"Savva Morozov" by Maxim Gorky, summary Automatic translate

This biographical essay, written in 1924, describes the complex psychological evolution of a prominent Russian industrialist, confronting the inevitable demise of his social class. It is part of a larger cycle of autobiographical notes by the writer, which also includes memoirs about Leo Tolstoy, Anton Chekhov, and Vladimir Lenin.

Introduction and first impressions

In 1896, a public confrontation erupted at the All-Russian Trade and Industrial Congress in Nizhny Novgorod. The renowned chemist Dmitri Mendeleev angrily declared that his views on customs policy were shared by Emperor Alexander III himself. A stocky man with a Tatar face rose from the audience. With venomous politeness, he uttered a brazen remark: the scientist’s arguments, cloaked in the tsar’s name, were undermining the credibility of science. The speaker’s name was revealed to be Savva Morozov.

A few days later, the merchants are dejectedly discussing Minister Witte’s refusal to extend the terms of State Bank loans. Morozov takes the floor. He delivers a brilliant speech, arguing that the kingdom of straw is short-lived and the state must be built on iron girders. He clearly dictates the text of a sharp telegram addressed to Witte. The merchants approve of this bold move. The next day, the minister fully grants the committee’s petition.

Four years later, the author encounters Morozov backstage at the Moscow Art Theatre, which is under construction. The lime-smeared factory owner personally measures the stage with a tape measure and berates the carpenters. He readily promises to provide thousands of yards of calico for the Nizhny Novgorod children’s Christmas tree. During a shared lunch at a restaurant, Morozov admires Konstantin Stanislavsky, calling the director a child genius. His sharp eyes glittering, the factory owner expounds his philosophy. He modifies the well-known maxim, declaring, "I work, therefore I exist." While the restaurant patrons cast hostile glances at the rich man, he enthusiastically admires the teachings of Karl Marx. He sees Marxism as a magnificent school for organizing the human will.

Philosophical views and a premonition of disaster

During a visit to Nizhny Novgorod, the manufacturer stays with the author well past midnight. His guest’s incredible erudition is revealed. Morozov bitterly recalls his studies abroad and his work on dyes. He regrets not becoming a professor, dreaming of founding a chemistry research institute. The manufacturer enthusiastically discusses the theory of the dissociation of matter and Rutherford’s experiments.

The conversation turns to literature. The guest recites entire chapters from the novel "Eugene Onegin." He extols the universal genius of Alexander Pushkin, who made Russian literature European. The manufacturer considers the works of Fyodor Dostoevsky and Leo Tolstoy to be purely national phenomena, reinforcing Europe’s unfavorable view of savage dreamers.

A blizzard rages outside, and the guest mercilessly criticizes the blindness of Russian industrialists. The rich rely on the illiteracy of the peasants and the disorganization of the workers. They clumsily manipulate the levers of millions and wait for the rotten power of the Romanovs to fall into their laps. Morozov predicts a quick revolution that will take on the character of uncontrollable anarchy. The bourgeoisie will simply be swept away. The manufacturer confesses his physiological love for the Russian people. He sees the astonishing talent of the masses, dying from syphilis, drunkenness, and idleness. He sees the country’s salvation in a bloody tragedy capable of awakening vital forces.

Life in Moscow and helping the underground

Morozov’s Moscow home on Spiridonovka resembles a vast mausoleum. Heavy opulence sits alongside magnificent murals by Mikhail Vrubel and paintings by Viktor Vasnetsov. The owner’s wife, a former bobbin maker, fancies herself a socialite and collects Sèvres porcelain. Savva himself avoids formal rooms. He wears worn-out shoes at home and wears patched boots outside. He reads a lot, dislikes the senile grumbling of Anton Chekhov’s stories, and predicts the classic’s glory for the young Ivan Bunin.

The rich man generously sponsors the Social Democratic Party. He donates huge sums to the Iskra newspaper and the political Red Cross. Morozov takes a huge risk. He hides revolutionary Nikolai Bauman, who is being hunted by the police, in his home. The illegal guest sleeps on the billiard table, while police officer Reinbot is stationed downstairs. The manufacturer personally transports suitcases of banned literature to his factory and delivers typefaces to Ivanovo-Voznesensk. In the party schism, he sides with the Bolsheviks. He calls Vladimir Lenin’s articles a course of political brawling, admiring the leader’s chess-like logic.

