Chapter 12 ten

Two weeks passed, and life in Marino went on as usual, Arkady loitering and Bazarov at work.The family was used to Bazarov, to his careless manner, to his somewhat complicated and incoherent speech, and Fedosya in particular knew him better, and even sent someone to wake him up one night. , said that Mitya's foot had a sudden spasm, and asked him to cure it.Bazarov sat with her for about two hours, half-joking and half-yawning as usual.On the contrary, Pavel Petrovitch hated Bazarov from the bottom of his heart, thinking him conceited, pompous, impudent, and a pariah.He suspected that Bazarov had disrespected him, despised him - despised Pavel Kirsanov!Speaking of Nikolai Petrovich, he was simply afraid of this young "nihilist". He was not sure whether he would be good for Arkady, but he was willing to listen to his arguments and watch him do physics. and chemistry experiments.Bazarov brought a microscope with him and spent hours under the lens.Almost all the servants have a good impression of him, although sometimes they have to be teased by him, they feel that this man is not the master, but one of their own.Dunyasha smiled whenever she saw Bazarov, and always gave him a sideways glance affectionately like a "female quail" when she walked by.Peter was a very self-loving but very stupid man, he was admirable because he had a moire on his forehead, he was very polite, he read by syllables, and he used a brush to paint his dress-- It was just such a person, as soon as Bazarov started to pay attention to him, he raised his face and smiled like a sunny day.The children of the servants in the house followed the "dai (doctor) doctor" like a group of puppies.Old Prokofiitch didn't like it, served him sullenly, called him a "butcher" and "slicker" and made people believe that his sideburns looked like a wild boar in a wild boar forest.In terms of aristocratic temperament, Prokofiitch was not inferior to Pavel Petrovitch.

The best days of the year are here, with warm and cool weather in early June.Cholera has spread again in the distance, but the residents of X County are no longer surprised.Every day Bazarov got up early and went out for two or three versts, not for a walk—he didn’t like aimless wandering—but to collect medicinal herbs and insect specimens.Sometimes he took Arkady with him, and used to argue with him on the way home.Arkady talked more than him, but he was never undefeated by him. Once, after a long delay, Nikolai Petrovitch went out to meet them, and when they reached the garden he heard hurried steps on the side of the arbor and the voices of two young men.

"You don't know my father well enough," was Arkady saying. Nikolai Petrovich hurried into the darkness. "Your father was a good man," said Bazarov, "but he is behind the times, and his play is over." Nikolai listened attentively... and did not hear Arkady answer. The "behind the times" man stood motionless for two minutes, then shuffled back step by step. "It's the third day I've seen him holding Pushkin's book," Bazarov continued to express his opinion. "You might as well explain to him that it's useless to look at those things. He's not a child, and he should have thrown away these useless things long ago, and is still a romantic in this day and age! Let him look at something practical."

"What can I show him?" asked Arkady. "For a start, look at Stoffund Kraft by Beau Heinel." -------- ①Buchner (L. Buchner, 1824-1899), a German physicist and biologist, "Matter and Force" is his book. "I think so too," Arkady replied cheerfully. "The language of Stoffund Kraft is easy to understand." After lunch that day Nikolai Petrovich sat in his brother's study and said: "You and I are out of date, our play is over, there is no excuse, Bazarov is right. But it makes me sad." The thing is, just now, when I was trying to get along with Arkady, to be close to him, I was left behind, he went ahead, and we could no longer understand each other."

"Why do you say he went to the front? Is there such a big gap between him and us?" Pavel Petrovich was very impatient. "It's all the nonsense that Mr. Nihilism fed him. I hate this doctor. As far as I can see, he's just a charlatan who swindles people's money. I'm sure he can only dissect a few frogs and doesn't know much about physics." "No, brother, don't say that, Bazarov is a capable and knowledgeable man." "His arrogance is unbearable," Pavel Petrovich interrupted him again. "Yes," said Nikolai Petrovich, "he is arrogant, but that is indispensable. Only I do not understand that in order not to be behind the times, I seem to have done my best: settled peasants, started farms, even The county called me a Redist; I studied and studied to keep up with the times as much as possible, but they said my opera was over. Yes, brother, even I thought, my life is really over."

"Why do you think so?" "Let me explain why. Today I sat reading Pushkin's collection of poems "Gypsy"... Suddenly Arkady came, silently, with a look of pity, and snatched the copy from the hands of a child. book, and gave me another one in German... He smiled and took the collection of Pushkin's poems away." "That's what happened! So, what kind of book is it for you?" "This is it." From the pocket of his coat Nikolai Petrovich took out the ninth edition of the now-famous book by Bjuchnell. Pavel Petrovich rummaged through the book for a while.

