The Double and The Gambler

by Fyodor Dostoevsky

  “That is, you’re inwardly gnashing your teeth in vexation because I’m not crushed and humiliated,” I said, laughing.

  He didn’t understand at once, but when he did, he smiled.

  “I like your observations. I recognize in those words my former intelligent, rapturous, and at the same time cynical friend. Russians alone are able to combine so many opposites in themselves at one and the same time. Actually, man likes seeing his best friend humiliated before him; friendship is mostly based on humiliation; and that is an old truth known to all intelligent people. But in the present case, I assure you, I am sincerely glad that you are not crestfallen. Tell me, do you intend to give up gambling?”

  “Oh, devil take it! I’ll give it up at once, as soon as…”

  “As soon as you win? So I thought. Don’t finish—I know you said it inadvertently, and therefore spoke the truth…Tell me, besides gambling, is there nothing that occupies you?”

  “No, nothing…”

  He began testing me. I knew nothing, I hardly ever looked at the newspapers, and in all that time I had positively not opened a single book.

  “You’ve turned to wood,” he observed, “you’ve not only renounced life, your own interests and society’s, your duty as a citizen and a human being, your friends (all the same you did have them), you’ve not only renounced any goal whatsoever apart from winning, but you’ve even renounced your memories. I remember you in an ardent and strong moment of your life; but I’m sure you’ve forgotten all your best impressions then; your dreams, your most essential desires at present don’t go beyond pair and impair, rouge, noir, the twelve middle numbers, and so on, and so forth—I’m sure of it!”

  “Enough, Mr. Astley, please, please don’t remind me,” I cried in vexation, all but in anger. “Know that I’ve forgotten precisely nothing; but I’ve driven it all out of my head for a time, even the memories—until I’ve radically improved my circumstances. Then…then you’ll see, I’ll rise from the dead!”

  “You’ll still be here ten years from now,” he said. “I’ll make you a bet that I’ll remind you of it, if I live, right here on this bench.”

  “Well, enough,” I interrupted him impatiently, “and to prove to you that I’m not so forgetful of the past, allow me to ask: where is Miss Polina now? If it wasn’t you who bought me out, then it must have been her. Since that time I’ve had no news of her.”

  “No, oh, no! I don’t think she bought you out. She’s in Switzerland now, and you will give me great pleasure if you stop asking me about Miss Polina,” he said resolutely and even crossly.

  “That means she’s wounded you badly as well!” I laughed involuntarily.

  “Miss Polina is the best being of all beings most worthy of respect, but, I repeat, you will give me great pleasure if you stop asking me about Miss Polina. You never knew her, and I consider her name on your lips an insult to my moral sense.”

  “So that’s how it is! You’re wrong, however; and, just think, what else am I to talk to you about except that? That’s all our memories consist of. Don’t worry, by the way, I don’t need any of your innermost secret matters…I’m interested only in Miss Polina’s external situation, only in her present external circumstances. That can be said in a couple of words.”

  “If you please, provided that these couple of words will end it all. Miss Polina was ill for a long time; she’s ill now, too. For some time she lived with my mother and sister in the north of England. Six months ago her granny—that same crazy woman, you remember—died and left to her personally a fortune of seven thousand pounds. Now Miss Polina is traveling with the family of my sister, who has since married. Her little brother and sister were also provided for by the granny’s inheritance and are studying in London. A month ago the general, her stepfather, died of a stroke in Paris. Mlle Blanche treated him well, but managed to transfer everything he got from the granny to her own name…that, it seems, is all.”

  “And des Grieux? Isn’t he also traveling in Switzerland?”

  “No, des Grieux is not traveling in Switzerland, and I don’t know where des Grieux is; besides, I warn you once and for all to avoid such hints and ignoble juxtapositions, otherwise you will certainly have to deal with me.”

  “What! despite our former friendly relations?”

  “Yes, despite our former friendly relations.”

  “A thousand pardons, Mr. Astley. Excuse me, however: there’s nothing offensive or ignoble; I don’t blame Miss Polina for anything. Besides that, a Frenchman and a Russian young lady, generally speaking—that is such a juxtaposition, Mr. Astley, as neither you nor I can resolve or understand definitively.”

