I READ, as ever, a great number of contemporary Russian books,
spent many hours in bookshops, and it may not be out of place to give
my impression of the literature of the hour.
Undoubtedly the great emotional impulse of the opening of the war
in Russia has passed. This is reflected very clearly in current
literature. The flood of printed lectures, war-pamphlets, and poems has
ceased. Volumes of war stories are no longer printed, and indeed the
war as a literary topic has become of minor interest. In the clearance
it is now possible to observe the great desolation which the war has
wrought. There is a strange silence in Russia. What was before the war
has passed; what shall be after has not begun to be. There is as yet no
promise of the future anywhere.
Not that books have not been published in 1916. They have been
published thickly, despite the absence of genius, the scarcity of
paper, and the supposed dearth of readers. Fonvisin gets into her
eighteenth thousand with “Innocent and Yet to Blame,” and “The Keys of
Happiness” goes into the sixth sequel. “The End of the War,” a novel
by Lef Zhdanof, runs through several editions. “Russian Master,” an
enthralling yellow-back of 470 pages by Lappo-Danilevsky, is reprinted
many times. The translation of the novels of W. J. Locke flood over
every bookseller’s counter and railway station book-stall. New books
are certainly as plentiful as ever. But they are mostly interim
volumes whose object is to pass the time away till the clamour of the
war be over.
Gorky, who appears more and more as an editor and essayist, has issued
a volume of translated Armenian literature, but he is putting forth
no creative artistic work, and perhaps finds little time for it. As a
reward, however, politically-minded Radical Russia certainly looks to
him for light and leading. Andreef goes on writing, but seems to have
fallen into minor importance. Viacheslaf Ivanof has just written an
excellent book of essays on Dostoevsky, Solovyof, Tolstoy, etc., which
ought to be translated into English together with his former book “From
Star to Star.” Artsibashef continues to write salacious stories for the
Russian middle-class, and seems to reflect their life and mind. Igor
Severanin is quiescent, but his latest volume of poems, printed on bad
paper, is dedicated to his “Thirteenth,” by which he apparently means
his thirteenth “lady friend.” A curious volume lately confiscated by
the police is “Father Leontius and his Lady Admirers,” an account of
Rasputin, written in the form of a fictitious narrative by a serious
student of sectarianism and religious phenomena--Prugavin. The society
ladies circle round Leontius and cry out “Alleluia!” “Sabaoth!” “Three
in One and One in Three!” which seems very shocking and novel to
Russians, though it only reminds the English reader of the Agapemonites
at Clapton and similar phenomena. Greater than the problem of the
psychology of Leontius seems to be the problem of the psychology of the
refined and normal women who can hail him as God. Lef Zhdanof’s popular
novel on the war is very friendly to the German people and gives
them a new chance after a political revolution. Balmont, the popular
poet, has written an essay in one volume entitled “Poetry as Magic,”
and parts are highly reminiscent of Stevenson’s “Art of Writing.” He
analyses the functions of the letters of the alphabet: _L_ is a caress;
_o_ is space triumphant; _u_ is the music of noise, the cry of terror;
_m_ is man shutting his lips, it is all the dumb can say in their
anguish, etc.
Walter Pater is being translated, and seems to be appreciated by
cultured Russians, though it is a pity that only fragments and not
the whole of his masterpiece “Marius the Epicurean” are appearing in
the collection of his works. There is certainly a great demand for
English books, and our literature remains in vogue. And books about
England have been appearing, the latest being Nabokof’s account of his
visit with the journalists. It is somewhat inadequate as an account of
England, but then it pretends to reflect only the impressions of this
officially guided tour. Nabokof seems to have been greatly impressed
by Sir Edward Grey as a new type of diplomatist, a man whose strength
lies in the fact that he is always a gentleman and tells the simple
truth. Chukovsky’s book, “The Silent Ones have Spoken,” on the British
Tommy is popular. Incidentally it may be remarked that Chukovsky, who
made such an impression in England, is a journalistic critic of a
penetrative quality. His “From Chekhof to our Days,” though containing
some things impossible to print in English, is yet a very clever book.
A new correspondent of some ability is now representing the _Russkoe
Slovo_ in England and giving a more representative account of our life
than the old school of academic Radicals who usually represent Russian
newspapers abroad.
Rozanof’s book on the war, “The War and the Popular Awakening,” has
been out of print for some time, and presumably his publisher has no
paper. Novikof’s popular novel on the present point of view with regard
to the Revolution is also unobtainable. Many good books of previous
years have not been reprinted through the dearness or scarcity of
paper. On the other hand, certain more obscure publishers who have
managed to hoard up paper can carry on their business in full swing.
