The Duel

XVI

“This science of the humanities, of which you speak, will only comply with the human psyche, once it encounters true science and moves forward alongside it. Whether they’ll meet beneath a microscope, or in the monologues of a new Hamlet, or in a new religion, I don’t know, but I do think that the earth will be covered in a blanket of ice, before it occurs. The most steadfast and life-affirming of all humanitarian knowledge—is, of course, the teachings of Christ, but draw your attention to how diversely even they are interpreted! Some teach that we should love those near and dear but make an exception for soldiers, criminals and the insane: it’s permissible for the first among them to be killed during wartime, the second imprisoned or executed, and the third to be denied the union of marriage. Other interpreters teach to love those near and dear unconditionally, without taking into account the pluses and minuses. According to their teachings, if a consumptive or a murderer or an epileptic should come along and propose marriage to your daughter—give your blessing; if cretins wage war against the physical and cerebral status quo—lay down your heads. This is the propagation of love for love’s sake, like art for art’s sake; if empowered, it would drive the human race to extinction, and thus the super-colossus of all evil deeds ever seen on the face of the earth would be realized. There are very many interpretations, and if there are many, then serious thought cannot find any one of them satisfying and rushes to add its own interpretation to this mass. For this very reason, never base a question on, how would you say, philosophical or Christian ground; by doing so, you only grow further estranged from the question.”

The deacon listened attentively to the zoologist, thought for a moment and inquired:

“Is moral law, idiosyncratic to each individual, conceived of by philosophers or created by God together with the body?”

“I don’t know. But this law is so extremely common among all people and all epochs, that to me, it seems necessary to recognize it as being organically interlinked with man. It is not conceived of but simply is and will be. I’m not telling you that it will be seen beneath a microscope one day, but its organic link has already proven evident: severe illness of the brain and all that we have deemed disorders of the soul arise first and foremost from a perversion of moral law, as far as I know.”

“All right, sir. This means that, as the stomach wants to eat, so moral feeling wants for us to love those near and dear to us. Isn’t that so? However, our essential nature of self-love is resistant to the voice of sense and reason, and thus many head-splitting questions arise. Who are we supposed to turn to in order to solve these problems if you would not have them based on philosophical ground?”

“Turn to those few precise facts that we do have. Trust in the clarity and logic of facts. It’s true this is meager, but it’s not really as shaky or blurry as philosophy. The moral law, let’s say, demands that you love people. But why? The result of love should be the elimination of all that is harmful to people in one way or another and threatens their present and future with danger. Our knowledge and this clarity are telling you that humankind is menaced by danger from the side of the morally and physically abnormal. If this is so, then fight the abnormal. If you don’t have the power to elevate them to normalcy, then you must surely have the strength and intelligence to neutralize them, that is destroy them.”

“Which means that love is when the strong destroy the weak?”

“Undoubtedly.”

“But, you see, the strong crucified our Lord Jesus Christ!” the deacon hotly said.

“Therein lies the whole point, that he was crucified not by the strong but by the weak. The culture of mankind has weakened and aspires to nullify the battle for existence and selection; this is behind the speedy propagation of the weak and their predominance over the strong. Imagine that you’ve managed to impress human ideas in their primitive, rudimentary form upon bees. What can come of this? Drones that should be killed will be left among the living, will eat the honey, corrupt and stifle the hive—the result will be a predominance of the weak over the strong and the degeneration of the latter. The very same thing is occurring now with mankind: the weak are oppressing the strong. Amongst savages, who have not yet been touched by culture, the strongest, the wisest and the most moral leads the way; he is chief and ruler. And we, the cultured, crucified Christ and continue to crucify Him. This means we are lacking something … And that something must be restored in us, otherwise there’ll be no end to these misconceptions.”

“But what kind of criteria do you have for separating the strong from the weak?”

“Knowledge and clarity. The consumptive and the scrofulous will be recognizable by their illnesses, while the immoral and the insane by their actions.”

“But don’t you see that mistakes happen!”

“Yes, but it’s useless to worry about getting your feet wet when there’s danger of a flood.”

“That’s philosophy,” the deacon laughed.

“Not really. You’ve been so ruined by your seminary philosophy that you look for nothing but murk in everything. The abstract sciences, which your young head is stuffed full of, are called abstract for a reason, in that they distract your intellect from what’s clear. Look the devil straight in the eye, and if he’s a devil, then say that this is a devil, but don’t go riffling through Kant or Hegel for an explanation.”

The zoologist was quiet a moment and then continued.

“Two by two is four, a rock is a rock. Tomorrow, lo and behold, we’re having a duel. You and I will say that it’s foolish and absurd, that the duel has outlived its era, that in reality the aristocratic duel in no way differs from a drunken brawl in a tavern, but still we will not disengage, will go and will fight. This means that there is a power that is stronger than our reason. We cry out that war is plunder, barbarism, horror, fratricide, we cannot stand the sight of blood without swooning; but at the first insult from the French or Germans, within the hour we’ll feel our spirits stir, we’ll give the most heartfelt shout of hurrah and throw ourselves at the enemy, you will invoke the Lord’s prayer over our artillery and our valor will arouse a consensual and, what’s more, heartfelt delight. This means, yet again, that there is a power, and if it is not higher than us, then it is stronger than us and our philosophy. We cannot stop it in the same way that we cannot stop that storm cloud slowly drifting in from the sea. Don’t be a hypocrite, don’t flip it the bird without removing your hand from your pocket, and don’t say: Oh, how silly! Oh, how outdated! Oh, it doesn’t conform to Scripture! But look it straight in the eyes, acknowledge its lawfulness according to reason, and when, for instance, it would like to be rid of the decrepit, the scrofulous, the corrupt race, then don’t interfere with your pills and quotations of ill-interpreted Gospel. Leskov has a conscientious Daniel, who comes across a leper outside of town and feeds him and warms him all in the name of love for Christ. If that Daniel really loved people, he would have led the leper further out of town and thrown him in a ditch, then he could have gone off to serve the healthy. Christ, I hope, has bestowed upon us love that is reasonable, sensible and benevolent.”