"Well!" he snorted, "Arkady Nikolayevich is very interested in you. Have you read?" "Read some." "How do you feel?" "Either I'm stupid, or this book is made up. I'm probably stupid." "You don't forget German, do you?" Pavel Petrovich asked. "I understand German." Pavel Petrovitch turned the pages of the book again and glanced at his brother from under his eyebrows.The two brothers remained silent. "Oh, I do remember something," Nikolai Petrovich evidently wanted to change the subject, "I had a letter from Kolyazin."

"From Matvey Ilyich?" "Yes, he said he had come to visit the province. He is now a dignitary, and he wrote to say that he wanted to meet and invited us to go to the provincial town with Arkady." "Are you going?" asked Pavel Petrovitch. "No. What about you?" "I'm not going either. It's fifty miles away, so there's no need to suffer. Mathieu just wants us to see how rich he is when he returns home. Fuck him! There are always people who want to curry favor with him in the province. It’s okay without us. In fact, the Privy Councilor is nothing special. If I have been holding public office and doing that annoying job, wouldn’t I also be an attendant general? That means, you and I are behind the times.”

-------- ① Matvey's French pronunciation. "Yes, brother, it seems that we are all dying." "Hmph, I'm not going to admit defeat right away," he said, "We're going to fight Fang Langzhong, I have a hunch." The fighting started at the evening tea that day.Pavel Petrovich entered the living room ready for battle, full of rage, and as soon as the fighter arrived he threw himself on the enemy.But the fighter plane did not appear soon, and Bazarov usually spoke very little when the "old man of the Kirsanov family" (that's how he called the brothers) was present, and this night was particularly in a bad mood. Drink tea cup after cup in silence.Pavel Petrovich could not help secretly worrying.Later, his wish finally came true.At that time, a landlord who lived nearby was mentioned at the meeting. "He's a waste, a worthless nobleman," Bazarov said coldly.He had seen this man more than once in Petersburg.

"May I ask you," Pavel Petrovich said, his lips trembling, "according to your concept, 'waste' and 'nobility' mean the same thing?" "I'm talking about 'aristocrats with no future'," Bazarov said lazily, sipping his tea. "Yes, sir. But I think you have the same opinion about nobles as you do about 'noble nobles', and I feel it my duty to tell you that I do not appreciate such views. I venture to say that anyone who knows me Everyone knows that I am a free-thinking man and a lover of progress, and that is why I respect nobles—real nobles. Remember, my dear sir (Bazarov raised his eyes at Pavel Petrovich), you will remember, my dear sir," he repeated viciously, "that the English nobles do not yield an inch for their rights, and for that they also respect the rights of others. They demand that others do what is due to the nobles. duty, and they fulfilled their duty. The nobility gave England liberty and supported that liberty."

