CT and London: Greenwood Press, 2004), pp. 78-80. 1064 See Budanova, et al., "Primechaniia," p. 167. 412 such as Herzen, Granovsky, Stankevich, and Turgenev. But whereas the nihilists dismiss their “fathers” for being weak and incapable of decisive action, Dostoevsky criticizes and debunks the “people of the forties” as the main “conductors” of the evil influence of the West on Russia and the corruptors of their “children.” As in the case of Dostoevsky, a full understanding of Leskov’s agenda in At Daggers Drawn would be impossible without the consideration of several important works that constitute its immediate polemical and literary milieu. First of all, the history of the publication and reception of Leskov’s novel should be viewed in the context of Vsevolod Krestovsky’s Panurge’s Herd (the first part of his dilogy The Bloody Hoax),1065 published in 1869. The second-most important influence on Leskov was Ivan Goncharov’s The Precipice, also serialized in The Herald of Europe in 1869.1066 To understand Leskov’s contribution to the literary examination of nihilism, we need to evaluate his stance vis-à-vis the same problem of the generational conflict between people of the forties and their “sons” that haunted Dostoevsky. For Leskov, Goncharov’s novel was the main point of departure in formulating his own position in this question. Goncharov approaches the subject of nihilism’s origins and its hold on the younger generation in the manner of Turgenev,1067 as a problem which is best understood in terms of a generational conflict. For him, 1065 Vsevolod Krestovsky was Leskov’s friend since the time of their “communal life” of the early 1860s. The friendship lasted to mid-1870s. See, for example, Leskov, Zhizn’ Nikolaia Leskova: po ego lichnym, semeinym i nesemeinym zapisiam i pamiatiam, p. 259-261. 1066 Among other important immediate influences on At Daggers Drawn, Pisemsky’s In the Whirlpool stands out. Leskov praised Pisemsky’s novel as a “powerful work,” one “made of bronze” and likely to matter for a long time (“Помимо мастерства, вы никогда не достигали такой силы в работе. Это все из матерой бронзы; этому века не будет”). See Leskov, Sobranie sochinenii v odinnadtsati tomakh, vol. 10, p. 300. Leskov considered himself, Dostoevsky (in Demons) and Pisemsky to be developing the “same thought.” (“...[В]се мы трое во многом сбились на одну мысль,” see Leskov’s letter to prince Shchebalsky of February 11, 1871 in Ibid, p. 293. 1067 Parallels between Goncharov’s and Turgenev’s approaches to the “contemporary” novel gave rise to a conflict between the two authors, which was initiated by Goncharov as early as the 1850s. Goncharov accused Turgenev of stealing the plot of his novel The Precipice, the plan for which he shared with Turgenev in 1855, and in using it for 413 it is a battle between the “man of the forties” and the “man of the sixties,” and here Goncharov hardly strikes a new chord. In his own novels, A Common Story and Oblomov, he worked to perfect the literary type of the “man of the forties.” Later, the conflict between the two generations became a common thread within radical criticism. Following the publication of Turgenev’s Fathers and Sons, it became a literary cliché. The theme of the conflict between the two generations culminated in 1869 with the concurrent publication of Goncharov’s The Precipice and Pisemsky’s The People of the Forties (The Dawn, Nos. 1-3). Goncharov’s main protagonist in The Precipice,1068 Raisky, continues the line of “superfluous men,” the main literary heroes of the 1840s whom Goncharov previously depicted in Oblomov and Aduev (A Common Story). The values of the “armature artist” Raisky1069 are contrasted with the values of the novels A Nest of Gentlefolk and On the Eve. The conflict was eventually resolved in March of 1860 by a specially convened “court of arbitration” that consisted of literary friends of both authors. The court concluded that “since the same Russian ‘soil’ served as the origin of the novels of both Turgenev and Goncharov, they