Not the greatest, but the most sensational, novel published in Russiaduring the last five years is "Sanin," by Artsybashev. It is notsensational in the incidents, though two men commit suicide, and twogirls are ruined; it is sensational in its ideas. To make a sensationin contemporary Russian literature is an achievement, where pathologyis now rampant. But Artsybashev accomplished it, and his novel made atremendous noise, the echoes of which quickly were heard all overcurious and eclectic Germany, and have even stirred Paris. Since thefailure of the Revolution, there has been a marked revolt in Russiaagainst three great ideas that have at different times dominatedRussian literature: the quiet pessimism of Turgenev, the Christiannon-resistance religion of Tolstoi, and the familiar Russian type ofwill-less philosophy. Even before the Revolution Gorki had expressedthe spirit of revolt; but his position, extreme as it appears to anAnglo-Saxon, has been left far behind by Artsybashev, who, with thegenuine Russian love of the reductio ad absurdum, has reached thefarthest limits of moral anarchy in the creation of his hero Sanin.
In an admirable article in the "Westminster Gazette," for 14 May 1910,by the accomplished scholar and critic, Mr. R. C. Long, called "TheLiterature of Self-assertion," we obtain a strong smell of thehell-broth now boiling in Russian literature. "In the Spring of 1909,an exhibition was held in the Russian ministry of the Interior ofspecimen copies of all books and brochures issued in 1908, to thenumber of 70,841,000. How many different books were exhibited thewriter does not know, but he lately came upon an essay by the criticIsmailoff, in which it was said that there were on exhibition athousand different sensational novels, classed as 'Nat Pinkerton andSherlock Holmes literature,' with such expressive titles as 'TheHanged,' 'The Chokers,' 'The Corpse Disinterred,' and 'TheExpropriators.' Ismailoff comments on this as sign and portent. Russiaalways had her literature of adventure, and Russian novels of mannersand of psychology became known to Westerners merely because they werethe best, and by no means because they were the only books thatappeared. The popular taste was formerly met with naive and outrageous'lubotchniya'-books. The new craze for 'Nat Pinkerton and SherlockHolmes' stories is something quite different. It foreshadows acomplete change in the psychosis of the Russian reader, the decay ofthe literature of passivity, and the rise of a new literature ofaction and physical revolt. The literature of passivity reached itsheight with the (sic) Chekhov. The best representative of thetransition from Chekhov to the new literature of self-assertion isMaxim Gorki's friend, Leonid Andreev. . . .
"These have got clear away from the humble, ineffectual individual,'crushed by life.' Full of learned philosophies from Max Stirner andNietzsche, they preach, in Stirner's words, 'the absolute independenceof the individual, master of himself, and of all things.' 'The deathof "Everyday-ism,"' the 'resurrection of myth,' 'orgiasm,' 'MysticalAnarchism,' and 'universalist individualism' are some of theshibboleths of these new writers, who are mostly very young, veryclever, and profoundly convinced that they are even cleverer than theyare.
"Anarchism, posing as self-assertion, is the note in most recentRussian literature, as, indeed, it is in Russian life."
The most powerful among this school of writers, and the only one whocan perhaps be called a man of genius, is Michael Artsybashev. He camehonestly by his hot, impulsive temperament, being, like Gogol, a manof the South. He was born in 1878. He says of himself: "I am Tartar inname and in origin, but not a pure-blooded one. In my veins runsRussian, French, Georgian, and Polish blood. I am glad to name as oneof my ancestors the famous Pole, Kosciusko, who was my maternalgreat-grandfather. My father, a retired officer, was a landedproprietor with very little income. I was only three years old when mymother died. As a legacy, she bequeathed to me tuberculosis. . . . Iam now living in the Crimea and trying to get well, but with littlefaith in my recovery."
"Sanin" appeared at the psychological moment, late in the year 1907.The Revolution was a failure, and it being impossible to fight thegovernment or to obtain political liberty, people in Russia of allclasses were ready for a revolt against moral law, the religion ofself-denial, and all the conventions established by society,education, and the church. At this moment of general desperation andsmouldering rage, appeared a work written with great power and greatart, deifying the natural instincts of man, incarnating the spirit ofliberty in a hero who despises all so-called morality as absurdtyranny. It was a bold attempt to marshal the animal instincts ofhumanity, terrifically strong as they are even in the best citizens,against every moral and prudential restraint. The effect of the bookwill probably not last very long,--already it has been called anephemeral sensation,--but it was immediate and tremendous. It wasespecially powerful among university students and high school boys andgirls--the "Sanin-morals" of undergraduates were alluded to in aspeech in the Duma.
But although the book was published at the psychological moment, itwas written with no reference to any post-revolution spirit. ForArtsybashev composed his novel in 1903, when he was twenty-four yearsold. He tried in vain to induce publishers to print it, andfortunately for him, was obliged to wait until 1907, when the timehappened to be exactly ripe.