The chief commercial event of the year in the literary world has been
the purchase by Seetin of the _Niva_, the extremely popular weekly. As
Seetin already owns the _Russkoe Slovo_ and several other papers and
literary enterprises, he is becoming somewhat of a literary king, an
interesting figure in modern Russia, for he started life as a peasant,
became an itinerant hawker of penny books for the people, and is now a
man of great power in Russia.
M. Protopopof, now Minister of the Interior, a man of large commercial
interests, is now, backed by certain banks (previously of a strong
German complexion but now said to be decently metamorphosed), starting
a large new Petrograd newspaper (name not yet decided). There were
many blunders in the advertisement of this newspaper enterprise. It
was stated that Korolinko would be editor and that Léonid Andreef and
many other popular writers would contribute. But Korolinko fought shy
of it and the other writers one by one disclaimed interest in the
publication. Maxim Gorky was asked to edit it but found out apparently
that it was not revolutionary in tendency, was capitalist rather than
labour, and that the object was international trade prosperity, and he
withdrew entirely. Now A. V. Amphiteatrof, the Italian correspondent
of the _Russkoe Slovo_ and author of a great number of curiously
interesting historical studies, is to be the editor. He is an
Italophile and favours much more friendly relationship between Italy
and Russia; in politics he may be said to be Radical and has got into
trouble with the Government upon occasion. It will be interesting to
see whether the enormous capital behind this paper will give it the
chance of success that the same amount of capital behind a new paper in
England would give. In Russia large capital is considered fair prey by
all who can get itching fingers near it.
These notes give an indication of literary currents and tendencies in
the autumn of 1916, in the midst of the war. It should be added that,
despite the great rise in prices of all things in Russia, the price of
books remains almost as cheap as ever. Reading certainly increases,
and consequently makes the general cost of publication less. The most
characteristic of the new war phenomena of Russia is still the cry
“_Gazette, Gazette!_” flung up at the trains from the fields wherever
you travel. You are asked to throw your old newspapers out of the train
window, that the people in the villages may read them. This cry will
hardly die down when the war is over. But will the gazette satisfy?
Will not books have to follow, and more substantial, better books,
because of what the peasants have learned from reality? Russia is
waiting for new national writers.
* * * * *
An interesting phenomenon in the life of contemporary Russia is the
position taken up by Maxim Gorky as a challenger of the national and
traditional ideas in Russian life and literature. He has become the
spokesman of a considerable number of working men and middle-class
Russians, but has at the same time brought upon his head the wrath
not only of old-fashioned people but of a great number of liberal and
progressive thinkers. His campaign began when he returned to Russia at
the beginning of 1914 and launched his attack on Dostoevsky. The war
seemed to cause a lull in his activities, but last winter he resumed
his verbal warfare with more energy than ever. His point of view is,
that Dostoevsky is bad for Russia, because his outlook was concentrated
on suffering and death. Russia must turn her back resolutely on
Dostoevsky and seek life. Russia must cease to be mystical, suffering,
melancholy, and must become clear-minded and mistress of her soul. The
challenge raised a great clamour. At first not many sided with him; but
since the appearance of “Two Souls”[3] and “A Letter to the Reader”[4]
in the journal _Lietopis_ it becomes evident that he has some
following. He has raised a question, and many Russians are considering
it for the first time.
[3] “Two Souls,” by Maxim Gorky. (_Lietopis_, December 1915.)
[4] “A Letter to the Reader,” by Maxim Gorky. (_Lietopis_, March 1916.)
The Russian which Gorky attacks is just that which is spiritually
interesting to us in England--the mystical and unpractical Russia.
Russia on pilgrimage, artistic Russia; and that which he wants Russia
to be is just what would have least spiritual interest for us--Russia
optimistic, cocksure, businesslike, well-dressed, smart, and Western.
He writes:
“The Russian seeking-after-God comes from an insufficiency of
conviction in the force of reason--from the need of a weak man to find
some guiding will outside himself.
“The turning to mysticism and romantic fantasies is a turning towards
stagnation, and is contrary to the interests of a young democracy,
poisoning and enfeebling it, giving it a passive attitude towards
reality, and suggesting doubt in the force of reason....
“The mind of the ancient East weighs most heavily and murderously on
our Russian life, and has an influence immeasurably deeper on our
psychology than on that of Western Europe....
“We Russians have two souls; one, derived from the wandering Mongol,
is that of the dreamer, mystic, idler, believer in fate; the other is
the soul of the Slav, which could burn up bravely and clearly, but
cannot because of the other.”