  “If you will not mention the name of des Grieux together with the other name, I would ask you to explain to me what you mean by the expression ‘a Frenchman and a Russian young lady.’ What sort of ‘juxtaposition’ is it? Why precisely a Frenchman and a Russian young lady?”

  “You see, you’ve become interested. But this is lengthy stuff, Mr. Astley. Here you have to know a lot beforehand. However, it’s an important question—ridiculous as it all is at first sight. A Frenchman, Mr. Astley, is a finished, beautiful form. You, as a Briton, might disagree with that; I, as a Russian, also disagree—well, let’s say, out of envy; but our young ladies may be of a different opinion. You may find Racine 21 affected, distorted, and perfumed; you probably wouldn’t even bother to read him. I, too, find him affected, distorted, and perfumed, even ridiculous from a certain point of view; but he’s charming, Mr. Astley, and, above all—he’s a great poet, whether we like it or not. The national form of the Frenchman, that is, the Parisian, began composing itself into a graceful form while we were still bears. The revolution was heir to the nobility. Nowadays even the most banal little Frenchman may have manners, ways, expressions, and even thoughts of a fully graceful form, without partaking in that form either with his own initiative, or with his soul, or with his heart; he has come into it all by inheritance. In himself he may be emptier than the emptiest and lower than the lowest. Well, Mr. Astley, sir, I shall now inform you that there is no being in the world more trustful and candid than a good, clever, and not too affected Russian young lady. A des Grieux, appearing in some sort of role, appearing masked, can win her heart with extraordinary ease; he is of graceful form, Mr. Astley, and the young lady takes this form for his very soul, for the natural form of his soul and heart, and not for clothing that has come to him through inheritance. To your greatest displeasure, I must confess that Englishmen are for the most part angular and graceless, while Russians have a rather keen ability to discern beauty and to fall for it. But to discern the beauty of a soul and the originality of a person—for that one needs incomparably more independence and freedom than our women, especially young ladies, possess—and in any case more experience. And Miss Polina—forgive me, what’s said can’t be unsaid—needs a very, very long time to decide that she prefers you to the scoundrel des Grieux. She will appreciate you, will become your friend, will open all her heart to you, but even so in that heart will reign the hateful blackguard, the nasty and petty money-grubber des Grieux. This will even persist, so to speak, out of obstinacy and vanity alone, because the same des Grieux once appeared to her in the aureole of a graceful marquis, a dis-enchanted liberal, who (supposedly!) ruined himself helping her family and the light-minded general. All these tricks were uncovered afterwards. But never mind that they were uncovered: even so, give her the former des Grieux now—that’s what she wants! And the more she hates the present des Grieux, the more she pines for the former one, though the former one existed only in her imagination. Are you in sugar, Mr. Astley?”

  “Yes, I’m a partner in the well-known sugar refinery Lowell and Co.”

  “Well, so you see, Mr. Astley. On one side there’s a sugar refiner, on the other—the Apollo Belvedere. 22 All this somehow doesn’t hang together. And I’m not even a sugar refiner; I’m simply a petty gambler at roulette, and was even a lackey, which is certainly already kn
own to Miss Polina, because she seems to have good police.”

  “You’re bitter, that’s why you talk all this nonsense,” Mr. Astley said coolly, having pondered. “Besides, there’s no originality in your words.”

  “I agree! But that’s the horror of it, my noble friend, that all these accusations of mine, however outdated, however banal, however farcical—are still true! You and I still never got anywhere!”

  “That’s vile nonsense…because, because…be it known to you!” Mr. Astley pronounced in a trembling voice and flashing his eyes, “be it known to you, ungrateful and unworthy, petty and unhappy man, that I have come to Homburg especially on her orders, so as to see you, have a long and heartfelt talk with you, and report everything to her—your feelings, thoughts, hopes and…memories!”

  “It can’t be! Can it be?” I cried, and tears gushed from my eyes. I couldn’t hold them back, and that, I believe, for the first time in my life.

