"The Gold Bag"

[The Goy Chevalier]

Meanwhile, a new storm was coming up, a new calamity was arising--"the gold bag!" In lieu of the former "conditional" best men, a new contingency ensued which, in Russia, all of a sudden has acquired an awful significance. It goes without saying that "the gold bag" existed also in the past: it always existed, in the form of the merchant-millionaire; however, at no time in the past has it been placed so high--never has such a significance been attributed to it as in our day. Our former merchant, notwithstanding the role which everywhere in Europe capital and the millionaires have played, in Russia, comparatively speaking, occupied a rather insignificant place in the social hierarchy. To tell the truth--he did not deserve anything better. I will say in advance: I am speaking only about rich merchants, while the majority of them, who had not yet been corrupted by wealth, were living in the fashion of Ostrovsky's characters. Perhaps they were not worse than many others, again speaking comparatively, while the lowest and most numerous merchants virtually merged with the people. But the richer the former merchant grew, the worse he became. Essentially, he was nothing but a peasant--merely a corrupted peasant.

The former millionaire-merchants were divided into two classes: some of them continued to wear beards, despite their millions, and, in spite of the mirrors and inlaid floors in their huge mansions, lived somewhat swinishly--both in a moral and in a physical sense. The best that there was in them was their love of church bells and of vociferous deacons. However, notwithstanding this love, morally they were already detached from the people. It is difficult to conceive anything morally more contrasting than the people, on the one hand, and certain merchant-manufacturers on the other. It is said that Ovsiannikov, when he was recently transported through Kazan to Siberia, kicked out with his feet the donated copper coins which the people naively threw into his carriage: this is the ultimate degree of the moral alienation from the people--a complete loss of the least understanding of the people's thought and spirit. And never have the people been in a worse bondage than in the factories owned by some of these gentlemen!

The other class of our millionaire-merchants was characterized by dresscoats and shaven chins; by the gorgeous European furnishings of their houses; by the upbringing of their daughters with the French and English languages, with pianos, and--not infrequently--by some badge acquired as a result of substantial donations; by intolerable scorn for everyone lower than they; by contempt for an ordinary "dinner"-general, and, at the same time, by the most servile humiliation before a high dignitary, especially whenever that merchant succeeded--God only knows through what intrigues and by what devices--in enticing such a dignitary to a ball or dinner which, needless to say, was given for him. This preoccupation with the problem of giving a dinner for a dignitary became the program of life. This was anxiously looked for: it was virtually for this alone that the millionaire lived on earth. It stands to reason that this former rich merchant worshipped his million as God: in his view the million was everything; the million had extricated him out of nothingness and had made him impressive. In the vulgar soul of this "corrupted peasant" (he continued to be that, despite all his dress-coats) there never could be conceived a single thought, a single feeling, which, though for a second, would raise him in his consciousness above that million of his. Naturally, despite the outward polish, the family of such a merchant grew up without any education. The million not only was not conducive to education but, on the contrary, it used to constitute in such cases the principal cause of ignorance: why should the son of such a millionaire study in a university if, without any study, he could have everything, especially since these millionaires, upon acquiring their million, quite often acquired the rights of nobility. Aside from debauch since the earliest youthful years, and the most distorted conceptions of the world, the fatherland, honor and duty, wealth contributed nothing to the souls of that carnivorous and arrogant youth. And the distortion of the world outlook was monstrous since, above all, there prevailed the conviction which assumed the form of an axiom: "With money I can buy everything, every distinction, every valor; I can bribe everybody and I can bail myself out of everything." It is difficult to imagine the extent of the aridness of heart in youths who grew up in those rich families. From a boastfulness and a desire not to lag behind others, such a millionaire, at times, donated enormous sums for the benefit of the fatherland--for instance, in the case when it was threatened with danger (although this occurred but once, in 1872)--yet he made these donations in anticipation of rewards, while was always ready, any minute of his existence, to join the first stray Jew, in order to betray everybody and everything, provided this yielded profit: patriotism, the feeling of civic duty, is almost non-existent in these hearts.

Oh, of course, I am speaking of our Russian commercial millionaire merely as a class. There are exceptions always and everywhere. In Russia, too, merchants can be pointed out who possessed European education and who distinguished themselves with worthy civic deeds. However, of such there are very few among our millionaires; every one of them is known by name. Because of exceptions, a class does not lose its character.

Now, the former limits of the merchant of days gone by were suddenly, in our day, widely set asunder. Suddenly he became affiliated with the European speculator, hitherto unknown in Russia, and the stock-exchange gambler. The contemporaneous merchant no longer needs to entice to his "dinner party" a "dignitary" or to give balls in his honor. He affiliates himself and fraternizes with the dignitary at the stock exchange, at a shareholders' meeting, in a bank which he establishes together with the dignitary. Nowadays he himself is somebody; he himself is a dignitary. The main point is that all of a sudden he found himself decidedly in one of the highest places in society, which in Europe has already long ago been officially and sincerely assigned to the millionaire. And, of course, he did not doubt that he was actually worthy of the place.

