Читать книгу The Autobiographical Works of Fyodor Dostoyevsky - Fyodor Dostoyevsky - Страница 10

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It was at his unhappy period of his life that my father was involved in the Petrachevsky conspiracy. Those who were familiar with Dostoyevsky's monarchic principles in later life could never understand how he came to associate himself with revolutionaries. It is, indeed, inexplicable if my father's Lithuanian origin be ignored. He plotted against the Tsar, because he did not yet understand the real meaning of the Russian monarchy. At this period of his life Dostoyevsky knew little of Russia. He had spent his childhood in a kind of artificial Lithuania created by his father in the heart of Moscow. In his adolescence at the Castle of the Engineers he held aloof as far as possible from his Russian comrades. When he became a novehst he frequented the literary society of Petersburg, the least stable in the whole country. At that time Russia was practically unknown; our geographers and historians hardly existed as yet. Travelling was difficult and expensive. There were neither railways nor steamers in the country. The peasant-serfs worked their land and kept silence; the moujik was called "a sphynx." The Russian writers lived only by the mind of Europe, read only French, EngUsh and German books, and shared all the ideas of Europeans concerning liberty. Instead of informing Europe as to Russian ideas, our writers ingenuously asked Europe to explain to them what Russia was. Now if my compatriots knew little of Russia, Europe knew nothing of it. European writers, scientists, statesmen and diplomatists did not learn the Russian language, did not travel in Russia, did not take the trouble to go and study the moujik in his home. They were content to get their information from the political refugees who inhabited their towns. All these Jews, Poles, Lithuanians, Armenians, Finns and Letts could not even speak Russian, and talked the most terrible jargon. This did not prevent them from addressing Europe in the name of the Russian people. They assured Europeans that the moujiks were groaning under the yoke of the Tsars, and were waiting impatiently for the nations of Europe to come and deliver them, in order to give them that European repubhc of which (according to the refugees) the moujik was dreaming day and night. Europe took their word for it. It has only been in our own days, when Europeans have seen " Tsarism" replaced by Bolshevism and defaitisme, that they have begun to understand how they have been deceived. It will be a long time yet before they understand the true Russia. Meanwhile the Russian Colossus has many rude awakenings and unpleasant surprises in store for them.

At the time of the Petrachevsky conspiracy my father was more Lithuanian than Russian, and Europe was dearer to him than his fatherland. The novels he wrote before his imprisonment were all imitations of European works : Schiller, Balzac, Dickens, Georges Sand and Walter Scott were his masters. He believed in the European newspapers as one believes in the Gospels. He dreamed of going to live in Europe, and declared that he could only learn to write well there. He talked of this project in his letters to his friends, and lamented that lack of means prevented him from carrying it out. The thought that it might be well to go east instead of west, in order to become a great Russian writer, never entered his head. Pogtpyevsky hated the Mongohan strain in the Russians; he was a true Ivan Karamazov at this time of his life.

The emancipation of the serfs was then imminent. Every one was talking of it, and every one realised the necessity for it. Our government, true to its tradition, hesitated to make the reform. The Russians, who understood their own slow and indolent national character knew that they had only to wait patiently for a year or two and they would obtain it. The Poles, the Lithuanians and the natives of the Baltic Provinces did not understand this delay, and believed that the Tsar would never give liberty to his people. They proposed to overthrow him in order to secure it themselves for the peasants. Dostoyevsky shared their misgivings. He knew nothing of Oriental indolence; all his life he was active and energetic. When an idea seemed right to him he at once put it into practice; he could not understand the dilatoriness of the Russian bureaucracy. He could not forget his father's tragic death, and he ardently desired the abohtion of a system which made the masters cruel and incited the slaves to crime. In his then state of mind, the meeting with Petrachevsky was bound to have fatal results. Petrachevsky, as his name indicates, was of Polish or Lithuanian origin, and this was a bond of union between him and Dostoyevsky stronger than all the rest. Petrachevsky was eloquent and adroit; he drew all the young dreamers in Petersburg around him and inflamed them. The idea of sacrificing oneself to the happiness of others is very attractive to young and generous hearts, especially when their own lives are as sad as was my father's at that time. During his lonely wanderings in the dark streets of Petersburg, he must often have said to himself that it would be better to die in a noble cause than to drag out a useless existence.

The Petrachevsky trial is one of the most obscure of all Russian political trials. The secret documents which have been published give but a very commonplace picture of a political gathering, where young people met to repeat truisms about the new ideas which were arriving from Europe, to lend each other books forbidden by the Censor, and to declaim incendiary fragments from revolutionary pamphlets. Nevertheless, my father always maintained that it was a political plot, the object of which was to overthrow the Tsar, and set up a repubhc of intellectuals in Russia. It is probable that Petrachev-sky, while preparing an army of volunteers, confided the secret aims of the enterprise only to a chosen few. Appreciating Dostoyevsky's mind, courage and moral force, Petrachevsky probably intended him to play a leading part in the future republic.35

35 One of the members of the Petrachevsky association gave it as his opinion that Dostoyevsky was the only one of the band who was a typical conspirator. He was sUent and reserved, not given to opening his heart to every one after the Russian fashion. This reticence persisted all his life. He maintained it even towards my mother, and in the early days of their marriage she found it very difficult to make him speak of his past life. Later, however, when Dostoyevsky reaUsed how devoted his second wife was to tdm, he opened his heart to her, and had no more secrets from her.

