Notes from the

Underground
By Fyodor Dostoevsky

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Part I I

Underground*

*The author of the diary and the diary itself are, of course,
I am a sick man. ... I am a spiteful man. I am an unattract-
ive man. I believe my liver is diseased. However, I know
nothing at all about my disease, and do not know for cer-
imaginary. Nevertheless it is clear that such persons as the tain what ails me. I don’t consult a doctor for it, and never
writer of these notes not only may, but positively must, exist have, though I have a respect for medicine and doctors. Be-
in our society, when we consider the circumstances in the sides, I am extremely superstitious, sufficiently so to respect
midst of which our society is formed. I have tried to expose medicine, anyway (I am well-educated enough not to be su-
to the view of the public more distinctly than is commonly perstitious, but I am superstitious). No, I refuse to consult
done, one of the characters of the recent past. He is one of the a doctor from spite. That you probably will not understand.
representatives of a generation still living. In this fragment, Well, I understand it, though. Of course, I can’t explain who
entitled ‘Underground,’ this person introduces himself and it is precisely that I am mortifying in this case by my spite:
his views, and, as it were, tries to explain the causes owing to I am perfectly well aware that I cannot ‘pay out’ the doctors
which he has made his appearance and was bound to make by not consulting them; I know better than anyone that by
his appearance in our midst. In the second fragment there all this I am only injuring myself and no one else. But still,
are added the actual notes of this person concerning certain if I don’t consult a doctor it is from spite. My liver is bad,
events in his life. —AUTHOR’S NOTE. 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 ser-
vice, 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

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scratch it out on purpose!) site elements. I knew that they had been swarming in me
When petitioners used to come for information to the all my life and craving some outlet from me, but I would
table at which I sat, I used to grind my teeth at them, and not let them, would not let them, purposely would not let
felt intense enjoyment when I succeeded in making any- them come out. They tormented me till I was ashamed: they
body unhappy. I almost did succeed. For the most part they drove me to convulsions and—sickened me, at last, how
were all timid people—of course, they were petitioners. But they sickened me! Now, are not you fancying, gentlemen,
of the uppish ones there was one officer in particular I could that I am expressing remorse for something now, that I am
not endure. He simply would not be humble, and clanked asking your forgiveness for something? I am sure you are
his sword in a disgusting way. I carried on a feud with him fancying that ... However, I assure you I do not care if you
for eighteen months over that sword. At last I got the better are. ...
of him. He left off clanking it. That happened in my youth, It was not only that I could not become spiteful, I did not
though. But do you know, gentlemen, what was the chief know how to become anything; neither spiteful nor kind,
point about my spite? Why, the whole point, the real sting of neither a rascal nor an honest man, neither a hero nor an
it lay in the fact that continually, even in the moment of the insect. Now, I am living out my life in my corner, taunting
acutest spleen, I was inwardly conscious with shame that I myself with the spiteful and useless consolation that an in-
was not only not a spiteful but not even an embittered man, telligent man cannot become anything seriously, and it is
that I was simply scaring sparrows at random and amusing only the fool who becomes anything. Yes, a man in the nine-
myself by it. I might foam at the mouth, but bring me a doll teenth century must and morally ought to be pre-eminently
to play with, give me a cup of tea with sugar in it, and maybe a characterless creature; a man of character, an active man
I should be appeased. I might even be genuinely touched, is pre-eminently a limited creature. That is my conviction
though probably I should grind my teeth at myself after- of forty years. I am forty years old now, and you know forty
wards and lie awake at night with shame for months after. years is a whole lifetime; you know it is extreme old age. To
That was my way. live longer than forty years is bad manners, is vulgar, im-
I was lying when I said just now that I was a spiteful of- moral. Who does live beyond forty? Answer that, sincerely
ficial. I was lying from spite. I was simply amusing myself and honestly I will tell you who do: fools and worthless fel-
with the petitioners and with the officer, and in reality I lows. I tell all old men that to their face, all these venerable
never could become spiteful. I was conscious every moment old men, all these silver-haired and reverend seniors! I tell
in myself of many, very many elements absolutely opposite the whole world that to its face! I have a right to say so, for
to that. I felt them positively swarming in me, these oppo- I shall go on living to sixty myself. To seventy! To eighty! ...

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 Stay, let me take breath ...
You imagine no doubt, gentlemen, that I want to amuse II
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
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.
last year a distant relation left me six thousand roubles in But I was not equal even to that. I swear, gentlemen, that to
his will I immediately retired from the service and settled be too conscious is an illness—a real thorough-going illness.
down in my corner. I used to live in this corner before, but For man’s everyday needs, it would have been quite enough
now I have settled down in it. My room is a wretched, hor- to have the ordinary human consciousness, that is, half or a
rid one in the outskirts of the town. My servant is an old quarter of the amount which falls to the lot of a cultivated
country- woman, ill-natured from stupidity, and, moreover, man of our unhappy nineteenth century, especially one who
there is always a nasty smell about her. I am told that the has the fatal ill-luck to inhabit Petersburg, the most theo-
Petersburg climate is bad for me, and that with my small retical and intentional town on the whole terrestrial globe.
means it is very expensive to live in Petersburg. I know all (There are intentional and unintentional towns.) It would
that better than all these sage and experienced counsellors have been quite enough, for instance, to have the conscious-
and monitors. ... But I am remaining in Petersburg; I am not ness by which all so-called direct persons and men of action
going away from Petersburg! I am not going away because live. I bet you think I am writing all this from affectation, to
... ech! Why, it is absolutely no matter whether I am going be witty at the expense of men of action; and what is more,
away or not going away. that from ill-bred affectation, I am clanking a sword like my
But what can a decent man speak of with most pleasure? officer. But, gentlemen, whoever can pride himself on his
Answer: Of himself. diseases and even swagger over them?
Well, so I will talk about myself. 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 conscious-
ness, every sort of consciousness, in fact, is a disease. I stick

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to that. Let us leave that, too, for a minute. Tell me this: why cursed sweetness, and at last—into positive real enjoyment!
does it happen that at the very, yes, at the very moments Yes, into enjoyment, into enjoyment! I insist upon that. I
when I am most capable of feeling every refinement of all have spoken of this because I keep wanting to know for a fact
that is ‘sublime and beautiful,’ as they used to say at one whether other people feel such enjoyment? I will explain;
time, it would, as though of design, happen to me not only the enjoyment was just from the too intense consciousness
to feel but to do such ugly things, such that ... Well, in short, of one’s own degradation; it was from feeling oneself that
actions that all, perhaps, commit; but which, as though pur- one had reached the last barrier, that it was horrible, but
posely, occurred to me at the very time when I was most that it could not be otherwise; that there was no escape for
conscious that they ought not to be committed. The more you; that you never could become a different man; that even
conscious I was of goodness and of all that was ‘sublime if time and faith were still left you to change into something
and beautiful,’ the more deeply I sank into my mire and the different you would most likely not wish to change; or if you
more ready I was to sink in it altogether. But the chief point did wish to, even then you would do nothing; because per-
was that all this was, as it were, not accidental in me, but haps in reality there was nothing for you to change into.
as though it were bound to be so. It was as though it were And the worst of it was, and the root of it all, that it was all
my most normal condition, and not in the least disease or in accord with the normal fundamental laws of over-acute
depravity, so that at last all desire in me to struggle against consciousness, and with the inertia that was the direct re-
this depravity passed. It ended by my almost believing (per- sult of those laws, and that consequently one was not only
haps actually believing) that this was perhaps my normal unable to change but could do absolutely nothing. Thus it
condition. But at first, in the beginning, what agonies I en- would follow, as the result of acute consciousness, that one
dured in that struggle! I did not believe it was the same with is not to blame in being a scoundrel; as though that were
other people, and all my life I hid this fact about myself as any consolation to the scoundrel once he has come to re-
a secret. I was ashamed (even now, perhaps, I am ashamed): alise that he actually is a scoundrel. But enough. ... Ech, I
I got to the point of feeling a sort of secret abnormal, despi- have talked a lot of nonsense, but what have I explained?
cable enjoyment in returning home to my corner on some How is enjoyment in this to be explained? But I will explain
disgusting Petersburg night, acutely conscious that that day it. I will get to the bottom of it! That is why I have taken up
I had committed a loathsome action again, that what was my pen. ...
done could never be undone, and secretly, inwardly gnaw- I, for instance, have a great deal of AMOUR PROPRE. I
ing, gnawing at myself for it, tearing and consuming myself am as suspicious and prone to take offence as a humpback or
till at last the bitterness turned into a sort of shameful ac- a dwarf. But upon my word I sometimes have had moments

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when if I had happened to be slapped in the face I should, anything because I should certainly never have made up my
perhaps, have been positively glad of it. I say, in earnest, that mind to do anything, even if I had been able to. Why should
I should probably have been able to discover even in that I not have made up my mind? About that in particular I
a peculiar sort of enjoyment—the enjoyment, of course, of want to say a few words.
despair; but in despair there are the most intense enjoy-
ments, 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 be-
lieve 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, be-
cause 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 magnani-
mous, had desired on the contrary to revenge myself on my
assailant, I could not have revenged myself on any one for

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III 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

W ith 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
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 there-
of revenge, then for the time there is nothing else but that fore, et caetera, et caetera. And the worst of it is, he himself,
feeling left in their whole being. Such a gentleman simply his very own self, looks on himself as a mouse; no one asks
dashes straight for his object like an infuriated bull with its him to do so; and that is an important point. Now let us
horns down, and nothing but a wall will stop him. (By the look at this mouse in action. Let us suppose, for instance,
way: facing the wall, such gentlemen—that is, the ‘direct’ that it feels insulted, too (and it almost always does feel in-
persons and men of action—are genuinely nonplussed. For sulted), and wants to revenge itself, too. There may even be
them a wall is not an evasion, as for us people who think a greater accumulation of spite in it than in L’HOMME DE
and consequently do nothing; it is not an excuse for turning LA NATURE ET DE LA VERITE. The base and nasty de-
aside, an excuse for which we are always very glad, though sire to vent that spite on its assailant rankles perhaps even
we scarcely believe in it ourselves, as a rule. No, they are more nastily in it than in L’HOMME DE LA NATURE ET
nonplussed in all sincerity. The wall has for them some- DE LA VERITE. For through his innate stupidity the lat-
thing tranquillising, morally soothing, final— maybe even ter looks upon his revenge as justice pure and simple; while
something mysterious ... but of the wall later.) in consequence of his acute consciousness the mouse does
Well, such a direct person I regard as the real normal man, not believe in the justice of it. To come at last to the deed
as his tender mother nature wished to see him when she itself, to the very act of revenge. Apart from the one funda-
graciously brought him into being on the earth. I envy such mental nastiness the luckless mouse succeeds in creating
a man till I am green in the face. He is stupid. I am not dis- around it so many other nastinesses in the form of doubts
puting that, but perhaps the normal man should be stupid, and questions, adds to the one question so many unsettled
how do you know? Perhaps it is very beautiful, in fact. And questions that there inevitably works up around it a sort of
I am the more persuaded of that suspicion, if one can call fatal brew, a stinking mess, made up of its doubts, emotions,
it so, by the fact that if you take, for instance, the antithesis and of the contempt spat upon it by the direct men of ac-

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tion who stand solemnly about it as judges and arbitrators, oscillations, of resolutions determined for ever and repent-
laughing at it till their healthy sides ache. Of course the only ed of again a minute later—that the savour of that strange
thing left for it is to dismiss all that with a wave of its paw, enjoyment of which I have spoken lies. It is so subtle, so
and, with a smile of assumed contempt in which it does not difficult of analysis, that persons who are a little limited, or
even itself believe, creep ignominiously into its mouse-hole. even simply persons of strong nerves, will not understand
There in its nasty, stinking, underground home our insulted, a single atom of it. ‘Possibly,’ you will add on your own ac-
crushed and ridiculed mouse promptly becomes absorbed count with a grin, ‘people will not understand it either who
in cold, malignant and, above all, everlasting spite. For for- have never received a slap in the face,’ and in that way you
ty years together it will remember its injury down to the will politely hint to me that I, too, perhaps, have had the ex-
smallest, most ignominious details, and every time will add, perience of a slap in the face in my life, and so I speak as one
of itself, details still more ignominious, spitefully teasing who knows. I bet that you are thinking that. But set your
and tormenting itself with its own imagination. It will it- minds at rest, gentlemen, I have not received a slap in the
self be ashamed of its imaginings, but yet it will recall it face, though it is absolutely a matter of indifference to me
all, it will go over and over every detail, it will invent un- what you may think about it. Possibly, I even regret, myself,
heard of things against itself, pretending that those things that I have given so few slaps in the face during my life. But
might happen, and will forgive nothing. Maybe it will be- enough ... not another word on that subject of such extreme
gin to revenge itself, too, but, as it were, piecemeal, in trivial interest to you.
ways, from behind the stove, incognito, without believing I will continue calmly concerning persons with strong
either in its own right to vengeance, or in the success of its nerves who do not understand a certain refinement of en-
revenge, knowing that from all its efforts at revenge it will joyment. Though in certain circumstances these gentlemen
suffer a hundred times more than he on whom it revenges bellow their loudest like bulls, though this, let us suppose,
itself, while he, I daresay, will not even scratch himself. On does them the greatest credit, yet, as I have said already,
its deathbed it will recall it all over again, with interest ac- confronted with the impossible they subside at once. The
cumulated over all the years and ... impossible means the stone wall! What stone wall? Why, of
But it is just in that cold, abominable half despair, half course, the laws of nature, the deductions of natural science,
belief, in that conscious burying oneself alive for grief in the mathematics. As soon as they prove to you, for instance,
underworld for forty years, in that acutely recognised and that you are descended from a monkey, then it is no use
yet partly doubtful hopelessness of one’s position, in that scowling, accept it for a fact. When they prove to you that in
hell of unsatisfied desires turned inward, in that fever of reality one drop of your own fat must be dearer to you than

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a hundred thousand of your fellow-creatures, and that this in the least, and therefore grinding your teeth in silent im-
conclusion is the final solution of all so-called virtues and potence to sink into luxurious inertia, brooding on the fact
duties and all such prejudices and fancies, then you have that there is no one even for you to feel vindictive against,
just to accept it, there is no help for it, for twice two is a law that you have not, and perhaps never will have, an object for
of mathematics. Just try refuting it. your spite, that it is a sleight of hand, a bit of juggling, a card-
‘Upon my word, they will shout at you, it is no use pro- sharper’s trick, that it is simply a mess, no knowing what
testing: it is a case of twice two makes four! Nature does not and no knowing who, but in spite of all these uncertainties
ask your permission, she has nothing to do with your wish- and jugglings, still there is an ache in you, and the more you
es, and whether you like her laws or dislike them, you are do not know, the worse the ache.
bound to accept her as she is, and consequently all her con-
clusions. A wall, you see, is a wall ... and so on, and so on.’
Merciful Heavens! but what do I care for the laws of na-
ture 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, absur-
dity 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

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IV 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

‘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
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 Eu-
had toothache for a whole month and I know there is. In ropean civilisation, a man who is ‘divorced from the soil
that case, of course, people are not spiteful in silence, but and the national elements,’ as they express it now-a-days.
moan; but they are not candid moans, they are malignant His moans become nasty, disgustingly malignant, and go
moans, and the malignancy is the whole point. The enjoy- on for whole days and nights. And of course he knows
ment of the sufferer finds expression in those moans; if he himself that he is doing himself no sort of good with his
did not feel enjoyment in them he would not moan. It is moans; he knows better than anyone that he is only lacerat-
a good example, gentlemen, and I will develop it. Those ing and harassing himself and others for nothing; he knows
moans express in the first place all the aimlessness of your that even the audience before whom he is making his ef-
pain, which is so humiliating to your consciousness; the forts, and his whole family, listen to him with loathing, do
whole legal system of nature on which you spit disdainfully, not put a ha’porth of faith in him, and inwardly understand
of course, but from which you suffer all the same while she that he might moan differently, more simply, without trills
does not. They express the consciousness that you have no and flourishes, and that he is only amusing himself like
enemy to punish, but that you have pain; the consciousness that from ill-humour, from malignancy. Well, in all these
that in spite of all possible Wagenheims you are in com- recognitions and disgraces it is that there lies a voluptuous
plete slavery to your teeth; that if someone wishes it, your pleasure. As though he would say: ‘I am worrying you, I am
teeth will leave off aching, and if he does not, they will go lacerating your hearts, I am keeping everyone in the house
on aching another three months; and that finally if you are awake. Well, stay awake then, you, too, feel every minute
still contumacious and still protest, all that is left you for that I have toothache. I am not a hero to you now, as I tried
your own gratification is to thrash yourself or beat your to seem before, but simply a nasty person, an impostor.
wall with your fist as hard as you can, and absolutely noth- Well, so be it, then! I am very glad that you see through me.
ing more. Well, these mortal insults, these jeers on the part It is nasty for you to hear my despicable moans: well, let it

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be nasty; here I will let you have a nastier flourish in a min-
ute. ...’ You do not understand even now, gentlemen? No, it V
seems our development and our consciousness must go fur-
ther 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 per-
ception respect himself at all?
C ome, 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 con-
trary, 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

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 for myself and made up a life, so as at least to live in some ly with me every primary cause at once draws after itself
way. How many times it has happened to me—well, for in- another still more primary, and so on to infinity. That is just
stance, to take offence simply on purpose, for nothing; and the essence of every sort of consciousness and reflection. It
one knows oneself, of course, that one is offended at noth- must be a case of the laws of nature again. What is the re-
ing; that one is putting it on, but yet one brings oneself at sult of it in the end? Why, just the same. Remember I spoke
last to the point of being really offended. All my life I have just now of vengeance. (I am sure you did not take it in.) I
had an impulse to play such pranks, so that in the end I said that a man revenges himself because he sees justice in
could not control it in myself. Another time, twice, in fact, it. Therefore he has found a primary cause, that is, justice.
I tried hard to be in love. I suffered, too, gentlemen, I as- And so he is at rest on all sides, and consequently he carries
sure you. In the depth of my heart there was no faith in my out his revenge calmly and successfully, being persuaded
suffering, only a faint stir of mockery, but yet I did suffer, that he is doing a just and honest thing. But I see no justice
and in the real, orthodox way; I was jealous, beside myself in it, I find no sort of virtue in it either, and consequently if
... and it was all from ENNUI, gentlemen, all from ENNUI; I attempt to revenge myself, it is only out of spite. Spite, of
inertia overcame me. You know the direct, legitimate fruit course, might overcome everything, all my doubts, and so
of consciousness is inertia, that is, conscious sitting-with- might serve quite successfully in place of a primary cause,
the-hands-folded. I have referred to this already. I repeat, I precisely because it is not a cause. But what is to be done if I
repeat with emphasis: all ‘direct’ persons and men of action have not even spite (I began with that just now, you know).
are active just because they are stupid and limited. How ex- In consequence again of those accursed laws of conscious-
plain that? I will tell you: in consequence of their limitation ness, anger in me is subject to chemical disintegration. You
they take immediate and secondary causes for primary ones, look into it, the object flies off into air, your reasons evapo-
and in that way persuade themselves more quickly and eas- rate, the criminal is not to be found, the wrong becomes not
ily than other people do that they have found an infallible a wrong but a phantom, something like the toothache, for
foundation for their activity, and their minds are at ease and which no one is to blame, and consequently there is only the
you know that is the chief thing. To begin to act, you know, same outlet left again—that is, to beat the wall as hard as
you must first have your mind completely at ease and no you can. So you give it up with a wave of the hand because
trace of doubt left in it. Why, how am I, for example, to set you have not found a fundamental cause. And try letting
my mind at rest? Where are the primary causes on which I yourself be carried away by your feelings, blindly, without
am to build? Where are my foundations? Where am I to get reflection, without a primary cause, repelling conscious-
them from? I exercise myself in reflection, and consequent- ness at least for a time; hate or love, if only not to sit with

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your hands folded. The day after tomorrow, at the latest, you
will begin despising yourself for having knowingly deceived VI
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,
O h, 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
that is, the intentional pouring of water through a sieve? of being lazy; there would at least have been one quality, as
it were, positive in me, in which I could have believed my-
self. 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 call-
ing 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 con-
noisseur of Lafitte. He considered this as his positive virtue,
and never doubted himself. He died, not simply with a tran-
quil, 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 heav-
ily 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, drink-

24 Notes from the Underground Free eBooks at Planet eBook.com 25

ing to the health of everything ‘sublime and beautiful.’ I
should have snatched at every opportunity to drop a tear VII
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 beauti-
ful. I should have exuded tears like a wet sponge. An artist,
for instance, paints a picture worthy of Gay. At once I drink
B ut 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
to the health of the artist who painted the picture worthy interests; and that if he were enlightened, if his eyes were
of Gay, because I love all that is ‘sublime and beautiful.’ An opened to his real normal interests, man would at once
author has written AS YOU WILL: at once I drink to the cease to do nasty things, would at once become good and
health of ‘anyone you will’ because I love all that is ‘sublime noble because, being enlightened and understanding his
and beautiful.’ real advantage, he would see his own advantage in the good
I should claim respect for doing so. I should persecute and nothing else, and we all know that not one man can,
anyone who would not show me respect. I should live at consciously, act against his own interests, consequently, so
ease, I should die with dignity, why, it is charming, perfect- to say, through necessity, he would begin doing good? Oh,
ly charming! And what a good round belly I should have the babe! Oh, the pure, innocent child! Why, in the first
grown, what a treble chin I should have established, what a place, when in all these thousands of years has there been a
ruby nose I should have coloured for myself, so that every- time when man has acted only from his own interest? What
one would have said, looking at me: ‘Here is an asset! Here is to be done with the millions of facts that bear witness that
is something real and solid!’ And, say what you like, it is men, CONSCIOUSLY, that is fully understanding their real
very agreeable to hear such remarks about oneself in this interests, have left them in the background and have rushed
negative age. headlong on another path, to meet peril and danger, com-
pelled to this course by nobody and by nothing, but, as it
were, simply disliking the beaten track, and have obstinate-
ly, 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