  “Yes, unhappy man, she loved you, and I can reveal it to you, because you’re a lost man! What’s more, even if I tell you that she loves you to this day—why, you’ll stay here all the same! Yes, you’ve ruined yourself. You had certain abilities, a lively character, and were not a bad man; you could even have been of use to your country, which has such need of people, but—you’ll stay here, and your life is ended. I’m not blaming you. In my view, all Russians are that way, or are inclined to be that way. If it’s not roulette, it’s something else like it. The exceptions are all too rare. You’re not the first to have no understanding of what work is (I’m not speaking of your peasants). Roulette is for the most part a Russian game. So far you’ve been honest and would sooner go to work as a lackey than steal…but I’m afraid to think what the future may hold. Enough, and farewell! You, of course, need money? Here are ten louis d’or for you, I won’t give you more, because you’ll gamble it away anyway. Take it, and farewell! Take it!”

  “No, Mr. Astley, after all that’s been said now…”

  “Ta-a-ake it!” he cried. “I’m convinced that you are still a noble person, and I’m giving it to you as a friend can give to a true friend. If I could be certain that you would give up gambling right now, leave Homburg, and go to your own country—I would be ready to give you a thousand pounds immediately to start a new career. But I precisely do not give you a thousand pounds, but give you only ten louis d’or, because whether it’s a thousand pounds or ten louis d’or at the present time is perfectly one and the same to you; all the same—you’ll gamble it away. Take it, and farewell.”

  “I’ll take it, if you’ll allow me to embrace you in farewell.”

  “Oh, with pleasure!”

  We embraced sincerely, and Mr. Astley left.

  No, he’s wrong! If I was sharp and stupid about Polina and des Grieux, he is sharp and hasty about Russians. I’m not talking about myself. However…however, meanwhile that’s all not it. It’s all words, words, words, and we want deeds! The main thing now is Switzerland! Tomorrow—oh, if only I could set out tomorrow! To be born anew, to resurrect. I must prove to them…Let Polina know that I can still be a human being. All it takes…now it’s late, though—but tomorrow…Oh, I have a presentiment, and it cannot be otherwise! I have fifteen louis d’or now, and I began once with only fifteen guldens! If you begin cautiously…—and can I possibly, can I possibly be such a little child? Can I possibly not understand myself that I’m a lost man? But—why can’t I resurrect? Yes! it only takes being calculating and patient at least once in your life and—that’s all! It only takes being steadfast at least once, and in an hour I can change my whole destiny! The main thing is character. Only remember what happened to me of this sort seven months ago in Roulettenburg, before I lost definitively. Oh, it was a remarkable case of determination: I lost everything then, everything…I walk out of the vauxhall, I look—one last gulden is stirring in my waistcoat pocket: “Ah, so I’ll have money for dinner!” I thought, but after going a hundred steps, I changed my mind and went back. I staked that gulden on manque (that time it was manque), and, truly, there’s something peculiar in the feeling when, alone, in a foreign land, far from your own country and your friends, and not knowing what you’re going to eat that day, you stake your last gulden, your very, very last! I won, and twenty minutes later left the vauxhall with a hundred and seventy guldens in my pocket. That’s a fact, sirs! There’s what your last gulden can sometimes mean! And what if I had lost heart then, what if I hadn’t dared to venture?…

  Tomorrow, tomorrow it will all be over!

  NOTES

  THE DOUBLE

  1. Russian civil service ranks are referred to throughout The Double. The following is the table of fourteen ranks established by the emperor Peter the Great in 1722:

  Chancellor

  Actual Privy Councillor

  Privy Councillor

  Actual State Councillor

  State Councillor

  Collegiate Councillor

  Court Councillor

  Collegiate Assessor

  Titular Councillor

  Collegiate Secretary

  Secretary of Naval Constructions

  Government Secretary

  Provincial Secretary

  Collegiate Registrar

  The rank of titular councillor was immortalized in Russian literature in the person of Akaky Akakievich Bashmachkin, hero of “The Overcoat,” by Nikolai Gogol (1809–52). Dostoevsky’s hero is his direct descendant.

  2. Silver roubles and paper roubles (banknotes) circulated simultaneously in Russia at that time, the silver rouble being worth more than the paper.

  3. Nevsky Prospect is the central thoroughfare of Petersburg; its mysterious qualities are celebrated in a story of the same name by Gogol.

