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p. 411Chapter 7

‘Our group’ meetslocked

p. 411Chapter 7

‘Our group’ meetslocked

  • Fyodor Dostoevsky
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1

Virginsky lived in his own house, that is, his wife’s house, on Muravinaya Street. It was a one-storey wooden building with no lodgers living there. Some fifteen guests had gathered on the pretext of celebrating the host’s birthday; but the occasion was not at all like the usual provincial birthday party. At the beginning of their married life together the Virginskys had decided once and for all that it was stupid to invite guests to celebrate their birthdays since ‘there was really nothing to rejoice about.’ In just a few years they’d managed to cut themselves off from society completely. Although a man of ability and ‘by no means poor’, Virginsky struck everyone as somewhat eccentric, preferring his solitude and, what’s more, ‘arrogant’ in his dealings with others. Madame Virginskaya, a midwife by profession, by virtue of that fact alone occupied a rung below everyone else on the social ladder; she was even lower than the priest’s wife in spite of her husband’s rank as an officer. But there was not a trace in her of the humility appropriate to her station. And after the ridiculous and unforgivably blatant affair she had had, on principle, with a scoundrel, Captain Lebyadkin, even the most indulgent of our ladies shunned her with notable contempt. But Madame Virginskaya took it as if that was precisely what she wanted. It’s worth noting that those same stern ladies, whenever they found themselves in an interesting predicament, always turned to Arina Prokhorovna (that is, Madame Virginskaya), by-passing entirely the three other midwives in town. She was even sent for by the wives of landowners living out in the country—so great was everyone’s faith in her knowledge, luck, and skill in critical cases. It ended up with her practising only in the wealthiest of homes; she had a passionate love of money. Once she realized the extent of her power, she made no attempt to curb her personality. Perhaps it was even for p. 412good reason that in her practice she frightened nervous patients in the best houses with incredibly nihilistic disregard for social decorum or by mocking ‘everything holy’, precisely when the ‘holy’ might have proven most useful. Our town doctor, Rozanov, who also delivered babies, testified that once, when a patient was howling in pain and calling on the Almighty, Arina Prokhorovna suddenly, ‘like a pistol shot’, let fire with a brace of free-thinking remarks which so terrified the patient that it greatly accelerated her delivery. Even though she was a nihilist, when the occasion arose Arina Prokhorovna did not disdain certain social prejudices, even quite old-fashioned ones, if they could prove useful to her. For example, she’d never miss the christening of a baby she delivered; she always arrived wearing a green silk dress with a train, her hair arranged in curls and ringlets, even though at all other times she seemed to take special delight in her own slovenliness. And although during the ceremony she always maintained a ‘most impudent attitude’ which embarrassed the officiating clergy, at the end of the christening she invariably passed around the champagne (which was really the reason she came and why she got so dressed up), and heaven help anyone who took a glass without leaving her a small consideration on the tray.

The guests gathered at Virginsky’s house that evening—almost all men—had a casual and unusual appearance. There were no refreshments or card games. In the midst of the large living-room, decorated with old blue wallpaper, two tables had been pushed together and covered with a large, not altogether clean tablecloth, on which stood two boiling samovars. At the foot of the table was a huge tray holding twenty-five glasses and a basket of French bread cut into a number of small pieces, a bit like a boarding school for upper-class boys and girls. Tea was poured by the hostess’s thirty-year-old spinster sister, a taciturn and venomous creature with no eyebrows and pale yellow hair, but who believed in the new ideas and put the fear of God into Virginsky in his domestic life. There were only three women in the room: the hostess herself, the sister without eyebrows, and Virginsky’s sister, a young girl who’d just arrived from p. 413Petersburg. Arina Prokhorovna, an imposing woman about twenty-seven years old, not bad-looking, a little dishevelled, wearing an ordinary greenish woollen dress, sat boldly surveying the guests, as if eager to say, ‘You see I’m not afraid of anything.’ The newly arrived Miss Virginskaya, a student and nihilist, also not bad-looking, rather short, well-fed, and round as a little ball, with very red cheeks, sat next to Arina Prokhorovna. She still had on her travelling dress, held a bundle of papers in her hand, and was examining the guests with impatient, roving eyes. That evening Virginsky himself was feeling somewhat indisposed, but he emerged to sit in an armchair next to the table. All the guests were seated and the orderly way in which they were arranged around the table suggested a formal meeting. Obviously everyone was waiting for something, and as they waited they carried on loud, somewhat irrelevant conversations. When Stavrogin and Verkhovensky appeared, everyone suddenly fell silent.

But let me provide some explanation to make things a little clearer.

