View Full Version : Love your enemies: the unlovable Rogozhin
Gladys
01-20-2008, 06:39 AM
In the ‘The Idiot’, Prince Myshkin begins and ends with Rogozhin. In between, his shadow haunts the prince.
Rogozhin is the arrogant, overbearing passenger in the same carriage as the prince on a train to Petersburg. The impulsive, repulsive Rogozhin long threatens murder. During that night following his murder of Nastasya Filippovna (who deemed herself worthy only of Rogozhin…as human sacrifice), the prince’s “tears flowed on to Rogozhin’s cheek”.
Are these tears the descent of the prince into idiocy? Rather, I think, he is showing his open-hearted love for Rogozhin in the most trying circumstances imaginable. Finally, the epileptic is committed to the Swiss asylum, where he bemoans the sad fate of Rogozhin among others. All now see the prince’s great love as madness: no one believes in him. Are we also offended?
Maybe Dostoevsky is alluding here to scripture, “As it is written, Behold, I lay in Sion a stumblingstone and rock of offence: and whosoever believeth on him shall not be ashamed” (Romans 9:33).
I read the book a week ago and I can't stop thinking about Rogozhin and if I interpreted him right. So...if I figured out something wrong, please correct me. :)
Rogozhin is my favorite character. Although in the book he is considered as the worst chatacter, I don't understand completely why. I don't even understand if he loved Nastasya truly, or was just obsessed with her.
He was evil because he bought Nastasya, beat, killed her, but he also loved her. All bad things he did were cause of love (or obsession?). And if someone can love so much, how can he be evil? I would say that did it because he was mad of love, not because he was evil. If he was so bad, if he wanted Nastasya only because of her beauty, he surely wouldn't be so considerate towards her. He always listened, pleased her and he was around all the time for support.
For me one of the most touching moments in the book was when she ran away from wedding with Myshkin, and Rogozhin and Nastasya were in Petersburg, in widow's house. She was bored there, she even cried because of it, and next day Rogozhin brought cards, so they can play.
I don't know what would he do if she turned him down at the beggining of the novel. Would that awake his rage and desire to kill her, or did these feelings come later?
I think she is insensitive and much more evil than Rogozhin despite of her unfortunate life. At least he never exploited her as she did him. At the very beggining she alredy knew that she is lost and cannot be saved. Instead of accepting and ruining only herself she pulled after her Rogozhin, Myshkin and Aglaya.
For me Rogozhihin was much bigger victim than Nastasya.
What do you think?
Gladys
08-23-2009, 05:00 AM
I share your fascination with Rogozhin. He is obsessed with Nastasya. If he may be said to love Nastasya, his love is astronomically different from Prince Myshkin self-sacrificing love for her. For Rogozhin, 'love' probably means obsession or infatuation. He is 'in love', whereas the prince loves much.
Rogozhin is made mad by his love. Certainly, he acts at times in a considerate, pleasing and supportive way both to Nastasya and the prince. But he murders Nastasya and, earlier, had attempted to kill the prince. As to whether he is evil, I am guided the by the judgement of Prince Myshkin, 'his tears flowed on to Rogozhin's cheek'.
When she, runs 'away from wedding with Myshkin' to the widow's house, Nastasya is understandably bored and depressed. In self-deprecation she, 'a worthless woman', consciously flees her last chance of salvation. Had Nastasya turned Rogozhin down earlier, he would have left her alone. But she flies into his flame like a moth because such a 'worthless woman' is only good enough for the likes of him. That is why the prince intervenes: to save them both from themselves.
I think she [Natasya] is insensitive and much more evil than Rogozhin despite of her unfortunate life. At least he never exploited her as she did him. At the very beginning she already knew that she is lost and cannot be saved. Instead of accepting and ruining only herself she pulled after her Rogozhin, Myshkin and Aglaya.
I am inclined to agree with the prince: you are too hard on the victimised Nastasya, a damaged creature. While she ruined Rogozhin, Aglaya must also share some of the blame. As for Rogozhin, the prince lives in constant fear of his murderous friend – fear for Rogozhin, Nastasya and himself.
Where I strongly disagree with you, Ingi, is that Nastasya or Rogozhin ruined Prince Myshkin. Oh no! That the prince is ruined at all is debatable. If so, he is ruined by the intolerance of his Russian friends, Aglaya included, who consign the mourner to the Swiss asylum of bloodless Dr Schneider.
mouseofcards89
11-24-2010, 08:01 PM
Rogozhin is a man of extremes, one whose passions may be considered commensurate to those of Nastasya. He is Myshkin's foil in that he is driven solely by an urge to reduce that which he perceives to be a low woman to a state of hampering domesticity. He loves her in his own masochistic way, as a means through which to unconsciously discredit his own ideals. Rogozhin may be considered sensible in that he understands precisely who he is and was he stands for, and, unlike Myshkin, who wishes to redeem Nastasya Filippovna through a kind of platonic Christian love, he wishes to defile both himself and her. He takes a kind of malevolent delight in knowing that there is something lower than himself that he aspires to, in seeking her out and believing on some level that she is expendable while at the same time convincing himself that he loves her, and is a classic example of the man for whom the chase is far worthier than the goal.
Gladys
11-24-2010, 08:48 PM
Rogozhin is ... a classic example of the man for whom the chase is far worthier than the goal.
You well expressed complexities in the character of Rogozhin.
It seems to me that painters as a rule represent the Saviour, both on the cross and taken down from it, with great beauty still upon His face. This marvellous beauty they strive to preserve even in His moments of deepest agony and passion. But there was no such beauty in Rogojin's picture. This was the presentment of a poor mangled body which had evidently suffered unbearable anguish even before its crucifixion, full of wounds and bruises, marks of the violence of soldiers and people, and of the bitterness of the moment when He had fallen with the cross--all this combined with the anguish of the actual crucifixion.