"We have heard this old tune countless times," Bazarov replied, "what do you want to prove with this?" "I want to use 'here' to prove, dear sir, (Pavel Petrovich purposely said 'here' and 'there' in anger, but he knew that such word formations are not allowed according to grammatical rules Yes. This spelling is a legacy of the Alexander dynasty, when celebrities seldom used their own language, and if they did, they said either 'here' or 'there' to show themselves: we are of course Russians , but we belong to the upper class, and don't have to follow the dead rules of grammar textbooks.) I intend to use this to prove that without self-respect, without self-respect--and the aristocracy cherishes this consciousness very much--there is no social... ...bienpublic①...construction. Personality, dear sir, is the most important thing. A person's personality should be as solid as a rock, because only on a solid foundation can everything be built. I know well, for example, what you think my habits, my My dress, my tidiness is ridiculous, but all out of self-respect and a sense of duty, yes sir, yes sir, duty. I live in the country, in the middle of nowhere, but I don't Lower your own personality, I respect my own personality." -------- ①French: social welfare, social happiness. "I would like to ask you, Pavel Petrovich," said Bazarov, "what good will it do the bienpublic if you respect yourself and sit around doing nothing? benefit society.” Pavel Petrovich's expression changed suddenly. "That's quite another matter, and I don't need to explain to you now why I sit around doing nothing, as you say. I just want to say that aristocracy—that's the rule, the foundation of everything, In our time, only immoral or empty-headed people break the rules. I said that to Arkady the day after he came home, and I will repeat it to you now. Nikolay, I Did you say so?" Nikolai Petrovich nodded. "Aristocracy, liberalism, progress, principles," Bazarov interjected, "so many useless ... foreign words! It is unnecessary for Russians." "In your opinion, what do you want? Listening to your tone of voice, it seems that we are outside human society, outside the norms and laws. And the logic of history requires..." "What do we need logic for? We can get by without it." "Where did this talk come from?" "Let's start here: I believe that when you're hungry, you don't need logic at all to stuff bread into your mouth, and you have no use for these abstract nouns!" Pavel Petrovich waved his hands: "I don't understand what you're saying. You're insulting the Russian people. I don't understand how it's possible not to recognize a set of norms and norms. What will be the basis of our actions?" "I have told you, uncle, that we do not recognize authority," Arkady interrupted from the side. "We think it is beneficial, and we will act accordingly," Bazarov said. "The most beneficial thing now is to deny, so we will deny it." "Negiate everything?" "everything." "Why? Not only denying art, poetry...but...it sounds terrible..." "Negiate everything," said Bazarov indisputably. Pavel Petrovich looked at him, and the words were unexpected. But Arkady blushed with satisfaction. "Excuse me," Nikolai Petrovich joined the conversation, "you deny everything, or rather you destroy everything...but at the same time build!" "Construction is not our business. The ground needs to be cleared first." "This is the present need of the people," added Arkady gravely. "We are expected to fulfill the demands of the people, and we have no right to cling to individualism for temporary gratification." Bazarov didn't like the last sentence, because it smacked of philosophy, that is to say, of romanticism—he counted philosophy as romanticism—but he didn't think it necessary to reprimand his young disciple. "No, no!" Pavel Petrovich said suddenly, "I don't want to believe, gentlemen, that you really understand the Russian people and represent their needs and aspirations. No, the Russian people are not what you imagined them to be." They regard tradition as sacred, they strictly abide by the patriarchal law, and they cannot live without faith..." "I'm not going to argue with that," Bazarov interrupted, "I even agree with you that you're right." "If I'm right..." "But it proves nothing." "It proves nothing," continued Arkady.He is like an experienced chess player who predicts the opponent's move, so he is calm and composed. "How can it prove nothing?" Pavel Petrovich was astonished. "Aren't you the opposite of the people?" "So what?" Bazarov immediately responded, "The people think that the thunder is the prophet Ilya driving through the sky in a Hot Wheels chariot. What, should I agree with them? Besides, he is Russian. , am I not?" "No, you are no longer Russian when you say that! I can no longer recognize you as Russian." "My grandfather farmed the land," Bazarov replied proudly. "Ask any of your peasants to see whether he considers you or me his fellow countrymen first. You haven't even learned to talk to them." "And yet you talk to them and despise them at the same time." "What's the matter! Since they have something to despise. You don't agree with my choice, but who told you that the road I chose was inspired by a whim instead of the spirit of the people you have repeatedly advocated?" "Hey, the people need nihilists so badly!" "Whether they want it or not is not up to us. Taking you as an example, don't you also categorically deny that you have nothing to do?" "Gentlemen, gentlemen, please don't get personal," Nikolai Petrovich hastily stood up and stopped. Pavel Petrovich smiled, put his hand on his brother's shoulder, and told him to sit down. "Don't worry," he said, "I won't forget my self-respect, sir... the self-respect that Mr. Doctor has repeatedly ridiculed." Then he turned to Bazarov, "I tell you, sir, that you think you have advocated a new doctrine." , In fact, it is worthless. The materialism you preach has been favored countless times, but it has failed to gain a foothold every time..." "Another foreign term!" Bazarov couldn't help becoming annoyed, his face turned copper-colored, and he interrupted the other party's words abruptly. "Number one, we don't promote anything because it doesn't fit our habits..." "So, what are you going to do?" "Here's what we're going to do. In the old days, only a short while ago, we said our officials were corrupt and we had no roads, no commerce, no fair courts..." "Yes, yes, you accusers! That's what it seems to be called. I agree with many of your accusers, but..." "But we have since learned: talk, and talk alone, can of course be effortless, but talk only breeds pedantic pedantry, and we see that our wise men, the progressives or accusers as they are called, are useless We talk about art, about creativity, about parliamentarianism and justice, God knows what, but at the same time, the problem to be