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p We now know enough about what is the character of our agricultural population as long as it is truly agricultural. The Narodnik fiction writers regard the portrayal of this character as their main task, and we have already seen how their works are influenced by the qualities of the milieu to which they themselves belong. But the character of the milieu portrayed cannot fail in its turn to influence the character of literary works. Let us see, therefore, how the character of the peasant mass has affected the character of our Narodnik fiction. Did we not fear accusations of being paradoxical, we would formulate this question differently: we would ask ourselves in what sense contemporary Russian " conditions of agricultural labour" have influenced the character of the works by Narodnik fiction writers. To our mind Gl. Uspensky’s reflections on the "mass life of our peasantry" provide a quite definite answer to this seemingly strange question. Indeed, can this milieu which is a "human ocean”, where "millions are living like the ethers, and each one of these others feels and realises that in all senses he is worth a mere farthing, like a roach, and that he means something only in a heap”, give much scope lo the artist’s brush?

p Gl. Uspensky himself says that "to separate from this millionstrong mass an individual and try to understand him is an impossible task" and that "the elder Semyon Nikitich can be understood only in the heap of other Semyon Nikitiches”. Therefore Semyon Nikitich can be portrayed only "in the heap of other Semyon Nikitiches" also. This is by no means a rewarding task for a writer. Shakespeare himself would have found it difficult to portray a peasant mass in which there are "men and women, each one like the next, with the same thoughts, dress, the same songs”, etc. Only a milieu in which human individuality has reached a certain stage of development lends itself well to artistic portrayal. The portrayal of individuals who take part in the great progressive movement of mankind and serve as the bearers of great universal ideas is the height of artistic creation. But it goes without saying that "the elder Semyon Nikitich”, for whom the circumstances around him are an expression not of his own, but of some extraneous, completely alien thought and will, cannot be such an individual. Thus we see that the predominant social interest of the present day has led our Narodnik writers of fiction to portray peasant life, but the character of this life was bound to influence the character of their literary works unfavourably.

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p Regrettable as this may be, one would have to reconcile oneself to it tf the above-mentioned writers had really solved the question as to what Russian intellectuals with a genuine love of their country could and should do for the people.

_p Let us see whether Gl. Uspensky has succeeded in solving this auestion. Concluding one of the sketches quoted above, our author writes: "From all that has been said it is clear that the people’s cause can and should assume quite definite and real forms and that a great multitude of workers is required for it."

_p All the better: that means none of us will be left with nothing to do!

p But what exactly are these forms, however?

p Perhaps our intelligentsia should try to dissuade Ivan Yermolayevich from leaving the commune? Perhaps it should inculcate "new views on the importance of concerted artel labour for the common good"? But bitter experience has already convinced our author that such conversations do not lead to anything practical and necessary and are capable only of making the hearers "yawn dreadfully”. We do not think that other "intellectual workers" will be more fortunate than Gl. Uspensky in this case. The cause of the failure is deeply rooted "in the conditions of agricultural labour”, about which nothing can be done with words, or, as our author puts it, "with lofty talk”. Consider, for example, the following conversation of a "new person" with Ivan Yermolayevich:

_p “’Tell me, please, is it not possible to perform together those tasks which cannot be done by a single man? Take the soldier, your farmhand and the others—each of them is wretched, wears himself out, lies and cheats, and, in the end, everyone goes begging.... But if they joined their forces, their horses, farmhands and so on, they would be stronger than the strongest family. Then there would be no need to send children to work, etc.’

_p “’Work together, you say?’

_p “’Yes.’

_p “Ivan Yermolayevich thought for a moment and replied:

_p “’No! That wouldn’t be any good.’

p “He thought a bit more and said again:

p “’No! What for? How could we? Ten men wouldn’t lift a single log, but I could pick it up like a feather all on my own if I had to.... No, how could we? One lad would say: ’That’s enough, mates, let’s go and have our dinner!’ But I want to work! So what do we do then? He goes off, and I do his work for him. No, that’s impossible!... How could we? One man’s got one sort of character, another’s got a different sort!... It would be like writing one letter by the whole village.’"

