The Karamazov Brothers

by Fyodor Dostoevsky

  ‘Yes, there’s nothing we can do, it’s awful,’ Kolya agreed. ‘You know, Karamazov,’ he lowered his voice suddenly, so that no one would hear, ‘I’m so sad, and I’d give anything in the world if it would only bring him back to life!’

  ‘Oh! So would I!’ said Alyosha.

  ‘What do you think, Karamazov, should we come back this evening? He’ll get drunk, you know.’

  ‘Perhaps he will. You and I will come back, just the two of us, no need for any of the others, just to sit with them for an hour, with his mother and Ninochka; if the whole lot of us come it’ll only remind them of everything,’ Alyosha suggested.

  ‘The landlady’s laying the table now—there’ll be the wake or whatever, the priest will be there; should we go back now, Karamazov, or not?’

  ‘Certainly,’ said Alyosha.

  ‘It’s strange, isn’t it, Karamazov, such grief, and then suddenly some sort of pancakes; our religion is so strange!’

  ‘They’re going to have salmon too,’ remarked the boy who knew who founded Troy, loudly.

  ‘I wish you’d shut up, Kartashov, and not make any more of your stupid remarks, especially when no one’s speaking to you and no one even cares whether you exist,’ Kolya snapped at him irritably. The boy flushed with anger, but did not dare to answer back. Meanwhile, they were all ambling slowly along the path, and suddenly Smurov exclaimed:

  ‘There’s Ilyusha’s stone! That’s where they wanted to bury him.’

  They all stopped in silence by the big stone. Alyosha looked at it, and the whole scene that Snegiryov had described to him flashed before his eyes—Ilyushechka clinging to his father and crying, ‘Papa, papa, how they humiliated you!’ Something shuddered in his soul. With a serious and solemn expression he gazed around at all the dear, shining faces of those schoolboys, Ilyusha’s friends, and suddenly he addressed them:

  ‘Boys, I want to say a word to you here, on this particular spot.’

  The boys gathered round him at once, and their attentive, expectant gaze was fixed upon him.

  ‘Boys, we shall soon be parting. I must spend some time with my two brothers now, one of them’s been sent to the penal colony and the other’s on his deathbed. But I shall leave this town soon, perhaps for a very long time. So we have to part, my friends. Let us agree here by Ilyusha’s stone never to forget, first, Ilyushechka, and secondly, one another. And whatever may happen to us in this life, even if we don’t meet again for twenty years, we’ll still remember how we buried that poor child at whom we’d previously thrown stones—by the little bridge, you remember?—and then how we all grew to love him. He was a wonderful boy, kind and brave, with a sense of honour and an understanding of the insult to his father’s pride, which he fought to avenge. So, firstly, we shall remember him, boys, all our lives. And whether we’re occupied with matters of the greatest importance, whether we’re showered with honours or overcome by some devastating calamity—never forget, my friends, how good it was to be together here, united by that feeling of kindness and generosity which now, while we are conscious of our love for that poor boy, has perhaps made us better than we really are. My little doves—let me call you that, doves, because you are all very like them, those gentle little grey birds, at this moment, as I look on your dear beloved faces, my beloved children—perhaps you will not understand what I’m going to say to you, because I often speak quite incomprehensibly, but nevertheless take note of my words, and one day you will come to understand them. Remember that nothing is nobler, stronger, more vital, or more useful in future life than some happy memory, especially one from your very childhood, from your family home. A lot is said about upbringing, but the very best upbringing, perhaps, is some lovely, holy memory preserved from one’s childhood. If a man carries many such memories with him, they will keep him safe throughout his life. And even if only one such memory stays in our hearts, it may prove to be our salvation one day. Perhaps we shall grow wicked, we may not be able to refrain from some evil action, we may mock the tears of others and of those who say, as Kolya exclaimed just now, “I want to suffer for all people”—perhaps these too we shall taunt cruelly. But still, no matter how wicked we become—which, God grant, we may never be—when we recall how we buried Ilyusha, how we loved him in these last days, and how we talked together by this stone with such closeness and affection, then even the cruellest and most cynical amongst us—if such there be—will not dare to mock the kindness and goodness of this moment! Moreover, that memory alone, perhaps, will restrain that person from some great wickedness, and he will think about it and will say, “Yes, I was good then, I was brave and honourable.” He may still ridicule it inwardly—that doesn’t matter, people often make fun of what is kind and good; that’s only frivolity—but I assure you, boys, that even as he mocks he will immediately say in his heart, “No, I was wrong to mock, because one should not make fun of that!”’

