by Serge Persky
V
MAXIM GORKY
Maxim Gorky is the most original and, after Tolstoy, the mosttalented of modern Russian writers. He was born in 1868 or 1869--hedoes not know exactly when himself--in a dyer's back shop at NizhnyNovgorod. His mother, Barbara Kashirina, was the daughter of theaforementioned dyer; and his father, Maxim Pyeshkov, was anupholsterer. The child was christened Alexis. His real name, then,is Alexis Pyeshkov, and Maxim Gorky[6] is only his pseudonym. Whenhe was four, he lost his father, and three years later, his mother.He was then taken by his grandfather, who had been a soldier underNicholas I, a hard, authoritative, pitiless old man, before whom alltrembled. And it was under his rude tutelage that the child firstbegan to read. When he was nine, he was sent to work for ashoemaker, an evil sort of man who maltreated him.
[6] In Russian, Gorky means bitterness.
"One day," Gorky tells us, "I was warming some water for him; thebowl fell, and I burned my hands badly. That evening I ran away, mygrandfather having scolded me severely. I then became a painter'sapprentice."
He did not remain long in this position. From this time on, hisunsatisfied soul was seized with the "wanderlust." First apprenticedto an engraver, and then as a gardener, he finally became a scullionon one of the boats that plies up and down the Volga. Here he feltmore at ease.
On board, in the person of the master-cook, named Smoury, heunexpectedly met a teacher. This cook, who had been a soldier, lovedto read, and he gave the child all the books that he had in an oldtrunk. They consisted of the works of Gogol, Dumas' novels, the"Lives of the Saints," a manual of geography, and some popularnovels. Surely, a queer collection!
Smoury inspired his scullion, then sixteen years of age, "with anardent curiosity for the printed word." A "furious" desire to learnseized the young fellow; he went to Kazan, a university city, in thehope of "learning gratuitously all sorts of beautiful things." Crueldeception! They explained to him that "this was not according to theestablished order." Discouraged, a few months later, he took aposition with a baker. He who dreamed of the sun and the open airhad to be imprisoned in a filthy and damp cellar. He remained therefor two years, earning two dollars a month, board and lodgingincluded; the food, however, was putrid, and his lodging consistedof an attic which he shared with five other men.
"My life in that bakery," he has said, "left a bitter impression.Those two years were the hardest of my whole life." He has thusdescribed his recollections in one of his stories:
"We lived in a wooden box, under a low and heavy ceiling, allcovered with cobwebs and permeated with fine soot. Night pressed usbetween the two walls, spattered with spots of mud and all mouldy.We got up at five in the morning and, stupid and indifferent, beganwork at six o'clock. We made bread out of the dough which ourcomrades had prepared while we slept. The whole day, from dawn tillten at night, some of us sat at the table rolling out the dough,and, to avoid becoming torpid, we would constantly rock ourselves toand fro while the others kneaded in the flour. The enormous oven,which resembled a fantastic beast, opened its large jaws, full ofdazzling flames, and breathed forth upon us its hot breath, whileits two black and enormous cavities watched our unending work....
"Thus, from one day to the next, in the floury dust, in the mud thatour feet brought in from the yard, in the suffocating and terribleheat, we rolled out the dough and made cracknels, moistening themwith our sweat; we hated our work with an implacable hatred; wenever ate what we made, preferring black bread to these odorousdainties."
* * * * *
At this period of his life, he had occasion to study at first handcertain places where he received original information which he laterused in writing "Konovalov" and "The Ex-Men," which have thusacquired an autobiographical value. In fact, he worked a long whilewith these "ex-men;" like them, he sawed wood, and carried heavyburdens. At the same time, he devoted all his spare time to readingand thinking about problems, which became more and more "cursed" andalarming. He had found an attentive listener and interlocutor in theperson of his comrade, the baker Konovalov. These two men, whilebaking their bread, found time to read. And the walls of the cellarheard the reading of the works of Gogol, Dostoyevsky, Karamzine, andothers. Then they used to discuss the meaning of life. On holidays,Gorky and Konovalov had for the moment an opportunity to come out ofthe hole--this word does not exaggerate--in which they worked, tobreathe the fresh air, to live a bit in nature's bosom, and to seetheir fellow men.
"On holidays," Gorky tells us, "we went with Konovalov down to theriver, into the fields; we took a little brandy and bread with us,and, from morning till evening, we were in the open air."
They often went to an old, abandoned house which served as a refugefor a whole tribe of miserable and wandering people, who loved totell of their wandering lives. Gorky and his companion were alwayswell received on account of the provisions which they distributed sogenerously.
"Each story spread out before our eyes like a piece of lace in whichthe black threads predominated--they represented the truth--andwhere there were threads of light color--they were the lies. Thesepeople loved us in their way, and were attentive listeners, becauseI often read a great deal to them."
Often, these expeditions were not without their risks. One day, twoof the baker's workmen happened to drown in a bog; another time,they were taken in a police raid and passed the night in the stationhouse.
It was also at this time that Gorky frequented the company ofseveral students, not care-free and happy ones, but miserable youngfellows like those whom Turgenev described as "nourished by physicalprivations and moral sufferings."
On leaving the bakery, where his health, very much weakened by thelack of air and by bad food, did not permit him to remain anylonger, he joined those vagabonds, those wanderers, whosemelancholy companion he had been, and whose painter and poet he wasto be. In their company, he traveled through Russia in every senseof the word, now as a longshoreman, now as a wood-chopper. Wheneverhe had a copeck in his pocket he bought books and newspapers andspent the night reading them. He suffered hunger and cold; he sleptin the open air in summer, and, in winter, in some refuge or cellar.The feverish activity of so keen an intellect in an organism socrushed had, as its consequence, one of the attempts at suicidewhich are so frequent among the younger generation of the Russians.
In 1889, at the age of twenty-one, Gorky shot himself in the chest,but he did not succeed in killing himself. Soon afterwards, hebecame gate-keeper for the winter at Tzaratzine; but the summer hadhardly come before he began his vagabondage again, in the course ofwhich he undertook a thousand little jobs in order to keep himselfalive. On the road, he noticed those pariahs whom society does notwant or who do not want society. And of these, in his short stories,he has created immortal types.
Life was still very hard for him at this time. He has given us amoving sketch of it in his story entitled: "Once in Autumn." Thehero, who is none other than the author himself, passes the nightunder an old, upturned boat, in the company of a prostitute who isjust as poor and just as abandoned as himself. They have broken intoa booth in order to steal enough bread to keep them from starving.Gorky is sad; he wants to weep; but the poor girl, miserable as sheis, consoles him and covers him with kisses.
"Those were the first kisses any woman ever gave me, and they werethe best, for those that I received later always cost me a lot andnever gave me any joy.... At this time, I was already preparingmyself to be an active and powerful force in society; it seemed tome at times that I had in part accomplished my purpose.... I dreamedof political resolutions, of social reorganization; I used to readsuch deep and impenetrable authors that their thoughts did not seemto be a part of them--and now a prostitute warmed me with her body,and I was in debt to a miserable, shameful creature, banished by asociety that did not want to accord her a place. The wind blew andgroaned, the rain beat down upon the boat, the waves broke aroundus, and both of us, closely entwined, trembled from cold and hunger.And Natasha consoled me; sh
e spoke to me in a sweet, caressingvoice, as only a woman can. In listening to her tender and naivewords, I wept, and those tears washed away from my heart manyimpurities, much bitterness, sadness and hatred, all of which hadaccumulated there before this night."
At daybreak, they say good-bye to each other, and never see oneanother again.