_p The author hears similar answers from other peasants to whom he tries to demonstrate the advantages of communal working of the land. The peasant Ivan Bosykh in the sketch The Power of the 62 Land argues forcefully and heatedly, "his eyesj flashing”, that a good farmer \vill never "entrust his horse to anyone else" and cites many other objections, quite unforeseen by the "new person”. It turns out that the land needs to be manured, but the manure in the different peasant homesteads is not all the same. "Say, I’m carrying some horse dung, and somebody else has got cow dung,

p how would that work out?... No, it wouldn’t be any good__ No!

p No! The very thought of it is.... And, pardon me, but what about my horse? How could I, its master, entrust it to someone else? They’d tip any old rubbish on my ploughland.... No, it wouldn’t be any good! The manure alone would cause a lot of trouble.... Or say I’ve brought horse (dung), and my neighbour’s got hen droppings ... how could he agree to that? Hen droppings, bird droppings are all worth a gold piece ... why should he? No! No! There’s no way al all. How could we? What sort of a farmer would I be, eh?"

p “Millions of the most trivial farming details,” adds Gl. Uspensky, "which I thought were not of the slightest importance toanyone, and not worthy of attracting the slightest attention, suddenly grew into an insuperable obstacle on the way to universal prosperity. The passion, even fervour, which gripped Ivan during this monologue, showed that these trivia had touched him to the very core, i.e., the most sensitive spot of his privateinterests."

p Mr. Engelhardt, in his Letters from the Countryside,  [62•*  also points to the same, entirely negative attitude of the peasants to communal cultivation. We understand this attitude perfectly. Under communal ownership of the land in our countryside there exists private ownership or ownership by each homestead of chattels. Hence the inequality in the economic power of the various homesteads and the total impossibility of achieving a concordance of private interests that would make it possible to embark upon "concerted artel labour for the common good”. And all "lofty 63 talk" is indeed powerless against this. But, on the other hand, what is to be done about the commune? For Gl. Uspensky himself has noted in its organisation “shortcomings” which produce a "London type of over-crowding" and "the most astounding poverty" in the richest areas, with the most favourable conditions. And how many of our communes enjoy favourable conditions? If a "London type of over-crowding" is found even in the rich communes, what happens in the communes of the poor, or even not very well-off? Consider the position of Ivan Yermolayevich. He, a good, “thorough”, thrifty peasant, “complains” and even wants to leave the commune precisely because it prevents him from living in accordance with his farming ideals. Alongside him, the thorough peasant, two new strata have emerged in the commune: the rich and the poor, or, as Uspensky puts it, the third and fourth estates. "The harmony of agricultural farming ideals is being mercilessly destroyed by so-called civilisation.” Its influence "is felt by the simple-hearted peasant in the slightest contact which he has with it. The slightest touch, one light brush, and the ideal structures of a thousand years’ standing turn to dust”. Gl. Uspensky thinks that if things continue as they are now, "in ten years’ time, at the most, it will be impossible for Ivan Yermolayevich and his like to live in this world”. What is the way out of this hopeless position?

p In former times some of our Narodnik revolutionaries assumed that it would be very easy to find a way out: it was necessary to make a social revolution which would nip the third and fourth estates in the bud, so that Ivan Yermolayevich could live and prosper happily ever after. Experience has shown that it is easy to talk about a peasant revolution, but impossible to make one. Ivan Yermolayevich lacks all revolutionary striving. He is conservative in both his thinking and his position. He believes that we must have the tsar, that the tsar must be obeyed and that only the most empty and foolish people revolt. Gl. Uspensky has never thought of inciting the peasants to “revolt”, it has never occurred to him to shake the foundations of the present Russian state and social system. He has tried only to shake the foundations of certain "intellectual shortcomings" in village life. Yet he, too, has inevitably come to the sad conclusion: "don’t interfere”. Gl. Uspensky has seen that in reply to all his arguments "Ivan Yermolayevich" can say one thing only: that’s the way it must be. But this only has behind it the eternity and stability of nature itself. Yet Ivan Yermolayevich can confine himself to a mild answer to the shaker of the foundations only because of his kind heart; if, however, he is a person who is not particularly warm-hearted, his answer to the shaker of this or that foundation is bound to consist, in handing the shaker over "to the authorities".

