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to the issue) did not perceive; and so (although their knowledge of

history and science and minute causes was perhaps greater than

Kutuzov's or Pierre's) were led duly to their doom. Maistre's paeans

to the superior science of the great Christian soldiers of the past and

Tolstoy's lamentations about our scientific ignorance should not

mislead anyone as to the nature of what they are in fact defending:

79

R U S S I A N T H I N K E R S

awareness of the 'deep currents', the raisons de ctZur, which they did

not indeed themselves know by direct experience; but beside which,

they were convinced, the devices of science were but a snare and a

delusion.

Despite their deep dissimilarity and indeed violent opposition to

one another, Tolstoy's sceptical realism and Maistre's dogmatic

authoritarianism are blood brothers. For both spring from an agonised

belief in a single, serene vision, in which all problems are resolved, all

doubts stilled, peace and understanding finally achieved. Deprived of

this vision, they devoted all their formidable resollrces from their

very different, and indeed often incompatible, positions, to the elimination of all possible adversaries and critics of it. The faiths for whose mere abstract possibility they fought were not, indeed, identical. It is

the predicament in which they found themselves and that caused them

to dedicate their strength to the lifelong task of destruction, it is their

common enemies and the strong likeness between their temperaments

that make them odd but unmistakable allies in a war which they were

both conscious of fighting until their dying day.

V I I I

Opposed as Tolstoy and Maistre were-one the apostle of the gospel

that all men are brothers, the other the cold defender of the claims

of violence, blind sacrifice, and eternal suffering-they were united

by inability to escape from the same tragic paradox: they were both

by nature sharp-eyed foxes, inescapably aware of sheer, de facto

differences which divide and forces which disrupt the human world,

observers utterly incapable of being deceived by the many subtle

devices, the unifying systems and faiths and sciences, by which the

superficial or the desperate sought to conceal the chaos from themselves and from one another. Both looked for a harmonious universe, but everywhere found war and disorder, which no attempt to cheat,

however heavily disguised, could even begin to hide; and so, in a

condition of final despair, offered to throw away the terrible weapons

of criticism, with which both, but particularly Tolstoy, were overgenerously endowed, in favour of the single great vision, something too indivisibly simple and remote from nonnal intellectual proces5es

to be assailable by the instruments of reason, and therefore, perhaps,

offering a path to peace and salvation. Maistre began as a moderate

liberal and ended by pulverising the new nineteenth-century world

from the solitary citadel of his own variety of ultramontane Catholicism.

8o

T H E H E D G E H O G AND T H E FOX

Tolstoy began with a view of human life and history which contradicted all his knowledge, all his gifts, all his inclinations, and which, in consequence, he could scarcely be said to have embraced in the sense

of practising it, either as a writer or as a man. From this, in his old

age, he passed into a form of life in which he tried to resolve the

glaring contradiction between what he believed about men and events,

and what he thought he believed, or ought to believe, by behaving, in

the end, as if factual questions of this kind were not the fundamental

issues at all, only the trivial preoccupations of an idle, ill-conducted

life, while the real questions were quite different. But it was of no

use: the Muse cannot be cheated. Tolstoy was the least superficial

of men : he could not swim with the tide without being drawn

irresistibly beneath the surface to investigate the darker depths below;

and he could not avoid seeing what he saw and doubting even that;

he could close his eyes but not forget that he was doing so; his

appalling, destructive, sense of what was false frustrated this final

effort at self-deception as it ciid all the earlier ones; and he died in

agony, oppressed by the burden of his intellectual infallibility and

his sense of perpetual moral error, the greatest of those who can

neither reconcile, nor leave unreconciled, the conflict of what there

is with what there ought to be. Tolstoy's sense of reality was until

the end too devastating to be compatible with any moral ideal which

he was able to construct out of the fragments into which his intellect

shivered the world, and he dedicated all of his vast strength of mind

and will to the lifelong denial of this fact. At once insanely proud

and filled with self-hatred, omniscient and doubting everything, cold

and violently passionate, contemptuous and self-abasing, tormented

and detached, surrounded by an adoring family, by devoted followers,

by the admiration of the entire civilised world, and yet almost wholly

isolated, he is the most tragic of the great writers, a desperate old

man, beyond human aid, wandering self-blinded at Colonus.

Herzen and Bakunin on Individual Liberty

'Human life is a great social duty,' (said Louis Blanc]:

'man must constantly sacrifice himself for society.'

'Why?' I asked suddenly.

'How do you mean "Why?"- but surely the whole

purpose and mission of man is the well-being of society?'

'But it will never be attained if everyone makes sacrifices

and nobody enjoys himself.'

'You are playing with words.'

'The muddle-headedness of a barbarian,' I replied,

laughing. Alexander Herzen, 'My Past and Thoughts'1

Since the age of thirteen . . . I have served one idea,

marched under one banner-war against all imposed

authority-against every kind of deprivation of freedom,

in the name of the absolute independence of the individual.

I should like to go on with my little guerilla war-like a

real Cossack-11:sj tigtflt F1111s1-as the Germans say.

Aleunder Herzen, letter to Mazzini1

OF all the Russian revolutionary writers of the nineteenth century,

Herzen and Bakunin remain the most arresting. They were divided

by many differences both of doctrine and of temperament, but they

were at one in placing the ideal of individual liberty at the centre of

their thought and action. Both dedicated their lives to rebellion against

every form of oppression, social and political, public and private, open

and concealed; but the very multiplicity of their gifts has tended to

obscure the relative value of their ideas on this crucial topic.

Bakunin was a gifted journalist, whereas Herzen was a writer of

1 So6r1111it so(Aiuflii 11 1rid1J111i lomdA (Co/JtmJ Wri1i11gs ;, TAirty

l'olumtr) (Moacow, 1 954-65; inde:r:es 1966), val. XI, p. 48. All subsequent

references to Herzen's works are to this edition, by volume and page, thus: