TH E IDIOT
J. W . Dyck Waterloo, Ontario
The artist and the thinker are very closely interwoven in Feodor Michailovich Dostoevsky. As a thinker Dostoevsky was and remains to this day to the highest degree the w riter of ideas, and as such he crea—
ted a m ultitude of characters who are concerned not so much w ith their practical place in society as w ith the world of ideas; indeed, he created heroes of ideas. But at the same time he possessed astonishing artistic in tu itio n which gave us a chain of discoveries of the so-called averse causalities in the domain of physical experience and adversities.
The source for Dostoevsky’s literary characters should not be sought only w ith in the author, or more precisely, these fictional crea—
tions are not merely an interpretation of the creator’s personal expe—
rience or an outlet for his often uncontrolled subjectivity. Nevertheless, much in his writings must be accredited to the unusual complexity and polyhedron of the author’s psychic organism.
To a certain point all of his major characters are in alliance w ith the author’s natura, yet at the same time they live their own lives in—
dependent and remote from Dostoevsky’s factual experience. The inner struggle of the psychic phenomena in his heroes, whenever not directly related, is left to the reader’s imagination. The w riter never placed himself in the centre of events in such a way as to interpret himself and describe others from the point of view of his own feelings. The inocula—
tion of his self into his characters does not deprive these characters of their own individuality and personal qualities, alien to the author’s ex—
perience.
Dostoevsky and his artistic talent were bom at a time when Russia was in a disturbing state of change, from harsh serfdom and wrinkled feudalism to a new and capitalistic experimentation. Leading intellec—
tuals, who usually came from the middle class, tried to find a synthesis
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between old and new ideas by looking for an example toward Western achievements. Dostoevsky at this time followed in the best tradition of his teacher, Gogol, and was considered an ally of the most influential literary critic, the Russian Lessing, Belinsky. They all wanted progress, improvements. However, their roads to progress were sketched on dif—
ferent drawing boards. While Belinsky and his followers were w illing to utilize any means or methods — including a revolution by the dark sinister forces of Russian illiterates — in order to free Russia or the Russian mind from an inferiority complex, inherited throughout the centuries, Dostoevsky expressed fear for the outcome of these new de—
velopments. He was against revolution and w ith it against utopian so—
cialism. He reasoned that the mob, economically unfirm , equipped so—
d a ily and psychologically w ith no past and virtu a lly no depth, was easily susceptible to any reactionary influence merely for the sake of securing a degree of sodai status, considering neither moral nor ethical implications. This cleavage from the leading and progressive tendencies of his contemporaries only served to swell the ideological and psycho—
logical confusion which had taken possession of the author temporarily.
Yet, in spite of this inner struggle, Dostoevsky could have revised his philosophical standards, and moved in the more down—to—earth di—
rection of Belinsky, Herzen, Gogol, and others, had not fate decided differently. Circumstantial evidence, sought and found by the Czarist regime, branded him as a reactionary.( 1) This indictm ent was considered ample reason to confine him for ten years behind the prison walls of the city of Omsk or to degrade him to serve as a common soldier in other parts of Siberia. Thus he spent ten years w ith common criminals, quite often w ith the lowest level of the human species. For a proud young w riter and intellectual such an association must have been the greatest humiliation. He was separated from life w ithout feeling a sense of guilt. He was accused of beeing a liberal and a free-thinker.
During the first judicial examination he allegedly expressed his point of view which can be epitomized in the following words: Yes, if the wish for the better is equal to liberalism and free—thinking, I perhaps can be called a free-thinker, namely — in a sense in which one can call anybody a free-thinker who believes himself to have the right to be a human being, who believes him sdf to have the right to wish for the well-being of his fatherland because he finds in his heart a love and a sense of responsibility for his homeland.(2)
Belinsky was much more pronounced in his efforts. He wanted ac—
tion, not submission; changes, not silent agreement w ith a system that suppressed and destroyed all liberal and progressive intentions. We cannot deny that Dostoevsky was liberal in his views on social im —
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provements; but his reactions were negative w ith respect to any forceful acts, whatever the purpose might be.
