Читать книгу The Autobiographical Works of Fyodor Dostoyevsky - Fyodor Dostoyevsky - Страница 17

Table of Contents

About the time of the publication of my father's famous novel, Crime and Punishment, my uncle Miha'iTs affairs began to be much involved. The publication of the newspaper Vremya was prohibited on account of a political article which had been misunderstood by the Censorship. A few months later, Mihail Dostoyevsky obtained permission to bring out a new journal under the name Epoha, but, as often happens in Russia, the second venture was not so successful as the first, though my uncle secured the collaboration of the same writers. Epoha appeared for a few months, and finally became extinct for want of readers. It was a terrible blow for Mihail Dostoyevsky. His health, already undermined by alcoholism, gave way, and he died after a short illness. Like most of his compatriots, my uncle had hved lavishly, and had saved nothing, hoping to leave his children a newspaper which would bring in a handsome income. His sons were still very young, and had not finished their education. They could not therefore help their mother. My uncle left large debts. According to Russian law, these debts were cancelled by his death; his family, having inherited nothing, were not obhged to pay them. Every one was therefore greatly astonished when my father informed Mihail Dos-toyevsky's creditors that he considered himself responsible for all his brother's habilities, and that he was going henceforth to work hard in order to pay them off as soon as possible. He further promised his sister-in-law to support her and her four children until her sons could earn their living. My father's friends were very much alarmed when they heard of his resolve; they did their best to dissuade him from paying his brother's debts, for which he was not legally responsible. Dostoyevsky thought they were urging him to commit an infamous action. They failed to understand each other. My father's literary comrades argued as Russians, Dostoyevsky thought as a Lithuanian. Much as he had learnt to admire Russia, he continued to live after the Lithuanian tradition. Reverence for the family was one of the ideas derived by his forefathers from the Teutonic Knights. In their more chivalrous age the family was a larger conception than with us. All who bore the same name were considered as members, and were responsible one for the other. The honour of the family was their supreme ideal; men and women lived entirely for this-On the death of the father the eldest son became the head of the family and ruled it. In the event of his premature death, the second son took his place and inherited all his obligations. Not for nothing did Dostoyevsky admire the Gothic beauty of Cologne Cathedral; his own soul was Gothic ! He thought it quite a matter of course that he should sacrifice himself for his brother's family, and assume responsibility for all his debts. On their side, my father's friends naturally looked upon such conduct as fantastic, for in the Byzantine civilisation of Russia the idea of the family is almost nonexistent. People exert themselves more or less on behalf of their children, but they are generally indifferent to the fate of their brothers and sisters. " I did not incur these debts, why should I pay them ? " every Russian would have said in my father's place, and every Russian would have considered his determination romantic to the verge of absurdity. Far from thinking himself in any way ridiculous, my father took his duties as head of the family very seriously. If he sacrificed his life to the memory of his brother Mihail, he expected that his nephews and nieces, for their part, should look up to him as their guide and protector and follow his advice. This attitude exasperated my uncle's children. They were quite ready to hve at their uncle's expense, but were by no means inclined to obey him. They laughed at Dostoyevsky behind his back, and deceived him. One of his nieces, his favourite, had a student lover, a somewhat insignificant young man, who hated Dostoyevsky, "because he had insulted the Russian student in the person of Raskolnikov." One day when discussing political questions, he spoke most disrespectfully to my father. Dostoyevsky was very angry, and desired his sister-in-law not to receive the impertinent youth at her house in future. They pretended to obey, but they entertained the young man secretly. As soon as he had finished his studies at the University and obtained a post in one of the Ministries, he hastened to marry my cousin. The ungrateful girl took a delight in getting married clandestinely, without inviting my father to the wedding, at a time when Dostoyevsky was working like a slave to support her family. When she met him later at her mother's house, the bride laughed in his face, and treated him as an old imbecile. My father was cut to the heart by this ingratitude. He loved his niece Marie as if she had been his own daughter, caressing and amusing her when she was little, and later showing great pride in her musical talent 56 and in her girlish triumphs. Marie's husband soon realised the mistake he had made in quarrelling with the distinguished writer. Six or seven years later, when my parents came back from abroad, he tried to re-estabUsh friendly relations, and to interest my father in his numerous children. Dostoyevsky consented to receive his niece, but he could not give her back his affection, which was dead.

56 My cousin was one of Anton Rubinstein's best pupils. Very often wlien my father was invited to read at a literary and musical party, he begged to be allowed to bring her with him, and took more pleasure in her success th^n ji) bis own.