  ‘I understand what you’re saying, Karamazov, it will certainly be like that,’ exclaimed Kolya, his eyes sparkling. The boys were beginning to get excited and they also wanted to respond, but they restrained themselves, gazing approvingly at the speaker.

  ‘I say this in case we should become bad,’ went on Alyosha, ‘but there’s no reason why we should become bad, is there, boys? In the first place, and above all, if we’re kind and honourable, then we’ll never forget one another. I repeat that once more. I give you my word, boys, that I shall never forget a single one of you; I shall remember every face that is turned to me now, even in thirty years’ time. A few moments ago, Kolya told Kartashov that he wouldn’t care whether he existed or not. But how could I forget that Kartashov exists, and that he no longer blushes as he did when he discovered who founded Troy, but now looks at me with his kind, cheerful countenance. Boys, my dear boys, let us all be generous and brave like Ilyushechka; clever, brave, and generous like Kolya (who, however, will be much cleverer when he grows up); and let us be like Kartashov, shy, but intelligent and gentle. Oh, why am I talking about those two? All of you, boys, are dear to me from now on, I take you all to my heart, and I ask you all to take me to yours. Well now, who was it that united us in this good and noble feeling of emotion, whom we shall remember henceforth always, all our lives, whom we shall choose to remember—none other than Ilyushechka, that dear, kind boy, that boy who will be dear to us for ever and ever! We shall never forget him, we shall cherish his memory eternally in our hearts from now on, for ever and ever!’

  ‘Yes, yes, eternally, for ever and ever,’ shouted all the boys, their voices ringing and their faces radiant.

  ‘We shall remember his face, his clothes, even his little boots, and his little coffin, and his unhappy, wretched father, and how he stood up for him so bravely, against the whole class!’

  ‘We’ll remember, we will!’ shouted the boys again. ‘He was brave, he was good.’

  ‘Oh, how I loved him!’ exclaimed Kolya.

  ‘Ah, my children, my dear friends, don’t be afraid of life! How good life is when one does something noble and true!’

  ‘Yes, yes,’ repeated the boys ecstatically.

  ‘Karamazov, we all love you,’ erupted one voice, apparently that of Kartashov.

  ‘We love you, we do,’ they all joined in. Many of them had tears glistening in their eyes.

  ‘Hurrah for Karamazov!’ called Kolya, carried away.

  ‘And eternal remembrance for the dead boy!’ said Alyosha emotionally.

  ‘Eternal remembrance!’ the boys joined in again.

  ‘Karamazov,’ cried Kolya, ‘is it true what religion teaches, that we shall all rise from the dead, that we shall live again and see one another again, and Ilyushechka?’

  ‘Certainly, we shall be resurrected, certainly, we shall see one another again and we shall tell one another happily, joyfully, everything that has happened,’ replied Alyosha, half laughing and half overcome with emotion.

  ‘How marvellous that’ll be,’ burst out Kolya.

  ‘Well now, let�
��s have done with talking and go to his wake. Don’t let eating pancakes worry you. After all, it’s an old custom, it’s always been done from time immemorial, and besides it’s a good custom,’ laughed Alyosha. ‘Come on, let’s go! Now we’ll all walk hand in hand.’

  ‘And always, all our lives, we’ll walk hand in hand! Hurrah for Karamazov!’ Kolya shouted again ecstatically, and, once more, all the boys echoed his cry.

  EXPLANATORY NOTES

  Principal Sources Consulted and Abbreviations Used

  AV

  The Bible, King James’ Authorized Version.

  BDPF

  Dictionary of Phrase and Fable, E. Cobham Brewer (New York, 1978).

  BDS

  A Biographical Dictionary of the Saints, F. G. Holweck (B. Hurder Book Co, 1924).

  BL

  Butler’s Lives of the Saints (Burns and Oates, 1956).

  BS

  The Book of Saints, 6th edition (A. & C. Black, London, 1989).

