Anna Karenina

evin had on this visit to town seen a great deal of his old friend at
the university, Professor Katavasov, whom he had not seen since his
marriage. He liked in Katavasov the clearness and simplicity of his
conception of life. Levin thought that the clearness of Katavasov’s
conception of life was due to the poverty of his nature; Katavasov
thought that the disconnectedness of Levin’s ideas was due to his lack
of intellectual discipline; but Levin enjoyed Katavasov’s clearness,
and Katavasov enjoyed the abundance of Levin’s untrained ideas, and
they liked to meet and to discuss.

Levin had read Katavasov some parts of his book, and he had liked them.
On the previous day Katavasov had met Levin at a public lecture and
told him that the celebrated Metrov, whose article Levin had so much
liked, was in Moscow, that he had been much interested by what
Katavasov had told him about Levin’s work, and that he was coming to
see him tomorrow at eleven, and would be very glad to make Levin’s
acquaintance.

“You’re positively a reformed character, I’m glad to see,” said
Katavasov, meeting Levin in the little drawing-room. “I heard the bell
and thought: Impossible that it can be he at the exact time!... Well,
what do you say to the Montenegrins now? They’re a race of warriors.”

“Why, what’s happened?” asked Levin.

Katavasov in a few words told him the last piece of news from the war,
and going into his study, introduced Levin to a short, thick-set man of
pleasant appearance. This was Metrov. The conversation touched for a
brief space on politics and on how recent events were looked at in the
higher spheres in Petersburg. Metrov repeated a saying that had reached
him through a most trustworthy source, reported as having been uttered
on this subject by the Tsar and one of the ministers. Katavasov had
heard also on excellent authority that the Tsar had said something
quite different. Levin tried to imagine circumstances in which both
sayings might have been uttered, and the conversation on that topic
dropped.

“Yes, here he’s written almost a book on the natural conditions of the
laborer in relation to the land,” said Katavasov; “I’m not a
specialist, but I, as a natural science man, was pleased at his not
taking mankind as something outside biological laws; but, on the
contrary, seeing his dependence on his surroundings, and in that
dependence seeking the laws of his development.”

“That’s very interesting,” said Metrov.

“What I began precisely was to write a book on agriculture; but
studying the chief instrument of agriculture, the laborer,” said Levin,
reddening, “I could not help coming to quite unexpected results.”

And Levin began carefully, as it were, feeling his ground, to expound
his views. He knew Metrov had written an article against the generally
accepted theory of political economy, but to what extent he could
reckon on his sympathy with his own new views he did not know and could
not guess from the clever and serene face of the learned man.

“But in what do you see the special characteristics of the Russian
laborer?” said Metrov; “in his biological characteristics, so to speak,
or in the condition in which he is placed?”

Levin saw that there was an idea underlying this question with which he
did not agree. But he went on explaining his own idea that the Russian
laborer has a quite special view of the land, different from that of
other people; and to support this proposition he made haste to add that
in his opinion this attitude of the Russian peasant was due to the
consciousness of his vocation to people vast unoccupied expanses in the
East.

“One may easily be led into error in basing any conclusion on the
general vocation of a people,” said Metrov, interrupting Levin. “The
condition of the laborer will always depend on his relation to the land
and to capital.”

And without letting Levin finish explaining his idea, Metrov began
expounding to him the special point of his own theory.

In what the point of his theory lay, Levin did not understand, because
he did not take the trouble to understand. He saw that Metrov, like
other people, in spite of his own article, in which he had attacked the
current theory of political economy, looked at the position of the
Russian peasant simply from the point of view of capital, wages, and
rent. He would indeed have been obliged to admit that in the
eastern—much the larger—part of Russia rent was as yet nil, that for
nine-tenths of the eighty millions of the Russian peasants wages took
the form simply of food provided for themselves, and that capital does
not so far exist except in the form of the most primitive tools. Yet it
was only from that point of view that he considered every laborer,
though in many points he differed from the economists and had his own
theory of the wage-fund, which he expounded to Levin.