solved is the daily bread, stupid superstition choking us, our joint stock companies Nearly bankrupt because of want of sincere men, the liberties promised by the government are not really good for us, and even our peasants are doing themselves a disservice: preferring to squander the money they get in taverns." "So," Pavel Petrovich preempted, "so you see through all this and don't do anything serious?" "That's why we don't do anything serious," said Bazarov coldly. Suddenly he became angry with himself: why bother talking to this master! "Just insulting?" "Curse too." "Is this called nihilism?" "That's also called nihilism," Bazarov replied casually, and Pavel Petrovich couldn't help frowning. "That's right!" he said in a rare calm tone. "Nihilists, including you, should relieve all suffering. You are our saviors and heroes, but why do you blame others, for example, the accusers? Don't you talk like they do?" "We have all kinds of shortcomings, but we don't do such stupid things." These words seemed to be squeezed out of Bazarov's teeth. "Yes, you are acting, are you not? Or are you preparing to act?" Bazarov didn't answer anything.Pavel Petrovich trembled with anger, but he restrained himself immediately. "Hmm!... action, destruction..." he went on, "but how to destroy? Don't even know why. " "We destroy, we are the destroying force," Arkady put in at this moment. Pavel Petrovich glanced at his nephew and smiled. "Yes, power itself is not responsible," said Arkady, straightening his back. "Poor man!" Pavel Petrovich finally could not restrain himself, and became angry. "Have you ever wondered, with these scaremongering words, what are you supporting in Russia? No, even the angels would go mad if they heard this! Power! Kalmyk, Mongolian nomads speak of power. We want Power for what? We value civilization, yes, sir, yes, sir, dear sir, we value the fruit of civilization. You will say that the fruit is worthless, but even a mediocre, unbar Tbouilleur, a night The musicians on the dance floor who earn only five kopecks are better than you, because they represent civilization and not the brutality of the Mongols! You imagine yourself as advanced people, but you are only worthy of the tent of the Kalmyks! Strength! Finally, please Remember, Mr. Hercules, you are only three or four people in total, and their number is millions, they will never allow their sacred beliefs to be trampled on, but they can trample you to death!" -------- ① French: a painter, a painter. "You deserve it for being trampled to death," said Bazarov, "but the result is not yet certain. Our numbers are not as small as you think." "Why, do you really want to subdue everyone?" "You know, a kopeck's worth of candles burned down Moscow," replied Bazarov. "Ah, ah, satanic pride first, followed by mockery. See how young people are seduced, how inexperienced tender hearts are conquered! Come and enjoy, among them One of them sits next to you, wishing to pay homage to you! (Arkady turns his head away with a frown.) The epidemic is now spreading far, and I have heard that our artists in Rome do not want to put their feet on their feet. Stepping into the Vatican, they think that Raphael is almost an idiot, just because Raphael is an authority, but what about themselves? They have no ability, no prospects, and their imagination can't get beyond "Girl by the Spring", even if they painted "Fountain The girl on the side, the girl is painted ugly. In your opinion, they are good-looking, don't they?" "In my opinion," said Bazarov, "Raphael is worthless, and they are not much better." "Very well, very well! Listen, Arkady...that's how young people should behave today! Can they not run away with you! In the past, young people wanted to study and work, and they didn't want to be regarded as inappropriate. They are ignorant, and now all they have to do is tell them 'everything in the world is bullshit,' and everything will be fine. The young people will be glad to hear that. Not so long ago they were talkers, and now they are suddenly nihilists." "Your boastful self-esteem has lost its shape," said Bazarov coldly.Arkady, on the other hand, was flushed and his eyes were burning. "We've gone too far . . . and it's best to stop here." Standing up, he added: "If you can name a current system, whether in family life or in social life, that doesn't A comprehensive and ruthless negation, and then I will agree with your opinion again." "I could name thousands of them," cried Pavel Petrovitch, "thousands of thousands! Take the commune as an example." Bazarov twisted his lips and sneered. "About the village commune," he said, "you'd better talk to your younger brother. He has seen a lot about village governors, environmental protection, alcohol abstinence, and the like." "Family, and family, he has been preserved among our peasants!" Pavel Petrovich was almost shouting. "I advise you not to delve into this matter. You have probably heard about the old man who picks up ashes? Listen to me, Pavel Petrovich, and you should think about it for a day or two. You have found the case. Go and analyze our various classes, and study each of them carefully, and now Arkady and I are going to..." "Laugh at everything," Pavel Petrovich continued. "No, to dissect a frog. Come on, Arkady. Good-bye, gentlemen!" The two friends went out, and only the two brothers remained. You look at me and I look at you. "You see," Pavel Petrovich finally broke the silence, "you see, this is the young man of our time! He is our heir!" "Heir!" sighed Nikolai Petrovitch.He sat on coals all through the debate, and from time to time cast a painful glance at Arkady. "Brother, do you know what I remember? One time when my old mother had an argument with me, she yelled and didn't want to listen to my explanation... Finally I said to her: You can't understand me, because we belong to two different groups." She was very wronged because of this. But I thought at the time: What can I do? The pill is bitter but you have to swallow it! Now it’s your turn—you are different from our generation, swallow the bitter pill! " "You are too kind," Pavel Petrovich disapproved of him. "Contrary to you, I believe that we are more correct than these young masters, although our language may not be so fashionable, vieilli, without that arrogant self-confidence... Look at the air of young people! If you ask A young man: "Which kind of wine do you like to drink, white wine or red wine?" He will reply: "I only drink red wine!" Waiting for his big decision..." -------- ①French: old-fashioned, obsolete. "Don't you need tea?" Fedosia asked from outside the door.She didn't dare to come in when the argument was raging in the living room. "No, you can have the samovar removed," Nikolai Petrovich greeted her, rising.Pavel Petrovich said a short bonsoir, and went back to his study. -------- ① French: Good night.