  CBQ

  Cassell’s Book of Quotations, W. Guerney Benham (London, 1907).

  CD

  Classical Dictionary, J. Lempriere (London, 1824).

  CNDF

  Character Names in Dostoevsky’s Fiction, Charles E. Passage (Ann Arbor, Mich., 1982).

  CW

  Collected Works of Dostoevsky, in 30 vols., Polnoye Sobraniye Sochineniy v tridtsati tomakh (Nauka, Leningrad, 1976).

  DD

  A Dostoevsky Dictionary, Richard Chapple (Ann Arbor, Mich., 1983).

  DW

  F. M. Dostoevsky, Diary of a Writer, in CW.

  Enc., FP

  Encyclopaedic Dictionary, F. Pavlenkov (Trud, St Petersburg, 1913).

  KC

  A Karamazov Companion, Victor Terras (Madison, Wis., 1981).

  ODS

  The Oxford Dictionary of Saints, David Hugh Farmer (Oxford, 1987).

  Symbols

  ′after a consonant in transliteration of Russian words indicates softening of the preceding consonant.

  Anna Grigoryevna: Anna Grigoryevna Dostoevskaya, née Snitkina (1846–1918), Dostoevsky’s second wife.

  The second novel: sequel to The Karamazov Brothers, which was never written. Dostoevsky planned to begin work on it in 1882 (CW, 15. 485–6).

  Fyodor: Russian variant of ‘Theodore’ (‘gift of God’). Apart from the psychological significance of the author’s own name being the same, there are any number of Theodores in church history; but the one that Dostoevsky probably had in mind when naming his enigmatic and contradictory hero is Theodore of Sykeon (AD 613). Theodore of Sykeon was the son of a harlot who kept an inn and a father who was a circus artist, specializing in acrobatic camel-riding; he seems to have had nothing to do with his son later, leaving the upbringing of the child to the mother.

  Theodore was ordained a priest when very young, and went on a pilgrimage to Jerusalem. He was always driven by a desire to escape the world and lead a life of penitence. At his own request, a wooden cage was made in which he passed the time from Christmas to Palm Sunday. He then moved into an iron cage, suspended on the face of a rock in mid-air, above the cave where he dwelt; he ordered an iron breastplate to be made for him, with iron rings for his hands and feet, and an iron collar and belt. The outfit was completed by an iron staff with a cross on it. His fasts were spectacular; bears and wolves were his friends; and he enjoyed powers of healing and clairvoyance, which once included his deep suspicion of a finely wrought silver chalice which turned out to be made from a prostitute’s chamber-pot. Feast-day, 22 April (ODS, BL).

  Aleksei: see note to p. 63.

  roubles: at this period a rouble was roughly worth £2 ($3 approx.).

  Dmitry: the name comes from the ancient Greek military hero Demetrius, surnamed Poliorcetes (destroyer of towns), who lived in the third century BC and attained the status of a god amongst the Athenians. For a period of about seven years, he was King of Macedonia and was continually at war with the neighbouring states. Demetrius rendered himself famous for his fondness for dissipation when among the dissolute, and for his love of virtue and military glory in the field of battle. He has been commended as a great warrior, a claim which he amply justifies by his ingenious inventions, his warlike engines, and stupendous machines in his war with the Rhodians. He has been blamed for his voluptuous indulgences; and his biographer observes that no Grecian prince had more wives and concubines than Poliorcetes. His obedience and reverence to his father Antigonus have been justly admired (CD).

  Ivan: Russian variant of ‘John’, the commonest of all given names in Christian countries (see CNDF 95).

  Lord, now lettest thou thy servant: Luke 2: 29. Also the opening line of a Russian Orthodox prayer read at vespers (CW 15).

  Proudhon: Pierre Joseph Proudhon (1809–65), French socialist philosopher and savant: La propriété, c’est le vol (‘Property is theft’: Principle of Right (1840), ch. 1). Cf. La propriété exclusive est un vol dans la nature (‘Exclusive property is a theft against nature’: Brissot de Warville, 1780) (CBQ).

  Bakunin: Mikhail Aleksandrovich Bakunin (1814–76), Russian populist revolutionary, founder of the anarchist movement in Europe, and an ardent revolutionary activist throughout his life.

