White nights, and other storiesDostoyevsky, Fyodor
General
White nights, and other stories
Dostoyevsky, Fyodor
Dostoyevsky, Fyodor, 1821-1881 -- Translations into English; Russian fiction -- Translations into English
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 realize 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 enjoyment--the 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 face--why 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
magnanimous--neither 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
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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