CUSTOMS AND TRADITIONS OF GREAT BRITAIN 30 page

he had paid no attention. Inquiring of Madame Lippevechsel who was busy

laying the table while Katerina Ivanovna was away at the cemetery, he

heard that the entertainment was to be a great affair, that all the

lodgers had been invited, among them some who had not known the dead

man, that even Andrey Semyonovitch Lebeziatnikov was invited in spite of

his previous quarrel with Katerina Ivanovna, that he, Pyotr Petrovitch,

was not only invited, but was eagerly expected as he was the most

important of the lodgers. Amalia Ivanovna herself had been invited with

great ceremony in spite of the recent unpleasantness, and so she was

very busy with preparations and was taking a positive pleasure in them;

she was moreover dressed up to the nines, all in new black silk, and she

was proud of it. All this suggested an idea to Pyotr Petrovitch and he

went into his room, or rather Lebeziatnikov's, somewhat thoughtful. He

had learnt that Raskolnikov was to be one of the guests.

Andrey Semyonovitch had been at home all the morning. The attitude of

Pyotr Petrovitch to this gentleman was strange, though perhaps natural.

Pyotr Petrovitch had despised and hated him from the day he came to stay

with him and at the same time he seemed somewhat afraid of him. He

had not come to stay with him on his arrival in Petersburg simply from

parsimony, though that had been perhaps his chief object. He had heard

of Andrey Semyonovitch, who had once been his ward, as a leading young

progressive who was taking an important part in certain interesting

circles, the doings of which were a legend in the provinces. It had

impressed Pyotr Petrovitch. These powerful omniscient circles who

despised everyone and showed everyone up had long inspired in him a

peculiar but quite vague alarm. He had not, of course, been able to form

even an approximate notion of what they meant. He, like everyone, had

heard that there were, especially in Petersburg, progressives of some

sort, nihilists and so on, and, like many people, he exaggerated and

distorted the significance of those words to an absurd degree. What for

many years past he had feared more than anything was _being shown

up_ and this was the chief ground for his continual uneasiness at the

thought of transferring his business to Petersburg. He was afraid of

this as little children are sometimes panic-stricken. Some years before,

when he was just entering on his own career, he had come upon two cases

in which rather important personages in the province, patrons of his,

had been cruelly shown up. One instance had ended in great scandal

for the person attacked and the other had very nearly ended in serious

trouble. For this reason Pyotr Petrovitch intended to go into the

subject as soon as he reached Petersburg and, if necessary, to

anticipate contingencies by seeking the favour of "our younger

generation." He relied on Andrey Semyonovitch for this and before

his visit to Raskolnikov he had succeeded in picking up some current

phrases. He soon discovered that Andrey Semyonovitch was a commonplace

simpleton, but that by no means reassured Pyotr Petrovitch. Even if he

had been certain that all the progressives were fools like him, it

would not have allayed his uneasiness. All the doctrines, the ideas, the

systems, with which Andrey Semyonovitch pestered him had no interest for

him. He had his own object--he simply wanted to find out at once what

was happening _here_. Had these people any power or not? Had he anything

to fear from them? Would they expose any enterprise of his? And what

precisely was now the object of their attacks? Could he somehow make up

to them and get round them if they really were powerful? Was this the

thing to do or not? Couldn't he gain something through them? In fact

hundreds of questions presented themselves.

Andrey Semyonovitch was an anaemic, scrofulous little man, with strangely

flaxen mutton-chop whiskers of which he was very proud. He was a clerk

and had almost always something wrong with his eyes. He was rather

soft-hearted, but self-confident and sometimes extremely conceited in

speech, which had an absurd effect, incongruous with his little figure.

He was one of the lodgers most respected by Amalia Ivanovna, for he did

not get drunk and paid regularly for his lodgings. Andrey Semyonovitch

really was rather stupid; he attached himself to the cause of progress

and "our younger generation" from enthusiasm. He was one of the numerous

and varied legion of dullards, of half-animate abortions, conceited,

half-educated coxcombs, who attach themselves to the idea most in

fashion only to vulgarise it and who caricature every cause they serve,

however sincerely.

Though Lebeziatnikov was so good-natured, he, too, was beginning to

dislike Pyotr Petrovitch. This happened on both sides unconsciously.