Big Dante
04-10-2011, 05:25 AM
He seemed to be obsessed with Natasya in the same sense that Myshkin was. This gives the two the mutual feeling which bonds them throughout the novel while their personality types are still opposite with Myshkin portraying the good of human nature and Rogozhin the bad.
Gladys
04-10-2011, 07:14 AM
He seemed to be obsessed with Natasya in the same sense that Myshkin was.
Myshkin is overwhelmed with pity for shame-ridden Natasya: proud Rogozhin with lust.
Big Dante
04-11-2011, 02:01 AM
Myshkin is overwhelmed with pity for shame-ridden Natasya: proud Rogozhin with lust.
True but in the sense that both want her but do not conventionally love her.
Gladys
04-11-2011, 06:35 AM
True but in the sense that both want her but do not conventionally love her.
It's not that Prince Myshkin wants Nastasya Filippovna: he feels, from the beginning, impelled by compassion to rescue her from herself, from others, however improbable that may be. And to rescue Rogozhin from her!
In the end, of course, Myshkin fails on both counts. But he would change nothing. His mental health permitting, he would do the same again given a similar opportunity - and without hesitation. Just as he had attempted to save Aglaya (from a Polish fiasco).
Brielle92
08-17-2012, 03:31 PM
I loved Rogozhin. Everyone goes on about Nastasya but I think Rogozhin was the victim. Nastasya could have easily avoided her sitch with Rogozhin, but I guess someone will just argue that she is damaged. She took pleasure in seeing him completely obsessed and pulled at his heartstrings for fun. I believe she knew what kind of man he is from the start with the diamond earrings: impulsive, irrational, passionate. Thus, she did this to herself. Ps, she obviously didn't want to be saved. Ok, maybe at the beggining with Totsky but after then she was just vindictive and cruel and she liked it.
I don't know, I guess I just can't forgive her for ruining the Prince's happiness. I'm convinced he truly loved Aglaya (as in a man loves a woman, not the typical Myshkin love).
Gladys
09-10-2012, 04:57 AM
Nastasya could have easily avoided her sitch with Roghozin, but I guess someone will just argue that she is damaged.
Having said this, you go on to characterise the damage!
I don't know, I guess I just can't forgive her for ruining the Prince's happiness. I'm convinced he truly loved Aglaya (as in a man loves a woman, not the typical Myshkin love).
The prince loves all, and especially Roghozin. The prince knows nothing of romantic love or, at least, gives it scant priority. His happiness is bound up in saving Roghozin. In the end, he saves no one, not even himself, although Vera Lebedev, Lizabetha Prokofievna, and Evgenie Pavlovitch may feel otherwise (if you go by the last page of the novel).
Steveedo
08-27-2014, 05:36 PM
I realize this post is very old, but I want to respond anyway. The prince certainly experiences romantic love, first with Nastásya Filíppovna,. When he arrives uninvited at her birthday party, he is dazzled by her beauty and says to her, "Everything is perfection in you . . ." He declares his love openly to all present and offers marriage. Only later, after painful experience, does he say that the he no longer loves her romantically but with pity.
His love for Aglaya is completely romantic and powerful. She is much closer to a conventional character than Nastasya or Roghozin, so Myskin's feelings toward her have nothing to do with self-sacrifice. He loves her. Early on, in part 2, he's afraid of his emotions regarding her and refuses even to hear her name mentioned in connection with himself. A great part of the novel is devoted to their often comical courtship. One of the great tragedies of the novel is that this innocent, romantic relationship is destroyed by Nastaya F's steady drive to destuction, which pulls Myskin (and thus Aglaya) in its wake.
For me, by story's end, the lives of Myskin, Nastasya, Rogozhin and Aglaya are all destroyed. It's a astounding tragedy, probably one of the most terrible in literature.
Gladys
08-29-2014, 06:07 AM
It's my favourite novel.
I realize this post is very old, but I want to respond anyway. The prince certainly experiences romantic love, first with Nastásya Filíppovna,. When he arrives uninvited at her birthday party, he is dazzled by her beauty and says to her, "Everything is perfection in you . . ." He declares his love openly to all present and offers marriage. Only later, after painful experience, does he say that the he no longer loves her romantically but with pity.
You will find no textual justification for he no longer loves her romantically because he never did. The prince sees Nastásya as a tragic figure, in need of salvation, from the moment he meets her. And she's beautiful, of course.
His love for Aglaya is completely romantic and powerful. She is much closer to a conventional character than Nastasya or Roghozin, so Myskin's feelings toward her have nothing to do with self-sacrifice. He loves her. Early on, in part 2, he's afraid of his emotions regarding her and refuses even to hear her name mentioned in connection with himself.
Again no textual hint anywhere of romantic love on Myshkin's part. And again the prince is right: Aglaya in the end needed saving from herself as much as did Nastásya. But he couldn't save both...or ultimately either. How he tried! And yet his final tears are for Rogozhin.
Besides, the recent events that had befallen her family had
given Adelaida much to think about, especially the sad experiences of her younger sister. Within six months,
everything that the family had dreaded from the marriage with the Polish count had come to pass. He turned
out to be neither count nor exile--at least, in the political sense of the word--but had had to leave his native
land owing to some rather dubious affair of the past. It was his noble patriotism, of which he made a great
display, that had rendered him so interesting in Aglaya's eyes. She was so fascinated that, even before
marrying him, she joined a committee that had been organized abroad to work for the restoration of Poland;
and further, she visited the confessional of a celebrated Jesuit priest, who made an absolute fanatic of her. The
supposed fortune of the count had dwindled to a mere nothing, although he had given almost irrefutable
evidence of its existence to Lizabetha Prokofievna and Prince S.
Besides this, before they had been married half a year, the count and his friend the priest managed to bring
about a quarrel between Aglaya and her family, so that it was now several months since they had seen her.