had to contain some similar elements and to coincide accidentally in some thoughts and expressions and this circumstance excuses and justifies both authors.” The conflict between Turgenev and Goncharov was well-known to the contemporaries (see, for example the accounts by Pavel Annenkov (Annenkov, "Shest' let perepiski s I. S. Turgenevym (1856-1862)," pp. 305-307) and Petr Boborykin (Boborykin, Vospominaniia). For an excellent modern analysis of the dispute, see Batiuto, Turgenev-romanist). Since Goncharov published The Precipice as late as 1869, long after Turgenev’s reputation as an originator of the “contemporary socio-polemical novel” had been already firmly established, I refer here to “Turgenev’s novel” and “Turgenev’s manner.” 1068 For the 19th century reception of the The Precipice, see L. Neliubov, "Novyi roman g. Goncharova," Russkii vestnik 7.July, (1869), pp. 335-378; M. E. Saltykov-Schchedrin, "Ulichnaia filosofiia," Sobranie sochinenii v 20-ti tomakh, vol. 9: Kritika i publitsistika (1868-1883) (Moscow: Khudozhestvennaia literatura, 1970), pp. 61-95; Golovin, Russkii roman i russkoe obshchestvo, pp. 313-318; Skabichevskii, Istoriia noveishei russkoi literatury: 1848-1906 gg., pp. 153-156; V. G. Korolenko, "Goncharov i "molodoe pokolenie"," I. A. Goncharov v russkoi kritike: sbornik statei (Moscow: Gos. izd-vo khud. lit-ry, 1958), pp. 329-340. For some of the more detailed later studies, see Evg. Liatskii, Goncharov: zhizn', lichnost', tvorchestvo: kritiko-biograficheskie ocherki (Stokhgol'm: Severnye ogni, 1920), A.G. Tseitlin, I. A. Goncharov (Moscow: Izd-vo Akademii nauk SSSR, 1950), Chapter 6 “Obryv,” N. K. Piksanov, Roman Goncharova "Obryv" v svete sotsial'noi istorii (Leningrad: Nauka, 1968) and L. S. Geiro, "'Soobrazno vremeni i obstoiatel'stvam.' (Tvorcheskaia istoriia romana 'Obryv')," I. A. Goncharov. Novye materialy i issledovaniia, ed. S. A. Makashin, vol. 102, Literaturnoe nassledstvo (Moscow: IMLI RAN, Nasledie, 2000), pp. 83-183. 1069 This is how Raisky is described in Veselovsky’s History of Russian Recent Literature: “Чего стоит одна фигура Райского. Этого дилетанта, настоящего человека 40-х годов, который немного романист, немного музыкант, немного художник, искатель счастья, вечно влюбляющийся и стремящийся всяду; на последних страницах романа он появляется в Италии, покинув Россию.” Veselovskii, Istoriia novieishei russkoi literatury: lektsii, chitannye na Vysshikh Zhenskikh kursakh v 1914/15 uch. godu, p. 187. 414 Mark Volokhov, the nihilist and the man of the 1860s.1070 Raisky and Volokhov are contenders for the heart of the novel’s heroine, Vera. Continuing the line of Pushkin’s Tatiana (Eugene Onegin) and Turgenev’s Elena (On the Eve), Goncharov’s Vera is one of the most successful strong heroines in Russian literature.1071 In portraying the generational conflict in The Precipice, however, Goncharov resolves Turgenev’s ambiguous position, his refusal to openly side with the values of one of the generations, by suggesting a “timeless” system of values: the so-called “grandmother morality.” The spiritual truth and wisdom in The Precipice lie not with Raisky, Vera or Volokhov but with Vera’s grandmother, Tatiana Markovna Berezhkova, the woman of the “old age” and Goncharov’s “ideal of the woman in general” who saves Vera from the “precipice.” 1072 Moreover, for Goncharov, the grandmother is the symbol of Russia and of the “old conservative Russian life.”1073 It is primarily with this “false solution” of “grandmother morality” that Leskov engages in the polemic in his At Daggers Drawn. The battle of the two 1070 For a good summary of Goncharov’s attitude to the values of the 1860s and the analysis of his portrayal of Mark Volokhov, see Geiro, "'Soobrazno vremeni i obstoiatel'stvam.' (Tvorcheskaia istoriia romana 'Obryv')," pp. 126-133. 