Kabanata Kabanata 6 · 第6章

Bazarov, returning, seated himself at the table, and fell to drinking

tea. The brothers contemplated him in silence. Arkady glanced covertly

from his father to his uncle, and back again.

"Have you walked far this morning?" at length Nikolai Petrovitch

inquired.

"To a marsh beside an aspen coppice. By the way, Arkady, I flushed five

head of woodcock. Perhaps you would like to go and shoot them?"

"Then you yourself are no sportsman?"

"No."

"That is to say, you prefer physics to anything else?" This from Paul

Petrovitch.

"Yes, I prefer physics--in fact, the natural sciences in general--to

anything else."

"Well, I am told that the _Germanics_ have made great strides in that

department?" (Paul Petrovitch used the term "Germanics" instead of

"Germans" ironically, but no one noticed it.)

"True," was Bazarov's careless reply. "In fact, the Germans are, in the

same respect, our masters."

"You think highly of the Germans?" Paul Petrovitch's tone was now

studiously polite, for he was beginning to feel irritated with the

man--his aristocratic nature could not altogether stomach Bazarov's

absolute lack of ceremony, the fact that this doctor's son not only

knew no diffidence, but actually returned snappish and reluctant

answers, and infused a _brusquerie_ akin to rudeness into his tone.

"At least the savants of that part of the world have some energy in

them," retorted Bazarov.

"Quite so. And your opinion of our Russian savants is--well, perhaps

less flattering?"

"It is, with your leave."

"That constitutes a piece of laudable modesty on your part," Paul

Petrovitch observed with a slight hitch of his figure and a toss of his

head. "But how comes it about that Arkady has just told us that you

recognise no authorities whatsoever? Do you not trust authorities?"

"Why should I? Is anything in the world trustworthy? Certainly, should

I be told a fact, I agree with it, but that is all."

"Oh! Then the Germans confine themselves solely to facts?" Paul

Petrovitch's face had now assumed an expression of detachment, as

though he had suddenly become withdrawn to the ultimate heights of the

empyrean.

"No, not all Germans," replied Bazarov with a passing yawn. Clearly

he had no mind to continue the controversy. Meanwhile Paul Petrovitch

glanced at Arkady as much as to say: "Admit that your friend has

beautiful manners!"

"For my own part," he continued, ostentatiously, and with an effort,

"I, a fallible mortal, do _not_ favour the Germans. Of course, I am not

including in that category the _Russo_-Germans, who, as we know, are

birds of passage. Rather, it is the Germans of Germany proper whom I

cannot abide. Once upon a time they used to produce men like Schiller

and like--what's his name?--Goethe: for both of which authors my

brother has a marked predilection. But now the German nation has become

a nation solely of chemists and materialists."

"A good chemist is worth a score of your poets," remarked Bazarov.

"Quite so." Paul Petrovitch hitched his eyebrows a little, as though he

had come near to falling asleep. "Er--I take it then that you decline

to recognise art, but believe only in science?"

"I have told you that I believe in nothing at all. What after all, is

science--that is to say, science in the mass? A science may exist, even

as a trade or a profession may exist; but with regard to science in the

mass, there is no such thing."

"Very good. And, with regard to such other postulates as usually are

granted in human affairs, the attitude which you adopt is negative in

the same degree?"

"What is this?" suddenly countered Bazarov. "Is it an examination in

tenets?"

Paul Petrovitch turned pale, and Nikolai Petrovitch thought it time to

intervene in the dispute.

"Nay, we will debate the subject later," he said. "And then, while

recognising your views, good Evgenii Vasilitch, we will state our own.

Individually speaking, I am delighted that you should be interested in

the natural sciences. For instance, I am told that recently Liebig[1]

has made some surprising discoveries in the matter of the improvement

of soils. Consequently you might be able to help me in my agricultural

labours, and to give me much useful advice."

"Always I shall be at your service, Nikolai Petrovitch," replied

Bazarov. "But what has Liebig to do with us? First the alphabet should

be learnt before we try to read books. We have not even reached the

letter A."

"You are a Nihilist--that is plain enough," reflected Nikolai

Petrovitch; while aloud he added: "Yet allow me to seek your occasional

assistance. Brother Paul, I believe it is time that we interviewed our

steward."

Paul Petrovitch rose from his chair.

"Yes," he said, without looking at any one in particular, "it is indeed

a terrible thing to have lived five years in the country, and to have

stood remote from superior intellects! If one is _ab origine_ a fool,

one becomes so more than ever, seeing that, however much one may try

not to forget what one has learnt, there will dawn upon one, sooner

or later, the revelation that one's knowledge is all rubbish, that

sensible men have ceased to engage in such futilities, and that one has

lagged far behind the times. But, in such a case, what is one to do?

Evidently the younger generation know more than we do."

And, slowly turning on his heel, he moved away as slowly, with Nikolai

Petrovitch following in his wake.

"Does Paul Petrovitch always reside here?" asked Bazarov when the door

had closed upon the pair.

"Yes, he does. But look here, Evgenii. You adopted too sharp a tone

with my uncle. You have offended him."

"What? Am I to fawn upon these rustic aristocrats, even though their

attitude is one purely of conceit and subservience to custom? If such

be Paul Petrovitch's bent, he had better have continued his career in

St. Petersburg. Never mind him, however. Do you know, I have found a

splendid specimen of the water beetle _dytiscus marginatus_. Are you

acquainted with it? I will show it you."

"Did I not promise to tell you his history?" observed Arkady musingly.

"Whose history? The water beetle's?"

"No; my uncle's. At least you will see from it that he is not the man

you take him for, but a man who deserves pity rather than ridicule."

"I am not prepared to dispute it. But how come you to be so devoted to

him?"

"Always one ought to be fair."

"The connection I do not see."

"Then listen."

And Arkady related the story to be found in the following chapter.

[1] Justus Freiherr von Liebig (1803-1873), the great German

chemist--in particular, the founder of agricultural chemistry.