While we were examining this ancient text, the members of the Academy assembled in the hall, but since it was not a public meeting we were forced to leave. Today the Congress is to take up the question of various projects which are planned to meet the Comet’s fall, therefore a closed meeting was held. On ordinary days the hall can barely hold all the visitors, such is the love for scholarly endeavor!
As we left for our airship we saw a crowd on one of the nearby platforms who were shouting, waving their arms and, it seemed, cursing.—”What is that?” I asked Khartin.
“It would be better if you didn’t ask,” answered Khartin. “That crowd is one of the strangest phenomena of our century. In our hemisphere Enlightenment has reached the lowest levels of society. As a consequence many people, who are hardly competent to be even simple workmen, make claim to learning and literary gifts. Nearly every day these people gather at the entrance to the Academy where the door is locked to them, and with their shouting they try to attract the attention of passersby. They can’t understand why our scholars abhor their company, and in their frustration they mimic them, producing something resembling learning and literature. But since they are alien to the noble inspiration of the genuine scholar, they have turned to one or another occupations: some assemble absurdities, some deal out praise, some sell—and he who sells the most is a great man. They quarrel constantly over money, or as they say, they form parties: one deceives the others—that’s two parties, and they almost come to blows. All of them want monopolies, and most of all they want control over real scholars and writers. In this cause they forget their squabbles and act in unison. Those who avoid their slander they call aristocrats, and they make friends with their servants, try to discover their domestic secrets and then spread false rumors about their imaginary enemies. But these dealings are not successful and they only increase every day that contempt which others feel towards them.”
“But tell me,” I asked, “where did such people come from in the blessed Russian Empire?”
“For the most part they are immigrants from other countries. Unacquainted with the Russian spirit, they cannot love Russian enlightenment. They only wish to prosper—and Russia is wealthy. In ancient times such people did not exist, or at least there are not traditions about them. One of my friends, a comparative anthropologist, believes that these people are descended in a direct line from pugilists who once lived in Europe. What can be done! These people represent the dark side of our century. One can hope that with increased education these spots also will disappear from the Russian Sun.”
And so we came to our home.
(1838-9)
Translated by Leland Fetzer, edited by A.L.
Nikolai Gavrilovich Chernyshevsky
(1828–1889)
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Vera Pavlovna’s Fourth Dream
(From the Novel What Can Be Done?)
Once more Vera Pavlovna has a dream, seemingly: She hears a voice—a voice oh so familiar to her now!—a voice from far away which comes yet nearer, yet nearer:
How grandly Nature
Shines over me!
How gleams the Sun!
How laughs the Field!
And Vera Pavlovna sees that it is so, that it is all so …
A cultivated field shines with a golden light; a plain is covered with flowers, hundreds, thousands of flowers are unfolded on the shrubbery which encompasses it, the woods which rise behind the shrubbery glow green and murmur, and they too are bright with flowers; fragrances waft from the field, from the meadow, from the shrubs, from the flowers abounding in the woods; birds flutter through the boughs and thousands of their voices come from the branches with their fragrance; and beyond the field, beyond the meadow, beyond the shrubs and woods can be seen more cultivated fields which glow in gold, and meadows covered with flowers, shrubs covered with flowers as far as the distant mountains covered with woods bright in the sun, and over their summits here and there, there and here, light, silver, gold, purple, transparent clouds shadow lightly the bright blue of the horizon with their iridescence; the sun has risen, nature is joyous and celebrant, sending light and warmth, fragrance and song, love and bliss into one’s breast, and a song of joy and bliss, love and goodness swells out of one’s breast—”Oh Earth, oh bliss! oh love! oh love, golden, beautiful, like morning clouds over the summits of those mountains!”
Oh Earth! Oh Sun!
Oh bliss! Oh joy!
Oh love, oh love.
So golden bright
As morning clouds
On distant heights!
“Do you know me now? Do you know I am good? But you do not know; none of you have yet seen me in all my beauty. See what was, what is, and what will be. Listen and see:
Gleams the glass of crimson wine,
Gleam the eyes of all the guests …
At the foot of the mountain on the edge of the forest among the blossoming shrubs of high thick hedges rises a castle.
“Let us go there.”—They walked on, as though flying. A magnificent banquet. Wine foams; the eyes of the guests shine. Noise, and whispers under the noise, laughter, and secretly, pressing of hands and at times a stealthy silent kiss. “A song! A song! There cannot be joy unconfined without a song!” The poet rises to his feet. His brow and his thought are touched by inspiration, and nature tells to him her secrets, history reveals to him its intent, and the centuries are heard in his song in a succession of scenes.
1.
(The first scene described by the poet is in the Middle East where flocks graze against a background of olives, palms, and snowcapped mountains. A Beautiful Woman speaks to the poet and says that she does not exist here; this is the time of Astarte, a goddess who is the slave of her master and whose task in life is to please him.)
