ffected, and got out of books. I have not decided that question even
now. Once I quite made friends with them, visited their homes, played
preference, drank vodka, talked of promotions.... But here let me
make a digression.

We Russians, speaking generally, have never had those foolish
transcendental "romantics"--German, and still more French--on whom
nothing produces any effect; if there were an earthquake, if all France
perished at the barricades, they would still be the same, they would
not even have the decency to affect a change, but would still go on
singing their transcendental songs to the hour of their death, because
they are fools. We, in Russia, have no fools; that is well known.
That is what distinguishes us from foreign lands. Consequently these
transcendental natures are not found amongst us in their pure form.
The idea that they are is due to our "realistic" journalists and
critics of that day, always on the look out for Kostanzhoglos and Uncle
Pyotr Ivanitchs and foolishly accepting them as our ideal; they have
slandered our romantics, taking them for the same transcendental sort
as in Germany or France. On the contrary, the characteristics of our
"romantics" are absolutely and directly opposed to the transcendental
European type, and no European standard can be applied to them. (Allow
me to make use of this word "romantic"--an old-fashioned and much
respected word which has done good service and is familiar to all.)
The characteristics of our romantic are to understand everything, TO
SEE EVERYTHING AND TO SEE IT OFTEN INCOMPARABLY MORE CLEARLY THAN OUR
MOST REALISTIC MINDS SEE IT; to refuse to accept anyone or anything,
but at the same time not to despise anything; to give way, to yield,
from policy; never to lose sight of a useful practical object (such as
rent-free quarters at the government expense, pensions, decorations),
to keep their eye on that object through all the enthusiasms and
volumes of lyrical poems, and at the same time to preserve "the sublime
and the beautiful" inviolate within them to the hour of their death,
and to preserve themselves also, incidentally, like some precious jewel
wrapped in cotton wool if only for the benefit of "the sublime and the
beautiful." Our "romantic" is a man of great breadth and the greatest
rogue of all our rogues, I assure you.... I can assure you from
experience, indeed. Of course, that is, if he is intelligent. But
what am I saying! The roman