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diff --git a/old/600.txt b/old/600.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8dcb3a0 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/600.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4720 @@ +Project Gutenberg's Notes from the Underground, by Feodor Dostoevsky + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Notes from the Underground + +Author: Feodor Dostoevsky + +Posting Date: September 13, 2008 [EBook #600] +Release Date: July, 1996 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK NOTES FROM THE UNDERGROUND *** + + + + +Produced by Judith Boss. HTML version by Al Haines. + + + + + + + + +Notes from the Underground + +FYODOR DOSTOYEVSKY + + + + + +PART I + +Underground* + + *The author of the diary and the diary itself + are, of course, imaginary. Nevertheless it is clear + that such persons as the writer of these notes + not only may, but positively must, exist in our + society, when we consider the circumstances in + the midst of which our society is formed. I have + tried to expose to the view of the public more + distinctly than is commonly done, one of the + characters of the recent past. He is one of the + representatives of a generation still living. In this + fragment, entitled "Underground," this person + introduces himself and his views, and, as it were, + tries to explain the causes owing to which he has + made his appearance and was bound to make his + appearance in our midst. In the second fragment + there are added the actual notes of this person + concerning certain events in his life.--AUTHOR'S NOTE. + + + +I + +I am a sick man.... I am a spiteful man. I am an unattractive man. I +believe my liver is diseased. However, I know nothing at all about my +disease, and do not know for certain what ails me. I don't consult a +doctor for it, and never have, though I have a respect for medicine and +doctors. Besides, I am extremely superstitious, sufficiently so to +respect medicine, anyway (I am well-educated enough not to be +superstitious, but I am superstitious). No, I refuse to consult a +doctor from spite. That you probably will not understand. Well, I +understand it, though. Of course, I can't explain who it is precisely +that I am mortifying in this case by my spite: I am perfectly well +aware that I cannot "pay out" the doctors by not consulting them; I +know better than anyone that by all this I am only injuring myself and +no one else. But still, if I don't consult a doctor it is from spite. +My liver is bad, well--let it get worse! + +I have been going on like that for a long time--twenty years. Now I am +forty. I used to be in the government service, but am no longer. I +was a spiteful official. I was rude and took pleasure in being so. I +did not take bribes, you see, so I was bound to find a recompense in +that, at least. (A poor jest, but I will not scratch it out. I wrote +it thinking it would sound very witty; but now that I have seen myself +that I only wanted to show off in a despicable way, I will not scratch +it out on purpose!) + +When petitioners used to come for information to the table at which I +sat, I used to grind my teeth at them, and felt intense enjoyment when +I succeeded in making anybody unhappy. I almost did succeed. For the +most part they were all timid people--of course, they were petitioners. +But of the uppish ones there was one officer in particular I could not +endure. He simply would not be humble, and clanked his sword in a +disgusting way. I carried on a feud with him for eighteen months over +that sword. At last I got the better of him. He left off clanking it. +That happened in my youth, though. + +But do you know, gentlemen, what was the chief point about my spite? +Why, the whole point, the real sting of it lay in the fact that +continually, even in the moment of the acutest spleen, I was inwardly +conscious with shame that I was not only not a spiteful but not even an +embittered man, that I was simply scaring sparrows at random and +amusing myself by it. I might foam at the mouth, but bring me a doll +to play with, give me a cup of tea with sugar in it, and maybe I should +be appeased. I might even be genuinely touched, though probably I +should grind my teeth at myself afterwards and lie awake at night with +shame for months after. That was my way. + +I was lying when I said just now that I was a spiteful official. I was +lying from spite. I was simply amusing myself with the petitioners and +with the officer, and in reality I never could become spiteful. I was +conscious every moment in myself of many, very many elements absolutely +opposite to that. I felt them positively swarming in me, these +opposite elements. I knew that they had been swarming in me all my life +and craving some outlet from me, but I would not let them, would not +let them, purposely would not let them come out. They tormented me +till I was ashamed: they drove me to convulsions and--sickened me, at +last, how they sickened me! Now, are not you fancying, gentlemen, that +I am expressing remorse for something now, that I am asking your +forgiveness for something? I am sure you are fancying that ... +However, I assure you I do not care if you are.... + +It was not only that I could not become spiteful, I did not know how to +become anything; neither spiteful nor kind, neither a rascal nor an +honest man, neither a hero nor an insect. Now, I am living out my life +in my corner, taunting myself with the spiteful and useless consolation +that an intelligent man cannot become anything seriously, and it is +only the fool who becomes anything. Yes, a man in the nineteenth +century must and morally ought to be pre-eminently a characterless +creature; a man of character, an active man is pre-eminently a limited +creature. That is my conviction of forty years. I am forty years old +now, and you know forty years is a whole lifetime; you know it is +extreme old age. To live longer than forty years is bad manners, is +vulgar, immoral. Who does live beyond forty? Answer that, sincerely +and honestly I will tell you who do: fools and worthless fellows. I +tell all old men that to their face, all these venerable old men, all +these silver-haired and reverend seniors! I tell the whole world that +to its face! I have a right to say so, for I shall go on living to +sixty myself. To seventy! To eighty! ... Stay, let me take breath +... + +You imagine no doubt, gentlemen, that I want to amuse you. You are +mistaken in that, too. I am by no means such a mirthful person as you +imagine, or as you may imagine; however, irritated by all this babble +(and I feel that you are irritated) you think fit to ask me who I +am--then my answer is, I am a collegiate assessor. I was in the +service that I might have something to eat (and solely for that +reason), and when last year a distant relation left me six thousand +roubles in his will I immediately retired from the service and settled +down in my corner. I used to live in this corner before, but now I +have settled down in it. My room is a wretched, horrid one in the +outskirts of the town. My servant is an old country-woman, ill-natured +from stupidity, and, moreover, there is always a nasty smell about her. +I am told that the Petersburg climate is bad for me, and that with my +small means it is very expensive to live in Petersburg. I know all +that better than all these sage and experienced counsellors and +monitors.... But I am remaining in Petersburg; I am not going away +from Petersburg! I am not going away because ... ech! Why, it is +absolutely no matter whether I am going away or not going away. + +But what can a decent man speak of with most pleasure? + +Answer: Of himself. + +Well, so I will talk about myself. + + + +II + +I want now to tell you, gentlemen, whether you care to hear it or not, +why I could not even become an insect. I tell you solemnly, that I +have many times tried to become an insect. But I was not equal even to +that. I swear, gentlemen, that to be too conscious is an illness--a +real thorough-going illness. For man's everyday needs, it would have +been quite enough to have the ordinary human consciousness, that is, +half or a quarter of the amount which falls to the lot of a cultivated +man of our unhappy nineteenth century, especially one who has the fatal +ill-luck to inhabit Petersburg, the most theoretical and intentional +town on the whole terrestrial globe. (There are intentional and +unintentional towns.) It would have been quite enough, for instance, +to have the consciousness by which all so-called direct persons and men +of action live. I bet you think I am writing all this from +affectation, to be witty at the expense of men of action; and what is +more, that from ill-bred affectation, I am clanking a sword like my +officer. But, gentlemen, whoever can pride himself on his diseases and +even swagger over them? + +Though, after all, everyone does do that; people do pride themselves on +their diseases, and I do, may be, more than anyone. We will not +dispute it; my contention was absurd. But yet I am firmly persuaded +that a great deal of consciousness, every sort of consciousness, in +fact, is a disease. I stick to that. Let us leave that, too, for a +minute. Tell me this: why does it happen that at the very, yes, at the +very moments when I am most capable of feeling every refinement of all +that is "sublime and beautiful," as they used to say at one time, it +would, as though of design, happen to me not only to feel but to do +such ugly things, such that ... Well, in short, actions that all, +perhaps, commit; but which, as though purposely, occurred to me at the +very time when I was most conscious that they ought not to be +committed. The more conscious I was of goodness and of all that was +"sublime and beautiful," the more deeply I sank into my mire and the +more ready I was to sink in it altogether. But the chief point was +that all this was, as it were, not accidental in me, but as though it +were bound to be so. It was as though it were my most normal +condition, and not in the least disease or depravity, so that at last +all desire in me to struggle against this depravity passed. It ended +by my almost believing (perhaps actually believing) that this was +perhaps my normal condition. But at first, in the beginning, what +agonies I endured in that struggle! I did not believe it was the same +with other people, and all my life I hid this fact about myself as a +secret. I was ashamed (even now, perhaps, I am ashamed): I got to the +point of feeling a sort of secret abnormal, despicable enjoyment in +returning home to my corner on some disgusting Petersburg night, +acutely conscious that that day I had committed a loathsome action +again, that what was done could never be undone, and secretly, inwardly +gnawing, gnawing at myself for it, tearing and consuming myself till at +last the bitterness turned into a sort of shameful accursed sweetness, +and at last--into positive real enjoyment! Yes, into enjoyment, into +enjoyment! I insist upon that. I have spoken of this because I keep +wanting to know for a fact whether other people feel such enjoyment? I +will explain; the enjoyment was just from the too intense consciousness +of one's own degradation; it was from feeling oneself that one had +reached the last barrier, that it was horrible, but that it could not +be otherwise; that there was no escape for you; that you never could +become a different man; that even if time and faith were still left you +to change into something different you would most likely not wish to +change; or if you did wish to, even then you would do nothing; because +perhaps in reality there was nothing for you to change into. + +And the worst of it was, and the root of it all, that it was all in +accord with the normal fundamental laws of over-acute consciousness, +and with the inertia that was the direct result of those laws, and that +consequently one was not only unable to change but could do absolutely +nothing. Thus it would follow, as the result of acute consciousness, +that one is not to blame in being a scoundrel; as though that were any +consolation to the scoundrel once he has come to realise that he +actually is a scoundrel. But enough.... Ech, I have talked a lot of +nonsense, but what have I explained? How is enjoyment in this to be +explained? But I will explain it. I will get to the bottom of it! +That is why I have taken up my pen.... + +I, for instance, have a great deal of AMOUR PROPRE. I am as suspicious +and prone to take offence as a humpback or a dwarf. But upon my word I +sometimes have had moments when if I had happened to be slapped in the +face I should, perhaps, have been positively glad of it. I say, in +earnest, that I should probably have been able to discover even in that +a peculiar sort of enjoyment--the enjoyment, of course, of despair; but +in despair there are the most intense enjoyments, especially when one +is very acutely conscious of the hopelessness of one's position. And +when one is slapped in the face--why then the consciousness of being +rubbed into a pulp would positively overwhelm one. The worst of it is, +look at it which way one will, it still turns out that I was always the +most to blame in everything. And what is most humiliating of all, to +blame for no fault of my own but, so to say, through the laws of +nature. In the first place, to blame because I am cleverer than any of +the people surrounding me. (I have always considered myself cleverer +than any of the people surrounding me, and sometimes, would you believe +it, have been positively ashamed of it. At any rate, I have all my +life, as it were, turned my eyes away and never could look people +straight in the face.) To blame, finally, because even if I had had +magnanimity, I should only have had more suffering from the sense of +its uselessness. I should certainly have never been able to do +anything from being magnanimous--neither to forgive, for my assailant +would perhaps have slapped me from the laws of nature, and one cannot +forgive the laws of nature; nor to forget, for even if it were owing to +the laws of nature, it is insulting all the same. Finally, even if I +had wanted to be anything but magnanimous, had desired on the contrary +to revenge myself on my assailant, I could not have revenged myself on +any one for anything because I should certainly never have made up my +mind to do anything, even if I had been able to. Why should I not have +made up my mind? About that in particular I want to say a few words. + + + +III + +With people who know how to revenge themselves and to stand up for +themselves in general, how is it done? Why, when they are possessed, +let us suppose, by the feeling of revenge, then for the time there is +nothing else but that feeling left in their whole being. Such a +gentleman simply dashes straight for his object like an infuriated bull +with its horns down, and nothing but a wall will stop him. (By the +way: facing the wall, such gentlemen--that is, the "direct" persons and +men of action--are genuinely nonplussed. For them a wall is not an +evasion, as for us people who think and consequently do nothing; it is +not an excuse for turning aside, an excuse for which we are always very +glad, though we scarcely believe in it ourselves, as a rule. No, they +are nonplussed in all sincerity. The wall has for them something +tranquillising, morally soothing, final--maybe even something +mysterious ... but of the wall later.) + +Well, such a direct person I regard as the real normal man, as his +tender mother nature wished to see him when she graciously brought him +into being on the earth. I envy such a man till I am green in the +face. He is stupid. I am not disputing that, but perhaps the normal +man should be stupid, how do you know? Perhaps it is very beautiful, +in fact. And I am the more persuaded of that suspicion, if one can +call it so, by the fact that if you take, for instance, the antithesis +of the normal man, that is, the man of acute consciousness, who has +come, of course, not out of the lap of nature but out of a retort (this +is almost mysticism, gentlemen, but I suspect this, too), this +retort-made man is sometimes so nonplussed in the presence of his +antithesis that with all his exaggerated consciousness he genuinely +thinks of himself as a mouse and not a man. It may be an acutely +conscious mouse, yet it is a mouse, while the other is a man, and +therefore, et caetera, et caetera. And the worst of it is, he himself, +his very own self, looks on himself as a mouse; no one asks him to do +so; and that is an important point. Now let us look at this mouse in +action. Let us suppose, for instance, that it feels insulted, too (and +it almost always does feel insulted), and wants to revenge itself, too. +There may even be a greater accumulation of spite in it than in L'HOMME +DE LA NATURE ET DE LA VERITE. The base and nasty desire to vent that +spite on its assailant rankles perhaps even more nastily in it than in +L'HOMME DE LA NATURE ET DE LA VERITE. For through his innate stupidity +the latter looks upon his revenge as justice pure and simple; while in +consequence of his acute consciousness the mouse does not believe in +the justice of it. To come at last to the deed itself, to the very act +of revenge. Apart from the one fundamental nastiness the luckless +mouse succeeds in creating around it so many other nastinesses in the +form of doubts and questions, adds to the one question so many +unsettled questions that there inevitably works up around it a sort of +fatal brew, a stinking mess, made up of its doubts, emotions, and of +the contempt spat upon it by the direct men of action who stand +solemnly about it as judges and arbitrators, laughing at it till their +healthy sides ache. Of course the only thing left for it is to dismiss +all that with a wave of its paw, and, with a smile of assumed contempt +in which it does not even itself believe, creep ignominiously into its +mouse-hole. There in its nasty, stinking, underground home our +insulted, crushed and ridiculed mouse promptly becomes absorbed in +cold, malignant and, above all, everlasting spite. For forty years +together it will remember its injury down to the smallest, most +ignominious details, and every time will add, of itself, details still +more ignominious, spitefully teasing and tormenting itself with its own +imagination. It will itself be ashamed of its imaginings, but yet it +will recall it all, it will go over and over every detail, it will +invent unheard of things against itself, pretending that those things +might happen, and will forgive nothing. Maybe it will begin to revenge +itself, too, but, as it were, piecemeal, in trivial ways, from behind +the stove, incognito, without believing either in its own right to +vengeance, or in the success of its revenge, knowing that from all its +efforts at revenge it will suffer a hundred times more than he on whom +it revenges itself, while he, I daresay, will not even scratch himself. +On its deathbed it will recall it all over again, with interest +accumulated over all the years and ... + +But it is just in that cold, abominable half despair, half belief, in +that conscious burying oneself alive for grief in the underworld for +forty years, in that acutely recognised and yet partly doubtful +hopelessness of one's position, in that hell of unsatisfied desires +turned inward, in that fever of oscillations, of resolutions determined +for ever and repented of again a minute later--that the savour of that +strange enjoyment of which I have spoken lies. It is so subtle, so +difficult of analysis, that persons who are a little limited, or even +simply persons of strong nerves, will not understand a single atom of +it. "Possibly," you will add on your own account with a grin, "people +will not understand it either who have never received a slap in the +face," and in that way you will politely hint to me that I, too, +perhaps, have had the experience of a slap in the face in my life, and +so I speak as one who knows. I bet that you are thinking that. But +set your minds at rest, gentlemen, I have not received a slap in the +face, though it is absolutely a matter of indifference to me what you +may think about it. Possibly, I even regret, myself, that I have given +so few slaps in the face during my life. But enough ... not another +word on that subject of such extreme interest to you. + +I will continue calmly concerning persons with strong nerves who do not +understand a certain refinement of enjoyment. Though in certain +circumstances these gentlemen bellow their loudest like bulls, though +this, let us suppose, does them the greatest credit, yet, as I have +said already, confronted with the impossible they subside at once. The +impossible means the stone wall! What stone wall? Why, of course, the +laws of nature, the deductions of natural science, mathematics. As +soon as they prove to you, for instance, that you are descended from a +monkey, then it is no use scowling, accept it for a fact. When they +prove to you that in reality one drop of your own fat must be dearer to +you than a hundred thousand of your fellow-creatures, and that this +conclusion is the final solution of all so-called virtues and duties +and all such prejudices and fancies, then you have just to accept it, +there is no help for it, for twice two is a law of mathematics. Just +try refuting it. + +"Upon my word, they will shout at you, it is no use protesting: it is a +case of twice two makes four! Nature does not ask your permission, she +has nothing to do with your wishes, and whether you like her laws or +dislike them, you are bound to accept her as she is, and consequently +all her conclusions. A wall, you see, is a wall ... and so on, and so +on." + +Merciful Heavens! but what do I care for the laws of nature and +arithmetic, when, for some reason I dislike those laws and the fact +that twice two makes four? Of course I cannot break through the wall +by battering my head against it if I really have not the strength to +knock it down, but I am not going to be reconciled to it simply because +it is a stone wall and I have not the strength. + +As though such a stone wall really were a consolation, and really did +contain some word of conciliation, simply because it is as true as +twice two makes four. Oh, absurdity of absurdities! How much better +it is to understand it all, to recognise it all, all the +impossibilities and the stone wall; not to be reconciled to one of +those impossibilities and stone walls if it disgusts you to be +reconciled to it; by the way of the most inevitable, logical +combinations to reach the most revolting conclusions on the everlasting +theme, that even for the stone wall you are yourself somehow to blame, +though again it is as clear as day you are not to blame in the least, +and therefore grinding your teeth in silent impotence to sink into +luxurious inertia, brooding on the fact that there is no one even for +you to feel vindictive against, that you have not, and perhaps never +will have, an object for your spite, that it is a sleight of hand, a +bit of juggling, a card-sharper's trick, that it is simply a mess, no +knowing what and no knowing who, but in spite of all these +uncertainties and jugglings, still there is an ache in you, and the +more you do not know, the worse the ache. + + + +IV + +"Ha, ha, ha! You will be finding enjoyment in toothache next," you +cry, with a laugh. + +"Well, even in toothache there is enjoyment," I answer. I had +toothache for a whole month and I know there is. In that case, of +course, people are not spiteful in silence, but moan; but they are not +candid moans, they are malignant moans, and the malignancy is the whole +point. The enjoyment of the sufferer finds expression in those moans; +if he did not feel enjoyment in them he would not moan. It is a good +example, gentlemen, and I will develop it. Those moans express in the +first place all the aimlessness of your pain, which is so humiliating +to your consciousness; the whole legal system of nature on which you +spit disdainfully, of course, but from which you suffer all the same +while she does not. They express the consciousness that you have no +enemy to punish, but that you have pain; the consciousness that in +spite of all possible Wagenheims you are in complete slavery to your +teeth; that if someone wishes it, your teeth will leave off aching, and +if he does not, they will go on aching another three months; and that +finally if you are still contumacious and still protest, all that is +left you for your own gratification is to thrash yourself or beat your +wall with your fist as hard as you can, and absolutely nothing more. +Well, these mortal insults, these jeers on the part of someone unknown, +end at last in an enjoyment which sometimes reaches the highest degree +of voluptuousness. I ask you, gentlemen, listen sometimes to the moans +of an educated man of the nineteenth century suffering from toothache, +on the second or third day of the attack, when he is beginning to moan, +not as he moaned on the first day, that is, not simply because he has +toothache, not just as any coarse peasant, but as a man affected by +progress and European civilisation, a man who is "divorced from the +soil and the national elements," as they express it now-a-days. His +moans become nasty, disgustingly malignant, and go on for whole days +and nights. And of course he knows himself that he is doing himself no +sort of good with his moans; he knows better than anyone that he is +only lacerating and harassing himself and others for nothing; he knows +that even the audience before whom he is making his efforts, and his +whole family, listen to him with loathing, do not put a ha'porth of +faith in him, and inwardly understand that he might moan differently, +more simply, without trills and flourishes, and that he is only amusing +himself like that from ill-humour, from malignancy. Well, in all these +recognitions and disgraces it is that there lies a voluptuous pleasure. +As though he would say: "I am worrying you, I am lacerating your +hearts, I am keeping everyone in the house awake. Well, stay awake +then, you, too, feel every minute that I have toothache. I am not a +hero to you now, as I tried to seem before, but simply a nasty person, +an impostor. Well, so be it, then! I am very glad that you see +through me. It is nasty for you to hear my despicable moans: well, let +it be nasty; here I will let you have a nastier flourish in a +minute...." You do not understand even now, gentlemen? No, it seems +our development and our consciousness must go further to understand +all the intricacies of this pleasure. You laugh? Delighted. My +jests, gentlemen, are of course in bad taste, jerky, involved, lacking +self-confidence. But of course that is because I do not respect +myself. Can a man of perception respect himself at all? + + + +V + +Come, can a man who attempts to find enjoyment in the very feeling of +his own degradation possibly have a spark of respect for himself? I am +not saying this now from any mawkish kind of remorse. And, indeed, I +could never endure saying, "Forgive me, Papa, I won't do it again," not +because I am incapable of saying that--on the contrary, perhaps just +because I have been too capable of it, and in what a way, too. As +though of design I used to get into trouble in cases when I was not to +blame in any way. That was the nastiest part of it. At the same time +I was genuinely touched and penitent, I used to shed tears and, of +course, deceived myself, though I was not acting in the least and there +was a sick feeling in my heart at the time.... For that one could not +blame even the laws of nature, though the laws of nature have +continually all my life offended me more than anything. It is +loathsome to remember it all, but it was loathsome even then. Of +course, a minute or so later I would realise wrathfully that it was all +a lie, a revolting lie, an affected lie, that is, all this penitence, +this emotion, these vows of reform. You will ask why did I worry +myself with such antics: answer, because it was very dull to sit with +one's hands folded, and so one began cutting capers. That is really +it. Observe yourselves more carefully, gentlemen, then you will +understand that it is so. I invented adventures for myself and made up +a life, so as at least to live in some way. How many times it has +happened to me--well, for instance, to take offence simply on purpose, +for nothing; and one knows oneself, of course, that one is offended at +nothing; that one is putting it on, but yet one brings oneself at last +to the point of being really offended. All my life I have had an +impulse to play such pranks, so that in the end I could not control it +in myself. Another time, twice, in fact, I tried hard to be in love. +I suffered, too, gentlemen, I assure you. In the depth of my heart +there was no faith in my suffering, only a faint stir of mockery, but +yet I did suffer, and in the real, orthodox way; I was jealous, beside +myself ... and it was all from ENNUI, gentlemen, all from ENNUI; +inertia overcame me. You know the direct, legitimate fruit of +consciousness is inertia, that is, conscious +sitting-with-the-hands-folded. I have referred to this already. I +repeat, I repeat with emphasis: all "direct" persons and men of action +are active just because they are stupid and limited. How explain that? +I will tell you: in consequence of their limitation they take immediate +and secondary causes for primary ones, and in that way persuade +themselves more quickly and easily than other people do that they have +found an infallible foundation for their activity, and their minds are +at ease and you know that is the chief thing. To begin to act, you +know, you must first have your mind completely at ease and no trace of +doubt left in it. Why, how am I, for example, to set my mind at rest? +Where are the primary causes on which I am to build? Where are my +foundations? Where am I to get them from? I exercise myself in +reflection, and consequently with me every primary cause at once draws +after itself another still more primary, and so on to infinity. That +is just the essence of every sort of consciousness and reflection. It +must be a case of the laws of nature again. What is the result of it +in the end? Why, just the same. Remember I spoke just now of +vengeance. (I am sure you did not take it in.) I said that a man +revenges himself because he sees justice in it. Therefore he has found +a primary cause, that is, justice. And so he is at rest on all sides, +and consequently he carries out his revenge calmly and successfully, +being persuaded that he is doing a just and honest thing. But I see no +justice in it, I find no sort of virtue in it either, and consequently +if I attempt to revenge myself, it is only out of spite. Spite, of +course, might overcome everything, all my doubts, and so might serve +quite successfully in place of a primary cause, precisely because it is +not a cause. But what is to be done if I have not even spite (I began +with that just now, you know). In consequence again of those accursed +laws of consciousness, anger in me is subject to chemical +disintegration. You look into it, the object flies off into air, your +reasons evaporate, the criminal is not to be found, the wrong becomes +not a wrong but a phantom, something like the toothache, for which no +one is to blame, and consequently there is only the same outlet left +again--that is, to beat the wall as hard as you can. So you give it up +with a wave of the hand because you have not found a fundamental cause. +And try letting yourself be carried away by your feelings, blindly, +without reflection, without a primary cause, repelling consciousness at +least for a time; hate or love, if only not to sit with your hands +folded. The day after tomorrow, at the latest, you will begin +despising yourself for having knowingly deceived yourself. Result: a +soap-bubble and inertia. Oh, gentlemen, do you know, perhaps I +consider myself an intelligent man, only because all my life I have +been able neither to begin nor to finish anything. Granted I am a +babbler, a harmless vexatious babbler, like all of us. But what is to +be done if the direct and sole vocation of every intelligent man is +babble, that is, the intentional pouring of water through a sieve? + + + +VI + +Oh, if I had done nothing simply from laziness! Heavens, how I should +have respected myself, then. I should have respected myself because I +should at least have been capable of being lazy; there would at least +have been one quality, as it were, positive in me, in which I could +have believed myself. Question: What is he? Answer: A sluggard; how +very pleasant it would have been to hear that of oneself! It would +mean that I was positively defined, it would mean that there was +something to say about me. "Sluggard"--why, it is a calling and +vocation, it is a career. Do not jest, it is so. I should then be a +member of the best club by right, and should find my occupation in +continually respecting myself. I knew a gentleman who prided himself +all his life on being a connoisseur of Lafitte. He considered this as +his positive virtue, and never doubted himself. He died, not simply +with a tranquil, but with a triumphant conscience, and he was quite +right, too. Then I should have chosen a career for myself, I should +have been a sluggard and a glutton, not a simple one, but, for +instance, one with sympathies for everything sublime and beautiful. +How do you like that? I have long had visions of it. That "sublime +and beautiful" weighs heavily on my mind at forty But that is at forty; +then--oh, then it would have been different! I should have found for +myself a form of activity in keeping with it, to be precise, drinking +to the health of everything "sublime and beautiful." I should have +snatched at every opportunity to drop a tear into my glass and then to +drain it to all that is "sublime and beautiful." I should then have +turned everything into the sublime and the beautiful; in the nastiest, +unquestionable trash, I should have sought out the sublime and the +beautiful. I should have exuded tears like a wet sponge. An artist, +for instance, paints a picture worthy of Gay. At once I drink to the +health of the artist who painted the picture worthy of Gay, because I +love all that is "sublime and beautiful." An author has written AS YOU +WILL: at once I drink to the health of "anyone you will" because I love +all that is "sublime and beautiful." + +I should claim respect for doing so. I should persecute anyone who +would not show me respect. I should live at ease, I should die with +dignity, why, it is charming, perfectly charming! And what a good +round belly I should have grown, what a treble chin I should have +established, what a ruby nose I should have coloured for myself, so +that everyone would have said, looking at me: "Here is an asset! Here +is something real and solid!" And, say what you like, it is very +agreeable to hear such remarks about oneself in this negative age. + + + +VII + +But these are all golden dreams. Oh, tell me, who was it first +announced, who was it first proclaimed, that man only does nasty things +because he does not know his own interests; and that if he were +enlightened, if his eyes were opened to his real normal interests, man +would at once cease to do nasty things, would at once become good and +noble because, being enlightened and understanding his real advantage, +he would see his own advantage in the good and nothing else, and we all +know that not one man can, consciously, act against his own interests, +consequently, so to say, through necessity, he would begin doing good? +Oh, the babe! Oh, the pure, innocent child! Why, in the first place, +when in all these thousands of years has there been a time when man has +acted only from his own interest? What is to be done with the millions +of facts that bear witness that men, CONSCIOUSLY, that is fully +understanding their real interests, have left them in the background +and have rushed headlong on another path, to meet peril and danger, +compelled to this course by nobody and by nothing, but, as it were, +simply disliking the beaten track, and have obstinately, wilfully, +struck out another difficult, absurd way, seeking it almost in the +darkness. So, I suppose, this obstinacy and perversity were pleasanter +to them than any advantage.... Advantage! What is advantage? And will +you take it upon yourself to define with perfect accuracy in what the +advantage of man consists? And what if it so happens that a man's +advantage, SOMETIMES, not only may, but even must, consist in his +desiring in certain cases what is harmful to himself and not +advantageous. And if so, if there can be such a case, the whole +principle falls into dust. What do you think--are there such cases? +You laugh; laugh away, gentlemen, but only answer me: have man's +advantages been reckoned up with perfect certainty? Are there not some +which not only have not been included but cannot possibly be included +under any classification? You see, you gentlemen have, to the best of +my knowledge, taken your whole register of human advantages from the +averages of statistical figures and politico-economical formulas. Your +advantages are prosperity, wealth, freedom, peace--and so on, and so +on. So that the man who should, for instance, go openly and knowingly +in opposition to all that list would to your thinking, and indeed mine, +too, of course, be an obscurantist or an absolute madman: would not he? +But, you know, this is what is surprising: why does it so happen that +all these statisticians, sages and lovers of humanity, when they reckon +up human advantages invariably leave out one? They don't even take it +into their reckoning in the form in which it should be taken, and the +whole reckoning depends upon that. It would be no greater matter, they +would simply have to take it, this advantage, and add it to the list. +But the trouble is, that this strange advantage does not fall under any +classification and is not in place in any list. I have a friend for +instance ... Ech! gentlemen, but of course he is your friend, too; and +indeed there is no one, no one to whom he is not a friend! When he +prepares for any undertaking this gentleman immediately explains to +you, elegantly and clearly, exactly how he must act in accordance with +the laws of reason and truth. What is more, he will talk to you with +excitement and passion of the true normal interests of man; with irony +he will upbraid the short-sighted fools who do not understand their own +interests, nor the true significance of virtue; and, within a quarter +of an hour, without any sudden outside provocation, but simply through +something inside him which is stronger than all his interests, he will +go off on quite a different tack--that is, act in direct opposition to +what he has just been saying about himself, in opposition to the laws +of reason, in opposition to his own advantage, in fact in opposition to +everything ... I warn you that my friend is a compound personality and +therefore it is difficult to blame him as an individual. The fact is, +gentlemen, it seems there must really exist something that is dearer to +almost every man than his greatest advantages, or (not to be illogical) +there is a most advantageous advantage (the very one omitted of which +we spoke just now) which is more important and more advantageous than +all other advantages, for the sake of which a man if necessary is ready +to act in opposition to all laws; that is, in opposition to reason, +honour, peace, prosperity--in fact, in opposition to all those +excellent and useful things if only he can attain that fundamental, +most advantageous advantage which is dearer to him than all. "Yes, but +it's advantage all the same," you will retort. But excuse me, I'll +make the point clear, and it is not a case of playing upon words. What +matters is, that this advantage is remarkable from the very fact that +it breaks down all our classifications, and continually shatters every +system constructed by lovers of mankind for the benefit of mankind. In +fact, it upsets everything. But before I mention this advantage to +you, I want to compromise myself personally, and therefore I boldly +declare that all these fine systems, all these theories for explaining +to mankind their real normal interests, in order that inevitably +striving to pursue these interests they may at once become good and +noble--are, in my opinion, so far, mere logical exercises! Yes, +logical exercises. Why, to maintain this theory of the regeneration of +mankind by means of the pursuit of his own advantage is to my mind +almost the same thing ... as to affirm, for instance, following Buckle, +that through civilisation mankind becomes softer, and consequently less +bloodthirsty and less fitted for warfare. Logically it does seem to +follow from his arguments. But man has such a predilection for systems +and abstract deductions that he is ready to distort the truth +intentionally, he is ready to deny the evidence of his senses only to +justify his logic. I take this example because it is the most glaring +instance of it. Only look about you: blood is being spilt in streams, +and in the merriest way, as though it were champagne. Take the whole +of the nineteenth century in which Buckle lived. Take Napoleon--the +Great and also the present one. Take North America--the eternal union. +Take the farce of Schleswig-Holstein.... And what is it that +civilisation softens in us? The only gain of civilisation for mankind +is the greater capacity for variety of sensations--and absolutely +nothing more. And through the development of this many-sidedness man +may come to finding enjoyment in bloodshed. In fact, this has already +happened to him. Have you noticed that it is the most civilised +gentlemen who have been the subtlest slaughterers, to whom the Attilas +and Stenka Razins could not hold a candle, and if they are not so +conspicuous as the Attilas and Stenka Razins it is simply because they +are so often met with, are so ordinary and have become so familiar to +us. In any case civilisation has made mankind if not more +bloodthirsty, at least more vilely, more loathsomely bloodthirsty. In +old days he saw justice in bloodshed and with his conscience at peace +exterminated those he thought proper. Now we do think bloodshed +abominable and yet we engage in this abomination, and with more energy +than ever. Which is worse? Decide that for yourselves. They say that +Cleopatra (excuse an instance from Roman history) was fond of sticking +gold pins into her slave-girls' breasts and derived gratification from +their screams and writhings. You will say that that was in the +comparatively barbarous times; that these are barbarous times too, +because also, comparatively speaking, pins are stuck in even now; that +though man has now learned to see more clearly than in barbarous ages, +he is still far from having learnt to act as reason and science would +dictate. But yet you are fully convinced that he will be sure to learn +when he gets rid of certain old bad habits, and when common sense and +science have completely re-educated human nature and turned it in a +normal direction. You are confident that then man will cease from +INTENTIONAL error and will, so to say, be compelled not to want to set +his will against his normal interests. That is not all; then, you say, +science itself will teach man (though to my mind it's a superfluous +luxury) that he never has really had any caprice or will of his own, +and that he himself is something of the nature of a piano-key or the +stop of an organ, and that there are, besides, things called the laws +of nature; so that everything he does is not done by his willing it, +but is done of itself, by the laws of nature. Consequently we have +only to discover these laws of nature, and man will no longer have to +answer for his actions and life will become exceedingly easy for him. +All human actions will then, of course, be tabulated according to these +laws, mathematically, like tables of logarithms up to 108,000, and +entered in an index; or, better still, there would be published certain +edifying works of the nature of encyclopaedic lexicons, in which +everything will be so clearly calculated and explained that there will +be no more incidents or adventures in the world. + +Then--this is all what you say--new economic relations will be +established, all ready-made and worked out with mathematical +exactitude, so that every possible question will vanish in the +twinkling of an eye, simply because every possible answer to it will be +provided. Then the "Palace of Crystal" will be built. Then ... In +fact, those will be halcyon days. Of course there is no guaranteeing +(this is my comment) that it will not be, for instance, frightfully +dull then (for what will one have to do when everything will be +calculated and tabulated), but on the other hand everything will be +extraordinarily rational. Of course boredom may lead you to anything. +It is boredom sets one sticking golden pins into people, but all that +would not matter. What is bad (this is my comment again) is that I +dare say people will be thankful for the gold pins then. Man is +stupid, you know, phenomenally stupid; or rather he is not at all +stupid, but he is so ungrateful that you could not find another like +him in all creation. I, for instance, would not be in the least +surprised if all of a sudden, A PROPOS of nothing, in the midst of +general prosperity a gentleman with an ignoble, or rather with a +reactionary and ironical, countenance were to arise and, putting his +arms akimbo, say to us all: "I say, gentleman, hadn't we better kick +over the whole show and scatter rationalism to the winds, simply to +send these logarithms to the devil, and to enable us to live once more +at our own sweet foolish will!" That again would not matter, but what +is annoying is that he would be sure to find followers--such is the +nature of man. And all that for the most foolish reason, which, one +would think, was hardly worth mentioning: that is, that man everywhere +and at all times, whoever he may be, has preferred to act as he chose +and not in the least as his reason and advantage dictated. And one may +choose what is contrary to one's own interests, and sometimes one +POSITIVELY OUGHT (that is my idea). One's own free unfettered choice, +one's own caprice, however wild it may be, one's own fancy worked up at +times to frenzy--is that very "most advantageous advantage" which we +have overlooked, which comes under no classification and against which +all systems and theories are continually being shattered to atoms. And +how do these wiseacres know that man wants a normal, a virtuous choice? +What has made them conceive that man must want a rationally +advantageous choice? What man wants is simply INDEPENDENT choice, +whatever that independence may cost and wherever it may lead. And +choice, of course, the devil only knows what choice. + + + +VIII + +"Ha! ha! ha! But you know there is no such thing as choice in reality, +say what you like," you will interpose with a chuckle. "Science has +succeeded in so far analysing man that we know already that choice and +what is called freedom of will is nothing else than--" + +Stay, gentlemen, I meant to begin with that myself I confess, I was +rather frightened. I was just going to say that the devil only knows +what choice depends on, and that perhaps that was a very good thing, +but I remembered the teaching of science ... and pulled myself up. And +here you have begun upon it. Indeed, if there really is some day +discovered a formula for all our desires and caprices--that is, an +explanation of what they depend upon, by what laws they arise, how they +develop, what they are aiming at in one case and in another and so on, +that is a real mathematical formula--then, most likely, man will at +once cease to feel desire, indeed, he will be certain to. For who +would want to choose by rule? Besides, he will at once be transformed +from a human being into an organ-stop or something of the sort; for +what is a man without desires, without free will and without choice, if +not a stop in an organ? What do you think? Let us reckon the +chances--can such a thing happen or not? + +"H'm!" you decide. "Our choice is usually mistaken from a false view +of our advantage. We sometimes choose absolute nonsense because in our +foolishness we see in that nonsense the easiest means for attaining a +supposed advantage. But when all that is explained and worked out on +paper (which is perfectly possible, for it is contemptible and +senseless to suppose that some laws of nature man will never +understand), then certainly so-called desires will no longer exist. +For if a desire should come into conflict with reason we shall then +reason and not desire, because it will be impossible retaining our +reason to be SENSELESS in our desires, and in that way knowingly act +against reason and desire to injure ourselves. And as all choice and +reasoning can be really calculated--because there will some day be +discovered the laws of our so-called free will--so, joking apart, there +may one day be something like a table constructed of them, so that we +really shall choose in accordance with it. If, for instance, some day +they calculate and prove to me that I made a long nose at someone +because I could not help making a long nose at him and that I had to do +it in that particular way, what FREEDOM is left me, especially if I am +a learned man and have taken my degree somewhere? Then I should be +able to calculate my whole life for thirty years beforehand. In short, +if this could be arranged there would be nothing left for us to do; +anyway, we should have to understand that. And, in fact, we ought +unwearyingly to repeat to ourselves that at such and such a time and in +such and such circumstances nature does not ask our leave; that we have +got to take her as she is and not fashion her to suit our fancy, and if +we really aspire to formulas and tables of rules, and well, even ... to +the chemical retort, there's no help for it, we must accept the retort +too, or else it will be accepted without our consent...." + +Yes, but here I come to a stop! Gentlemen, you must excuse me for +being over-philosophical; it's the result of forty years underground! +Allow me to indulge my fancy. You see, gentlemen, reason is an +excellent thing, there's no disputing that, but reason is nothing but +reason and satisfies only the rational side of man's nature, while will +is a manifestation of the whole life, that is, of the whole human life +including reason and all the impulses. And although our life, in this +manifestation of it, is often worthless, yet it is life and not simply +extracting square roots. Here I, for instance, quite naturally want to +live, in order to satisfy all my capacities for life, and not simply my +capacity for reasoning, that is, not simply one twentieth of my +capacity for life. What does reason know? Reason only knows what it +has succeeded in learning (some things, perhaps, it will never learn; +this is a poor comfort, but why not say so frankly?) and human nature +acts as a whole, with everything that is in it, consciously or +unconsciously, and, even if it goes wrong, it lives. I suspect, +gentlemen, that you are looking at me with compassion; you tell me +again that an enlightened and developed man, such, in short, as the +future man will be, cannot consciously desire anything disadvantageous +to himself, that that can be proved mathematically. I thoroughly +agree, it can--by mathematics. But I repeat for the hundredth time, +there is one case, one only, when man may consciously, purposely, +desire what is injurious to himself, what is stupid, very +stupid--simply in order to have the right to desire for himself even +what is very stupid and not to be bound by an obligation to desire only +what is sensible. Of course, this very stupid thing, this caprice of +ours, may be in reality, gentlemen, more advantageous for us than +anything else on earth, especially in certain cases. And in particular +it may be more advantageous than any advantage even when it does us +obvious harm, and contradicts the soundest conclusions of our reason +concerning our advantage--for in any circumstances it preserves for us +what is most precious and most important--that is, our personality, our +individuality. Some, you see, maintain that this really is the most +precious thing for mankind; choice can, of course, if it chooses, be in +agreement with reason; and especially if this be not abused but kept +within bounds. It is profitable and sometimes even praiseworthy. But +very often, and even most often, choice is utterly and stubbornly +opposed to reason ... and ... and ... do you know that that, too, is +profitable, sometimes even praiseworthy? Gentlemen, let us suppose +that man is not stupid. (Indeed one cannot refuse to suppose that, if +only from the one consideration, that, if man is stupid, then who is +wise?) But if he is not stupid, he is monstrously ungrateful! +Phenomenally ungrateful. In fact, I believe that the best definition +of man is the ungrateful biped. But that is not all, that is not his +worst defect; his worst defect is his perpetual moral obliquity, +perpetual--from the days of the Flood to the Schleswig-Holstein period. +Moral obliquity and consequently lack of good sense; for it has long +been accepted that lack of good sense is due to no other cause than +moral obliquity. Put it to the test and cast your eyes upon the +history of mankind. What will you see? Is it a grand spectacle? +Grand, if you like. Take the Colossus of Rhodes, for instance, that's +worth something. With good reason Mr. Anaevsky testifies of it that +some say that it is the work of man's hands, while others maintain that +it has been created by nature herself. Is it many-coloured? May be it +is many-coloured, too: if one takes the dress uniforms, military and +civilian, of all peoples in all ages--that alone is worth something, +and if you take the undress uniforms you will never get to the end of +it; no historian would be equal to the job. Is it monotonous? May be +it's monotonous too: it's fighting and fighting; they are fighting now, +they fought first and they fought last--you will admit, that it is +almost too monotonous. In short, one may say anything about the +history of the world--anything that might enter the most disordered +imagination. The only thing one can't say is that it's rational. The +very word sticks in one's throat. And, indeed, this is the odd thing +that is continually happening: there are continually turning up in life +moral and rational persons, sages and lovers of humanity who make it +their object to live all their lives as morally and rationally as +possible, to be, so to speak, a light to their neighbours simply in +order to show them that it is possible to live morally and rationally +in this world. And yet we all know that those very people sooner or +later have been false to themselves, playing some queer trick, often a +most unseemly one. Now I ask you: what can be expected of man since he +is a being endowed with strange qualities? Shower upon him every +earthly blessing, drown him in a sea of happiness, so that nothing but +bubbles of bliss can be seen on the surface; give him economic +prosperity, such that he should have nothing else to do but sleep, eat +cakes and busy himself with the continuation of his species, and even +then out of sheer ingratitude, sheer spite, man would play you some +nasty trick. He would even risk his cakes and would deliberately +desire the most fatal rubbish, the most uneconomical absurdity, simply +to introduce into all this positive good sense his fatal fantastic +element. It is just his fantastic dreams, his vulgar folly that he +will desire to retain, simply in order to prove to himself--as though +that were so necessary--that men still are men and not the keys of a +piano, which the laws of nature threaten to control so completely that +soon one will be able to desire nothing but by the calendar. And that +is not all: even if man really were nothing but a piano-key, even if +this were proved to him by natural science and mathematics, even then +he would not become reasonable, but would purposely do something +perverse out of simple ingratitude, simply to gain his point. And if +he does not find means he will contrive destruction and chaos, will +contrive sufferings of all sorts, only to gain his point! He will +launch a curse upon the world, and as only man can curse (it is his +privilege, the primary distinction between him and other animals), may +be by his curse alone he will attain his object--that is, convince +himself that he is a man and not a piano-key! If you say that all +this, too, can be calculated and tabulated--chaos and darkness and +curses, so that the mere possibility of calculating it all beforehand +would stop it all, and reason would reassert itself, then man would +purposely go mad in order to be rid of reason and gain his point! I +believe in it, I answer for it, for the whole work of man really seems +to consist in nothing but proving to himself every minute that he is a +man and not a piano-key! It may be at the cost of his skin, it may be +by cannibalism! And this being so, can one help being tempted to +rejoice that it has not yet come off, and that desire still depends on +something we don't know? + +You will scream at me (that is, if you condescend to do so) that no one +is touching my free will, that all they are concerned with is that my +will should of itself, of its own free will, coincide with my own +normal interests, with the laws of nature and arithmetic. + +Good heavens, gentlemen, what sort of free will is left when we come to +tabulation and arithmetic, when it will all be a case of twice two make +four? Twice two makes four without my will. As if free will meant +that! + + + +IX + +Gentlemen, I am joking, and I know myself that my jokes are not +brilliant, but you know one can take everything as a joke. I am, +perhaps, jesting against the grain. Gentlemen, I am tormented by +questions; answer them for me. You, for instance, want to cure men of +their old habits and reform their will in accordance with science and +good sense. But how do you know, not only that it is possible, but also +that it is DESIRABLE to reform man in that way? And what leads you to +the conclusion that man's inclinations NEED reforming? In short, how +do you know that such a reformation will be a benefit to man? And to +go to the root of the matter, why are you so positively convinced that +not to act against his real normal interests guaranteed by the +conclusions of reason and arithmetic is certainly always advantageous +for man and must always be a law for mankind? So far, you know, this +is only your supposition. It may be the law of logic, but not the law +of humanity. You think, gentlemen, perhaps that I am mad? Allow me to +defend myself. I agree that man is pre-eminently a creative animal, +predestined to strive consciously for an object and to engage in +engineering--that is, incessantly and eternally to make new roads, +WHEREVER THEY MAY LEAD. But the reason why he wants sometimes to go +off at a tangent may just be that he is PREDESTINED to make the road, +and perhaps, too, that however stupid the "direct" practical man may +be, the thought sometimes will occur to him that the road almost always +does lead SOMEWHERE, and that the destination it leads to is less +important than the process of making it, and that the chief thing is to +save the well-conducted child from despising engineering, and so giving +way to the fatal idleness, which, as we all know, is the mother of all +the vices. Man likes to make roads and to create, that is a fact +beyond dispute. But why has he such a passionate love for destruction +and chaos also? Tell me that! But on that point I want to say a +couple of words myself. May it not be that he loves chaos and +destruction (there can be no disputing that he does sometimes love it) +because he is instinctively afraid of attaining his object and +completing the edifice he is constructing? Who knows, perhaps he only +loves that edifice from a distance, and is by no means in love with it +at close quarters; perhaps he only loves building it and does not want +to live in it, but will leave it, when completed, for the use of LES +ANIMAUX DOMESTIQUES--such as the ants, the sheep, and so on. Now the +ants have quite a different taste. They have a marvellous edifice of +that pattern which endures for ever--the ant-heap. + +With the ant-heap the respectable race of ants began and with the +ant-heap they will probably end, which does the greatest credit to +their perseverance and good sense. But man is a frivolous and +incongruous creature, and perhaps, like a chess player, loves the +process of the game, not the end of it. And who knows (there is no +saying with certainty), perhaps the only goal on earth to which mankind +is striving lies in this incessant process of attaining, in other +words, in life itself, and not in the thing to be attained, which must +always be expressed as a formula, as positive as twice two makes four, +and such positiveness is not life, gentlemen, but is the beginning of +death. Anyway, man has always been afraid of this mathematical +certainty, and I am afraid of it now. Granted that man does nothing +but seek that mathematical certainty, he traverses oceans, sacrifices +his life in the quest, but to succeed, really to find it, dreads, I +assure you. He feels that when he has found it there will be nothing +for him to look for. When workmen have finished their work they do at +least receive their pay, they go to the tavern, then they are taken to +the police-station--and there is occupation for a week. But where can +man go? Anyway, one can observe a certain awkwardness about him when +he has attained such objects. He loves the process of attaining, but +does not quite like to have attained, and that, of course, is very +absurd. In fact, man is a comical creature; there seems to be a kind +of jest in it all. But yet mathematical certainty is after all, +something insufferable. Twice two makes four seems to me simply a +piece of insolence. Twice two makes four is a pert coxcomb who stands +with arms akimbo barring your path and spitting. I admit that twice +two makes four is an excellent thing, but if we are to give everything +its due, twice two makes five is sometimes a very charming thing too. + +And why are you so firmly, so triumphantly, convinced that only the +normal and the positive--in other words, only what is conducive to +welfare--is for the advantage of man? Is not reason in error as +regards advantage? Does not man, perhaps, love something besides +well-being? Perhaps he is just as fond of suffering? Perhaps suffering +is just as great a benefit to him as well-being? Man is sometimes +extraordinarily, passionately, in love with suffering, and that is a +fact. There is no need to appeal to universal history to prove that; +only ask yourself, if you are a man and have lived at all. As far as +my personal opinion is concerned, to care only for well-being seems to +me positively ill-bred. Whether it's good or bad, it is sometimes very +pleasant, too, to smash things. I hold no brief for suffering nor for +well-being either. I am standing for ... my caprice, and for its being +guaranteed to me when necessary. Suffering would be out of place in +vaudevilles, for instance; I know that. In the "Palace of Crystal" it +is unthinkable; suffering means doubt, negation, and what would be the +good of a "palace of crystal" if there could be any doubt about it? +And yet I think man will never renounce real suffering, that is, +destruction and chaos. Why, suffering is the sole origin of +consciousness. Though I did lay it down at the beginning that +consciousness is the greatest misfortune for man, yet I know man prizes +it and would not give it up for any satisfaction. Consciousness, for +instance, is infinitely superior to twice two makes four. Once you +have mathematical certainty there is nothing left to do or to +understand. There will be nothing left but to bottle up your five +senses and plunge into contemplation. While if you stick to +consciousness, even though the same result is attained, you can at +least flog yourself at times, and that will, at any rate, liven you up. +Reactionary as it is, corporal punishment is better than nothing. + + + +X + +You believe in a palace of crystal that can never be destroyed--a +palace at which one will not be able to put out one's tongue or make a +long nose on the sly. And perhaps that is just why I am afraid of this +edifice, that it is of crystal and can never be destroyed and that one +cannot put one's tongue out at it even on the sly. + +You see, if it were not a palace, but a hen-house, I might creep into +it to avoid getting wet, and yet I would not call the hen-house a +palace out of gratitude to it for keeping me dry. You laugh and say +that in such circumstances a hen-house is as good as a mansion. Yes, I +answer, if one had to live simply to keep out of the rain. + +But what is to be done if I have taken it into my head that that is not +the only object in life, and that if one must live one had better live +in a mansion? That is my choice, my desire. You will only eradicate +it when you have changed my preference. Well, do change it, allure me +with something else, give me another ideal. But meanwhile I will not +take a hen-house for a mansion. The palace of crystal may be an idle +dream, it may be that it is inconsistent with the laws of nature and +that I have invented it only through my own stupidity, through the +old-fashioned irrational habits of my generation. But what does it +matter to me that it is inconsistent? That makes no difference since +it exists in my desires, or rather exists as long as my desires exist. +Perhaps you are laughing again? Laugh away; I will put up with any +mockery rather than pretend that I am satisfied when I am hungry. I +know, anyway, that I will not be put off with a compromise, with a +recurring zero, simply because it is consistent with the laws of nature +and actually exists. I will not accept as the crown of my desires a +block of buildings with tenements for the poor on a lease of a thousand +years, and perhaps with a sign-board of a dentist hanging out. Destroy +my desires, eradicate my ideals, show me something better, and I will +follow you. You will say, perhaps, that it is not worth your trouble; +but in that case I can give you the same answer. We are discussing +things seriously; but if you won't deign to give me your attention, I +will drop your acquaintance. I can retreat into my underground hole. + +But while I am alive and have desires I would rather my hand were +withered off than bring one brick to such a building! Don't remind me +that I have just rejected the palace of crystal for the sole reason +that one cannot put out one's tongue at it. I did not say because I am +so fond of putting my tongue out. Perhaps the thing I resented was, +that of all your edifices there has not been one at which one could not +put out one's tongue. On the contrary, I would let my tongue be cut +off out of gratitude if things could be so arranged that I should lose +all desire to put it out. It is not my fault that things cannot be so +arranged, and that one must be satisfied with model flats. Then why am +I made with such desires? Can I have been constructed simply in order +to come to the conclusion that all my construction is a cheat? Can +this be my whole purpose? I do not believe it. + +But do you know what: I am convinced that we underground folk ought to +be kept on a curb. Though we may sit forty years underground without +speaking, when we do come out into the light of day and break out we +talk and talk and talk.... + + + +XI + +The long and the short of it is, gentlemen, that it is better to do +nothing! Better conscious inertia! And so hurrah for underground! +Though I have said that I envy the normal man to the last drop of my +bile, yet I should not care to be in his place such as he is now +(though I shall not cease envying him). No, no; anyway the underground +life is more advantageous. There, at any rate, one can ... Oh, but +even now I am lying! I am lying because I know myself that it is not +underground that is better, but something different, quite different, +for which I am thirsting, but which I cannot find! Damn underground! + +I will tell you another thing that would be better, and that is, if I +myself believed in anything of what I have just written. I swear to +you, gentlemen, there is not one thing, not one word of what I have +written that I really believe. That is, I believe it, perhaps, but at +the same time I feel and suspect that I am lying like a cobbler. + +"Then why have you written all this?" you will say to me. "I ought to +put you underground for forty years without anything to do and then +come to you in your cellar, to find out what stage you have reached! +How can a man be left with nothing to do for forty years?" + +"Isn't that shameful, isn't that humiliating?" you will say, perhaps, +wagging your heads contemptuously. "You thirst for life and try to +settle the problems of life by a logical tangle. And how persistent, +how insolent are your sallies, and at the same time what a scare you +are in! You talk nonsense and are pleased with it; you say impudent +things and are in continual alarm and apologising for them. You +declare that you are afraid of nothing and at the same time try to +ingratiate yourself in our good opinion. You declare that you are +gnashing your teeth and at the same time you try to be witty so as to +amuse us. You know that your witticisms are not witty, but you are +evidently well satisfied with their literary value. You may, perhaps, +have really suffered, but you have no respect for your own suffering. +You may have sincerity, but you have no modesty; out of the pettiest +vanity you expose your sincerity to publicity and ignominy. You +doubtlessly mean to say something, but hide your last word through +fear, because you have not the resolution to utter it, and only have a +cowardly impudence. You boast of consciousness, but you are not sure +of your ground, for though your mind works, yet your heart is darkened +and corrupt, and you cannot have a full, genuine consciousness without +a pure heart. And how intrusive you are, how you insist and grimace! +Lies, lies, lies!" + +Of course I have myself made up all the things you say. That, too, is +from underground. I have been for forty years listening to you through +a crack under the floor. I have invented them myself, there was +nothing else I could invent. It is no wonder that I have learned it by +heart and it has taken a literary form.... + +But can you really be so credulous as to think that I will print all +this and give it to you to read too? And another problem: why do I +call you "gentlemen," why do I address you as though you really were my +readers? Such confessions as I intend to make are never printed nor +given to other people to read. Anyway, I am not strong-minded enough +for that, and I don't see why I should be. But you see a fancy has +occurred to me and I want to realise it at all costs. Let me explain. + +Every man has reminiscences which he would not tell to everyone, but +only to his friends. He has other matters in his mind which he would +not reveal even to his friends, but only to himself, and that in +secret. But there are other things which a man is afraid to tell even +to himself, and every decent man has a number of such things stored +away in his mind. The more decent he is, the greater the number of such +things in his mind. Anyway, I have only lately determined to remember +some of my early adventures. Till now I have always avoided them, even +with a certain uneasiness. Now, when I am not only recalling them, but +have actually decided to write an account of them, I want to try the +experiment whether one can, even with oneself, be perfectly open and +not take fright at the whole truth. I will observe, in parenthesis, +that Heine says that a true autobiography is almost an impossibility, +and that man is bound to lie about himself. He considers that Rousseau +certainly told lies about himself in his confessions, and even +intentionally lied, out of vanity. I am convinced that Heine is right; +I quite understand how sometimes one may, out of sheer vanity, +attribute regular crimes to oneself, and indeed I can very well +conceive that kind of vanity. But Heine judged of people who made +their confessions to the public. I write only for myself, and I wish +to declare once and for all that if I write as though I were addressing +readers, that is simply because it is easier for me to write in that +form. It is a form, an empty form--I shall never have readers. I have +made this plain already ... + +I don't wish to be hampered by any restrictions in the compilation of +my notes. I shall not attempt any system or method. I will jot things +down as I remember them. + +But here, perhaps, someone will catch at the word and ask me: if you +really don't reckon on readers, why do you make such compacts with +yourself--and on paper too--that is, that you won't attempt any system +or method, that you jot things down as you remember them, and so on, +and so on? Why are you explaining? Why do you apologise? + +Well, there it is, I answer. + +There is a whole psychology in all this, though. Perhaps it is simply +that I am a coward. And perhaps that I purposely imagine an audience +before me in order that I may be more dignified while I write. There +are perhaps thousands of reasons. Again, what is my object precisely +in writing? If it is not for the benefit of the public why should I +not simply recall these incidents in my own mind without putting them +on paper? + +Quite so; but yet it is more imposing on paper. There is something +more impressive in it; I shall be better able to criticise myself and +improve my style. Besides, I shall perhaps obtain actual relief from +writing. Today, for instance, I am particularly oppressed by one memory +of a distant past. It came back vividly to my mind a few days ago, and +has remained haunting me like an annoying tune that one cannot get rid +of. And yet I must get rid of it somehow. I have hundreds of such +reminiscences; but at times some one stands out from the hundred and +oppresses me. For some reason I believe that if I write it down I +should get rid of it. Why not try? + +Besides, I am bored, and I never have anything to do. Writing will be +a sort of work. They say work makes man kind-hearted and honest. +Well, here is a chance for me, anyway. + +Snow is falling today, yellow and dingy. It fell yesterday, too, and a +few days ago. I fancy it is the wet snow that has reminded me of that +incident which I cannot shake off now. And so let it be a story A +PROPOS of the falling snow. + + + + +PART II + +A Propos of the Wet Snow + + When from dark error's subjugation + My words of passionate exhortation + Had wrenched thy fainting spirit free; + And writhing prone in thine affliction + Thou didst recall with malediction + The vice that had encompassed thee: + And when thy slumbering conscience, fretting + By recollection's torturing flame, + Thou didst reveal the hideous setting + Of thy life's current ere I came: + When suddenly I saw thee sicken, + And weeping, hide thine anguished face, + Revolted, maddened, horror-stricken, + At memories of foul disgrace. + NEKRASSOV + (translated by Juliet Soskice). + + + +I + +AT THAT TIME I was only twenty-four. My life was even then gloomy, +ill-regulated, and as solitary as that of a savage. I made friends +with no one and positively avoided talking, and buried myself more and +more in my hole. At work in the office I never looked at anyone, and +was perfectly well aware that my companions looked upon me, not only as +a queer fellow, but even looked upon me--I always fancied this--with a +sort of loathing. I sometimes wondered why it was that nobody except +me fancied that he was looked upon with aversion? One of the clerks +had a most repulsive, pock-marked face, which looked positively +villainous. I believe I should not have dared to look at anyone with +such an unsightly countenance. Another had such a very dirty old +uniform that there was an unpleasant odour in his proximity. Yet not +one of these gentlemen showed the slightest self-consciousness--either +about their clothes or their countenance or their character in any way. +Neither of them ever imagined that they were looked at with repulsion; +if they had imagined it they would not have minded--so long as their +superiors did not look at them in that way. It is clear to me now +that, owing to my unbounded vanity and to the high standard I set for +myself, I often looked at myself with furious discontent, which verged +on loathing, and so I inwardly attributed the same feeling to everyone. +I hated my face, for instance: I thought it disgusting, and even +suspected that there was something base in my expression, and so every +day when I turned up at the office I tried to behave as independently +as possible, and to assume a lofty expression, so that I might not be +suspected of being abject. "My face may be ugly," I thought, "but let +it be lofty, expressive, and, above all, EXTREMELY intelligent." But I +was positively and painfully certain that it was impossible for my +countenance ever to express those qualities. And what was worst of +all, I thought it actually stupid looking, and I would have been quite +satisfied if I could have looked intelligent. In fact, I would even +have put up with looking base if, at the same time, my face could have +been thought strikingly intelligent. + +Of course, I hated my fellow clerks one and all, and I despised them +all, yet at the same time I was, as it were, afraid of them. In fact, +it happened at times that I thought more highly of them than of myself. +It somehow happened quite suddenly that I alternated between despising +them and thinking them superior to myself. A cultivated and decent man +cannot be vain without setting a fearfully high standard for himself, +and without despising and almost hating himself at certain moments. +But whether I despised them or thought them superior I dropped my eyes +almost every time I met anyone. I even made experiments whether I +could face so and so's looking at me, and I was always the first to +drop my eyes. This worried me to distraction. I had a sickly dread, +too, of being ridiculous, and so had a slavish passion for the +conventional in everything external. I loved to fall into the common +rut, and had a whole-hearted terror of any kind of eccentricity in +myself. But how could I live up to it? I was morbidly sensitive as a +man of our age should be. They were all stupid, and as like one +another as so many sheep. Perhaps I was the only one in the office who +fancied that I was a coward and a slave, and I fancied it just because +I was more highly developed. But it was not only that I fancied it, it +really was so. I was a coward and a slave. I say this without the +slightest embarrassment. Every decent man of our age must be a coward +and a slave. That is his normal condition. Of that I am firmly +persuaded. He is made and constructed to that very end. And not only +at the present time owing to some casual circumstances, but always, at +all times, a decent man is bound to be a coward and a slave. It is the +law of nature for all decent people all over the earth. If anyone of +them happens to be valiant about something, he need not be comforted +nor carried away by that; he would show the white feather just the same +before something else. That is how it invariably and inevitably ends. +Only donkeys and mules are valiant, and they only till they are pushed +up to the wall. It is not worth while to pay attention to them for +they really are of no consequence. + +Another circumstance, too, worried me in those days: that there was no +one like me and I was unlike anyone else. "I am alone and they are +EVERYONE," I thought--and pondered. + +From that it is evident that I was still a youngster. + +The very opposite sometimes happened. It was loathsome sometimes to go +to the office; things reached such a point that I often came home ill. +But all at once, A PROPOS of nothing, there would come a phase of +scepticism and indifference (everything happened in phases to me), and +I would laugh myself at my intolerance and fastidiousness, I would +reproach myself with being ROMANTIC. At one time I was unwilling to +speak to anyone, while at other times I would not only talk, but go to +the length of contemplating making friends with them. All my +fastidiousness would suddenly, for no rhyme or reason, vanish. Who +knows, perhaps I never had really had it, and it had simply been +affected, and got out of books. I have not decided that question even +now. Once I quite made friends with them, visited their homes, played +preference, drank vodka, talked of promotions.... But here let me +make a digression. + +We Russians, speaking generally, have never had those foolish +transcendental "romantics"--German, and still more French--on whom +nothing produces any effect; if there were an earthquake, if all France +perished at the barricades, they would still be the same, they would +not even have the decency to affect a change, but would still go on +singing their transcendental songs to the hour of their death, because +they are fools. We, in Russia, have no fools; that is well known. +That is what distinguishes us from foreign lands. Consequently these +transcendental natures are not found amongst us in their pure form. +The idea that they are is due to our "realistic" journalists and +critics of that day, always on the look out for Kostanzhoglos and Uncle +Pyotr Ivanitchs and foolishly accepting them as our ideal; they have +slandered our romantics, taking them for the same transcendental sort +as in Germany or France. On the contrary, the characteristics of our +"romantics" are absolutely and directly opposed to the transcendental +European type, and no European standard can be applied to them. (Allow +me to make use of this word "romantic"--an old-fashioned and much +respected word which has done good service and is familiar to all.) +The characteristics of our romantic are to understand everything, TO +SEE EVERYTHING AND TO SEE IT OFTEN INCOMPARABLY MORE CLEARLY THAN OUR +MOST REALISTIC MINDS SEE IT; to refuse to accept anyone or anything, +but at the same time not to despise anything; to give way, to yield, +from policy; never to lose sight of a useful practical object (such as +rent-free quarters at the government expense, pensions, decorations), +to keep their eye on that object through all the enthusiasms and +volumes of lyrical poems, and at the same time to preserve "the sublime +and the beautiful" inviolate within them to the hour of their death, +and to preserve themselves also, incidentally, like some precious jewel +wrapped in cotton wool if only for the benefit of "the sublime and the +beautiful." Our "romantic" is a man of great breadth and the greatest +rogue of all our rogues, I assure you.... I can assure you from +experience, indeed. Of course, that is, if he is intelligent. But +what am I saying! The romantic is always intelligent, and I only meant +to observe that although we have had foolish romantics they don't +count, and they were only so because in the flower of their youth they +degenerated into Germans, and to preserve their precious jewel more +comfortably, settled somewhere out there--by preference in Weimar or +the Black Forest. + +I, for instance, genuinely despised my official work and did not openly +abuse it simply because I was in it myself and got a salary for it. +Anyway, take note, I did not openly abuse it. Our romantic would +rather go out of his mind--a thing, however, which very rarely +happens--than take to open abuse, unless he had some other career in +view; and he is never kicked out. At most, they would take him to the +lunatic asylum as "the King of Spain" if he should go very mad. But it +is only the thin, fair people who go out of their minds in Russia. +Innumerable "romantics" attain later in life to considerable rank in +the service. Their many-sidedness is remarkable! And what a faculty +they have for the most contradictory sensations! I was comforted by +this thought even in those days, and I am of the same opinion now. +That is why there are so many "broad natures" among us who never lose +their ideal even in the depths of degradation; and though they never +stir a finger for their ideal, though they are arrant thieves and +knaves, yet they tearfully cherish their first ideal and are +extraordinarily honest at heart. Yes, it is only among us that the +most incorrigible rogue can be absolutely and loftily honest at heart +without in the least ceasing to be a rogue. I repeat, our romantics, +frequently, become such accomplished rascals (I use the term "rascals" +affectionately), suddenly display such a sense of reality and practical +knowledge that their bewildered superiors and the public generally can +only ejaculate in amazement. + +Their many-sidedness is really amazing, and goodness knows what it may +develop into later on, and what the future has in store for us. It is +not a poor material! I do not say this from any foolish or boastful +patriotism. But I feel sure that you are again imagining that I am +joking. Or perhaps it's just the contrary and you are convinced that I +really think so. Anyway, gentlemen, I shall welcome both views as an +honour and a special favour. And do forgive my digression. + +I did not, of course, maintain friendly relations with my comrades and +soon was at loggerheads with them, and in my youth and inexperience I +even gave up bowing to them, as though I had cut off all relations. +That, however, only happened to me once. As a rule, I was always alone. + +In the first place I spent most of my time at home, reading. I tried +to stifle all that was continually seething within me by means of +external impressions. And the only external means I had was reading. +Reading, of course, was a great help--exciting me, giving me pleasure +and pain. But at times it bored me fearfully. One longed for movement +in spite of everything, and I plunged all at once into dark, +underground, loathsome vice of the pettiest kind. My wretched passions +were acute, smarting, from my continual, sickly irritability I had +hysterical impulses, with tears and convulsions. I had no resource +except reading, that is, there was nothing in my surroundings which I +could respect and which attracted me. I was overwhelmed with +depression, too; I had an hysterical craving for incongruity and for +contrast, and so I took to vice. I have not said all this to justify +myself.... But, no! I am lying. I did want to justify myself. I +make that little observation for my own benefit, gentlemen. I don't +want to lie. I vowed to myself I would not. + +And so, furtively, timidly, in solitude, at night, I indulged in filthy +vice, with a feeling of shame which never deserted me, even at the most +loathsome moments, and which at such moments nearly made me curse. +Already even then I had my underground world in my soul. I was +fearfully afraid of being seen, of being met, of being recognised. I +visited various obscure haunts. + +One night as I was passing a tavern I saw through a lighted window some +gentlemen fighting with billiard cues, and saw one of them thrown out +of the window. At other times I should have felt very much disgusted, +but I was in such a mood at the time, that I actually envied the +gentleman thrown out of the window--and I envied him so much that I +even went into the tavern and into the billiard-room. "Perhaps," I +thought, "I'll have a fight, too, and they'll throw me out of the +window." + +I was not drunk--but what is one to do--depression will drive a man to +such a pitch of hysteria? But nothing happened. It seemed that I was +not even equal to being thrown out of the window and I went away +without having my fight. + +An officer put me in my place from the first moment. + +I was standing by the billiard-table and in my ignorance blocking up +the way, and he wanted to pass; he took me by the shoulders and without +a word--without a warning or explanation--moved me from where I was +standing to another spot and passed by as though he had not noticed me. +I could have forgiven blows, but I could not forgive his having moved +me without noticing me. + +Devil knows what I would have given for a real regular quarrel--a more +decent, a more LITERARY one, so to speak. I had been treated like a +fly. This officer was over six foot, while I was a spindly little +fellow. But the quarrel was in my hands. I had only to protest and I +certainly would have been thrown out of the window. But I changed my +mind and preferred to beat a resentful retreat. + +I went out of the tavern straight home, confused and troubled, and the +next night I went out again with the same lewd intentions, still more +furtively, abjectly and miserably than before, as it were, with tears +in my eyes--but still I did go out again. Don't imagine, though, it +was cowardice made me slink away from the officer; I never have been a +coward at heart, though I have always been a coward in action. Don't +be in a hurry to laugh--I assure you I can explain it all. + +Oh, if only that officer had been one of the sort who would consent to +fight a duel! But no, he was one of those gentlemen (alas, long +extinct!) who preferred fighting with cues or, like Gogol's Lieutenant +Pirogov, appealing to the police. They did not fight duels and would +have thought a duel with a civilian like me an utterly unseemly +procedure in any case--and they looked upon the duel altogether as +something impossible, something free-thinking and French. But they +were quite ready to bully, especially when they were over six foot. + +I did not slink away through cowardice, but through an unbounded +vanity. I was afraid not of his six foot, not of getting a sound +thrashing and being thrown out of the window; I should have had +physical courage enough, I assure you; but I had not the moral courage. +What I was afraid of was that everyone present, from the insolent +marker down to the lowest little stinking, pimply clerk in a greasy +collar, would jeer at me and fail to understand when I began to protest +and to address them in literary language. For of the point of +honour--not of honour, but of the point of honour (POINT +D'HONNEUR)--one cannot speak among us except in literary language. You +can't allude to the "point of honour" in ordinary language. I was fully +convinced (the sense