Steveedo
08-30-2014, 08:03 PM
It's my favourite novel.
You will find no textual justification for he no longer loves her romantically because he never did. The prince sees Nastásya as a tragic figure, in need of salvation, from the moment he meets her. And she's beautiful, of course.
Again no textual hint anywhere of romantic love on Myshkin's part. And again the prince is right: Aglaya in the end needed saving from herself as much as did Nastásya. But he couldn't save both...or ultimately either. How he tried! And yet his final tears are for Rogozhin.
No "textual justification" or "hint"? I'm sorry, I don't know how you can read the novel and make such statements.
Of course Myskin's feeling for Nastasya Filippovna is one of overwhelming compassion from the begining. He will do anything to save her from herself. But romantic love and compassion are not exclusive of each other. Dostoevsky showed this earlier in C&P, in the relationship between Sonya (another saint or holy fool) and Raskolnikov. I think it's here too, early in the relationship between Myshkin and N.F. When the Prince and Aglaya meet at the bench, the following is said:
Myshkin: "Oh, I loved her; Oh, I loved her very much, but afterwards . . . she guessed it all."
Aglaya: "What did she guess?"
Myshkin: "That I only pitied her, but that I . . . don't love her any more."
Thus Myshkin distinquishes his "love" from his pity.
Regarding the romance between Myshkin and Aglaya, there are numerous descriptions. Myshkin kisses the note from Aglaya (the one arranging a rendezvous at he green bench). Immediately after, we read:
If anyone had told him at that moment that he had fallen in love, that he was passionately in love, he would have rejected the idea with surprise and perhaps with indignation . . .
Myshkin doesn't know his mind here. Later, when Aglaya prompts his proposal (in front of her family), he declares:
"I love you. Aglaya Ivanovna. I love you very much, I love no one but you and . . . don't jest, I implore you . . . I love you very much."
Alone with General Epanchin:
"I love Aglaya Ivanovna; she knows that . . . and I think she had known it for a long time."
"Strange, strange! . . . And are you very fond of her?"
"Very."
I can go on and on.
Gladys
09-01-2014, 07:33 AM
But romantic love and compassion are not exclusive of each other. Dostoevsky showed this earlier in C&P, in the relationship between Sonya (another saint or holy fool) and Raskolnikov. I think it's here too, early in the relationship between Myshkin and N.F. When the Prince and Aglaya meet at the bench, the following is said:
Myshkin: "Oh, I loved her; Oh, I loved her very much, but afterwards . . . she guessed it all."
Aglaya: "What did she guess?"
Myshkin: "That I only pitied her, but that I . . . don't love her any more."
I exaggerated a little. Prince Myshkin does indeed have romantic love for Nastásya and, after she chooses Roghozin, for Aglaya. But as a motivating force in his life, romantic love is as nothing alongside his compassion.
This unconditional and selfless "love", his drive to save these women, first Nastásya, later Aglaya and finally Nastásya borders on the infinite. At the end, Nastásya is the most needy and so Aglaya must take second place. Meanwhile, his "love" for Roghozin is no less! His decision making is invariably driven by "divine" love.
Sonya in C & P, is much the same. She is impelled by a selfless love of her fellow man, as amply illustrated in her generous relationship with all the prisoners at the end. For both Sonya and the prince, romantic love is incidental, although many look at them and judge otherwise. Dostoevesky is content to allow the careless reader the same illusion. Love of one's neighbour - the person in most need - is everything.
The quotations you provide on Aglaya are particularly interesting, The full quote, which rather supports my view is:
If anyone had come up at this moment and told him that he was in love, passionately in love, he would have rejected the idea with astonishment, and, perhaps, with irritation. And if anyone had added that Aglaya's note was a love-letter, and that it contained an appointment to a lover's rendezvous, he would have blushed with shame for the speaker, and, probably, have challenged him to a duel.
All this would have been perfectly sincere on his part. He had never for a moment entertained the idea of the possibility of this girl loving him, or even of such a thing as himself falling in love with her. The possibility of being loved himself, "a man like me," as he put it, he ranked among ridiculous suppositions. It appeared to him that it was simply a joke on Aglaya's part, if there really were anything in it at all; but that seemed to him quite natural. His preoccupation was caused by something different.
As to the few words which the general had let slip about Aglaya laughing at everybody, and at himself most of all--he entirely believed them. He did not feel the slightest sensation of offence; on the contrary, he was quite certain that it was as it should be.
And the alone with General Epanchin quotation eventually continues, speaking of the prince:
But this evening he did nearly all the talking himself, and told stories by the dozen, while he answered all questions put to him clearly, gladly, and with any amount of detail.
There was nothing, however, of love-making in his talk. His ideas were all of the most serious kind; some were even mystical and profound.
He aired his own views on various matters, some of his most private opinions and observations, many of which would have seemed rather funny, so his hearers agreed afterwards, had they not been so well expressed.
Steveedo
09-02-2014, 05:35 PM
I exaggerated a little. Prince Myshkin does indeed have romantic love for Nastásya and, after she chooses Roghozin, for Aglaya. But as a motivating force in his life, romantic love is as nothing alongside his compassion.
This unconditional and selfless "love", his drive to safe these women, first Nastásya, later Aglaya and finally Nastásya borders on the infinite. At the end, Nastásya is the most needy and so Aglaya must take second place. Meanwhile, his "love" for Roghozin is no less! His decision making is invariably driven by "divine" love.
I agree. Myshkin is concerned completely with others' welfare and never with his own. He is utterly selfless. It is a testament to Dostoevsky's power that he was able to bring such an impossible character to life.
Regarding Myshkin's relationship with Aglaya, let me say that this innocent, "boyhood" romance of Myshkin's sets the Nastaya-Rogozhin-Myskin tragedy of the climax in bold relief, makes it even more dark and terrible.