I think all these people had really come together in the pleasant hope that they’d hear something particularly interesting, and had been so apprised in advance. They represented the flower of reddest liberalism in our ancient town and had been carefully selected by Virginsky to attend this ‘meeting’. I must observe that several of them (though not very many) had never visited his house before. Of course, the majority of the guests had no very clear idea why they’d been summoned. True, at the time they all regarded Peter Stepanovich as an emissary and plenipotentiary from abroad; this idea had somehow taken root, and naturally flattered them. Meanwhile, among this small group of citizens who’d gathered under the guise of a birthday celebration, there were a few people who’d already received definite instructions. Peter Verkhovensky had managed to form a so-called ‘group of five’ in our town, similar to the one he’d already established in Moscow, and the one that, it now turns out, he’d formed among army officers in our district. It’s said he also had one in Kh— province. The chosen members of this group now sat around the common table and skilfully p. 414managed to appear so ordinary that no one could pick them out. Since it’s no longer a secret, they were: first, Liputin, then Virginsky himself, the long-eared Shigalyov, who was Mrs Virginskaya’s brother, Lyamshin, and finally, a certain Tolkachenko—a strange character, a man of about forty, famous for his profound knowledge of the common people, primarily scoundrels and thieves, who made a point of frequenting taverns (though not merely to study the common people), and who prided himself on his poor apparel, greasy boots, shifty look, and his florid use of popular language. Once or twice before this Lyamshin had brought him to an evening at Stepan Trofimovich’s house, where, however, he failed to create any particular impression. He would appear in our town on occasion, primarily when he was unemployed; he used to work on the railway. Each of these people had agreed to join the group of five in the firm belief that it was merely one among hundreds and thousands of such groups scattered throughout Russia, every one of which depended on some enormous, central, but secret power, that in turn was organically connected to the European revolutionary movement. Unfortunately, I must confess that at the time there was considerable dissension among them. The trouble was that although they’d been waiting for Peter Verkhovensky’s arrival since spring, an event announced to them first by Tolkachenko, then by Shigalyov who’d just arrived in town, and although they were expecting extraordinary miracles from him and had all joined the group at his first summons, without the least objection, still, as soon as they’d constituted this group of five, they all felt somehow offended, I suspect because of the alacrity with which each had agreed to join. Each agreed, of course, out of a magnanimous embarrassment, lest it be said later that he didn’t dare join the group; nevertheless, Peter Verkhovensky should have appreciated their noble deed, and at least should have rewarded them with some important bit of news. But Verkhovensky had no intention of satisfying their legitimate curiosity and gave them no extra information at all; in general he treated them with marked severity, even disregard. This was really irritating, and one member, p. 415Shigalyov, was already inciting the group to ‘demand an account’, but not of course here at Virginsky’s house, where so many outsiders were present.

Speaking of outsiders, I also have an idea that the above-mentioned members of the first group of five were inclined to suspect among the guests at Virginsky’s house that evening the presence of members of other unknown groups, also formed in our town by the same Verkhovensky, and belonging to the same secret organization; the result was that in the end everyone present suspected everyone else and they struck a variety of poses—all of which imbued the meeting with a rather confusing, even slightly romantic character. However, there were some people quite above any suspicion. For example, one major on active service, a close relative of Virginsky’s, an absolutely innocent man who hadn’t even been invited, but who came to the party of his own accord, so that it was impossible not to admit him. But the host wasn’t the least bit worried because the major ‘couldn’t possibly be an informer’; for in spite of his stupidity, all his life he had loved to frequent those places where extreme liberals congregated; and, while he himself didn’t share their views, he loved to listen to them. Besides, he was already compromised: it happened that once in his youth whole bundles of The Bell* and various political pamphlets had passed through his hands; although he was afraid even to open them, he considered it beneath contempt to refuse to distribute them—there are still Russians just like that to this very day. The remaining guests represented either a type of noble self-esteem, repressed and embittered, or they were still in the first flush of magnanimous youthful fervour. There were also two or three teachers, one of whom, lame and aged about forty-five, who taught at our local gymnasium, was a venomous and extremely vain man. There were also two or three officers. Of the latter, one was a young artillery officer who’d arrived a few days ago from his military training institution; he was a taciturn lad who’d yet to make many acquaintances, and had suddenly turned up at Virginsky’s with a pencil in hand. He scarcely participated in the conversation, but constantly wrote things p. 416down in a little notebook. Everyone saw this, but for some reason pretended not to. There was also an idle divinity student, the same one who’d helped Lyamshin plant the indecent photographs in the book-pedlar’s bag. He was a large lad with a free-and-easy, but at the same time mistrustful manner, and with a perpetual sarcastic smile on a face that radiated serene, triumphant superiority. I don’t know why, but the son of our town mayor was also present—that nasty, prematurely dissipated lad about whom I spoke before in connection with the second lieutenant’s wife. He sat in silence the entire evening. Finally, there was a gymnasium student, a temperamental, tousled lad of eighteen, who sat there with the gloomy look of a man whose pride’s been hurt and who’s suffering on account of his eighteen years. This little fellow, as was later discovered to everyone’s astonishment, was already the head of an independent group of conspirators formed in the upper form of his gymnasium. I’ve made no mention of Shatov: he was sitting at the far end of the table, his chair pushed back away from the others, and was staring at the floor in grim silence. He refused both tea and bread, and held on to his cap the whole time, as if wishing to make clear he wasn’t a guest, but had come on business, and would get up and leave whenever he wanted. Not far from him sat Kirillov who was also very quiet, but he wasn’t staring at the floor; on the contrary, he fixed his steady, lustreless gaze on every speaker, and listened to everything without the least agitation or surprise. A few guests who’d never seen him before gave him stealthy, curious looks. It’s not clear whether Madame Virginskaya herself knew anything about the existence of the group of five. I suspect she knew everything, probably from her spouse. Of course the female student was not party to anything, but she had her own worries. She was intending to spend only a day or two in town, and then travel through all university towns to ‘take part in the sufferings of impoverished students and rouse them to protest’. She was carrying several hundred copies of a printed appeal, one she’d composed herself, apparently. It’s curious, but the gymnasium student conceived a mortal p. 417hatred for her at first glance, although he’d never seen her before in his life; she felt the same about him. The major was an uncle of hers and was meeting her today for the first time in ten years. When Stavrogin and Verkhovensky arrived, her cheeks were as red as cranberries: she’d just quarrelled with her uncle on account of his views on the woman’s question.

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Verkhovensky flung himself into the armchair at the head of the table with astonishing nonchalance and greeted hardly anyone present. His expression was disdainful, even arrogant. Stavrogin bowed politely to one and all but, in spite of the fact that they had been waiting for them, everyone, as if acting on orders, pretended not to notice their arrival. Their hostess turned sternly to Stavrogin as soon as he’d taken his seat.

‘Would you like some tea, Stavrogin?’

‘Please,’ he replied.

‘Some tea for Stavrogin,’ she commanded her sister, who was pouring. ‘Would you like some, too?’ (This was directed at Verkhovensky.)