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yourself to define with perfect accuracy in what the advan- your friend, too; and indeed there is no one, no one to whom
tage of man consists? And what if it so happens that a man’s he is not a friend! When he prepares for any undertaking
advantage, SOMETIMES, not only may, but even must, this gentleman immediately explains to you, elegantly and
consist in his desiring in certain cases what is harmful to clearly, exactly how he must act in accordance with the laws
himself and not advantageous. And if so, if there can be of reason and truth. What is more, he will talk to you with
such a case, the whole principle falls into dust. What do you excitement and passion of the true normal interests of man;
think—are there such cases? You laugh; laugh away, gentle- with irony he will upbraid the short- sighted fools who do
men, but only answer me: have man’s advantages been not understand their own interests, nor the true signifi-
reckoned up with perfect certainty? Are there not some cance of virtue; and, within a quarter of an hour, without
which not only have not been included but cannot possibly any sudden outside provocation, but simply through some-
be included under any classification? You see, you gentle- thing inside him which is stronger than all his interests, he
men have, to the best of my knowledge, taken your whole will go off on quite a different tack—that is, act in direct op-
register of human advantages from the averages of statisti- position to what he has just been saying about himself, in
cal figures and politico-economical formulas. Your opposition to the laws of reason, in opposition to his own
advantages are prosperity, wealth, freedom, peace—and so advantage, in fact in opposition to everything ... I warn you
on, and so on. So that the man who should, for instance, go that my friend is a compound personality and therefore it is
openly and knowingly in opposition to all that list would to difficult to blame him as an individual. The fact is, gentle-
your thinking, and indeed mine, too, of course, be an ob- men, it seems there must really exist something that is
scurantist or an absolute madman: would not he? But, you dearer to almost every man than his greatest advantages, or
know, this is what is surprising: why does it so happen that (not to be illogical) there is a most advantageous advantage
all these statisticians, sages and lovers of humanity, when (the very one omitted of which we spoke just now) which is
they reckon up human advantages invariably leave out one? more important and more advantageous than all other ad-
They don’t even take it into their reckoning in the form in vantages, for the sake of which a man if necessary is ready
which it should be taken, and the whole reckoning depends to act in opposition to all laws; that is, in opposition to rea-
upon that. It would be no greater matter, they would simply son, honour, peace, prosperity—in fact, in opposition to all
have to take it, this advantage, and add it to the list. But the those excellent and useful things if only he can attain that
trouble is, that this strange advantage does not fall under fundamental, most advantageous advantage which is dear-
any classification and is not in place in any list. I have a er to him than all. ‘Yes, but it’s advantage all the same,’ you
friend for instance ... Ech! gentlemen, but of course he is will retort. But excuse me, I’ll make the point clear, and it is

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not a case of playing upon words. What matters is, that this and absolutely nothing more. And through the development
advantage is remarkable from the very fact that it breaks of this many- sidedness man may come to finding enjoy-
down all our classifications, and continually shatters every ment in bloodshed. In fact, this has already happened to
system constructed by lovers of mankind for the benefit of him. Have you noticed that it is the most civilised gentle-
mankind. In fact, it upsets everything. But before I mention men who have been the subtlest slaughterers, to whom the
this advantage to you, I want to compromise myself person- Attilas and Stenka Razins could not hold a candle, and if
ally, and therefore I boldly declare that all these fine systems, they are not so conspicuous as the Attilas and Stenka Ra-
all these theories for explaining to mankind their real nor- zins it is simply because they are so often met with, are so
mal interests, in order that inevitably striving to pursue ordinary and have become so familiar to us. In any case ci-
these interests they may at once become good and noble— vilisation has made mankind if not more bloodthirsty, at
are, in my opinion, so far, mere logical exercises! Yes, logical least more vilely, more loathsomely bloodthirsty. In old
exercises. Why, to maintain this theory of the regeneration days he saw justice in bloodshed and with his conscience at
of mankind by means of the pursuit of his own advantage is peace exterminated those he thought proper. Now we do
to my mind almost the same thing ... as to affirm, for in- think bloodshed abominable and yet we engage in this
stance, following Buckle, that through civilisation mankind abomination, and with more energy than ever. Which is
becomes softer, and consequently less bloodthirsty and less worse? Decide that for yourselves. They say that Cleopatra
fitted for warfare. Logically it does seem to follow from his (excuse an instance from Roman history) was fond of stick-
arguments. But man has such a predilection for systems ing gold pins into her slave-girls’ breasts and derived
and abstract deductions that he is ready to distort the truth gratification from their screams and writhings. You will say
intentionally, he is ready to deny the evidence of his senses that that was in the comparatively barbarous times; that
only to justify his logic. I take this example because it is the these are barbarous times too, because also, comparatively
most glaring instance of it. Only look about you: blood is speaking, pins are stuck in even now; that though man has
being spilt in streams, and in the merriest way, as though it now learned to see more clearly than in barbarous ages, he
were champagne. Take the whole of the nineteenth century is still far from having learnt to act as reason and science
in which Buckle lived. Take Napoleon—the Great and also would dictate. But yet you are fully convinced that he will
the present one. Take North America—the eternal union. be sure to learn when he gets rid of certain old bad habits,
Take the farce of Schleswig-Holstein .... And what is it that and when common sense and science have completely re-
civilisation softens in us? The only gain of civilisation for educated human nature and turned it in a normal direction.
mankind is the greater capacity for variety of sensations— You are confident that then man will cease from INTEN-

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TIONAL error and will, so to say, be compelled not to want will be extraordinarily rational. Of course boredom may
to set his will against his normal interests. That is not all; lead you to anything. It is boredom sets one sticking golden
then, you say, science itself will teach man (though to my pins into people, but all that would not matter. What is bad
mind it’s a superfluous luxury) that he never has really had (this is my comment again) is that I dare say people will be
any caprice or will of his own, and that he himself is some- thankful for the gold pins then. Man is stupid, you know,
thing of the nature of a piano-key or the stop of an organ, phenomenally stupid; or rather he is not at all stupid, but
and that there are, besides, things called the laws of nature; he is so ungrateful that you could not find another like him
so that everything he does is not done by his willing it, but in all creation. I, for instance, would not be in the least sur-
is done of itself, by the laws of nature. Consequently we prised if all of a sudden, A PROPOS of nothing, in the midst
have only to discover these laws of nature, and man will no of general prosperity a gentleman with an ignoble, or rather
longer have to answer for his actions and life will become with a reactionary and ironical, countenance were to arise
exceedingly easy for him. All human actions will then, of and, putting his arms akimbo, say to us all: ‘I say, gentle-
course, be tabulated according to these laws, mathematical- man, hadn’t we better kick over the whole show and scatter
ly, like tables of logarithms up to 108,000, and entered in an rationalism to the winds, simply to send these logarithms
index; or, better still, there would be published certain edi- to the devil, and to enable us to live once more at our own
fying works of the nature of encyclopaedic lexicons, in sweet foolish will!’ That again would not matter, but what is
which everything will be so clearly calculated and explained annoying is that he would be sure to find followers—such
that there will be no more incidents or adventures in the is the nature of man. And all that for the most foolish rea-
world. son, which, one would think, was hardly worth mentioning:
Then—this is all what you say—new economic relations that is, that man everywhere and at all times, whoever he
will be established, all ready-made and worked out with may be, has preferred to act as he chose and not in the least
mathematical exactitude, so that every possible question as his reason and advantage dictated. And one may choose
will vanish in the twinkling of an eye, simply because every what is contrary to one’s own interests, and sometimes one
possible answer to it will be provided. Then the ‘Palace of POSITIVELY OUGHT (that is my idea). One’s own free un-
Crystal’ will be built. Then ... In fact, those will be halcyon fettered choice, one’s own caprice, however wild it may be,
days. Of course there is no guaranteeing (this is my com- one’s own fancy worked up at times to frenzy—is that very
ment) that it will not be, for instance, frightfully dull then ‘most advantageous advantage’ which we have overlooked,
(for what will one have to do when everything will be cal- which comes under no classification and against which all
culated and tabulated), but on the other hand everything systems and theories are continually being shattered to at-

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oms. And how do these wiseacres know that man wants a
normal, a virtuous choice? What has made them conceive VIII
that man must want a rationally advantageous choice?
What man wants is simply INDEPENDENT choice, what-
ever that independence may cost and wherever it may lead.
And choice, of course, the devil only knows what choice.
‘H a! 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 con-
fess, 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 be-
gun upon it. Indeed, if there really is some day discovered a
formula for all our desires and caprices—that is, an expla-
nation 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 formu-
la—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 hu-
man 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

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nonsense because in our foolishness we see in that nonsense help for it, we must accept the retort too, or else it will be
the easiest means for attaining a supposed advantage. But accepted without our consent ....’
when all that is explained and worked out on paper (which Yes, but here I come to a stop! Gentlemen, you must ex-
is perfectly possible, for it is contemptible and senseless to cuse me for being over-philosophical; it’s the result of forty
suppose that some laws of nature man will never under- years underground! Allow me to indulge my fancy. You see,
stand), then certainly so-called desires will no longer exist. gentlemen, reason is an excellent thing, there’s no disputing
For if a desire should come into conflict with reason we that, but reason is nothing but reason and satisfies only the
shall then reason and not desire, because it will be impos- rational side of man’s nature, while will is a manifestation
sible retaining our reason to be SENSELESS in our desires, of the whole life, that is, of the whole human life including
and in that way knowingly act against reason and desire reason and all the impulses. And although our life, in this
to injure ourselves. And as all choice and reasoning can be manifestation of it, is often worthless, yet it is life and not
really calculated—because there will some day be discov- simply extracting square roots. Here I, for instance, quite
ered the laws of our so-called free will—so, joking apart, naturally want to live, in order to satisfy all my capacities
there may one day be something like a table constructed for life, and not simply my capacity for reasoning, that is,
of them, so that we really shall choose in accordance with not simply one twentieth of my capacity for life. What does
it. If, for instance, some day they calculate and prove to me reason know? Reason only knows what it has succeeded in
that I made a long nose at someone because I could not help learning (some things, perhaps, it will never learn; this is
making a long nose at him and that I had to do it in that a poor comfort, but why not say so frankly?) and human
particular way, what FREEDOM is left me, especially if I nature acts as a whole, with everything that is in it, con-
am a learned man and have taken my degree somewhere? sciously or unconsciously, and, even if it goes wrong, it lives.
Then I should be able to calculate my whole life for thirty I suspect, gentlemen, that you are looking at me with com-
years beforehand. In short, if this could be arranged there passion; you tell me again that an enlightened and developed
would be nothing left for us to do; anyway, we should have man, such, in short, as the future man will be, cannot con-
to understand that. And, in fact, we ought unwearyingly sciously desire anything disadvantageous to himself, that
to repeat to ourselves that at such and such a time and in that can be proved mathematically. I thoroughly agree, it
such and such circumstances nature does not ask our leave; can—by mathematics. But I repeat for the hundredth time,
that we have got to take her as she is and not fashion her to there is one case, one only, when man may consciously, pur-
suit our fancy, and if we really aspire to formulas and tables posely, desire what is injurious to himself, what is stupid,
of rules, and well, even ... to the chemical retort, there’s no very stupid—simply in order to have the right to desire for

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 himself even what is very stupid and not to be bound by an mankind. What will you see? Is it a grand spectacle? Grand,
obligation to desire only what is sensible. Of course, this if you like. Take the Colossus of Rhodes, for instance, that’s
very stupid thing, this caprice of ours, may be in reality, worth something. With good reason Mr. Anaevsky testifies
gentlemen, more advantageous for us than anything else of it that some say that it is the work of man’s hands, while
on earth, especially in certain cases. And in particular it others maintain that it has been created by nature herself.
may be more advantageous than any advantage even when Is it many-coloured? May be it is many-coloured, too: if one
it does us obvious harm, and contradicts the soundest con- takes the dress uniforms, military and civilian, of all peo-
clusions of our reason concerning our advantage—for in any ples in all ages—that alone is worth something, and if you
circumstances it preserves for us what is most precious and take the undress uniforms you will never get to the end of
most important—that is, our personality, our individuality. it; no historian would be equal to the job. Is it monotonous?
Some, you see, maintain that this really is the most precious May be it’s monotonous too: it’s fighting and fighting; they
thing for mankind; choice can, of course, if it chooses, be in are fighting now, they fought first and they fought last—you
agreement with reason; and especially if this be not abused will admit, that it is almost too monotonous. In short, one
but kept within bounds. It is profitable and sometimes even may say anything about the history of the world—anything
praiseworthy. But very often, and even most often, choice that might enter the most disordered imagination. The only
is utterly and stubbornly opposed to reason ... and ... and thing one can’t say is that it’s rational. The very word sticks
... do you know that that, too, is profitable, sometimes even in one’s throat. And, indeed, this is the odd thing that is
praiseworthy? Gentlemen, let us suppose that man is not continually happening: there are continually turning up in
stupid. (Indeed one cannot refuse to suppose that, if only life moral and rational persons, sages and lovers of human-
from the one consideration, that, if man is stupid, then who ity who make it their object to live all their lives as morally
is wise?) But if he is not stupid, he is monstrously ungrate- and rationally as possible, to be, so to speak, a light to their
ful! Phenomenally ungrateful. In fact, I believe that the best neighbours simply in order to show them that it is possible
definition of man is the ungrateful biped. But that is not all, to live morally and rationally in this world. And yet we all
that is not his worst defect; his worst defect is his perpetual know that those very people sooner or later have been false
moral obliquity, perpetual—from the days of the Flood to to themselves, playing some queer trick, often a most un-
the Schleswig-Holstein period. Moral obliquity and conse- seemly one. Now I ask you: what can be expected of man
quently lack of good sense; for it has long been accepted that since he is a being endowed with strange qualities? Show-
lack of good sense is due to no other cause than moral obliq- er upon him every earthly blessing, drown him in a sea of
uity. Put it to the test and cast your eyes upon the history of happiness, so that nothing but bubbles of bliss can be seen

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on the surface; give him economic prosperity, such that he son and gain his point! I believe in it, I answer for it, for the
should have nothing else to do but sleep, eat cakes and busy whole work of man really seems to consist in nothing but
himself with the continuation of his species, and even then proving to himself every minute that he is a man and not a
out of sheer ingratitude, sheer spite, man would play you piano-key! It may be at the cost of his skin, it may be by can-
some nasty trick. He would even risk his cakes and would nibalism! And this being so, can one help being tempted to
deliberately desire the most fatal rubbish, the most uneco- rejoice that it has not yet come off, and that desire still de-
nomical absurdity, simply to introduce into all this positive pends on something we don’t know?
good sense his fatal fantastic element. It is just his fantastic You will scream at me (that is, if you condescend to do
dreams, his vulgar folly that he will desire to retain, simply so) that no one is touching my free will, that all they are
in order to prove to himself—as though that were so neces- concerned with is that my will should of itself, of its own
sary— that men still are men and not the keys of a piano, free will, coincide with my own normal interests, with the
which the laws of nature threaten to control so completely laws of nature and arithmetic.
that soon one will be able to desire nothing but by the cal- Good heavens, gentlemen, what sort of free will is left
endar. And that is not all: even if man really were nothing when we come to tabulation and arithmetic, when it will
but a piano-key, even if this were proved to him by natural all be a case of twice two make four? Twice two makes four
science and mathematics, even then he would not become without my will. As if free will meant that!
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 be-
tween 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 be-
forehand would stop it all, and reason would reassert itself,
then man would purposely go mad in order to be rid of rea-

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IX 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

G entlemen, I am joking, and I know myself that my

jokes are not brilliant,but you know one can take ev-
erything as a joke. I am, perhaps, jesting against the grain.
from despising engineering, and so giving way to the fa-
tal 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
Gentlemen, I am tormented by questions; answer them for beyond dispute. But why has he such a passionate love for
me. You, for instance, want to cure men of their old habits destruction and chaos also? Tell me that! But on that point
and reform their will in accordance with science and good I want to say a couple of words myself. May it not be that
sense. But how do you know, not only that it is possible, but he loves chaos and destruction (there can be no disputing
also that it is DESIRABLE to reform man in that way? And that he does sometimes love it) because he is instinctive-
what leads you to the conclusion that man’s inclinations ly afraid of attaining his object and completing the edifice
NEED reforming? In short, how do you know that such a he is constructing? Who knows, perhaps he only loves that
reformation will be a benefit to man? And to go to the root edifice from a distance, and is by no means in love with it
of the matter, why are you so positively convinced that not at close quarters; perhaps he only loves building it and does
to act against his real normal interests guaranteed by the not want to live in it, but will leave it, when completed, for
conclusions of reason and arithmetic is certainly always ad- the use of LES ANIMAUX DOMESTIQUES—such as the
vantageous for man and must always be a law for mankind? ants, the sheep, and so on. Now the ants have quite a dif-
So far, you know, this is only your supposition. It may be the ferent taste. They have a marvellous edifice of that pattern
law of logic, but not the law of humanity. You think, gentle- which endures for ever—the ant-heap.
men, perhaps that I am mad? Allow me to defend myself. I With the ant-heap the respectable race of ants began and
agree that man is pre-eminently a creative animal, predes- with the ant- heap they will probably end, which does the
tined to strive consciously for an object and to engage in greatest credit to their perseverance and good sense. But
engineering—that is, incessantly and eternally to make new man is a frivolous and incongruous creature, and perhaps,
roads, WHEREVER THEY MAY LEAD. But the reason why like a chess player, loves the process of the game, not the
he wants sometimes to go off at a tangent may just be that end of it. And who knows (there is no saying with certainty),
he is PREDESTINED to make the road, and perhaps, too, perhaps the only goal on earth to which mankind is striving

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lies in this incessant process of attaining, in other words, in Is not reason in error as regards advantage? Does not man,
life itself, and not in the thing to be attained, which must perhaps, love something besides well-being? Perhaps he is
always be expressed as a formula, as positive as twice two just as fond of suffering? Perhaps suffering is just as great
makes four, and such positiveness is not life, gentlemen, but a benefit to him as well-being? Man is sometimes extraor-
is the beginning of death. Anyway, man has always been dinarily, passionately, in love with suffering, and that is a
afraid of this mathematical certainty, and I am afraid of it fact. There is no need to appeal to universal history to prove
now. Granted that man does nothing but seek that math- that; only ask yourself, if you are a man and have lived at
ematical certainty, he traverses oceans, sacrifices his life in all. As far as my personal opinion is concerned, to care only
the quest, but to succeed, really to find it, dreads, I assure for well-being seems to me positively ill-bred. Whether it’s
you. He feels that when he has found it there will be noth- good or bad, it is sometimes very pleasant, too, to smash
ing for him to look for. When workmen have finished their things. I hold no brief for suffering nor for well-being either.
work they do at least receive their pay, they go to the tavern, I am standing for ... my caprice, and for its being guaran-
then they are taken to the police-station—and there is oc- teed to me when necessary. Suffering would be out of place
cupation for a week. But where can man go? Anyway, one in vaudevilles, for instance; I know that. In the ‘Palace of
can observe a certain awkwardness about him when he has Crystal’ it is unthinkable; suffering means doubt, negation,
attained such objects. He loves the process of attaining, but and what would be the good of a ‘palace of crystal’ if there
does not quite like to have attained, and that, of course, is could be any doubt about it? And yet I think man will never
very absurd. In fact, man is a comical creature; there seems renounce real suffering, that is, destruction and chaos. Why,
to be a kind of jest in it all. But yet mathematical certainty suffering is the sole origin of consciousness. Though I did
is after all, something insufferable. Twice two makes four lay it down at the beginning that consciousness is the great-
seems to me simply a piece of insolence. Twice two makes est misfortune for man, yet I know man prizes it and would
four is a pert coxcomb who stands with arms akimbo bar- not give it up for any satisfaction. Consciousness, for in-
ring your path and spitting. I admit that twice two makes stance, is infinitely superior to twice two makes four. Once
four is an excellent thing, but if we are to give everything you have mathematical certainty there is nothing left to do
its due, twice two makes five is sometimes a very charming or to understand. There will be nothing left but to bottle
thing too. up your five senses and plunge into contemplation. While
And why are you so firmly, so triumphantly, convinced if you stick to consciousness, even though the same result
that only the normal and the positive—in other words, only is attained, you can at least flog yourself at times, and that
what is conducive to welfare—is for the advantage of man? will, at any rate, liven you up. Reactionary as it is, corporal

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punishment is better than nothing.
X

Y ou believe in a palace of crystal that can never be de-

stroyed—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 de-
sire. 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 inconsis-
tent? That makes no difference since it exists in my desires,

46 Notes from the Underground Free eBooks at Planet eBook.com 47

or rather exists as long as my desires exist. Perhaps you are my whole purpose? I do not believe it.
laughing again? Laugh away; I will put up with any mockery But do you know what: I am convinced that we under-
rather than pretend that I am satisfied when I am hungry. I ground folk ought to be kept on a curb. Though we may
know, anyway, that I will not be put off with a compromise, sit forty years underground without speaking, when we do
with a recurring zero, simply because it is consistent with come out into the light of day and break out we talk and
the laws of nature and actually exists. I will not accept as talk and talk ....
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 de-
sires, 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 build-
ing! 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

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XI for life and try to settle the problems of life by a logical tan-
gle. 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

T he 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
you are afraid of nothing and at the same time try to in-
gratiate yourself in our good opinion. You declare that you
are gnashing your teeth and at the same time you try to be
man to the last drop of my bile, yet I should not care to be in witty so as to amuse us. You know that your witticisms are
his place such as he is now (though I shall not cease envying not witty, but you are evidently well satisfied with their lit-
him). No, no; anyway the underground life is more advan- erary value. You may, perhaps, have really suffered, but you
tageous. There, at any rate, one can ... Oh, but even now I have no respect for your own suffering. You may have sin-
am lying! I am lying because I know myself that it is not cerity, but you have no modesty; out of the pettiest vanity
underground that is better, but something different, quite you expose your sincerity to publicity and ignominy. You
different, for which I am thirsting, but which I cannot find! doubtlessly mean to say something, but hide your last word
Damn underground! through fear, because you have not the resolution to utter
I will tell you another thing that would be better, and it, and only have a cowardly impudence. You boast of con-
that is, if I myself believed in anything of what I have just sciousness, but you are not sure of your ground, for though
written. I swear to you, gentlemen, there is not one thing, your mind works, yet your heart is darkened and corrupt,
not one word of what I have written that I really believe. and you cannot have a full, genuine consciousness without
That is, I believe it, perhaps, but at the same time I feel and a pure heart. And how intrusive you are, how you insist and
suspect that I am lying like a cobbler. grimace! Lies, lies, lies!’
‘Then why have you written all this?’ you will say to me. ‘I Of course I have myself made up all the things you say.
ought to put you underground for forty years without any- That, too, is from underground. I have been for forty years
thing to do and then come to you in your cellar, to find out listening to you through a crack under the floor. I have in-
what stage you have reached! How can a man be left with vented them myself, there was nothing else I could invent. It
nothing to do for forty years?’ is no wonder that I have learned it by heart and it has taken
‘Isn’t that shameful, isn’t that humiliating?’ you will say, a literary form ....
perhaps, wagging your heads contemptuously. ‘You thirst But can you really be so credulous as to think that I will

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print all this and give it to you to read too? And another kind of vanity. But Heine judged of people who made their
problem: why do I call you ‘gentlemen,’ why do I address confessions to the public. I write only for myself, and I wish
you as though you really were my readers? Such confessions to declare once and for all that if I write as though I were ad-
as I intend to make are never printed nor given to other dressing readers, that is simply because it is easier for me to
people to read. Anyway, I am not strong-minded enough write in that form. It is a form, an empty form—I shall never
for that, and I don’t see why I should be. But you see a fancy have readers. I have made this plain already ...
has occurred to me and I want to realise it at all costs. Let I don’t wish to be hampered by any restrictions in the
me explain. compilation of my notes. I shall not attempt any system or
Every man has reminiscences which he would not tell to method. I will jot things down as I remember them.
everyone, but only to his friends. He has other matters in But here, perhaps, someone will catch at the word and
his mind which he would not reveal even to his friends, but ask me: if you really don’t reckon on readers, why do you
only to himself, and that in secret. But there are other things make such compacts with yourself—and on paper too—
which a man is afraid to tell even to himself, and every de- that is, that you won’t attempt any system or method, that
cent man has a number of such things stored away in his you jot things down as you remember them, and so on, and
mind. The more decent he is, the greater the number of such so on? Why are you explaining? Why do you apologise?
things in his mind. Anyway, I have only lately determined Well, there it is, I answer.
to remember some of my early adventures. Till now I have There is a whole psychology in all this, though. Perhaps it
always avoided them, even with a certain uneasiness. Now, is simply that I am a coward. And perhaps that I purposely
when I am not only recalling them, but have actually decid- imagine an audience before me in order that I may be more
ed to write an account of them, I want to try the experiment dignified while I write. There are perhaps thousands of rea-
whether one can, even with oneself, be perfectly open and sons. Again, what is my object precisely in writing? If it is
not take fright at the whole truth. I will observe, in paren- not for the benefit of the public why should I not simply re-
thesis, that Heine says that a true autobiography is almost call these incidents in my own mind without putting them
an impossibility, and that man is bound to lie about himself. on paper?
He considers that Rousseau certainly told lies about himself Quite so; but yet it is more imposing on paper. There is
in his confessions, and even intentionally lied, out of vanity. something more impressive in it; I shall be better able to
I am convinced that Heine is right; I quite understand how criticise myself and improve my style. Besides, I shall per-
sometimes one may, out of sheer vanity, attribute regular haps obtain actual relief from writing. Today, for instance, I
crimes to oneself, and indeed I can very well conceive that am particularly oppressed by one memory of a distant past.