Even though we read of Myshkin's recurring feeling of dread and his presentiment of impending disaster, we are so charmed by the light and humor of his relationship with the Epanchin family that we are still shocked when the disaster happens--even though, when it does, it seems somehow inevitable.
Love of one's neighbour - the person in most need - is everything.
The law of Christ--impossible without his grace.
Myshkin, destroyed by his great love, holding and comforting the murderer (the man he called brother)--it's the most tragic thing I've ever read and somehow overwhelmingly personal. I think I walked around shocked for three weeks when I first read it.
Gladys
09-04-2014, 08:19 AM
Regarding Myshkin's relationship with Aglaya, let me say that this innocent, "boyhood" romance of Myshkin's sets the Nastaya-Rogozhin-Myskin tragedy of the climax in bold relief, makes it even more dark and terrible.
Touching romance indeed, but Prince Myshkin is well aware that gullible and vulnerable Aglaya needs someone like him to save her from some appalling Polish count or charismatic Jesuit priest.
Myshkin, destroyed by his great love, holding and comforting the murderer (the man he called brother)--it's the most tragic thing I've ever read and somehow overwhelmingly personal. I think I walked around shocked for three weeks when I first read it.
I too was shocked by Myshkin's ultimate "crucifixion", consigned, without a dissenting voice, to Dr. Schneider's establishment in Switzerland. But you seems not to have noticed his subsequent "resurrection"!
THE ENDING: ‘like a lamb dumb before his shearer’ (http://www.online-literature.com/forums/showthread.php?34352-THE-ENDING-%91like-a-lamb-dumb-before-his-shearer%92)
Pompey Bum
10-22-2014, 12:52 AM
This is an interesting thread. I hope I haven't missed it.
I also found The Idiot a shocking book, and no image more so than that of Prince Myshkin weeping tears onto the Rogozhin's face before the slain body of Nastasya Filippovna. Are these the tears of an all-loving Savior for even the worst of humanity? It is a tempting and religiously conventional view, but my answer is no. Prince Myshkin, after all, is a failed Savior. As an earlier commentator noted, he has saved no one, not even himself. In fact everyone whose life he has touched is in one way or another destroyed. How dare such a Savior weep for humanity? Why would his tears matter?
Are they perhaps tears of homoerotic love? After all Myshkin and Rogozhin are in bed together and the woman whose love they shared lies before them. My answer is still no, although I believe that this possibility is closer to the truth. It is not that it is wrong. It is just not enough. In my view Myshkin's tears are tears of ecstasy at the reunification of a separated integer: Yin embracing Yang with unstoppable attraction. It is the Monad weeping at its own terrible unity.
This view requires an unconventional understanding of Rogozhin's identity that seems perfectly obvious to me. In fact, the various commentators on this thread have been casting all around it:
"He is Myshkin's foil...and, unlike Myshkin, who wishes to redeem Nastasya Filippovna through a kind of platonic Christian love, he wishes to defile both himself and her."
"This gives the two the mutual feeling which bonds them throughout the novel while their personality types are still opposite with Myshkin portraying the good of human nature and Rogozhin the bad."
"Myshkin is overwhelmed with pity for shame-ridden Natasya: proud Rogozhin with lust."
Where does that leave us? Well, let me put it this way: the selfless and pure Prince Myshkin is usually understood to be a Sotorological character--a Christ figure. So who do you think Rogozhin is? And isn't it perfectly obvious?
To say that Rogozhin represents the devil to may seem simplistic (although I believe that is exactly what Dostoyevsky intended); but he is not given to us in simple Orthodox terms, but rather dualistic or Manichaean. The light has come into the world but instead of bringing Salvation it can only embrace its missing part: its shadow, Rogozhin. Before their unity lies, like a human sacrifice, the slaughtered humanity they contended for. The image is shocking--even blasphemous. I believe that it is the key to understanding what Dostoyevsky sought to present about the human tragedy and existential predicament in which there are no easy answers; and that it lies at the heart of this deeply troubling book.
Gladys
10-22-2014, 03:25 AM
I also found The Idiot a shocking book, and no image more so than that of Prince Myshkin weeping tears onto the Rogozhin's face before the slain body of Nastasya Filippovna. Are these the tears of an all-loving Savior for even the worst of humanity? It is a tempting and religiously conventional view, but my answer is no. Prince Myshkin, after all, is a failed Savior. As an earlier commentator noted, he has saved no one, not even himself. In fact everyone whose life he has touched is in one way or another destroyed. How dare such a Savior weep for humanity? Why would his tears matter?
Prince Myshkin, weeping over the murderer Rogozhin, is a failed savior. The parallel with Jesus before crucifixion (hardly a success!) is more than obvious. Peter denied him, Judas betrayed him and the rest ran away. Failure by this world's standard is the essence of Jesus' life, as this quote from Handel's Messiah shows:
23. Air (Alto)
He was despised and rejected of men, a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief. Isaiah 53: 3
He gave His back to the smiters, and His cheeks to them that plucked off His hair: He hid not His face from shame and spitting. Isaiah 53: 6
24. Chorus
Surely He hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows! He was wounded for our transgressions, He was bruised for our iniquities; the chastisement of our peace was upon Him. Isaiah 53: 4-5
I do agree that Prince Myshkin, no god man he, weeps much more for his fallen friends (including Aglaya) than for humanity as a whole. His tears. in the short term, don't seem to matter in the least.
I believe that it is the key to understanding what Dostoyevsky sought to present about the human tragedy and existential predicament in which there are no easy answers; and that it lies at the heart of this deeply troubling book.
I agree in part but, I have come to think, the novel does provide something of an answer on the final page, an answer elaborated in the hyperlink at the end of of my previous post. I now see the ending as a paradoxical triumph and have the warmest feeling for the novel, unlike the grim Crime and Punishment.
