Master of Petersburg by J. M. Coetzee Read Free Book Online Page A

Around it is a seething swarm of flies. A name comes to him, and in the same instant he utters it: ‘Baal.’
    â€˜Interesting. A metaphor, perhaps, and not entirely clear, yet worth bearing in mind. Baal. I must ask myself, however, how practical is it to talk of spirits and spirit-possession? Is it even practical to talk about ideas going about in the land, as if ideas had arms and legs? Will such talk assist us in our labours? Will it assist Russia? You say we should not lock Nechaev up because he is possessed by a demon (shall we call it a demon? – spirit strikes a false note, I would say). In that case, what should we do? After all, we are not a contemplative order, we of the investigative arm.’
    There is a silence.
    â€˜I by no means want to dismiss any of what you say,’ Maximov resumes. ‘You are a man of gifts, a man of special insight, as I knew before I met you. And these child conspirators are certainly a different kettle of fish from their predecessors. They believe they are immortal. In that sense it is indeed like fighting demons. And implacable too. It is in their blood, so to speak, to wish us ill, our generation. Something they are born with. Not easy to be a father, is it? I am a father myself, but luckily a father of daughters. I would not wish to be the father of sons in our age. But didn’t your own father . . . wasn’t there some unpleasantness with your father, or do I misremember?’
    From behind the white eyelashes Maximov launches a keen little peep, then without waiting proceeds.
    â€˜So I wonder, in the end, whether the Nechaev phenomenon is quite as much of an aberration of the spirit as you seem to say. Perhaps it is just the old matter of fathers and sons after all, such as we have always had, only deadlier in this particular generation, more unforgiving. In that case, perhaps the wisest course would be the simplest: to dig in and outlast them – wait for them to grow up. After all, we had the Decembrists, and then the men of ’49. The Decembrists are old men now, those who are still alive; I’m sure that whatever demons were in possession of them took flight years ago. As for Petrashevsky and his friends, what is your opinion? Were Petrashevsky and his friends in the grip of demons?’
    Petrashevsky! Why does he bring up Petrashevsky?
    â€˜I disagree. What you call the Nechaev phenomenon has a colouring of its own. Nechaev is a man of blood. The men you do the honour of referring to were idealists. They failed because, to their credit, they were not schemers enough, and certainly not men of blood. Petrashevsky – since you mention Petrashevsky – from the outset denounced the kind of Jesuitism that excuses the means in the name of the end. Nechaev is a Jesuit, a secular Jesuit who quite openly embraces the doctrine of ends to justify the most cynical abuse of his followers’ energies.’
    â€˜Then there is something I have missed. Explain to me again: why are dreamers, poets, intelligent young men like your stepson, drawn to bandits like Nechaev? Because, in your account, isn’t that all Nechaev is: a bandit with a smattering of education?’
    â€˜I do not know. Perhaps because in young people there is something that has not yet gone to sleep, to which the spirit in Nechaev calls. Perhaps it is in all of us: something we think has been dead for centuries but has only been sleeping. I repeat, I do not know. I am unable to explain the connection between my son and Nechaev. It is a surprise to me. I came here only to fetch Pavel’s papers, which are precious to me in ways you will not understand. It is the papers I want, nothing else. I ask again: will you return them to me? They are useless to you. They will tell you nothing about why intelligent young men fall under the sway of evildoers. And they will tell you least of all because clearly you do not know how to read. All the time you were reading