‘Yes, of course. What a thing to ask your guests! And give me some cream in it. You always serve such filthy water instead of tea, and at a birthday party, too!’

‘What? So you recognize birthdays, do you?’ the female student asked with a laugh. ‘We were just talking about that.’

‘That’s old hat,’ muttered the gymnasium student at the other end of the table.

‘What’s old hat about it? It’s not old hat to disregard superstitions, even the most harmless ones; on the contrary, it’s still quite new, to everyone’s shame,’ the female student declared immediately, leaning forward in her chair. ‘Moreover, there’s no such thing as a harmless superstition,’ she added bitterly.

‘I merely wanted to say’, the gymnasium student replied, getting terribly agitated, ‘that although superstitions are old-fashioned of course, and must be eliminated, everyone p. 418already knows that birthdays are stupid, and it’s very old hat to waste valuable time that’s already been wasted enough all over the world; therefore, one ought to apply one’s wits to more useful subjects…’

‘You go on at such length, I can’t understand a thing,’ cried the female student.

‘I think everyone has the right to express his views as well as the next person, and if, like everyone else, I want to state my opinion, then…’

‘No one’s taking away your right to express your opinion,’ their hostess said, cutting him off abruptly. ‘You’re merely being asked not to ramble on, because no one can understand you.’

‘Permit me to observe, however, that you have no respect for me; if I can’t get my thoughts together, it’s not because I don’t have any, rather it’s that I have an excess of them…’ muttered the gymnasium student almost in despair, and he became very confused.

‘If you don’t know how to speak, then shut up,’ the female student blurted out.

The gymnasium student jumped up from his chair.

‘I merely wanted to state’, he cried, burning with embarrassment and afraid to look around, ‘that you only want to show off your intelligence because Mr Stavrogin came in—that’s what!’

‘That’s a filthy and immoral thing to say and reveals the inadequacy of your intellectual development. I ask you not to address me again,’ the female student rattled on.

‘Stavrogin,’ Madame Virginskaya began, ‘before you came in everyone Was arguing about the rights of families—including this officer right here.’ She nodded at her relative, the major. ‘Now, of course, I’m not going to bother you with nonsense like that, which was settled some time ago. But where could all these family rights and obligations have come from, in the sense of the superstition in which they appear to us now? That’s our question. What’s your opinion?’

‘How do you mean, where could they have come from?’ Stavrogin repeated the question.

p. 419‘I mean, we know, for example, the superstition about God derived from thunder and lightning,’ the female student broke in again suddenly, almost assaulting Stavrogin with her eyes. ‘It’s only too well known that primitive man, terrified by thunder and lightning, deified his invisible enemy, conscious of his own weakness with regard to them. But where did superstitions about the family come from? Where could the family itself have come from?’

‘That’s not quite the same thing…’ said Madame Virginskaya, trying to stop her.

‘I’m afraid the answer to your last question would be rather risqué,’ replied Stavrogin.

‘How so?’ the student asked, leaning forward.

Titters arose from the group of teachers, echoed immediately by Lyamshin and the gymnasium student at the other end of the table; then the major laughed hoarsely.

‘You ought to be writing vaudevilles,’ Madame Virginskaya quipped to Stavrogin.

‘A remark like that does you no credit, whatever your name is,’ the female student snapped, now decidedly irritated.

‘Don’t you go attacking people like that, dear!’ the major blurted out. ‘You’re a young lady; you should behave modestly. You’re acting as if you just sat on a pin.’

‘I’d appreciate it if you kept quiet and didn’t address me in such a familiar way with your disgusting comparisons. I’ve never seen you before and prefer not to acknowledge you as a relative of mine.’

‘But I’m your uncle, dear; I carried you in my arms when you were a baby!’

‘What do I care what you carried in your arms. I didn’t ask you to carry me; in other words, Mr Impolite Officer, you wanted to carry me. Let me remind you that you have no right to address me in a familiar manner, unless it’s as a fellow citizen; I forbid it once and for all.’

‘They’re all like that!’ the major cried, banging his fist on the table and turning to Stavrogin who was sitting across from him. ‘Yes, sir, I must say, I love liberalism and contemporary ideas and I love to listen to intelligent conversation, p. 420but, I warn you, only from men. From women, from these modern blabbermouths—no, sir, it’s too painful! Stop that wiggling!’ he shouted at the female student who was bouncing about on her chair. ‘No, I have the right to speak too; I’ve been offended.’

‘You’re merely interfering with others and you can’t say anything yourself,’ grumbled his hostess indignantly.

‘No, I’ll have my say,’ the major cried heatedly, turning to Stavrogin. ‘I’m counting on you, Mr Stavrogin, since you’ve just arrived, even though I haven’t had the honour of knowing you. Without men, they’ll perish like flies—that’s what I think. The key to this entire woman’s question of theirs is simply a lack of originality. I assure you the whole woman’s question was thought up for them by men, out of sheer stupidity, to our own disadvantage. I only thank God I’m not married! They haven’t the least sense of diversity, sir; they can’t invent the simplest design; men have to create designs for them! Look at her: I used to carry her around in my arms; when she was ten I danced the mazurka with her; today, when she arrived here, I naturally rushed to embrace her, but the second thing she says to me is there’s no such thing as God. I wouldn’t mind if it had been the third thing, instead of the second, but she was in such a rush! Well, let’s grant there are some intelligent people who don’t believe in God; that’s after all a result of their intelligence, but you, I tell her, you’re just a kid, what do you know about God? Some boy, some student must have taught you; and if he’d taught you to light lamps in front of icons, you’d be doing that instead.’