Pompey Bum
10-22-2014, 07:01 AM
Prince Myshkin, weeping over the murderer Rogozhin, is a failed savior. The parallel with Jesus before crucifixion (hardly a success!) is more than obvious. Peter denied him, Judas betrayed him and the rest ran away. Failure by this world's standard is the essence of Jesus' life, as this quote from Handel's Messiah shows:
23. Air (Alto)
He was despised and rejected of men, a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief. Isaiah 53: 3
He gave His back to the smiters, and His cheeks to them that plucked off His hair: He hid not His face from shame and spitting. Isaiah 53: 6
24. Chorus
Surely He hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows! He was wounded for our transgressions, He was bruised for our iniquities; the chastisement of our peace was upon Him. Isaiah 53: 4-5
I do agree that Prince Myshkin, no god man he, weeps much more for his fallen friends (including Aglaya) than for humanity as a whole. His tears. in the short term, don't seem to matter in the least.
I agree in part but, I have come to think, the novel does provide something of an answer on the final page, an answer elaborated in the hyperlink at the end of of my previous post. I now see the ending as a paradoxical triumph and have the warmest feeling for the novel, unlike the grim Crime and Punishment.
Thank you for the response. I appreciate the identification in orthodox Christian theology between Jesus of Nazareth and Isaiah's Man of Sorrows and other instances of triumph in humiliation. I am glad that you can take some consolation from Dostoyevsky's work and I have no wish to take that from you--quite the contrary. For me, however, the difference in the case of Prince Myshkin is that here, most emphatically, no one is saved. Myshkin is not just a failure by the world's standard: he is a failure by any standard. For me, then, The Idiot is not a source of religious consolation but an open sore in the continuing need for human redemption. In my view, that is the novel's challenge, its relevance, and its greatness.
I have read the analysis you left at the hyperlink and will give it some thought. As far as Crime and Punishment goes, I cannot comment on it intelligently because I have not yet read it. (I have read The Brothers Karamazov, though, which I found more hopeful than The Idiot). Thanks again for your heartfelt response.
Gladys
10-23-2014, 03:33 AM
For me, however, the difference in the case of Prince Myshkin is that here, most emphatically, no one is saved.
Can you really be so sure, as you read the nuances in final page? Why doesn't this novel end a page earlier?
Evgenie takes this much to heart, and he has a heart, as is proved by the fact that he receives and even answers letters from Colia. But besides this, another trait in his character has become apparent, and as it is a good trait we will make haste to reveal it. After each visit to Schneider's establishment, Evgenie Pavlovitch writes another letter, besides that to Colia, giving the most minute particulars concerning the invalid's condition. In these letters is to be detected, and in each one more than the last, a growing feeling of friendship and sympathy.
The individual who corresponds thus with Evgenie Pavlovitch, and who engages so much of his attention and respect, is Vera Lebedeff. We have never been able to discover clearly how such relations sprang up. Of course the root of them was in the events which we have already recorded, and which so filled Vera with grief on the prince's account that she fell seriously ill. But exactly how the acquaintance and friendship came about, we cannot say.
And then there's Aglaya and Lizabetha Prokofievna.
Pompey Bum
10-24-2014, 02:34 AM
Can you really be so sure, as you read the nuances in final page? Why doesn't this novel end a page earlier?
And then there's Aglaya and Lizabetha Prokofievna.
For me, the epilogue shows only the varied dispositions of characters following Myshkin's disaster; as, for example, individuals may change for better or worse after an auto accident. Evgenie Pavlovitch grows in compassion but Aglaya lurches into personal catastrophe and (for Dostoyevsky) spiritual perfidy in her conversion by a "fanatic" Jesuit. Surely this does not constitute redemption, nor does it change the novel's deeper questioning of orthodox Christian beliefs, especially that of the Savior triumphant in humiliation (a point of contention also found in Rogozhin's painting of Jesus being taken from the cross).
I am not saying that Dostoyevsky is repudiating the belief, but he is questioning it, especially in relationship to the situations in which people actually live. In doing so, he is also examining the relationship between good and evil. By the end of The Idiot, neither has triumphed and both have been damaged (Myshkin returns to his asylum and Rogozhin is sent to hard labor in Siberia). It is small wonder, then, that characters' lives take their varied courses, for better or otherwise.
Gladys
10-25-2014, 07:16 AM
Evgenie Pavlovitch grows in compassion but Aglaya lurches into personal catastrophe and (for Dostoyevsky) spiritual perfidy in her conversion by a "fanatic" Jesuit. Surely this does not constitute redemption, nor does it change the novel's deeper questioning of orthodox Christian beliefs, especially that of the Savior triumphant in humiliation (a point of contention also found in Rogozhin's painting of Jesus being taken from the cross).
Prince Myshkin fails, despite his best efforts, to save the gullible and vulnerable Aglaya from that appalling Polish count or from the Jesuit Svengali. The Prince's active life on earth, like Christ before him, is ultimately one of comprehensive failure. As Pilate says to Jesus, "What is Truth?", and with that he crucifies it. Such is the way of the world. The Prince is motivated by love, whatever the cost (great indeed), and it is clear to me where Dostoevsky's sympathies lie. After all, like Ibsen, he read and admired the Danish genius, Kierkegaard.
That Dostoyevsky has little time for the orthodox Christian beliefs of his Russian characters is more than obvious. For instance, his poignant depiction of a more radical Christianity practised by the idiot prince, in Switzerland, early in the novel.
But why question an emerging redemption in the case of Evgenie Pavlovitch? The kingdom of God is like a mustard seed.
Luke 13:19___The Kingdom of God is like a grain of mustard seed, which a man took, and cast into his garden; and it grew, and waxed a great tree; and the fowls of the air lodged in the branches of it.