My uncle Mihail, was also interested in the society, but as he was married, and the father of a family, he thought it wise not to frequent the Petrachevsky gatherings too assiduously. He took advantage, however, of the library of forbidden books. My uncle was at this time a great admirer of Fourier, and a fervid student of his romantic theories. My uncle Andrey also attended the meetings. At this period he was a very young man, and had only just begun his higher courses of study. He was many years younger than his two elder brothers, and looked upon them rather as parents than as equals. The older men in their turn, treated him as a little boy. Such relations do not exist among Russians, but they are often found in Polish and Lithuanian families. My father never discussed politics with his younger brother, and my uncle Audrey was unaware of the part he was playing in Petrachevsky's society. Audrey Dostoyevsky had none of the literary talent of his brothers; but the family readings which my grandfather Mihail continued for the benefit of his younger sons gave him a great interest in literature. Later, when serving the State in various provincial towns, he always managed to draw all the intellectuals of the place round him. Having heard of the interesting gatherings that took place at Petrachevsky's house, he begged one of his comrades to introduce him. He attended several meetings without encountering my father. One evening, when my uncle Audrey was passing from group to group, listening with great interest to the political discussions of the young men, he suddenly found himself confronted by his brother Fyodor, whose face was white and drawn with anger.

" What are you doing here ? " he asked in a terrible voice. " Go away, go away at once, and let me never see you in this house again."

My uncle was so alarmed by his elder brother's anger that he left Petrachevsky's reception immediately, and never returned. When the police discovered the plot later on, all three Dostoyevsky brothers were arrested. My uncle Audrey's ingenuous replies made it evident to the judges that he knew nothing of the conspiracy, and he was soon released. The anger of his brother had saved him. My uncle Mihail was kept in prison for some weeks. Dostoyevsky said later in the Journal of the Writer, that Mihail knew a great deal. It is probable that my father had no secrets from him. My uncle also knew how to hold his tongue, and he confessed nothing. He was able to prove easily that he rarely visited Petrachevsky and only went to his house to borrow books. He was eventually released, and Prince Gagarin, who was looking into his case, knowing the affection that existed between the two brothers, hastened to let my father know that his brother had been liberated, and that he need have no further fears on his account. My father never forgot this generous action on the part of Prince Gagarin, and he spoke of it later in the Journal of the Writer.

Dostoyevsky was treated more harshly than his brothers. He had been sent to the Peter-Paul fortress, the terrible prison of political conspirators. Here he spent the most miserable months of his life. He did not like to speak of them; he tried to forget. Strange to say. The Little Hero, the novel he wrote in prison, is the most poetic, the most graceful, the youngest and freshest of all his works. As we read it we might suppose that Dostoyevsky was trying to evoke in his dark prison the scent of flowers, the poetic shade of the great parks with their centenarian trees, the joyous laughter of children, the beauty and grace of young women. Summer was reigning in Petersburg, but the sun barely glanced on the damp walls of the old fortress.

The Petrachevsky trial dragged on as was usual in Russia. Autumn had already come when the Governor at last made up his mind to deal seriously with the conspirators. Our political cases were nearly always tried by the mihtary courts; the chief among the generals who had to enquire into the Petrachevsky affair was General Rostovzov. Later, he was appointed President of the Commission for the emancipation of the serfs, and conducted a vigorous struggle with the great landowners who wished to emancipate the serfs, but to keep all the land for themselves. Rostovzov, supported by Alexander II, who had a great regard for him, gained the victory, and the peasants received their portions of land. General Rostovzov was an ardent patriot, and looked upon all political conspiracies as crimes. He carefully studied all the documents the police had seized in the dwellings of Petrachevsky and of the young men who belonged to his party, and was probably surprised at the weakness of the evidence against them. Knowing something of Dostoyevsky's intellect and talent, he suspected him of being one of the leaders of the movement, and resolved to make him speak. On the day of the trial he was amiable and charming to my father. He talked to Dostoyevsky as to a young author of great gifts, a man of lofty European culture, who had unfortunately been drawn into a political plot without very well knowing the gravity of what he was doing. The General was obviously indicating to Dostoyevsky the part he ought to play to avoid severe punishment. My father was always very ingenuous and very confiding. He did not understand all this, was much attracted by the General, who treated him not as a criminal, but as a man of the world, and answered all his questions readily. Rostovzov must have let slip some unguarded word, for my father suddenly realised that he was being invited to buy his own liberty by selling his comrades. He was deeply indignant that such a proposal should have been made to him. His sympathy for Rostovzov changed to hatred. He became stubborn and cautious, fencing with each question put to him. The young man, though nervous and hysterical, and exhausted by long months of imprisonment, was stronger than the General. Seeing that his stratagem was detected, Rostovzov lost his temper; he quitted the court, leaving the interrogatory to the other members of the tribimal. Occasionally he opened the door of an adjoining room where he had taken refuge and asked: " Have they finished examining Dostoyevsky ? I won't come back into the court until that hardened sinner has left it." My father could never forgive Rostovzov's hostile attitude. He called him a mountebank, and spoke of him with contempt all his life. He despised him the more, because at the time of the trial, Dostoyevsky believed himself to be in the right, and considered himself as a hero eager to save his country. The anguish my father endured during his examination made a deep impression on his mind. Lat'er it found expression in Raskolnikov's duel with Porflry, and Dmitri Kara-mazov's duel with the magistrates who came to interrogate him at Mokroe.