"For more than six months, I looked in all the dives and dens in thehope of seeing that dear little Natasha once more, but it was invain...."
* * * * *
We find him again at Nizhny Novgorod at the time of the call formilitary recruits. Gorky was reformed, for, he says, "They do notaccept those who are fallen." Meanwhile, he became a kvass merchantand exercised this trade for several months. Finally, he became thesecretary of a lawyer, named Lanine. The latter, who had a very goodreputation, took a deep interest in the poor boy whom life hadtreated so ill. He became interested in his intellectual developmentand, according to Gorky himself, had a great influence on him. AtNizhny Novgorod, as at Kazan, Gorky felt himself attracted by thecircle of young people who discussed the "cursed" questions, and hesoon was noticed by his comrades. They spoke of him as "a live andenergetic soul."
Easy as life was for Gorky in this city, where he remained for awhile, the "wanderlust" again seized him. "Not feeling at homeamong these intelligent people," he traveled. From Nizhny Novgorod,he went, in 1893, to Tzaratzine; then he traveled on foot throughthe entire province of the Don, the Ukraine, entered intoBessarabia, and from there descended by the coast of the Crimea asfar as Kuban.
In October, 1892, Gorky found himself at Tiflis, where he worked inthe railroad shops. That same year, he published in a local paperhis first story, "Makar Choudra," in which already a remarkabletalent was evident.
Leaving Tiflis after a short sojourn there, he came to the banks ofthe Volga, in his native country, and began to write stories for thelocal papers. A happy chance made him meet Korolenko, who took agreat interest in the "debutante" writer. "In the year 1893-1894,"writes Gorky, "I made the acquaintance of Vladimir Korolenko, towhom I owe my introduction into 'great' literature. He has done agreat deal for me in teaching me many things."
The important influence of Korolenko on the literary development ofGorky can best be seen in one of the latter's letters to hisbiographer, Mr. Gorodetsky. "Write this," he says to his biographer,"write this without changing a single word: It is Korolenko whotaught Gorky to write, and if Gorky has profited but little by theteaching of Korolenko, it is the fault of Gorky alone. Write:Gorky's first teacher was the soldier-cook Smoury; his secondteacher was the lawyer Lanine; the third, Alexander Kalouzhny, an'ex-man;' the fourth, Korolenko...."
From the day when he met Korolenko, Gorky's stories appeared mostlyin the more important publications. In 1895, he published"Chelkashe" in the important Petersburg review, "Russkoe Bogatsvo;"a year later, other publications equally well known published,"Konovalov," "Malva," and "Anxiety." These works brought Gorky intothe literary world, where he soon became one of the favoritewriters. The critics, at first sceptical, soon joined their voiceswith the enthusiastic clamor of the people.
* * * * *
Gorky's wandering life has given his works a peculiar anduniversally established form. He is, above all others, the poet ofthe "barefoot brigade," of the vagabonds who eternally wander fromone end of Russia to the other, carelessly spending the few penniesthat they have succeeded in earning, and who, like the birds of thesky, have no cares for the morrow.
But this does not suffice to explain this author's popularity,especially among the younger generation. The "barefoot brigade" isnot a novelty in Russian literature. We find it in the works ofReshetnikov, Uspensky, Mamine, Zhassinsky, and others. It is truethat, up to this time, the vagabonds had been represented as thedregs of the people, as hopeless drunkards, thieves, and murderers.The writers who represented them were satisfied in rousing in theirreaders pity for the victims of this social disorder, victims sowounded by fate, that they have not even a realization of theinjustice with which they are treated. And it is only in the worksof the great dramatist Ostrovsky that we find any happy vagabonds,with a deep love of nature and beauty.
Gorky's vagabonds have, like Ostrovsky's, exalted feelings fornatural beauties, but they possess, besides, a full consciousness ofthemselves, and they declare open war against society. Gorky livesthe lives of his heroes; he seems to sink himself into them, and, atthe same time, he idealizes them, and often uses them as hisspokesmen. Far from being crushed by fate, his vagabonds clothethemselves with a certain pride in their misery; for them, the idealexistence is the one they lead, because it is free; with numerousvariations, they all exalt the irresistible seduction ofvagabondage:
"As for me, just listen! How many things I've seen in my fifty-eightyears," says Makar Choudra. "In what country have I not been? Thatis the only way to live. Walk, walk, and you see everything. Don'tstay long in one place: what is there out of the ordinary in that?Just as day and night eternally run after one another, thus you mustrun, avoiding daily life, so that you will not cease to love it...."
"I, brother,"--says, in turn, Konovalov,--"I have decided to go allover the earth, in every sense of the word. You always see somethingnew.... You think of nothing.... The wind blows, and you might saythat it blows the dust out of your soul. You feel free and easy....You are not troubled by any one. If you are hungry, you stop, andwork to earn a few pennies; if there is no work to be had, you askfor some bread and it is given to you. So you see many countries,and the most diverse beauties...."
Likewise, in "Tedium," Kouzma Kossiyak thus clearly expresseshimself:
"I would not give up my liberty for any woman, nor for anyfireplace. I was born in a shed, do you hear, and it is in a shedthat I am going to die; that is my fate. I am going to wandereverywhere until my hair turns grey.... I get bored when I stay inthe same place."
In their feeling of hostility to all authority, and all fixedthings, including bourgeois happiness and economical principles,some of Gorky's characters resemble some of those superior heroesof Russian literature, like Pushkin's Evgeny Onyegin, Lermontov'sPechorine, and, finally, Turgenev's Rudin, who, in their way, arevagabonds, filled with the same independent spirit in theirrespective social, intellectual, or political circles.
On the other hand, Gorky's wandering beggars are closely related tothose "free men" to whom M. S. Maximov attributes a historic rolewhich was favorable to the extension of the Russian empire."Russia," he says, in his book, "Siberia and the Prison," "lived byvagabondage after she became a State; thanks to the vagabonds, shehas extended her boundaries: for, it is they who, in order tomaintain their independence, fought against the nomad tribes whoattacked them from the south and the east...."
There is a marked difference between these two classes: men of theformer look for a place on this earth where they can establishthemselves; while men of the other class, those who are out of work,drunkards, and lazy men, have no taste for a sedentary life.
But if Gorky has not created the type of vagabond which is sofamiliar to those who know Russian literature, on the other hand, hehas remodeled it with his original, energetic, and vibrantlyrealistic talent. His nomad "barefoot brigade," picturesquelyencamped, is surrounded with a sort of terribly majestic halo inthese vast stretches of country, a background against which theirsombre silhouettes are set off. From the perfumed steppes to theroaring sea, they conjure up to the eye of their old co-mate theenchanting Slavic land of which they are the audacious offsprings.And Gorky also lovingly gives them a familiar setting, painted withbold strokes, of plains and mountains which border in the distancethe glaucous stretch of the sea. The sea! With what fervor doesGorky depict the anger and the peace of the sea. It always inspires,like an adored mistress:
"... The sea sleeps.
"Immense, sighing lazily along the strand, it has gone to sleep,peaceful in its huge stretch, bathed in the moonlight. As soft asvelvet, and black, it mingles wit
h the dark southern sky and sleepsprofoundly, while on its surface is reflected the transparent tissueof the flaky, immobile clouds, in which is incrusted the gildeddesign of the stars."
