under western eyes-第6章

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will　strong　and　one：　it　wanted　not　the　babble　of　many　voices；　but

a　manstrong　and　one！



Razumov　stood　on　the　point　of　conversion。　　He　was　fascinated　by

its　approach；　by　its　overpowering　logic。　　For　a　train　of　thought

is　never　false。　　The　falsehood　lies　deep　in　the　necessities　of

existence；　in　secret　fears　and　half…formed　ambitions；　in　the

secret　confidence　combined　with　a　secret　mistrust　of　ourselves；

in　the　love　of　hope　and　the　dread　of　uncertain　days。



In　Russia；　the　land　of　spectral　ideas　and　disembodied

aspirations；　many　brave　minds　have　turned　away　at　last　from　the

vain　and　endless　conflict　to　the　one　great　historical　fact　of　the

land。　　They　turned　to　autocracy　for　the　peace　of　their　patriotic

conscience　as　a　weary　unbeliever；　touched　by　grace；　turns　to　the

faith　of　his　fathers　for　the　blessing　of　spiritual　rest。　　Like

other　Russians　before　him；　Razumov；　in　conflict　with　himself；

felt　the　touch　of　grace　upon　his　forehead。



〃Haldin　means　disruption；〃　he　thought　to　himself；　beginning　to

walk　again。　　〃What　is　he　with　his　indignation；　with　his　talk

of　bondagewith　his　talk　of　God's　justice？　　All　that　means

disruption。　　Better　that　thousands　should　suffer　than　that　a

people　should　become　a　disintegrated　mass；　helpless　like　dust　in

the　wind。　　Obscurantism　is　better　than　the　light　of　incendiary

torches。　　The　seed　germinates　in　the　night。　　Out　of　the　dark　soil

springs　the　perfect　plant。　　But　a　volcanic　eruption　is　sterile；

the　ruin　of　the　fertile　ground。　　And　am　I；　who　love　my

countrywho　have　nothing　but　that　to　love　and　put　my　faith

inam　I　to　have　my　future；　perhaps　my　usefulness；　ruined　by　this

sanguinary　fanatic？〃



The　grace　entered　into　Razumov。　　He　believed　now　in　the　man　who

would　come　at　the　appointed　time。



What　is　a　throne？　　A　few　pieces　of　wood　upholstered　in　velvet。

But　a　throne　is　a　seat　of　power　too。　　The　form　of　government　is

the　shape　of　a　toolan　instrument。　　But　twenty　thousand　bladders

inflated　by　the　noblest　sentiments　and　jostling　against　each

other　in　the　air　are　a　miserable　incumbrance　of　space；　holding　no

power；　possessing　no　will；　having　nothing　to　give。



He　went　on　thus；　heedless　of　the　way；　holding　a　discourse　with

himself　with　extraordinary　abundance　and　facility。　　Generally　his

phrases　came　to　him　slowly；　after　a　conscious　and　painstaking

wooing。　　Some　superior　power　had　inspired　him　with　a　flow　of

masterly　argument　as　certain　converted　sinners　become

overwhelmingly　loquacious。



He　felt　an　austere　exultation。



〃What　are　the　luridly　smoky　lucubrations　of　that　fellow　to　the

clear　grasp　of　my　intellect？〃　he　thought。　　〃Is　not　this　my

country？　　Have　I　not　got　forty　million　brothers？〃　he　asked

himself；　unanswerably　victorious　in　the　silence　of　his　breast。

And　the　fearful　thrashing　he　had　given　the　inanimate　Ziemianitch

seemed　to　him　a　sign　of　intimate　union；　a　pathetically　severe

necessity　of　brotherly　love。　　〃No！　　If　I　must　suffer　let　me　at

least　suffer　for　my　convictions；　not　for　a　crime　my　reason　my

cool　superior　reasonrejects。〃



He　ceased　to　think　for　a　moment。　　The　silence　in　his　breast　was

complete。　　But　he　felt　a　suspicious　uneasiness；　such　as　we　may

experience　when　we　enter　an　unlighted　strange　placethe

irrational　feeling　that　something　may　jump　upon　us　in　the

darkthe　absurd　dread　of　the　unseen。



Of　course　he　was　far　from　being　a　moss…grown　reactionary。

Everything　was　not　for　the　best。　　Despotic　bureaucracy。　。　。

abuses。　。　。corruption。　。　。and　so　on。　　Capable　men　were　wanted。

Enlightened　intelligences。　　Devoted　hearts。　　But　absolute　power