The second girl of the family grieved Dostoyevsky still more deeply. She fell in love with a scientist of some repute, who had been forsaken by his wife. This woman, although she loved another man, would never agree to a divorce, which would have released her injured husband.57 My cousin braved public opinion and became the mistress, or, in the language of the day, " the civil wife " of the savant, who could not marry her. She lived with him till his death, over twenty years, and was looked upon by all his friends as his actual wife. In spite of the serious character of this connection, my father could never forgive it. It took place a few years after the marriage of my parents, and my mother told me later that Dostoyevsky sobbed like a child on hearing of his niece's " dishonour." " How could she dare to disgrace our fair name? " repeated my father, weeping bitterly. He forbade my mother to have any dealings with the culprit, and I never saw that cousin.

57 At this time it was very dificult to obtain a divorce in Russia. It could not be granted without the mutual consent of the parties.

As may be supposed, my father was not happy among people so incapable of understanding him. He was one of those men, rare enough in these days, who die brokenhearted if their sons disgrace themselves, or their daughters turn out badly. The sentiment of honour dominated all others with him. His conduct was governed by the chivalrous ideas of his ancestors, whereas his nephews and nieces had forgotten the European culture of their family, and preferred the easy morality of the semi-Oriental civilisation of Russia. They had, moreover, inherited from their mother that hardness of heart which is often to be found among the Germans of the Baltic Provinces.

Dostoyevsky had not only to provide for his brother's family, but for a younger brother, Nicolai, an unhappy dipsomaniac. My father pitied him greatly, and was always good to him, though he never had the strong affection for Nicolai that he had felt for Mihail. Nicolai was too uninteresting; he thought only of his bottle. Dostoyevsky also helped his sister Alexandra, the only one of his three sisters who lived in Petersburg; her invalid husband was unable to work. She showed no gratitude for his generosity, and was always quarrelling with him. Indeed, the behaviour of the whole family was abnormal. Instead of being proud to have a genius for their brother, they hated him because he had made his name famous. My uncle Andrey was the only one who was proud of his brother's literary gifts; but he lived in the country and very rarely came to Petersburg.

Odious as Dostoyevsky's relations were, he forgave them much in memory of his mother, and of their common recollections of childhood and youth. He found it harder to endure the malice and perversity of his stepson, Paul Issaieff, to whom he was bound by no tie of blood. Idle and stupid, Paul had never worked at the military school where Dostoyevsky had placed him, and the school authorities had finally sent him away. This grandson of a slave fell a victim to his stepfather's literary glory; his head was turned by the success of Dostoyevsky's novels. His arrogance and conceit were no less marked than my father's modesty and simpUcity. He treated every one superciliously, and talked unceasingly of his " papa," the famous novelist, though he was very insolent to his stepfather. He thought it unnecessary to study and exert himself; his " papa " would give him money, and he had no hesitation in asking for it. Dostoyevsky had not brought up his stepson judiciously. Absorbed in his novels and his journahstic work, he was unable to give much time to little Paul, and seeing that Maria Dmitrievna was cruel and unjust to the child, he felt a great pity for the fatherless boy, and spoilt him. He gave him too many dainties and toys, and, later, much more pocket money than was usual for boys of his age. He thus accustomed him to idleness and luxury, and Paul Issaieff was never able to correct his faults. Dostoyevsky now recognised that he had brought the boy up unwisely. " Another stepfather would have been stricter, and would have made Paul a man capable of serving his country," he would say sadly to his friends, and he kept the good-for-nothing lad with him as a punishment sent by heaven for a neglected duty.

When his Petersburg relatives tried him too severely, Dostoyevsky would go to Moscow to rest in the home of his sister Vera, who had married a native of Moscow, and had a large family. These children were simpler and less overbearing than the nephews and nieces at Petersburg. They did not understand their uncle's genius, but they loved him for his gaiety and freshness of mind. He has described these young people under the name of the Zahlebin family in his ncfvel The Eternal Husband. He himself figures in it as Veltsha-ninov, a man of forty, who loves the young and enjoys playing games, dancing and singing with them. Dostoyevsky took a special interest in his young nieces. Marie was the favourite pupil of Nicolas Rubinstein, the Director of the Moscow Conservatoire. " If she had a head to match her fingers, what a great musician she might be ! " he would often say of her. " The head " seems to have always kept her back, for Marie never became famous, though she was an accomplished pianist, and my father was never tired of listening to her brilliant playing. He was even fonder of his niece Sophie, an intelligent and serious girl. He believed, on what grounds I know not, that she had inherited his literary talent. My cousin Sophie talked a great deal about the novel she intended to write, but she could never find a subject to her taste. A few years after the marriage of my parents Sophie also married and gave up her literary ambitions.

This somewhat mediaeval love for all the members of my father's large family distressed my mother considerably. Brought up in the Russian tradition, she thought that all the money her husband earned should be devoted to his wife and children, the more so as she did her utmost to help him in his literary labours. She could not understand why my father would deprive her of necessaries in order to help some member of his family who did not love him and who was jealous of his fame. It was not until later, when my brothers and I were growing up, that aU Dostoyevsky's love was at last concentrated upon us. But even to the day of his death he helped his brother Nicolai and the worthless Paul Issaieff.