The novel has been allowed to circulate in Russia, because it showsabsolutely no sympathy with the Revolution or with the spirit ofpolitical liberty. Men who waste their time in the discussion ofpolitical rights or in the endeavour to obtain them are ridiculed bySanin. The summum bonum is personal, individual happiness, thecomplete gratification of desire. Thus, those who are working for theenfranchisement of the Russian people, for relief from thebureaucracy, and for more political independence, not only have nosympathy with the book--they hate it, because it treats their effortswith contempt. Some of them have gone so far as to express the beliefthat the author is in a conspiracy with the government to bringridicule on their cause, and to defeat their ever living hopes ofbetter days. However this may be, Sanin is not in the least apolitically revolutionary book, and critics of that school see no realtalent or literary power in its pages.
But, sinister and damnable as its tendency is, the novel is writtenwith extraordinary skill, and Artsybashev is a man to be reckonedwith. The style has that simplicity and directness so characteristicof Russian realism, and the characters are by no means sign-posts ofvarious opinions; they are living and breathing human beings. I amsorry that such a book as Sanin has ever been written; but it cannotbe black-balled from the republic of letters.
It is possible that it is a florescence not merely of the author'sgenius, but of his sickness. The glorification of Sanin's bodilystrength, of Karsavina's female voluptuousness, and the loud call tophysical joy which rings through the work may be an emanation oftuberculosis as well as that of healthy mental conviction. Shut outfrom active happiness, Artsybashev may have taken this method ofvicarious delight.
The bitterness of his own enforced resignation of active happiness andthe terror inspired by his own disease are incarnated in a decidedlyinteresting character, Semionov, who, although still able to walkabout when we first see him, is dying of consumption. He has none ofthe hopefulness and cheerfulness so often symptomatic of that malady;he is peevish, irritable, and at times enraged by contact with hishealthy friends. After a frightful attack of coughing, he says: "Ioften think that soon I shall be lying in complete darkness. Youunderstand, with my nose fallen in and my limbs decayed. And above me,where you are on the earth, everything will go on, exactly as it doesnow, while I still am permitted to see it. You will be living then,you will look at this very moon, you will breathe, you will pass overmy grave; perhaps you will stop there a moment and despatch somenecessity. And I shall lie and become rotten."
His death at the hospital in the night, with his friends looking on,is powerfully and minutely described. The fat, stupid priest goesthrough the last ceremonies, and is dully amazed at the contempt hereceives from Sanin.
Sanin's beautiful sister Lyda is ruined by a worthless but entirelyconventional officer. Her remorse on finding that she is with child isperfectly natural, but is ridiculed by h
er brother, who saves her fromsuicide. He is not in the least ashamed of her conduct, and tells hershe has no reason for loss of pride; indeed, he does not think ofblaming the officer. He is ready to commit incest with his sister,whose physical charm appeals to him; but she is not sufficientlyemancipated for that, so he advises her to get married with a friendwho loves her, before the child is born. This is finallysatisfactorily arranged. Later, Sanin, not because he disapproves ofthe libertine officer's affair with his sister, but because he regardsthe officer as a blockhead, treats him with scant courtesy; and theofficer, hidebound by convention, sees no way out but a challenge to aduel. The scene when the two brother officers bring the formalchallenge to Sanin is the only scene in the novel marked by. genuinehumour, and is also the only scene where we are in complete sympathywith the hero. One of the delegates has all the stiff courtesy andridiculous formality which he regards as entirely consistent with hiserrand; the other is a big, blundering fellow, who has previouslyannounced himself as a disciple of Tolstoi. To Sanin's philosophy oflife, duelling is as absurd as religion, morality, or any other stupidconventionality; and his cold, ruthless logic makes short work of thepolite phrases of the two ambassadors. Both are amazed at his positiverefusal to fight, and hardly know which way to turn; the disciple ofTolstoi splutters with rage because Sanin shows up his inconsistencywith his creed; both try to treat him like an outcast, but make verylittle progress. Sanin informs them that he will not fight a duel,because he does not wish to take the officer's life, and because hedoes not care to risk his own; but that if the officer attempts anyphysical attack upon him in the street, he will thrash him on thespot. Enraged and bewildered by Sanin's unconventional method ofdealing with the difficulty, the discomfited emissaries withdraw.Later, the challenger meets Sanin in the street, and goaded to frenzyby his calm and contemptuous stare, strikes him with a whip; heimmediately receives in the face a terrible blow from his adversary'sfist, delivered with all his colossal strength. A friend carries himto his lodgings, and there he commits suicide. From the conventionalpoint of view, this was the only course left to him.
In direct contrast to most Russian novels, the man here is endowedwith limitless power of will, and the women characterised by weakness.The four women in the story, Sanin's sister Lyda, the prettyschool-teacher Karsavina, Jurii's sister, engaged to a youngscientist, who during the engagement cordially invites her brother toaccompany him to a house of ill-fame, and the mother of Sanin, are allthoroughly conventional, and are meant to be. They are living underwhat Sanin regards as the tyranny of social convention. He treats hismother's shocked amazement with brutal scorn; he ridicules Lyda'sshame at being enceinte; he seduces Karsavina, at the very time whenshe is in love with Jurii, and reasons with cold patience against hersubsequent remorse. It is clear that Artsybashev believes that forsome time to come women will not accept the gospel of uncompromisingegoism.
