But we are young, we are only beginning, and for a people who
abolished serfdom only half a century ago, we have done quite a good
deal,--so that, at the worst, lack of culture is the only reproach
which a European with a sense of justice will fling at us. But it is
enough to put side by side the words "Russian" and "Jew,"--and I
become at once a barbarian, a dark and terrible being, who chills and
darkens resplendent Europe. At once in America people begin to hate
me, in England and France to despise me; with the swiftness of
theatrical transformations Tolstoy's compatriot turns into the brother
of those who drive nails into their neighbours' heads,--I become a
_barbarian_. And even the German anti-Semite, a stupid and dull
creature, looks down at me and warns England: "See with whom you are
friends? Are they not the same people who...?"
"To whose interest is it that Europe should despise me, hate and fear
me?" I mused, perplexed, feeling that in the light of the European sun
my cursed hump assumes immense proportions and like a screen shuts off
the light which comes from the East, and in which the aged and weary
West is quite inclined to believe.
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