Resurrection
dwelling-place, and a lock had been broken; and that the boy, therefore,
deserved a heavy punishment. The advocate appointed by the Court proved
that the theft was not committed from a dwelling-place, and that, though
the crime was a serious one, the prisoner was not so very dangerous
to society as the prosecutor stated. The president assumed the role of
absolute neutrality in the same way as he had done on the previous day,
and impressed on the jury facts which they all knew and could not help
knowing. Then came an interval, just as the day before, and they smoked;
and again the usher called out “The judges are coming,” and in the
same way the two gendarmes sat trying to keep awake and threatening the
prisoner with their naked weapons.
The proceedings showed that this boy was apprenticed by his father at
a tobacco factory, where he remained five years. This year he had been
discharged by the owner after a strike, and, having lost his place, he
wandered about the town without any work, drinking all he possessed. In
a traktir [cheap restaurant] he met another like himself, who had lost
his place before the prisoner had, a locksmith by trade and a drunkard.
One night, those two, both drunk, broke the lock of a shed and took the
first thing they happened to lay hands on. They confessed all and were
put in prison, where the locksmith died while awaiting the trial. The
boy was now being tried as a dangerous creature, from whom society must
be protected.
“Just as dangerous a creature as yesterday’s culprit,” thought
Nekhludoff, listening to all that was going on before him. “They are
dangerous, and we who judge them? I, a rake, an adulterer, a deceiver.
We are not dangerous. But, even supposing that this boy is the most
dangerous of all that are here in the court, what should be done from a
common-sense point of view when he has been caught? It is clear that he
is not an exceptional evil-doer, but a most ordinary boy; every one
sees it--and that he has become what he is simply because he got into
circumstances that create such characters, and, therefore, to prevent
such a boy from going wrong the circumstances that create these
unfortunate beings must be done away with.
“But what do we do? We seize one such lad who happens to get caught,
knowing well that there are thousands like him whom we have not caught,
and send him to prison, where idleness, or most unwholesome, useless
labour is forced on him, in company of others weakened and ensnared by
the lives they have led. And then we send him, at the public expense,
from the Moscow to the Irkoutsk Government, in company with the most
depraved of men.
“But we do nothing to destroy the conditions in which people like these
are produced; on the contrary, we support the establishments where
they are formed. These establishments are well known: factories, mills,
workshops, public-houses, gin-shops, brothels. And we do not destroy
these places, but, looking at them as necessary, we support and regulate
them. We educate in this way not one, but millions of people, and then
catch one of them and imagine that we have done something, that we have
guarded ourselves, and nothing more can be expected of us. Have we
not sent him from the Moscow to the Irkoutsk Government?” Thus thought
Nekhludoff with unusual clearness and vividness, sitting in his
high-backed chair next to the colonel, and listening to the different
intonations of the advocates’, prosecutor’s, and president’s voices, and
looking at their self-confident gestures. “And how much and what hard
effort this pretence requires,” continued Nekhludoff in his mind,
glancing round the enormous room, the portraits, lamps, armchairs,
uniforms, the thick walls and large windows; and picturing to himself
the tremendous size of the building, and the still more ponderous
dimensions of the whole of this organisation, with its army of
officials, scribes, watchmen, messengers, not only in this place, but
all over Russia, who receive wages for carrying on this comedy which no
one needs. “Supposing we spent one-hundredth of these efforts helping
these castaways, whom we now only regard as hands and bodies, required
by us for our own peace and comfort. Had some one chanced to take pity
on him and given some help at the time when poverty made them send him
to town, it might have been sufficient,” Nekhludoff thought, looking at
the boy’s piteous face. “Or even later, when, after 12 hours’ work
at the factory, he was going to the public-house, led away by his
companions, had some one then come and said, ‘Don’t go, Vania; it is
not right,’ he would not have gone, nor got into bad ways, and would not
have done any wrong.
“But no; no one who would have taken pity on him came across this
apprentice in the years he lived like a poor little animal in the town,
and with his hair cut close so as not to breed vermin, and ran errands
for the workmen. No, all he heard and saw, from the older workmen and
his companions, since he came to live in town, was that he who cheats,
drinks, swears, who gives another a thrashing, who goes on the loose,
is a fine fellow. Ill, his constitution undermined by unhealthy labour,
drink, and debauchery--bewildered as in a dream, knocking aimlessly
about town, he gets into some sort of a shed, and takes from there some
old mats, which nobody needs--and here we, all of us educated people,
rich or comfortably off, meet together, dressed in good clothes and fine
uniforms, in a splendid apartment, to mock this unfortunate brother of
ours whom we ourselves have ruined.
“Terrible! It is difficult to say whether the cruelty or the absurdity
is greater, but the one and the other seem to reach their climax.”
Nekhludoff thought all this, no longer listening to what was going on,
and he was horror-struck by that which was being revealed to him. He
could not understand why he had not been able to see all this before,
and why others were unable to see it.
CHAPTER XXXV.
THE PROCUREUR--NEKHLUDOFF REFUSES TO SERVE.