However simple Andrey Semyonovitch might be, he began to see that Pyotr

Petrovitch was duping him and secretly despising him, and that "he was

not the right sort of man." He had tried expounding to him the system of

Fourier and the Darwinian theory, but of late Pyotr Petrovitch began to

listen too sarcastically and even to be rude. The fact was he had begun

instinctively to guess that Lebeziatnikov was not merely a commonplace

simpleton, but, perhaps, a liar, too, and that he had no connections of

any consequence even in his own circle, but had simply picked things up

third-hand; and that very likely he did not even know much about his own

work of propaganda, for he was in too great a muddle. A fine person he

would be to show anyone up! It must be noted, by the way, that Pyotr

Petrovitch had during those ten days eagerly accepted the strangest

praise from Andrey Semyonovitch; he had not protested, for instance,

when Andrey Semyonovitch belauded him for being ready to contribute to

the establishment of the new "commune," or to abstain from christening

his future children, or to acquiesce if Dounia were to take a lover a

month after marriage, and so on. Pyotr Petrovitch so enjoyed hearing

his own praises that he did not disdain even such virtues when they were

attributed to him.

Pyotr Petrovitch had had occasion that morning to realise some

five-per-cent bonds and now he sat down to the table and counted over

bundles of notes. Andrey Semyonovitch who hardly ever had any money

walked about the room pretending to himself to look at all those bank

notes with indifference and even contempt. Nothing would have convinced

Pyotr Petrovitch that Andrey Semyonovitch could really look on the money

unmoved, and the latter, on his side, kept thinking bitterly that Pyotr

Petrovitch was capable of entertaining such an idea about him and

was, perhaps, glad of the opportunity of teasing his young friend by

reminding him of his inferiority and the great difference between them.

He found him incredibly inattentive and irritable, though he, Andrey

Semyonovitch, began enlarging on his favourite subject, the foundation

of a new special "commune." The brief remarks that dropped from Pyotr

Petrovitch between the clicking of the beads on the reckoning frame

betrayed unmistakable and discourteous irony. But the "humane" Andrey

Semyonovitch ascribed Pyotr Petrovitch's ill-humour to his recent breach

with Dounia and he was burning with impatience to discourse on that

theme. He had something progressive to say on the subject which

might console his worthy friend and "could not fail" to promote his

development.

"There is some sort of festivity being prepared at that... at the

widow's, isn't there?" Pyotr Petrovitch asked suddenly, interrupting

Andrey Semyonovitch at the most interesting passage.

"Why, don't you know? Why, I was telling you last night what I think

about all such ceremonies. And she invited you too, I heard. You were

talking to her yesterday..."

"I should never have expected that beggarly fool would have spent on

this feast all the money she got from that other fool, Raskolnikov. I

was surprised just now as I came through at the preparations there, the

wines! Several people are invited. It's beyond everything!" continued

Pyotr Petrovitch, who seemed to have some object in pursuing the

conversation. "What? You say I am asked too? When was that? I don't

remember. But I shan't go. Why should I? I only said a word to her in

passing yesterday of the possibility of her obtaining a year's salary as

a destitute widow of a government clerk. I suppose she has invited me on

that account, hasn't she? He-he-he!"

"I don't intend to go either," said Lebeziatnikov.

"I should think not, after giving her a thrashing! You might well

hesitate, he-he!"

"Who thrashed? Whom?" cried Lebeziatnikov, flustered and blushing.

"Why, you thrashed Katerina Ivanovna a month ago. I heard so

yesterday... so that's what your convictions amount to... and the woman

question, too, wasn't quite sound, he-he-he!" and Pyotr Petrovitch, as

though comforted, went back to clicking his beads.

"It's all slander and nonsense!" cried Lebeziatnikov, who was always

afraid of allusions to the subject. "It was not like that at all, it

was quite different. You've heard it wrong; it's a libel. I was simply

defending myself. She rushed at me first with her nails, she pulled

out all my whiskers.... It's permissable for anyone, I should hope,

to defend himself and I never allow anyone to use violence to me on

principle, for it's an act of despotism. What was I to do? I simply

pushed her back."

"He-he-he!" Luzhin went on laughing maliciously.