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It came back vividly to my mind a few days ago, and has re-
mained haunting me like an annoying tune that one cannot Part II
get rid of. And yet I must get rid of it somehow. I have hun-
dreds 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? A Propos of the Wet Snow
Besides, I am bored, and I never have anything to do.
Writing will be a sort of work. They say work makes man When from dark error’s subjugation
kind-hearted and honest. Well, here is a chance for me, My words of passionate exhortation
anyway. Had wrenched thy fainting spirit free;
Snow is falling today, yellow and dingy. It fell yesterday, And writhing prone in thine affliction
too, and a few days ago. I fancy it is the wet snow that has Thou didst recall with malediction
reminded me of that incident which I cannot shake off now. The vice that had encompassed thee:
And so let it be a story A PROPOS of the falling snow. 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).

54 Notes from the Underground Free eBooks at Planet eBook.com 55

I ed 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.

A T 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
‘My face may be ugly,’ I thought, ‘but let it be lofty, expres-
sive, and, above all, EXTREMELY intelligent.’ But I was
positively and painfully certain that it was impossible for
avoided talking, and buried myself more and more in my my countenance ever to express those qualities. And what
hole. At work in the office I never looked at anyone, and was worst of all, I thought it actually stupid looking, and I
was perfectly well aware that my companions looked upon would have been quite satisfied if I could have looked intel-
me, not only as a queer fellow, but even looked upon me—I ligent. In fact, I would even have put up with looking base
always fancied this—with a sort of loathing. I sometimes if, at the same time, my face could have been thought strik-
wondered why it was that nobody except me fancied that ingly intelligent.
he was looked upon with aversion? One of the clerks had a Of course, I hated my fellow clerks one and all, and I de-
most repulsive, pock-marked face, which looked positively spised them all, yet at the same time I was, as it were, afraid
villainous. I believe I should not have dared to look at any- of them. In fact, it happened at times that I thought more
one with such an unsightly countenance. Another had such highly of them than of myself. It somehow happened quite
a very dirty old uniform that there was an unpleasant odour suddenly that I alternated between despising them and
in his proximity. Yet not one of these gentlemen showed the thinking them superior to myself. A cultivated and decent
slightest self-consciousness—either about their clothes or man cannot be vain without setting a fearfully high stan-
their countenance or their character in any way. Neither of dard for himself, and without despising and almost hating
them ever imagined that they were looked at with repulsion; himself at certain moments. But whether I despised them
if they had imagined it they would not have minded—so or thought them superior I dropped my eyes almost ev-
long as their superiors did not look at them in that way. It is ery time I met anyone. I even made experiments whether I
clear to me now that, owing to my unbounded vanity and could face so and so’s looking at me, and I was always the
to the high standard I set for myself, I often looked at my- first to drop my eyes. This worried me to distraction. I had
self with furious discontent, which verged on loathing, and a sickly dread, too, of being ridiculous, and so had a slavish
so I inwardly attributed the same feeling to everyone. I hat- passion for the conventional in everything external. I loved

56 Notes from the Underground Free eBooks at Planet eBook.com 57

 to fall into the common rut, and had a whole-hearted terror that I often came home ill. But all at once, A PROPOS of
of any kind of eccentricity in myself. But how could I live nothing, there would come a phase of scepticism and indif-
up to it? I was morbidly sensitive as a man of our age should ference (everything happened in phases to me), and I would
be. They were all stupid, and as like one another as so many laugh myself at my intolerance and fastidiousness, I would
sheep. Perhaps I was the only one in the office who fancied reproach myself with being ROMANTIC. At one time I was
that I was a coward and a slave, and I fancied it just because unwilling to speak to anyone, while at other times I would
I was more highly developed. But it was not only that I fan- not only talk, but go to the length of contemplating making
cied it, it really was so. I was a coward and a slave. I say this friends with them. All my fastidiousness would suddenly,
without the slightest embarrassment. Every decent man of for no rhyme or reason, vanish. Who knows, perhaps I nev-
our age must be a coward and a slave. That is his normal er had really had it, and it had simply been affected, and
condition. Of that I am firmly persuaded. He is made and got out of books. I have not decided that question even now.
constructed to that very end. And not only at the present Once I quite made friends with them, visited their homes,
time owing to some casual circumstances, but always, at all played preference, drank vodka, talked of promotions ....
times, a decent man is bound to be a coward and a slave. It But here let me make a digression.
is the law of nature for all decent people all over the earth. If We Russians, speaking generally, have never had those
anyone of them happens to be valiant about something, he foolish transcendental ‘romantics’—German, and still
need not be comforted nor carried away by that; he would more French—on whom nothing produces any effect; if
show the white feather just the same before something else. there were an earthquake, if all France perished at the bar-
That is how it invariably and inevitably ends. Only donkeys ricades, they would still be the same, they would not even
and mules are valiant, and they only till they are pushed up have the decency to affect a change, but would still go on
to the wall. It is not worth while to pay attention to them for singing their transcendental songs to the hour of their
they really are of no consequence. death, because they are fools. We, in Russia, have no fools;
Another circumstance, too, worried me in those days: that is well known. That is what distinguishes us from for-
that there was no one like me and I was unlike anyone else. eign lands. Consequently these transcendental natures are
‘I am alone and they are EVERYONE,’ I thought—and pon- not found amongst us in their pure form. The idea that they
dered. are is due to our ‘realistic’ journalists and critics of that day,
From that it is evident that I was still a youngster. always on the look out for Kostanzhoglos and Uncle Pyotr
The very opposite sometimes happened. It was loathsome Ivanitchs and foolishly accepting them as our ideal; they
sometimes to go to the office; things reached such a point have slandered our romantics, taking them for the same

58 Notes from the Underground Free eBooks at Planet eBook.com 59

transcendental sort as in Germany or France. On the con- Weimar or the Black Forest.
trary, the characteristics of our ‘romantics’ are absolutely I, for instance, genuinely despised my official work and
and directly opposed to the transcendental European type, did not openly abuse it simply because I was in it myself
and no European standard can be applied to them. (Allow and got a salary for it. Anyway, take note, I did not openly
me to make use of this word ‘romantic’—an old-fashioned abuse it. Our romantic would rather go out of his mind—a
and much respected word which has done good service and thing, however, which very rarely happens—than take to
is familiar to all.) The characteristics of our romantic are open abuse, unless he had some other career in view; and
to understand everything, TO SEE EVERYTHING AND he is never kicked out. At most, they would take him to the
TO SEE IT OFTEN INCOMPARABLY MORE CLEARLY lunatic asylum as ‘the King of Spain’ if he should go very
THAN OUR MOST REALISTIC MINDS SEE IT; to refuse mad. But it is only the thin, fair people who go out of their
to accept anyone or anything, but at the same time not to minds in Russia. Innumerable ‘romantics’ attain later in life
despise anything; to give way, to yield, from policy; never to considerable rank in the service. Their many-sidedness is
to lose sight of a useful practical object (such as rent-free remarkable! And what a faculty they have for the most con-
quarters at the government expense, pensions, decorations), tradictory sensations! I was comforted by this thought even
to keep their eye on that object through all the enthusiasms in those days, and I am of the same opinion now. That is why
and volumes of lyrical poems, and at the same time to pre- there are so many ‘broad natures’ among us who never lose
serve ‘the sublime and the beautiful’ inviolate within them their ideal even in the depths of degradation; and though
to the hour of their death, and to preserve themselves also, they never stir a finger for their ideal, though they are ar-
incidentally, like some precious jewel wrapped in cotton rant thieves and knaves, yet they tearfully cherish their first
wool if only for the benefit of ‘the sublime and the beau- ideal and are extraordinarily honest at heart. Yes, it is only
tiful.’ Our ‘romantic’ is a man of great breadth and the among us that the most incorrigible rogue can be absolutely
greatest rogue of all our rogues, I assure you .... I can as- and loftily honest at heart without in the least ceasing to be
sure you from experience, indeed. Of course, that is, if he a rogue. I repeat, our romantics, frequently, become such
is intelligent. But what am I saying! The romantic is always accomplished rascals (I use the term ‘rascals’ affectionate-
intelligent, and I only meant to observe that although we ly), suddenly display such a sense of reality and practical
have had foolish romantics they don’t count, and they were knowledge that their bewildered superiors and the public
only so because in the flower of their youth they degenerat- generally can only ejaculate in amazement.
ed into Germans, and to preserve their precious jewel more Their many-sidedness is really amazing, and goodness
comfortably, settled somewhere out there—by preference in knows what it may develop into later on, and what the fu-

60 Notes from the Underground Free eBooks at Planet eBook.com 61

ture has in store for us. It is not a poor material! I do not say I don’t want to lie. I vowed to myself I would not.
this from any foolish or boastful patriotism. But I feel sure And so, furtively, timidly, in solitude, at night, I indulged
that you are again imagining that I am joking. Or perhaps in filthy vice, with a feeling of shame which never desert-
it’s just the contrary and you are convinced that I really ed me, even at the most loathsome moments, and which at
think so. Anyway, gentlemen, I shall welcome both views such moments nearly made me curse. Already even then
as an honour and a special favour. And do forgive my di- I had my underground world in my soul. I was fearfully
gression. afraid of being seen, of being met, of being recognised. I
I did not, of course, maintain friendly relations with my visited various obscure haunts.
comrades and soon was at loggerheads with them, and in One night as I was passing a tavern I saw through a light-
my youth and inexperience I even gave up bowing to them, ed window some gentlemen fighting with billiard cues, and
as though I had cut off all relations. That, however, only saw one of them thrown out of the window. At other times
happened to me once. As a rule, I was always alone. I should have felt very much disgusted, but I was in such
In the first place I spent most of my time at home, read- a mood at the time, that I actually envied the gentleman
ing. I tried to stifle all that was continually seething within thrown out of the window—and I envied him so much that
me by means of external impressions. And the only ex- I even went into the tavern and into the billiard-room. ‘Per-
ternal means I had was reading. Reading, of course, was haps,’ I thought, ‘I’ll have a fight, too, and they’ll throw me
a great help—exciting me, giving me pleasure and pain. out of the window.’
But at times it bored me fearfully. One longed for move- I was not drunk—but what is one to do—depression will
ment in spite of everything, and I plunged all at once into drive a man to such a pitch of hysteria? But nothing hap-
dark, underground, loathsome vice of the pettiest kind. My pened. It seemed that I was not even equal to being thrown
wretched passions were acute, smarting, from my continual, out of the window and I went away without having my
sickly irritability I had hysterical impulses, with tears and fight.
convulsions. I had no resource except reading, that is, there An officer put me in my place from the first moment.
was nothing in my surroundings which I could respect and I was standing by the billiard-table and in my ignorance
which attracted me. I was overwhelmed with depression, blocking up the way, and he wanted to pass; he took me by
too; I had an hysterical craving for incongruity and for con- the shoulders and without a word—without a warning or
trast, and so I took to vice. I have not said all this to justify explanation—moved me from where I was standing to an-
myself .... But, no! I am lying. I did want to justify myself. I other spot and passed by as though he had not noticed me.
make that little observation for my own benefit, gentlemen. I could have forgiven blows, but I could not forgive his hav-

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ing moved me without noticing me. getting a sound thrashing and being thrown out of the win-
Devil knows what I would have given for a real regu- dow; I should have had physical courage enough, I assure
lar quarrel—a more decent, a more LITERARY one, so to you; but I had not the moral courage. What I was afraid of
speak. I had been treated like a fly. This officer was over six was that everyone present, from the insolent marker down
foot, while I was a spindly little fellow. But the quarrel was to the lowest little stinking, pimply clerk in a greasy collar,
in my hands. I had only to protest and I certainly would would jeer at me and fail to understand when I began to
have been thrown out of the window. But I changed my protest and to address them in literary language. For of the
mind and preferred to beat a resentful retreat. point of honour—not of honour, but of the point of honour
I went out of the tavern straight home, confused and (POINT D’HONNEUR)—one cannot speak among us ex-
troubled, and the next night I went out again with the same cept in literary language. You can’t allude to the ‘point of
lewd intentions, still more furtively, abjectly and misera- honour’ in ordinary language. I was fully convinced (the
bly than before, as it were, with tears in my eyes—but still sense of reality, in spite of all my romanticism!) that they
I did go out again. Don’t imagine, though, it was coward- would all simply split their sides with laughter, and that the
ice made me slink away from the officer; I never have been officer would not simply beat me, that is, without insulting
a coward at heart, though I have always been a coward in me, but would certainly prod me in the back with his knee,
action. Don’t be in a hurry to laugh—I assure you I can ex- kick me round the billiard- table, and only then perhaps
plain it all. have pity and drop me out of the window.
Oh, if only that officer had been one of the sort who Of course, this trivial incident could not with me end
would consent to fight a duel! But no, he was one of those in that. I often met that officer afterwards in the street and
gentlemen (alas, long extinct!) who preferred fighting with noticed him very carefully. I am not quite sure whether he
cues or, like Gogol’s Lieutenant Pirogov, appealing to the recognised me, I imagine not; I judge from certain signs.
police. They did not fight duels and would have thought But I—I stared at him with spite and hatred and so it went
a duel with a civilian like me an utterly unseemly proce- on ... for several years! My resentment grew even deeper
dure in any case—and they looked upon the duel altogether with years. At first I began making stealthy inquiries about
as something impossible, something free-thinking and this officer. It was difficult for me to do so, for I knew no
French. But they were quite ready to bully, especially when one. But one day I heard someone shout his surname in the
they were over six foot. street as I was following him at a distance, as though I were
I did not slink away through cowardice, but through an tied to him—and so I learnt his surname. Another time I
unbounded vanity. I was afraid not of his six foot, not of followed him to his flat, and for ten kopecks learned from

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the porter where he lived, on which storey, whether he lived him. Cold shivers run down my back when I think of what
alone or with others, and so on—in fact, everything one might have happened if I had sent it.
could learn from a porter. One morning, though I had nev- And all at once I revenged myself in the simplest way,
er tried my hand with the pen, it suddenly occurred to me by a stroke of genius! A brilliant thought suddenly dawned
to write a satire on this officer in the form of a novel which upon me. Sometimes on holidays I used to stroll along the
would unmask his villainy. I wrote the novel with relish. I sunny side of the Nevsky about four o’clock in the after-
did unmask his villainy, I even exaggerated it; at first I so noon. Though it was hardly a stroll so much as a series of
altered his surname that it could easily be recognised, but innumerable miseries, humiliations and resentments; but
on second thoughts I changed it, and sent the story to the no doubt that was just what I wanted. I used to wriggle
OTETCHESTVENNIYA ZAPISKI. But at that time such along in a most unseemly fashion, like an eel, continually
attacks were not the fashion and my story was not printed. moving aside to make way for generals, for officers of the
That was a great vexation to me. guards and the hussars, or for ladies. At such minutes there
Sometimes I was positively choked with resentment. At used to be a convulsive twinge at my heart, and I used to
last I determined to challenge my enemy to a duel. I com- feel hot all down my back at the mere thought of the wretch-
posed a splendid, charming letter to him, imploring him to edness of my attire, of the wretchedness and abjectness of
apologise to me, and hinting rather plainly at a duel in case my little scurrying figure. This was a regular martyrdom,
of refusal. The letter was so composed that if the officer had a continual, intolerable humiliation at the thought, which
had the least understanding of the sublime and the beauti- passed into an incessant and direct sensation, that I was
ful he would certainly have flung himself on my neck and a mere fly in the eyes of all this world, a nasty, disgusting
have offered me his friendship. And how fine that would fly—more intelligent, more highly developed, more refined
have been! How we should have got on together! ‘He could in feeling than any of them, of course—but a fly that was
have shielded me with his higher rank, while I could have continually making way for everyone, insulted and injured
improved his mind with my culture, and, well ... my ideas, by everyone. Why I inflicted this torture upon myself, why
and all sorts of things might have happened.’ Only fancy, I went to the Nevsky, I don’t know. I felt simply drawn there
this was two years after his insult to me, and my challenge at every possible opportunity.
would have been a ridiculous anachronism, in spite of all Already then I began to experience a rush of the enjoy-
the ingenuity of my letter in disguising and explaining away ment of which I spoke in the first chapter. After my affair
the anachronism. But, thank God (to this day I thank the with the officer I felt even more drawn there than before: it
Almighty with tears in my eyes) I did not send the letter to was on the Nevsky that I met him most frequently, there I

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 could admire him. He, too, went there chiefly on holidays, more good- natured in my joy. ‘I will simply not turn aside,
He, too, turned out of his path for generals and persons of will run up against him, not very violently, but just shoul-
high rank, and he too, wriggled between them like an eel; dering each other—just as much as decency permits. I will
but people, like me, or even better dressed than me, he sim- push against him just as much as he pushes against me.’ At
ply walked over; he made straight for them as though there last I made up my mind completely. But my preparations
was nothing but empty space before him, and never, under took a great deal of time. To begin with, when I carried out
any circumstances, turned aside. I gloated over my resent- my plan I should need to be looking rather more decent,
ment watching him and ... always resentfully made way for and so I had to think of my get-up. ‘In case of emergency,
him. It exasperated me that even in the street I could not be if, for instance, there were any sort of public scandal (and
on an even footing with him. the public there is of the most RECHERCHE: the Countess
‘Why must you invariably be the first to move aside?’ I walks there; Prince D. walks there; all the literary world is
kept asking myself in hysterical rage, waking up sometimes there), I must be well dressed; that inspires respect and of
at three o’clock in the morning. ‘Why is it you and not he? itself puts us on an equal footing in the eyes of the society.’
There’s no regulation about it; there’s no written law. Let the With this object I asked for some of my salary in advance,
making way be equal as it usually is when refined people and bought at Tchurkin’s a pair of black gloves and a de-
meet; he moves half-way and you move half-way; you pass cent hat. Black gloves seemed to me both more dignified
with mutual respect.’ and BON TON than the lemon-coloured ones which I had
But that never happened, and I always moved aside, while contemplated at first. ‘The colour is too gaudy, it looks as
he did not even notice my making way for him. And lo and though one were trying to be conspicuous,’ and I did not
behold a bright idea dawned upon me! ‘What,’ I thought, take the lemon-coloured ones. I had got ready long before-
‘if I meet him and don’t move on one side? What if I don’t hand a good shirt, with white bone studs; my overcoat was
move aside on purpose, even if I knock up against him? the only thing that held me back. The coat in itself was a
How would that be?’ This audacious idea took such a hold very good one, it kept me warm; but it was wadded and it
on me that it gave me no peace. I was dreaming of it con- had a raccoon collar which was the height of vulgarity. I
tinually, horribly, and I purposely went more frequently to had to change the collar at any sacrifice, and to have a bea-
the Nevsky in order to picture more vividly how I should do ver one like an officer’s. For this purpose I began visiting
it when I did do it. I was delighted. This intention seemed to the Gostiny Dvor and after several attempts I pitched upon
me more and more practical and possible. a piece of cheap German beaver. Though these German
‘Of course I shall not really push him,’ I thought, already beavers soon grow shabby and look wretched, yet at first