Briefly, he becomes more and more wholeheartedly convinced that it is precisely he who nowadays is "the best" man on earth, in lieu of all the former ones. But the bending calamity is not that he entertains such nonsense, but the fact that others, also, it would seem (and already quite a few), begin to reason in the same way. In our day, the bag is unquestionably conceived by a dreadful majority to be the best of everything. Of course, these fears will be disputed. However, our present-day factual veneration of the bad is not only indisputable, but, by reason of the proportions it has assumed, it is also unprecedented. I repeat: also in the past the power of the bag was understood in Russia by everybody, but never until now has the bag been regarded as the loftiest thing on earth. In the official classification of Russians--in the social hierarchy--the former merchant's bag could not outweigh even a bureaucrat. At present, however, even the former hierarchy, without any coercion from the outside, seems to be ready to remove itself to the second place, ceding its place to the lovely and beautiful novel "condition" of the best man "who for so long a time and so erroneously did not assume his true rights." The present-day stock-exchange gambler enlists in his service litterateurs; the advocate pays court to him. "That young school turning out shrewd minds and dry hearts--a school distorting every sure feeling, whenever occasion calls for such distortion; a school of all sorts of challenges, fearless and irresponsible; a continual and incessant training, based on offer and demand"--this youthful school already has fallen in line with the stock-exchange gambler and begun to sing hymns of praise in his honor. Please do not think that I am hinting at "the Strusberg case"; advocates in that case who proclaimed their "pinched" clients as ideal men, who sang hymns to them as "the best men in all Moscow" (precisely, something of the kind)--these advocates have missed their mark. They have proved that they themselves are men devoid of the least serious conviction and even of poise, men with no sense of measure; and if they are playing in our midst the role of "European talents," it is solely because in the kingdom of the blind the one-eyed is king.

In fact, even as diplomats, they have charged the highest possible fee in order to obtain the maximum for the minimum: "Not only are they not guilty--they are holy!" It is rumored that at pone point the public even began to hiss. However, an advocate, to begin with, is not a diplomat: the comparison is essentially erroneous. It would have been more correct, far more correct, to ask--pointing at the client--the question propounded in the Gospel: "Gentlemen of the jury, who among you is 'he that is without sin'?"--Oh, I am not criticizing the verdict; the verdict is just--and I bow before it; it had to be rendered if it were only against the bank. Precisely this case was of such a nature that to convict by "public conscience" this "pinched," ill-starred Moscow Loan Bank meant to convict at the same time all our banks, the whole stock exchange, all stock-exchange gamblers, even though they had not yet been caught--what difference does it make? Who is without sin, without that same sin?--Honestly, who? Somebody has already said in print that they were leniently punished.--I must explain that I am not referring to Landau: he is really guilty of something extraordinary which I have no intention of even discussing. But, in all conscience, Danila Schumacher, convicted of "swindling," got a terrible punishment. Let us look into our hearts: are there many among us who would not have committed the same thing?--One needn't confess aloud, but let him tacitly admit it. However, long live justice!--All the same, they were jailed!--"Take that, for our stock exchange and depraved times; take that, as a reward for the fact that we are all egoists, that we all profess such villainous materialistic views on happiness in life and its delights; for our arid and treacherous feeling of self-preservation!" Nay, it is useful to convict even one bank for our own sins….

My God! Whither have I wandered? Is it possible that I, too, am writing "about the Strusberg case"? Enough! I hasten to cut this short. For I was speaking about "the best man," and I merely meant to draw the conclusion that in Russia the ideal of the real best man, even of the "natural" pattern, is in great danger of growing muddy. The old has either been destroyed or is worn out; the new is still borne on the wings of fantasy, whereas in actual life we behold something abominable which has reached unheard-of proportions. The fascination which is being attributed to this new force--the gold bag--even beings to inspire fear in some hearts, which are all too suspicious, for instance, as regards the people. Indeed, even though we--the upper stratum of society--might be seduced by the new idol, nevertheless we should not vanish without leaving a trace: not in vain has the torch of education been shining for us throughout two centuries. We are armed with enlightenment, and we should be able to repel the monster. At a moment of most filthy debauch, didn't we convict the Moscow Loan Bank? But our people--that "inert, corrupt, insensible mass"--into which the Jew has thrust himself, what are they going to set against the monster of materialism, in the guise of the gold bag, marching on them?--Their misery? Their rags? Their taxes and their bad harvests? Their vices? Liquor? Flogging? We were afraid that the people would forthwith fall prostrate before the increasing power of the gold bag, and that before even one generation should pass they would be enslaved worse than ever before--and that they would be driven into submission not only through coercion, but that they would submit morally, with their whole will. We were afraid that it is precisely they, before anyone else, who would say: "This is the main thing; here is where power, tranquility and happiness reside! This is what we shall worship and follow!" - Feodor Dostoevsky, The Diary of a Writer, 1876


Talk about a soothsayer.