# Anna Karenina (Dole)/Part Three/Chapter 28

CHAPTER XXVIII
Levin spent the evening with the ladies, and found it unendurably stupid. His mind was stirred, as never before, at the thought that the dissatisfaction he felt in the administration of his estate was not peculiar to himself, but was a general condition into which affairs in Russia had evolved, and that an organization of labor, whereby the work would be carried on in such a manner as he saw at the muzhik's on the highway, was not an illusion, but a problem to be solved. And it seemed to him that he could settle this problem, and that he must attempt to do it.
Levin bade the ladies good-night, promising to go with them the following morning for a ride to visit some interesting spots in the Crown woods. Before going to bed he went to the library, to get some of the books on the labor question which Sviazhsky had recommended.
Sviazhsky's library was an enormous room, lined with book-shelves, and having two tables, one a massive writing-table, standing in the center of the room, and the other a round one, laden with recent numbers of journals and reviews, in different languages, arranged about a lamp. Near the writing-table was a cabinet, stoïka, containing drawers inscribed with gilt lettering for the reception of various documents.
​Sviazhsky got the volumes, and sat down in a rocking-chair.
"What is that you are looking at?" he asked of Levin, who was standing by the round table, and turning the leaves of a review.
Levin held up the review.
"Oh, yes! that is a very interesting article indeed. It argues," he continued with gay animation, "that the principal culprit in the partition of Poland was not Frederic after all. It appears .... " and he gave with the clearness characteristic of him a digest of these new and important discoveries. Although Levin was now more interested in the question of farm management than in anything, he asked himself, as he listened to his friend:—
"What is he in reality? and why, why does the partition of Poland interest him?"
When Sviazhsky had finished, Levin could not help saying:—
"Well, and what of it?"
But he had nothing to say. It was interesting simply from the fact that it "argued."
But Sviazhsky did not explain, and did not think it necessary to explain, why it was interesting to him.
"Well, but the irascible old proprietor interested me very much," said Levin, sighing. "He's sensible, and a good deal of what he says is true."
"Ah! don't speak of it! he is a confirmed slaveholder at heart, like the rest of them."
"With you at their head" ....
"Yes, only I am trying to lead them in the other direction," replied Sviazhsky, laughing.
"His argument struck me very forcibly," said Levin. "He is right when he says that our affairs, that is, the 'rational management,' cannot succeed; that the only kind that can succeed is the money-lending system like that of the other proprietor, or, in other words, the one that is simplest. .... Who is to blame for this?"
"We ourselves, of course. But then it is not true ​that it does not succeed. It succeeds with Vasiltchikof."
"The mill .... "
"But still I don't know what surprises you about it. The peasantry stand on such a low plane of development, both materially and morally, that it is evident they'll oppose everything that is strange to them. In Europe the 'rational management' succeeds because the people are civilized. In the first place, we must civilize our peasantry,—that's the point."
"But how will you civilize them?"
"To civilize the people, three things are necessary,—schools, schools, and schools."
"But you yourself say that the peasantry stand on a low plane of material development. What good will schools do in that respect?"
"Do you know, you remind me of a story of the advice given to a sick man: 'You had better try a purgative.' He tried it; he grew worse. 'Apply leeches.' He applied them; he grew worse. 'Well, then, pray to God.' He tried it; he grew worse. So it is with you. I say political economy; you say you're worse for it. I suggest socialism; worse still. Education; still worse."
"Yes. But how can schools help?"
"They will create other needs."
"But this is just the very thing I could never understand," replied Levin, vehemently. "In what way will schools help the peasantry to better their material condition? You say that schools—education—will create new needs. So much the worse, because they will not have the ability to satisfy them; and I could never see how a knowledge of addition and subtraction and the catechism could help them to better themselves materially. Day before yesterday I met a peasant woman with a baby at the breast, and I asked her where she was going. She said she had been 'to the babka's; the child had a crying fit, and I took him to be cured.' ​I asked, 'How did the babka cure the crying fit?' 'She set him on the hen-roost, and muttered something.'"
