Ill luck would have it that I accepted an invitation to attend a
meeting at Councillor S.'s, who always tries to bring together
representatives of all shades and opinions, and over a cup of tea and
a sandwich to bring about a mutual understanding. As a man almost
continually living abroad, I came to this meeting to find out what was
going on in the minds of my countrymen and listen to their reasonings.
The crush was very great, which made me feel uncomfortable, and at the
same time happened what usually happens at large gatherings. Those of
the same shade of opinion congregated in separate rooms to pay each
other compliments and so forth. I was made acquainted with various
councillors and representatives of the press. In other countries,
there is a considerable difference between writers and journalists.
The first is considered an artist and a thinker, the latter, a mere
paragraph-monger--I cannot find a better word. Here there is no such
distinction, and men of both occupations are known under the same
collective name as literary men. The greater part of them follow both
avocations, literature and journalism. Personally, they are more
refined than the journalists I met abroad. I do not like the daily
press, and consider it as one of the plagues sent down to torment
humanity. The swiftness with which the world becomes acquainted with
current events is equal to the superficiality of the information, and
does not compensate for the incredible perversion of public opinion,
as any one who is not prejudiced must perceive. Thanks to the daily
press, the sense which knows how to sift the true from the false
has become blunted, the notions of right and wrong have well-nigh
disappeared, evil stalks about in the garb of righteousness, and
oppression speaks the language of justice; in brief, the human soul
has become immoral and blind.
There was, among others, also Stawowski, who is considered a leader
among the advanced progressists. He spoke cleverly, but appeared to me
a man suffering from a two-fold disease: liver, and self. He carries
his ego like a glass of water filled to the brim, and seems to say,
"Take care, or it will spill." This fear, by some subtle process,
seems to communicate itself to his audience to such an extent that
nobody dares to be of a different opinion. He has this influence over
others because he believes in what he says. They are wrong, those who
consider him a sceptic. On the contrary, he is of the temperament
which makes fanatics. Had he been born a hundred years ago and been a
judge, he would have sentenced people to have their tongues cut out
for uttering blasphemy. Born as he is in the more enlightened times,
he hates what he would have loved then; but essentially it is the same
man.
I noticed that our conservatives crowded round Stawowski, not so
much out of curiosity to hear what he said as rather with a certain
watchful coquetry. Here, and maybe in other countries, this party has
little courage. They looked at the speaker with insinuating smiles, as
if they would say: "Although conservatives, nevertheless--" Ah! that
"nevertheless" was like an act of contrition, a kind of submission.
This was so evident that I who am a sceptic as to all party spirit,
began to contradict Stawowski, not as a representative of any party,
but simply as a man who is of a different opinion. My audacity excited
some astonishment. The matter in question was the position of the
working-men. Stawowski spoke of their hopeless condition, their
weakness and incapacity for defending themselves; the audience which
listened to his words grew every minute larger, when I interrupted:--
"Do you believe in Darwin's theory, the survival of the fittest?"
Stawowski, who is a naturalist by profession, took up the challenge at
once.
"Of course I do," he said.
"Then allow me to point out to you that you are inconsequent. If I,
as a Christian, care for the weak and defenceless, I do so by the
doctrine of Christ; but you, from a standpoint of a struggle-for-life
existence, ought to see it in a different light: they are weak, they
are foolish, consequently bound to succumb; it is a capital law of
nature,--let the weaker go to perdition. Why is it you do not take it
this way? please explain the contradiction."
Whether Stawowski was taken aback by the unexpected opposition, or
whether he really had never put the two things together, the fact was
that he was at a loss for a ready answer, grew confused, and did not
even venture upon the expression "altruism," which, after all, says
very little.
The hero of the evening worsted, the conservatives came over to me in
a body, and I might have become the hero now; but it was getting late,
I was bored, and wanted to get back to Ploszow. Gradually the others
too began to disperse. I was already in my fur coat and searching
for my eyeglasses, that had slipped between the coat and furs, when
Stawowski, who evidently had found his answer, came up to me and
said:--
"You asked why--"
I, still searching for the eyeglasses and rather put out, said
impatiently:--
"Plainly speaking, the question does not interest me very much. It is
getting late and everybody is leaving; besides I can guess what you
are going to say, therefore permit me to wish you good-night."