These Russians, however, are not the Russians of Dostoieffsky’s time. They are clearly of to-day.
Pride in Russia, and in Russia’s might and wealth and brilliant future, was one of Irene’s greatest joys. The Russian people seemed to her to be a race of chivalrous2 knights3, ever ready to[vi] fight for truth and Christianity, and to defend the weak and the persecuted4. When the Japanese War broke out, she asked herself, with the sincerest astonishment5, how such pitiful monkeys ever could have declared war on such indomitable knights. She even pitied the Japanese for having fallen victims to such madness! Her despair and suffering at the news of our first failures is therefore easy to imagine. None of Irene’s near relations were at the war, but each of our losses, nevertheless, found its echo in her heart, like a personal misfortune. Overwhelmed with grief, she attached no importance either to the Russian revolution, or to the reforms that followed. Like all passionate6 idealists when their ideal is shattered, Irene rushed to the other extreme—that of a profound contempt for Russia.
And it is in contempt of Russia that the heroine finds consolation7 in Italy, and is even ready to throw over the Orthodox Church to which she belongs and enter a convent of s?urs mauves.
The chief interest in the book is the conflict between the influence of a certain Père Etienne and the influence of a compatriot of handsome looks and robust8 mind, Prince Gzhatsky. Irene is in a pension “teeming with old maids.” She is herself forty and unmarried.[vii] She is apparently9 without near of kin10, and is lonely beyond words, but also selfish and extremely condemnatory11 in her outlook. But she is vivacious12, spontaneous, engaging, and always asking pertinent13 questions.
The high demands she made of her ideal hero, the man she might marry, give one the idea that there is a certain amount of autobiography14 in this volume, for no doubt ideals ranged high in the home of Dostoieffsky. It is strange, however, that the question of selfishness and unselfishness does not arise in this enthralling15 study of an unsatisfied soul. Dostoieffsky himself was never tired of a certain Gospel sentence, the thought of which might have given calm to Irene: “Except a corn of wheat fall into the ground and die it abideth alone; but if it die it bringeth forth16 much fruit.” The whole book, however, has a haunting suggestion of Dostoieffsky—the ghost of the father is somewhere about.
This poor Russian woman has, however, lost herself in going to Rome. One sees[viii] how much happier she would have been if she had remained at home. It is common in Russians to go into ecstasy17 about Italy when they see it first.
“In Italy, amidst the brilliance18 and magnificence of Nature, in the magnificent chaos19 of cities buzzing with automobiles20, humming with factories, you feel at least that Man is not losing himself; you feel he is the master, the centre. But in Moscow …” wrote Gorky, another unhappy exile; and it is a characteristic expression. The exile admires the West, but he must return to Russia.
A word should be said as to the discussion of the relative merits or demerits of the Roman Catholic and Orthodox Churches. It is not very competently handled by the authoress, but there is at least one most effective comment on ecclesiasticism as such:
“In your place I would go a little further still,” exclaimed Irene’s inner soul with malicious21 sarcasm22. “I would destroy every New Testament23 in the world, except one—and that one I would put in a golden, jewel-studded[ix] box, and would bury it deep in the earth, forbidding its disinterment on pain of death. Over it, I would build a splendid golden shrine24, and in this shrine I would celebrate night and day magnificent services with gorgeous processions. That would be entirely25 in accordance with the spirit of your Christianity.”
And she yearns26 for a Christianity freed from the prison walls of churches and forms.
Irene, however, thinks that if the Orthodox Russian Church elected a Patriarch it might recover its ancient power, and utter a “new word.” And there once more we see vaguely27 the ghost of Dostoieffsky. The great Russian, however, would not have spoken so kindly28 of the Roman Church (which he regarded as a sort of political conspiracy29 against Christianity).
STEPHEN GRAHAM.
London,
April, 1916.
点击收听单词发音
1 portrayed | |
v.画像( portray的过去式和过去分词 );描述;描绘;描画 | |
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2 chivalrous | |
adj.武士精神的;对女人彬彬有礼的 | |
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3 knights | |
骑士; (中古时代的)武士( knight的名词复数 ); 骑士; 爵士; (国际象棋中)马 | |
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4 persecuted | |
(尤指宗教或政治信仰的)迫害(~sb. for sth.)( persecute的过去式和过去分词 ); 烦扰,困扰或骚扰某人 | |
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5 astonishment | |
n.惊奇,惊异 | |
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6 passionate | |
adj.热情的,热烈的,激昂的,易动情的,易怒的,性情暴躁的 | |
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7 consolation | |
n.安慰,慰问 | |
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8 robust | |
adj.强壮的,强健的,粗野的,需要体力的,浓的 | |
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9 apparently | |
adv.显然地;表面上,似乎 | |
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10 kin | |
n.家族,亲属,血缘关系;adj.亲属关系的,同类的 | |
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11 condemnatory | |
adj. 非难的,处罚的 | |
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12 vivacious | |
adj.活泼的,快活的 | |
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13 pertinent | |
adj.恰当的;贴切的;中肯的;有关的;相干的 | |
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14 autobiography | |
n.自传 | |
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15 enthralling | |
迷人的 | |
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16 forth | |
adv.向前;向外,往外 | |
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17 ecstasy | |
n.狂喜,心醉神怡,入迷 | |
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18 brilliance | |
n.光辉,辉煌,壮丽,(卓越的)才华,才智 | |
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19 chaos | |
n.混乱,无秩序 | |
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20 automobiles | |
n.汽车( automobile的名词复数 ) | |
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21 malicious | |
adj.有恶意的,心怀恶意的 | |
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22 sarcasm | |
n.讥讽,讽刺,嘲弄,反话 (adj.sarcastic) | |
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23 testament | |
n.遗嘱;证明 | |
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24 shrine | |
n.圣地,神龛,庙;v.将...置于神龛内,把...奉为神圣 | |
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25 entirely | |
ad.全部地,完整地;完全地,彻底地 | |
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26 yearns | |
渴望,切盼,向往( yearn的第三人称单数 ) | |
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27 vaguely | |
adv.含糊地,暖昧地 | |
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28 kindly | |
adj.和蔼的,温和的,爽快的;adv.温和地,亲切地 | |
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29 conspiracy | |
n.阴谋,密谋,共谋 | |
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