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The Brothers Karamazov
Finally we arrive at the house and meet the servants. How is Fyodor not a Foucaultian anti-hero? But, perhaps, rather than relishing the limit-experiences he goes to such trouble to instigate, he holds back at the brink and depends on Gregory to ground him to this world. He flirts with but still holds back from disaster.
p103 Corrupt and often cruel in his lust, like some poisonous insect, Fyodor Karamazov was sometimes, in moments of drunkenness, overcome by superstitious terror and a moral convulsion which took an almost physical form. "My soul simply quakes in my throat at those times," he used to say.
At such moments he liked to feel that there was near at hand, in the lodge if not in the room, a strong, faithful man [Gregory, his servant], virtuous and unlike himself . . . One who had seen all his vices and knew all his secrets, but was ready in his devotion to overlook everything, not to oppose him and above all, not to reproach him or threaten him with anything either in this world or in the next, and, in case of need, to defend him...
In this passage Gregory certainly has a Christ like aspect. And isn't this really the essence of religion? Certainly of Christianity. Someone who knows us completely but forgives us everything and will stand beside us regardless what happens.
p104 ...Alyosha "pierced his heart" by "living with him, seeing everything and blaming nothing." Moreover, Alyosha brought with him something his father had never known before: a complete absence of contempt for him and a consistent kindness, a perfectly natural, unaffected devotion to the old man who deserved it so little. All this was a complete surprise to the old wretch who had dropped all family ties. It was a new and surprising experience for him, who had until then loved nothing but "evil." And when Alyosha had left him to join the monastery, he confessed to himself that he had learned something he had not till then been willing to learn.
So the vile Fyodor we see in these pages is the moderated version of this character, having been beneficially touched by Christian love... Now that's a scary thought.
... Gregory was cold, dignified and reserved, and spoke, weighing his words, without frivolity. It was impossible to tell at first sight whether he loved his meek, obedient wife, Marfa. But he really did love her, and she knew it. [Omniscient]
p105 Marfa was by no means foolish; she was probably more clever than her husband or, at least, more prudent than he in worldly affairs. Yet she had given in to him in everything without question or complaint ever since her marriage and she respected him for his spiritual superiority. It was remarkable how little they spoke to one another in the course of their lives; they spoke only of the most necessary daily affairs. The reserved Gregory thought over all his cares and duties alone, so that Marfa had long grown used to knowing that he did not need her advice. She felt that he respected her silence, and took it as a sign of her good sense. He had never beaten her but once, and then only slightly... [she had danced in a "Moscow" rather than the village fashion, so obviously needed some kind of a beating.] But there it ended. The beating was never repeated, and Marfa gave up dancing.
I don't know what to make of this. Marfa seems to be a pretty typical Dostoevsky woman, really not so different from Katerina. Is this
Dostoevsky's ideal?
p106 [Gregory and Marfa's six fingered infant child dies soon after birth] Marfa observed that, from the day of the burial, Gregory devoted himself to "religion," and took to reading the "Lives of the Saints," for the most part sitting alone and in silence... He was fond of the Book of Job, and had somehow acquired a copy of the sayings and sermons of "the God-fearing Father Isaac the Wyrian." [ This is an appropriate quote from Father Issac, "A handful of sand, thrown into the sea, is what sinning is, when compared to God’s Providence and mercy. Just like an abundant source of water is not impeded by a handful of dust, so is the Creator’s mercy not defeated by the sins of His creations."] He read this persistently for years on end, understanding very little of it but perhaps prizing and loving it the more for that. Of late he had begun to listen to the doctrines of the sect of Flagellants settled in the neighborhood. He was evidently shaken by them, but judged it unfitting to go over to the new faith...
p107 Gregory was perhaps predisposed to mysticism. And the birth and death of his deformed child had, as though by special design, been accompanied by another strange and marvelous event... on the very night after the burial of his child, Marfa was awakened by the wail of a newborn baby...
Opening the door of the bathhouse, he [Gregory] saw a sight which petrified him. An idiot girl, who wandered about the streets and was know as... (Stinking Lizaveta), had gotten into the bathhouse and had just given birth to a child. She lay dying with the baby beside her. She said nothing, for she had never been able to speak. But her story needs a chapter to itself.
I'm tempted to skip this description of the ephemeral character Lizaveta, but this passage reminds me of what has been said about Alyosha and I'm wondering what Dostoevsky sees in this.
Book III. 2.
p108 ...Spiteful and diseased, her father used to beat Lizaveta inhumanely [?] whenever she returned to him [after her mother dies]. But she rarely did so, for everyone in the town was ready to look after her as an idiot, and so specially dear to God. Her father's employers and many others in the town... tried to clothe her better, and always gave her high boots and a sheepskin coat for the winter. But, although she let them dress her up without resisting, she usually went away, preferably to the cathedral porch, and taking off all that had been given her -- kerchief, sheepskin, skirt or boots -- she left them there and walked away barefoot in her smock as before.
...
p109 ...She would walk into strange houses, and no one drove her away. Everyone was kind to her and gave her something. If she were given a penny, she would take it, and at once drop it in the alms box of the church or prison. If she were given a roll or bun in the market, she would hand it to the first child she met. Sometimes she would stop one of the richest ladies in the town and give it to her, and the lady would be pleased to take it. She herself never tasted anything but black bread and water... they knew that if she saw thousands of roubles she would not have touched a penny.
It is interesting to compare Lizaveta with Father Ferapont.
She scarcely ever went to church. She slept either on the church porch or climbed over a low fence into a kitchen garden. At least once a week she used to turn up "at home," that is at the house of her father's former employers, and in the winter she went there every night, and slept either in the passage or the cowhouse. People were amazed that she could stand such a life, but she was accustomed to it and, although she was very tiny, she was strong and healthy. Some of the townspeople declared that she did all this only from pride, but that is hardly credible. She couldn't speak, and only from time to time uttered an inarticulate grunt. How could she have been proud?
Lizaveta is impregnated either by Fyodor or by an escaped criminal and her orphan is raised by Marfa and Gregory. This child is Pavel Smerdyakov ("The Stinker"). A surname invented by Fyodor himself. Pavel becomes the third servant in the household when he grows up.
As usual, I wonder what, exactly, Dostoyevsky meant by this character. Lizaveta would seem to be the most Christian and "holy" character in the book... exceeding even Zossima and certainly Father Ferapont. Having, apparently, no intellect to sacrifice to faith, she simply lives this particular Christian ideal almost as an animal. Is she in fact a daughter of Eve? Does she share the knowledge of good and evil or is she still in a state of nature.
This is not an idle question as she is also the mother of Pavel. Dostoyevsky is diabolical in the way he piles plot on plot and hides, in plain sight, the most amazing things thanks to spectacles of distraction. The holy Lizaveta and the unholy Fodor create -- through rape, apparently -- Pavel, who plays a role in The Brothers K. not unlike the role Euphorion plays in Goethe's Faust. (Euphorion is the issue of Faust and Hellena and... well, it's complicated. I'm going to tackle Faust next, but Here's a little taste.)
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