1071 One of Vera’s prototypes was Ekaterina Maikova, the wife of his friend, Vladimir Maikov. Goncharov adored Maikova and deeply suffered when, as a result of her infatuation with the “new ideas,” she left her husband and three children for the children’s tutor, young student Fedor Liubimov. See O. M. Chemina, Sozdanie dvukh romanov: Goncharov i shestidesiatnitsa E. P. Maikova (Moscow: Nauka, 1966), and Iurii Loshits, Goncharov, Zhizn' zamechatel'nykh liudei (Moscow: Molodaia gvardiia, 1986), pp. 240-260. Goncharov initially intended Vera to fall in love with a political criminal (an early version of Volokhov) and to follow him into Siberian exile. Later, as the conception of Mark Volokhov changed and the role of the grandmother increased, Vera could no longer combine Mark’s “new values” and the “old values” of the grandmother. See Geiro, "'Soobrazno vremeni i obstoiatel'stvam.' (Tvorcheskaia istoriia romana 'Obryv')," especially pp. 134-136. 1072 For the analysis of the theme of the “old age” in The Precipice, see Geiro, "'Soobrazno vremeni i obstoiatel'stvam.' (Tvorcheskaia istoriia romana 'Obryv')," pp. 144-147. 1073 “[Критики] находили портрет старухи типичным. Но почему же он типичен и кого напоминает? Я вижу в нем что-то близкое и знакомое не мне одному, а всем нам. Я писал с русской старой хорошей женщины, или с русских старых женщин старого доброго времени […] у меня в конце книги вырвались последние слова, которыми я и кончил роман. Вот они: ‘За ним (Райским, когда он был в Италии) все стояли и горячо звали к себе его три фигуры: его Вера, его Марфенька и бабушка, а за ними стояла и сильнее их влекла к себе еще другая исполинская фигура, другая великая бабушка — Россия!’ Вот что отразилось или, если я слабый художник и не одолел образа, то по крайней мере вот что просилось отразиться в моей старухе, как отражается солнце в капле воды: старая, консервативная русская жизнь!” I. A Goncharov, "Luchshe pozdno, chem nikogda: kriticheskie zametki," Sobranie sochinenii, vol. 8 (Moscow: Gos. izd-vo khudozhestvennoi literatury, 1955), p. 90. 415 generations itself interested him to a much lesser degree since Leskov, himself, was caught “between” generations and, therefore, inclined to search for the origins of the problem of nihilism elsewhere. Leskov’s engagement with Goncharov’s novel starts with most basic details of the plot. Like tha grandmother’s estate in Goncharov’s The Precipice, the home of one of Leskov’s central heroines, Larisa Visleneva, whose image can serve as a parallel to Goncharov’s Vera, is surrounded by a garden that ends at the edge of a high precipice and is not protected by a fence. Just as in Vera’s case, Larisa’s home (and heart) exists near an abyss and is open to a potential thief who can climb into her garden.1074 Unlike Goncharov, Leskov refuses to save his heroine. “Grandmother’s morality,” – represented in the novel by the influence and opinions of Larisa’s aunt, Katerina Forova, cannot save Larisa, who lacks Leskov’s central positive value, “nature” (натура).1075 Demonic protagonists in Leskov’s and Dostoevsky’s novels appear as a culmination of a ten-year period of the Russian realist novel’s preoccupation with nihilism. It is only natural that, at this stage, both Leskov and Dostoevsky consciously go back to the origins and reaccess Turgenev’s groundbreaking portrayal of Bazarov. As a result of continuous reinterpretations, a certain retroactive demonization affects the image of Turgenev’s primary nihilist. Goncharov’s The Precipice is an important illustration of this process. Mark Volokhov, a nihilist with a strongly defined personality, is a version of Bazarov, albeit a more pedestrian, parodic and shallow one. His serpent-like attributes (the habit of stealing apples from the matriarch’s garden 1074 “Сад кончается неогороженным обрывом над рекой... Вору ничего почти не стоит забраться в сад и... [украсть портфель].” N. S. Leskov, "Na nozhakh," Russkii vestnik 90.11 (1870), p. 43. 