Last night I arrived in Lucerne and stayed in the best of the local hotel, Schweitzerhof. "Lucerne Cantonal ancient city, which lies on the shore of the lake four cantons — says Murray, — one of the …
Last night I arrived in Lucerne and stayed in the best of the local hotel, Schweitzerhof.
"Lucerne Cantonal ancient city, which lies on the shore of the lake four cantons — says Murray, — one of the most romantic locations in Switzerland, it crossed three major roads, and only an hour away by boat is Mount Rigi, which offers one of the most stunning views in the world. "
When I went upstairs to my room and opened the window of the lake, the beauty of the water, these mountains and sky in this first moment literally dazzled and shocked me. I felt an inner restlessness and need to express an excess of something somehow, suddenly overflow with my soul. I wanted at that moment to hug someone, hug, tickle, pinch him, even to him and to bring something special.
It was seven o’clock in the evening. The whole day was rain, and now roam. Blue as burning sulfur lake with boats and their points go missing tracks, still, smooth, convex, as if spread out in front of windows between the various green banks, took forward contracting between two huge ledges, and darkening, and depended disappeared piled in one on the other valleys, mountains, clouds and ice floes. In the foreground wet that disperse light green shores with reeds, meadows, gardens, villas, on dark green-covered ledges of the castle ruins, on the bottom of the crumpled white and purple mountain distance with bizarre rocky and snow-white-frosted peaks, and all bathed in a gentle , clear azure of the air and lit the sky broke through the broken hot rays of the sunset. Nor on the lake or in the mountains, neither in heaven nor a solid line, not a single solid color, a single of the same moment, all movement, asymmetry, quirkiness, an endless mix and variety of shades and lines, and in all tranquility, softness, unity and the need for beauty. And then, of uncertain, confusing free beauty before my window, silly, focal white stick sticking waterfront, sticky with props and green benches — the poor, vulgar human work, not drowning as long cottages and debris in the overall harmony of beauty , but rather rudely contradicting it. Continually, unconsciously I think came across this awful straight line the promenade and mentally wanted to push, to destroy it as a black spot, which sits on the bow eye, but with walking promenade British remained in place, and I could not help trying to find a point of view from which would I could not see. I learned to watch the case, and one before dinner with himself enjoyed that incomplete, but the sweeter the agonizing feeling experienced when a solitary contemplation of the beauty of nature.
At half past seven I was invited to dinner. In most beautifully cleaned the room in the lower floor were covered with two long tables, at least a hundred people. Three minutes went silent movement of a collection: the rustling of women’s dresses, light steps, quiet talks with the courteous and graceful waiters, and all units were occupied by men and ladies are very beautiful, even at extraordinarily rich and cleanly dressed. How is it in Switzerland, most of the guests — the British, and therefore the main features of the general table — strict law recognized decency nesoobschitelnost not based on pride, but there is no need for convergence, and a solitary contentment in a comfortable and pleasant meeting their needs. On all sides shine whitest lace, whitest collar, whitest real and false teeth the whitest face and hands. But the faces, many of which are very beautiful, express only the consciousness of their own well-being and a complete absence of attention to everything around him, which is not directly related to the own person, and the whitest hands with rings and Mitenev
I came closer, the sound becomes clearer. I judged the clear long, sweetly swaying in the evening air full of guitar chords and a few voices that, interrupting each other, did not sing the theme, and in some places, vypevaya the most prominent place, gave her to feel. The theme was a bit of a sweet and graceful mazurka. The voices seemed that close, then far, then came the tenor, then bass, then the throat falsetto coos with Tyrolean tints. It was not a song, but a light sketch of the studio songs. I could not figure out what it is, but it was fine. These voluptuous weak guitar chords, this sweet, light melody and this lone figure of a black man fantastic setting of the dark lake, transmission and moon rising silently Spitz two huge towers and black rain garden — everything was strange, but indescribably beautiful, or so it seemed to me.
