The Brothers Karamazov
irrepressible fury. With flushed face I began recalling how often I had
been on the point of declaring my love to her, and as she had not
attempted to stop me or to warn me, she must, I concluded, have been
laughing at me all the time. Later on, of course, I reflected and
remembered that she had been very far from laughing at me; on the
contrary, she used to turn off any love-making on my part with a jest
and begin talking of other subjects; but at that moment I was incapable
of reflecting and was all eagerness for revenge. I am surprised to
remember that my wrath and revengeful feelings were extremely repugnant
to my own nature, for being of an easy temper, I found it difficult to
be angry with any one for long, and so I had to work myself up
artificially and became at last revolting and absurd.
I waited for an opportunity and succeeded in insulting my “rival” in
the presence of a large company. I insulted him on a perfectly
extraneous pretext, jeering at his opinion upon an important public
event—it was in the year 1826[5]—and my jeer was, so people said,
clever and effective. Then I forced him to ask for an explanation, and
behaved so rudely that he accepted my challenge in spite of the vast
inequality between us, as I was younger, a person of no consequence,
and of inferior rank. I learned afterwards for a fact that it was from
a jealous feeling on his side also that my challenge was accepted; he
had been rather jealous of me on his wife’s account before their
marriage; he fancied now that if he submitted to be insulted by me and
refused to accept my challenge, and if she heard of it, she might begin
to despise him and waver in her love for him. I soon found a second in
a comrade, an ensign of our regiment. In those days though duels were
severely punished, yet dueling was a kind of fashion among the
officers—so strong and deeply rooted will a brutal prejudice sometimes
be.
It was the end of June, and our meeting was to take place at seven
o’clock the next day on the outskirts of the town—and then something
happened that in very truth was the turning-point of my life. In the
evening, returning home in a savage and brutal humor, I flew into a
rage with my orderly Afanasy, and gave him two blows in the face with
all my might, so that it was covered with blood. He had not long been
in my service and I had struck him before, but never with such
ferocious cruelty. And, believe me, though it’s forty years ago, I
recall it now with shame and pain. I went to bed and slept for about
three hours; when I waked up the day was breaking. I got up—I did not
want to sleep any more—I went to the window—opened it, it looked out
upon the garden; I saw the sun rising; it was warm and beautiful, the
birds were singing.
“What’s the meaning of it?” I thought. “I feel in my heart as it were
something vile and shameful. Is it because I am going to shed blood?
No,” I thought, “I feel it’s not that. Can it be that I am afraid of
death, afraid of being killed? No, that’s not it, that’s not it at
all.”... And all at once I knew what it was: it was because I had
beaten Afanasy the evening before! It all rose before my mind, it all
was as it were repeated over again; he stood before me and I was
beating him straight on the face and he was holding his arms stiffly
down, his head erect, his eyes fixed upon me as though on parade. He
staggered at every blow and did not even dare to raise his hands to
protect himself. That is what a man has been brought to, and that was a
man beating a fellow creature! What a crime! It was as though a sharp
dagger had pierced me right through. I stood as if I were struck dumb,
while the sun was shining, the leaves were rejoicing and the birds were
trilling the praise of God.... I hid my face in my hands, fell on my
bed and broke into a storm of tears. And then I remembered my brother
Markel and what he said on his death-bed to his servants: “My dear
ones, why do you wait on me, why do you love me, am I worth your
waiting on me?”
“Yes, am I worth it?” flashed through my mind. “After all what am I
worth, that another man, a fellow creature, made in the likeness and
image of God, should serve me?” For the first time in my life this
question forced itself upon me. He had said, “Mother, my little heart,
in truth we are each responsible to all for all, it’s only that men
don’t know this. If they knew it, the world would be a paradise at
once.”
“God, can that too be false?” I thought as I wept. “In truth, perhaps,
I am more than all others responsible for all, a greater sinner than
all men in the world.” And all at once the whole truth in its full
light appeared to me; what was I going to do? I was going to kill a
good, clever, noble man, who had done me no wrong, and by depriving his
wife of happiness for the rest of her life, I should be torturing and
killing her too. I lay thus in my bed with my face in the pillow,
heedless how the time was passing. Suddenly my second, the ensign, came
in with the pistols to fetch me.
“Ah,” said he, “it’s a good thing you are up already, it’s time we were
off, come along!”
I did not know what to do and hurried to and fro undecided; we went out
to the carriage, however.
“Wait here a minute,” I said to him. “I’ll be back directly, I have
forgotten my purse.”
And I ran back alone, to Afanasy’s little room.
“Afanasy,” I said, “I gave you two blows on the face yesterday, forgive
me,” I said.
He started as though he were frightened, and looked at me; and I saw
that it was not enough, and on the spot, in my full officer’s uniform,
I dropped at his feet and bowed my head to the ground.
“Forgive me,” I said.
Then he was completely aghast.
“Your honor ... sir, what are you doing? Am I worth it?”
And he burst out crying as I had done before, hid this face in his
hands, turned to the window and shook all over with his sobs. I flew
out to my comrade and jumped into the carriage.