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they look exceedingly well, and I only needed it for the oc- tion. One time I had made up my mind thoroughly, but it
casion. I asked the price; even so, it was too expensive. After ended in my stumbling and falling at his feet because at the
thinking it over thoroughly I decided to sell my raccoon very last instant when I was six inches from him my cour-
collar. The rest of the money—a considerable sum for me, I age failed me. He very calmly stepped over me, while I flew
decided to borrow from Anton Antonitch Syetotchkin, my on one side like a ball. That night I was ill again, feverish
immediate superior, an unassuming person, though grave and delirious.
and judicious. He never lent money to anyone, but I had, on And suddenly it ended most happily. The night before I
entering the service, been specially recommended to him had made up my mind not to carry out my fatal plan and
by an important personage who had got me my berth. I was to abandon it all, and with that object I went to the Nevsky
horribly worried. To borrow from Anton Antonitch seemed for the last time, just to see how I would abandon it all. Sud-
to me monstrous and shameful. I did not sleep for two or denly, three paces from my enemy, I unexpectedly made up
three nights. Indeed, I did not sleep well at that time, I was my mind—I closed my eyes, and we ran full tilt, shoulder
in a fever; I had a vague sinking at my heart or else a sudden to shoulder, against one another! I did not budge an inch
throbbing, throbbing, throbbing! Anton Antonitch was and passed him on a perfectly equal footing! He did not
surprised at first, then he frowned, then he reflected, and even look round and pretended not to notice it; but he was
did after all lend me the money, receiving from me a written only pretending, I am convinced of that. I am convinced
authorisation to take from my salary a fortnight later the of that to this day! Of course, I got the worst of it—he was
sum that he had lent me. stronger, but that was not the point. The point was that I
In this way everything was at last ready. The handsome had attained my object, I had kept up my dignity, I had not
beaver replaced the mean-looking raccoon, and I began by yielded a step, and had put myself publicly on an equal so-
degrees to get to work. It would never have done to act off- cial footing with him. I returned home feeling that I was
hand, at random; the plan had to be carried out skilfully, by fully avenged for everything. I was delighted. I was trium-
degrees. But I must confess that after many efforts I began phant and sang Italian arias. Of course, I will not describe
to despair: we simply could not run into each other. I made to you what happened to me three days later; if you have
every preparation, I was quite determined—it seemed as read my first chapter you can guess for yourself. The offi-
though we should run into one another directly—and be- cer was afterwards transferred; I have not seen him now for
fore I knew what I was doing I had stepped aside for him fourteen years. What is the dear fellow doing now? Whom
again and he had passed without noticing me. I even prayed is he walking over?
as I approached him that God would grant me determina-

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II cumstance, 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

B ut 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
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 con-
grew used to that too. I grew used to everything, or rather I tentedly occupied the lowest in reality. Either to be a hero
voluntarily resigned myself to enduring it. But I had a means or to grovel in the mud—there was nothing between. That
of escape that reconciled everything—that was to find ref- was my ruin, for when I was in the mud I comforted myself
uge in ‘the sublime and the beautiful,’ in dreams, of course. with the thought that at other times I was a hero, and the
I was a terrible dreamer, I would dream for three months on hero was a cloak for the mud: for an ordinary man it was
end, tucked away in my corner, and you may believe me that shameful to defile himself, but a hero was too lofty to be
at those moments I had no resemblance to the gentleman utterly defiled, and so he might defile himself. It is worth
who, in the perturbation of his chicken heart, put a collar noting that these attacks of the ‘sublime and the beautiful’
of German beaver on his great-coat. I suddenly became a visited me even during the period of dissipation and just
hero. I would not have admitted my six-foot lieutenant even at the times when I was touching the bottom. They came
if he had called on me. I could not even picture him be- in separate spurts, as though reminding me of themselves,
fore me then. What were my dreams and how I could satisfy but did not banish the dissipation by their appearance. On
myself with them—it is hard to say now, but at the time I the contrary, they seemed to add a zest to it by contrast,
was satisfied with them. Though, indeed, even now, I am to and were only sufficiently present to serve as an appetising
some extent satisfied with them. Dreams were particularly sauce. That sauce was made up of contradictions and suffer-
sweet and vivid after a spell of dissipation; they came with ings, of agonising inward analysis, and all these pangs and
remorse and with tears, with curses and transports. There pin-pricks gave a certain piquancy, even a significance to
were moments of such positive intoxication, of such hap- my dissipation—in fact, completely answered the purpose
piness, that there was not the faintest trace of irony within of an appetising sauce. There was a certain depth of mean-
me, on my honour. I had faith, hope, love. I believed blindly ing in it. And I could hardly have resigned myself to the
at such times that by some miracle, by some external cir- simple, vulgar, direct debauchery of a clerk and have en-

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dured all the filthiness of it. What could have allured me of Lake Como, Lake Como being for that purpose trans-
about it then and have drawn me at night into the street? ferred to the neighbourhood of Rome; then would come a
No, I had a lofty way of getting out of it all. scene in the bushes, and so on, and so on—as though you
And what loving-kindness, oh Lord, what loving-kind- did not know all about it? You will say that it is vulgar and
ness I felt at times in those dreams of mine! in those ‘flights contemptible to drag all this into public after all the tears
into the sublime and the beautiful”; though it was fantastic and transports which I have myself confessed. But why is it
love, though it was never applied to anything human in re- contemptible? Can you imagine that I am ashamed of it all,
ality, yet there was so much of this love that one did not feel and that it was stupider than anything in your life, gentle-
afterwards even the impulse to apply it in reality; that would men? And I can assure you that some of these fancies were
have been superfluous. Everything, however, passed satis- by no means badly composed .... It did not all happen on
factorily by a lazy and fascinating transition into the sphere the shores of Lake Como. And yet you are right—it really is
of art, that is, into the beautiful forms of life, lying ready, vulgar and contemptible. And most contemptible of all it is
largely stolen from the poets and novelists and adapted to that now I am attempting to justify myself to you. And even
all sorts of needs and uses. I, for instance, was triumphant more contemptible than that is my making this remark now.
over everyone; everyone, of course, was in dust and ashes, But that’s enough, or there will be no end to it; each step will
and was forced spontaneously to recognise my superiority, be more contemptible than the last ....
and I forgave them all. I was a poet and a grand gentleman, I could never stand more than three months of dream-
I fell in love; I came in for countless millions and imme- ing at a time without feeling an irresistible desire to plunge
diately devoted them to humanity, and at the same time I into society. To plunge into society meant to visit my supe-
confessed before all the people my shameful deeds, which, rior at the office, Anton Antonitch Syetotchkin. He was the
of course, were not merely shameful, but had in them much only permanent acquaintance I have had in my life, and I
that was ‘sublime and beautiful’ something in the Manfred wonder at the fact myself now. But I only went to see him
style. Everyone would kiss me and weep (what idiots they when that phase came over me, and when my dreams had
would be if they did not), while I should go barefoot and reached such a point of bliss that it became essential at once
hungry preaching new ideas and fighting a victorious Aus- to embrace my fellows and all mankind; and for that pur-
terlitz against the obscurantists. Then the band would play pose I needed, at least, one human being, actually existing.
a march, an amnesty would be declared, the Pope would I had to call on Anton Antonitch, however, on Tuesday—his
agree to retire from Rome to Brazil; then there would be a at-home day; so I had always to time my passionate desire to
ball for the whole of Italy at the Villa Borghese on the shores embrace humanity so that it might fall on a Tuesday.

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 This Anton Antonitch lived on the fourth storey in a from my schoolfellows as soon as I got out into the world.
house in Five Corners, in four low-pitched rooms, one There were two or three left to whom I nodded in the street.
smaller than the other, of a particularly frugal and sallow One of them was Simonov, who had in no way been distin-
appearance. He had two daughters and their aunt, who guished at school, was of a quiet and equable disposition;
used to pour out the tea. Of the daughters one was thirteen but I discovered in him a certain independence of character
and another fourteen, they both had snub noses, and I was and even honesty I don’t even suppose that he was partic-
awfully shy of them because they were always whispering ularly stupid. I had at one time spent some rather soulful
and giggling together. The master of the house usually sat moments with him, but these had not lasted long and had
in his study on a leather couch in front of the table with somehow been suddenly clouded over. He was evident-
some grey-headed gentleman, usually a colleague from our ly uncomfortable at these reminiscences, and was, I fancy,
office or some other department. I never saw more than two always afraid that I might take up the same tone again. I
or three visitors there, always the same. They talked about suspected that he had an aversion for me, but still I went on
the excise duty; about business in the senate, about sala- going to see him, not being quite certain of it.
ries, about promotions, about His Excellency, and the best And so on one occasion, unable to endure my solitude
means of pleasing him, and so on. I had the patience to sit and knowing that as it was Thursday Anton Antonitch’s
like a fool beside these people for four hours at a stretch, door would be closed, I thought of Simonov. Climbing up
listening to them without knowing what to say to them or to his fourth storey I was thinking that the man disliked me
venturing to say a word. I became stupefied, several times I and that it was a mistake to go and see him. But as it always
felt myself perspiring, I was overcome by a sort of paralysis; happened that such reflections impelled me, as though pur-
but this was pleasant and good for me. On returning home I posely, to put myself into a false position, I went in. It was
deferred for a time my desire to embrace all mankind. almost a year since I had last seen Simonov.
I had however one other acquaintance of a sort, Simonov,
who was an old schoolfellow. I had a number of schoolfel-
lows, 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 sim-
ply 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

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III boy. He was always bad at his lessons and got worse and
worse as he went on; however, he left with a good certifi-
cate, 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

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
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
had not met them for years. Evidently they looked upon me and dignity, all but very few of us positively grovelled be-
as something on the level of a common fly. I had not been fore Zverkov, and the more so the more he swaggered. And
treated like that even at school, though they all hated me. I it was not from any interested motive that they grovelled,
knew, of course, that they must despise me now for my lack but simply because he had been favoured by the gifts of na-
of success in the service, and for my having let myself sink ture. Moreover, it was, as it were, an accepted idea among
so low, going about badly dressed and so on—which seemed us that Zverkov was a specialist in regard to tact and the so-
to them a sign of my incapacity and insignificance. But I cial graces. This last fact particularly infuriated me. I hated
had not expected such contempt. Simonov was positively the abrupt self-confident tone of his voice, his admiration
surprised at my turning up. Even in old days he had always of his own witticisms, which were often frightfully stupid,
seemed surprised at my coming. All this disconcerted me: though he was bold in his language; I hated his handsome,
I sat down, feeling rather miserable, and began listening to but stupid face (for which I would, however, have gladly ex-
what they were saying. changed my intelligent one), and the free-and-easy military
They were engaged in warm and earnest conversation manners in fashion in the ‘forties.’ I hated the way in which
about a farewell dinner which they wanted to arrange for he used to talk of his future conquests of women (he did not
the next day to a comrade of theirs called Zverkov, an offi- venture to begin his attack upon women until he had the
cer in the army, who was going away to a distant province. epaulettes of an officer, and was looking forward to them
This Zverkov had been all the time at school with me too. I with impatience), and boasted of the duels he would con-
had begun to hate him particularly in the upper forms. In stantly be fighting. I remember how I, invariably so taciturn,
the lower forms he had simply been a pretty, playful boy suddenly fastened upon Zverkov, when one day talking at
whom everybody liked. I had hated him, however, even in a leisure moment with his schoolfellows of his future rela-
the lower forms, just because he was a pretty and playful tions with the fair sex, and growing as sportive as a puppy

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in the sun, he all at once declared that he would not leave a up with him for those three years, though privately they did
single village girl on his estate unnoticed, that that was his not consider themselves on an equal footing with him, I am
DROIT DE SEIGNEUR, and that if the peasants dared to convinced of that.
protest he would have them all flogged and double the tax Of Simonov’s two visitors, one was Ferfitchkin, a Rus-
on them, the bearded rascals. Our servile rabble applaud- sianised German —a little fellow with the face of a monkey,
ed, but I attacked him, not from compassion for the girls a blockhead who was always deriding everyone, a very bit-
and their fathers, but simply because they were applauding ter enemy of mine from our days in the lower forms—a
such an insect. I got the better of him on that occasion, but vulgar, impudent, swaggering fellow, who affected a most
though Zverkov was stupid he was lively and impudent, and sensitive feeling of personal honour, though, of course, he
so laughed it off, and in such a way that my victory was not was a wretched little coward at heart. He was one of those
really complete; the laugh was on his side. He got the better worshippers of Zverkov who made up to the latter from
of me on several occasions afterwards, but without malice, interested motives, and often borrowed money from him.
jestingly, casually. I remained angrily and contemptuously Simonov’s other visitor, Trudolyubov, was a person in no
silent and would not answer him. When we left school he way remarkable—a tall young fellow, in the army, with a
made advances to me; I did not rebuff them, for I was flat- cold face, fairly honest, though he worshipped success of
tered, but we soon parted and quite naturally. Afterwards I every sort, and was only capable of thinking of promotion.
heard of his barrack-room success as a lieutenant, and of the He was some sort of distant relation of Zverkov’s, and this,
fast life he was leading. Then there came other rumours—of foolish as it seems, gave him a certain importance among
his successes in the service. By then he had taken to cutting us. He always thought me of no consequence whatever; his
me in the street, and I suspected that he was afraid of com- behaviour to me, though not quite courteous, was tolera-
promising himself by greeting a personage as insignificant ble.
as me. I saw him once in the theatre, in the third tier of box- ‘Well, with seven roubles each,’ said Trudolyubov, ‘twen-
es. By then he was wearing shoulder-straps. He was twisting ty-one roubles between the three of us, we ought to be able
and twirling about, ingratiating himself with the daughters to get a good dinner. Zverkov, of course, won’t pay.’
of an ancient General. In three years he had gone off con- ‘Of course not, since we are inviting him,’ Simonov de-
siderably, though he was still rather handsome and adroit. cided.
One could see that by the time he was thirty he would be ‘Can you imagine,’ Ferfitchkin interrupted hotly and
corpulent. So it was to this Zverkov that my schoolfellows conceitedly, like some insolent flunkey boasting of his mas-
were going to give a dinner on his departure. They had kept ter the General’s decorations, ‘can you imagine that Zverkov

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will let us pay alone? He will accept from delicacy, but he upon that,’ I retorted in a shaking voice, as though some-
will order half a dozen bottles of champagne.’ thing tremendous had happened. ‘Perhaps that is just my
‘Do we want half a dozen for the four of us?’ observed reason for wishing it now, that I have not always been on
Trudolyubov, taking notice only of the half dozen. good terms with him.’
‘So the three of us, with Zverkov for the fourth, twenty- ‘Oh, there’s no making you out ... with these refinements,’
one roubles, at the Hotel de Paris at five o’clock tomorrow,’ Trudolyubov jeered.
Simonov, who had been asked to make the arrangements, ‘We’ll put your name down,’ Simonov decided, address-
concluded finally. ing me. ‘Tomorrow at five-o’clock at the Hotel de Paris.’
‘How twenty-one roubles?’ I asked in some agitation, ‘What about the money?’ Ferfitchkin began in an under-
with a show of being offended; ‘if you count me it will not tone, indicating me to Simonov, but he broke off, for even
be twenty-one, but twenty-eight roubles.’ Simonov was embarrassed.
It seemed to me that to invite myself so suddenly and ‘That will do,’ said Trudolyubov, getting up. ‘If he wants
unexpectedly would be positively graceful, and that they to come so much, let him.’
would all be conquered at once and would look at me with ‘But it’s a private thing, between us friends,’ Ferfitchkin
respect. said crossly, as he, too, picked up his hat. ‘It’s not an official
‘Do you want to join, too?’ Simonov observed, with no gathering.’
appearance of pleasure, seeming to avoid looking at me. He ‘We do not want at all, perhaps ...’
knew me through and through. They went away. Ferfitchkin did not greet me in any way
It infuriated me that he knew me so thoroughly. as he went out, Trudolyubov barely nodded. Simonov, with
‘Why not? I am an old schoolfellow of his, too, I believe, whom I was left TETE-A-TETE, was in a state of vexation
and I must own I feel hurt that you have left me out,’ I said, and perplexity, and looked at me queerly. He did not sit
boiling over again. down and did not ask me to.
‘And where were we to find you?’ Ferfitchkin put in ‘H’m ... yes ... tomorrow, then. Will you pay your sub-
roughly. scription now? I just ask so as to know,’ he muttered in
‘You never were on good terms with Zverkov,’ Trudoly- embarrassment.
ubov added, frowning. I flushed crimson, as I did so I remembered that I had
But I had already clutched at the idea and would not give owed Simonov fifteen roubles for ages—which I had, in-
it up. deed, never forgotten, though I had not paid it.
‘It seems to me that no one has a right to form an opinion ‘You will understand, Simonov, that I could have no idea

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when I came here .... I am very much vexed that I have for- And there was a positive obstacle to my going: I had no
gotten ....’ money. All I had was nine roubles, I had to give seven of
‘All right, all right, that doesn’t matter. You can pay to- that to my servant, Apollon, for his monthly wages. That
morrow after the dinner. I simply wanted to know .... Please was all I paid him—he had to keep himself.
don’t ...’ Not to pay him was impossible, considering his charac-
He broke off and began pacing the room still more vexed. ter. But I will talk about that fellow, about that plague of
As he walked he began to stamp with his heels. mine, another time.
‘Am I keeping you?’ I asked, after two minutes of silence. However, I knew I should go and should not pay him his
‘Oh!’ he said, starting, ‘that is—to be truthful—yes. I wages.
have to go and see someone ... not far from here,’ he added That night I had the most hideous dreams. No wonder;
in an apologetic voice, somewhat abashed. all the evening I had been oppressed by memories of my
‘My goodness, why didn’t you say so?’ I cried, seizing my miserable days at school, and I could not shake them off.
cap, with an astonishingly free-and-easy air, which was the I was sent to the school by distant relations, upon whom I
last thing I should have expected of myself. was dependent and of whom I have heard nothing since—
‘It’s close by ... not two paces away,’ Simonov repeated, ac- they sent me there a forlorn, silent boy, already crushed
companying me to the front door with a fussy air which did by their reproaches, already troubled by doubt, and look-
not suit him at all. ‘So five o’clock, punctually, tomorrow,’ ing with savage distrust at everyone. My schoolfellows met
he called down the stairs after me. He was very glad to get me with spiteful and merciless jibes because I was not like
rid of me. I was in a fury. any of them. But I could not endure their taunts; I could
‘What possessed me, what possessed me to force my- not give in to them with the ignoble readiness with which
self upon them?’ I wondered, grinding my teeth as I strode they gave in to one another. I hated them from the first, and
along the street, ‘for a scoundrel, a pig like that Zverkov! shut myself away from everyone in timid, wounded and
Of course I had better not go; of course, I must just snap disproportionate pride. Their coarseness revolted me. They
my fingers at them. I am not bound in any way. I’ll send Si- laughed cynically at my face, at my clumsy figure; and yet
monov a note by tomorrow’s post ....’ what stupid faces they had themselves. In our school the
But what made me furious was that I knew for certain boys’ faces seemed in a special way to degenerate and grow
that I should go, that I should make a point of going; and stupider. How many fine-looking boys came to us! In a few
the more tactless, the more unseemly my going would be, years they became repulsive. Even at sixteen I wondered at
the more certainly I would go. them morosely; even then I was struck by the pettiness of

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their thoughts, the stupidity of their pursuits, their games, with my studies and forced my way to the very top. This im-
their conversations. They had no understanding of such pressed them. Moreover, they all began by degrees to grasp
essential things, they took no interest in such striking, im- that I had already read books none of them could read, and
pressive subjects, that I could not help considering them understood things (not forming part of our school curricu-
inferior to myself. It was not wounded vanity that drove lum) of which they had not even heard. They took a savage
me to it, and for God’s sake do not thrust upon me your and sarcastic view of it, but were morally impressed, espe-
hackneyed remarks, repeated to nausea, that ‘I was only a cially as the teachers began to notice me on those grounds.
dreamer,’ while they even then had an understanding of life. The mockery ceased, but the hostility remained, and cold
They understood nothing, they had no idea of real life, and and strained relations became permanent between us. In
I swear that that was what made me most indignant with the end I could not put up with it: with years a craving for
them. On the contrary, the most obvious, striking reality society, for friends, developed in me. I attempted to get on
they accepted with fantastic stupidity and even at that time friendly terms with some of my schoolfellows; but somehow
were accustomed to respect success. Everything that was or other my intimacy with them was always strained and
just, but oppressed and looked down upon, they laughed at soon ended of itself. Once, indeed, I did have a friend. But I
heartlessly and shamefully. They took rank for intelligence; was already a tyrant at heart; I wanted to exercise unbound-
even at sixteen they were already talking about a snug berth. ed sway over him; I tried to instil into him a contempt for
Of course, a great deal of it was due to their stupidity, to the his surroundings; I required of him a disdainful and com-
bad examples with which they had always been surround- plete break with those surroundings. I frightened him with
ed in their childhood and boyhood. They were monstrously my passionate affection; I reduced him to tears, to hyster-
depraved. Of course a great deal of that, too, was superfi- ics. He was a simple and devoted soul; but when he devoted
cial and an assumption of cynicism; of course there were himself to me entirely I began to hate him immediately and
glimpses of youth and freshness even in their depravity; repulsed him—as though all I needed him for was to win
but even that freshness was not attractive, and showed itself a victory over him, to subjugate him and nothing else. But
in a certain rakishness. I hated them horribly, though per- I could not subjugate all of them; my friend was not at all
haps I was worse than any of them. They repaid me in the like them either, he was, in fact, a rare exception. The first
same way, and did not conceal their aversion for me. But by thing I did on leaving school was to give up the special job
then I did not desire their affection: on the contrary, I con- for which I had been destined so as to break all ties, to curse
tinually longed for their humiliation. To escape from their my past and shake the dust from off my feet .... And good-
derision I purposely began to make all the progress I could ness knows why, after all that, I should go trudging off to