All matted, involuntary impressions of life suddenly got to me the meaning and beauty. In my heart as if a fresh fragrant flower blossomed. Instead, fatigue, distraction, indifference to everything else, I experienced a moment before this, I suddenly felt the need for love, the fullness of hope and causeless joy of life. What to want what you ask for? — Said to me, involuntarily, — that is, from all sides surround you beauty and poetry. Breathe it in a wide full sips as you have the strength, enjoy, what more do you want! All yours, all the good …
I stepped closer. The little man was, it seemed, wandering Tyrolean. He stood before the windows of the hotel, holding the leg, throwing up his head, and, strumming and singing in different voices its graceful song. I immediately felt a fondness for this man, and thanks for the revolution that he has produced in me. Singer, as far as I could see, was dressed in an old black coat, his hair was black, short, and on his head was the middle-class, easy-to an old cap. The clothes he did not have anything artistic, but dashing, cheerful childlike posture and movement, with its tiny growth were touching and amusing spectacle together. At the entrance, the windows and balconies of the hotel were beautifully lit shiny outfits, shirokoyubnye ladies, gentlemen with beleyshimi collars, doorman and valet in zolotoshityh livery, on the street, in the half of the crowd and down the boulevard, between the lindens, came and stood elegantly dressed waiters, cooks beleyshih in caps and jackets, girls hug and walking. All seemed to have the same feeling that I experienced. All stood in silence around the singer and listened attentively. All was quiet, except for the song in between, somewhere in the distance, the water evenly, shot through the sound of the hammer and crumbly Freshenburga trilling voice swept frogs, interrupt wet monotonous whistling quail.
The little man in the darkness of the street was filled, like a nightingale, verse for verse and song after song. Despite the fact that I went up to him, his singing continued to give me great pleasure. A small voice was very pleasant, the same tenderness, taste and sense of proportion, with whom he owned this voice were extraordinary and it showed great natural talent. Chorus each verse every time he sang differently, and it was evident that all these graceful change freely, instantly came to him.
In the crowd, and in Schweitzerhof top, and bottom of the boulevard, often heard whispers of approval and respectful silence reigned. The balconies and windows more and more was adding elegant, beautifully in the light of lights house leaned against men and women. Walkers staying in the shade on the promenade around in groups of about limes were a man and a woman. Around me, smoking a cigar, stood somewhat separated from the whole crowd, aristocratic butler and cook. Cook strongly felt the beauty of music, and every high note fistula enthusiastic and puzzled winked at the waiter, and the whole head was pushing his elbow with an expression that says, what sings as well? Lackey, on a full-blown smile that I noticed they all are having fun on the bumps cook replied shrugging his shoulders, shows that it is difficult to surprise, and that he had heard a lot better than that.
And the gap song, when the singer clears his throat, I asked the waiter who he is and how often do come here.
— Yes, in the summer a couple of times comes, — replied the lackey — he of Argov. So, begs.
— And that, many of them walk? — I asked.
— Yes, yes, — replied the lackey, not realizing immediately that what I was asking, but disassembled then to my question, he added: — Oh no! Here I am only one of its kind. No more.
At this time, the little man had finished the first song, the guitar smartly turned and said something to himself on his German patois, which I could not understand, but which produced laughter in the surrounding crowd.
— What’s he talking about? — I asked.
— He says that his throat was dry and would drink wine — I turned footman, who was standing beside me.
— And that, it is true, like to drink?
— Yes, these are all people, — replied the lackey, smiling and waving at him by the hand.