Levin listened reluctantly, and at first made objections. He would have
liked to interrupt Metrov, to explain his own thought, which in his
opinion would have rendered further exposition of Metrov’s theories
superfluous. But later on, feeling convinced that they looked at the
matter so differently, that they could never understand one another, he
did not even oppose his statements, but simply listened. Although what
Metrov was saying was by now utterly devoid of interest for him, he yet
experienced a certain satisfaction in listening to him. It flattered
his vanity that such a learned man should explain his ideas to him so
eagerly, with such intensity and confidence in Levin’s understanding of
the subject, sometimes with a mere hint referring him to a whole aspect
of the subject. He put this down to his own credit, unaware that
Metrov, who had already discussed his theory over and over again with
all his intimate friends, talked of it with special eagerness to every
new person, and in general was eager to talk to anyone of any subject
that interested him, even if still obscure to himself.

“We are late though,” said Katavasov, looking at his watch directly
Metrov had finished his discourse.

“Yes, there’s a meeting of the Society of Amateurs today in
commemoration of the jubilee of Svintitch,” said Katavasov in answer to
Levin’s inquiry. “Pyotr Ivanovitch and I were going. I’ve promised to
deliver an address on his labors in zoology. Come along with us, it’s
very interesting.”

“Yes, and indeed it’s time to start,” said Metrov. “Come with us, and
from there, if you care to, come to my place. I should very much like
to hear your work.”

“Oh, no! It’s no good yet, it’s unfinished. But I shall be very glad to
go to the meeting.”

“I say, friends, have you heard? He has handed in the separate report,”
Katavasov called from the other room, where he was putting on his frock
coat.

And a conversation sprang up upon the university question, which was a
very important event that winter in Moscow. Three old professors in the
council had not accepted the opinion of the younger professors. The
young ones had registered a separate resolution. This, in the judgment
of some people, was monstrous, in the judgment of others it was the
simplest and most just thing to do, and the professors were split up
into two parties.

One party, to which Katavasov belonged, saw in the opposite party a
scoundrelly betrayal and treachery, while the opposite party saw in
them childishness and lack of respect for the authorities. Levin,
though he did not belong to the university, had several times already
during his stay in Moscow heard and talked about this matter, and had
his own opinion on the subject. He took part in the conversation that
was continued in the street, as they all three walked to the buildings
of the old university.

The meeting had already begun. Round the cloth-covered table, at which
Katavasov and Metrov seated themselves, there were some half-dozen
persons, and one of these was bending close over a manuscript, reading
something aloud. Levin sat down in one of the empty chairs that were
standing round the table, and in a whisper asked a student sitting near
what was being read. The student, eyeing Levin with displeasure, said:

“Biography.”

Though Levin was not interested in the biography, he could not help
listening, and learned some new and interesting facts about the life of
the distinguished man of science.

When the reader had finished, the chairman thanked him and read some
verses of the poet Ment sent him on the jubilee, and said a few words
by way of thanks to the poet. Then Katavasov in his loud, ringing voice
read his address on the scientific labors of the man whose jubilee was
being kept.

When Katavasov had finished, Levin looked at his watch, saw it was past
one, and thought that there would not be time before the concert to
read Metrov his book, and indeed, he did not now care to do so. During
the reading he had thought over their conversation. He saw distinctly
now that though Metrov’s ideas might perhaps have value, his own ideas
had a value too, and their ideas could only be made clear and lead to
something if each worked separately in his chosen path, and that
nothing would be gained by putting their ideas together. And having
made up his mind to refuse Metrov’s invitation, Levin went up to him at
the end of the meeting. Metrov introduced Levin to the chairman, with
whom he was talking of the political news. Metrov told the chairman
what he had already told Levin, and Levin made the same remarks on his
news that he had already made that morning, but for the sake of variety
he expressed also a new opinion which had only just struck him. After
that the conversation turned again on the university question. As Levin
had already heard it all, he made haste to tell Metrov that he was
sorry he could not take advantage of his invitation, took leave, and
drove to Lvov’s.