"Well there!" cried Sviazhsky, laughing heartily. "You yourself confess it. In order to teach them that they can't cure children by setting them on hen-roosts, you must .... "
"Ah no!" interrupted Levin, with some vexation. "Your remedy of schools for the people I only compared to the babka's method of curing. The peasantry are poor and uncivilized; this we see as plainly as the woman saw her child's distress because he was crying. But that schools can raise them from their wretchedness is as inconceivable as the hen-roost cure for sick children. You must first remedy the cause of the poverty."
"Well! In this at least you agree with Spencer, whom you do not like. He says that civilization can result from increased happiness and comfort in life, from frequent ablutions, but not by learning to read and cipher." ....
"There now! I am very glad, or rather very sorry, if I am in accord with Spencer. But this I have felt for a long time: schools cannot help; the only help can come from some economical organization, whereby the peasantry will be richer, will have more leisure. Then schools also will come."
"Nevertheless, schools are obligatory now all over Europe."
"But how would you harmonize this with Spencer's ideas?" asked Levin.
But into Sviazhsky's eyes again came the troubled expression; and he said with a smile:—
"No, this story of the crying fit was capital! Is it possible that you heard it yourself?"
Levin saw that there was no connection between this man's life and his thoughts. Evidently it was perfectly indifferent to him where his conclusions led him. Only the process of reasoning was what appealed to him; and it was disagreeable to him when this process of reasoning led him into some stupid, blind alley. This ​was what he did not like, and he avoided it by leading the conversation to some bright and agreeable topic.
All the impressions of this day, including those which arose from his visit to the old muzhik, and which seemed somehow to give a new basis to his thoughts, troubled Levin profoundly. This genial Sviazhsky who kept his thoughts for general use and evidently had entirely different principles for the conduct of his life, keeping them hidden from Levin, while at the same time he and the majority of men—the throng whose name is legion—seemed to be ruled by the general consensus of opinions by means of ideas strange to him; the testy old proprietor, perfectly right in his judicious views of life, but wrong in despising one entire class in Russia, and that perhaps the best; his own discontent with his activity, and the confused hope of setting things right at last,—all this excited and disturbed him.
Levin retired to his room, and lay down on his springy mattress, which unexpectedly exposed his arms and legs every time he moved; but it was long before he could get to sleep. His conversation with Sviazhsky, though many good things were said, did not interest him; but the old proprietor's arguments haunted him. He involuntarily remembered every word that he said, and his imagination supplied the answer.
"Yes, I ought to have replied to him, 'You say that our management is not succeeding because the muzhik despises all improvements, and that force must be applied to them. But if our estates were not retrograding, even where these improvements are not found, you would be right; but advance is made only where the laborer works in conformity with his own customs, as at the old man's by the roadside. Our general dissatisfaction with our management proves that either we or the laborers are at fault. We have long been losing, both by our own methods and by European methods, by neglecting the qualities of the laboring force. Let us be willing to acknowledge that the laboring force is not ideal as a force, but is the Russian muzhik with his instincts, and we shall then be able to manage our estates ​in conformity with this.' I should have said to him . 'Imagine that you were carrying on an estate like that of my old man by the roadside, that you had found a way of interesting your laborers in the success of their work, and had found that by means of improvements such as they would acknowledge to be improvements, you had succeeded in doubling or trebling your returns without exhausting the soil; then suppose you make a division and give a half to your working force. The residue which you would have would be larger, and that which would come to the working force would be larger.' But to do this, there must be a coming down from anything like ideal management and the laborers must be interested in the success of the management. How can it be done? This is a question of details, but there is no doubt that it is possible."
This idea kept Levin in a state of agitation. Half the night he did not sleep, thinking of the details connected with carrying out his new plans and schemes. He had not intended to leave so soon, but now he decided to go home on the morrow. Moreover, the memory of the young lady with the open dress came over him with a strange sense of shame and disgust. But the main thing that decided him was his desire to lay before his muzhiks his new project before the autumn harvests, so that they might reap under the new conditions. He decided to reform his whole method of administration.
* ↑ Ratsionalnoe khozyaïstvo.
* ↑ Babka, a peasant grandmother, a popular name for the midwife. It is the diminutive of baba, a peasant woman, especially a muzhik's wife.