2.
(The poet describes the beautiful city of Athens, and its magnificent goddess, Aphrodite. But the Athenians do not respect women and she too is half a slave, and so in spite of her beauty the Beautiful Woman says she is not in Athens.)
3.
(The European Middle Ages and the time of the Cult of the Fair Lady. Here the knights either worship women at a distance or abuse the peasant girls who are their vassals. The ideal woman of the time is modest, gentle, delicate, and beautiful, more beautiful than Astarte or Aphrodite, but her beauty is cast over with melancholy and pain. “The earth,” she says “is a vale of tears.” The Beautiful Woman says she has no place here.)
4.
(The poet summarizes the status of women in these ages: when women were prized for beauty alone, then Astarte ruled. When Aphrodite ruled men women were admired as beautiful objects, but men still refused to accept them as human beings. When woman was pure, but untouchable on one hand, and the object for men’s lust on the other, then it was the time of the melancholy kingdom of the Virgin. The first man to recognize that woman was also a human being was Jean Jacques Rousseau (1712-78) as he described her in his book, La Nouvelle Héloise. Now the world has begun to understand the nature of woman and to sense what she might mean in the future.)
5.
(Vera Pavlovna sees that she is identical with the Beautiful Woman when she is loved, more beautiful than any of the goddesses of the past).
6.
(Women can come into their own only when men see them as equals, not as property. Then a woman loves a man as he loves her; then he has no rights over her and she none over him. This is the source of women’s greatest charm. Without equality, the love of women as objects of beauty is evil. But as yet, her kingdom is small, and it will reach its fullness only in the future.)
7.
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8.
“Oh, my love, now I know all your Freedom; I know that it will come; but what will it be like? How will men live then?”
“I alone cannot tell you that, to do so I need the help of my older sister—she who long ago appeared to you. She is my mis
tress and my servant. I can be only what she makes me; but she also serves me. Sister, come to our aid.” Then the sister and the bride of her bride-grooms appeared: “Greetings, my sister,” she says to the empress. “And are you here too, my sister?” she says to Vera Pavlovna, “Do you want to see how people will live when the empress, my ward, reigns over all? Look then.”
A building, an enormous, enormous building, such as exists now in few of the largest capitals—or no, there is now not one like it! It stands in the midst of cultivated fields and meadows, orchards and groves. There are fields of grain, but not such as we have now, but dense, dense, rich, rich. Is it really wheat? Who has ever seen such ears? Who has ever seen such grain? Only in a hothouse could one grow such ears with such grain. Those fields, those are our fields; but such flowers grow now only in our hothouses. Orchards, lemon and orange, peach and apricot—how could they grow in an open field? Ah, but those columns which surround them, open for the summer; yes, this is a hothouse open for the summer. Those woods—they are ours: oak and linden, maple and elm—yes, the woods are as they are now; but they have very solicitous care, there is not one tree among them that is diseased, but the woods are the same—only they have remained as they are now. But that building—what is its architecture? There is nothing like it now; no, there is one which is reminiscent of it—the palace which stands on the hill at Sydenham; iron and glass, iron and glass—and nothing more. No, this is not all: this is only the framework of the building; its external walls; there within is the actual building, an immense building: it is enclosed by this iron and crystal building, as though in a shell; it forms broad galleries around it at all levels. How airy is the architecture in the interior, what slender pillars between the windows—and the windows are huge, wide, the whole height of the story! Its stone walls are like a row of pilasters forming a frame for the windows which look onto the galleries. But what kind of floors and ceilings are these? Of what are the doors and window frames made? What is this? Silver? Platinum? And the furniture is made of the same substance—wooden furniture is only a caprice, for the sake of novelty—but out of what are made the rest of the furniture, the ceilings and floors?
“Try to move this chair,” says the elder empress. This metal furniture is lighter than ours made of walnut. But what kind of metal is it? Ah, now I know. Sasha had shown me a sheet of it, it was light like glass, and earrings and brooches are made of it, yet, Sasha said that sooner or later aluminum would take the place of wood, and also stone. And how richly everything is adorned here! Aluminum can be seen everywhere and all the intervals between the windows are hung with great mirrors. And what rugs on the floor! In this hall half of the floor is uncovered, and it too is made of aluminum.
“You can see it is unpolished, so that it would not be slippery—that is where the children play with their elders; and in the other hall the floor is also without rugs—for dancing.”
And everywhere there are tropical trees and flowers; the entire building is a great greenhouse.
But who lives in this great building which is more splendid than palaces?
“Many people live here; walk on and we will see them.”
They go onto a balcony which projects from the upper floor of one of the galleries. How could it have been that Vera Pavlovna had not seen them earlier?
“In the fields are groups of people; everywhere are men and women, the elderly, the young, and children together. But most of them are young; there are few old men and yet fewer old women, more children than old people, but still they are not numerous. More than half of the children are at home where they maintain the quarters: they do almost all such work, for they love it; with them are a few old women. And there are few old men and women because they age only late in life, here life is healthy and tranquil; this maintains their youth.”