During an interval Nekhludoff got up and went out into the corridor,
with the intention of not returning to the court. Let them do what they
liked with him, he could take no more part in this awful and horrid
tomfoolery.
Having inquired where the Procureur’s cabinet was he went straight to
him. The attendant did not wish to let him in, saying that the Procureur
was busy, but Nekhludoff paid no heed and went to the door, where he was
met by an official. He asked to be announced to the Procureur, saying he
was on the jury and had a very important communication to make.
His title and good clothes were of assistance to him. The official
announced him to the Procureur, and Nekhludoff was let in. The Procureur
met him standing, evidently annoyed at the persistence with which
Nekhludoff demanded admittance.
“What is it you want?” the Procureur asked, severely.
“I am on the jury; my name is Nekhludoff, and it is absolutely necessary
for me to see the prisoner Maslova,” Nekhludoff said, quickly and
resolutely, blushing, and feeling that he was taking a step which would
have a decisive influence on his life.
The Procureur was a short, dark man, with short, grizzly hair, quick,
sparkling eyes, and a thick beard cut close on his projecting lower jaw.
“Maslova? Yes, of course, I know. She was accused of poisoning,” the
Procureur said, quietly. “But why do you want to see her?” And then, as
if wishing to tone down his question, he added, “I cannot give you the
permission without knowing why you require it.”
“I require it for a particularly important reason.”
“Yes?” said the Procureur, and, lifting his eyes, looked attentively at
Nekhludoff. “Has her case been heard or not?”
“She was tried yesterday, and unjustly sentenced; she is innocent.”
“Yes? If she was sentenced only yesterday,” went on the Procureur,
paying no attention to Nekhludoff’s statement concerning Maslova’s
innocence, “she must still be in the preliminary detention prison until
the sentence is delivered in its final form. Visiting is allowed there
only on certain days; I should advise you to inquire there.”
“But I must see her as soon as possible,” Nekhludoff said, his jaw
trembling as he felt the decisive moment approaching.
“Why must you?” said the Procureur, lifting his brows with some
agitation.
“Because I betrayed her and brought her to the condition which exposed
her to this accusation.”
“All the same, I cannot see what it has to do with visiting her.”
“This: that whether I succeed or not in getting the sentence changed I
want to follow her, and--marry her,” said Nekhludoff, touched to tears
by his own conduct, and at the same time pleased to see the effect he
produced on the Procureur.
“Really! Dear me!” said the Procureur. “This is certainly a very
exceptional case. I believe you are a member of the Krasnoporsk rural
administration?” he asked, as if he remembered having heard before of
this Nekhludoff, who was now making so strange a declaration.
“I beg your pardon, but I do not think that has anything to do with my
request,” answered Nekhludoff, flushing angrily.
“Certainly not,” said the Procureur, with a scarcely perceptible smile
and not in the least abashed; “only your wish is so extraordinary and so
out of the common.”
“Well; but can I get the permission?”
“The permission? Yes, I will give you an order of admittance directly.
Take a seat.”
He went up to the table, sat down, and began to write. “Please sit
down.”
Nekhludoff continued to stand.
Having written an order of admittance, and handed it to Nekhludoff, the
Procureur looked curiously at him.
“I must also state that I can no longer take part in the sessions.”
“Then you will have to lay valid reasons before the Court, as you, of
course, know.”
“My reasons are that I consider all judging not only useless, but
immoral.”
“Yes,” said the Procureur, with the same scarcely perceptible smile,
as if to show that this kind of declaration was well known to him and
belonged to the amusing sort. “Yes, but you will certainly understand
that I as Procureur, can not agree with you on this point. Therefore,
I should advise you to apply to the Court, which will consider your
declaration, and find it valid or not valid, and in the latter case will
impose a fine. Apply, then, to the Court.”
“I have made my declaration, and shall apply nowhere else,” Nekhludoff
said, angrily.
“Well, then, good-afternoon,” said the Procureur, bowing his head,
evidently anxious to be rid of this strange visitor.
“Who was that you had here?” asked one of the members of the Court, as
he entered, just after Nekhludoff left the room.
“Nekhludoff, you know; the same that used to make all sorts of strange
statements at the Krasnoporsk rural meetings. Just fancy! He is on the
jury, and among the prisoners there is a woman or girl sentenced to
penal servitude, whom he says he betrayed, and now he wants to marry
her.”
“You don’t mean to say so.”
“That’s what he told me. And in such a strange state of excitement!”
“There is something abnormal in the young men of to-day.”
“Oh, but he is not so very young.”
“Yes. But how tiresome your famous Ivoshenka was. He carries the day by
wearying one out. He talked and talked without end.”
“Oh, that kind of people should be simply stopped, or they will become
real obstructionists.”
CHAPTER XXXVI.
NEKHLUDOFF ENDEAVOURS TO VISIT MASLOVA.
From the Procureur Nekhludoff went straight to the preliminary detention
prison. However, no Maslova was to be found there, and the inspector
explained to Nekhludoff that she would probably be in the old temporary
prison. Nekhludoff went there.
Yes, Katerina Maslova was there.
The distance between the two prisons was enormous, and Nekhludoff only