‘You’re lying. You’re a wicked man; I just pointed out how groundless your position was,’ replied the female student disdainfully, as if unwilling to waste her breath explaining things to this man. ‘I said earlier we were all instructed according to the catechism: “If you honour your mother and father, you’ll enjoy long life and be rewarded with riches.” That’s what it says in the Ten Commandments. If God found it necessary to promise rewards for love, your God must be immoral. That’s what I told you before. And it wasn’t the second thing; I said it because you p. 421were asserting your rights. Whose fault is it you’re stupid and still don’t understand? You’re offended and angry—that’s the problem with your entire generation.’

‘You silly goose!’ said the major.

‘And you’re a fool.’

‘Go on, call me names!’

‘Wait a minute, Kapiton Maksimovich. You yourself told me you don’t believe in God,’ Liputin squeaked at the other end of the table.

‘What if I did? That’s a different matter altogether! Perhaps I do believe, but not entirely. And even though I don’t believe entirely, I still don’t say that God ought to be shot. When I was serving in the Hussars I used to think about God. There are lots of poems in which hussars drink and have a good time. Well, perhaps I used to drink too, but believe me, I’d also jump out of bed at night and stand in my socks crossing myself in front of the icons, asking God to give me faith because I could find no peace even then, not knowing if there was a God or not. I had a very rough time of it! In the morning, of course, I’d amuse myself, and once again my faith would seem to disappear; as a rule I’ve noticed that faith always disappears in the daytime.’

‘You wouldn’t have a pack of playing cards, would you?’ Verkhovensky said, turning to Madame Virginskaya and yawning openly.

I sympathize entirely with your question, entirely!’ the female student burst out, flushing with indignation at the major’s words.

‘Precious time is being wasted listening to such stupid conversation,’ their hostess snapped and looked at her husband severely.

The female student drew herself up:

‘I’d like to report to this meeting on the sufferings and protests of students, but since time is being wasted in immoral conversation…’

‘There’s no such thing as morality and immorality!’ said the gymnasium student, unable to restrain himself, as soon as the female student had begun.

p. 422‘I knew that, Mr Gymnasium Student, long before it was ever taught to you.’

‘And I maintain’, he cried in a frenzy, ‘that you’re a child who’s come from Petersburg to enlighten us, whereas we already know everything. As for the Commandment: “Honour thy father and thy mother” which you didn’t even quote correctly, everyone in Russia since the time of Belinsky has known it was immoral.’

‘Will this never end?’ Madame Virginskaya asked her husband in a resolute voice. As the hostess, she blushed at the trivial nature of their conversation, especially when she noticed several smiles and even consternation among the new arrivals.

‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ said Virginsky, suddenly raising his voice, ‘if someone wishes to begin talking about something more appropriate to our business or has anything to report, I propose he do so without wasting any more time.’

‘I should like to pose one question,’ said the lame teacher softly, who up to this point had sat very decorously in total silence. ‘I’d like to know whether sitting here, now, we constitute some meeting, or whether we’re merely a collection of ordinary mortals come together as guests at a party? I’m asking more for the sake of form and so as not to remain in ignorance.’

This ‘clever’ question created an impression: everyone exchanged glances, as if waiting for someone else to answer it; suddenly everyone, as if on command, turned to look at Verkhovensky and Stavrogin.

I propose we vote on an answer to the following question: “Do we constitute a meeting, or not?” ’ said Madame Virginskaya.

I second the motion,’ Liputin replied, ‘although the question is a bit vague.’

I second it, too… Second,’ other voices were heard.

I think it would introduce some order into our proceedings,’ Virginsky confirmed.

‘Well, let’s vote!’ declared the hostess. ‘Lyamshin, please sit down at the piano; you can cast your ballot from there when everyone starts to vote.’

p. 423‘Again?’ cried Lyamshin. ‘Haven’t I thumped enough for you?’

‘I insist; sit down and play. Don’t you want to serve the cause?’

‘I can assure you, Arina Prokhorovna, no one’s eavesdropping. It’s your imagination. Besides, the windows are high and even if someone were listening in, he wouldn’t understand anything.’

‘We don’t understand anything either,’ someone muttered.

‘I maintain that caution is always necessary. Just in case there are any spies,’ she said, turning to Verkhovensky to explain. ‘Let them listen out on the street and they’ll hear us having a birthday party with music.’

‘Oh, hell!’ Lyamshin said. He sat down at the piano and began banging out some waltz, almost pounding his fists on the keys.

‘Those in favour of having a meeting raise their right hands,’ Madame Virginskaya proposed.

Some did, others didn’t. Some people raised their hands and then lowered them. Then they reconsidered and raised them again.

‘Damn it all! I don’t understand a thing!’ cried an officer. ‘Nor do I!’ said another.

‘Well, I do understand,’ cried a third. ‘Raise your hand if you want to vote “yes”.’

‘What does “yes” mean?’

‘We’re having a meeting.’

‘No, that we’re not having a meeting.’

I voted for having a meeting,’ the gymnasium student cried, turning to Madame Virginskaya.

‘Then why didn’t you raise your hand?’

‘I was looking at you; you didn’t raise your hand so I didn’t raise mine.’

‘How stupid, I didn’t raise my hand because I was making the motion. Ladies and gentlemen, I propose we do it another way: those in favour of a meeting sit still and keep their hands down. Those opposed to a meeting raise their right hands.’

‘Those who oppose it?’ the gymnasium student asked, repeating the question.

p. 424‘Are you doing it on purpose?’ Madame Virginskaya cried in a rage.

‘No, wait a minute, those who favour it or oppose it, because it has to be specified,’ chimed in two or three other voices.

‘Those who oppose it, oppose.’

‘Well, and what are they supposed to do? Raise their hands or not, if they oppose it?’ cried the officer.

‘Hey, we’re still not used to a constitution!’ observed the major.

‘Mr Lyamshin, do me a favour, you’re banging so loud no one can hear a thing,’ said the lame teacher.

‘I swear, Arina Prokhorovna, no one’s eavesdropping,’ Lyamshin cried, jumping up. ‘I don’t want to play! I came as a guest, not to thump on the piano!’

‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ Virginsky proposed, ‘just speak up: is this a meeting or not?’

‘Yes, it’s a meeting, yes it is!’ was heard on all sides.

‘If that’s the case, there’s nothing to vote on. Enough. Are you satisfied, ladies and gentlemen, or do we need to vote?’

‘No, no need, we understand!’

‘Perhaps someone opposes a meeting?’

‘No, no, we’re all in favour.’

‘But what does it mean to have a meeting?’ cried one voice. No one answered him.

‘We have to elect a chairman,’ voices cried from different parts of the room.

‘The host, the host, of course!’

‘Ladies and gentlemen, if so,’ the newly elected Virginsky began, ‘I’d like to propose a motion: if anyone would like to speak about a subject more appropriate to our business or make a report, let him proceed without wasting any more time.’

General silence ensued. All eyes turned again to Stavrogin and Verkhovensky.

‘Verkhovensky, don’t you have anything to report to us?’ Madame Virginskaya asked directly.

‘Absolutely nothing,’ he replied, yawning and stretching on his chair. ‘I’d really like a glass of brandy, though.’

p. 425‘Stavrogin, what about you?’

‘No thank you, I don’t drink.’

‘I mean, would you like to speak or not? I wasn’t talking about brandy.’

‘Speak about what? No, I wouldn’t.’

‘They’ll bring you brandy,’ their hostess said to Verkhovensky.

The female student stood up. She’d already jumped up from her chair several times.

‘I’ve come to report on the sufferings of unfortunate students everywhere and about ways to incite them to protest…’

She broke off; a rival had appeared at the other end of the table and all eyes were fixed on him. Long-eared Shigalyov, with a dark and gloomy expression, rose slowly from his place and, with a melancholy air, put a thick, closely written notebook on the table. He remained standing in silence. Many people looked at the notebook in consternation, but Liputin, Virginsky, and the lame teacher seemed pleased about something.

‘I’d like to speak,’ Shigalyov said grimly, but firmly.

‘You have the floor.’ Virginsky gave permission.

The speaker sat down. He was silent for about half a minute, then said in impressive tones:

‘Ladies and gentlemen…’

‘Here’s the brandy!’ snapped Madame Virginskaya’s relative in contemptuous distaste. She’d been pouring tea, then gone to fetch the brandy, and now placed it in front of Verkhovensky with a glass she’d brought in her hand, without a tray or plate.

The interrupted orator paused with a dignified air.

‘Never mind, go on, I’m not listening,’ cried Verkhovensky, pouring himself a glass.

‘Ladies and gentlemen, in asking for your attention,’ Shigalyov began again, ‘and, as you’ll see later, in requesting your assistance on a matter of extreme importance, I must begin with an introduction.’

‘Arina Prokhorovna, do you have a pair of scissors?’ Peter Stepanovich asked suddenly.

p. 426‘What do you need them for?’ she asked, her eyes bulging.

‘I forgot to trim my nails and have been meaning to do it for the last three days,’ he replied, examining his long, dirty nails serenely.

Arina Prokhorovna flushed, but her young relative seemed to like this.

‘I think I saw them over there on the window-sill earlier,’ she said, getting up from the table. She went to find the scissors and brought them back. Peter Stepanovich didn’t even look at her; he took the scissors and began fussing with them. Arina Prokhorovna realized there was a real reason for his request and was ashamed of her touchiness. Those present exchanged silent glances. The lame teacher regarded Verkhovensky with malice and envy. Shigalyov continued:

‘Having devoted my energies to the question of social organization in any future society that will replace the present one, I’ve come to the conclusion that all creators of social systems, from ancient times down to our own in 187–, were dreamers, story-tellers and fools, who contradicted themselves and understood absolutely nothing about natural science or that strange animal called man. Plato, Rousseau, Fourier, aluminium columns*—all that is good only for sparrows, not human society. But since the future form of human society is needed right now, when we’re finally ready to take action, in order to forestall any further thought on the subject, I’m proposing my own system of world Organization. Here it is!’ he said, tapping his notebook. ‘I wanted to expatiate on my book to this meeting as briefly as possible, but I see it’s necessary to provide a great deal of verbal clarification; therefore my entire explication will take at least ten evenings, corresponding to the number of chapters in my book.’ (Laughter was heard.) ‘Moreover, I must declare in advance that my system is not yet complete.’ (Laughter again.) ‘I became lost in my own data and my conclusion contradicts the original premiss from which I started. Beginning with the idea of unlimited freedom, I end with unlimited despotism. I must add, however, there can be no other solution to the social problem except mine.’

p. 427The laughter grew louder and louder, but mainly from the young people and the less committed guests, so to speak. Madame Virginskaya, Liputin, and the lame teacher looked annoyed.

‘But if you yourself were unable to create a system and have begun to despair, what is there for us to do?’ one officer enquired cautiously.

‘You’re right, Mr Officer,’ Shigalyov said sharply, turning to him. ‘All the more so since you used the word “despair”. Yes, I’ve begun to despair; nevertheless everything my book says is irrefutable and there’s no other solution; no one will ever conceive of one. Therefore, without losing any time, I hasten to invite all members of this society to express their opinions on ten consecutive evenings, following the reading of my work. If members wish not to listen, let’s go our separate ways at the very beginning—men to perform government service and women, back to their kitchens, because if you reject my thesis, you’ll find no other solution. None at all! If you miss this opportunity, you’ll be doing yourselves an injury, since you’re bound to come back to it sooner or later.’

People began to stir: ‘Is he mad, or what?’ voices were heard to say.

‘So it all comes down to Shigalyov’s despair,’ Lyamshin concluded. ‘And the essential question is this: should he or should he not despair?’

‘Shigalyov’s proximity to despair is a personal question,’ declared the gymnasium student.

