notes from the underground-第2章

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towns。）　It　would　have　been　quite　enough；　for　instance；　to　have

the　consciousness　by　which　all　so…called　direct　persons　and　men

of　action　live。　　I　bet　you　think　I　am　writing　all　this　from

affectation；　to　be　witty　at　the　expense　of　men　of　action；　and

what　is　more；　that　from　ill…bred　affectation；　I　am　clanking　a

sword　like　my　officer。　　But；　gentlemen；　whoever　can　pride　himself

on　his　diseases　and　even　swagger　over　them？



Though；　after　all；　everyone　does　do　that；　people　do　pride

themselves　on　their　diseases；　and　I　do；　may　be；　more　than　anyone。　

We　will　not　dispute　it；　my　contention　was　absurd。　　But　yet　I　am

firmly　persuaded　that　a　great　deal　of　consciousness；　every　sort

of　consciousness；　in　fact；　is　a　disease。　　I　stick　to　that。　　Let

us　leave　that；　too；　for　a　minute。　　Tell　me　this：　why　does　it

happen　that　at　the　very；　yes；　at　the　very　moments　when　I　am　most

capable　of　feeling　every　refinement　of　all　that　is　〃sublime　and

beautiful；〃　as　they　used　to　say　at　one　time；　it　would；　as　though

of　design；　happen　to　me　not　only　to　feel　but　to　do　such　ugly

things；　such　that　。。。　Well；　in　short；　actions　that　all；　perhaps；

commit；　but　which；　as　though　purposely；　occurred　to　me　at　the

very　time　when　I　was　most　conscious　that　they　ought　not　to　be

committed。　　The　more　conscious　I　was　of　goodness　and　of　all　that

was　〃sublime　and　beautiful；〃　the　more　deeply　I　sank　into　my　mire

and　the　more　ready　I　was　to　sink　in　it　altogether。　　But　the　chief

point　was　that　all　this　was；　as　it　were；　not　accidental　in　me；

but　as　though　it　were　bound　to　be　so。　　It　was　as　though　it　were

my　most　normal　condition；　and　not　in　the　least　disease　or

depravity；　so　that　at　last　all　desire　in　me　to　struggle　against

this　depravity　passed。　　It　ended　by　my　almost　believing　（perhaps

actually　believing）　that　this　was　perhaps　my　normal　condition。　

But　at　first；　in　the　beginning；　what　agonies　I　endured　in　that

struggle！　　　I　did　not　believe　it　was　the　same　with　other　people；

and　all　my　life　I　hid　this　fact　about　myself　as　a　secret。　　I　was

ashamed　（even　now；　perhaps；　I　am　ashamed）：　I　got　to　the　point　of

feeling　a　sort　of　secret　abnormal；　despicable　enjoyment　in

returning　home　to　my　corner　on　some　disgusting　Petersburg　night；

acutely　conscious　that　that　day　I　had　committed　a　loathsome

action　again；　that　what　was　done　could　never　be　undone；　and

secretly；　inwardly　gnawing；　gnawing　at　myself　for　it；　tearing　and

consuming　myself　till　at　last　the　bitterness　turned　into　a　sort

of　shameful　accursed　sweetness；　and　at　lastinto　positive　real

enjoyment！　　　Yes；　into　enjoyment；　into　enjoyment！　　　I　insist　upon

that。　　I　have　spoken　of　this　because　I　keep　wanting　to　know　for　a

fact　whether　other　people　feel　such　enjoyment？　　I　will　explain；

the　enjoyment　was　just　from　the　too　intense　consciousness　of

one's　own　degradation；　it　was　from　feeling　oneself　that　one　had

reached　the　last　barrier；　that　it　was　horrible；　but　that　it　could

not　be　otherwise；　that　there　was　no　escape　for　you；　that　you

never　could　become　a　different　man；　that　even　if　time　and　faith

were　still　left　you　to　change　into　something　different　you　would

most　likely　not　wish　to　change；　or　if　you　did　wish　to；　even　then

you　would　do　nothing；　because　perhaps　in　reality　there　was

nothing　for　you　to　change　into。　　And　the　worst　of　it　was；　and　the

root　of　it　all；　that　it　was　all　in　accord　with　the　normal

fundamental　laws　of　over…acute　consciousness；　and　with　the

inertia　that　was　the　direct　result　of　those　laws；　and　that

consequently　one　was　not　only　unable　to　change　but　could　do

absolutely　nothing。　　Thus　it　would　follow；　as　the　result　of　acute

consciousness；　that　one　is　not　to　blame　in　being　a　scoundrel；　as

though　that　were　any　consolation　to　the　scoundrel　once　he　has

come　to　realise　that　he　actually　is　a　scoundrel。　　But　enough。。。。

Ech；　I　have　talked　a　lot　of　nonsense；　but　what　have　I　explained？　

How　is　enjoyment　in　this　to　be　explained？　　But　I　will　explain　it。　