Thus, like a "leitmotiv," the murmuring of the water interrupts thecourse of the story. And the steppe, this steppe "which has devouredso much human flesh and has drunk so much blood that it has becomefat and fecund," surrounds with its immensity these miserablewandering beings and menaces them with its storm:
"Suddenly, the entire steppe undulated, enveloped with a dazzlingblue light which seemed to enlarge the horizon ... the shadowstrembled and disappeared for a moment ... a crash of thunder burstforth, disturbing the sky, where many black clouds were flyingpast....
"... At times the steppe stretched forth like an oscillating giant... the vast stretch of blue and cloudless sky poured light downupon us, and seemed like an immense cupola of sombre color."
The wind passed "in large and regular waves, or blew with a sharprattle, the leaves sighed and whispered among themselves, the wavesof the river washed up on the banks, monotonous, despairing, as ifthey were telling something terribly sad and mournful," the entirecountry vibrated with a powerful life that harmonized with the soulsof the people.
In "Old Iserguile," Gorky writes: "I should have liked to transformmyself into dust and be blown about by the wind; I should have likedto stretch myself out on the steppe like the warm waters of theriver, or throw myself into the sea and rise into the sky in an opalmist; I should have liked to drink in this evening so wonderful andmelancholy.... And, I know not why, I was suffering...."
Gorky's stories, always short enough, have little or no plot, andthe characters are barely sketched. But, in these simple frames, hehas confined the power of an art which is prolific, supple andprofoundly living. Let us take, for example, "The Friends." DancingFoot and The One Who Hopes are ordinary thieves, the terror of thevillagers whose gardens they rob. One day, when they are especiallydesperate, they steal a thin horse which is browsing at the edge ofthe woods. The One Who Hopes gets an incurable sickness, and it isperhaps on account of his approaching death that he feels scruplesat this crime. Dancing Foot expresses the scorn that the weakness ofhis companion inspires him with, but he ends by giving in andreturns the animal. One hour later, The One Who Hopes falls dead infront of Dancing Foot, who is tremendously upset in spite of hisaffected indifference.
A dry outline cannot possibly convey the emotion contained in thislittle drama, where the low mentality of the characters is renderedwith the mastery which Gorky usually shows in creating his elementalheroes. Among other works that should be noted are "Cain andArteme," so poignantly ironical in its simplicity, "To Drive AwayTedium," "The Silver Clasps," "The Prisoner," and that littlemasterpiece, "Twenty-Six Men and a Girl," in which we seetwenty-six bakers pouring out an ideal and mystical love on Tanya,the little embroiderer, who they believe, is as pure as an angel.One day, a brutal soldier comes to defy them, and boasts that hewill conquer this young girl. He succeeds. Then the twenty-sixinsult their fallen idol; the tragedy is not so much in the insultsthat they hurl at her, as in the suffering they undergo throughhaving lost the illusion that was so dear to them.
Let us note, incidentally, the existence of a sort of comic spiritin these works which relieves the tragedy of the situations. Inspite of their dark pessimism, the actors in these little dramashave an appearance of gaiety which deceives. It is by this popularhumor that Gorky is the continuator of the work of Gogol; this isespecially noticeable in "The Fair at Goltva."
* * * * *
In studying Gorky, one is often struck by the homogeneity of thetypes which he has described. Open any of his books, and you willalways meet that "restless" type, dissatisfied with the banality ofhis existence, trying to get away from it, and leaning irresistiblytowards absolute liberty, far removed from social and politicalobligations.
Who are these "restless" people? Toward what end are they striving?What do they represent? First, they have an immense reserve forcewhich they do not know what to do with; they have got out of therut, the rut which they despise, but it is hard for them to createanother sort of existence for themselves. Bourgeois happinessrepulses them, while all sorts of duties are hateful to them. Theyconsider the people who are contented with this sort of a life asslaves, unworthy of the name of man, and they show the same disdainfor the peasants, for the leading classes, and for the workingmen.The simple farmer excites the scorn of the "barefoot brigade:"
"As for me," says one of them, "I don't like any peasants.... Theyare all dogs! They have provincial States, and they do for them....They tremble, they are hypocrites, but they want to live; they haveone protection: the soil.... However, we must tolerate the peasant,for he has a certain usefulness."
"What is a peasant?" asks another. And he answers the questionhimself: "The peasant is for all men a matter of food, that is tosay, an animal that can be eaten. The sun, the water, the air, andthe peasant are indispensable to man's existence...."
One might think that this hostility was the fruit of a feeling ofenvy provoked by the fact that the peasant seems to enjoy so manyadvantages. But, on the contrary, the "barefoot brigade" admitsthat the peasant subjugates his individuality for any sort ofprofit, and that he cannot feel the yoke which he has voluntarilytaken in the hope of getting his daily bread.
These workingmen "who pitifully dig in the soil" are unfortunateslaves. "They do nothing but construct, they work perpetually, theirblood and sweat are the cement of all the edifices of the earth. Andyet the remuneration which they receive, although they are crushedby their work, does not give them shelter or enough food really tolive on."
The enlightened classes are always characterized in Gorky's works byviolent traits. The architect Shebouyev accords a sufficientlygreat, but scarcely honorable, place to the category of intelligentmen to whom he belongs.
"All of us," he says, "are nonentities, deprived of happiness. Weare in such great numbers! And our numbers have been a power for solong a time! We are animated by so many desires, pure and honest....Why is there so much talk among us and so little action? And, allthe while, the germs are there!... All these papers, novels,articles are germs ... just germs, and nothing else.... Some of uswrite, others read; after reading, we discuss; after discussing, weforget what we have read. For us, life is tedious, heavy, grey, andburdensome. We live our lives, but sigh from fatigue and complainof the heavy burdens we are carrying."
The journalist Yezhov, in "Thomas Gordeyev," expresses himself inthe same manner, but even more decisively:
"I should like to say to the intelligent classes: 'You people arethe best in my country! Your life is paid for by the blood and tearsof ten Russian generations! How much you have cost your country! Andwhat do you for her? What have you given to life? What have youdone?...'"
The absence of all independence, of any passion even a littlesincere, the complete submission of heart and mind to the oldprescribed morality, the constant effort to realize mere personalambitions--all of these are the reproaches that Gorky addresses tocultivated man, whose moral disintegration he proves has beenproduced by routine and prejudice.
In contrast to them, the vagabonds are the instinctive enemies ofall slavery, in any form whatsoever. The complete independence oftheir personality means everything to them. And no materialconditions, no matter how prosperous, will induce them to make theleast compromise on this point. One of these "restless" types,Konovalov, tells how, after he had bound himself to the wife of arich merchant, he could have lived in the greatest comfort, but heabandoned everything, the easy life, and even the woman, whom heloved well enough, in order to go out and look for the unknown. Thisis a common adventure on the part of Gorky's heroes.
* * * * *
What is the cause of this restlessness?
"Well, you see," explains Konovalov, "I became weary. It was suchweariness, I must tell you, little brother, that at moments I simplycould not
live. It seemed to me as if I were the only man on thewhole earth, and, with the exception of myself, there was no livingthing anywhere. And in those moments, everything was repugnant tome, everything in the world; I became a burden to myself, and ifeverybody were dead, I wouldn't even sigh! It must have been adisease with me, and the reason why I took to drink, for, beforethis time, I never drank."
For the same reasons, in "Anguish," a workingman leaves his mistressand his employer, the miller. Where does this anguish come from?Perhaps it is the simple result of a psychological process which,Konovalov admits, is nothing other than a disease. It is verypossible that, in impulsive acts, a psychiatrist would see somethinganalogous to alcoholism, or the symptoms of some other anomaly.
Turgenev had already analyzed a similar case in "The Madman." WhenMichael Poltev is asked what evil spirit led him to drink and torisk his life, he always refers to his anguish.