The singer took off his cap and razmahnuv guitar, close to home. With his head, he turned to the Lord, standing at the windows and on the balconies: «Messieurs et mesdames, — he said poluitalyanskim, polunemetskim accent and intonation with those with whom magicians are turning to the public, — si vous croyez que je gagne quelque chosse, vous vous trompez; je ne suis qu’un bauvre tiaple ». He stopped, paused for a while, but since no one gave him anything, he threw up his guitar again and said: «A present, messieurs et mesdames, je vous chanterai l’air du Righi». Upstairs, the audience was silent, but continued to stand waiting for the next song, the crowd laughed at the bottom must be the fact that he expressed it so strange, and the fact that he was not given. I gave him a few centimes, he deftly chipped it from hand to hand, slipped into the pocket of his vest and put on his cap and started singing again graceful pretty Tyrolean song, which he called l’air du Righi. This song, which he left for the conclusion to be even better than all previous ones, and from all sides in the increased crowd sounds of approval. He finished. Again he swung his guitar, took off his cap, put it in front of him, two steps closer to the windows, and said again, his incomprehensible phrase: «Messieurs et mesdames, si vous croyez que je gagne quelque chosse», — he evidently thought very clever and witty, but his voice and his movements now I noticed some hesitation and timidity children who were particularly striking with its small stature. The elegant public still beautifully in the light of lights standing on balconies and in windows, gleaming rich robes, some moderately decent voice, talking among themselves, obviously, about the singer, who was standing with arm outstretched in front of them, the other closely, curiously looked down at the little black figure, on one balcony and heard the resounding laughter of a young girl. In the crowd at the bottom louder and louder voices heard and posmeivane. Singer for the third time repeated his phrase, but still in a weak voice, and even did not finish it and then held out his hand to his cap, but at once and put it down. And for the second time of the hundreds of brilliantly dressed people who crowded to listen to him, not one gave him penny. The crowd laughed cruelly. Little singer, I thought, became even less, he took a guitar in the other hand, picked up his cap over his head and said: «Messieurs et mesdames, je vous remercie et je vous seuhaite une bonne nuit», — and put on his cap. The crowd guffawed with joyful laughter. The balconies were gradually disappear beautiful men and ladies, talking quietly among themselves. On the boulevard again resumed festivities. Silent during the singing, street again revived, some people just are not up to him, looked at from a distance, and the singer laughed. I heard the little man said something under his breath, and turned as if to make even less rapid steps went to the city. Merry revelers, gazing at him, still at some distance followed him and laughed …
I’m quite confused, did not know what it all means, and, standing in one place, it is meaningless to look into the darkness was removed by a tiny man who, stretching strides quickly went to town, I’m laughing revelers who followed him. I’ve hurt, bitter and, most importantly, a little ashamed of the person, for the crowd, for myself, as if I asked for money, I gave nothing and laugh at me. I’m also not looking back with pinched heart, rapid steps went to his home on the porch Schweitzerhof. I did not give myself another report that had only something heavy is insoluble filled my soul, and weighed me.
On a beautiful, lighted entrance I met with courtesy by Switzerland and the English family. Tight, beautiful and tall man with black whiskers English, in a black hat and a blanket on the hand in which he held his cane rich, lazy, self-confidently walked arm in arm with a lady in a wild silk dress in a cap with shiny ribbons and charming lace. Next to them was a pretty, young lady straight from the tin in a graceful Swiss hat with a feather, a la mousquetaire, out of which around her little white little face fell soft long light brown curls. Ahead jumped ten-cheeked girl, with full white knees, vidnevshimisya from the finest lace.
— Pretty night — said the lady sweet, happy voice, while I was going through.
— Ohe! — Mumbled lazily Englishman, who, apparently, was so good to be alive, to be sure do not want to. And they all seemed to be so calm, comfortable, clean and easy to live in the world, is in their movements and personalities expressed indifference to the lives of others, and any kind of confidence that the doorman away for them and worship, and that, upon returning, they find a clean, deceased bed and room, and that it should be, and that all have a right — that I suddenly involuntarily contrasted them with a traveling singer who, tired, maybe hungry, shame is now running off of a laughing crowd — realized that such a heavy stone weighed on my heart, and I felt an inexpressible anger at these people. I went there twice and back past the Englishman, with inexpressible delight both times without eschewing him, pushing him with his elbow, and down from the porch and ran into the darkness toward the city where the little man disappeared.
Having caught up with three people, marching together, I asked them where the singer, and they laughed and pointed me in front of him. He walked one, quick steps, no one approached him, he is something, as I thought, muttering angrily to himself. I caught up with him and asked him to go somewhere together to drink a bottle of wine. He was still unhappy and soon looked back at me, but by examining what was happening, he stopped.
— Well, I will not give up, if you are so kind, — he said. — Here is a small coffee shop, you can go in there — a plain, — he added, pointing to raspivnuyu shop that was still open.
His word "unpretentious" unwittingly gave me the idea did not go to a plain coffee, and go to Schweitzerhof, where were those who listened to him. Despite the fact that he is a shy emotion several times refused the Schweitzerhof, saying that there is too smart, I insisted, and he is pretending that is not at all embarrassed, cheerfully waving his guitar, he went back with me on the waterfront. A few idle revelers, as soon as I walked up to the singer, moved in, listened to what I said, and now they reasoned among themselves, and they followed us up to the porch, waiting for the right, even some of the Tyrolean view.