Dostoevsky suffered much during his ten years of enforced solitude.
He returned to society changed — changed by a process of ideological and psychological transformation. Where he had doubts before his Siberian interlude that reality can be improved by means of struggle, he now had reason to doubt the very nature of man. Man, he believed, is not strong enough in himself to take his affairs into his own hands.
Hence he turns to religion, suggesting through many of his characters — Prince Myshkin, Aljosha, Father Zossima and, in a roundabout way, Raskolnikov — unconditional submission to faith in divine providence, and to the practice of love of fellow—man.
Although love can be (and mostly is) active in its effect, it is passive in its essence. Characters like Myshkin are greatly concerned w ith improving the life of the insulted and the injured, yet to society they do not appear favourably. Nor can they project an image of im — proving the life of the insulted and the injured to the progressive forces who are w illing to struggle and to sacrifice for the sake of the better.
Intellectual Russians o f the nineteenth century looked toward Europe where immense changes were taking place in the political and social structure. These changes, they felt, could not be achieved or accomp—
lished w ith Dostoevsky’s suffering love alone. Ermilov quotes Herzen (3) who wrote at that time: "Suffering love, indeed, can be very strong
— it cries, speaks, then wipes off its tears, but the most im portant thing about it is , that this love never does anything." (4) Therefore, Dostoevsky was rejected by his contemporaries, people like Belinsky, Tchernyshevsky, Dobroljubov, and others. And for the same reason he is rejected by modern Russia (this is naturally not the only reason).
Russia’s greatest dilemma was the already—mentioned in — feriority-com plex toward the West. W ith the help of the Myshkins, Alyoshas or even Ivan Karamazovs this complex could not be over—
come. Russia of the nineteenth century, and of the present day, wanted and wants heroes of positive action, especially in its literature. The emotional depth of a character is merely of secondary concern. Thus Dostoevsky was rejected by the Zeitgeist of a time in which he lived.
Meanwhile, the Russian has been transformed from a man of fear, who is w illing to endure everything, to a man of action. Fear and the feeling of inferiority, however, have remained. And our dilemma w ith Russia w ill continue as long as Russia remains suppressed by such a prejudice and burden.
Now, when Russia has moved from one extreme to another, i.e., from deadly passivity to a vigorous desire or obsession for taking the
in itia tive , it has become increasingly more difficult for us to understand the road she has chosen.
By venturing in extremes Dostoevsky has always been a typical Russian, the Russian. On several occasions he admits that his predilec—
tion for exceeding natural lim itations has given him some cause of con—
cern. A statement to this effect can be found in a letter w ritten by him to his friend A.H. Maikov in 1867. (5) Nevertheless, only because of these extreme attributes and the basic fle x ib ility of his character and imagination was Dostoevsky able to create such antipodes as Sonja and Svidrigailov, Myshkin and Ragozhin, Alyosha and Ivan Karamazov.
Where Western literary analysis is concerned w ith ideas, Soviet c riti—
cism, as can be expected, refers frequently to instances in Dostoevsky’s works which deal directly or indirectly w ith social injustice. These eri—
tics point out that all the problems, dilemmas and tragedies, which Dostoevsky illumines so brightly and in such dimensions as to be con—
sidered unique, are rooted in the unjust distribution of capital. (6) Similar criticism can be found, as mentioned before, in nineteenth cen—
tu ry Russian literary circles. Indeed, Dostoevsky, especially in his early years before his Siberian exile, was not indisposed to social considera—
tions.
Perhaps Soviet Russia’s coolness toward the great problems posed in Dostoevsky’s works can be understood by taking a close look at one particular work. For our task we have chosen the novel The Id io t.
Prince Myshkin and Nastasja Filippovna appear to have been of encou—
ragement to the Russian reader of past decades. The prince is the sym—
boi of the tragedy of love and, therefore, must be considered as rep re—
senting Dostoevsky’s concept of the perfect man, a Christ—like figure.
Nastasja, on the other hand, symbolizes tragedy of beauty. Past Soviet criticism maintained that not Myshkin but Nastasja Filippovna is the most tragic (7) and thus the central figure of The Idiot. In depicting the story of Nastasja’s doom, Dostoevsky, it is believed, succeeded in embodying in this image all the qualities of life. It is true, while following Nastasja Filippovna throughout the novel, we see and feel the magnetism of her beauty, but we also recognize in her personality intelligence and purity. Thus, she reflects convincingly the incarnation of sensuous beauty. Nevertheless, we cannot overlook in this "heroine"
the presence of inner purity.
But it is not only beauty which becomes the destructive factor and the reason for her apparent moral bankruptcy. Even as an orphan child she was "chosen" by the rich and pleasure—hungry Totsky who was captivated by the beauty inherent in her body as well as by the quali—
ties of her innocent soul. By keeping her in solitude, completely depen—
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dent on him, he hoped to mold and control her mind, her wishes and desires, and thus prepare her for his ultim ate pleasure when glory, sue—
cess and youth would leave him. That Nastasja was a human being, capable of thinking and thinking deeply, never occurred to him. Only after Afanasy Ivanovich decided to marry a rich woman in Petersburg, did Totsky recognize w ith horror that the girl he had imprisoned in his little village kingdom, like an object of luxury and comfort, the g irl he had depraved and corrupted, had nothing but an intense feeling of hatred for him. Thus, the suave, perfect gentleman of society found before himself suddenly a fantastic woman, defiled yet pure, danger—
ously beautiful yet mature, a woman who could not be bought.
Ganya Ivolgin, the critic Ermilov (8) says, was created by Dosto—
evsky to demonstrate the power of money in a capitalistic society. But Dostoevsky proves in The Id io t that even a firs t-ra te scoundrel, like Ivolgin, is in the final analysis a product of and not free from the norms and values set by forces which are beyond the dictates of purely u tili—
tarian considerations. Even his self-complacent originality of being a scoundrel must collapse as soon as he is forced to choose openly bet—
ween recognized evil and the remainders of that which makes man into a human being. W ith Nastasja’s words, " I want to see into your soul for the last tim e", and Ganya’s reaction this imperative choice between his long—desired idol or money and his forgotten sense of honesty, Dostoevsky wanted to illustrate exactly the opposite of that which the interpretation of Erm ilov seems to express.
Soviet criticism of the author can be appreciated, and understood to some extent, if Dostoevsky’s works are read w ith pessimism, and from a lim ited and purely social point of view. However, his major characters, created w ith the express purpose of shedding light on the rotten world of Totskys and Rogozhins, fail miserably in their mission to visibly improve, or better, fellow—men, society or humanity. Yet man was Dostoevsky’s main concern. The symbol of beauty (Nastasja) and the incarnation of the "tru ly beautiful soul" (Myshkin) are, as it seems, gradually absorbed and destroyed by the vita l energies of evil at the end of the novel, as though these evil forces that live in the hearts of Rogozhin and Ip p o lit are the real and lasting laws of a cruel and rock—hearted universe. Any rebellion, be it violent or non-violent, is, as a first superficial reading of the novel might suggest, doomed to failure. Dostoevsky closes the door decisively for a constructive and positive solution to the problems of both, Nastasja and Prince Myshkin.
He destroys physical beauty and the beauty of the soul at the end of the novel.
Even the relationship between Nastasja and Myshkin loses its
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socially desired and practical effect if we consider the basic differences between the two. Nastasja prefers Rogozhin to Totsky because he is a true reflection of a rotten society, the insipidity of which the la tter tries to camouflage so desperately w ith flowers. She prefers rudeness to hypocrisy. Therefore, she decides to go to Rogozhin and to learn to act like Rogozhin. When Nastasja first meets Myshkin she recognizes in him her lonely dreams and her imaginary idol of man. But when Myshkin suddenly proposes marriage, it could be assumed that a posi- tive solution had been found: Nastasja should be able to follow the path of redemption and purification under the guiding hand of a man who symbolized Dostoevsky’s concept of perfect man. Nevertheless, this was impossible: time had run out.
Such a union could have been succesful only if the Prince had been capable of giving Nastasja natural love, i.e., that love which is usually responsible for union between man and woman. And Nastasja could not accept Myshkin’s love for it was tinted w ith a strong current of pity and compassion. Beauty — by its very nature proud — can never accept such an offer. Considering the marriage proposal from Myshkin, Nastasja realizes more than ever before the hum iliation of the position in which she finds herself. For her to return to a decent life is quite impossible. Dostoevsky, therefore, does not seek a happy solution for Nastasja but leads her down the dangerous path to final ruin.
Not only the worldly temptation of enticing beauty vanishes; the symbol of perfect man, the Prince, through whom Dostoevsky thought to create a Christ—like example for all men, retires to the mental in—
stitution whence he had come. We could presume that w ith this episode Dostoevsky admits the bankruptcy of his main hero, or we could simply conclude that the author saves his hero from complete failure by intro—
ducing a Deus ex machina, by taking earthly problems into the meta—
physical world, thus solving the mystery question of Myshkin’s task as if saying: "M y kingdom is not of this world." Such an interpretation would justify the nineteenth century Russian and also Erm ilov’s accu—
sation that Prince Myshkin, whether in his relationship w ith other people or as an example of a beautiful soul, created neither harmony nor unity, nor did he bring any positive and concrete improvement to the everyday life of his fellow—men.
But it should not be assumed, not for a single moment, that Dostoevsky intended to construct a universally acceptable recipe for life (Lebensplan) by creating his hero, Myshkin. Myshkin’s role in The Id io t should be analyzed in conjunction w ith the help of other Dosto—
evskian characters (9), and these should be regarded as ideas which in their struggle w ith one another constitute the real essence of human
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life. Myshkin’s and Alyosha’s (The Brothers Karamazov) inward cen—
ter, writes W illiam Hűbben, "is not in themselves or in their society but is part of the Divine". (10)
The secret of life ’s essential impulse, to sustain and to continue, should, according to Dostoevsky, not be sought in life itself but rather in the way a person lives his life. In his search for the way of life Christ became the shining example.
Having endured pain upon Himself, Christ demonstrated to the author the only possible way in which the eternal cycle of Stirb und Werde, of transformation and procreation, could reconcile the thinking mind w ith the incomprehensible wisdom of the creation. Such pain, such Weltschmerz, can only be mitigated by p ity and hum ility. And p ity and hum ility are, according to Dostoevsky, the greatest power, the only source and the imperative law responsible for the continued existence of mankind. Dostoevsky found in Christ this way of life. P ity for fellow—men was also Myshkin’s principal concern. Thus we w ill understand the author’s short equation w ritten in his notes to The Id io t: The Prince = Christ. Both draw no dividing line between the perception of an idea and its fulfillm ent; both are perfect men.
Dostoevsky, in The Idiot, was not an extremist after all. He neither created men who could assist his country to bring about the great changes for which the so-called progressive forces of past Russia hoped, nor was he possessed by the idea of obtaining absolute tru th . Rather, in Christ he found a way of life. For his concept of Christ expresses not so much an affirmation of faith as a proclamation of the divine truth. In Dostoevsky’s theology, it is not the perception of God that should be sought but rather the willingness to share equally in the suffering of fellow—men. In one of his last articles, Dostoevsky writes that he should prefer to stay w ith Christ even though one could prove to him that Christ is outside the truth. (11) A world, as revealed by Christ, is for him "the best of all possible worlds".
Russia of the past and of the present needed and needs more con—
crete guidance in order to achieve its long-desired goal, namely, equa—
lity in every sphere w ith the West: this Western critics should always remember. Highly esteemed in the Western world, Dostoevsky scholar—
ship cannot remain for long on the back burner in modern Russia. But if one lim its scholarship to purely social aspects of Dostoevsky’s works,
ship cannot remain for long on the back burner in modern Russia. But if one lim its scholarship to purely social aspects of Dostoevsky’s works,