‘I move we vote on the question of how much Shigalyov’s despair affects our common concerns, and whether it’s worth listening to him or not?’ one officer suggested cheerfully.

‘That’s not the point,’ broke in the lame teacher at last. As a rule he spoke with what looked like a sarcastic smile; consequently, it was difficult to determine whether he was sincere or joking. ‘That’s not the point, ladies and gentlemen. Mr Shigalyov is too earnestly devoted to the problem and therefore overly modest. I’m familiar with his book. As a final solution to the problem he proposes dividing humanity into two unequal parts. One-tenth will receive personal p. 428freedom and unlimited power over the other nine-tenths. The latter must forfeit their individuality and become as it were a herd; through boundless obedience, they will attain, by a series of rebirths, a state of primeval innocence, although they’ll still have to work. The steps proposed by the author for depriving nine-tenths of humanity of their will and for transforming them into a herd through the re-education of entire generations are quite remarkable; they’re founded on data from natural science and are quite logical. One may disagree with some of his conclusions, but it’s hard to doubt the intelligence and knowledge of the author. It’s a pity that his proposal to spend ten evenings listening to his book is so impractical, since we’d hear a great deal that’s of interest.’

‘Are you really serious?’ Madame Virginskaya asked, turning to the lame teacher in some alarm. ‘That man, not knowing what to do with people, relegates nine-tenths of them to slavery? I’ve been suspicious of him for some time.’

‘You mean your younger brother?’ asked the lame teacher.

‘Kinship? Are you laughing at me or what?’

‘Besides, to work for aristocrats and listen to them as if they were gods—why, it’s disgusting!’ the female student observed angrily.

‘What I’m proposing is not disgusting; it’s paradise, paradise on earth—there can be none other on earth,’ Shigalyov concluded majestically.

‘Instead of paradise,’ cried Lyamshin, ‘take nine-tenths of humanity and, if there’s no place to put them, I’d blow them up and leave only a few handfuls of educated people who’d begin to live their lives in a scientific manner.’

‘Only a fool would talk like that!’ the female student cried, flaring up.

‘He is a fool, but a useful one,’ Madame Virginskaya whispered to her.

‘Perhaps that would be the best solution to the problem!’ Shigalyov cried heatedly, turning to Lyamshin. ‘Of course, you don’t understand what a profound thing you’ve just said, Mr Cheerful. But since your idea is almost impossible to carry out, we must limit ourselves to paradise on earth, p. 429if that’s what it’s called.’

‘What awful nonsense!’ Verkhovensky couldn’t help saying. But he continued to trim his nails in absolute unconcern and didn’t even look up.

‘And, sir, why is it nonsense?’ the lame teacher put in, as if he’d been waiting to attack the first thing the other said. ‘Why do you consider it nonsense? Mr Shigalyov is rather a fanatical lover of humanity; but remember, Fourier, Cabet, and even Proudhon* proposed some of the most despotic and fantastic solutions to the problem. Mr Shigalyov may be solving the matter in a much more sober manner. I assure you that having read his book, it’s almost impossible not to agree with him on several points. He may even be much more realistic than others and his paradise on earth may even be the real one, the very one, and the loss of which—if it ever actually existed—humanity has been lamenting.’

‘Well, I knew I’d get into trouble,’ muttered Verkhovensky again.

‘Wait a minute,’ cried the lame teacher, getting more and more excited. ‘Discussions and arguments about the organization of future society are virtually an urgent necessity for all contemporary thinking people. Herzen spent his whole life on the subject. Belinsky, as I know for certain, spent entire evenings with friends, debating and solving the most trivial and so to speak domestic details of the organization of future society.’

‘Some people even lose their minds over it,’ the major interjected.

‘Nevertheless, one’s more likely to get somewhere by talking than by sitting there keeping silent like dictators,’ Liputin hissed, as if daring to begin his attack at long last.

‘I didn’t mean that Shigalyov was talking nonsense,’ Verkhovensky mumbled. ‘You see, ladies and gentlemen,’ he said, raising his eyes just a little, ‘in my opinion all these books by Fourier and Cabet, all this “right to work” talk, this Shigalyov scheme—it’s all like novels, of which you can write a hundred thousand. An aesthetic pastime. I understand why you’re bored here in this ugly little town, and p. 430why you throw yourselves at any piece of paper with writing on it.’

‘Wait just one minute, sir,’ cried the lame teacher, wriggling in his chair. ‘We may be provincials and, naturally, deserving of your pity, but still we know that nothing new has transpired in the world which we’d weep over had we missed it. In numerous pamphlets of foreign origin distributed around here we’ve been urged to close ranks and even form groups for the sole purpose of bringing about total destruction, on the pretext that however much you try to cure the world, you won’t be able to do so entirely, but if you take radical steps and cut off one hundred million heads, thus easing the burden, it’ll be much easier to leap over the ditch. It’s a splendid idea, without doubt, but it’s at least as incompatible with reality as Shigalyov’s “theory” which you just referred to with such contempt.’

‘Well, I didn’t come here to debate,’ Verkhovensky said, missing the mark with his significant little phrase; unaware that he missed, he moved the candle up closer for more light.

‘It’s a pity, a real pity you didn’t come here to debate, and it’s a real pity you’re so preoccupied with your toilette.’

‘What’s my toilette got to do with you?’

‘It’s as difficult to cut off one hundred million heads as it is to change the world through propaganda. It might even be more difficult, especially in Russia,’ Liputin ventured again.

‘Now they’re pinning all their hopes on Russia,’ an officer remarked.

‘We heard what they’re pinning their hopes on,’ the lame teacher replied. ‘We know that a mysterious index finger is pointing at our magnificent fatherland as the country most capable of carrying out some great feat. But here’s what: if the problem is to be resolved gradually through propaganda, at least I’ll benefit personally, even if it’s only pleasant chatter. I might receive a decoration from the government for service to social causes. On the other hand, in a rapid solution to the problem such as cutting off a hundred million heads, what benefit would I receive? If you start p. 431making that kind of propaganda, they might even cut your tongue out.’