"'Why this anguish?' asks his uncle.
"'Why?... When the brain is free, one begins to think of poverty,injustice, Russia.... And that's the end! anguish hastens on.... Oneis ready to send a bullet through one's head! There's nothing leftto do but get drunk!...'
"'And why do you associate Russia with all of that? Why, you arenothing but a sluggard!'
"'But I can do nothing, dear uncle!... Teach me what I ought to do,to what task I ought to consecrate my life. I will do itgladly!...'"
Gorky's characters give the same explanation of their "ennui," andalmost in identical terms. This disgust comes in great part from notknowing how to adapt oneself to life, nor how to become a "useful"man.
"Take me, for instance," says Konovalov, "what am I? A vagabond ...a drunkard, a crack-brained sort of man. There is no reason for mylife. Why do I live on earth, and to whom am I useful? I have nohome, no wife, no children, and I don't feel as if I wanted any. Ilive and am bored.... What about? No one knows. I have no lifewithin myself, do you understand? How shall I express it? There's aspark, or force lacking in my soul...."
Another character, the shoemaker Orlov, in "Orlov and His Wife,"especially reflects this pessimistic disposition. In the same way asKonovalov, he is born with "restlessness in his heart."
He is a shoemaker; and why?
"As if there weren't enough of them already! What pleasure is therein this trade for me? I sit in a cellar and sew. Then I shall die.They say that the cholera is coming.... And after that? GregoryOrlov lived, made shoes--and died of the cholera. What does thatsignify? And why was it necessary that I should live, make shoes anddie, tell me?"
These creatures are under the impression that they are superfluous;therefore their pessimistic conclusions. All of them passionatelywant to be able to express the meaning of life in general, theirlife in particular, but the task is too much for them.
Gorky's heroes consider themselves "useless beings," but they neverhumiliate themselves. Their restlessness of spirit does not permitthem to resign themselves to the reigning banality or to take partin it without protesting. At the same time, some of them are giftedwith sufficient personality to possess an unshaken faith inthemselves, in their strength, which keeps them from letting theresponsibility of their torments fall back upon society.
Promtov, the hero of "The Strange Companion," makes these restlessseekers the descendants of the Wandering Jew: "Their peculiarity,"he ironically says, "is, that whether rich or poor, they cannot finda suitable place for themselves on earth, and establish themselvesin it. The greatest of them are satisfied with nothing: money,women, nor men."
What, then, do these "greatest" want?
Their desires evidently take a multitude of forms, and have the mostdiverse shades; but the greatest number of them are impatient forextraordinary happenings, eager for exploits. Some of them declarethat they would be willing to throw themselves on a hundred knivesif humanity could be relieved by their doing so. But simple dailyactivity, even if it is useful, does not satisfy them.
The shoemaker Orlov leaves his cellar, as he calls it, and accepts aposition in the hospital where they are taking care of cholerapatients. His devotion makes him an "indispensable man;" he isreborn, and, according to his own words, he is "ripe for life." Itseems as if his end were going to be attained. But not so.Restlessness seizes him again. Orlov questions the value of hiswork. He saves sick people from the cholera. Is he doing good? Thegreatest care is taken of these people, but how many people arethere outside of the hospitals, one hundred times as many as thereare inside, who are just as unfortunate, but, in spite of that fact,are not helped by any one?
"While you live," he declares, "no one will refuse to give you adrink of water. And if you are near death, not only will they notallow you to die, but they will go to some expense to stop you. Theyorganize hospitals.... They give you wine at 'six and a half rublesa bottle.' The sick man gets well, the doctors are happy, and Orlovwould like to share their joy; but he cannot, for he knows that, onleaving the threshold of the hospital, a life 'worse than theconvulsions of the cholera' awaits the convalescent...." And againhe is seized by the desire to drink, and to be a vagabond, and by awish to experience new sensations.
* * * * *
These, then, are the vagabonds whom we can class in the category ofthe "restless." After these, come those whom the author terms the"ex-men," and whom he studies, under this title, in one of hislongest stories. The ex-men are closely related to the "restless;"however, they differ from them in that they push their opinions toan extreme, for they are, more than the others, miserable and at bayagainst society.
"What difference would it make if it all went to the devil," one ofthem philosophizes--"I should like to see the earth go to piecessuddenly, provided that I should perish the last, after having seenthe others die.... I'm an ex-man, am I not? I am a pariah, then,estranged from all bonds and duties.... I can spit on everything!"
Thomas Gordeyev's father develops another thesis; a rich andrational bourgeois, he tries to inculcate in his son from hisinfancy--a son who later augments the ranks of the "restless"--themost perfect spirit of egotism.
"You must pity people," he says, "but do it with discernment. First,look at a man, see what good you can get out of him, and see what heis good for. If you think he is a strong man, capable of work, helphim. But if you think him weak and little suited for work, abandonhim without pity. Remember this: two boards have fallen into themud, one of them is worm-eaten, the other is sound. What are yougoing to do? Pay no attention to the worm-eaten plank, but take outthe sound one and dry it in the sun. It may be of service to you orto some one else...."
The reader will note the absolute egotism in all of Gorky's types.The "restless" are interested only in their own misery, and theythink that all men are like them; nor do they try to stop or bridletheir passions.
Strong passions are one of the most precious privileges of mankind.This truth is well shown in the story: "Once More About theDevil."[7] Here, the men have become shabby and insignificant sincethere has been propagated among them, with a new strength, thegospel of individual perfection. The demon stifles, in the heart ofIvan Ivanovich Ivanov, all the passions that can agitate a humansoul,--ambition, pity, evil, and anger; this operation makes Ivan anabsolutely perfect being. On his face there appears that beatitudewhich words cannot express. The devil has crushed all "substance"out of him, and he is completely "empty."
[7] This was preceded by a story called "The Devil."
One understands that Gorky's heroes cannot find what would be goodfor them, nor feel the least satisfaction in doing their fellow mena good service. They only dream of action; their sole desire is toaffirm their individuality by "manifesting" themselves, littlematter how. Old Iserguille is persuaded that "in life, there is roomfor mighty deeds" and, if a man likes them, he will find occasion todo them. Konovalov is most enthusiastic over Zhermak,[8] to whom hefeels himself akin.
[8] A celebrated brigand in the time of Ivan the Terrible who, in order to be pardoned, conquered Siberia in the name of t
he Tsar.
"I'd like to reduce the whole earth to dust," dreams Orlov, "or getup a crowd of comrades and kill off all the Jews ... all, to thevery last one! Or, in general, do something that would place me highabove all men, so that I could spit on them from up there, and cryto them: 'Dogs! Why do you live? You're all hypocritical rascals andnothing more....'"
These people demand a boundless liberty, but how obtain it? All ofthem dream of a certain organization which will let them feelrelieved of all their duties, of all the thousands of petty thingsthat make life hard, of all the small details, conventions, andobligations which hold such an important place in our society. Butthe time for heroic deeds has passed away, and the "restless" fightin vain against the millions of men who are determined to keep theirhabits and advantages.
Thus they are obliged to shake the dust off their feet and to leavethe ranks in which they are suffocating. No matter what they do orwhat they try to do, their motto is, "each one for himself."
"Come," says a vagabond poetically to Thomas Gordeyev, "come with meon the open road, into the fields and steppes, across the plains,over the mountains, come out and look at the world in all itsfreedom. The thick forests begin to murmur; their sweet voicepraises divine wisdom; God's birds sing its glory and the grass ofthe steppe burns with the incense of the Holy Virgin.
