‘Only not in the language--and that means a great deal! And it is our people, not I, who have done it; I am not to blame because they are destined to go through a discipline of this kind. “The Germans have developed in a normal way,” cry the Slavophils, “let us too have a normal development!” But how are you to get it when the very first historical step taken by our race--the summoning of a prince from over the sea to rule over them--is an irregularity, an abnormality, which is repeated in every one of us down to the present day; each of us, at least once in his life, has certainly said to something foreign, not Russian: “Come, rule and reign over me!” I am ready, of course, to agree that when we put a foreign substance into our own body we cannot tell for certain what it is we are putting there, bread or poison; yet it is a well-known thing that you can never get from bad to good through what is better, but always through a worse state of transition, and poison too is useful in medicine. It is only fit for fools or knaves to point with triumph to the poverty of the peasants after the emancipation, and the increase of drunkenness since the abolition of the farming of the spirit-tax.... Through worse to better!’ Potugin passed his hand over his face. ‘You asked me what was my opinion of Europe,’ he began again: ‘I admire her, and am devoted to her principles to the last degree, and don’t in the least think it necessary to conceal the fact. I have long--no, not long--for some time ceased to be afraid to give full expression to my convictions--and I saw that you too had no hesitation in informing Mr. Gubaryov of your own way of thinking. Thank God I have given up paying attention to the ideas and points of view and habits of the man I am conversing with. Really, I know of nothing worse than that quite superfluous cowardice, that cringing desire to be agreeable, by virtue of which you may see an important dignitary among us trying to ingratiate himself with some little student who is quite insignificant in his eyes, positively playing down to him, with all sorts of tricks and devices. Even if we admit that the dignitary may do it out of desire for popularity, what induces us common folk to shuffle and degrade ourselves. Yes, yes, I am a Westerner, I am devoted to Europe: that’s to say, speaking more accurately, I am devoted to culture--the culture at which they make fun so wittily among us just now--and to civilisation--yes, yes, that is a better word--and I love it with my whole heart and believe in it, and I have no other belief, and never shall have. That word, ci-vi-li-sa-tion (Potugin pronounced each syllable with full stress and emphasis), is intelligible, and pure, and holy, and all the other ideals, nationality, glory, or what you like--they smell of blood.... Away with them!’ ‘Well, but Russia, Sozont Ivanitch, your country--you love it?’ Potugin passed his hand over his face. ‘I love her passionately and passionately hate her.’