of reality, in spite of all my romanticism!) that +they would all simply split their sides with laughter, and that the +officer would not simply beat me, that is, without insulting me, but +would certainly prod me in the back with his knee, kick me round the +billiard-table, and only then perhaps have pity and drop me out of the +window. + +Of course, this trivial incident could not with me end in that. I +often met that officer afterwards in the street and noticed him very +carefully. I am not quite sure whether he recognised me, I imagine +not; I judge from certain signs. But I--I stared at him with spite and +hatred and so it went on ... for several years! My resentment grew +even deeper with years. At first I began making stealthy inquiries +about this officer. It was difficult for me to do so, for I knew no +one. But one day I heard someone shout his surname in the street as I +was following him at a distance, as though I were tied to him--and so I +learnt his surname. Another time I followed him to his flat, and for +ten kopecks learned from the porter where he lived, on which storey, +whether he lived alone or with others, and so on--in fact, everything +one could learn from a porter. One morning, though I had never tried +my hand with the pen, it suddenly occurred to me to write a satire on +this officer in the form of a novel which would unmask his villainy. I +wrote the novel with relish. I did unmask his villainy, I even +exaggerated it; at first I so altered his surname that it could easily +be recognised, but on second thoughts I changed it, and sent the story +to the OTETCHESTVENNIYA ZAPISKI. But at that time such attacks were +not the fashion and my story was not printed. That was a great +vexation to me. + +Sometimes I was positively choked with resentment. At last I +determined to challenge my enemy to a duel. I composed a splendid, +charming letter to him, imploring him to apologise to me, and hinting +rather plainly at a duel in case of refusal. The letter was so +composed that if the officer had had the least understanding of the +sublime and the beautiful he would certainly have flung himself on my +neck and have offered me his friendship. And how fine that would have +been! How we should have got on together! "He could have shielded me +with his higher rank, while I could have improved his mind with my +culture, and, well ... my ideas, and all sorts of things might have +happened." Only fancy, this was two years after his insult to me, and +my challenge would have been a ridiculous anachronism, in spite of all +the ingenuity of my letter in disguising and explaining away the +anachronism. But, thank God (to this day I thank the Almighty with +tears in my eyes) I did not send the letter to him. Cold shivers run +down my back when I think of what might have happened if I had sent it. + +And all at once I revenged myself in the simplest way, by a stroke of +genius! A brilliant thought suddenly dawned upon me. Sometimes on +holidays I used to stroll along the sunny side of the Nevsky about four +o'clock in the afternoon. Though it was hardly a stroll so much as a +series of innumerable miseries, humiliations and resentments; but no +doubt that was just what I wanted. I used to wriggle along in a most +unseemly fashion, like an eel, continually moving aside to make way for +generals, for officers of the guards and the hussars, or for ladies. +At such minutes there used to be a convulsive twinge at my heart, and I +used to feel hot all down my back at the mere thought of the +wretchedness of my attire, of the wretchedness and abjectness of my +little scurrying figure. This was a regular martyrdom, a continual, +intolerable humiliation at the thought, which passed into an incessant +and direct sensation, that I was a mere fly in the eyes of all this +world, a nasty, disgusting fly--more intelligent, more highly +developed, more refined in feeling than any of them, of course--but a +fly that was continually making way for everyone, insulted and injured +by everyone. Why I inflicted this torture upon myself, why I went to +the Nevsky, I don't know. I felt simply drawn there at every possible +opportunity. + +Already then I began to experience a rush of the enjoyment of which I +spoke in the first chapter. After my affair with the officer I felt +even more drawn there than before: it was on the Nevsky that I met him +most frequently, there I could admire him. He, too, went there chiefly +on holidays, He, too, turned out of his path for generals and persons +of high rank, and he too, wriggled between them like an eel; but +people, like me, or even better dressed than me, he simply walked over; +he made straight for them as though there was nothing but empty space +before him, and never, under any circumstances, turned aside. I +gloated over my resentment watching him and ... always resentfully made +way for him. It exasperated me that even in the street I could not be +on an even footing with him. + +"Why must you invariably be the first to move aside?" I kept asking +myself in hysterical rage, waking up sometimes at three o'clock in the +morning. "Why is it you and not he? There's no regulation about it; +there's no written law. Let the making way be equal as it usually is +when refined people meet; he moves half-way and you move half-way; you +pass with mutual respect." + +But that never happened, and I always moved aside, while he did not +even notice my making way for him. And lo and behold a bright idea +dawned upon me! "What," I thought, "if I meet him and don't move on +one side? What if I don't move aside on purpose, even if I knock up +against him? How would that be?" This audacious idea took such a hold +on me that it gave me no peace. I was dreaming of it continually, +horribly, and I purposely went more frequently to the Nevsky in order +to picture more vividly how I should do it when I did do it. I was +delighted. This intention seemed to me more and more practical and +possible. + +"Of course I shall not really push him," I thought, already more +good-natured in my joy. "I will simply not turn aside, will run up +against him, not very violently, but just shouldering each other--just +as much as decency permits. I will push against him just as much as he +pushes against me." At last I made up my mind completely. But my +preparations took a great deal of time. To begin with, when I carried +out my plan I should need to be looking rather more decent, and so I +had to think of my get-up. "In case of emergency, if, for instance, +there were any sort of public scandal (and the public there is of the +most RECHERCHE: the Countess walks there; Prince D. walks there; all +the literary world is there), I must be well dressed; that inspires +respect and of itself puts us on an equal footing in the eyes of the +society." + +With this object I asked for some of my salary in advance, and bought +at Tchurkin's a pair of black gloves and a decent hat. Black gloves +seemed to me both more dignified and BON TON than the lemon-coloured +ones which I had contemplated at first. "The colour is too gaudy, it +looks as though one were trying to be conspicuous," and I did not take +the lemon-coloured ones. I had got ready long beforehand a good shirt, +with white bone studs; my overcoat was the only thing that held me +back. The coat in itself was a very good one, it kept me warm; but it +was wadded and it had a raccoon collar which was the height of +vulgarity. I had to change the collar at any sacrifice, and to have a +beaver one like an officer's. For this purpose I began visiting the +Gostiny Dvor and after several attempts I pitched upon a piece of cheap +German beaver. Though these German beavers soon grow shabby and look +wretched, yet at first they look exceedingly well, and I only needed it +for the occasion. I asked the price; even so, it was too expensive. +After thinking it over thoroughly I decided to sell my raccoon collar. +The rest of the money--a considerable sum for me, I decided to borrow +from Anton Antonitch Syetotchkin, my immediate superior, an unassuming +person, though grave and judicious. He never lent money to anyone, but +I had, on entering the service, been specially recommended to him by an +important personage who had got me my berth. I was horribly worried. +To borrow from Anton Antonitch seemed to me monstrous and shameful. I +did not sleep for two or three nights. Indeed, I did not sleep well at +that time, I was in a fever; I had a vague sinking at my heart or else +a sudden throbbing, throbbing, throbbing! Anton Antonitch was +surprised at first, then he frowned, then he reflected, and did after +all lend me the money, receiving from me a written authorisation to +take from my salary a fortnight later the sum that he had lent me. + +In this way everything was at last ready. The handsome beaver replaced +the mean-looking raccoon, and I began by degrees to get to work. It +would never have done to act offhand, at random; the plan had to be +carried out skilfully, by degrees. But I must confess that after many +efforts I began to despair: we simply could not run into each other. I +made every preparation, I was quite determined--it seemed as though we +should run into one another directly--and before I knew what I was +doing I had stepped aside for him again and he had passed without +noticing me. I even prayed as I approached him that God would grant me +determination. One time I had made up my mind thoroughly, but it ended +in my stumbling and falling at his feet because at the very last +instant when I was six inches from him my courage failed me. He very +calmly stepped over me, while I flew on one side like a ball. That +night I was ill again, feverish and delirious. + +And suddenly it ended most happily. The night before I had made up my +mind not to carry out my fatal plan and to abandon it all, and with +that object I went to the Nevsky for the last time, just to see how I +would abandon it all. Suddenly, three paces from my enemy, I +unexpectedly made up my mind--I closed my eyes, and we ran full tilt, +shoulder to shoulder, against one another! I did not budge an inch and +passed him on a perfectly equal footing! He did not even look round +and pretended not to notice it; but he was only pretending, I am +convinced of that. I am convinced of that to this day! Of course, I +got the worst of it--he was stronger, but that was not the point. The +point was that I had attained my object, I had kept up my dignity, I +had not yielded a step, and had put myself publicly on an equal social +footing with him. I returned home feeling that I was fully avenged for +everything. I was delighted. I was triumphant and sang Italian arias. +Of course, I will not describe to you what happened to me three days +later; if you have read my first chapter you can guess for yourself. +The officer was afterwards transferred; I have not seen him now for +fourteen years. What is the dear fellow doing now? Whom is he walking +over? + + + +II + +But the period of my dissipation would end and I always felt very sick +afterwards. It was followed by remorse--I tried to drive it away; I +felt too sick. By degrees, however, I grew used to that too. I grew +used to everything, or rather I voluntarily resigned myself to enduring +it. But I had a means of escape that reconciled everything--that was +to find refuge in "the sublime and the beautiful," in dreams, of +course. I was a terrible dreamer, I would dream for three months on +end, tucked away in my corner, and you may believe me that at those +moments I had no resemblance to the gentleman who, in the perturbation +of his chicken heart, put a collar of German beaver on his great-coat. +I suddenly became a hero. I would not have admitted my six-foot +lieutenant even if he had called on me. I could not even picture him +before me then. What were my dreams and how I could satisfy myself +with them--it is hard to say now, but at the time I was satisfied with +them. Though, indeed, even now, I am to some extent satisfied with +them. Dreams were particularly sweet and vivid after a spell of +dissipation; they came with remorse and with tears, with curses and +transports. There were moments of such positive intoxication, of such +happiness, that there was not the faintest trace of irony within me, on +my honour. I had faith, hope, love. I believed blindly at such times +that by some miracle, by some external circumstance, all this would +suddenly open out, expand; that suddenly a vista of suitable +activity--beneficent, good, and, above all, READY MADE (what sort of +activity I had no idea, but the great thing was that it should be all +ready for me)--would rise up before me--and I should come out into the +light of day, almost riding a white horse and crowned with laurel. +Anything but the foremost place I could not conceive for myself, and +for that very reason I quite contentedly occupied the lowest in +reality. Either to be a hero or to grovel in the mud--there was +nothing between. That was my ruin, for when I was in the mud I +comforted myself with the thought that at other times I was a hero, and +the hero was a cloak for the mud: for an ordinary man it was shameful +to defile himself, but a hero was too lofty to be utterly defiled, and +so he might defile himself. It is worth noting that these attacks of +the "sublime and the beautiful" visited me even during the period of +dissipation and just at the times when I was touching the bottom. They +came in separate spurts, as though reminding me of themselves, but did +not banish the dissipation by their appearance. On the contrary, they +seemed to add a zest to it by contrast, and were only sufficiently +present to serve as an appetising sauce. That sauce was made up of +contradictions and sufferings, of agonising inward analysis, and all +these pangs and pin-pricks gave a certain piquancy, even a significance +to my dissipation--in fact, completely answered the purpose of an +appetising sauce. There was a certain depth of meaning in it. And I +could hardly have resigned myself to the simple, vulgar, direct +debauchery of a clerk and have endured all the filthiness of it. What +could have allured me about it then and have drawn me at night into the +street? No, I had a lofty way of getting out of it all. + +And what loving-kindness, oh Lord, what loving-kindness I felt at times +in those dreams of mine! in those "flights into the sublime and the +beautiful"; though it was fantastic love, though it was never applied +to anything human in reality, yet there was so much of this love that +one did not feel afterwards even the impulse to apply it in reality; +that would have been superfluous. Everything, however, passed +satisfactorily by a lazy and fascinating transition into the sphere of +art, that is, into the beautiful forms of life, lying ready, largely +stolen from the poets and novelists and adapted to all sorts of needs +and uses. I, for instance, was triumphant over everyone; everyone, of +course, was in dust and ashes, and was forced spontaneously to +recognise my superiority, and I forgave them all. I was a poet and a +grand gentleman, I fell in love; I came in for countless millions and +immediately devoted them to humanity, and at the same time I confessed +before all the people my shameful deeds, which, of course, were not +merely shameful, but had in them much that was "sublime and beautiful" +something in the Manfred style. Everyone would kiss me and weep (what +idiots they would be if they did not), while I should go barefoot and +hungry preaching new ideas and fighting a victorious Austerlitz against +the obscurantists. Then the band would play a march, an amnesty would +be declared, the Pope would agree to retire from Rome to Brazil; then +there would be a ball for the whole of Italy at the Villa Borghese on +the shores of Lake Como, Lake Como being for that purpose transferred +to the neighbourhood of Rome; then would come a scene in the bushes, +and so on, and so on--as though you did not know all about it? You +will say that it is vulgar and contemptible to drag all this into +public after all the tears and transports which I have myself +confessed. But why is it contemptible? Can you imagine that I am +ashamed of it all, and that it was stupider than anything in your life, +gentlemen? And I can assure you that some of these fancies were by no +means badly composed.... It did not all happen on the shores of Lake +Como. And yet you are right--it really is vulgar and contemptible. +And most contemptible of all it is that now I am attempting to justify +myself to you. And even more contemptible than that is my making this +remark now. But that's enough, or there will be no end to it; each +step will be more contemptible than the last.... + +I could never stand more than three months of dreaming at a time +without feeling an irresistible desire to plunge into society. To +plunge into society meant to visit my superior at the office, Anton +Antonitch Syetotchkin. He was the only permanent acquaintance I have +had in my life, and I wonder at the fact myself now. But I only went +to see him when that phase came over me, and when my dreams had reached +such a point of bliss that it became essential at once to embrace my +fellows and all mankind; and for that purpose I needed, at least, one +human being, actually existing. I had to call on Anton Antonitch, +however, on Tuesday--his at-home day; so I had always to time my +passionate desire to embrace humanity so that it might fall on a +Tuesday. + +This Anton Antonitch lived on the fourth storey in a house in Five +Corners, in four low-pitched rooms, one smaller than the other, of a +particularly frugal and sallow appearance. He had two daughters and +their aunt, who used to pour out the tea. Of the daughters one was +thirteen and another fourteen, they both had snub noses, and I was +awfully shy of them because they were always whispering and giggling +together. The master of the house usually sat in his study on a +leather couch in front of the table with some grey-headed gentleman, +usually a colleague from our office or some other department. I never +saw more than two or three visitors there, always the same. They +talked about the excise duty; about business in the senate, about +salaries, about promotions, about His Excellency, and the best means of +pleasing him, and so on. I had the patience to sit like a fool beside +these people for four hours at a stretch, listening to them without +knowing what to say to them or venturing to say a word. I became +stupefied, several times I felt myself perspiring, I was overcome by a +sort of paralysis; but this was pleasant and good for me. On returning +home I deferred for a time my desire to embrace all mankind. + +I had however one other acquaintance of a sort, Simonov, who was an old +schoolfellow. I had a number of schoolfellows, indeed, in Petersburg, +but I did not associate with them and had even given up nodding to them +in the street. I believe I had transferred into the department I was +in simply to avoid their company and to cut off all connection with my +hateful childhood. Curses on that school and all those terrible years +of penal servitude! In short, I parted from my schoolfellows as soon +as I got out into the world. There were two or three left to whom I +nodded in the street. One of them was Simonov, who had in no way been +distinguished at school, was of a quiet and equable disposition; but I +discovered in him a certain independence of character and even honesty +I don't even suppose that he was particularly stupid. I had at one +time spent some rather soulful moments with him, but these had not +lasted long and had somehow been suddenly clouded over. He was +evidently uncomfortable at these reminiscences, and was, I fancy, +always afraid that I might take up the same tone again. I suspected +that he had an aversion for me, but still I went on going to see him, +not being quite certain of it. + +And so on one occasion, unable to endure my solitude and knowing that +as it was Thursday Anton Antonitch's door would be closed, I thought of +Simonov. Climbing up to his fourth storey I was thinking that the man +disliked me and that it was a mistake to go and see him. But as it +always happened that such reflections impelled me, as though purposely, +to put myself into a false position, I went in. It was almost a year +since I had last seen Simonov. + + + +III + +I found two of my old schoolfellows with him. They seemed to be +discussing an important matter. All of them took scarcely any notice +of my entrance, which was strange, for I had not met them for years. +Evidently they looked upon me as something on the level of a common +fly. I had not been treated like that even at school, though they all +hated me. I knew, of course, that they must despise me now for my lack +of success in the service, and for my having let myself sink so low, +going about badly dressed and so on--which seemed to them a sign of my +incapacity and insignificance. But I had not expected such contempt. +Simonov was positively surprised at my turning up. Even in old days he +had always seemed surprised at my coming. All this disconcerted me: I +sat down, feeling rather miserable, and began listening to what they +were saying. + +They were engaged in warm and earnest conversation about a farewell +dinner which they wanted to arrange for the next day to a comrade of +theirs called Zverkov, an officer in the army, who was going away to a +distant province. This Zverkov had been all the time at school with me +too. I had begun to hate him particularly in the upper forms. In the +lower forms he had simply been a pretty, playful boy whom everybody +liked. I had hated him, however, even in the lower forms, just because +he was a pretty and playful boy. He was always bad at his lessons and +got worse and worse as he went on; however, he left with a good +certificate, as he had powerful interests. During his last year at +school he came in for an estate of two hundred serfs, and as almost all +of us were poor he took up a swaggering tone among us. He was vulgar +in the extreme, but at the same time he was a good-natured fellow, even +in his swaggering. In spite of superficial, fantastic and sham notions +of honour and dignity, all but very few of us positively grovelled +before Zverkov, and the more so the more he swaggered. And it was not +from any interested motive that they grovelled, but simply because he +had been favoured by the gifts of nature. Moreover, it was, as it +were, an accepted idea among us that Zverkov was a specialist in regard +to tact and the social graces. This last fact particularly infuriated +me. I hated the abrupt self-confident tone of his voice, his +admiration of his own witticisms, which were often frightfully stupid, +though he was bold in his language; I hated his handsome, but stupid +face (for which I would, however, have gladly exchanged my intelligent +one), and the free-and-easy military manners in fashion in the +"'forties." I hated the way in which he used to talk of his future +conquests of women (he did not venture to begin his attack upon women +until he had the epaulettes of an officer, and was looking forward to +them with impatience), and boasted of the duels he would constantly be +fighting. I remember how I, invariably so taciturn, suddenly fastened +upon Zverkov, when one day talking at a leisure moment with his +schoolfellows of his future relations with the fair sex, and growing as +sportive as a puppy in the sun, he all at once declared that he would +not leave a single village girl on his estate unnoticed, that that was +his DROIT DE SEIGNEUR, and that if the peasants dared to protest he +would have them all flogged and double the tax on them, the bearded +rascals. Our servile rabble applauded, but I attacked him, not from +compassion for the girls and their fathers, but simply because they +were applauding such an insect. I got the better of him on that +occasion, but though Zverkov was stupid he was lively and impudent, and +so laughed it off, and in such a way that my victory was not really +complete; the laugh was on his side. He got the better of me on +several occasions afterwards, but without malice, jestingly, casually. +I remained angrily and contemptuously silent and would not answer him. +When we left school he made advances to me; I did not rebuff them, for +I was flattered, but we soon parted and quite naturally. Afterwards I +heard of his barrack-room success as a lieutenant, and of the fast life +he was leading. Then there came other rumours--of his successes in the +service. By then he had taken to cutting me in the street, and I +suspected that he was afraid of compromising himself by greeting a +personage as insignificant as me. I saw him once in the theatre, in +the third tier of boxes. By then he was wearing shoulder-straps. He +was twisting and twirling about, ingratiating himself with the +daughters of an ancient General. In three years he had gone off +considerably, though he was still rather handsome and adroit. One +could see that by the time he was thirty he would be corpulent. So it +was to this Zverkov that my schoolfellows were going to give a dinner +on his departure. They had kept up with him for those three years, +though privately they did not consider themselves on an equal footing +with him, I am convinced of that. + +Of Simonov's two visitors, one was Ferfitchkin, a Russianised German--a +little fellow with the face of a monkey, a blockhead who was always +deriding everyone, a very bitter enemy of mine from our days in the +lower forms--a vulgar, impudent, swaggering fellow, who affected a most +sensitive feeling of personal honour, though, of course, he was a +wretched little coward at heart. He was one of those worshippers of +Zverkov who made up to the latter from interested motives, and often +borrowed money from him. Simonov's other visitor, Trudolyubov, was a +person in no way remarkable--a tall young fellow, in the army, with a +cold face, fairly honest, though he worshipped success of every sort, +and was only capable of thinking of promotion. He was some sort of +distant relation of Zverkov's, and this, foolish as it seems, gave him +a certain importance among us. He always thought me of no consequence +whatever; his behaviour to me, though not quite courteous, was +tolerable. + +"Well, with seven roubles each," said Trudolyubov, "twenty-one roubles +between the three of us, we ought to be able to get a good dinner. +Zverkov, of course, won't pay." + +"Of course not, since we are inviting him," Simonov decided. + +"Can you imagine," Ferfitchkin interrupted hotly and conceitedly, like +some insolent flunkey boasting of his master the General's decorations, +"can you imagine that Zverkov will let us pay alone? He will accept +from delicacy, but he will order half a dozen bottles of champagne." + +"Do we want half a dozen for the four of us?" observed Trudolyubov, +taking notice only of the half dozen. + +"So the three of us, with Zverkov for the fourth, twenty-one roubles, +at the Hotel de Paris at five o'clock tomorrow," Simonov, who had been +asked to make the arrangements, concluded finally. + +"How twenty-one roubles?" I asked in some agitation, with a show of +being offended; "if you count me it will not be twenty-one, but +twenty-eight roubles." + +It seemed to me that to invite myself so suddenly and unexpectedly +would be positively graceful, and that they would all be conquered at +once and would look at me with respect. + +"Do you want to join, too?" Simonov observed, with no appearance of +pleasure, seeming to avoid looking at me. He knew me through and +through. + +It infuriated me that he knew me so thoroughly. + +"Why not? I am an old schoolfellow of his, too, I believe, and I must +own I feel hurt that you have left me out," I said, boiling over again. + +"And where were we to find you?" Ferfitchkin put in roughly. + +"You never were on good terms with Zverkov," Trudolyubov added, +frowning. + +But I had already clutched at the idea and would not give it up. + +"It seems to me that no one has a right to form an opinion upon that," +I retorted in a shaking voice, as though something tremendous had +happened. "Perhaps that is just my reason for wishing it now, that I +have not always been on good terms with him." + +"Oh, there's no making you out ... with these refinements," Trudolyubov +jeered. + +"We'll put your name down," Simonov decided, addressing me. "Tomorrow +at five-o'clock at the Hotel de Paris." + +"What about the money?" Ferfitchkin began in an undertone, indicating +me to Simonov, but he broke off, for even Simonov was embarrassed. + +"That will do," said Trudolyubov, getting up. "If he wants to come so +much, let him." + +"But it's a private thing, between us friends," Ferfitchkin said +crossly, as he, too, picked up his hat. "It's not an official +gathering." + +"We do not want at all, perhaps ..." + +They went away. Ferfitchkin did not greet me in any way as he went +out, Trudolyubov barely nodded. Simonov, with whom I was left +TETE-A-TETE, was in a state of vexation and perplexity, and looked at +me queerly. He did not sit down and did not ask me to. + +"H'm ... yes ... tomorrow, then. Will you pay your subscription now? +I just ask so as to know," he muttered in embarrassment. + +I flushed crimson, as I did so I remembered that I had owed Simonov +fifteen roubles for ages--which I had, indeed, never forgotten, though +I had not paid it. + +"You will understand, Simonov, that I could have no idea when I came +here.... I am very much vexed that I have forgotten...." + +"All right, all right, that doesn't matter. You can pay tomorrow after +the dinner. I simply wanted to know.... Please don't..." + +He broke off and began pacing the room still more vexed. As he walked +he began to stamp with his heels. + +"Am I keeping you?" I asked, after two minutes of silence. + +"Oh!" he said, starting, "that is--to be truthful--yes. I have to go +and see someone ... not far from here," he added in an apologetic +voice, somewhat abashed. + +"My goodness, why didn't you say so?" I cried, seizing my cap, with an +astonishingly free-and-easy air, which was the last thing I should have +expected of myself. + +"It's close by ... not two paces away," Simonov repeated, accompanying +me to the front door with a fussy air which did not suit him at all. +"So five o'clock, punctually, tomorrow," he called down the stairs +after me. He was very glad to get rid of me. I was in a fury. + +"What possessed me, what possessed me to force myself upon them?" I +wondered, grinding my teeth as I strode along the street, "for a +scoundrel, a pig like that Zverkov! Of course I had better not go; of +course, I must just snap my fingers at them. I am not bound in any +way. I'll send Simonov a note by tomorrow's post...." + +But what made me furious was that I knew for certain that I should go, +that I should make a point of going; and the more tactless, the more +unseemly my going would be, the more certainly I would go. + +And there was a positive obstacle to my going: I had no money. All I +had was nine roubles, I had to give seven of that to my servant, +Apollon, for his monthly wages. That was all I paid him--he had to +keep himself. + +Not to pay him was impossible, considering his character. But I will +talk about that fellow, about that plague of mine, another time. + +However, I knew I should go and should not pay him his wages. + +That night I had the most hideous dreams. No wonder; all the evening I +had been oppressed by memories of my miserable days at school, and I +could not shake them off. I was sent to the school by distant +relations, upon whom I was dependent and of whom I have heard nothing +since--they sent me there a forlorn, silent boy, already crushed by +their reproaches, already troubled by doubt, and looking with savage +distrust at everyone. My schoolfellows met me with spiteful and +merciless jibes because I was not like any of them. But I could not +endure their taunts; I could not give in to them with the ignoble +readiness with which they gave in to one another. I hated them from +the first, and shut myself away from everyone in timid, wounded and +disproportionate pride. Their coarseness revolted me. They laughed +cynically at my face, at my clumsy figure; and yet what stupid faces +they had themselves. In our school the boys' faces seemed in a special +way to degenerate and grow stupider. How many fine-looking boys came +to us! In a few years they became repulsive. Even at sixteen I +wondered at them morosely; even then I was struck by the pettiness of +their thoughts, the stupidity of their pursuits, their games, their +conversations. They had no understanding of such essential things, +they took no interest in such striking, impressive subjects, that I +could not help considering them inferior to myself. It was not wounded +vanity that drove me to it, and for God's sake do not thrust upon me +your hackneyed remarks, repeated to nausea, that "I was only a +dreamer," while they even then had an understanding of life. They +understood nothing, they had no idea of real life, and I swear that +that was what made me most indignant with them. On the contrary, the +most obvious, striking reality they accepted with fantastic stupidity +and even at that time were accustomed to respect success. Everything +that was just, but oppressed and looked down upon, they laughed at +heartlessly and shamefully. They took rank for intelligence; even at +sixteen they were already talking about a snug berth. Of course, a +great deal of it was due to their stupidity, to the bad examples with +which they had always been surrounded in their childhood and boyhood. +They were monstrously depraved. Of course a great deal of that, too, +was superficial and an assumption of cynicism; of course there were +glimpses of youth and freshness even in their depravity; but even that +freshness was not attractive, and showed itself in a certain +rakishness. I hated them horribly, though perhaps I was worse than any +of them. They repaid me in the same way, and did not conceal their +aversion for me. But by then I did not desire their affection: on the +contrary, I continually longed for their humiliation. To escape from +their derision I purposely began to make all the progress I could with +my studies and forced my way to the very top. This impressed them. +Moreover, they all began by degrees to grasp that I had already read +books none of them could read, and understood things (not forming part +of our school curriculum) of which they had not even heard. They took +a savage and sarcastic view of it, but were morally impressed, +especially as the teachers began to notice me on those grounds. The +mockery ceased, but the hostility remained, and cold and strained +relations became permanent between us. In the end I could not put up +with it: with years a craving for society, for friends, developed in +me. I attempted to get on friendly terms with some of my schoolfellows; +but somehow or other my intimacy with them was always strained and soon +ended of itself. Once, indeed, I did have a friend. But I was already +a tyrant at heart; I wanted to exercise unbounded sway over him; I +tried to instil into him a contempt for his surroundings; I required of +him a disdainful and complete break with those surroundings. I +frightened him with my passionate affection; I reduced him to tears, to +hysterics. He was a simple and devoted soul; but when he devoted +himself to me entirely I began to hate him immediately and repulsed +him--as though all I needed him for was to win a victory over him, to +subjugate him and nothing else. But I could not subjugate all of them; +my friend was not at all like them either, he was, in fact, a rare +exception. The first thing I did on leaving school was to give up the +special job for which I had been destined so as to break all ties, to +curse my past and shake the dust from off my feet.... And goodness +knows why, after all that, I should go trudging off to Simonov's! + +Early next morning I roused myself and jumped out of bed with +excitement, as though it were all about to happen at once. But I +believed that some radical change in my life was coming, and would +inevitably come that day. Owing to its rarity, perhaps, any external +event, however trivial, always made me feel as though some radical +change in my life were at hand. I went to the office, however, as +usual, but sneaked away home two hours earlier to get ready. The great +thing, I thought, is not to be the first to arrive, or they will think +I am overjoyed at coming. But there were thousands of such great +points to consider, and they all agitated and overwhelmed me. I +polished my boots a second time with my own hands; nothing in the world +would have induced Apollon to clean them twice a day, as he considered +that it was more than his duties required of him. I stole the brushes +to clean them from the passage, being careful he should not detect it, +for fear of his contempt. Then I minutely examined my clothes and +thought that everything looked old, worn and threadbare. I had let +myself get too slovenly. My uniform, perhaps, was tidy, but I could +not go out to dinner in my uniform. The worst of it was that on the +knee of my trousers was a big yellow stain. I had a foreboding that +that stain would deprive me of nine-tenths of my personal dignity. I +knew, too, that it was very poor to think so. "But this is no time for +thinking: now I am in for the real thing," I thought, and my heart +sank. I knew, too, perfectly well even then, that I was monstrously +exaggerating the facts. But how could I help it? I could not control +myself and was already shaking with fever. With despair I pictured to +myself how coldly and disdainfully that "scoundrel" Zverkov would meet +me; with what dull-witted, invincible contempt the blockhead +Trudolyubov would look at me; with what impudent rudeness the insect +Ferfitchkin would snigger at me in order to curry favour with Zverkov; +how completely Simonov would take it all in, and how he would despise +me for the abjectness of my vanity and lack of spirit--and, worst of +all, how paltry, UNLITERARY, commonplace it would all be. Of course, +the best thing would be not to go at all. But that was most impossible +of all: if I feel impelled to do anything, I seem to be pitchforked +into it. I should have jeered at myself ever afterwards: "So you +funked it, you funked it, you funked the REAL THING!" On the contrary, +I passionately longed to show all that "rabble" that I was by no means +such a spiritless creature as I seemed to myself. What is more, even in +the acutest paroxysm of this cowardly fever, I dreamed of getting the +upper hand, of dominating them, carrying them away, making them like +me--if only for my "elevation of thought and unmistakable wit." They +would abandon Zverkov, he would sit on one side, silent and ashamed, +while I should crush him. Then, perhaps, we would be reconciled and +drink to our everlasting friendship; but what was most bitter and +humiliating for me was that I knew even then, knew fully and for +certain, that I needed nothing of all this really, that I did not +really want to crush, to subdue, to attract them, and that I did not +care a straw really for the result, even if I did achieve it. Oh, how +I prayed for the day to pass quickly! In unutterable anguish I went to +the window, opened the movable pane and looked out into the troubled +darkness of the thickly falling wet snow. At last my wretched little +clock hissed out five. I seized my hat and, trying not to look at +Apollon, who had been all day expecting his month's wages, but in his +foolishness was unwilling to be the first to speak about it, I slipped +between him and the door and, jumping into a high-class sledge, on +which I spent my last half rouble, I drove up in grand style to the +Hotel de Paris. + + + +IV + +I had been certain the day before that I should be the first to arrive. +But it was not a question of being the first to arrive. Not only were +they not there, but I had difficulty in finding our room. The table +was not laid even. What did it mean? After a good many questions I +elicited from the waiters that the dinner had been ordered not for +five, but for six o'clock. This was confirmed at the buffet too. I +felt really ashamed to go on questioning them. It was only twenty-five +minutes past five. If they changed the dinner hour they ought at least +to have let me know--that is what the post is for, and not to have put +me in an absurd position in my own eyes and ... and even before the +waiters. I sat down; the servant began laying the table; I felt even +more humiliated when he was present. Towards six o'clock they brought +in candles, though there were lamps burning in the room. It had not +occurred to the waiter, however, to bring them in at once when I +arrived. In the next room two gloomy, angry-looking persons were +eating their dinners in silence at two different tables. There was a +great deal of noise, even shouting, in a room further away; one could +hear the laughter of a crowd of people, and nasty little shrieks in +French: there were ladies at the dinner. It was sickening, in fact. I +rarely passed more unpleasant moments, so much so that when they did +arrive all together punctually at six I was overjoyed to see them, as +though they were my deliverers, and even forgot that it was incumbent +upon me to show resentment. + +Zverkov walked in at the head of them; evidently he was the leading +spirit. He and all of them were laughing; but, seeing me, Zverkov drew +himself up a little, walked up to me deliberately with a slight, rather +jaunty bend from the waist. He shook hands with me in a friendly, but +not over-friendly, fashion, with a sort of circumspect courtesy like +that of a General, as though in giving me his hand he were warding off +something. I had imagined, on the contrary, that on coming in he would +at once break into his habitual thin, shrill laugh and fall to making +his insipid jokes and witticisms. I had been preparing for them ever +since the previous day, but I had not expected such condescension, such +high-official courtesy. So, then, he felt himself ineffably superior +to me in every respect! If he only meant to insult me by that +high-official tone, it would not matter, I thought--I could pay him +back for it one way or another. But what if, in reality, without the +least desire to be offensive, that sheepshead had a notion in earnest +that he was superior to me and could only look at me in a patronising +way? The very supposition made me gasp. + +"I was surprised to hear of your desire to join us," he began, lisping +and drawling, which was something new. "You and I seem to have seen +nothing of one another. You fight shy of us. You shouldn't. We are +not such terrible people as you think. Well, anyway, I am glad to +renew our acquaintance." + +And he turned carelessly to put down his hat on the window. + +"Have you been waiting long?" Trudolyubov inquired. + +"I arrived at five o'clock as you told me yesterday," I answered aloud, +with an irritability that threatened an explosion. + +"Didn't you let him know that we had changed the hour?" said +Trudolyubov to Simonov. + +"No, I didn't. I forgot," the latter replied, with no sign of regret, +and without even apologising to me he went off to order the HORS +D'OEUVRE. + +"So you've been here a whole hour? Oh, poor fellow!" Zverkov cried +ironically, for to his notions this was bound to be extremely funny. +That rascal Ferfitchkin followed with his nasty little snigger like a +puppy yapping. My position struck him, too, as exquisitely ludicrous +and embarrassing. + +"It isn't funny at all!" I cried to Ferfitchkin, more and more +irritated. "It wasn't my fault, but other people's. They neglected to +let me know. It was ... it was ... it was simply absurd." + +"It's not only absurd, but something else as well," muttered +Trudolyubov, naively taking my part. "You are not hard enough upon it. +It was simply rudeness--unintentional, of course. And how could +Simonov ... h'm!" + +"If a trick like that had been played on me," observed Ferfitchkin, "I +should ..." + +"But you should have ordered something for yourself," Zverkov +interrupted, "or simply asked for dinner without waiting for us." + +"You will allow that I might have done that without your permission," I +rapped out. "If I waited, it was ..." + +"Let us sit down, gentlemen," cried Simonov, coming in. "Everything is +ready; I can answer for the champagne; it is capitally frozen.... You +see, I did not know your address, where was I to look for you?" he +suddenly turned to me, but again he seemed to avoid looking at me. +Evidently he had something against me. It must have been what happened +yesterday. + +All sat down; I did the same. It was a round table. Trudolyubov was +on my left, Simonov on my right, Zverkov was sitting opposite, +Ferfitchkin next to him, between him and Trudolyubov. + +"Tell me, are you ... in a government office?" Zverkov went on +attending to me. Seeing that I was embarrassed he seriously thought +that he ought to be friendly to me, and, so to speak, cheer me up. + +"Does he want me to throw a bottle at his head?" I thought, in a fury. +In my novel surroundings I was unnaturally ready to be irritated. + +"In the N---- office," I answered jerkily, with my eyes on my plate. + +"And ha-ave you a go-od berth? I say, what ma-a-de you leave your +original job?" + +"What ma-a-de me was that I wanted to leave my original job," I drawled +more than he, hardly able to control myself. Ferfitchkin went off into +a guffaw. Simonov looked at me ironically. Trudolyubov left off +eating and began looking at me with curiosity. + +Zverkov winced, but he tried not to notice it. + +"And the remuneration?" + +"What remuneration?" + +"I mean, your sa-a-lary?" + +"Why are you cross-examining me?" However, I told him at once what my +salary was. I turned horribly red. + +"It is not very handsome," Zverkov observed majestically. + +"Yes, you can't afford to dine at cafes on that," Ferfitchkin added +insolently. + +"To my thinking it's very poor," Trudolyubov observed gravely. + +"And how thin you have grown! How you have changed!" added Zverkov, +with a shade of venom in his voice, scanning me and my attire with a +sort of insolent compassion. + +"Oh, spare his blushes," cried Ferfitchkin, sniggering. + +"My dear sir, allow me to tell you I am not blushing," I broke out at +last; "do you hear? I am dining here, at this cafe, at my own expense, +not at other people's--note that, Mr. Ferfitchkin." + +"Wha-at? Isn't every one here dining at his own expense? You would +seem to be ..." Ferfitchkin flew out at me, turning as red as a +lobster, and looking me in the face with fury. + +"Tha-at," I answered, feeling I had gone too far, "and I imagine it +would be better to talk of something more intelligent." + +"You intend to show off your intelligence, I suppose?" + +"Don't disturb yourself, that would be quite out of place here." + +"Why are you clacking away like that, my good sir, eh? Have you gone +out of your wits in your office?" + +"Enough, gentlemen, enough!" Zverkov cried, authoritatively. + +"How stupid it is!" muttered Simonov. + +"It really is stupid. We have met here, a company of friends, for a +farewell dinner to a comrade and you carry on an altercation," said +Trudolyubov, rudely addressing himself to me alone. "You invited +yourself to join us, so don't disturb the general harmony." + +"Enough, enough!" cried Zverkov. "Give over, gentlemen, it's out of +place. Better let me tell you how I nearly got married the day before +yesterday...." + +And then followed a burlesque narrative of how this gentleman had +almost been married two days before. There was not a word about the +marriage, however, but the story was adorned with generals, colonels +and kammer-junkers, while Zverkov almost took the lead among them. It +was greeted with approving laughter; Ferfitchkin positively squealed. + +No one paid any attention to me, and I sat crushed and humiliated. + +"Good Heavens, these are not the people for me!" I thought. "And what +a fool I have made of myself before them! I let Ferfitchkin go too +far, though. The brutes imagine they are doing me an honour in letting +me sit down with them. They don't understand that it's an honour to +them and not to me! I've grown thinner! My clothes! Oh, damn my +trousers! Zverkov noticed the yellow stain on the knee as soon as he +came in.... But what's the use! I must get up at once, this very +minute, take my hat and simply go without a word ... with contempt! +And tomorrow I can send a challenge. The scoundrels! As though I +cared about the seven roubles. They may think.... Damn it! I don't +care about the seven roubles. I'll go this minute!" + +Of course I remained. I drank sherry and Lafitte by the glassful in my +discomfiture. Being unaccustomed to it, I was quickly affected. My +annoyance increased as the wine went to my head. I longed all at once +to insult them all in a most flagrant manner and then go away. To +seize the moment and show what I could do, so that they would say, +"He's clever, though he is absurd," and ... and ... in fact, damn them +all! + +I scanned them all insolently with my drowsy eyes. But they seemed to +have forgotten me altogether. They were noisy, vociferous, cheerful. +Zverkov was talking all the time. I began listening. Zverkov was +talking of some exuberant lady whom he had at last led on to declaring +her love (of course, he was lying like a horse), and how he had been +helped in this affair by an intimate friend of his, a Prince Kolya, an +officer in the hussars, who had three thousand serfs. + +"And yet this Kolya, who has three thousand serfs, has not put in an +appearance here tonight to see you off," I cut in suddenly. + +For one minute every one was silent. "You are drunk already." +Trudolyubov deigned to notice me at last, glancing contemptuously in my +direction. Zverkov, without a word, examined me as though I were an +insect. I dropped my eyes. Simonov made haste to fill up the glasses +with champagne. + +Trudolyubov raised his glass, as did everyone else but me. + +"Your health and good luck on the journey!" he cried to Zverkov. "To +old times, to our future, hurrah!" + +They all tossed off their glasses, and crowded round Zverkov to kiss +him. I did not move; my full glass stood untouched before me. + +"Why, aren't you going to drink it?" roared Trudolyubov, losing +patience and turning menacingly to me. + +"I want to make a speech separately, on my own account ... and then +I'll drink it, Mr. Trudolyubov." + +"Spiteful brute!" muttered Simonov. I drew myself up in my chair and +feverishly seized my glass, prepared for something extraordinary, +though I did not know myself precisely what I was going to say. + +"SILENCE!" cried Ferfitchkin. "Now for a display of wit!" + +Zverkov waited very gravely, knowing what was coming. + +"Mr. Lieutenant Zverkov," I began, "let me tell you that I hate +phrases, phrasemongers and men in corsets ... that's the first point, +and there is a second one to follow it." + +There was a general stir. + +"The second point is: I hate ribaldry and ribald talkers. Especially +ribald talkers! The third point: I love justice, truth and honesty." +I went on almost mechanically, for I was beginning to shiver with +horror myself and had no idea how I came to be talking like this. "I +love thought, Monsieur Zverkov; I love true comradeship, on an equal +footing and not ... H'm ... I love ... But, however, why not? I will +drink your health, too, Mr. Zverkov. Seduce the Circassian girls, +shoot the enemies of the fatherland and ... and ... to your health, +Monsieur Zverkov!" + +Zverkov got up from his seat, bowed to me and said: + +"I am very much obliged to you." He was frightfully offended and +turned pale. + +"Damn the fellow!" roared Trudolyubov, bringing his fist down on the +table. + +"Well, he wants a punch in the face for that," squealed Ferfitchkin. + +"We ought to turn him out," muttered Simonov. + +"Not a word, gentlemen, not a movement!" cried Zverkov solemnly, +checking the general indignation. "I thank you all, but I can show him +for myself how much value I attach to his words." + +"Mr. Ferfitchkin, you will give me satisfaction tomorrow for your +words just now!" I said aloud, turning with dignity to Ferfitchkin. + +"A duel, you mean? Certainly," he answered. But probably I was so +ridiculous as I challenged him and it was so out of keeping with my +appearance that everyone including Ferfitchkin was prostrate with +laughter. + +"Yes, let him alone, of course! He is quite drunk," Trudolyubov said +with disgust. + +"I shall never forgive myself for letting him join us," Simonov +muttered again. + +"Now is the time to throw a bottle at their heads," I thought to +myself. I picked up the bottle ... and filled my glass.... "No, I'd +better sit on to the end," I went on thinking; "you would be pleased, +my friends, if I went away. Nothing will induce me to go. I'll go on +sitting here and drinking to the end, on purpose, as a sign that I +don't think you of the slightest consequence. I will go on sitting and +drinking, because this is a public-house and I paid my entrance money. +I'll sit here and drink, for I look upon you as so many pawns, as +inanimate pawns. I'll sit here and drink ... and sing if I want to, +yes, sing, for I have the right to ... to sing ... H'm!" + +But I did not sing. I simply tried not to look at any of them. I +assumed most unconcerned attitudes and waited with impatience for them +to speak FIRST. But alas, they did not address me! And oh, how I +wished, how I wished at that moment to be reconciled to them! It +struck eight, at last nine. They moved from the table to the sofa. +Zverkov stretched himself on a lounge and put one foot on a round +table. Wine was brought there. He did, as a fact, order three bottles +on his own account. I, of course, was not invited to join them. They +all sat round him on the sofa. They listened to him, almost with +reverence. It was evident that they were fond of him. "What for? +What for?" I wondered. From time to time they were moved to drunken +enthusiasm and kissed each other. They talked of the Caucasus, of the +nature of true passion, of snug berths in the service, of the income of +an hussar called Podharzhevsky, whom none of them knew personally, and +rejoiced in the largeness of it, of the extraordinary grace and beauty +of a Princess D., whom none of them had ever seen; then it came to +Shakespeare's being immortal. + +I smiled contemptuously and walked up and down the other side of the +room, opposite the sofa, from the table to the stove and back again. I +tried my very utmost to show them that I could do without them, and yet +I purposely made a noise with my boots, thumping with my heels. But it +was all in vain. They paid no attention. I had the patience to walk +up and down in front of them from eight o'clock till eleven, in the +same place, from the table to the stove and back again. "I walk up and +down to please myself and no one can prevent me." The waiter who came +into the room stopped, from time to time, to look at me. I was +somewhat giddy from turning round so often; at moments it seemed to me +that I was in delirium. During those three hours I was three times +soaked with sweat and dry again. At times, with an intense, acute pang +I was stabbed to the heart by the thought that ten years, twenty years, +forty years would pass, and that even in forty years I would remember +with loathing and humiliation those filthiest, most ludicrous, and most +awful moments of my life. No one could have gone out of his way to +degrade himself more shamelessly, and I fully realised it, fully, and +yet I went on pacing up and down from the table to the stove. "Oh, if +you only knew what thoughts and feelings I am capable of, how cultured +I am!" I thought at moments, mentally addressing the sofa on which my +enemies were sitting. But my enemies behaved as though I were not in +the room. Once--only once--they turned towards me, just when Zverkov +was talking about Shakespeare, and I suddenly gave a contemptuous +laugh. I laughed in such an affected and disgusting way that they all +at once broke off their conversation, and silently and gravely for two +minutes watched me walking up and down from the table to the stove, +TAKING NO NOTICE OF THEM. But nothing came of it: they said nothing, +and two minutes later they ceased to notice me again. It struck eleven. + +"Friends," cried Zverkov getting up from the sofa, "let us all be off +now, THERE!" + +"Of course, of course," the others assented. I turned sharply to +Zverkov. I was so harassed, so exhausted, that I would have cut my +throat to put an end to it. I was in a fever; my hair, soaked with +perspiration, stuck to my forehead and temples. + +"Zverkov, I beg your pardon," I said abruptly and resolutely. +"Ferfitchkin, yours too, and everyone's, everyone's: I have insulted +you all!" + +"Aha! A duel is not in your line, old man," Ferfitchkin hissed +venomously. + +It sent a sharp pang to my heart. + +"No, it's not the duel I am afraid of, Ferfitchkin! I am ready to +fight you tomorrow, after we are reconciled. I insist upon it, in +fact, and you cannot refuse. I want to show you that I am not afraid +of a duel. You shall fire first and I shall fire into the air." + +"He is comforting himself," said Simonov. + +"He's simply raving," said Trudolyubov. + +"But let us pass. Why are you barring our way? What do you want?" +Zverkov answered disdainfully. + +They were all flushed, their eyes were bright: they had been drinking +heavily. + +"I ask for your friendship, Zverkov; I insulted you, but ..." + +"Insulted? YOU insulted ME? Understand, sir, that you never, under +any circumstances, could possibly insult ME." + +"And that's enough for you. Out of the way!" concluded Trudolyubov. + +"Olympia is mine, friends, that's agreed!" cried Zverkov. + +"We won't dispute your right, we won't dispute your right," the others +answered, laughing. + +I stood as though spat upon. The party went noisily out of the room. +Trudolyubov struck up some stupid song. Simonov remained behind for a +moment to tip the waiters. I suddenly went up to him. + +"Simonov! give me six roubles!" I said, with desperate resolution. + +He looked at me in extreme amazement, with vacant eyes. He, too, was +drunk. + +"You don't mean you are coming with us?" + +"Yes." + +"I've no money," he snapped out, and with a scornful laugh he went out +of the room. + +I clutched at his overcoat. It was a nightmare. + +"Simonov, I saw you had money. Why do you refuse me? Am I a +scoundrel? Beware of refusing me: if you knew, if you knew why I am +asking! My whole future, my whole plans depend upon it!" + +Simonov pulled out the money and almost flung it at me. + +"Take it, if you have no sense of shame!" he pronounced pitilessly, and +ran to overtake them. + +I was left for a moment alone. Disorder, the remains of dinner, a +broken wine-glass on the floor, spilt wine, cigarette ends, fumes of +drink and delirium in my brain, an agonising misery in my heart and +finally the waiter, who had seen and heard all and was looking +inquisitively into my face. + +"I am going there!" I cried. "Either they shall all go down on their +knees to beg for my friendship, or I will give Zverkov a slap in the +face!" + + + +V + +"So this is it, this is it at last--contact with real life," I muttered +as I ran headlong downstairs. "This is very different from the Pope's +leaving Rome and going to Brazil, very different from the ball on Lake +Como!" + +"You are a scoundrel," a thought flashed through my mind, "if you laugh +at this now." + +"No matter!" I cried, answering myself. "Now everything is lost!" + +There was no trace to be seen of them, but that made no difference--I +knew where they had gone. + +At the steps was standing a solitary night sledge-driver in a rough +peasant coat, powdered over with the still falling, wet, and as it were +warm, snow. It was hot and steamy. The little shaggy piebald horse +was also covered with snow and coughing, I remember that very well. I +made a rush for the roughly made sledge; but as soon as I raised my +foot to get into it, the recollection of how Simonov had just given me +six roubles seemed to double me up and I tumbled into the sledge like a +sack. + +"No, I must do a great deal to make up for all that," I cried. "But I +will make up for it or perish on the spot this very night. Start!" + +We set off. There was a perfect whirl in my head. + +"They won't go down on their knees to beg for my friendship. That is a +mirage, cheap mirage, revolting, romantic and fantastical--that's +another ball on Lake Como. And so I am bound to slap Zverkov's face! +It is my duty to. And so it is settled; I am flying to give him a slap +in the face. Hurry up!" + +The driver tugged at the reins. + +"As soon as I go in I'll give it him. Ought I before giving him the +slap to say a few words by way of preface? No. I'll simply go in and +give it him. They will all be sitting in the drawing-room, and he with +Olympia on the sofa. That damned Olympia! She laughed at my looks on +one occasion and refused me. I'll pull Olympia's hair, pull Zverkov's +ears! No, better one ear, and pull him by it round the room. Maybe +they will all begin beating me and will kick me out. That's most +likely, indeed. No matter! Anyway, I shall first slap him; the +initiative will be mine; and by the laws of honour that is everything: +he will be branded and cannot wipe off the slap by any blows, by +nothing but a duel. He will be forced to fight. And let them beat me +now. Let them, the ungrateful wretches! Trudolyubov will beat me +hardest, he is so strong; Ferfitchkin will be sure to catch hold +sideways and tug at my hair. But no matter, no matter! That's what I +am going for. The blockheads will be forced at last to see the tragedy +of it all! When they drag me to the door I shall call out to them that +in reality they are not worth my little finger. Get on, driver, get +on!" I cried to the driver. He started and flicked his whip, I shouted +so savagely. + +"We shall fight at daybreak, that's a settled thing. I've done with +the office. Ferfitchkin made a joke about it just now. But where can +I get pistols? Nonsense! I'll get my salary in advance and buy them. +And powder, and bullets? That's the second's business. And how can it +all be done by daybreak? and where am I to get a second? I have no +friends. Nonsense!" I cried, lashing myself up more and more. "It's of +no consequence! The first person I meet in the street is bound to be my +second, just as he would be bound to pull a drowning man out of water. +The most eccentric things may happen. Even if I were to ask the +director himself to be my second tomorrow, he would be bound to +consent, if only from a feeling of chivalry, and to keep the secret! +Anton Antonitch...." + +The fact is, that at that very minute the disgusting absurdity of my +plan and the other side of the question was clearer and more vivid to +my imagination than it could be to anyone on earth. But .... + +"Get on, driver, get on, you rascal, get on!" + +"Ugh, sir!" said the son of toil. + +Cold shivers suddenly ran down me. Wouldn't it be better ... to go +straight home? My God, my God! Why did I invite myself to this dinner +yesterday? But no, it's impossible. And my walking up and down for +three hours from the table to the stove? No, they, they and no one +else must pay for my walking up and down! They must wipe out this +dishonour! Drive on! + +And what if they give me into custody? They won't dare! They'll be +afraid of the scandal. And what if Zverkov is so contemptuous that he +refuses to fight a duel? He is sure to; but in that case I'll show +them ... I will turn up at the posting station when he's setting off +tomorrow, I'll catch him by the leg, I'll pull off his coat when he +gets into the carriage. I'll get my teeth into his hand, I'll bite him. +"See what lengths you can drive a desperate man to!" He may hit me on +the head and they may belabour me from behind. I will shout to the +assembled multitude: "Look at this young puppy who is driving off to +captivate the Circassian girls after letting me spit in his face!" + +Of course, after that everything will be over! The office will have +vanished off the face of the earth. I shall be arrested, I shall be +tried, I shall be dismissed from the service, thrown in prison, sent to +Siberia. Never mind! In fifteen years when they let me out of prison I +will trudge off to him, a beggar, in rags. I shall find him in some +provincial town. He will be married and happy. He will have a +grown-up daughter.... I shall say to him: "Look, monster, at my hollow +cheeks and my rags! I've lost everything--my career, my happiness, +art, science, THE WOMAN I LOVED, and all through you. Here are +pistols. I have come to discharge my pistol and ... and I ... forgive +you. Then I shall fire into the air and he will hear nothing more of +me...." + +I was actually on the point of tears, though I knew perfectly well at +that moment that all this was out of Pushkin's SILVIO and Lermontov's +MASQUERADE. And all at once I felt horribly ashamed, so ashamed that I +stopped the horse, got out of the sledge, and stood still in the snow +in the middle of the street. The driver gazed at me, sighing and +astonished. + +What was I to do? I could not go on there--it was evidently stupid, +and I could not leave things as they were, because that would seem as +though ... Heavens, how could I leave things! And after such insults! +"No!" I cried, throwing myself into the sledge again. "It is ordained! +It is fate! Drive on, drive on!" + +And in my impatience I punched the sledge-driver on the back of the +neck. + +"What are you up to? What are you hitting me for?" the peasant +shouted, but he whipped up his nag so that it began kicking. + +The wet snow was falling in big flakes; I unbuttoned myself, regardless +of it. I forgot everything else, for I had finally decided on the +slap, and felt with horror that it was going to happen NOW, AT ONCE, +and that NO FORCE COULD STOP IT. The deserted street lamps gleamed +sullenly in the snowy darkness like torches at a funeral. The snow +drifted under my great-coat, under my coat, under my cravat, and melted +there. I did not wrap myself up--all was lost, anyway. + +At last we arrived. I jumped out, almost unconscious, ran up the steps +and began knocking and kicking at the door. I felt fearfully weak, +particularly in my legs and knees. The door was opened quickly as +though they knew I was coming. As a fact, Simonov had warned them that +perhaps another gentleman would arrive, and this was a place in which +one had to give notice and to observe certain precautions. It was one +of those "millinery establishments" which were abolished by the police +a good time ago. By day it really was a shop; but at night, if one had +an introduction, one might visit it for other purposes. + +I walked rapidly through the dark shop into the familiar drawing-room, +where there was only one candle burning, and stood still in amazement: +there was no one there. "Where are they?" I asked somebody. But by +now, of course, they had separated. Before me was standing a person +with a stupid smile, the "madam" herself, who had seen me before. A +minute later a door opened and another person came in. + +Taking no notice of anything I strode about the room, and, I believe, I +talked to myself. I felt as though I had been saved from death and was +conscious of this, joyfully, all over: I should have given that slap, I +should certainly, certainly have given it! But now they were not here +and ... everything had vanished and changed! I looked round. I could +not realise my condition yet. I looked mechanically at the girl who +had come in: and had a glimpse of a fresh, young, rather pale face, +with straight, dark eyebrows, and with grave, as it were wondering, +eyes that attracted me at once; I should have hated her if she had been +smiling. I began looking at her more intently and, as it were, with +effort. I had not fully collected my thoughts. There was something +simple and good-natured in her face, but something strangely grave. I +am sure that this stood in her way here, and no one of those fools had +noticed her. She could not, however, have been called a beauty, though +she was tall, strong-looking, and well built. She was very simply +dressed. Something loathsome stirred within me. I went straight up to +her. + +I chanced to look into the glass. My harassed face struck me as +revolting in the extreme, pale, angry, abject, with dishevelled hair. +"No matter, I am glad of it," I thought; "I am glad that I shall seem +repulsive to her; I like that." + + + +VI + +... Somewhere behind a screen a clock began wheezing, as though +oppressed by something, as though someone were strangling it. After an +unnaturally prolonged wheezing there followed a shrill, nasty, and as +it were unexpectedly rapid, chime--as though someone were suddenly +jumping forward. It struck two. I woke up, though I had indeed not +been asleep but lying half-conscious. + +It was almost completely dark in the narrow, cramped, low-pitched room, +cumbered up with an enormous wardrobe and piles of cardboard boxes and +all sorts of frippery and litter. The candle end that had been burning +on the table was going out and gave a faint flicker from time to time. +In a few minutes there would be complete darkness. + +I was not long in coming to myself; everything came back to my mind at +once, without an effort, as though it had been in ambush to pounce upon +me again. And, indeed, even while I was unconscious a point seemed +continually to remain in my memory unforgotten, and round it my dreams +moved drearily. But strange to say, everything that had happened to me +in that day seemed to me now, on waking, to be in the far, far away +past, as though I had long, long ago lived all that down. + +My head was full of fumes. Something seemed to be hovering over me, +rousing me, exciting me, and making me restless. Misery and spite +seemed surging up in me again and seeking an outlet. Suddenly I saw +beside me two wide open eyes scrutinising me curiously and +persistently. The look in those eyes was coldly detached, sullen, as it +were utterly remote; it weighed upon me. + +A grim idea came into my brain and passed all over my body, as a +horrible sensation, such as one feels when one goes into a damp and +mouldy cellar. There was something unnatural in those two eyes, +beginning to look at me only now. I recalled, too, that during those +two hours I had not said a single word to this creature, and had, in +fact, considered it utterly superfluous; in fact, the silence had for +some reason gratified me. Now I suddenly realised vividly the hideous +idea--revolting as a spider--of vice, which, without love, grossly and +shamelessly begins with that in which true love finds its consummation. +For a long time we gazed at each other like that, but she did not drop +her eyes before mine and her expression did not change, so that at last +I felt uncomfortable. + +"What is your name?" I asked abruptly, to put an end to it. + +"Liza," she answered almost in a whisper, but somehow far from +graciously, and she turned her eyes away. + +I was silent. + +"What weather! The snow ... it's disgusting!" I said, almost to +myself, putting my arm under my head despondently, and gazing at the +ceiling. + +She made no answer. This was horrible. + +"Have you always lived in Petersburg?" I asked a minute later, almost +angrily, turning my head slightly towards her. + +"No." + +"Where do you come from?" + +"From Riga," she answered reluctantly. + +"Are you a German?" + +"No, Russian." + +"Have you been here long?" + +"Where?" + +"In this house?" + +"A fortnight." + +She spoke more and more jerkily. The candle went out; I could no +longer distinguish her face. + +"Have you a father and mother?" + +"Yes ... no ... I have." + +"Where are they?" + +"There ... in Riga." + +"What are they?" + +"Oh, nothing." + +"Nothing? Why, what class are they?" + +"Tradespeople." + +"Have you always lived with them?" + +"Yes." + +"How old are you?" + +"Twenty." + +"Why did you leave them?" + +"Oh, for no reason." + +That answer meant "Let me alone; I feel sick, sad." + +We were silent. + +God knows why I did not go away. I felt myself more and more sick and +dreary. The images of the previous day began of themselves, apart from +my will, flitting through my memory in confusion. I suddenly recalled +something I had seen that morning when, full of anxious thoughts, I was +hurrying to the office. + +"I saw them carrying a coffin out yesterday and they nearly dropped +it," I suddenly said aloud, not that I desired to open the +conversation, but as it were by accident. + +"A coffin?" + +"Yes, in the Haymarket; they were bringing it up out of a cellar." + +"From a cellar?" + +"Not from a cellar, but a basement. Oh, you know ... down below ... +from a house of ill-fame. It was filthy all round ... Egg-shells, +litter ... a stench. It was loathsome." + +Silence. + +"A nasty day to be buried," I began, simply to avoid being silent. + +"Nasty, in what way?" + +"The snow, the wet." (I yawned.) + +"It makes no difference," she said suddenly, after a brief silence. + +"No, it's horrid." (I yawned again). "The gravediggers must have +sworn at getting drenched by the snow. And there must have been water +in the grave." + +"Why water in the grave?" she asked, with a sort of curiosity, but +speaking even more harshly and abruptly than before. + +I suddenly began to feel provoked. + +"Why, there must have been water at the bottom a foot deep. You can't +dig a dry grave in Volkovo Cemetery." + +"Why?" + +"Why? Why, the place is waterlogged. It's a regular marsh. So they +bury them in water. I've seen it myself ... many times." + +(I had never seen it once, indeed I had never been in Volkovo, and had +only heard stories of it.) + +"Do you mean to say, you don't mind how you die?" + +"But why should I die?" she answered, as though defending herself. + +"Why, some day you will die, and you will die just the same as that +dead woman. She was ... a girl like you. She died of consumption." + +"A wench would have died in hospital ..." (She knows all about it +already: she said "wench," not "girl.") + +"She was in debt to her madam," I retorted, more and more provoked by +the discussion; "and went on earning money for her up to the end, +though she was in consumption. Some sledge-drivers standing by were +talking about her to some soldiers and telling them so. No doubt they +knew her. They were laughing. They were going to meet in a pot-house +to drink to her memory." + +A great deal of this was my invention. Silence followed, profound +silence. She did not stir. + +"And is it better to die in a hospital?" + +"Isn't it just the same? Besides, why should I die?" she added +irritably. + +"If not now, a little later." + +"Why a little later?" + +"Why, indeed? Now you are young, pretty, fresh, you fetch a high +price. But after another year of this life you will be very +different--you will go off." + +"In a year?" + +"Anyway, in a year you will be worth less," I continued malignantly. +"You will go from here to something lower, another house; a year +later--to a third, lower and lower, and in seven years you will come to +a basement in the Haymarket. That will be if you were lucky. But it +would be much worse if you got some disease, consumption, say ... and +caught a chill, or something or other. It's not easy to get over an +illness in your way of life. If you catch anything you may not get rid +of it. And so you would die." + +"Oh, well, then I shall die," she answered, quite vindictively, and she +made a quick movement. + +"But one is sorry." + +"Sorry for whom?" + +"Sorry for life." Silence. + +"Have you been engaged to be married? Eh?" + +"What's that to you?" + +"Oh, I am not cross-examining you. It's nothing to me. Why are you so +cross? Of course you may have had your own troubles. What is it to +me? It's simply that I felt sorry." + +"Sorry for whom?" + +"Sorry for you." + +"No need," she whispered hardly audibly, and again made a faint +movement. + +That incensed me at once. What! I was so gentle with her, and she.... + +"Why, do you think that you are on the right path?" + +"I don't think anything." + +"That's what's wrong, that you don't think. Realise it while there is +still time. There still is time. You are still young, good-looking; +you might love, be married, be happy...." + +"Not all married women are happy," she snapped out in the rude abrupt +tone she had used at first. + +"Not all, of course, but anyway it is much better than the life here. +Infinitely better. Besides, with love one can live even without +happiness. Even in sorrow life is sweet; life is sweet, however one +lives. But here what is there but ... foulness? Phew!" + +I turned away with disgust; I was no longer reasoning coldly. I began +to feel myself what I was saying and warmed to the subject. I was +already longing to expound the cherished ideas I had brooded over in my +corner. Something suddenly flared up in me. An object had appeared +before me. + +"Never mind my being here, I am not an example for you. I am, perhaps, +worse than you are. I was drunk when I came here, though," I hastened, +however, to say in self-defence. "Besides, a man is no example for a +woman. It's a different thing. I may degrade and defile myself, but I +am not anyone's slave. I come and go, and that's an end of it. I +shake it off, and I am a different man. But you are a slave from the +start. Yes, a slave! You give up everything, your whole freedom. If +you want to break your chains afterwards, you won't be able to; you +will be more and more fast in the snares. It is an accursed bondage. +I know it. I won't speak of anything else, maybe you won't understand, +but tell me: no doubt you are in debt to your madam? There, you see," +I added, though she made no answer, but only listened in silence, +entirely absorbed, "that's a bondage for you! You will never buy your +freedom. They will see to that. It's like selling your soul to the +devil.... And besides ... perhaps, I too, am just as unlucky--how do +you know--and wallow in the mud on purpose, out of misery? You know, +men take to drink from grief; well, maybe I am here from grief. Come, +tell me, what is there good here? Here you and I ... came together ... +just now and did not say one word to one another all the time, and it +was only afterwards you began staring at me like a wild creature, and I +at you. Is that loving? Is that how one human being should meet +another? It's hideous, that's what it is!" + +"Yes!" she assented sharply and hurriedly. + +I was positively astounded by the promptitude of this "Yes." So the +same thought may have been straying through her mind when she was +staring at me just before. So she, too, was capable of certain +thoughts? "Damn it all, this was interesting, this was a point of +likeness!" I thought, almost rubbing my hands. And indeed it's easy to +turn a young soul like that! + +It was the exercise of my power that attracted me most. + +She turned her head nearer to me, and it seemed to me in the darkness +that she propped herself on her arm. Perhaps she was scrutinising me. +How I regretted that I could not see her eyes. I heard her deep +breathing. + +"Why have you come here?" I asked her, with a note of authority already +in my voice. + +"Oh, I don't know." + +"But how nice it would be to be living in your father's house! It's +warm and free; you have a home of your own." + +"But what if it's worse than this?" + +"I must take the right tone," flashed through my mind. "I may not get +far with sentimentality." But it was only a momentary thought. I +swear she really did interest me. Besides, I was exhausted and moody. +And cunning so easily goes hand-in-hand with feeling. + +"Who denies it!" I hastened to answer. "Anything may happen. I am +convinced that someone has wronged you, and that you are more sinned +against than sinning. Of course, I know nothing of your story, but +it's not likely a girl like you has come here of her own inclination...." + +"A girl like me?" she whispered, hardly audibly; but I heard it. + +Damn it all, I was flattering her. That was horrid. But perhaps it +was a good thing.... She was silent. + +"See, Liza, I will tell you about myself. If I had had a home from +childhood, I shouldn't be what I am now. I often think that. However +bad it may be at home, anyway they are your father and mother, and not +enemies, strangers. Once a year at least, they'll show their love of +you. Anyway, you know you are at home. I grew up without a home; and +perhaps that's why I've turned so ... unfeeling." + +I waited again. "Perhaps she doesn't understand," I thought, "and, +indeed, it is absurd--it's moralising." + +"If I were a father and had a daughter, I believe I should love my +daughter more than my sons, really," I began indirectly, as though +talking of something else, to distract her attention. I must confess I +blushed. + +"Why so?" she asked. + +Ah! so she was listening! + +"I don't know, Liza. I knew a father who was a stern, austere man, but +used to go down on his knees to his daughter, used to kiss her hands, +her feet, he couldn't make enough of her, really. When she danced at +parties he used to stand for five hours at a stretch, gazing at her. +He was mad over her: I understand that! She would fall asleep tired at +night, and he would wake to kiss her in her sleep and make the sign of +the cross over her. He would go about in a dirty old coat, he was +stingy to everyone else, but would spend his last penny for her, giving +her expensive presents, and it was his greatest delight when she was +pleased with what he gave her. Fathers always love their daughters more +than the mothers do. Some girls live happily at home! And I believe I +should never let my daughters marry." + +"What next?" she said, with a faint smile. + +"I should be jealous, I really should. To think that she should kiss +anyone else! That she should love a stranger more than her father! +It's painful to imagine it. Of course, that's all nonsense, of course +every father would be reasonable at last. But I believe before I +should let her marry, I should worry myself to death; I should find +fault with all her suitors. But I should end by letting her marry whom +she herself loved. The one whom the daughter loves always seems the +worst to the father, you know. That is always so. So many family +troubles come from that." + +"Some are glad to sell their daughters, rather than marrying them +honourably." + +Ah, so that was it! + +"Such a thing, Liza, happens in those accursed families in which there +is neither love nor God," I retorted warmly, "and where there is no +love, there is no sense either. There are such families, it's true, +but I am not speaking of them. You must have seen wickedness in your +own family, if you talk like that. Truly, you must have been unlucky. +H'm! ... that sort of thing mostly comes about through poverty." + +"And is it any better with the gentry? Even among the poor, honest +people who live happily?" + +"H'm ... yes. Perhaps. Another thing, Liza, man is fond of reckoning +up his troubles, but does not count his joys. If he counted them up as +he ought, he would see that every lot has enough happiness provided for +it. And what if all goes well with the family, if the blessing of God +is upon it, if the husband is a good one, loves you, cherishes you, +never leaves you! There is happiness in such a family! Even sometimes +there is happiness in the midst of sorrow; and indeed sorrow is +everywhere. If you marry YOU WILL FIND OUT FOR YOURSELF. But think of +the first years of married life with one you love: what happiness, what +happiness there sometimes is in it! And indeed it's the ordinary thing. +In those early days even quarrels with one's husband end happily. Some +women get up quarrels with their husbands just because they love them. +Indeed, I knew a woman like that: she seemed to say that because she +loved him, she would torment him and make him feel it. You know that +you may torment a man on purpose through love. Women are particularly +given to that, thinking to themselves 'I will love him so, I will make +so much of him afterwards, that it's no sin to torment him a little +now.' And all in the house rejoice in the sight of you, and you are +happy and gay and peaceful and honourable.... Then there are some +women who are jealous. If he went off anywhere--I knew one such woman, +she couldn't restrain herself, but would jump up at night and run off +on the sly to find out where he was, whether he was with some other +woman. That's a pity. And the woman knows herself it's wrong, and her +heart fails her and she suffers, but she loves--it's all through love. +And how sweet it is to make up after quarrels, to own herself in the +wrong or to forgive him! And they both are so happy all at once--as +though they had met anew, been married over again; as though their love +had begun afresh. And no one, no one should know what passes between +husband and wife if they love one another. And whatever quarrels there +may be between them they ought not to call in their own mother to judge +between them and tell tales of one another. They are their own judges. +Love is a holy mystery and ought to be hidden from all other eyes, +whatever happens. That makes it holier and better. They respect one +another more, and much is built on respect. And if once there has been +love, if they have been married for love, why should love pass away? +Surely one can keep it! It is rare that one cannot keep it. And if the +husband is kind and straightforward, why should not love last? The +first phase of married love will pass, it is true, but then there will +come a love that is better still. Then there will be the union of +souls, they will have everything in common, there will be no secrets +between them. And once they have children, the most difficult times +will seem to them happy, so long as there is love and courage. Even +toil will be a joy, you may deny yourself bread for your children and +even that will be a joy, They will love you for it afterwards; so you +are laying by for your future. As the children grow up you feel that +you are an example, a support for them; that even after you die your +children will always keep your thoughts and feelings, because they have +received them from you, they will take on your semblance and likeness. +So you see this is a great duty. How can it fail to draw the father and +mother nearer? People say it's a trial to have children. Who says +that? It is heavenly happiness! Are you fond of little children, +Liza? I am awfully fond of them. You know--a little rosy baby boy at +your bosom, and what husband's heart is not touched, seeing his wife +nursing his child! A plump little rosy baby, sprawling and snuggling, +chubby little hands and feet, clean tiny little nails, so tiny that it +makes one laugh to look at them; eyes that look as if they understand +everything. And while it sucks it clutches at your bosom with its +little hand, plays. When its father comes up, the child tears itself +away from the bosom, flings itself back, looks at its father, laughs, +as though it were fearfully funny, and falls to sucking again. Or it +will bite its mother's breast when its little teeth are coming, while +it looks sideways at her with its little eyes as though to say, 'Look, +I am biting!' Is not all that happiness when they are the three +together, husband, wife and child? One can forgive a great deal for +the sake of such moments. Yes, Liza, one must first learn to live +oneself before one blames others!" + +"It's by pictures, pictures like that one must get at you," I thought +to myself, though I did speak with real feeling, and all at once I +flushed crimson. "What if she were suddenly to burst out laughing, +what should I do then?" That idea drove me to fury. Towards the end of +my speech I really was excited, and now my vanity was somehow wounded. +The silence continued. I almost nudged her. + +"Why are you--" she began and stopped. But I understood: there was a +quiver of something different in her voice, not abrupt, harsh and +unyielding as before, but something soft and shamefaced, so shamefaced +that I suddenly felt ashamed and guilty. + +"What?" I asked, with tender curiosity. + +"Why, you..." + +"What?" + +"Why, you ... speak somehow like a book," she said, and again there was +a note of irony in her voice. + +That remark sent a pang to my heart. It was not what I was expecting. + +I did not understand that she was hiding her feelings under irony, that +this is usually the last refuge of modest and chaste-souled people when +the privacy of their soul is coarsely and intrusively invaded, and that +their pride makes them refuse to surrender till the last moment and +shrink from giving expression to their feelings before you. I ought to +have guessed the truth from the timidity with which she had repeatedly +approached her sarcasm, only bringing herself to utter it at last with +an effort. But I did not guess, and an evil feeling took possession of +me. + +"Wait a bit!" I thought. + + + +VII + +"Oh, hush, Liza! How can you talk about being like a book, when it +makes even me, an outsider, feel sick? Though I don't look at it as an +outsider, for, indeed, it touches me to the heart.... Is it possible, +is it possible that you do not feel sick at being here yourself? +Evidently habit does wonders! God knows what habit can do with anyone. +Can you seriously think that you will never grow old, that you will +always be good-looking, and that they will keep you here for ever and +ever? I say nothing of the loathsomeness of the life here.... Though +let me tell you this about it--about your present life, I mean; here +though you are young now, attractive, nice, with soul and feeling, yet +you know as soon as I came to myself just now I felt at once sick at +being here with you! One can only come here when one is drunk. But if +you were anywhere else, living as good people live, I should perhaps be +more than attracted by you, should fall in love with you, should be +glad of a look from you, let alone a word; I should hang about your +door, should go down on my knees to you, should look upon you as my +betrothed and think it an honour to be allowed to. I should not dare +to have an impure thought about you. But here, you see, I know that I +have only to whistle and you have to come with me whether you like it +or not. I don't consult your wishes, but you mine. The lowest +labourer hires himself as a workman, but he doesn't make a slave of +himself altogether; besides, he knows that he will be free again +presently. But when are you free? Only think what you are giving up +here? What is it you are making a slave of? It is your soul, together +with your body; you are selling your soul which you have no right to +dispose of! You give your love to be outraged by every drunkard! +Love! But that's everything, you know, it's a priceless diamond, it's +a maiden's treasure, love--why, a man would be ready to give his soul, +to face death to gain that love. But how much is your love worth now? +You are sold, all of you, body and soul, and there is no need to strive +for love when you can have everything without love. And you know there +is no greater insult to a girl than that, do you understand? To be +sure, I have heard that they comfort you, poor fools, they let you have +lovers of your own here. But you know that's simply a farce, that's +simply a sham, it's just laughing at you, and you are taken in by it! +Why, do you suppose he really loves you, that lover of yours? I don't +believe it. How can he love you when he knows you may be called away +from him any minute? He would be a low fellow if he did! Will he have +a grain of respect for you? What have you in common with him? He +laughs at you and robs you--that is all his love amounts to! You are +lucky if he does not beat you. Very likely he does beat you, too. Ask +him, if you have got one, whether he will marry you. He will laugh in +your face, if he doesn't spit in it or give you a blow--though maybe he +is not worth a bad halfpenny himself. And for what have you ruined +your life, if you come to think of it? For the coffee they give you to +drink and the plentiful meals? But with what object are they feeding +you up? An honest girl couldn't swallow the food, for she would know +what she was being fed for. You are in debt here, and, of course, you +will always be in debt, and you will go on in debt to the end, till the +visitors here begin to scorn you. And that will soon happen, don't +rely upon your youth--all that flies by express train here, you know. +You will be kicked out. And not simply kicked out; long before that +she'll begin nagging at you, scolding you, abusing you, as though you +had not sacrificed your health for her, had not thrown away your youth +and your soul for her benefit, but as though you had ruined her, +beggared her, robbed her. And don't expect anyone to take your part: +the others, your companions, will attack you, too, win her favour, for +all are in slavery here, and have lost all conscience and pity here +long ago. They have become utterly vile, and nothing on earth is +viler, more loathsome, and more insulting than their abuse. And you +are laying down everything here, unconditionally, youth and health and +beauty and hope, and at twenty-two you will look like a woman of +five-and-thirty, and you will be lucky if you are not diseased, pray to +God for that! No doubt you are thinking now that you have a gay time +and no work to do! Yet there is no work harder or more dreadful in the +world or ever has been. One would think that the heart alone would be +worn out with tears. And you won't dare to say a word, not half a word +when they drive you away from here; you will go away as though you were +to blame. You will change to another house, then to a third, then +somewhere else, till you come down at last to the Haymarket. There you +will be beaten at every turn; that is good manners there, the visitors +don't know how to be friendly without beating you. You don't believe +that it is so hateful there? Go and look for yourself some time, you +can see with your own eyes. Once, one New Year's Day, I saw a woman at +a door. They had turned her out as a joke, to give her a taste of the +frost because she had been crying so much, and they shut the door +behind her. At nine o'clock in the morning she was already quite +drunk, dishevelled, half-naked, covered with bruises, her face was +powdered, but she had a black-eye, blood was trickling from her nose +and her teeth; some cabman had just given her a drubbing. She was +sitting on the stone steps, a salt fish of some sort was in her hand; +she was crying, wailing something about her luck and beating with the +fish on the steps, and cabmen and drunken soldiers were crowding in the +doorway taunting her. You don't believe that you will ever be like +that? I should be sorry to believe it, too, but how do you know; maybe +ten years, eight years ago that very woman with the salt fish came here +fresh as a cherub, innocent, pure, knowing no evil, blushing at every +word. Perhaps she was like you, proud, ready to take offence, not like +the others; perhaps she looked like a queen, and knew what happiness +was in store for the man who should love her and whom she should love. +Do you see how it ended? And what if at that very minute when she was +beating on the filthy steps with that fish, drunken and +dishevelled--what if at that very minute she recalled the pure early +days in her father's house, when she used to go to school and the +neighbour's son watched for her on the way, declaring that he would +love her as long as he lived, that he would devote his life to her, and +when they vowed to love one another for ever and be married as soon as +they were grown up! No, Liza, it would be happy for you if you were to +die soon of consumption in some corner, in some cellar like that woman +just now. In the hospital, do you say? You will be lucky if they take +you, but what if you are still of use to the madam here? Consumption is +a queer disease, it is not like fever. The patient goes on hoping till +the last minute and says he is all right. He deludes himself And that +just suits your madam. Don't doubt it, that's how it is; you have sold +your soul, and what is more you owe money, so you daren't say a word. +But when you are dying, all will abandon you, all will turn away from +you, for then there will be nothing to get from you. What's more, they +will reproach you for cumbering the place, for being so long over +dying. However you beg you won't get a drink of water without abuse: +'Whenever are you going off, you nasty hussy, you won't let us sleep +with your moaning, you make the gentlemen sick.' That's true, I have +heard such things said myself. They will thrust you dying into the +filthiest corner in the cellar--in the damp and darkness; what will +your thoughts be, lying there alone? When you die, strange hands will +lay you out, with grumbling and impatience; no one will bless you, no +one will sigh for you, they only want to get rid of you as soon as may +be; they will buy a coffin, take you to the grave as they did that poor +woman today, and celebrate your memory at the tavern. In the grave, +sleet, filth, wet snow--no need to put themselves out for you--'Let her +down, Vanuha; it's just like her luck--even here, she is head-foremost, +the hussy. Shorten the cord, you rascal.' 