The most interesting character in the book, apart from the hero, isJurii, who might easily have been a protagonist in one of Turgenev'stragedies. He is the typical Russian, the highly educated young manwith a diseased will. He is characterised by that indecision which hasbeen the bane of so many Russians. All through the book he seeks invain for some philosophy of life, some guiding principle. He hasabandoned faith in religion, his former enthusiasm for politicalfreedom has cooled, but he simply cannot live without some leadingIdea. He is an acute sufferer from that mental sickness diagnosed bynearly all writers of Russia. He envies and at the same time despisesSanin for his cheerful energy. Finally, unable to escape from theperplexities of his own thinking, he commits suicide. His friendsstand about his grave at the funeral, and one of them foolishly asksSanin to make some appropriate remarks. Sanin, who always says exactlywhat he thinks, and abhors all forms of hypocrisy, delivers thefollowing funeral oration--heartily endorsed by the reader--in onesentence: "The world has now one blockhead the less." Thehorror-stricken consternation of his friends fills Sanin with suchscorn that he leaves the town, and we last see him in an open field inthe country, giving a glad shout of recognition to the dawn.
The motto that Artsybashev has placed at the beginning of the novel istaken from Ecclesiastes vii. 29: "God hath made man upright: but theyhave sought out many inventions." This same text was used by Kiplingas the title of one of his books, but used naturally in a quitedifferent way. The Devil has here cited Scripture for his purpose. Thehero of the novel is an absolutely sincere, frank, and courageousAdvocatus Diabou. He is invariably calm and collected; he never loseshis temper in an argument; he questions the most fundamental beliefsand principles with remorseless logic. Two of his friends are arguingabout Christianity; "at least," says one, "you will not deny that itsinfluence has been good." "I don't deny that," says the other. ThenSanin remarks quietly, "But I deny it!" and he adds, with a calmnessprovoking to the two disputants, "Christianity has played anabominable role in history, and the name of Jesus Christ will for sometime yet oppress humanity like a curse."
Sanin insists that it is not necessary to have any theory of life, orto be guided by any principle; that God may exist or He may not; Hedoes not at any rate bother about us. The real rational life of manshould be exactly like a bird. He should be controlled wholly by thedesire of the moment. The bird wishes to alight on a branch, and so healights; then he wishes to fly, so he flies. That is rational,declares Sanin; that is the way men and women should live, withoutprinciples, without plans, and without regrets. Drunkenness andadultery are nothing to be ashamed of, nor in any sense to be calleddegrading. Nothing that gives pleasure can ever be degrading. The loveof strong drink and the lust for woman are not sins; in fact, there isno such thing as sin. These passions are manly and natural, and whatis natural cannot be wrong. There is in Sanin's doctrine something ofNietzsche and more of Rousseau.
Sanin himself is not at all a contemptible character. He is notargumentative except when dragged into an argument; he does notattempt to convert others to his views. He has the inner light whichwe more often associate with Christian faith. In the midst of histroubled and self-tortured comrades, Sanin stands like a pillar, calm,unshakable. He has found absolute peace, absolute harmony with life.He thinks, talks, and acts exactly as he chooses, without any regardwhatever to the convenience or happiness of any one else. There issomething refreshing about this perfectly healthy, clear-eyed, quiet,composed, resolute man--whose way of life is utterly unaffected bypublic opinion, who simply does not care a straw for anything oranybody but himself. Thus he recognises his natural foe inChristianity, in the person of Jesus Christ, and in His Russianinterpreter, Leo Tolstoi. For if Christianity teaches anything, itteaches that man must live contrary to his natural instincts. Theendeavour of all so-called "new religions" is rootless, because it isan attempt to adapt Christianity to modern human convenience. Muchbetter is Sanin's way: he sees clearly that no adaptation is possible,and logically fights Christianity as the implacable enemy of thenatural man.
There are many indications that one of the great battle-grounds ofChristianity in the near future is to be the modern novel. For manyyears there have been plenty of attacks on the supernatural side ofChristianity, and on Christianity as a religion; nearly all itsopponents, however, have treated its ethics, its practical teachings,with respect. The novel "Sanin" is perhaps the boldest, but it is onlyone of many attacks that are now being made on Christianity as asystem of morals; as was the case with the Greeks and Romans,scepticism in morals follows hard on scepticism in religion. Those whobelieve in Christianity ought to rejoice in this open and fair fight;they ought to welcome it as a complete unmasking of the foe. If thelife according to "Sanin" is really practicable, if it is a goodsubstitute for the life according to the Christian Gospel, it isdesirable that it should be clearly set forth, and its workingcapacity demonstrated. For the real test of Christianity, and the onlyone given by its Founder, is its practical value as a way of life. Itcan never be successfully attacked by historical research or bydestructive criticism--all such attacks leave it p
recisely as theyfound it. Those who are determined to destroy Christianity, and amongits relentless foes have always been numbered men of great courage andgreat ability, must prove that its promises of peace and rest to thosewho really follow it are false, and that its influence on society andon the individual is bad.
IX
ANDREEV
Essays on Russian Novelists Page 8