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Simonov’s! already shaking with fever. With despair I pictured to my-
Early next morning I roused myself and jumped out of self how coldly and disdainfully that ‘scoundrel’ Zverkov
bed with excitement, as though it were all about to happen would meet me; with what dull-witted, invincible contempt
at once. But I believed that some radical change in my life the blockhead Trudolyubov would look at me; with what
was coming, and would inevitably come that day. Owing to impudent rudeness the insect Ferfitchkin would snigger at
its rarity, perhaps, any external event, however trivial, al- me in order to curry favour with Zverkov; how complete-
ways made me feel as though some radical change in my ly Simonov would take it all in, and how he would despise
life were at hand. I went to the office, however, as usual, but me for the abjectness of my vanity and lack of spirit—and,
sneaked away home two hours earlier to get ready. The great worst of all, how paltry, UNLITERARY, commonplace it
thing, I thought, is not to be the first to arrive, or they will would all be. Of course, the best thing would be not to go
think I am overjoyed at coming. But there were thousands at all. But that was most impossible of all: if I feel impelled
of such great points to consider, and they all agitated and to do anything, I seem to be pitchforked into it. I should
overwhelmed me. I polished my boots a second time with have jeered at myself ever afterwards: ‘So you funked it, you
my own hands; nothing in the world would have induced funked it, you funked the REAL THING!’ On the contrary,
Apollon to clean them twice a day, as he considered that it I passionately longed to show all that ‘rabble’ that I was by
was more than his duties required of him. I stole the brush- no means such a spiritless creature as I seemed to myself.
es to clean them from the passage, being careful he should What is more, even in the acutest paroxysm of this cowardly
not detect it, for fear of his contempt. Then I minutely ex- fever, I dreamed of getting the upper hand, of dominating
amined my clothes and thought that everything looked old, them, carrying them away, making them like me—if only
worn and threadbare. I had let myself get too slovenly. My for my ‘elevation of thought and unmistakable wit.’ They
uniform, perhaps, was tidy, but I could not go out to din- would abandon Zverkov, he would sit on one side, silent
ner in my uniform. The worst of it was that on the knee of and ashamed, while I should crush him. Then, perhaps, we
my trousers was a big yellow stain. I had a foreboding that would be reconciled and drink to our everlasting friendship;
that stain would deprive me of nine-tenths of my personal but what was most bitter and humiliating for me was that
dignity. I knew, too, that it was very poor to think so. ‘But I knew even then, knew fully and for certain, that I needed
this is no time for thinking: now I am in for the real thing,’ nothing of all this really, that I did not really want to crush,
I thought, and my heart sank. I knew, too, perfectly well to subdue, to attract them, and that I did not care a straw re-
even then, that I was monstrously exaggerating the facts. ally for the result, even if I did achieve it. Oh, how I prayed
But how could I help it? I could not control myself and was for the day to pass quickly! In unutterable anguish I went to

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the window, opened the movable pane and looked out into
the troubled darkness of the thickly falling wet snow. At last IV
my wretched little clock hissed out five. I seized my hat and,
trying not to look at Apollon, who had been all day expect-
ing 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
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
Hotel de Paris. finding our room. The table was not laid even. What did it
mean? After a good many questions I elicited from the wait-
ers 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 shout-
ing, 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

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to see them, as though they were my deliverers, and even dow.
forgot that it was incumbent upon me to show resentment. ‘Have you been waiting long?’ Trudolyubov inquired.
Zverkov walked in at the head of them; evidently he was ‘I arrived at five o’clock as you told me yesterday,’ I
the leading spirit. He and all of them were laughing; but, answered aloud, with an irritability that threatened an ex-
seeing me, Zverkov drew himself up a little, walked up to plosion.
me deliberately with a slight, rather jaunty bend from the ‘Didn’t you let him know that we had changed the hour?’
waist. He shook hands with me in a friendly, but not over- said Trudolyubov to Simonov.
friendly, fashion, with a sort of circumspect courtesy like ‘No, I didn’t. I forgot,’ the latter replied, with no sign of
that of a General, as though in giving me his hand he were regret, and without even apologising to me he went off to
warding off something. I had imagined, on the contrary, order the HORS D’OEUVRE.
that on coming in he would at once break into his habit- ‘So you’ve been here a whole hour? Oh, poor fellow!’
ual thin, shrill laugh and fall to making his insipid jokes Zverkov cried ironically, for to his notions this was bound
and witticisms. I had been preparing for them ever since to be extremely funny. That rascal Ferfitchkin followed with
the previous day, but I had not expected such condescen- his nasty little snigger like a puppy yapping. My position
sion, such high-official courtesy. So, then, he felt himself struck him, too, as exquisitely ludicrous and embarrassing.
ineffably superior to me in every respect! If he only meant ‘It isn’t funny at all!’ I cried to Ferfitchkin, more and
to insult me by that high-official tone, it would not matter, more irritated. ‘It wasn’t my fault, but other people’s. They
I thought—I could pay him back for it one way or another. neglected to let me know. It was ... it was ... it was simply
But what if, in reality, without the least desire to be offen- absurd.’
sive, that sheepshead had a notion in earnest that he was ‘It’s not only absurd, but something else as well,’ mut-
superior to me and could only look at me in a patronising tered Trudolyubov, naively taking my part. ‘You are not
way? The very supposition made me gasp. hard enough upon it. It was simply rudeness—unintention-
‘I was surprised to hear of your desire to join us,’ he be- al, of course. And how could Simonov ... h’m!’
gan, lisping and drawling, which was something new. ‘You ‘If a trick like that had been played on me,’ observed Fer-
and I seem to have seen nothing of one another. You fight fitchkin, ‘I should ...’
shy of us. You shouldn’t. We are not such terrible people as ‘But you should have ordered something for yourself,’
you think. Well, anyway, I am glad to renew our acquain- Zverkov interrupted, ‘or simply asked for dinner without
tance.’ waiting for us.’
And he turned carelessly to put down his hat on the win- ‘You will allow that I might have done that without your

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 permission,’ I rapped out. ‘If I waited, it was ...’ ‘And the remuneration?’
‘Let us sit down, gentlemen,’ cried Simonov, coming in. ‘What remuneration?’
‘Everything is ready; I can answer for the champagne; it is ‘I mean, your sa-a-lary?’
capitally frozen .... You see, I did not know your address, ‘Why are you cross-examining me?’ However, I told him
where was I to look for you?’ he suddenly turned to me, but at once what my salary was. I turned horribly red.
again he seemed to avoid looking at me. Evidently he had ‘It is not very handsome,’ Zverkov observed majestically.
something against me. It must have been what happened ‘Yes, you can’t afford to dine at cafes on that,’ Ferfitchkin
yesterday. added insolently.
All sat down; I did the same. It was a round table. Tru- ‘To my thinking it’s very poor,’ Trudolyubov observed
dolyubov was on my left, Simonov on my right, Zverkov gravely.
was sitting opposite, Ferfitchkin next to him, between him ‘And how thin you have grown! How you have changed!’
and Trudolyubov. added Zverkov, with a shade of venom in his voice, scan-
‘Tell me, are you ... in a government office?’ Zverkov went ning me and my attire with a sort of insolent compassion.
on attending to me. Seeing that I was embarrassed he seri- ‘Oh, spare his blushes,’ cried Ferfitchkin, sniggering.
ously thought that he ought to be friendly to me, and, so to ‘My dear sir, allow me to tell you I am not blushing,’ I
speak, cheer me up. broke out at last; ‘do you hear? I am dining here, at this
‘Does he want me to throw a bottle at his head?’ I thought, cafe, at my own expense, not at other people’s—note that,
in a fury. In my novel surroundings I was unnaturally ready Mr. Ferfitchkin.’
to be irritated. ‘Wha-at? Isn’t every one here dining at his own expense?
‘In the N—- office,’ I answered jerkily, with my eyes on You would seem to be ...’ Ferfitchkin flew out at me, turning
my plate. as red as a lobster, and looking me in the face with fury. ‘Tha-
‘And ha-ave you a go-od berth? I say, what ma-a-de you at,’ I answered, feeling I had gone too far, ‘and I imagine it
leave your original job?’ would be better to talk of something more intelligent.’
‘What ma-a-de me was that I wanted to leave my original ‘You intend to show off your intelligence, I suppose?’
job,’ I drawled more than he, hardly able to control myself. ‘Don’t disturb yourself, that would be quite out of place
Ferfitchkin went off into a guffaw. Simonov looked at me here.’
ironically. Trudolyubov left off eating and began looking at ‘Why are you clacking away like that, my good sir, eh?
me with curiosity. Have you gone out of your wits in your office?’
Zverkov winced, but he tried not to notice it. ‘Enough, gentlemen, enough!’ Zverkov cried, authorita-

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tively. lenge. The scoundrels! As though I cared about the seven
‘How stupid it is!’ muttered Simonov. roubles. They may think .... Damn it! I don’t care about the
‘It really is stupid. We have met here, a company of seven roubles. I’ll go this minute!’
friends, for a farewell dinner to a comrade and you carry on Of course I remained. I drank sherry and Lafitte by the
an altercation,’ said Trudolyubov, rudely addressing him- glassful in my discomfiture. Being unaccustomed to it, I
self to me alone. ‘You invited yourself to join us, so don’t was quickly affected. My annoyance increased as the wine
disturb the general harmony.’ went to my head. I longed all at once to insult them all in a
‘Enough, enough!’ cried Zverkov. ‘Give over, gentlemen, most flagrant manner and then go away. To seize the mo-
it’s out of place. Better let me tell you how I nearly got mar- ment and show what I could do, so that they would say,
ried the day before yesterday ....’ ‘He’s clever, though he is absurd,’ and ... and ... in fact, damn
And then followed a burlesque narrative of how this gen- them all!
tleman had almost been married two days before. There I scanned them all insolently with my drowsy eyes. But
was not a word about the marriage, however, but the story they seemed to have forgotten me altogether. They were
was adorned with generals, colonels and kammer-junk- noisy, vociferous, cheerful. Zverkov was talking all the
ers, while Zverkov almost took the lead among them. It time. I began listening. Zverkov was talking of some exu-
was greeted with approving laughter; Ferfitchkin positively berant lady whom he had at last led on to declaring her love
squealed. (of course, he was lying like a horse), and how he had been
No one paid any attention to me, and I sat crushed and helped in this affair by an intimate friend of his, a Prince
humiliated. Kolya, an officer in the hussars, who had three thousand
‘Good Heavens, these are not the people for me!’ I serfs.
thought. ‘And what a fool I have made of myself before ‘And yet this Kolya, who has three thousand serfs, has
them! I let Ferfitchkin go too far, though. The brutes imag- not put in an appearance here tonight to see you off,’ I cut
ine they are doing me an honour in letting me sit down with in suddenly.
them. They don’t understand that it’s an honour to them For one minute every one was silent. ‘You are drunk al-
and not to me! I’ve grown thinner! My clothes! Oh, damn ready.’ Trudolyubov deigned to notice me at last, glancing
my trousers! Zverkov noticed the yellow stain on the knee contemptuously in my direction. Zverkov, without a word,
as soon as he came in .... But what’s the use! I must get up at examined me as though I were an insect. I dropped my eyes.
once, this very minute, take my hat and simply go without Simonov made haste to fill up the glasses with champagne.
a word ... with contempt! And tomorrow I can send a chal- Trudolyubov raised his glass, as did everyone else but

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 me. health, Monsieur Zverkov!’
‘Your health and good luck on the journey!’ he cried to Zverkov got up from his seat, bowed to me and said:
Zverkov. ‘To old times, to our future, hurrah!’ ‘I am very much obliged to you.’ He was frightfully of-
They all tossed off their glasses, and crowded round fended and turned pale.
Zverkov to kiss him. I did not move; my full glass stood un- ‘Damn the fellow!’ roared Trudolyubov, bringing his fist
touched before me. down on the table.
‘Why, aren’t you going to drink it?’ roared Trudolyubov, ‘Well, he wants a punch in the face for that,’ squealed Fer-
losing patience and turning menacingly to me. fitchkin.
‘I want to make a speech separately, on my own account ‘We ought to turn him out,’ muttered Simonov.
... and then I’ll drink it, Mr. Trudolyubov.’ ‘Not a word, gentlemen, not a movement!’ cried Zverkov
‘Spiteful brute!’ muttered Simonov. I drew myself up in solemnly, checking the general indignation. ‘I thank you all,
my chair and feverishly seized my glass, prepared for some- but I can show him for myself how much value I attach to
thing extraordinary, though I did not know myself precisely his words.’
what I was going to say. ‘Mr. Ferfitchkin, you will give me satisfaction tomorrow
‘SILENCE!’ cried Ferfitchkin. ‘Now for a display of wit!’ for your words just now!’ I said aloud, turning with dignity
Zverkov waited very gravely, knowing what was coming. to Ferfitchkin.
‘Mr. Lieutenant Zverkov,’ I began, ‘let me tell you that I ‘A duel, you mean? Certainly,’ he answered. But probably
hate phrases, phrasemongers and men in corsets ... that’s I was so ridiculous as I challenged him and it was so out of
the first point, and there is a second one to follow it.’ keeping with my appearance that everyone including Fer-
There was a general stir. fitchkin was prostrate with laughter.
‘The second point is: I hate ribaldry and ribald talkers. ‘Yes, let him alone, of course! He is quite drunk,’ Tru-
Especially ribald talkers! The third point: I love justice, dolyubov said with disgust.
truth and honesty.’ I went on almost mechanically, for I ‘I shall never forgive myself for letting him join us,’ Si-
was beginning to shiver with horror myself and had no idea monov muttered again.
how I came to be talking like this. ‘I love thought, Monsieur ‘Now is the time to throw a bottle at their heads,’ I thought
Zverkov; I love true comradeship, on an equal footing and to myself. I picked up the bottle ... and filled my glass .... ‘No,
not ... H’m ... I love ... But, however, why not? I will drink I’d better sit on to the end,’ I went on thinking; ‘you would
your health, too, Mr. Zverkov. Seduce the Circassian girls, be pleased, my friends, if I went away. Nothing will induce
shoot the enemies of the fatherland and ... and ... to your me to go. I’ll go on sitting here and drinking to the end, on

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purpose, as a sign that I don’t think you of the slightest con- them that I could do without them, and yet I purposely
sequence. I will go on sitting and drinking, because this is a made a noise with my boots, thumping with my heels. But
public-house and I paid my entrance money. I’ll sit here and it was all in vain. They paid no attention. I had the patience
drink, for I look upon you as so many pawns, as inanimate to walk up and down in front of them from eight o’clock till
pawns. I’ll sit here and drink ... and sing if I want to, yes, eleven, in the same place, from the table to the stove and
sing, for I have the right to ... to sing ... H’m!’ back again. ‘I walk up and down to please myself and no
But I did not sing. I simply tried not to look at any of one can prevent me.’ The waiter who came into the room
them. I assumed most unconcerned attitudes and waited stopped, from time to time, to look at me. I was somewhat
with impatience for them to speak FIRST. But alas, they giddy from turning round so often; at moments it seemed
did not address me! And oh, how I wished, how I wished to me that I was in delirium. During those three hours I
at that moment to be reconciled to them! It struck eight, at was three times soaked with sweat and dry again. At times,
last nine. They moved from the table to the sofa. Zverkov with an intense, acute pang I was stabbed to the heart by
stretched himself on a lounge and put one foot on a round the thought that ten years, twenty years, forty years would
table. Wine was brought there. He did, as a fact, order three pass, and that even in forty years I would remember with
bottles on his own account. I, of course, was not invited to loathing and humiliation those filthiest, most ludicrous,
join them. They all sat round him on the sofa. They listened and most awful moments of my life. No one could have
to him, almost with reverence. It was evident that they were gone out of his way to degrade himself more shamelessly,
fond of him. ‘What for? What for?’ I wondered. From time and I fully realised it, fully, and yet I went on pacing up
to time they were moved to drunken enthusiasm and kissed and down from the table to the stove. ‘Oh, if you only knew
each other. They talked of the Caucasus, of the nature of what thoughts and feelings I am capable of, how cultured I
true passion, of snug berths in the service, of the income of am!’ I thought at moments, mentally addressing the sofa on
an hussar called Podharzhevsky, whom none of them knew which my enemies were sitting. But my enemies behaved
personally, and rejoiced in the largeness of it, of the extraor- as though I were not in the room. Once—only once— they
dinary grace and beauty of a Princess D., whom none of turned towards me, just when Zverkov was talking about
them had ever seen; then it came to Shakespeare’s being im- Shakespeare, and I suddenly gave a contemptuous laugh. I
mortal. laughed in such an affected and disgusting way that they all
I smiled contemptuously and walked up and down the at once broke off their conversation, and silently and grave-
other side of the room, opposite the sofa, from the table to ly for two minutes watched me walking up and down from
the stove and back again. I tried my very utmost to show the table to the stove, TAKING NO NOTICE OF THEM.

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But nothing came of it: they said nothing, and two minutes ‘And that’s enough for you. Out of the way!’ concluded
later they ceased to notice me again. It struck eleven. Trudolyubov.
‘Friends,’ cried Zverkov getting up from the sofa, ‘let us ‘Olympia is mine, friends, that’s agreed!’ cried Zverkov.
all be off now, THERE!’ ‘We won’t dispute your right, we won’t dispute your right,’
‘Of course, of course,’ the others assented. I turned sharp- the others answered, laughing.
ly to Zverkov. I was so harassed, so exhausted, that I would I stood as though spat upon. The party went noisily out
have cut my throat to put an end to it. I was in a fever; my of the room. Trudolyubov struck up some stupid song. Si-
hair, soaked with perspiration, stuck to my forehead and monov remained behind for a moment to tip the waiters. I
temples. suddenly went up to him.
‘Zverkov, I beg your pardon,’ I said abruptly and reso- ‘Simonov! give me six roubles!’ I said, with desperate res-
lutely. ‘Ferfitchkin, yours too, and everyone’s, everyone’s: I olution.
have insulted you all!’ He looked at me in extreme amazement, with vacant
‘Aha! A duel is not in your line, old man,’ Ferfitchkin eyes. He, too, was drunk.
hissed venomously. ‘You don’t mean you are coming with us?’
It sent a sharp pang to my heart. ‘Yes.’
‘No, it’s not the duel I am afraid of, Ferfitchkin! I am ‘I’ve no money,’ he snapped out, and with a scornful
ready to fight you tomorrow, after we are reconciled. I insist laugh he went out of the room.
upon it, in fact, and you cannot refuse. I want to show you I clutched at his overcoat. It was a nightmare.
that I am not afraid of a duel. You shall fire first and I shall ‘Simonov, I saw you had money. Why do you refuse me?
fire into the air.’ Am I a scoundrel? Beware of refusing me: if you knew, if
‘He is comforting himself,’ said Simonov. you knew why I am asking! My whole future, my whole
‘He’s simply raving,’ said Trudolyubov. plans depend upon it!’
‘But let us pass. Why are you barring our way? What Simonov pulled out the money and almost flung it at
do you want?’ Zverkov answered disdainfully. They were me.
all flushed, their eyes were bright: they had been drinking ‘Take it, if you have no sense of shame!’ he pronounced
heavily. pitilessly, and ran to overtake them.
‘I ask for your friendship, Zverkov; I insulted you, but ...’ I was left for a moment alone. Disorder, the remains of
‘Insulted? YOU insulted ME? Understand, sir, that you dinner, a broken wine-glass on the floor, spilt wine, ciga-
never, under any circumstances, could possibly insult ME.’ rette ends, fumes of drink and delirium in my brain, an

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agonising misery in my heart and finally the waiter, who
had seen and heard all and was looking inquisitively into V
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!’
‘S o 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 friend-

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ship. That is a mirage, cheap mirage, revolting, romantic now. But where can I get pistols? Nonsense! I’ll get my sal-
and fantastical—that’s another ball on Lake Como. And so ary in advance and buy them. And powder, and bullets?
I am bound to slap Zverkov’s face! It is my duty to. And so That’s the second’s business. And how can it all be done by
it is settled; I am flying to give him a slap in the face. Hurry daybreak? and where am I to get a second? I have no friends.
up!’ Nonsense!’ I cried, lashing myself up more and more. ‘It’s
The driver tugged at the reins. of no consequence! The first person I meet in the street is
‘As soon as I go in I’ll give it him. Ought I before giv- bound to be my second, just as he would be bound to pull a
ing him the slap to say a few words by way of preface? No. drowning man out of water. The most eccentric things may
I’ll simply go in and give it him. They will all be sitting in happen. Even if I were to ask the director himself to be my
the drawing-room, and he with Olympia on the sofa. That second tomorrow, he would be bound to consent, if only
damned Olympia! She laughed at my looks on one occa- from a feeling of chivalry, and to keep the secret! Anton
sion and refused me. I’ll pull Olympia’s hair, pull Zverkov’s Antonitch ....’
ears! No, better one ear, and pull him by it round the room. The fact is, that at that very minute the disgusting ab-
Maybe they will all begin beating me and will kick me out. surdity of my plan and the other side of the question was
That’s most likely, indeed. No matter! Anyway, I shall first clearer and more vivid to my imagination than it could be
slap him; the initiative will be mine; and by the laws of hon- to anyone on earth. But ....
our that is everything: he will be branded and cannot wipe ‘Get on, driver, get on, you rascal, get on!’
off the slap by any blows, by nothing but a duel. He will be ‘Ugh, sir!’ said the son of toil.
forced to fight. And let them beat me now. Let them, the Cold shivers suddenly ran down me. Wouldn’t it be bet-
ungrateful wretches! Trudolyubov will beat me hardest, he ter ... to go straight home? My God, my God! Why did I
is so strong; Ferfitchkin will be sure to catch hold sideways invite myself to this dinner yesterday? But no, it’s impos-
and tug at my hair. But no matter, no matter! That’s what I sible. And my walking up and down for three hours from
am going for. The blockheads will be forced at last to see the the table to the stove? No, they, they and no one else must
tragedy of it all! When they drag me to the door I shall call pay for my walking up and down! They must wipe out this
out to them that in reality they are not worth my little fin- dishonour! Drive on!
ger. Get on, driver, get on!’ I cried to the driver. He started And what if they give me into custody? They won’t dare!
and flicked his whip, I shouted so savagely. They’ll be afraid of the scandal. And what if Zverkov is so
‘We shall fight at daybreak, that’s a settled thing. I’ve contemptuous that he refuses to fight a duel? He is sure to;
done with the office. Ferfitchkin made a joke about it just but in that case I’ll show them ... I will turn up at the post-

106 Notes from the Underground Free eBooks at Planet eBook.com 107
ing station when he’s setting off tomorrow, I’ll catch him idently stupid, and I could not leave things as they were,
by the leg, I’ll pull off his coat when he gets into the car- because that would seem as though ... Heavens, how could I
riage. I’ll get my teeth into his hand, I’ll bite him. ‘See what leave things! And after such insults! ‘No!’ I cried, throwing
lengths you can drive a desperate man to!’ He may hit me myself into the sledge again. ‘It is ordained! It is fate! Drive
on the head and they may belabour me from behind. I will on, drive on!’
shout to the assembled multitude: ‘Look at this young pup- And in my impatience I punched the sledge-driver on
py who is driving off to captivate the Circassian girls after the back of the neck.
letting me spit in his face!’ ‘What are you up to? What are you hitting me for?’ the
Of course, after that everything will be over! The office peasant shouted, but he whipped up his nag so that it began
will have vanished off the face of the earth. I shall be ar- kicking.
rested, I shall be tried, I shall be dismissed from the service, The wet snow was falling in big flakes; I unbuttoned my-
thrown in prison, sent to Siberia. Never mind! In fifteen self, regardless of it. I forgot everything else, for I had finally
years when they let me out of prison I will trudge off to him, decided on the slap, and felt with horror that it was going
a beggar, in rags. I shall find him in some provincial town. to happen NOW, AT ONCE, and that NO FORCE COULD
He will be married and happy. He will have a grown-up STOP IT. The deserted street lamps gleamed sullenly in the
daughter .... I shall say to him: ‘Look, monster, at my hollow snowy darkness like torches at a funeral. The snow drifted
cheeks and my rags! I’ve lost everything—my career, my under my great-coat, under my coat, under my cravat, and
happiness, art, science, THE WOMAN I LOVED, and all melted there. I did not wrap myself up—all was lost, any-
through you. Here are pistols. I have come to discharge my way.
pistol and ... and I ... forgive you. Then I shall fire into the air At last we arrived. I jumped out, almost unconscious,
and he will hear nothing more of me ....’ ran up the steps and began knocking and kicking at the
I was actually on the point of tears, though I knew per- door. I felt fearfully weak, particularly in my legs and knees.
fectly well at that moment that all this was out of Pushkin’s The door was opened quickly as though they knew I was
SILVIO and Lermontov’s MASQUERADE. And all at once coming. As a fact, Simonov had warned them that perhaps
I felt horribly ashamed, so ashamed that I stopped the another gentleman would arrive, and this was a place in
horse, got out of the sledge, and stood still in the snow in which one had to give notice and to observe certain precau-
the middle of the street. The driver gazed at me, sighing and tions. It was one of those ‘millinery establishments’ which
astonished. were abolished by the police a good time ago. By day it re-
What was I to do? I could not go on there—it was ev- ally was a shop; but at night, if one had an introduction, one

108 Notes from the Underground Free eBooks at Planet eBook.com 109
 might visit it for other purposes. me as revolting in the extreme, pale, angry, abject, with di-
I walked rapidly through the dark shop into the familiar shevelled hair. ‘No matter, I am glad of it,’ I thought; ‘I am
drawing- room, where there was only one candle burn- glad that I shall seem repulsive to her; I like that.’
ing, 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 some-
thing 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

110 Notes from the Underground Free eBooks at Planet eBook.com 111
VI 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 ut-
terly remote; it weighed upon me.