'It's all right as it is.' +'All right, is it? Why, she's on her side! She was a fellow-creature, +after all! But, never mind, throw the earth on her.' And they won't +care to waste much time quarrelling over you. They will scatter the +wet blue clay as quick as they can and go off to the tavern ... and +there your memory on earth will end; other women have children to go to +their graves, fathers, husbands. While for you neither tear, nor sigh, +nor remembrance; no one in the whole world will ever come to you, your +name will vanish from the face of the earth--as though you had never +existed, never been born at all! Nothing but filth and mud, however +you knock at your coffin lid at night, when the dead arise, however you +cry: 'Let me out, kind people, to live in the light of day! My life +was no life at all; my life has been thrown away like a dish-clout; it +was drunk away in the tavern at the Haymarket; let me out, kind people, +to live in the world again.'" + +And I worked myself up to such a pitch that I began to have a lump in +my throat myself, and ... and all at once I stopped, sat up in dismay +and, bending over apprehensively, began to listen with a beating heart. +I had reason to be troubled. + +I had felt for some time that I was turning her soul upside down and +rending her heart, and--and the more I was convinced of it, the more +eagerly I desired to gain my object as quickly and as effectually as +possible. It was the exercise of my skill that carried me away; yet it +was not merely sport.... + +I knew I was speaking stiffly, artificially, even bookishly, in fact, I +could not speak except "like a book." But that did not trouble me: I +knew, I felt that I should be understood and that this very bookishness +might be an assistance. But now, having attained my effect, I was +suddenly panic-stricken. Never before had I witnessed such despair! +She was lying on her face, thrusting her face into the pillow and +clutching it in both hands. Her heart was being torn. Her youthful +body was shuddering all over as though in convulsions. Suppressed sobs +rent her bosom and suddenly burst out in weeping and wailing, then she +pressed closer into the pillow: she did not want anyone here, not a +living soul, to know of her anguish and her tears. She bit the pillow, +bit her hand till it bled (I saw that afterwards), or, thrusting her +fingers into her dishevelled hair, seemed rigid with the effort of +restraint, holding her breath and clenching her teeth. I began saying +something, begging her to calm herself, but felt that I did not dare; +and all at once, in a sort of cold shiver, almost in terror, began +fumbling in the dark, trying hurriedly to get dressed to go. It was +dark; though I tried my best I could not finish dressing quickly. +Suddenly I felt a box of matches and a candlestick with a whole candle +in it. As soon as the room was lighted up, Liza sprang up, sat up in +bed, and with a contorted face, with a half insane smile, looked at me +almost senselessly. I sat down beside her and took her hands; she came +to herself, made an impulsive movement towards me, would have caught +hold of me, but did not dare, and slowly bowed her head before me. + +"Liza, my dear, I was wrong ... forgive me, my dear," I began, but she +squeezed my hand in her fingers so tightly that I felt I was saying the +wrong thing and stopped. + +"This is my address, Liza, come to me." + +"I will come," she answered resolutely, her head still bowed. + +"But now I am going, good-bye ... till we meet again." + +I got up; she, too, stood up and suddenly flushed all over, gave a +shudder, snatched up a shawl that was lying on a chair and muffled +herself in it to her chin. As she did this she gave another sickly +smile, blushed and looked at me strangely. I felt wretched; I was in +haste to get away--to disappear. + +"Wait a minute," she said suddenly, in the passage just at the doorway, +stopping me with her hand on my overcoat. She put down the candle in +hot haste and ran off; evidently she had thought of something or wanted +to show me something. As she ran away she flushed, her eyes shone, and +there was a smile on her lips--what was the meaning of it? Against my +will I waited: she came back a minute later with an expression that +seemed to ask forgiveness for something. In fact, it was not the same +face, not the same look as the evening before: sullen, mistrustful and +obstinate. Her eyes now were imploring, soft, and at the same time +trustful, caressing, timid. The expression with which children look at +people they are very fond of, of whom they are asking a favour. Her +eyes were a light hazel, they were lovely eyes, full of life, and +capable of expressing love as well as sullen hatred. + +Making no explanation, as though I, as a sort of higher being, must +understand everything without explanations, she held out a piece of +paper to me. Her whole face was positively beaming at that instant +with naive, almost childish, triumph. I unfolded it. It was a letter +to her from a medical student or someone of that sort--a very +high-flown and flowery, but extremely respectful, love-letter. I don't +recall the words now, but I remember well that through the high-flown +phrases there was apparent a genuine feeling, which cannot be feigned. +When I had finished reading it I met her glowing, questioning, and +childishly impatient eyes fixed upon me. She fastened her eyes upon my +face and waited impatiently for what I should say. In a few words, +hurriedly, but with a sort of joy and pride, she explained to me that +she had been to a dance somewhere in a private house, a family of "very +nice people, WHO KNEW NOTHING, absolutely nothing, for she had only +come here so lately and it had all happened ... and she hadn't made up +her mind to stay and was certainly going away as soon as she had paid +her debt..." and at that party there had been the student who had +danced with her all the evening. He had talked to her, and it turned +out that he had known her in old days at Riga when he was a child, they +had played together, but a very long time ago--and he knew her parents, +but ABOUT THIS he knew nothing, nothing whatever, and had no suspicion! +And the day after the dance (three days ago) he had sent her that +letter through the friend with whom she had gone to the party ... and +... well, that was all. + +She dropped her shining eyes with a sort of bashfulness as she finished. + +The poor girl was keeping that student's letter as a precious treasure, +and had run to fetch it, her only treasure, because she did not want me +to go away without knowing that she, too, was honestly and genuinely +loved; that she, too, was addressed respectfully. No doubt that letter +was destined to lie in her box and lead to nothing. But none the less, +I am certain that she would keep it all her life as a precious +treasure, as her pride and justification, and now at such a minute she +had thought of that letter and brought it with naive pride to raise +herself in my eyes that I might see, that I, too, might think well of +her. I said nothing, pressed her hand and went out. I so longed to +get away ... I walked all the way home, in spite of the fact that the +melting snow was still falling in heavy flakes. I was exhausted, +shattered, in bewilderment. But behind the bewilderment the truth was +already gleaming. The loathsome truth. + + + +VIII + +It was some time, however, before I consented to recognise that truth. +Waking up in the morning after some hours of heavy, leaden sleep, and +immediately realising all that had happened on the previous day, I was +positively amazed at my last night's SENTIMENTALITY with Liza, at all +those "outcries of horror and pity." "To think of having such an +attack of womanish hysteria, pah!" I concluded. And what did I thrust +my address upon her for? What if she comes? Let her come, though; it +doesn't matter.... But OBVIOUSLY, that was not now the chief and the +most important matter: I had to make haste and at all costs save my +reputation in the eyes of Zverkov and Simonov as quickly as possible; +that was the chief business. And I was so taken up that morning that I +actually forgot all about Liza. + +First of all I had at once to repay what I had borrowed the day before +from Simonov. I resolved on a desperate measure: to borrow fifteen +roubles straight off from Anton Antonitch. As luck would have it he +was in the best of humours that morning, and gave it to me at once, on +the first asking. I was so delighted at this that, as I signed the IOU +with a swaggering air, I told him casually that the night before "I had +been keeping it up with some friends at the Hotel de Paris; we were +giving a farewell party to a comrade, in fact, I might say a friend of +my childhood, and you know--a desperate rake, fearfully spoilt--of +course, he belongs to a good family, and has considerable means, a +brilliant career; he is witty, charming, a regular Lovelace, you +understand; we drank an extra 'half-dozen' and ..." + +And it went off all right; all this was uttered very easily, +unconstrainedly and complacently. + +On reaching home I promptly wrote to Simonov. + +To this hour I am lost in admiration when I recall the truly +gentlemanly, good-humoured, candid tone of my letter. With tact and +good-breeding, and, above all, entirely without superfluous words, I +blamed myself for all that had happened. I defended myself, "if I +really may be allowed to defend myself," by alleging that being utterly +unaccustomed to wine, I had been intoxicated with the first glass, +which I said, I had drunk before they arrived, while I was waiting for +them at the Hotel de Paris between five and six o'clock. I begged +Simonov's pardon especially; I asked him to convey my explanations to +all the others, especially to Zverkov, whom "I seemed to remember as +though in a dream" I had insulted. I added that I would have called +upon all of them myself, but my head ached, and besides I had not the +face to. I was particularly pleased with a certain lightness, almost +carelessness (strictly within the bounds of politeness, however), which +was apparent in my style, and better than any possible arguments, gave +them at once to understand that I took rather an independent view of +"all that unpleasantness last night"; that I was by no means so utterly +crushed as you, my friends, probably imagine; but on the contrary, +looked upon it as a gentleman serenely respecting himself should look +upon it. "On a young hero's past no censure is cast!" + +"There is actually an aristocratic playfulness about it!" I thought +admiringly, as I read over the letter. "And it's all because I am an +intellectual and cultivated man! Another man in my place would not +have known how to extricate himself, but here I have got out of it and +am as jolly as ever again, and all because I am 'a cultivated and +educated man of our day.' And, indeed, perhaps, everything was due to +the wine yesterday. H'm!" ... No, it was not the wine. I did not +drink anything at all between five and six when I was waiting for them. +I had lied to Simonov; I had lied shamelessly; and indeed I wasn't +ashamed now.... Hang it all though, the great thing was that I was rid +of it. + +I put six roubles in the letter, sealed it up, and asked Apollon to +take it to Simonov. When he learned that there was money in the +letter, Apollon became more respectful and agreed to take it. Towards +evening I went out for a walk. My head was still aching and giddy +after yesterday. But as evening came on and the twilight grew denser, +my impressions and, following them, my thoughts, grew more and more +different and confused. Something was not dead within me, in the depths +of my heart and conscience it would not die, and it showed itself in +acute depression. For the most part I jostled my way through the most +crowded business streets, along Myeshtchansky Street, along Sadovy +Street and in Yusupov Garden. I always liked particularly sauntering +along these streets in the dusk, just when there were crowds of working +people of all sorts going home from their daily work, with faces +looking cross with anxiety. What I liked was just that cheap bustle, +that bare prose. On this occasion the jostling of the streets +irritated me more than ever, I could not make out what was wrong with +me, I could not find the clue, something seemed rising up continually +in my soul, painfully, and refusing to be appeased. I returned home +completely upset, it was just as though some crime were lying on my +conscience. + +The thought that Liza was coming worried me continually. It seemed +queer to me that of all my recollections of yesterday this tormented +me, as it were, especially, as it were, quite separately. Everything +else I had quite succeeded in forgetting by the evening; I dismissed it +all and was still perfectly satisfied with my letter to Simonov. But +on this point I was not satisfied at all. It was as though I were +worried only by Liza. "What if she comes," I thought incessantly, +"well, it doesn't matter, let her come! H'm! it's horrid that she +should see, for instance, how I live. Yesterday I seemed such a hero +to her, while now, h'm! It's horrid, though, that I have let myself go +so, the room looks like a beggar's. And I brought myself to go out to +dinner in such a suit! And my American leather sofa with the stuffing +sticking out. And my dressing-gown, which will not cover me, such +tatters, and she will see all this and she will see Apollon. That +beast is certain to insult her. He will fasten upon her in order to be +rude to me. And I, of course, shall be panic-stricken as usual, I shall +begin bowing and scraping before her and pulling my dressing-gown round +me, I shall begin smiling, telling lies. Oh, the beastliness! And it +isn't the beastliness of it that matters most! There is something more +important, more loathsome, viler! Yes, viler! And to put on that +dishonest lying mask again! ..." + +When I reached that thought I fired up all at once. + +"Why dishonest? How dishonest? I was speaking sincerely last night. +I remember there was real feeling in me, too. What I wanted was to +excite an honourable feeling in her.... Her crying was a good thing, +it will have a good effect." + +Yet I could not feel at ease. All that evening, even when I had come +back home, even after nine o'clock, when I calculated that Liza could +not possibly come, still she haunted me, and what was worse, she came +back to my mind always in the same position. One moment out of all +that had happened last night stood vividly before my imagination; the +moment when I struck a match and saw her pale, distorted face, with its +look of torture. And what a pitiful, what an unnatural, what a +distorted smile she had at that moment! But I did not know then, that +fifteen years later I should still in my imagination see Liza, always +with the pitiful, distorted, inappropriate smile which was on her face +at that minute. + +Next day I was ready again to look upon it all as nonsense, due to +over-excited nerves, and, above all, as EXAGGERATED. I was always +conscious of that weak point of mine, and sometimes very much afraid of +it. "I exaggerate everything, that is where I go wrong," I repeated to +myself every hour. But, however, "Liza will very likely come all the +same," was the refrain with which all my reflections ended. I was so +uneasy that I sometimes flew into a fury: "She'll come, she is certain +to come!" I cried, running about the room, "if not today, she will come +tomorrow; she'll find me out! The damnable romanticism of these pure +hearts! Oh, the vileness--oh, the silliness--oh, the stupidity of +these 'wretched sentimental souls!' Why, how fail to understand? How +could one fail to understand? ..." + +But at this point I stopped short, and in great confusion, indeed. + +And how few, how few words, I thought, in passing, were needed; how +little of the idyllic (and affectedly, bookishly, artificially idyllic +too) had sufficed to turn a whole human life at once according to my +will. That's virginity, to be sure! Freshness of soil! + +At times a thought occurred to me, to go to her, "to tell her all," and +beg her not to come to me. But this thought stirred such wrath in me +that I believed I should have crushed that "damned" Liza if she had +chanced to be near me at the time. I should have insulted her, have +spat at her, have turned her out, have struck her! + +One day passed, however, another and another; she did not come and I +began to grow calmer. I felt particularly bold and cheerful after nine +o'clock, I even sometimes began dreaming, and rather sweetly: I, for +instance, became the salvation of Liza, simply through her coming to me +and my talking to her.... I develop her, educate her. Finally, I +notice that she loves me, loves me passionately. I pretend not to +understand (I don't know, however, why I pretend, just for effect, +perhaps). At last all confusion, transfigured, trembling and sobbing, +she flings herself at my feet and says that I am her saviour, and that +she loves me better than anything in the world. I am amazed, but.... +"Liza," I say, "can you imagine that I have not noticed your love? I +saw it all, I divined it, but I did not dare to approach you first, +because I had an influence over you and was afraid that you would force +yourself, from gratitude, to respond to my love, would try to rouse in +your heart a feeling which was perhaps absent, and I did not wish that +... because it would be tyranny ... it would be indelicate (in short, I +launch off at that point into European, inexplicably lofty subtleties a +la George Sand), but now, now you are mine, you are my creation, you +are pure, you are good, you are my noble wife. + + 'Into my house come bold and free, + Its rightful mistress there to be'." + +Then we begin living together, go abroad and so on, and so on. In +fact, in the end it seemed vulgar to me myself, and I began putting out +my tongue at myself. + +Besides, they won't let her out, "the hussy!" I thought. They don't +let them go out very readily, especially in the evening (for some +reason I fancied she would come in the evening, and at seven o'clock +precisely). Though she did say she was not altogether a slave there +yet, and had certain rights; so, h'm! Damn it all, she will come, she +is sure to come! + +It was a good thing, in fact, that Apollon distracted my attention at +that time by his rudeness. He drove me beyond all patience! He was +the bane of my life, the curse laid upon me by Providence. We had been +squabbling continually for years, and I hated him. My God, how I hated +him! I believe I had never hated anyone in my life as I hated him, +especially at some moments. He was an elderly, dignified man, who +worked part of his time as a tailor. But for some unknown reason he +despised me beyond all measure, and looked down upon me insufferably. +Though, indeed, he looked down upon everyone. Simply to glance at that +flaxen, smoothly brushed head, at the tuft of hair he combed up on his +forehead and oiled with sunflower oil, at that dignified mouth, +compressed into the shape of the letter V, made one feel one was +confronting a man who never doubted of himself. He was a pedant, to +the most extreme point, the greatest pedant I had met on earth, and +with that had a vanity only befitting Alexander of Macedon. He was in +love with every button on his coat, every nail on his +fingers--absolutely in love with them, and he looked it! In his +behaviour to me he was a perfect tyrant, he spoke very little to me, +and if he chanced to glance at me he gave me a firm, majestically +self-confident and invariably ironical look that drove me sometimes to +fury. He did his work with the air of doing me the greatest favour, +though he did scarcely anything for me, and did not, indeed, consider +himself bound to do anything. There could be no doubt that he looked +upon me as the greatest fool on earth, and that "he did not get rid of +me" was simply that he could get wages from me every month. He +consented to do nothing for me for seven roubles a month. Many sins +should be forgiven me for what I suffered from him. My hatred reached +such a point that sometimes his very step almost threw me into +convulsions. What I loathed particularly was his lisp. His tongue +must have been a little too long or something of that sort, for he +continually lisped, and seemed to be very proud of it, imagining that +it greatly added to his dignity. He spoke in a slow, measured tone, +with his hands behind his back and his eyes fixed on the ground. He +maddened me particularly when he read aloud the psalms to himself +behind his partition. Many a battle I waged over that reading! But he +was awfully fond of reading aloud in the evenings, in a slow, even, +sing-song voice, as though over the dead. It is interesting that that +is how he has ended: he hires himself out to read the psalms over the +dead, and at the same time he kills rats and makes blacking. But at +that time I could not get rid of him, it was as though he were +chemically combined with my existence. Besides, nothing would have +induced him to consent to leave me. I could not live in furnished +lodgings: my lodging was my private solitude, my shell, my cave, in +which I concealed myself from all mankind, and Apollon seemed to me, +for some reason, an integral part of that flat, and for seven years I +could not turn him away. + +To be two or three days behind with his wages, for instance, was +impossible. He would have made such a fuss, I should not have known +where to hide my head. But I was so exasperated with everyone during +those days, that I made up my mind for some reason and with some object +to PUNISH Apollon and not to pay him for a fortnight the wages that +were owing him. I had for a long time--for the last two years--been +intending to do this, simply in order to teach him not to give himself +airs with me, and to show him that if I liked I could withhold his +wages. I purposed to say nothing to him about it, and was purposely +silent indeed, in order to score off his pride and force him to be the +first to speak of his wages. Then I would take the seven roubles out +of a drawer, show him I have the money put aside on purpose, but that I +won't, I won't, I simply won't pay him his wages, I won't just because +that is "what I wish," because "I am master, and it is for me to +decide," because he has been disrespectful, because he has been rude; +but if he were to ask respectfully I might be softened and give it to +him, otherwise he might wait another fortnight, another three weeks, a +whole month.... + +But angry as I was, yet he got the better of me. I could not hold out +for four days. He began as he always did begin in such cases, for +there had been such cases already, there had been attempts (and it may +be observed I knew all this beforehand, I knew his nasty tactics by +heart). He would begin by fixing upon me an exceedingly severe stare, +keeping it up for several minutes at a time, particularly on meeting me +or seeing me out of the house. If I held out and pretended not to +notice these stares, he would, still in silence, proceed to further +tortures. All at once, A PROPOS of nothing, he would walk softly and +smoothly into my room, when I was pacing up and down or reading, stand +at the door, one hand behind his back and one foot behind the other, +and fix upon me a stare more than severe, utterly contemptuous. If I +suddenly asked him what he wanted, he would make me no answer, but +continue staring at me persistently for some seconds, then, with a +peculiar compression of his lips and a most significant air, +deliberately turn round and deliberately go back to his room. Two +hours later he would come out again and again present himself before me +in the same way. It had happened that in my fury I did not even ask +him what he wanted, but simply raised my head sharply and imperiously +and began staring back at him. So we stared at one another for two +minutes; at last he turned with deliberation and dignity and went back +again for two hours. + +If I were still not brought to reason by all this, but persisted in my +revolt, he would suddenly begin sighing while he looked at me, long, +deep sighs as though measuring by them the depths of my moral +degradation, and, of course, it ended at last by his triumphing +completely: I raged and shouted, but still was forced to do what he +wanted. + +This time the usual staring manoeuvres had scarcely begun when I lost +my temper and flew at him in a fury. I was irritated beyond endurance +apart from him. + +"Stay," I cried, in a frenzy, as he was slowly and silently turning, +with one hand behind his back, to go to his room. "Stay! Come back, +come back, I tell you!" and I must have bawled so unnaturally, that he +turned round and even looked at me with some wonder. However, he +persisted in saying nothing, and that infuriated me. + +"How dare you come and look at me like that without being sent for? +Answer!" + +After looking at me calmly for half a minute, he began turning round +again. + +"Stay!" I roared, running up to him, "don't stir! There. Answer, now: +what did you come in to look at?" + +"If you have any order to give me it's my duty to carry it out," he +answered, after another silent pause, with a slow, measured lisp, +raising his eyebrows and calmly twisting his head from one side to +another, all this with exasperating composure. + +"That's not what I am asking you about, you torturer!" I shouted, +turning crimson with anger. "I'll tell you why you came here myself: +you see, I don't give you your wages, you are so proud you don't want +to bow down and ask for it, and so you come to punish me with your +stupid stares, to worry me and you have no sus-pic-ion how stupid it +is--stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid! ..." + +He would have turned round again without a word, but I seized him. + +"Listen," I shouted to him. "Here's the money, do you see, here it +is," (I took it out of the table drawer); "here's the seven roubles +complete, but you are not going to have it, you ... are ... not ... +going ... to ... have it until you come respectfully with bowed head to +beg my pardon. Do you hear?" + +"That cannot be," he answered, with the most unnatural self-confidence. + +"It shall be so," I said, "I give you my word of honour, it shall be!" + +"And there's nothing for me to beg your pardon for," he went on, as +though he had not noticed my exclamations at all. "Why, besides, you +called me a 'torturer,' for which I can summon you at the +police-station at any time for insulting behaviour." + +"Go, summon me," I roared, "go at once, this very minute, this very +second! You are a torturer all the same! a torturer!" + +But he merely looked at me, then turned, and regardless of my loud +calls to him, he walked to his room with an even step and without +looking round. + +"If it had not been for Liza nothing of this would have happened," I +decided inwardly. Then, after waiting a minute, I went myself behind +his screen with a dignified and solemn air, though my heart was beating +slowly and violently. + +"Apollon," I said quietly and emphatically, though I was breathless, +"go at once without a minute's delay and fetch the police-officer." + +He had meanwhile settled himself at his table, put on his spectacles +and taken up some sewing. But, hearing my order, he burst into a +guffaw. + +"At once, go this minute! Go on, or else you can't imagine what will +happen." + +"You are certainly out of your mind," he observed, without even raising +his head, lisping as deliberately as ever and threading his needle. +"Whoever heard of a man sending for the police against himself? And as +for being frightened--you are upsetting yourself about nothing, for +nothing will come of it." + +"Go!" I shrieked, clutching him by the shoulder. I felt I should +strike him in a minute. + +But I did not notice the door from the passage softly and slowly open +at that instant and a figure come in, stop short, and begin staring at +us in perplexity I glanced, nearly swooned with shame, and rushed back +to my room. There, clutching at my hair with both hands, I leaned my +head against the wall and stood motionless in that position. + +Two minutes later I heard Apollon's deliberate footsteps. "There is +some woman asking for you," he said, looking at me with peculiar +severity. Then he stood aside and let in Liza. He would not go away, +but stared at us sarcastically. + +"Go away, go away," I commanded in desperation. At that moment my +clock began whirring and wheezing and struck seven. + + + +IX + + "Into my house come bold and free, + Its rightful mistress there to be." + +I stood before her crushed, crestfallen, revoltingly confused, and I +believe I smiled as I did my utmost to wrap myself in the skirts of my +ragged wadded dressing-gown--exactly as I had imagined the scene not +long before in a fit of depression. After standing over us for a +couple of minutes Apollon went away, but that did not make me more at +ease. What made it worse was that she, too, was overwhelmed with +confusion, more so, in fact, than I should have expected. At the sight +of me, of course. + +"Sit down," I said mechanically, moving a chair up to the table, and I +sat down on the sofa. She obediently sat down at once and gazed at me +open-eyed, evidently expecting something from me at once. This naivete +of expectation drove me to fury, but I restrained myself. + +She ought to have tried not to notice, as though everything had been as +usual, while instead of that, she ... and I dimly felt that I should +make her pay dearly for ALL THIS. + +"You have found me in a strange position, Liza," I began, stammering +and knowing that this was the wrong way to begin. "No, no, don't +imagine anything," I cried, seeing that she had suddenly flushed. "I +am not ashamed of my poverty.... On the contrary, I look with pride +on my poverty. I am poor but honourable.... One can be poor and +honourable," I muttered. "However ... would you like tea?...." + +"No," she was beginning. + +"Wait a minute." + +I leapt up and ran to Apollon. I had to get out of the room somehow. + +"Apollon," I whispered in feverish haste, flinging down before him the +seven roubles which had remained all the time in my clenched fist, +"here are your wages, you see I give them to you; but for that you must +come to my rescue: bring me tea and a dozen rusks from the restaurant. +If you won't go, you'll make me a miserable man! You don't know what +this woman is.... This is--everything! You may be imagining +something.... But you don't know what that woman is! ..." + +Apollon, who had already sat down to his work and put on his spectacles +again, at first glanced askance at the money without speaking or +putting down his needle; then, without paying the slightest attention +to me or making any answer, he went on busying himself with his needle, +which he had not yet threaded. I waited before him for three minutes +with my arms crossed A LA NAPOLEON. My temples were moist with sweat. +I was pale, I felt it. But, thank God, he must have been moved to +pity, looking at me. Having threaded his needle he deliberately got up +from his seat, deliberately moved back his chair, deliberately took off +his spectacles, deliberately counted the money, and finally asking me +over his shoulder: "Shall I get a whole portion?" deliberately walked +out of the room. As I was going back to Liza, the thought occurred to +me on the way: shouldn't I run away just as I was in my dressing-gown, +no matter where, and then let happen what would? + +I sat down again. She looked at me uneasily. For some minutes we were +silent. + +"I will kill him," I shouted suddenly, striking the table with my fist +so that the ink spurted out of the inkstand. + +"What are you saying!" she cried, starting. + +"I will kill him! kill him!" I shrieked, suddenly striking the table +in absolute frenzy, and at the same time fully understanding how stupid +it was to be in such a frenzy. "You don't know, Liza, what that +torturer is to me. He is my torturer.... He has gone now to fetch +some rusks; he ..." + +And suddenly I burst into tears. It was an hysterical attack. How +ashamed I felt in the midst of my sobs; but still I could not restrain +them. + +She was frightened. + +"What is the matter? What is wrong?" she cried, fussing about me. + +"Water, give me water, over there!" I muttered in a faint voice, though +I was inwardly conscious that I could have got on very well without +water and without muttering in a faint voice. But I was, what is +called, PUTTING IT ON, to save appearances, though the attack was a +genuine one. + +She gave me water, looking at me in bewilderment. At that moment +Apollon brought in the tea. It suddenly seemed to me that this +commonplace, prosaic tea was horribly undignified and paltry after all +that had happened, and I blushed crimson. Liza looked at Apollon with +positive alarm. He went out without a glance at either of us. + +"Liza, do you despise me?" I asked, looking at her fixedly, trembling +with impatience to know what she was thinking. + +She was confused, and did not know what to answer. + +"Drink your tea," I said to her angrily. I was angry with myself, but, +of course, it was she who would have to pay for it. A horrible spite +against her suddenly surged up in my heart; I believe I could have +killed her. To revenge myself on her I swore inwardly not to say a +word to her all the time. "She is the cause of it all," I thought. + +Our silence lasted for five minutes. The tea stood on the table; we +did not touch it. I had got to the point of purposely refraining from +beginning in order to embarrass her further; it was awkward for her to +begin alone. Several times she glanced at me with mournful perplexity. +I was obstinately silent. I was, of course, myself the chief sufferer, +because I was fully conscious of the disgusting meanness of my spiteful +stupidity, and yet at the same time I could not restrain myself. + +"I want to... get away ... from there altogether," she began, to break +the silence in some way, but, poor girl, that was just what she ought +not to have spoken about at such a stupid moment to a man so stupid as +I was. My heart positively ached with pity for her tactless and +unnecessary straightforwardness. But something hideous at once stifled +all compassion in me; it even provoked me to greater venom. I did not +care what happened. Another five minutes passed. + +"Perhaps I am in your way," she began timidly, hardly audibly, and was +getting up. + +But as soon as I saw this first impulse of wounded dignity I positively +trembled with spite, and at once burst out. + +"Why have you come to me, tell me that, please?" I began, gasping for +breath and regardless of logical connection in my words. I longed to +have it all out at once, at one burst; I did not even trouble how to +begin. "Why have you come? Answer, answer," I cried, hardly knowing +what I was doing. "I'll tell you, my good girl, why you have come. +You've come because I talked sentimental stuff to you then. So now you +are soft as butter and longing for fine sentiments again. So you may +as well know that I was laughing at you then. And I am laughing at you +now. Why are you shuddering? Yes, I was laughing at you! I had been +insulted just before, at dinner, by the fellows who came that evening +before me. I came to you, meaning to thrash one of them, an officer; +but I didn't succeed, I didn't find him; I had to avenge the insult on +someone to get back my own again; you turned up, I vented my spleen on +you and laughed at you. I had been humiliated, so I wanted to +humiliate; I had been treated like a rag, so I wanted to show my power.... +That's what it was, and you imagined I had come there on purpose +to save you. Yes? You imagined that? You imagined that?" + +I knew that she would perhaps be muddled and not take it all in +exactly, but I knew, too, that she would grasp the gist of it, very +well indeed. And so, indeed, she did. She turned white as a +handkerchief, tried to say something, and her lips worked painfully; +but she sank on a chair as though she had been felled by an axe. And +all the time afterwards she listened to me with her lips parted and her +eyes wide open, shuddering with awful terror. The cynicism, the +cynicism of my words overwhelmed her.... + +"Save you!" I went on, jumping up from my chair and running up and down +the room before her. "Save you from what? But perhaps I am worse than +you myself. Why didn't you throw it in my teeth when I was giving you +that sermon: 'But what did you come here yourself for? was it to read +us a sermon?' Power, power was what I wanted then, sport was what I +wanted, I wanted to wring out your tears, your humiliation, your +hysteria--that was what I wanted then! Of course, I couldn't keep it +up then, because I am a wretched creature, I was frightened, and, the +devil knows why, gave you my address in my folly. Afterwards, before I +got home, I was cursing and swearing at you because of that address, I +hated you already because of the lies I had told you. Because I only +like playing with words, only dreaming, but, do you know, what I really +want is that you should all go to hell. That is what I want. I want +peace; yes, I'd sell the whole world for a farthing, straight off, so +long as I was left in peace. Is the world to go to pot, or am I to go +without my tea? I say that the world may go to pot for me so long as I +always get my tea. Did you know that, or not? Well, anyway, I know +that I am a blackguard, a scoundrel, an egoist, a sluggard. Here I +have been shuddering for the last three days at the thought of your +coming. And do you know what has worried me particularly for these +three days? That I posed as such a hero to you, and now you would see +me in a wretched torn dressing-gown, beggarly, loathsome. I told you +just now that I was not ashamed of my poverty; so you may as well know +that I am ashamed of it; I am more ashamed of it than of anything, more +afraid of it than of being found out if I were a thief, because I am as +vain as though I had been skinned and the very air blowing on me hurt. +Surely by now you must realise that I shall never forgive you for +having found me in this wretched dressing-gown, just as I was flying at +Apollon like a spiteful cur. The saviour, the former hero, was flying +like a mangy, unkempt sheep-dog at his lackey, and the lackey was +jeering at him! And I shall never forgive you for the tears I could +not help shedding before you just now, like some silly woman put to +shame! And for what I am confessing to you now, I shall never forgive +you either! Yes--you must answer for it all because you turned up like +this, because I am a blackguard, because I am the nastiest, stupidest, +absurdest and most envious of all the worms on earth, who are not a bit +better than I am, but, the devil knows why, are never put to confusion; +while I shall always be insulted by every louse, that is my doom! And +what is it to me that you don't understand a word of this! And what do +I care, what do I care about you, and whether you go to ruin there or +not? Do you understand? How I shall hate you now after saying this, +for having been here and listening. Why, it's not once in a lifetime a +man speaks out like this, and then it is in hysterics! ... What more +do you want? Why do you still stand confronting me, after all this? +Why are you worrying me? Why don't you go?" + +But at this point a strange thing happened. I was so accustomed to +think and imagine everything from books, and to picture everything in +the world to myself just as I had made it up in my dreams beforehand, +that I could not all at once take in this strange circumstance. What +happened was this: Liza, insulted and crushed by me, understood a great +deal more than I imagined. She understood from all this what a woman +understands first of all, if she feels genuine love, that is, that I +was myself unhappy. + +The frightened and wounded expression on her face was followed first by +a look of sorrowful perplexity. When I began calling myself a +scoundrel and a blackguard and my tears flowed (the tirade was +accompanied throughout by tears) her whole face worked convulsively. +She was on the point of getting up and stopping me; when I finished she +took no notice of my shouting: "Why are you here, why don't you go +away?" but realised only that it must have been very bitter to me to +say all this. Besides, she was so crushed, poor girl; she considered +herself infinitely beneath me; how could she feel anger or resentment? +She suddenly leapt up from her chair with an irresistible impulse and +held out her hands, yearning towards me, though still timid and not +daring to stir.... At this point there was a revulsion in my heart +too. Then she suddenly rushed to me, threw her arms round me and burst +into tears. I, too, could not restrain myself, and sobbed as I never +had before. + +"They won't let me ... I can't be good!" I managed to articulate; then +I went to the sofa, fell on it face downwards, and sobbed on it for a +quarter of an hour in genuine hysterics. She came close to me, put her +arms round me and stayed motionless in that position. But the trouble +was that the hysterics could not go on for ever, and (I am writing the +loathsome truth) lying face downwards on the sofa with my face thrust +into my nasty leather pillow, I began by degrees to be aware of a +far-away, involuntary but irresistible feeling that it would be awkward +now for me to raise my head and look Liza straight in the face. Why +was I ashamed? I don't know, but I was ashamed. The thought, too, +came into my overwrought brain that our parts now were completely +changed, that she was now the heroine, while I was just a crushed and +humiliated creature as she had been before me that night--four days +before.... And all this came into my mind during the minutes I was +lying on my face on the sofa. + +My God! surely I was not envious of her then. + +I don't know, to this day I cannot decide, and at the time, of course, +I was still less able to understand what I was feeling than now. I +cannot get on without domineering and tyrannising over someone, but ... +there is no explaining anything by reasoning and so it is useless to +reason. + +I conquered myself, however, and raised my head; I had to do so sooner +or later ... and I am convinced to this day that it was just because I +was ashamed to look at her that another feeling was suddenly kindled +and flamed up in my heart ... a feeling of mastery and possession. My +eyes gleamed with passion, and I gripped her hands tightly. How I +hated her and how I was drawn to her at that minute! The one feeling +intensified the other. It was almost like an act of vengeance. At +first there was a look of amazement, even of terror on her face, but +only for one instant. She warmly and rapturously embraced me. + + + +X + +A quarter of an hour later I was rushing up and down the room in +frenzied impatience, from minute to minute I went up to the screen and +peeped through the crack at Liza. She was sitting on the ground with +her head leaning against the bed, and must have been crying. But she +did not go away, and that irritated me. This time she understood it +all. I had insulted her finally, but ... there's no need to describe +it. She realised that my outburst of passion had been simply revenge, +a fresh humiliation, and that to my earlier, almost causeless hatred +was added now a PERSONAL HATRED, born of envy.... Though I do not +maintain positively that she understood all this distinctly; but she +certainly did fully understand that I was a despicable man, and what +was worse, incapable of loving her. + +I know I shall be told that this is incredible--but it is incredible to +be as spiteful and stupid as I was; it may be added that it was strange +I should not love her, or at any rate, appreciate her love. Why is it +strange? In the first place, by then I was incapable of love, for I +repeat, with me loving meant tyrannising and showing my moral +superiority. I have never in my life been able to imagine any other +sort of love, and have nowadays come to the point of sometimes thinking +that love really consists in the right--freely given by the beloved +object--to tyrannise over her. + +Even in my underground dreams I did not imagine love except as a +struggle. I began it always with hatred and ended it with moral +subjugation, and afterwards I never knew what to do with the subjugated +object. And what is there to wonder at in that, since I had succeeded +in so corrupting myself, since I was so out of touch with "real life," +as to have actually thought of reproaching her, and putting her to +shame for having come to me to hear "fine sentiments"; and did not even +guess that she had come not to hear fine sentiments, but to love me, +because to a woman all reformation, all salvation from any sort of +ruin, and all moral renewal is included in love and can only show +itself in that form. + +I did not hate her so much, however, when I was running about the room +and peeping through the crack in the screen. I was only insufferably +oppressed by her being here. I wanted her to disappear. I wanted +"peace," to be left alone in my underground world. Real life oppressed +me with its novelty so much that I could hardly breathe. + +But several minutes passed and she still remained, without stirring, as +though she were unconscious. I had the shamelessness to tap softly at +the screen as though to remind her.... She started, sprang up, and +flew to seek her kerchief, her hat, her coat, as though making her +escape from me.... Two minutes later she came from behind the screen +and looked with heavy eyes at me. I gave a spiteful grin, which was +forced, however, to KEEP UP APPEARANCES, and I turned away from her +eyes. + +"Good-bye," she said, going towards the door. + +I ran up to her, seized her hand, opened it, thrust something in it and +closed it again. Then I turned at once and dashed away in haste to the +other corner of the room to avoid seeing, anyway.... + +I did mean a moment since to tell a lie--to write that I did this +accidentally, not knowing what I was doing through foolishness, through +losing my head. But I don't want to lie, and so I will say straight +out that I opened her hand and put the money in it ... from spite. It +came into my head to do this while I was running up and down the room +and she was sitting behind the screen. But this I can say for certain: +though I did that cruel thing purposely, it was not an impulse from the +heart, but came from my evil brain. This cruelty was so affected, so +purposely made up, so completely a product of the brain, of books, that +I could not even keep it up a minute--first I dashed away to avoid +seeing her, and then in shame and despair rushed after Liza. I opened +the door in the passage and began listening. + +"Liza! Liza!" I cried on the stairs, but in a low voice, not boldly. +There was no answer, but I fancied I heard her footsteps, lower down on +the stairs. + +"Liza!" I cried, more loudly. + +No answer. But at that minute I heard the stiff outer glass door open +heavily with a creak and slam violently; the sound echoed up the stairs. + +She had gone. I went back to my room in hesitation. I felt horribly +oppressed. + +I stood still at the table, beside the chair on which she had sat and +looked aimlessly before me. A minute passed, suddenly I started; +straight before me on the table I saw.... In short, I saw a crumpled +blue five-rouble note, the one I had thrust into her hand a minute +before. It was the same note; it could be no other, there was no other +in the flat. So she had managed to fling it from her hand on the table +at the moment when I had dashed into the further corner. + +Well! I might have expected that she would do that. Might I have +expected it? No, I was such an egoist, I was so lacking in respect for +my fellow-creatures that I could not even imagine she would do so. I +could not endure it. A minute later I flew like a madman to dress, +flinging on what I could at random and ran headlong after her. She +could not have got two hundred paces away when I ran out into the +street. + +It was a still night and the snow was coming down in masses and falling +almost perpendicularly, covering the pavement and the empty street as +though with a pillow. There was no one in the street, no sound was to +be heard. The street lamps gave a disconsolate and useless glimmer. I +ran two hundred paces to the cross-roads and stopped short. + +Where had she gone? And why was I running after her? + +Why? To fall down before her, to sob with remorse, to kiss her feet, +to entreat her forgiveness! I longed for that, my whole breast was +being rent to pieces, and never, never shall I recall that minute with +indifference. But--what for? I thought. Should I not begin to hate +her, perhaps, even tomorrow, just because I had kissed her feet today? +Should I give her happiness? Had I not recognised that day, for the +hundredth time, what I was worth? Should I not torture her? + +I stood in the snow, gazing into the troubled darkness and pondered +this. + +"And will it not be better?" I mused fantastically, afterwards at home, +stifling the living pang of my heart with fantastic dreams. "Will it +not be better that she should keep the resentment of the insult for +ever? Resentment--why, it is purification; it is a most stinging and +painful consciousness! Tomorrow I should have defiled her soul and +have exhausted her heart, while now the feeling of insult will never +die in her heart, and however loathsome the filth awaiting her--the +feeling of insult will elevate and purify her ... by hatred ... h'm! +... perhaps, too, by forgiveness.... Will all that make things easier +for her though? ..." + +And, indeed, I will ask on my own account here, an idle question: which +is better--cheap happiness or exalted sufferings? Well, which is +better? + +So I dreamed as I sat at home that evening, almost dead with the pain +in my soul. Never had I endured such suffering and remorse, yet could +there have been the faintest doubt when I ran out from my lodging that +I should turn back half-way? I never met Liza again and I have heard +nothing of her. I will add, too, that I remained for a long time +afterwards pleased with the phrase about the benefit from resentment +and hatred in spite of the fact that I almost fell ill from misery. + + * * * * * + +Even now, so many years later, all this is somehow a very evil memory. +I have many evil memories now, but ... hadn't I better end my "Notes" +here? I believe I made a mistake in beginning to write them, anyway I +have felt ashamed all the time I've been writing this story; so it's +hardly literature so much as a corrective punishment. Why, to tell +long stories, showing how I have spoiled my life through morally +rotting in my corner, through lack of fitting environment, through +divorce from real life, and rankling spite in my underground world, +would certainly not be interesting; a novel needs a hero, and all the +traits for an anti-hero are EXPRESSLY gathered together here, and what +matters most, it all produces an unpleasant impression, for we are all +divorced from life, we are all cripples, every one of us, more or less. +We are so divorced from it that we feel at once a sort of loathing for +real life, and so cannot bear to be reminded of it. Why, we have come +almost to looking upon real life as an effort, almost as hard work, and +we are all privately agreed that it is better in books. And why do we +fuss and fume sometimes? Why are we perverse and ask for something +else? We don't know what ourselves. It would be the worse for us if +our petulant prayers were answered. Come, try, give any one of us, for +instance, a little more independence, untie our hands, widen the +spheres of our activity, relax the control and we ... yes, I assure you +... we should be begging to be under control again at once. I know +that you will very likely be angry with me for that, and will begin +shouting and stamping. Speak for yourself, you will say, and for your +miseries in your underground holes, and don't dare to say all of +us--excuse me, gentlemen, I am not justifying myself with that "all of +us." As for what concerns me in particular I have only in my life +carried to an extreme what you have not dared to carry halfway, and +what's more, you have taken your cowardice for good sense, and have +found comfort in deceiving yourselves. So that perhaps, after all, +there is more life in me than in you. Look into it more carefully! +Why, we don't even know what living means now, what it is, and what it +is called? Leave us alone without books and we shall be lost and in +confusion at once. We shall not know what to join on to, what to cling +to, what to love and what to hate, what to respect and what to despise. +We are oppressed at being men--men with a real individual body and +blood, we are ashamed of it, we think it a disgrace and try to contrive +to be some sort of impossible generalised man. We are stillborn, and +for generations past have been begotten, not by living fathers, and +that suits us better and better. We are developing a taste for it. +Soon we shall contrive to be born somehow from an idea. But enough; I +don't want to write more from "Underground." + + +[The notes of this paradoxalist do not end here, however. He could not +refrain from going on with them, but it seems to us that we may stop +here.] + + + + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Notes from the Underground, by Feodor Dostoevsky + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK NOTES FROM THE UNDERGROUND *** + +***** This file should be named 600.txt or 600.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/6/0/600/ + +Produced by Judith Boss. HTML version by Al Haines. + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Nevertheless it is clear that such persons as the +writer of these notes not only may, but positively must, exist in +our society, when we consider the circumstances in the midst of +which our society is formed. I have tried to expose to the view +of the public more distinctly than is commonly done, one of the +characters of the recent past. He is one of the representatives +of a generation still living. In this fragment, entitled +"Underground," this person introduces himself and his views, and, +as it were, tries to explain the causes owing to which he has +made his appearance and was bound to make his appearance in our +midst. In the second fragment there are added the actual notes +of this person concerning certain events in his life. --AUTHOR'S +NOTE. + + +I + +I am a sick man.... I am a spiteful man. I am an unattractive +man. I believe my liver is diseased. However, I know nothing at +all about my disease, and do not know for certain what ails me. +I don't consult a doctor for it, and never have, though I have a +respect for medicine and doctors. Besides, I am extremely +superstitious, sufficiently so to respect medicine, anyway (I am +well-educated enough not to be superstitious, but I am +superstitious). No, I refuse to consult a doctor from spite. +That you probably will not understand. Well, I understand it, +though. Of course, I can't explain who it is precisely that I am +mortifying in this case by my spite: I am perfectly well aware +that I cannot "pay out" the doctors by not consulting them; I +know better than anyone that by all this I am only injuring +myself and no one else. But still, if I don't consult a doctor +it is from spite. My liver is bad, well--let it get worse! + +I have been going on like that for a long time--twenty years. +Now I am forty. I used to be in the government service, but am +no longer. I was a spiteful official. I was rude and took +pleasure in being so. I did not take bribes, you see, so I was +bound to find a recompense in that, at least. (A poor jest, but I +will not scratch it out. I wrote it thinking it would sound very +witty; but now that I have seen myself that I only wanted to show +off in a despicable way--I will not scratch it out on purpose!) +When petitioners used to come for information to the table at +which I sat, I used to grind my teeth at them, and felt intense +enjoyment when I succeeded in making anybody unhappy. I almost +did succeed. For the most part they were all timid people--of +course, they were petitioners. But of the uppish ones there was +one officer in particular I could not endure. He simply would +not be humble, and clanked his sword in a disgusting way. I +carried on a feud with him for eighteen months over that sword. +At last I got the better of him. He left off clanking it. That +happened in my youth, though. But do you know, gentlemen, what +was the chief point about my spite? Why, the whole point, the +real sting of it lay in the fact that continually, even in the +moment of the acutest spleen, I was inwardly conscious with shame +that I was not only not a spiteful but not even an embittered +man, that I was simply scaring sparrows at random and amusing +myself by it. I might foam at the mouth, but bring me a doll to +play with, give me a cup of tea with sugar in it, and maybe I +should be appeased. I might even be genuinely touched, though +probably I should grind my teeth at myself afterwards and lie +awake at night with shame for months after. That was my way. + +I was lying when I said just now that I was a spiteful official. +I was lying from spite. I was simply amusing myself with the +petitioners and with the officer, and in reality I never could +become spiteful. I was conscious every moment in myself of many, +very many elements absolutely opposite to that. I felt them +positively swarming in me, these opposite elements. I knew that +they had been swarming in me all my life and craving some outlet +from me, but I would not let them, would not let them, purposely +would not let them come out. They tormented me till I was +ashamed: they drove me to convulsions and--sickened me, at last, +how they sickened me! Now, are not you fancying, gentlemen, +that I am expressing remorse for something now, that I am asking +your forgiveness for something? I am sure you are fancying that +... However, I assure you I do not care if you are.... + +It was not only that I could not become spiteful, I did not know +how to become anything; neither spiteful nor kind, neither a +rascal nor an honest man, neither a hero nor an insect. Now, I +am living out my life in my corner, taunting myself with the +spiteful and useless consolation that an intelligent man cannot +become anything seriously, and it is only the fool who becomes +anything. Yes, a man in the nineteenth century must and morally +ought to be pre-eminently a characterless creature; a man of +character, an active man is pre-eminently a limited creature. +That is my conviction of forty years. I am forty years old now, +and you know forty years is a whole lifetime; you know it is +extreme old age. To live longer than forty years is bad manners, +is vulgar, immoral. Who does live beyond forty? Answer that, +sincerely and honestly I will tell you who do: fools and +worthless fellows. I tell all old men that to their face, all +these venerable old men, all these silver-haired and reverend +seniors! I tell the whole world that to its face! I have a +right to say so, for I shall go on living to sixty myself. To +seventy! To eighty!... Stay, let me take breath ... + +You imagine no doubt, gentlemen, that I want to amuse you. You +are mistaken in that, too. I am by no means such a mirthful +person as you imagine, or as you may imagine; however, irritated +by all this babble (and I feel that you are irritated) you think +fit to ask me who I am--then my answer is, I am a collegiate +assessor. I was in the service that I might have something to +eat (and solely for that reason), and when last year a distant +relation left me six thousand roubles in his will I immediately +retired from the service and settled down in my corner. I used +to live in this corner before, but now I have settled down in it. +My room is a wretched, horrid one in the outskirts of the town. +My servant is an old country-woman, ill-natured from stupidity, +and, moreover, there is always a nasty smell about her. I am +told that the Petersburg climate is bad for me, and that with my +small means it is very expensive to live in Petersburg. I know +all that better than all these sage and experienced counsellors +and monitors.... But I am remaining in Petersburg; I am not going +away from Petersburg! I am not going away because ... ech! +Why, it is absolutely no matter whether I am going away or not +going away. + +But what can a decent man speak of with most pleasure? + +Answer: Of himself. + +Well, so I will talk about myself. + + +II + +I want now to tell you, gentlemen, whether you care to hear it or +not, why I could not even become an insect. I tell you solemnly, +that I have many times tried to become an insect. But I was not +equal even to that. I swear, gentlemen, that to be too conscious +is an illness--a real thorough-going illness. For man's everyday +needs, it would have been quite enough to have the ordinary human +consciousness, that is, half or a quarter of the amount which +falls to the lot of a cultivated man of our unhappy nineteenth +century, especially one who has the fatal ill-luck to inhabit +Petersburg, the most theoretical and intentional town on the +whole terrestrial globe. (There are intentional and unintentional +towns.) It would have been quite enough, for instance, to have +the consciousness by which all so-called direct persons and men +of action live. I bet you think I am writing all this from +affectation, to be witty at the expense of men of action; and +what is more, that from ill-bred affectation, I am clanking a +sword like my officer. But, gentlemen, whoever can pride himself +on his diseases and even swagger over them? + +Though, after all, everyone does do that; people do pride +themselves on their diseases, and I do, may be, more than anyone. +We will not dispute it; my contention was absurd. But yet I am +firmly persuaded that a great deal of consciousness, every sort +of consciousness, in fact, is a disease. I stick to that. Let +us leave that, too, for a minute. Tell me this: why does it +happen that at the very, yes, at the very moments when I am most +capable of feeling every refinement of all that is "sublime and +beautiful," as they used to say at one time, it would, as though +of design, happen to me not only to feel but to do such ugly +things, such that ... Well, in short, actions that all, perhaps, +commit; but which, as though purposely, occurred to me at the +very time when I was most conscious that they ought not to be +committed. The more conscious I was of goodness and of all that +was "sublime and beautiful," the more deeply I sank into my mire +and the more ready I was to sink in it altogether. But the chief +point was that all this was, as it were, not accidental in me, +but as though it were bound to be so. It was as though it were +my most normal condition, and not in the least disease or +depravity, so that at last all desire in me to struggle against +this depravity passed. It ended by my almost believing (perhaps +actually believing) that this was perhaps my normal condition. +But at first, in the beginning, what agonies I endured in that +struggle! I did not believe it was the same with other people, +and all my life I hid this fact about myself as a secret. I was +ashamed (even now, perhaps, I am ashamed): I got to the point of +feeling a sort of secret abnormal, despicable enjoyment in +returning home to my corner on some disgusting Petersburg night, +acutely conscious that that day I had committed a loathsome +action again, that what was done could never be undone, and +secretly, inwardly gnawing, gnawing at myself for it, tearing and +consuming myself till at last the bitterness turned into a sort +of shameful accursed sweetness, and at last--into positive real +enjoyment! Yes, into enjoyment, into enjoyment! I insist upon +that. I have spoken of this because I keep wanting to know for a +fact whether other people feel such enjoyment? I will explain; +the enjoyment was just from the too intense consciousness of +one's own degradation; it was from feeling oneself that one had +reached the last barrier, that it was horrible, but that it could +not be otherwise; that there was no escape for you; that you +never could become a different man; that even if time and faith +were still left you to change into something different you would +most likely not wish to change; or if you did wish to, even then +you would do nothing; because perhaps in reality there was +nothing for you to change into. And the worst of it was, and the +root of it all, that it was all in accord with the normal +fundamental laws of over-acute consciousness, and with the +inertia that was the direct result of those laws, and that +consequently one was not only unable to change but could do +absolutely nothing. Thus it would follow, as the result of acute +consciousness, that one is not to blame in being a scoundrel; as +though that were any consolation to the scoundrel once he has +come to realise that he actually is a scoundrel. But enough.... +Ech, I have talked a lot of nonsense, but what have I explained? +How is enjoyment in this to be explained? But I will explain it. +I will get to the bottom of it! That is why I have taken up my +pen.... + +I, for instance, have a great deal of amour propre. I am as +suspicious and prone to take offence as a humpback or a dwarf. +But upon my word I sometimes have had moments when if I had +happened to be slapped in the face I should, perhaps, have been +positively glad of it. I say, in earnest, that I should probably +have been able to discover even in that a peculiar sort of +enjoyment--the enjoyment, of course, of despair; but in despair +there are the most intense enjoyments, especially when one is +very acutely conscious of the hopelessness of one's position. +And when one is slapped in the face--why then the consciousness +of being rubbed into a pulp would positively overwhelm one. The +worst of it is, look at it which way one will, it still turns out +that I was always the most to blame in everything. And what is +most humiliating of all, to blame for no fault of my own but, so +to say, through the laws of nature. In the first place, to blame +because I am cleverer than any of the people surrounding me. (I +have always considered myself cleverer than any of the people +surrounding me, and sometimes, would you believe it, have been +positively ashamed of it. At any rate, I have all my life, as it +were, turned my eyes away and never could look people straight in +the face.) To blame, finally, because even if I had had +magnanimity, I should only have had more suffering from the sense +of its uselessness. I should certainly have never been able to +do anything from being magnanimous--neither to forgive, for my +assailant would perhaps have slapped me from the laws of nature, +and one cannot forgive the laws of nature; nor to forget, for +even if it were owing to the laws of nature, it is insulting all +the same. Finally, even if I had wanted to be anything but +magnanimous, had desired on the contrary to revenge myself on my +assailant, I could not have revenged myself on any one for +anything because I should certainly never have made up my mind to +do anything, even if I had been able to. Why should I not have +made up my mind? About that in particular I want to say a few +words. + + +III + +With people who know how to revenge themselves and to stand up +for themselves in general, how is it done? Why, when they are +possessed, let us suppose, by the feeling of revenge, then for +the time there is nothing else but that feeling left in their +whole being. Such a gentleman simply dashes straight for his +object like an infuriated bull with its horns down, and nothing +but a wall will stop him. (By the way: facing the wall, such +gentlemen--that is, the "direct" persons and men of action--are +genuinely nonplussed. For them a wall is not an evasion, as for +us people who think and consequently do nothing; it is not an +excuse for turning aside, an excuse for which we are always very +glad, though we scarcely believe in it ourselves, as a rule. No, +they are nonplussed in all sincerity. The wall has for them +something tranquillising, morally soothing, final, maybe even +something mysterious ... but of the wall later.) Well, such a +direct person I regard as the real normal man, as his tender +mother nature wished to see him when she graciously brought him +into being on the earth. I envy such a man till I am green in +the face. He is stupid. I am not disputing that, but perhaps +the normal man should be stupid, how do you know? Perhaps it is +very beautiful, in fact. And I am the more persuaded of that +suspicion, if one can call it so, by the fact that if you take, +for instance, the antithesis of the normal man, that is, the man +of acute consciousness, who has come, of course, not out of the +lap of nature but out of a retort (this is almost mysticism, +gentlemen, but I suspect this, too), this retort-made man is +sometimes so nonplussed in the presence of his antithesis that +with all his exaggerated consciousness he genuinely thinks of +himself as a mouse and not a man. It may be an acutely conscious +mouse, yet it is a mouse, while the other is a man, and +therefore, et caetera, et caetera. And the worst of it is, he +himself, his very own self, looks on himself as a mouse; no one +asks him to do so; and that is an important point. + +Now let us look at this mouse in action. Let us suppose, for +instance, that it feels insulted, too (and it almost always does +feel insulted), and wants to revenge itself, too. There may even +be a greater accumulation of spite in it than in l'homme de la +nature et de la verite. The base and nasty desire to vent that +spite on its assailant rankles perhaps even more nastily in it +than in l'homme de la nature et de la verite. For through his +innate stupidity the latter looks upon his revenge as justice +pure and simple; while in consequence of his acute consciousness +the mouse does not believe in the justice of it. To come at last +to the deed itself, to the very act of revenge. Apart from the +one fundamental nastiness the luckless mouse succeeds in creating +around it so many other nastinesses in the form of doubts and +questions, adds to the one question so many unsettled questions +that there inevitably works up around it a sort of fatal brew, a +stinking mess, made up of its doubts, emotions, and of the +contempt spat upon it by the direct men of action who stand +solemnly about it as judges and arbitrators, laughing at it till +their healthy sides ache. Of course the only thing left for it +is to dismiss all that with a wave of its paw, and, with a smile +of assumed contempt in which it does not even itself believe, +creep ignominiously into its mouse-hole. There in its nasty, +stinking, underground home our insulted, crushed and ridiculed +mouse promptly becomes absorbed in cold, malignant and, above +all, everlasting spite. For forty years together it will +remember its injury down to the smallest, most ignominious +details, and every time will add, of itself, details still more +ignominious, spitefully teasing and tormenting itself with its +own imagination. It will itself be ashamed of its imaginings, +but yet it will recall it all, it will go over and over every +detail, it will invent unheard of things against itself, +pretending that those things might happen, and will forgive +nothing. Maybe it will begin to revenge itself, too, but, as it +were, piecemeal, in trivial ways, from behind the stove, +incognito, without believing either in its own right to +vengeance, or in the success of its revenge, knowing that from +all its efforts at revenge it will suffer a hundred times more +than he on whom it revenges itself, while he, I daresay, will not +even scratch himself. On its deathbed it will recall it all over +again, with interest accumulated over all the years and ... But +it is just in that cold, abominable half despair, half belief, in +that conscious burying oneself alive for grief in the underworld +for forty years, in that acutely recognised and yet partly +doubtful hopelessness of one's position, in that hell of +unsatisfied desires turned inward, in that fever of oscillations, +of resolutions determined for ever and repented of again a minute +later--that the savour of that strange enjoyment of which I have +spoken lies. It is so subtle, so difficult of analysis, that +persons who are a little limited, or even simply persons of +strong nerves, will not understand a single atom of it. +"Possibly," you will add on your own account with a grin, "people +will not understand it either who have never received a slap in +the face," and in that way you will politely hint to me that I, +too, perhaps, have had the experience of a slap in the face in my +life, and so I speak as one who knows. I bet that you are +thinking that. But set your minds at rest, gentlemen, I have not +received a slap in the face, though it is absolutely a matter of +indifference to me what you may think about it. Possibly, I even +regret, myself, that I have given so few slaps in the face during +my life. But enough ... not another word on that subject of such +extreme interest to you. + +I will continue calmly concerning persons with strong nerves who +do not understand a certain refinement of enjoyment. Though in +certain circumstances these gentlemen bellow their loudest like +bulls, though this, let us suppose, does them the greatest +credit, yet, as I have said already, confronted with the +impossible they subside at once. The impossible means the stone +wall! What stone wall? Why, of course, the laws of nature, the +deductions of natural science, mathematics. As soon as they +prove to you, for instance, that you are descended from a monkey, +then it is no use scowling, accept it for a fact. When they +prove to you that in reality one drop of your own fat must be +dearer to you than a hundred thousand of your fellow-creatures, +and that this conclusion is the final solution of all so-called +virtues and duties and all such prejudices and fancies, then you +have just to accept it, there is no help for it, for twice two is +a law of mathematics. Just try refuting it. + +"Upon my word," they will shout at you, "it is no use protesting: +it is a case of twice two makes four! Nature does not ask your +permission, she has nothing to do with your wishes, and whether +you like her laws or dislike them, you are bound to accept her as +she is, and consequently all her conclusions. A wall, you see, +is a wall ... and so on, and so on." Merciful Heavens! but what +do I care for the laws of nature and arithmetic, when, for some +reason I dislike those laws and the fact that twice two makes +four? Of course I cannot break through the wall by battering my +head against it if I really have not the strength to knock it +down, but I am not going to be reconciled to it simply because it +is a stone wall and I have not the strength. + +As though such a stone wall really were a consolation, and really +did contain some word of conciliation, simply because it is as +true as twice two makes four. Oh, absurdity of absurdities! How +much better it is to understand it all, to recognise it all, all +the impossibilities and the stone wall; not to be reconciled to +one of those impossibilities and stone walls if it disgusts you +to be reconciled to it; by the way of the most inevitable, +logical combinations to reach the most revolting conclusions on +the everlasting theme, that even for the stone wall you are +yourself somehow to blame, though again it is as clear as day you +are not to blame in the least, and therefore grinding your teeth +in silent impotence to sink into luxurious inertia, brooding on +the fact that there is no one even for you to feel vindictive +against, that you have not, and perhaps never will have, an +object for your spite, that it is a sleight of hand, a bit of +juggling, a card- sharper's trick, that it is simply a mess, no +knowing what and no knowing who, but in spite of all these +uncertainties and jugglings, still there is an ache in you, and +the more you do not know, the worse the ache. + + +IV + +"Ha, ha, ha! You will be finding enjoyment in toothache next," +you cry, with a laugh. + +"Well, even in toothache there is enjoyment," I answer. I had +toothache for a whole month and I know there is. In that case, +of course, people are not spiteful in silence, but moan; but they +are not candid moans, they are malignant moans, and the +malignancy is the whole point. The enjoyment of the sufferer +finds expression in those moans; if he did not feel enjoyment in +them he would not moan. It is a good example, gentlemen, and I +will develop it. Those moans express in the first place all the +aimlessness of your pain, which is so humiliating to your +consciousness; the whole legal system of nature on which you spit +disdainfully, of course, but from which you suffer all the same +while she does not. They express the consciousness that you have +no enemy to punish, but that you have pain; the consciousness +that in spite of all possible Wagenheims you are in complete +slavery to your teeth; that if someone wishes it, your teeth will +leave off aching, and if he does not, they will go on aching +another three months; and that finally if you are still +contumacious and still protest, all that is left you for your own +gratification is to thrash yourself or beat your wall with your +fist as hard as you can, and absolutely nothing more. Well, +these mortal insults, these jeers on the part of someone unknown, +end at last in an enjoyment which sometimes reaches the highest +degree of voluptuousness. I ask you, gentlemen, listen sometimes +to the moans of an educated man of the nineteenth century +suffering from toothache, on the second or third day of the +attack, when he is beginning to moan, not as he moaned on the +first day, that is, not simply because he has toothache, not just +as any coarse peasant, but as a man affected by progress and +European civilisation, a man who is "divorced from the soil and +the national elements," as they express it now-a-days. His moans +become nasty, disgustingly malignant, and go on for whole days +and nights. And of course he knows himself that he is doing +himself no sort of good with his moans; he knows better than +anyone that he is only lacerating and harassing himself and +others for nothing; he knows that even the audience before whom +he is making his efforts, and his whole family, listen to him +with loathing, do not put a ha'porth of faith in him, and +inwardly understand that he might moan differently, more simply, +without trills and flourishes, and that he is only amusing +himself like that from ill-humour, from malignancy. Well, in all +these recognitions and disgraces it is that there lies a +voluptuous pleasure. As though he would say: "I am worrying you, +I am lacerating your hearts, I am keeping everyone in the house +awake. Well, stay awake then, you, too, feel every minute that I +have toothache. I am not a hero to you now, as I tried to seem +before, but simply a nasty person, an impostor. Well, so be it, +then! I am very glad that you see through me. It is nasty for +you to hear my despicable moans: well, let it be nasty; here I +will let you have a nastier flourish in a minute...." You do not +understand even now, gentlemen? No, it seems our development +and our consciousness must go further to understand all the +intricacies of this pleasure. You laugh? Delighted. My jests, +gentlemen, are of course in bad taste, jerky, involved, lacking +self-confidence. But of course that is because I do not respect +myself. Can a man of perception respect himself at all? + + +V + +Come, can a man who attempts to find enjoyment in the very +feeling of his own degradation possibly have a spark of respect +for himself? I am not saying this now from any mawkish kind of +remorse. And, indeed, I could never endure saying, "Forgive me, +Papa, I won't do it again," not because I am incapable of saying +that--on the contrary, perhaps just because I have been too +capable of it, and in what a way, too. As though of design I +used to get into trouble in cases when I was not to blame in any +way. That was the nastiest part of it. At the same time I was +genuinely touched and penitent, I used to shed tears and, of +course, deceived myself, though I was not acting in the least and +there was a sick feeling in my heart at the time.... For that one +could not blame even the laws of nature, though the laws of +nature have continually all my life offended me more than +anything. It is loathsome to remember it all, but it was +loathsome even then. Of course, a minute or so later I would +realise wrathfully that it was all a lie, a revolting lie, an +affected lie, that is, all this penitence, this emotion, these +vows of reform. You will ask why did I worry myself with such +antics: answer, because it was very dull to sit with one's hands +folded, and so one began cutting capers. That is really it. +Observe yourselves more carefully, gentlemen, then you will +understand that it is so. I invented adventures for myself and +made up a life, so as at least to live in some way. How many +times it has happened to me--well, for instance, to take offence +simply on purpose, for nothing; and one knows oneself, of course, +that one is offended at nothing; that one is putting it on, but +yet one brings oneself at last to the point of being really +offended. All my life I have had an impulse to play such pranks, +so that in the end I could not control it in myself. Another +time, twice, in fact, I tried hard to be in love. I suffered, +too, gentlemen, I assure you. In the depth of my heart there was +no faith in my suffering, only a faint stir of mockery, but yet I +did suffer, and in the real, orthodox way; I was jealous, beside +myself ... and it was all from ennui, gentlemen, all from ennui; +inertia overcame me. You know the direct, legitimate fruit of +consciousness is inertia, that is, conscious +sitting-with-the-hands-folded. I have referred to this already. +I repeat, I repeat with emphasis: all "direct" persons and men of +action are active just because they are stupid and limited. How +explain that? I will tell you: in consequence of their +limitation they take immediate and secondary causes for primary +ones, and in that way persuade themselves more quickly and easily +than other people do that they have found an infallible +foundation for their activity, and their minds are at ease and +you know that is the chief thing. To begin to act, you know, you +must first have your mind completely at ease and no trace of +doubt left in it. Why, how am I, for example to set my mind at +rest? Where are the primary causes on which I am to build? +Where are my foundations? Where am I to get them from? I +exercise myself in reflection, and consequently with me every +primary cause at once draws after itself another still more +primary, and so on to infinity. That is just the essence of +every sort of consciousness and reflection. It must be a case of +the laws of nature again. What is the result of it in the end? +Why, just the same. Remember I spoke just now of vengeance. (I +am sure you did not take it in.) I said that a man revenges +himself because he sees justice in it. Therefore he has found a +primary cause, that is, justice. And so he is at rest on all +sides, and consequently he carries out his revenge calmly and +successfully, being persuaded that he is doing a just and honest +thing. But I see no justice in it, I find no sort of virtue in +it either, and consequently if I attempt to revenge myself, it is +only out of spite. Spite, of course, might overcome everything, +all my doubts, and so might serve quite successfully in place of +a primary cause, precisely because it is not a cause. But what +is to be done if I have not even spite (I began with that just +now, you know). In consequence again of those accursed laws of +consciousness, anger in me is subject to chemical disintegration. +You look into it, the object flies off into air, your reasons +evaporate, the criminal is not to be found, the wrong becomes not +a wrong but a phantom, something like the toothache, for which no +one is to blame, and consequently there is only the same outlet +left again--that is, to beat the wall as hard as you can. So you +give it up with a wave of the hand because you have not found a +fundamental cause. And try letting yourself be carried away by +your feelings, blindly, without reflection, without a primary +cause, repelling consciousness at least for a time; hate or love, +if only not to sit with your hands folded. The day after +tomorrow, at the latest, you will begin despising yourself for +having knowingly deceived yourself. Result: a soap-bubble and +inertia. Oh, gentlemen, do you know, perhaps I consider myself +an intelligent man, only because all my life I have been able +neither to begin nor to finish anything. Granted I am a babbler, +a harmless vexatious babbler, like all of us. But what is to be +done if the direct and sole vocation of every intelligent man is +babble, that is, the intentional pouring of water through a +sieve? + + +VI + +Oh, if I had done nothing simply from laziness! Heavens, how I +should have respected myself, then. I should have respected +myself because I should at least have been capable of being lazy; +there would at least have been one quality, as it were, positive +in me, in which I could have believed myself. Question: What is +he? Answer: A sluggard; how very pleasant it would have been to +hear that of oneself! It would mean that I was positively +defined, it would mean that there was something to say about me. +"Sluggard"--why, it is a calling and vocation, it is a career. +Do not jest, it is so. I should then be a member of the best +club by right, and should find my occupation in continually +respecting myself. I knew a gentleman who prided himself all his +life on being a connoisseur of Lafitte. He considered this as +his positive virtue, and never doubted himself. He died, not +simply with a tranquil, but with a triumphant conscience, and he +was quite right, too. Then I should have chosen a career for +myself, I should have been a sluggard and a glutton, not a simple +one, but, for instance, one with sympathies for everything +sublime and beautiful. How do you like that? I have long had +visions of it. That "sublime and beautiful" weighs heavily on my +mind at forty But that is at forty; then--oh, then it would have +been different! I should have found for myself a form of +activity in keeping with it, to be precise, drinking to the +health of everything "sublime and beautiful." I should have +snatched at every opportunity to drop a tear into my glass and +then to drain it to all that is "sublime and beautiful." I should +then have turned everything into the sublime and the beautiful; +in the nastiest, unquestionable trash, I should have sought out +the sublime and the beautiful. I should have exuded tears like a +wet sponge. An artist, for instance, paints a picture worthy of +Gay. At once I drink to the health of the artist who painted the +picture worthy of Gay, because I love all that is "sublime and +beautiful." An author has written "As you will"; at once I drink +to the health of "anyone you will" because I love all that is +"sublime and beautiful." I should claim respect for doing so. I +should persecute anyone who would not show me respect. I should +live at ease, I should die with dignity, why, it is charming, +perfectly charming! And what a good round belly I should have +grown, what a treble chin I should have established, what a ruby +nose I should have coloured for myself, so that everyone would +have said, looking at me: "Here is an asset! Here is something +real and solid!" And, say what you like, it is very agreeable to +hear such remarks about oneself in this negative age. + + +VII + +But these are all golden dreams. Oh, tell me, who was it first +announced, who was it first proclaimed, that man only does nasty +things because he does not know his own interests; and that if he +were enlightened, if his eyes were opened to his real normal +interests, man would at once cease to do nasty things, would at +once become good and noble because, being enlightened and +understanding his real advantage, he would see his own advantage +in the good and nothing else, and we all know that not one man +can, consciously, act against his own interests, consequently, so +to say, through necessity, he would begin doing good? Oh, the +babe! Oh, the pure, innocent child! Why, in the first place, +when in all these thousands of years has there been a time when +man has acted only from his own interest? What is to be done +with the millions of facts that bear witness that men, +_consciously_, that is fully understanding their real interests, +have left them in the background and have rushed headlong on +another path, to meet peril and danger, compelled to this course +by nobody and by nothing, but, as it were, simply disliking the +beaten track, and have obstinately, wilfully, struck out another +difficult, absurd way, seeking it almost in the darkness. So, I +suppose, this obstinacy and perversity were pleasanter to them +than any advantage.... Advantage! What is advantage? And will +you take it upon yourself to define with perfect accuracy in what +the advantage of man consists? And what if it so happens that a +man's advantage, _sometimes_, not only may, but even must, +consist in his desiring in certain cases what is harmful to +himself and not advantageous. And if so, if there can be such a +case, the whole principle falls into dust. What do you +think--are there such cases? You laugh; laugh away, gentlemen, +but only answer me: have man's advantages been reckoned up with +perfect certainty? Are there not some which not only have not +been included but cannot possibly be included under any +classification? You see, you gentlemen have, to the best of my +knowledge, taken your whole register of human advantages from the +averages of statistical figures and politico-economical formulas. +Your advantages are prosperity, wealth, freedom, peace--and so +on, and so on. So that the man who should, for instance, go +openly and knowingly in opposition to all that list would to your +thinking, and indeed mine, too, of course, be an obscurantist or +an absolute madman: would not he? But, you know, this is what is +surprising: why does it so happen that all these statisticians, +sages and lovers of humanity, when they reckon up human +advantages invariably leave out one? They don't even take it +into their reckoning in the form in which it should be taken, and +the whole reckoning depends upon that. It would be no greater +matter, they would simply have to take it, this advantage, and +add it to the list. But the trouble is, that this strange +advantage does not fall under any classification and is not in +place in any list. I have a friend for instance ... Ech! +gentlemen, but of course he is your friend, too; and indeed there +is no one, no one to whom he is not a friend! When he prepares +for any undertaking this gentleman immediately explains to you, +elegantly and clearly, exactly how he must act in accordance with +the laws of reason and truth. What is more, he will talk to you +with excitement and passion of the true normal interests of man; +with irony he will upbraid the short- sighted fools who do not +understand their own interests, nor the true significance of +virtue; and, within a quarter of an hour, without any sudden +outside provocation, but simply through something inside him +which is stronger than all his interests, he will go off on quite +a different tack--that is, act in direct opposition to what he +has just been saying about himself, in opposition to the laws of +reason, in opposition to his own advantage, in fact in opposition +to everything ... I warn you that my friend is a compound +personality and therefore it is difficult to blame him as an +individual. The fact is, gentlemen, it seems there must really +exist something that is dearer to almost every man than his +greatest advantages, or (not to be illogical) there is a most +advantageous advantage (the very one omitted of which we spoke +just now) which is more important and more advantageous than all +other advantages, for the sake of which a man if necessary is +ready to act in opposition to all laws; that is, in opposition to +reason, honour, peace, prosperity--in fact, in opposition to all +those excellent and useful things if only he can attain that +fundamental, most advantageous advantage which is dearer to him +than all. "Yes, but it's advantage all the same," you will +retort. But excuse me, I'll make the point clear, and it is not +a case of playing upon words. What matters is, that this +advantage is remarkable from the very fact that it breaks down +all our classifications, and continually shatters every system +constructed by lovers of mankind for the benefit of mankind. In +fact, it upsets everything. But before I mention this advantage +to you, I want to compromise myself personally, and therefore I +boldly declare that all these fine systems, all these theories +for explaining to mankind their real normal interests, in order +that inevitably striving to pursue these interests they may at +once become good and noble--are, in my opinion, so far, mere +logical exercises! Yes, logical exercises. Why, to maintain +this theory of the regeneration of mankind by means of the +pursuit of his own advantage is to my mind almost the same thing +... as to affirm, for instance, following Buckle, that through +civilisation mankind becomes softer, and consequently less +bloodthirsty and less fitted for warfare. Logically it does seem +to follow from his arguments. But man has such a predilection +for systems and abstract deductions that he is ready to distort +the truth intentionally, he is ready to deny the evidence of his +senses only to justify his logic. I take this example because it +is the most glaring instance of it. Only look about you: blood +is being spilt in streams, and in the merriest way, as though it +were champagne. Take the whole of the nineteenth century in +which Buckle lived. Take Napoleon--the Great and also the +present one. Take North America--the eternal union. Take the +farce of Schleswig-Holstein... . And what is it that civilisation +softens in us? The only gain of civilisation for mankind is the +greater capacity for variety of sensations--and absolutely +nothing more. And through the development of this many- +sidedness man may come to finding enjoyment in bloodshed. In +fact, this has already happened to him. Have you noticed that it +is the most civilised gentlemen who have been the subtlest +slaughterers, to whom the Attilas and Stenka Razins could not +hold a candle, and if they are not so conspicuous as the Attilas +and Stenka Razins it is simply because they are so often met +with, are so ordinary and have become so familiar to us. In any +case civilisation has made mankind if not more blood-thirsty, at +least more vilely, more loathsomely bloodthirsty. In old days he +saw justice in bloodshed and with his conscience at peace +exterminated those he thought proper. Now we do think bloodshed +abominable and yet we engage in this abomination, and with more +energy than ever. Which is worse? Decide that for yourselves. +They say that Cleopatra (excuse an instance from Roman history) +was fond of sticking gold pins into her slave-girls' breasts and +derived gratification from their screams and writhings. You will +say that that was in the comparatively barbarous times; that +these are barbarous times too, because also, comparatively +speaking, pins are stuck in even now; that though man has now +learned to see more clearly than in barbarous ages, he is still +far from having learnt to act as reason and science would +dictate. But yet you are fully convinced that he will be sure to +learn when he gets rid of certain old bad habits, and when common +sense and science have completely re- educated human nature and +turned it in a normal direction. You are confident that then man +will cease from _intentional_ error and will, so to say, be +compelled not to want to set his will against his normal +interests. That is not all; then, you say, science itself will +teach man (though to my mind it's a superfluous luxury) that he +never has really had any caprice or will of his own, and that he +himself is something of the nature of a piano-key or the stop of +an organ, and that there are, besides, things called the laws of +nature; so that everything he does is not done by his willing it, +but is done of itself, by the laws of nature. Consequently we +have only to discover these laws of nature, and man will no +longer have to answer for his actions and life will become +exceedingly easy for him. All human actions will then, of +course, be tabulated according to these laws, mathematically, +like tables of logarithms up to 108,000, and entered in an index; +or, better still, there would be published certain edifying works +of the nature of encyclopaedic lexicons, in which everything will +be so clearly calculated and explained that there will be no more +incidents or adventures in the world. + +Then--this is all what you say--new economic relations will be +established, all ready-made and worked out with mathematical +exactitude, so that every possible question will vanish in the +twinkling of an eye, simply because every possible answer to it +will be provided. Then the "Palace of Crystal" will be built. +Then ... In fact, those will be halcyon days. Of course there is +no guaranteeing (this is my comment) that it will not be, for +instance, frightfully dull then (for what will one have to do +when everything will be calculated and tabulated), but on the +other hand everything will be extraordinarily rational. Of +course boredom may lead you to anything. It is boredom sets one +sticking golden pins into people, but all that would not matter. +What is bad (this is my comment again) is that I dare say people +will be thankful for the gold pins then. Man is stupid, you +know, phenomenally stupid; or rather he is not at all stupid, but +he is so ungrateful that you could not find another like him in +all creation. I, for instance, would not be in the least +surprised if all of a sudden, a propos of nothing, in the midst +of general prosperity a gentleman with an ignoble, or rather with +a reactionary and ironical, countenance were to arise and, +putting his arms akimbo, say to us all: "I say, gentleman, hadn't +we better kick over the whole show and scatter rationalism to the +winds, simply to send these logarithms to the devil, and to +enable us to live once more at our own sweet foolish will!" That +again would not matter, but what is annoying is that he would be +sure to find followers--such is the nature of man. And all that +for the most foolish reason, which, one would think, was hardly +worth mentioning: that is, that man everywhere and at all times, +whoever he may be, has preferred to act as he chose and not in +the least as his reason and advantage dictated. And one may +choose what is contrary to one's own interests, and sometimes one +_positively ought_ (that is my idea). One's own free unfettered +choice, one's own caprice, however wild it may be, one's own +fancy worked up at times to frenzy--is that very "most +advantageous advantage" which we have overlooked, which comes +under no classification and against which all systems and +theories are continually being shattered to atoms. And how do +these wiseacres know that man wants a normal, a virtuous choice? +What has made them conceive that man must want a rationally +advantageous choice? What man wants is simply _independent_ +choice, whatever that independence may cost and wherever it may +lead. And choice, of course, the devil only knows what choice. + + +VIII + +"Ha! ha! ha! But you know there is no such thing as choice in +reality, say what you like," you will interpose with a chuckle. +"Science has succeeded in so far analysing man that we know +already that choice and what is called freedom of will is nothing +else than--" + +Stay, gentlemen, I meant to begin with that myself I confess, I +was rather frightened. I was just going to say that the devil +only knows what choice depends on, and that perhaps that was a +very good thing, but I remembered the teaching of science ... and +pulled myself up. And here you have begun upon it. Indeed, if +there really is some day discovered a formula for all our desires +and caprices--that is, an explanation of what they depend upon, +by what laws they arise, how they develop, what they are aiming +at in one case and in another and so on, that is a real +mathematical formula--then, most likely, man will at once cease +to feel desire, indeed, he will be certain to. For who would +want to choose by rule? Besides, he will at once be transformed +from a human being into an organ-stop or something of the sort; +for what is a man without desires, without free will and without +choice, if not a stop in an organ? What do you think? Let us +reckon the chances--can such a thing happen or not? + +"H'm!" you decide. "Our choice is usually mistaken from a false +view of our advantage. We sometimes choose absolute nonsense +because in our foolishness we see in that nonsense the easiest +means for attaining a supposed advantage. But when all that is +explained and worked out on paper (which is perfectly possible, +for it is contemptible and senseless to suppose that some laws of +nature man will never understand), then certainly so-called +desires will no longer exist. For if a desire should come into +conflict with reason we shall then reason and not desire, because +it will be impossible retaining our reason to be _senseless_ in +our desires, and in that way knowingly act against reason and +desire to injure ourselves. And as all choice and reasoning can +be really calculated--because there will some day be discovered +the laws of our so-called free will--so, joking apart, there may +one day be something like a table constructed of them, so that we +really shall choose in accordance with it. If, for instance, +some day they calculate and prove to me that I made a long nose +at someone because I could not help making a long nose at him and +that I had to do it in that particular way, what _freedom_ is +left me, especially if I am a learned man and have taken my +degree somewhere? Then I should be able to calculate my whole +life for thirty years beforehand. In short, if this could be +arranged there would be nothing left for us to do; anyway, we +should have to understand that. And, in fact, we ought +unwearyingly to repeat to ourselves that at such and such a time +and in such and such circumstances nature does not ask our leave; +that we have got to take her as she is and not fashion her to +suit our fancy, and if we really aspire to formulas and tables of +rules, and well, even ... to the chemical retort, there's no help +for it, we must accept the retort too, or else it will be +accepted without our consent ...." + +Yes, but here I come to a stop! Gentlemen, you must excuse me +for being over-philosophical; it's the result of forty years +underground! Allow me to indulge my fancy. You see, gentlemen, +reason is an excellent thing, there's no disputing that, but +reason is nothing but reason and satisfies only the rational side +of man's nature, while will is a manifestation of the whole life, +that is, of the whole human life including reason and all the +impulses. And although our life, in this manifestation of it, is +often worthless, yet it is life and not simply extracting square +roots. Here I, for instance, quite naturally want to live, in +order to satisfy all my capacities for life, and not simply my +capacity for reasoning, that is, not simply one twentieth of my +capacity for life. What does reason know? Reason only knows +what it has succeeded in learning (some things, perhaps, it will +never learn; this is a poor comfort, but why not say so frankly?) +and human nature acts as a whole, with everything that is in it, +consciously or unconsciously, and, even it if goes wrong, it +lives. I suspect, gentlemen, that you are looking at me with +compassion; you tell me again that an enlightened and developed +man, such, in short, as the future man will be, cannot +consciously desire anything disadvantageous to himself, that that +can be proved mathematically. I thoroughly agree, it can--by +mathematics. But I repeat for the hundredth time, there is one +case, one only, when man may consciously, purposely, desire what +is injurious to himself, what is stupid, very stupid--simply in +order to have the right to desire for himself even what is very +stupid and not to be bound by an obligation to desire only what +is sensible. Of course, this very stupid thing, this caprice of +ours, may be in reality, gentlemen, more advantageous for us than +anything else on earth, especially in certain cases. And in +particular it may be more advantageous than any advantage even +when it does us obvious harm, and contradicts the soundest +conclusions of our reason concerning our advantage--for in any +circumstances it preserves for us what is most precious and most +important--that is, our personality, our individuality. Some, +you see, maintain that this really is the most precious thing for +mankind; choice can, of course, if it chooses, be in agreement +with reason; and especially if this be not abused but kept within +bounds. It is profitable and some- times even praiseworthy. But +very often, and even most often, choice is utterly and stubbornly +opposed to reason ... and ... and ... do you know that that, too, +is profitable, sometimes even praiseworthy? Gentlemen, let us +suppose that man is not stupid. (Indeed one cannot refuse to +suppose that, if only from the one consideration, that, if man is +stupid, then who is wise?) But if he is not stupid, he is +monstrously ungrateful! Phenomenally ungrateful. In fact, I +believe that the best definition of man is the ungrateful biped. +But that is not all, that is not his worst defect; his worst +defect is his perpetual moral obliquity, perpetual--from the days +of the Flood to the Schleswig-Holstein period. Moral obliquity +and consequently lack of good sense; for it has long been +accepted that lack of good sense is due to no other cause than +moral obliquity. Put it to the test and cast your eyes upon the +history of mankind. What will you see? Is it a grand spectacle? + Grand, if you like. Take the Colossus of Rhodes, for instance, +that's worth something. With good reason Mr. Anaevsky testifies +of it that some say that it is the work of man's hands, while +others maintain that it has been created by nature herself. Is +it many-coloured? May be it is many-coloured, too: if one takes +the dress uniforms, military and civilian, of all peoples in all +ages--that alone is worth something, and if you take the undress +uniforms you will never get to the end of it; no historian would +be equal to the job. Is it monotonous? May be it's monotonous +too: it's fighting and fighting; they are fighting now, they +fought first and they fought last--you will admit, that it is +almost too monotonous. In short, one may say anything about the +history of the world--anything that might enter the most +disordered imagination. The only thing one can't say is that +it's rational. The very word sticks in one's throat. And, +indeed, this is the odd thing that is continually happening: +there are continually turning up in life moral and rational +persons, sages and lovers of humanity who make it their object to +live all their lives as morally and rationally as possible, to +be, so to speak, a light to their neighbours simply in order to +show them that it is possible to live morally and rationally in +this world. And yet we all know that those very people sooner or +later have been false to themselves, playing some queer trick, +often a most unseemly one. Now I ask you: what can be expected +of man since he is a being endowed with strange qualities? +Shower upon him every earthly blessing, drown him in a sea of +happiness, so that nothing but bubbles of bliss can be seen on +the surface; give him economic prosperity, such that he should +have nothing else to do but sleep, eat cakes and busy himself +with the continuation of his species, and even then out of sheer +ingratitude, sheer spite, man would play you some nasty trick. +He would even risk his cakes and would deliberately desire the +most fatal rubbish, the most uneconomical absurdity, simply to +introduce into all this positive good sense his fatal fantastic +element. It is just his fantastic dreams, his vulgar folly that +he will desire to retain, simply in order to prove to himself--as +though that were so necessary--that men still are men and not the +keys of a piano, which the laws of nature threaten to control so +completely that soon one will be able to desire nothing but by +the calendar. And that is not all: even if man really were +nothing but a piano-key, even if this were proved to him by +natural science and mathematics, even then he would not become +reasonable, but would purposely do something perverse out of +simple ingratitude, simply to gain his point. And if he does not +find means he will contrive destruction and chaos, will contrive +sufferings of all sorts, only to gain his point! He will launch +a curse upon the world, and as only man can curse (it is his +privilege, the primary distinction between him and other +animals), may be by his curse alone he will attain his +object--that is, convince himself that he is a man and not a +piano-key! If you say that all this, too, can be calculated and +tabulated--chaos and darkness and curses, so that the mere +possibility of calculating it all beforehand would stop it all, +and reason would reassert itself, then man would purposely go mad +in order to be rid of reason and gain his point! I believe in +it, I answer for it, for the whole work of man really seems to +consist in nothing but proving to himself every minute that he is +a man and not a piano-key! It may be at the cost of his skin, +it may be by cannibalism! And this being so, can one help being +tempted to rejoice that it has not yet come off, and that desire +still depends on something we don't know? + +You will scream at me (that is, if you condescend to do so) that +no one is touching my free will, that all they are concerned with +is that my will should of itself, of its own free will, coincide +with my own normal interests, with the laws of nature and +arithmetic. + +Good heavens, gentlemen, what sort of free will is left when we +come to tabulation and arithmetic, when it will all be a case of +twice two make four? Twice two makes four without my will. As +if free will meant that! + + +IX + +Gentlemen, I am joking, and I know myself that my jokes are not +brilliant,but you know one can take everything as a joke. I am, +perhaps, jesting against the grain. Gentlemen, I am tormented by +questions; answer them for me. You, for instance, want to cure +men of their old habits and reform their will in accordance with +science and good sense. But how do you know, not only that it is +possible, but also that it is _desirable_ to reform man in that +way? And what leads you to the conclusion that man's +inclinations _need_ reforming? In short, how do you know that +such a reformation will be a benefit to man? And to go to the +root of the matter, why are you so positively convinced that not +to act against his real normal interests guaranteed by the +conclusions of reason and arithmetic is certainly always +advantageous for man and must always be a law for mankind? So +far, you know, this is only your supposition. It may be the law +of logic, but not the law of humanity. You think, gentlemen, +perhaps that I am mad? Allow me to defend myself. I agree that +man is pre-eminently a creative animal, predestined to strive +consciously for an object and to engage in engineering--that is, +incessantly and eternally to make new roads, _wherever they may +lead_. But the reason why he wants sometimes to go off at a +tangent may just be that he is _predestined_ to make the road, +and perhaps, too, that however stupid the "direct" practical man +may be, the thought sometimes will occur to him that the road +almost always does lead _somewhere_, and that the destination it +leads to is less important than the process of making it, and +that the chief thing is to save the well-conducted child from +despising engineering, and so giving way to the fatal idleness, +which, as we all know, is the mother of all the vices. Man likes +to make roads and to create, that is a fact beyond dispute. But +why has he such a passionate love for destruction and chaos also? +Tell me that! But on that point I want to say a couple of words +myself. May it not be that he loves chaos and destruction (there +can be no disputing that he does sometimes love it) because he is +instinctively afraid of attaining his object and completing the +edifice he is constructing? Who knows, perhaps he only loves +that edifice from a distance, and is by no means in love with it +at close quarters; perhaps he only loves building it and does not +want to live in it, but will leave it, when completed, for the +use of les animaux domestiques--such as the ants, the sheep, and +so on. Now the ants have quite a different taste. They have a +marvellous edifice of that pattern which endures for ever--the +ant-heap. + +With the ant-heap the respectable race of ants began and with the +ant-heap they will probably end, which does the greatest credit +to their perseverance and good sense. But man is a frivolous and +incongruous creature, and perhaps, like a chess player, loves the +process of the game, not the end of it. And who knows (there is +no saying with certainty), perhaps the only goal on earth to +which mankind is striving lies in this incessant process of +attaining, in other words, in life itself, and not in the thing +to be attained, which must always be expressed as a formula, as +positive as twice two makes four, and such positiveness is not +life, gentlemen, but is the beginning of death. Anyway, man has +always been afraid of this mathematical certainty, and I am +afraid of it now. Granted that man does nothing but seek that +mathematical certainty, he traverses oceans, sacrifices his life +in the quest, but to succeed, really to find it, dreads, I assure +you. He feels that when he has found it there will be nothing +for him to look for. When workmen have finished their work they +do at least receive their pay, they go to the tavern, then they +are taken to the police-station--and there is occupation for a +week. But where can man go? Anyway, one can observe a certain +awkwardness about him when he has attained such objects. He +loves the process of attaining, but does not quite like to have +attained, and that, of course, is very absurd. In fact, man is a +comical creature; there seems to be a kind of jest in it all. +But yet mathematical certainty is after all, something +insufferable. Twice two makes four seems to me simply a piece of +insolence. Twice two makes four is a pert coxcomb who stands +with arms akimbo barring your path and spitting. I admit that +twice two makes four is an excellent thing, but if we are to give +everything its due, twice two makes five is sometimes a very +charming thing too. + +And why are you so firmly, so triumphantly, convinced that only +the normal and the positive--in other words, only what is +conducive to welfare--is for the advantage of man? Is not reason +in error as regards advantage? Does not man, perhaps, love +something besides well-being? Perhaps he is just as fond of +suffering? Perhaps suffering is just as great a benefit to him +as well-being? Man is sometimes extraordinarily, passionately, +in love with suffering, and that is a fact. There is no need to +appeal to universal history to prove that; only ask yourself, if +you are a man and have lived at all. As far as my personal +opinion is concerned, to care only for well-being seems to me +positively ill-bred. Whether it's good or bad, it is sometimes +very pleasant, too, to smash things. I hold no brief for +suffering nor for well-being either. I am standing for ... my +caprice, and for its being guaranteed to me when necessary. +Suffering would be out of place in vaudevilles, for instance; I +know that. In the "Palace of Crystal" it is unthinkable; +suffering means doubt, negation, and what would be the good of a +"palace of crystal" if there could be any doubt about it? And +yet I think man will never renounce real suffering, that is, +destruction and chaos. Why, suffering is the sole origin of +consciousness. Though I did lay it down at the beginning that +consciousness is the greatest misfortune for man, yet I know man +prizes it and would not give it up for any satisfaction. +Consciousness, for instance, is infinitely superior to twice two +makes four. Once you have mathematical certainty there is +nothing left to do or to understand. There will be nothing left +but to bottle up your five senses and plunge into contemplation. +While if you stick to consciousness, even though the same result +is attained, you can at least flog yourself at times, and that +will, at any rate, liven you up. Reactionary as it is, corporal +punishment is better than nothing. + + +X + +You believe in a palace of crystal that can never be destroyed--a +palace at which one will not be able to put out one's tongue or +make a long nose on the sly. And perhaps that is just why I am +afraid of this edifice, that it is of crystal and can never be +destroyed and that one cannot put one's tongue out at it even on +the sly. + +You see, if it were not a palace, but a hen-house, I might creep +into it to avoid getting wet, and yet I would not call the +hen-house a palace out of gratitude to it for keeping me dry. +You laugh and say that in such circumstances a hen-house is as +good as a mansion. Yes, I answer, if one had to live simply to +keep out of the rain. + +But what is to be done if I have taken it into my head that that +is not the only object in life, and that if one must live one had +better live in a mansion? That is my choice, my desire. You +will only eradicate it when you have changed my preference. +Well, do change it, allure me with something else, give me +another ideal. But meanwhile I will not take a hen-house for a +mansion. The palace of crystal may be an idle dream, it may be +that it is inconsistent with the laws of nature and that I have +invented it only through my own stupidity, through the +old-fashioned irrational habits of my generation. But what does +it matter to me that it is inconsistent? That makes no +difference since it exists in my desires, or rather exists as +long as my desires exist. Perhaps you are laughing again? Laugh +away; I will put up with any mockery rather than pretend that I +am satisfied when I am hungry. I know, anyway, that I will not +be put off with a compromise, with a recurring zero, simply +because it is consistent with the laws of nature and actually +exists. I will not accept as the crown of my desires a block of +buildings with tenements for the poor on a lease of a thousand +years, and perhaps with a sign-board of a dentist hanging out. +Destroy my desires, eradicate my ideals, show me something +better, and I will follow you. You will say, perhaps, that it is +not worth your trouble; but in that case I can give you the same +answer. We are discussing things seriously; but if you won't +deign to give me your attention, I will drop your acquaintance. +I can retreat into my underground hole. + +But while I am alive and have desires I would rather my hand were +withered off than bring one brick to such a building! Don't +remind me that I have just rejected the palace of crystal for the +sole reason that one cannot put out one's tongue at it. I did +not say because I am so fond of putting my tongue out. Perhaps +the thing I resented was, that of all your edifices there has not +been one at which one could not put out one's tongue. On the +contrary, I would let my tongue be cut off out of gratitude if +things could be so arranged that I should lose all desire to put +it out. It is not my fault that things cannot be so arranged, +and that one must be satisfied with model flats. Then why am I +made with such desires? Can I have been constructed simply in +order to come to the conclusion that all my construction is a +cheat? Can this be my whole purpose? I do not believe it. + +But do you know what: I am convinced that we underground folk +ought to be kept on a curb. Though we may sit forty years +underground without speaking, when we do come out into the light +of day and break out we talk and talk and talk.... + + +XI + +The long and the short of it is, gentlemen, that it is better to +do nothing! Better conscious inertia! And so hurrah for +underground! Though I have said that I envy the normal man to +the last drop of my bile, yet I should not care to be in his +place such as he is now (though I shall not cease envying him). +No, no; anyway the underground life is more advantageous. There, +at any rate, one can ... Oh, but even now I am lying! I am +lying because I know myself that it is not underground that is +better, but something different, quite different, for which I am +thirsting, but which I cannot find! Damn underground! + +I will tell you another thing that would be better, and that is, +if I myself believed in anything of what I have just written. I +swear to you, gentle- men, there is not one thing, not one word +of what I have written that I really believe. That is, I believe +it, perhaps, but at the same time I feel and suspect that I am +lying like a cobbler. + +"Then why have you written all this?" you will say to me. "I +ought to put you underground for forty years without anything to +do and then come to you in your cellar, to find out what stage +you have reached! How can a man be left with nothing to do for +forty years?" + +"Isn't that shameful, isn't that humiliating?" you will say, +perhaps, wagging your heads contemptuously. "You thirst for life +and try to settle the problems of life by a logical tangle. And +how persistent, how insolent are your sallies, and at the same +time what a scare you are in! You talk nonsense and are pleased +with it; you say impudent things and are in continual alarm and +apologising for them. You declare that you are afraid of nothing +and at the same time try to ingratiate yourself in our good +opinion. You declare that you are gnashing your teeth and at the +same time you try to be witty so as to amuse us. You know that +your witticisms are not witty, but you are evidently well +satisfied with their literary value. You may, perhaps, have +really suffered, but you have no respect for your own suffering. +You may have sincerity, but you have no modesty; out of the +pettiest vanity you expose your sincerity to publicity and +ignominy. You doubtlessly mean to say something, but hide your +last word through fear, because you have not the resolution to +utter it, and only have a cowardly impudence. You boast of +consciousness, but you are not sure of your ground, for though +your mind works, yet your heart is darkened and corrupt, and you +cannot have a full, genuine consciousness without a pure heart. +And how intrusive you are, how you insist and grimace! Lies, +lies, lies!" + +Of course I have myself made up all the things you say. That, +too, is from underground. I have been for forty years listening +to you through a crack under the floor. I have invented them +myself, there was nothing else I could invent. It is no wonder +that I have learned it by heart and it has taken a literary +form.... + +But can you really be so credulous as to think that I will print +all this and give it to you to read too? And another problem: +why do I call you "gentlemen," why do I address you as though you +really were my readers? Such confessions as I intend to make are +never printed nor given to other people to read. Anyway, I am +not strong-minded enough for that, and I don't see why I should +be. But you see a fancy has occurred to me and I want to realise +it at all costs. Let me explain. + +Every man has reminiscences which he would not tell to everyone, +but only to his friends. He has other matters in his mind which +he would not reveal even to his friends, but only to himself, and +that in secret. But there are other things which a man is afraid +to tell even to himself, and every decent man has a number of +such things stored away in his mind. The more decent he is, the +greater the number of such things in his mind. Anyway, I have +only lately determined to remember some of my early adventures. +Till now I have always avoided them, even with a certain +uneasiness. Now, when I am not only recalling them, but have +actually decided to write an account of them, I want to try the +experiment whether one can, even with oneself, be perfectly open +and not take fright at the whole truth. I will observe, in +parenthesis, that Heine says that a true autobiography is almost +an impossibility, and that man is bound to lie about himself. He +considers that Rousseau certainly told lies about himself in his +confessions, and even intentionally lied, out of vanity. I am +convinced that Heine is right; I quite understand how sometimes +one may, out of sheer vanity, attribute regular crimes to +oneself, and indeed I can very well conceive that kind of vanity. +But Heine judged of people who made their confessions to the +public. I write only for myself, and I wish to declare once and +for all that if I write as though I were addressing readers, that +is simply because it is easier for me to write in that form. It +is a form, an empty form--I shall never have readers. I have +made this plain already ... + +I don't wish to be hampered by any restrictions in the +compilation of my notes. I shall not attempt any system or +method. I will jot things down as I remember them. + +But here, perhaps, someone will catch at the word and ask me: if +you really don't reckon on readers, why do you make such compacts +with yourself--and on paper too--that is, that you won't attempt +any system or method, that you jot things down as you remember +them, and so on, and so on? Why are you explaining? Why do you +apologise? + +"Well, there it is," I answer. + +There is a whole psychology in all this, though. Perhaps it is +simply that I am a coward. And perhaps that I purposely imagine +an audience before me in order that I may be more dignified while +I write. There are perhaps thousands of reasons. Again, what is +my object precisely in writing? If it is not for the benefit of +the public why should I not simply recall these incidents in my +own mind without putting them on paper? + +Quite so; but yet it is more imposing on paper. There is +something more impressive in it; I shall be better able to +criticise myself and improve my style. Besides, I shall perhaps +obtain actual relief from writing. Today, for instance, I am +particularly oppressed by one memory of a distant past. It came +back vividly to my mind a few days ago, and has remained haunting +me like an annoying tune that one cannot get rid of. And yet I +must get rid of it somehow. I have hundreds of such +reminiscences; but at times some one stands out from the hundred +and oppresses me. For some reason I believe that if I write it +down I should get rid of it. Why not try? + +Besides, I am bored, and I never have anything to do. Writing +will be a sort of work. They say work makes man kind-hearted and +honest. Well, here is a chance for me, anyway. + +Snow is falling today, yellow and dingy. It fell yesterday, too, +and a few days ago. I fancy it is the wet snow that has reminded +me of that incident which I cannot shake off now. And so let it +be a story a propos of the falling snow. + + +PART II + +A PROPOS OF THE WET SNOW + + When from dark error's subjugation + My words of passionate exhortation + Had wrenched thy fainting spirit free; + And writhing prone in thine affliction + Thou didst recall with malediction + The vice that had encompassed thee: + And when thy slumbering conscience, fretting + By recollection's torturing flame, + Thou didst reveal the hideous setting + Of thy life's current ere I came: + When suddenly I saw thee sicken, + And weeping, hide thine anguished face, + Revolted, maddened, horror-stricken, + At memories of foul disgrace. + +N.A.NEKRASSOV (translated by Juliet Soskice). + + +I + +At that time I was only twenty-four. My life was even then +gloomy, ill-regulated, and as solitary as that of a savage. I +made friends with no one and positively avoided talking, and +buried myself more and more in my hole. At work in the office I +never looked at anyone, and was perfectly well aware that my +companions looked upon me, not only as a queer fellow, but even +looked upon me--I always fancied this--with a sort of loathing. +I sometimes wondered why it was that nobody except me fancied +that he was looked upon with aversion? One of the clerks had a +most repulsive, pock-marked face, which looked positively +villainous. I believe I should not have dared to look at anyone +with such an unsightly countenance. Another had such a very +dirty old uniform that there was an unpleasant odour in his +proximity. Yet not one of these gentlemen showed the slightest +self-consciousness--either about their clothes or their +countenance or their character in any way. Neither of them ever +imagined that they were looked at with repulsion; if they had +imagined it they would not have minded--so long as their +superiors did not look at them in that way. It is clear to me +now that, owing to my unbounded vanity and to the high standard I +set for myself, I often looked at myself with furious discontent, +which verged on loathing, and so I inwardly attributed the same +feeling to everyone. I hated my face, for instance: I thought it +disgusting, and even suspected that there was something base in +my expression, and so every day when I turned up at the office I +tried to behave as independently as possible, and to assume a +lofty expression, so that I might not be suspected of being +abject. "My face may be ugly," I thought, "but let it be lofty, +expressive, and, above all, _extremely_ intelligent." But I was +positively and painfully certain that it was impossible for my +countenance ever to express those qualities. And what was worst +of all, I thought it actually stupid looking, and I would have +been quite satisfied if I could have looked intelligent. In +fact, I would even have put up with looking base if, at the same +time, my face could have been thought strikingly intelligent. + +Of course, I hated my fellow clerks one and all, and I despised +them all, yet at the same time I was, as it were, afraid of them. +In fact, it happened at times that I thought more highly of them +than of myself. It somehow happened quite suddenly that I +alternated between despising them and thinking them superior to +myself. A cultivated and decent man cannot be vain without +setting a fearfully high standard for himself, and without +despising and almost hating himself at certain moments. But +whether I despised them or thought them superior I dropped my +eyes almost every time I met anyone. I even made experiments +whether I could face so and so's looking at me, and I was always +the first to drop my eyes. This worried me to distraction. I +had a sickly dread, too, of being ridiculous, and so had a +slavish passion for the conventional in everything external. I +loved to fall into the common rut, and had a whole-hearted terror +of any kind of eccentricity in myself. But how could I live up +to it? I was morbidly sensitive as a man of our age should be. +They were all stupid, and as like one another as so many sheep. +Perhaps I was the only one in the office who fancied that I was a +coward and a slave, and I fancied it just because I was more +highly developed. But it was not only that I fancied it, it +really was so. I was a coward and a slave. I say this without +the slightest embarrassment. Every decent man of our age must be +a coward and a slave. That is his normal condition. Of that I +am firmly persuaded. He is made and constructed to that very +end. And not only at the present time owing to some casual +circumstances, but always, at all times, a decent man is bound to +be a coward and a slave. It is the law of nature for all decent +people all over the earth. If anyone of them happens to be +valiant about something, he need not be comforted nor carried +away by that; he would show the white feather just the same +before something else. That is how it invariably and inevitably +ends. Only donkeys and mules are valiant, and they only till +they are pushed up to the wall. It is not worth while to pay +attention to them for they really are of no consequence. + +Another circumstance, too, worried me in those days: that there +was no one like me and I was unlike anyone else. "I am alone and +they are _everyone_," I thought--and pondered. + +From that it is evident that I was still a youngster. + +The very opposite sometimes happened. It was loathsome sometimes +to go to the office; things reached such a point that I often +came home ill. But all at once, a propos of nothing, there would +come a phase of scepticism and indifference (everything happened +in phases to me), and I would laugh myself at my intolerance and +fastidiousness, I would reproach myself with being _romantic_. +At one time I was unwilling to speak to anyone, while at other +times I would not only talk, but go to the length of +contemplating making friends with them. All my fastidiousness +would suddenly, for no rhyme or reason, vanish. Who knows, +perhaps I never had really had it, and it had simply been +affected, and got out of books. I have not decided that question +even now. Once I quite made friends with them, visited their +homes, played preference, drank vodka, talked of promotions.... +But here let me make a digression. + +We Russians, speaking generally, have never had those foolish +transcendental "romantics"--German, and still more French--on +whom nothing produces any effect; if there were an earthquake, if +all France perished at the barricades, they would still be the +same, they would not even have the decency to affect a change, +but would still go on singing their transcendental songs to the +hour of their death, because they are fools. We, in Russia, have +no fools; that is well known. That is what distinguishes us from +foreign lands. Consequently these transcendental natures are not +found amongst us in their pure form. The idea that they are is +due to our "realistic" journalists and critics of that day, +always on the look out for Kostanzhoglos and Uncle Pyotr +Ivanitchs and foolishly accepting them as our ideal; they have +slandered our romantics, taking them for the same transcendental +sort as in Germany or France. On the contrary, the +characteristics of our "romantics" are absolutely and directly +opposed to the transcendental European type, and no European +standard can be applied to them. (Allow me to make use of this +word "romantic"-an old-fashioned and much respected word which +has done good service and is familiar to all.) The +characteristics of our romantic are to understand everything, _to +see everything and to see it often incomparably more clearly than +our most realistic minds see it_; to refuse to accept anyone or +anything, but at the same time not to despise anything; to give +way, to yield, from policy; never to lose sight of a useful +practical object (such as rent-free quarters at the government +expense, pensions, decorations), to keep their eye on that object +through all the enthusiasms and volumes of lyrical poems, and at +the same time to preserve "the sublime and the beautiful" +inviolate within them to the hour of their death, and to preserve +themselves also, incidentally, like some precious jewel wrapped +in cotton wool if only for the benefit of "the sublime and the +beautiful." Our "romantic" is a man of great breadth and the +greatest rogue of all our rogues, I assure you.... I can assure +you from experience, indeed. Of course, that is, if he is +intelligent. But what am I saying! The romantic is always +intelligent, and I only meant to observe that although we have +had foolish romantics they don't count, and they were only so +because in the flower of their youth they degenerated into +Germans, and to preserve their precious jewel more comfortably, +settled somewhere out there--by preference in Weimar or the Black +Forest. I, for instance, genuinely despised my official work and +did not openly abuse it simply because I was in it myself and got +a salary for it. Anyway, take note, I did not openly abuse it. +Our romantic would rather go out of his mind--a thing, however, +which very rarely happens--than take to open abuse, unless he had +some other career in view; and he is never kicked out. At most, +they would take him to the lunatic asylum as "the King of Spain" +if he should go very mad. But it is only the thin, fair people +who go out of their minds in Russia. Innumerable "romantics" +attain later in life to considerable rank in the service. Their +many-sidedness is remarkable! And what a faculty they have for +the most contradictory sensations! I was comforted by this +thought even in those days, and I am of the same opinion now. +That is why there are so many "broad natures" among us who never +lose their ideal even in the depths of degradation; and though +they never stir a finger for their ideal, though they are arrant +thieves and knaves, yet they tearfully cherish their first ideal +and are extraordinarily honest at heart. Yes, it is only among +us that the most incorrigible rogue can be absolutely and loftily +honest at heart without in the least ceasing to be a rogue. I +repeat, our romantics, frequently, become such accomplished +rascals (I use the term "rascals" affectionately), suddenly +display such a sense of reality and practical knowledge that +their bewildered superiors and the public generally can only +ejaculate in amazement. + +Their many-sidedness is really amazing, and goodness knows what +it may develop into later on, and what the future has in store +for us. It is not a poor material! I do not say this from any +foolish or boastful patriotism. But I feel sure that you are +again imagining that I am joking. Or perhaps it's just the +contrary and you are convinced that I really think so. Anyway, +gentlemen, I shall welcome both views as an honour and a special +favour. And do forgive my digression. + +I did not, of course, maintain friendly relations with my +comrades and soon was at loggerheads with them, and in my youth +and inexperience I even gave up bowing to them, as though I had +cut off all relations. That, however, only happened to me once. +As a rule, I was always alone. + +In the first place I spent most of my time at home, reading. I +tried to stifle all that was continually seething within me by +means of external impressions. And the only external means I had +was reading. Reading, of course, was a great help--exciting me, +giving me pleasure and pain. But at times it bored me fearfully. +One longed for movement in spite of everything, and I plunged all +at once into dark, underground, loathsome vice of the pettiest +kind. My wretched passions were acute, smarting, from my +continual, sickly irritability I had hysterical impulses, with +tears and convulsions. I had no resource except reading, that +is, there was nothing in my surroundings which I could respect +and which attracted me. I was overwhelmed with depression, too; I +had an hysterical craving for incongruity and for contrast, and +so I took to vice. I have not said all this to justify +myself.... But, no! I am lying. I did want to justify myself. +I make that little observation for my own benefit, gentlemen. I +don't want to lie. I vowed to myself I would not. + +And so, furtively, timidly, in solitude, at night, I indulged in +filthy vice, with a feeling of shame which never deserted me, +even at the most loathsome moments, and which at such moments +nearly made me curse. Already even then I had my underground +world in my soul. I was fearfully afraid of being seen, of being +met, of being recognised. I visited various obscure haunts. + +One night as I was passing a tavern I saw through a lighted +window some gentlemen fighting with billiard cues, and saw one of +them thrown out of the window. At other times I should have felt +very much disgusted, but I was in such a mood at the time, that I +actually envied the gentleman thrown out of the window--and I +envied him so much that I even went into the tavern and into the +billiard-room. "Perhaps," I thought, "I'll have a fight, too, +and they'll throw me out of the window." + +I was not drunk--but what is one to do--depression will drive a +man to such a pitch of hysteria! But nothing happened. It +seemed that I was not even equal to being thrown out of the +window and I went away without having my fight. + +An officer put me in my place from the first moment. + +I was standing by the billiard-table and in my ignorance blocking +up the way, and he wanted to pass; he took me by the shoulders +and without a word--without a warning or explanation--moved me +from where I was standing to another spot and passed by as though +he had not noticed me. I could have forgiven blows, but I could +not forgive his having moved me without noticing me. + +Devil knows what I would have given for a real regular quarrel--a +more decent, a more _literary_ one, so to speak. I had been +treated like a fly. This officer was over six foot, while I was +a spindly little fellow. But the quarrel was in my hands. I had +only to protest and I certainly would have been thrown out of the +window. But I changed my mind and preferred to beat a resentful +retreat. + +I went out of the tavern straight home, confused and troubled, +and the next night I went out again with the same lewd +intentions, still more furtively, abjectly and miserably than +before, as it were, with tears in my eyes--but still I did go out +again. Don't imagine, though, it was cowardice made me slink +away from the officer; I never have been a coward at heart, +though I have always been a coward in action. Don't be in a +hurry to laugh--I assure you I can explain it all. + +Oh, if only that officer had been one of the sort who would +consent to fight a duel! But no, he was one of those gentlemen +(alas, long extinct!) who preferred fighting with cues or, like +Gogol's Lieutenant Pirogov, appealing to the police. They did +not fight duels and would have thought a duel with a civilian +like me an utterly unseemly procedure in any case--and they +looked upon the duel altogether as something impossible, +something free-thinking and French. But they were quite ready to +bully, especially when they were over six foot. + +I did not slink away through cowardice, but through an unbounded +vanity. I was afraid not of his six foot, not of getting a sound +thrashing and being thrown out of the window; I should have had +physical courage enough, I assure you; but I had not the moral +courage. What I was afraid of was that everyone present, from +the insolent marker down to the lowest little stinking, pimply +clerk in a greasy collar, would jeer at me and fail to understand +when I began to protest and to address them in literary language. +For of the point of honour--not of honour, but of the point of +honour (point d'honneur)--one cannot speak among us except in +literary language. You can't allude to the "point of honour" in +ordinary language. I was fully convinced (the sense of reality, +in spite of all my romanticism!) that they would all simply split +their sides with laughter, and that the officer would not simply +beat me, that is, without insulting me, but would certainly prod +me in the back with his knee, kick me round the billiard- table, +and only then perhaps have pity and drop me out of the window. +Of course, this trivial incident could not with me end in that. +I often met that officer afterwards in the street and noticed him +very carefully. I am not quite sure whether he recognised me, I +imagine not; I judge from certain signs. But I--I stared at him +with spite and hatred and so it went on ... for several years! +My resentment grew even deeper with years. At first I began +making stealthy inquiries about this officer. It was difficult +for me to do so, for I knew no one. But one day I heard someone +shout his surname in the street as I was following him at a +distance, as though I were tied to him--and so I learnt his +surname. Another time I followed him to his flat, and for ten +kopecks learned from the porter where he lived, on which storey, +whether he lived alone or with others, and so on--in fact, +everything one could learn from a porter. One morning, though I +had never tried my hand with the pen, it suddenly occurred to me +to write a satire on this officer in the form of a novel which +would unmask his villainy. I wrote the novel with relish. I did +unmask his villainy, I even exaggerated it; at first I so altered +his surname that it could easily be recognised, but on second +thoughts I changed it, and sent the story to the Otetchestvenniya +Zapiski. But at that time such attacks were not the fashion and +my story was not printed. That was a great vexation to me. +Sometimes I was positively choked with resentment. At last I +determined to challenge my enemy to a duel. I composed a +splendid, charming letter to him, imploring him to apologise to +me, and hinting rather plainly at a duel in case of refusal. The +letter was so composed that if the officer had had the least +understanding of the sublime and the beautiful he would certainly +have flung himself on my neck and have offered me his friendship. +And how fine that would have been! How we should have got on +together! He could have shielded me with his higher rank, while +I could have improved his mind with my culture, and, well ... my +ideas, and all sorts of things might have happened. Only fancy, +this was two years after his insult to me, and my challenge would +have been a ridiculous anachronism, in spite of all the ingenuity +of my letter in disguising and explaining away the anachronism. +But, thank God (to this day I thank the Almighty with tears in my +eyes) I did not send the letter to him. Cold shivers run down my +back when I think of what might have happened if I had sent it. +And all at once I revenged myself in the simplest way, by a +stroke of genius! A brilliant thought suddenly dawned upon me. +Sometimes on holidays I used to stroll along the sunny side of +the Nevsky about four o'clock in the afternoon. Though it was +hardly a stroll so much as a series of innumerable miseries, +humiliations and resentments; but no doubt that was just what I +wanted. I used to wriggle along in a most unseemly fashion, like +an eel, continually moving aside to make way for generals, for +officers of the guards and the hussars, or for ladies. At such +minutes there used to be a convulsive twinge at my heart, and I +used to feel hot all down my back at the mere thought of the +wretchedness of my attire, of the wretchedness and abjectness of +my little scurrying figure. This was a regular martyrdom, a +continual, intolerable humiliation at the thought, which passed +into an incessant and direct sensation, that I was a mere fly in +the eyes of all this world, a nasty, disgusting fly--more +intelligent, more highly developed, more refined in feeling than +any of them, of course--but a fly that was continually making way +for everyone, insulted and injured by everyone. Why I inflicted +this torture upon myself, why I went to the Nevsky, I don't know. +I felt simply drawn there at every possible opportunity. + +Already then I began to experience a rush of the enjoyment of +which I spoke in the first chapter. After my affair with the +officer I felt even more drawn there than before: it was on the +Nevsky that I met him most frequently, there I could admire him. +He, too, went there chiefly on holidays, He, too, turned out of +his path for generals and persons of high rank, and he too, +wriggled between them like an eel; but people, like me, or even +better dressed than me, he simply walked over; he made straight +for them as though there was nothing but empty space before him, +and never, under any circumstances, turned aside. I gloated over +my resentment watching him and ... always resentfully made way +for him. It exasperated me that even in the street I could not +be on an even footing with him. + +"Why must you invariably be the first to move aside?" I kept +asking myself in hysterical rage, waking up sometimes at three +o'clock in the morning. "Why is it you and not he? There's no +regulation about it; there's no written law. Let the making way +be equal as it usually is when refined people meet; he moves +half-way and you move half-way; you pass with mutual respect." + +But that never happened, and I always moved aside, while he did +not even notice my making way for him. And lo and behold a +bright idea dawned upon me! "What," I thought, "if I meet him +and don't move on one side? What if I don't move aside on +purpose, even if I knock up against him? How would that be?" +This audacious idea took such a hold on me that it gave me no +peace. I was dreaming of it continually, horribly, and I +purposely went more frequently to the Nevsky in order to picture +more vividly how I should do it when I did do it. I was +delighted. This intention seemed to me more and more practical +and possible. + +"Of course I shall not really push him," I thought, already more +good-natured in my joy. "I will simply not turn aside, will run +up against him, not very violently, but just shouldering each +other--just as much as decency permits. I will push against him +just as much as he pushes against me." At last I made up my mind +completely. But my preparations took a great deal of time. To +begin with, when I carried out my plan I should need to be +looking rather more decent, and so I had to think of my get-up. +"In case of emergency, if, for instance, there were any sort of +public scandal (and the public there is of the most recherche: +the Countess walks there; Prince D. walks there; all the literary +world is there), I must be well dressed; that inspires respect +and of itself puts us on an equal footing in the eyes of the +society." + +With this object I asked for some of my salary in advance, and +bought at Tchurkin's a pair of black gloves and a decent hat. +Black gloves seemed to me both more dignified and bon ton than +the lemon-coloured ones which I had contemplated at first. "The +colour is too gaudy, it looks as though one were trying to be +conspicuous," and I did not take the lemon-coloured ones. I had +got ready long beforehand a good shirt, with white bone studs; my +overcoat was the only thing that held me back. The coat in +itself was a very good one, it kept me warm; but it was wadded +and it had a raccoon collar which was the height of vulgarity. I +had to change the collar at any sacrifice, and to have a beaver +one like an officer's. For this purpose I began visiting the +Gostiny Dvor and after several attempts I pitched upon a piece of +cheap German beaver. Though these German beavers soon grow +shabby and look wretched, yet at first they look exceedingly +well, and I only needed it for the occasion. I asked the price; +even so, it was too expensive. After thinking it over thoroughly +I decided to sell my raccoon collar. The rest of the money--a +considerable sum for me, I decided to borrow from Anton Antonitch +Syetotchkin, my immediate superior, an unassuming person, though +grave and judicious. He never lent money to anyone, but I had, +on entering the service, been specially recommended to him by an +important personage who had got me my berth. I was horribly +worried. To borrow from Anton Antonitch seemed to me monstrous +and shameful. I did not sleep for two or three nights. Indeed, +I did not sleep well at that time, I was in a fever; I had a +vague sinking at my heart or else a sudden throbbing, throbbing, +throbbing! Anton Antonitch was surprised at first, then he +frowned, then he reflected, and did after all lend me the money, +receiving from me a written authorisation to take from my salary +a fortnight later the sum that he had lent me. In this way +everything was at last ready. The handsome beaver replaced the +mean-looking raccoon, and I began by degrees to get to work. It +would never have done to act offhand, at random; the plan had to +be carried out skilfully, by degrees. But I must confess that +after many efforts I began to despair: we simply could not run +into each other. I made every preparation, I was quite +determined--it seemed as though we should run into one another +directly--and before I knew what I was doing I had stepped aside +for him again and he had passed without noticing me. I even +prayed as I approached him that God would grant me determination. +One time I had made up my mind thoroughly, but it ended in my +stumbling and falling at his feet because at the very last +instant when I was six inches from him my courage failed me. He +very calmly stepped over me, while I flew on one side like a +ball. That night I was ill again, feverish and delirious. And +suddenly it ended most happily. The night before I had made up +my mind not to carry out my fatal plan and to abandon it all, and +with that object I went to the Nevsky for the last time, just to +see how I would abandon it all. Suddenly, three paces from my +enemy, I unexpectedly made up my mind--I closed my eyes, and we +ran full tilt, shoulder to shoulder, against one another! I did +not budge an inch and passed him on a perfectly equal footing! +He did not even look round and pretended not to notice it; but he +was only pretending, I am convinced of that. I am convinced of +that to this day! Of course, I got the worst of it--he was +stronger, but that was not the point. The point was that I had +attained my object, I had kept up my dignity, I had not yielded a +step, and had put myself publicly on an equal social footing with +him. I returned home feeling that I was fully avenged for +everything. I was delighted. I was triumphant and sang Italian +arias. Of course, I will not describe to you what happened to me +three days later; if you have read my first chapter you can guess +for yourself. The officer was afterwards transferred; I have not +seen him now for fourteen years. What is the dear fellow doing +now? Whom is he walking over? + + +II + +But the period of my dissipation would end and I always felt very +sick afterwards. It was followed by remorse--I tried to drive it +away; I felt too sick. By degrees, however, I grew used to that +too. I grew used to everything, or rather I voluntarily resigned +myself to enduring it. But I had a means of escape that +reconciled everything--that was to find refuge in "the sublime +and the beautiful," in dreams, of course. I was a terrible +dreamer, I would dream for three months on end, tucked away in my +corner, and you may believe me that at those moments I had no +resemblance to the gentleman who, in the perturbation of his +chicken heart, put a collar of German beaver on his great-coat. +I suddenly became a hero. I would not have admitted my six-foot +lieutenant even if he had called on me. I could not even picture +him before me then. What were my dreams and how I could satisfy +myself with them--it is hard to say now, but at the time I was +satisfied with them. Though, indeed, even now, I am to some +extent satisfied with them. Dreams were particularly sweet and +vivid after a spell of dissipation; they came with remorse and +with tears, with curses and transports. There were moments of +such positive intoxication, of such happiness, that there was not +the faintest trace of irony within me, on my honour. I had +faith, hope, love. I believed blindly at such times that by some +miracle, by some external circumstance, all this would suddenly +open out, expand; that suddenly a vista of suitable +activity--beneficent, good, and, above all, _ready made_ (what +sort of activity I had no idea, but the great thing was that it +should be all ready for me)--would rise up before me--and I +should come out into the light of day, almost riding a white +horse and crowned with laurel. Anything but the foremost place I +could not conceive for myself, and for that very reason I quite +contentedly occupied the lowest in reality. Either to be a hero +or to grovel in the mud--there was nothing between. That was my +ruin, for when I was in the mud I comforted myself with the +thought that at other times I was a hero, and the hero was a +cloak for the mud: for an ordinary man it was shameful to defile +himself, but a hero was too lofty to be utterly defiled, and so +he might defile himself. It is worth noting that these attacks of +the "sublime and the beautiful" visited me even during the period +of dissipation and just at the times when I was touching the +bottom. They came in separate spurts, as though reminding me of +themselves, but did not banish the dissipation by their +appearance. On the contrary, they seemed to add a zest to it by +contrast, and were only sufficiently present to serve as an +appetising sauce. That sauce was made up of contradictions and +sufferings, of agonising inward analysis, and all these pangs and +pin-pricks gave a certain piquancy, even a significance to my +dissipation--in fact, completely answered the purpose of an +appetising sauce. There was a certain depth of meaning in it. +And I could hardly have resigned myself to the simple, vulgar, +direct debauchery of a clerk and have endured all the filthiness +of it. What could have allured me about it then and have drawn +me at night into the street? No, I had a lofty way of getting +out of it all. + +And what loving-kindness, oh Lord, what loving-kindness I felt at +times in those dreams of mine! in those "flights into the +sublime and the beautiful"; though it was fantastic love, though +it was never applied to anything human in reality, yet there was +so much of this love that one did not feel afterwards even the +impulse to apply it in reality; that would have been superfluous. +Everything, however, passed satisfactorily by a lazy and +fascinating transition into the sphere of art, that is, into the +beautiful forms of life, lying ready, largely stolen from the +poets and novelists and adapted to all sorts of needs and uses. +I, for instance, was triumphant over everyone; everyone, of +course, was in dust and ashes, and was forced spontaneously to +recognise my superiority, and I forgave them all. I was a poet +and a grand gentleman, I fell in love; I came in for countless +millions and immediately devoted them to humanity, and at the +same time I confessed before all the people my shameful deeds, +which, of course, were not merely shameful, but had in them much +that was "sublime and beautiful" something in the Manfred style. +Everyone would kiss me and weep (what idiots they would be if +they did not), while I should go barefoot and hungry preaching +new ideas and fighting a victorious Austerlitz against the +obscurantists. Then the band would play a march, an amnesty +would be declared, the Pope would agree to retire from Rome to +Brazil; then there would be a ball for the whole of Italy at the +Villa Borghese on the shores of Lake Como, Lake Como being for +that purpose transferred to the neighbourhood of Rome; then would +come a scene in the bushes, and so on, and so on--as though you +did not know all about it? You will say that it is vulgar and +contemptible to drag all this into public after all the tears and +transports which I have myself confessed. But why is it +contemptible? Can you imagine that I am ashamed of it all, and +that it was stupider than anything in your life, gentlemen? And +I can assure you that some of these fancies were by no means +badly composed.... It did not all happen on the shores of Lake +Como. And yet you are right--it really is vulgar and +contemptible. And most contemptible of all it is that now I am +attempting to justify myself to you. And even more contemptible +than that is my making this remark now. But that's enough, or +there will be no end to it; each step will be more contemptible +than the last.... + +I could never stand more than three months of dreaming at a time +without feeling an irresistible desire to plunge into society. +To plunge into society meant to visit my superior at the office, +Anton Antonitch Syetotchkin. He was the only permanent +acquaintance I have had in my life, and I wonder at the fact +myself now. But I only went to see him when that phase came over +me, and when my dreams had reached such a point of bliss that it +became essential at once to embrace my fellows and all mankind; +and for that purpose I needed, at least, one human being, +actually existing. I had to call on Anton Antonitch, however, on +Tuesday--his at-home day; so I had always to time my passionate +desire to embrace humanity so that it might fall on a Tuesday. + +This Anton Antonitch lived on the fourth storey in a house in +Five Corners, in four low-pitched rooms, one smaller than the +other, of a particularly frugal and sallow appearance. He had +two daughters and their aunt, who used to pour out the tea. Of +the daughters one was thirteen and another fourteen, they both +had snub noses, and I was awfully shy of them because they were +always whispering and giggling together. The master of the house +usually sat in his study on a leather couch in front of the table +with some grey-headed gentleman, usually a colleague from our +office or some other department. I never saw more than two or +three visitors there, always the same. They talked about the +excise duty; about business in the senate, about salaries, about +promotions, about His Excellency, and the best means of pleasing +him, and so on. I had the patience to sit like a fool beside +these people for four hours at a stretch, listening to them +without knowing what to say to them or venturing to say a word. +I became stupefied, several times I felt myself perspiring, I was +overcome by a sort of paralysis; but this was pleasant and good +for me. On returning home I deferred for a time my desire to +embrace all mankind. + +I had however one other acquaintance of a sort, Simonov, who was +an old schoolfellow. I had a number of schoolfellows, indeed, in +Petersburg, but I did not associate with them and had even given +up nodding to them in the street. I believe I had transferred +into the department I was in simply to avoid their company and to +cut off all connection with my hateful childhood. Curses on that +school and all those terrible years of penal servitude! In +short, I parted from my schoolfellows as soon as I got out into +the world. There were two or three left to whom I nodded in the +street. One of them was Simonov, who had in no way been +distinguished at school, was of a quiet and equable disposition; +but I discovered in him a certain independence of character and +even honesty. I don't even suppose that he was particularly +stupid. I had at one time spent some rather soulful moments with +him, but these had not lasted long and had somehow been suddenly +clouded over. He was evidently uncomfortable at these +reminiscences, and was, I fancy, always afraid that I might take +up the same tone again. I suspected that he had an aversion for +me, but still I went on going to see him, not being quite certain +of it. + +And so on one occasion, unable to endure my solitude and knowing +that as it was Thursday Anton Antonitch's door would be closed, I +thought of Simonov. Climbing up to his fourth storey I was +thinking that the man disliked me and that it was a mistake to go +and see him. But as it always happened that such reflections +impelled me, as though purposely, to put myself into a false +position, I went in. It was almost a year since I had last seen +Simonov. + + +III + +I found two of my old schoolfellows with him. They seemed to be +discussing an important matter. All of them took scarcely any +notice of my entrance, which was strange, for I had not met them +for years. Evidently they looked upon me as something on the +level of a common fly. I had not been treated like that even at +school, though they all hated me. I knew, of course, that they +must despise me now for my lack of success in the service, and +for my having let myself sink so low, going about badly dressed +and so on--which seemed to them a sign of my incapacity and +insignificance. But I had not expected such contempt. Simonov +was positively surprised at my turning up. Even in old days he +had always seemed surprised at my coming. All this disconcerted +me: I sat down, feeling rather miserable, and began listening to +what they were saying. + +They were engaged in warm and earnest conversation about a +farewell dinner which they wanted to arrange for the next day to +a comrade of theirs called Zverkov, an officer in the army, who +was going away to a distant province. This Zverkov had been all +the time at school with me too. I had begun to hate him +particularly in the upper forms. In the lower forms he had +simply been a pretty, playful boy whom everybody liked. I had +hated him, however, even in the lower forms, just because he was +a pretty and playful boy. He was always bad at his lessons and +got worse and worse as he went on; however, he left with a good +certificate, as he had powerful interests. During his last year +at school he came in for an estate of two hundred serfs, and as +almost all of us were poor he took up a swaggering tone among us. +He was vulgar in the extreme, but at the same time he was a +good-natured fellow, even in his swaggering. In spite of +superficial, fantastic and sham notions of honour and dignity, +all but very few of us positively grovelled before Zverkov, and +the more so the more he swaggered. And it was not from any +interested motive that they grovelled, but simply because he had +been favoured by the gifts of nature. Moreover, it was, as it +were, an accepted idea among us that Zverkov was a specialist in +regard to tact and the social graces. This last fact +particularly infuriated me. I hated the abrupt self-confident +tone of his voice, his admiration of his own witticisms, which +were often frightfully stupid, though he was bold in his +language; I hated his handsome, but stupid face (for which I +would, however, have gladly exchanged my intelligent one), and +the free-and-easy military manners in fashion in the "'forties." +I hated the way in which he used to talk of his future conquests +of women (he did not venture to begin his attack upon women until +he had the epaulettes of an officer, and was looking forward to +them with impatience), and boasted of the duels he would +constantly be fighting. I remember how I, invariably so +taciturn, suddenly fastened upon Zverkov, when one day talking at +a leisure moment with his schoolfellows of his future relations +with the fair sex, and growing as sportive as a puppy in the sun, +he all at once declared that he would not leave a single village +girl on his estate unnoticed, that that was his droit de +seigneur, and that if the peasants dared to protest he would have +them all flogged and double the tax on them, the bearded rascals. +Our servile rabble applauded, but I attacked him, not from +compassion for the girls and their fathers, but simply because +they were applauding such an insect. I got the better of him on +that occasion, but though Zverkov was stupid he was lively and +impudent, and so laughed it off, and in such a way that my +victory was not really complete; the laugh was on his side. He +got the better of me on several occasions afterwards, but without +malice, jestingly, casually. I remained angrily and +contemptuously silent and would not answer him. When we left +school he made advances to me; I did not rebuff them, for I was +flattered, but we soon parted and quite naturally. Afterwards I +heard of his barrack-room success as a lieutenant, and of the +fast life he was leading. Then there came other rumours--of his +successes in the service. By then he had taken to cutting me in +the street, and I suspected that he was afraid of compromising +himself by greeting a personage as insignificant as me. I saw +him once in the theatre, in the third tier of boxes. By then he +was wearing shoulder-straps. He was twisting and twirling about, +ingratiating himself with the daughters of an ancient General. +In three years he had gone off considerably, though he was still +rather handsome and adroit. One could see that by the time he +was thirty he would be corpulent. So it was to this Zverkov that +my schoolfellows were going to give a dinner on his departure. +They had kept up with him for those three years, though privately +they did not consider themselves on an equal footing with him, I +am convinced of that. + +Of Simonov's two visitors, one was Ferfitchkin, a Russianised +German --a little fellow with the face of a monkey, a blockhead +who was always deriding everyone, a very bitter enemy of mine +from our days in the lower forms--a vulgar, impudent, swaggering +fellow, who affected a most sensitive feeling of personal honour, +though, of course, he was a wretched little coward at heart. He +was one of those worshippers of Zverkov who made up to the latter +from interested motives, and often borrowed money from him. +Simonov's other visitor, Trudolyubov, was a person in no way +remarkable--a tall young fellow, in the army, with a cold face, +fairly honest, though he worshipped success of every sort, and +was only capable of thinking of promotion. He was some sort of +distant relation of Zverkov's, and this, foolish as it seems, +gave him a certain importance among us. He always thought me of +no consequence whatever; his behaviour to me, though not quite +courteous, was tolerable. + +"Well, with seven roubles each," said Trudolyubov, "twenty-one +roubles between the three of us, we ought to be able to get a +good dinner. Zverkov, of course, won't pay." + +"Of course not, since we are inviting him," Simonov decided. + +"Can you imagine," Ferfitchkin interrupted hotly and conceitedly, +like some insolent flunkey boasting of his master the General's +decorations, "can you imagine that Zverkov will let us pay alone? +He will accept from delicacy, but he will order half a dozen +bottles of champagne." + +"Do we want half a dozen for the four of us?" observed +Trudolyubov, taking notice only of the half dozen. + +"So the three of us, with Zverkov for the fourth, twenty-one +roubles, at the Hotel de Paris at five o'clock tomorrow," +Simonov, who had been asked to make the arrangements, concluded +finally. + +"How twenty-one roubles?" I asked in some agitation, with a show +of being offended; "if you count me it will not be twenty-one, +but twenty-eight roubles." + +It seemed to me that to invite myself so suddenly and +unexpectedly would be positively graceful, and that they would +all be conquered at once and would look at me with respect. + +"Do you want to join, too?" Simonov observed, with no appearance +of pleasure, seeming to avoid looking at me. He knew me through +and through. + +It infuriated me that he knew me so thoroughly. + +"Why not? I am an old schoolfellow of his, too, I believe, and I +must own I feel hurt that you have left me out," I said, boiling +over again. + +"And where were we to find you?" Ferfitchkin put in roughly. + +"You never were on good terms with Zverkov," Trudolyubov added, +frowning. + +But I had already clutched at the idea and would not give it up. + +"It seems to me that no one has a right to form an opinion upon +that," I retorted in a shaking voice, as though something +tremendous had happened. "Perhaps that is just my reason for +wishing it now, that I have not always been on good terms with +him." + +"Oh, there's no making you out...with these refinements," +Trudolyubov jeered. + +"We'll put your name down," Simonov decided, addressing me. +"Tomorrow at five-o'clock at the Hotel de Paris." + +"What about the money?" Ferfitchkin began in an undertone, +indicating me to Simonov, but he broke off, for even Simonov was +embarrassed. + +"That will do," said Trudolyubov, getting up. "If he wants to +come so much, let him." + +"But it's a private thing, between us friends," Ferfitchkin said +crossly, as he, too, picked up his hat. "It's not an official +gathering." + +"We do not want at all, perhaps..." + +They went away. Ferfitchkin did not greet me in any way as he +went out, Trudolyubov barely nodded. Simonov, with whom I was +left tete-a-tete, was in a state of vexation and perplexity, and +looked at me queerly. He did not sit down and did not ask me to. + +"H'm ... yes ... tomorrow, then. Will you pay your subscription +now? I just ask so as to know," he muttered in embarrassment. + +I flushed crimson, as I did so I remembered that I had owed +Simonov fifteen roubles for ages--which I had, indeed, never +forgotten, though I had not paid it. + +"You will understand, Simonov, that I could have no idea when I +came here....I am very much vexed that I have forgotten ...." + +"All right, all right, that doesn't matter. You can pay tomorrow +after the dinner. I simply wanted to know....Please don't..." + +He broke off and began pacing the room still more vexed. As he +walked he began to stamp with his heels. + +"Am I keeping you?" I asked, after two minutes of silence. + +"Oh!" he said, starting, "that is--to be truthful--yes. I have +to go and see someone...not far from here," he added in an +apologetic voice, somewhat abashed. + +"My goodness, why didn't you say so?" I cried, seizing my cap, +with an astonishingly free-and-easy air, which was the last thing +I should have expected of myself + +"It's close by...not two paces away," Simonov repeated, +accompanying me to the front door with a fussy air which did not +suit him at all. "So five o'clock, punctually, tomorrow," he +called down the stairs after me. He was very glad to get rid of +me. I was in a fury. + +"What possessed me, what possessed me to force myself upon them?" +I wondered, grinding my teeth as I strode along the street, "for +a scoundrel, a pig like that Zverkov! Of course I had better not +go; of course, I must just snap my fingers at them. I am not +bound in any way. I'll send Simonov a note by tomorrow's +post...." + +But what made me furious was that I knew for certain that I +should go, that I should make a point of going; and the more +tactless, the more