Anna Karenina by graf Leo Tolstoy
Chapter 209
1599 words | Chapter 209
Stepan Arkadyevitch’s affairs were in a very bad way.
The money for two-thirds of the forest had all been spent already, and
he had borrowed from the merchant in advance at ten per cent discount,
almost all the remaining third. The merchant would not give more,
especially as Darya Alexandrovna, for the first time that winter
insisting on her right to her own property, had refused to sign the
receipt for the payment of the last third of the forest. All his salary
went on household expenses and in payment of petty debts that could not
be put off. There was positively no money.
This was unpleasant and awkward, and in Stepan Arkadyevitch’s opinion
things could not go on like this. The explanation of the position was,
in his view, to be found in the fact that his salary was too small. The
post he filled had been unmistakably very good five years ago, but it
was so no longer.
Petrov, the bank director, had twelve thousand; Sventitsky, a company
director, had seventeen thousand; Mitin, who had founded a bank,
received fifty thousand.
“Clearly I’ve been napping, and they’ve overlooked me,” Stepan
Arkadyevitch thought about himself. And he began keeping his eyes and
ears open, and towards the end of the winter he had discovered a very
good berth and had formed a plan of attack upon it, at first from
Moscow through aunts, uncles, and friends, and then, when the matter
was well advanced, in the spring, he went himself to Petersburg. It was
one of those snug, lucrative berths of which there are so many more
nowadays than there used to be, with incomes ranging from one thousand
to fifty thousand roubles. It was the post of secretary of the
committee of the amalgamated agency of the southern railways, and of
certain banking companies. This position, like all such appointments,
called for such immense energy and such varied qualifications, that it
was difficult for them to be found united in any one man. And since a
man combining all the qualifications was not to be found, it was at
least better that the post be filled by an honest than by a dishonest
man. And Stepan Arkadyevitch was not merely an honest
man—unemphatically—in the common acceptation of the words, he was an
honest man—emphatically—in that special sense which the word has in
Moscow, when they talk of an “honest” politician, an “honest” writer,
an “honest” newspaper, an “honest” institution, an “honest” tendency,
meaning not simply that the man or the institution is not dishonest,
but that they are capable on occasion of taking a line of their own in
opposition to the authorities.
Stepan Arkadyevitch moved in those circles in Moscow in which that
expression had come into use, was regarded there as an honest man, and
so had more right to this appointment than others.
The appointment yielded an income of from seven to ten thousand a year,
and Oblonsky could fill it without giving up his government position.
It was in the hands of two ministers, one lady, and two Jews, and all
these people, though the way had been paved already with them, Stepan
Arkadyevitch had to see in Petersburg. Besides this business, Stepan
Arkadyevitch had promised his sister Anna to obtain from Karenin a
definite answer on the question of divorce. And begging fifty roubles
from Dolly, he set off for Petersburg.
Stepan Arkadyevitch sat in Karenin’s study listening to his report on
the causes of the unsatisfactory position of Russian finance, and only
waiting for the moment when he would finish to speak about his own
business or about Anna.
“Yes, that’s very true,” he said, when Alexey Alexandrovitch took off
the pince-nez, without which he could not read now, and looked
inquiringly at his former brother-in-law, “that’s very true in
particular cases, but still the principle of our day is freedom.”
“Yes, but I lay down another principle, embracing the principle of
freedom,” said Alexey Alexandrovitch, with emphasis on the word
“embracing,” and he put on his pince-nez again, so as to read the
passage in which this statement was made. And turning over the
beautifully written, wide-margined manuscript, Alexey Alexandrovitch
read aloud over again the conclusive passage.
“I don’t advocate protection for the sake of private interests, but for
the public weal, and for the lower and upper classes equally,” he said,
looking over his pince-nez at Oblonsky. “But _they_ cannot grasp that,
_they_ are taken up now with personal interests, and carried away by
phrases.”
Stepan Arkadyevitch knew that when Karenin began to talk of what _they_
were doing and thinking, the persons who would not accept his report
and were the cause of everything wrong in Russia, that it was coming
near the end. And so now he eagerly abandoned the principle of
free-trade, and fully agreed. Alexey Alexandrovitch paused,
thoughtfully turning over the pages of his manuscript.