S omewhere behind a screen a clock began wheezing, as

though oppressed by something, as though someone
were strangling it. After an unnaturally prolonged wheez-
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
ing there followed a shrill, nasty, and as it were unexpectedly unnatural in those two eyes, beginning to look at me only
rapid, chime—as though someone were suddenly jumping now. I recalled, too, that during those two hours I had not
forward. It struck two. I woke up, though I had indeed not said a single word to this creature, and had, in fact, consid-
been asleep but lying half-conscious. ered it utterly superfluous; in fact, the silence had for some
It was almost completely dark in the narrow, cramped, reason gratified me. Now I suddenly realised vividly the
low-pitched room, cumbered up with an enormous ward- hideous idea— revolting as a spider—of vice, which, with-
robe and piles of cardboard boxes and all sorts of frippery out love, grossly and shamelessly begins with that in which
and litter. The candle end that had been burning on the ta- true love finds its consummation. For a long time we gazed
ble was going out and gave a faint flicker from time to time. at each other like that, but she did not drop her eyes before
In a few minutes there would be complete darkness. mine and her expression did not change, so that at last I felt
I was not long in coming to myself; everything came uncomfortable.
back to my mind at once, without an effort, as though it ‘What is your name?’ I asked abruptly, to put an end to
had been in ambush to pounce upon me again. And, indeed, it.
even while I was unconscious a point seemed continually ‘Liza,’ she answered almost in a whisper, but somehow
to remain in my memory unforgotten, and round it my far from graciously, and she turned her eyes away.
dreams moved drearily. But strange to say, everything that I was silent.
had happened to me in that day seemed to me now, on wak- ‘What weather! The snow ... it’s disgusting!’ I said, almost
ing, to be in the far, far away past, as though I had long, long to myself, putting my arm under my head despondently,
ago lived all that down. and gazing at the ceiling.
My head was full of fumes. Something seemed to be She made no answer. This was horrible.
hovering over me, rousing me, exciting me, and making me ‘Have you always lived in Petersburg?’ I asked a minute

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later, almost angrily, turning my head slightly towards her. gan of themselves, apart from my will, flitting through my
‘No.’ memory in confusion. I suddenly recalled something I had
‘Where do you come from?’ seen that morning when, full of anxious thoughts, I was
‘From Riga,’ she answered reluctantly. hurrying to the office.
‘Are you a German?’ ‘I saw them carrying a coffin out yesterday and they near-
‘No, Russian.’ ly dropped it,’ I suddenly said aloud, not that I desired to
‘Have you been here long?’ open the conversation, but as it were by accident.
‘Where?’ ‘A coffin?’
‘In this house?’ ‘Yes, in the Haymarket; they were bringing it up out of
‘A fortnight.’ a cellar.’
She spoke more and more jerkily. The candle went out; I ‘From a cellar?’
could no longer distinguish her face. ‘Not from a cellar, but a basement. Oh, you know ... down
‘Have you a father and mother?’ below ... from a house of ill-fame. It was filthy all round ...
‘Yes ... no ... I have.’ Egg-shells, litter ... a stench. It was loathsome.’
‘Where are they?’ Silence.
‘There ... in Riga.’ ‘A nasty day to be buried,’ I began, simply to avoid be-
‘What are they?’ ing silent.
‘Oh, nothing.’ ‘Nasty, in what way?’
‘Nothing? Why, what class are they?’ ‘The snow, the wet.’ (I yawned.)
‘Tradespeople.’ ‘It makes no difference,’ she said suddenly, after a brief
‘Have you always lived with them?’ silence.
‘Yes.’ ‘No, it’s horrid.’ (I yawned again). ‘The gravediggers must
‘How old are you?’ have sworn at getting drenched by the snow. And there
‘Twenty.’ ‘Why did you leave them?’ must have been water in the grave.’
‘Oh, for no reason.’ ‘Why water in the grave?’ she asked, with a sort of cu-
That answer meant ‘Let me alone; I feel sick, sad.’ riosity, but speaking even more harshly and abruptly than
We were silent. before.
God knows why I did not go away. I felt myself more and I suddenly began to feel provoked.
more sick and dreary. The images of the previous day be- ‘Why, there must have been water at the bottom a foot

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deep. You can’t dig a dry grave in Volkovo Cemetery.’ ‘Why, indeed? Now you are young, pretty, fresh, you
‘Why?’ fetch a high price. But after another year of this life you will
‘Why? Why, the place is waterlogged. It’s a regular marsh. be very different—you will go off.’
So they bury them in water. I’ve seen it myself ... many ‘In a year?’
times.’ ‘Anyway, in a year you will be worth less,’ I continued
(I had never seen it once, indeed I had never been in malignantly. ‘You will go from here to something lower, an-
Volkovo, and had only heard stories of it.) other house; a year later— to a third, lower and lower, and in
‘Do you mean to say, you don’t mind how you die?’ seven years you will come to a basement in the Haymarket.
‘But why should I die?’ she answered, as though defend- That will be if you were lucky. But it would be much worse
ing herself. if you got some disease, consumption, say ... and caught a
‘Why, some day you will die, and you will die just the chill, or something or other. It’s not easy to get over an ill-
same as that dead woman. She was ... a girl like you. She ness in your way of life. If you catch anything you may not
died of consumption.’ get rid of it. And so you would die.’
‘A wench would have died in hospital ...’ (She knows all ‘Oh, well, then I shall die,’ she answered, quite vindic-
about it already: she said ‘wench,’ not ‘girl.’) tively, and she made a quick movement.
‘She was in debt to her madam,’ I retorted, more and ‘But one is sorry.’
more provoked by the discussion; ‘and went on earning ‘Sorry for whom?’
money for her up to the end, though she was in consump- ‘Sorry for life.’ Silence.
tion. Some sledge-drivers standing by were talking about ‘Have you been engaged to be married? Eh?’
her to some soldiers and telling them so. No doubt they ‘What’s that to you?’
knew her. They were laughing. They were going to meet in a ‘Oh, I am not cross-examining you. It’s nothing to me.
pot-house to drink to her memory.’ Why are you so cross? Of course you may have had your
A great deal of this was my invention. Silence followed, own troubles. What is it to me? It’s simply that I felt sorry.’
profound silence. She did not stir. ‘Sorry for whom?’
‘And is it better to die in a hospital?’ ‘Sorry for you.’
‘Isn’t it just the same? Besides, why should I die?’ she add- ‘No need,’ she whispered hardly audibly, and again made
ed irritably. a faint movement.
‘If not now, a little later.’ That incensed me at once. What! I was so gentle with her,
‘Why a little later?’ and she ....

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 ‘Why, do you think that you are on the right path?’ of anything else, maybe you won’t understand, but tell me:
‘I don’t think anything.’ no doubt you are in debt to your madam? There, you see,’
‘That’s what’s wrong, that you don’t think. Realise it while I added, though she made no answer, but only listened in
there is still time. There still is time. You are still young, silence, entirely absorbed, ‘that’s a bondage for you! You
good-looking; you might love, be married, be happy ....’ will never buy your freedom. They will see to that. It’s like
‘Not all married women are happy,’ she snapped out in selling your soul to the devil .... And besides ... perhaps, I
the rude abrupt tone she had used at first. too, am just as unlucky—how do you know—and wallow in
‘Not all, of course, but anyway it is much better than the the mud on purpose, out of misery? You know, men take to
life here. Infinitely better. Besides, with love one can live drink from grief; well, maybe I am here from grief. Come,
even without happiness. Even in sorrow life is sweet; life is tell me, what is there good here? Here you and I ... came to-
sweet, however one lives. But here what is there but ... foul- gether ... just now and did not say one word to one another
ness? Phew!’ all the time, and it was only afterwards you began staring at
I turned away with disgust; I was no longer reasoning me like a wild creature, and I at you. Is that loving? Is that
coldly. I began to feel myself what I was saying and warmed how one human being should meet another? It’s hideous,
to the subject. I was already longing to expound the cher- that’s what it is!’
ished ideas I had brooded over in my corner. Something ‘Yes!’ she assented sharply and hurriedly.
suddenly flared up in me. An object had appeared before I was positively astounded by the promptitude of this
me. ‘Yes.’ So the same thought may have been straying through
‘Never mind my being here, I am not an example for her mind when she was staring at me just before. So she,
you. I am, perhaps, worse than you are. I was drunk when too, was capable of certain thoughts? ‘Damn it all, this was
I came here, though,’ I hastened, however, to say in self- interesting, this was a point of likeness!’ I thought, almost
defence. ‘Besides, a man is no example for a woman. It’s a rubbing my hands. And indeed it’s easy to turn a young
different thing. I may degrade and defile myself, but I am soul like that!
not anyone’s slave. I come and go, and that’s an end of it. I It was the exercise of my power that attracted me most.
shake it off, and I am a different man. But you are a slave She turned her head nearer to me, and it seemed to me in
from the start. Yes, a slave! You give up everything, your the darkness that she propped herself on her arm. Perhaps
whole freedom. If you want to break your chains afterwards, she was scrutinising me. How I regretted that I could not
you won’t be able to; you will be more and more fast in the see her eyes. I heard her deep breathing.
snares. It is an accursed bondage. I know it. I won’t speak ‘Why have you come here?’ I asked her, with a note of au-

118 Notes from the Underground Free eBooks at Planet eBook.com 119
thority already in my voice. love my daughter more than my sons, really,’ I began indi-
‘Oh, I don’t know.’ rectly, as though talking of something else, to distract her
‘But how nice it would be to be living in your father’s attention. I must confess I blushed.
house! It’s warm and free; you have a home of your own.’ ‘Why so?’ she asked.
‘But what if it’s worse than this?’ Ah! so she was listening!
‘I must take the right tone,’ flashed through my mind. ‘I ‘I don’t know, Liza. I knew a father who was a stern, aus-
may not get far with sentimentality.’ But it was only a mo- tere man, but used to go down on his knees to his daughter,
mentary thought. I swear she really did interest me. Besides, used to kiss her hands, her feet, he couldn’t make enough of
I was exhausted and moody. And cunning so easily goes her, really. When she danced at parties he used to stand for
hand-in-hand with feeling. five hours at a stretch, gazing at her. He was mad over her: I
‘Who denies it!’ I hastened to answer. ‘Anything may hap- understand that! She would fall asleep tired at night, and he
pen. I am convinced that someone has wronged you, and would wake to kiss her in her sleep and make the sign of the
that you are more sinned against than sinning. Of course, I cross over her. He would go about in a dirty old coat, he was
know nothing of your story, but it’s not likely a girl like you stingy to everyone else, but would spend his last penny for
has come here of her own inclination ....’ her, giving her expensive presents, and it was his greatest
‘A girl like me?’ she whispered, hardly audibly; but I delight when she was pleased with what he gave her. Fa-
heard it. thers always love their daughters more than the mothers
Damn it all, I was flattering her. That was horrid. But do. Some girls live happily at home! And I believe I should
perhaps it was a good thing .... She was silent. never let my daughters marry.’
‘See, Liza, I will tell you about myself. If I had had a home ‘What next?’ she said, with a faint smile.
from childhood, I shouldn’t be what I am now. I often think ‘I should be jealous, I really should. To think that she
that. However bad it may be at home, anyway they are your should kiss anyone else! That she should love a stranger
father and mother, and not enemies, strangers. Once a year more than her father! It’s painful to imagine it. Of course,
at least, they’ll show their love of you. Anyway, you know that’s all nonsense, of course every father would be reason-
you are at home. I grew up without a home; and perhaps able at last. But I believe before I should let her marry, I
that’s why I’ve turned so ... unfeeling.’ should worry myself to death; I should find fault with all
I waited again. ‘Perhaps she doesn’t understand,’ I her suitors. But I should end by letting her marry whom
thought, ‘and, indeed, it is absurd—it’s moralising.’ she herself loved. The one whom the daughter loves always
‘If I were a father and had a daughter, I believe I should seems the worst to the father, you know. That is always so.

120 Notes from the Underground Free eBooks at Planet eBook.com 121
So many family troubles come from that.’ torment him and make him feel it. You know that you may
‘Some are glad to sell their daughters, rather than marry- torment a man on purpose through love. Women are par-
ing them honourably.’ ticularly given to that, thinking to themselves ‘I will love
Ah, so that was it! him so, I will make so much of him afterwards, that it’s no
‘Such a thing, Liza, happens in those accursed families in sin to torment him a little now.’ And all in the house re-
which there is neither love nor God,’ I retorted warmly, ‘and joice in the sight of you, and you are happy and gay and
where there is no love, there is no sense either. There are peaceful and honourable .... Then there are some women
such families, it’s true, but I am not speaking of them. You who are jealous. If he went off anywhere—I knew one such
must have seen wickedness in your own family, if you talk woman, she couldn’t restrain herself, but would jump up
like that. Truly, you must have been unlucky. H’m! ... that at night and run off on the sly to find out where he was,
sort of thing mostly comes about through poverty.’ whether he was with some other woman. That’s a pity. And
‘And is it any better with the gentry? Even among the the woman knows herself it’s wrong, and her heart fails her
poor, honest people who live happily?’ and she suffers, but she loves—it’s all through love. And
‘H’m ... yes. Perhaps. Another thing, Liza, man is fond how sweet it is to make up after quarrels, to own herself in
of reckoning up his troubles, but does not count his joys. If the wrong or to forgive him! And they both are so happy
he counted them up as he ought, he would see that every all at once—as though they had met anew, been married
lot has enough happiness provided for it. And what if all over again; as though their love had begun afresh. And no
goes well with the family, if the blessing of God is upon it, if one, no one should know what passes between husband and
the husband is a good one, loves you, cherishes you, never wife if they love one another. And whatever quarrels there
leaves you! There is happiness in such a family! Even some- may be between them they ought not to call in their own
times there is happiness in the midst of sorrow; and indeed mother to judge between them and tell tales of one another.
sorrow is everywhere. If you marry YOU WILL FIND OUT They are their own judges. Love is a holy mystery and ought
FOR YOURSELF. But think of the first years of married life to be hidden from all other eyes, whatever happens. That
with one you love: what happiness, what happiness there makes it holier and better. They respect one another more,
sometimes is in it! And indeed it’s the ordinary thing. In and much is built on respect. And if once there has been
those early days even quarrels with one’s husband end hap- love, if they have been married for love, why should love
pily. Some women get up quarrels with their husbands just pass away? Surely one can keep it! It is rare that one can-
because they love them. Indeed, I knew a woman like that: not keep it. And if the husband is kind and straightforward,
she seemed to say that because she loved him, she would why should not love last? The first phase of married love

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will pass, it is true, but then there will come a love that is ness when they are the three together, husband, wife and
better still. Then there will be the union of souls, they will child? One can forgive a great deal for the sake of such mo-
have everything in common, there will be no secrets be- ments. Yes, Liza, one must first learn to live oneself before
tween them. And once they have children, the most difficult one blames others!’
times will seem to them happy, so long as there is love and ‘It’s by pictures, pictures like that one must get at you,’ I
courage. Even toil will be a joy, you may deny yourself bread thought to myself, though I did speak with real feeling, and
for your children and even that will be a joy, They will love all at once I flushed crimson. ‘What if she were suddenly to
you for it afterwards; so you are laying by for your future. burst out laughing, what should I do then?’ That idea drove
As the children grow up you feel that you are an example, me to fury. Towards the end of my speech I really was excit-
a support for them; that even after you die your children ed, and now my vanity was somehow wounded. The silence
will always keep your thoughts and feelings, because they continued. I almost nudged her.
have received them from you, they will take on your sem- ‘Why are you—‘ she began and stopped. But I under-
blance and likeness. So you see this is a great duty. How can stood: there was a quiver of something different in her voice,
it fail to draw the father and mother nearer? People say it’s not abrupt, harsh and unyielding as before, but something
a trial to have children. Who says that? It is heavenly hap- soft and shamefaced, so shamefaced that I suddenly felt
piness! Are you fond of little children, Liza? I am awfully ashamed and guilty.
fond of them. You know—a little rosy baby boy at your bo- ‘What?’ I asked, with tender curiosity.
som, and what husband’s heart is not touched, seeing his ‘Why, you ...’
wife nursing his child! A plump little rosy baby, sprawling ‘What?’
and snuggling, chubby little hands and feet, clean tiny lit- ‘Why, you ... speak somehow like a book,’ she said, and
tle nails, so tiny that it makes one laugh to look at them; again there was a note of irony in her voice.
eyes that look as if they understand everything. And while That remark sent a pang to my heart. It was not what I
it sucks it clutches at your bosom with its little hand, plays. was expecting.
When its father comes up, the child tears itself away from I did not understand that she was hiding her feelings
the bosom, flings itself back, looks at its father, laughs, as under irony, that this is usually the last refuge of modest
though it were fearfully funny, and falls to sucking again. and chaste-souled people when the privacy of their soul is
Or it will bite its mother’s breast when its little teeth are coarsely and intrusively invaded, and that their pride makes
coming, while it looks sideways at her with its little eyes them refuse to surrender till the last moment and shrink
as though to say, ‘Look, I am biting!’ Is not all that happi- from giving expression to their feelings before you. I ought

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to have guessed the truth from the timidity with which she
had repeatedly approached her sarcasm, only bringing her- VII
self 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.

‘O h, 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 touch-
es 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 work-

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man, but he doesn’t make a slave of himself altogether; But with what object are they feeding you up? An honest
besides, he knows that he will be free again presently. But girl couldn’t swallow the food, for she would know what she
when are you free? Only think what you are giving up here? was being fed for. You are in debt here, and, of course, you
What is it you are making a slave of? It is your soul, together will always be in debt, and you will go on in debt to the end,
with your body; you are selling your soul which you have no till the visitors here begin to scorn you. And that will soon
right to dispose of! You give your love to be outraged by ev- happen, don’t rely upon your youth—all that flies by ex-
ery drunkard! Love! But that’s everything, you know, it’s a press train here, you know. You will be kicked out. And not
priceless diamond, it’s a maiden’s treasure, love—why, a simply kicked out; long before that she’ll begin nagging at
man would be ready to give his soul, to face death to gain you, scolding you, abusing you, as though you had not sac-
that love. But how much is your love worth now? You are rificed your health for her, had not thrown away your youth
sold, all of you, body and soul, and there is no need to strive and your soul for her benefit, but as though you had ruined
for love when you can have everything without love. And her, beggared her, robbed her. And don’t expect anyone to
you know there is no greater insult to a girl than that, do take your part: the others, your companions, will attack
you understand? To be sure, I have heard that they comfort you, too, win her favour, for all are in slavery here, and have
you, poor fools, they let you have lovers of your own here. lost all conscience and pity here long ago. They have be-
But you know that’s simply a farce, that’s simply a sham, it’s come utterly vile, and nothing on earth is viler, more
just laughing at you, and you are taken in by it! Why, do you loathsome, and more insulting than their abuse. And you
suppose he really loves you, that lover of yours? I don’t be- are laying down everything here, unconditionally, youth
lieve it. How can he love you when he knows you may be and health and beauty and hope, and at twenty-two you
called away from him any minute? He would be a low fellow will look like a woman of five-and-thirty, and you will be
if he did! Will he have a grain of respect for you? What have lucky if you are not diseased, pray to God for that! No doubt
you in common with him? He laughs at you and robs you— you are thinking now that you have a gay time and no work
that is all his love amounts to! You are lucky if he does not to do! Yet there is no work harder or more dreadful in the
beat you. Very likely he does beat you, too. Ask him, if you world or ever has been. One would think that the heart
have got one, whether he will marry you. He will laugh in alone would be worn out with tears. And you won’t dare to
your face, if he doesn’t spit in it or give you a blow—though say a word, not half a word when they drive you away from
maybe he is not worth a bad halfpenny himself. And for here; you will go away as though you were to blame. You
what have you ruined your life, if you come to think of it? will change to another house, then to a third, then some-
For the coffee they give you to drink and the plentiful meals? where else, till you come down at last to the Haymarket.

