Produced by Judith Boss. HTML version by Al Haines.
Notes from the Underground
FYODOR DOSTOYEVSKY
PART I
Underground*
*The author of the diary and the diary itself are, of course, imaginary. Nevertheless it is clear that such persons as the writer of these notes not only may, but positively must, exist in our society, when we consider the circumstances in the midst of which our society is formed. I have tried to expose to the view of the public more distinctly than is commonly done, one of the characters of the recent past. He is one of the representatives of a generation still living. In this fragment, entitled "Underground," this person introduces himself and his views, and, as it were, tries to explain the causes owing to which he has made his appearance and was bound to make his appearance in our midst. In the second fragment there are added the actual notes of this person concerning certain events in his life.--AUTHOR'S NOTE.
I
I am a sick man.... I am a spiteful man. I am an unattractive man. Ibelieve my liver is diseased. However, I know nothing at all about mydisease, and do not know for certain what ails me. I don't consult adoctor for it, and never have, though I have a respect for medicine anddoctors. Besides, I am extremely superstitious, sufficiently so torespect medicine, anyway (I am well-educated enough not to besuperstitious, but I am superstitious). No, I refuse to consult adoctor from spite. That you probably will not understand. Well, Iunderstand it, though. Of course, I can't explain who it is preciselythat I am mortifying in this case by my spite: I am perfectly wellaware that I cannot "pay out" the doctors by not consulting them; Iknow better than anyone that by all this I am only injuring myself andno one else. But still, if I don't consult a doctor it is from spite.My liver is bad, well--let it get worse!
I have been going on like that for a long time--twenty years. Now I amforty. I used to be in the government service, but am no longer. Iwas a spiteful official. I was rude and took pleasure in being so. Idid not take bribes, you see, so I was bound to find a recompense inthat, at least. (A poor jest, but I will not scratch it out. I wroteit thinking it would sound very witty; but now that I have seen myselfthat I only wanted to show off in a despicable way, I will not scratchit out on purpose!)
When petitioners used to come for information to the table at which Isat, I used to grind my teeth at them, and felt intense enjoyment whenI succeeded in making anybody unhappy. I almost did succeed. For themost part they were all timid people--of course, they were petitioners.But of the uppish ones there was one officer in particular I could notendure. He simply would not be humble, and clanked his sword in adisgusting way. I carried on a feud with him for eighteen months overthat sword. At last I got the better of him. He left off clanking it.That happened in my youth, though.
But do you know, gentlemen, what was the chief point about my spite?Why, the whole point, the real sting of it lay in the fact thatcontinually, even in the moment of the acutest spleen, I was inwardlyconscious with shame that I was not only not a spiteful but not even anembittered man, that I was simply scaring sparrows at random andamusing myself by it. I might foam at the mouth, but bring me a dollto play with, give me a cup of tea with sugar in it, and maybe I shouldbe appeased. I might even be genuinely touched, though probably Ishould grind my teeth at myself afterwards and lie awake at night withshame for months after. That was my way.
I was lying when I said just now that I was a spiteful official. I waslying from spite. I was simply amusing myself with the petitioners andwith the officer, and in reality I never could become spiteful. I wasconscious every moment in myself of many, very many elements absolutelyopposite to that. I felt them positively swarming in me, theseopposite elements. I knew that they had been swarming in me all my lifeand craving some outlet from me, but I would not let them, would notlet them, purposely would not let them come out. They tormented metill I was ashamed: they drove me to convulsions and--sickened me, atlast, how they sickened me! Now, are not you fancying, gentlemen, thatI am expressing remorse for something now, that I am asking yourforgiveness for something? I am sure you are fancying that ...However, I assure you I do not care if you are....
It was not only that I could not become spiteful, I did not know how tobecome anything; neither spiteful nor kind, neither a rascal nor anhonest man, neither a hero nor an insect. Now, I am living out my lifein my corner, taunting myself with the spiteful and useless consolationthat an intelligent man cannot become anything seriously, and it isonly the fool who becomes anything. Yes, a man in the nineteenthcentury must and morally ought to be pre-eminently a characterlesscreature; a man of character, an active man is pre-eminently a limitedcreature. That is my conviction of forty years. I am forty years oldnow, and you know forty years is a whole lifetime; you know it isextreme old age. To live longer than forty years is bad manners, isvulgar, immoral. Who does live beyond forty? Answer that, sincerelyand honestly I will tell you who do: fools and worthless fellows. Itell all old men that to their face, all these venerable old men, allthese silver-haired and reverend seniors! I tell the whole world thatto its face! I have a right to say so, for I shall go on living tosixty myself. To seventy! To eighty! ... Stay, let me take breath...
You imagine no doubt, gentlemen, that I want to amuse you. You aremistaken in that, too. I am by no means such a mirthful person as youimagine, 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 Iam--then my answer is, I am a collegiate assessor. I was in theservice that I might have something to eat (and solely for thatreason), and when last year a distant relation left me six thousandroubles in his will I immediately retired from the service and settleddown in my corner. I used to live in this corner before, but now Ihave settled down in it. My room is a wretched, horrid one in theoutskirts of the town. My servant is an old country-woman, ill-naturedfrom stupidity, and, moreover, there is always a nasty smell about her.I am told that the Petersburg climate is bad for me, and that with mysmall means it is very expensive to live in Petersburg. I know allthat better than all these sage and experienced counsellors andmonitors.... But I am remaining in Petersburg; I am not going awayfrom Petersburg! I am not going away because ... ech! Why, it isabsolutely no matter whether I am going away or not going away.
But what can a decent man speak of with most pleasure?
Answer: Of himself.
Well, so I will talk about myself.