ears to me that we
have in Russia a great number of persons buying and selling, but yet, I
must say, we have no systematic commerce. For commerce, science, and
learning, are indispensable; a conflux of civilized men, clever
mathematical calculations--but not, as seems to be the case with you,
dependence upon mere chance. You earn millions, because you convert the
consumer into a victim, against whom every kind of cheat is pardonable,
and then you lay by farthing by farthing, refusing yourselves not only
all the enjoyments of life, but even the most necessary comforts.... You
brag of your threadbare clothes; but surely this extreme parsimony is a
thousand times more blamable than the opposite prodigality of those of
your comrades who spend their time among gipsies, and their money in
feasting. You boast of your ignorance, because you do not know what
civilization is. Civilization, according to your notions, consists in
shorter laps of a coat, foreign furniture, bronzes, and champagne--in a
word, in outward trifles and silly customs. Trust me, not such is
civilization.... Unite yourselves! Be it your vocation to lay open all
the hidden riches of our great country; to diffuse life and vigor into
all its veins; to take the whole management of its material interests
into your hands. Unite your endeavors in this beautiful deed, and you
may be certain of success! Why should Russia be worse than England?
Comprehend only your calling; let the beam of civilization fall upon
you, and your love for your fatherland will strengthen such a union; and
you will see that not only the whole of Russia, but even the whole world
will be in your hands.'

"At this eloquent conclusion, the red and the dark-haired merchants
opened wide their eyes. They, of course, did not understand a single
word of Ivan Vassilievitsch's speech.

"'Alas, for Young Russia!' Ivan dolefully remarks in another place:

"I thought to study life in the provinces: there is no life in the
provinces; every one there is said to be of the same cut. Life in the
capitals is not a Russian life, but a weak imitation of the petty
perfections and gross vices of modern civilization. Where am I then to
find Russia? In the lower classes, perhaps, in the every-day life of the
Russian peasant? But have I not been now for five days chiefly among
this class? I prick up my ears and listen; I open wide my eyes and look,
and do what I may, I find not the least trifle worth noting in my