unseemly my going would be, the more certainly +I would go. + +And there was a positive obstacle to my going: I had no money. +All I had was nine roubles, I had to give seven of that to my +servant, Apollon, for his monthly wages. That was all I paid +him--he had to keep himself. + +Not to pay him was impossible, considering his character. But I +will talk about that fellow, about that plague of mine, another +time. + +However, I knew I should go and should not pay him his wages. + +That night I had the most hideous dreams. No wonder; all the +evening I had been oppressed by memories of my miserable days at +school, and I could not shake them off. I was sent to the school +by distant relations, upon whom I was dependent and of whom I +have heard nothing since--they sent me there a forlorn, silent +boy, already crushed by their reproaches, already troubled by +doubt, and looking with savage distrust at everyone. My +schoolfellows met me with spiteful and merciless jibes because I +was not like any of them. But I could not endure their taunts; I +could not give in to them with the ignoble readiness with which +they gave in to one another. I hated them from the first, and +shut myself away from everyone in timid, wounded and +disproportionate pride. Their coarseness revolted me. They +laughed cynically at my face, at my clumsy figure; and yet what +stupid faces they had themselves. In our school the boys' faces +seemed in a special way to degenerate and grow stupider. How +many fine-looking boys came to us! In a few years they became +repulsive. Even at sixteen I wondered at them morosely; even +then I was struck by the pettiness of their thoughts, the +stupidity of their pursuits, their games, their conversations. +They had no understanding of such essential things, they took no +interest in such striking, impressive subjects, that I could not +help considering them inferior to myself. It was not wounded +vanity that drove me to it, and for God's sake do not thrust upon +me your hackneyed remarks, repeated to nausea, that "I was only a +dreamer," while they even then had an understanding of life. +They understood nothing, they had no idea of real life, and I +swear that that was what made me most indignant with them. On +the contrary, the most obvious, striking reality they accepted +with fantastic stupidity and even at that time were accustomed to +respect success. Everything that was just, but oppressed and +looked down upon, they laughed at heartlessly and shamefully. +They took rank for intelligence; even at sixteen they were +already talking about a snug berth. Of course, a great deal of +it was due to their stupidity, to the bad examples with which +they had always been surrounded in their childhood and boyhood. +They were monstrously depraved. Of course a great deal of that, +too, was superficial and an assumption of cynicism; of course +there were glimpses of youth and freshness even in their +depravity; but even that freshness was not attractive, and showed +itself in a certain rakishness. I hated them horribly, though +perhaps I was worse than any of them. They repaid me in the same +way, and did not conceal their aversion for me. But by then I +did not desire their affection: on the contrary, I continually +longed for their humiliation. To escape from their derision I +purposely began to make all the progress I could with my studies +and forced my way to the very top. This impressed them. +Moreover, they all began by degrees to grasp that I had already +read books none of them could read, and understood things (not +forming part of our school curriculum) of which they had not even +heard. They took a savage and sarcastic view of it, but were +morally impressed, especially as the teachers began to notice me +on those grounds. The mockery ceased, but the hostility +remained, and cold and strained relations became permanent +between us. In the end I could not put up with it: with years a +craving for society, for friends, developed in me. I attempted to +get on friendly terms with some of my schoolfellows; but somehow +or other my intimacy with them was always strained and soon ended +of itself. Once, indeed, I did have a friend. But I was already +a tyrant at heart; I wanted to exercise unbounded sway over him; +I tried to instil into him a contempt for his surroundings; I +required of him a disdainful and complete break with those +surroundings. I frightened him with my passionate affection; I +reduced him to tears, to hysterics. He was a simple and devoted +soul; but when he devoted himself to me entirely I began to hate +him immediately and repulsed him--as though all I needed him for +was to win a victory over him, to subjugate him and nothing else. +But I could not subjugate all of them; my friend was not at all +like them either, he was, in fact, a rare exception. The first +thing I did on leaving school was to give up the special job for +which I had been destined so as to break all ties, to curse my +past and shake the dust from off my feet.... And goodness knows +why, after all that, I should go trudging off to Simonov's! + +Early next morning I roused myself and jumped out of bed with +excitement, as though it were all about to happen at once. But I +believed that some radical change in my life was coming, and +would inevitably come that day. Owing to its rarity, perhaps, +any external event, however trivial, always made me feel as +though some radical change in my life were at hand. I went to +the office, however, as usual, but sneaked away home two hours +earlier to get ready. The great thing, I thought, is not to be +the first to arrive, or they will think I am overjoyed at coming. +But there were thousands of such great points to consider, and +they all agitated and overwhelmed me. I polished my boots a +second time with my own hands; nothing in the world would have +induced Apollon to clean them twice a day, as he considered that +it was more than his duties required of him. I stole the brushes +to clean them from the passage, being careful he should not +detect it, for fear of his contempt. Then I minutely examined my +clothes and thought that everything looked old, worn and +threadbare. I had let myself get too slovenly. My uniform, +perhaps, was tidy, but I could not go out to dinner in my +uniform. The worst of it was that on the knee of my trousers was +a big yellow stain. I had a foreboding that that stain would +deprive me of nine-tenths of my personal dignity. I knew, too, +that it was very poor to think so. "But this is no time for +thinking: now I am in for the real thing," I thought, and my +heart sank. I knew, too, perfectly well even then, that I was +monstrously exaggerating the facts. But how could I help it? I +could not control myself and was already shaking with fever. +With despair I pictured to myself how coldly and disdainfully +that "scoundrel" Zverkov would meet me; with what dull-witted, +invincible contempt the blockhead Trudolyubov would look at me; +with what impudent rudeness the insect Ferfitchkin would snigger +at me in order to curry favour with Zverkov; how completely +Simonov would take it all in, and how he would despise me for the +abjectness of my vanity and lack of spirit--and, worst of all, +how paltry, _unliterary_, commonplace it would all be. Of +course, the best thing would be not to go at all. But that was +most impossible of all: if I feel impelled to do anything, I seem +to be pitchforked into it. I should have jeered at myself ever +afterwards: "So you funked it, you funked it, you funked the +_real thing_!" On the contrary, I passionately longed to show +all that "rabble" that I was by no means such a spiritless +creature as I seemed to myself. What is more, even in the +acutest paroxysm of this cowardly fever, I dreamed of getting the +upper hand, of dominating them, carrying them away, making them +like me--if only for my "elevation of thought and unmistakable +wit." They would abandon Zverkov, he would sit on one side, +silent and ashamed, while I should crush him. Then, perhaps, we +would be reconciled and drink to our everlasting friendship; but +what was most bitter and humiliating for me was that I knew even +then, knew fully and for certain, that I needed nothing of all +this really, that I did not really want to crush, to subdue, to +attract them, and that I did not care a straw really for the +result, even if I did achieve it. Oh, how I prayed for the day +to pass quickly! In unutterable anguish I went to the window, +opened the movable pane and looked out into the troubled darkness +of the thickly falling wet snow. At last my wretched little +clock hissed out five. I seized my hat and, trying not to look +at Apollon, who had been all day expecting his month's wages, but +in his foolishness was unwilling to be the first to speak about +it, I slipped between him and the door and, lumping into a +high-class sledge, on which I spent my last half rouble, I drove +up in grand style to the Hotel de Paris. + + +IV + +I had been certain the day before that I should be the first to +arrive. But it was not a question of being the first to arrive. +Not only were they not there, but I had difficulty in finding our +room. The table was not laid even. What did it mean? After a +good many questions I elicited from the waiters that the dinner +had been ordered not for five, but for six o'clock. This was +confirmed at the buffet too. I felt really ashamed to go on +questioning them. It was only twenty-five minutes past five. If +they changed the dinner hour they ought at least to have let me +know--that is what the post is for, and not to have put me in an +absurd position in my own eyes and...and even before the waiters. +I sat down; the servant began laying the table; I felt even more +humiliated when he was present. Towards six o'clock they brought +in candles, though there were lamps burning in the room. It had +not occurred to the waiter, however, to bring them in at once +when I arrived. In the next room two gloomy, angry-looking +persons were eating their dinners in silence at two different +tables. There was a great deal of noise, even shouting, in a +room further away; one could hear the laughter of a crowd of +people, and nasty little shrieks in French: there were ladies at +the dinner. It was sickening, in fact. I rarely passed more +unpleasant moments, so much so that when they did arrive all +together punctually at six I was overjoyed to see them, as though +they were my deliverers, and even forgot that it was incumbent +upon me to show resentment. + +Zverkov walked in at the head of them; evidently he was the +leading spirit. He and all of them were laughing; but, seeing +me, Zverkov drew himself up a little, walked up to me +deliberately with a slight, rather jaunty bend from the waist. +He shook hands with me in a friendly, but not over-friendly, +fashion, with a sort of circumspect courtesy like that of a +General, as though in giving me his hand he were warding off +something. I had imagined, on the contrary, that on coming in he +would at once break into his habitual thin, shrill laugh and fall +to making his insipid jokes and witticisms. I had been preparing +for them ever since the previous day, but I had not expected such +condescension, such high-official courtesy. So, then, he felt +himself ineffably superior to me in every respect! If he only +meant to insult me by that high-official tone, it would not +matter, I thought--I could pay him back for it one way or +another. But what if, in reality, without the least desire to be +offensive, that sheepshead had a notion in earnest that he was +superior to me and could only look at me in a patronising way? +The very supposition made me gasp. + +"I was surprised to hear of your desire to join us," he began, +lisping and drawling, which was something new. "You and I seem +to have seen nothing of one another. You shy away from us. You +shouldn't. We are not such terrible people as you think. Well, +anyway, I am glad to renew our acquaintance." + +And he turned carelessly to put down his hat on the window. + +"Have you been waiting long?" Trudolyubov inquired. + +"I arrived at five o'clock as you told me yesterday," I answered +aloud, with an irritability that threatened an explosion. + +"Didn't you let him know that we had changed the hour?" said +Trudolyubov to Simonov. + +"No, I didn't. I forgot," the latter replied, with no sign of +regret, and without even apologising to me he went off to order +the hors d'oeuvre. + +"So you've been here a whole hour? Oh, poor fellow!" Zverkov +cried ironically, for to his notions this was bound to be +extremely funny. That rascal Ferfitchkin followed with his nasty +little snigger like a puppy yapping. My position struck him, +too, as exquisitely ludicrous and embarrassing. + +"It isn't funny at all!" I cried to Ferfitchkin, more and more +irritated. "It wasn't my fault, but other people's. They +neglected to let me know. It was...it was...it was simply +absurd." + +"It's not only absurd, but something else as well," muttered +Trudolyubov, naively taking my part. "You are not hard enough +upon it. It was simply rudeness--unintentional, of course. And +how could Simonov...h'm!" + +"If a trick like that had been played on me," observed +Ferfitchkin, "I should..." + +"But you should have ordered something for yourself," Zverkov +interrupted, "or simply asked for dinner without waiting for us." + +"You will allow that I might have done that without your +permission," I rapped out. "If I waited, it was..." + +"Let us sit down, gentlemen," cried Simonov, coming in. +"Everything is ready; I can answer for the champagne; it is +capitally frozen....You see, I did not know your address, where +was I to look for you?" he suddenly turned to me, but again he +seemed to avoid looking at me. Evidently he had something +against me. It must have been what happened yesterday. + +All sat down; I did the same. It was a round table. Trudolyubov +was on my left, Simonov on my right, Zverkov was sitting +opposite, Ferfitchkin next to him, between him and Trudolyubov. + +"Tell me, are you...in a government office?" Zverkov went on +attending to me. Seeing that I was embarrassed he seriously +thought that he ought to be friendly to me, and, so to speak, +cheer me up. + +"Does he want me to throw a bottle at his head?" I thought, in a +fury. In my novel surroundings I was unnaturally ready to be +irritated. + +"In the N--- office," I answered jerkily, with my eyes on my +plate. + +"And ha-ave you a go-od berth? I say, what ma-a-de you leave +your original job?" + +"What ma-a-de me was that I wanted to leave my original job," I +drawled more than he, hardly able to control myself. Ferfitchkin +went off into a guffaw. Simonov looked at me ironically. +Trudolyubov left off eating and began looking at me with +curiosity. + +Zverkov winced, but he tried not to notice it. + + "And the remuneration?" + +"What remuneration?" + +"I mean, your sa-a-lary?" + +"Why are you cross-examining me?" However, I told him at once +what my salary was. I turned horribly red. + +"It is not very handsome," Zverkov observed majestically + +"Yes, you can't afford to dine at cafes on that," Ferfitchkin +added insolently + +"To my thinking it's very poor," Trudolyubov observed gravely. + +"And how thin you have grown! How you have changed!" added +Zverkov, with a shade of venom in his voice, scanning me and my +attire with a sort of insolent compassion. + +"Oh, spare his blushes," cried Ferfitchkin, sniggering. + +"My dear sir, allow me to tell you I am not blushing," I broke +out at last; "do you hear? I am dining here, at this cafe, at my +own expense, not at other people's--note that, Mr. Ferfitchkin." + +"Wha-at? Isn't every one here dining at his own expense? You +would seem to be ..." Ferfitchkin flew out at me, turning as red +as a lobster, and looking me in the face with fury. + +"Tha-at," I answered, feeling I had gone too far, "and I imagine +it would be better to talk of something more intelligent." + +"You intend to show off your intelligence, I suppose?" + +"Don't disturb yourself, that would be quite out of place here." + +"Why are you clacking away like that, my good sir, eh? Have you +gone out of your wits in your office?" + +"Enough, gentlemen, enough!" Zverkov cried, authoritatively. + +"How stupid it is!" muttered Simonov. + +"It really is stupid. We have met here, a company of friends, +for a farewell dinner to a comrade and you carry on an +altercation," said Trudolyubov, rudely addressing himself to me +alone. "You invited yourself to join us, so don't disturb the +general harmony." + +"Enough, enough!" cried Zverkov. "Give over, gentlemen, it's out +of place. Better let me tell you how I nearly got married the +day before yesterday ...." + +And then followed a burlesque narrative of how this gentleman had +almost been married two days before. There was not a word about +the marriage, however, but the story was adorned with generals, +colonels and kammer-junkers, while Zverkov almost took the lead +among them. It was greeted with approving laughter; Ferfitchkin +positively squealed. + +No one paid any attention to me, and I sat crushed and +humiliated. + +"Good Heavens, these are not the people for me!" I thought. "And +what a fool I have made of myself before them! I let Ferfitchkin +go too far, though. The brutes imagine they are doing me an +honour in letting me sit down with them. They don't understand +that it's an honour to them and not to me! I've grown thinner! +My clothes! Oh, damn my trousers! Zverkov noticed the yellow +stain on the knee as soon as he came in.... But what's the use! +I must get up at once, this very minute, take my hat and simply +go without a word...with contempt! And tomorrow I can send a +challenge. The scoundrels! As though I cared about the seven +roubles. They may think.... Damn it! I don't care about the +seven roubles. I'll go this minute!" + +Of course I remained. I drank sherry and Lafitte by the glassful +in my discomfiture. Being unaccustomed to it, I was quickly +affected. My annoyance increased as the wine went to my head. I +longed all at once to insult them all in a most flagrant manner +and then go away. To seize the moment and show what I could do, +so that they would say, "He's clever, though he is absurd," +and...and...in fact, damn them all! + +I scanned them all insolently with my drowsy eyes. But they +seemed to have forgotten me altogether. They were noisy, +vociferous, cheerful. Zverkov was talking all the time. I began +listening. Zverkov was talking of some exuberant lady whom he +had at last led on to declaring her love (of course, he was lying +like a horse), and how he had been helped in this affair by an +intimate friend of his, a Prince Kolya, an officer in the +hussars, who had three thousand serfs. + +"And yet this Kolya, who has three thousand serfs, has not put in +an appearance here tonight to see you off," I cut in suddenly. +For one minute every one was silent. + +"You are drunk already." Trudolyubov deigned to notice me at +last, glancing contemptuously in my direction. Zverkov, without +a word, examined me as though I were an insect. I dropped my +eyes. Simonov made haste to fill up the glasses with champagne. + +Trudolyubov raised his glass, as did everyone else but me. + +"Your health and good luck on the journey!" he cried to Zverkov. +"To old times, to our future, hurrah!" + +They all tossed off their glasses, and crowded round Zverkov to +kiss him. I did not move; my full glass stood untouched before +me. + +"Why, aren't you going to drink it?" roared Trudolyubov, losing +patience and turning menacingly to me. + +"I want to make a speech separately, on my own account...and then +I'll drink it, Mr. Trudolyubov." + +"Spiteful brute!" muttered Simonov. I drew myself up in my chair +and feverishly seized my glass, prepared for something +extraordinary, though I did not know myself precisely what I was +going to say. + +"_Silence!_" cried Ferfitchkin. "Now for a display of wit!" + +Zverkov waited very gravely, knowing what was coming. + +"Mr. Lieutenant Zverkov," I began, "let me tell you that I hate +phrases, phrasemongers and men in corsets...that's the first +point, and there is a second one to follow it." + +There was a general stir. + +"The second point is: I hate ribaldry and ribald talkers. +Especially ribald talkers! The third point: I love justice, +truth and honesty." I went on almost mechanically, for I was +beginning to shiver with horror myself and had no idea how I came +to be talking like this. "I love thought, Monsieur Zverkov; I +love true comradeship, on an equal footing and not...H'm...I love +...But, however, why not? I will drink your health, too, Mr. +Zverkov. Seduce the Circassian girls, shoot the enemies of the +fatherland and...and...to your health, Monsieur Zverkov!" + +Zverkov got up from his seat, bowed to me and said: + +"I am very much obliged to you." He was frightfully offended and +turned pale. + +"Damn the fellow!" roared Trudolyubov, bringing his fist down on +the table. + +"Well, he wants a punch in the face for that," squealed +Ferfitchkin. + +"We ought to turn him out," muttered Simonov. + +"Not a word, gentlemen, not a movement!" cried Zverkov solemnly, +checking the general indignation. "I thank you all, but I can +show him for myself how much value I attach to his words." + +"Mr. Ferfitchkin, you will give me satisfaction tomorrow for +your words just now!" I said aloud, turning with dignity to +Ferfitchkin. + +"A duel, you mean? Certainly," he answered. But probably I was +so ridiculous as I challenged him and it was so out of keeping +with my appearance that everyone including Ferfitchkin was +prostrate with laughter. + +"Yes, let him alone, of course! He is quite drunk," Trudolyubov +said with disgust. + +"I shall never forgive myself for letting him join us," Simonov +muttered again. + +"Now is the time to throw a bottle at their heads," I thought to +myself. I picked up the bottle...and filled my glass...."No, I'd +better sit on to the end," I went on thinking; "you would be +pleased, my friends, if I went away. Nothing will induce me to +go. I'll go on sitting here and drinking to the end, on purpose, +as a sign that I don't think you of the slightest consequence. I +will go on sitting and drinking, because this is a public-house +and I paid my entrance money. I'll sit here and drink, for I +look upon you as so many pawns, as inanimate pawns. I'll sit +here and drink...and sing if I want to, yes, sing, for I have the +right to...to sing...H'm!" + +But I did not sing. I simply tried not to look at any of them. +I assumed most unconcerned attitudes and waited with impatience +for them to speak _first_. But alas, they did not address me! +And oh, how I wished, how I wished at that moment to be +reconciled to them! It struck eight, at last nine. They moved +from the table to the sofa. Zverkov stretched himself on a +lounge and put one foot on a round table. Wine was brought +there. He did, as a fact, order three bottles on his own +account. I, of course, was not invited to join them. They all +sat round him on the sofa. They listened to him, almost with +reverence. It was evident that they were fond of him. "What +for? What for?" I wondered. From time to time they were moved +to drunken enthusiasm and kissed each other. They talked of the +Caucasus, of the nature of true passion, of snug berths in the +service, of the income of an hussar called Podharzhevsky, whom +none of them knew personally, and rejoiced in the largeness of +it, of the extraordinary grace and beauty of a Princess D., whom +none of them had ever seen; then it came to Shakespeare's being +immortal. + +I smiled contemptuously and walked up and down the other side of +the room, opposite the sofa, from the table to the stove and back +again. I tried my very utmost to show them that I could do +without them, and yet I purposely made a noise with my boots, +thumping with my heels. But it was all in vain. They paid no +attention. I had the patience to walk up and down in front of +them from eight o'clock till eleven, in the same place, from the +table to the stove and back again. "I walk up and down to please +myself and no one can prevent me." The waiter who came into the +room stopped, from time to time, to look at me. I was somewhat +giddy from turning round so often; at moments it seemed to me +that I was in delirium. During those three hours I was three +times soaked with sweat and dry again. At times, with an +intense, acute pang I was stabbed to the heart by the thought +that ten years, twenty years, forty years would pass, and that +even in forty years I would remember with loathing and +humiliation those filthiest, most ludicrous, and most awful +moments of my life. No one could have gone out of his way to +degrade himself more shamelessly, and I fully realised it, fully, +and yet I went on pacing up and down from the table to the stove. +"Oh, if you only knew what thoughts and feelings I am capable of, +how cultured I am!" I thought at moments, mentally addressing the +sofa on which my enemies were sitting. But my enemies behaved as +though I were not in the room. Once--only once--they turned +towards me, just when Zverkov was talking about Shakespeare, and +I suddenly gave a contemptuous laugh. I laughed in such an +affected and disgusting way that they all at once broke off their +conversation, and silently and gravely for two minutes watched me +walking up and down from the table to the stove, _taking no +notice of them_. But nothing came of it: they said nothing, and +two minutes later they ceased to notice me again. It struck +eleven. + +"Friends," cried Zverkov getting up from the sofa, "let us all be +off now, _there_!" + +"Of course, of course," the others assented. I turned sharply to +Zverkov. I was so harassed, so exhausted, that I would have cut +my throat to put an end to it. I was in a fever; my hair, soaked +with perspiration, stuck to my forehead and temples. + +"Zverkov, I beg your pardon," I said abruptly and resolutely. +"Ferfitchkin, yours too, and everyone's, everyone's: I have +insulted you all!" + +"Aha! A duel is not in your line, old man," Ferfitchkin hissed +venomously. + +It sent a sharp pang to my heart. + +"No, it's not the duel I am afraid of, Ferfitchkin! I am ready +to fight you tomorrow, after we are reconciled. I insist upon +it, in fact, and you cannot refuse. I want to show you that I am +not afraid of a duel. You shall fire first and I shall fire into +the air." + +"He is comforting himself," said Simonov. + +"He's simply raving," said Trudolyubov. + +"But let us pass. Why are you barring our way? What do you +want?" Zverkov answered disdainfully + +They were all flushed, their eyes were bright: they had been +drinking heavily. + +"I ask for your friendship, Zverkov; I insulted you, but..." + +"Insulted? _You_ insulted _me_? Understand, sir, that you +never, under any circumstances, could possibly insult _me_." + +"And that's enough for you. Out of the way!" concluded +Trudolyubov. + + "Olympia is mine, friends, that's agreed!" cried Zverkov. + +"We won't dispute your right, we won't dispute your right," the +others answered, laughing. + +I stood as though spat upon. The party went noisily out of the +room. Trudolyubov struck up some stupid song. Simonov remained +behind for a moment to tip the waiters. I suddenly went up to +him. + +"Simonov! give me six roubles!" I said, with desperate +resolution. + +He looked at me in extreme amazement, with vacant eyes. He, +too, was drunk. + +"You don't mean you are coming with us?" + +"Yes." + +"I've no money," he snapped out, and with a scornful laugh he +went out of the room. + +I clutched at his overcoat. It was a nightmare. + +"Simonov, I saw you had money. Why do you refuse me? Am I a +scoundrel? Beware of refusing me: if you knew, if you knew why I +am asking! My whole future, my whole plans depend upon it!" + +Simonov pulled out the money and almost flung it at me. + +"Take it, if you have no sense of shame!" he pronounced +pitilessly, and ran to overtake them. + +I was left for a moment alone. Disorder, the remains of dinner, +a broken wine-glass on the floor, spilt wine, cigarette ends, +fumes of drink and delirium in my brain, an agonising misery in +my heart and finally the waiter, who had seen and heard all and +was looking inquisitively into my face. + +"I am going there!" I cried. "Either they shall all go down on +their knees to beg for my friendship, or I will give Zverkov a +slap in the face!" + + +V + +"So this is it, this is it at last--contact with real life," I +muttered as I ran headlong downstairs. "This is very different +from the Pope's leaving Rome and going to Brazil, very different +from the ball on Lake Como!" + +"You are a scoundrel," a thought flashed through my mind, "if you +laugh at this now." + +"No matter!" I cried, answering myself. "Now everything is +lost!" + +There was no trace to be seen of them, but that made no +difference--I knew where they had gone. + +At the steps was standing a solitary night sledge-driver in a +rough peasant coat, powdered over with the still falling, wet, +and as it were warm, snow. It was hot and steamy. The little +shaggy piebald horse was also covered with snow and coughing, I +remember that very well. I made a rush for the roughly made +sledge; but as soon as I raised my foot to get into it, the +recollection of how Simonov had just given me six roubles seemed +to double me up and I tumbled into the sledge like a sack. + +"No, I must do a great deal to make up for all that," I cried. +"But I will make up for it or perish on the spot this very night. +Start!" + +We set off. There was a perfect whirl in my head. + +"They won't go down on their knees to beg for my friendship. +That is a mirage, cheap mirage, revolting, romantic and +fantastical--that's another ball on Lake Como. And so I am bound +to slap Zverkov's face! It is my duty to. And so it is settled; +I am flying to give him a slap in the face. Hurry up!" + +The driver tugged at the reins. + +"As soon as I go in I'll give it him. Ought I before giving him +the slap to say a few words by way of preface? No. I'll simply +go in and give it him. They will all be sitting in the +drawing-room, and he with Olympia on the sofa. That damned +Olympia! She laughed at my looks on one occasion and refused me. +I'll pull Olympia's hair, pull Zverkov's ears! No, better one +ear, and pull him by it round the room. Maybe they will all +begin beating me and will kick me out. That's most likely, +indeed. No matter! Anyway, I shall first slap him; the +initiative will be mine; and by the laws of honour that is +everything: he will be branded and cannot wipe off the slap by +any blows, by nothing but a duel. He will be forced to fight. +And let them beat me now. Let them, the ungrateful wretches! +Trudolyubov will beat me hardest, he is so strong; Ferfitchkin +will be sure to catch hold sideways and tug at my hair. But no +matter, no matter! That's what I am going for. The blockheads +will be forced at last to see the tragedy of it all! When they +drag me to the door I shall call out to them that in reality they +are not worth my little finger. Get on, driver, get on!" I cried +to the driver. He started and flicked his whip, I shouted so +savagely. + +"We shall fight at daybreak, that's a settled thing. I've done +with the office. Ferfitchkin made a joke about it just now. But +where can I get pistols? Nonsense! I'll get my salary in +advance and buy them. And powder, and bullets? That's the +second's business. And how can it all be done by daybreak? and +where am I to get a second? I have no friends. Nonsense!" I +cried, lashing myself up more and more. "It's of no consequence! +the first person I meet in the street is bound to be my second, +just as he would be bound to pull a drowning man out of water. +The most eccentric things may happen. Even if I were to ask the +director himself to be my second tomorrow, he would be bound to +consent, if only from a feeling of chivalry, and to keep the +secret! Anton Antonitch...." + +The fact is, that at that very minute the disgusting absurdity of +my plan and the other side of the question was clearer and more +vivid to my imagination than it could be to anyone on earth. But +.... + +"Get on, driver, get on, you rascal, get on!" + +"Ugh, sir!" said the son of toil. + +Cold shivers suddenly ran down me. Wouldn't it be better...to go +straight home? My God, my God! Why did I invite myself to this +dinner yesterday? But no, it's impossible. And my walking up +and down for three hours from the table to the stove? No, they, +they and no one else must pay for my walking up and down! They +must wipe out this dishonour! Drive on! + +And what if they give me into custody? They won't dare! They'll +be afraid of the scandal. And what if Zverkov is so contemptuous +that he refuses to fight a duel? He is sure to; but in that case +I'll show them...I will turn up at the posting station when he's +setting off tomorrow, I'll catch him by the leg, I'll pull off +his coat when he gets into the carriage. I'll get my teeth into +his hand, I'll bite him. "See what lengths you can drive a +desperate man to!" He may hit me on the head and they may +belabour me from behind. I will shout to the assembled +multitude: "Look at this young puppy who is driving off to +captivate the Circassian girls after letting me spit in his +face!" + +Of course, after that everything will be over! The office will +have vanished off the face of the earth. I shall be arrested, I +shall be tried, I shall be dismissed from the service, thrown in +prison, sent to Siberia. Never mind! In fifteen years when they +let me out of prison I will trudge off to him, a beggar, in rags. +I shall find him in some provincial town. He will be married and +happy. He will have a grown-up daughter.... I shall say to him: +"Look, monster, at my hollow cheeks and my rags! I've lost +everything--my career, my happiness, art, science, _the woman I +loved_, and all through you. Here are pistols. I have come to +discharge my pistol and...and I...forgive you. Then I shall fire +into the air and he will hear nothing more of me...." + +I was actually on the point of tears, though I knew perfectly +well at that moment that all this was out of Pushkin's Silvio and +Lermontov's Masquerade. And all at once I felt horribly ashamed, +so ashamed that I stopped the horse, got out of the sledge, and +stood still in the snow in the middle of the street. The driver +gazed at me, sighing and astonished. + +What was I to do? I could not go on there--it was evidently +stupid, and I could not leave things as they were, because that +would seem as though ... Heavens, how could I leave things! And +after such insults! "No!" I cried, throwing myself into the +sledge again. "It is ordained! It is fate! Drive on, drive +on!" + +And in my impatience I punched the sledge-driver on the back of +the neck. + +"What are you up to? What are you hitting me for?" the peasant +shouted, but he whipped up his nag so that it began kicking. + +The wet snow was falling in big flakes; I unbuttoned myself, +regardless of it. I forgot everything else, for I had finally +decided on the slap, and felt with horror that it was going to +happen _now, at once_, and that _no force could stop it_. The +deserted street lamps gleamed sullenly in the showy darkness like +torches at a funeral. The snow drifted under my great-coat, +under my coat, under my cravat, and melted there. I did not wrap +myself up--all was lost, anyway. + +At last we arrived. I jumped out, almost unconscious, rail up +the steps and began knocking and kicking at the door. I felt +fearfully weak, particularly in my legs and knees. The door was +opened quickly as though they knew I was coming. As a fact, +Simonov had warned them that perhaps another gentleman would +arrive, and this was a place in which one had to give notice and +to observe certain precautions. It was one of those "millinery +establishments" which were abolished by the police a good time +ago. By day it really was a shop; but at night, if one had an +introduction, one might visit it for other purposes. + +I walked rapidly through the dark shop into the familiar drawing- +room, where there was only one candle burning, and stood still in +amazement: there was no one there. "Where are they?" I asked +somebody. But by now, of course, they had separated. Before me +was standing a person with a stupid smile, the "madam" herself, +who had seen me before. A minute later a door opened and another +person came in. + +Taking no notice of anything I strode about the room, and, I +believe, I talked to myself. I felt as though I had been saved +from death and was conscious of this, joyfully, all over: I +should have given that slap, I should certainly, certainly have +given it! But now they were not here and...everything had +vanished and changed! I looked round. I could not realise my +condition yet. I looked mechanically at the girl who had come +in: and had a glimpse of a fresh, young, rather pale face, with +straight, dark eyebrows, and with grave, as it were wondering, +eyes that attracted me at once; I should have hated her if she +had been smiling. I began looking at her more intently and, as +it were, with effort. I had not fully collected my thoughts. +There was something simple and good-natured in her face, but +something strangely grave. I am sure that this stood in her way +here, and no one of those fools had noticed her. She could not, +however, have been called a beauty, though she was tall, +strong-looking, and well built. She was very simply dressed. +Something loathsome stirred within me. I went straight up to +her. + +I chanced to look into the glass. My harassed face struck me as +revolting in the extreme, pale, angry, abject, with dishevelled +hair. "No matter, I am glad of it," I thought; "I am glad that I +shall seem repulsive to her; I like that." + + +VI + +...Somewhere behind a screen a clock began wheezing, as though +oppressed by something, as though someone were strangling it. +After an unnaturally prolonged wheezing there followed a shrill, +nasty, and as it were unexpectedly rapid, chime--as though +someone were suddenly jumping forward. It struck two. I woke +up, though I had indeed not been asleep but lying half-conscious. + +It was almost completely dark in the narrow, cramped, low-pitched +room, cumbered up with an enormous wardrobe and piles of +cardboard boxes and all sorts of frippery and litter. The candle +end that had been burning on the table was going out and gave a +faint flicker from time to time. In a few minutes there would be +complete darkness. + +I was not long in coming to myself; everything came back to my +mind at once, without an effort, as though it had been in ambush +to pounce upon me again. And, indeed, even while I was +unconscious a point seemed continually to remain in my memory +unforgotten, and round it my dreams moved drearily. But strange +to say, everything that had happened to me in that day seemed to +me now, on waking, to be in the far, far away past, as though I +had long, long ago lived all that down. + +My head was full of fumes. Something seemed to be hovering over +me, rousing me, exciting me, and making me restless. Misery and +spite seemed surging up in me again and seeking an outlet. +Suddenly I saw beside me two wide open eyes scrutinising me +curiously and persistently. The look in those eyes was coldly +detached, sullen, as it were utterly remote; it weighed upon me. + +A grim idea came into my brain and passed all over my body, as a +horrible sensation, such as one feels when one goes into a damp +and mouldy cellar. There was something unnatural in those two +eyes, beginning to look at me only now. I recalled, too, that +during those two hours I had not said a single word to this +creature, and had, in fact, considered it utterly superfluous; in +fact, the silence had for some reason gratified me. Now I +suddenly realised vividly the hideous idea--revolting as a +spider--of vice, which, without love, grossly and shamelessly +begins with that in which true love finds its consummation. For +a long time we gazed at each other like that, but she did not +drop her eyes before mine and her expression did not change, so +that at last I felt uncomfortable. + +"What is your name?" I asked abruptly, to put an end to it. + +"Liza," she answered almost in a whisper, but somehow far from +graciously, and she turned her eyes away. + +I was silent. + +"What weather! The snow...it's disgusting!" I said, almost to +myself, putting my arm under my head despondently, and gazing at +the ceiling. + +She made no answer. This was horrible. + +"Have you always lived in Petersburg?" I asked a minute later, +almost angrily, turning my head slightly towards her. + +"No." + +"Where do you come from?" + +"From Riga," she answered reluctantly. + +"Are you a German?" + +"No, Russian." + +"Have you been here long?" + +"Where?" + +"In this house?" + +"A fortnight." + +She spoke more and more jerkily. The candle went out; I could no +longer distinguish her face. + +"Have you a father and mother?" + +"Yes...no...I have." + +"Where are they?" + +"There...in Riga." + +"What are they?" + +"Oh, nothing." + +"Nothing? Why, what class are they?" + +"Tradespeople." + +"Have you always lived with them?" + +"Yes." + +"How old are you?" + +"Twenty." + +"Why did you leave them?" + +"Oh, for no reason." + +That answer meant "Let me alone; I feel sick, sad." + +We were silent. + +God knows why I did not go away. I felt myself more and more +sick and dreary. The images of the previous day began of +themselves, apart from my will, flitting through my memory in +confusion. I suddenly recalled something I had seen that morning +when, full of anxious thoughts, I was hurrying to the office. + +"I saw them carrying a coffin out yesterday and they nearly +dropped it," I suddenly said aloud, not that I desired to open +the conversation, but as it were by accident. + +"A coffin?" + +"Yes, in the Haymarket; they were bringing it up out of a +cellar." + +"From a cellar?" + +"Not from a cellar, but a basement. Oh, you know...down +below...from a house of ill-fame. It was filthy all +round...Egg-shells, litter...a stench. It was loathsome." + +Silence. + +"A nasty day to be buried," I began, simply to avoid being +silent. + +"Nasty, in what way?" + +"The snow, the wet." (I yawned.) + +"It makes no difference," she said suddenly, after a brief +silence. + +"No, it's horrid." (I yawned again). "The gravediggers must have +sworn at getting drenched by the snow. And there must have been +water in the grave." + +"Why water in the grave?" she asked, with a sort of curiosity, +but speaking even more harshly and abruptly than before. + +I suddenly began to feel provoked. + +"Why, there must have been water at the bottom a foot deep. You +can't dig a dry grave in Volkovo Cemetery." + +"Why?" + +"Why? Why, the place is waterlogged. It's a regular marsh. So +they bury them in water. I've seen it myself...many times." + +(I had never seen it once, indeed I had never been in Volkovo, +and had only heard stories of it.) + +"Do you mean to say, you don't mind how you die?" + +"But why should I die?" she answered, as though defending +herself. + +"Why, some day you will die, and you will die just the same as +that dead woman. She was...a girl like you. She died of +consumption." + +"A wench would have died in hospital..." (She knows all about it +already: she said "wench," not "girl.") + +"She was in debt to her madam," I retorted, more and more +provoked by the discussion; "and went on earning money for her up +to the end, though she was in consumption. Some sledge-drivers +standing by were talking about her to some soldiers and telling +them so. No doubt they knew her. They were laughing. They were +going to meet in a pot-house to drink to her memory." + +A great deal of this was my invention. Silence followed, +profound silence. She did not stir. + +"And is it better to die in a hospital?" + +"Isn't it just the same? Besides, why should I die?" she added +irritably. + +"If not now, a little later." + +"Why a little later?" + +"Why, indeed? Now you are young, pretty, fresh, you fetch a high +price. But after another year of this life you will be very +different--you will go off." + +"In a year?" + +"Anyway, in a year you will be worth less," I continued +malignantly. "You will go from here to something lower, another +house; a year later--to a third, lower and lower, and in seven +years you will come to a basement in the Haymarket. That will be +if you were lucky. But it would be much worse if you got some +disease, consumption, say...and caught a chill, or something or +other. It's not easy to get over an illness in your way of life. +If you catch anything you may not get rid of it. And so you +would die." + +"Oh, well, then I shall die," she answered, quite vindictively, +and she made a quick movement. + +"But one is sorry." + +"Sorry for whom?" + +"Sorry for life." + +Silence. + +"Have you been engaged to be married? Eh?" + +"What's that to you?" + +"Oh, I am not cross-examining you. It's nothing to me. Why are +you so cross? Of course you may have had your own troubles. +What is it to me? It's simply that I felt sorry." + +"Sorry for whom?" + +"Sorry for you." + +"No need," she whispered hardly audibly, and again made a faint +movement. + +That incensed me at once. What! I was so gentle with her, and +she .... + +"Why, do you think that you are on the right path?" + +"I don't think anything." + +"That's what's wrong, that you don't think. Realise it while +there is still time. There still is time. You are still young, +good-looking; you might love, be married, be happy... ." + +"Not all married women are happy," she snapped out in the rude +abrupt tone she had used at first. + +"Not all, of course, but anyway it is much better than the life +here. Infinitely better. Besides, with love one can live even +without happiness. Even in sorrow life is sweet; life is sweet, +however one lives. But here what is there but...foulness? +Phew!" + +I turned away with disgust; I was no longer reasoning coldly. I +began to feel myself what I was saying and warmed to the subject. +I was already longing to expound the cherished ideas I had +brooded over in my corner. Something suddenly flared up in me. +An object had appeared before me. + +"Never mind my being here, I am not an example for you. I am, +perhaps, worse than you are. I was drunk when I came here, +though," I hastened, however, to say in self-defence. "Besides, +a man is no example for a woman. It's a different thing. I may +degrade and defile myself, but I am not anyone's slave. I come +and go, and that's an end of it. I shake it off, and I am a +different man. But you are a slave from the start. Yes, a +slave! You give up everything, your whole freedom. If you want +to break your chains afterwards, you won't be able to; you will +be more and more fast in the snares. It is an accursed bondage. +I know it. I won't speak of anything else, maybe you won't +understand, but tell me: no doubt you are in debt to your madam? +There, you see," I added, though she made no answer, but only +listened in silence, entirely absorbed, "that's a bondage for +you! You will never buy your freedom. They will see to that. +It's like selling your soul to the devil.... And besides ... +perhaps, I too, am just as unlucky--how do you know--and wallow +in the mud on purpose, out of misery? You know, men take to +drink from grief; well, maybe I am here from grief. Come, tell +me, what is there good here? Here you and I...came +together...just now and did not say one word to one another all +the time, and it was only afterwards you began staring at me like +a wild creature, and I at you. Is that loving? Is that how one +human being should meet another? It's hideous, that's what it +is!" + +"Yes!" she assented sharply and hurriedly. + +I was positively astounded by the promptitude of this "Yes." So +the same thought may have been straying through her mind when she +was staring at me just before. So she, too, was capable of +certain thoughts? "Damn it all, this was interesting, this was a +point of likeness!" I thought, almost rubbing my hands. And +indeed it's easy to turn a young soul like that! + +It was the exercise of my power that attracted me most. + +She turned her head nearer to me, and it seemed to me in the +darkness that she propped herself on her arm. Perhaps she was +scrutinising me. How I regretted that I could not see her eyes. +I heard her deep breathing. + +"Why have you come here?" I asked her, with a note of authority +already in my voice. + +"Oh, I don't know." + +"But how nice it would be to be living in your father's house! +It's warm and free; you have a home of your own." + +"But what if it's worse than this?" + +"I must take the right tone," flashed through my mind. "I may +not get far with sentimentality." But it was only a momentary +thought. I swear she really did interest me. Besides, I was +exhausted and moody. And cunning so easily goes hand-in-hand +with feeling. + +"Who denies it!" I hastened to answer. "Anything may happen. I +am convinced that someone has wronged you, and that you are more +sinned against than sinning. Of course, I know nothing of your +story, but it's not likely a girl like you has come here of her +own inclination... ." + +"A girl like me?" she whispered, hardly audibly; but I heard it. + +Damn it all, I was flattering her. That was horrid. But perhaps +it was a good thing.... She was silent. + +"See, Liza, I will tell you about myself. If I had had a home +from childhood, I shouldn't be what I am now. I often think +that. However bad it may be at home, anyway they are your father +and mother, and not enemies, strangers. Once a year at least, +they'll show their love of you. Anyway, you know you are at +home. I grew up without a home; and perhaps that's why I've +turned so...unfeeling." + +I waited again. "Perhaps she doesn't understand," I thought, +"and, indeed, it is absurd--it's moralising." + +"If I were a father and had a daughter, I believe I should love +my daughter more than my sons, really," I began indirectly, as +though talking of something else, to distract her attention. I +must confess I blushed. + +"Why so?" she asked. + +Ah! so she was listening! + +"I don't know, Liza. I knew a father who was a stern, austere +man, but used to go down on his knees to his daughter, used to +kiss her hands, her feet, he couldn't make enough of her, really. +When she danced at parties he used to stand for five hours at a +stretch, gazing at her. He was mad over her: I understand that! +She would fall asleep tired at night, and he would wake to kiss +her in her sleep and make the sign of the cross over her. He +would go about in a dirty old coat, he was stingy to everyone +else, but would spend his last penny for her, giving her +expensive presents, and it was his greatest delight when she was +pleased with what he gave her. Fathers always love their +daughters more than the mothers do. Some girls live happily at +home! And I believe I should never let my daughters marry." + +"What next?" she said, with a faint smile. + +"I should be jealous, I really should. To think that she should +kiss anyone else! That she should love a stranger more than her +father! It's painful to imagine it. Of course, that's all +nonsense, of course every father would be reasonable at last. +But I believe before I should let her marry, I should worry +myself to death; I should find fault with all her suitors. But I +should end by letting her marry whom she herself loved. The one +whom the daughter loves always seems the worst to the father, you +know. That is always so. So many family troubles come from +that." + +"Some are glad to sell their daughters, rather than marrying them +honourably." + +Ah, so that was it! + +"Such a thing, Liza, happens in those accursed families in which +there is neither love nor God," I retorted warmly, "and where +there is no love, there is no sense either. There are such +families, it's true, but I am not speaking of them. You must +have seen wickedness in your own family, if you talk like that. +Truly, you must have been unlucky. H'm! ...that sort of thing +mostly comes about through poverty." + +"And is it any better with the gentry? Even among the poor, +honest people who live happily?" + +"H'm...yes. Perhaps. Another thing, Liza, man is fond of +reckoning up his troubles, but does not count his joys. If he +counted them up as he ought, he would see that every lot has +enough happiness provided for it. And what if all goes well with +the family, if the blessing of God is upon it, if the husband is +a good one, loves you, cherishes you, never leaves you! There is +happiness in such a family! Even sometimes there is happiness in +the midst of sorrow; and indeed sorrow is everywhere. If you +marry _you will find out for yourself_. But think of the first +years of married life with one you love: what happiness, what +happiness there sometimes is in it! And indeed it's the ordinary +thing. In those early days even quarrels with one's husband end +happily. Some women get up quarrels with their husbands just +because they love them. Indeed, I knew a woman like that: she +seemed to say that because she loved him, she would torment him +and make him feel it. You know that you may torment a man on +purpose through love. Women are particularly given to that, +thinking to themselves 'I will love him so, I will make so much +of him afterwards, that it's no sin to torment him a little now.' +And all in the house rejoice in the sight of you, and you are +happy and gay and peaceful and honourable.... Then there are some +women who are jealous. If he went off anywhere--I knew one such +woman, she couldn't restrain herself, but would jump up at night +and run off on the sly to find out where he was, whether he was +with some other woman. That's a pity. And the woman knows +herself it's wrong, and her heart fails her and she suffers, but +she loves--it's all through love. And how sweet it is to make up +after quarrels, to own herself in the wrong or to forgive him! +And they both are so happy all at once--as though they had met +anew, been married over again; as though their love had begun +afresh. And no one, no one should know what passes between +husband and wife if they love one another. And whatever quarrels +there may be between them they ought not to call in their own +mother to judge between them and tell tales of one another. They +are their own judges. Love is a holy mystery and ought to be +hidden from all other eyes, whatever happens. That makes it +holier and better. They respect one another more, and much is +built on respect. And if once there has been love, if they have +been married for love, why should love pass away? Surely one can +keep it! It is rare that one cannot keep it. And if the husband +is kind and straightforward, why should not love last? The first +phase of married love will pass, it is true, but then there will +come a love that is better still. Then there will be the union +of souls, they will have everything in common, there will be no +secrets between them. And once they have children, the most +difficult times will seem to them happy, so long as there is love +and courage. Even toil will be a joy, you may deny yourself +bread for your children and even that will be a joy, They will +love you for it afterwards; so you are laying by for your future. +As the children grow up you feel that you are an example, a +support for them; that even after you die your children will +always keep your thoughts and feelings, because they have +received them from you, they will take on your semblance and +likeness. So you see this is a great duty. How can it fail to +draw the father and mother nearer? People say it's a trial to +have children. Who says that? It is heavenly happiness! Are +you fond of little children, Liza? I am awfully fond of them. +You know--a little rosy baby boy at your bosom, and what +husband's heart is not touched, seeing his wife nursing his +child! A plump little rosy baby, sprawling and snuggling, chubby +little hands and feet, clean tiny little nails, so tiny that it +makes one laugh to took at them; eyes that look as if they +understand everything. And while it sucks it clutches at your +bosom with its little hand, plays. When its father comes up, the +child tears itself away from the bosom, flings itself back, looks +at its father, laughs, as though it were fearfully funny, and +falls to sucking again. Or it will bite its mother's breast when +its little teeth are coming, while it looks sideways at her with +its little eyes as though to say, 'Look, I am biting!' Is not all +that happiness when they are the three together, husband, wife +and child? One can forgive a great deal for the sake of such +moments. Yes, Liza, one must first learn to live oneself before +one blames others!" + +"It's by pictures, pictures like that one must get at you," I +thought to myself, though I did speak with real feeling, and all +at once I flushed crimson. "What if she were suddenly to burst +out laughing, what should I do then?" That idea drove me to +fury. Towards the end of my speech I really was excited, and now +my vanity was somehow wounded. The silence continued. I almost +nudged her. + +"Why are you--" she began and stopped. But I understood: there +was a quiver of something different in her voice, not abrupt, +harsh and unyielding as before, but something soft and +shamefaced, so shamefaced that I suddenly felt ashamed and +guilty. + +"What?" I asked, with tender curiosity + +"Why, you ..." + +"What?" + +"Why, you ... speak somehow like a book," she said, and again +there was a note of irony in her voice. + +That remark sent a pang to my heart. It was not what I was +expecting. + +I did not understand that she was hiding her feelings under +irony, that this is usually the last refuge of modest and +chaste-souled people when the privacy of their soul is coarsely +and intrusively invaded, and that their pride makes them refuse +to surrender till the last moment and shrink from giving +expression to their feelings before you. I ought to have guessed +the truth from the timidity with which she had repeatedly +approached her sarcasm, only bringing herself to utter it at last +with an effort. But I did not guess, and an evil feeling took +possession of me. + +"Wait a bit!" I thought. + + +VII + +"Oh, hush, Liza! How can you talk about being like a book, when +it makes even me, an outsider, feel sick? Though I don't look at +it as an outsider, for, indeed, it touches me to the heart.... Is +it possible, is it possible that you do not feel sick at being +here yourself? Evidently habit does wonders! God knows what +habit can do with anyone. Can you seriously think that you will +never grow old, that you will always be good-looking, and that +they will keep you here for ever and ever? I say nothing of the +loathsomeness of the life here.... Though let me tell you this +about it--about your present life, I mean; here though you are +young now, attractive, nice, with soul and feeling, yet you know +as soon as I came to myself just now I felt at once sick at being +here with you! One can only come here when one is drunk. But if +you were anywhere else, living as good people live, I should +perhaps be more than attracted by you, should fall in love with +you, should be glad of a look from you, let alone a word; I +should hang about your door, should go down on my knees to you, +should look upon you as my betrothed and think it an honour to be +allowed to. I should not dare to have an impure thought about +you. But here, you see, I know that I have only to whistle and +you have to come with me whether you like it or not. I don't +consult your wishes, but you mine. The lowest labourer hires +himself as a workman, but he doesn't make a slave of himself +altogether; besides, he knows that he will be free again +presently. But when are you free? Only think what you are +giving up here? What is it you are making a slave of? It is +your soul, together with your body; you are selling your soul +which you have no right to dispose of! You give your love to be +outraged by every drunkard! Love! But that's everything, you +know, it's a priceless diamond, it's a maiden's treasure, +love--why, a man would be ready to give his soul, to face death +to gain that love. But how much is your love worth now? You are +sold, all of you, body and soul, and there is no need to strive +for love when you can have everything without love. And you know +there is no greater insult to a girl than that, do you +understand? To be sure, I have heard that they comfort you, poor +fools, they let you have lovers of your own here. But you know +that's simply a farce, that's simply a sham, it's just laughing +at you, and you are taken in by it! Why, do you suppose he +really loves you, that lover of yours? I don't believe it. How +can he love you when he knows you may be called away from him any +minute? He would be a low fellow if he did! Will he have a +grain of respect for you? What have you in common with him? He +laughs at you and robs you--that is all his love amounts to! You +are lucky if he does not beat you. Very likely he does beat you, +too. Ask him, if you have got one, whether he will marry you. +He will laugh in your face, if he doesn't spit in it or give you +a blow--though maybe he is not worth a bad halfpenny himself. +And for what have you ruined your life, if you come to think of +it? For the coffee they give you to drink and the plentiful +meals? But with what object are they feeding you up? An honest +girl couldn't swallow the food, for she would know what she was +being fed for. You are in debt here, and, of course, you will +always be in debt, and you will go on in debt to the end, till +the visitors here begin to scorn you. And that will soon happen, +don't rely upon your youth--all that flies by express train here, +you know. You will be kicked out. And not simply kicked out; +long before that she'll begin nagging at you, scolding you, +abusing you, as though you had not sacrificed your health for +her, had not thrown away your youth and your soul for her +benefit, but as though you had ruined her, beggared her, robbed +her. And don't expect anyone to take your part: the others, your +companions, will attack you, too, win her favour, for all are in +slavery here, and have lost all conscience and pity here long +ago. They have become utterly vile, and nothing on earth is +viler, more loathsome, and more insulting than their abuse. And +you are laying down everything here, unconditionally, youth and +health and beauty and hope, and at twenty-two you will look like +a woman of five-and-thirty, and you will be lucky if you are not +diseased, pray to God for that! No doubt you are thinking now +that you have a gay time and no work to do! Yet there is no work +harder or more dreadful in the world or ever has been. One would +think that the heart alone would be worn out with tears. And you +won't dare to say a word, not half a word when they drive you +away from here; you will go away as though you were to blame. +You will change to another house, then to a third, then somewhere +else, till you come down at last to the Haymarket. There you +will be beaten at every turn; that is good manners there, the +visitors don't know how to be friendly without beating you. You +don't believe that it is so hateful there? Go and look for +yourself some time, you can see with your own eyes. Once, one +New Year's Day, I saw a woman at a door. They had turned her out +as a joke, to give her a taste of the frost because she had been +crying so much, and they shut the door behind her. At nine +o'clock in the morning she was already quite drunk, dishevelled, +half-naked, covered with bruises, her face was powdered, but she +had a black-eye, blood was trickling from her nose and her teeth; +some cabman had just given her a drubbing. She was sitting on +the stone steps, a salt fish of some sort was in her hand; she +was crying, wailing something about her luck and beating with the +fish on the steps, and cabmen and drunken soldiers were crowding +in the doorway taunting her. You don't believe that you will +ever be like that? I should be sorry to believe it, too, but +how do you know; maybe ten years, eight years ago that very woman +with the salt fish came here fresh as a cherub, innocent, pure, +knowing no evil, blushing at every word. Perhaps she was like +you, proud, ready to take offence, not like the others; perhaps +she looked like a queen, and knew what happiness was in store for +the man who should love her and whom she should love. Do you see +how it ended? And what if at that very minute when she was +beating on the filthy steps with that fish, drunken and +dishevelled--what if at that very minute she recalled the pure +early days in her father's house, when she used to go to school +and the neighbour's son watched for her on the way, declaring +that he would love her as long as he lived, that he would devote +his life to her, and when they vowed to love one another for ever +and be married as soon as they were grown up! No, Liza, it would +be happy for you if you were to die soon of consumption in some +corner, in some cellar like that woman just now. In the +hospital, do you say? You will be lucky if they take you, but +what if you are still of use to the madam here? Consumption is a +queer disease, it is not like fever. The patient goes on hoping +till the last minute and says he is all right. He deludes +himself. And that just suits your madam. Don't doubt it, that's +how it is; you have sold your soul, and what is more you owe +money, so you daren't say a word. But when you are dying, all +will abandon you, all will turn away from you, for then there +will be nothing to get from you. What's more, they will reproach +you for cumbering the place, for being so long over dying. +However you beg you won't get a drink of water without abuse: +'Whenever are you going off, you nasty hussy, you won't let us +sleep with your moaning, you make the gentlemen sick.' That's +true, I have heard such things said myself. They will thrust you +dying into the filthiest corner in the cellar--in the damp and +darkness; what will your thoughts be, lying there alone? When +you die, strange hands will lay you out, with grumbling and +impatience; no one will bless you, no one will sigh for you, they +only want to get rid of you as soon as may be; they will buy a +coffin, take you to the grave as they did that poor woman today, +and celebrate your memory at the tavern. In the grave, sleet, +filth, wet snow--no need to put themselves out for you--'Let her +down, Vanuha; it's just like her luck--even here, she is +head-foremost, the hussy. Shorten the cord, you rascal.' 'It's +all right as it is.' 'All right, is it? Why, she's on her side! +She was a fellow-creature, after all! But, never mind, throw the +earth on her.' And they won't care to waste much time quarrelling +over you. They will scatter the wet blue clay as quick as they +can and go off to the tavern ... and there your memory on earth +will end; other women have children to go to their graves, +fathers, husbands. While for you neither tear, nor sigh, nor +remembrance; no one in the whole world will ever come to you, +your name will vanish from the face of the earth--as though you +had never existed, never been born at all! Nothing but filth and +mud, however you knock at your coffin lid at night, when the dead +arise, however you cry: 'Let me out, kind people, to live in the +light of day! My life was no life at all; my life has been +thrown away like a dish-clout; it was drunk away in the tavern at +the Haymarket; let me out, kind people, to live in the world +again.'" + +And I worked myself up to such a pitch that I began to have a +lump in my throat myself, and...and all at once I stopped, sat up +in dismay and, bending over apprehensively, began to listen with +a beating heart. I had reason to be troubled. + +I had felt for some time that I was turning her soul upside down +and rending her heart, and--and the more I was convinced of it, +the more eagerly I desired to gain my object as quickly and as +effectually as possible. It was the exercise of my skill that +carried me away; yet it was not merely sport.... + +I knew I was speaking stiffly, artificially, even bookishly, in +fact, I could not speak except "like a book." But that did not +trouble me: I knew, I felt that I should be understood and that +this very bookishness might be an assistance. But now, having +attained my effect, I was suddenly panic-stricken. Never before +had I witnessed such despair! She was lying on her face, +thrusting her face into the pillow and clutching it in both +hands. Her heart was being torn. Her youthful body was +shuddering all over as though in convulsions. Suppressed sobs +rent her bosom and suddenly burst out in weeping and walling, +then she pressed closer into the pillow: she did not want anyone +here, not a living soul, to know of her anguish and her tears. +She bit the pillow, bit her hand till it bled (I saw that +afterwards), or, thrusting her fingers into her dishevelled hair, +seemed rigid with the effort of restraint, holding her breath and +clenching her teeth. I began saying something, begging her to +calm herself, but felt that I did not dare; and all at once, in a +sort of cold shiver, almost in terror, began fumbling in the +dark, trying hurriedly to get dressed to go. It was dark; though +I tried my best I could not finish dressing quickly. Suddenly I +felt a box of matches and a candlestick with a whole candle in +it. As soon as the room was lighted up, Liza sprang up, sat up +in bed, and with a contorted face, with a half insane smile, +looked at me almost senselessly. I sat down beside her and took +her hands; she came to herself, made an impulsive movement +towards me, would have caught hold of me, but did not dare, and +slowly bowed her head before me. + + "Liza, my dear, I was wrong...forgive me, my dear," I began, but +she squeezed my hand in her fingers so tightly that I felt I was +saying the wrong thing and stopped. + +"This is my address, Liza, come to me." + +"I will come," she answered resolutely, her head still bowed. + +"But now I am going, good-bye...till we meet again." + +I got up; she, too, stood up and suddenly flushed all over, gave +a shudder, snatched up a shawl that was lying on a chair and +muffled herself in it to her chin. As she did this she gave +another sickly smile, blushed and looked at me strangely. I felt +wretched; I was in haste to get away--to disappear. + +"Wait a minute," she said suddenly, in the passage just at the +doorway, stopping me with her hand on my overcoat. She put down +the candle in hot haste and ran off; evidently she had thought of +something or wanted to show me something. As she ran away she +flushed, her eyes shone, and there was a smile on her lips--what +was the meaning of it? Against my will I waited: she came back a +minute later with an expression that seemed to ask forgiveness +for something. In fact, it was not the same face, not the same +look as the evening before: sullen, mistrustful and obstinate. +Her eyes now were imploring, soft, and at the same time trustful, +caressing, timid. The expression with which children look at +people they are very fond of, of whom they are asking a favour. +Her eyes were a light hazel, they were lovely eyes, full of life, +and capable of expressing love as well as sullen hatred. + +Making no explanation, as though I, as a sort of higher being, +must understand everything without explanations, she held out a +piece of paper to me. Her whole face was positively beaming at +that instant with naive, almost childish, triumph. I unfolded +it. It was a letter to her from a medical student or someone of +that sort--a very high-flown and flowery, but extremely +respectful, love-letter. I don't recall the words now, but I +remember well that through the high-flown phrases there was +apparent a genuine feeling, which cannot be feigned. When I had +finished reading it I met her glowing, questioning, and +childishly impatient eyes fixed upon me. She fastened her eyes +upon my face and waited impatiently for what I should say. In a +few words, hurriedly, but with a sort of joy and pride, she +explained to me that she had been to a dance somewhere in a +private house, a family of "very nice people, _who knew nothing_, +absolutely nothing, for she had only come here so lately and it +had all happened...and she hadn't made up her mind to stay and +was certainly going away as soon as she had paid her debt..." and +at that party there had been the student who had danced with her +all the evening. He had talked to her, and it turned out that he +had known her in old days at Riga when he was a child, they had +played together, but a very long time ago--and he knew her +parents, but _about this_ he knew nothing, nothing whatever, and +had no suspicion! And the day after the dance (three days ago) +he had sent her that letter through the friend with whom she had +gone to the party...and...well, that was all." + +She dropped her shining eyes with a sort of bashfulness as she +finished. + +The poor girl was keeping that student's letter as a precious +treasure, and had run to fetch it, her only treasure, because she +did not want me to go away without knowing that she, too, was +honestly and genuinely loved; that she, too, was addressed +respectfully. No doubt that letter was destined to lie in her +box and lead to nothing. But none the less, I am certain that +she would keep it all her life as a precious treasure, as her +pride and justification, and now at such a minute she had thought +of that letter and brought it with naive pride to raise herself +in my eyes that I might see, that I, too, might think well of +her. I said nothing, pressed her hand and went out. I so longed +to get away...I walked all the way home, in spite of the fact +that the melting snow was still falling in heavy flakes. I was +exhausted, shattered, in bewilderment. But behind the +bewilderment the truth was already gleaming. The loathsome +truth. + + +VIII + +It was some time, however, before I consented to recognise that +truth. Waking up in the morning after some hours of heavy, +leaden sleep, and immediately realising all that had happened on +the previous day, I was positively amazed at my last night's +_sentimentality_ with Liza, at all those "outcries of horror and +pity." "To think of having such an attack of womanish hysteria, +pah!" I concluded. And what did I thrust my address upon her +for? What if she comes? Let her come, though; it doesn't +matter....But _obviously_, that was not now the chief and the +most important matter: I had to make haste and at all costs save +my reputation in the eyes of Zverkov and Simonov as quickly as +possible; that was the chief business. And I was so taken up +that morning that I actually forgot all about Liza. + +First of all I had at once to repay what I had borrowed the day +before from Simonov. I resolved on a desperate measure: to +borrow fifteen roubles straight off from Anton Antonitch. As +luck would have it he was in the best of humours that morning, +and gave it to me at once, on the first asking. I was so +delighted at this that, as I signed the IOU with a swaggering +air, I told him casually that the night before "I had been +keeping it up with some friends at the Hotel de Paris; we were +giving a farewell party to a comrade, in fact, I might say a +friend of my childhood, and you know--a desperate rake, fearfully +spoilt--of course, he belongs to a good family, and has +considerable means, a brilliant career; he is witty, charming, a +regular Lovelace, you understand; we drank an extra 'half-dozen' +and..." And it went off all right; all this was uttered very +easily, unconstrainedly and complacently. + +On reaching home I promptly wrote to Simonov. + +To this hour I am lost in admiration when I recall the truly +gentlemanly, good-humoured, candid tone of my letter. With tact +and good-breeding, and, above all, entirely without superfluous +words, I blamed myself for all that had happened. I defended +myself, "if I really may be allowed to defend myself," by +alleging that being utterly unaccustomed to wine, I had been +intoxicated with the first glass, which I said, I had drunk +before they arrived, while I was waiting for them at the Hotel de +Paris between five and six o'clock. I begged Simonov's pardon +especially; I asked him to convey my explanations to all the +others, especially to Zverkov, whom "I seemed to remember as +though in a dream" I had insulted. I added that I would have +called upon all of them myself, but my head ached, and besides I +had not the face to. I was particularly pleased with a certain +lightness, almost carelessness (strictly within the bounds of +politeness, however), which was apparent in my style, and better +than any possible arguments, gave them at once to understand that +I took rather an independent view of "all that unpleasantness +last night"; that I was by no means so utterly crushed as you, my +friends, probably imagine; but on the contrary, looked upon it as +a gentleman serenely respecting himself should look upon it. "On +a young hero's past no censure is cast!" + +"There is actually an aristocratic playfulness about it!" I +thought admiringly, as I read over the letter. "And it's all +because I am an intellectual and cultivated man! Another man in +my place would not have known how to extricate himself, but here +I have got out of it and am as jolly as ever again, and all +because I am 'a cultivated and educated man of our day.' And, +indeed, perhaps, everything was due to the wine yesterday. H'm!" +...no, it was not the wine. I did not drink anything at all +between five and six when I was waiting for them. I had lied to +Simonov; I had lied shamelessly; and indeed I wasn't ashamed +now.... Hang it all though, the great thing was that I was rid of +it. + +I put six roubles in the letter, sealed it up, and asked Apollon +to take it to Simonov. When he learned that there was money in +the letter, Apollon became more respectful and agreed to take it. +Towards evening I went out for a walk. My head was still aching +and giddy after yesterday. But as evening came on and the +twilight grew denser, my impressions and, following them, my +thoughts, grew more and more different and confused. Something +was not dead within me, in the depths of my heart and conscience +it would not die, and it showed itself in acute depression. For +the most part I jostled my way through the most crowded business +streets, along Myeshtchansky Street, along Sadovy Street and in +Yusupov Garden. I always liked particularly sauntering along +these streets in the dusk, just when there were crowds of working +people of all sorts going home from their daily work, with faces +looking cross with anxiety. What I liked was just that cheap +bustle, that bare prose. On this occasion the jostling of the +streets irritated me more than ever, I could not make out what +was wrong with me, I could not find the clue, something seemed +rising up continually in my soul, painfully, and refusing to be +appeased. I returned home completely upset, it was just as +though some crime were lying on my conscience. + +The thought that Liza was coming worried me continually. It +seemed queer to me that of all my recollections of yesterday this +tormented me, as it were, especially, as it were, quite +separately. Everything else I had quite succeeded in forgetting +by the evening; I dismissed it all and was still perfectly +satisfied with my letter to Simonov. But on this point I was not +satisfied at all. It was as though I were worried only by Liza. +"What if she comes," I thought incessantly, "well, it doesn't +matter, let her come! H'm! it's horrid that she should see, for +instance, how I live. Yesterday I seemed such a hero to her, +while now, h'm! It's horrid, though, that I have let myself go +so, the room looks like a beggar's. And I brought myself to go +out to dinner in such a suit! And my American leather sofa with +the stuffing sticking out. And my dressing-gown, which will not +cover me, such tatters, and she will see all this and she will +see Apollon. That beast is certain to insult her. He will +fasten upon her in order to be rude to me. And I, of course, +shall be panic-stricken as usual, I shall begin bowing and +scraping before her and pulling my dressing-gown round me, I +shall begin smiling, telling lies. Oh, the beastliness! And it +isn't the beastliness of it that matters most! There is +something more important, more loathsome, viler! Yes, viler! +And to put on that dishonest lying mask again!..." + +When I reached that thought I fired up all at once. + +"Why dishonest? How dishonest? I was speaking sincerely last +night. I remember there was real feeling in me, too. What I +wanted was to excite an honourable feeling in her.... Her crying +was a good thing, it will have a good effect." + +Yet I could not feel at ease. All that evening, even when I had +come back home, even after nine o'clock, when I calculated that +Liza could not possibly come, still she haunted me, and what was +worse, she came back to my mind always in the same position. One +moment out of all that had happened last night stood vividly +before my imagination; the moment when I struck a match and saw +her pale, distorted face, with its look of torture. And what a +pitiful, what an unnatural, what a distorted smile she had at +that moment! But I did not know then, that fifteen years later I +should still in my imagination see Liza, always with the pitiful, +distorted, inappropriate smile which was on her face at that +minute. + +Next day I was ready again to look upon it all as nonsense, due +to over-excited nerves, and, above all, as _exaggerated_. I was +always conscious of that weak point of mine, and sometimes very +much afraid of it. "I exaggerate everything, that is where I go +wrong," I repeated to myself every hour. But, however, "Liza +will very likely come all the same," was the refrain with which +all my reflections ended. I was so uneasy that I sometimes flew +into a fury: "She'll come, she is certain to come!" I cried, +running about the room, "if not today, she will come tomorrow; +she'll find me out! The damnable romanticism of these pure +hearts! Oh, the vileness--oh, the silliness--oh, the stupidity +of these 'wretched sentimental souls!' Why, how fail to +understand? How could one fall to understand?..." + +But at this point I stopped short, and in great confusion, +indeed. + +"And how few, how few words," I thought, in passing, "were +needed; how little of the idyllic (and affectedly, bookishly, +artificially idyllic too) had sufficed to turn a whole human life +at once according to my will. That's virginity, to be sure! +Freshness of soil!" + +At times a thought occurred to me, to go to her, "to tell her +all," and beg her not to come to me. But this thought stirred +such wrath in me that I believed I should have crushed that +"damned" Liza if she had chanced to be near me at the time. I +should have insulted her, have spat at her, have turned her out, +have struck her! + +One day passed, however, another and another; she did not come +and I began to grow calmer. I felt particularly bold and +cheerful after nine o'clock, I even sometimes began dreaming, and +rather sweetly: I, for instance, became the salvation of Liza, +simply through her coming to me and my talking to her....I +develop her, educate her. Finally, I notice that she loves me, +loves me passionately. I pretend not to understand (I don't +know, however, why I pretend, just for effect, perhaps). At last +all confusion, transfigured, trembling and sobbing, she flings +herself at my feet and says that I am her saviour, and that she +loves me better than anything in the world. I am amazed, but.... +"Liza," I say, "can you imagine that I have not noticed your +love? I saw it all, I divined it, but I did not dare to approach +you first, because I had an influence over you and was afraid +that you would force yourself, from gratitude, to respond to my +love, would try to rouse in your heart a feeling which was +perhaps absent, and I did not wish that ... because it would be +tyranny ... it would be indelicate" (in short, I launch off at +that point into European, inexplicably lofty subtleties a la +George Sand), "but now, now you are mine, you are my creation, +you are pure, you are good, you are my noble wife. + +'Into my house come bold and free, +Its rightful mistress there to be'. + +"Then we begin living together, go abroad and so on, and so on." +In fact, in the end it seemed vulgar to me myself, and I began +putting out my tongue at myself. + +Besides, they won't let her out, "the hussy!" I thought. They +don't let them go out very readily, especially in the evening +(for some reason I fancied she would come in the evening, and at +seven o'clock precisely). Though she did say she was not +altogether a slave there yet, and had certain rights; so, h'm! +Damn it all, she will come, she is sure to come! + +It was a good thing, in fact, that Apollon distracted my +attention at that time by his rudeness. He drove me beyond all +patience! He was the bane of my life, the curse laid upon me by +Providence. We had been squabbling continually for years, and I +hated him. My God, how I hated him! I believe I had never hated +anyone in my life as I hated him, especially at some moments. He +was an elderly, dignified man, who worked part of his time as a +tailor. But for some unknown reason he despised me beyond all +measure, and looked down upon me insufferably. Though, indeed, +he looked down upon everyone. Simply to glance at that flaxen, +smoothly brushed head, at the tuft of hair he combed up on his +forehead and oiled with sunflower oil, at that dignified mouth, +compressed into the shape of the letter V, made one feel one was +confronting a man who never doubted of himself. He was a pedant, +to the most extreme point, the greatest pedant I had met on +earth, and with that had a vanity only befitting Alexander of +Macedon. He was in love with every button on his coat, every +nail on his fingers--absolutely in love with them, and he looked +it! In his behaviour to me he was a perfect tyrant, he spoke +very little to me, and if he chanced to glance at me he gave me a +firm, majestically self-confident and invariably ironical look +that drove me sometimes to fury. He did his work with the air of +doing me the greatest favour, though he did scarcely anything for +me, and did not, indeed, consider himself bound to do anything. +There could be no doubt that he looked upon me as the greatest +fool on earth, and that "he did not get rid of me" was simply +that he could get wages from me every month. He consented to do +nothing for me for seven roubles a month. Many sins should be +forgiven me for what I suffered from him. My hatred reached such +a point that sometimes his very step almost threw me into +convulsions. What I loathed particularly was his lisp. His +tongue must have been a little too long or something of that +sort, for he continually lisped, and seemed to be very proud of +it, imagining that it greatly added to his dignity. He spoke in +a slow, measured tone, with his hands behind his back and his +eyes fixed on the ground. He maddened me particularly when he +read aloud the psalms to himself behind his partition. Many a +battle I waged over that reading! But he was awfully fond of +reading aloud in the evenings, in a slow, even, sing-song voice, +as though over the dead. It is interesting that that is how he +has ended: he hires himself out to read the psalms over the dead, +and at the same time he kills rats and makes blacking. But at +that time I could not get rid of him, it was as though he were +chemically combined with my existence. Besides, nothing would +have induced him to consent to leave me. I could not live in +furnished lodgings: my lodging was my private solitude, my shell, +my cave, in which I concealed myself from all mankind, and +Apollon seemed to me, for some reason, an integral part of that +flat, and for seven years I could not turn him away. + +To be two or three days behind with his wages, for instance, was +impossible. He would have made such a fuss, I should not have +known where to hide my head. But I was so exasperated with +everyone during those days, that I made up my mind for some +reason and with some object to _punish_ Apollon and not to pay +him for a fortnight the wages that were owing him. I had for a +long time--for the last two years--been intending to do this, +simply in order to teach him not to give himself airs with me, +and to show him that if I liked I could withhold his wages. I +purposed to say nothing to him about it, and was purposely silent +indeed, in order to score off his pride and force him to be the +first to speak of his wages. Then I would take the seven roubles +out of a drawer, show him I have the money put aside on purpose, +but that I won't, I won't, I simply won't pay him his wages, I +won't just because that is "what I wish," because "I am master, +and it is for me to decide," because he has been disrespectful, +because he has been rude; but if he were to ask respectfully I +might be softened and give it to him, otherwise he might wait +another fortnight, another three weeks, a whole month.... + +But angry as I was, yet he got the better of me. I could not +hold out for four days. He began as he always did begin in such +cases, for there had been such cases already, there had been +attempts (and it may be observed I knew all this beforehand, I +knew his nasty tactics by heart). He would begin by fixing upon +me an exceedingly severe stare, keeping it up for several minutes +at a time, particularly on meeting me or seeing me out of the +house. If I held out and pretended not to notice these stares, +he would, still in silence, proceed to further tortures. All at +once, a propos of nothing, he would walk softly and smoothly into +my room, when I was pacing up and down or reading, stand at the +door, one hand behind his back and one foot behind the other, and +fix upon me a stare more than severe, utterly contemptuous. If I +suddenly asked him what he wanted, he would make me no answer, +but continue staring at me persistently for some seconds, then, +with a peculiar compression of his lips and a most significant +air, deliberately turn round and deliberately go back to his +room. Two hours later he would come out again and again present +himself before me in the same way. It had happened that in my +fury I did not even ask him what he wanted, but simply raised my +head sharply and imperiously and began staring back at him. So +we stared at one another for two minutes; at last he turned with +deliberation and dignity and went back again for two hours. + +If I were still not brought to