p Sholokhov never takes sides openly by artificially “touching up" characters to serve his purpose. His art does not admit of arbitrary subjectivity.
p Sholokhov’s own stand is apparent in his deep understanding of the people’s interests, his winged dream of human happiness and his knowledge of the paths of historical development.
p “The main arteries of historical development" are what determine the structure of his novels. By appreciating the laws and regularities of history, and what is inevitable and desirable for the people, he is able to be perfectly objective in his aesthetic and ethic judgments.
p Sholokhov’s artistic quest brings him to a comprehensive study of the extent to which a man, his life, his mind, his political views and social sympathies, are influenced by the stand he takes in social upheavals.
p In Virgin Soil Upturned we are shown those who had made it their aim to “shake Soviet power" at a sharp turning point in history: we are shown them in all sorts of situations.
p The motives, aims, and social ambitions of the kulak and whiteguard elements were presented clearly enough in Book One. We saw how egoistic class interests emerged in open conflict with the interests of the Cossack masses. Even those Cossacks who had fought against Soviet power in the past were no longer giving their support to the whiteguard conspirators and their stooges. The fact that the anti-popular cause is doomed to failure from the outset becomes a powerful motif of the novel.
p We have already mentioned on several occasions the humanism and the moral and ethical content of Book Two.
311p Sholokhov raises such questions as the essence of true humanity, the relationship between humanism and historical necessity, and what leads to a man’s moral ascent or fall.
p In Book Two we once again meet our old acquaintances Polovtsev, Latyevsky and Ostrovnov.
p True art does not permit ready-made conclusions to be dealt out wholesale and forced on the reader who must form his own opinions through thinking over what the writer has shown him.
p Thus for the superficial reader—some literary critics also fall into this category—Yakov Lukich Ostrovnov could seem a rather enigmatic figure.
p Some critics did, in fact, think Ostrovnov a contradictory character. They found it difficult to reconcile his hatred for Soviet power and the farmers with the pleasure he took in the day-to-day business of the farm, and his acts of sabotage with his efficient work and bold plans.
p Some asked if Sholokhov was perhaps not getting carried away by the dialectical complexity of this character, while others made no bones about launching open reproaches at him for doing so.
p Sholokhov won through thanks to the power and truth of his artistic thought, just as he had in that infinitely more complicated case, his treatment of the history of the Cossacks in the Civil War in And Quiet Flows the Don.
p Prejudice and preconceived opinions which so often ruin interesting, important observations of young, immature writers are quite foreign to Sholokhov. He teaches us not to overlook in our view of things any social or psychological factors, any factors at all that go to produce a particular character, social phenomenon, etc.
p Yakov Lukich is indeed a complex character. But then for real art there is nothing simple in life, and only a swift or superficial glance can give one the impression that there is.
p Collectivisation brings out rather important historical contradictions in Ostrovnov. He knew and loved the land. He had the necessary knowledge of agronomy. He was a man of vision with a bold approach to farming which required machines, large areas of land and large manpower. He naturally felt cramped on his own “lawful” portion of land.
312p So it was that collectivisation seemed to offer him the opportunity for following all his inclinations and desires, and putting all his abilities to good use.
p And paradoxical though it may seem, this was another example of the humanistic essence of upheaval begun in the countryside, but it was a historical process which entered into irreconcilable conflict with egoistic property interests and prejudices.
p Ostrovnov might give Davidov some sound advice as regards the land, he might be unable to repress if only a temporary feeling of excitement when bold plans were being discussed which the individual farmer of the past could not even have dreamed of. But this excitement went as soon as it conflicted with personal egoistic interests, and then the man with ambitious plans became a malicious wrecker, causing oxen to get frost-bite, a petty trouble-maker, ransacking the farm larder, wickedly using Davidov’s name for cover.
p All his life Yakov Lukich had dreamed of building up his farm in a big way, of buying a steam-mill, owning a car, and sending his son to military college to become an officer. His one aim in life had been to get rich, his only joy—accumulation at the expense of others.