I ordered a bottle of wine by the waiter, who met me in the hall. Kellner, smiling, looked at us and said nothing, ran past. Senior waiter to whom I made the same request, really listened to me and, looking around from head to toe timid little figure of the singer, the doorman said sternly, that we spent in the room to the left. Hall was left raspivnaya room for ordinary people. In the corner of this room hunchbacked maid washing dishes, and all the furniture was bare wooden tables and benches. The waiter who came to serve us, looking at us with a gentle mocking smile and his hands in his pockets and talking about something with a hunchback dishwasher. He apparently tried to give us notice that feeling by his position, and immeasurably superior advantages of the singer, he not only did not hurt, but truly funny serve us.
— Simple wine do you want? — He said with a knowing view, winking at me and my companion from one hand tossing a napkin.
— Champagne and the best, — I said, trying to take the most proud and majestic views. But neither champagne nor my supposedly proud and majestic views of no effect at the waiter, and he smiled, stood a little bit, looking at us, slowly looked at the gold watch and silent pace, as if walking out of the room. Soon he returned with wine and two more lackeys. The two of them sat down near the dishwasher and with a cheerful care and a gentle smile on the faces admired for us as parents to admire the dear children, when they are playing nice. Only one roach dishwasher did not seem mockingly, and with the participation of looked at us. Although I was very hard and uncomfortable under the fire of the eye lackey to talk with the singer and entertain him, I tried to do the trick as far as possible independently. When I fire it considered better. It was a tiny, proportionally built, wiry man, almost a dwarf, with bristly black hair, always crying big black eyes devoid of eyelashes, and extremely pleasant, sweetly folded mouth. He had small whiskers were rather short hair, clothing was the most simple and the poor. He was unclean, ragged, sunburned and generally had a view of the working man. He probably looked like a poor trader, than the artist. Only in permanently wet, shiny eyes and her mouth was assembled something original and touching. In appearance he could give from twenty-five to forty years, did the same he was thirty-eight.
That’s what he was good-natured willingness and apparent sincerity, told me about his life. He is from Argov
— Oui, le sucre est bon, il est doux pour les enfants! — And winked at the lackeys.
I did not understand, but in menial group laughed.
— Do not, and you think I would have walked so — he explained to me — and I come home because I still somehow drawn to his homeland.
And it once again with a smug smile slyly-repeated phrase: «Oui, le sucre est bon», — and laughed good-naturedly. Lackeys very happy and laughing, one humped dishwasher big kind eyes looked seriously at the little man and lifted him a cap, which he had dropped during a call from the bench. I noticed that the wandering singers, acrobats, magicians even like to call themselves artists, and because several times alluded to his companion that he is an artist, but he does not recognize this for a quality, quite simply, as a means to life, looked at his case. When I asked him whether he himself writes songs that sing, he was surprised such a strange question and answered that to him, it’s all the old Tyrolean songs.
— What about the song Riga? I think it is not old? — I said.
— Yes, it is fifteen years ago was composed. There was one German in Basel, was the cleverest man, he’s composed it. Great song! This, you see, he has composed for travelers.
And he began to me, translating from French, telling lyrics of Riga, which, apparently, he really liked:
— Oh, great song! — He concluded.
Lackeys found probably the song is very good, because the closer to us.
— Well, who composed the music? — I asked.
— Yes, no, it’s so, you know, to sing for foreigners need something new.
When we brought the ice, and I poured my companion a glass of champagne, he apparently felt uncomfortable, and he, looking back at the lackeys, turned to his shop. We toasted to the health of artists, and he took a half a cup, and found it necessary to consider and thoughtfully lead eyebrows.
— Long time since I did not drink this wine, je ne vous dis que ca. In Italy d’Asti wine is good, but it’s even better. Ah, Italy! nice to be there! — He added.
— Yes, there are able to appreciate the music and the artists — I said, wanting to put it on the evening before the failure Schweitzerhof.
— No, — he answered — there is no one about music, I can not bring pleasure. Italians are musicians that do not exist in the whole world, but I am just about Tyrolean songs. It’s all the same to them the news.