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p Thus, it is impossible to introduce collective cultivation of the fields; and it is out of the question to incite Ivan Yermolayevich against the authorities; moreover, even to attempt to change anything in his daily routine is to show oneself to be a frivolous "shaker of the foundations" whom Ivan Yermolayevich should "hand over to,the authorities”. These are the conclusions to which the "remarkable harmony" of the popular world outlook leads the Narodnik! What is to be done? Teach the people to read and write? But, .firstly, by putting the schools under the management t" the clergy, the “authorities” in their turn are saying quite unambiguously to the Narodnik: "don’t interfere!”, and, secondly, Ivan Yermolayevich himself does not understand the value of education as long as he remains in the sphere of his agricultural ideals. Under the influence of these ideals, the author himself could not understand why it should be necessary to send Ivan Yermolayevich’s son, Alishutka, to school: "The main thing is that I simply could not see what he should be taught. Therefore in our conversations about sending him to school Ivan Yermolayevich and I merely repeated one thing: he must be taught, he must.... Must, must, but Ivan Yermolayevich does not know or understand the essence and aims, and I am now too lazy to explain them, and I have forgotten how this must is to be justified."

p Ivan Yermolayevich nevertheless does send his son to school, but only because he senses vaguely the coming of a new economic order. "He begins to feel that somewhere in the distance something bad and hard is in the making, which a person will need skill to confront....” And at such moments he says: "Yes, Mishutka must have an education, he really must!" Thus it follows that as long as the life "of the people corresponds in the slightest to Narodnik “ideals” no need is felt for education, but when the value of education is recognised, the old popular “foundations” are close to destruction, a fourth estate appears in the village and the thrifty peasant, Ivan] Yermolayevich, has "ten years at the most" to live in this world. What a cruel trick of history! And how right our author. 3 Twhen, summing up all the contradictions in the position of the intellectual in’ the village, he exclaims: "And so everyone who thinks about the people (i.e., thinks about it from the^Narodnik point of view) is faced with a truly insoluble task: civilisation (i.e., capitalism) is advancing, and you, the observer oflRussian life, are not only incapable of halting this advance but, as they assure you and as Ivan Yermolayevich himself shows, you should not, you do not have any right or reason to interfere, in view of the fact that agricultural ideals are splendid and perfect. Thus—you cannot halt the advance and must not interfere!" Narodism as a literary trend which seeks to examine and give a correct interpretation of popular life is quite different from Narodism as a social teaching which points the way to 65 “universal prosperity”. The former is not only entirely different from the latter, but can, as we see, be the direct opposite of it.

p The most observant, most intelligent and most talented of all the Narodnik fiction writers, Gl. Uspensky, having undertaken to show us some "quite definite”, "real forms of the people’s cause”, has, without realising it, signed the death warrant of Narodism and all the “programmes” and plans of practical activity that are in any way connected with it. But if this is so, we are at a loss to understand how the “harmony” of peasant life perceived by him could have such a reassuring effect on him. The theoretical clarity of his view of the people was purchased at the price of the sad practical conclusion: "don’t interfere!"

p But the whole raison d’etre of Narodnik teaching lay in the desire to solve the question "what is to be done?”. The inability to answer this question demonstrates its complete bankruptcy, and we can say that the literary merits of the works of our Narodnik fiction writers have been sacrificed to a false social doctrine. In the spring of 1886 Istorichesky Vestnik^^14^^ published a letter from Aksakov, the late editor of Rus,^^15^^ written a few years before his death to one of his young friends. In this letter the last of the Mohicans of Slavophil doctrine^^16^^ gives a crushing assessment of Narodism. He ridicules Gl. Uspensky’s projects for the artel cultivation of fields and for farming associations, regarding them as an impracticable Utopia. In his opinion, Narodism is nothing more than distorted, inconsistent Slavophilism. He maintains that the Narodniks adopted all the principles of Slavophilism, while rejecting all the conclusions that proceeded from them concerning the tsar and religion. The general sense of this letter is as follows: he who admires the old foundations of our peasant life is bound to become reconciled to the tsar and God. The Narodniks, according to him, do not feel sufficient respect for either the tsar or God, but he believes that sooner or later life will teach them common sense.