“So that’s what you’re made of!” the deacon laughed. “If you don’t believe in Christ, why is it you refer to Him so often?”

“No, I believe. But only, of course, in my own way, and not in yours. Oh, Deacon, Deacon!” The zoologist began to laugh; he took the deacon by the waist and said cheerfully: “Well, what, then? Shall we go to the duel tomorrow?”

“My order doesn’t allow it, or else I’d go.”

“What does that mean—your order?”

“I’m ordained. I’ve received grace.”

“Oh, Deacon, Deacon,” Von Koren repeated, laughing. “I love talking with you.”

“You say you have faith,” the Deacon said. “What kind of faith is it? Why, I’ve got an uncle who’s a priest, and he’s got such faith that during times of drought as the plains beg for rain, he brings an umbrella out with him and a leather coat so that he won’t get soaking wet on the way back. That there is faith! When he speaks of Christ, he exudes such radiance that all the ladies and gents cry in ecstasy. He could even stop that storm cloud and send that power of yours running. Yes … Faith can move mountains.”

Laughing, the deacon slapped the zoologist’s shoulder.

“So, then …” he continued. “Here you teach all that you can, penetrate the abyss of the sea, separate the weak from the strong, write books and challenge others to duels—yet everything remains in its place. But mind you, any random decrepit old man prattling one and the same word over and over about the holy spirit or a new Mohammed with a saber galloping on horseback from Arabia, everything will go flying head over heels for you, and in Europe there won’t be a single stone left standing on any other.”

“Well, Deacon, that’s written in the sky with pitchforks!”

“Faith, if it hath not works, is dead. But works without faith—that’s worse, that’s just a waste of time and nothing more.”

The doctor appeared on the embankment. Seeing the Deacon and the zoologist, he approached them.

“It seems everything is ready,” he said, out of breath. “Govorovsky and Boyko will be seconds. They’ll arrive tomorrow at five in the morning. Everything’s been stood on its head!” he said, looking up at the sky. “There’s nothing to see. It’s going to rain.”

“You, I’m assuming, will ride with us?” Von Koren asked.

“No, God help me, I’ve suffered enough. Ustimovich will go in my place. I’ve already spoken with him.”

Lightning flashed far out at sea, and the vague roll of thunder could be heard.

“How stuffy it is before a storm!” Von Koren said. “I’m willing to wager that you’ve already been to Laevsky’s and cried on his shoulder.”

“Why would I go to him?” the doctor answered, perplexed. “That’s all I need!”

Before sunset he had walked the boulevard and the street several times, in the hopes of running into Laevsky. He felt embarrassed by his earlier outburst and for the sudden break in good will that had followed the outburst. He wanted to apologize to Laevsky in a joking tone, scold him, calm him and tell him that the duel is a remnant of the barbarianism of the Middle Ages but that providence was guiding them to the duel as a means of reconciliation: tomorrow they will both, splendiferous people with superior intellects, exchange gunshots, appraise one another’s nobility and become friends. However, not once did he encounter Laevsky.

“Why would I call on him?” Samoylenko repeated. “It is not I who insulted him, he insulted me. Kindly tell me, why did he tear into me? What bad thing did I do to him? I walk into the drawing room and all of a sudden, ain’t life grand: I’m a spy! There it is for you! You tell me: how did it start? What did you say to him?”

“I told him there is no way out of his predicament. And I was right. Only honest men or cheats could find their way out of any predicament, but one who wants to be both an honest man and a cheat at the same time has no way out. Will you look, gentlemen, it’s already eleven o’clock, and tomorrow we must rise early.”

There was a sudden gust of wind; it lifted the dust along the embankment, spun it around in a whirlwind, howled and drowned out the noise of the sea.

“Squall!” the deacon said. “We must go, or else the dust will get in our eyes.”

When they’d set off, Samoylenko sighed and said, holding on to his service cap:

“As it stands, I won’t be able to sleep tonight.”

“Don’t you worry,” the zoologist laughed. “You can rest assured, the duel won’t end in anything. Laevsky will magnanimously shoot into the air, he’s incapable of doing otherwise, and I, in all likelihood, won’t shoot at all. To find myself in court over Laevsky, to waste time, the game’s not worth the candle. By the way, what are the legal ramifications of dueling?”

“Arrest, but in the event of an opponent’s death, incarceration in a fortress for up to three years.”

“In Petropavlovsk?

“No, in a military fortress, I think.”

“I really should teach that fine young man a lesson!”

Lightning flashed over the sea behind them and illuminated the rooftops and mountains for an instance. The friends parted company near the boulevard. When the doctor had disappeared into the darkness and the sound of his footsteps were already fading, Von Koren shouted out to him:

“The weather may impede us tomorrow!”

“That would be good! God willing!”

“Have a goodnight!”

“What—night? What are you saying?”

It was difficult to hear due to the noise of the wind and sea and the clap of thunder.

“Nothing!” the zoologist shouted, and hurried home.