After that we danced for the rest of the afternoon. The social revolutionary every now and then inveighed against loans and expressed his hope that the Government would be bankrupt.
April 17th.
I was looking out of the window this morning and saw the policeman who watches over my house, and often helps with the luggage, apparently arrest and walk off with a workman. I ran out of the house and said—
“Are you taking that man to the police station?”
“God be with him, no,” said the policeman. “Why should I arrest him? Do you want him arrested? He is ‘having taken drink,’ and I am taking him to a friend’s house, where he can rest.”
The policeman had thought I was complaining because he was not going to be arrested. This incident amused me, as being typical of the good-nature of a class of people who are represented as savage tyrants.
St. Petersburg, April 22nd.
This afternoon, wishing to talk over the topics of the day and the political outlook, I went to see a friend of mine, a certain Dimitri Nikolaievitch A——. Dimitri Nikolaievitch was a failure. He had started life with smiling prospects and the promise of a bright future, but he wasted his youth and his fortune in dissipation, and after spending some years in the Government service as an official he retired and embarked upon a journalistic venture; but, since he was entirely devoid of ambition, hopelessly unpractical, and fundamentally uncompetitive he failed, and was soon forced to abandon an enterprise which left him burdened with debts. He now earns a scanty income by giving lessons in Russian to foreigners. His whole literary production is confined to one or two suggestive literary and historical pamphlets long since out of print. I found him at home in his room, which is on the sixth floor of a large barrack in a remote quarter of the town. The landing on which he lives swarms with inhabitants, and a whole bevy of tailors were busily at work in the room opposite to his. His room is small, and scantily furnished with a chair, a table, a low bed, a few frameless photographs stuck on the wall, a mandoline, a guitar, and a babalaika. The room is also inhabited by a bullfinch, a green lizard, and a fox terrier. Dimitri Nikolaievitch himself looks younger than he is; he is rather fat, with fair, unkempt hair, very light blue eyes lighting up a wrinkled and rather puffy and unshaved face; his jacket is stained and lacking in buttons.
“I know why you have come,” he said to me as I entered the room; “you have got to write an article and you want copy.” “Exactly,” I answered. “Why do you come to me? Why don’t you interview the flower of our officialdom or some of our future Robespierres and Dantons?” he asked. “You know as well as I do why I come to you for ideas,” I said; “with all those people the wish is father to the thought. You have long ago ceased to wish about political matters, and so your point of view is quite unbiassed, besides which——” “I know,” he interrupted; “you needn’t go on, but before we talk of what is happening I want to tell you that I have finished my historical work.” “What work?” I asked. “I think I told you,” he said, “that I contemplated—now that forbidden thoughts are allowed an unwonted freedom—writing a short history of the reign of the Emperor Nicholas II. I have begun and finished it. It took me ten minutes. I thought it was going to take longer, but last night I happened to open the Old Testament, and I found that the history of the reign of Nicholas II. had already been written in the First Book of Kings more concisely than I had intended writing it. Listen, I will read it to you.” He took a Bible from the table and read: “‘And Rehoboam went to Shechem: for all Israel were come to Shechem to make him King. And it came to pass when Jeroboam, the son of Nebat, who was yet in Egypt, heard of it ... that they sent and called him. And Jeroboam and all the congregation of Israel came, and spake unto Rehoboam, saying, Thy father made our yoke grievous: now therefore make thou the grievous service of thy father, and his heavy yoke which he put upon us, lighter, and we will serve thee. And he said unto them, Depart yet for three days, then come again to me. And the people departed. And King Rehoboam consulted with the old men, that stood before Solomon his father while he yet lived, and said, How do ye advise that I may answer this people? And they spake unto him, saying, If thou wilt be a servant unto this people this day, and wilt serve them and answer them, and speak good words to them, then they will be thy servants for ever. But he forsook the counsel of the old men ... and consulted with the young men that were grown up with him, ... and he said unto them, What counsel give ye?... and the young men ... spake unto him saying, Thus shalt thou speak unto this people:... My little finger shall be thicker than my father’s loins. And now whereas my father did lade you with a heavy yoke, I will add to your yoke: my father hath chastised you with whips, but I will chastise you with scorpions. So Jeroboam and all the people came to Rehoboam the third day, as the King had appointed.... And the King answered the people roughly, and forsook the old men’s counsel ... and spake to them after the counsel of the young men, saying, My father made your yoke heavy, and I will add to your yoke: my father also chastised you with whips, but I will chastise you with scorpions. Wherefore the King hearkened not unto the people.... So when all Israel saw that the King hearkened not unto them, the people answered the King, saying, What portion have we in David?... To your tents, O Israel.... So Israel departed unto their tents.... Therefore King Rehoboam made speed to get him up to his chariot, to flee to Jerusalem. So Israel rebelled against the house of David.’
“That is the whole history of the reign of Nicholas II., and it is the history of many other reigns also. There are no new elements in history. History is a kaleidoscope containing a limited number of bits of many-coloured glass, which, by being perpetually shaken, form patterns which recur, and combinations which seem new, but which in reality have been before and will be again. That is why the people who are snubbed for saying the revolutionary movement in Russia resembles the French Revolution are not so far wrong, because the same causes produce the same effects, and the situations, though superficially widely different, are alike in their essentials. Well, what is it you want to talk to me about?”