“Ready,” I cried. “Have you ever seen a conqueror?” I asked him. “Here
is one before you.”
I was in ecstasy, laughing and talking all the way, I don’t remember
what about.
He looked at me. “Well, brother, you are a plucky fellow, you’ll keep
up the honor of the uniform, I can see.”
So we reached the place and found them there, waiting us. We were
placed twelve paces apart; he had the first shot. I stood gayly,
looking him full in the face; I did not twitch an eyelash, I looked
lovingly at him, for I knew what I would do. His shot just grazed my
cheek and ear.
“Thank God,” I cried, “no man has been killed,” and I seized my pistol,
turned back and flung it far away into the wood. “That’s the place for
you,” I cried.
I turned to my adversary.
“Forgive me, young fool that I am, sir,” I said, “for my unprovoked
insult to you and for forcing you to fire at me. I am ten times worse
than you and more, maybe. Tell that to the person whom you hold dearest
in the world.”
I had no sooner said this than they all three shouted at me.
“Upon my word,” cried my adversary, annoyed, “if you did not want to
fight, why did not you let me alone?”
“Yesterday I was a fool, to-day I know better,” I answered him gayly.
“As to yesterday, I believe you, but as for to-day, it is difficult to
agree with your opinion,” said he.
“Bravo,” I cried, clapping my hands. “I agree with you there too. I
have deserved it!”
“Will you shoot, sir, or not?”
“No, I won’t,” I said; “if you like, fire at me again, but it would be
better for you not to fire.”
The seconds, especially mine, were shouting too: “Can you disgrace the
regiment like this, facing your antagonist and begging his forgiveness!
If I’d only known this!”
I stood facing them all, not laughing now.
“Gentlemen,” I said, “is it really so wonderful in these days to find a
man who can repent of his stupidity and publicly confess his
wrongdoing?”
“But not in a duel,” cried my second again.
“That’s what’s so strange,” I said. “For I ought to have owned my fault
as soon as I got here, before he had fired a shot, before leading him
into a great and deadly sin; but we have made our life so grotesque,
that to act in that way would have been almost impossible, for only
after I have faced his shot at the distance of twelve paces could my
words have any significance for him, and if I had spoken before, he
would have said, ‘He is a coward, the sight of the pistols has
frightened him, no use to listen to him.’ Gentlemen,” I cried suddenly,
speaking straight from my heart, “look around you at the gifts of God,
the clear sky, the pure air, the tender grass, the birds; nature is
beautiful and sinless, and we, only we, are sinful and foolish, and we
don’t understand that life is heaven, for we have only to understand
that and it will at once be fulfilled in all its beauty, we shall
embrace each other and weep.”
I would have said more but I could not; my voice broke with the
sweetness and youthful gladness of it, and there was such bliss in my
heart as I had never known before in my life.
“All this as rational and edifying,” said my antagonist, “and in any
case you are an original person.”
“You may laugh,” I said to him, laughing too, “but afterwards you will
approve of me.”
“Oh, I am ready to approve of you now,” said he; “will you shake hands?
for I believe you are genuinely sincere.”
“No,” I said, “not now, later on when I have grown worthier and deserve
your esteem, then shake hands and you will do well.”
We went home, my second upbraiding me all the way, while I kissed him.
All my comrades heard of the affair at once and gathered together to
pass judgment on me the same day.
“He has disgraced the uniform,” they said; “let him resign his
commission.”
Some stood up for me: “He faced the shot,” they said.
“Yes, but he was afraid of his other shot and begged for forgiveness.”
“If he had been afraid of being shot, he would have shot his own pistol
first before asking forgiveness, while he flung it loaded into the
forest. No, there’s something else in this, something original.”
I enjoyed listening and looking at them. “My dear friends and
comrades,” said I, “don’t worry about my resigning my commission, for I
have done so already. I have sent in my papers this morning and as soon
as I get my discharge I shall go into a monastery—it’s with that object
I am leaving the regiment.”
When I had said this every one of them burst out laughing.
“You should have told us of that first, that explains everything, we
can’t judge a monk.”
They laughed and could not stop themselves, and not scornfully, but
kindly and merrily. They all felt friendly to me at once, even those
who had been sternest in their censure, and all the following month,
before my discharge came, they could not make enough of me. “Ah, you
monk,” they would say. And every one said something kind to me, they
began trying to dissuade me, even to pity me: “What are you doing to
yourself?”
“No,” they would say, “he is a brave fellow, he faced fire and could
have fired his own pistol too, but he had a dream the night before that
he should become a monk, that’s why he did it.”
It was the same thing with the society of the town. Till then I had
been kindly received, but had not been the object of special attention,
and now all came to know me at once and invited me; they laughed at me,
but they loved me. I may mention that although everybody talked openly
of our duel, the authorities took no notice of it, because my
antagonist was a near relation of our general, and as there had been no
bloodshed and no serious consequences, and as I resigned my commission,
they took it as a joke. And I began then to speak aloud and fearlessly,
regardless of their laughter, for it was always kindly and not spiteful