"You keep on like that because you are out of humour yourself.... But

that's nonsense and it has nothing, nothing whatever to do with the

woman question! You don't understand; I used to think, indeed, that

if women are equal to men in all respects, even in strength (as is

maintained now) there ought to be equality in that, too. Of course, I

reflected afterwards that such a question ought not really to arise,

for there ought not to be fighting and in the future society fighting is

unthinkable... and that it would be a queer thing to seek for equality

in fighting. I am not so stupid... though, of course, there is

fighting... there won't be later, but at present there is... confound

it! How muddled one gets with you! It's not on that account that I

am not going. I am not going on principle, not to take part in the

revolting convention of memorial dinners, that's why! Though, of course,

one might go to laugh at it.... I am sorry there won't be any priests at

it. I should certainly go if there were."

"Then you would sit down at another man's table and insult it and those

who invited you. Eh?"

"Certainly not insult, but protest. I should do it with a good object. I

might indirectly assist the cause of enlightenment and propaganda. It's

a duty of every man to work for enlightenment and propaganda and the

more harshly, perhaps, the better. I might drop a seed, an idea.... And

something might grow up from that seed. How should I be insulting them?

They might be offended at first, but afterwards they'd see I'd done them

a service. You know, Terebyeva (who is in the community now) was blamed

because when she left her family and... devoted... herself, she wrote to

her father and mother that she wouldn't go on living conventionally and

was entering on a free marriage and it was said that that was too harsh,

that she might have spared them and have written more kindly. I think

that's all nonsense and there's no need of softness; on the contrary,

what's wanted is protest. Varents had been married seven years, she

abandoned her two children, she told her husband straight out in a

letter: 'I have realised that I cannot be happy with you. I can never

forgive you that you have deceived me by concealing from me that there

is another organisation of society by means of the communities. I have

only lately learned it from a great-hearted man to whom I have given

myself and with whom I am establishing a community. I speak plainly

because I consider it dishonest to deceive you. Do as you think best.

Do not hope to get me back, you are too late. I hope you will be happy.'

That's how letters like that ought to be written!"

"Is that Terebyeva the one you said had made a third free marriage?"

"No, it's only the second, really! But what if it were the fourth, what

if it were the fifteenth, that's all nonsense! And if ever I regretted

the death of my father and mother, it is now, and I sometimes think

if my parents were living what a protest I would have aimed at them! I

would have done something on purpose... I would have shown them! I would

have astonished them! I am really sorry there is no one!"

"To surprise! He-he! Well, be that as you will," Pyotr Petrovitch

interrupted, "but tell me this; do you know the dead man's daughter, the

delicate-looking little thing? It's true what they say about her, isn't

it?"

"What of it? I think, that is, it is my own personal conviction that

this is the normal condition of women. Why not? I mean, _distinguons_.

In our present society it is not altogether normal, because it is

compulsory, but in the future society it will be perfectly normal,

because it will be voluntary. Even as it is, she was quite right: she

was suffering and that was her asset, so to speak, her capital which

she had a perfect right to dispose of. Of course, in the future

society there will be no need of assets, but her part will have another

significance, rational and in harmony with her environment. As to Sofya

Semyonovna personally, I regard her action as a vigorous protest against

the organisation of society, and I respect her deeply for it; I rejoice

indeed when I look at her!"

"I was told that you got her turned out of these lodgings."

Lebeziatnikov was enraged.

"That's another slander," he yelled. "It was not so at all! That was all

Katerina Ivanovna's invention, for she did not understand! And I never

made love to Sofya Semyonovna! I was simply developing her, entirely

disinterestedly, trying to rouse her to protest.... All I wanted was her

protest and Sofya Semyonovna could not have remained here anyway!"

"Have you asked her to join your community?"

"You keep on laughing and very inappropriately, allow me to tell

you. You don't understand! There is no such role in a community. The

community is established that there should be no such roles. In a

community, such a role is essentially transformed and what is stupid

here is sensible there, what, under present conditions, is unnatural

becomes perfectly natural in the community. It all depends on the

environment. It's all the environment and man himself is nothing. And

I am on good terms with Sofya Semyonovna to this day, which is a proof

that she never regarded me as having wronged her. I am trying now to

attract her to the community, but on quite, quite a different footing.

What are you laughing at? We are trying to establish a community of

our own, a special one, on a broader basis. We have gone further in our

convictions. We reject more! And meanwhile I'm still developing Sofya

Semyonovna. She has a beautiful, beautiful character!"

"And you take advantage of her fine character, eh? He-he!"

"No, no! Oh, no! On the contrary."

"Oh, on the contrary! He-he-he! A queer thing to say!"