1075 Leskov’s “nature” (натура) can be defined as a strong system of values and ties to the soil and customs of the native land, gained through personal experiences of both joys and tragedies of life. 416 and tempting the young heroine with them) and almost spectral qualities (the habit of entering and exiting through the windows) align his image with the classic, romantic, Lermontov-like Demon. But his particular approaches to “developing” (seducing) the heroine transport him to an unmistakably nihilist context, as evident from the usual “nihilist” book selection and discourse on free love as the most natural and progressive kind. Nevertheless, of all the demonic nihilist types, Mark Volokhov stands out, together with Bazarov, as the only character endowed with a strong will and ability to experience powerful emotions. Therefore, it is not surprising that Volokhov appears together with Bazarov in the strikingly self-referential passage where Leskov’s “demon,” Gordanov, analyzes his own literary genealogy: Bazarov, Raskolnikov and Markusha Volokhov marched in front of him in their best attire. Gordanov measured, weighed, examined and dismissed them all. None of them withstood his criticism.1076 Having learned from Bazarov, Raskolnikov’s, and Volokhov’s mistakes (i.e. to let their conscience have the final word), Gordanov will, ultimately, choose to discard the soft ways of his own “big heart” and not let it obscure his way to success in the world. Eventually, he will transform himself from a “nihilist” (нигилист) into a “no-nonsense nihilist” (негилист). The centrality of Turgenev’s Fathers and Sons for all subsequent discussions of nihilism is confirmed also by Dostoevsky’s “conscious orientation” to this novel in his own Demons. 1077 Preliminary materials to Demons, composed from February of 1870, exhibit close affinities to Fathers and Sons. On the level of plot, the action in Demons starts with the arrival of the nihilist to “the nest of the gentlefolk.” Commentators also point out the plot-organizing role of the 1076 “[П]ерeд ним прошли во всем своем убранстве Базаров, Раскольников и Маркуша Волохов, и Горданов всех их смерил, свесил, разобрал и осудил: ни один из них не выдержал его критики...” Leskov, "Na nozhakh," p. 706. 1077 See Budanova, et al., "Primechaniia," p. 173. 417 debates between the representatives of the generation of “fathers” and generation of “sons,” a trip to the provincial center, and even a love affair with a woman of society (the “Beauty”). 1078 But Dostoevsky’s use of Fathers and Sons is clearly parodic. He engages with the popularized “low” version of the Bazarov type. The authors of the Commentaries to Demons point out the affinities between the character of Nechaev-Verkhovensky and the image of a “Bazaroid” (or, a “dentist of nihilism”) discussed by Herzen in his article “Bazarov, once again” (“Еще раз Базаров,” 1869) and in the memoir My Life and Thoughts1079: Thus, the “student” of the early drafts to Demons is a nihilist of the crudest formation. The sharply accentuated features of a “Bazaroid” peek from under this vulgar mask.1080 6. The Demonic Nihilists of Leskov’s At Daggers Drawn and Dostoevsky’s Demons The history of the critical reception of Leskov’s At Daggers Drawn and Dostoevsky’s Demons is fascinating. Both works received relatively cold responses from contemporaries, were suppressed for a good part of the 20 th century, experienced comebacks and, nowadays, have acquired new significance. Demons is now universally recognized as one of Dostoevsky’s great novels, a “novel-prophesy” which, on the one hand, warns its readers about the dangers of terrorism and “predicts” the horrors of the Russian revolution, and, on the other, discovers the sources of the 1078 For an analysis of these and similar scenes, see Ibid , p. 173-174. The difference between Bazarov and Dostoevsky’s “Student” (that is how the protagonist is called in the notes), according to the commentators is that Bazarov is a “pure nihilist” who destructs only “in theory”; the “Student,” in his turn “turns the nihilist theory of the 1860s into the practice of universal destruction and annihilation.” (“Базаров по сравнению со Студентом своеобразный ‘чистый’ нигилист: он разрушает лишь в теории. Студент же обращает нигилистическую теорию 1860-х годов в беспощадную практику всеобщего разрушения и уничтожения.” See Budanova, et al., "Primechaniia," p. 174.) Commentators further note that Dostoevsky’s orientation towards Fathers and Sons, noticeable in the early notes to the novel wanes in the final text. See Budanova, et al., "Primechaniia," p. 176. 