The Idiot

by Fyodor Dostoevsky

  “Well, well, sir, now our Nastasya Filippovna’s going to start singing!” the clerk tittered, rubbing his hands. “Now, my good sir, it’s not just pendants! Now we’ll produce such pendants …”

  “If you say anything even once about Nastasya Filippovna, by God, I’ll give you a whipping, even if you did go around with Likhachev!” cried Rogozhin, seizing him firmly by the arm.

  “If you whip me, it means you don’t reject me! Whip me! Do it and you put your mark on me … But here we are!”

  Indeed, they were entering the station. Though Rogozhin said he had left secretly, there were several people waiting for him. They shouted and waved their hats.

  “Hah, Zalyozhev’s here, too!” Rogozhin muttered, looking at them with a triumphant and even as if spiteful smile, and he suddenly turned to the prince. “Prince, I don’t know why I’ve come to love you. Maybe because I met you at such a moment, though I met him, too” (he pointed to Lebedev), “and don’t love him. Come and see me, Prince. We’ll take those wretched gaiters off you; I’ll dress you in a top-notch marten coat; I’ll have the best of tailcoats made for you, a white waistcoat, or whatever you like; I’ll stuff your pockets with money, and … we’ll go to see Nastasya Filippovna! Will you come or not?”

  “Hearken, Prince Lev Nikolaevich!” Lebedev picked up imposingly and solemnly. “Ah, don’t let it slip away! Don’t let it slip away!”

  Prince Myshkin rose a little, courteously offered Rogozhin his hand, and said affably:

  “I’ll come with the greatest pleasure, and I thank you very much for loving me. I may even come today, if I have time. Because, I’ll tell you frankly, I like you very much, and I especially liked you when you were telling about the diamond pendants. Even before the pendants I liked you, despite your gloomy face. I also thank you for promising me the clothes and a fur coat, because in fact I’ll need some clothes and a fur coat soon. And I have almost no money at the present moment.”

  “There’ll be money towards evening—come!”

  “There will be, there will be,” the clerk picked up, “towards evening, before sundown, there will be.”

  “And are you a great fancier of the female sex, Prince? Tell me beforehand!”

  “N-n-no! I’m … Maybe you don’t know, but because of my inborn illness, I don’t know women at all.”

  “Well, in that case,” Rogozhin exclaimed, “you come out as a holy fool, Prince, and God loves your kind!”

  “The Lord God loves your kind,” the clerk picked up.

  “And you come with me, pencil pusher,” Rogozhin said to Lebedev, and they all got off the train.

  Lebedev ended up with what he wanted. Soon the noisy band withdrew in the direction of Voznesensky Prospect. The prince had to turn towards Liteinaya Street. It was damp and wet; the prince inquired of passersby—to reach the end of his route he had to go some two miles, and he decided to hire a cab.

  II

  GENERAL EPANCHIN lived in his own house off Liteinaya, towards the Cathedral of the Transfiguration. Besides this (excellent) house, five-sixths of which was rented out, General Epanchin owned another enormous house on Sadovaya Street, which also brought him a large income. Besides these two houses, he had quite a profitable and considerable estate just outside Petersburg; and there was also some factory in the Petersburg district. In the old days General Epanchin, as everyone knew, had participated in tax farming.11 Now he participated and had quite a considerable voice in several important joint-stock companies. He had the reputation of a man with big money, big doings, and big connections. He had managed to make himself absolutely necessary in certain quarters, his own department among others. And yet it was also known that Ivan Fyodorovich Epanchin was a man of no education and the son of a common soldier; this last, to be sure, could only do him credit, but the general, though an intelligent man, was also not without his little, quite forgivable weaknesses and disliked certain allusions. But he was unquestionably an intelligent and adroit man. He had a system, for instance, of not putting himself forward, of effacing himself wherever necessary, and many valued him precisely for his simplicity, precisely for always knowing his place. And yet, if these judges only knew what sometimes went on in the soul of Ivan Fyodorovich, who knew his place so well! Though he did indeed have practical sense, and experience in worldly matters, and certain very remarkable abilities, he liked to present himself more as the executor of someone else’s idea than as being his own master, as a man “loyal without fawning,”12 and—what does not happen nowadays?—even Russian and warmhearted. In this last respect several amusing misadventures even happened to him; but the general was never downcast, even at the most amusing misadventures; besides, luck was with him, even at cards, and he played for extremely high stakes, and not only did not want to conceal this little weakness of his for a bit of cardplaying, which came in handy for him so essentially and on many occasions, but even deliberately flaunted it. He belonged to a mixed society, though naturally of a “trumpish” sort. But everything was before him, there was time enough for everything, and everything would come in time and in due course. As for his years, General Epanchin was still, as they say, in the prime of life, that is, fifty-six and not a whit more, which in any case is a flourishing age, the age when true life really begins. His health, his complexion, his strong though blackened teeth, his stocky, sturdy build, the preoccupied expression on his physiognomy at work in the morning, the merry one in the evening over cards or at his highness’s—everything contributed to his present and future successes and strewed his excellency’s path with roses.