p We now see that Gl. Uspensky’s works too could have taught them exactly the same Aksakovian common sense: autocracy, orthodoxy, and nationality—this should be the motto of all those who admire the “harmony” of Ivan Yermolayevich’s world outlook.

We say “could” and “should” because in fact our raznochinets will never be able to earn the approval of the follower of Rus.  He is too educated to believe in God, and at the same time too honest to pretend to worship Him out of a belief that religion keeps the mob in check. When deeply moved our raznochinets can exclaim: "The people is the man, who, when his disobedient brother was expelled from Paradise (?!), chose to stay there, saying to himself: ’it’s good enough even like this”’, as Gl. Uspensky’s Pigasov exclaims; but nevertheless he understands perfectly well that in fact the life of the people is more comparable with Hell. 

5—0766

66 He senses that his own position is quite intolerable also, and therefore he can never be at peace with absolutism. He cannot escape struggle or at least peaceful opposition. He can resign himself in exhaustion, as the legal Narodniks do, he can submit to force, but he will never honestly become reconciled to the existing order. He will always strive for the peaceful or revolutionary reconstruction of our social relations. But as long as he seeks for support among the Ivan Yermolayeviches alone he will have no support at all.

p The “people” (i.e., the “thrifty” peasant), whom he idealises, will remain deaf to his appeals. This is why, by continuing to adhere to the Narodnik viewpoint, he will always find himself in the most false and contradictory position. He will invent absurd social theories, discover already discovered Americas, without having any real link with life, without feeling any firm ground beneath his feet. The task of fruitful social activity will remain for him an insoluble task.

p The despondent mood, which has long been noticeable among our Narodniks and in our legal Narodnik literature, is perfect confirmation of what has been said. Our legal "new people" have even developed a special language which characterises the full hopelessness of their position splendidly. A few years ago they carried on bitter disputes with the Slavophils about how one should weep: "with the people" or "over the people”. And there is indeed nothing left for them but to weep—to weep over the fact that the government is oppressing and ruining the people, that we are being invaded by “civilisation” and that Ivan Yermolayevich has "ten years at the most" to live; finally, they must weep most bitterly and copiously of all over their own hopeless position.

p We have already seen that peasant Asia is rejecting " intellectual" Europe stubbornly, energetically, ardently, "with eyes flashing".

Enduring is that place
Where generations without end
Must live and die without a trace,
And by the children nothing’s learned!^^17^^

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Notes

[62•*]   This is how Mr. Engelhardt describes “communal” peasant work. "The obloga (i.e., meadow) must be ploughed by everyone together. They agreed to begin at a certain time. They set out in the morning. Six of them arrived, but two were missing: had got drunk the night before and overslept, the harness was in a mess. The ones who had come stood on the land and waited for the two who were late. They gave thej horses some hay, lit their pipes and began swearing. Then the latecomers arrived. Who was to go first? They argued. Finally the order was agreed on. They started ploughing. One man’s plough broke down, and they all stopped. He put it right, and off they went again. One man’s horse and harness were better than the rest, another man was no good himself; they started grumbling. ’If I were ploughing alone, I’d have started before sunrise, but in the village you have to wait for them all to get up. Wait here on the ploughland,’ [said one]. ’I’d have ploughed it long ago with my horses, but here it’s nothing but wait. To hell with the fief!’ said another”, etc. («ITnci,Ma iw ^epeBnn», C.-HeTepGypr, 1885, cTp. 205-06). [Letters front the Countryside, St. Petersburg, 1885, pp. 205-06.}