The Dialog with Nihilism in Russian Polemical Novels of the 1860s

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
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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