reason by all this, but persisted +in my revolt, he would suddenly begin sighing while he looked at +me, long, deep sighs as though measuring by them the depths of my +moral degradation, and, of course, it ended at last by his +triumphing completely: I raged and shouted, but still was forced +to do what he wanted. + +This time the usual staring manoeuvres had scarcely begun when I +lost my temper and flew at him in a fury. I was irritated beyond +endurance apart from him. + +"Stay," I cried, in a frenzy, as he was slowly and silently +turning, with one hand behind his back, to go to his room. +"Stay! Come back, come back, I tell you!" and I must have bawled +so unnaturally, that he turned round and even looked at me with +some wonder. However, he persisted in saying nothing, and that +infuriated me. + +"How dare you come and look at me like that without being sent +for? Answer!" + +After looking at me calmly for half a minute, he began turning +round again. + +"Stay!" I roared, running up to him, "don't stir! There. +Answer, now: what did you come in to look at?" + +"If you have any order to give me it's my duty to carry it out," +he answered, after another silent pause, with a slow, measured +lisp, raising his eyebrows and calmly twisting his head from one +side to another, all this with exasperating composure. + +"That's not what I am asking you about, you torturer!" I shouted, +turning crimson with anger. "I'll tell you why you came here +myself: you see, I don't give you your wages, you are so proud +you don't want to bow down and ask for it, and so you come to +punish me with your stupid stares, to worry me and you have no +sus...pic...ion how stupid it is--stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid! +..." + +He would have turned round again without a word, but I seized +him. + +"Listen," I shouted to him. "Here's the money, do you see, here +it is," (I took it out of the table drawer); "here's the seven +roubles complete, but you are not going to have it, +you...are...not...going...to...have it until you come +respectfully with bowed head to beg my pardon. Do you hear?" + +"That cannot be," he answered, with the most unnatural +self-confidence. + +"It shall be so," I said, "I give you my word of honour, it shall +be!" + +"And there's nothing for me to beg your pardon for," he went on, +as though he had not noticed my exclamations at all. "Why, +besides, you called me a 'torturer,' for which I can summon you +at the police-station at any time for insulting behaviour." + +"Go, summon me," I roared, "go at once, this very minute, this +very second! You are a torturer all the same! a torturer!" + +But he merely looked at me, then turned, and regardless of my +loud calls to him, he walked to his room with an even step and +without looking round. + +"If it had not been for Liza nothing of this would have +happened," I decided inwardly. Then, after waiting a minute, I +went myself behind his screen with a dignified and solemn air, +though my heart was beating slowly and violently. + +"Apollon," I said quietly and emphatically, though I was +breathless, "go at once without a minute's delay and fetch the +police-officer." + +He had meanwhile settled himself at his table, put on his +spectacles and taken up some sewing. But, hearing my order, he +burst into a guffaw. + +"At once, go this minute! Go on, or else you can't imagine what +will happen." + +"You are certainly out of your mind," he observed, without even +raising his head, lisping as deliberately as ever and threading +his needle. "Whoever heard of a man sending for the police +against himself? And as for being frightened--you are upsetting +yourself about nothing, for nothing will come of it." + +"Go!" I shrieked, clutching him by the shoulder. I felt I should +strike him in a minute. + +But I did not notice the door from the passage softly and slowly +open at that instant and a figure come in, stop short, and begin +staring at us in perplexity I glanced, nearly swooned with shame, +and rushed back to my room. There, clutching at my hair with +both hands, I leaned my head against the wall and stood +motionless in that position. + +Two minutes later I heard Apollon's deliberate footsteps. "There +is some woman asking for you," he said, looking at me with +peculiar severity. Then he stood aside and let in Liza. He +would not go away, but stared at us sarcastically. + +"Go away, go away," I commanded in desperation. At that moment +my clock began whirring and wheezing and struck seven. + + +IX + +"Into my house come bold and free, +Its rightful mistress there to be." + +I stood before her crushed, crestfallen, revoltingly confused, +and I believe I smiled as I did my utmost to wrap myself in the +skirts of my ragged wadded dressing-gown--exactly as I had +imagined the scene not long before in a fit of depression. After +standing over us for a couple of minutes Apollon went away, but +that did not make me more at ease. What made it worse was that +she, too, was overwhelmed with confusion, more so, in fact, than +I should have expected. At the sight of me, of course. + +"Sit down," I said mechanically, moving a chair up to the table, +and I sat down on the sofa. She obediently sat down at once and +gazed at me open-eyed, evidently expecting something from me at +once. This naivete of expectation drove me to fury, but I +restrained myself. + +She ought to have tried not to notice, as though everything had +been as usual, while instead of that, she...and I dimly felt that +I should make her pay dearly for _all this_. + +"You have found me in a strange position, Liza," I began, +stammering and knowing that this was the wrong way to begin. +"No, no, don't imagine anything," I cried, seeing that she had +suddenly flushed. "I am not ashamed of my poverty...On the +contrary, I look with pride on my poverty. I am poor but +honourable....One can be poor and honourable," I muttered. +"However...would you like tea?...." + +"No," she was beginning. + +"Wait a minute." + +I leapt up and ran to Apollon. I had to get out of the room +somehow. + +"Apollon," I whispered in feverish haste, flinging down before +him the seven roubles which had remained all the time in my +clenched fist, "here are your wages, you see I give them to you; +but for that you must come to my rescue: bring me tea and a dozen +rusks from the restaurant. If you won't go, you'll make me a +miserable man! You don't know what this woman is....This +is--everything! You may be imagining something....But you don't +know what that woman is! ..." + +Apollon, who had already sat down to his work and put on his +spectacles again, at first glanced askance at the money without +speaking or putting down his needle; then, without paying the +slightest attention to me or making any answer, he went on +busying himself with his needle, which he had not yet threaded. +I waited before him for three minutes with my arms crossed a la +Napoleon. My temples were moist with sweat. I was pale, I felt +it. But, thank God, he must have been moved to pity, looking at +me. Having threaded his needle he deliberately got up from his +seat, deliberately moved back his chair, deliberately took off +his spectacles, deliberately counted the money, and finally +asking me over his shoulder: "Shall I get a whole portion?" +deliberately walked out of the room. As I was going back to +Liza, the thought occurred to me on the way: shouldn't I run away +just as I was in my dressing-gown, no matter where, and then let +happen what would? + +I sat down again. She looked at me uneasily. For some minutes +we were silent. + +"I will kill him," I shouted suddenly, striking the table with my +fist so that the ink spurted out of the inkstand. + +"What are you saying!" she cried, starting. + +"I will kill him! kill him!" I shrieked, suddenly striking the +table in absolute frenzy, and at the same time fully +understanding how stupid it was to be in such a frenzy. "You +don't know, Liza, what that torturer is to me. He is my +torturer....He has gone now to fetch some rusks; he ..." + +And suddenly I burst into tears. It was an hysterical attack. +How ashamed I felt in the midst of my sobs; but still I could not +restrain them. + +She was frightened. + +"What is the matter? What is wrong?" she cried, fussing about +me. + +"Water, give me water, over there!" I muttered in a faint voice, +though I was inwardly conscious that I could have got on very +well without water and without muttering in a faint voice. But I +was, what is called, _putting it on_, to save appearances, though +the attack was a genuine one. + +She gave me water, looking at me in bewilderment. At that moment +Apollon brought in the tea. It suddenly seemed to me that this +commonplace, prosaic tea was horribly undignified and paltry +after all that had happened, and I blushed crimson. Liza looked +at Apollon with positive alarm. He went out without a glance at +either of us. + +"Liza, do you despise me?" I asked, looking at her fixedly, +trembling with impatience to know what she was thinking. + +She was confused, and did not know what to answer. + +"Drink your tea," I said to her angrily. I was angry with +myself, but, of course, it was she who would have to pay for it. +A horrible spite against her suddenly surged up in my heart; I +believe I could have killed her. To revenge myself on her I +swore inwardly not to say a word to her all the time. "She is +the cause of it all," I thought. + +Our silence lasted for five minutes. The tea stood on the table; +we did not touch it. I had got to the point of purposely +refraining from beginning in order to embarrass her further; it +was awkward for her to begin alone. Several times she glanced at +me with mournful perplexity. I was obstinately silent. I was, +of course, myself the chief sufferer, because I was fully +conscious of the disgusting meanness of my spiteful stupidity, +and yet at the same time I could not restrain myself. + +"I want to...get away...from there altogether," she began, to +break the silence in some way, but, poor girl, that was just what +she ought not to have spoken about at such a stupid moment to a +man so stupid as I was. My heart positively ached with pity for +her tactless and unnecessary straightforwardness. But something +hideous at once stifled all compassion in me; it even provoked me +to greater venom. I did not care what happened. Another five +minutes passed. + +"Perhaps I am in your way," she began timidly, hardly audibly, +and was getting up. + +But as soon as I saw this first impulse of wounded dignity I +positively trembled with spite, and at once burst out. + +"Why have you come to me, tell me that, please?" I began, gasping +for breath and regardless of logical connection in my words. I +longed to have it all out at once, at one burst; I did not even +trouble how to begin. "Why have you come? Answer, answer," I +cried, hardly knowing what I was doing. "I'll tell you, my good +girl, why you have come. You've come because I talked +sentimental stuff to you then. So now you are soft as butter and +longing for fine sentiments again. So you may as well know that +I was laughing at you then. And I am laughing at you now. Why +are you shuddering? Yes, I was laughing at you! I had been +insulted just before, at dinner, by the fellows who came that +evening before me. I came to you, meaning to thrash one of them, +an officer; but I didn't succeed, I didn't find him; I had to +avenge the insult on someone to get back my own again; you turned +up, I vented my spleen on you and laughed at you. I had been +humiliated, so I wanted to humiliate; I had been treated like a +rag, so I wanted to show my power.... hat's what it was, and you +imagined I had come there on purpose to save you. Yes? You +imagined that? You imagined that?" + +I knew that she would perhaps be muddled and not take it all in +exactly, but I knew, too, that she would grasp the gist of it, +very well indeed. And so, indeed, she did. She turned white as +a handkerchief, tried to say something, and her lips worked +painfully; but she sank on a chair as though she had been felled +by an axe. And all the time afterwards she listened to me with +her lips parted and her eyes wide open, shuddering with awful +terror. The cynicism, the cynicism of my words overwhelmed +her.... + +"Save you!" I went on, jumping up from my chair and running up +and down the room before her. "Save you from what? But perhaps +I am worse than you myself. Why didn't you throw it in my teeth +when I was giving you that sermon: 'But what did you come here +yourself for? was it to read us a sermon?' Power, power was what +I wanted then, sport was what I wanted, I wanted to wring out +your tears, your humiliation, your hysteria--that was what I +wanted then! Of course, I couldn't keep it up then, because I am +a wretched creature, I was frightened, and, the devil knows why, +gave you my address in my folly. Afterwards, before I got home, +I was cursing and swearing at you because of that address, I +hated you already because of the lies I had told you. Because I +only like playing with words, only dreaming, but, do you know, +what I really want is that you should all go to hell. That is +what I want. I want peace; yes, I'd sell the whole world for a +farthing, straight off, so long as I was left in peace. Is the +world to go to pot, or am I to go without my tea? I say that the +world may go to pot for me so long as I always get my tea. Did +you know that, or not? Well, anyway, I know that I am a +blackguard, a scoundrel, an egoist, a sluggard. Here I have been +shuddering for the last three days at the thought of your coming. +And do you know what has worried me particularly for these three +days? That I posed as such a hero to you, and now you would see +me in a wretched torn dressing-gown, beggarly, loathsome. I told +you just now that I was not ashamed of my poverty; so you may as +well know that I am ashamed of it; I am more ashamed of it than +of anything, more afraid of it than of being found out if I were +a thief, because I am as vain as though I had been skinned and +the very air blowing on me hurt. Surely by now you must realise +that I shall never forgive you for having found me in this +wretched dressing-gown, just as I was flying at Apollon like a +spiteful cur. The saviour, the former hero, was flying like a +mangy, unkempt sheep-dog at his lackey, and the lackey was +jeering at him! And I shall never forgive you for the tears I +could not help shedding before you just now, like some silly +woman put to shame! And for what I am confessing to you now, I +shall never forgive you either! Yes--you must answer for it all +because you turned up like this, because I am a blackguard, +because I am the nastiest, stupidest, absurdest and most envious +of all the worms on earth, who are not a bit better than I am, +but, the devil knows why, are never put to confusion; while I +shall always be insulted by every louse, that is my doom! And +what is it to me that you don't understand a word of this! And +what do I care, what do I care about you, and whether you go to +ruin there or not? Do you understand? How I shall hate you now +after saying this, for having been here and listening. Why, it's +not once in a lifetime a man speaks out like this, and then it is +in hysterics! ...What more do you want? Why do you still stand +confronting me, after all this? Why are you worrying me? Why +don't you go?" + +But at this point a strange thing happened. I was so accustomed +to think and imagine everything from books, and to picture +everything in the world to myself just as I had made it up in my +dreams beforehand, that I could not all at once take in this +strange circumstance. What happened was this: Liza, insulted and +crushed by me, understood a great deal more than I imagined. She +understood from all this what a woman understands first of all, +if she feels genuine love, that is, that I was myself unhappy. + +The frightened and wounded expression on her face was followed +first by a look of sorrowful perplexity. When I began calling +myself a scoundrel and a blackguard and my tears flowed (the +tirade was accompanied throughout by tears) her whole face worked +convulsively. She was on the point of getting up and stopping +me; when I finished she took no notice of my shouting: "Why are +you here, why don't you go away?" but realised only that it must +have been very bitter to me to say all this. Besides, she was so +crushed, poor girl; she considered herself infinitely beneath me; +how could she feel anger or resentment? She suddenly leapt up +from her chair with an irresistible impulse and held out her +hands, yearning towards me, though still timid and not daring to +stir.... At this point there was a revulsion in my heart too. +Then she suddenly rushed to me, threw her arms round me and burst +into tears. I, too, could not restrain myself, and sobbed as I +never had before... + +"They won't let me...I can't be...good!" I managed to articulate; +then I went to the sofa, fell on it face downwards, and sobbed on +it for a quarter of an hour in genuine hysterics. She came close +to me, put her arms round me and stayed motionless in that +position. But the trouble was that the hysterics could not go on +for ever, and (I am writing the loathsome truth) lying face +downwards on the sofa with my face thrust into my nasty leather +pillow, I began by degrees to be aware of a far-away, involuntary +but irresistible feeling that it would be awkward now for me to +raise my head and look Liza straight in the face. Why was I +ashamed? I don't know, but I was ashamed. The thought, too, +came into my overwrought brain that our parts now were completely +changed, that she was now the heroine, while I was just a crushed +and humiliated creature as she had been before me that +night--four days before.... And all this came into my mind during +the minutes I was lying on my face on the sofa. + +My God! surely I was not envious of her then. + +I don't know, to this day I cannot decide, and at the time, of +course, I was still less able to understand what I was feeling +than now. I cannot get on without domineering and tyrannising +over someone, but ... there is no explaining anything by +reasoning and so it is useless to reason. + +I conquered myself, however, and raised my head; I had to do so +sooner or later...and I am convinced to this day that it was just +became I was ashamed to look at her that another feeling was +suddenly kindled and flamed up in my heart...a feeling of mastery +and possession. My eyes gleamed with passion, and I gripped her +hands tightly. How I hated her and how I was drawn to her at +that minute! The one feeling intensified the other. It was +almost like an act of vengeance. At first there was a look of +amazement, even of terror on her face, but only for one instant. +She warmly and rapturously embraced me. + + +X + +A quarter of an hour later I was rushing up and down the room in +frenzied impatience, from minute to minute I went up to the +screen and peeped through the crack at Liza. She was sitting on +the floor with her head leaning against the bed, and must have +been crying. But she did not go away, and that irritated me. +This time she understood it all. I had insulted her finally, +but...there's no need to describe it. She realised that my +outburst of passion had been simply revenge, a fresh humiliation, +and that to my earlier, almost causeless hatred was added now a +_personal hatred_, born of envy....Though I do not maintain +positively that she understood all this distinctly; but she +certainly did fully understand that I was a despicable man, and +what was worse, incapable of loving her. + +I know I shall be told that this is incredible--but it is +incredible to be as spiteful and stupid as I was; it may be added +that it was strange I should not love her, or at any rate, +appreciate her love. Why is it strange? In the first place, by +then I was incapable of love, for I repeat, with me loving meant +tyrannising and showing my moral superiority. I have never in my +life been able to imagine any other sort of love, and have +nowadays come to the point of sometimes thinking that love really +consists in the right--freely given by the beloved object--to +tyrannise over her. + +Even in my underground dreams I did not imagine love except as a +struggle. I began it always with hatred and ended it with moral +subjugation, and afterwards I never knew what to do with the +subjugated object. And what is there to wonder at in that, since +I had succeeded in so corrupting myself, since I was so out of +touch with "real life," as to have actually thought of +reproaching her, and putting her to shame for having come to me +to hear "fine sentiments"; and did not even guess that she had +come not to hear fine sentiments, but to love me, because to a +woman all reformation, all salvation from any sort of ruin, and +all moral renewal is included in love and can only show itself in +that form. + +I did not hate her so much, however, when I was running about the +room and peeping through the crack in the screen. I was only +insufferably oppressed by her being here. I wanted her to +disappear. I wanted "peace," to be left alone in my underground +world. Real life oppressed me with its novelty so much that I +could hardly breathe. + +But several minutes passed and she still remained, without +stirring, as though she were unconscious. I had the +shamelessness to tap softly at the screen as though to remind +her....She started, sprang up, and flew to seek her kerchief, her +hat, her coat, as though making her escape from me....Two minutes +later she came from behind the screen and looked with heavy eyes +at me. I gave a spiteful grin, which was forced, however, to +_keep up appearances_, and I turned away from her eyes. + +"Good-bye," she said, going towards the door. + +I ran up to her, seized her hand, opened it, thrust something in +it and closed it again. Then I turned at once and dashed away in +haste to the other corner of the room to avoid seeing, anyway.... + +I did mean a moment since to tell a lie--to write that I did this +accidentally, not knowing what I was doing through foolishness, +through losing my head. But I don't want to lie, and so I will +say straight out that I opened her hand and put the money in +it...from spite. It came into my head to do this while I was +running up and down the room and she was sitting behind the +screen. But this I can say for certain: though I did that cruel +thing purposely, it was not an impulse from the heart, but came +from my evil brain. This cruelty was so affected, so purposely +made up, so completely a product of the brain, of books, that I +could not even keep it up a minute--first I dashed away to avoid +seeing her, and then in shame and despair rushed after Liza. I +opened the door in the passage and began listening. + +"Liza! Liza!" I cried on the stairs, but in a low voice, not +boldly. + +There was no answer, but I fancied I heard her footsteps, lower +down on the stairs. + +"Liza!" I cried, more loudly. + +No answer. But at that minute I heard the stiff outer glass door +open heavily with a creak and slam violently; the sound echoed up +the stairs. + +She had gone. I went back to my room in hesitation. I felt +horribly oppressed. + +I stood still at the table, beside the chair on which she had sat +and looked aimlessly before me. A minute passed, suddenly I +started; straight before me on the table I saw .... In short, I +saw a crumpled blue five-rouble note, the one I had thrust into +her hand a minute before. It was the same note; it could be no +other, there was no other in the flat. So she had managed to +fling it from her hand on the table at the moment when I had +dashed into the further corner. + +Well! I might have expected that she would do that. Might I +have expected it? No, I was such an egoist, I was so lacking in +respect for my fellow-creatures that I could not even imagine she +would do so. I could not endure it. A minute later I flew like +a madman to dress, flinging on what I could at random and ran +headlong after her. She could not have got two hundred paces +away when I ran out into the street. + +It was a still night and the snow was coming down in masses and +falling almost perpendicularly, covering the pavement and the +empty street as though with a pillow. There was no one in the +street, no sound was to be heard. The street lamps gave a +disconsolate and useless glimmer. I ran two hundred paces to the +cross-roads and stopped short. + +Where had she gone? And why was I running after her? + +Why? To fall down before her, to sob with remorse, to kiss her +feet, to entreat her forgiveness! I longed for that, my whole +breast was being rent to pieces, and never, never shall I recall +that minute with indifference. But--what for? I thought. +Should I not begin to hate her, perhaps, even tomorrow, just +because I had kissed her feet today? Should I give her +happiness? Had I not recognised that day, for the hundredth +time, what I was worth? Should I not torture her? + +I stood in the snow, gazing into the troubled darkness and +pondered this. + +"And will it not be better?" I mused fantastically, afterwards at +home, stifling the living pang of my heart with fantastic dreams. +"Will it not be better that she should keep the resentment of the +insult for ever? Resentment--why, it is purification; it is a +most stinging and painful consciousness! Tomorrow I should have +defiled her soul and have exhausted her heart, while now the +feeling of insult will never die in her heart, and however +loathsome the filth awaiting her--the feeling of insult will +elevate and purify her...by hatred...h'm!...perhaps, too, by +forgiveness.... Will all that make things easier for her though? +..." + +And, indeed, I will ask on my own account here, an idle question: +which is better--cheap happiness or exalted sufferings? Well, +which is better? + +So I dreamed as I sat at home that evening, almost dead with the +pain in my soul. Never had I endured such suffering and remorse, +yet could there have been the faintest doubt when I ran out from +my lodging that I should turn back half-way? I never met Liza +again and I have heard nothing of her. I will add, too, that I +remained for a long time afterwards pleased with the phrase about +the benefit from resentment and hatred in spite of the fact that +I almost fell ill from misery. + +. . . . . + +Even now, so many years later, all this is somehow a very evil +memory. I have many evil memories now, but...hadn't I better end +my "Notes" here? I believe I made a mistake in beginning to +write them, anyway I have felt ashamed all the time I've been +writing this story; so it's hardly literature so much as a +corrective punishment. Why, to tell long stories, showing how I +have spoiled my life through morally rotting in my corner, +through lack of fitting environment, through divorce from real +life, and rankling spite in my underground world, would certainly +not be interesting; a novel needs a hero, and all the traits for +an anti-hero are _expressly_ gathered together here, and what +matters most, it all produces an unpleasant impression, for we +are all divorced from life, we are all cripples, every one of us, +more or less. We are so divorced from it that we feel at once a +sort of loathing for real life, and so cannot bear to be reminded +of it. Why, we have come almost to looking upon real life as an +effort, almost as hard work, and we are all privately agreed that +it is better in books. And why do we fuss and fume sometimes? +Why are we perverse and ask for something else? We don't know +what ourselves. It would be the worse for us if our petulant +prayers were answered. Come, try, give any one of us, for +instance, a little more independence, untie our hands, widen the +spheres of our activity, relax the control and we...yes, I assure +you...we should be begging to be under control again at once. I +know that you will very likely be angry with me for that, and +will begin shouting and stamping. Speak for yourself, you will +say, and for your miseries in your underground holes, and don't +dare to say all of us--excuse me, gentlemen, I am not justifying +myself with that "all of us." As for what concerns me in +particular I have only in my life carried to an extreme what you +have not dared to carry halfway, and what's more, you have taken +your cowardice for good sense, and have found comfort in +deceiving yourselves. So that perhaps, after all, there is more +life in me than in you. Look into it more carefully! Why, we +don't even know what living means now, what it is, and what it is +called? Leave us alone without books and we shall be lost and in +confusion at once. We shall not know what to join on to, what to +cling to, what to love and what to hate, what to respect and what +to despise. We are oppressed at being men--men with a real +individual body and blood, we are ashamed of it, we think it a +disgrace and try to contrive to be some sort of impossible +generalised man. We are stillborn, and for generations past have +been begotten, not by living fathers, and that suits us better +and better. We are developing a taste for it. Soon we shall +contrive to be born somehow from an idea. But enough; I don't +want to write more from "Underground"... + +[The notes of this paradoxalist do not end here, however. He +could not refrain from going on with them, but it seems to us +that we may stop here.] + + + + + +End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of Notes from the Underground + diff --git a/old/notun10.zip b/old/notun10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..355c435 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/notun10.zip diff --git a/old/notun11.txt b/old/notun11.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..435ff36 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/notun11.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4436 @@ + +*****The Project Gutenberg Etext Notes from the Underground**** + +#1 in our series by Feodor Dostoevsky + + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world, be sure to check +the copyright laws for your country before posting these files! + +Please take a look at the important information in this header. +We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk, keeping an +electronic path open for the next readers. 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If you + don't derive profits, no royalty is due. Royalties are + payable to "Project Gutenberg Association / Illinois + Benedictine College" within the 60 days following each + date you prepare (or were legally required to prepare) + your annual (or equivalent periodic) tax return. + +WHAT IF YOU *WANT* TO SEND MONEY EVEN IF YOU DON'T HAVE TO? +The Project gratefully accepts contributions in money, time, +scanning machines, OCR software, public domain etexts, royalty +free copyright licenses, and every other sort of contribution +you can think of. Money should be paid to "Project Gutenberg +Association / Illinois Benedictine College". + +*END*THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END* + + + + + +Notes from the Underground + +FYODOR DOSTOYEVSKY + + + + + +PART I + +Underground* + *The author of the diary and the diary itself + are, of course, imaginary. Nevertheless it is clear + that such persons as the writer of these notes + not only may, but positively must, exist in our + society, when we consider the circumstances in + the midst of which our society is formed. I have + tried to expose to the view of the public more + distinctly than is commonly done, one of the + characters of the recent past. He is one of the + representatives of a generation still living. In this + fragment, entitled "Underground," this person + introduces himself and his views, and, as it were, + tries to explain the causes owing to which he has + made his appearance and was bound to make his + appearance in our midst. In the second fragment + there are added the actual notes of this person + concerning certain events in his life. --AUTHOR'S NOTE. + + + +I + + +I am a sick man. ... I am a spiteful man. I am an unattractive man. I +believe my liver is diseased. However, I know nothing at all about my +disease, and do not know for certain what ails me. I don't consult a doctor +for it, and never have, though I have a respect for medicine and doctors. +Besides, I am extremely superstitious, sufficiently so to respect medicine, +anyway (I am well-educated enough not to be superstitious, but I am +superstitious). No, I refuse to consult a doctor from spite. That you +probably will not understand. Well, I understand it, though. Of course, I +can't explain who it is precisely that I am mortifying in this case by my +spite: I am perfectly well aware that I cannot "pay out" the doctors by not +consulting them; I know better than anyone that by all this I am only +injuring myself and no one else. But still, if I don't consult a doctor it is +from spite. My liver is bad, well--let it get worse! + +I have been going on like that for a long time--twenty years. Now I am +forty. I used to be in the government service, but am no longer. I was a +spiteful official. I was rude and took pleasure in being so. I did not take +bribes, you see, so I was bound to find a recompense in that, at least. (A +poor jest, but I will not scratch it out. I wrote it thinking it would sound +very witty; but now that I have seen myself that I only wanted to show off +in a despicable way, I will not scratch it out on purpose!) + +When petitioners used to come for information to the table at which I +sat, I used to grind my teeth at them, and felt intense enjoyment when I +succeeded in making anybody unhappy. I almost did succeed. For the +most part they were all timid people--of course, they were petitioners. +But of the uppish ones there was one officer in particular I could not +endure. He simply would not be humble, and clanked his sword in a +disgusting way. I carried on a feud with him for eighteen months over +that sword. At last I got the better of him. He left off clanking it. That +happened in my youth, though. +But do you know, gentlemen, what was the chief point about my spite? +Why, the whole point, the real sting of it lay in the fact that continually, +even in the moment of the acutest spleen, I was inwardly conscious with +shame that I was not only not a spiteful but not even an embittered man, +that I was simply scaring sparrows at random and amusing myself by it. I +might foam at the mouth, but bring me a doll to play with, give me a cup of +tea with sugar in it, and maybe I should be appeased. I might even be +genuinely touched, though probably I should grind my teeth at myself afterwards +and lie awake at night with shame for months after. That was my way. + +I was lying when I said just now that I was a spiteful official. I was +lying from spite. I was simply amusing myself with the petitioners and with +the officer, and in reality I never could become spiteful. I was conscious +every moment in myself of many, very many elements absolutely opposite to +that. I felt them positively swarming in me, these opposite elements. +I knew that they had been swarming in me all my life and craving +some outlet from me, but I would not let them, would not let them, +purposely would not let them come out. They tormented me till I was +ashamed: they drove me to convulsions and--sickened me, at last, how +they sickened me! Now, are not you fancying, gentlemen, that I am +expressing remorse for something now, that I am asking your forgiveness +for something? I am sure you are fancying that ... However, I assure you +I do not care if you are. ... + +It was not only that I could not become spiteful, I did not know how to +become anything; neither spiteful nor kind, neither a rascal nor an honest +man, neither a hero nor an insect. Now, I am living out my life in my +corner, taunting myself with the spiteful and useless consolation that an +intelligent man cannot become anything seriously, and it is only the fool +who becomes anything. Yes, a man in the nineteenth century must and +morally ought to be pre-eminently a characterless creature; a man of +character, an active man is pre-eminently a limited creature. That is my +conviction of forty years. I am forty years old now, and you know forty +years is a whole lifetime; you know it is extreme old age. To live longer +than forty years is bad manners, is vulgar, immoral. Who does live +beyond forty? Answer that, sincerely and honestly I will tell you who do: +fools and worthless fellows. I tell all old men that to their face, all these +venerable old men, all these silver-haired and reverend seniors! I tell the +whole world that to its face! I have a right to say so, for I shall go on +living to sixty myself. To seventy! To eighty! ... Stay, let me +take breath ... + +You imagine no doubt, gentlemen, that I want to amuse you. You are +mistaken in that, too. I am by no means such a mirthful person as you +imagine, or as you may imagine; however, irritated by all this babble (and +I feel that you are irritated) you think fit to ask me who I am--then my +answer is, I am a collegiate assessor. I was in the service that I might have +something to eat (and solely for that reason), and when last year a distant +relation left me six thousand roubles in his will I immediately retired +from the service and settled down in my corner. I used to live in this +corner before, but now I have settled down in it. My room is a wretched, +horrid one in the outskirts of the town. My servant is an old country- +woman, ill-natured from stupidity, and, moreover, there is always a nasty +smell about her. I am told that the Petersburg climate is bad for me, and +that with my small means it is very expensive to live in Petersburg. I +know all that better than all these sage and experienced counsellors and +monitors. ... But I am remaining in Petersburg; I am not going away +from Petersburg! I am not going away because ... ech! Why, it is +absolutely no matter whether I am going away or not going away. + +But what can a decent man speak of with most pleasure? + +Answer: Of himself. + +Well, so I will talk about myself. + + + +II + + +I want now to tell you, gentlemen, whether you care to hear it or not, why +I could not even become an insect. I tell you solemnly, that I have many +times tried to become an insect. But I was not equal even to that. I swear, +gentlemen, that to be too conscious is an illness--a real thorough-going +illness. For man's everyday needs, it would have been quite enough to +have the ordinary human consciousness, that is, half or a quarter of the +amount which falls to the lot of a cultivated man of our unhappy +nineteenth century, especially one who has the fatal ill-luck to inhabit +Petersburg, the most theoretical and intentional town on the whole +terrestrial globe. (There are intentional and unintentional towns.) It +would have been quite enough, for instance, to have the consciousness +by which all so-called direct persons and men of action live. I bet you +think I am writing all this from affectation, to be witty at the expense of +men of action; and what is more, that from ill-bred affectation, I am +clanking a sword like my officer. But, gentlemen, whoever can pride +himself on his diseases and even swagger over them? + +Though, after all, everyone does do that; people do pride themselves +on their diseases, and I do, may be, more than anyone. We will not +dispute it; my contention was absurd. But yet I am firmly persuaded that +a great deal of consciousness, every sort of consciousness, in fact, is a +disease. I stick to that. Let us leave that, too, for a minute. Tell me this: +why does it happen that at the very, yes, at the very moments when I am +most capable of feeling every refinement of all that is "sublime and +beautiful," as they used to say at one time, it would, as though of design, +happen to me not only to feel but to do such ugly things, such that ... +Well, in short, actions that all, perhaps, commit; but which, as though +purposely, occurred to me at the very time when I was most conscious +that they ought not to be committed. The more conscious I was of goodness +and of all that was "sublime and beautiful," the more deeply I sank +into my mire and the more ready I was to sink in it altogether. But the +chief point was that all this was, as it were, not accidental in me, but as +though it were bound to be so. It was as though it were my most normal +condition, and not in the least disease or depravity, so that at last all desire +in me to struggle against this depravity passed. It ended by my almost +believing (perhaps actually believing) that this was perhaps my normal +condition. But at first, in the beginning, what agonies I endured in that +struggle! I did not believe it was the same with other people, and all my +life I hid this fact about myself as a secret. I was ashamed (even now, +perhaps, I am ashamed): I got to the point of feeling a sort of secret +abnormal, despicable enjoyment in returning home to my corner on +some disgusting Petersburg night, acutely conscious that that day I had +committed a loathsome action again, that what was done could never be +undone, and secretly, inwardly gnawing, gnawing at myself for it, tearing +and consuming myself till at last the bitterness turned into a sort of +shameful accursed sweetness, and at last--into positive real enjoyment! +Yes, into enjoyment, into enjoyment! I insist upon that. I have spoken of +this because I keep wanting to know for a fact whether other people feel +such enjoyment? I will explain; the enjoyment was just from the too +intense consciousness of one's own degradation; it was from feeling +oneself that one had reached the last barrier, that it was horrible, but that +it could not be otherwise; that there was no escape for you; that you never +could become a different man; that even if time and faith were still left +you to change into something different you would most likely not wish to +change; or if you did wish to, even then you would do nothing; because +perhaps in reality there was nothing for you to change into. + +And the worst of it was, and the root of it all, that it was all in accord +with the normal fundamental laws of over-acute consciousness, and +with the inertia that was the direct result of those laws, and that +consequently one was not only unable to change but could do absolutely +nothing. Thus it would follow, as the result of acute consciousness, +that one is not to blame in being a scoundrel; as though that were +any consolation to the scoundrel once he has come to realise that he +actually is a scoundrel. But enough. ... Ech, I have talked a lot of +nonsense, but what have I explained? How is enjoyment in this to be +explained? But I will explain it. I will get to the bottom of it! That is why +I have taken up my pen. ... + +I, for instance, have a great deal of AMOUR PROPRE. I am as suspicious +and prone to take offence as a humpback or a dwarf. But upon my word I +sometimes have had moments when if I had happened to be slapped in +the face I should, perhaps, have been positively glad of it. I say, in +earnest, that I should probably have been able to discover even in that a +peculiar sort of enjoyment--the enjoyment, of course, of despair; but in +despair there are the most intense enjoyments, especially when one is +very acutely conscious of the hopelessness of one's position. And when +one is slapped in the face--why then the consciousness of being rubbed +into a pulp would positively overwhelm one. The worst of it is, look at it +which way one will, it still turns out that I was always the most to blame +in everything. And what is most humiliating of all, to blame for no fault +of my own but, so to say, through the laws of nature. In the first place, to +blame because I am cleverer than any of the people surrounding me. (I +have always considered myself cleverer than any of the people surrounding +me, and sometimes, would you believe it, have been positively +ashamed of it. At any rate, I have all my life, as it were, turned my eyes +away and never could look people straight in the face.) To blame, finally, +because even if I had had magnanimity, I should only have had more +suffering from the sense of its uselessness. I should certainly have never +been able to do anything from being magnanimous--neither to forgive, +for my assailant would perhaps have slapped me from the laws of nature, +and one cannot forgive the laws of nature; nor to forget, for even if it were +owing to the laws of nature, it is insulting all the same. Finally, even if I +had wanted to be anything but magnanimous, had desired on the +contrary to revenge myself on my assailant, I could not have revenged +myself on any one for anything because I should certainly never have +made up my mind to do anything, even if I had been able to. Why +should I not have made up my mind? About that in particular I want to +say a few words. + + + +III + + +With people who know how to revenge themselves and to stand up for +themselves in general, how is it done? Why, when they are possessed, let +us suppose, by the feeling of revenge, then for the time there is nothing +else but that feeling left in their whole being. Such a gentleman simply +dashes straight for his object like an infuriated bull with its horns down, +and nothing but a wall will stop him. (By the way: facing the wall, such +gentlemen--that is, the "direct" persons and men of action--are genuinely +nonplussed. For them a wall is not an evasion, as for us people who +think and consequently do nothing; it is not an excuse for turning aside, +an excuse for which we are always very glad, though we scarcely believe +in it ourselves, as a rule. No, they are nonplussed in all sincerity. The +wall has for them something tranquillising, morally soothing, final-- +maybe even something mysterious ... but of the wall later.) + +Well, such a direct person I regard as the real normal man, as his +tender mother nature wished to see him when she graciously brought him +into being on the earth. I envy such a man till I am green in the face. He +is stupid. I am not disputing that, but perhaps the normal man should be +stupid, how do you know? Perhaps it is very beautiful, in fact. And I am +the more persuaded of that suspicion, if one can call it so, by the fact that +if you take, for instance, the antithesis of the normal man, that is, the +man of acute consciousness, who has come, of course, not out of the lap +of nature but out of a retort (this is almost mysticism, gentlemen, but I +suspect this, too), this retort-made man is sometimes so nonplussed in +the presence of his antithesis that with all his exaggerated consciousness +he genuinely thinks of himself as a mouse and not a man. It may be an +acutely conscious mouse, yet it is a mouse, while the other is a man, and +therefore, et caetera, et caetera. And the worst of it is, he himself, his very +own self, looks on himself as a mouse; no one asks him to do so; and that +is an important point. Now let us look at this mouse in action. Let us +suppose, for instance, that it feels insulted, too (and it almost always does +feel insulted), and wants to revenge itself, too. There may even be a +greater accumulation of spite in it than in L'HOMME DE LA NATURE ET DE LA +VERITE. The base and nasty desire to vent that spite on its assailant rankles +perhaps even more nastily in it than in L'HOMME DE LA NATURE ET DE LA +VERITE. For through his innate stupidity the latter looks upon his revenge +as justice pure and simple; while in consequence of his acute consciousness +the mouse does not believe in the justice of it. To come at last to the +deed itself, to the very act of revenge. Apart from the one fundamental +nastiness the luckless mouse succeeds in creating around it so many other +nastinesses in the form of doubts and questions, adds to the one question +so many unsettled questions that there inevitably works up around it a sort +of fatal brew, a stinking mess, made up of its doubts, emotions, and of the +contempt spat upon it by the direct men of action who stand solemnly +about it as judges and arbitrators, laughing at it till their healthy sides +ache. Of course the only thing left for it is to dismiss all that with a wave +of its paw, and, with a smile of assumed contempt in which it does not +even itself believe, creep ignominiously into its mouse-hole. There in its +nasty, stinking, underground home our insulted, crushed and ridiculed +mouse promptly becomes absorbed in cold, malignant and, above all, +everlasting spite. For forty years together it will remember its injury down +to the smallest, most ignominious details, and every time will add, of +itself, details still more ignominious, spitefully teasing and tormenting +itself with its own imagination. It will itself be ashamed of its imaginings, +but yet it will recall it all, it will go over and over every detail, it will +invent unheard of things against itself, pretending that those things +might happen, and will forgive nothing. Maybe it will begin to revenge +itself, too, but, as it were, piecemeal, in trivial ways, from behind the +stove, incognito, without believing either in its own right to vengeance, +or in the success of its revenge, knowing that from all its efforts at revenge +it will suffer a hundred times more than he on whom it revenges itself, +while he, I daresay, will not even scratch himself. On its deathbed it will +recall it all over again, with interest accumulated over all the years +and ... + +But it is just in that cold, abominable half despair, half belief, in that +conscious burying oneself alive for grief in the underworld for forty years, +in that acutely recognised and yet partly doubtful hopelessness of one's +position, in that hell of unsatisfied desires turned inward, in that fever of +oscillations, of resolutions determined for ever and repented of again a +minute later--that the savour of that strange enjoyment of which I have +spoken lies. It is so subtle, so difficult of analysis, that persons who are a +little limited, or even simply persons of strong nerves, will not understand +a single atom of it. "Possibly," you will add on your own account +with a grin, "people will not understand it either who have never received +a slap in the face," and in that way you will politely hint to me that I, too, +perhaps, have had the experience of a slap in the face in my life, and so I +speak as one who knows. I bet that you are thinking that. But set your +minds at rest, gentlemen, I have not received a slap in the face, though it +is absolutely a matter of indifference to me what you may think about it. +Possibly, I even regret, myself, that I have given so few slaps in the face +during my life. But enough ... not another word on that subject of such +extreme interest to you. + +I will continue calmly concerning persons with strong nerves who do +not understand a certain refinement of enjoyment. Though in certain +circumstances these gentlemen bellow their loudest like bulls, though +this, let us suppose, does them the greatest credit, yet, as I have said +already, confronted with the impossible they subside at once. The impossible +means the stone wall! What stone wall? Why, of course, the laws of +nature, the deductions of natural science, mathematics. As soon as they +prove to you, for instance, that you are descended from a monkey, then it +is no use scowling, accept it for a fact. When they prove to you that in +reality one drop of your own fat must be dearer to you than a hundred +thousand of your fellow-creatures, and that this conclusion is the final +solution of all so-called virtues and duties and all such prejudices and +fancies, then you have just to accept it, there is no help for it, for twice +two is a law of mathematics. Just try refuting it. + +"Upon my word, they will shout at you, it is no use protesting: it is a +case of twice two makes four! Nature does not ask your permission, she +has nothing to do with your wishes, and whether you like her laws or +dislike them, you are bound to accept her as she is, and consequently all +her conclusions. A wall, you see, is a wall ... and so on, and so on." + +Merciful Heavens! but what do I care for the laws of nature and +arithmetic, when, for some reason I dislike those laws and the fact that +twice two makes four? Of course I cannot break through the wall by +battering my head against it if I really have not the strength to knock it +down, but I am not going to be reconciled to it simply because it is a stone +wall and I have not the strength. + +As though such a stone wall really were a consolation, and really did +contain some word of conciliation, simply because it is as true as twice +two makes four. Oh, absurdity of absurdities! How much better it is to +understand it all, to recognise it all, all the impossibilities and the stone +wall; not to be reconciled to one of those impossibilities and stone walls if +it disgusts you to be reconciled to it; by the way of the most inevitable, +logical combinations to reach the most revolting conclusions on the +everlasting theme, that even for the stone wall you are yourself somehow +to blame, though again it is as clear as day you are not to blame in the +least, and therefore grinding your teeth in silent impotence to sink into +luxurious inertia, brooding on the fact that there is no one even for you to +feel vindictive against, that you have not, and perhaps never will have, an +object for your spite, that it is a sleight of hand, a bit of juggling, a card- +sharper's trick, that it is simply a mess, no knowing what and no knowing +who, but in spite of all these uncertainties and jugglings, still there is an +ache in you, and the more you do not know, the worse the ache. + + + +IV + + +"Ha, ha, ha! You will be finding enjoyment in toothache next," you cry, +with a laugh. + +"Well, even in toothache there is enjoyment," I answer. I had toothache +for a whole month and I know there is. In that case, of course, +people are not spiteful in silence, but moan; but they are not candid +moans, they are malignant moans, and the malignancy is the whole +point. The enjoyment of the sufferer finds expression in those moans; if +he did not feel enjoyment in them he would not moan. It is a good +example, gentlemen, and I will develop it. Those moans express in the +first place all the aimlessness of your pain, which is so humiliating to +your consciousness; the whole legal system of nature on which you spit +disdainfully, of course, but from which you suffer all the same while she +does not. They express the consciousness that you have no enemy to +punish, but that you have pain; the consciousness that in spite of all +possible Wagenheims you are in complete slavery to your teeth; that if +someone wishes it, your teeth will leave off aching, and if he does not, +they will go on aching another three months; and that finally if you are +still contumacious and still protest, all that is left you for your own +gratification is to thrash yourself or beat your wall with your fist as hard as +you can, and absolutely nothing more. Well, these mortal insults, these +jeers on the part of someone unknown, end at last in an enjoyment which +sometimes reaches the highest degree of voluptuousness. I ask you, +gentlemen, listen sometimes to the moans of an educated man of the +nineteenth century suffering from toothache, on the second or third day +of the attack, when he is beginning to moan, not as he moaned on the +first day, that is, not simply because he has toothache, not just as any +coarse peasant, but as a man affected by progress and European civilisation, +a man who is "divorced from the soil and the national elements," as +they express it now-a-days. His moans become nasty, disgustingly malignant, +and go on for whole days and nights. And of course he knows +himself that he is doing himself no sort of good with his moans; he knows +better than anyone that he is only lacerating and harassing himself and +others for nothing; he knows that even the audience before whom he is +making his efforts, and his whole family, listen to him with loathing, do +not put a ha'porth of faith in him, and inwardly understand that he might +moan differently, more simply, without trills and flourishes, and that he is +only amusing himself like that from ill-humour, from malignancy. Well, +in all these recognitions and disgraces it is that there lies a voluptuous +pleasure. As though he would say: "I am worrying you, I am lacerating +your hearts, I am keeping everyone in the house awake. Well, stay awake +then, you, too, feel every minute that I have toothache. I am not a hero +to you now, as I tried to seem before, but simply a nasty person, an +impostor. Well, so be it, then! I am very glad that you see through me. It +is nasty for you to hear my despicable moans: well, let it be nasty; here I +will let you have a nastier flourish in a minute. ..." You do not +understand even now, gentlemen? No, it seems our development and our +consciousness must go further to understand all the intricacies of this +pleasure. You laugh? Delighted. My jests, gentlemen, are of course in +bad taste, jerky, involved, lacking self-confidence. But of course that is +because I do not respect myself. Can a man of perception respect himself +at all? + + + +V + + +Come, can a man who attempts to find enjoyment in the very feeling of +his own degradation possibly have a spark of respect for himself? I am not +saying this now from any mawkish kind of remorse. And, indeed, I could +never endure saying, "Forgive me, Papa, I won't do it again," not because +I am incapable of saying that--on the contrary, perhaps just because I +have been too capable of it, and in what a way, too. As though of design I +used to get into trouble in cases when I was not to blame in any way. That +was the nastiest part of it. At the same time I was genuinely touched and +penitent, I used to shed tears and, of course, deceived myself, though I +was not acting in the least and there was a sick feeling in my heart at the +time. ... For that one could not blame even the laws of nature, though +the laws of nature have continually all my life offended me more than +anything. It is loathsome to remember it all, but it was loathsome even +then. Of course, a minute or so later I would realise wrathfully that it was +all a lie, a revolting lie, an affected lie, that is, all this penitence, this +emotion, these vows of reform. You will ask why did I worry myself with +such antics: answer, because it was very dull to sit with one's hands +folded, and so one began cutting capers. That is really it. Observe +yourselves more carefully, gentlemen, then you will understand that it is +so. I invented adventures for myself and made up a life, so as at least to +live in some way. How many times it has happened to me--well, for +instance, to take offence simply on purpose, for nothing; and one knows +oneself, of course, that one is offended at nothing; that one is putting it +on, but yet one brings oneself at last to the point of being really offended. +All my life I have had an impulse to play such pranks, so that in the end I +could not control it in myself. Another time, twice, in fact, I tried hard to +be in love. I suffered, too, gentlemen, I assure you. In the depth of my +heart there was no faith in my suffering, only a faint stir of mockery, but +yet I did suffer, and in the real, orthodox way; I was jealous, beside myself +... and it was all from ENNUI, gentlemen, all from ENNUI; inertia overcame +me. You know the direct, legitimate fruit of consciousness is +inertia, that is, conscious sitting-with-the-hands-folded. I have referred +to this already. I repeat, I repeat with emphasis: all "direct" persons and +men of action are active just because they are stupid and limited. How +explain that? I will tell you: in consequence of their limitation they take +immediate and secondary causes for primary ones, and in that way +persuade themselves more quickly and easily than other people do that +they have found an infallible foundation for their activity, and their +minds are at ease and you know that is the chief thing. To begin to act, +you know, you must first have your mind completely at ease and no trace +of doubt left in it. Why, how am I, for example, to set my mind at rest? +Where are the primary causes on which I am to build? Where are my +foundations? Where am I to get them from? I exercise myself in reflection, +and consequently with me every primary cause at once draws after +itself another still more primary, and so on to infinity. That is just the +essence of every sort of consciousness and reflection. It must be a case of +the laws of nature again. What is the result of it in the end? Why, just the +same. Remember I spoke just now of vengeance. (I am sure you did not +take it in.) I said that a man revenges himself because he sees justice in it. +Therefore he has found a primary cause, that is, justice. And so he is at +rest on all sides, and consequently he carries out his revenge calmly and +successfully, being persuaded that he is doing a just and honest thing. But +I see no justice in it, I find no sort of virtue in it either, and consequently +if I attempt to revenge myself, it is only out of spite. Spite, of course, +might overcome everything, all my doubts, and so might serve quite +successfully in place of a primary cause, precisely because it is not a +cause. But what is to be done if I have not even spite (I began with that +just now, you know). In consequence again of those accursed laws of +consciousness, anger in me is subject to chemical disintegration. You +look into it, the object flies off into air, your reasons evaporate, the +criminal is not to be found, the wrong becomes not a wrong but a +phantom, something like the toothache, for which no one is to blame, +and consequently there is only the same outlet left again--that is, to beat +the wall as hard as you can. So you give it up with a wave of the hand +because you have not found a fundamental cause. And try letting yourself +be carried away by your feelings, blindly, without reflection, without a +primary cause, repelling consciousness at least for a time; hate or love, if +only not to sit with your hands folded. The day after tomorrow, at the +latest, you will begin despising yourself for having knowingly deceived +yourself. Result: a soap-bubble and inertia. Oh, gentlemen, do you +know, perhaps I consider myself an intelligent man, only because all my +life I have been able neither to begin nor to finish anything. Granted I am +a babbler, a harmless vexatious babbler, like all of us. But what is to be +done if the direct and sole vocation of every intelligent man is babble, +that is, the intentional pouring of water through a sieve? + + + +VI + + +Oh, if I had done nothing simply from laziness! Heavens, how I should +have respected myself, then. I should have respected myself because I +should at least have been capable of being lazy; there would at least have +been one quality, as it were, positive in me, in which I could have believed +myself. Question: What is he? Answer: A sluggard; how very pleasant it +would have been to hear that of oneself! It would mean that I was positively +defined, it would mean that there was something to say about me. +"Sluggard"--why, it is a calling and vocation, it is a career. Do not jest, it +is so. I should then be a member of the best club by right, and should find +my occupation in continually respecting myself. I knew a gentleman who +prided himself all his life on being a connoisseur of Lafitte. He considered +this as his positive virtue, and never doubted himself. He died, not simply +with a tranquil, but with a triumphant conscience, and he was quite right, +too. Then I should have chosen a career for myself, I should have been a +sluggard and a glutton, not a simple one, but, for instance, one with +sympathies for everything sublime and beautiful. How do you like that? I +have long had visions of it. That "sublime and beautiful" weighs heavily +on my mind at forty But that is at forty; then--oh, then it would have +been different! I should have found for myself a form of activity in keeping +with it, to be precise, drinking to the health of everything "sublime and +beautiful." I should have snatched at every opportunity to drop a tear into +my glass and then to drain it to all that is "sublime and beautiful." I should +then have turned everything into the sublime and the beautiful; in the +nastiest, unquestionable trash, I should have sought out the sublime and +the beautiful. I should have exuded tears like a wet sponge. An artist, for +instance, paints a picture worthy of Gay. At once I drink to the health of +the artist who painted the picture worthy of Gay, because I love all that is +"sublime and beautiful." An author has written AS YOU WILL: at once I drink +to the health of "anyone you will" because I love all that is "sublime and +beautiful." + +I should claim respect for doing so. I should persecute anyone who +would not show me respect. I should live at ease, I should die with +dignity, why, it is charming, perfectly charming! And what a good round +belly I should have grown, what a treble chin I should have established, +what a ruby nose I should have coloured for myself, so that everyone +would have said, looking at me: "Here is an asset! Here is something real +and solid!" And, say what you like, it is very agreeable to hear such +remarks about oneself in this negative age. + + + +VII + + +But these are all golden dreams. Oh, tell me, who was it first announced, +who was it first proclaimed, that man only does nasty things because he +does not know his own interests; and that if he were enlightened, if his +eyes were opened to his real normal interests, man would at once cease to +do nasty things, would at once become good and noble because, being +enlightened and understanding his real advantage, he would see his own +advantage in the good and nothing else, and we all know that not one +man can, consciously, act against his own interests, consequently, so to +say, through necessity, he would begin doing good? Oh, the babe! Oh, +the pure, innocent child! Why, in the first place, when in all these +thousands of years has there been a time when man has acted only from +his own interest? What is to be done with the millions of facts that bear +witness that men, CONSCIOUSLY, that is fully understanding their real +interests, have left them in the background and have rushed headlong on +another path, to meet peril and danger, compelled to this course by +nobody and by nothing, but, as it were, simply disliking the beaten track, +and have obstinately, wilfully, struck out another difficult, absurd way, +seeking it almost in the darkness. So, I suppose, this obstinacy and +perversity were pleasanter to them than any advantage. ... Advantage! +What is advantage? And will you take it upon yourself to define with +perfect accuracy in what the advantage of man consists? And what if it so +happens that a man's advantage, SOMETIMES, not only may, but even +must, consist in his desiring in certain cases what is harmful to himself +and not advantageous. And if so, if there can be such a case, the whole +principle falls into dust. What do you think--are there such cases? You +laugh; laugh away, gentlemen, but only answer me: have man's advantages +been reckoned up with perfect certainty? Are there not some which not +only have not been included but cannot possibly be included under any +classification? You see, you gentlemen have, to the best of my +knowledge, taken your whole register of human advantages from the +averages of statistical figures and politico-economical formulas. Your +advantages are prosperity, wealth, freedom, peace--and so on, and so +on. So that the man who should, for instance, go openly and knowingly +in opposition to all that list would to your thinking, and indeed mine, +too, of course, be an obscurantist or an absolute madman: would not he? +But, you know, this is what is surprising: why does it so happen that all +these statisticians, sages and lovers of humanity, when they reckon up +human advantages invariably leave out one? They don't even take it into +their reckoning in the form in which it should be taken, and the whole +reckoning depends upon that. It would be no greater matter, they would +simply have to take it, this advantage, and add it to the list. But the +trouble is, that this strange advantage does not fall under any classification +and is not in place in any list. I have a friend for instance ... Ech! +gentlemen, but of course he is your friend, too; and indeed there is no +one, no one to whom he is not a friend! When he prepares for any +undertaking this gentleman immediately explains to you, elegantly and +clearly, exactly how he must act in accordance with the laws of reason and +truth. What is more, he will talk to you with excitement and passion of +the true normal interests of man; with irony he will upbraid the short- +sighted fools who do not understand their own interests, nor the true +significance of virtue; and, within a quarter of an hour, without any +sudden outside provocation, but simply through something inside him +which is stronger than all his interests, he will go off on quite a different +tack--that is, act in direct opposition to what he has just been saying +about himself, in opposition to the laws of reason, in opposition to his +own advantage, in fact in opposition to everything ... I warn you that +my friend is a compound personality and therefore it is difficult to blame +him as an individual. The fact is, gentlemen, it seems there must really +exist something that is dearer to almost every man than his greatest +advantages, or (not to be illogical) there is a most advantageous advantage +(the very one omitted of which we spoke just now) which is more +important and more advantageous than all other advantages, for the sake +of which a man if necessary is ready to act in opposition to all laws; that +is, in opposition to reason, honour, peace, prosperity--in fact, in opposition +to all those excellent and useful things if only he can attain that +fundamental, most advantageous advantage which is dearer to him +than all. "Yes, but it's advantage all the same," you will retort. But excuse +me, I'll make the point clear, and it is not a case of playing upon words. +What matters is, that this advantage is remarkable from the very fact that +it breaks down all our classifications, and continually shatters every +system constructed by lovers of mankind for the benefit of mankind. In +fact, it upsets everything. But before I mention this advantage to you, I +want to compromise myself personally, and therefore I boldly declare +that all these fine systems, all these theories for explaining to mankind +their real normal interests, in order that inevitably striving to pursue +these interests they may at once become good and noble--are, in my +opinion, so far, mere logical exercises! Yes, logical exercises. Why, to +maintain this theory of the regeneration of mankind by means of the +pursuit of his own advantage is to my mind almost the same thing ... +as to affirm, for instance, following Buckle, that through civilisation +mankind becomes softer, and consequently less bloodthirsty and less +fitted for warfare. Logically it does seem to follow from his arguments. +But man has such a predilection for systems and abstract deductions that +he is ready to distort the truth intentionally, he is ready to deny the +evidence of his senses only to justify his logic. I take this example +because it is the most glaring instance of it. Only look about you: blood +is being spilt in streams, and in the merriest way, as though it were +champagne. Take the whole of the nineteenth century in which Buckle +lived. Take Napoleon--the Great and also the present one. Take North +America--the eternal union. Take the farce of Schleswig-Holstein .... +And what is it that civilisation softens in us? The only gain of civilisation +for mankind is the greater capacity for variety of sensations--and +absolutely nothing more. And through the development of this many- +sidedness man may come to finding enjoyment in bloodshed. In fact, +this has already happened to him. Have you noticed that it is the most +civilised gentlemen who have been the subtlest slaughterers, to whom +the Attilas and Stenka Razins could not hold a candle, and if they are +not so conspicuous as the Attilas and Stenka Razins it is simply because +they are so often met with, are so ordinary and have become so familiar +to us. In any case civilisation has made mankind if not more bloodthirsty, +at least more vilely, more loathsomely bloodthirsty. In old days +he saw justice in bloodshed and with his conscience at peace exterminated +those he thought proper. Now we do think bloodshed abominable +and yet we engage in this abomination, and with more energy than ever. +Which is worse? Decide that for yourselves. They say that Cleopatra +(excuse an instance from Roman history) was fond of sticking gold pins +into her slave-girls' breasts and derived gratification from their screams +and writhings. You will say that that was in the comparatively barbarous +times; that these are barbarous times too, because also, comparatively +speaking, pins are stuck in even now; that though man has now learned +to see more clearly than in barbarous ages, he is still far from having +learnt to act as reason and science would dictate. But yet you are fully +convinced that he will be sure to learn when he gets rid of certain old +bad habits, and when common sense and science have completely +re-educated human nature and turned it in a normal direction. You are +confident that then man will cease from INTENTIONAL error and will, so to +say, be compelled not to want to set his will against his normal interests. +That is not all; then, you say, science itself will teach man (though to my +mind it's a superfluous luxury) that he never has really had any caprice +or will of his own, and that he himself is something of the nature of a +piano-key or the stop of an organ, and that there are, besides, things +called the laws of nature; so that everything he does is not done by his +willing it, but is done of itself, by the laws of nature. Consequently we +have only to discover these laws of nature, and man will no longer have +to answer for his actions and life will become exceedingly easy for him. +All human actions will then, of course, be tabulated according to these +laws, mathematically, like tables of logarithms up to 108,000, and +entered in an index; or, better still, there would be published certain +edifying works of the nature of encyclopaedic lexicons, in which everything +will be so clearly calculated and explained that there will be no +more incidents or adventures in the world. + +Then--this is all what you say--new economic relations will be +established, all ready-made and worked out with mathematical exactitude, +so that every possible question will vanish in the twinkling of an eye, +simply because every possible answer to it will be provided. Then +the "Palace of Crystal" will be built. Then ... In fact, those will be +halcyon days. Of course there is no guaranteeing (this is my comment) +that it will not be, for instance, frightfully dull then (for what will one +have to do when everything will be calculated and tabulated), but on the +other hand everything will be extraordinarily rational. Of course boredom +may lead you to anything. It is boredom sets one sticking golden +pins into people, but all that would not matter. What is bad (this is my +comment again) is that I dare say people will be thankful for the gold +pins then. Man is stupid, you know, phenomenally stupid; or rather he is +not at all stupid, but he is so ungrateful that you could not find another +like him in all creation. I, for instance, would not be in the least +surprised if all of a sudden, A PROPOS of nothing, in the midst of general +prosperity a gentleman with an ignoble, or rather with a reactionary and +ironical, countenance were to arise and, putting his arms akimbo, say to +us all: "I say, gentleman, hadn't we better kick over the whole show and +scatter rationalism to the winds, simply to send these logarithms to the +devil, and to enable us to live once more at our own sweet foolish will!" +That again would not matter, but what is annoying is that he would be +sure to find followers--such is the nature of man. And all that for the +most foolish reason, which, one would think, was hardly worth mentioning: +that is, that man everywhere and at all times, whoever he may +be, has preferred to act as he chose and not in the least as his reason and +advantage dictated. And one may choose what is contrary to one's own +interests, and sometimes one POSITIVELY OUGHT (that is my idea). One's +own free unfettered choice, one's own caprice, however wild it may be, +one's own fancy worked up at times to frenzy--is that very "most +advantageous advantage" which we have overlooked, which comes +under no classification and against which all systems and theories are +continually being shattered to atoms. And how do these wiseacres know +that man wants a normal, a virtuous choice? What has made them +conceive that man must want a rationally advantageous choice? What +man wants is simply INDEPENDENT choice, whatever that independence +may cost and wherever it may lead. And choice, of course, the devil +only knows what choice. + + + +VIII + + +"Ha! ha! ha! But you know there is no such thing as choice in reality, say +what you like," you will interpose with a chuckle. "Science has succeeded +in so far analysing man that we know already that choice and +what is called freedom of will is nothing else than--" + +Stay, gentlemen, I meant to begin with that myself I confess, I was +rather frightened. I was just going to say that the devil only knows what +choice depends on, and that perhaps that was a very good thing, but I +remembered the teaching of science ... and pulled myself up. And here +you have begun upon it. Indeed, if there really is some day discovered a +formula for all our desires and caprices--that is, an explanation of what +they depend upon, by what laws they arise, how they develop, what they +are aiming at in one case and in another and so on, that is a real +mathematical formula--then, most likely, man will at once cease to feel +desire, indeed, he will be certain to. For who would want to choose by +rule? Besides, he will at once be transformed from a human being into +an organ-stop or something of the sort; for what is a man without desires, +without free will and without choice, if not a stop in an organ? What do +you think? Let us reckon the chances--can such a thing happen or not? + +"H'm!" you decide. "Our choice is usually mistaken from a false view +of our advantage. We sometimes choose absolute nonsense because in +our foolishness we see in that nonsense the easiest means for attaining a +supposed advantage. But when all that is explained and worked out on +paper (which is perfectly possible, for it is contemptible and senseless to +suppose that some laws of nature man will never understand), then +certainly so-called desires will no longer exist. For if a desire should come +into conflict with reason we shall then reason and not desire, because it +will be impossible retaining our reason to be SENSELESS in our desires, and +in that way knowingly act against reason and desire to injure ourselves. +And as all choice and reasoning can be really calculated--because there +will some day be discovered the laws of our so-called free will--so, joking +apart, there may one day be something like a table constructed of them, +so that we really shall choose in accordance with it. If, for instance, some +day they calculate and prove to me that I made a long nose at someone +because I could not help making a long nose at him and that I had to do it +in that particular way, what FREEDOM is left me, especially if I am a learned +man and have taken my degree somewhere? Then I should be able to +calculate my whole life for thirty years beforehand. In short, if this could +be arranged there would be nothing left for us to do; anyway, we should +have to understand that. And, in fact, we ought unwearyingly to repeat to +ourselves that at such and such a time and in such and such circumstances +nature does not ask our leave; that we have got to take her as she is +and not fashion her to suit our fancy, and if we really aspire to formulas +and tables of rules, and well, even ... to the chemical retort, there's no +help for it, we must accept the retort too, or else it will be accepted +without our consent ...." + +Yes, but here I come to a stop! Gentlemen, you must excuse me for being +over-philosophical; it's the result of forty years underground! Allow me to +indulge my fancy. You see, gentlemen, reason is an excellent thing, there's +no disputing that, but reason is nothing but reason and satisfies only +the rational side of man's nature, while will is a manifestation of the whole +life, that is, of the whole human life including reason and all the impulses. +And although our life, in this manifestation of it, is often worthless, yet +it is life and not simply extracting square roots. Here I, for instance, +quite naturally want to live, in order to satisfy all my capacities for +life, and not simply my capacity for reasoning, that is, not simply one +twentieth of my capacity for life. What does reason know? Reason only +knows what it has succeeded in learning (some things, perhaps, it will +never learn; this is a poor comfort, but why not say so frankly?) and +human nature acts as a whole, with everything that is in it, consciously +or unconsciously, and, even if it goes wrong, it lives. I suspect, +gentlemen, that you are looking at me with compassion; you tell me +again that an enlightened and developed man, such, in short, as the +future man will be, cannot consciously desire anything disadvantageous +to himself, that that can be proved mathematically. I thoroughly agree, it +can--by mathematics. But I repeat for the hundredth time, there is one +case, one only, when man may consciously, purposely, desire what is +injurious to himself, what is stupid, very stupid--simply in order to have +the right to desire for himself even what is very stupid and not to be +bound by an obligation to desire only what is sensible. Of course, this +very stupid thing, this caprice of ours, may be in reality, gentlemen, +more advantageous for us than anything else on earth, especially in +certain cases. And in particular it may be more advantageous than any +advantage even when it does us obvious harm, and contradicts the +soundest conclusions of our reason concerning our advantage--for in +any circumstances it preserves for us what is most precious and most +important--that is, our personality, our individuality. Some, you see, +maintain that this really is the most precious thing for mankind; choice +can, of course, if it chooses, be in agreement with reason; and especially +if this be not abused but kept within bounds. It is profitable and sometimes +even praiseworthy. But very often, and even most often, choice is +utterly and stubbornly opposed to reason ... and ... and ... do you +know that that, too, is profitable, sometimes even praiseworthy? Gentlemen, +let us suppose that man is not stupid. (Indeed one cannot refuse to +suppose that, if only from the one consideration, that, if man is stupid, +then who is wise?) But if he is not stupid, he is monstrously ungrateful! +Phenomenally ungrateful. In fact, I believe that the best definition of +man is the ungrateful biped. But that is not all, that is not his worst +defect; his worst defect is his perpetual moral obliquity, perpetual--from +the days of the Flood to the Schleswig-Holstein period. Moral obliquity +and consequently lack of good sense; for it has long been accepted that +lack of good sense is due to no other cause than moral obliquity. Put it to +the test and cast your eyes upon the history of mankind. What will you +see? Is it a grand spectacle? Grand, if you like. Take the Colossus of +Rhodes, for instance, that's worth something. With good reason Mr. +Anaevsky testifies of it that some say that it is the work of man's hands, +while others maintain that it has been created by nature herself. Is it +many-coloured? May be it is many-coloured, too: if one takes the dress +uniforms, military and civilian, of all peoples in all ages--that alone is +worth something, and if you take the undress uniforms you will never get +to the end of it; no historian would be equal to the job. Is it monotonous? +May be it's monotonous too: it's fighting and fighting; they are fighting +now, they fought first and they fought last--you will admit, that it is +almost too monotonous. In short, one may say anything about the history +of the world--anything that might enter the most disordered imagination. +The only thing one can't say is that it's rational. The very word sticks +in one's throat. And, indeed, this is the odd thing that is continually +happening: there are continually turning up in life moral and rational +persons, sages and lovers of humanity who make it their object to live all +their lives as morally and rationally as possible, to be, so to speak, a light +to their neighbours simply in order to show them that it is possible to live +morally and rationally in this world. And yet we all know that those very +people sooner or later have been false to themselves, playing some queer +trick, often a most unseemly one. Now I ask you: what can be expected of +man since he is a being endowed with strange qualities? Shower upon +him every earthly blessing, drown him in a sea of happiness, so that +nothing but bubbles of bliss can be seen on the surface; give him +economic prosperity, such that he should have nothing else to do but +sleep, eat cakes and busy himself with the continuation of his species, and +even then out of sheer ingratitude, sheer spite, man would play you some +nasty trick. He would even risk his cakes and would deliberately desire +the most fatal rubbish, the most uneconomical absurdity, simply to +introduce into all this positive good sense his fatal fantastic element. It is +just his fantastic dreams, his vulgar folly that he will desire to retain, +simply in order to prove to himself--as though that were so necessary-- +that men still are men and not the keys of a piano, which the laws of +nature threaten to control so completely that soon one will be able to +desire nothing but by the calendar. And that is not all: even if man really +were nothing but a piano-key, even if this were proved to him by natural +science and mathematics, even then he would not become reasonable, +but would purposely do something perverse out of simple ingratitude, +simply to gain his point. And if he does not find means he will contrive +destruction and chaos, will contrive sufferings of all sorts, only to gain his +point! He will launch a curse upon the world, and as only man can curse +(it is his privilege, the primary distinction between him and other animals), +may be by his curse alone he will attain his object--that is, +convince himself that he is a man and not a piano-key! If you say that all +this, too, can be calculated and tabulated--chaos and darkness and +curses, so that the mere possibility of calculating it all beforehand would +stop it all, and reason would reassert itself, then man would purposely go +mad in order to be rid of reason and gain his point! I believe in it, I +answer for it, for the whole work of man really seems to consist in nothing +but proving to himself every minute that he is a man and not a piano-key! +It may be at the cost of his skin, it may be by cannibalism! And this being +so, can one help being tempted to rejoice that it has not yet come off, and +that desire still depends on something we don't know? + +You will scream at me (that is, if you condescend to do so) that no one +is touching my free will, that all they are concerned with is that my will +should of itself, of its own free will, coincide with my own normal +interests, with the laws of nature and arithmetic. + +Good heavens, gentlemen, what sort of free will is left when we +come to tabulation and arithmetic, when it will all be a case of twice +two make four? Twice two makes four without my will. As if free will +meant that! + + + +IX + + +Gentlemen, I am joking, and I know myself that my jokes are not +brilliant,but you know one can take everything as a joke. I am, perhaps, +jesting against the grain. Gentlemen, I am tormented by questions; +answer them for me. You, for instance, want to cure men of their old +habits and reform their will in accordance with science and good sense. +But how do you know, not only that it is possible, but also that it is +DESIRABLE to reform man in that way? And what leads you to the conclusion +that man's inclinations NEED reforming? In short, how do you know +that such a reformation will be a benefit to man? And to go to the root of +the matter, why are you so positively convinced that not to act against his +real normal interests guaranteed by the conclusions of reason and arithmetic +is certainly always advantageous for man and must always be a law +for mankind? So far, you know, this is only your supposition. It may be +the law of logic, but not the law of humanity. You think, gentlemen, +perhaps that I am mad? Allow me to defend myself. I agree that man is +pre-eminently a creative animal, predestined to strive consciously for an +object and to engage in engineering--that is, incessantly and eternally to +make new roads, WHEREVER THEY MAY LEAD. But the reason why he wants +sometimes to go off at a tangent may just be that he is PREDESTINED to make +the road, and perhaps, too, that however stupid the "direct" practical +man may be, the thought sometimes will occur to him that the road +almost always does lead SOMEWHERE, and that the destination it leads to is +less important than the process of making it, and that the chief thing is to +save the well-conducted child from despising engineering, and so giving +way to the fatal idleness, which, as we all know, is the mother of all the +vices. Man likes to make roads and to create, that is a fact beyond dispute. +But why has he such a passionate love for destruction and chaos also? Tell +me that! But on that point I want to say a couple of words myself. May it +not be that he loves chaos and destruction (there can be no disputing that +he does sometimes love it) because he is instinctively afraid of attaining +his object and completing the edifice he is constructing? Who knows, +perhaps he only loves that edifice from a distance, and is by no means in +love with it at close quarters; perhaps he only loves building it and does +not want to live in it, but will leave it, when completed, for