  The general had a flourishing family. True, here it was no longer all roses, but instead there were many things on which his excellency’s chief hopes and aims had long begun to be seriously and heartily concentrated. And what aim in life is more important or sacred than a parental aim? What can one fasten upon if not the family? The general’s family consisted of a wife and three grownup daughters. Long ago, while still a lieutenant, the general had married a girl nearly his own age, who had neither beauty nor education, and who brought him only fifty souls—which, true, served as the foundation of his further fortune. But the general never murmured later against his early marriage, never regarded it as the infatuation of an improvident youth, and respected his wife so much, and sometimes feared her so much, that he even loved her. The general’s wife was from the princely family of the Myshkins, a family which, while not brilliant, was quite old, and she quite respected herself for her origins. One of the influential persons of that time, one of those patrons for whom, incidentally, patronage costs nothing, consented to take an interest in the young princess’s marriage. He opened the gate for the young officer and gave him a starting push, though he did not need a push but only a glance—it would not have been wasted! With a few exceptions, the couple lived the whole time of their long jubilee in accord. While still young, the general’s wife, as a born princess and the last of the line, and perhaps through her own personal qualities, was able to find some very highly placed patronesses. Later on, with her husband’s increasing wealth and significance in the service, she even began to feel somewhat at home in this high circle.

  During these last years all three of the general’s daughters—Alexandra, Adelaida, and Aglaya—grew up and matured. True, the three were only Epanchins, but they were of princely origin through their mother, with no little dowry, with a father who might later claim a very high post, and, which was also quite important, all three were remarkably good-looking, including the eldest, Alexandra, who was already over twenty-five. The middle one was twenty-three, and the youngest, Aglaya, had just turned twenty. This youngest was even quite a beauty and was beginning to attract great attention in society. But that was still not all: all three were distinguished by their cultivation, intelligence, and talent. It was known that they had a remarkable love for each other and stood up for each other. Mention was even made of some supposed sacrifices the elder two had made in favor of the common idol of the ho
use—the youngest. In society they not only did not like putting themselves forward, but were even much too modest. No one could reproach them with haughtiness or presumption, and yet it was known that they were proud and knew their own worth. The eldest was a musician, the middle one an excellent painter; but almost no one knew of that for many years and it was discovered only quite recently, and that by accident. In short, a great many laudable things were said about them. But there were also ill-wishers. With horror it was told how many books they had read. They were in no rush to get married; they did esteem a certain social circle, but not too highly. This was the more remarkable as everyone knew the tendency, character, aims, and wishes of their father.

  It was already around eleven o’clock when the prince rang at the general’s apartment. The general lived on the second floor and occupied lodgings which, though as modest as possible, were still proportionate to his significance. A liveried servant opened the door for the prince, and he had to spend a long time talking with this man, who from the start looked suspiciously at him and his bundle. Finally, to his repeated and precise statement that he was indeed Prince Myshkin and that he absolutely had to see the general on urgent business, the perplexed servant sent him to another small anteroom, just before the reception room by the office, and handed him over to another man, who was on duty in this anteroom in the mornings and announced visitors to the general. This other man wore a tailcoat, was over forty, and had a preoccupied physiognomy, and was the special office attendant and announcer to his excellency, owing to which he was conscious of his worth.

  “Wait in the reception room, and leave your bundle here,” he said, sitting down unhurriedly and importantly in his armchair and glancing with stern astonishment at the prince, who had settled down right next to him in a chair, his bundle in his hands.

  “If I may,” said the prince, “I’d rather wait here with you. What am I going to do in there by myself?”

  “You oughtn’t to stay in the anteroom, being a visitor, that is to say, a guest. Do you wish to see the general in person?”

  The lackey obviously could not reconcile himself to the thought of admitting such a visitor, and decided to ask again.

  “Yes, I have business …” the prince began.

  “I am not asking you precisely what business—my business is simply to announce you. And without the secretary, as I said, I am not going to announce you.”

  The man’s suspiciousness seemed to be increasing more and more; the prince was too far from fitting into the category of everyday visitors, and though the general had rather often, if not daily, at a certain hour, to receive sometimes even the most varied sorts of visitors, especially on business, still, in spite of habit and his rather broad instructions, the valet was in great doubt; the secretary’s mediation was necessary for the announcement.

  “But are you really … from abroad?” he finally asked somehow involuntarily—and became confused; perhaps he had wanted to ask: “But are you really Prince Myshkin?”

  “Yes, I just got off the train. It seems to me you wanted to ask if I’m really Prince Myshkin, but did not ask out of politeness.”

  “Hm …” the astonished lackey grunted.