"The soul is filled with an ardent yet calm joy, you desire nothing,you envy no one.... And it is then that it seems as if on the wholeearth there is no one but God and you...."
The material inconveniences of such an existence hardly affectGorky's characters. Promtov, one of the prophets of individualism,says, in speaking of himself:
"I have been 'on the road' for ten years, and I have not complainedof my fate to God. I don't want to tell you anything of this period,because it is too tedious.... In general, it is the joyous life of abird. Sometimes, grain is lacking, but one must not be too exactingand one must remember that kings themselves do not have pleasuresonly. In a life like ours, there are no duties--that is the firstpleasure--and there are no laws, except those of nature--that is thesecond. Without a doubt, the gentlemen of the police force botherone at times ... but you find fleas even in the best hotels. As aset-off, one can go to the right, or to the left, or straight ahead,wherever your heart bids you go, and if you don't want to goanywhere, after having provided yourself with bread from the hut ofsome peasant, who will never refuse it, you can lie down until youcare to resume your travels...."
This is the final point at which all of the "restless" arrive,believing that there they will find what they have always lacked.Even the author himself shares their views up to a certain point:
"You have to be born in civilized society," he says, speaking ofhimself, "in order to have the patience to live there all your lifewithout having the desire to flee from this circle, where so manyrestrictions hinder you, restrictions sanctioned by the habit oflittle poisoned lies, this sickly center of self-love, in one word,all this vanity of vanities which chills the feelings and pervertsthe mind, and which is called in general, without any good reasonand very falsely, civilization.
"I was born and brought up outside of it, and I am glad of thatfact. Because of it, I have never been able to absorb culture inlarge doses, without feeling, at the end of a certain time, theterrible need of stepping out of this frame.... It does one good togo into the dens of the cities, where everything is dirty, butsimple and sincere; or even to rove in the fields or on thehighroads; one sees curious things there. It refreshes the mind; andall you need in order to do it is a pair of sturdy legs...."
What then is the teaching that we get out of Gorky's works? For,faithful to Russian tradition, he does not practise art for art'ssake. His "barefoot brigade" and his "restless" men are generallyconsidered as representative of his own ideals. The principle of "Dowhat seems to you to be good"--a principle which is expressed by awandering and free life--ought to be justified, one thinks. Criticshave risen up against this ideal, trying to prove how incompatiblethe kind of existence that he conceives is with a solid politicalorganization, and how far from reality the men are whom herepresents.
Doubtless, in real life, people are not as original and not asheroic as Gorky represents them to be. And he himself agrees thattheir inventive faculties are very highly developed. He shows thisin putting the following words into the mouth of Promtov:
"I have very probably exaggerated, but that's not of muchimportance. For, if I have exaggerated what happened, my method ofexposition has shown the true state of my soul. Perhaps, I haveserved you with an imaginary roast, but the sauce is made of thepurest truth."
The end that he is after, Gorky has shown us in his story, "TheLecturer," which contains his theories on literature. In the personof the lecturer, he addresses himself to the men who represent themajority of the Russian cultivated classes. He begins by analyzinghimself carefully and discovers in himself many good feelings andhonest desires, but he feels that he lacks clear and harmoniousthought, a thing which keeps all the manifestations of life inequilibrium. Numerous doubts torment him, and his mind has been somoved with them, his heart so wounded, that, for a long time, he haslived "empty inside."
"What have I to say to others?" he asks himself. "That which wastold them long ago, that which has always been told them, none ofwhich makes any one any better. But have I the right to teach theseideas and convictions, if I, who was brought up according to them,act so often in opposition to them?"
With his usual sincerity, it is not to be wondered at that heanswered this question in the negative, and, to cite the words ofone of his characters, that he "refused to live in the chains whichhad already been forged for free thought, and to class himself underthe label of an ism."
He has not thought it profitable to hide his doubts and has notfeared to declare openly that none of the existing philosophies suithim, and that he is trying to follow his own path. All of his workis but the absolute image of his own uncertainties, of hispassionate researches, and of his constant "restlessness."
At times people have believed that he was a disciple of Nietzsche.And, in truth, he has come under his influence, like so many otherRussian authors. But he has gone on mostly by himself, aided by hisacute sensibility, which has not, as yet, allowed him to adopt anyone system to the exclusion of all others, or to formulate a systemfor his personal use.
"I know one thing," he says, "it is not happiness that we shouldhope for. What should we do with it? The meaning of life does notlie in the search for happiness, and the satisfaction of thematerial appetites will never suffice to make a man fully contentedwith himself. It is in beauty that we must look for the meaning oflife, and in the energy of the will! Every moment of our lives oughtto be devoted to some better end...."
However, he has very neatly set forth what he considers the task ofthe author. According to him, the man of to-day has lost courage; heinterests himself too little in life, his desire to live withdignity has grown weaker, "an odor of putrefaction surrounds him,cowardice and slavery corrupt his heart, laziness binds his handsand his mind." But, at the same time, life grows in breadth anddepth, and, from day to day, men are learning to question. And itis the writer who ought to answer their questions; but he should notcontent himself with straightening out the balance sheet of socialdeterioration, and in giving photographs of daily life. The writermust also awaken in the hearts of men a desire for liberty, andspeak energetically, in order to infuse in man an ardent desire tocreate other forms of life.... "It seems to me," says Gorky, "thatwe desire new dreams, gracious inventions, unforeseen things,because the life which we have created is poor, dreary, and tedious.The reality which formerly we wanted so ardently, has frozen us andbroken us down.... What is there to do? Let us try: perhapsinvention and imagination will aid man in raising himself so that hemay again glance for a moment at the place which he has lost onearth."
All of Gorky's characters curse life, but without ceasing to loveit, because they "have the taste for life." Their complaints areonl
y a means by which the author hopes to raise up around him "thatrevengeful shame and the taste for life" of which he so oftenspeaks. Here is the artful Mayakine, who, indignant at thedebasement of the younger generation, is ready to take the mostcruel means in order "to infuse fire into the veins" of hiscontemporaries. Varenka Olessova, the heroine of a story,incessantly repeats that people would be more interesting if theywere more animated, if they laughed, played, sang more, if they weremore audacious, stronger, and even more coarse and vulgar. Gorkyadmires also the beautiful type, vigorous, with a rudimentarymentality, which meets with his approval simply because he sees init a nature which is complete, untouched, and filled with a love oflife.
Gorky suffers miseries inherent in the mere fact of existence, buthe has found no remedy; he looks for consolations in the cult ofbeauty, in the strength of free individuality, in the flight towardsa superior ideal. But he does not know where to find this superiorideal, which vivifies everything. This is perhaps the reason whypeople have thought they saw in his work the Nietzschean influence,which praises an insistence on individuality in defiance of currentconventions, and gives us just as vague a solution as Gorky does.
But this enthusiasm for an ideal, vague as it is, this passionateappeal for energy in the struggle, has awakened powerful echoes inthe hearts of the Russians, especially the younger of them. Gorkysuddenly became their favorite author, and it is to this warmreception that he owes a great part of his renown. He has carriedthe young along with him, and they have put their ideals in theplace which he had left empty.
If we now pass on to the first novels and dramas of Gorky, we shallbe struck by the fact that, in spite of the talent shown in them,they are very inferior to his short stories. His former mastery isnot found, except in his later novels, which we shall take occasionto mention presently.