the use of +LES ANIMAUX DOMESTIQUES--such as the ants, the sheep, and so on. Now the +ants have quite a different taste. They have a marvellous edifice of that +pattern which endures for ever--the ant-heap. + +With the ant-heap the respectable race of ants began and with the ant- +heap they will probably end, which does the greatest credit to their +perseverance and good sense. But man is a frivolous and incongruous +creature, and perhaps, like a chess player, loves the process of the game, +not the end of it. And who knows (there is no saying with certainty), +perhaps the only goal on earth to which mankind is striving lies in this +incessant process of attaining, in other words, in life itself, and not in the +thing to be attained, which must always be expressed as a formula, as +positive as twice two makes four, and such positiveness is not life, +gentlemen, but is the beginning of death. Anyway, man has always been +afraid of this mathematical certainty, and I am afraid of it now. Granted +that man does nothing but seek that mathematical certainty, he traverses +oceans, sacrifices his life in the quest, but to succeed, really to find it, +dreads, I assure you. He feels that when he has found it there will be +nothing for him to look for. When workmen have finished their work +they do at least receive their pay, they go to the tavern, then they are taken +to the police-station--and there is occupation for a week. But where can +man go? Anyway, one can observe a certain awkwardness about him +when he has attained such objects. He loves the process of attaining, but +does not quite like to have attained, and that, of course, is very absurd. In +fact, man is a comical creature; there seems to be a kind of jest in it all. +But yet mathematical certainty is after all, something insufferable. Twice +two makes four seems to me simply a piece of insolence. Twice two +makes four is a pert coxcomb who stands with arms akimbo barring your +path and spitting. I admit that twice two makes four is an excellent thing, +but if we are to give everything its due, twice two makes five is sometimes +a very charming thing too. + +And why are you so firmly, so triumphantly, convinced that only the +normal and the positive--in other words, only what is conducive to +welfare--is for the advantage of man? Is not reason in error as regards +advantage? Does not man, perhaps, love something besides well-being? +Perhaps he is just as fond of suffering? Perhaps suffering is just as great a +benefit to him as well-being? Man is sometimes extraordinarily, passionately, +in love with suffering, and that is a fact. There is no need to appeal +to universal history to prove that; only ask yourself, if you are a man and +have lived at all. As far as my personal opinion is concerned, to care only +for well-being seems to me positively ill-bred. Whether it's good or bad, it +is sometimes very pleasant, too, to smash things. I hold no brief for +suffering nor for well-being either. I am standing for ... my caprice, and +for its being guaranteed to me when necessary. Suffering would be out of +place in vaudevilles, for instance; I know that. In the "Palace of Crystal" it +is unthinkable; suffering means doubt, negation, and what would be the +good of a "palace of crystal" if there could be any doubt about it? And yet +I think man will never renounce real suffering, that is, destruction and +chaos. Why, suffering is the sole origin of consciousness. Though I did +lay it down at the beginning that consciousness is the greatest misfortune +for man, yet I know man prizes it and would not give it up for any +satisfaction. Consciousness, for instance, is infinitely superior to twice +two makes four. Once you have mathematical certainty there is nothing +left to do or to understand. There will be nothing left but to bottle up your +five senses and plunge into contemplation. While if you stick to +consciousness, even though the same result is attained, you can at least flog +yourself at times, and that will, at any rate, liven you up. Reactionary as it +is, corporal punishment is better than nothing. + + + +X + + +You believe in a palace of crystal that can never be destroyed--a palace at +which one will not be able to put out one's tongue or make a long nose on +the sly. And perhaps that is just why I am afraid of this edifice, that it is +of crystal and can never be destroyed and that one cannot put one's tongue +out at it even on the sly. + +You see, if it were not a palace, but a hen-house, I might creep into it +to avoid getting wet, and yet I would not call the hen-house a palace out +of gratitude to it for keeping me dry. You laugh and say that in such +circumstances a hen-house is as good as a mansion. Yes, I answer, if one +had to live simply to keep out of the rain. + +But what is to be done if I have taken it into my head that that is not the +only object in life, and that if one must live one had better live in a +mansion? That is my choice, my desire. You will only eradicate it when +you have changed my preference. Well, do change it, allure me with +something else, give me another ideal. But meanwhile I will not take a +hen-house for a mansion. The palace of crystal may be an idle dream, it +may be that it is inconsistent with the laws of nature and that I have +invented it only through my own stupidity, through the old-fashioned +irrational habits of my generation. But what does it matter to me that it is +inconsistent? That makes no difference since it exists in my desires, or +rather exists as long as my desires exist. Perhaps you are laughing again? +Laugh away; I will put up with any mockery rather than pretend that I am +satisfied when I am hungry. I know, anyway, that I will not be put off with +a compromise, with a recurring zero, simply because it is consistent with +the laws of nature and actually exists. I will not accept as the crown of my +desires a block of buildings with tenements for the poor on a lease of a +thousand years, and perhaps with a sign-board of a dentist hanging out. +Destroy my desires, eradicate my ideals, show me something better, and I +will follow you. You will say, perhaps, that it is not worth your trouble; +but in that case I can give you the same answer. We are discussing things +seriously; but if you won't deign to give me your attention, I will drop +your acquaintance. I can retreat into my underground hole. + +But while I am alive and have desires I would rather my hand were +withered off than bring one brick to such a building! Don't remind me +that I have just rejected the palace of crystal for the sole reason that one +cannot put out one's tongue at it. I did not say because I am so fond of +putting my tongue out. Perhaps the thing I resented was, that of all your +edifices there has not been one at which one could not put out one's +tongue. On the contrary, I would let my tongue be cut off out of gratitude +if things could be so arranged that I should lose all desire to put it out. It +is not my fault that things cannot be so arranged, and that one must be +satisfied with model flats. Then why am I made with such desires? Can I +have been constructed simply in order to come to the conclusion that all +my construction is a cheat? Can this be my whole purpose? I do not +believe it. + +But do you know what: I am convinced that we underground folk +ought to be kept on a curb. Though we may sit forty years underground +without speaking, when we do come out into the light of day and break +out we talk and talk and talk .... + + + +XI + + +The long and the short of it is, gentlemen, that it is better to do nothing! +Better conscious inertia! And so hurrah for underground! Though I have +said that I envy the normal man to the last drop of my bile, yet I should +not care to be in his place such as he is now (though I shall not cease +envying him). No, no; anyway the underground life is more advantageous. +There, at any rate, one can ... Oh, but even now I am lying! I +am lying because I know myself that it is not underground that is better, +but something different, quite different, for which I am thirsting, but +which I cannot find! Damn underground! + +I will tell you another thing that would be better, and that is, if I +myself believed in anything of what I have just written. I swear to you, +gentlemen, there is not one thing, not one word of what I have written that I +really believe. That is, I believe it, perhaps, but at the same time I feel +and suspect that I am lying like a cobbler. + +"Then why have you written all this?" you will say to me. "I ought to +put you underground for forty years without anything to do and then +come to you in your cellar, to find out what stage you have reached! How +can a man be left with nothing to do for forty years?" + +"Isn't that shameful, isn't that humiliating?" you will say, perhaps, +wagging your heads contemptuously. "You thirst for life and try to settle +the problems of life by a logical tangle. And how persistent, how insolent +are your sallies, and at the same time what a scare you are in! You talk +nonsense and are pleased with it; you say impudent things and are in +continual alarm and apologising for them. You declare that you are +afraid of nothing and at the same time try to ingratiate yourself in our +good opinion. You declare that you are gnashing your teeth and at the +same time you try to be witty so as to amuse us. You know that your +witticisms are not witty, but you are evidently well satisfied with their +literary value. You may, perhaps, have really suffered, but you have no +respect for your own suffering. You may have sincerity, but you have no +modesty; out of the pettiest vanity you expose your sincerity to publicity +and ignominy. You doubtlessly mean to say something, but hide your last +word through fear, because you have not the resolution to utter it, and +only have a cowardly impudence. You boast of consciousness, but you +are not sure of your ground, for though your mind works, yet your heart is +darkened and corrupt, and you cannot have a full, genuine consciousness +without a pure heart. And how intrusive you are, how you insist and +grimace! Lies, lies, lies!" + +Of course I have myself made up all the things you say. That, too, is +from underground. I have been for forty years listening to you through a +crack under the floor. I have invented them myself, there was nothing +else I could invent. It is no wonder that I have learned it by heart and it +has taken a literary form .... + +But can you really be so credulous as to think that I will print all this +and give it to you to read too? And another problem: why do I call you +"gentlemen," why do I address you as though you really were my readers? +Such confessions as I intend to make are never printed nor given to other +people to read. Anyway, I am not strong-minded enough for that, and I +don't see why I should be. But you see a fancy has occurred to me and I +want to realise it at all costs. Let me explain. + +Every man has reminiscences which he would not tell to everyone, +but only to his friends. He has other matters in his mind which he would +not reveal even to his friends, but only to himself, and that in secret. But +there are other things which a man is afraid to tell even to himself, and +every decent man has a number of such things stored away in his mind. +The more decent he is, the greater the number of such things in his +mind. Anyway, I have only lately determined to remember some of my +early adventures. Till now I have always avoided them, even with a +certain uneasiness. Now, when I am not only recalling them, but have +actually decided to write an account of them, I want to try the experiment +whether one can, even with oneself, be perfectly open and not take +fright at the whole truth. I will observe, in parenthesis, that Heine says +that a true autobiography is almost an impossibility, and that man is +bound to lie about himself. He considers that Rousseau certainly told lies +about himself in his confessions, and even intentionally lied, out of +vanity. I am convinced that Heine is right; I quite understand how +sometimes one may, out of sheer vanity, attribute regular crimes to +oneself, and indeed I can very well conceive that kind of vanity. But +Heine judged of people who made their confessions to the public. I write +only for myself, and I wish to declare once and for all that if I write as +though I were addressing readers, that is simply because it is easier for me +to write in that form. It is a form, an empty form--I shall never have +readers. I have made this plain already ... + +I don't wish to be hampered by any restrictions in the compilation of +my notes. I shall not attempt any system or method. I will jot things down +as I remember them. + +But here, perhaps, someone will catch at the word and ask me: if you +really don't reckon on readers, why do you make such compacts with +yourself--and on paper too--that is, that you won't attempt any system +or method, that you jot things down as you remember them, and so on, +and so on? Why are you explaining? Why do you apologise? + +Well, there it is, I answer. + +There is a whole psychology in all this, though. Perhaps it is simply +that I am a coward. And perhaps that I purposely imagine an audience +before me in order that I may be more dignified while I write. There are +perhaps thousands of reasons. Again, what is my object precisely in +writing? If it is not for the benefit of the public why should I not simply +recall these incidents in my own mind without putting them on paper? + +Quite so; but yet it is more imposing on paper. There is something +more impressive in it; I shall be better able to criticise myself and improve +my style. Besides, I shall perhaps obtain actual relief from writing. +Today, for instance, I am particularly oppressed by one memory of a +distant past. It came back vividly to my mind a few days ago, and has +remained haunting me like an annoying tune that one cannot get rid of. +And yet I must get rid of it somehow. I have hundreds of such reminiscences; +but at times some one stands out from the hundred and oppresses me. +For some reason I believe that if I write it down I should get rid of it. +Why not try? + +Besides, I am bored, and I never have anything to do. Writing will be a +sort of work. They say work makes man kind-hearted and honest. Well, +here is a chance for me, anyway. + +Snow is falling today, yellow and dingy. It fell yesterday, too, and a few +days ago. I fancy it is the wet snow that has reminded me of that incident +which I cannot shake off now. And so let it be a story A PROPOS of the +falling snow. + + + + +PART II + +A Propos of the Wet Snow + + +When from dark error's subjugation +My words of passionate exhortation + Had wrenched thy fainting spirit free; +And writhing prone in thine affliction +Thou didst recall with malediction + The vice that had encompassed thee: +And when thy slumbering conscience, fretting + By recollection's torturing flame, +Thou didst reveal the hideous setting + Of thy life's current ere I came: +When suddenly I saw thee sicken, + And weeping, hide thine anguished face, +Revolted, maddened, horror-stricken, + At memories of foul disgrace. + NEKRASSOV + (translated by Juliet Soskice). + + + +I + + +AT THAT TIME I was only twenty-four. My life was even then gloomy, ill- +regulated, and as solitary as that of a savage. I made friends with no one +and positively avoided talking, and buried myself more and more in my +hole. At work in the office I never looked at anyone, and was perfectly +well aware that my companions looked upon me, not only as a queer +fellow, but even looked upon me--I always fancied this--with a sort of +loathing. I sometimes wondered why it was that nobody except me +fancied that he was looked upon with aversion? One of the clerks had a +most repulsive, pock-marked face, which looked positively villainous. I +believe I should not have dared to look at anyone with such an unsightly +countenance. Another had such a very dirty old uniform that there was +an unpleasant odour in his proximity. Yet not one of these gentlemen +showed the slightest self-consciousness--either about their clothes or +their countenance or their character in any way. Neither of them ever +imagined that they were looked at with repulsion; if they had imagined it +they would not have minded--so long as their superiors did not look at +them in that way. It is clear to me now that, owing to my unbounded +vanity and to the high standard I set for myself, I often looked at myself +with furious discontent, which verged on loathing, and so I inwardly +attributed the same feeling to everyone. I hated my face, for instance: I +thought it disgusting, and even suspected that there was something base +in my expression, and so every day when I turned up at the office I tried to +behave as independently as possible, and to assume a lofty expression, so +that I might not be suspected of being abject. "My face may be ugly," I +thought, "but let it be lofty, expressive, and, above all, EXTREMELY +intelligent." But I was positively and painfully certain that it was +impossible for my countenance ever to express those qualities. And what was +worst of all, I thought it actually stupid looking, and I would have been quite +satisfied if I could have looked intelligent. In fact, I would even have put +up with looking base if, at the same time, my face could have been +thought strikingly intelligent. + +Of course, I hated my fellow clerks one and all, and I despised them all, +yet at the same time I was, as it were, afraid of them. In fact, it happened at +times that I thought more highly of them than of myself. It somehow +happened quite suddenly that I alternated between despising them and +thinking them superior to myself. A cultivated and decent man cannot be +vain without setting a fearfully high standard for himself, and without +despising and almost hating himself at certain moments. But whether I +despised them or thought them superior I dropped my eyes almost every +time I met anyone. I even made experiments whether I could face so and +so's looking at me, and I was always the first to drop my eyes. This worried +me to distraction. I had a sickly dread, too, of being ridiculous, and so had +a slavish passion for the conventional in everything external. I loved to fall +into the common rut, and had a whole-hearted terror of any kind of +eccentricity in myself. But how could I live up to it? I was morbidly +sensitive as a man of our age should be. They were all stupid, and as like +one another as so many sheep. Perhaps I was the only one in the office who +fancied that I was a coward and a slave, and I fancied it just because I was +more highly developed. But it was not only that I fancied it, it really was so. +I was a coward and a slave. I say this without the slightest embarrassment. +Every decent man of our age must be a coward and a slave. That is his +normal condition. Of that I am firmly persuaded. He is made and constructed +to that very end. And not only at the present time owing to some +casual circumstances, but always, at all times, a decent man is bound to +be a coward and a slave. It is the law of nature for all decent people all over +the earth. If anyone of them happens to be valiant about something, he +need not be comforted nor carried away by that; he would show the white +feather just the same before something else. That is how it invariably and +inevitably ends. Only donkeys and mules are valiant, and they only till +they are pushed up to the wall. It is not worth while to pay attention to +them for they really are of no consequence. + +Another circumstance, too, worried me in those days: that there was no +one like me and I was unlike anyone else. "I am alone and they are +EVERYONE," I thought--and pondered. + +From that it is evident that I was still a youngster. + +The very opposite sometimes happened. It was loathsome sometimes +to go to the office; things reached such a point that I often came home ill. +But all at once, A PROPOS of nothing, there would come a phase of +scepticism and indifference (everything happened in phases to me), and I +would laugh myself at my intolerance and fastidiousness, I would reproach +myself with being ROMANTIC. At one time I was unwilling to speak +to anyone, while at other times I would not only talk, but go to the length +of contemplating making friends with them. All my fastidiousness would +suddenly, for no rhyme or reason, vanish. Who knows, perhaps I never +had really had it, and it had simply been affected, and got out of books. I +have not decided that question even now. Once I quite made friends with +them, visited their homes, played preference, drank vodka, talked of +promotions .... But here let me make a digression. + +We Russians, speaking generally, have never had those foolish +transcendental "romantics"--German, and still more French--on whom +nothing produces any effect; if there were an earthquake, if all France +perished at the barricades, they would still be the same, they would not +even have the decency to affect a change, but would still go on singing +their transcendental songs to the hour of their death, because they are +fools. We, in Russia, have no fools; that is well known. That is what +distinguishes us from foreign lands. Consequently these transcendental +natures are not found amongst us in their pure form. The idea that they +are is due to our "realistic" journalists and critics of that day, always on +the look out for Kostanzhoglos and Uncle Pyotr Ivanitchs and foolishly +accepting them as our ideal; they have slandered our romantics, taking +them for the same transcendental sort as in Germany or France. On the +contrary, the characteristics of our "romantics" are absolutely and directly +opposed to the transcendental European type, and no European +standard can be applied to them. (Allow me to make use of this word +"romantic"--an old-fashioned and much respected word which has +done good service and is familiar to all.) The characteristics of our +romantic are to understand everything, TO SEE EVERYTHING AND TO SEE IT +OFTEN INCOMPARABLY MORE CLEARLY THAN OUR MOST REALISTIC MINDS SEE IT; to +refuse to accept anyone or anything, but at the same time not to despise +anything; to give way, to yield, from policy; never to lose sight of a useful +practical object (such as rent-free quarters at the government expense, +pensions, decorations), to keep their eye on that object through all the +enthusiasms and volumes of lyrical poems, and at the same time to preserve +"the sublime and the beautiful" inviolate within them to the hour of +their death, and to preserve themselves also, incidentally, like some precious +jewel wrapped in cotton wool if only for the benefit of "the sublime +and the beautiful." Our "romantic" is a man of great breadth and the +greatest rogue of all our rogues, I assure you .... I can assure you from +experience, indeed. Of course, that is, if he is intelligent. But what am I +saying! The romantic is always intelligent, and I only meant to observe +that although we have had foolish romantics they don't count, and they +were only so because in the flower of their youth they degenerated into +Germans, and to preserve their precious jewel more comfortably, settled +somewhere out there--by preference in Weimar or the Black Forest. + +I, for instance, genuinely despised my official work and did not openly +abuse it simply because I was in it myself and got a salary for it. Anyway, +take note, I did not openly abuse it. Our romantic would rather go out of +his mind--a thing, however, which very rarely happens--than take to +open abuse, unless he had some other career in view; and he is never +kicked out. At most, they would take him to the lunatic asylum as "the +King of Spain" if he should go very mad. But it is only the thin, fair people +who go out of their minds in Russia. Innumerable "romantics" attain later +in life to considerable rank in the service. Their many-sidedness is +remarkable! And what a faculty they have for the most contradictory +sensations! I was comforted by this thought even in those days, and I am of +the same opinion now. That is why there are so many "broad natures" among +us who never lose their ideal even in the depths of degradation; and though +they never stir a finger for their ideal, though they are arrant thieves and +knaves, yet they tearfully cherish their first ideal and are extraordinarily +honest at heart. Yes, it is only among us that the most incorrigible rogue +can be absolutely and loftily honest at heart without in the least ceasing to +be a rogue. I repeat, our romantics, frequently, become such accomplished +rascals (I use the term "rascals" affectionately), suddenly display +such a sense of reality and practical knowledge that their bewildered superiors +and the public generally can only ejaculate in amazement. + +Their many-sidedness is really amazing, and goodness knows what it +may develop into later on, and what the future has in store for us. It is not +a poor material! I do not say this from any foolish or boastful patriotism. +But I feel sure that you are again imagining that I am joking. Or perhaps +it's just the contrary and you are convinced that I really think so. Anyway, +gentlemen, I shall welcome both views as an honour and a special favour. +And do forgive my digression. + +I did not, of course, maintain friendly relations with my comrades and +soon was at loggerheads with them, and in my youth and inexperience I +even gave up bowing to them, as though I had cut off all relations. That, +however, only happened to me once. As a rule, I was always alone. + +In the first place I spent most of my time at home, reading. I tried to +stifle all that was continually seething within me by means of external +impressions. And the only external means I had was reading. Reading, of +course, was a great help--exciting me, giving me pleasure and pain. But +at times it bored me fearfully. One longed for movement in spite of +everything, and I plunged all at once into dark, underground, loathsome +vice of the pettiest kind. My wretched passions were acute, smarting, +from my continual, sickly irritability I had hysterical impulses, with +tears and convulsions. I had no resource except reading, that is, there was +nothing in my surroundings which I could respect and which attracted +me. I was overwhelmed with depression, too; I had an hysterical craving +for incongruity and for contrast, and so I took to vice. I have not said all +this to justify myself .... But, no! I am lying. I did want to justify +myself. I make that little observation for my own benefit, gentlemen. I don't +want to lie. I vowed to myself I would not. + +And so, furtively, timidly, in solitude, at night, I indulged in filthy +vice, with a feeling of shame which never deserted me, even at the most +loathsome moments, and which at such moments nearly made me curse. +Already even then I had my underground world in my soul. I was +fearfully afraid of being seen, of being met, of being recognised. I visited +various obscure haunts. + +One night as I was passing a tavern I saw through a lighted window +some gentlemen fighting with billiard cues, and saw one of them thrown +out of the window. At other times I should have felt very much disgusted, +but I was in such a mood at the time, that I actually envied the gentleman +thrown out of the window--and I envied him so much that I even went +into the tavern and into the billiard-room. "Perhaps," I thought, "I'll +have a fight, too, and they'll throw me out of the window." + +I was not drunk--but what is one to do--depression will drive a man +to such a pitch of hysteria? But nothing happened. It seemed that I was +not even equal to being thrown out of the window and I went away +without having my fight. + +An officer put me in my place from the first moment. + +I was standing by the billiard-table and in my ignorance blocking up +the way, and he wanted to pass; he took me by the shoulders and without a +word--without a warning or explanation--moved me from where I was +standing to another spot and passed by as though he had not noticed me. I +could have forgiven blows, but I could not forgive his having moved me +without noticing me. + +Devil knows what I would have given for a real regular quarrel--a +more decent, a more LITERARY one, so to speak. I had been treated like a +fly. This officer was over six foot, while I was a spindly little fellow. But +the quarrel was in my hands. I had only to protest and I certainly would +have been thrown out of the window. But I changed my mind and +preferred to beat a resentful retreat. + +I went out of the tavern straight home, confused and troubled, and the +next night I went out again with the same lewd intentions, still more +furtively, abjectly and miserably than before, as it were, with tears in my +eyes--but still I did go out again. Don't imagine, though, it was coward- +ice made me slink away from the officer; I never have been a coward at +heart, though I have always been a coward in action. Don't be in a hurry +to laugh--I assure you I can explain it all. + +Oh, if only that officer had been one of the sort who would consent to +fight a duel! But no, he was one of those gentlemen (alas, long extinct!) +who preferred fighting with cues or, like Gogol's Lieutenant Pirogov, +appealing to the police. They did not fight duels and would have thought +a duel with a civilian like me an utterly unseemly procedure in any +case--and they looked upon the duel altogether as something impossible, +something free-thinking and French. But they were quite ready to +bully, especially when they were over six foot. + +I did not slink away through cowardice, but through an unbounded +vanity. I was afraid not of his six foot, not of getting a sound thrashing and +being thrown out of the window; I should have had physical courage +enough, I assure you; but I had not the moral courage. What I was afraid of +was that everyone present, from the insolent marker down to the lowest +little stinking, pimply clerk in a greasy collar, would jeer at me and fail to +understand when I began to protest and to address them in literary language. +For of the point of honour--not of honour, but of the point of +honour (POINT D'HONNEUR)--one cannot speak among us except in literary +language. You can't allude to the "point of honour" in ordinary language. +I was fully convinced (the sense of reality, in spite of all my romanticism!) +that they would all simply split their sides with laughter, and that the +officer would not simply beat me, that is, without insulting me, but would +certainly prod me in the back with his knee, kick me round the billiard- +table, and only then perhaps have pity and drop me out of the window. + +Of course, this trivial incident could not with me end in that. I often +met that officer afterwards in the street and noticed him very carefully. I +am not quite sure whether he recognised me, I imagine not; I judge from +certain signs. But I--I stared at him with spite and hatred and so it went +on ... for several years! My resentment grew even deeper with years. At +first I began making stealthy inquiries about this officer. It was difficult +for me to do so, for I knew no one. But one day I heard someone shout his +surname in the street as I was following him at a distance, as though I +were tied to him--and so I learnt his surname. Another time I followed +him to his flat, and for ten kopecks learned from the porter where he +lived, on which storey, whether he lived alone or with others, and so +on--in fact, everything one could learn from a porter. One morning, +though I had never tried my hand with the pen, it suddenly occurred to +me to write a satire on this officer in the form of a novel which would unmask +his villainy. I wrote the novel with relish. I did unmask his villainy, +I even exaggerated it; at first I so altered his surname that it could easily be +recognised, but on second thoughts I changed it, and sent the story to the +OTETCHESTVENNIYA ZAPISKI. But at that time such attacks were not the +fashion and my story was not printed. That was a great vexation to me. + +Sometimes I was positively choked with resentment. At last I determined +to challenge my enemy to a duel. I composed a splendid, charming +letter to him, imploring him to apologise to me, and hinting rather +plainly at a duel in case of refusal. The letter was so composed that if the +officer had had the least understanding of the sublime and the beautiful +he would certainly have flung himself on my neck and have offered me +his friendship. And how fine that would have been! How we should have +got on together! "He could have shielded me with his higher rank, while I +could have improved his mind with my culture, and, well ... my ideas, +and all sorts of things might have happened." Only fancy, this was two +years after his insult to me, and my challenge would have been a +ridiculous anachronism, in spite of all the ingenuity of my letter in +disguising and explaining away the anachronism. But, thank God (to this +day I thank the Almighty with tears in my eyes) I did not send the letter to +him. Cold shivers run down my back when I think of what might have +happened if I had sent it. + +And all at once I revenged myself in the simplest way, by a stroke of +genius! A brilliant thought suddenly dawned upon me. Sometimes on +holidays I used to stroll along the sunny side of the Nevsky about four +o'clock in the afternoon. Though it was hardly a stroll so much as a series of +innumerable miseries, humiliations and resentments; but no doubt that +was just what I wanted. I used to wriggle along in a most unseemly fashion, +like an eel, continually moving aside to make way for generals, for officers +of the guards and the hussars, or for ladies. At such minutes there used to be +a convulsive twinge at my heart, and I used to feel hot all down my back at +the mere thought of the wretchedness of my attire, of the wretchedness and +abjectness of my little scurrying figure. This was a regular martyrdom, a +continual, intolerable humiliation at the thought, which passed into an +incessant and direct sensation, that I was a mere fly in the eyes of all this +world, a nasty, disgusting fly--more intelligent, more highly developed, +more refined in feeling than any of them, of course--but a fly that was +continually making way for everyone, insulted and injured by everyone. +Why I inflicted this torture upon myself, why I went to the Nevsky, I don't +know. I felt simply drawn there at every possible opportunity. + +Already then I began to experience a rush of the enjoyment of which I +spoke in the first chapter. After my affair with the officer I felt even more +drawn there than before: it was on the Nevsky that I met him most frequently, +there I could admire him. He, too, went there chiefly on holidays, +He, too, turned out of his path for generals and persons of high rank, and +he too, wriggled between them like an eel; but people, like me, or even +better dressed than me, he simply walked over; he made straight for them +as though there was nothing but empty space before him, and never, under +any circumstances, turned aside. I gloated over my resentment watching +him and ... always resentfully made way for him. It exasperated me that +even in the street I could not be on an even footing with him. + +"Why must you invariably be the first to move aside?" I kept asking +myself in hysterical rage, waking up sometimes at three o'clock in the +morning. "Why is it you and not he? There's no regulation about it; +there's no written law. Let the making way be equal as it usually is when +refined people meet; he moves half-way and you move half-way; you pass +with mutual respect." + +But that never happened, and I always moved aside, while he did not +even notice my making way for him. And lo and behold a bright idea +dawned upon me! "What," I thought, "if I meet him and don't move on +one side? What if I don't move aside on purpose, even if I knock up +against him? How would that be?" This audacious idea took such a hold +on me that it gave me no peace. I was dreaming of it continually, horribly, +and I purposely went more frequently to the Nevsky in order to picture +more vividly how I should do it when I did do it. I was delighted. This +intention seemed to me more and more practical and possible. + +"Of course I shall not really push him," I thought, already more good- +natured in my joy. "I will simply not turn aside, will run up against him, +not very violently, but just shouldering each other--just as much as +decency permits. I will push against him just as much as he pushes +against me." At last I made up my mind completely. But my preparations +took a great deal of time. To begin with, when I carried out my plan I +should need to be looking rather more decent, and so I had to think of my +get-up. "In case of emergency, if, for instance, there were any sort of +public scandal (and the public there is of the most RECHERCHE: the Countess +walks there; Prince D. walks there; all the literary world is there), I must +be well dressed; that inspires respect and of itself puts us on an equal +footing in the eyes of the society." + +With this object I asked for some of my salary in advance, and bought at +Tchurkin's a pair of black gloves and a decent hat. Black gloves seemed to +me both more dignified and BON TON than the lemon-coloured ones which +I had contemplated at first. "The colour is too gaudy, it looks as though one +were trying to be conspicuous," and I did not take the lemon-coloured +ones. I had got ready long beforehand a good shirt, with white bone studs; +my overcoat was the only thing that held me back. The coat in itself was a +very good one, it kept me warm; but it was wadded and it had a raccoon +collar which was the height of vulgarity. I had to change the collar at any +sacrifice, and to have a beaver one like an officer's. For this purpose I +began visiting the Gostiny Dvor and after several attempts I pitched upon a +piece of cheap German beaver. Though these German beavers soon grow +shabby and look wretched, yet at first they look exceedingly well, and I +only needed it for the occasion. I asked the price; even so, it was too +expensive. After thinking it over thoroughly I decided to sell my raccoon +collar. The rest of the money--a considerable sum for me, I decided to +borrow from Anton Antonitch Syetotchkin, my immediate superior, an +unassuming person, though grave and judicious. He never lent money to +anyone, but I had, on entering the service, been specially recommended +to him by an important personage who had got me my berth. I was +horribly worried. To borrow from Anton Antonitch seemed to me monstrous +and shameful. I did not sleep for two or three nights. Indeed, I did +not sleep well at that time, I was in a fever; I had a vague sinking at my heart +or else a sudden throbbing, throbbing, throbbing! Anton Antonitch was +surprised at first, then he frowned, then he reflected, and did after all lend +me the money, receiving from me a written authorisation to take from my +salary a fortnight later the sum that he had lent me. + +In this way everything was at last ready. The handsome beaver replaced +the mean-looking raccoon, and I began by degrees to get to work. It +would never have done to act offhand, at random; the plan had to be +carried out skilfully, by degrees. But I must confess that after many efforts +I began to despair: we simply could not run into each other. I made every +preparation, I was quite determined--it seemed as though we should run +into one another directly--and before I knew what I was doing I had +stepped aside for him again and he had passed without noticing me. I +even prayed as I approached him that God would grant me determination. +One time I had made up my mind thoroughly, but it ended in my +stumbling and falling at his feet because at the very last instant when I +was six inches from him my courage failed me. He very calmly stepped +over me, while I flew on one side like a ball. That night I was ill again, +feverish and delirious. + +And suddenly it ended most happily. The night before I had made up +my mind not to carry out my fatal plan and to abandon it all, and with +that object I went to the Nevsky for the last time, just to see how I would +abandon it all. Suddenly, three paces from my enemy, I unexpectedly +made up my mind--I closed my eyes, and we ran full tilt, shoulder to +shoulder, against one another! I did not budge an inch and passed him on +a perfectly equal footing! He did not even look round and pretended not +to notice it; but he was only pretending, I am convinced of that. I am +convinced of that to this day! Of course, I got the worst of it--he was +stronger, but that was not the point. The point was that I had attained my +object, I had kept up my dignity, I had not yielded a step, and had put +myself publicly on an equal social footing with him. I returned home +feeling that I was fully avenged for everything. I was delighted. I was +triumphant and sang Italian arias. Of course, I will not describe to you +what happened to me three days later; if you have read my first chapter +you can guess for yourself. The officer was afterwards transferred; I have +not seen him now for fourteen years. What is the dear fellow doing now? +Whom is he walking over? + + + +II + + +But the period of my dissipation would end and I always felt very sick +afterwards. It was followed by remorse--I tried to drive it away; I felt too +sick. By degrees, however, I grew used to that too. I grew used to +everything, or rather I voluntarily resigned myself to enduring it. But I +had a means of escape that reconciled everything--that was to find +refuge in "the sublime and the beautiful," in dreams, of course. I was a +terrible dreamer, I would dream for three months on end, tucked away in +my corner, and you may believe me that at those moments I had no +resemblance to the gentleman who, in the perturbation of his chicken +heart, put a collar of German beaver on his great-coat. I suddenly +became a hero. I would not have admitted my six-foot lieutenant even if +he had called on me. I could not even picture him before me then. What +were my dreams and how I could satisfy myself with them--it is hard to +say now, but at the time I was satisfied with them. Though, indeed, even +now, I am to some extent satisfied with them. Dreams were particularly +sweet and vivid after a spell of dissipation; they came with remorse and +with tears, with curses and transports. There were moments of such +positive intoxication, of such happiness, that there was not the faintest +trace of irony within me, on my honour. I had faith, hope, love. I +believed blindly at such times that by some miracle, by some external +circumstance, all this would suddenly open out, expand; that suddenly a +vista of suitable activity--beneficent, good, and, above all, READY MADE +(what sort of activity I had no idea, but the great thing was that it should +be all ready for me)--would rise up before me--and I should come out +into the light of day, almost riding a white horse and crowned with laurel. +Anything but the foremost place I could not conceive for myself, and for +that very reason I quite contentedly occupied the lowest in reality. Either +to be a hero or to grovel in the mud--there was nothing between. That +was my ruin, for when I was in the mud I comforted myself with the +thought that at other times I was a hero, and the hero was a cloak for the +mud: for an ordinary man it was shameful to defile himself, but a hero +was too lofty to be utterly defiled, and so he might defile himself. It is +worth noting that these attacks of the "sublime and the beautiful" visited +me even during the period of dissipation and just at the times when I was +touching the bottom. They came in separate spurts, as though reminding +me of themselves, but did not banish the dissipation by their appearance. +On the contrary, they seemed to add a zest to it by contrast, and were only +sufficiently present to serve as an appetising sauce. That sauce was made +up of contradictions and sufferings, of agonising inward analysis, and all +these pangs and pin-pricks gave a certain piquancy, even a significance to +my dissipation--in fact, completely answered the purpose of an appetising +sauce. There was a certain depth of meaning in it. And I could hardly +have resigned myself to the simple, vulgar, direct debauchery of a clerk +and have endured all the filthiness of it. What could have allured me +about it then and have drawn me at night into the street? No, I had a lofty +way of getting out of it all. + +And what loving-kindness, oh Lord, what loving-kindness I felt at +times in those dreams of mine! in those "flights into the sublime and the +beautiful"; though it was fantastic love, though it was never applied to +anything human in reality, yet there was so much of this love that one did +not feel afterwards even the impulse to apply it in reality; that would have +been superfluous. Everything, however, passed satisfactorily by a lazy +and fascinating transition into the sphere of art, that is, into the beautiful +forms of life, lying ready, largely stolen from the poets and novelists and +adapted to all sorts of needs and uses. I, for instance, was triumphant over +everyone; everyone, of course, was in dust and ashes, and was forced +spontaneously to recognise my superiority, and I forgave them all. I was a +poet and a grand gentleman, I fell in love; I came in for countless +millions and immediately devoted them to humanity, and at the same +time I confessed before all the people my shameful deeds, which, of +course, were not merely shameful, but had in them much that was +"sublime and beautiful" something in the Manfred style. Everyone +would kiss me and weep (what idiots they would be if they did not), while +I should go barefoot and hungry preaching new ideas and fighting a +victorious Austerlitz against the obscurantists. Then the band would play +a march, an amnesty would be declared, the Pope would agree to retire +from Rome to Brazil; then there would be a ball for the whole of Italy at +the Villa Borghese on the shores of Lake Como, Lake Como being for +that purpose transferred to the neighbourhood of Rome; then would +come a scene in the bushes, and so on, and so on--as though you did not +know all about it? You will say that it is vulgar and contemptible to drag +all this into public after all the tears and transports which I have myself +confessed. But why is it contemptible? Can you imagine that I am +ashamed of it all, and that it was stupider than anything in your life, +gentlemen? And I can assure you that some of these fancies were by no +means badly composed .... It did not all happen on the shores of Lake +Como. And yet you are right--it really is vulgar and contemptible. And +most contemptible of all it is that now I am attempting to justify myself to +you. And even more contemptible than that is my making this remark +now. But that's enough, or there will be no end to it; each step will be +more contemptible than the last .... + +I could never stand more than three months of dreaming at a time +without feeling an irresistible desire to plunge into society. To plunge +into society meant to visit my superior at the office, Anton Antonitch +Syetotchkin. He was the only permanent acquaintance I have had in my +life, and I wonder at the fact myself now. But I only went to see him when +that phase came over me, and when my dreams had reached such a point +of bliss that it became essential at once to embrace my fellows and all +mankind; and for that purpose I needed, at least, one human being, +actually existing. I had to call on Anton Antonitch, however, on +Tuesday--his at-home day; so I had always to time my passionate desire +to embrace humanity so that it might fall on a Tuesday. + +This Anton Antonitch lived on the fourth storey in a house in Five +Corners, in four low-pitched rooms, one smaller than the other, of a +particularly frugal and sallow appearance. He had two daughters and +their aunt, who used to pour out the tea. Of the daughters one was +thirteen and another fourteen, they both had snub noses, and I was +awfully shy of them because they were always whispering and giggling +together. The master of the house usually sat in his study on a leather +couch in front of the table with some grey-headed gentleman, usually a +colleague from our office or some other department. I never saw more +than two or three visitors there, always the same. They talked about the +excise duty; about business in the senate, about salaries, about promotions, +about His Excellency, and the best means of pleasing him, and so +on. I had the patience to sit like a fool beside these people for four hours at +a stretch, listening to them without knowing what to say to them or +venturing to say a word. I became stupefied, several times I felt myself +perspiring, I was overcome by a sort of paralysis; but this was pleasant and +good for me. On returning home I deferred for a time my desire to +embrace all mankind. + +I had however one other acquaintance of a sort, Simonov, who was an +old schoolfellow. I had a number of schoolfellows, indeed, in Petersburg, +but I did not associate with them and had even given up nodding to them +in the street. I believe I had transferred into the department I was in +simply to avoid their company and to cut off all connection with my +hateful childhood. Curses on that school and all those terrible years of +penal servitude! In short, I parted from my schoolfellows as soon as I got +out into the world. There were two or three left to whom I nodded in the +street. One of them was Simonov, who had in no way been distinguished +at school, was of a quiet and equable disposition; but I discovered in him +a certain independence of character and even honesty I don't even +suppose that he was particularly stupid. I had at one time spent some +rather soulful moments with him, but these had not lasted long and had +somehow been suddenly clouded over. He was evidently uncomfortable +at these reminiscences, and was, I fancy, always afraid that I might take +up the same tone again. I suspected that he had an aversion for me, but +still I went on going to see him, not being quite certain of it. + +And so on one occasion, unable to endure my solitude and knowing +that as it was Thursday Anton Antonitch's door would be closed, I +thought of Simonov. Climbing up to his fourth storey I was thinking that +the man disliked me and that it was a mistake to go and see him. But as it +always happened that such reflections impelled me, as though purposely, +to put myself into a false position, I went in. It was almost a year since I +had last seen Simonov. + + + +III + + +I found two of my old schoolfellows with him. They seemed to be +discussing an important matter. All of them took scarcely any notice of +my entrance, which was strange, for I had not met them for years. +Evidently they looked upon me as something on the level of a common +fly. I had not been treated like that even at school, though they all hated +me. I knew, of course, that they must despise me now for my lack of +success in the service, and for my having let myself sink so low, going +about badly dressed and so on--which seemed to them a sign of my +incapacity and insignificance. But I had not expected such contempt. +Simonov was positively surprised at my turning up. Even in old days he +had always seemed surprised at my coming. All this disconcerted me: I +sat down, feeling rather miserable, and began listening to what they were +saying. + +They were engaged in warm and earnest conversation about a farewell +dinner which they wanted to arrange for the next day to a comrade of +theirs called Zverkov, an officer in the army, who was going away to a +distant province. This Zverkov had been all the time at school with me +too. I had begun to hate him particularly in the upper forms. In the lower +forms he had simply been a pretty, playful boy whom everybody liked. I +had hated him, however, even in the lower forms, just because he was a +pretty and playful boy. He was always bad at his lessons and got worse and +worse as he went on; however, he left with a good certificate, as he had +powerful interests. During his last year at school he came in for an estate +of two hundred serfs, and as almost all of us were poor he took up a +swaggering tone among us. He was vulgar in the extreme, but at the same +time he was a good-natured fellow, even in his swaggering. In spite of +superficial, fantastic and sham notions of honour and dignity, all but very +few of us positively grovelled before Zverkov, and the more so the more he +swaggered. And it was not from any interested motive that they grovelled, +but simply because he had been favoured by the gifts of nature. Moreover, +it was, as it were, an accepted idea among us that Zverkov was a +specialist in regard to tact and the social graces. This last fact particularly +infuriated me. I hated the abrupt self-confident tone of his voice, his +admiration of his own witticisms, which were often frightfully stupid, +though he was bold in his language; I hated his handsome, but stupid +face (for which I would, however, have gladly exchanged my intelligent +one), and the free-and-easy military manners in fashion in the "'forties." +I hated the way in which he used to talk of his future conquests of women +(he did not venture to begin his attack upon women until he had the +epaulettes of an officer, and was looking forward to them with impatience), +and boasted of the duels he would constantly be fighting. I remember +how I, invariably so taciturn, suddenly fastened upon Zverkov, +when one day talking at a leisure moment with his schoolfellows of his +future relations with the fair sex, and growing as sportive as a puppy in +the sun, he all at once declared that he would not leave a single village +girl on his estate unnoticed, that that was his DROIT DE SEIGNEUR, and that if +the peasants dared to protest he would have them all flogged and double +the tax on them, the bearded rascals. Our servile rabble applauded, but I +attacked him, not from compassion for the girls and their fathers, but +simply because they were applauding such an insect. I got the better of +him on that occasion, but though Zverkov was stupid he was lively and +impudent, and so laughed it off, and in such a way that my victory was +not really complete; the laugh was on his side. He got the better of me on +several occasions afterwards, but without malice, jestingly, casually. I +remained angrily and contemptuously silent and would not answer him. +When we left school he made advances to me; I did not rebuff them, for I +was flattered, but we soon parted and quite naturally. Afterwards I heard +of his barrack-room success as a lieutenant, and of the fast life he was +leading. Then there came other rumours--of his successes in the service. +By then he had taken to cutting me in the street, and I suspected +that he was afraid of compromising himself by greeting a personage as +insignificant as me. I saw him once in the theatre, in the third tier of +boxes. By then he was wearing shoulder-straps. He was twisting and +twirling about, ingratiating himself with the daughters of an ancient +General. In three years he had gone off considerably, though he was still +rather handsome and adroit. One could see that by the time he was thirty +he would be corpulent. So it was to this Zverkov that my schoolfellows +were going to give a dinner on his departure. They had kept up with him +for those three years, though privately they did not consider themselves +on an equal footing with him, I am convinced of that. + +Of Simonov's two visitors, one was Ferfitchkin, a Russianised German +--a little fellow with the face of a monkey, a blockhead who was always +deriding everyone, a very bitter enemy of mine from our days in the lower +forms--a vulgar, impudent, swaggering fellow, who affected a most sensitive +feeling of personal honour, though, of course, he was a wretched +little coward at heart. He was one of those worshippers of Zverkov who +made up to the latter from interested motives, and often borrowed money +from him. Simonov's other visitor, Trudolyubov, was a person in no way +remarkable--a tall young fellow, in the army, with a cold face, fairly +honest, though he worshipped success of every sort, and was only capable +of thinking of promotion. He was some sort of distant relation of +Zverkov's, and this, foolish as it seems, gave him a certain importance +among us. He always thought me of no consequence whatever; his +behaviour to me, though not quite courteous, was tolerable. + +"Well, with seven roubles each," said Trudolyubov, "twenty-one +roubles between the three of us, we ought to be able to get a good dinner. +Zverkov, of course, won't pay." + +"Of course not, since we are inviting him," Simonov decided. + +"Can you imagine," Ferfitchkin interrupted hotly and conceitedly, like +some insolent flunkey boasting of his master the General's decorations, +"can you imagine that Zverkov will let us pay alone? He will accept from +delicacy, but he will order half a dozen bottles of champagne." + +"Do we want half a dozen for the four of us?" observed Trudolyubov, +taking notice only of the half dozen. + +"So the three of us, with Zverkov for the fourth, twenty-one roubles, at +the Hotel de Paris at five o'clock tomorrow," Simonov, who had been +asked to make the arrangements, concluded finally. + +"How twenty-one roubles?" I asked in some agitation, with a show of +being offended; "if you count me it will not be twenty-one, but +twenty-eight roubles." + +It seemed to me that to invite myself so suddenly and unexpectedly +would be positively graceful, and that they would all be conquered at +once and would look at me with respect. + +"Do you want to join, too?" Simonov observed, with no appearance of +pleasure, seeming to avoid looking at me. He knew me through and through. + +It infuriated me that he knew me so thoroughly. + +"Why not? I am an old schoolfellow of his, too, I believe, and I +must own I feel hurt that you have left me out," I said, boiling over again. + +"And where were we to find you?" Ferfitchkin put in roughly. + +"You never were on good terms with Zverkov," Trudolyubov added, frowning. + +But I had already clutched at the idea and would not give it up. + +"It seems to me that no one has a right to form an opinion upon that," I +retorted in a shaking voice, as though something tremendous had happened. +"Perhaps that is just my reason for wishing it now, that I have not +always been on good terms with him." + +"Oh, there's no making you out ... with these refinements," +Trudolyubov jeered. + +"We'll put your name down," Simonov decided, addressing me. +"Tomorrow at five-o'clock at the Hotel de Paris." + +"What about the money?" Ferfitchkin began in an undertone, indicating +me to Simonov, but he broke off, for even Simonov was embarrassed. + +"That will do," said Trudolyubov, getting up. "If he wants to come so +much, let him." + +"But it's a private thing, between us friends," Ferfitchkin said crossly, +as he, too, picked up his hat. "It's not an official gathering." + +"We do not want at all, perhaps ..." + +They went away. Ferfitchkin did not greet me in any way as he went +out, Trudolyubov barely nodded. Simonov, with whom I was left TETE-A-TETE, +was in a state of vexation and perplexity, and looked at me queerly. +He did not sit down and did not ask me to. + +"H'm ... yes ... tomorrow, then. Will you pay your subscription +now? I just ask so as to know," he muttered in embarrassment. + +I flushed crimson, as I did so I remembered that I had owed Simonov +fifteen roubles for ages--which I had, indeed, never forgotten, though I +had not paid it. + +"You will understand, Simonov, that I could have no idea when I came +here .... I am very much vexed that I have forgotten ...." + +"All right, all right, that doesn't matter. You can pay tomorrow after the +dinner. I simply wanted to know .... Please don't ..." + +He broke off and began pacing the room still more vexed. As he walked +he began to stamp with his heels. + +"Am I keeping you?" I asked, after two minutes of silence. + +"Oh!" he said, starting, "that is--to be truthful--yes. I have to go and +see someone ... not far from here," he added in an apologetic voice, +somewhat abashed. + +"My goodness, why didn't you say so?" I cried, seizing my cap, with an +astonishingly free-and-easy air, which was the last thing I should have +expected of myself. + +"It's close by ... not two paces away," Simonov repeated, accompanying +me to the front door with a fussy air which did not suit him at all. "So +five o'clock, punctually, tomorrow," he called down the stairs after me. +He was very glad to get rid of me. I was in a fury. + +"What possessed me, what possessed me to force myself upon them?" I +wondered, grinding my teeth as I strode along the street, "for a scoundrel, +a pig like that Zverkov! Of course I had better not go; of course, I must +just snap my fingers at them. I am not bound in any way. I'll send +Simonov a note by tomorrow's post ...." + +But what made me furious was that I knew for certain that I should go, +that I should make a point of going; and the more tactless, the more +unseemly my going would be, the more certainly I would go. + +And there was a positive obstacle to my going: I had no money. All I +had was nine roubles, I had to give seven of that to my servant, Apollon, +for his monthly wages. That was all I paid him--he had to keep himself. + +Not to pay him was impossible, considering his character. But I will +talk about that fellow, about that plague of mine, another time. + +However, I knew I should go and should not pay him his wages. + +That night I had the most hideous dreams. No wonder; all the evening +I had been oppressed by memories of my miserable days at school, and I +could not shake them off. I was sent to the school by distant relations, +upon whom I was dependent and of whom I have heard nothing since-- +they sent me there a forlorn, silent boy, already crushed by their reproaches, +already troubled by doubt, and looking with savage distrust at +everyone. My schoolfellows met me with spiteful and merciless jibes +because I was not like any of them. But I could not endure their taunts; I +could not give in to them with the ignoble readiness with which they gave +in to one another. I hated them from the first, and shut myself away from +everyone in timid, wounded and disproportionate pride. Their coarseness +revolted me. They laughed cynically at my face, at my clumsy +figure; and yet what stupid faces they had themselves. In our school the +boys' faces seemed in a special way to degenerate and grow stupider. How +many fine-looking boys came to us! In a few years they became repulsive. +Even at sixteen I wondered at them morosely; even then I was struck by +the pettiness of their thoughts, the stupidity of their pursuits, their games, +their conversations. They had no understanding of such essential things, +they took no interest in such striking, impressive subjects, that I could +not help considering them inferior to myself. It was not wounded vanity +that drove me to it, and for God's sake do not thrust upon me your +hackneyed remarks, repeated to nausea, that "I was only a dreamer," +while they even then had an understanding of life. They understood +nothing, they had no idea of real life, and I swear that that was what +made me most indignant with them. On the contrary, the most obvious, +striking reality they accepted with fantastic stupidity and even at that time +were accustomed to respect success. Everything that was just, but oppressed +and looked down upon, they laughed at heartlessly and shamefully. +They took rank for intelligence; even at sixteen they were already +talking about a snug berth. Of course, a great deal of it was due to their +stupidity, to the bad examples with which they had always been surrounded +in their childhood and boyhood. They were monstrously depraved. +Of course a great deal of that, too, was superficial and an +assumption of cynicism; of course there were glimpses of youth and +freshness even in their depravity; but even that freshness was not attractive, +and showed itself in a certain rakishness. I hated them horribly, +though perhaps I was worse than any of them. They repaid me in the +same way, and did not conceal their aversion for me. But by then I did not +desire their affection: on the contrary, I continually longed for their +humiliation. To escape from their derision I purposely began to make all +the progress I could with my studies and forced my way to the very top. +This impressed them. Moreover, they all began by degrees to grasp that I +had already read books none of them could read, and understood things +(not forming part of our school curriculum) of which they had not even +heard. They took a savage and sarcastic view of it, but were morally +impressed, especially as the teachers began to notice me on those +grounds. The mockery ceased, but the hostility remained, and cold and +strained relations became permanent between us. In the end I could not +put up with it: with years a craving for society, for friends, developed in +me. I attempted to get on friendly terms with some of my schoolfellows; +but somehow or other my intimacy with them was always strained and +soon ended of itself. Once, indeed, I did have a friend. But I was already +a tyrant at heart; I wanted to exercise unbounded sway over him; I tried to +instil into him a contempt for his surroundings; I required of him a +disdainful and complete break with those surroundings. I frightened him +with my passionate affection; I reduced him to tears, to hysterics. He was +a simple and devoted soul; but when he devoted himself to me entirely I +began to hate him immediately and repulsed him--as though all I +needed him for was to win a victory over him, to subjugate him and +nothing else. But I could not subjugate all of them; my friend was not at +all like them either, he was, in fact, a rare exception. The first thing I did +on leaving school was to give up the special job for which I had been +destined so as to break all ties, to curse my past and shake the dust from +off my feet .... And goodness knows why, after all that, I should go +trudging off to Simonov's! + +Early next morning I roused myself and jumped out of bed with +excitement, as though it were all about to happen at once. But I believed +that some radical change in my life was coming, and would inevitably +come that day. Owing to its rarity, perhaps, any external event, however +trivial, always made me feel as though some radical change in my life +were at hand. I went to the office, however, as usual, but sneaked away +home two hours earlier to get ready. The great thing, I thought, is not to +be the first to arrive, or they will think I am overjoyed at coming. But +there were thousands of such great points to consider, and they all +agitated and overwhelmed me. I polished my boots a second time with +my own hands; nothing in the world would have induced Apollon to +clean them twice a day, as he considered that it was more than his duties +required of him. I stole the brushes to clean them from the passage, being +careful he should not detect it, for fear of his contempt. Then I minutely +examined my clothes and thought that everything looked old, worn and +threadbare. I had let myself get too slovenly. My uniform, perhaps, was +tidy, but I could not go out to dinner in my uniform. The worst of it was +that on the knee of my trousers was a big yellow stain. I had a foreboding +that that stain would deprive me of nine-tenths of my personal dignity. I +knew, too, that it was very poor to think so. "But this is no time for +thinking: now I am in for the real thing," I thought, and my heart sank. I +knew, too, perfectly well even then, that I was monstrously exaggerating +the facts. But how could I help it? I could not control myself and was +already shaking with fever. With despair I pictured to myself how coldly +and disdainfully that "scoundrel" Zverkov would meet me; with what +dull-witted, invincible contempt the blockhead Trudolyubov would look +at me; with what impudent rudeness the insect Ferfitchkin would snigger +at me in order to curry favour with Zverkov; how completely Simonov +would take it all in, and how he would despise me for the abjectness of +my vanity and lack of spirit--and, worst of all, how paltry, UNLITERARY, +commonplace it would all be. Of course, the best thing would be not to +go at all. But that was most impossible of all: if I feel impelled to do +anything, I seem to be pitchforked into it. I should have jeered at myself +ever afterwards: "So you funked it, you funked it, you funked the REAL +THING!" On the contrary, I passionately longed to show all that "rabble" +that I was by no means such a spiritless creature as I seemed to myself. +What is more, even in the acutest paroxysm of this cowardly fever, I +dreamed of getting the upper hand, of dominating them, carrying them +away, making them like me--if only for my "elevation of thought and +unmistakable wit." They would abandon Zverkov, he would sit on one +side, silent and ashamed, while I should crush him. Then, perhaps, we +would be reconciled and drink to our everlasting friendship; but what was +most bitter and humiliating for me was that I knew even then, knew fully +and for certain, that I needed nothing of all this really, that I did not really +want to crush, to subdue, to attract them, and that I did not care a straw +really for the result, even if I did achieve it. Oh, how I prayed for the day +to pass quickly! In unutterable anguish I went to the window, opened the +movable pane and looked out into the troubled darkness of the thickly +falling wet snow. At last my wretched little clock hissed out five. I seized +my hat and, trying not to look at Apollon, who had been all day +expecting his month's wages, but in his foolishness was unwilling to be +the first to speak about it, I slipped between him and the door and, +jumping into a high-class sledge, on which I spent my last half rouble, I +drove up in grand style to the Hotel de Paris. + + + +IV + + +I had been certain the day before that I should be the first to arrive. But it +was not a question of being the first to arrive. Not only were they not +there, but I had difficulty in finding our room. The table was not laid +even. What did it mean? After a good many questions I elicited from the +waiters that the dinner had been ordered not for five, but for six o'clock. +This was confirmed at the buffet too. I felt really ashamed to go on +questioning them. It was only twenty-five minutes past five. If they +changed the dinner hour they ought at least to have let me know--that is +what the post is for, and not to have put me in an absurd position in my +own eyes and ... and even before the waiters. I sat down; the servant +began laying the table; I felt even more humiliated when he was present. +Towards six o'clock they brought in candles, though there were lamps +burning in the room. It had not occurred to the waiter, however, to bring +them in at once when I arrived. In the next room two gloomy, angry- +looking persons were eating their dinners in silence at two different +tables. There was a great deal of noise, even shouting, in a room further +away; one could hear the laughter of a crowd of people, and nasty little +shrieks in French: there were ladies at the dinner. It was sickening, in fact. +I rarely passed more unpleasant moments, so much so that when they did +arrive all together punctually at six I was overjoyed to see them, as though +they were my deliverers, and even forgot that it was incumbent upon me +to show resentment. + +Zverkov walked in at the head of them; evidently he was the leading +spirit. He and all of them were laughing; but, seeing me, Zverkov drew +himself up a little, walked up to me deliberately with a slight, rather jaunty +bend from the waist. He shook hands with me in a friendly, but not over- +friendly, fashion, with a sort of circumspect courtesy like that of a General, +as though in giving me his hand he were warding off something. I had +imagined, on the contrary, that on coming in he would at once break into +his habitual thin, shrill laugh and fall to making his insipid jokes and +witticisms. I had been preparing for them ever since the previous day, but I +had not expected such condescension, such high-official courtesy. So, +then, he felt himself ineffably superior to me in every respect! If he only +meant to insult me by that high-official tone, it would not matter, I +thought--I could pay him back for it one way or another. But what if, in +reality, without the least desire to be offensive, that sheepshead had a +notion in earnest that he was superior to me and could only look at me in a +patronising way? The very supposition made me gasp. + +"I was surprised to hear of your desire to join us," he began, lisping and +drawling, which was something new. "You and I seem to have seen nothing of one +another. You fight shy of us. You shouldn't. We are not such terrible +people as you think. Well, anyway, I am glad to renew our acquaintance." + +And he turned carelessly to put down his hat on the window. + +"Have you been waiting long?" Trudolyubov inquired. + +"I arrived at five o'clock as you told me yesterday," I answered aloud, +with an irritability that threatened an explosion. + +"Didn't you let him know that we had changed the hour?" said +Trudolyubov to Simonov. + +"No, I didn't. I forgot," the latter replied, with no sign of regret, +and without even apologising to me he went off to order the HORS D'OEUVRE. + +"So you've been here a whole hour? Oh, poor fellow!" Zverkov cried +ironically, for to his notions this was bound to be extremely funny. That +rascal Ferfitchkin followed with his nasty little snigger like a puppy yapping. +My position struck him, too, as exquisitely ludicrous and embarrassing. + +"It isn't funny at all!" I cried to Ferfitchkin, more and more irritated. +"It wasn't my fault, but other people's. They neglected to let me know. It +was ... it was ... it was simply absurd." + +"It's not only absurd, but something else as well," muttered Trudolyubov, +naively taking my part. "You are not hard enough upon it. It was +simply rudeness--unintentional, of course. And how could Simonov ... h'm!" + +"If a trick like that had been played on me," observed Ferfitchkin, "I +should ..." + +"But you should have ordered something for yourself," Zverkov interrupted, +"or simply asked for dinner without waiting for us." + +"You will allow that I might have done that without your permission," +I rapped out. "If I waited, it was ..." + +"Let us sit down, gentlemen," cried Simonov, coming in. "Everything +is ready; I can answer for the champagne; it is capitally frozen .... You +see, I did not know your address, where was I to look for you?" he +suddenly turned to me, but again he seemed to avoid looking at me. +Evidently he had something against me. It must have been what +happened yesterday. + +All sat down; I did the same. It was a round table. Trudolyubov was on +my left, Simonov on my right, Zverkov was sitting opposite, Ferfitchkin +next to him, between him and Trudolyubov. + +"Tell me, are you ... in a government office?" Zverkov went on +attending to me. Seeing that I was embarrassed he seriously thought that +he ought to be friendly to me, and, so to speak, cheer me up. + +"Does he want me to throw a bottle at his head?" I thought, in a fury. +In my novel surroundings I was unnaturally ready to be irritated. + +"In the N--- office," I answered jerkily, with my eyes on my plate. + +"And ha-ave you a go-od berth? I say, what ma-a-de you leave your +original job?" + +"What ma-a-de me was that I wanted to leave my original job," I +drawled more than he, hardly able to control myself. Ferfitchkin went off +into a guffaw. Simonov looked at me ironically. Trudolyubov left off +eating and began looking at me with curiosity. + +Zverkov winced, but he tried not to notice it. + +"And the remuneration?" + +"What remuneration?" + +"I mean, your sa-a-lary?" + +"Why are you cross-examining me?" However, I told him at once what +my salary was. I turned horribly red. + +"It is not very handsome," Zverkov observed majestically. + +"Yes, you can't afford to dine at cafes on that," Ferfitchkin +added insolently. + +"To my thinking it's very poor," Trudolyubov observed gravely. + +"And how thin you have grown! How you have changed!" added +Zverkov, with a shade of venom in his voice, scanning me and my attire +with a sort of insolent compassion. + +"Oh, spare his blushes," cried Ferfitchkin, sniggering. + +"My dear sir, allow me to tell you I am not blushing," I broke out at +last; "do you hear? I am dining here, at this cafe, at my own expense, not +at other people's--note that, Mr. Ferfitchkin." + +"Wha-at? Isn't every one here dining at his own expense? You would +seem to be ..." Ferfitchkin flew out at me, turning as red as a lobster, +and looking me in the face with fury. +"Tha-at," I answered, feeling I had gone too far, "and I imagine it +would be better to talk of something more intelligent." + +"You intend to show off your intelligence, I suppose?" + +"Don't disturb yourself, that would be quite out of place here." + +"Why are you clacking away like that, my good sir, eh? Have you gone +out of your wits in your office?" + +"Enough, gentlemen, enough!" Zverkov cried, authoritatively. + +"How stupid it is!" muttered Simonov. + +"It really is stupid. We have met here, a company of friends, for a +farewell dinner to a comrade and you carry on an altercation," said +Trudolyubov, rudely addressing himself to me alone. "You invited yourself +to join us, so don't disturb the general harmony." + +"Enough, enough!" cried Zverkov. "Give over, gentlemen, it's out of +place. Better let me tell you how I nearly got married the day before +yesterday ...." + +And then followed a burlesque narrative of how this gentleman had +almost been married two days before. There was not a word about the +marriage, however, but the story was adorned with generals, colonels and +kammer-junkers, while Zverkov almost took the lead among them. It was +greeted with approving laughter; Ferfitchkin positively squealed. + +No one paid any attention to me, and I sat crushed and humiliated. + +"Good Heavens, these are not the people for me!" I thought. "And +what a fool I have made of myself before them! I let Ferfitchkin go too far, +though. The brutes imagine they are doing me an honour in letting me +sit down with them. They don't understand that it's an honour to them +and not to me! I've grown thinner! My clothes! Oh, damn my trousers! +Zverkov noticed the yellow stain on the knee as soon as he came in .... +But what's the use! I must get up at once, this very minute, take my hat +and simply go without a word ... with contempt! And tomorrow I can +send a challenge. The scoundrels! As though I cared about the seven +roubles. They may think .... Damn it! I don't care about the seven +roubles. I'll go this minute!" + +Of course I remained. I drank sherry and Lafitte by the glassful in my +discomfiture. Being unaccustomed to it, I was quickly affected. My +annoyance increased as the wine went to my head. I longed all at once to +insult them all in a most flagrant manner and then go away. To seize the +moment and show what I could do, so that they would say, "He's clever, +though he is absurd," and ... and ... in fact, damn them all! + +I scanned them all insolently with my drowsy eyes. But they seemed to +have forgotten me altogether. They were noisy, vociferous, cheerful. +Zverkov was talking all the time. I began listening. Zverkov was talking of +some exuberant lady whom he had at last led on to declaring her love (of +course, he was lying like a horse), and how he had been helped in this +affair by an intimate friend of his, a Prince Kolya, an officer in the +hussars, who had three thousand serfs. + +"And yet this Kolya, who has three thousand serfs, has not put in an +appearance here tonight to see you off," I cut in suddenly. + +For one minute every one was silent. "You are drunk already." +Trudolyubov deigned to notice me at last, glancing contemptuously in my +direction. Zverkov, without a word, examined me as though I were an insect. +I dropped my eyes. Simonov made haste to fill up the glasses with champagne. + +Trudolyubov raised his glass, as did everyone else but me. + +"Your health and good luck on the journey!" he cried to Zverkov. "To +old times, to our future, hurrah!" + +They all tossed off their glasses, and crowded round Zverkov to kiss +him. I did not move; my full glass stood untouched before me. + +"Why, aren't you going to drink it?" roared Trudolyubov, losing patience +and turning menacingly to me. + +"I want to make a speech separately, on my own account ... and then +I'll drink it, Mr. Trudolyubov." + +"Spiteful brute!" muttered Simonov. I drew myself up in my chair and +feverishly seized my glass, prepared for something extraordinary, though +I did not know myself precisely what I was going to say. + +"SILENCE!" cried Ferfitchkin. "Now for a display of wit!" + +Zverkov waited very gravely, knowing what was coming. + +"Mr. Lieutenant Zverkov," I began, "let me tell you that I hate +phrases, phrasemongers and men in corsets ... that's the first point, and +there is a second one to follow it." + +There was a general stir. + +"The second point is: I hate ribaldry and ribald talkers. Especially +ribald talkers! The third point: I love justice, truth and honesty." I went +on almost mechanically, for I was beginning to shiver with horror myself +and had no idea how I came to be talking like this. "I love thought, +Monsieur Zverkov; I love true comradeship, on an equal footing and +not ... H'm ... I love ... But, however, why not? I will drink your +health, too, Mr. Zverkov. Seduce the Circassian girls, shoot the enemies +of the fatherland and ... and ... to your health, Monsieur Zverkov!" + +Zverkov got up from his seat, bowed to me and said: + +"I am very much obliged to you." He was frightfully offended and +turned pale. + +"Damn the fellow!" roared Trudolyubov, bringing his fist down on +the table. + +"Well, he wants a punch in the face for that," squealed Ferfitchkin. + +"We ought to turn him out," muttered Simonov. + +"Not a word, gentlemen, not a movement!" cried Zverkov solemnly, +checking the general indignation. "I thank you all, but I can show him +for myself how much value I attach to his words." + +"Mr. Ferfitchkin, you will give me satisfaction tomorrow for your +words just now!" I said aloud, turning with dignity to Ferfitchkin. + +"A duel, you mean? Certainly," he answered. But probably I was +so ridiculous as I challenged him and it was so out of keeping with +my appearance that everyone including Ferfitchkin was prostrate with laughter. + +"Yes, let him alone, of course! He is quite drunk," Trudolyubov said +with disgust. + +"I shall never forgive myself for letting him join us," Simonov +muttered again. + +"Now is the time to throw a bottle at their heads," I thought to myself. +I picked up the bottle ... and filled my glass .... "No, I'd better sit +on to the end," I went on thinking; "you would be pleased, my friends, if I +went away. Nothing will induce me to go. I'll go on sitting here and +drinking to the end, on purpose, as a sign that I don't think you of the +slightest consequence. I will go on sitting and drinking, because this is a +public-house and I paid my entrance money. I'll sit here and drink, for I +look upon you as so many pawns, as inanimate pawns. I'll sit here and +drink ... and sing if I want to, yes, sing, for I have the right to ... to +sing ... H'm!" + +But I did not sing. I simply tried not to look at any of them. I assumed +most unconcerned attitudes and waited with impatience for them to +speak FIRST. But alas, they did not address me! And oh, how I wished, how +I wished at that moment to be reconciled to them! It struck eight, at last +nine. They moved from the table to the sofa. Zverkov stretched himself +on a lounge and put one foot on a round table. Wine was brought there. +He did, as a fact, order three bottles on his own account. I, of course, was +not invited to join them. They all sat round him on the sofa. They +listened to him, almost with reverence. It was evident that they were fond +of him. "What for? What for?" I wondered. From time to time they were +moved to drunken enthusiasm and kissed each other. They talked of the +Caucasus, of the nature of true passion, of snug berths in the service, of +the income of an hussar called Podharzhevsky, whom none of them knew +personally, and rejoiced in the largeness of it, of the extraordinary grace +and beauty of a Princess D., whom none of them had ever seen; then it +came to Shakespeare's being immortal. + +I smiled contemptuously and walked up and down the other side of the +room, opposite the sofa, from the table to the stove and back again. I tried +my very utmost to show them that I could do without them, and yet I +purposely made a noise with my boots, thumping with my heels. But it +was all in vain. They paid no attention. I had the patience to walk up and +down in front of them from eight o'clock till eleven, in the same place, +from the table to the stove and back again. "I walk up and down to please +myself and no one can prevent me." The waiter who came into the room +stopped, from time to time, to look at me. I was somewhat giddy from +turning round so often; at moments it seemed to me that I was in +delirium. During those three hours I was three times soaked with sweat +and dry again. At times, with an intense, acute pang I was stabbed to the +heart by the thought that ten years, twenty years, forty years would pass, +and that even in forty years I would remember with loathing and humiliation +those filthiest, most ludicrous, and most awful moments of my life. +No one could have gone out of his way to degrade himself more shamelessly, +and I fully realised it, fully, and yet I went on pacing up and down +from the table to the stove. "Oh, if you only knew what thoughts and +feelings I am capable of, how cultured I am!" I thought at moments, +mentally addressing the sofa on which my enemies were sitting. But my +enemies behaved as though I were not in the room. Once--only once-- +they turned towards me, just when Zverkov was talking about Shakespeare, +and I suddenly gave a contemptuous laugh. I laughed in such an +affected and disgusting way that they all at once broke off their conversation, +and silently and gravely for two minutes watched me walking up and +down from the table to the stove, TAKING NO NOTICE OF THEM. But nothing +came of it: they said nothing, and two minutes later they ceased to notice +me again. It struck eleven. + +"Friends," cried Zverkov getting up from the sofa, "let us all be off +now, THERE!" + +"Of course, of course," the others assented. I turned sharply to +Zverkov. I was so harassed, so exhausted, that I would have cut my throat +to put an end to it. I was in a fever; my hair, soaked with perspiration, +stuck to my forehead and temples. + +"Zverkov, I beg your pardon," I said abruptly and resolutely. +"Ferfitchkin, yours too, and everyone's, everyone's: I have insulted you all!" + +"Aha! A duel is not in your line, old man," Ferfitchkin +hissed venomously. + +It sent a sharp pang to my heart. + +"No, it's not the duel I am afraid of, Ferfitchkin! I am ready to fight +you tomorrow, after we are reconciled. I insist upon it, in fact, and you +cannot refuse. I want to show you that I am not afraid of a duel. You shall +fire first and I shall fire into the air." + +"He is comforting himself," said Simonov. + +"He's simply raving," said Trudolyubov. + +"But let us pass. Why are you barring our way? What do you want?" +Zverkov answered disdainfully. +They were all flushed, their eyes were bright: they had been +drinking heavily. + +"I ask for your friendship, Zverkov; I insulted you, but ..." + +"Insulted? YOU insulted ME? Understand, sir, that you never, under any +circumstances, could possibly insult ME." + +"And that's enough for you. Out of the way!" concluded Trudolyubov. + +"Olympia is mine, friends, that's agreed!" cried Zverkov. + +"We won't dispute your right, we won't dispute your right," the others +answered, laughing. + +I stood as though spat upon. The party went noisily out of the room. +Trudolyubov struck up some stupid song. Simonov remained behind for +a moment to tip the waiters. I suddenly went up to him. + +"Simonov! give me six roubles!" I said, with desperate resolution. + +He looked at me in extreme amazement, with vacant eyes. He, too, +was drunk. + +"You don't mean you are coming with us?" + +"Yes." + +"I've no money," he snapped out, and with a scornful laugh he went +out of the room. + +I clutched at his overcoat. It was a nightmare. + +"Simonov, I saw you had money. Why do you refuse me? Am I a +scoundrel? Beware of refusing me: if you knew, if you knew why I am +asking! My whole future, my whole plans depend upon it!" + +Simonov pulled out the money and almost flung it at me. + +"Take it, if you have no sense of shame!" he pronounced pitilessly, and +ran to overtake them. + +I was left for a moment alone. Disorder, the remains of dinner, a +broken wine-glass on the floor, spilt wine, cigarette ends, fumes of drink +and delirium in my brain, an agonising misery in my heart and finally +the waiter, who had seen and heard all and was looking inquisitively into +my face. + +"I am going there!" I cried. "Either they shall all go down on their +knees to beg for my friendship, or I will give Zverkov a slap in the face!" + + + +V + +"So this is it, this is it at last--contact with real life," I muttered as I ran +headlong downstairs. "This is very different from the Pope's leaving Rome +and going to Brazil, very different from the ball on Lake Como!" + +"You are a scoundrel," a thought flashed through my mind, "if you +laugh at this now." + +"No matter!" I cried, answering myself. "Now everything is lost!" + +There was no trace to be seen of them, but that made no difference--I +knew where they had gone. + +At the steps was standing a solitary night sledge-driver in a rough +peasant coat, powdered over with the still falling, wet, and as it were +warm, snow. It was hot and steamy. The little shaggy piebald horse was +also covered with snow and coughing, I remember that very well. I made +a rush for the roughly made sledge; but as soon as I raised my foot to get +into it, the recollection of how Simonov had just given me six roubles +seemed to double me up and I tumbled into the sledge like a sack. + +"No, I must do a great deal to make up for all that," I cried. "But I will +make up for it or perish on the spot this very night. Start!" + +We set