Later on he began a novel, to be called “The Decembrists.”  The Decembrists is the name given to the participants in the disorders of 1825, on the accession of the Emperor Nicholas I. to the throne.  Among the preparations which he made for this work were excursions taken with the object of acquainting himself with the divers dialects and peculiarities of expression current in the different parts of the empire.  These he collected from pilgrims on the highways and byways.

“A pilgrim,” said the witty countess, “is a man who has grown tired of the jars and the cares and responsibilities of the household; out of patience with the family in general.  He feels the necessity, inborn in every Russian, for roaming, for getting far away from people, into the country and the forests.  So he makes a pilgrimage to some distant shrine.  I should like to be a pilgrim myself, but the family ties me down.  I feel the need of freshening up my ideas.”

In these excursions the count came to see how great a part religion plays in the life of the lower classes; and he argued that, in order to get into sympathy with them, one must share their ideas as to religion.  Accordingly he plunged into it with his customary ardor,—­“he has a passionate nature,”—­and for several years he attended every church service, observed every rite, kept every fast, and so on.  He thought it horrible if those about him did not do the same,—­if they neglected a single form.  I think it quite probable that he initiated the trouble with his stomach by these fasts.  They are nothing to a person who has always been used to them; but when we consider that the longer fasts cover about four solid months,—­not to mention the usual abstinence on Wednesdays and Fridays and the special abstinences,—­and that milk, eggs, cheese, and butter are prohibited, as well as other customary articles of food, it is not difficult to imagine the effect of sudden and strict observance upon a man accustomed during the greater part of his life to a meat diet.  The vegetable diet in which he now persists only aggravates the evil in one who is afflicted with liver trouble, and who is too old to train his vital economy in fresh paths.

His religious ardor lasted until he went to church one day, during the last Russo-Turkish war, when prayers were offered for the success of the Russian army.  It suddenly struck him that it was inconsistent with “Love your enemies,” “Love one another,” “Do not kill,” that prayers should be offered for the death of enemies.  From that day forth he ceased to go to church, as he had also perceived that the practice of religious forms did not, in reality, bring him much nearer to the peasants, and that one must live among them, work among them, to appreciate their point of view.