p The Revolution had cut the ground from under Yakov Lukich’s feet. Now with collectivisation there was no longer any going back.
p Everything in Ostrovnov’s nature was subordinate to his class instinct as a property-owner. He hated Soviet power because it blocked his way, prevented him from getting rich, dashed his hopes of owning his private steammill with hired labourers, and of seeing his son an officer. Before the Revolution his life had “glistened and crackled like a new bank-note”, the new bank-note that had been the ideal for which he had lived. “If it wasn’t for this hounding of the rich, I might be the first man in the village by now with my ability,” he complains to Polovtsev. He doesn’t hesitate for long before throwing in his lot with Polovtsev and is soon his right-hand-man in Gremyachy Log.
p Working for Polovtsev, Ostrovnov recruited members for an anti-Soviet underground organisation, and joined the collective farm where he was able to make use of his 313 position to freeze the oxen so that they’d be no good for ploughing. He was the first to begin slaughtering his cattle: “he does not want the meat of his sheep to feed some worker in a factory, or some Red Army man”. He stirs up the Cossacks to open revolt against the Soviet government by spreading the most malicious rumours. Davidov apparently did not suspect for a moment that those hostile forces he came up against at every step were led and guided by his thorough and efficient farm manager. The trials of the Revolution and the Civil War had compelled Ostrovnov to learn the art of camouflage. Besides he was only 1oo well aware of the strength of “the other side”. Duplicity was henceforth the only line open to him.
p Oslrovnov is not merely cunning and resourceful: he is vicious and unscrupulous. When the poor peasant Khoprov who has got entangled in the kulak net declares, “I won’t rise agin the government and I don’t advise others to either”, Ostrovnov, fearing that he will inform on them, takes Timofei the Torn with him and goes straight to Polovtsev. “Why did you bring him here?" Polovtsev asks. Their eyes met and they understood each other without words. That same night Khoprov and his wife were murdered in their home.
p True, Yakov Lukich is a bit of a coward. He can’t stand the sight of blood, for example. But he masters his weakness and becomes Polovtsev’s trusty servant. He is occasionally assailed by doubts and torments. He doubts Polovtsev’s strength, and is not very fond of Latyevsky. “How will the people look at it? Will they follow us?" he asks Polovtsev at their very first meeting. He realises perfectly that any revolt that does not have the support of the masses will be doomed to failure. As it happened this support was in fact not forthcoming.
p Yakov Lukich begins to look to the West for salvation. “The people were so cussed nowadays" they were loyal to Soviet power and refused to rise in defence of the Latyevsky, Polovtsev and Ostrovnov. “None of your Polovlsevs will stand up to ’em, no matter how much brains they’ve got. Straw can’t stand up to force....” Ostrovnov concludes disconsolately. Yet he does not give up hope that his day will come. “There’s no parting with Soviet power yet, but mebbe we’ll have better luck 314 next time" (1, 417). So Yakov Lukich sits down to wail patiently for “deliverance”, which ho is firmly convinced now can only come from abroad. Ostrovnov, Polovtsev and Latyevsky show a sad lack of patriotic fooling and a deep hatred for the people.
p In the first chapter of Book Two we see Yakov Lukich alone with his troubled thoughts about the path he has chosen.
p “I ought to have waited, old fool that I am, kept in the background for a bit, not sworn myself like this to Alexander Anisimovich Polovtsev. If they’d got the better of the Communists, I could have joined up with them and reaped the benefit, but now I may be finding myself in the cart before I know it. But look at it this way—with mo hanging back and others doing the same, what’ll happen? Are we to let this cursed Soviet government ride on our backs for the rest of our lives? That won’t do either!" (2,15).
p Ostrovnov indeed had good reason to worry. He could see that the Cossack masses were not supporting the plotters. He could also see the strength of Soviet power. “The Bolsheviks will smash us, sure as God they will! They’re good at it. Then it’ll be all up with us who rise against them.”
