The Sentry and Other Stories/Introduction

by Edward Garnett

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INTRODUCTION

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At first sight it seems a little curious that this volume "The Sentry" should be the first translation from Lyeskov to appear in English. But one must recognize that even such a master as Aksakov (1791-1851) was only introduced to our public a few years back, and that it is really a matter of luck whether any but Russian authors of great celebrity get Englished at all. And Lyeskov, born 1831, a most original talent, moreover, flourished in the shade of unpopularity in his own country. Unfortunately for his fame Lyeskov sharply attacked the Nihilists of the sixties and seventies in two novels, "Nowhere to Go" and "At Daggers Drawn." And in retaliation he was cold-shouldered and sent to Coventry by indignant Young Russia, liberal or revolutionary. Thus after the publication of "Nowhere to Go," we find Pisarev wondering "if a single magazine will dare to print any other work by the same author, for to do so would mean the magazine losing its good name for ever." Lyeskov's name remained long under a cloud, and though both Tolstoy and Tchehov commended his work it is only in recent years that it has been judged dispassionately by Russian critics. The critic, M. J. Olgin, in his interesting comments on Lyeskov,^[1] quotes a typical attack, characteristically Russian in its parti pris, by A. T. Bogdanovitch:—

"A writer endowed with talent and observing power yet without a God in his soul. A cynic by constitution and a libertine by temperament, Lyeskov is a hypocrite screening himself with lofty words in the sanctity of which he does not believe," etc.

But fifteen years later this verdict is reversed by , who writes:—

"Lyeskov remains 'unplaced' in the history of Russian thought and Russian literature. The one thing that is definite and tangible about him is a bright and refined artistic feeling for life, and a pity for man. The title of one of his stories 'Vexation of Mind' may be used as a motto for all his creative work. All Lyeskov is in these words. His mind was vexed by a longing for truth and he knew how to stir souls, to arouse in them good feelings, and to lead them on the road to self-analysis and self-contemplation at the end of which all the problems are solved."

Sementkovsky, Lyeskov's biographer, from whom we condense the information given below, makes it clear that it was Lyeskov's honesty and independence of mind that caused his work to be denounced first by the Left and then by the Right! But let us hear Sementkovsky on Lyeskov's upbringing and outlook:—

"Nikolay Semyonovitch Lyeskov was born in 1831 in the province of Orel on his father's estate, where he spent his childhood and early youth. From ten to sixteen he was at school at Orel, but soon afterwards the Lyeskov family lost all their property, the father died of cholera, and at the age of eighteen Lyeskov had to take a job in Kiev, first in a government office, then as an agent of an Englishman, a certain Mr. Scott, who managed the enormous estates of the Counts Perovsky, and did a great deal to improve the conditions of the peasants. His work for Scott gave Lyeskov exceptional opportunities for studying Russian life; for ten years he travelled from one province to another and came into contact with 'all sorts and conditions of men.' As a young man he had no idea of becoming a writer, and the idea that he might write first occurred to him because the Scott family used to admire enormously the long letters he sent them and to read them to friends as if they were stories, and some of these friends encouraged him to write for publication. But the first things that Lyeskov wrote were wholly devoted to social and political questions, chiefly to matters affecting the welfare of the peasants. About 1860 Lyeskov came to Petersburg and lived there, for the most part, till his death in 1896.

"Lyeskov's parents were ordinary, well meaning people, fairly cultured (the father was a government official; the mother belonged to a noble family) and although he was a good son they had very little influence on him. The people who helped most to shape his character and convictions were his grandmother and his aunt—both of them very fine women—and the priest who gave him his first lessons in religion. Both women were very religious, but the grandmother was firmly Orthodox and used to take little Lyeskov to holy places and monasteries, while the aunt was a Quaker, and it is interesting that throughout his life Lyeskov had equal sympathy with, and appreciation of, the mysticism and ritualism of the Church and the rationalistic faith of Evangelical Christians. The grandmother and the aunt were equally ready to help their neighbours and were always engaged in works of practical charity, and that, too, left a profound impression on Lyeskov, who held that practical love for others was the chief qualification of a good man. Lyeskov's religious feeling and his belief in the importance of Christian charity brought him very near Tolstoy, and at one time he took part in Tolstoy's publications for the peasants ('The Posrednix'), writing several beautiful legends of the early Christian times, the moral of the stories always being that the work most pleasant to God is to help our fellow men. But he differed from Tolstoy in this, that Lyeskov never idealised the primitive conditions of life, and so far from rejecting art, science, political institutions, etc., he thought that the way to make human life—especially Russian life—better, was to become more and not less civilised. Lyeskov attached great importance to all the practical measures that tended to make the peasants better educated, healthier, less inclined to get drunk, etc., and he enthusiastically welcomed the reforms of Alexander II.; But the exceptional opportunities he had had of studying Russian life at first hand convinced him that what matters most are not good laws or institutions in themselves, but the people who carry them out—and the people whom he met in Petersburg in the 'sixties' and who were going to make the 'new' Russia, disappointed him by their lack of practical sense and of knowledge of the real conditions of life. His first ground for quarrel with the 'Nihilists' was the abstract character of their theories—they seemed to him to be out of contact with the real Russian life; and later on he found, too, that the 'advanced' theories attract a particularly objectionable type of people.