should　be　preserved　the　tool　ready　for　the　manfor　the　great

autocrat　of　the　future。　　Razumov　believed　in　him。　　The　logic　of

history　made　him　unavoidable。　　The　state　of　the　people　demanded

him；　　〃What　else？〃　he　asked　himself　ardently；　〃could　move　all　that

mass　in　one　direction？　　Nothing　could。　　Nothing　but　a　single　will。〃



He　was　persuaded　that　he　was　sacrificing　his　personal　longings　of

liberalismrejecting　the　attractive　error　for　the　stern　Russian

truth。　　〃That's　patriotism；〃　he　observed　mentally；　and　added；

〃There's　no　stopping　midway　on　that　road；〃　and　then　remarked　to

himself；　〃I　am　not　a　coward。〃



And　again　there　was　a　dead　silence　in　Razumov's　breast。　　He

walked　with　lowered　head；　making　room　for　no　one。　　He　walked

slowly　and　his　thoughts　returning　spoke　within　him　with　solemn

slowness。



〃What　is　this　Haldin？　　And　what　am　I？　Only　two　grains　of　sand。

But　a　great　mountain　is　made　up　of　just　such　insignificant

grains。　　And　the　death　of　a　man　or　of　many　men　is　an

insignificant　thing。　Yet　we　combat　a　contagious　pestilence。

Do　I　want　his　death？　　No！　　I　would　save　him　if　I　couldbut　no

one　can　do　thathe　is　the　withered　member　which　must　be　cut　off。

If　I　must　perish　through　him；　let　me　at　least　not　perish　with

him；　and　associated　against　my　will　with　his　sombre　folly　that

understands　nothing　either　of　men　or　things。　　Why　should　I　leave

a　false　memory？〃



It　passed　through　his　mind　that　there　was　no　one　in　the　world　who

cared　what　sort　of　memory　he　left　behind　him。　　He　exclaimed　to

himself　instantly；　〃Perish　vainly　for　a　falsehood！　。　。　。　What　a

miserable　fate！〃



He　was　now　in　a　more　animated　part　of　the　town。　　He　did　not

remark　the　crash　of　two　colliding　sledges　close　to　the　curb。

The　driver　of　one　bellowed　tearfully　at　his　fellow

〃Oh；　thou　vile　wretch！〃



This　hoarse　yell；　let　out　nearly　in　his　ear；　disturbed　Razumov。

He　shook　his　head　impatiently　and　went　on　looking　straight　before

him。　　Suddenly　on　the　snow；　stretched　on　his　back　right　across

his　path；　he　saw　Haldin；　solid；　distinct；　real；　with　his　inverted

hands　over　his　eyes；　clad　in　a　brown　close…fitting　coat　and　long

boots。　　He　was　lying　out　of　the　way　a　little；　as　though　he　had

selected　that　place　on　purpose。　　The　snow　round　him　was　untrodden。



This　hallucination　had　such　a　solidity　of　aspect　that　the　first

movement　of　Razumov　was　to　reach　for　his　pocket　to　assure　himself

that　the　key　of　his　rooms　was　there。　　But　he　checked　the　impulse

with　a　disdainful　curve　of　his　lips。　　He　understood。　　His

thought；　concentrated　intensely　on　the　figure　left　lying　on　his

bed；　had　culminated　in　this　extraordinary　illusion　of　the　sight。

Razumov　tackled　the　phenomenon　calmly。　　With　a　stern　face；

without　a　check　and　gazing　far　beyond　the　vision；　he　walked　on；

experiencing　nothing　but　a　slight　tightening　of　the　chest。

After　passing　he　turned　his　head　for　a　glance；　and　saw　only　the

unbroken　track　of　his　footsteps　over　the　place　where　the　breast

of　the　phantom　had　been　lying。



Razumov　walked　on　and　after　a　little　time　whispered　his　wonder　to

himself。



〃Exactly　as　if　alive！　　Seemed　to　breathe！　　And　right　in　my　way　too！

I　have　had　an　extraordinary　experience。〃



He　made　a　few　steps　and　muttered　through　his　set　teeth



〃I　shall　give　him　up。〃



Then　for　some　twenty　yards　or　more　all　was　blank。　　He　wrapped　his

cloak　closer　round　him。　　He　pulled　his　cap　well　forward　over　his　eyes。



〃Betray。　　A　great　word。　　What　is　betrayal？　　They　talk　of　a　man

betraying　his　country；　his　friends；　his　sweetheart。　　There　must

be　a　moral　bond　first。　　All　a　man　can　betray　is　his　conscience。