— Well, there’s more generous gentlemen? — I said, wanting to make him share my fury on the inhabitants Schweitzerhof. — There’s not going to happen the way here to from a huge hotel, where the rich live a hundred people have heard of the artist and nothing he would not have given …
My question was not acted the way I expected. He did not try to resent them, on the contrary, in my observation, he saw a reproach to his talent, which caused no reward, and he tried to justify himself in front of me.
— Do not just get a lot of time, — he answered. — Sometimes, the voice will be gone, you get tired — in fact I was now nine o’clock and sang the whole day almost. It is difficult. A major aristocrats and gentlemen, they sometimes do not want to listen to Tyrolean songs.
— After all, how does nothing to give? — I repeated.
He did not understand my comments.
— It’s not that — he said — but the main thing here on est tres serre pour la police, that’s what. Here on these republican laws do not allow you to sing, and in Italy you can go as you want, no one will tell you the words. Here if you want to allow, then allow it, but do not want to, then you can put in jail.
— What, really?
— Yes. If you notice the time, but you’ll still sing — you can be put in jail. I really spent three months — he said, smiling, as if it was one of the most pleasant memories of him.
— Oh, that’s terrible! — I said. — For what?
— It is that they have the new laws of the republic
I poured it back in the glass.
— You do not drink — I told him.
He picked up his glass and bowed to me.
— I know what you want — he said, screwing up his eyes and shaking his finger at me — you want to podpoit me see what I will, but no, it will not be possible.
— Why do I have to give to drink — I said — I just wanted to make you pleasure.
He, truly sorry for what he had offended me badly explained my intention, he was troubled, stood up and shook me by the elbow.
— No, no — he said, with a pleading expression looking at me with moist eyes — I just kidding.
And after that he said some horrible intricate, clever phrase dolzhenstvovavshuyu mean I’m still a good guy.
— Je ne vous dis que ca! — He concluded.
So we continued to drink and talk with the singer, and lackeys continue, do not hesitate to admire us and seems to banter. Despite the interest of my talk, I could not help but notice them and, frankly, angry, more and more. One of them stood up, walked over to the little man and looked him in the domes, began to smile. I really was ready to supply the inhabitants Schweitzerhof anger that I had not yet managed to break on anyone, and now, I confess, this lackey audience was tempted me. Doorman without removing the cap, entered the room, and leaning on the table, sat down beside me. This latter circumstance, hurting my pride or vanity, completely blew me away and gave the outcome of the davivshey anger that the whole evening was about me. Why at the door when I’m alone, I humbly bow to it, and now, because I’m a wandering singer, he rudely took their seats next to me? I do ozlilsya of the boiling rage of indignation, which I love in itself, even exciting when I find, because it is soothing effect on me and gives me at least for a short time, some kind of extraordinary flexibility, energy, and strength of all physical and mental abilities .
I jumped up from their seats.
— What are you laughing at? — I shouted at the waiter, feeling my face turns pale and his lips twitch involuntarily.
— I’m not laughing, I’m so, — replied the lackey, backing away from me.
— No, you’re laughing at this gentleman. And what right have you to be here and stay here as guests here. Do not you dare sit! — I cried.
Doorman, grumbling something, got up and moved toward the door.
— What right have you to laugh at this gentleman and sit next to him when he was a guest, and you are a lackey? Why do not you laugh at me today at lunch and did not sit next to me? Because he is poorly dressed and singing on the street? from this, but on my good dress. He is poor, but a thousand times better than you, I am sure. Because he was not offended, and you insult him.
— But I’m sure you — timidly answered my enemy lackey. — Am I bothering him sit.
Lackey did not understand me, and my German was wasted and. Rude doorman stood for was a footman, but I fell upon him so quickly that the doorman pretended he does not understand me and waved. Brokeback dishwasher, seeing if my fevered state, and fearing scandal, or sharing my opinion, took my side, and trying to come between me and the doorman tried to persuade him to keep quiet, saying that I was right and asked me to calm down. «Der Herr hat Recht; Sie haben Recht», — she repeated. Singer represented the most miserable, frightened face, and apparently not understanding of why I’m hot and I want to do, and asked me to leave here as soon as possible. But I am more and more evil raged talkativeness. I remembered everything: the crowd, who laughed at him, and the audience gave him nothing, I did it for the world did not want to settle down. I think that, if the waiters and the Swiss were not so elusive, I would relish a fight with them over the head with a stick or nailed to a defenseless English lady. If at that moment I was in Sebastopol, I would with pleasure rushed stabbing and slashing to the British trench.