I　will　get　to　the　bottom　of　it！　　　That　is　why　I　have　taken　up　my

pen。。。。



I；　for　instance；　have　a　great　deal　of　amour　propre。　　I　am　as

suspicious　and　prone　to　take　offence　as　a　humpback　or　a　dwarf。　

But　upon　my　word　I　sometimes　have　had　moments　when　if　I　had

happened　to　be　slapped　in　the　face　I　should；　perhaps；　have　been

positively　glad　of　it。　　I　say；　in　earnest；　that　I　should　probably

have　been　able　to　discover　even　in　that　a　peculiar　sort　of

enjoymentthe　enjoyment；　of　course；　of　despair；　but　in　despair

there　are　the　most　intense　enjoyments；　especially　when　one　is

very　acutely　conscious　of　the　hopelessness　of　one's　position。　

And　when　one　is　slapped　in　the　facewhy　then　the　consciousness

of　being　rubbed　into　a　pulp　would　positively　overwhelm　one。　　The

worst　of　it　is；　look　at　it　which　way　one　will；　it　still　turns　out

that　I　was　always　the　most　to　blame　in　everything。　　And　what　is

most　humiliating　of　all；　to　blame　for　no　fault　of　my　own　but；　so

to　say；　through　the　laws　of　nature。　　In　the　first　place；　to　blame

because　I　am　cleverer　than　any　of　the　people　surrounding　me。　（I

have　always　considered　myself　cleverer　than　any　of　the　people

surrounding　me；　and　sometimes；　would　you　believe　it；　have　been

positively　ashamed　of　it。　　At　any　rate；　I　have　all　my　life；　as　it

were；　turned　my　eyes　away　and　never　could　look　people　straight　in

the　face。）　To　blame；　finally；　because　even　if　I　had　had

magnanimity；　I　should　only　have　had　more　suffering　from　the　sense

of　its　uselessness。　　I　should　certainly　have　never　been　able　to

do　anything　from　being　magnanimousneither　to　forgive；　for　my

assailant　would　perhaps　have　slapped　me　from　the　laws　of　nature；

and　one　cannot　forgive　the　laws　of　nature；　nor　to　forget；　for

even　if　it　were　owing　to　the　laws　of　nature；　it　is　insulting　all

the　same。　　Finally；　even　if　I　had　wanted　to　be　anything　but

magnanimous；　had　desired　on　the　contrary　to　revenge　myself　on　my

assailant；　I　could　not　have　revenged　myself　on　any　one　for

anything　because　I　should　certainly　never　have　made　up　my　mind　to

do　anything；　even　if　I　had　been　able　to。　　Why　should　I　not　have

made　up　my　mind？　　About　that　in　particular　I　want　to　say　a　few

words。





III



With　people　who　know　how　to　revenge　themselves　and　to　stand　up

for　themselves　in　general；　how　is　it　done？　Why；　when　they　are

possessed；　let　us　suppose；　by　the　feeling　of　revenge；　then　for

the　time　there　is　nothing　else　but　that　feeling　left　in　their

whole　being。　　Such　a　gentleman　simply　dashes　straight　for　his

object　like　an　infuriated　bull　with　its　horns　down；　and　nothing

but　a　wall　will　stop　him。　　（By　the　way：　facing　the　wall；　such

gentlementhat　is；　the　〃direct〃　persons　and　men　of　actionare

genuinely　nonplussed。　　For　them　a　wall　is　not　an　evasion；　as　for

us　people　who　think　and　consequently　do　nothing；　it　is　not　an

excuse　for　turning　aside；　an　excuse　for　which　we　are　always　very

glad；　though　we　scarcely　believe　in　it　ourselves；　as　a　rule。　　No；

they　are　nonplussed　in　all　sincerity。　　The　wall　has　for　them

something　tranquillising；　morally　soothing；　final；　maybe　even

something　mysterious　。。。　but　of　the　wall　later。）　　Well；　such　a

direct　person　I　regard　as　the　real　normal　man；　as　his　tender

mother　nature　wished　to　see　him　when　she　graciously　brought　him

into　being　on　the　earth。　　I　envy　such　a　man　till　I　am　green　in

the　face。　　He　is　stupid。　　I　am　not　disputing　that；　but　perhaps

the　normal　man　should　be　stupid；　how　do　you　know？　　Perhaps　it　is

very　beautiful；　in　fact。　　And　I　am　the　more　persuaded　of　that

suspicion；　if　one　can　call　it　so；　by　the　fact　that　if　you　take；

for　instance；　the　antithesis　of　the　normal　man；　that　is；　the　man

of　acute　consciousness；　who　has　come；　of　course；　not　out　of　the

lap　of　nature　but　out　of　a　retort　（this　is　almost　mysticism；

gentlemen；　but　I　suspect　this；　too）；　this　retort…made　man　is

sometimes　so　nonplussed　in　the　presence　of　his　antithesis　that

with　all　his　exaggerated　consciousness　he　genuinely　thinks　of

himself　as　a　mouse　and　not　a　man。　　It　may　be　an　acutel