"Though perhaps my opinion of men and of life has changed, too, a little, much of my hopefulness has vanished, many of my desires have grown weaker; in a word, my illusions are dissipated; consequently, it will not be my lot to be mistaken and deceived in many things or many people, and this is very consolatory from one point of view. And I look forward to a brighter future; the most painful part is past; my passions I do not dread, for few of them are left; the most important are over, and I look back on them with thankfulness. I am ashamed to remember that I regarded myself as a victim : I cursed life, and my lot—I cursed it! What miserable childishness and ingratitude ! How long I was in seeing that sufferings purify the soul, that they make a man tolerable to himself and to others ;
they raise him I acknowledge now that not to have
one's shares of sorrows means not to have one's full share in life j there are many problems in them, the solution of which we shall see, perhaps, not here. I see in these distresses the hand of Providence, which seems to set man an endless task —to strive forward, to reach higher than the aim he proposes to himself through hourly conflict with deceitful hopes, with tormenting obstacles. Yes, I see how indispensable is this conflict, are these emotions to life; how life without them would not be life, but stagnation,
slumber The conflict over, and life is at an end ; the
man was busy, loved; was happy, suffered ; was distressed,
did his work; and thus he lived !
•^ " You see how I reason; I have come out of darkness,
' -and I see that all my life up till now has been a kind of
^ • laborious preparation for the true way, a difficult app rentice^
■ vShiptolife. Something tells me that the rest ofTneway
\^. f\ "^wiilBe^easier, calmer, plainer The dark places have
: ^ x grown light; hard knots have unloosed themselves; life begins to seem a blessing, not an evil. Soon I shall say again, how fair a thing is life ! But I shall say it, not as a N boy praising the pleasure of the moment, but with a full
knowledge of its true pleasures and pajis. Moreover, death itself is not terrible; it presents itself not as a fearful but as a glorious experience. And now there is in my soul a sense of unknown peace; childish annoyances, the sting of wounded vanity, puerile irritability, and comic anger with the world and men, like the anger of a puppy with an elephant—all is
over. I have grown friendly again with those with whom I was so long estranged—my fellow-creatures, who, I may remark in passing, are the same here as in Petersburg, only a little rougher, a little coarser, a little more ridiculous. But I do not lose patience with them even here, and there I shall be far from losing patience. Here is an example of my urbanity for you: a ridiculous creature, a certain Anton Ivanitch, drives over to me to stay with me, to share my sorrow, it seems. To-morrow he will go to a wedding at a neighbour's—to share their joy, and then to some one else —to share the duties of the monthly nurse. But neither sorrow nor joy will hinder him from eating four times a day at every house. I see that it is all the same to him whether some one is dead or born or married, yet it's not repugnant to me to look at him; it does not vex me. I put up with
him, I don't repulse him It's a good sign, isn't it, ma
tante? What will you say when you read this praise of myself? "
To his uncle:
<l Dear and beloved uncle, and your Excellency withal!
" With what delight I learnt that your career had been completed by this dignity! You are actually a Councillor of State—you the director of a chancery office ! I am so bold as to remind you of the promise you gave me on my departure. * When you want office, employment, or money, turn to me,' you said. And now here I am in want of office and employment; money, of course, I want as well. The poor provincial ventures to beg for a place and work. What reception awaits my request? Is it such a reception as once befel a letter from Zayeshaloff begging you to busy yourself about his lawsuit? .... As to the 'creative genius' of which you had the cruelty to remind me in one of your letters, well .... isn't it too bad of you to bring up long-forgotten follies, when I myself blush for them ? . . . . Fie, uncle ! for shame, your Excellency ! Who has not been young and, on some points, foolish ? Who has not had some strange, so-called ' sacred' dream which was never destined to come to anything ? My neighbour here on the right fancied himself a hero, a giant, a warrior before the Lord. He wanted to astonish the world by his exploits, and it has all ended in his becoming an ensign on the retired list without ever having seen service; and he is peacefully
digging potatoes and sowing turnips. Another one on my left dreamed of reforming Russia and the whole world after his own fashion, and he, after copying deeds for some time in the Courts of Justice, has retired here, and so far has not even succeeded in reforming his old fence. I thought that I had been endowed with creative talent from on high, and I wanted to reveal to the world new unknown mysteries, not suspecting that there are now no mysteries, and I am not a prophet. We are all ridiculous; but tell me who, without a blush for himself, will venture to stigmatise as wholly bad these youthful, generous, ardent, though not altogether rational ideals ? Who has not in his time cherished fruitless desires, and pictured himself as the hero of a glorious achievement, a song of triumph, a renowned event? Whose imagination has not been transported to the heroic times of story ? Who has not wept, feeling himself great and exalted ? Jf such a man is to be found, let him throw a stone at me. I do not envy him. I blush for my youthful ideals, but I honour:them ; they are the guarantee of purity of heart, the sign of a generous spirit inclined to good.
"And was your own youth innocent of these errors? Remember, ransack your memory. I can see even here how you shake your head with your calm never embarrassed expression, and say, no.
" Let me convict_you, for instance, as to love; you deny it. Do not deny it; the proof is in my hands. Recollect that I have been able to follow the matter on the scene of action. The background of your love affair is before my eyes—the lake. Yellow flowers still grow by it; one of them, suitably preserved, I have the honour of. forwarding your Excellency enclosed in this by way of a sweet souvenir. But I have a more terrible weapon to parry your attacks upon love in general ^nd mine in special—a document! . . . . You frown ! and such a document! Are you pale ? I filched this precious antiquity from my auntie, from her no less antique bosom, and I shall bring it with me as a perpetual testimony against you and a vengeance for me. Tremble, uncle ! Not only so. I know in detail the whole story of your love; my auntie relates it to me every day over our morning tea, and over supper, with every fact of interest.
"And I am putting all these priceless materials into a