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There you will be beaten at every turn; that is good manners declaring that he would love her as long as he lived, that he
there, the visitors don’t know how to be friendly without would devote his life to her, and when they vowed to love
beating you. You don’t believe that it is so hateful there? Go one another for ever and be married as soon as they were
and look for yourself some time, you can see with your own grown up! No, Liza, it would be happy for you if you were to
eyes. Once, one New Year’s Day, I saw a woman at a door. die soon of consumption in some corner, in some cellar like
They had turned her out as a joke, to give her a taste of the that woman just now. In the hospital, do you say? You will
frost because she had been crying so much, and they shut be lucky if they take you, but what if you are still of use to
the door behind her. At nine o’clock in the morning she was the madam here? Consumption is a queer disease, it is not
already quite drunk, dishevelled, half-naked, covered with like fever. The patient goes on hoping till the last minute
bruises, her face was powdered, but she had a black-eye, and says he is all right. He deludes himself And that just
blood was trickling from her nose and her teeth; some cab- suits your madam. Don’t doubt it, that’s how it is; you have
man had just given her a drubbing. She was sitting on the sold your soul, and what is more you owe money, so you
stone steps, a salt fish of some sort was in her hand; she was daren’t say a word. But when you are dying, all will aban-
crying, wailing something about her luck and beating with don you, all will turn away from you, for then there will be
the fish on the steps, and cabmen and drunken soldiers nothing to get from you. What’s more, they will reproach
were crowding in the doorway taunting her. You don’t be- you for cumbering the place, for being so long over dying.
lieve that you will ever be like that? I should be sorry to However you beg you won’t get a drink of water without
believe it, too, but how do you know; maybe ten years, eight abuse: ‘Whenever are you going off, you nasty hussy, you
years ago that very woman with the salt fish came here fresh won’t let us sleep with your moaning, you make the gentle-
as a cherub, innocent, pure, knowing no evil, blushing at men sick.’ That’s true, I have heard such things said myself.
every word. Perhaps she was like you, proud, ready to take They will thrust you dying into the filthiest corner in the
offence, not like the others; perhaps she looked like a queen, cellar—in the damp and darkness; what will your thoughts
and knew what happiness was in store for the man who be, lying there alone? When you die, strange hands will lay
should love her and whom she should love. Do you see how you out, with grumbling and impatience; no one will bless
it ended? And what if at that very minute when she was you, no one will sigh for you, they only want to get rid of
beating on the filthy steps with that fish, drunken and di- you as soon as may be; they will buy a coffin, take you to the
shevelled—what if at that very minute she recalled the pure grave as they did that poor woman today, and celebrate
early days in her father’s house, when she used to go to your memory at the tavern. In the grave, sleet, filth, wet
school and the neighbour’s son watched for her on the way, snow— no need to put themselves out for you—‘Let her

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 down, Vanuha; it’s just like her luck—even here, she is head- I knew I was speaking stiffly, artificially, even bookish-
foremost, the hussy. Shorten the cord, you rascal.’ ‘It’s all ly, in fact, I could not speak except ‘like a book.’ But that
right as it is.’ ‘All right, is it? Why, she’s on her side! She was did not trouble me: I knew, I felt that I should be under-
a fellow-creature, after all! But, never mind, throw the earth stood and that this very bookishness might be an assistance.
on her.’ And they won’t care to waste much time quarrelling But now, having attained my effect, I was suddenly panic-
over you. They will scatter the wet blue clay as quick as they stricken. Never before had I witnessed such despair! She
can and go off to the tavern ... and there your memory on was lying on her face, thrusting her face into the pillow and
earth will end; other women have children to go to their clutching it in both hands. Her heart was being torn. Her
graves, fathers, husbands. While for you neither tear, nor youthful body was shuddering all over as though in convul-
sigh, nor remembrance; no one in the whole world will ever sions. Suppressed sobs rent her bosom and suddenly burst
come to you, your name will vanish from the face of the out in weeping and wailing, then she pressed closer into the
earth—as though you had never existed, never been born at pillow: she did not want anyone here, not a living soul, to
all! Nothing but filth and mud, however you knock at your know of her anguish and her tears. She bit the pillow, bit
coffin lid at night, when the dead arise, however you cry: her hand till it bled (I saw that afterwards), or, thrusting
‘Let me out, kind people, to live in the light of day! My life her fingers into her dishevelled hair, seemed rigid with the
was no life at all; my life has been thrown away like a dish- effort of restraint, holding her breath and clenching her
clout; it was drunk away in the tavern at the Haymarket; let teeth. I began saying something, begging her to calm her-
me out, kind people, to live in the world again.’’ self, but felt that I did not dare; and all at once, in a sort of
And I worked myself up to such a pitch that I began to cold shiver, almost in terror, began fumbling in the dark,
have a lump in my throat myself, and ... and all at once I trying hurriedly to get dressed to go. It was dark; though I
stopped, sat up in dismay and, bending over apprehensive- tried my best I could not finish dressing quickly. Suddenly I
ly, began to listen with a beating heart. I had reason to be felt a box of matches and a candlestick with a whole candle
troubled. in it. As soon as the room was lighted up, Liza sprang up,
I had felt for some time that I was turning her soul up- sat up in bed, and with a contorted face, with a half insane
side down and rending her heart, and—and the more I was smile, looked at me almost senselessly. I sat down beside her
convinced of it, the more eagerly I desired to gain my object and took her hands; she came to herself, made an impulsive
as quickly and as effectually as possible. It was the exercise movement towards me, would have caught hold of me, but
of my skill that carried me away; yet it was not merely sport did not dare, and slowly bowed her head before me.
.... ‘Liza, my dear, I was wrong ... forgive me, my dear,’ I be-

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gan, but she squeezed my hand in her fingers so tightly that she held out a piece of paper to me. Her whole face was pos-
I felt I was saying the wrong thing and stopped. itively beaming at that instant with naive, almost childish,
‘This is my address, Liza, come to me.’ triumph. I unfolded it. It was a letter to her from a medi-
‘I will come,’ she answered resolutely, her head still cal student or someone of that sort—a very high-flown and
bowed. flowery, but extremely respectful, love-letter. I don’t recall
‘But now I am going, good-bye ... till we meet again.’ the words now, but I remember well that through the high-
I got up; she, too, stood up and suddenly flushed all over, flown phrases there was apparent a genuine feeling, which
gave a shudder, snatched up a shawl that was lying on a chair cannot be feigned. When I had finished reading it I met her
and muffled herself in it to her chin. As she did this she gave glowing, questioning, and childishly impatient eyes fixed
another sickly smile, blushed and looked at me strangely. I upon me. She fastened her eyes upon my face and waited
felt wretched; I was in haste to get away—to disappear. impatiently for what I should say. In a few words, hurriedly,
‘Wait a minute,’ she said suddenly, in the passage just at but with a sort of joy and pride, she explained to me that she
the doorway, stopping me with her hand on my overcoat. had been to a dance somewhere in a private house, a family
She put down the candle in hot haste and ran off; evidently of ‘very nice people, WHO KNEW NOTHING, absolute-
she had thought of something or wanted to show me some- ly nothing, for she had only come here so lately and it had
thing. As she ran away she flushed, her eyes shone, and all happened ... and she hadn’t made up her mind to stay
there was a smile on her lips—what was the meaning of it? and was certainly going away as soon as she had paid her
Against my will I waited: she came back a minute later with debt...’ and at that party there had been the student who had
an expression that seemed to ask forgiveness for something. danced with her all the evening. He had talked to her, and it
In fact, it was not the same face, not the same look as the turned out that he had known her in old days at Riga when
evening before: sullen, mistrustful and obstinate. Her eyes he was a child, they had played together, but a very long
now were imploring, soft, and at the same time trustful, ca- time ago—and he knew her parents, but ABOUT THIS he
ressing, timid. The expression with which children look at knew nothing, nothing whatever, and had no suspicion!
people they are very fond of, of whom they are asking a fa- And the day after the dance (three days ago) he had sent her
vour. Her eyes were a light hazel, they were lovely eyes, full that letter through the friend with whom she had gone to
of life, and capable of expressing love as well as sullen ha- the party ... and ... well, that was all.’
tred. She dropped her shining eyes with a sort of bashfulness
Making no explanation, as though I, as a sort of higher as she finished.
being, must understand everything without explanations, The poor girl was keeping that student’s letter as a pre-

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cious treasure, and had run to fetch it, her only treasure,
because she did not want me to go away without knowing VIII
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 pre-
cious treasure, as her pride and justification, and now at
such a minute she had thought of that letter and brought it
I t 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
with naive pride to raise herself in my eyes that I might see, happened on the previous day, I was positively amazed at
that I, too, might think well of her. I said nothing, pressed my last night’s SENTIMENTALITY with Liza, at all those
her hand and went out. I so longed to get away ... I walked ‘outcries of horror and pity.’ ‘To think of having such an at-
all the way home, in spite of the fact that the melting snow tack of womanish hysteria, pah!’ I concluded. And what did
was still falling in heavy flakes. I was exhausted, shattered, I thrust my address upon her for? What if she comes? Let
in bewilderment. But behind the bewilderment the truth her come, though; it doesn’t matter .... But OBVIOUSLY,
was already gleaming. The loathsome truth. 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 hu-
mours 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 be-
fore ‘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

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desperate rake, fearfully spoilt—of course, he belongs to a look upon it. ‘On a young hero’s past no censure is cast!’
good family, and has considerable means, a brilliant career; ‘There is actually an aristocratic playfulness about it!’ I
he is witty, charming, a regular Lovelace, you understand; thought admiringly, as I read over the letter. ‘And it’s all
we drank an extra ‘half-dozen’ and ...’ because I am an intellectual and cultivated man! Another
And it went off all right; all this was uttered very easily, man in my place would not have known how to extricate
unconstrainedly and complacently. himself, but here I have got out of it and am as jolly as ever
On reaching home I promptly wrote to Simonov. again, and all because I am ‘a cultivated and educated man
To this hour I am lost in admiration when I recall the of our day.’ And, indeed, perhaps, everything was due to the
truly gentlemanly, good-humoured, candid tone of my let- wine yesterday. H’m!’ ... No, it was not the wine. I did not
ter. With tact and good- breeding, and, above all, entirely drink anything at all between five and six when I was wait-
without superfluous words, I blamed myself for all that had ing for them. I had lied to Simonov; I had lied shamelessly;
happened. I defended myself, ‘if I really may be allowed to and indeed I wasn’t ashamed now .... Hang it all though, the
defend myself,’ by alleging that being utterly unaccustomed great thing was that I was rid of it.
to wine, I had been intoxicated with the first glass, which I I put six roubles in the letter, sealed it up, and asked Apol-
said, I had drunk before they arrived, while I was waiting lon to take it to Simonov. When he learned that there was
for them at the Hotel de Paris between five and six o’clock. money in the letter, Apollon became more respectful and
I begged Simonov’s pardon especially; I asked him to con- agreed to take it. Towards evening I went out for a walk. My
vey my explanations to all the others, especially to Zverkov, head was still aching and giddy after yesterday. But as eve-
whom ‘I seemed to remember as though in a dream’ I had ning came on and the twilight grew denser, my impressions
insulted. I added that I would have called upon all of them and, following them, my thoughts, grew more and more
myself, but my head ached, and besides I had not the face to. different and confused. Something was not dead within
I was particularly pleased with a certain lightness, almost me, in the depths of my heart and conscience it would not
carelessness (strictly within the bounds of politeness, how- die, and it showed itself in acute depression. For the most
ever), which was apparent in my style, and better than any part I jostled my way through the most crowded business
possible arguments, gave them at once to understand that I streets, along Myeshtchansky Street, along Sadovy Street
took rather an independent view of ‘all that unpleasantness and in Yusupov Garden. I always liked particularly saun-
last night”; that I was by no means so utterly crushed as you, tering along these streets in the dusk, just when there were
my friends, probably imagine; but on the contrary, looked crowds of working people of all sorts going home from their
upon it as a gentleman serenely respecting himself should daily work, with faces looking cross with anxiety. What I

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 liked was just that cheap bustle, that bare prose. On this oc- more loathsome, viler! Yes, viler! And to put on that dis-
casion the jostling of the streets irritated me more than ever, honest lying mask again! ...’
I could not make out what was wrong with me, I could not When I reached that thought I fired up all at once.
find the clue, something seemed rising up continually in ‘Why dishonest? How dishonest? I was speaking sincere-
my soul, painfully, and refusing to be appeased. I returned ly last night. I remember there was real feeling in me, too.
home completely upset, it was just as though some crime What I wanted was to excite an honourable feeling in her ....
were lying on my conscience. Her crying was a good thing, it will have a good effect.’
The thought that Liza was coming worried me continu- Yet I could not feel at ease. All that evening, even when
ally. It seemed queer to me that of all my recollections of I had come back home, even after nine o’clock, when I cal-
yesterday this tormented me, as it were, especially, as it were, culated that Liza could not possibly come, still she haunted
quite separately. Everything else I had quite succeeded in me, and what was worse, she came back to my mind always
forgetting by the evening; I dismissed it all and was still in the same position. One moment out of all that had hap-
perfectly satisfied with my letter to Simonov. But on this pened last night stood vividly before my imagination; the
point I was not satisfied at all. It was as though I were wor- moment when I struck a match and saw her pale, distorted
ried only by Liza. ‘What if she comes,’ I thought incessantly, face, with its look of torture. And what a pitiful, what an un-
‘well, it doesn’t matter, let her come! H’m! it’s horrid that natural, what a distorted smile she had at that moment! But
she should see, for instance, how I live. Yesterday I seemed I did not know then, that fifteen years later I should still in
such a hero to her, while now, h’m! It’s horrid, though, that my imagination see Liza, always with the pitiful, distorted,
I have let myself go so, the room looks like a beggar’s. And inappropriate smile which was on her face at that minute.
I brought myself to go out to dinner in such a suit! And my Next day I was ready again to look upon it all as nonsense,
American leather sofa with the stuffing sticking out. And due to over- excited nerves, and, above all, as EXAGGER-
my dressing-gown, which will not cover me, such tatters, ATED. I was always conscious of that weak point of mine,
and she will see all this and she will see Apollon. That beast and sometimes very much afraid of it. ‘I exaggerate every-
is certain to insult her. He will fasten upon her in order to thing, that is where I go wrong,’ I repeated to myself every
be rude to me. And I, of course, shall be panic-stricken as hour. But, however, ‘Liza will very likely come all the same,’
usual, I shall begin bowing and scraping before her and was the refrain with which all my reflections ended. I was
pulling my dressing-gown round me, I shall begin smiling, so uneasy that I sometimes flew into a fury: ‘She’ll come,
telling lies. Oh, the beastliness! And it isn’t the beastliness she is certain to come!’ I cried, running about the room, ‘if
of it that matters most! There is something more important, not today, she will come tomorrow; she’ll find me out! The

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 damnable romanticism of these pure hearts! Oh, the vile- you imagine that I have not noticed your love? I saw it all, I
ness—oh, the silliness—oh, the stupidity of these ‘wretched divined it, but I did not dare to approach you first, because
sentimental souls!’ Why, how fail to understand? How I had an influence over you and was afraid that you would
could one fail to understand? ...’ force yourself, from gratitude, to respond to my love, would
But at this point I stopped short, and in great confusion, try to rouse in your heart a feeling which was perhaps ab-
indeed. sent, and I did not wish that ... because it would be tyranny
And how few, how few words, I thought, in passing, were ... it would be indelicate (in short, I launch off at that point
needed; how little of the idyllic (and affectedly, bookishly, into European, inexplicably lofty subtleties a la George
artificially idyllic too) had sufficed to turn a whole human Sand), but now, now you are mine, you are my creation, you
life at once according to my will. That’s virginity, to be sure! are pure, you are good, you are my noble wife.
Freshness of soil!
At times a thought occurred to me, to go to her, ‘to tell her ‘Into my house come bold and free,
all,’ and beg her not to come to me. But this thought stirred Its rightful mistress there to be’.’
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. Then we begin living together, go abroad and so on, and
I should have insulted her, have spat at her, have turned her so on. In fact, in the end it seemed vulgar to me myself, and
out, have struck her! I began putting out my tongue at myself.
One day passed, however, another and another; she did Besides, they won’t let her out, ‘the hussy!’ I thought. They
not come and I began to grow calmer. I felt particularly don’t let them go out very readily, especially in the evening
bold and cheerful after nine o’clock, I even sometimes be- (for some reason I fancied she would come in the evening,
gan dreaming, and rather sweetly: I, for instance, became and at seven o’clock precisely). Though she did say she was
the salvation of Liza, simply through her coming to me and not altogether a slave there yet, and had certain rights; so,
my talking to her .... I develop her, educate her. Finally, I h’m! Damn it all, she will come, she is sure to come!
notice that she loves me, loves me passionately. I pretend It was a good thing, in fact, that Apollon distracted my
not to understand (I don’t know, however, why I pretend, attention at that time by his rudeness. He drove me beyond
just for effect, perhaps). At last all confusion, transfigured, all patience! He was the bane of my life, the curse laid upon
trembling and sobbing, she flings herself at my feet and says me by Providence. We had been squabbling continually for
that I am her saviour, and that she loves me better than any- years, and I hated him. My God, how I hated him! I be-
thing in the world. I am amazed, but .... ‘Liza,’ I say, ‘can lieve I had never hated anyone in my life as I hated him,

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especially at some moments. He was an elderly, dignified continually lisped, and seemed to be very proud of it, imag-
man, who worked part of his time as a tailor. But for some ining that it greatly added to his dignity. He spoke in a slow,
unknown reason he despised me beyond all measure, and measured tone, with his hands behind his back and his eyes
looked down upon me insufferably. Though, indeed, he fixed on the ground. He maddened me particularly when
looked down upon everyone. Simply to glance at that flax- he read aloud the psalms to himself behind his partition.
en, smoothly brushed head, at the tuft of hair he combed Many a battle I waged over that reading! But he was aw-
up on his forehead and oiled with sunflower oil, at that fully fond of reading aloud in the evenings, in a slow, even,
dignified mouth, compressed into the shape of the letter V, sing-song voice, as though over the dead. It is interesting
made one feel one was confronting a man who never doubt- that that is how he has ended: he hires himself out to read
ed of himself. He was a pedant, to the most extreme point, the psalms over the dead, and at the same time he kills rats
the greatest pedant I had met on earth, and with that had and makes blacking. But at that time I could not get rid of
a vanity only befitting Alexander of Macedon. He was in him, it was as though he were chemically combined with
love with every button on his coat, every nail on his fin- my existence. Besides, nothing would have induced him to
gers—absolutely in love with them, and he looked it! In his consent to leave me. I could not live in furnished lodgings:
behaviour to me he was a perfect tyrant, he spoke very little my lodging was my private solitude, my shell, my cave, in
to me, and if he chanced to glance at me he gave me a firm, which I concealed myself from all mankind, and Apollon
majestically self- confident and invariably ironical look that seemed to me, for some reason, an integral part of that flat,
drove me sometimes to fury. He did his work with the air and for seven years I could not turn him away.
of doing me the greatest favour, though he did scarcely any- To be two or three days behind with his wages, for in-
thing for me, and did not, indeed, consider himself bound stance, was impossible. He would have made such a fuss, I
to do anything. There could be no doubt that he looked should not have known where to hide my head. But I was so
upon me as the greatest fool on earth, and that ‘he did not exasperated with everyone during those days, that I made
get rid of me’ was simply that he could get wages from me up my mind for some reason and with some object to PUN-
every month. He consented to do nothing for me for seven ISH Apollon and not to pay him for a fortnight the wages
roubles a month. Many sins should be forgiven me for what that were owing him. I had for a long time—for the last
I suffered from him. My hatred reached such a point that two years—been intending to do this, simply in order to
sometimes his very step almost threw me into convulsions. teach him not to give himself airs with me, and to show him
What I loathed particularly was his lisp. His tongue must that if I liked I could withhold his wages. I purposed to say
have been a little too long or something of that sort, for he nothing to him about it, and was purposely silent indeed, in

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order to score off his pride and force him to be the first to again and again present himself before me in the same way.
speak of his wages. Then I would take the seven roubles out It had happened that in my fury I did not even ask him what
of a drawer, show him I have the money put aside on pur- he wanted, but simply raised my head sharply and imperi-
pose, but that I won’t, I won’t, I simply won’t pay him his ously and began staring back at him. So we stared at one
wages, I won’t just because that is ‘what I wish,’ because ‘I another for two minutes; at last he turned with deliberation
am master, and it is for me to decide,’ because he has been and dignity and went back again for two hours.
disrespectful, because he has been rude; but if he were to ask If I were still not brought to reason by all this, but per-
respectfully I might be softened and give it to him, other- sisted in my revolt, he would suddenly begin sighing while
wise he might wait another fortnight, another three weeks, he looked at me, long, deep sighs as though measuring by
a whole month .... them the depths of my moral degradation, and, of course,
But angry as I was, yet he got the better of me. I could not it ended at last by his triumphing completely: I raged and
hold out for four days. He began as he always did begin in shouted, but still was forced to do what he wanted.
such cases, for there had been such cases already, there had This time the usual staring manoeuvres had scarcely be-
been attempts (and it may be observed I knew all this be- gun when I lost my temper and flew at him in a fury. I was
forehand, I knew his nasty tactics by heart). He would begin irritated beyond endurance apart from him.
by fixing upon me an exceedingly severe stare, keeping it up ‘Stay,’ I cried, in a frenzy, as he was slowly and silently
for several minutes at a time, particularly on meeting me turning, with one hand behind his back, to go to his room.
or seeing me out of the house. If I held out and pretended ‘Stay! Come back, come back, I tell you!’ and I must have
not to notice these stares, he would, still in silence, proceed bawled so unnaturally, that he turned round and even
to further tortures. All at once, A PROPOS of nothing, he looked at me with some wonder. However, he persisted in
would walk softly and smoothly into my room, when I was saying nothing, and that infuriated me.
pacing up and down or reading, stand at the door, one hand ‘How dare you come and look at me like that without be-
behind his back and one foot behind the other, and fix upon ing sent for? Answer!’
me a stare more than severe, utterly contemptuous. If I sud- After looking at me calmly for half a minute, he began
denly asked him what he wanted, he would make me no turning round again.
answer, but continue staring at me persistently for some ‘Stay!’ I roared, running up to him, ‘don’t stir! There. An-
seconds, then, with a peculiar compression of his lips and a swer, now: what did you come in to look at?’
most significant air, deliberately turn round and deliberate- ‘If you have any order to give me it’s my duty to carry it
ly go back to his room. Two hours later he would come out out,’ he answered, after another silent pause, with a slow,