In 1903, in Leonid Andreyev’s apartment, guests discussed potential concessions to the monarchy. Morozov denied rumors of a forthcoming constitution. He declared that if the government embraced reforms, they would be ugly, fragmenting the intelligentsia. Europe was unattainable through peaceful development; Russia could only catch up with it through a fatal revolutionary leap. The guest despised the philosophy of Friedrich Nietzsche, calling it the cry of a sick organism and a symptom of the West’s social decrepitude.

Loneliness and fear of madness

Anton Chekhov’s funeral devolves into a painful farce. The writer’s coffin arrives in a green train car marked "For Oysters." The crowd mistakenly follows General Keller. Chatty lawyers in colorful ties walk behind the writer’s coffin, discussing dachas and dogs. A fat parishioner rides ahead of the procession on a white horse. At the cemetery, Morozov reflects on death. He feels a profound disgust at the rotting flesh. He associates the moment of death with falling into a fetid compost pit. He would prefer to explode instantly.

One rainy autumn day, a factory owner comes to the author’s hotel room. Morozov appears ill and depressed. He complains of repulsive dreams in which thousands of rats speak. Jumping up abruptly, he screams about the incompetent tsarist officials losing the war to the Japanese. Loneliness weighs heavily on the rich man. Hired thugs smash the windows of his factory rooms with stones for hire. Anonymous letters arrive with death threats and extortion. Morozov realizes that his enemies and relatives are deliberately driving him mad. He fears madness more than death, as degeneration is alarmingly common in the third generation of major industrialists.

Bloody Sunday

On the eve of January 9, 1905, Morozov informs the author of the authorities’ plans for a massacre. The factory owner hands the writer his Browning and leaves. The author joins a delegation of intellectuals along with Nikolai Annensky, Venedikt Myakotin, and the provocateur Kuzin. That night, they travel to Deputy Minister Rydzevsky. He listens to the envoys in silence and turns away. The delegation then heads to Sergei Witte. In an office with a portrait of the Emperor, Witte drinks a murky liquid. The minister’s snub-nosed face and shifty lynx eyes evoke disgust. He condescendingly shrugs and spouts empty words, refusing to prevent the tragedy.

In the morning, the author and architect Leonty Benois take to the streets. On Troitsky Bridge, infantry fires point-blank at a peaceful crowd. Dragoons emerge from behind the Peter and Paul Fortress and hack down the survivors with sabers. A young, blue-eyed officer, his gaze fixed, hacks at people’s faces, grunting with effort and wiping blood on his horse’s rump. The soldiers watch the carnage with indifference. On the Police Bridge, a horseman stabs a student with a blade and throws the body onto the ice of the Moika River. On the Pevchesky Bridge, a crowd crushes several horsemen to death. A girl runs past with a severed piece of her cheek. Having witnessed the murders, the author returns home and draws up a scathing indictment against Nicholas II.

Gapon’s refuge and the death of the manufacturer

The writer’s apartment fills with stunned people. An armed Savva Morozov opens the door. Suddenly, Priest Georgy Gapon appears. His face is deathly blue, his eyes glassy, and he wears a ridiculously long coat. He paces the room, demanding wine and begging for help. The factory owner takes a pair of blunt scissors and disdainfully cuts off the hair and beard of the march organizer. Pyotr Rutenberg sits down to write an appeal to the workers in Gapon’s name. Morozov takes the priest to the director Asaf Tikhomirov. There, the priest is made up beyond recognition.

That night, Morozov sums up the terrible day. He calls the tsar a fool. If the emperor had come out onto the balcony and fed the crowd with empty promises, the monarchy would have lasted a long time. Now revolution is inevitable; bloodshed has given people the right to kill in retaliation. The factory owner calls humanity a lie in the Russian reality. He announces his decision to go abroad for treatment.

The next day, the author is arrested and sent to the Peter and Paul Fortress. Morozov organizes the proceedings, secures his release on bail, and flees the country. In Vichy, France, the ailing factory owner is visited by the revolutionary Leonid Krasin. Morozov is in a state of acute paranoia, fearing surveillance and his own wife. Soon, news arrives: Savva Morozov has shot himself in the heart with a revolver. The workers refuse to believe their boss is dead. Until the revolution, a legend circulated among the factories that the rich man had given away his property and was secretly wandering the country.