notes from the underground-第14章

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II



But　the　period　of　my　dissipation　would　end　and　I　always　felt　very

sick　afterwards。　　It　was　followed　by　remorseI　tried　to　drive　it

away；　I　felt　too　sick。　　By　degrees；　however；　I　grew　used　to　that

too。　　I　grew　used　to　everything；　or　rather　I　voluntarily　resigned

myself　to　enduring　it。　　But　I　had　a　means　of　escape　that

reconciled　everythingthat　was　to　find　refuge　in　〃the　sublime

and　the　beautiful；〃　in　dreams；　of　course。　　I　was　a　terrible

dreamer；　I　would　dream　for　three　months　on　end；　tucked　away　in　my

corner；　and　you　may　believe　me　that　at　those　moments　I　had　no

resemblance　to　the　gentleman　who；　in　the　perturbation　of　his

chicken　heart；　put　a　collar　of　German　beaver　on　his　great…coat。　

I　suddenly　became　a　hero。　　I　would　not　have　admitted　my　six…foot

lieutenant　even　if　he　had　called　on　me。　　I　could　not　even　picture

him　before　me　then。　　What　were　my　dreams　and　how　I　could　satisfy

myself　with　themit　is　hard　to　say　now；　but　at　the　time　I　was

satisfied　with　them。　　Though；　indeed；　even　now；　I　am　to　some

extent　satisfied　with　them。　　Dreams　were　particularly　sweet　and

vivid　after　a　spell　of　dissipation；　they　came　with　remorse　and

with　tears；　with　curses　and　transports。　　There　were　moments　of

such　positive　intoxication；　of　such　happiness；　that　there　was　not

the　faintest　trace　of　irony　within　me；　on　my　honour。　　I　had

faith；　hope；　love。　　I　believed　blindly　at　such　times　that　by　some

miracle；　by　some　external　circumstance；　all　this　would　suddenly

open　out；　expand；　that　suddenly　a　vista　of　suitable

activitybeneficent；　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　meand　I

