And, likewise, I know that for the huge majority of people, who are not in the least worse than I am, happiness must have an idyllic character; and I exclaim: “Let the idyl begin to reign over all the other characters in life.” For a few originals who are not fond of it there will be other forms of happiness; but the majority must have the idyl. As to the fact that the idyl is not in fashion, and therefore people shun it, that is no objection at all; they shun it just as the fox in the fable shunned the grapes. It seems to them that the idyl is inaccessible, and therefore they lay down their dictum: “Let it not be in fashion.”
But it is pure absurdity that the idyl is inaccessible; it is not only a good thing for almost all people, but it is very feasible; there ought to be no hardship in arranging it, only it must not be for one person, or ten persons, but for all. Now the Italian opera is an impossible thing for five people; but for the whole city of Petersburg it is very possible, as all see and hear. And so, too, the Collected Writings of N. V. Gogol, Moscow, 1861, would be an impossible thing for ten people; but for the whole public it is very possible, and not expensive, as we all know. But as long as there is no opera for the whole city, it is possible for only a few very music-mad people to enjoy themselves at second-class concerts; and as long as the second volume of Dead Souls34 was not printed for the whole public, only a few of the most eager admirers of Gogol, not valuing the labor, prepared each for themselves manuscript copies. A manuscript is incomparably worse than a printed book; a second-class concert is very poor compared to an Italian opera; but both the one and the other are good in their way.
XVII
If a stranger had consulted Kirsánof about the position in which Kirsánof found himself after he came to his senses, and if Kirsánof had been a perfect stranger to all the people who were concerned in the matter, he would have said to the one who came to consult with him: “To straighten out this affair by running away is too late. I do not know how the play will end, but for you to run or to stay is equally dangerous; but for those for whose peace you care, your running away would be still more dangerous than your remaining.”
Of course Kirsánof would have said this only to a man like himself, or like Lopukhóf, to a man of firm character and undoubted virtue. To other people it would be useless to give advice about such a situation, because these other people invariably act in such cases meanly and contemptibly; they put the woman to shame; they dishonor themselves, and then go out into their own society, and whimper or boast, and take delight in their heroic virtue, or their amorous irresistibility. With such people neither Kirsánof nor Lopukhóf liked to talk about the way that men of generous character should act. But Kirsánof would have been right in telling anyone his dictum that to run away now would be worse than to remain. It would have been to imply, “I know how you would act if you remained; you would act in such a way as not to expose your feelings, because only in this way you will not do ill by remaining. The task before you is so far as possible not to disturb the tranquillity of a woman whose life runs smoothly. But it appears that it is already impossible not to disturb it. The feeling that is incompatible with her present relations is already, according to all probability, or rather, to use simpler language, already, without any doubt, engendered in her, but as yet she does not know it. Whether it will spring up soon or not by herself without any interference on your part is uncertain. But your avoidance of her would be the very thing to call it out. Consequently your going away would only be to hasten the matter, a thing which you want to avoid.”
But Kirsánof argued the case not as a stranger but as a participant. It seemed to him that to go away would be harder than to remain; the feeling impels him to remain; consequently would not to remain be the same thing as to yield to the feeling, to be tempted by its suggestions? What right had he to believe so absolutely that neither by words nor by looks he would not betray his feeling, would not bring it forth? And therefore it would be wiser to go away. In your own case it is very difficult to distinguish how far reason is tempted by the sophisms of inclination, because uprightness says, act, fight against temptation, then you have better chances for noble action. This is a translation from the language of theory into everyday speech; but the theory to which Kirsánof adhered, considers such lofty words as nobleness, to be ambiguous, obscure, and Kirsánof in his terminology would have expressed: himself thus: “Every man is an egotist; so am I; now the question comes up, ‘Is it more profitable for me to go away, or to remain?’ If I go away, I crush in me my personal feeling; if I remain, I am liable to disturb my feeling of human dignity by some stupid word or look which may be caused by this individual feeling. The individual feeling may be crushed; and by and by my peace of mind may be again restored; I may be again satisfied with my life. But if I once act against my human nature, I shall lose forever the possibility of peace, the possibility of
