CHAPTER 29. THE SILK ROAD

April 29, 1826.

"Slowly but surely traversing, step by step, the vast spaces of the well-known Silk Road, I pondered much—I pondered about the past, the present, and the future. Often, during this, my path, which was not defined by anything in any way, memories of my childhood, my family, and my father arose in my mind... The heavy cart, filled with all sorts of goods, sadly creaked, repeatedly giving a heavy shudder—my soul shuddered in a similar manner in those moments... Here, unique and picturesque landscapes appear before my physical eyes—here, at these moments, painful pictures of my childhood relationship with my father appear before my metaphysical gaze: the permanent compulsion to painstakingly read books, and subsequently, a no less painstaking retelling of what was read—in those very minutes when I made a mistake during the retelling or spoke the correct words with extreme uncertainty, I was, as if at a university exam, sent back to reread the text predetermined for my being with special cruelty and mercilessness. Thus, I soon came to hate the classics and love those who failed to achieve wide recognition. In cases when my lips spoke false speeches with great conviction, I was often not corrected—my mentor did not know more than half of what he asked me about, of what I was supposed to know... Something, a certain thing, or perhaps, someone, a certain person, formed in him certain ideas regarding the fact that my essence in this sublunary world should have become an adept of the cult of Themis—I had to speak convincingly, to reread the norms of law until my mind memorized the totality of these words by heart: the spirit of the law was not there at all—everywhere the stench of the continuously decaying flesh of the law prevailed. At twenty years old, permanently staying under my parent's wing, or rather, without any physical or metaphysical payment, daily performing truly heavy agricultural labor, I was most mercilessly reproached for my inactivity and unwillingness to achieve great things—deprived of any opportunity by my mentor, both financial and moral, to take an independent, original step, I, crying heavily in my soul, listened with a smile on my face to my father's poisonous bon mots, contemptuous sneers, and disrespectful words addressed to me: at the very same seconds... yes, seconds, not minutes, hours, and days!.. of my own freedom, when I tried to do something on my own, I was immediately interrupted, with the argument that I was doing something unimaginably stupid. It was then that for the first time in my life I wanted to leave this world—no, not to take my own life, but to create my own new world, devoid of any limitations and forms, at a writing desk: I began to create line after line—these were the first sketches of the epic novel that I finished creating six years later. Daily languishing under the burden of the heavy physical labor of the earthly world, every night I found exceptional pleasure in a fictional world, created on the foundation of my thoughts and feelings—physical labor, throughout the day, transformed me from a man into an animal, while intellectual labor, throughout the night, turned an animal into a man: only one of these labors was able to lead me from that state to a state of peace and prosperity—it was intellectual labor. From early morning until late evening for many months, all I did was clean grain and take care of domestic livestock, the number of which was truly large—every day my flesh was among noise and dirt: my soul, residing in true purity, in those moments tasted the gentle melodiousness of Albinoni's church sonatas and the original tenderness of Domenico Alberti's creations. I did not go insane in an environment that deprived many of their minds and peace of mind... perhaps, for this very reason, because I preserved a sober mind, I became a despised outcast for my blood, but not my spiritual, family: I was thrown out of the yard, like a useless dog that no longer wanted to serve its master—but is not one of the key principles of nature the principle of equality?.. So, thanks to the fact that they once made a choice not in my favor, thanks to the fact that they did not choose me, I was able to find my own path, which is true for me, which would have been impossible without their contempt and rejections...

Often, during my journey, I enjoyed moments of solitude of exceptional, sacred intimacy—most often within their spaces, I was absolutely naked, like the forefather of humanity Adam: sometimes I was even Adam in my dreams—the devil appeared before me, whose form was my not-so-virtuous feelings and thoughts. At times I was tempted and succumbed to the influence of the devil, but... but who among us has never stumbled? Or, perhaps, because the devil carried out his intentions through the hands of others, he was less guilty of my sins than I was myself? The tempter is no better than the tempted, and the tempted can be better than the tempter only when he shows his own free will, which, in turn, does not contradict the laws of the universe and world order. During one of these dreams, I was alone, absolutely naked, in the middle of a field entirely covered with Indian wheat, where, having a large number of things at my disposal, I slowly clothed myself in creations of fabric and seams—my consciousness interpreted this dream as follows: from the beginning of the dream, as well as from the beginning of my own life, I was open and naked before this world, but over time, I began to close myself off from it more and more, dressing in the garments of human prejudices, rules of conduct, and other results of the life activity of human civilization—at the end of his life, a person becomes naked again, for the knowledge and understanding of these norms is lost over time in his consciousness, as is his memory. In dreams, I was often alone—I was truly happy and enjoyed this with the same rapture with which any true healer studies the process of the rapid movement of blood in the body: these movements of rivers and waterfalls on the corruptible and mortal flesh of a withering piece of matter. But what was my loneliness compared to the loneliness of Rousseau? This is who was truly happy on this earth in reality—he was never as alone as when he was in society, in a crowd. At times in a dream, I felt pain—if there were no pain in our lives, would we have known tenderness, as one of the components of the reverse side of the medal of this world? At times, modern ancient ruins also appeared to me in dreams, where I wandered among their flesh with special sadness, being clothed in the garments of an ancient Roman or Greek: in these minutes, I sincerely mourned the world we lost, but even more, I mourned the present and future world—nothing, no one, and never will return that dust, which the broom of history swept away with special ruthlessness, to its place... Then... a few minutes... and I woke up... In those minutes, in the first minutes after waking, it seemed to me as if I had moved to the future from a long-dead world, the existence of which could only be confirmed by these now-thriving ruins—if they were not there, what would prove the opposite?..