of his satires a certain
gentleman, named N. G., who demanded that Pushkin be severely
punished. Unnerved by the cross-examination to which he was put, the
poet cried:

"But it isn't N. G. whom I have drawn!"

"Who is it, then?"

"It is you, yourself," replied the poet.

"That is madness, sir," the high dignitary cried out with wrath.
"You say that wood belonging to the state was stolen. And at the
time when these thefts were committed I was away."

"Then you do not recognize yourself in my satire?"

"No, a thousand times no!"

"And N. G. recognizes himself?"

"Not exactly, but as he is in the service of the government...."

"Well, is he its spokesman and champion? And why is it precisely he
who asks to have me arrested?"

"All right," replied the dignitary, suddenly becoming milder, "I
shall inform His Majesty of our conversation."

The affair ended without further complications. It should be noted
that the Tsar himself protected Pushkin, for Pushkin had got into
touch with him in order to influence him more successfully.
Nevertheless, this acquaintance was only a new source of suffering
to the poet. In the case of certain less known writers the
malevolence of the higher authorities often took on a tragic turn.
For a single poem in which the poet Polezhayev described a students'
debauch, the author was reduced by Nicholas I to the rank of a
common soldier. Sokolovsky, another writer of this time, not being
able to get a footing in literature, abandoned the pen, and like
many others, sought to forget his disappointment in drink. For
several years Hertzen was transferred from one place of exile to
another until he came to England. And how terrible was the fate of
the talented poet of Little Russia, Shevchenko, who was exiled for
many years to a corner of European Russia and forbidden to do any
writing or even painting, a thing that he loved above all! And
finally, who does not know the sad comedy of Dostoyevsky, who was
made to go through all the preparations for his execution, but was
finally sent to that prison which he has so wonderfully described in
his recollections of "The Dead House"?

The Damocles' sword of defiant authority was suspended over the head
of every Russian writer. The vocation of literature was filled with
danger and brought about actual tragedies in some families. Thus,
Pushkin's father, fearing that the fury of the authorities would
extend to him, began to hate all literature, and