"Thomas Gordeyev" contains some very fine passages, but is not verysuccessful as a whole. Thomas's father is a merchant on the banks ofthe Volga; he is an energetic man who carries out all his ideas.Whatever he is engaged on, whether business affairs, or a debauch,or repentance thereof, he gives himself entirely to the impressionof the moment. Like other men of his class, moreover, he lives alife which is a singular mixture of refinement and savagery. Hespends his time in drinking and working, as much for himself as forhis only son, Thomas, whose mother died in giving birth to him. Thechild grows up under the care of his aunt and shows a seriousdisposition toward study. Gradually, he feels the motives that makemen act, and he questions his father about them.
Before dying, the latter says to his son: "Don't count on men, don'tcount on great events." In spite of the wealth which he inheritsThomas is not happy; he has no friends; his colleagues, themerchants, and especially his father's old friend, Mayakine, arerepulsive to him on account of their cupidity and theirunscrupulousness. Thomas does not love money and does not understandits power, two things that people cannot forgive him for. Besides,he does not know how to make use of the forces that are burningwithin him. After having vainly sought for moral relief indebauchery, he ends by proposing to strike a bargain with Mayakineso that he can be freed from responsibility and go out and look forhappiness. He will give Mayakine his personal fortune if the latterwill look after his business affairs. But the old roue, who hopes toget possession of the fortune in a surer way, refuses, and theirconversation turns into a quarrel.
As he does not work, Thomas indulges in many extravagances incompany with a journalist of very advanced ideas. Finally, one daywhen he is at a fete at which are present all the wealthy members ofthe merchant class, the young man, disgusted with their vices, risesto apostrophize them in the most bitter terms. They throw themselveson him, and he is arrested as a madman and put into an asylum. Hecomes out, only to abandon himself to drink.
In "The Three," Gorky tells us the life story of Ilya Lounyev, apoor creature, born in poverty, whose life is full of deceptions,misfortunes, even crimes. Several times, Ilya has tried to lead adecent life; but it is his sincerity that makes him lose hisposition with the merchant for whom he works. He has believed inbeauty and in the purity of love, and he is deceived by the woman heloves. Gradually all the baseness of the world becomes clear to him.In a moment of jealousy he kills his mistress's lover, an old miser.Several months later he publicly confesses his crime, and, in orderto escape from human justice, he commits suicide.
* * * * *
In his first two dramas, "The Smug Citizen," and "A Night's Refuge,"as in his short stories, Gorky shows us his usual characters.
The Bessemenovs, comfortable, petty bourgeois, have given theirchildren an education. Their daughter, Tatyana, becomes aschool-teacher, but her profession does not please her. Peter, theirson, has been expelled from the university, in spite of hisindifference toward "new" ideas. The children are continuallyharassed by their father, who bemoans the fact that he has giventhem an education. Besides, another sadness troubles him: Nil, hisadopted son, whom he has had taught the trade of a mechanician,--analert and industrious fellow,--wants to marry Polya, a girl withouta fortune. The father is beside himself, for, if Nil marries, hewill never be in a condition to pay back the money that has beenspent on him. But Nil protests: he is young, and, some day, he willrepay his debt. He has not noticed that Tatyana is in love with him;and the young girl has not strength enough to live through thesorrow of seeing herself abandoned forever. She tries to commitsuicide, but does not succeed. While Tatyana is bemoaning her fate,Peter has fallen in love with a young woman quite different from anyof the members of his family. Helen understands how sad Peter'sposition is among these ignorant people, and she decides to marryhim, for pity as much as for love. The father is no more satisfiedwith this match than he was with Nil's, and with death in his soulhe is present at the dismemberment of his family. While Helen takesPeter, Nil goes off with Polya. The mother, a humble and kind woman,does not understand the cause of all this dissension and, whileconsoling the weeping Tatyana, she asks her husband: "Why are ourchildren punishing us so? Why do they make us suffer?" This play isnot dramatically effective and has never had a great success on thestage.
On the other hand, Gorky's second attempt, "A Night's Refuge," hasbeen enormously successful. Here, the author takes us into the worldof the barefoot brigade. Vasska Pepel, Vassilissa's lover, theproprietor of the night refuge in which he sleeps, loves the sisterof his mistress, Natasha by name, a timid and dreamy young girl,who blooms like a lily in this mire. The old vagabond, Luke, advisesthe young girl to run off with Vasska, who wants to begin a newlife. But Vassilissa, jealous and evil as she is, has noticed thecoldness which her lover shows towards her. She avenges herself bystriking her younger sister whenever she can. Her plan was, with theaid of Vasska, to kill her husband, Kostylev, and then to liveopenly with her lover. But when she sees Vasska ready to leave withNatasha, she starts a terrible scene, which ends in Vasska's killingKostylev without meaning to. Vassilissa and her lover are arrestedand Natasha disappears.
Although the characters of this play are vagabonds, they differ frommost of Gorky's creations, whose fiery and enthusiastic soulsusually discover a real beauty in the life they have chosen.Alcoholism, prostitution, and misery have shut off these people wholive in the cellar. They have fallen so low, that conscience is auseless luxury for them. It belongs to the rich only. One of them,who is asked if he has a conscience, replies with sincereastonishment: "What? Conscience?" And when the question is askedagain, he answers, "What good is conscience? I'm not a rich man."The life of these people is worse than a nightmare: to-morrow theywill be cold, hungry, and drunk, just as they were yesterday.Sometimes, perhaps, they feel like struggling against their evillot, but no one stretches forth a helping hand to them. They do notdare think of the future, and they would like to forget the past.One of them expresses his fear of life thus:
"At times, I'm afraid, brother; can you understand that?... Itremble.... For, what is there after this?" And this fear smothersall the energy in them. They are poor an
d scantily clothed, not onlyin the material sense of the word, but also in the moral sense.Money would not be necessary to save them, but a word of sympathy,of love, a word that would give them the courage really to live.
And it is here that old Luke appears. He treats the men as if theywere children, and gains their confidence. In his words there ismanifested a real experience of things and people. As he says, "Theymoulded me a lot," and that is why he became "tender." He knows justthe right word for every one. He assures the dying woman that:"Eternal rest means happiness. Die, and you will have rest, you willhave no cares, and no one to fear. Silence will calm you! All youhave to do is remain lying down! Death pacifies and is tender. Youwill appear before God, and He will say to you: 'Take her toParadise so that she may rest. I know that her life has been hard;she is tired, give her peace.'" And the sick woman, who has draggedout her existence so long, is consoled.
To the drunkard, a former actor who has fallen, Luke says: "Stopdrinking, pull yourself together and be patient. You will be cured,and you will begin a new existence...." And he succeeds in awakeninga hope of a better life in the soul of the poor comedian, while hehimself, perhaps, hardly believes in the possible regeneration ofhis protege.
After Luke's departure, the temporary dreams of these miserablepeople vanish. One evening, when they are all gathered around abottle of brandy, they strike up a song. A friend, a baron by birth,rushes into the cellar and announces that the actor has hunghimself, and that his corpse is hanging in the court. A deathlikesilence follows these words. All look at each other in fright. "Ah,the fool!" finally murmurs a vagabond, "he spoiled our song...." Thehope in a better life that Luke had awakened in the actor made himkill himself, when he saw that he had not enough strength to realizethis hope.
This drama is the quintessence of all that Gorky has, up to thistime, written on the "ex-man," whom he has thoroughly "explored."And the figure of old Luke is one of his most original and lifelikecreations.