should　come　out　into　the　light　of　day；　almost　riding　a　white

horse　and　crowned　with　laurel。　　Anything　but　the　foremost　place　I

could　not　conceive　for　myself；　and　for　that　very　reason　I　quite

contentedly　occupied　the　lowest　in　reality。　　Either　to　be　a　hero

or　to　grovel　in　the　mudthere　was　nothing　between。　　That　was　my

ruin；　for　when　I　was　in　the　mud　I　comforted　myself　with　the

thought　that　at　other　times　I　was　a　hero；　and　the　hero　was　a

cloak　for　the　mud：　for　an　ordinary　man　it　was　shameful　to　defile

himself；　but　a　hero　was　too　lofty　to　be　utterly　defiled；　and　so

he　might　defile　himself。　It　is　worth　noting　that　these　attacks　of

the　〃sublime　and　the　beautiful〃　visited　me　even　during　the　period

of　dissipation　and　just　at　the　times　when　I　was　touching　the

bottom。　　They　came　in　separate　spurts；　as　though　reminding　me　of

themselves；　but　did　not　banish　the　dissipation　by　their

appearance。　　On　the　contrary；　they　seemed　to　add　a　zest　to　it　by

contrast；　and　were　only　sufficiently　present　to　serve　as　an

appetising　sauce。　　That　sauce　was　made　up　of　contradictions　and

sufferings；　of　agonising　inward　analysis；　and　all　these　pangs　and

pin…pricks　gave　a　certain　piquancy；　even　a　significance　to　my

dissipationin　fact；　completely　answered　the　purpose　of　an

appetising　sauce。　　There　was　a　certain　depth　of　meaning　in　it。　

And　I　could　hardly　have　resigned　myself　to　the　simple；　vulgar；

direct　debauchery　of　a　clerk　and　have　endured　all　the　filthiness

of　it。　　What　could　have　allured　me　about　it　then　and　have　drawn

me　at　night　into　the　street？　　No；　I　had　a　lofty　way　of　getting

out　of　it　all。



And　what　loving…kindness；　oh　Lord；　what　loving…kindness　I　felt　at

times　in　those　dreams　of　mine！　　in　those　〃flights　into　the

sublime　and　the　beautiful〃；　though　it　was　fantastic　love；　though

it　was　never　applied　to　anything　human　in　reality；　yet　there　was

so　much　of　this　love　that　one　did　not　feel　afterwards　even　the

impulse　to　apply　it　in　reality；　that　would　have　been　superfluous。　

Everything；　however；　passed　satisfactorily　by　a　lazy　and

fascinating　transition　into　the　sphere　of　art；　that　is；　into　the

beautiful　forms　of　life；　lying　ready；　largely　stolen　from　the

poets　and　novelists　and　adapted　to　all　sorts　of　needs　and　uses。　

I；　for　instance；　was　triumphant　over　everyone；　everyone；　of

course；　was　in　dust　and　ashes；　and　was　forced　spontaneously　to

recognise　my　superiority；　and　I　forgave　them　all。　　I　was　a　poet

and　a　grand　gentleman；　I　fell　in　love；　I　came　in　for　countless

millions　and　immediately　devoted　them　to　humanity；　and　at　the

same　time　I　confessed　before　all　the　people　my　shameful　deeds；

which；　of　course；　were　not　merely　shameful；　but　had　in　them　much

that　was　〃sublime　and　beautiful〃　something　in　the　Manfred　style。　

Everyone　would　kiss　me　and　weep　（what　idiots　they　would　be　if

they　did　not）；　while　I　should　go　barefoot　and　hungry　preaching

new　ideas　and　fighting　a　victorious　Austerlitz　against　the

obscurantists。　　Then　the　band　would　play　a　march；　an　amnesty

would　be　declared；　the　Pope　would　agree　to　retire　from　Rome　to

Brazil；　then　there　would　be　a　ball　for　the　whole　of　Italy　at　the

Villa　Borghese　on　the　shores　of　Lake　Como；　Lake　Como　being　for

that　purpose　transferred　to　the　neighbourhood　of　Rome；　then　would

come　a　scene　in　the　bushes；　and　so　on；　and　so　onas　though　you

did　not　know　all　about　it？　　You　will　say　that　it　is　vulgar　and

contemptible　to　drag　all　this　into　public　after　all　the　tears　and

transports　which　I　have　myself　confessed。　　But　why　is　it

contemptible？　　Can　you　imagine　that　I　am　ashamed　of　it　all；　and

that　it　was　stupider　than　anything　in　your　life；　gentlemen？　　And

I　can　assure　you　that　some　of　these　fancies　were　by　no　means

badly　composed。。。。　It　did　not　all　happen　on　the　shores　of　Lake

Como。　　And　yet　you　are　rightit　really　is　vulgar　and

contemptible。　　And　most　contemptible　of　all　it　is　that　now　I　am

attempting　to　justify　myself　to　you。　　And　even　more　contemptible

than　that　is　my　making　this　remark　now。　　But　that's　enough；　or

there　will　be　no　end　to　it；　each　step　will　be　more　contemptible

than　the　last。。。。



I　could　never　stand　more　than　three　months　of　dreaming　at　a　time

without　feeling　an　irresistible　desire　to　plunge　into　society。　

To　plunge　into　society　meant　to　visit　my　superior　at　the　office；

Anton　Antonitch　Syetotchkin。　　He　was　the　only　permanent

acquaintance　I　have　had　in　my　life；　and　I　wonder　at　the　fact

myself　now。　　But　I　only　went　to　see　him　when　that　phase　came　over

me；　and　when　my　dreams　had　reached　such　a　point　of　bliss　that　it

became　essential　at　once　to　embrace　my　fellows　and　all　mankind；

and　for　that　purpose　I　needed；　at　least；　one　human　being；

actually　existing。　　I　had　to　call　on　Anton　Antonitch；　however；　on

Tuesdayhis　at…home　day；　so　I　had　always　to　time　my　passionate

desire　to　embrace　humanity　so　that　it　might　fall　on　a　Tuesday。



This　Anton　Antonitch　lived　on　the　fourth　storey　in　a　house　in

Five　Corners；　in　four　low…pitched　rooms；　one　smaller　than　the

other；　of　a　particularly　frugal　and　sallow　appearance。　　He　had

two　daughters　and　their　aunt；　who　used　to　pour　out　the　tea。　　Of

the　daughters　one　was　thirteen　and　another　fourteen；　they　both

had　snub　noses；　and　I　was　awfully　shy　of　them　because　they　were

always　whispering　and　giggling　together。　　The　master　of　the　house

usually　sat　in　his　study　on　a　leather　couch　in　front　of　the　table

with　some　grey…headed　gentleman；　usually　a　colleague　from　our

office　or　some　other　department。　　I　never　saw　more　than　two　or

three　visitors　there；　always　the　same。　　They　talked　about　the

excise　duty；　about　business　in　the　senate；　about　salaries；　about

promotions；　about　His　Excellency；　and　the　best　means　of　pleasing

him；　and　so　on。　I　had　the　patience　to　sit　like　a　fool　beside

these　people　for　four　hours　at　a　stretch；　listening　to　them

without　knowing　what　to　say　to　them　or　venturing　to　say　a　word。　

I　became　stupefied；　several　times　I　felt　myself　perspiring；　I　was

overcome　by　a　sort　of　paralysis；　but　this　was　pleasant　and　good

for　me。　　On　returning　home　I　deferred　for　a　time　my　desire　to

embrace　all　mankind。



I　had　however　one　other　acquaintance　of　a　sort；　Simonov；　who　was

an　old　schoolfellow。　　I　had　a　number　of　schoolfellows；　indeed；　in

Petersburg；　bu