  “I assure you, I am not lying to you, and you won’t have to answer for me. And as for why I’ve come looking like this and with this bundle, there’s nothing surprising about it: my present circumstances are not very pretty.”

  “Hm. That’s not what I’m afraid of, you see. It’s my duty to announce you, and the secretary will come out, unless you … But that’s just it, that unless. You’re not going to petition the general on account of your poverty, if I may be so bold?”

  “Oh, no, you may be completely assured about that. I have other business.”

  “Forgive me, but I asked by the look of you. Wait for the secretary; the general is busy with the colonel right now, and afterwards comes the secretary … of the company.”

  “In that case, if I’ll have a long wait, let me ask you: is there someplace where I can smoke here? I have a pipe and tobacco with me.”

  “Smo-o-oke?” The valet raised his eyes to him with scornful perplexity, as if still not believing his ears. “Smoke? No, you can’t smoke here, and moreover you should be ashamed of having such thoughts. Hah … very odd, sir!”

  “Oh, I wasn’t asking about this room. I know. I’d have gone wherever you told me, because I’ve got the habit, and I haven’t smoked for three hours now. However, as you please, and, you know, there’s a saying: when in Rome …”

  “Well, how am I going to announce the likes of you?” the valet muttered almost inadvertently. “First of all, you oughtn’t to be here at all, but in the reception room, because you’re in the line of a visitor, that is to say, a guest, and I’m answerable … What is it, do you plan on living with us or something?” he added, casting another sidelong glance at the prince’s bundle, which obviously kept bothering him.

  “No, I don’t think so. Even if they invite me, I won’t stay. I’ve come simply to get acquainted, that’s all.”

  “How’s that? To get acquainted?” the valet asked in surprise and with trebled suspiciousness. “How is it you said first that you were here on business?”

  “Oh, it’s almost not on business! That is, if you like, there is one piece of business, just to ask advice, but it’s mainly to introduce myself, because I’m Prince Myshkin, and the general’s wife is also the last Princess Myshkin, and except for the two of us, there are no more Myshkins.”

  “So you’re also a relation?” the now all but frightened lackey fluttered himself up.

  “That’s not quite so either. However, if we stretch it, of course, we’re related, but so distantly it’s really impossible to work out. I once wrote a letter to the general’s wife from abroad, but she didn’t answer me. All the same, I thought I should get in touch on my return. I’m telling you all this now so that you won’t have doubts, because I can see you’re still worried: announce that Prince Myshkin is here, and the announcement itself will contain the reason for my visit. If they receive me—good; if not—that also may be very good. Though I don’t think they can not receive me: the general’s wife will certainly want to see the eldest and sole representative of her family, and she values her origins very much, as I’ve heard specifically about her.”

  It would seem that the prince’s conversation was the most simple; but the simpler it was, the more absurd it became in the present case, and the experienced valet could not help feeling something that was perfectly proper between servant and servant, but perfectly improper between a guest and a servant. And since servants are much more intelligent than their masters commonly think, it occurred to the valet that there was one of two things here: either the prince was some sort of moocher and had certainly come to beg for money, or the prince was simply a little fool and had no ambitions, because a clever prince with ambitions would not have sat in the anteroom and discussed his affairs with a lackey, and therefore, in one case or the other, might he not be held answerable?

  “But all the same you ought to go to the reception room,” he observed as insistently as possible.

  “I’d be sitting there and wouldn’t have told you all that,” the prince laughed merrily, “which means you’d still be looking at my cloak and bundle and worrying. And now maybe you don’t need to wait for the secretary, but can go and announce me yourself.”

  “I can’t announce a visitor like you without the secretary, and besides, the general gave me a specific order earlier not to bother him for anyone while he was with the colonel, but Gavrila Ardalionych can go in without being announced.”

  “A clerk?”

  “Gavrila Ardalionych? No. He works for the Company on his own. You can at least put your bundle down here.”

  “I already thought of that. With your permission. And, you know, I’ll take the cloak off, too.”

  “Of course, you can’t go and see him in your cloak.”

  The prince stood up, hasti
ly took off his cloak, and remained in a rather decent and smartly tailored, though shabby, jacket. A steel chain hung across his waistcoat. The chain turned out to be attached to a silver Swiss watch.

  Though the prince was a little fool—the lackey had already decided that—all the same the general’s valet finally found it unsuitable to continue his conversation with the visitor, despite the fact that for some reason he liked the prince, in his own way, of course. But from another point of view, he provoked in him a decided and crude indignation.

  “And when does the general’s wife receive?” asked the prince, sitting down in his former place.

  “That’s none of my business, sir. She receives at various times, depending on the person. She’d receive the dressmaker even at eleven o’clock. Gavrila Ardalionych is also admitted earlier than others, even for an early lunch.”

  “Here it’s warmer inside in winter than it is abroad,” the prince observed, “but there it’s warmer outside than here, while a Russian can’t even live in their houses in winter unless he’s used to it.”