His third important play, which, however, has never enjoyed thepopularity of "A Night's Refuge," is called: "The Children of theSun." The "children of the sun" are the elect of heaven, richlyendowed with talent and knowledge. They live in a world of nobledreams, of elevated thoughts, enveloped though they are in thegreyness of life. There pass before them long processions of tiredand oppressed people. The latter, also, have been generated by thestrong sun; but the light has gone out for them, and they travel onlife's highway without joy or faith, among those who are proud oftheir beauty or learning. The "children of the sun" are thearistocrats of the soul. They have but one end: to make lifebeautiful, good, and agreeable for all. They continually think ofmaking it easier, of soothing suffering, and of preparing a betterfuture. Their mission is a large one. They are not idle, but are menwho have the most elevated ends in view.
Between "the children of the sun" and "the children of the earth"there is a deep abyss. They do not understand each other. The"children of the sun" cannot admit the miseries and ugliness ofdaily life. They have compassion for the people who work below them.The "children of the earth" feel the superiority of the "children ofthe sun," but their narrow-mindedness, continually absorbed by thenecessity of finding shelter and food, cannot rise to thepreoccupations of so elevated an order. However, life brings thesetwo worlds together in a common work; but their mere meeting on theground of practical interests produces a collision.
A third category constitutes the intermediary link. This is made upof the university people, the representatives of the liberalprofessions. As "intellectuals," they cannot equal the "children ofthe sun," but they can understand them. They conceive the grandeurof their moral activity. At the same time, these men are close tothe people. They are often obliged to mingle in the life of thepeople, and more than the "children of the sun," they are capable ofenlarging their minds and ennobling their duties. But, while theyknow and understand the duties of the people completely, they arenot yet strong enough to help them. This, then, is the generalmeaning of the play.
* * * * *
Although this play is cleverly constructed, with a last act which ispathetic and moving in its intensity, and produces a profoundimpression, on the whole, unfortunately, it has the generalharshness of problem plays. Under its lyric vestments, its solid andmassive character appears too often. Gorky, a born observer,inheritor of the realistic traditions of his country, could not helpturning aside, one day, from this ideological art, visiblyinfluenced by Tolstoy's dramas. The direct part that the romanticisthas played in the political events of his country sufficientlyproves that he has taken a different road from that taken by theapostle of Yasnaya Polyana. With maturity, he felt the need ofhastening the denouement of the crisis in Russia, in activelyparticipating in its emancipation. From that time on, he chose hisheroes from a less singular environment. Instead of the philosophicvagabonds, the neurasthenic "restless" ones, and the ex-men, hechose the plebeian of the city and country, who is graduallyawakening from a sleep of ignorance and slavery. A remarkable story,called "In Prison," all atremble with new sensations, inauguratesthis new style. A victim himself of the intolerance of "over-men,"Gorky has incarnated his own revolts and hopes in the soul of hishero, Misha, a brother of the revolutionary students who do nothesitate to sacrifice their life or liberty for a principle orideal.
Written at the same time, the story called "The Soldiers" givesproof of an equally careful incorporation of the claims of theoppressed in a literary work.
The school-mistress, Vera, has conceived the daring project ofteaching the soldiers who are quartered in the village. She getssome of them together at the edge of the neighboring woods andthere she tries to show them the ignominy of the roles they play intimes of uprisings. Angered by this unexpected talk, the soldiersthreaten the young girl. But her coolness and sincerity finally makethem listen to her with a respect mingled with admiration.
A third story, called "Slaves," in a masterful way retraces thecatastrophes of the now historical journey of January 9, 1905, atthe end of which, a crowd of 200,000 men, led by the famous popeGapon, went to the Tsar's palace to present their demands to him,and were received with cannon shots.
These stories were followed by three works of great merit: "Mother,""A Confession," and "The Spy."
The novel "Mother" takes us into the midst of revolutionary life.The heroes of this book belong, for the most part, to thatworkingman and agricultural proletariat whose role has lately beenof such great importance in the Russian political tempests. Withmarvelous psychological analysis, Gorky shows how some of thesesimple creatures understand the new truth, and how it graduallypenetrates their ardent souls.
Pavel Vlassov, a young, intelligent workingman, is thirsty forknowledge, and is the apostle of the new ideal. He throws himselfheart and soul into the dangerous struggle he has undertaken againstignorance and oppression. The Little Russian, Andrey, is allfeeling and thought, and the peasant Rybine is inflamed by action.Sashenka is a young girl who sacrifices herself entirely to theIdea, and the coal-man Ignatius is driven by an obscure force tohelp in a cause which he does not understand. Finest of them all isPelaguaya Vlassov, the principal character of the book, and Pavel'smother.
Old and grey, Pelaguaya has passed her whole life in misery. She hasnever known anything but how to suffer in silence and endure withoutcomplaint; she has never dreamed that life could be different. Oneday her father had said to her:
"It's useless to make faces! There is a fool who wants to marryyou,--take him. All girls marry, all women have children; childrenare, for all parents, a sorrow. And are you, yes or no, a humanbeing?"
She then marries the workingman Michael Vlassov, who gets drunkevery day, beats her cruelly and kicks her, and even on hisdeath-bed, says: "Go to the devil.... Bitch! I'll die better alone."
He dies, and his son Pavel begins to bring forbidden books into thehouse. Friends come and talk; a small group is formed. Pelaguayalistens to what is said, but understands nothing. Gradually,how
ever, there begins to filter into her old breast, like a streamof joy, an understanding of something big, of something in which shecan take part. She discovers that she too is a free creature, and,obscurely, there is formed in her mind the notion that every humanbeing has a right to live. Then she speaks: "The earth is tired ofcarrying so much injustice and sadness, it trembles softly at thehope of seeing the new sun which is rising in the bosom of mankind."So the obscure and miserable woman gradually rises to the dignity of"The Mother of the Prophet." And when Pavel accepts, like themartyrdom of the cross, his banishment to Siberia, with a joyousheart she sacrifices her son to the Idea.
Her soul opens wide to the new truth that is lighting it. With themost touching abnegation, she tries to carry on the work of theabsent one. But the police are watching. One day, when she is aboutto take the train to a neighboring town to spread the "good word"there, she is recognized and apprehended. Seeing that she is lost,the Mother, whose personality at this moment grows absolutelysymbolic, cries out to the crowd:
"'Listen to me! They condemned my son and his friends because theywere bringing the truth to everybody! We are dying from work, we aretormented by hunger and by cold, we are always in the mire, alwaysin the wrong! Our life is a night, a black night!'
"'Hurrah for the old woman!' cries some one in the crowd.
"A policeman struck her in the chest; she tottered, and fell on thebench. But she still cried:
"'All of you! get all your forces together under a single leader.'
"The big red hand of the policeman struck her in the throat, and thenape of her neck hit against the wall.
"'Shut up, you hag!' cried the officer in a sharp voice.
"The Mother's eyes grew larger and shone brightly. Her jaw trembled.
"'They won't kill a resurrected soul!'
"'Bitch!'
"With a short swing the policeman struck her full in the face.
"Something red and black momentarily blinded the Mother; bloodfilled her mouth.
"A voice from the crowd brought her to herself:
"'You haven't the right to strike her!'
"But the officers pushed her, and hit her on the head.
"'... It's not blood that will drown what's right.'...
"Dulled and weakened, the Mother tottered. But she saw many eyesabout her, glowing with a bold fire, eyes that she knew well andthat were dear to her.
"'... They will never get at the truth, even under oceans of blood!'
"The policeman seized her heavily by the throat.
"There was a rattling in her throat:
"... 'The unfortunates!'
"Some one in the crowd answered her, with a deep sigh."