The groups working in the fields are almost all singing; what kind of work are they doing? Ah, they are harvesting grain. How quickly their work goes! And of course their work goes quickly and why should they not sing! Machines do almost everything for them—cutting and binding the sheaves and carrying them away—people only walk about, ride, and operate the machines. And how conveniently they have arranged their work; the day is sultry, but this means nothing to them: over that part of the meadow where they are working a great cloth has been spread; as their work advances so does it—how they have arranged a cool place for themselves! Why should they not work joyfully and quickly and sing at their work! I would like to join them in the harvest! And songs, always songs—unknown songs, new songs; but now they have remembered one of ours; I recognize it:
We will live together nobly,
These people are our friends,
Whatever your heart desires,
With them it will be yours …
But now the work is done and everyone is proceeding toward the building.
“Let us enter the hall once more to see how they will dine,” says the elder sister. They enter the largest of the great halls. Half of it is full of tables—the tables are set—how numerous they are!
“How many will come to eat?”
“A thousand people or more: Not everyone is here; he who desires so may eat alone.”
Those old women and men and children who did not go into the fields have prepared all of this.
“Cooking, domestic work, cleaning—this is too light work for the others to do it,” says the elder sister. “It can be done by those who are too young or cannot do anything else.”
The table service is excellent. Everything is made of aluminum and crystal; along the center of the broad tables are vases with flowers, the dishes are on the table, the workers enter and sit down to eat, both they and those who prepared the dinner.
“And who will wait on the tables?”
“When? During the meal? And why? After all, there are only five or six dishes: those which must be hot are placed on areas which do not cool; you see in those sunken areas containers with boiling water,” said the elder sister.
“You live well, you enjoy good food, do you have such dinners as this often?”
“A few times each year.”
“But this is their usual meal; he who wishes may have yet better food, but this is at an extra cost; but he who demands nothing other than what is given to all, pays nothing. And thus it is everywhere: those who want only what is common to all receive without cost, but for every special thing or whim there is a cost.”
“Is this really us? Is this our land? I heard one of our songs and they are speaking Russian.”
“Yes, you can see a river not far away—that is the Oka; these people, like you and I, are Russian!”
“And have you done all this?”
“It has been done for me, and I inspired its doing. I inspired its perfection, but it was done by her, my elder sister, she is a laborer, while I live for pleasure.”
“And will everyone live like this?”
“Everyone,” said the elder sister, “for everyone will have eternal spring and summer, eternal joy for all. But we have showed you only the end of my half of the day, labor, and the beginning of her half; we will look upon these people once more in the evening two months from now.”
9.
The flowers have begun to fade; the leaves have begun to fall from the trees; the picture has become doleful.
“You see, it is such a dreary scene and it would be dreary to live here,” says the younger sister. “I would not want to do that.”
“The halls are empty and no one is in the fields and orchards,” says the elder sister. “This I have done at the request of your sister, the empress.”
“Is the palace in fact now vacant?”
“Yes, it is cold and damp, why remain here? Out of the 2,000 who were here, only ten or twenty independent people have felt that it would lend pleasant variety to their lives to linger here in the country to observe the northern autumn in solitude. In a short time new people will come, small parties of those who love winter walks to spen
d a few days with winter diversions.”
“But where are they now?”
“Any place where it is warm and pleasant,” says the elder sister. “When there was much work and it was pleasant here many guests came from the south to spend the summer; we were in a building where all the residents were of your kind; but many buildings have been built for guests, in others live foreign visitors and their hosts together, those who like and have chosen such company. But although you have received multitudes of guests and workers for the summer, you yourselves for seven or eight of the bad months of the year go to the south—wherever one desires. But there is a special country which most of your people visit. This district is called New Russia.”
“Is this where Odessa and Kherson are located?”
“In your time yes, but now see where you will find New Russia.”
Mountains adorned with orchards; among the mountains are narrow valleys and broad plains.
“These mountains were formerly barren cliffs,” says the elder sister. “Now they are covered with a thick layer of soil, and on them in the midst of the orchards are groves of the tallest trees; further below in the humid defiles are coffee plantations; higher there are date and fig groves; vineyards are interspersed with sugar cane plantations; in the fields also grows wheat, but rice is more common.”
“What land is this?”
“Let us climb a minute more and you will see its boundaries.”
In the distant northeast are two rivers which merge directly to the east from where Vera Pavlovna stands in contemplation; further south but still in a southeast direction is a long and broad gulf; the land extends far to the south, expanding still more between the gulf and a long narrow bay which forms its western boundary. Between the narrow western gulf and the sea which is far to the northwest is a narrow isthmus.
“But are we in the center of a desert?” says Vera Pavlovna in astonishment.
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