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 measured lisp, raising his eyebrows and calmly twisting his But he merely looked at me, then turned, and regardless
head from one side to another, all this with exasperating of my loud calls to him, he walked to his room with an even
composure. step and without looking round.
‘That’s not what I am asking you about, you torturer!’ I ‘If it had not been for Liza nothing of this would have
shouted, turning crimson with anger. ‘I’ll tell you why you happened,’ I decided inwardly. Then, after waiting a minute,
came here myself: you see, I don’t give you your wages, you I went myself behind his screen with a dignified and solemn
are so proud you don’t want to bow down and ask for it, and air, though my heart was beating slowly and violently.
so you come to punish me with your stupid stares, to worry ‘Apollon,’ I said quietly and emphatically, though I was
me and you have no sus-pic-ion how stupid it is— stupid, breathless, ‘go at once without a minute’s delay and fetch
stupid, stupid, stupid! ...’ the police-officer.’
He would have turned round again without a word, but He had meanwhile settled himself at his table, put on his
I seized him. spectacles and taken up some sewing. But, hearing my or-
‘Listen,’ I shouted to him. ‘Here’s the money, do you see, der, he burst into a guffaw.
here it is,’ (I took it out of the table drawer); ‘here’s the seven ‘At once, go this minute! Go on, or else you can’t imagine
roubles complete, but you are not going to have it, you ... are what will happen.’
... not ... going ... to ... have it until you come respectfully ‘You are certainly out of your mind,’ he observed, with-
with bowed head to beg my pardon. Do you hear?’ out even raising his head, lisping as deliberately as ever and
‘That cannot be,’ he answered, with the most unnatural threading his needle. ‘Whoever heard of a man sending for
self-confidence. the police against himself? And as for being frightened—
‘It shall be so,’ I said, ‘I give you my word of honour, it you are upsetting yourself about nothing, for nothing will
shall be!’ come of it.’
‘And there’s nothing for me to beg your pardon for,’ he ‘Go!’ I shrieked, clutching him by the shoulder. I felt I
went on, as though he had not noticed my exclamations at should strike him in a minute.
all. ‘Why, besides, you called me a ‘torturer,’ for which I can But I did not notice the door from the passage softly
summon you at the police-station at any time for insulting and slowly open at that instant and a figure come in, stop
behaviour.’ short, and begin staring at us in perplexity I glanced, nearly
‘Go, summon me,’ I roared, ‘go at once, this very minute, swooned with shame, and rushed back to my room. There,
this very second! You are a torturer all the same! a tortur- clutching at my hair with both hands, I leaned my head
er!’ against the wall and stood motionless in that position.

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 Two minutes later I heard Apollon’s deliberate footsteps.
‘There is some woman asking for you,’ he said, looking at me IX
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. ‘Into my house come bold and free,
Its rightful mistress there to be.’

I stood before her crushed, crestfallen, revoltingly con-

fused, 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 expect-
ed. 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 some-
thing 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 every-
thing 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

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 she had suddenly flushed. ‘I am not ashamed of my poverty asking me over his shoulder: ‘Shall I get a whole portion?’
.... On the contrary, I look with pride on my poverty. I am deliberately walked out of the room. As I was going back
poor but honourable .... One can be poor and honourable,’ I to Liza, the thought occurred to me on the way: shouldn’t
muttered. ‘However ... would you like tea? ....’ I run away just as I was in my dressing-gown, no matter
‘No,’ she was beginning. where, and then let happen what would?
‘Wait a minute.’ I sat down again. She looked at me uneasily. For some
I leapt up and ran to Apollon. I had to get out of the room minutes we were silent.
somehow. ‘I will kill him,’ I shouted suddenly, striking the table
‘Apollon,’ I whispered in feverish haste, flinging down with my fist so that the ink spurted out of the inkstand.
before him the seven roubles which had remained all the ‘What are you saying!’ she cried, starting.
time in my clenched fist, ‘here are your wages, you see I give ‘I will kill him! kill him!’ I shrieked, suddenly striking
them to you; but for that you must come to my rescue: bring the table in absolute frenzy, and at the same time fully un-
me tea and a dozen rusks from the restaurant. If you won’t derstanding how stupid it was to be in such a frenzy. ‘You
go, you’ll make me a miserable man! You don’t know what don’t know, Liza, what that torturer is to me. He is my tor-
this woman is .... This is—everything! You may be imagin- turer .... He has gone now to fetch some rusks; he ...’
ing something .... But you don’t know what that woman is! And suddenly I burst into tears. It was an hysterical at-
...’ tack. How ashamed I felt in the midst of my sobs; but still I
Apollon, who had already sat down to his work and could not restrain them.
put on his spectacles again, at first glanced askance at the She was frightened.
money without speaking or putting down his needle; then, ‘What is the matter? What is wrong?’ she cried, fussing
without paying the slightest attention to me or making any about me.
answer, he went on busying himself with his needle, which ‘Water, give me water, over there!’ I muttered in a faint
he had not yet threaded. I waited before him for three min- voice, though I was inwardly conscious that I could have got
utes with my arms crossed A LA NAPOLEON. My temples on very well without water and without muttering in a faint
were moist with sweat. I was pale, I felt it. But, thank God, voice. But I was, what is called, PUTTING IT ON, to save
he must have been moved to pity, looking at me. Having appearances, though the attack was a genuine one.
threaded his needle he deliberately got up from his seat, She gave me water, looking at me in bewilderment. At that
deliberately moved back his chair, deliberately took off moment Apollon brought in the tea. It suddenly seemed to
his spectacles, deliberately counted the money, and finally me that this commonplace, prosaic tea was horribly undig-

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 nified and paltry after all that had happened, and I blushed ‘Perhaps I am in your way,’ she began timidly, hardly au-
crimson. Liza looked at Apollon with positive alarm. He dibly, and was getting up.
went out without a glance at either of us. But as soon as I saw this first impulse of wounded digni-
‘Liza, do you despise me?’ I asked, looking at her fixedly, ty I positively trembled with spite, and at once burst out.
trembling with impatience to know what she was thinking. ‘Why have you come to me, tell me that, please?’ I began,
She was confused, and did not know what to answer. gasping for breath and regardless of logical connection in
‘Drink your tea,’ I said to her angrily. I was angry with my words. I longed to have it all out at once, at one burst;
myself, but, of course, it was she who would have to pay for I did not even trouble how to begin. ‘Why have you come?
it. A horrible spite against her suddenly surged up in my Answer, answer,’ I cried, hardly knowing what I was doing.
heart; I believe I could have killed her. To revenge myself ‘I’ll tell you, my good girl, why you have come. You’ve come
on her I swore inwardly not to say a word to her all the time. because I talked sentimental stuff to you then. So now you
‘She is the cause of it all,’ I thought. are soft as butter and longing for fine sentiments again. So
Our silence lasted for five minutes. The tea stood on the you may as well know that I was laughing at you then. And
table; we did not touch it. I had got to the point of purposely I am laughing at you now. Why are you shuddering? Yes,
refraining from beginning in order to embarrass her fur- I was laughing at you! I had been insulted just before, at
ther; it was awkward for her to begin alone. Several times dinner, by the fellows who came that evening before me. I
she glanced at me with mournful perplexity. I was ob- came to you, meaning to thrash one of them, an officer; but
stinately silent. I was, of course, myself the chief sufferer, I didn’t succeed, I didn’t find him; I had to avenge the in-
because I was fully conscious of the disgusting meanness of sult on someone to get back my own again; you turned up,
my spiteful stupidity, and yet at the same time I could not I vented my spleen on you and laughed at you. I had been
restrain myself. humiliated, so I wanted to humiliate; I had been treated like
‘I want to... get away ... from there altogether,’ she began, a rag, so I wanted to show my power .... That’s what it was,
to break the silence in some way, but, poor girl, that was just and you imagined I had come there on purpose to save you.
what she ought not to have spoken about at such a stupid Yes? You imagined that? You imagined that?’
moment to a man so stupid as I was. My heart positively I knew that she would perhaps be muddled and not take
ached with pity for her tactless and unnecessary straight- it all in exactly, but I knew, too, that she would grasp the gist
forwardness. But something hideous at once stifled all of it, very well indeed. And so, indeed, she did. She turned
compassion in me; it even provoked me to greater venom. I white as a handkerchief, tried to say something, and her lips
did not care what happened. Another five minutes passed. worked painfully; but she sank on a chair as though she had

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 been felled by an axe. And all the time afterwards she lis- ed torn dressing-gown, beggarly, loathsome. I told you just
tened to me with her lips parted and her eyes wide open, now that I was not ashamed of my poverty; so you may as
shuddering with awful terror. The cynicism, the cynicism well know that I am ashamed of it; I am more ashamed of it
of my words overwhelmed her .... than of anything, more afraid of it than of being found out
‘Save you!’ I went on, jumping up from my chair and if I were a thief, because I am as vain as though I had been
running up and down the room before her. ‘Save you from skinned and the very air blowing on me hurt. Surely by now
what? But perhaps I am worse than you myself. Why didn’t you must realise that I shall never forgive you for having
you throw it in my teeth when I was giving you that sermon: found me in this wretched dressing-gown, just as I was fly-
‘But what did you come here yourself for? was it to read us a ing at Apollon like a spiteful cur. The saviour, the former
sermon?’ Power, power was what I wanted then, sport was hero, was flying like a mangy, unkempt sheep-dog at his
what I wanted, I wanted to wring out your tears, your hu- lackey, and the lackey was jeering at him! And I shall never
miliation, your hysteria—that was what I wanted then! Of forgive you for the tears I could not help shedding before
course, I couldn’t keep it up then, because I am a wretched you just now, like some silly woman put to shame! And for
creature, I was frightened, and, the devil knows why, gave what I am confessing to you now, I shall never forgive you
you my address in my folly. Afterwards, before I got home, either! Yes—you must answer for it all because you turned
I was cursing and swearing at you because of that address, up like this, because I am a blackguard, because I am the
I hated you already because of the lies I had told you. Be- nastiest, stupidest, absurdest and most envious of all the
cause I only like playing with words, only dreaming, but, worms on earth, who are not a bit better than I am, but, the
do you know, what I really want is that you should all go devil knows why, are never put to confusion; while I shall
to hell. That is what I want. I want peace; yes, I’d sell the always be insulted by every louse, that is my doom! And
whole world for a farthing, straight off, so long as I was left what is it to me that you don’t understand a word of this!
in peace. Is the world to go to pot, or am I to go without my And what do I care, what do I care about you, and whether
tea? I say that the world may go to pot for me so long as I al- you go to ruin there or not? Do you understand? How I shall
ways get my tea. Did you know that, or not? Well, anyway, I hate you now after saying this, for having been here and lis-
know that I am a blackguard, a scoundrel, an egoist, a slug- tening. Why, it’s not once in a lifetime a man speaks out like
gard. Here I have been shuddering for the last three days this, and then it is in hysterics! ... What more do you want?
at the thought of your coming. And do you know what has Why do you still stand confronting me, after all this? Why
worried me particularly for these three days? That I posed as are you worrying me? Why don’t you go?’
such a hero to you, and now you would see me in a wretch- But at this point a strange thing happened. I was so ac-

156 Notes from the Underground Free eBooks at Planet eBook.com 157
customed to think and imagine everything from books, and stayed motionless in that position. But the trouble was that
to picture everything in the world to myself just as I had the hysterics could not go on for ever, and (I am writing the
made it up in my dreams beforehand, that I could not all loathsome truth) lying face downwards on the sofa with my
at once take in this strange circumstance. What happened face thrust into my nasty leather pillow, I began by degrees
was this: Liza, insulted and crushed by me, understood a to be aware of a far-away, involuntary but irresistible feel-
great deal more than I imagined. She understood from all ing that it would be awkward now for me to raise my head
this what a woman understands first of all, if she feels genu- and look Liza straight in the face. Why was I ashamed? I
ine love, that is, that I was myself unhappy. don’t know, but I was ashamed. The thought, too, came into
The frightened and wounded expression on her face my overwrought brain that our parts now were complete-
was followed first by a look of sorrowful perplexity. When ly changed, that she was now the heroine, while I was just
I began calling myself a scoundrel and a blackguard and a crushed and humiliated creature as she had been before
my tears flowed (the tirade was accompanied throughout me that night—four days before .... And all this came into
by tears) her whole face worked convulsively. She was on my mind during the minutes I was lying on my face on the
the point of getting up and stopping me; when I finished sofa.
she took no notice of my shouting: ‘Why are you here, why My God! surely I was not envious of her then.
don’t you go away?’ but realised only that it must have been I don’t know, to this day I cannot decide, and at the time,
very bitter to me to say all this. Besides, she was so crushed, of course, I was still less able to understand what I was feel-
poor girl; she considered herself infinitely beneath me; how ing than now. I cannot get on without domineering and
could she feel anger or resentment? She suddenly leapt up tyrannising over someone, but ... there is no explaining
from her chair with an irresistible impulse and held out her anything by reasoning and so it is useless to reason.
hands, yearning towards me, though still timid and not I conquered myself, however, and raised my head; I had
daring to stir .... At this point there was a revulsion in my to do so sooner or later ... and I am convinced to this day
heart too. Then she suddenly rushed to me, threw her arms that it was just because I was ashamed to look at her that
round me and burst into tears. I, too, could not restrain my- another feeling was suddenly kindled and flamed up in
self, and sobbed as I never had before. my heart ... a feeling of mastery and possession. My eyes
‘They won’t let me ... I can’t be good!’ I managed to ar- gleamed with passion, and I gripped her hands tightly. How
ticulate; then I went to the sofa, fell on it face downwards, I hated her and how I was drawn to her at that minute! The
and sobbed on it for a quarter of an hour in genuine hys- one feeling intensified the other. It was almost like an act of
terics. She came close to me, put her arms round me and vengeance. At first there was a look of amazement, even of

158 Notes from the Underground Free eBooks at Planet eBook.com 159
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 de-
scribe 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 HA-
TRED, 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 show-
ing 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 tyran-
nise over her.

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 Even in my underground dreams I did not imagine love thing in it and closed it again. Then I turned at once and
except as a struggle. I began it always with hatred and end- dashed away in haste to the other corner of the room to
ed it with moral subjugation, and afterwards I never knew avoid seeing, anyway ....
what to do with the subjugated object. And what is there to I did mean a moment since to tell a lie—to write that I
wonder at in that, since I had succeeded in so corrupting did this accidentally, not knowing what I was doing through
myself, since I was so out of touch with ‘real life,’ as to have foolishness, through losing my head. But I don’t want to lie,
actually thought of reproaching her, and putting her to and so I will say straight out that I opened her hand and put
shame for having come to me to hear ‘fine sentiments”; and the money in it ... from spite. It came into my head to do this
did not even guess that she had come not to hear fine senti- while I was running up and down the room and she was sit-
ments, but to love me, because to a woman all reformation, ting behind the screen. But this I can say for certain: though
all salvation from any sort of ruin, and all moral renewal is I did that cruel thing purposely, it was not an impulse from
included in love and can only show itself in that form. the heart, but came from my evil brain. This cruelty was so
I did not hate her so much, however, when I was run- affected, so purposely made up, so completely a product of
ning about the room and peeping through the crack in the the brain, of books, that I could not even keep it up a min-
screen. I was only insufferably oppressed by her being here. ute—first I dashed away to avoid seeing her, and then in
I wanted her to disappear. I wanted ‘peace,’ to be left alone shame and despair rushed after Liza. I opened the door in
in my underground world. Real life oppressed me with its the passage and began listening.
novelty so much that I could hardly breathe. ‘Liza! Liza!’ I cried on the stairs, but in a low voice, not
But several minutes passed and she still remained, with- boldly. There was no answer, but I fancied I heard her foot-
out stirring, as though she were unconscious. I had the steps, lower down on the stairs.
shamelessness to tap softly at the screen as though to re- ‘Liza!’ I cried, more loudly.
mind her .... She started, sprang up, and flew to seek her No answer. But at that minute I heard the stiff outer
kerchief, her hat, her coat, as though making her escape glass door open heavily with a creak and slam violently; the
from me .... Two minutes later she came from behind the sound echoed up the stairs.
screen and looked with heavy eyes at me. I gave a spiteful She had gone. I went back to my room in hesitation. I felt
grin, which was forced, however, to KEEP UP APPEAR- horribly oppressed.
ANCES, and I turned away from her eyes. I stood still at the table, beside the chair on which she
‘Good-bye,’ she said, going towards the door. had sat and looked aimlessly before me. A minute passed,
I ran up to her, seized her hand, opened it, thrust some- suddenly I started; straight before me on the table I saw ....

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In short, I saw a crumpled blue five- rouble note, the one I her?
had thrust into her hand a minute before. It was the same I stood in the snow, gazing into the troubled darkness
note; it could be no other, there was no other in the flat. So and pondered this.
she had managed to fling it from her hand on the table at ‘And will it not be better?’ I mused fantastically, after-
the moment when I had dashed into the further corner. wards at home, stifling the living pang of my heart with
Well! I might have expected that she would do that. fantastic dreams. ‘Will it not be better that she should keep
Might I have expected it? No, I was such an egoist, I was so the resentment of the insult for ever? Resentment—why, it is
lacking in respect for my fellow-creatures that I could not purification; it is a most stinging and painful consciousness!
even imagine she would do so. I could not endure it. A min- Tomorrow I should have defiled her soul and have exhaust-
ute later I flew like a madman to dress, flinging on what I ed her heart, while now the feeling of insult will never die
could at random and ran headlong after her. She could not in her heart, and however loathsome the filth awaiting her—
have got two hundred paces away when I ran out into the the feeling of insult will elevate and purify her ... by hatred
street. ... h’m! ... perhaps, too, by forgiveness .... Will all that make
It was a still night and the snow was coming down in things easier for her though? ...’
masses and falling almost perpendicularly, covering the And, indeed, I will ask on my own account here, an idle
pavement and the empty street as though with a pillow. question: which is better—cheap happiness or exalted suf-
There was no one in the street, no sound was to be heard. ferings? Well, which is better?
The street lamps gave a disconsolate and useless glimmer. So I dreamed as I sat at home that evening, almost dead
I ran two hundred paces to the cross-roads and stopped with the pain in my soul. Never had I endured such suf-
short. fering and remorse, yet could there have been the faintest
Where had she gone? And why was I running after her? doubt when I ran out from my lodging that I should turn
Why? To fall down before her, to sob with remorse, to back half-way? I never met Liza again and I have heard
kiss her feet, to entreat her forgiveness! I longed for that, nothing of her. I will add, too, that I remained for a long
my whole breast was being rent to pieces, and never, never time afterwards pleased with the phrase about the benefit
shall I recall that minute with indifference. But—what for? from resentment and hatred in spite of the fact that I almost
I thought. Should I not begin to hate her, perhaps, even to- fell ill from misery.
morrow, just because I had kissed her feet today? Should I .....
give her happiness? Had I not recognised that day, for the Even now, so many years later, all this is somehow a very
hundredth time, what I was worth? Should I not torture evil memory. I have many evil memories now, but ... hadn’t

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I better end my ‘Notes’ here? I believe I made a mistake in ticular I have only in my life carried to an extreme what you
beginning to write them, anyway I have felt ashamed all have not dared to carry halfway, and what’s more, you have
the time I’ve been writing this story; so it’s hardly literature taken your cowardice for good sense, and have found com-
so much as a corrective punishment. Why, to tell long sto- fort in deceiving yourselves. So that perhaps, after all, there
ries, showing how I have spoiled my life through morally is more life in me than in you. Look into it more carefully!
rotting in my corner, through lack of fitting environment, Why, we don’t even know what living means now, what it is,
through divorce from real life, and rankling spite in my and what it is called? Leave us alone without books and we
underground world, would certainly not be interesting; a shall be lost and in confusion at once. We shall not know
novel needs a hero, and all the traits for an anti-hero are what to join on to, what to cling to, what to love and what to
EXPRESSLY gathered together here, and what matters most, hate, what to respect and what to despise. We are oppressed
it all produces an unpleasant impression, for we are all di- at being men—men with a real individual body and blood,
vorced from life, we are all cripples, every one of us, more we are ashamed of it, we think it a disgrace and try to con-
or less. We are so divorced from it that we feel at once a sort trive to be some sort of impossible generalised man. We are
of loathing for real life, and so cannot bear to be reminded stillborn, and for generations past have been begotten, not
of it. Why, we have come almost to looking upon real life by living fathers, and that suits us better and better. We are
as an effort, almost as hard work, and we are all privately developing a taste for it. Soon we shall contrive to be born
agreed that it is better in books. And why do we fuss and somehow from an idea. But enough; I don’t want to write
fume sometimes? Why are we perverse and ask for some- more from ‘Underground.’
thing else? We don’t know what ourselves. It would be the
worse for us if our petulant prayers were answered. Come, [The notes of this paradoxalist do not end here, however. He
try, give any one of us, for instance, a little more indepen- could not refrain from going on with them, but it seems to
dence, untie our hands, widen the spheres of our activity, us that we may stop here.]
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 par-

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