* * * * *
"A Confession" is the story of a restless soul who untiringlysearches for the God of truth and goodness. Found as a child in avillage of central Russia, Matvey was first taken by a sacristan,and, after his death, by Titov, the inspector of the domain. Inorder to debase Matvey, whose superiority irritates him, Titov askshim to participate in his extortions. Having become the son-in-lawof his adopted father, Matvey, on account of his love for his wife,accepts the shameful life. But the God in whom Matvey has placed hisdistracted confidence, seems to want to chastise him cruelly. Afterhaving lost, one after the other, his wife and child, he goes awayat a venture. He enters a monastery where, among the dissolutemonks, whose vices are most repugnant, his soul gradually shakes offthe Christian dogma. On one of his pilgrimages, he gets toDamascus. Among the workingmen, where chance has taken him, he feelshis heart opening to the truth, which he follows up with thedetermination of a real Gorkyan hero. The life of the people appearsto him in its sublime simplicity. And it is in the midst of adazzling apotheosis--which reminds one of the most grandiose pagesof Zola's "Lourdes"--that he finally confesses the God of his ideal:it is the people.
"People! you are my God, creator of all the gods that you haveformed from the beauty of your soul, in your troubled and laborioussearch!
"Let there be no other gods on the earth but yourself, for you arethe only God, the creator of miracles!"
* * * * *
"The Spy" is a study of the Russian police. The novel treats of theterrible Okhrana, whose mysterious affairs have become thelaughing-stock of all the foreign papers.
The principal character, about whom circle the police spies andsecret agents, is a poor orphan, weak and timid, called EvseyKlimkov, whom his uncle, the forger Piotr, has taken into his houseand brought up with his son, the strong and brutal James. Beaten byhis schoolmates and by his cousin, the child lives in a perpetualtrance. Life seems formidable to him, like a jungle in which men arethe pitiless beasts. Everywhere, brute force or hypocrisy triumph;everywhere, the weak are oppressed, downtrodden, conquered. And inhis feverish imagination, daily excited by facts which his terrordistorts, Evsey delights in conceiving another existence, all madeof love and goodness, an existence that he unceasingly opposesagainst the hard realities of daily life, with the stubborn fervorof a mystic.
Having entered the service of the old bookseller Raspopov, the youngman does his duty with the faithfulness of a beast of burden. Hishome no longer pleases him at all; there, things and people arestill hostile to him; but his uncle Piotr seems enchanted with hisnew position. Evsey spends his days in arranging and classifying thebooks which his master has bought. A young woman, Raissa Petrovna,keeps house for the book-dealer, and as every one knows, they livelike man and wife. In this queer environment, the faculties of theyoung man become sharpened, and serve him well. It does not takelong for him to find out what they are hiding from him. A few wordsaddressed by Raspopov to a certain Dorimedonte Loukhine reveal toEvsey the part that is being played by his patron. Raspopov, who isan agent of the secret police, gives Dorimedonte--who, by the way,is deceiving him with Raissa--the names of the buyers of theforbidden books in which he trades. And here it is that the tragedysuddenly breaks forth.
Raissa, tired of being tormented by Raspopov, who accuses her ofpoisoning him, strangles the old man in a moment of cold anger,under the very eyes of Evsey. Thanks to Dorimedonte, this crime goesunpunished. Evsey, having become the lodger of the two lovers, nowenters the Okhrana, at the advice of his new master. After a while,Raissa, haunted by remorse, commits suicide, and Dorimedonte iskilled by some revolutionists.
All the interest of the book, however, is centered in the picture ofthe police institutions. From the chief Philip Philipovich to theagent Solovyev, Gorky presents, with consummate art, the mass ofcorrupt and greedy agents who wearily accomplish their tasks.
Among them, young Evsey leads a miserable and ridiculous existence.Bruised by an invincible power, he sees himself compelled to arrestan old man who has confided his revolutionary ideas to him; then ayoung girl with whom he is in love; finally, his own cousin, arevolutionary suspect.
Gradually his eyes are opened. He realizes that he cannot extricatehimself from the position in which he has placed himself. Tired ofleading a life which his conscience disapproves of, he thinks ofkilling his superior, who has driven him to do so many infamousdeeds. He will thus get justice. His project miscarries; maddened,he throws himself under a passing train.
* * * * *
These three remarkable works, riddled by the Russian censor, so thatthe complete version has appeared only abroad, have recently beenfollowed by two important stories: "Among the People" and "MatveyKozhemyakine."
With his accustomed power, Gorky shows us, in the first of thesestories, the spread of socialism among the agricultural proletariat.He depicts village life with its pettiness and ignominy. The villageis for the most part a backward place, hostile to everything thatmakes a breach in tradition. The hatching of socialism goes onslowly. From day to day, new obstacles, helped on by the ignoranceof the peasants, hinder those who are trying to carry out theirbelief. Even the village guard, Semyon, pursues them with hishatred.
But Igor Petrovich,
the propagator of these new ideas, finds, in afew old friends and in a village woman who becomes his mistress,some precious helpers. Thanks to them, he gradually gets up a littlecircle of firm believers who gather in a cave in the woods. Everyevening, they read, discuss, and dream of a better organization,out there in the cave. All would have gone well, if some of them hadnot betrayed the leader to the police. While being led to the cityprison, the leader spoke to the soldiers who were escorting him:
"The soldiers trembled as they clicked their bayonets; they silentlylistened to the legend of the generous earth which loves those whowork it. Again, their red faces were covered with drops of meltedsnow; the drops ran down their cheeks like bitter tears ofhumiliation; they breathed heavily, they snuffled, and I felt thatthey kept walking a little faster, as if they wanted this very dayto arrive in that fairy land.
"We are no longer prisoners and soldiers; we are simply sevenRussians. I do not forget the prison, but when I remember all that Ilived through that summer and before that, my heart fills with joy,and I feel like crying out:
"Rejoice, beloved Russian people! Your resurrection is close athand!"
* * * * *
"Matvey Kozhemyakine" very brilliantly returns to Gorky's earlymanner. In this book no symbolic character interprets the boldthoughts of the author. It is simply a novel of Russian provinciallife. Its simplicity does not exclude vigor, and it reminds us attimes of Balzac.
Young Matvey is the son of an old workingman who has become rich,thanks to his energy and dishonesty. He has grown up in a largehouse, adjoining a rope-yard, with his father and several servants.His mother, whom he never knew, left home shortly after his birth,and entered a convent in order to escape the torments of life.Later, Matvey's father marries a young girl, in order to provide amother for his son, whom he loves dearly. But his new mother is notlong in finding out the dreary life which she has to lead with theold man. In order to escape from the tedium of it, she listens tothe interesting experiences of the wandering life of the porterSazanov, and gives her unfaithful love in exchange.
Unexpected circumstances disclose this shameful adultery to Matvey.Instead of revealing it to his father, he generously guards thesecret. He even goes so far as to protect her from the fury of aworkingman, named Savka, whom Sazanov's success has rendered bold.Through gratitude, and later through love, in the absence ofKozhemyakine, she becomes the mistress of her step-son. On hisreturn, the father, finding out about this "liaison," spares hisson, but beats his wife to death, and himself, mad with fury, falls,struck with apoplexy.
All the newspapers in the world have attacked Gorky's way of living.As he is forced to remain away from his beloved country, the greatwriter has made his home in the little island of Capri, the air ofwhich is propitious to his failing health. Moreover, its impressivescenery inspires his restless genius.
Drunk with liberty, taken up with beauty, always ready to help a manwho is in political and social difficulties, Gorky, from the depthsof his peaceful retreat, wanders out over the world of ideas insearch of truth, as formerly he used to wander over the earth insearch of bread.