off. There was a perfect whirl in my head. + +"They won't go down on their knees to beg for my friendship. That is a +mirage, cheap mirage, revolting, romantic and fantastical--that's another +ball on Lake Como. And so I am bound to slap Zverkov's face! It is +my duty to. And so it is settled; I am flying to give him a slap in the face. +Hurry up!" + +The driver tugged at the reins. + +"As soon as I go in I'll give it him. Ought I before giving him the slap +to say a few words by way of preface? No. I'll simply go in and give it him. +They will all be sitting in the drawing-room, and he with Olympia on the +sofa. That damned Olympia! She laughed at my looks on one occasion +and refused me. I'll pull Olympia's hair, pull Zverkov's ears! No, better +one ear, and pull him by it round the room. Maybe they will all begin +beating me and will kick me out. That's most likely, indeed. No matter! +Anyway, I shall first slap him; the initiative will be mine; and by the laws +of honour that is everything: he will be branded and cannot wipe off the +slap by any blows, by nothing but a duel. He will be forced to fight. And +let them beat me now. Let them, the ungrateful wretches! Trudolyubov +will beat me hardest, he is so strong; Ferfitchkin will be sure to catch hold +sideways and tug at my hair. But no matter, no matter! That's what I am +going for. The blockheads will be forced at last to see the tragedy of it all! +When they drag me to the door I shall call out to them that in reality they +are not worth my little finger. Get on, driver, get on!" I cried to the driver. +He started and flicked his whip, I shouted so savagely. + +"We shall fight at daybreak, that's a settled thing. I've done with the +office. Ferfitchkin made a joke about it just now. But where can I get +pistols? Nonsense! I'll get my salary in advance and buy them. And +powder, and bullets? That's the second's business. And how can it all be +done by daybreak? and where am I to get a second? I have no friends. +Nonsense!" I cried, lashing myself up more and more. "It's of no consequence! +The first person I meet in the street is bound to be my second, just +as he would be bound to pull a drowning man out of water. The most +eccentric things may happen. Even if I were to ask the director himself to +be my second tomorrow, he would be bound to consent, if only from a +feeling of chivalry, and to keep the secret! Anton Antonitch ...." + +The fact is, that at that very minute the disgusting absurdity of my plan +and the other side of the question was clearer and more vivid to my +imagination than it could be to anyone on earth. But .... + +"Get on, driver, get on, you rascal, get on!" + +"Ugh, sir!" said the son of toil. + +Cold shivers suddenly ran down me. Wouldn't it be better ... to go +straight home? My God, my God! Why did I invite myself to this dinner +yesterday? But no, it's impossible. And my walking up and down for three +hours from the table to the stove? No, they, they and no one else must +pay for my walking up and down! They must wipe out this dishonour! +Drive on! + +And what if they give me into custody? They won't dare! They'll be +afraid of the scandal. And what if Zverkov is so contemptuous that he +refuses to fight a duel? He is sure to; but in that case I'll show them ... I +will turn up at the posting station when he's setting off tomorrow, I'll +catch him by the leg, I'll pull off his coat when he gets into the carriage. +I'll get my teeth into his hand, I'll bite him. "See what lengths you can +drive a desperate man to!" He may hit me on the head and they may +belabour me from behind. I will shout to the assembled multitude: +"Look at this young puppy who is driving off to captivate the Circassian +girls after letting me spit in his face!" + +Of course, after that everything will be over! The office will have +vanished off the face of the earth. I shall be arrested, I shall be tried, I +shall be dismissed from the service, thrown in prison, sent to Siberia. +Never mind! In fifteen years when they let me out of prison I will trudge +off to him, a beggar, in rags. I shall find him in some provincial town. He +will be married and happy. He will have a grown-up daughter .... I shall +say to him: "Look, monster, at my hollow cheeks and my rags! I've lost +everything--my career, my happiness, art, science, THE WOMAN I LOVED, +and all through you. Here are pistols. I have come to discharge my pistol +and ... and I ... forgive you. Then I shall fire into the air and he will +hear nothing more of me ...." + +I was actually on the point of tears, though I knew perfectly well at that +moment that all this was out of Pushkin's SILVIO and Lermontov's MASQUERADE. +And all at once I felt horribly ashamed, so ashamed that I +stopped the horse, got out of the sledge, and stood still in the snow in the +middle of the street. The driver gazed at me, sighing and astonished. + +What was I to do? I could not go on there--it was evidently stupid, +and I could not leave things as they were, because that would seem as +though ... Heavens, how could I leave things! And after such insults! +"No!" I cried, throwing myself into the sledge again. "It is ordained! It is +fate! Drive on, drive on!" + +And in my impatience I punched the sledge-driver on the back of the neck. + +"What are you up to? What are you hitting me for?" the peasant +shouted, but he whipped up his nag so that it began kicking. + +The wet snow was falling in big flakes; I unbuttoned myself, regardless +of it. I forgot everything else, for I had finally decided on the slap, and +felt with horror that it was going to happen NOW, AT ONCE, and that NO FORCE +COULD STOP IT. The deserted street lamps gleamed sullenly in the snowy +darkness like torches at a funeral. The snow drifted under my great-coat, +under my coat, under my cravat, and melted there. I did not wrap myself +up--all was lost, anyway. + +At last we arrived. I jumped out, almost unconscious, ran up the steps +and began knocking and kicking at the door. I felt fearfully weak, +particularly in my legs and knees. The door was opened quickly as +though they knew I was coming. As a fact, Simonov had warned them +that perhaps another gentleman would arrive, and this was a place in +which one had to give notice and to observe certain precautions. It was +one of those "millinery establishments" which were abolished by the +police a good time ago. By day it really was a shop; but at night, if one had +an introduction, one might visit it for other purposes. + +I walked rapidly through the dark shop into the familiar drawing- +room, where there was only one candle burning, and stood still in +amazement: there was no one there. "Where are they?" I asked somebody. +But by now, of course, they had separated. Before me was standing a +person with a stupid smile, the "madam" herself, who had seen me +before. A minute later a door opened and another person came in. + +Taking no notice of anything I strode about the room, and, I believe, I +talked to myself. I felt as though I had been saved from death and was +conscious of this, joyfully, all over: I should have given that slap, I should +certainly, certainly have given it! But now they were not here and ... +everything had vanished and changed! I looked round. I could not realise +my condition yet. I looked mechanically at the girl who had come in: and +had a glimpse of a fresh, young, rather pale face, with straight, dark +eyebrows, and with grave, as it were wondering, eyes that attracted me at +once; I should have hated her if she had been smiling. I began looking at +her more intently and, as it were, with effort. I had not fully collected my +thoughts. There was something simple and good-natured in her face, but +something strangely grave. I am sure that this stood in her way here, and +no one of those fools had noticed her. She could not, however, have been +called a beauty, though she was tall, strong-looking, and well built. She +was very simply dressed. Something loathsome stirred within me. I went +straight up to her. + +I chanced to look into the glass. My harassed face struck me as +revolting in the extreme, pale, angry, abject, with dishevelled hair. "No +matter, I am glad of it," I thought; "I am glad that I shall seem repulsive +to her; I like that." + + + +VI + + +... Somewhere behind a screen a clock began wheezing, as though +oppressed by something, as though someone were strangling it. After an +unnaturally prolonged wheezing there followed a shrill, nasty, and as it +were unexpectedly rapid, chime--as though someone were suddenly +jumping forward. It struck two. I woke up, though I had indeed not been +asleep but lying half-conscious. + +It was almost completely dark in the narrow, cramped, low-pitched +room, cumbered up with an enormous wardrobe and piles of cardboard +boxes and all sorts of frippery and litter. The candle end that had been +burning on the table was going out and gave a faint flicker from time to +time. In a few minutes there would be complete darkness. + +I was not long in coming to myself; everything came back to my mind +at once, without an effort, as though it had been in ambush to pounce +upon me again. And, indeed, even while I was unconscious a point +seemed continually to remain in my memory unforgotten, and round it +my dreams moved drearily. But strange to say, everything that had +happened to me in that day seemed to me now, on waking, to be in the +far, far away past, as though I had long, long ago lived all that down. + +My head was full of fumes. Something seemed to be hovering over +me, rousing me, exciting me, and making me restless. Misery and spite +seemed surging up in me again and seeking an outlet. Suddenly I saw +beside me two wide open eyes scrutinising me curiously and persistently. +The look in those eyes was coldly detached, sullen, as it were utterly +remote; it weighed upon me. + +A grim idea came into my brain and passed all over my body, as a +horrible sensation, such as one feels when one goes into a damp and +mouldy cellar. There was something unnatural in those two eyes, +beginning to look at me only now. I recalled, too, that during those two +hours I had not said a single word to this creature, and had, in fact, +considered it utterly superfluous; in fact, the silence had for some reason +gratified me. Now I suddenly realised vividly the hideous idea-- +revolting as a spider--of vice, which, without love, grossly and shamelessly +begins with that in which true love finds its consummation. For a long time +we gazed at each other like that, but she did not drop her eyes before mine +and her expression did not change, so that at last I felt uncomfortable. + +"What is your name?" I asked abruptly, to put an end to it. + +"Liza," she answered almost in a whisper, but somehow far from +graciously, and she turned her eyes away. + +I was silent. + +"What weather! The snow ... it's disgusting!" I said, almost to myself, +putting my arm under my head despondently, and gazing at the ceiling. + +She made no answer. This was horrible. + +"Have you always lived in Petersburg?" I asked a minute later, almost +angrily, turning my head slightly towards her. + +"No." + +"Where do you come from?" + +"From Riga," she answered reluctantly. + +"Are you a German?" + +"No, Russian." + +"Have you been here long?" + +"Where?" + +"In this house?" + +"A fortnight." + +She spoke more and more jerkily. The candle went out; I could no +longer distinguish her face. + +"Have you a father and mother?" + +"Yes ... no ... I have." + +"Where are they?" + +"There ... in Riga." + +"What are they?" + +"Oh, nothing." + +"Nothing? Why, what class are they?" + +"Tradespeople." + +"Have you always lived with them?" + +"Yes." + +"How old are you?" + +"Twenty." +"Why did you leave them?" + +"Oh, for no reason." + +That answer meant "Let me alone; I feel sick, sad." + +We were silent. + +God knows why I did not go away. I felt myself more and more sick and +dreary. The images of the previous day began of themselves, apart from +my will, flitting through my memory in confusion. I suddenly recalled +something I had seen that morning when, full of anxious thoughts, I was +hurrying to the office. + +"I saw them carrying a coffin out yesterday and they nearly dropped +it," I suddenly said aloud, not that I desired to open the conversation, but +as it were by accident. + +"A coffin?" + +"Yes, in the Haymarket; they were bringing it up out of a cellar." + +"From a cellar?" + +"Not from a cellar, but a basement. Oh, you know ... down below ... from +a house of ill-fame. It was filthy all round ... Egg-shells, litter ... +a stench. It was loathsome." + +Silence. + +"A nasty day to be buried," I began, simply to avoid being silent. + +"Nasty, in what way?" + +"The snow, the wet." (I yawned.) + +"It makes no difference," she said suddenly, after a brief silence. + +"No, it's horrid." (I yawned again). "The gravediggers must have sworn +at getting drenched by the snow. And there must have been water in the grave." + +"Why water in the grave?" she asked, with a sort of curiosity, but +speaking even more harshly and abruptly than before. + +I suddenly began to feel provoked. + +"Why, there must have been water at the bottom a foot deep. You can't +dig a dry grave in Volkovo Cemetery." + +"Why?" + +"Why? Why, the place is waterlogged. It's a regular marsh. So they +bury them in water. I've seen it myself ... many times." + +(I had never seen it once, indeed I had never been in Volkovo, and had +only heard stories of it.) + +"Do you mean to say, you don't mind how you die?" + +"But why should I die?" she answered, as though defending herself. + +"Why, some day you will die, and you will die just the same as that +dead woman. She was ... a girl like you. She died of consumption." + +"A wench would have died in hospital ..." (She knows all about it +already: she said "wench," not "girl.") + +"She was in debt to her madam," I retorted, more and more provoked +by the discussion; "and went on earning money for her up to the end, +though she was in consumption. Some sledge-drivers standing by were +talking about her to some soldiers and telling them so. No doubt they +knew her. They were laughing. They were going to meet in a pot-house +to drink to her memory." + +A great deal of this was my invention. Silence followed, profound +silence. She did not stir. + +"And is it better to die in a hospital?" + +"Isn't it just the same? Besides, why should I die?" she added irritably. + +"If not now, a little later." + +"Why a little later?" + +"Why, indeed? Now you are young, pretty, fresh, you fetch a high +price. But after another year of this life you will be very different--you +will go off." + +"In a year?" + +"Anyway, in a year you will be worth less," I continued malignantly. +"You will go from here to something lower, another house; a year later-- +to a third, lower and lower, and in seven years you will come to a +basement in the Haymarket. That will be if you were lucky. But it would +be much worse if you got some disease, consumption, say ... and caught +a chill, or something or other. It's not easy to get over an illness in your +way of life. If you catch anything you may not get rid of it. And so you +would die." + +"Oh, well, then I shall die," she answered, quite vindictively, and she +made a quick movement. + +"But one is sorry." + +"Sorry for whom?" + +"Sorry for life." +Silence. + +"Have you been engaged to be married? Eh?" + +"What's that to you?" + +"Oh, I am not cross-examining you. It's nothing to me. Why are you +so cross? Of course you may have had your own troubles. What is it to +me? It's simply that I felt sorry." + +"Sorry for whom?" + +"Sorry for you." + +"No need," she whispered hardly audibly, and again made a faint movement. + +That incensed me at once. What! I was so gentle with her, and she .... + +"Why, do you think that you are on the right path?" + +"I don't think anything." + +"That's what's wrong, that you don't think. Realise it while there is still +time. There still is time. You are still young, good-looking; you might +love, be married, be happy ...." + +"Not all married women are happy," she snapped out in the rude +abrupt tone she had used at first. + +"Not all, of course, but anyway it is much better than the life here. +Infinitely better. Besides, with love one can live even without happiness. +Even in sorrow life is sweet; life is sweet, however one lives. But here what +is there but ... foulness? Phew!" + +I turned away with disgust; I was no longer reasoning coldly. I began to +feel myself what I was saying and warmed to the subject. I was already +longing to expound the cherished ideas I had brooded over in my corner. +Something suddenly flared up in me. An object had appeared before me. + +"Never mind my being here, I am not an example for you. I am, +perhaps, worse than you are. I was drunk when I came here, though," I +hastened, however, to say in self-defence. "Besides, a man is no example +for a woman. It's a different thing. I may degrade and defile myself, but I +am not anyone's slave. I come and go, and that's an end of it. I shake it off, +and I am a different man. But you are a slave from the start. Yes, a slave! +You give up everything, your whole freedom. If you want to break your +chains afterwards, you won't be able to; you will be more and more fast in +the snares. It is an accursed bondage. I know it. I won't speak of anything +else, maybe you won't understand, but tell me: no doubt you are in debt +to your madam? There, you see," I added, though she made no answer, +but only listened in silence, entirely absorbed, "that's a bondage for you! +You will never buy your freedom. They will see to that. It's like selling +your soul to the devil .... And besides ... perhaps, I too, am just as +unlucky--how do you know--and wallow in the mud on purpose, out of +misery? You know, men take to drink from grief; well, maybe I am here +from grief. Come, tell me, what is there good here? Here you and I ... +came together ... just now and did not say one word to one another all +the time, and it was only afterwards you began staring at me like a wild +creature, and I at you. Is that loving? Is that how one human being +should meet another? It's hideous, that's what it is!" + +"Yes!" she assented sharply and hurriedly. + +I was positively astounded by the promptitude of this "Yes." So the +same thought may have been straying through her mind when she was +staring at me just before. So she, too, was capable of certain thoughts? +"Damn it all, this was interesting, this was a point of likeness!" I thought, +almost rubbing my hands. And indeed it's easy to turn a young soul +like that! + +It was the exercise of my power that attracted me most. + +She turned her head nearer to me, and it seemed to me in the darkness +that she propped herself on her arm. Perhaps she was scrutinising me. +How I regretted that I could not see her eyes. I heard her deep breathing. + +"Why have you come here?" I asked her, with a note of authority +already in my voice. + +"Oh, I don't know." + +"But how nice it would be to be living in your father's house! It's warm +and free; you have a home of your own." + +"But what if it's worse than this?" + +"I must take the right tone," flashed through my mind. "I may not get +far with sentimentality." But it was only a momentary thought. I swear +she really did interest me. Besides, I was exhausted and moody. And +cunning so easily goes hand-in-hand with feeling. + +"Who denies it!" I hastened to answer. "Anything may happen. I am +convinced that someone has wronged you, and that you are more sinned +against than sinning. Of course, I know nothing of your story, but it's not +likely a girl like you has come here of her own inclination ...." + +"A girl like me?" she whispered, hardly audibly; but I heard it. + +Damn it all, I was flattering her. That was horrid. But perhaps it was a +good thing .... She was silent. + +"See, Liza, I will tell you about myself. If I had had a home from +childhood, I shouldn't be what I am now. I often think that. However bad +it may be at home, anyway they are your father and mother, and not +enemies, strangers. Once a year at least, they'll show their love of you. +Anyway, you know you are at home. I grew up without a home; and +perhaps that's why I've turned so ... unfeeling." + +I waited again. "Perhaps she doesn't understand," I thought, "and, +indeed, it is absurd--it's moralising." + +"If I were a father and had a daughter, I believe I should love my +daughter more than my sons, really," I began indirectly, as though talking +of something else, to distract her attention. I must confess I blushed. + +"Why so?" she asked. + +Ah! so she was listening! + +"I don't know, Liza. I knew a father who was a stern, austere man, but +used to go down on his knees to his daughter, used to kiss her hands, her +feet, he couldn't make enough of her, really. When she danced at parties +he used to stand for five hours at a stretch, gazing at her. He was mad over +her: I understand that! She would fall asleep tired at night, and he would +wake to kiss her in her sleep and make the sign of the cross over her. He +would go about in a dirty old coat, he was stingy to everyone else, but +would spend his last penny for her, giving her expensive presents, and it +was his greatest delight when she was pleased with what he gave her. +Fathers always love their daughters more than the mothers do. Some girls +live happily at home! And I believe I should never let my daughters marry." + +"What next?" she said, with a faint smile. + +"I should be jealous, I really should. To think that she should kiss +anyone else! That she should love a stranger more than her father! It's +painful to imagine it. Of course, that's all nonsense, of course every +father would be reasonable at last. But I believe before I should let her +marry, I should worry myself to death; I should find fault with all her +suitors. But I should end by letting her marry whom she herself loved. +The one whom the daughter loves always seems the worst to the father, +you know. That is always so. So many family troubles come from that." + +"Some are glad to sell their daughters, rather than marrying +them honourably." + +Ah, so that was it! + +"Such a thing, Liza, happens in those accursed families in which +there is neither love nor God," I retorted warmly, "and where there is no +love, there is no sense either. There are such families, it's true, but I am +not speaking of them. You must have seen wickedness in your own +family, if you talk like that. Truly, you must have been unlucky. H'm! ... +that sort of thing mostly comes about through poverty." + +"And is it any better with the gentry? Even among the poor, honest +people who live happily?" + +"H'm ... yes. Perhaps. Another thing, Liza, man is fond of reckoning +up his troubles, but does not count his joys. If he counted them up as he +ought, he would see that every lot has enough happiness provided for it. +And what if all goes well with the family, if the blessing of God is upon it, +if the husband is a good one, loves you, cherishes you, never leaves you! +There is happiness in such a family! Even sometimes there is happiness +in the midst of sorrow; and indeed sorrow is everywhere. If you marry YOU +WILL FIND OUT FOR YOURSELF. But think of the first years of married life with +one you love: what happiness, what happiness there sometimes is in it! +And indeed it's the ordinary thing. In those early days even quarrels with +one's husband end happily. Some women get up quarrels with their +husbands just because they love them. Indeed, I knew a woman like that: +she seemed to say that because she loved him, she would torment him +and make him feel it. You know that you may torment a man on purpose +through love. Women are particularly given to that, thinking to themselves +'I will love him so, I will make so much of him afterwards, that it's +no sin to torment him a little now.' And all in the house rejoice in the +sight of you, and you are happy and gay and peaceful and honourable .... +Then there are some women who are jealous. If he went off +anywhere--I knew one such woman, she couldn't restrain herself, but +would jump up at night and run off on the sly to find out where he was, +whether he was with some other woman. That's a pity. And the woman +knows herself it's wrong, and her heart fails her and she suffers, but she +loves--it's all through love. And how sweet it is to make up after quarrels, +to own herself in the wrong or to forgive him! And they both are so happy +all at once--as though they had met anew, been married over again; as +though their love had begun afresh. And no one, no one should know +what passes between husband and wife if they love one another. And +whatever quarrels there may be between them they ought not to call in +their own mother to judge between them and tell tales of one another. +They are their own judges. Love is a holy mystery and ought to be hidden +from all other eyes, whatever happens. That makes it holier and better. +They respect one another more, and much is built on respect. And if +once there has been love, if they have been married for love, why should +love pass away? Surely one can keep it! It is rare that one cannot keep it. +And if the husband is kind and straightforward, why should not love last? +The first phase of married love will pass, it is true, but then there will +come a love that is better still. Then there will be the union of souls, they +will have everything in common, there will be no secrets between them. +And once they have children, the most difficult times will seem to them +happy, so long as there is love and courage. Even toil will be a joy, you +may deny yourself bread for your children and even that will be a joy, +They will love you for it afterwards; so you are laying by for your future. +As the children grow up you feel that you are an example, a support for +them; that even after you die your children will always keep your +thoughts and feelings, because they have received them from you, they +will take on your semblance and likeness. So you see this is a great duty. +How can it fail to draw the father and mother nearer? People say it's a trial +to have children. Who says that? It is heavenly happiness! Are you fond of +little children, Liza? I am awfully fond of them. You know--a little rosy +baby boy at your bosom, and what husband's heart is not touched, seeing +his wife nursing his child! A plump little rosy baby, sprawling and +snuggling, chubby little hands and feet, clean tiny little nails, so tiny that +it makes one laugh to look at them; eyes that look as if they understand +everything. And while it sucks it clutches at your bosom with its little +hand, plays. When its father comes up, the child tears itself away from the +bosom, flings itself back, looks at its father, laughs, as though it were +fearfully funny, and falls to sucking again. Or it will bite its mother's +breast when its little teeth are coming, while it looks sideways at her with +its little eyes as though to say, 'Look, I am biting!' Is not all that happiness +when they are the three together, husband, wife and child? One can +forgive a great deal for the sake of such moments. Yes, Liza, one must first +learn to live oneself before one blames others!" + +"It's by pictures, pictures like that one must get at you," I thought to +myself, though I did speak with real feeling, and all at once I flushed +crimson. "What if she were suddenly to burst out laughing, what should I +do then?" That idea drove me to fury. Towards the end of my speech I +really was excited, and now my vanity was somehow wounded. The +silence continued. I almost nudged her. + +"Why are you--" she began and stopped. But I understood: there +was a quiver of something different in her voice, not abrupt, harsh and +unyielding as before, but something soft and shamefaced, so shamefaced +that I suddenly felt ashamed and guilty. + +"What?" I asked, with tender curiosity. + +"Why, you ..." + +"What?" + +"Why, you ... speak somehow like a book," she said, and again there +was a note of irony in her voice. + +That remark sent a pang to my heart. It was not what I was expecting. + +I did not understand that she was hiding her feelings under irony, +that this is usually the last refuge of modest and chaste-souled people +when the privacy of their soul is coarsely and intrusively invaded, and +that their pride makes them refuse to surrender till the last moment +and shrink from giving expression to their feelings before you. I ought +to have guessed the truth from the timidity with which she had repeatedly +approached her sarcasm, only bringing herself to utter it at last +with an effort. But I did not guess, and an evil feeling took possession +of me. + +"Wait a bit!" I thought. + + + +VII + + +"Oh, hush, Liza! How can you talk about being like a book, when it +makes even me, an outsider, feel sick? Though I don't look at it as an +outsider, for, indeed, it touches me to the heart .... Is it possible, is it +possible that you do not feel sick at being here yourself? Evidently habit +does wonders! God knows what habit can do with anyone. Can you +seriously think that you will never grow old, that you will always be good- +looking, and that they will keep you here for ever and ever? I say nothing +of the loathsomeness of the life here .... Though let me tell you this +about it--about your present life, I mean; here though you are young +now, attractive, nice, with soul and feeling, yet you know as soon as I +came to myself just now I felt at once sick at being here with you! One +can only come here when one is drunk. But if you were anywhere else, +living as good people live, I should perhaps be more than attracted by +you, should fall in love with you, should be glad of a look from you, let +alone a word; I should hang about your door, should go down on my +knees to you, should look upon you as my betrothed and think it an +honour to be allowed to. I should not dare to have an impure thought +about you. But here, you see, I know that I have only to whistle and you +have to come with me whether you like it or not. I don't consult your +wishes, but you mine. The lowest labourer hires himself as a workman, +but he doesn't make a slave of himself altogether; besides, he knows that +he will be free again presently. But when are you free? Only think what +you are giving up here? What is it you are making a slave of? It is your +soul, together with your body; you are selling your soul which you have +no right to dispose of! You give your love to be outraged by every +drunkard! Love! But that's everything, you know, it's a priceless diamond, +it's a maiden's treasure, love--why, a man would be ready to give his +soul, to face death to gain that love. But how much is your love worth +now? You are sold, all of you, body and soul, and there is no need to strive +for love when you can have everything without love. And you know there +is no greater insult to a girl than that, do you understand? To be sure, I +have heard that they comfort you, poor fools, they let you have lovers of +your own here. But you know that's simply a farce, that's simply a sham, +it's just laughing at you, and you are taken in by it! Why, do you suppose +he really loves you, that lover of yours? I don't believe it. How can he +love you when he knows you may be called away from him any minute? +He would be a low fellow if he did! Will he have a grain of respect for +you? What have you in common with him? He laughs at you and robs +you--that is all his love amounts to! You are lucky if he does not beat +you. Very likely he does beat you, too. Ask him, if you have got one, +whether he will marry you. He will laugh in your face, if he doesn't spit +in it or give you a blow--though maybe he is not worth a bad halfpenny +himself. And for what have you ruined your life, if you come to think of +it? For the coffee they give you to drink and the plentiful meals? But with +what object are they feeding you up? An honest girl couldn't swallow the +food, for she would know what she was being fed for. You are in debt here, +and, of course, you will always be in debt, and you will go on in debt to +the end, till the visitors here begin to scorn you. And that will soon +happen, don't rely upon your youth--all that flies by express train here, +you know. You will be kicked out. And not simply kicked out; long before +that she'll begin nagging at you, scolding you, abusing you, as though +you had not sacrificed your health for her, had not thrown away your +youth and your soul for her benefit, but as though you had ruined her, +beggared her, robbed her. And don't expect anyone to take your part: the +others, your companions, will attack you, too, win her favour, for all are +in slavery here, and have lost all conscience and pity here long ago. They +have become utterly vile, and nothing on earth is viler, more loathsome, +and more insulting than their abuse. And you are laying down everything +here, unconditionally, youth and health and beauty and hope, and at +twenty-two you will look like a woman of five-and-thirty, and you will be +lucky if you are not diseased, pray to God for that! No doubt you are +thinking now that you have a gay time and no work to do! Yet there is no +work harder or more dreadful in the world or ever has been. One would +think that the heart alone would be worn out with tears. And you won't +dare to say a word, not half a word when they drive you away from here; +you will go away as though you were to blame. You will change to +another house, then to a third, then somewhere else, till you come down +at last to the Haymarket. There you will be beaten at every turn; that is +good manners there, the visitors don't know how to be friendly without +beating you. You don't believe that it is so hateful there? Go and look for +yourself some time, you can see with your own eyes. Once, one New +Year's Day, I saw a woman at a door. They had turned her out as a joke, to +give her a taste of the frost because she had been crying so much, and +they shut the door behind her. At nine o'clock in the morning she was +already quite drunk, dishevelled, half-naked, covered with bruises, her +face was powdered, but she had a black-eye, blood was trickling from her +nose and her teeth; some cabman had just given her a drubbing. She was +sitting on the stone steps, a salt fish of some sort was in her hand; she was +crying, wailing something about her luck and beating with the fish on the +steps, and cabmen and drunken soldiers were crowding in the doorway +taunting her. You don't believe that you will ever be like that? I should be +sorry to believe it, too, but how do you know; maybe ten years, eight +years ago that very woman with the salt fish came here fresh as a cherub, +innocent, pure, knowing no evil, blushing at every word. Perhaps she +was like you, proud, ready to take offence, not like the others; perhaps she +looked like a queen, and knew what happiness was in store for the man +who should love her and whom she should love. Do you see how it +ended? And what if at that very minute when she was beating on the filthy +steps with that fish, drunken and dishevelled--what if at that very +minute she recalled the pure early days in her father's house, when she +used to go to school and the neighbour's son watched for her on the way, +declaring that he would love her as long as he lived, that he would devote +his life to her, and when they vowed to love one another for ever and be +married as soon as they were grown up! No, Liza, it would be happy for +you if you were to die soon of consumption in some corner, in some +cellar like that woman just now. In the hospital, do you say? You will be +lucky if they take you, but what if you are still of use to the madam here? +Consumption is a queer disease, it is not like fever. The patient goes on +hoping till the last minute and says he is all right. He deludes himself +And that just suits your madam. Don't doubt it, that's how it is; you have +sold your soul, and what is more you owe money, so you daren't say a +word. But when you are dying, all will abandon you, all will turn away +from you, for then there will be nothing to get from you. What's more, +they will reproach you for cumbering the place, for being so long over +dying. However you beg you won't get a drink of water without abuse: +'Whenever are you going off, you nasty hussy, you won't let us sleep with +your moaning, you make the gentlemen sick.' That's true, I have heard +such things said myself. They will thrust you dying into the filthiest +corner in the cellar--in the damp and darkness; what will your thoughts +be, lying there alone? When you die, strange hands will lay you out, with +grumbling and impatience; no one will bless you, no one will sigh for +you, they only want to get rid of you as soon as may be; they will buy a +coffin, take you to the grave as they did that poor woman today, and +celebrate your memory at the tavern. In the grave, sleet, filth, wet snow-- +no need to put themselves out for you--'Let her down, Vanuha; it's just +like her luck--even here, she is head-foremost, the hussy. Shorten the +cord, you rascal.' 'It's all right as it is.' 'All right, is it? Why, she's +on her side! She was a fellow-creature, after all! But, never mind, throw the +earth on her.' And they won't care to waste much time quarrelling over +you. They will scatter the wet blue clay as quick as they can and go off to +the tavern ... and there your memory on earth will end; other women +have children to go to their graves, fathers, husbands. While for you +neither tear, nor sigh, nor remembrance; no one in the whole world will +ever come to you, your name will vanish from the face of the earth--as +though you had never existed, never been born at all! Nothing but filth +and mud, however you knock at your coffin lid at night, when the dead +arise, however you cry: 'Let me out, kind people, to live in the light of +day! My life was no life at all; my life has been thrown away like a dish- +clout; it was drunk away in the tavern at the Haymarket; let me out, kind +people, to live in the world again.'" + +And I worked myself up to such a pitch that I began to have a lump in +my throat myself, and ... and all at once I stopped, sat up in dismay and, +bending over apprehensively, began to listen with a beating heart. I had +reason to be troubled. + +I had felt for some time that I was turning her soul upside down and +rending her heart, and--and the more I was convinced of it, the more +eagerly I desired to gain my object as quickly and as effectually as +possible. It was the exercise of my skill that carried me away; yet it was not +merely sport .... + +I knew I was speaking stiffly, artificially, even bookishly, in fact, I +could not speak except "like a book." But that did not trouble me: I +knew, I felt that I should be understood and that this very bookishness +might be an assistance. But now, having attained my effect, I was +suddenly panic-stricken. Never before had I witnessed such despair! She +was lying on her face, thrusting her face into the pillow and clutching it +in both hands. Her heart was being torn. Her youthful body was +shuddering all over as though in convulsions. Suppressed sobs rent her +bosom and suddenly burst out in weeping and wailing, then she pressed +closer into the pillow: she did not want anyone here, not a living soul, to +know of her anguish and her tears. She bit the pillow, bit her hand till it +bled (I saw that afterwards), or, thrusting her fingers into her dishevelled +hair, seemed rigid with the effort of restraint, holding her breath and +clenching her teeth. I began saying something, begging her to calm +herself, but felt that I did not dare; and all at once, in a sort of cold +shiver, almost in terror, began fumbling in the dark, trying hurriedly to +get dressed to go. It was dark; though I tried my best I could not finish +dressing quickly. Suddenly I felt a box of matches and a candlestick with +a whole candle in it. As soon as the room was lighted up, Liza sprang +up, sat up in bed, and with a contorted face, with a half insane smile, +looked at me almost senselessly. I sat down beside her and took her +hands; she came to herself, made an impulsive movement towards me, +would have caught hold of me, but did not dare, and slowly bowed her +head before me. + +"Liza, my dear, I was wrong ... forgive me, my dear," I began, but +she squeezed my hand in her fingers so tightly that I felt I was saying the +wrong thing and stopped. + +"This is my address, Liza, come to me." + +"I will come," she answered resolutely, her head still bowed. + +"But now I am going, good-bye ... till we meet again." + +I got up; she, too, stood up and suddenly flushed all over, gave a +shudder, snatched up a shawl that was lying on a chair and muffled +herself in it to her chin. As she did this she gave another sickly smile, +blushed and looked at me strangely. I felt wretched; I was in haste to get +away--to disappear. + +"Wait a minute," she said suddenly, in the passage just at the doorway, +stopping me with her hand on my overcoat. She put down the candle in +hot haste and ran off; evidently she had thought of something or wanted +to show me something. As she ran away she flushed, her eyes shone, and +there was a smile on her lips--what was the meaning of it? Against my +will I waited: she came back a minute later with an expression that +seemed to ask forgiveness for something. In fact, it was not the same face, +not the same look as the evening before: sullen, mistrustful and obstinate. +Her eyes now were imploring, soft, and at the same time trustful, +caressing, timid. The expression with which children look at people they +are very fond of, of whom they are asking a favour. Her eyes were a light +hazel, they were lovely eyes, full of life, and capable of expressing love as +well as sullen hatred. + +Making no explanation, as though I, as a sort of higher being, must +understand everything without explanations, she held out a piece of +paper to me. Her whole face was positively beaming at that instant with +naive, almost childish, triumph. I unfolded it. It was a letter to her from +a medical student or someone of that sort--a very high-flown and +flowery, but extremely respectful, love-letter. I don't recall the words +now, but I remember well that through the high-flown phrases there was +apparent a genuine feeling, which cannot be feigned. When I had +finished reading it I met her glowing, questioning, and childishly +impatient eyes fixed upon me. She fastened her eyes upon my face and +waited impatiently for what I should say. In a few words, hurriedly, +but with a sort of joy and pride, she explained to me that she had been +to a dance somewhere in a private house, a family of "very nice people, +WHO KNEW NOTHING, absolutely nothing, for she had only come here +so lately and it had all happened ... and she hadn't made up her +mind to stay and was certainly going away as soon as she had paid her +debt..." and at that party there had been the student who had danced +with her all the evening. He had talked to her, and it turned out that he +had known her in old days at Riga when he was a child, they had played +together, but a very long time ago--and he knew her parents, but ABOUT THIS +he knew nothing, nothing whatever, and had no suspicion! And the +day after the dance (three days ago) he had sent her that letter through +the friend with whom she had gone to the party ... and ... well, that +was all." + +She dropped her shining eyes with a sort of bashfulness as she finished. + +The poor girl was keeping that student's letter as a precious treasure, +and had run to fetch it, her only treasure, because she did not want me to +go away without knowing that she, too, was honestly and genuinely loved; +that she, too, was addressed respectfully. No doubt that letter was destined +to lie in her box and lead to nothing. But none the less, I am certain +that she would keep it all her life as a precious treasure, as her pride and +justification, and now at such a minute she had thought of that letter and +brought it with naive pride to raise herself in my eyes that I might see, +that I, too, might think well of her. I said nothing, pressed her hand and +went out. I so longed to get away ... I walked all the way home, in spite +of the fact that the melting snow was still falling in heavy flakes. I was +exhausted, shattered, in bewilderment. But behind the bewilderment the +truth was already gleaming. The loathsome truth. + + + +VIII + + +It was some time, however, before I consented to recognise that truth. +Waking up in the morning after some hours of heavy, leaden sleep, and +immediately realising all that had happened on the previous day, I was +positively amazed at my last night's SENTIMENTALITY with Liza, at all those +"outcries of horror and pity." "To think of having such an attack of +womanish hysteria, pah!" I concluded. And what did I thrust my address +upon her for? What if she comes? Let her come, though; it doesn't +matter .... But OBVIOUSLY, that was not now the chief and the most +important matter: I had to make haste and at all costs save my reputation +in the eyes of Zverkov and Simonov as quickly as possible; that was the +chief business. And I was so taken up that morning that I actually forgot +all about Liza. + +First of all I had at once to repay what I had borrowed the day before +from Simonov. I resolved on a desperate measure: to borrow fifteen +roubles straight off from Anton Antonitch. As luck would have it he was +in the best of humours that morning, and gave it to me at once, on the +first asking. I was so delighted at this that, as I signed the IOU with a +swaggering air, I told him casually that the night before "I had been +keeping it up with some friends at the Hotel de Paris; we were giving a +farewell party to a comrade, in fact, I might say a friend of my childhood, +and you know--a desperate rake, fearfully spoilt--of course, he belongs +to a good family, and has considerable means, a brilliant career; he is +witty, charming, a regular Lovelace, you understand; we drank an extra +'half-dozen' and ..." + +And it went off all right; all this was uttered very easily, +unconstrainedly and complacently. + +On reaching home I promptly wrote to Simonov. + +To this hour I am lost in admiration when I recall the truly gentlemanly, +good-humoured, candid tone of my letter. With tact and good- +breeding, and, above all, entirely without superfluous words, I blamed +myself for all that had happened. I defended myself, "if I really may be +allowed to defend myself," by alleging that being utterly unaccustomed +to wine, I had been intoxicated with the first glass, which I said, I had +drunk before they arrived, while I was waiting for them at the Hotel de +Paris between five and six o'clock. I begged Simonov's pardon especially; +I asked him to convey my explanations to all the others, especially to +Zverkov, whom "I seemed to remember as though in a dream" I had +insulted. I added that I would have called upon all of them myself, but +my head ached, and besides I had not the face to. I was particularly +pleased with a certain lightness, almost carelessness (strictly within the +bounds of politeness, however), which was apparent in my style, and +better than any possible arguments, gave them at once to understand that +I took rather an independent view of "all that unpleasantness last night"; +that I was by no means so utterly crushed as you, my friends, probably +imagine; but on the contrary, looked upon it as a gentleman serenely +respecting himself should look upon it. "On a young hero's past no +censure is cast!" + +"There is actually an aristocratic playfulness about it!" I thought +admiringly, as I read over the letter. "And it's all because I am an +intellectual and cultivated man! Another man in my place would not have +known how to extricate himself, but here I have got out of it and am as +jolly as ever again, and all because I am 'a cultivated and educated man +of our day.' And, indeed, perhaps, everything was due to the wine +yesterday. H'm!" ... No, it was not the wine. I did not drink anything at +all between five and six when I was waiting for them. I had lied to +Simonov; I had lied shamelessly; and indeed I wasn't ashamed now .... +Hang it all though, the great thing was that I was rid of it. + +I put six roubles in the letter, sealed it up, and asked Apollon to take it +to Simonov. When he learned that there was money in the letter, Apollon +became more respectful and agreed to take it. Towards evening I went out +for a walk. My head was still aching and giddy after yesterday. But as +evening came on and the twilight grew denser, my impressions and, +following them, my thoughts, grew more and more different and confused. +Something was not dead within me, in the depths of my heart and +conscience it would not die, and it showed itself in acute depression. For +the most part I jostled my way through the most crowded business streets, +along Myeshtchansky Street, along Sadovy Street and in Yusupov Garden. +I always liked particularly sauntering along these streets in the dusk, +just when there were crowds of working people of all sorts going home +from their daily work, with faces looking cross with anxiety. What I liked +was just that cheap bustle, that bare prose. On this occasion the jostling +of the streets irritated me more than ever, I could not make out what was +wrong with me, I could not find the clue, something seemed rising up +continually in my soul, painfully, and refusing to be appeased. I returned +home completely upset, it was just as though some crime were lying on +my conscience. + +The thought that Liza was coming worried me continually. It seemed +queer to me that of all my recollections of yesterday this tormented me, as +it were, especially, as it were, quite separately. Everything else I had quite +succeeded in forgetting by the evening; I dismissed it all and was still +perfectly satisfied with my letter to Simonov. But on this point I was not +satisfied at all. It was as though I were worried only by Liza. "What if she +comes," I thought incessantly, "well, it doesn't matter, let her come! +H'm! it's horrid that she should see, for instance, how I live. Yesterday I +seemed such a hero to her, while now, h'm! It's horrid, though, that I have +let myself go so, the room looks like a beggar's. And I brought myself to go +out to dinner in such a suit! And my American leather sofa with the +stuffing sticking out. And my dressing-gown, which will not cover me, +such tatters, and she will see all this and she will see Apollon. That beast +is certain to insult her. He will fasten upon her in order to be rude to me. +And I, of course, shall be panic-stricken as usual, I shall begin bowing +and scraping before her and pulling my dressing-gown round me, I shall +begin smiling, telling lies. Oh, the beastliness! And it isn't the +beastliness of it that matters most! There is something more important, more +loathsome, viler! Yes, viler! And to put on that dishonest lying mask +again! ..." + +When I reached that thought I fired up all at once. + +"Why dishonest? How dishonest? I was speaking sincerely last night. I +remember there was real feeling in me, too. What I wanted was to excite +an honourable feeling in her .... Her crying was a good thing, it will +have a good effect." + +Yet I could not feel at ease. All that evening, even when I had come +back home, even after nine o'clock, when I calculated that Liza could +not possibly come, still she haunted me, and what was worse, she came +back to my mind always in the same position. One moment out of all that +had happened last night stood vividly before my imagination; the moment +when I struck a match and saw her pale, distorted face, with its look +of torture. And what a pitiful, what an unnatural, what a distorted smile +she had at that moment! But I did not know then, that fifteen years later I +should still in my imagination see Liza, always with the pitiful, distorted, +inappropriate smile which was on her face at that minute. + +Next day I was ready again to look upon it all as nonsense, due to over- +excited nerves, and, above all, as EXAGGERATED. I was always conscious of +that weak point of mine, and sometimes very much afraid of it. "I +exaggerate everything, that is where I go wrong," I repeated to myself +every hour. But, however, "Liza will very likely come all the same," was +the refrain with which all my reflections ended. I was so uneasy that I +sometimes flew into a fury: "She'll come, she is certain to come!" I cried, +running about the room, "if not today, she will come tomorrow; she'll +find me out! The damnable romanticism of these pure hearts! Oh, the +vileness--oh, the silliness--oh, the stupidity of these 'wretched sentimental +souls!' Why, how fail to understand? How could one fail to +understand? ..." + +But at this point I stopped short, and in great confusion, indeed. + +And how few, how few words, I thought, in passing, were needed; how +little of the idyllic (and affectedly, bookishly, artificially idyllic too) had +sufficed to turn a whole human life at once according to my will. That's +virginity, to be sure! Freshness of soil! + +At times a thought occurred to me, to go to her, "to tell her all," and +beg her not to come to me. But this thought stirred such wrath in me that +I believed I should have crushed that "damned" Liza if she had chanced +to be near me at the time. I should have insulted her, have spat at her, +have turned her out, have struck her! + +One day passed, however, another and another; she did not come and I +began to grow calmer. I felt particularly bold and cheerful after nine +o'clock, I even sometimes began dreaming, and rather sweetly: I, for +instance, became the salvation of Liza, simply through her coming to me +and my talking to her .... I develop her, educate her. Finally, I notice +that she loves me, loves me passionately. I pretend not to understand (I +don't know, however, why I pretend, just for effect, perhaps). At last all +confusion, transfigured, trembling and sobbing, she flings herself at my +feet and says that I am her saviour, and that she loves me better than +anything in the world. I am amazed, but .... "Liza," I say, "can you +imagine that I have not noticed your love? I saw it all, I divined it, but I +did not dare to approach you first, because I had an influence over you and was +afraid that you would force yourself, from gratitude, to respond to my +love, would try to rouse in your heart a feeling which was perhaps absent, +and I did not wish that ... because it would be tyranny ... it would be +indelicate (in short, I launch off at that point into European, inexplicably +lofty subtleties a la George Sand), but now, now you are mine, you are my +creation, you are pure, you are good, you are my noble wife. + + 'Into my house come bold and free, + Its rightful mistress there to be'." + +Then we begin living together, go abroad and so on, and so on. In fact, +in the end it seemed vulgar to me myself, and I began putting out my +tongue at myself. + +Besides, they won't let her out, "the hussy!" I thought. They don't let +them go out very readily, especially in the evening (for some reason I +fancied she would come in the evening, and at seven o'clock precisely). +Though she did say she was not altogether a slave there yet, and had +certain rights; so, h'm! Damn it all, she will come, she is sure to come! + +It was a good thing, in fact, that Apollon distracted my attention at that +time by his rudeness. He drove me beyond all patience! He was the bane +of my life, the curse laid upon me by Providence. We had been squabbling +continually for years, and I hated him. My God, how I hated him! +I believe I had never hated anyone in my life as I hated him, especially at +some moments. He was an elderly, dignified man, who worked part of his +time as a tailor. But for some unknown reason he despised me beyond all +measure, and looked down upon me insufferably. Though, indeed, he +looked down upon everyone. Simply to glance at that flaxen, smoothly +brushed head, at the tuft of hair he combed up on his forehead and oiled +with sunflower oil, at that dignified mouth, compressed into the shape of +the letter V, made one feel one was confronting a man who never doubted +of himself. He was a pedant, to the most extreme point, the greatest +pedant I had met on earth, and with that had a vanity only befitting +Alexander of Macedon. He was in love with every button on his coat, +every nail on his fingers--absolutely in love with them, and he looked it! +In his behaviour to me he was a perfect tyrant, he spoke very little to me, +and if he chanced to glance at me he gave me a firm, majestically self- +confident and invariably ironical look that drove me sometimes to fury. +He did his work with the air of doing me the greatest favour, though he did +scarcely anything for me, and did not, indeed, consider himself bound to +do anything. There could be no doubt that he looked upon me as the +greatest fool on earth, and that "he did not get rid of me" was simply that he +could get wages from me every month. He consented to do nothing for me +for seven roubles a month. Many sins should be forgiven me for what I +suffered from him. My hatred reached such a point that sometimes his +very step almost threw me into convulsions. What I loathed particularly +was his lisp. His tongue must have been a little too long or something of +that sort, for he continually lisped, and seemed to be very proud of it, +imagining that it greatly added to his dignity. He spoke in a slow, measured +tone, with his hands behind his back and his eyes fixed on the ground. He +maddened me particularly when he read aloud the psalms to himself +behind his partition. Many a battle I waged over that reading! But he was +awfully fond of reading aloud in the evenings, in a slow, even, sing-song +voice, as though over the dead. It is interesting that that is how he has +ended: he hires himself out to read the psalms over the dead, and at the +same time he kills rats and makes blacking. But at that time I could not get +rid of him, it was as though he were chemically combined with my +existence. Besides, nothing would have induced him to consent to leave +me. I could not live in furnished lodgings: my lodging was my private +solitude, my shell, my cave, in which I concealed myself from all mankind, +and Apollon seemed to me, for some reason, an integral part of that +flat, and for seven years I could not turn him away. + +To be two or three days behind with his wages, for instance, was +impossible. He would have made such a fuss, I should not have known +where to hide my head. But I was so exasperated with everyone during +those days, that I made up my mind for some reason and with some +object to PUNISH Apollon and not to pay him for a fortnight the wages that +were owing him. I had for a long time--for the last two years--been +intending to do this, simply in order to teach him not to give himself airs +with me, and to show him that if I liked I could withhold his wages. I +purposed to say nothing to him about it, and was purposely silent indeed, +in order to score off his pride and force him to be the first to speak of his +wages. Then I would take the seven roubles out of a drawer, show him I +have the money put aside on purpose, but that I won't, I won't, I simply +won't pay him his wages, I won't just because that is "what I wish," +because "I am master, and it is for me to decide," because he has been +disrespectful, because he has been rude; but if he were to ask respectfully +I might be softened and give it to him, otherwise he might wait another +fortnight, another three weeks, a whole month .... + +But angry as I was, yet he got the better of me. I could not hold out for +four days. He began as he always did begin in such cases, for there had +been such cases already, there had been attempts (and it may be observed +I knew all this beforehand, I knew his nasty tactics by heart). He would +begin by fixing upon me an exceedingly severe stare, keeping it up for +several minutes at a time, particularly on meeting me or seeing me out of +the house. If I held out and pretended not to notice these stares, he +would, still in silence, proceed to further tortures. All at once, A PROPOS of +nothing, he would walk softly and smoothly into my room, when I was +pacing up and down or reading, stand at the door, one hand behind his +back and one foot behind the other, and fix upon me a stare more than +severe, utterly contemptuous. If I suddenly asked him what he wanted, +he would make me no answer, but continue staring at me persistently for +some seconds, then, with a peculiar compression of his lips and a most +significant air, deliberately turn round and deliberately go back to his +room. Two hours later he would come out again and again present +himself before me in the same way. It had happened that in my fury I did +not even ask him what he wanted, but simply raised my head sharply and +imperiously and began staring back at him. So we stared at one another +for two minutes; at last he turned with deliberation and dignity and went +back again for two hours. + +If I were still not brought to reason by all this, but persisted in my +revolt, he would suddenly begin sighing while he looked at me, long, +deep sighs as though measuring by them the depths of my moral degradation, +and, of course, it ended at last by his triumphing completely: I +raged and shouted, but still was forced to do what he wanted. + +This time the usual staring manoeuvres had scarcely begun when I lost +my temper and flew at him in a fury. I was irritated beyond endurance +apart from him. + +"Stay," I cried, in a frenzy, as he was slowly and silently turning, with +one hand behind his back, to go to his room. "Stay! Come back, come +back, I tell you!" and I must have bawled so unnaturally, that he turned +round and even looked at me with some wonder. However, he persisted in +saying nothing, and that infuriated me. + +"How dare you come and look at me like that without being sent for? +Answer!" + +After looking at me calmly for half a minute, he began turning +round again. + +"Stay!" I roared, running up to him, "don't stir! There. Answer, now: +what did you come in to look at?" + +"If you have any order to give me it's my duty to carry it out," he +answered, after another silent pause, with a slow, measured lisp, raising +his eyebrows and calmly twisting his head from one side to another, all +this with exasperating composure. + +"That's not what I am asking you about, you torturer!" I shouted, +turning crimson with anger. "I'll tell you why you came here myself: you +see, I don't give you your wages, you are so proud you don't want to bow +down and ask for it, and so you come to punish me with your stupid +stares, to worry me and you have no sus-pic-ion how stupid it is-- +stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid! ..." + +He would have turned round again without a word, but I seized him. + +"Listen," I shouted to him. "Here's the money, do you see, here it is," (I +took it out of the table drawer); "here's the seven roubles complete, but +you are not going to have it, you ... are ... not ... going ... to ... +have it until you come respectfully with bowed head to beg my pardon. +Do you hear?" + +"That cannot be," he answered, with the most unnatural self-confidence. + +"It shall be so," I said, "I give you my word of honour, it shall be!" + +"And there's nothing for me to beg your pardon for," he went on, as +though he had not noticed my exclamations at all. "Why, besides, you +called me a 'torturer,' for which I can summon you at the police-station +at any time for insulting behaviour." + +"Go, summon me," I roared, "go at once, this very minute, this very +second! You are a torturer all the same! a torturer!" + +But he merely looked at me, then turned, and regardless of my loud +calls to him, he walked to his room with an even step and without +looking round. + +"If it had not been for Liza nothing of this would have happened," I +decided inwardly. Then, after waiting a minute, I went myself behind his +screen with a dignified and solemn air, though my heart was beating +slowly and violently. + +"Apollon," I said quietly and emphatically, though I was breathless, +"go at once without a minute's delay and fetch the police-officer." + +He had meanwhile settled himself at his table, put on his spectacles +and taken up some sewing. But, hearing my order, he burst into a guffaw. + +"At once, go this minute! Go on, or else you can't imagine what +will happen." + +"You are certainly out of your mind," he observed, without even +raising his head, lisping as deliberately as ever and threading his needle. +"Whoever heard of a man sending for the police against himself? And as +for being frightened--you are upsetting yourself about nothing, for +nothing will come of it." + +"Go!" I shrieked, clutching him by the shoulder. I felt I should strike +him in a minute. + +But I did not notice the door from the passage softly and slowly open at +that instant and a figure come in, stop short, and begin staring at us in +perplexity I glanced, nearly swooned with shame, and rushed back to my +room. There, clutching at my hair with both hands, I leaned my head +against the wall and stood motionless in that position. + +Two minutes later I heard Apollon's deliberate footsteps. "There is +some woman asking for you," he said, looking at me with peculiar +severity. Then he stood aside and let in Liza. He would not go away, but +stared at us sarcastically. + +"Go away, go away," I commanded in desperation. At that moment my +clock began whirring and wheezing and struck seven. + + + +IX + + + "Into my house come bold and free, + Its rightful mistress there to be." + +I stood before her crushed, crestfallen, revoltingly confused, and I believe +I smiled as I did my utmost to wrap myself in the skirts of my ragged +wadded dressing-gown--exactly as I had imagined the scene not long +before in a fit of depression. After standing over us for a couple of minutes +Apollon went away, but that did not make me more at ease. What made it +worse was that she, too, was overwhelmed with confusion, more so, in +fact, than I should have expected. At the sight of me, of course. + +"Sit down," I said mechanically, moving a chair up to the table, and I +sat down on the sofa. She obediently sat down at once and gazed at me +open-eyed, evidently expecting something from me at once. This +naivete of expectation drove me to fury, but I restrained myself. + +She ought to have tried not to notice, as though everything had been as +usual, while instead of that, she ... and I dimly felt that I should make +her pay dearly for ALL THIS. + +"You have found me in a strange position, Liza," I began, stammering +and knowing that this was the wrong way to begin. "No, no, don't +imagine anything," I cried, seeing that she had suddenly flushed. "I am +not ashamed of my poverty .... On the contrary, I look with pride on my +poverty. I am poor but honourable .... One can be poor and honourable," +I muttered. "However ... would you like tea? ...." + +"No," she was beginning. + +"Wait a minute." + +I leapt up and ran to Apollon. I had to get out of the room somehow. + +"Apollon," I whispered in feverish haste, flinging down before him the +seven roubles which had remained all the time in my clenched fist, "here +are your wages, you see I give them to you; but for that you must come to +my rescue: bring me tea and a dozen rusks from the restaurant. If you +won't go, you'll make me a miserable man! You don't know what this +woman is .... This is--everything! You may be imagining something .... +But you don't know what that woman is! ..." + +Apollon, who had already sat down to his work and put on his +spectacles again, at first glanced askance at the money without speaking +or putting down his needle; then, without paying the slightest attention to +me or making any answer, he went on busying himself with his needle, +which he had not yet threaded. I waited before him for three minutes +with my arms crossed A LA NAPOLEON. My temples were moist with sweat. +I was pale, I felt it. But, thank God, he must have been moved to pity, +looking at me. Having threaded his needle he deliberately got up from +his seat, deliberately moved back his chair, deliberately took off his +spectacles, deliberately counted the money, and finally asking me over +his shoulder: "Shall I get a whole portion?" deliberately walked out of the +room. As I was going back to Liza, the thought occurred to me on the +way: shouldn't I run away just as I was in my dressing-gown, no matter +where, and then let happen what would? + +I sat down again. She looked at me uneasily. For some minutes we +were silent. + +"I will kill him," I shouted suddenly, striking the table with my fist so +that the ink spurted out of the inkstand. + +"What are you saying!" she cried, starting. + +"I will kill him! kill him!" I shrieked, suddenly striking the table in +absolute frenzy, and at the same time fully understanding how stupid it +was to be in such a frenzy. "You don't know, Liza, what that torturer is to +me. He is my torturer .... He has gone now to fetch some rusks; he ..." + +And suddenly I burst into tears. It was an hysterical attack. How +ashamed I felt in the midst of my sobs; but still I could not restrain them. + +She was frightened. + +"What is the matter? What is wrong?" she cried, fussing about me. + +"Water, give me water, over there!" I muttered in a faint voice, though +I was inwardly conscious that I could have got on very well without water +and without muttering in a faint voice. But I was, what is called, PUTTING +IT ON, to save appearances, though the attack was a genuine one. + +She gave me water, looking at me in bewilderment. At that moment +Apollon brought in the tea. It suddenly seemed to me that this commonplace, +prosaic tea was horribly undignified and paltry after all that had +happened, and I blushed crimson. Liza looked at Apollon with positive +alarm. He went out without a glance at either of us. + +"Liza, do you despise me?" I asked, looking at her fixedly, trembling +with impatience to know what she was thinking. + +She was confused, and did not know what to answer. + +"Drink your tea," I said to her angrily. I was angry with myself, but, of +course, it was she who would have to pay for it. A horrible spite against +her suddenly surged up in my heart; I believe I could have killed her. To +revenge myself on her I swore inwardly not to say a word to her all the +time. "She is the cause of it all," I thought. + +Our silence lasted for five minutes. The tea stood on the table; we did +not touch it. I had got to the point of purposely refraining from beginning +in order to embarrass her further; it was awkward for her to begin +alone. Several times she glanced at me with mournful perplexity. I was +obstinately silent. I was, of course, myself the chief sufferer, because I +was fully conscious of the disgusting meanness of my spiteful stupidity, +and yet at the same time I could not restrain myself. + +"I want to... get away ... from there altogether," she began, to break +the silence in some way, but, poor girl, that was just what she ought not to +have spoken about at such a stupid moment to a man so stupid as I was. +My heart positively ached with pity for her tactless and unnecessary +straightforwardness. But something hideous at once stifled all compassion +in me; it even provoked me to greater venom. I did not care what +happened. Another five minutes passed. + +"Perhaps I am in your way," she began timidly, hardly audibly, and was +getting up. + +But as soon as I saw this first impulse of wounded dignity I positively +trembled with spite, and at once burst out. + +"Why have you come to me, tell me that, please?" I began, gasping for +breath and regardless of logical connection in my words. I longed to have +it all out at once, at one burst; I did not even trouble how to begin. "Why +have you come? Answer, answer," I cried, hardly knowing what I was +doing. "I'll tell you, my good girl, why you have come. You've come +because I talked sentimental stuff to you then. So now you are soft as +butter and longing for fine sentiments again. So you may as well know +that I was laughing at you then. And I am laughing at you now. Why are +you shuddering? Yes, I was laughing at you! I had been insulted just +before, at dinner, by the fellows who came that evening before me. I +came to you, meaning to thrash one of them, an officer; but I didn't +succeed, I didn't find him; I had to avenge the insult on someone to get +back my own again; you turned up, I vented my spleen on you and +laughed at you. I had been humiliated, so I wanted to humiliate; I had +been treated like a rag, so I wanted to show my power .... That's what it +was, and you imagined I had come there on purpose to save you. Yes? You +imagined that? You imagined that?" + +I knew that she would perhaps be muddled and not take it all in exactly, +but I knew, too, that she would grasp the gist of it, very well indeed. And +so, indeed, she did. She turned white as a handkerchief, tried to say +something, and her lips worked painfully; but she sank on a chair as +though she had been felled by an axe. And all the time afterwards she +listened to me with her lips parted and her eyes wide open, shuddering +with awful terror. The cynicism, the cynicism of my words overwhelmed +her .... + +"Save you!" I went on, jumping up from my chair and running up and +down the room before her. "Save you from what? But perhaps I am worse +than you myself. Why didn't you throw it in my teeth when I was giving +you that sermon: 'But what did you come here yourself for? was it to read +us a sermon?' Power, power was what I wanted then, sport was what I +wanted, I wanted to wring out your tears, your humiliation, your +hysteria--that was what I wanted then! Of course, I couldn't keep it up +then, because I am a wretched creature, I was frightened, and, the devil +knows why, gave you my address in my folly. Afterwards, before I got +home, I was cursing and swearing at you because of that address, I hated +you already because of the lies I had told you. Because I only like playing +with words, only dreaming, but, do you know, what I really want is that +you should all go to hell. That is what I want. I want peace; yes, I'd sell +the whole world for a farthing, straight off, so long as I was left in peace. +Is the world to go to pot, or am I to go without my tea? I say that the world +may go to pot for me so long as I always get my tea. Did you know that, or +not? Well, anyway, I know that I am a blackguard, a scoundrel, an egoist, +a sluggard. Here I have been shuddering for the last three days at the +thought of your coming. And do you know what has worried me particularly +for these three days? That I posed as such a hero to you, and now +you would see me in a wretched torn dressing-gown, beggarly, loathsome. +I told you just now that I was not ashamed of my poverty; so you +may as well know that I am ashamed of it; I am more ashamed of it than +of anything, more afraid of it than of being found out if I were a thief, +because I am as vain as though I had been skinned and the very air +blowing on me hurt. Surely by now you must realise that I shall never +forgive you for having found me in this wretched dressing-gown, just as I +was flying at Apollon like a spiteful cur. The saviour, the former hero, was +flying like a mangy, unkempt sheep-dog at his lackey, and the lackey was +jeering at him! And I shall never forgive you for the tears I could not help +shedding before you just now, like some silly woman put to shame! And +for what I am confessing to you now, I shall never forgive you either! +Yes--you must answer for it all because you turned up like this, because I +am a blackguard, because I am the nastiest, stupidest, absurdest and most +envious of all the worms on earth, who are not a bit better than I am, but, +the devil knows why, are never put to confusion; while I shall always be +insulted by every louse, that is my doom! And what is it to me that you +don't understand a word of this! And what do I care, what do I care about +you, and whether you go to ruin there or not? Do you understand? How I +shall hate you now after saying this, for having been here and listening. +Why, it's not once in a lifetime a man speaks out like this, and then it is in +hysterics! ... What more do you want? Why do you still stand confronting +me, after all this? Why are you worrying me? Why don't you go?" + +But at this point a strange thing happened. I was so accustomed to think +and imagine everything from books, and to picture everything in the +world to myself just as I had made it up in my dreams beforehand, that I +could not all at once take in this strange circumstance. What happened +was this: Liza, insulted and crushed by me, understood a great deal more +than I imagined. She understood from all this what a woman understands +first of all, if she feels genuine love, that is, that I was myself unhappy. + +The frightened and wounded expression on her face was followed first +by a look of sorrowful perplexity. When I began calling myself a scoundrel +and a blackguard and my tears flowed (the tirade was accompanied +throughout by tears) her whole face worked convulsively. She was on the +point of getting up and stopping me; when I finished she took no notice of +my shouting: "Why are you here, why don't you go away?" but realised +only that it must have been very bitter to me to say all this. Besides, she +was so crushed, poor girl; she considered herself infinitely beneath me; +how could she feel anger or resentment? She suddenly leapt up from her +chair with an irresistible impulse and held out her hands, yearning +towards me, though still timid and not daring to stir .... At this point +there was a revulsion in my heart too. Then she suddenly rushed to me, +threw her arms round me and burst into tears. I, too, could not restrain +myself, and sobbed as I never had before. + +"They won't let me ... I can't be good!" I managed to articulate; then +I went to the sofa, fell on it face downwards, and sobbed on it for a quarter +of an hour in genuine hysterics. She came close to me, put her arms +round me and stayed motionless in that position. But the trouble was that +the hysterics could not go on for ever, and (I am writing the loathsome +truth) lying face downwards on the sofa with my face thrust into my nasty +leather pillow, I began by degrees to be aware of a far-away, involuntary +but irresistible feeling that it would be awkward now for me to raise my +head and look Liza straight in the face. Why was I ashamed? I don't +know, but I was ashamed. The thought, too, came into my overwrought +brain that our parts now were completely changed, that she was now the +heroine, while I was just a crushed and humiliated creature as she had +been before me that night--four days before .... And all this came into +my mind during the minutes I was lying on my face on the sofa. + +My God! surely I was not envious of her then. + +I don't know, to this day I cannot decide, and at the time, of course, I +was still less able to understand what I was feeling than now. I cannot get +on without domineering and tyrannising over someone, but ... there is +no explaining anything by reasoning and so it is useless to reason. + +I conquered myself, however, and raised my head; I had to do so +sooner or later ... and I am convinced to this day that it was just because +I was ashamed to look at her that another feeling was suddenly kindled +and flamed up in my heart ... a feeling of mastery and possession. My +eyes gleamed with passion, and I gripped her hands tightly. How I hated +her and how I was drawn to her at that minute! The one feeling intensified +the other. It was almost like an act of vengeance. At first there was a +look of amazement, even of terror on her face, but only for one instant. +She warmly and rapturously embraced me. + + + +X + + +A quarter of an hour later I was rushing up and down the room in +frenzied impatience, from minute to minute I went up to the screen and +peeped through the crack at Liza. She was sitting on the ground with her +head leaning against the bed, and must have been crying. But she did not +go away, and that irritated me. This time she understood it all. I had +insulted her finally, but ... there's no need to describe it. She realised +that my outburst of passion had been simply revenge, a fresh humiliation, +and that to my earlier, almost causeless hatred was added now a +PERSONAL HATRED, born of envy .... Though I do not maintain positively +that she understood all this distinctly; but she certainly did fully understand +that I was a despicable man, and what was worse, incapable of +loving her. +I know I shall be told that this is incredible--but it is incredible to be +as spiteful and stupid as I was; it may be added that it was strange I should +not love her, or at any rate, appreciate her love. Why is it strange? In the +first place, by then I was incapable of love, for I repeat, with me loving +meant tyrannising and showing my moral superiority. I have never in my +life been able to imagine any other sort of love, and have nowadays come +to the point of sometimes thinking that love really consists in the right-- +freely given by the beloved object--to tyrannise over her. + +Even in my underground dreams I did not imagine love except as a +struggle. I began it always with hatred and ended it with moral subjugation, +and afterwards I never knew what to do with the subjugated object. +And what is there to wonder at in that, since I had succeeded in so +corrupting myself, since I was so out of touch with "real life," as to have +actually thought of reproaching her, and putting her to shame for having +come to me to hear "fine sentiments"; and did not even guess that she had +come not to hear fine sentiments, but to love me, because to a woman all +reformation, all salvation from any sort of ruin, and all moral renewal is +included in love and can only show itself in that form. + +I did not hate her so much, however, when I was running about the +room and peeping through the crack in the screen. I was only insufferably +oppressed by her being here. I wanted her to disappear. I wanted +"peace," to be left alone in my underground world. Real life oppressed +me with its novelty so much that I could hardly breathe. + +But several minutes passed and she still remained, without stirring, as +though she were unconscious. I had the shamelessness to tap softly at the +screen as though to remind her .... She started, sprang up, and flew to +seek her kerchief, her hat, her coat, as though making her escape from +me .... Two minutes later she came from behind the screen and looked +with heavy eyes at me. I gave a spiteful grin, which was forced, however, +to KEEP UP APPEARANCES, and I turned away from her eyes. + +"Good-bye," she said, going towards the door. + +I ran up to her, seized her hand, opened it, thrust something in it and +closed it again. Then I turned at once and dashed away in haste to the +other corner of the room to avoid seeing, anyway .... + +I did mean a moment since to tell a lie--to write that I did this +accidentally, not knowing what I was doing through foolishness, through +losing my head. But I don't want to lie, and so I will say straight out that I +opened her hand and put the money in it ... from spite. It came into my +head to do this while I was running up and down the room and she was +sitting behind the screen. But this I can say for certain: though I did that +cruel thing purposely, it was not an impulse from the heart, but came +from my evil brain. This cruelty was so affected, so purposely made up, +so completely a product of the brain, of books, that I could not even keep +it up a minute--first I dashed away to avoid seeing her, and then in +shame and despair rushed after Liza. I opened the door in the passage and +began listening. + +"Liza! Liza!" I cried on the stairs, but in a low voice, not boldly. +There was no answer, but I fancied I heard her footsteps, lower down +on the stairs. + +"Liza!" I cried, more loudly. + +No answer. But at that minute I heard the stiff outer glass door open +heavily with a creak and slam violently; the sound echoed up the stairs. + +She had gone. I went back to my room in hesitation. I felt horribly +oppressed. + +I stood still at the table, beside the chair on which she had sat and +looked aimlessly before me. A minute passed, suddenly I started; straight +before me on the table I saw .... In short, I saw a crumpled blue five- +rouble note, the one I had thrust into her hand a minute before. It was the +same note; it could be no other, there was no other in the flat. So she had +managed to fling it from her hand on the table at the moment when I had +dashed into the further corner. + +Well! I might have expected that she would do that. Might I have +expected it? No, I was such an egoist, I was so lacking in respect for my +fellow-creatures that I could not even imagine she would do so. I could +not endure it. A minute later I flew like a madman to dress, flinging on +what I could at random and ran headlong after her. She could not have +got two hundred paces away when I ran out into the street. + +It was a still night and the snow was coming down in masses and falling +almost perpendicularly, covering the pavement and the empty street as +though with a pillow. There was no one in the street, no sound was to be +heard. The street lamps gave a disconsolate and useless glimmer. I ran +two hundred paces to the cross-roads and stopped short. + +Where had she gone? And why was I running after her? + +Why? To fall down before her, to sob with remorse, to kiss her feet, to +entreat her forgiveness! I longed for that, my whole breast was being rent +to pieces, and never, never shall I recall that minute with indifference. +But--what for? I thought. Should I not begin to hate her, perhaps, even +tomorrow, just because I had kissed her feet today? Should I give her +happiness? Had I not recognised that day, for the hundredth time, what I +was worth? Should I not torture her? + +I stood in the snow, gazing into the troubled darkness and pondered this. + +"And will it not be better?" I mused fantastically, afterwards at home, +stifling the living pang of my heart with fantastic dreams. "Will it not +be better that she should keep the resentment of the insult for ever? +Resentment--why, it is purification; it is a most stinging and painful +consciousness! Tomorrow I should have defiled her soul and have exhausted +her heart, while now the feeling of insult will never die in her heart, +and however loathsome the filth awaiting her--the feeling of insult will +elevate and purify her ... by hatred ... h'm! ... perhaps, too, by +forgiveness .... Will all that make things easier for her though? ..." + +And, indeed, I will ask on my own account here, an idle question: +which is better--cheap happiness or exalted sufferings? Well, which is better? + +So I dreamed as I sat at home that evening, almost dead with the pain +in my soul. Never had I endured such suffering and remorse, yet could +there have been the faintest doubt when I ran out from my lodging that I +should turn back half-way? I never met Liza again and I have heard +nothing of her. I will add, too, that I remained for a long time afterwards +pleased with the phrase about the benefit from resentment and hatred in +spite of the fact that I almost fell ill from misery. + +. . . . . + +Even now, so many years later, all this is somehow a very evil memory. +I have many evil memories now, but ... hadn't I better end my "Notes" +here? I believe I made a mistake in beginning to write them, anyway I +have felt ashamed all the time I've been writing this story; so it's hardly +literature so much as a corrective punishment. Why, to tell long stories, +showing how I have spoiled my life through morally rotting in my corner, +through lack of fitting environment, through divorce from real life, and +rankling spite in my underground world, would certainly not be interesting; +a novel needs a hero, and all the traits for an anti-hero are EXPRESSLY +gathered together here, and what matters most, it all produces an unpleasant +impression, for we are all divorced from life, we are all cripples, +every one of us, more or less. We are so divorced from it that we feel at +once a sort of loathing for real life, and so cannot bear to be reminded of +it. Why, we have come almost to looking upon real life as an effort, +almost as hard work, and we are all privately agreed that it is better in +books. And why do we fuss and fume sometimes? Why are we perverse +and ask for something else? We don't know what ourselves. It would be +the worse for us if our petulant prayers were answered. Come, try, give +any one of us, for instance, a little more independence, untie our hands, +widen the spheres of our activity, relax the control and we ... yes, I +assure you ... we should be begging to be under control again at once. I +know that you will very likely be angry with me for that, and will begin +shouting and stamping. Speak for yourself, you will say, and for your +miseries in your underground holes, and don't dare to say all of us-- +excuse me, gentlemen, I am not justifying myself with that "all of us." As +for what concerns me in particular I have only in my life carried to an +extreme what you have not dared to carry halfway, and what's more, you +have taken your cowardice for good sense, and have found comfort in +deceiving yourselves. So that perhaps, after all, there is more life in me +than in you. Look into it more carefully! Why, we don't even know what +living means now, what it is, and what it is called? Leave us alone without +books and we shall be lost and in confusion at once. We shall not know +what to join on to, what to cling to, what to love and what to hate, what +to respect and what to despise. We are oppressed at being men--men +with a real individual body and blood, we are ashamed of it, we think it a +disgrace and try to contrive to be some sort of impossible generalised +man. We are stillborn, and for generations past have been begotten, not +by living fathers, and that suits us better and better. We are developing a +taste for it. Soon we shall contrive to be born somehow from an idea. But +enough; I don't want to write more from "Underground." + + +[The notes of this paradoxalist do not end here, however. He could not +refrain from going on with them, but it seems to us that we may stop +here.] + + + + + +**End of The Project Gutenberg Etext Notes from the Underground by +Feodor Dostoevsky** + + diff --git a/old/notun11.zip b/old/notun11.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..374983e --- /dev/null +++ b/old/notun11.zip |