When he was a serf this man was of some small value to some one; now he is of no consequence to any one whatsoever except himself, and, with considerable intelligence, he sets but small store upon his own existence.

Freedom, in fact, came to him before he was ready for it; and, hampered as he has been by petty departmental tyranny, governmental neglect, and a natural stupidity, he has made very small progress toward a mental independence.

All that he has learnt to do is to hate his tyrants.

When famine urges him, he goes blindly, helplessly, dumbly, and tries to take by force that which is denied by force.
With us in England the poor man raises up his voice and cries aloud when he wants something.

He always wants something--never work, by the way--and therefore his voice pervades the atmosphere.