p Book Two is the book of reckonings. Sholokhov has wide recourse to “climax scenes", where the dominant feature of a character’s nature is revealed in action, in direct, intense experience.
p We have already had cause to mention some of these scenes, like Davidov’s marriage to Varya Kharlamova, Nagulnov’s murder of Timofei the Torn and his parting with Lushka, Andrei Razmyotnov and the pigeons....
p The logic of the struggle leads Ostrovnov, who “cannot stand the sight of blood”, to commit the most heinous crimes. Suffice it that he took part in the murder of the Khoprovs, he starved his own mother to death for having gossipped to some other old women about the presence of the officer conspirators in their house.
p Probably nowhere else in all Soviet literature will you find such a damning criticism of the evil property can bo, of the abysmal depths to which a man can sink by going against the people and the progressive course of history.
315p Sholokhov uses sharp changes in emotional tone and unexpected twists in the composition to achieve a high pitch of tragic intensity. The tremendous power of the tragic account of the mother murdered by her own son required a great sense of authentic inner emotional development, balance and rhythm.
p Ostrovnov’s fear of being discovered takes the form of hatred turned against his mother. “Ruined by my own mother! She’s killed me!" Ostrovnov is driven to distraction by the thought. He is terrified of what Polovtsev might do, and goes in to see him “cringing like a dog".
p Polovtsev leaves Ostrovnov’s house. His parting words are words of advice: “Just think a little about your mother, Lukich, won’t you. She might upset all our plans. Think about that....”
p Lukich “thought” about it all right; out of pure, blind egoism, his one idea was to save himself, and in the grip of unreasoning fear he came to his terrible decision.
p “Ostrovnov returned home and, when he had got into bed, pushing his wife unusually roughly towards the wall, said: ’Listen to me. Don’t feed mother any more. And don’t give her anything to drink. She’ll die soon anyway.’"
p The composition and emotional tone of the narrative change suddenly. The dark world of heartless brutality and the cynicism born of fear is suddenly pierced by a ray of light: his mother’s tender feelings for him, her trust in her only son, her darling Yakov. She hears his footsteps approaching the door, and unaware of his sinister purpose, she thinks of him with boundless tenderness, remembering his whole life, from his carefree childhood to maturity.
p “She has long been accustomed to telling his presence by that sound. And how could she have failed to learn the sound of her son’s footsteps, even from afar? Fifty years ago, then a young and handsome Cossack woman, she would pause in her housework or cooking and listen with a smile of pride and delight to the uncertain, faltering patter of bare feet on the floor in the next room, the little feet of her first-born, her one and only darling Yakov, a little loddlcr who had only just learned to walk. Then she heard the clatter of little Yakov’s boots as ho skipped up the st&ps coming home from school. In those days he had been quick and frolicsome as a young goat. 316 She could not remember him ever walking at that agehe always ran. And he didn’t just run, he skipped along, yes, just like a young goat. Life rolled on, a life like everyone else’s—rich in long sorrows, poor in brief joys—and soon she was an elderly mother, listening discontentedly at night to the soft, stealthy footsteps of Yakov, a lithe, sprightly lad of whom in secret she was very proud. When he returned late from courting, his boots seemed scarcely to touch the floor-boards, his youthful tread was so light and swift. Before she noticed it, her son became a grown-up family man. His tread acquired a ponderous confidence. For a long time now the house had echoed with the footsteps of its master, a mature man, almost an old man, but for her he was still ’little Yakov’, and she often saw him in her dreams, a lively little towheaded boy....
p “And now, too, on hearing his footsteps, she asked in her reedy, old woman’s voice: ’Is that you, Yakov?’
p “Her son made no reply. He stood a moment by the door, then went out into the yard, for some reason quickening his pace. I’ve reared a good Cossack and a thrifty master, thank God! the old woman thought as she fell asleep. Everyone’s abed, but he be up and about, looking after the farm. And a proud maternal smile touched her pale wrinkled lips" (2, 24-25).
