Gorky, whose wonderful literary gift Italy and Greece have withered.
But Gorky, frustrate as he seems, has effectually raised the question and set Russia thinking and differentiating.
I have a strange, strange feeling about Moscow
(says he), a mournful feeling. . . . Were the Moscow
streets and the Moscow people like this before, or do I
only remark it now because I have seen what it is like
in the West? There, in Italy, amidst the brilliance
and magnificence of Nature, in the magnificent chaos
of cities buzzing with automobiles, humming with
factories, you feel at least that Man is not losing
himself; you feel he is the master, the centre. His
voice is full-sounding, it is ever in one's ears, the voice
of one who is master of earth and master of his life.
But in Moscow! On the streets I feel the people
are all voiceless. The pavements are populous, lively,
noisy; there are people of all kinds going to and fro,
but the actual human voice of mankind seems to be
utterly silent. The people are all gloomy, melancholy,
above all, angry. The women have widows' faces. . . .
Is it possible it was like this when I was here before?
Gorky, despite his experience in what may be
called the absolute West—America[1]—has come back
enchanted with the West. The idea accepted in
the revolutionary days that the West was good,
the West was Russia's bright destiny providentially
lighted before her for her to follow, has died out
- ↑ Gorky went to America to raise money to help the Revolutionary Party in Russia, but was hounded out of the country as an immoral man. The newspapers started a campaign against his private life, and despite American sympathy for the cause of "liberty" he was forced to leave the country. No hotel would take him in.