1079 For the relevance of these Herzen’s texts to Dostoevsky and references to them in Demons, see Budanova, et al., "Primechaniia," pp. 176-178. See also Herzen, "Eshche raz Bazarov," vol. 20/1, pp. 335-350. See also Herzen’s letter to Ogarev in Herzen, Sobranie sochinenii v tridtsati tomakh , vol. 29/1, p. 332. 1080 “Итак, студент ранних набросков к ‘Бесам’ – это нигилист самой грубой формации, из-под вульгарной маски которого проглядывают резко заостренные черты базаровщины.” Budanova, et al., "Primechaniia," p. 174. 418 demonic in human nature and shows how turmoil can grow out of “innocent” gossip and human vanity. But summarizing the history of Demons’ reception by contemporaries, as well as the traditional Soviet interpretation of it, Georgy Fridlender writes that the novel “was received by the majority of Dostoevsky’s contemporaries as belonging to the group of so-called ‘antinihilist’ novels, written from a conservative viewpoint and directed against the Russian liberation movement of the 1860-1870s.” Such a reception, continues Fridlender, “for a long time determined the critical evaluation of the novel.” 1081 The same assessment can be applied to At Daggers Drawn. Leskov’s novel was censored for the entire existence of the Soviet Union and is still virtually unknown in the West. In spite of its recent revival in Russia, the re-evaluation of this novel by literary scholarship has been a slow and problematic process, one that is still primarily conducted as part of the study of “antinihilist novels.” Unfortunately, At Daggers Drawn is seldom studied in tandem with Demons.1082 Generally, because its themes parallel Demons, and because it was rediscovered later than Dostoevsky’s novel, At Daggers Drawn is often seen today as secondary to Demons and, often, as a lesser imitation of it. Unlike many of the previous studies, my interpretation of the demonic nihilist in this sub-chapter will be based on a comparative reading of Demons and At Daggers Drawn. Because of my focus, I will now approach the analysis of the critical evaluations of these novels from this angle. 1081 “Роман ‘Бесы’ (созданный в 1870-1872 гг. и изданный в 1871-1872 гг.) был воспринят большею частью современников в ряду тогдашних ‘антинигилистических’ романов, написанных с консервативноохранительных позиций и направленных против русского освободительного движения 1860-1870-х годов. Это на долгое время определило критическое восприятие романа...” Ibid , p. 153. 1082 The necessity and urgency of such a study has been admitted before, although most of the attempts have rarely exceeded some preliminary remarks. See, for example, Iu. Kariakin, Dostoevskii i Apokalipsis (Moscow: Folio, 2009), pp. 610-620. 419 The first readings of these novels by contemporaries were, indeed, conducted from the same position. A good example of this is a review by Dmitry Minaev who lumped both writers together saying that “the author of the House of the Dead and creator of the novel No Way Out… blended into some singular type, into a homunculus which was born out of the famous inkwell of the Moscow News’s editor.”1083 According to the radical critic, Leskov and Dostoevsky “became Katkovized” and each of them, “having shed the skin of their individuality, ‘became exasperated by the new age and its mores’ and having turned as green out of their obscurant spite as the cover of the Russian Messenger, provided themselves with a hunter’s rattle to scare the red beast with various red specters.”1084 And further: One needs a special key to understand the new novel of Mr. Leskov-DostoevskyStebnitsky. We say the novel, because, essentially, Demons and At Daggers Drawn is one unified work in spite of being written by separate authors; authors