"Believe me! Why should I disguise it? In fact, I feel it strange myself

how timid, chaste and modern she is with me!"

"And you, of course, are developing her... he-he! trying to prove to her

that all that modesty is nonsense?"

"Not at all, not at all! How coarsely, how stupidly--excuse me saying

so--you misunderstand the word development! Good heavens, how... crude

you still are! We are striving for the freedom of women and you have

only one idea in your head.... Setting aside the general question

of chastity and feminine modesty as useless in themselves and indeed

prejudices, I fully accept her chastity with me, because that's for her

to decide. Of course if she were to tell me herself that she wanted me,

I should think myself very lucky, because I like the girl very much; but

as it is, no one has ever treated her more courteously than I, with more

respect for her dignity... I wait in hopes, that's all!"

"You had much better make her a present of something. I bet you never

thought of that."

"You don't understand, as I've told you already! Of course, she is in

such a position, but it's another question. Quite another question!

You simply despise her. Seeing a fact which you mistakenly consider

deserving of contempt, you refuse to take a humane view of a fellow

creature. You don't know what a character she is! I am only sorry that

of late she has quite given up reading and borrowing books. I used

to lend them to her. I am sorry, too, that with all the energy and

resolution in protesting--which she has already shown once--she has

little self-reliance, little, so to say, independence, so as to

break free from certain prejudices and certain foolish ideas. Yet she

thoroughly understands some questions, for instance about kissing of

hands, that is, that it's an insult to a woman for a man to kiss her

hand, because it's a sign of inequality. We had a debate about it and

I described it to her. She listened attentively to an account of the

workmen's associations in France, too. Now I am explaining the question

of coming into the room in the future society."

"And what's that, pray?"

"We had a debate lately on the question: Has a member of the community

the right to enter another member's room, whether man or woman, at any

time... and we decided that he has!"

"It might be at an inconvenient moment, he-he!"

Lebeziatnikov was really angry.

"You are always thinking of something unpleasant," he cried with

aversion. "Tfoo! How vexed I am that when I was expounding our system, I

referred prematurely to the question of personal privacy! It's always

a stumbling-block to people like you, they turn it into ridicule before

they understand it. And how proud they are of it, too! Tfoo! I've often

maintained that that question should not be approached by a novice till

he has a firm faith in the system. And tell me, please, what do you

find so shameful even in cesspools? I should be the first to be ready

to clean out any cesspool you like. And it's not a question of

self-sacrifice, it's simply work, honourable, useful work which is

as good as any other and much better than the work of a Raphael and a

Pushkin, because it is more useful."

"And more honourable, more honourable, he-he-he!"

"What do you mean by 'more honourable'? I don't understand such

expressions to describe human activity. 'More honourable,' 'nobler'--all

those are old-fashioned prejudices which I reject. Everything which is

_of use_ to mankind is honourable. I only understand one word: _useful_!

You can snigger as much as you like, but that's so!"

Pyotr Petrovitch laughed heartily. He had finished counting the money

and was putting it away. But some of the notes he left on the table. The

"cesspool question" had already been a subject of dispute between them.

What was absurd was that it made Lebeziatnikov really angry, while it

amused Luzhin and at that moment he particularly wanted to anger his

young friend.

"It's your ill-luck yesterday that makes you so ill-humoured and

annoying," blurted out Lebeziatnikov, who in spite of his "independence"

and his "protests" did not venture to oppose Pyotr Petrovitch and still

behaved to him with some of the respect habitual in earlier years.

"You'd better tell me this," Pyotr Petrovitch interrupted with haughty

displeasure, "can you... or rather are you really friendly enough with

that young person to ask her to step in here for a minute? I think

they've all come back from the cemetery... I heard the sound of

steps... I want to see her, that young person."

"What for?" Lebeziatnikov asked with surprise.

"Oh, I want to. I am leaving here to-day or to-morrow and therefore I

wanted to speak to her about... However, you may be present during the

interview. It's better you should be, indeed. For there's no knowing

what you might imagine."

"I shan't imagine anything. I only asked and, if you've anything to say

to her, nothing is easier than to call her in. I'll go directly and you

may be sure I won't be in your way."