Pompey Bum
10-26-2014, 03:37 AM
Prince Myshkin fails, despite his best efforts, to save the gullible and vulnerable Aglaya from that appalling Polish count or from the Jesuit Svengali.
I believe that Dostoyevsky places Aglaya's marriage to the Polish count and her conversion to "a fanatic" to the time after Myshkin's relapse (please correct me if I'm wrong--I haven't read the book for a year or two); so it could not have happened "despite his best efforts." In fact, Myshkin would have been unaware of those developments and unable to help even if he had known.
But why question an emerging redemption in the case of Evgenie Pavlovitch? The kingdom of God is like a mustard seed.
One wants Evgenie Pavlovitch's growth in his relationship with Vera Lebedeff to have resulted directly from Prince Myshkin's ideas, or his innocence, purity, and goodness; but what does Dostoyevsky say about it?
"We have never been able to discover clearly how such relations sprang up. Of course the root of them was in the events which we have already recorded...But exactly how the acquaintance and friendship came about, we cannot say."
The events themselves may have produced some good, but we are unable to attribute that to Myshkin with certainty for the simple reason that Dostoyevsky is unable to do so. On the contrary, he explicitly states that he does not know. His view of any future role for Myshkin is plagued by a similar agnosticism:
"But Dr. Schneider frowns ever more and more and shakes his head; he hints that the brain is fatally injured; he does not as yet declare that his patient is incurable, but he allows himself to express the gravest fears."
it is clear to me where Dostoevsky's sympathies lie.
I believe you. You certainly understand the tendency and direction of his thought. In my opinion, Dostoyevsky inclined to your view that Evgenie Pavlovitch's moral growth constituted "an emerging redemption," but at the time he wrote The Idiot, he was just not sure. His faith (Myshkin?) and his agnosticism (Rogozhin?) were about equal, and to his credit he chose not to pretend otherwise.
Twenty years later, Dostoyevsky's faith had edged forward by at least a nose with publication of The Brothers Karamazov. Here it is the rationalist-agnostic rather than the holy innocent who suffers a mental collapse precisely because he is unable to contend with the world as it is; and activities in the final chapter provide just the sort of "redemption despite it all" that you seem to be seeking in The Idiot. It is difficult to say whether that faith would have prevailed in the long term, because Dostoyevsky died four months after The Brothers Karamazov was published (as you may know, he had conceived of it as the first volume of a massive work to be called The Life of a Great Sinner). But your view was leading when that light went out. It was not, in my opinion, at the time of The Idiot.
Gladys
10-26-2014, 10:03 PM
I believe that Dostoyevsky places Aglaya's marriage to the Polish count and her conversion to "a fanatic" to the time after Myshkin's relapse (please correct me if I'm wrong--I haven't read the book for a year or two); so it could not have happened "despite his best efforts."
You misunderstand me. Had not Nastasya Filippovna intervened in that awful three-way confrontation, unstable Agalya would have been saved from a Polish fiasco or the like, simply in marrying the reliable Myshkin. Aglaya needed someone like the prince, as he knew only too well. The motivation for Myshkin's actions are always the same. He was marrying Aglaya (and the equally unstable Nastasya Filippovna) out of selfless love. As in the title of one of Kierkegaard's books: Purity of Heart is to Will One Thing. But the prince couldn't marry both or, ultimately, either!
One wants Evgenie Pavlovitch's growth in his relationship with Vera Lebedeff to have resulted directly from Prince Myshkin's ideas, or his innocence, purity, and goodness; but what does Dostoyevsky say about it?
"We have never been able to discover clearly how such relations sprang up. Of course the root of them was in the events which we have already recorded...But exactly how the acquaintance and friendship came about, we cannot say."
The events themselves may have produced some good, but we are unable to attribute that to Myshkin with certainty for the simple reason that Dostoyevsky is unable to do so. On the contrary, he explicitly states that he does not know. His view of any future role for Myshkin is plagued by a similar agnosticism:
"But Dr. Schneider frowns ever more and more and shakes his head; he hints that the brain is fatally injured; he does not as yet declare that his patient is incurable, but he allows himself to express the gravest fears."
As for Dr. Schneider, he always represents the orthodox, conventionally wise, but hopelessly uninsightful viewpoint: he is ignorant of everything that really matters! As for our prudent and agnostic narrator ("We have never been able to discover clearly..."), he most certainly is not speaking for the author, Dostoyevsky.
But what of Vera Lebedeff? Over the past 24 hours, my attention has been drawn towards her. Why is she, of all people, prominent in the epilogue, and what do we know of Vera Lukianovna? Here's my summary:
Vera means "faith" in Russian, though it is sometimes associated with the Latin word verus "true". Lukianovna suggests the Greek-born apostle Luke or, more probably, a borrowing from the Latin, Lucius, derived from the root lux (light). We first meet the girl in mourning for her mother, who died in child birth.
"The child she carries is an orphan, too. She is Vera's sister, my daughter Luboff. The day this babe was born, six weeks ago, my wife died, by the will of God Almighty. ... Yes... Vera takes her mother's place, though she is but her sister... nothing more ... nothing more..."
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The prince noticed the sweet, welcoming look on Vera Lebedeff's face, as she made her way towards him through the crowd. He held out his hand to her. She took it, blushing with delight, and wished him "a happy life from that day forward." Then she ran off to the kitchen, where. her presence was necessary to help in the preparations for supper. Before the prince's arrival she had spent some time on the terrace, listening eagerly to the conversation, though the visitors, mostly under the influence of wine, were discussing abstract subjects far
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"What are you thinking of? Don't go, he'll blow his brains out in a minute!" cried Vera Lebedeff, rushing up to Hippolyte and catching hold of his hands in a torment of alarm. "What are you thinking of? He said he would blow his brains out at sunrise."
"Oh, he won't shoot himself!" cried several voices, sarcastically.