— And why you had me with this gentleman in this and not in that audience? Huh? — I was interrogated by the doorman, grabbed him by the arm, so that he left me. — What you had the right to decide on the form that this gentleman should be in this, but not in the same room? Is one who pays, not all are equal in the hotels? Not only in the country but all over the world. Lousy your Republic! .. Here it is equality! The English you would not dare to take place in this room, most of those Englishmen who listened to nothing of this gentleman, that is stolen from him every several centimes, which should have given him. How dare you specify that room?
— That the hall is locked, — answered the porter.
— No, — I cried — not true, not locked room.
— So you know better.
— I know, I know you’re lying.
The porter turned his shoulder away from me.
— E! what to say! — He growled.
— No, not the "what to say" — I cried — and lead me in a minute in the hall.
Despite the exhortations of the hunchback and the request of the singer better go home, I asked the chief waiter, and went into the room with my companion. The chief waiter, hearing my angry voice, and seeing my excited face, did not argue with a contemptuous politeness said that I can go wherever I want. I could not prove the doorman of his lies, because it has disappeared even before I entered the room.
The hall was really unlocked, lighted, and at one of the tables sat, dining, an Englishman with a lady. Despite the fact that we pointed out a particular table, I sat down with dirty singer himself an Englishman here and told us to file an unfinished bottle.
The British at first surprised, then angrily looked at the little man that is neither dead nor alive was sitting next to me, and they were saying to each other, she pushed the plate, rustled silk dress, and both disappeared. For glass doors I saw the Englishman something angrily told the waiter, constantly pointing in our direction. The waiter leaned out the door and looked at her. I am pleased to expect that we will come to display and you can finally pour out upon them all their anger. But, fortunately, although it then I did not like, leave us alone.
The singer, first refuses the wine, now hurriedly finished all that was left in the bottle, so that only the haste to get out of here. However, it is with a sense of what seemed to me, thanked me for the meal. Crying his eyes became even more brilliant and crying, and he told me the strange, confusing phrase of gratitude. Still, the phrase in which he said that if it’s so respected artists like me, then it would be good, and that he wishes me all happiness, I was very enjoyable. We went with him into the hall. Here were my enemy lackeys and porter, it seems to me to complain to them. All they seem to be looking at me like I was insane. I gave the little man catch up with the whole audience and then with all the reverence that is only able to express in his own person, I took off his hat and shook hands with the hidebound otsohshim finger. Lackeys did, as if I do not pay any attention. Only one of them laughed a sardonic laugh.
When the singer, bowing, and disappeared in the darkness, I went upstairs to my room, wanting to overlay all these impressions and silly children’s anger, which so unexpectedly found me. But feeling too nervous to sleep, I went back to the street, to go as long as quiet, and, I confess, in addition, in the vague hope that there is a case to grapple with the doorman, valet or an Englishman, and prove to them all their cruelty, and, most importantly, an injustice. But apart from the doorman who, seeing me, he turned his back to me, I met no one and was all alone to walk back and forth along the waterfront.