"Lyeskov's practical sense, independence of judgment and critical intelligence never allowed him to belong to any party. He could not accept any creed en bloc, and the result was that he was regarded with equal distrust both by the Left and the Right. The beginning of his unpopularity with the Left was, however, due to a misunderstanding … But eight years later the publication of his novel 'Nowhere to Go' raised a storm of abuse against him … and Lyeskov was called a spy, an agent of the government, etc. But Lyeskov was not intimidated by this, nor embittered, and at the end of his life he met with exactly the same fate at the hands of the Conservatives. He held two posts, one in the Ministry of Public Instruction, and another in the Department of Crown Property, both of which he had to give up because he was too free and independent in his judgments. It was a hard thing for him to do because he had no means of livelihood except literature, which did not pay very well, but he never hesitated to sacrifice worldly advantage to his conscience. It was his stories dealing with Church subjects that made him powerful enemies, 'The Cathedral Folk,' 'The Stamped Angel,' 'On the Edge of the World,' etc. He was declared to be 'a secret, cunning and insinuating Nihilist'."

I confess that Lyeskov's fate at the hands of both the Parties and all the pure-souled Defenders of the rival political faiths, greatly delights one's sense or irony. For truth is infinite, and hued like a chameleon. Always behind one truth lurks another, and another, and then another complementary truth, often surprisingly disconcerting to the spirit of the partizan. This is not to say that Lyeskov was not also "prejudiced" by his experiences. No doubt he generalized over freely about the Nihilists from the specimens he himself had encountered. Again it is declared that in both "At Daggers Drawn" and "The Cathedral Folk," Lyeskov unfairly exaggerated the traits of his unscrupulous characters, but who shall say if this were so, in the light of recent Russian history? An artist may divine elements in the life before his eyes, which only fully declare themselves at a later stage. Thus in "The Possessed" Dostoevsky divined the existence of monstrous personalities which more than a generation later emerged in full light in the hideous figure of Azev. And since Azev!

Anyway, in the stories here translated one does not encounter the spirit of the partizan. "The Sentry" is an excellent objective study of military manners under Tzar Nicholas I., and it reflects in a luminous glass the cast iron rigidity of the code dispensed by the martinets under the Autocrat's frown. Another and a blacker illustration of the abuse of despotic power to which the Russian seems specially prone, is seen in "The Toupee Artist," with its picture, admirable for its atmospheric veracity and dramatic strength, of the "paternal rule" of the Counts Kamensky in Orel. In "The Lady Macbeth of the Mzinsk District," a fine example of searching sincerity, one is struck again by the impartial objectivity of the narrative. Lyeskov's qualities and his limitations are here broadly outlined. We have only to compare the portrait of Sergei with that of Naum in Turgenev's story "The Inn" to see how the great master surpasses the lesser in the expression of those delicate shades of feeling and manner in which the secret of personality, no less than the charm of style, resides. Apart from this, however, "The Lady Macbeth of the Mzinsk District" is a splendid example of psychological truth and breadth of vision, qualities in which the Russians always beat us hollow. Equally broad in its humanity is the last story "On the Edge of the World." Although the opening is too leisurely and some of the details are superfluous, how unforgettable is this picture of the worthy Russian bishop and his perplexities in his half-savage Siberian diocese. We are really, here, taken into the heart of ecclesiastical rule, with its unavailing struggle to reconcile the spirit of Christ's teaching with actual Christian practice. Good Father Kiriak's touchstone of conduct is simplicity itself. "Can I do this for the glory of Christ?" What a disconcerting test for Christendom which has "drenched the little Dove with blood." The manner in which the Bishop is floored by the arguments and by the devotion of his heathen driver, is conclusive. The poor Bishop, at the close of the story, is almost as confused in mind as the Christianized savage, who ate the Holy Elements, the chrism, the sponge, carried off the pyx, and left Father Kiriak to freeze to death! But the Bishop at least is honest with us and frank with himself. He possessed that gift of the Russian nature—intellectual sincerity.

Edward Garnett

May, 1922

 

1. A Guide to Russian Literature. Cape, 1921