‘They’d certainly cut yours out,’ said Verkhovensky.

‘There, you see. And since, even in the most favourable circumstances, it would take at least fifty years, well, thirty, to complete such a slaughter—inasmuch as people aren’t sheep, you know, and they won’t submit willingly—then wouldn’t it be better to pack up all your belongings and settle somewhere far away beyond the sea on some remote island and there close your eyes in peace? Believe me,’ he said, tapping his finger significantly on the table, ‘the only thing that kind of propaganda does is encourage emigration, that’s all!’

He concluded in obvious triumph. He was clearly one of the district’s intellectuals. Liputin smiled insidiously; Virginsky listened somewhat gloomily; the rest had followed the argument with great interest, especially the ladies and the officers. Everyone realized that he who advocated cutting off a hundred million heads had been pushed to the wall; they waited to see what would happen next.

‘You put it very well,’ Verkhovensky mumbled more apathetically than before, even sounding a bit bored. ‘Emigration is a good idea. Nevertheless, if, in spite of all the obvious disadvantages you foresee, the number of soldiers ready to fight for the common cause increases with every passing day, we’ll succeed even without you. You see, my good man, what’s happening here is the replacement of the old religion by a new one; that’s why so many soldiers are needed—it’s a large undertaking. Go ahead and emigrate! You know, I advise you to go to Dresden, rather than to some remote island. In the first place, it’s a town that’s never experienced any epidemic; since you’re a civilized man, you must be afraid of death. In the second place, it’s not far from the Russian border, so you’ll be able to receive income there quite easily from your beloved fatherland. Thirdly, it contains many so-called artistic treasures; it appears that as a former teacher of literature you have aesthetic sensibility. Finally, it even offers a pocket Switzerland*—that’s for poetic inspiration, since you probably write verse. In a word, it’s a treasure in a nutshell!’

p. 432There was a stir, especially among the officers. In another second they’d all have begun talking at once. But the lame teacher rose irritably to the bait.

‘No, sir, perhaps we still won’t run away from the common cause! You must understand, sir…’

‘What? Would you really agree to form a group of five, if I proposed it to you?’ Verkhovensky blurted out suddenly, laying the scissors down on the table.

Everyone seemed startled. The mysterious man had shown his hand too suddenly. He’d even uttered the words ‘group of five’.

‘Everyone considers himself an honest man and won’t abandon the common cause,’ said the lame teacher, trying to wriggle out of it, ‘but…’

‘No, sir, it’s no longer a question of “but”,’ Verkhovensky interrupted him in a sharp, commanding voice. ‘I declare, ladies and gentlemen, that I must have a straight answer. I understand all too well that having come here and called you all together, I’m obliged to provide some explanation’ (another unexpected disclosure), ‘but I can’t give you any until I determine your true state of mind. Dispensing with all discussion—because we can’t just go on talking for the next thirty years as people have done for the last thirty—I ask you which is nicer: the slow way consisting of writing social novels and predetermining the fate of mankind bureaucratically on paper for a thousand years in advance, while despotism continues to swallow the morsels of roast meat which would jump into your mouths of themselves and which you fail to catch; or, would you prefer a swift solution, whatever that may be, which would untie your hands at long last and provide humanity with ample opportunity to organize society for itself, not merely on paper, but in real life? They shout, “A hundred million heads”—that may be only a metaphor, but why should they be afraid, if despotism with its creeping paper dreams will devour in a hundred years or so not one hundred million, but five hundred million heads! And note that a man suffering from an incurable illness still won’t be cured, whatever remedies are prescribed for him on paper; on the contrary, if there’s p. 433any delay, he’ll become so ill that he’ll infect us too, ruining all the fresh reserves of strength we can still rely on, so in the end we’ll all fail. I agree it’s very pleasant to chat in an eloquent and liberal way, and that action is… a little risky. Well, I’m really not very good at speaking. I came here with certain information, and therefore ask the entire worthy assembly not to vote, but merely to declare which alternative you prefer: to proceed at a snail’s pace into the swamp, or to cross the swamp full steam ahead?’

‘I’m for crossing full speed ahead!’ cried the gymnasium student in ecstasy.

‘Me too,’ echoed Lyamshin.

‘Naturally there’s no doubt about the choice,’ muttered one of the officers, then another, and then someone else. What struck them all most was that Verkhovensky, who’d come with ‘information’, was promising to speak.

‘Ladies and gentlemen, I see that almost everyone here has decided in favour of acting in the spirit of the pamphlets,’ he said, eyeing the assembly.

‘Yes, everyone,’ cried a majority of voices.

‘I must confess that I’m for a more humane solution,’ said the major. ‘But since everyone else agrees with you, I’ll go along with the rest.’

‘It appears you aren’t opposed to it either?’ Verkhovensky asked, turning to the lame teacher.

‘It’s not that I’m…’ he said, blushing slightly, ‘but if I agree with everyone now, it’s simply not to destroy…’

‘You’re all the same! He’s prepared to argue six months for liberal eloquence, but ends up voting along with everyone else! Ladies and gentlemen, think it over; is it true you’re all ready?’ (Ready for what?—it was such a vague question, but terribly appealing.)

‘Everyone, of course…’ they affirmed, but they were all looking at each other.

‘Later perhaps you’ll regret having agreed so quickly? That’s almost always the way it is with you people!’

They became excited in a different sense, very excited. The lame teacher flew at Verkhovensky.

‘I’d like to point out that answers to such questions are p. 434conditional. If we’ve agreed now, you must agree that the question was posed in a very strange way…’

‘What way?’

‘A way in which such questions are not usually posed.’