p The most powerful thing here is the sinister contrast between childhood innocence, carefree youth, maternal pride, and the deliberate cruelty of the object of this great love, who was committing the most atrocious of crimes, taking the life of his own mother who had given him life.
p The tragic clash of feelings here reaches tremendous intensity. Ostrovnov is condemned and damned for his crime by the boundless love of his victim, the woman who bore him and raised him.
p The event Sholokhov describes here would appear to follow from an extremely unusual set of dramatic circumstances. Yet as is so often the case, Sholokhov makes the tragic and out of the ordinary serve as a merciless disclosure of the typical. In the chaos of life the triumphant note of regularity sounds. In recounting how Ostrovnov killed his mother, Sholokhov laid bare the cruel callousness inherent in property and egoistic class interests, 317 and placed it before the unforgiving judge that represents authentic kindness, humanity, and virtue.
p Sholokhov does not deny the enemy natural human feelings, acts and affections. Even Polovtsev, who is frequently compared to a wild beast, particularly a wolf—(Polovtsev has a “prominent wolfish brow”, when he was in a rage over some set-back he would talk in a “low growl”, with a “hollow choking in the throat" (1,202); in a moment of danger he jumps up, “and going purple in the face, leans forward alert and tense, like some great beast of prey ready to spring" (1,112); “there, in the parlour, like a vulture on a grave mound, sat Polovtsev, frowning and terrible in his solitude" (1, 203)—even this man can suddenly reveal human feelings.
p “I love cats, Lukich! The horse and the cat, they’re the cleanest of all animals. At home I used to have a Siberian cat, great big, fluffy fellow. Always slept in my bed... cats I’m devilishly fond of. And children. Little ones. Terribly fond of them, almost too fond. I can’t bear the sound of children crying, it makes me heave...” (1, 253).
p But just compare this sentimental avowal with the description of Polovtsev bringing down the axe on Khoprov’s wife, and take a look at how after the murder he drank brew at Ostrovnov’s house and “fished a stewed pear out of the jar, munched it and walked away, smoking a cigarette and stroking his plump bare chest...” (1, 121) as if nothing had happened. The glaring contrasts here reveal the true nature of this “champion” of the Cossacks’ cause.
p Sholokhov is struck by the incompatibility of normal human feelings and actual abhorrent behaviour, an egregiously distorted manifestation of naturalness. By using the power of contrast in a masterly fashion, he allows us to see the other, dark side behind the natural, human facade....
p The inherent logic of the struggle against the people reveals terrible cynicism, emptiness and moral bankruptcy in these characters.
p Ostrovnov was incited to murder his mother by the “dashing cavalier" and “passionate nature" Polovtsev. That, at least, is how Polovtsev saw himself:
p “Sinking on both knees, Polovtsev held out the sword on his upturned palms, his head thrown back as if to 318 admire the dull gleam of the silver; then he clasped it to his breast and in a trembling voice .said: ’My beloved, my beauly! My true old friend! You shall still render me devoted service!’
p “His massive lower jaw quivered slightly and tears of frenzied delight welled up in his eyes, but he managed to control himself and, turning a pale, distorted face towards Ostrovnov, asked loudly: ’Do you recognise it, Lukich?’
p “Ostrovnov swallowed convulsively and nodded. He recognised the sword. lie had first seen it in 1915, worn by the young and dashing Cornet Polovtsev on the Austrian front" (2, 11).
p The theatricality of all this, the way Polovtsev is puffing himself up with all his might, is revealed by his worthy “companion” Latyevsky.
p In a work of literature there are no disconnected characters. The connection may not be directly afforded by the plot, but taken together as a “character system”, they form a single canvas, expressing the writer’s mind.
p The characters that are close to one another in the action often serve as “catalysts” to one another. They may have the same social background and way of life like Grigory Melekhov and Prokhor Zykov in And Quiet Flows the Don. Here Sholokhov used the very different characters of the two men to make Prokhor Zykov a tragi-comical version of the truly tragic Grigory Melekhov, thereby setting off and drawing attention to what was purely individual and personal in the latter’s life. Characters may also have a very different background, as regards externals at least, like the “aristocrat” Latyevsky, scion of one of the most blue-blooded noble families, and the “plebeian” Polovtsev, who are brought together by the changeful circumstances of the uprising being prepared against Soviet power on the Don.