who grew inseparable in the orchestra directed by Mr. Katkov. The prescription for consuming this novel is this. Because Demons at Daggers Drawn is nothing else than an illustration to the editorials of the Moscow News, which were transformed into a collection of dialogs peppered with sickly and nervous analysis by F. Dostoevsky and the Vidok-like shrillness of the author of No Way Out, one needs to take it as medicine, one spoonful every hour, alternating between them.1085 1083 “[C]лились в какой-то единый тип, в гомункула, родившегося в знаменитой чернильнице редактора ‘Московских ведомостей.’” Published in Delo 11 (1871), p. 57; quoted in Leskov, Na nozhakh: roman v shesti chastiakh, p. 807. 1084 “[O]катковились... Каждый из этих романистов, сбросив шкурку своей индивидуальности, ‘озлобленный на новый век и нравы,’ и от обскурантной злобы зеленея наподобие обертки ‘Русского вестника,’ обзавелся охотничьей трещоткой для запугивания красного зверя, т.е. публики, разными красными призраками.” D. D. Minaev, "Sovremennoe obozrenie: Nevinnye zametki," Delo, no. 11 (1971). Quoted in Leskov, Na nozhakh: roman v shesti chastiakh, p. 809. For part of the translation of this quote, I am indebted to Eekman, "N.S. Leskov’s At Daggers Drawn Reconsidered," p. 198. 1085 “С особым ключем надо подходить и к новому роману г. Леского-Достоевского-Стебницкого. Мы говорим к роману, потому что в сущности ‘Бесы’ и ‘На ножах’ есть одно цельное произведение, хотя и писанное разными авторами, но авторами сросшимися нераздельно в оркестре г. Каткова. Рецепт для поглощения этого романа следующий. Так как ‘Бесы – на ножах’ есть ни что иное, как иллюстрация к передовым статьям ‘Московских ведомостей,’ переданным в форме диалогов и приправленным нервноболезненным анализом Ф. Достоевского и видоковскою пронзительностью автора ‘Некуда,’ то их можно принимать в себя, как лекарство, через час по ложке, попеременно того и другого...” Minaev, "Sovremennoe obozrenie: Nevinnye zametki," quoted in Anninskii, "'Na nozhakh' s nigilizmom," p. 20. 420 While Minaev's opinion is, indisputably, an overwhelmingly negative one, its careful analysis reveals some important conceptions that contemporaries had about these two novels. First of all, the particular way Minaev chooses to frame the “one novel’s” authorship, calling it a “homunculus,” “Leskov-Dostoevsky-Stebnitsky,” reveals that he (and, presumably, his readers) accepted Leskov's priority. For the reader of the Russian Messenger, it was Dostoevsky who followed Leskov in his war against the “demons.” Secondly, for Minaev, the similarities between Dostoevsky’s and Leskov’s novels are unquestionable and they are more important than their individual merits or, for that matter, deficiencies. Of course, Minaev then continues the already established trend to assign novels which critically portray nihilism in a special group (later called “antinihilist novels”). It is not accidental that in Minaev’s parody, published in the Spark in 1871 (Nos. 14, 16-17), Pisemsky’s In the Whirlpool, Dostoevsky’s Demons and Leskov’s At Daggers Drawn are satirized together as one pseudo-novel Cannibals, or the People of the Sixties.1086 Overall, Minaev critiques Demons and At Daggers Drawn not as realist novels, but almost polemical works of non-fiction, as editorials or opinion articles, watered down by “dialogs.” When nineteenth-century reviewers did distinguish between portrayals of nihilism in Demons and At Daggers Drawn, on the one hand, and earlier novels, on the other, they still used the usual critical jargon of the period, and accused them of unpardonable departures from realism. In one of the first mentions of Leskov’s novels in the press, a reviewer of the Saint Petersburg Herald (Санкт-Петербургские ведомости) hints at the rumors of Leskov’s connections with the Third Department, first circulated by radical critics in response to his novel No Way Out. The Saint Petersburg Herald writes on January 9, 1871, in a clear reference to 1086 D. D. Minaev, "L. D. (L. D-o). Liudoedy, ili Liudi shestidesiatykh godov," Iskra, no. 14, 16, 17 (1871). Referenced in Leskov, Na nozhakh: roman v shesti chastiakh, p. 809. 