‘Explain, please. You know, I was sure you’d be first to take offence.’

‘You’ve extracted from us an answer regarding our readiness to take immediate action; but what right have you to do that? What authority do you have to pose such questions?’

‘You should’ve thought about asking that question sooner! Why did you answer? First you agreed, then you thought of that.’

‘In my opinion the casually open way you put your main question suggests that you have no authority, no right, at all. You’re merely asking out of your own curiosity.’

‘What are you talking about?’ cried Verkhovensky; he seemed a little disturbed.

‘I’m talking about the fact that new members, whoever they may be, are supposed to be recruited in secret, not in the presence of twenty strangers!’ the lame teacher declared. He’d spoken his mind, but was already much too agitated. Verkhovensky turned quickly to the assembled group with a splendidly counterfeit look of alarm.

‘Ladies and gentlemen, I consider it my duty to announce to you that all this is nonsense and our conversation has gone rather astray. I’ve yet to recruit any members, and no one has the right to say I’m recruiting members; we’re merely talking about opinions. Isn’t that so? One way or another, you’ve caused me great alarm,’ he said turning again to the lame teacher. ‘I never thought such innocent matters would have to be discussed in such secrecy here. Are you afraid of an informer? Is it possible there’s an informer here among us?’

The agitation became tremendous; everyone began speaking at once.

‘Ladies and gentlemen, if that’s true,’ Verkhovensky continued, ‘I’ve compromised myself most of all. Therefore I ask you all to respond to one question, only if you care to, of course. You’re all completely free.’

p. 435‘What question? What question?’ they began to shout.

‘The sort of question after which it’ll become clear whether we should remain here together or pick up our hats in silence and go off in different directions.’

‘The question, what’s the question?’

‘If one of us knew about an intended political murder, would he inform on us, knowing in advance all the consequences, or would he stay at home, awaiting developments? There could be differing views on this. The answer to this question will clearly indicate whether we should separate or stay together, not merely with reference to this one evening. Allow me to address you first,’ he said, turning to the lame teacher.

‘Why me?’

‘Because you started it. Please don’t try to avoid the question; cunning won’t help. But, do as you like; you’re completely free.’

‘Excuse me, but even posing a question like that is offensive.’

‘Come on, can’t you be any more specific?’

‘I’ve never been an agent for the secret police, sir,’ he said, wriggling even more.

‘Please, be more specific, don’t keep us waiting.’

The lame teacher became so angry that he even stopped speaking. He looked at his tormentor in silence, glaring at him spitefully from under his glasses.

‘Yes or no? Would you inform or not?’ cried Verkhovensky.

‘Of course I wouldn’t! cried the lame teacher twice as loud.

‘No one would inform, no one, of course not,’ many voices joined in.

‘Let me address you, Mr Major. Would you inform or not?’ Verkhovensky continued. ‘Note that I’ve turned to you next intentionally.’

I would not inform, sir.’

‘Well, but if you knew that someone wanted to murder and rob someone else, an ordinary mortal, you would inform and turn him in, wouldn’t you?’

p. 436‘Of course, sir, but that’s a civil case, while you’re talking about political denunciation. I’ve never been a member of the secret police, sir.’

‘No one here’s ever been,’ many voices resounded. ‘It’s an unnecessary question. Everyone will give the same answer. There are no informers here!’

‘Why is that man standing up?’ cried the female student.

‘It’s Shatov. Why have you stood up, Shatov?’ cried Madame Virginskaya.

Shatov had in fact got to his feet; he held his hat in his hand and stared at Verkhovensky. He seemed to want to say something to him, but hesitated. His face was pale and angry, but he restrained himself; he said not a single word and left the room in silence.

‘Shatov, acting like this will do you no good,’ Verkhovensky shouted after him mysteriously.

‘On the other hand, it will do you considerable good as a spy and a scoundrel!’ Shatov shouted at him from the door and left.

Once again there were shouts and cries.

‘There’s the test for you!’ cried one voice.

‘It certainly was useful!’ shouted another.

‘Perhaps it was too late?’ enquired a third.

‘Who invited him? Who let him in? Who is he? Who is Shatov? Will he inform or not?’ Questions came from all sides.

‘If he’s an informer, he’d have pretended not to be. But he didn’t give a damn and just walked out,’ someone remarked.

‘Now Stavrogin’s standing up; he hasn’t answered the question either,’ cried the female student.

Stavrogin indeed was on his feet, and with him, at the other end of the table, Kirillov stood up too.

‘Excuse me, Mr Stavrogin,’ said Madame Virginskaya, addressing him abruptly. ‘All of us here have answered the question, while you’re leaving without saying anything.’

‘I see no need to answer the question that so interests you,’ Stavrogin muttered.

‘But we’ve compromised ourselves, and you haven’t,’ a few voices cried.

p. 437‘What do I care if you’ve compromised yourselves?’ Stavrogin said with a laugh, but his eyes glinted.

‘What do you care? What do you care?’ several voices exclaimed. Many people jumped up from their seats.

‘Wait a minute, ladies and gentlemen, wait a minute,’ cried the lame teacher. ‘Mr Verkhovensky hasn’t answered the question either; he merely posed it.’

This remark had a striking effect. They all exchanged glances. Stavrogin laughed right in the lame teacher’s face and then left; Kirillov followed him. Verkhovensky ran out into the hallway after them.

‘What are you doing to me?’ he murmured, grabbing Stavrogin by the arm and squeezing it with all his might. Without a word Stavrogin freed his arm.

‘Go straight to Kirillov’s house; I’ll be there soon… It’s absolutely essential!’

‘Not for me it isn’t,’ said Stavrogin, cutting him short.

‘Stavrogin will be there,’ Kirillov said to put an end to argument. ‘Stavrogin, it is essential for you to be there. I’ll tell you why when we get there.’

They went out.