"Here it is, the strange fate of poetry — I reasoned, having calmed down a bit. — Everyone loves to look for her, her one wish and are looking for in life, and no one recognizes her strength, no one appreciates that the better good of the world does not appreciate and thank those who give it to the people. Ask anyone you want, all the inhabitants of these Schweitzerhof: that the best benefit of the world? and all, or one hundred ninety-nine, taking sardonic expression, will tell you that the best good of the world — money. "Maybe this idea is you do not like and do not fit to your lofty ideas — he would say — but what can I do, if human life is such that some money is the happiness of man. I could not allow my mind to see the light, as he is, — he added — that is, to see the truth. " Pitiful your mind, you miserable happiness that you desire, and you’re miserable creature itself is not knowing what you need … Why do you all have left their homeland, relatives, activities and financial affairs and crowded in the small Swiss town of Lucerne? Why are you all this evening poured out onto the balcony and in respectful silence listened to the song the little beggar? And if he wanted to sing more, more would be silent and listen. As for the money, even for a million, you can have all been driven out of the fatherland and to gather in a small corner of Lucerne? For the money, you can have it all to gather on the balconies and in the course of half an hour to get to stand silent and motionless? No! And makes you act one, and always will be moving more powerful than all the other engines of life: the need for poetry, which are not in control, but you feel a century feel, while you remain in any human. The word "poetry" you’re funny, you use it as a sarcastic rebuke you allow the love of poetry in children and something silly young ladies, and then you laugh at them, for you also need a positive. Yes kids something sensible outlook on life, and they love to know what you have to love people, and that will give happiness and life before you get confused and corrupted that you laugh at the fact that one love and are looking for one of the you hate and what makes your misfortune. You mess up, you do not understand that obligation that you have to the poor Tyrolese will provide you with pure pleasure, and at the same time consider themselves bound to nothing, without benefit and enjoyment, to grovel before the Lord, and for some reason he sacrifice his calmness and comfort. What nonsense is that for an impossible nonsense! But this is not the hardest hit me tonight. This ignorance of what gives happiness this unconsciousness poetic pleasure I almost understand it or used to it, met her often in life is rough, the unconscious cruelty of the crowd, too, was not news to me, no matter what the defenders of the national sense, although the crowd is a combination of and be good people, but just touching animals, odious parties and expresses only the weakness and the cruelty of human nature. But how do you, the children of a free, humane people you Christians, you’re just people on the pure enjoyment that you delivered the unfortunate asking people responded coldness and ridicule? But no, in your own country have shelters for the poor. — The poor are not, they should not be, and there should be a sense of compassion, which is based on begging. — But he labored he please you, he begged you to give him some of your surplus for the work that you have used. And you with a cold smile as he watched the rarity of their high brilliant chambers, and of the hundreds of you, happy, rich, not one, not one that would leave him anything! Ashamed, he walked away from you, and senseless crowd, laughing, pursued and do not offend you, but it — for the fact that you are cold, cruel and dishonest, for the fact that you stole his joy that he brought to you, for it itsinsulted. "
"Seventh-July 1857 in Lucerne Schweitzerhof front of the hotel, which stops the richest people wandering beggar in the course of half an hour a singer sang songs and played the guitar. About a hundred people listened to him. Singer three times asked everyone to give him something. No man had given him nothing, and many laughed at him. "
This is not fiction, but a positive fact, which can investigate those who want to have permanent residents Schweitzerhof, coped in the newspapers, who were foreigners who held Schweitzerhof July 7.
Here’s an event that historians of our time have to write fiery indelible letters. This event is significant, serious and has a deeper meaning than the facts that are written in the papers and stories. That the British killed a thousand Chinese, because the Chinese do not buy anything for money, and their edge absorbs hard cash that the French have killed a thousand Kabyles for what good bread is born in Africa, and that a constant war is useful for the formation of the troops, the Turkish Envoy in Naples may not be liquid and that the Emperor Napoleon is walking distance to Plombieres and in writing assures people that he reigns only by the will of the people — it’s all words that hide or show the long-known, but an event that took place in Lucerne on July 7, it seems brand new, strange, and does not refer to the eternal evil side of human nature, but to a certain era of the development of society. This fact is not for the acts of human history, but the history of progress and civilization.
Why this inhuman fact impossible in any village, German, French or Italian, is possible here, where civilization, freedom and equality brought to the highest degree, which brings together travelers, the most civilized people of the most civilized nations? Why are these developed, humane people who can, in general, for every honest and humane thing, do not have a sense of the human heart to the private good deed? Why are these people in their houses, meetings and communities caring passionately about the state of unmarried Chinese in India, the spread of Christianity and education in Africa, on the establishment of companies fix all of humanity, do not find in his heart a simple primitive feelings of man to man? Can not have that feeling, and it took place vanity, ambition and greed, leading these people in their houses, meetings and societies? Is a reasonable spread, selfish associations of people, which is called civilization, destroys and contrary to the needs of instinctive love and association? And is it really that equality, which was shed so much innocent blood and committed so many crimes? Really people, like children, can be happy with one sound of the word "equality"?