The Generals, headed by Rostovzov, presented the death-sentence to Nicholas I. He refused to sign it. The Emperor was not cruel, but he was narrow-minded, and had no idea of psychology. This science was, indeed, very little known in Russia at this period. The Emperor did not desire the death of the conspirators, but he wished " to give the young men a good lesson." His advisers proposed a lugubrious comedy. The prisoners were told to prepare for death. They were taken to a public place, where the scaffold had been erected. They were made to mount it. One of the conspirators was bound to a post with his eyes bandaged. The soldiers made as if they were about to shoot the unhappy prisoners. ... At this moment a messenger arrived and announced that the Emperor had changed the death-sentence into that of hard labour. Memoirs of the time state that for fear of accidents the soldiers rifles were not even loaded, and that the messenger who was supposed to have come from the Palace was actually on the spot before the arrival of the conspirators. All this was, no doubt, true; but the unfortunate young men knew nothing of it, and were making ready to die. If Nicholas I had been more subtly constituted, he would have realised that it would have been more generous to shoot the conspirators than to make them undergo such anguish. However, the Emperor acted in accordance with the manners of his time; our grandfathers had a great Uking for scenes of false sentiment. Nicholas no doubt thought he would confer a great joy on the young men by giving them back their lives on the scaffold itself. Few among them were able to bear this joy; some lost their reason, others died young. It i^ possible that my father's epilepsy would never have taken such a terrible form but for this grim jest.

Ill and enfeebled as he was, Dostoyevsky had mounted the scaffold boldly and had looked death bravely in the face. He has told us that all he felt at this moment was a mystic fear at the thought of presenting himself immediately before God, in his unprepared state. His friends who were gathered round the scaffold say he was calm and dignified. My father has described his emotions at this moment in The Idiot. Though he paints the anguish of one condemned to death, he tells us nothing of the joy he felt on learning his reprieve. It is probable that when the first rush of animal joy was over he felt a great bitterness, a deep indignation at the thought that he had been played with and tortured so cruelly. His pure soul, which was already aspiring heavenwards, perhaps regretted that it had to sink to earth again, and plunge once more into the mud in which we are all struggling.

My father returned to the fortress. A few days later he left for Siberia in company of a police officer. He quitted Petersburg on Christmas Eve. As he passed in a sleigh through the streets of the capital, he looked at the lighted windows of the houses and said to himself: " At this moment they are lighting up the Christmas tree in my brother Mihail's house. My nephews are admiring it, laughing and dancing round it, and I am not with them. God knows if I shall ever see them again I " Dostoyevsky regretted only his little nephews as he turned his back on that cold-hearted city.

On arriving in Siberia my father had a visit at one of the first halts from two ladies. They were the wives of " Dekabrists," 36 whose self-appointed mission it was to meet newly arrived political prisoners, in order to say a few words of comfort to them, and give them some advice about the life that awaited them as convicts. They handed my father a Bible, the only book allowed in prison. Taking advantage of a moment when the police officer's back was turned, one of the ladies told my father in French to examine the book carefully when he was alone. He found a note for 25 roubles stuck between two leaves of the Bible. With this money he was able to buy a little linen, soap and tobacco, to improve his coarse fare, and get white bread. He had no other money all the time he was in exile. His brothers, his sisters, his aunt and his friends had all basely deserted him, terrified by his crime and its punishment.

36 Persons implicated in a political plot against Nicholas I at the beginning of his reign. They made their attempt to overthrow autocratic rule in the month of December, whence their name of " Dekabrists." They were sent to a convict station; their wives followed them. They enjoyed more liberty than their husbands, who at the time of the Petrachevsky conspiracy, had already served their sentence, but had still to remain in Siberia under police siuveiUance. The " Dekabrists " had wished to introduce an aristocratic repubUc in Russia, and apportion power among those who belonged to the union of hereditary nobles. The nobles always had a great respect for the " Dekabrists " and considered them martyrs.