of my parents, and my mother told me later that Dostoyevsky sobbed like a child on hearing of his niece's " dishonour." " How could she dare to disgrace our fair name? " repeated my father, weeping bitterly. He forbade my mother to have any dealings with the culprit, and I never saw that cousin.
57 At this time it was very dificult to obtain a divorce in Russia. It could not be granted without the mutual consent of the parties.
As may be supposed, my father was not happy among people so incapable of understanding him. He was one of those men, rare enough in these days, who die brokenhearted if their sons disgrace themselves, or their daughters turn out badly. The sentiment of honour dominated all others with him. His conduct was governed by the chivalrous ideas of his ancestors, whereas his nephews and nieces had forgotten the European culture of their family, and preferred the easy morality of the semi-Oriental civilisation of Russia. They had, moreover, inherited from their mother that hardness of heart which is often to be found among the Germans of the Baltic Provinces.
Dostoyevsky had not only to provide for his brother's family, but for a younger brother, Nicolai, an unhappy dipsomaniac. My father pitied him greatly, and was always good to him, though he never had the strong affection for Nicolai that he had felt for Mihail. Nicolai was too uninteresting; he thought only of his bottle. Dostoyevsky also helped his sister Alexandra, the only one of his three sisters who lived in Petersburg; her invalid husband was unable to work. She showed no gratitude for his generosity, and was always quarrelling with him. Indeed, the behaviour of the whole family was abnormal. Instead of being proud to have a genius for their brother, they hated him because he had made his name famous. My uncle Andrey was the only one who was proud of his brother's literary gifts; but he lived in the country and very rarely came to Petersburg.
Odious as Dostoyevsky's relations were, he forgave them much in memory of his mother, and of their common recollections of childhood and youth. He found it harder to endure the malice and perversity of his stepson, Paul Issaieff, to whom he was bound by no tie of blood. Idle and stupid, Paul had never worked at the military school where Dostoyevsky had placed him, and the school authorities had finally sent him away. This grandson of a slave fell a victim to his stepfather's literary glory; his head was turned by the success of Dostoyevsky's novels. His arrogance and conceit were no less marked than my father's modesty and simpUcity. He treated every one superciliously, and talked unceasingly of his " papa," the famous novelist, though he was very insolent to his stepfather. He thought it unnecessary to study and exert himself; his " papa " would give him money, and he had no hesitation in asking for it. Dostoyevsky had not brought up his stepson judiciously. Absorbed in his novels and his journahstic work, he was unable to give much time to little Paul, and seeing that Maria Dmitrievna was cruel and unjust to the child, he felt a great pity for the fatherless boy, and spoilt him. He gave him too many dainties and toys, and, later, much more pocket money than was usual for boys of his age. He thus accustomed him to idleness and luxury, and Paul Issaieff was never able to correct his faults. Dostoyevsky now recognised that he had brought the boy up unwisely. " Another stepfather would have been stricter, and would have made Paul a man capable of serving his country," he would say sadly to his friends, and he kept the good-for-nothing lad with him as a punishment sent by heaven for a neglected duty.
When his Petersburg relatives tried him too severely, Dostoyevsky would go to Moscow to rest in the home of his sister Vera, who had married a native of Moscow, and had a large family. These children were simpler and less overbearing than the nephews and nieces at Petersburg. They did not understand their uncle's genius, but they loved him for his gaiety and freshness of mind. He has described these young people under the name of the Zahlebin family in his ncfvel The Eternal Husband. He himself figures in it as Veltsha-ninov, a man of forty, who loves the young and enjoys playing games, dancing and singing with them. Dostoyevsky took a special interest in his young nieces. Marie was the favourite pupil of Nicolas Rubinstein, the Director of the Moscow Conservatoire. " If she had a head to match her fingers, what a great musician she might be ! " he would often say of her. " The head " seems to have always kept her back, for Marie never became famous, though she was an accomplished pianist, and my father was never tired of listening to her brilliant playing. He was even fonder of his niece Sophie, an intelligent and serious girl. He believed, on what grounds I know not, that she had inherited his literary talent. My cousin Sophie talked a great deal about the novel she intended to write, but she could never find a subject to her taste. A few years after the marriage of my parents Sophie also married and gave up her literary ambitions.
This somewhat mediaeval love for all the members of my father's large family distressed my mother considerably. Brought up in the Russian tradition, she thought that all the money her husband earned should be devoted to his wife and children, the more so as she did her utmost to help him in his literary labours. She could not understand why my father would deprive her of necessaries in order to help some member of his family who did not love him and who was jealous of his fame. It was not until later, when my brothers and I were growing up, that aU Dostoyevsky's love was at last concentrated upon us. But even to the day of his death he helped his brother Nicolai and the worthless Paul Issaieff.
XI I I
MY mother's family AND ITS ORIGIN
DOSTOYEVSKY soon learned what it was to have debts. Scarcely had he signed the papers taking over his brother's liabihties when the creditors, who ought to have been grateful to him for recognising obligations which the law declared null and void, became extremely insolent, insisting on the immediate payment of their claims, and threatening to throw him into prison. To satisfy the most inexorable of them, Dostoyevsky in his turn got into debt, undertook to pay interest at a very high rate, and fell into the clutches of an unscrupulous publisher, one Stellovsky, who bought the right to bring out a complete edition of his works for an absurdly small sum. Stellovsky further stipulated that my father should add to this edition a new novel of a certain number of pages. This was to be dehvered on the 1st of November of the same year; if it should not be finished by that date, Dostoyevsky would lose his copyright and his works would become the property of Stellovsky. Harassed by his brother Mihail's creditors, my father was forced to accept these barbarous conditions. He laid aside Crime and Punishment 58 the epilogue of which was not yet finished, and set to work feverishly to write The Gambler. He worked night and day till his eyesight was affected. He was obliged to consult an oculist, who forbade him to work, telling him that if he persisted in doing so he would become blind.
58 Stellovsky, who was a regular usurer, threatened to send my father to prison, and the police despatched one of their officers to inform him of these threats. My father received the man pleasantly and talked to him with so much candovu- of his imfortu-nate financial position that the police officer was deeply touched. Instead of helping Stellovsky to get my father imprisoned, he placed all his legal knowledge at Dostoyevsky's service, to enable him to escape from the usurer's toils. He conceived a great admiration for my father, came to see him often and related to him many of the strange experiences he had had m the course of his career. It was thanks to this man that Dostoyevsky was able to treat the police element in Crime and Punishment in so masterly a manrier. This episode illustrates my father's manner of makmg friends, and shows us why he was able to transform the most savage convicts into faithful servants. It also indicates that the character of Prince Mishkin in The Idiot, who had the same faculty of transforming his enemies into friends, was reaUy Dostoyevsky's own portrait.
My father was in despair. It was then the beginning of October, and there was nothing but a rough copy of the novel. Dostoyevsky's friends were very anxious about him, and tried to hit upon some way of helping him. " Why don't you engage a stenographer? " said A. Milinkoff to him. " You could have dictated your novel to him, and he could have written it for you." At this time stenography was still a novelty in Russia. A certain Ohlin had studied