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"How foolish I am to speak of such things to a man like you," said Vera, blushing. "Though you DO look tired," she added, half turning away," your eyes are so splendid at this moment--so full of happiness."
"Really?" asked the prince, gleefully, and he laughed in delight.
But Vera, simple-minded little girl that she was (just like a boy, in fact), here became dreadfully confused, of a sudden, and ran hastily out of the room, laughing and blushing.
"What a dear little thing she is," thought the prince, and immediately forgot all about her.
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Vera Lebedeff was one of the first to come to see him and offer her services. No sooner did she catch sight of him than she burst into tears; but when he tried to soothe her she began to laugh. He was quite struck by the girl's deep sympathy for him; he seized her hand and kissed it. Vera flushed crimson.
"Oh, don't, don't!" she exclaimed in alarm, snatching her hand away. She went hastily out of the room in a state of strange confusion.
----------
Offering all these facts to our readers and refusing to explain them, we do not for a moment desire to justify our hero's conduct. On the contrary, we are quite prepared to feel our share of the indignation which his behaviour aroused in the hearts of his friends. Even Vera Lebedeff was angry with him for a while; so was Colia; so was Keller, until he was selected for best man; so was Lebedeff himself,--who began to intrigue against him out of pure irritation;--but of this anon.
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We have observed before that even some of the prince's nearest neighbours had begun to oppose him. Vera Lebedeff's passive disagreement was limited to the shedding of a few solitary tears; to more frequent sitting alone at home, and to a diminished frequency in her visits to the prince's apartments.
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Muishkin gave him excellent cigars to smoke, and Lebedeff, for his part, regaled him with liqueurs, brought in by Vera, to whom the doctor--a married man and the father of a family--addressed such compliments that she was filled with indignation. They parted friends, and, after leaving the prince, the doctor said to Lebedeff: "If all such people were put under restraint, there would be no one left for keepers."
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Only Vera Lebedeff remained hurriedly rearranging the furniture in the rooms. As she left the verandah, she glanced at the prince. He was seated at the table, with both elbows upon it, and his head resting on his hands. She approached him, and touched his shoulder gently. The prince started and looked at her in perplexity; he seemed to be collecting his senses for a minute or so, before he could remember where he was. As recollection dawned upon him, he became violently agitated. All he did, however, was to ask Vera very earnestly to knock at his door and awake him in time for the first train to Petersburg next morning. Vera promised, and the prince entreated her not to tell anyone of his intention. She promised this, too; and at last, when she had half-closed the door, be called her back a third time, took her hands in his, kissed them, then kissed her forehead, and in a rather peculiar manner said to her, "Until tomorrow!"
Such was Vera's story afterwards.
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The individual who corresponds thus with Evgenie Pavlovitch, and who engages so much of his attention and respect, is Vera Lebedeff. We have never been able to discover clearly how such relations sprang up. Of course the root of them was in the events which we have already recorded, and which so filled Vera with grief on the prince's account that she fell seriously ill. But exactly how the acquaintance and friendship came about, we cannot say.
It seems to me that Vera, who mourns both at the beginning and the end, fills a similar role to mother-of-God Mary at the foot of Calvary's cross and, later, at the Easter empty tomb! To appreciate the positive in ending of The Idiot, perhaps, one needs the faith of Vera.
Matthew 5:4___Blessed are they that mourn: for they shall be comforted.
Pompey Bum
10-27-2014, 03:08 AM
You misunderstand me.[/INDENT]
Well, if you say so. But I reassert that Aglaya's marriage and conversion could not have happened "despite [Prince Myshkin's] best efforts" if Myshkin never knew of either event in the first place.
Had not Nastasya Filippovna intervened in that awful three-way confrontation, unstable Agalya would have been saved from a Polish fiasco or the like, simply in marrying the reliable Myshkin.
Myshkin reliable? Gladys, Prince Myshkin has many admirable qualities--honesty and selflessness among them--but he is very far from being anything like a reliable husband. He is prone to obsessive and extreme swings of mood (some have even claimed of personality), he is unable to protect Nastasya from her murderer, and he suffers a complete mental breakdown by the end of the book. Granted Myshkin is not a charlatan like the Polish count, but one can easily imagine that in his innocence he too would have been snookered by him. I can even envision Myshkin, in his extreme selflessness, turning Agalya over to the count ("No, no, it's more important that you two should be happy!") with the same disastrous results.
As for Dr. Schneider, he always represents the orthodox, conventionally wise, but hopelessly uninsightful viewpoint: he is ignorant of everything that really matters!
I see that he is ignorant of what matters most to you; but in the narrative itself isn't he just the voice of (rather pushy) scientific agnosticism? As Emily Dickinson noted, "Microscopes are prudent in an emergency." That's hardly ignorance.
As for our prudent and agnostic narrator ("We have never been able to discover clearly..."), he most certainly is not speaking for the author, Dostoyevsky.
Is there a first person subjective narrator I've forgotten about? If not, why do you hesitate to take Dostoyevsky at his word? If he isn't being straight with you about the things in the story that make you feel uncomfortable, then why do you take his word about the parts that you like? Hmmm? :)
It seems to me that Vera, who mourns both at the beginning and the end, fills a similar role to mother-of-God Mary at the foot of Calvary's cross and, later, at the Easter empty tomb!
I will give this idea some thought.
To appreciate the positive in ending of The Idiot, perhaps, one needs the faith of Vera.
Or the doubt of Dostoyevsky?; for as the Christian theologian Paul Tillich observed, without doubt faith is a logical impossibility.
I've been enjoying our conversation quite a bit, by the way. I'll be on the road for the next few days or possibly weeks. I will respond if you (or anyone else) writes back, but it may take a little longer this time. I'm still here, though.
Gladys
10-28-2014, 06:50 AM
The prince becomes engaged Aglaya, hoping to keep her safe from herself. Once the engagement is broken, Aglaya is vulnerable again.