Five minutes later Lebeziatnikov came in with Sonia. She came in very

much surprised and overcome with shyness as usual. She was always shy in

such circumstances and was always afraid of new people, she had been as

a child and was even more so now.... Pyotr Petrovitch met her "politely

and affably," but with a certain shade of bantering familiarity which in

his opinion was suitable for a man of his respectability and weight

in dealing with a creature so young and so _interesting_ as she. He

hastened to "reassure" her and made her sit down facing him at the

table. Sonia sat down, looked about her--at Lebeziatnikov, at the notes

lying on the table and then again at Pyotr Petrovitch and her eyes

remained riveted on him. Lebeziatnikov was moving to the door. Pyotr

Petrovitch signed to Sonia to remain seated and stopped Lebeziatnikov.

"Is Raskolnikov in there? Has he come?" he asked him in a whisper.

"Raskolnikov? Yes. Why? Yes, he is there. I saw him just come in....

Why?"

"Well, I particularly beg you to remain here with us and not to leave

me alone with this... young woman. I only want a few words with her,

but God knows what they may make of it. I shouldn't like Raskolnikov to

repeat anything.... You understand what I mean?"

"I understand!" Lebeziatnikov saw the point. "Yes, you are right.... Of

course, I am convinced personally that you have no reason to be uneasy,

but... still, you are right. Certainly I'll stay. I'll stand here at the

window and not be in your way... I think you are right..."

Pyotr Petrovitch returned to the sofa, sat down opposite Sonia, looked

attentively at her and assumed an extremely dignified, even severe

expression, as much as to say, "don't you make any mistake, madam."

Sonia was overwhelmed with embarrassment.

"In the first place, Sofya Semyonovna, will you make my excuses to your

respected mamma.... That's right, isn't it? Katerina Ivanovna stands

in the place of a mother to you?" Pyotr Petrovitch began with great

dignity, though affably.

It was evident that his intentions were friendly.

"Quite so, yes; the place of a mother," Sonia answered, timidly and

hurriedly.

"Then will you make my apologies to her? Through inevitable

circumstances I am forced to be absent and shall not be at the dinner in

spite of your mamma's kind invitation."

"Yes... I'll tell her... at once."

And Sonia hastily jumped up from her seat.

"Wait, that's not all," Pyotr Petrovitch detained her, smiling at her

simplicity and ignorance of good manners, "and you know me little, my

dear Sofya Semyonovna, if you suppose I would have ventured to trouble

a person like you for a matter of so little consequence affecting myself

only. I have another object."

Sonia sat down hurriedly. Her eyes rested again for an instant on the

grey-and-rainbow-coloured notes that remained on the table, but she

quickly looked away and fixed her eyes on Pyotr Petrovitch. She felt it

horribly indecorous, especially for _her_, to look at another person's

money. She stared at the gold eye-glass which Pyotr Petrovitch held

in his left hand and at the massive and extremely handsome ring with a

yellow stone on his middle finger. But suddenly she looked away and, not

knowing where to turn, ended by staring Pyotr Petrovitch again straight

in the face. After a pause of still greater dignity he continued.

"I chanced yesterday in passing to exchange a couple of words with

Katerina Ivanovna, poor woman. That was sufficient to enable me to

ascertain that she is in a position--preternatural, if one may so

express it."

"Yes... preternatural..." Sonia hurriedly assented.

"Or it would be simpler and more comprehensible to say, ill."

"Yes, simpler and more comprehen... yes, ill."

"Quite so. So then from a feeling of humanity and so to speak

compassion, I should be glad to be of service to her in any way,

foreseeing her unfortunate position. I believe the whole of this

poverty-stricken family depends now entirely on you?"

"Allow me to ask," Sonia rose to her feet, "did you say something to her

yesterday of the possibility of a pension? Because she told me you had

undertaken to get her one. Was that true?"

"Not in the slightest, and indeed it's an absurdity! I merely hinted at

her obtaining temporary assistance as the widow of an official who had

died in the service--if only she has patronage... but apparently your

late parent had not served his full term and had not indeed been in the

service at all of late. In fact, if there could be any hope, it would be

very ephemeral, because there would be no claim for assistance in

that case, far from it.... And she is dreaming of a pension already,

he-he-he!... A go-ahead lady!"

"Yes, she is. For she is credulous and good-hearted, and she believes

everything from the goodness of her heart and... and... and she is like

that... yes... You must excuse her," said Sonia, and again she got up to

go.

"But you haven't heard what I have to say."

Date: 2014-12-29; view: 708