  4. See note 1 above.

  5. The Gostiniy Dvor was, and still is, a large shopping arcade on Nevsky Prospect.

  6. See note 1 above.

  7. A reference to the fable “The Crow and the Fox” by I. A. Krylov (1768–1844): “The crow cawed with all her crow’s gullet—/The cheese fell…” Krylov, one of the most beloved Russian poets, is a master of the poetic fable in the manner of La Fontaine.

  8. See note 1 above.

  9. Balshazzar’s feast, described in Chapter 5 of the Old Testament book of Daniel, became the prototype of any sumptuous feast. The house of Clicquot (Veuve Clicquot Ponsardin) in Reims, founded in 1772, produces one of the finest champagnes. Eliseevs’ and Miliutin’s were actual shops on Nevsky Prospect (Eliseevs’ is still flourishing). The “fatted calf ” is found in Luke 15:23, the parable of the prodigal son: “And bring hither the fatted calf, and kill it; and let us eat, and be merry.” For the table of ranks, see note 1 above.

  10. Alexander Pushkin (1799–1837) is the greatest of Russian poets.

  11. Demosthenes (384–322 b.c.) was an Athenian political leader, whose powerful oratory awakened the Greek national spirit in the conflict with Macedonia.

  12. See note 1 above.

  13. Anton Antonovich Setochkin will reappear in Dostoevsky’s Notes from Underground (1864), where he is the anonymous hero’s superior in the civil service.

  14. Joseph, comte de Villèle (1773–1854), French statesman, was leader of the ultra-royalists under the Restoration (1814–30) and president of the Council of Ministers from 1821 to 1828. The laws passed under his leadership made him extremely unpopular.

  15. The Story of the English Milord George and Frederike Louise, Margravine of Brandenburg, with the Appended Story of the Former Turkish Vizier Marzimiris, by Matvei Komarov, was first published in 1782; its ninth edition came out in 1839.

  16. Goliadka is an endearing diminutive of goliada (probably cognate with goliy, “naked”), meaning a poor man, a beggar.

  17. After the disastrous flood of 1824, the citizens of Petersburg were warned of the danger of flooding by the firing of a cannon from the Peter and Paul fortress.

  18. See note 7 above. The line “And the coffer had no trick to it” is from the fable �
�The Coffer.”

  19. Field Marshal Alexander V. Suvorov (1729–1800), supreme commander of Russian forces under Catherine the Great, fought successfully against the Turks, put down the Polish uprising in 1794, and fought against the French revolutionary army in Italy until his defeat by Marshal Masséna in 1799. He was known for several eccentricities, one of which was crowing like a rooster.

  20. Karl Pavlovich Briullov (1799–1852), leader of the Russian Romantic school of painters, finished his most famous painting, The Last Day of Pompeii, in Italy in 1833; in 1834 it was brought to Russia and exhibited at the Academy of Fine Arts in Petersburg, where it met with great public admiration and critical acclaim.

  21. A line from the eighteenth-century Russian poet A. P. Sumarokov (1717–77) in the prologue “New Laurels,” written for a ballet performed on the occasion of Catherine the Great’s birthday in 1759.

  22. The Northern Bee was a reactionary newspaper edited by Faddey Bulgarin (1789–1859) and Nikolai Grech (1787–1867). Bulgarin was also a bad novelist and a police spy who specialized in denouncing literary figures, Pushkin among them.

  23. The pen name of O. I. Senkovsky (1800–58), critic and writer, publisher of the collection “Library for Reading.”

  24. Grigory (“Grishka”) Otrepyev, known as “the False Dmitri,” was a defrocked monk who claimed the Russian throne by pretending to be the lawful heir, the prince Dmitri, who had been murdered in childhood. He reigned for less than a year.

  25. The words about the serpent are a distorted quotation from the opening monologue of the little tragedy Mozart and Salieri, by Alexander Pushkin: “Who will say the proud Salieri was ever…/A crushed serpent, still alive, / Impotently biting the sand and dust…”

  26. In Petersburg, owing to its northern latitude, the sun sets in mid-afternoon during the winter.

  27. The Adventures of Faublas, a novel by the French writer and Girondist Louvet de Couvrai (1760–97), was translated into Russian in 1792–6.