  Paris revolution of February 1848: the three-day revolution which brought down Louis-Philippe and ushered in the Deuxième République. See Histoire de la révolution de 1848 by A. de Lamartine (Brussels, 1849), a book which Dostoevsky had in his library.

  a thousand serfs: until the emancipation of the serfs in 1861, the value of an estate was assessed by the number of male serfs (referred to as ‘souls’) registered on it. Miusov’s estate of a thousand serfs would rank amongst the bigger in the land. The General’s estate, mentioned in ‘Rebellion’, Bk. 5, Ch. 4, held twice as many (see note to p. 304). By far the greatest number of serfs was owned by the Tsar himself on his private estates around the country.

  See Daniel Field, The End of Serfdom (Cambridge, Mass., 1976). The population of hereditary nobles who could hold serfs numbered c.300,000 (men) in 1858 (p. 11); the population of serfs in the Empire in 1858 was 11,338,047 male serfs and about 12,000,000 female serfs, i.e. only slightly less than 40 per cent of the population of the Empire (p. 13); 80 per cent of the serfs lived on estates comprising more than 100 ‘souls’, held by less than 25 per cent of the serf-owning population (p. 13).

  klikushi: plural (fem, sing., klikusha), noun formed from the verb klikat’, to call, hence, by extension, to yelp, shriek.

  district Marshal of Nobility: the highest elective post in a district, immediately below the district governor, the latter being appointed directly by the Tsar.

  ecclesiastical courts: the powers of the ecclesiastical courts were severely curtailed after the legal reforms of 1864, in which Dostoevsky evinced a great deal of personal interest.

  starets: from the Russian stary, old. Starets (pl. startsy)—a monk, usually one extremely rigorous in self-denial, an ascetic, a guru, a man of particularly high spiritual authority. A starets was not always a monk; he could well have been a layman who had travelled to the holy places—especially Mount Athos in Greece, or Jerusalem—and then returned to Russia to lead a mendicant life, teach, etc. Rasputin called himself a starets.

  holy fool: the ‘holy fool’, yurodivy, is a common figure in Russian literature and folklore, embracing any religious zealot, ranging from the mildly eccentric to the village idiot, who is often thought to be the bearer of the word of God (‘Jesters do oft prove prophets’: Shakespeare, King Lear, v. iii. 71).

  social status: the population of Tsarist Russia was divided into four principal categories: nobility, clergy, urban residents, and rural residents (Enc., FP).

  Lutheran-like: Fyodor Pavlovich purports to share the general opinion in Russia that Lutheranism is the religion of progress and enlightenment.

  Il faudrait les inventer: ‘it would be necessary to invent them’ (see note to p. 294).

  J’ai vu l’ombre d’un cocker: ‘I saw the shadow of a coach
man scrubbing the shadow of a carriage with the shadow of a brush’: Mémoires, contes et autres œuvres de Charles Perrault (‘Memoirs, stories and other works by Charles Perrault’) (Paris, 1842).

  My Lord and my God: John 20: 24–9.

  fourth estate: the ‘three estates of the realm’ are the Lords Spiritual, the Lords Temporal, and the Commons. Ane pleasant satyre of the Three Estatis is a play by Sir David Lindsay, produced in 1535. The press, owing to its greatly enhanced influence and power, became known as ‘The fourth estate’ about the end of the eighteenth century. Edmund Burke is credited with having invented the term, but it does not appear in his published works. In Rabelais’s Pantagruel, when Pantagruel visits the island of the Papimanes, he is met by four persons, a monk, a falconer, a lawyer, and a husbandman, and is told that they are les quatre estatz de l’isle (‘the four estates of the island’) (bk. 4, ch. 48) (see also BDPF).

  Tower of Babel: Genesis 11: 1–9.

  If thou wilt be perfect: Matthew 19: 21; Mark 10: 21; Luke 18: 22.

  in Sinai and on Mount Athos: monastery of St Catherine in Sinai, and the complex of monasteries on Mount Athos in Greece.

  the Tatar yoke: 1243–1480. The Tatar or Mongol yoke left an indelible mark on the Russian nation. Grattez le Russe—trouverez le tartare: ‘Scratch a Russian and you’ll find a Tatar’ (Sketches for The Karamazov Brothers, CW, 15. 203).