p Polovtsev’s imperious, stern power is maintained by the carefully nursed conviction that he, a fighting Cossack officer, a man of honour and duly, is fanning the flames of revolt in the interests of the working Cossack masses of the Don, and that he has no motives other than “sworn hatred" for the Bolsheviks and the Soviets.
p He tries to “open the Cossacks’ eyes" to their historical error of giving up and laying down their arms in the Civil 319 War, which has brought them the even harsher misforInne of collectivisation, lie fries lo arouse in his supporters the feeling of dashing Cossack bravado that goes with the idea of an autonomous Don region, which has been exploited by the whileguards in inciting Cossack uprisings against Soviet power several times during the Civil War.
p When the Cossacks refused lo follow him any further, after reading Stalin’s article Dizzy with Success, it was too much even for the hardened officer and he broke down and wept. “‘I weep that our cause has not succeeded—this time,’ Polovtsev said loudly and, sweeping off his white cap, dried his eyes with it. ’The Don has grown poor in true Cossacks and rich in scum, in traitors and scoundrels...’" (1, 261).
p The somewhat theatrical gesture (the way he sweeps off his cap and dries his eyes with it) does not detract from the impression that this is a truly genuine outpouring of feeling.
p The cynical Latyevsky, who has been through “fire and water" is a perfect “foil” lo Polovtsev. He has long since ceased to believe in any ideals, and is merely a clever, vicious adventurist. Polovtsev’s romantic pose as a defender of the Cossacks’ interests merely gets on Latyevsky’s nerves. He is too intelligent not to see that the Cossacks will not go along with Polovlsev and his kind. He even causes Ostrovnov great embarrassment with his frank cynicism.
p “What the hell made you join up with us, you old stickin-the-mud? What the devil made you do it? Polovtsev and I, of course, we’ve nowhere to turn, we’re facing death. Yes, death! Or else we shall win. But let me tell you, you poor lout, the chances of victory are grievously small. One in a thousand, not more! But that’s for us; we have nothing to lose but our chains, as the Communists say. But you? If you ask me, you’re just a sacrificial offering. You could have had years to live, you fool. Granted I don’I believe that a lot of louts like you could ever build socialism, but all the same ... you might stir up a little of the mud in the world swamp. As it is, there’ll be a rising, you’ll catch a packet, you grey-haired old devil, or else you’ll simply get taken prisoner and be sent off, as one of the ignorant, to Arkhangelsk Province, 320 where you’ll be chopping down pines till the second coming of communism. You poor fool!" (1, 213).
p For him, Ostrovnov, who is generously placing his house at the disposal of the officer conspirators, is just “a grain-taker and a grain-eater! A dung-beello!" He even goes as far as to scornfully throw at his host: “Weren’t enough of you Cossack sons-of-bitches killed off in the Civil War!" (1, 214).
p The Cossack officer Polovtsev with his idea of a popular uprising seems hopelessly out-of-date to Latyevsky, and even rather amusing and awkward in that international game that had developed around collectivisation.
p For this Polish nobleman—guards officer turned spy—an uprising is “a game on which everything was slaked”, which even if it were lost might be some help to the West. Patriotism was entirely foreign to him.
p Indeed, perhaps his vicious sarcasm, the caustic, mocking tone he adopted towards Polovtsev was produced by a feeling of inability to influence the course of history, a cold sober realisation that they were outcasts, so much driftwood floating on the surface with absolutely no anchor in the life of the people, and that they were doomed to solitude.
p Polovtsev nearly always suffered defeat in his verbal duels with Latyevsky. The stern Cossack officer somehow turns a funny and awkward side to the reader. Latyevsky tears the mask oft Polovtsev with his ironic comments on his words and actions. When Polovtsev sinks to his knees and holds out his sword, with tears springing to his eyes, Latyevsky sneers at him.