One may reasonably question the correctness of this differentiation,
seeing that when we scratch a Russian we do not find a dreamer. We
should be inclined to say exactly the reverse; that the gentle,
dreaming, poetic soul was that of the Slav--and that Gorky would
find the educated Tartar considerably nearer his ideal than any
characteristic Slav.
The article entitled “Two Souls” made a considerable stir, the magazine
went quickly out of print, and a great number of criticisms were made
in the Press and on the platform. Their general tone was that Gorky was
out of his true medium and had better go back to his art. As a result
Gorky wrote “A Letter to the Reader” as a sort of collective answer
to “the more or less ironical or angry comments of my colleagues of
the pen,” and sarcastically quoted Lescov: “On the Russian people it
is good to look from afar, especially when he prays and believes”; and
he went on to excuse his being “a bad publicist” and to plead that his
words should have weight as being those of one who had lived through
a great deal and knew Russian life at least as well as any of his
opponents.
In this reply he exhibited a rather curious attitude towards
Anglo-Russian friendship which it would be well for English people to
note--a belief that we seek friendship with Russia merely to exploit
her materially and to keep her in a commercial bondage similar to that
which she has suffered from the Germans.
“Our Russian philosophers argue in this way (says Gorky). The alliance
with England is worthy of the greatness of the Russian people because
it will lead to the union of the nations under the standard of the
true spiritual culture of the mystical East. There are only two
world Powers--Russia and England. And these two States have, as the
foundation of their power, the lands and peoples of the religious
East, rather than of the materialistic West. To these two is the
problem of uniting culturally India, China, Japan. And when this union
of the peoples of the mystic East takes place, the earth will be given
ultimate liberty in peace. But for that end it is necessary that
Russia keep true to her mission and establish her culture upon the
mystical revelations leading to peace and love.”
But Gorky bids these philosophers be undeceived. It is no use, he
says, their getting rid of German capitalists simply to make way
for English ones. That was what English friendship meant. Such a
book, for instance, as “The Way of Martha and the Way of Mary” met
with so much approval because in picturing us as holy lazy-bones and
unpractical persons it allowed the English capitalist to rub his hands
with glee, seeing in Russia a future British colony such as Africa
or India. Whilst Russia is in her present state, friendship with any
European Power must be the friendship of the earthenware pot and the
iron kettle. Russia has to fight not for “ultimate liberty,” but for
the simplest civil rights as citizens. We must try to give the people
education and try to train their will toward life.
No doubt Gorky makes an appeal in these words; and if the average
Russian were asked what were the foundations of Anglo-Russian
friendship apart from the needs of the war, he would answer,
Commercial exploitation. Trade, it is true, is put jealously forward
as something to be captured after the war; but it seems a pity that
Russians should not realise the depth, the sincerity of our interest
in their characteristic religion, literature, and life. Whatever
political tendency our interest may help, it is nevertheless true that
England obtains from Russia spiritual help; and a great deal of that
which Gorky condemns in his own nation is coming to our help to redeem
us from commercialism and materialism. It is something of a paradox
that the bright spirits of Russia should hate the melancholy vistas of
Tambof and Kaluga and that the bright spirits of England should hate
the gloom of Newcastle and Leeds, that one should look with love from
England to the wandering pilgrims of Tambof and the other should sigh
for the clamour of wheels where “man at least is master.” But paradox
is tolerable where misunderstanding is not. For paradoxes abound in
truth, and truth is made up of such paradoxes.
Later on in his essay Gorky remarks that stormy and revolutionary
eras have produced great men, and his first example is Shakespeare,
who flourished “in the stormy time of Queen Elizabeth.” But rather,
they were “spacious days”; and great men, great thoughts are almost
always born in spacious days, halcyon days, when the dove broods on
waters. Strength is with calmness, not with noise and quarrellings and
revolutions. The critics are probably right when they say, “Return to
Art.” Art is creative, whereas argument is generally destructive. And
Maxim Gorky evidently wishes to create.
Maxim Gorky may be called the leader of the _porazhentsi_, the people
who believe in defeat. He has lately added to “Two Souls” and “A
Letter to the Reader”--the “Letters of William Simpleton, a Knowing
Stranger.”[5] But it is what we call “half-baked.” Gorky has read an
enormous number of books since he tucked his blouse inside and became
respectable, but it is difficult to see where he, or the reader, has
profited. He does not know where he is.
[5] Published in _Lietopis_ anonymously but generally ascribed to
Gorky.