And　how　is　my　conscience　engaged　here；　　by　what　bond　of　common

faith；　of　common　conviction；　am　I　　obliged　to　let　that　fanatical

idiot　drag　me　down　with　him？　　On　the　contraryevery　obligation

of　true　courage　is　the　other　way。〃



Razumov　looked　round　from　under　his　cap。



〃What　can　the　prejudice　of　the　world　reproach　me　with？　　Have　I

provoked　his　confidence？　　No！　　Have　I　by　a　single　word；　look；　or

gesture　given　him　reason　to　suppose　that　I　accepted　his　trust　in

me？　　No！　　It　is　true　that　I　consented　to　go　and　see　his

Ziemianitch。　　Well；　I　have　been　to　see　him。　　And　I　broke　a　stick

on　his　back　toothe　brute。〃



Something　seemed　to　turn　over　　in　　his　　head　bringing　uppermost　a

singularly　hard；　clear　facet　of　his　brain。



〃It　would　be　better；　however；〃　he　reflected　with　a　quite　different

mental　accent；　〃to　keep　that　circumstance　altogether　to　myself。〃



He　had　passed　beyond　the　turn　leading　to　his　lodgings；　and　had

reached　a　wide　and　fashionable　street。　　Some　shops　were　still

open；　and　all　the　restaurants。　　Lights　fell　on　the　pavement　where

men　in　expensive　fur　coats；　with　here　and　there　the　elegant

figure　of　a　woman；　walked　with　an　air　of　leisure。　　Razumov　looked

at　them　with　the　contempt　of　an　austere　believer　for　the

frivolous　crowd。　　It　was　the　worldthose　officers；　dignitaries；

men　of　fashion；　officials；　members　of　the　Yacht　Club。　　The　event

of　the　morning　affected　them　all。　　What　would　they　say　if　they

knew　what　this　student　in　a　cloak　was　going　to　do？



〃Not　one　of　them　is　capable　of　feeling　and　thinking　as　deeply　as

I　can。　　How　many　of　them　could　accomplish　an　act　of　conscience？〃



Razumov　lingered　in　the　well…lighted　street。　　He　was　firmly

decided。　　Indeed；　it　could　hardly　be　called　a　decision。　　He　had

simply　discovered　what　he　had　meant　to　do　all　along。　　And　yet　he

felt　the　need　of　some　other　mind's　sanction。



With　something　resembling　anguish　he　said　to　himself



〃I　want　to　be　understood。〃　　The　universal　aspiration　with　all　its

profound　and　melancholy　meaning　assailed　heavily　Razumov；　who；

amongst　eighty　millions　of　his　kith　and　kin；　had　no　heart　to

which　he　could　open　himself。



The　attorney　was　not　to　be　thought　of。　　He　despised　the　little

agent　of　chicane　too　much。　　One　could　not　go　and　lay　one's

conscience　before　the　policeman　at　the　corner。　　Neither　was

Razumov　anxious　to　go　to　the　chief　of　his　district's　policea

common…looking　person　whom　he　used　to　see　sometimes　in　the

street　in　a　shabby　uniform　and　with　a　smouldering　cigarette　stuck

to　his　lower　lip。　　〃He　would　begin　by　locking　me　up　most

probably。　　At　any　rate；　he　is　certain　to　get　excited　and　create

an　awful　commotion；〃　thought　Razumov　practically



An　act　of　conscience　must　be　done　with　outward　dignity。



Razumov　longed　desperately　for　a　word　of　advice；　for　moral

support。　　Who　knows　what　true　loneliness　is　not　the

conventional　word；　but　the　naked　terror？　　To　the　lonely

themselves　it　wears　a　mask。　　The　most　miserable　outcast　hugs　some

memory　or　some　illusion。　　Now　and　then　a　fatal　conjunction　of

events　may　lift　the　veil　for　an　instant。　　For　an　instant　only。

No　human　being　could　bear　a　steady　view　of　moral　solitude　without

going　mad。



Razumov　had　reached　that　point　of　vision。　　To　escape　from　it　he

embraced　for　a　whole　minute　the　delirious　purpose　of　rushing　to

his　lodgings　and　flinging　himself　on　his　knees　by　the　side　of　the

bed　with　the　dark　figure　stretched　on　it；　to　pour　out　a　full

confession　in　passionate　words　that　would　stir　the　whole　being　of

that　man　to　its　innermost　depths；　that　would　end　in　embraces　and

tears；　in　an　incredible　fellowship　of　souls　such　as　the　world

had　never　seen。　　It　was　sublime