p “’A touching reunion!’ he said hoarsely. ’The rebel’s romance, I suppose. Ugh, how I hate these sentimental scenes puffed up with false emotion!’"
p Polovtsev then advances threateningly on Lalyevsky, holding his sword in one hand and with the other clawing at his collar, and is met with open mockery.
p “‘Pure theatre!’ Latyevsky said, smiling contemptuously, his solitary eye fixed on the ceiling. ’I have seen all this before, more than once, on second-rate provincial stages. I’m tired of it!’" (2, 12).
p The ridiculing of Polovtsev comes from the clash of characters, without the apparent interference of the 321 author, is yet another triumph of Sholokhov’s realism and great artistry.
p Of course Polovtsev was not merely putting on an act, but was expressing genuine devotion to his sword, which reminded him so vividly of those bygone “glorious” days. His tears were not only an outpouring of emotion, but were produced by a nagging awareness of the fact that the tarnished St. George sword-knot of which he had once been so proud had been secretly smuggled to him in a cramped little parlour where he was forced to hide up for fear of discovery and arrest. And when Latyevsky continues to make fun of him, referring to his sword as “a policeman’s flapper”, Polovtsev suddenly resumes his usual powerful commanding tone.
p “’Look here, you Polish sw... squireen!’ Polovtsev interrupted him rudely, and his voice had suddenly regained its usual firmness and metallic commanding ring. ’You dare to mock the weapon of St. George?! If you say another word, I will cut you down like a dog!’
p “Latyevsky sat upon the bed. His lips had lost all trace of their former ironical smile. With affected seriousness he said: ’Now that is something I believe! Your voice betrays the complete sincerity of your intentions. I shall therefore shut up.’" (2, 13).
p Sholokhov has an uncanny knack for sensing the possible moral and emotional response of his readers. He possesses that “purity of moral feeling" which Lev Tolstoi described in his foreword to the works of Maupassant as the sine qua non of true artistic genius.
p Latyevsky could not possibly remain purely an ironic commentator, a witty, mocking “foil” for Polovtsev. He had to show his true face sooner or later.
p This conies much later on when he describes to Polovtsev his preparations for a revolt in the Kuban four years previously and the murder by him of the two GPU men who came to Gremyachy posing as purveyance officials.
p Latyevsky tells with absolutely cold-blooded cynicism of the way he once betrayed four Cossack conspirators to his interrogators. “So I thought, let them shoot or exile those four idiots, but I shall get away and my life is far more valuable to the organisation than the lives of these cattle" (2, 427).
322p Now, in Gremyachy Latyevsky recognised one of the two “purveyors” who forced themselves uninvited into Ostrovnov’s yard. The man had interrogated him thai time in Krasnodar. Taking one of his fellow conspirators with him, Latyevsky brutally murders the two GPU men out in the steppe. When the two bodies are found, one of them attracts special attention. “The left eye of the herdsman, whom the bandits had turned over on his back in the course of their search, had been crushed out, judging from the marks, by the heel of a boot.
p “The chairman of the village Soviet, a hard-boiled Cossack, who had been through two wars, said to the militiaman: ’Look at that, Luka Nazarich, one of the swine took a kick at a dead man’" (2, 430).
p The brutality with which this “old score" is settled exposes the true essence of the “gay”, “jolly” officer.
p One is reminded of how Makar Nagulnov killed the bandit Timofei the Torn. “No, Makar Nagulnov was no kulak swine who would shoot an enemy in the back. Without changing his position he said loudly:
p “‘Turn round and face death, you snake!’"
p He surveys the body of his enemy who had caused him so much suffering feeling neither anger nor hatred but only a crushing weariness.
p Latyevsky shot his enemy in the back, and then kicked his dead body ferociously.
Mutual rancour is unavoidable in the class struggle. But Makar Nagulnov managed to remain a human being even when he had to be brutal, whereas Latyevsky sank to savage, furious bestiality.
Notes