“Oh, by the way,” said Stepan Arkadyevitch, “I wanted to ask you, some
time when you see Pomorsky, to drop him a hint that I should be very
glad to get that new appointment of secretary of the committee of the
amalgamated agency of the southern railways and banking companies.”
Stepan Arkadyevitch was familiar by now with the title of the post he
coveted, and he brought it out rapidly without mistake.
Alexey Alexandrovitch questioned him as to the duties of this new
committee, and pondered. He was considering whether the new committee
would not be acting in some way contrary to the views he had been
advocating. But as the influence of the new committee was of a very
complex nature, and his views were of very wide application, he could
not decide this straight off, and taking off his pince-nez, he said:
“Of course, I can mention it to him; but what is your reason precisely
for wishing to obtain the appointment?”
“It’s a good salary, rising to nine thousand, and my means....”
“Nine thousand!” repeated Alexey Alexandrovitch, and he frowned. The
high figure of the salary made him reflect that on that side Stepan
Arkadyevitch’s proposed position ran counter to the main tendency of
his own projects of reform, which always leaned towards economy.
“I consider, and I have embodied my views in a note on the subject,
that in our day these immense salaries are evidence of the unsound
economic _assiette_ of our finances.”
“But what’s to be done?” said Stepan Arkadyevitch. “Suppose a bank
director gets ten thousand—well, he’s worth it; or an engineer gets
twenty thousand—after all, it’s a growing thing, you know!”
“I assume that a salary is the price paid for a commodity, and it ought
to conform with the law of supply and demand. If the salary is fixed
without any regard for that law, as, for instance, when I see two
engineers leaving college together, both equally well trained and
efficient, and one getting forty thousand while the other is satisfied
with two; or when I see lawyers and hussars, having no special
qualifications, appointed directors of banking companies with immense
salaries, I conclude that the salary is not fixed in accordance with
the law of supply and demand, but simply through personal interest. And
this is an abuse of great gravity in itself, and one that reacts
injuriously on the government service. I consider....”
Stepan Arkadyevitch made haste to interrupt his brother-in-law.
“Yes; but you must agree that it’s a new institution of undoubted
utility that’s being started. After all, you know, it’s a growing
thing! What they lay particular stress on is the thing being carried on
honestly,” said Stepan Arkadyevitch with emphasis.
But the Moscow significance of the word “honest” was lost on Alexey
Alexandrovitch.
“Honesty is only a negative qualification,” he said.
“Well, you’ll do me a great service, anyway,” said Stepan Arkadyevitch,
“by putting in a word to Pomorsky—just in the way of conversation....”
“But I fancy it’s more in Volgarinov’s hands,” said Alexey
Alexandrovitch.
“Volgarinov has fully assented, as far as he’s concerned,” said Stepan
Arkadyevitch, turning red. Stepan Arkadyevitch reddened at the mention
of that name, because he had been that morning at the Jew Volgarinov’s,
and the visit had left an unpleasant recollection.
Stepan Arkadyevitch believed most positively that the committee in
which he was trying to get an appointment was a new, genuine, and
honest public body, but that morning when Volgarinov had—intentionally,
beyond a doubt—kept him two hours waiting with other petitioners in his
waiting room, he had suddenly felt uneasy.
Whether he was uncomfortable that he, a descendant of Rurik, Prince
Oblonsky, had been kept for two hours waiting to see a Jew, or that for
the first time in his life he was not following the example of his
ancestors in serving the government, but was turning off into a new
career, anyway he was very uncomfortable. During those two hours in
Volgarinov’s waiting room Stepan Arkadyevitch, stepping jauntily about
the room, pulling his whiskers, entering into conversation with the
other petitioners, and inventing an epigram on his position,
assiduously concealed from others, and even from himself, the feeling
he was experiencing.
But all the time he was uncomfortable and angry, he could not have said
why—whether because he could not get his epigram just right, or from
some other reason. When at last Volgarinov had received him with
exaggerated politeness and unmistakable triumph at his humiliation, and
had all but refused the favor asked of him, Stepan Arkadyevitch had
made haste to forget it all as soon as possible. And now, at the mere
recollection, he blushed.
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