421 Leskov’s At Daggers Drawn: “What would you say if you were told that grown-up boys are occupied nowadays not with political and socialist nonsense and undertakings, but with outright swindling, and I am scared to say, murder, as it seems.”1087 Essentially, Leskov’s novel is perceived here as a report that should have been addressed to the police, a piece of “denunciation.” This statement, of course, apart from being nasty toward Leskov, speaks of the prominence of the polemical dimension of the novel. Interestingly, once the serialization of Demons starts later that January, there are practically no other mentions of At Daggers Drawn as a separate novel: it is always discussed alongside Demons, with Dostoevsky’s novel getting more attention. In one of the earliest reviews of Demons, Burenin also stresses Dostoevsky’s expansive polemical agenda. He then proceeds to discuss the unrealistic nature of some characters in Demons: “Together with living images such as… the liberal, there appear mannequins and invented figures; the story sinks in a mass of unnecessary lamentations, filled with nervous anger at things that should not be provoking anger.” 1088 Avseenko’s similar comment is particularly interesting. He calls the scope of Dostoevsky’s vision in Demons “microscopic” as “the action is microscopic and takes place in an underground world with which hundreds of thousands of people will never come in contact in their lifetimes.” Avseenko also calls Dostoevsky’s version of nihilism “untypical” as it represents “only only one of Russia’s 1087 “Что скажете вы, если узнаете, что выросшие дети ныне занимаются уже не политическими и социалистическими бреднями и затеями, а прямо мошенничеством и даже страшно сказать – кажется, убийствами? Я могу только произнести одно: чего смотрит полиция? – и затем засвидетельствовать г. Стебницкому благодарность: он, не состоя в числе городовых, много предусмотрительнее последних и вовремя предупреждает общество об опасности.” Quoted in L. A Anninskii, "'Na nozhakh' s nigilizmom," Leskov, N. S. Sobranie sochinenii, vol. 2:1 (Moscow: AO “Ekran”, 1993), p. 10. 1088 “Вместе с живыми лицами, вроде... либерала, выходят куклы и надуманные фигурки; рассказ тонет в массе ненужных причитаний, исполненных нервической злости на многое, что вовсе не должно вызывать злость...” V. P. Burenin, "Zhurnalistika," Sanktpetersburgskiia vedomosti March, 6 (18) 1871. 422 sores.”1089 The perception that nihilism is a specifically Russian “malaise du siècle” 1090 is, nevertheless, seldom disputed by critics. As one of the critics writes, “little by little, one becomes persuaded that the tone is, indeed, taken unbearably falsely, but not in the novel. This tone comes from life itself which has come out of its usual legitimate forms and departed a long way from its usual course.”1091 Overall, the 19th and early 20th-century critics continually questioned Dostoevsky’s and Leskov’s choices of the “means” in achieving their “ends”: the depiction of the newest, post-Karakozov and post-Nechaev, version of nihilism. One critic, for example, wrote: “Of course, in order to study the new type of nihilist that seemed to have been represented by Nechaev, different means were needed. These means should not necessarily label the whole movement as ‘hell’ and all its representatives as its inhabitants.”1092 The claim that Dostoevsky borrowed his “demonism” from Leskov is prominent in the first critical reviews of these novels. In his review of Demons, published in the Deed in MarchApril of 1873, Pyotr Tkachev writes that Dostoevsky’s Demons was influenced not only by At Daggers Drawn but also by Leskov’s No Way Out and that, in Demons, Dostoevsky tries to compete with Leskov. 1093 In this article, Tkachev regrets that Dostoevsky, in his obscurantism, 1089 “[Н]а самом деле действие романа до крайности микроскопично и вращается в таком подпольном мирке, с которым сотни тысяч людей даже никогда в свой век и не столкнуться… [автору романа] постоянно кажется, будто он изображает всю Россию, со всеми ее язвами и недугами, тогда как он только расковыривает одну из ее болячек.” V. G. Avseenko, "Ocherki tekushchei literatury," Russkii mir January, 6 1873. 1090 See A., "Obshchestvennaia psikhologiia v romane," Russkii viestnik 106.8 (1873), p. 801. 1091 “Мало-помалу убеждаешься, что тон действительно взят нестерпимо-фальшиво, но не в романе, а в самой жизни, выступившей из своих законных форм и безмерно удалившейся от своего обычного русла.” Ibid, p. 810. 1092 “Разумеется, чтобы изучать новый тип нигилиста, который как будто представлен был Нечаевым, нужны были другие средства, не прибегающие непременно к признанию всего движения адом и его высланцами.” Veselovskii, Istoriia novieishei russkoi literatury: lektsii, chitannye na Vysshikh Zhenskikh kursakh v 1914/15 uch. godu, p. 163. 1093 “Многое ‘Бесы’ позаимствовали от ‘Некуда’” in P. N. Tkachev, "Bol'nye liudi," Delo 3 (1873), pp. 155-156. Quoted in Leskov, Na nozhakh: roman v shesti chastiakh, p. 810. 423 came all the way to “Stebnitsky-like demonism” and now, his “disavowal [of everything progressive] and his repentance are complete” because “one surely cannot go beyond Leskov.”1094 The acknowledgement that Leskov’s novel was the first of the two to be published disappears in later reviews. In his 1897 study, The Russian Novel and Russian Society, Konstantin Golovin singles out Demons as the work “most truthful and vivid” of all novels written in opposition to “the ugliness of our radicalism.” 1095 He calls At Daggers Drawn “a complete pasquinade full of lies not only in the everyday and historical sense but also the psychological one.” Golovin argues that, unlike Dostoevsky’s revolutionaries, Leskov’s “gang of dirty adventurists” – Gordanov, “comical fools like the girl Vanskok and Iosaf Vislenev,” and “the unscrupulous company that surrounded him and consisted of the pawn-broker Kishensky, his lover Alina and various shady young women interested in, above everything else, finding husbands for themselves” – cannot possibly serve as characteristic representatives of the nihilist movement.1096 In strange disregard of the publication history, Golovin argues that the plot of At Daggers Drawn “was undoubtedly inspired by Dostoevsky’s Demons.” He further elaborates on this: “Leskov was apparently fascinated with demonism that had been so abundant in Dostoevsky’s Demons, and with that enticing duplicity of underground propaganda carried on by some revolutionary leaders who at the same time were moving in decent, even high, society for 1094 See Tkachev, "Bol'nye liudi," as quoted in Leskov, Na nozhakh: roman v shesti chastiakh , p. 810. 1095 “Из всез обличительных произведений беллетристики, направленных против уродливостей нашего радикализма, ‘Бесы’ наиболее правдивое и яркое.” Golovin, Russkii roman i russkoe obshchestvo, p. 340. 1096 Ibid , p. 383. 424 the sake of disguise.”1097 Golovin concludes by saying that Leskov’s copying of Dostoevsky was “a crudely-made work of an awkward denunciator.”1098 Most of the outdated critical ideas concerning the depictions of demonic nihilists and parallels between Demons and At Daggers Drawn still, unfortunately, have not been disputed. Thus, even nowadays, scholars consistently assert that Dostoevsky’s Demons is the origin of a demonic representation of the nihilists. Reiterating this common idea, Martin Miller writes as recently as 2007: [t]he actual appearance of the concept of revolutionary insanity as a permanent feature of the Russian cultural landscape is to be found neither in a psychiatric clinical case study nor in the government’s reaction to revolution, but in the extraordinary fictional characters created by Fedor Mikhailovich Dostoevsky in his most political novel, The Devils.1099 However, the analysis of demonic nihilists in social, political, legal, journalistic and literary discourse in the previous sub-chapters shows that Miller is wrong in claiming t