Equality before the law? But is the whole life of the people is in the area of law? Only one thousandth of its subject to the law, the rest of it takes place outside, in the field of customs and beliefs of society. A footman dressed in a society better singer and insults him with impunity. I’m better dressed footman and valet offend with impunity. The doorman said I above, and below the singer herself, and when I joined up with the singer, he considered himself equal with us and was rude. I was insolent to the doorman and the doorman pleaded below me. Lackey was insolent to the singer and the singer pleaded below it. And is it really free, what people call positive-free state, one in which there is at least one citizen, who was put in jail for what he harms no one, no one interfering, does one thing that can, for not to die of hunger?
Wretched, wretched creature man with his need for positive solutions thrown into this ever-moving, endless ocean of good and evil, facts, arguments and controversies! For centuries, fighting and working people to move to one side of the good, to the other unfavorable. Centuries pass, and wherever, whatever figured impartial mind to the scales of good and evil, the balance does not fluctuate, and on each side of the same benefits, and How many non-virtuous. If only people would have learned not to judge and not to think strongly and positively and not give answers to the questions given to him only to ensure that they always remain questions! If only he knew every thought and false and true! False one-sided, for a person can not embrace the whole truth, and we have the words of one side of human aspirations. Made them a unit in this ever-moving, endless, infinite-mixed chaos of good and evil, had imagined features on the sea and waiting for the sea and splits. Similarly, no zillion other units from a very different perspective, a different plane. However, these new units are produced for centuries, but also the centuries passed and will be a zillion. Civilization — the good, barbarism — the evil, freedom — the good, bondage — the evil. This is what destroys the imaginary concept instinctive blissful primitive need for good in human nature. And who will define me, that freedom, that despotism, that the civilization that barbarism? And where are the boundaries of one and the other? Who in his heart so firmly a measure of good and evil, so that he could measure them running intricate facts? Who is so great mind, that although in the past the stationary embrace all the facts and to hang them? And who has seen such a condition in which there were no good and evil together? And why do I know that I could see more of one than the other, not because they do not stand on this place? And who is able to come off as completely mind for a moment in life that matter to look at it from above? One, the only one we have an infallible leader, the Universal Spirit permeating all of us together and each as a unit puts into each striving for what should, the same spirit that the tree tells him to grow toward the sun, in the flower tells him throw yourself for the fall and tells us we unconsciously huddle together.
And this one is infallible, blessed voice drowns out the noisy, hasty development of civilization. A person who is more and who is more barbarian: he the Lord, who, seeing the hackneyed dress the singer angrily ran away from the table, for his work gave him Millionannaya share of his fortune, and now, well-fed, sitting in the light of the late room, quietly judging about the affairs of China, finding a fair murders committed there, or little singer who, risking a prison, with a franc in his pocket, for twenty years, without doing harm to anyone, going to the mountains and down dale, comforting people with his singing, which have offended, I almost pushed out today and who, tired, hungry, ashamed, and went to sleep somewhere on rotting straw?
At this time, the city in the dead silence of the night I heard a far-away guitar a little man and his voice.
No, — said to me, involuntarily, — you have no right to regret it and resent the wealth of the lord. Who swung his inner happiness that lies at the heart of each of these people? There he is now sitting somewhere on a dirty doorway, looking at the bright moonlit sky and joyfully sing of quiet, fragrant night, in his heart there is no reproach, no anger, no remorse. And who knows what is being done now in the heart of all these people, these rich, high walls? Who knows if they all so carefree, gentle pleasures of life and harmony with the world as it lives in the soul of this young man? Infinite goodness and wisdom of someone who has allowed to exist, and told all these contradictions. Only you, an insignificant worm, cheeky, unlawfully attempting to penetrate its laws, its intentions, but you seem to be contradictions. He meekly looks with its bright immeasurable height and rejoices in the infinite harmony in which you are contradictory, endlessly moving. In his pride did you think to break out of the general laws. No, you’re with your little and contemptible lackeys negodovanitsem on, and you also need to respond to the harmonic of the eternal and infinite …
From the notes of Prince D. Nekhlyiidov Lucerne
Have a look at an excerpt from the diary of the writer Dostoyevsky