Some were dreadfully insulted, and quite seriously, to have held up as a model such an immoral character as A Hero of Our Time ; others shrewdly noticed that the author had portrayed himself and his acquaintances. … A Hero of Our Time , gentlemen, is in fact a portrait, but not of an individual; it is the aggregate of the vices of our whole generation in their fullest expression.
—LERMONTOV
I
MAY I, monsieur, offer my services without running the risk of intruding? I fear you may not be
able to make yourself understood by the worthy ape who presides over the fate of this
establishment. In fact, he speaks nothing but Dutch. Unless you authorize me to plead your case, he
will not guess that you want gin. T... (From: TheAnarchistLibrary.org.)
II
WHAT is a judge-penitent? Ah, I intrigued you with that business. I meant no harm by it,
believe me, and I can explain myself more clearly. In a way, that even belongs to my official duties.
But first I must set forth a certain number of facts that will help you to understand my story.
A few years ago I was a lawyer in Paris and, indeed, a rather well-known lawyer. Of course, I
didn’t tell you my real name. I had a specialty: noble cases. Widows and orphans, as the saying
goes—I don’t know why, because there are improper widows and ferocious orphans. Yet it was
enough for me to sniff the slightest scent of victim on a defendant for me to swing into action. And
what action! A real tornado! My he... (From: TheAnarchistLibrary.org.)
III
REALLY, mon cher compatriote, I am grateful to you for your curiosity. However, there is nothing
extraordinary about my story. Since you are interested, I’ll tell you that I thought a little about that
laugh, for a few days, then forgot about it. Once in a great while, I seemed to hear it within me. But
most of the time, without making any effort, I thought of other things.
Yet I must admit that I ceased to walk along the Paris quays. When I would ride along them in a
car or bus, a sort of silence would descend on me. I was waiting, I believe. But I would cross the
Seine, nothing would happen, and I would breathe again. I also had some health problems at that
time. Nothing definite, a dejection perhaps, a sort ... (From: TheAnarchistLibrary.org.)
IV
A DOLL’S village, isn’t it? No shortage of quaintness here! But I didn’t bring you to this island
for quaintness, cher ami. Anyone can show you peasant headdresses, wooden shoes, and ornamented
houses with fishermen smoking choice tobacco surrounded by the smell of furniture wax. I am one
of the few people, on the other hand, who can show you what really matters here.
We are reaching the dike. We’ll have to follow it to get as far as possible from these too charming
houses. Please, let’s sit down. Well, what do you think of it? Isn’t it the most beautiful negative
landscape? Just see on the left that pile of ashes they call a dune here, the gray dike on the right, the
livid beach at... (From: TheAnarchistLibrary.org.)
V
You are wrong, cher, the boat is going at top speed. But the Zuider Zee is a dead sea, or almost.
With its flat shores, lost in the fog, there’s no saying where it begins or ends. So we are steaming
along without any landmark; we can’t gauge our speed We are making progress and yet nothing is
changing. It’s not navigation but dreaming.
In the Greek archipelago I had the contrary feeling. Constantly new islands would appear on the
horizon. Their treeless backbone marked the limit of the sky and their rocky shore contrasted
sharply with the sea. No confusion possible; in the sharp light everything was a landmark. And from
one island to another, ceaselessly on our little boat, which was nevertheles... (From: TheAnarchistLibrary.org.)
VI
I’M EMBARASSED to be in bed when you arrive. It’s nothing, just a little fever that I’m
treating with gin. I’m accustomed to these attacks. Malaria, I think, that I caught at the time I was
pope. No, I’m only half joking. I know what you’re thinking: it’s very hard to disentangle the true
from the false in what I’m saying. I admit you are right. I myself ... You see, a person I knew used to
divide human beings into three categories: those who prefer having nothing to hide rather than
being obliged to lie, those who prefer lying to having nothing to hide, and finally those who like
both lying and the hidden. I’ll let you choose the pigeonhole that suits me.
But what... (From: TheAnarchistLibrary.org.)