He is prone to obsessive and extreme swings of mood (some have even claimed of personality), he is unable to protect Nastasya from her murderer, and he suffers a complete mental breakdown by the end of the book.
I can't accept any of this. The prince is, in fact, the most stable of all. That he ultimately fails to protect either Nastasya of Aglaya is no fault of his because the task was always near impossible. He did all he could. The prince attempts, again and again, the near impossible but it comes at a tragic cost to his health. Few would hazard such a cost but, for the prince, only selfless and sacrificial love makes life worth living. Risking everything for others, Myshkin, a mere mortal, finally suffers from something akin to PTSD. Who else would fare better?
From the viewpoint of selfless love, Myshkin actions are entirely rational. Such a viewpoint is incomprehensible to his friends, to Dr. Schneider and, maybe, to yourself even now. No matter - Aglaya would have been safe with him. Wonderfully, in the epilogue, Evgenie Pavlovitch and Vera Lebedeff are beginning to understand.
I see that he [Dr. Schneider] is ignorant of what matters most to you; but in the narrative itself isn't he just the voice of (rather pushy) scientific agnosticism? As Emily Dickinson noted, "Microscopes are prudent in an emergency." That's hardly ignorance.
I think Dostoyevsky has the following scripture in mind, and Dr. Schneider - the voice of scientific agnosticism - is ignorant in this sense:
1st Corinthians 1 v26___For ye see your calling, brethren, how that not many wise men after the flesh, not many mighty, not many noble, are called:
27___But God hath chosen the foolish things of the world to confound the wise; and God hath chosen the weak things of the world to confound the things which are mighty;
28___And base things of the world, and things which are despised, hath God chosen, yea, and things which are not, to bring to nought things that are
If not, why do you hesitate to take Dostoyevsky at his word? If he isn't being straight with you about the things in the story that make you feel uncomfortable, then why do you take his word about the parts that you like?
The narrator is entirely reliable but he only sees so far. Deep motives are mostly hidden from him throughout.
"To appreciate the positive in ending of The Idiot, perhaps, one needs the faith of Vera." Or the doubt of Dostoyevsky?; for as the Christian theologian Paul Tillich observed, without doubt faith is a logical impossibility.
Where doubt is lacking, there is no need of faith! Even Vera is racked with doubt. As is the prince, always. And Dostoyevsky too. I like to think of it this way: Vera has faith in love for one's neighbour.
Enjoy your time on the road. :smile5:
Pompey Bum
11-03-2014, 07:13 AM
I can't accept any of this.
That is precisely the power of the novel. If The Idiot merely affirmed the religious values of Dostoyevsky's day (or simply exalted those of ours), then it would not touch the raw nerve that it does. As an allegory, the story should not have ended with Nastasya murdered and Myshkin in bed with Rogozhin. The prince has not sacrificed himself for her, he has failed to save her. That failure is disturbing to readers exactly because we cannot accept it. And yet (for me) it is impossible to do otherwise, simply because Dostoyevsky has the integrity to depict the world as he finds it, not the world as he (and we) would prefer it to be.
At the same time, Dostoyevsky does not hand us a glib or cynical atheism. This is not the moral universe of Herman Melville or Joseph Conrad (the latter of whom is said to have despised Dostoyevsky). Dostoyevsky will not rule out some future for Myshkin, but concludes his account of him with "gravest fears" to the contrary. Again, here is a vision of the world as the author finds it and not as he would have it.
But I see that we disagree about these things, which is fine. As I said earlier, I have no wish to disabuse you of any religious consolation you may take from The Idiot. Consider my perspective if you like. I promise to give yours some thought, too.
The narrator is entirely reliable but he only sees so far. Deep motives are mostly hidden from him throughout.
I think Dostoyevsky has the following scripture in mind, and Dr. Schneider - the voice of scientific agnosticism - is ignorant in this sense:
And I think you are applying an esoteric and somewhat midrashic interpretation of Dostoyevsky's third person narrative in order to derive religious meaning for yourself. There is nothing wrong with that per se, in fact I believe that seeking personal meaning in a text is a highly enlightened approach to literature. The problem arises in your claim that it is Dostoyevsky who had that particular passage from Paul in mind rather than you who are bringing it to the Dostoyevsky's work--something for which you offer no certain evidence (as a statement to that effect by Dostoyevsky, for example). But I'll grant you that as a character Prince Myshkin falls within the Christian and specifically Russian Orthodox tradition of the holy fool, which is certainly (and primarily) informed by Pauline theology, including the passage you cite. The difference (for me) is that here the holy fool fails as a savior, and the reader is left to grapple accordingly between doubt and faith.
Enjoy your time on the road. :smile5:
Thank you. It's been a mixed bag so far but next week promises to be better. :)
Gladys
11-04-2014, 03:31 AM
I think I understand your viewpoint well enough. I had sympathy with it on finishing the novel, but my appreciation grows with time.
If The Idiot merely affirmed the religious values of Dostoyevsky's day (or simply exalted those of ours), then it would not touch the raw nerve that it does.
If The Idiot merely affirmed the religious values of Dostoyevsky's day, the many good Russians interacting with the idiot, throughout the novel, would have revered him rather than universally dismissing him as some Holy Fool.
And I think you are applying an esoteric and somewhat midrashic interpretation of Dostoyevsky's third person narrative in order to derive religious meaning for yourself.
Whereas, I think I am recognising Paul's sentiments in the tenor of Dostoyevsky's text. Incidentally, I see nothing foolish, nothing of the Holy Fool, in Prince Myshkin. Foolishness is all that his fellow Russians are willing to see except, perhaps, the troubled Roghozin who exchanges his gold cross for Myshkin's tin.
The difference (for me) is that here the holy fool fails as a savior, and the reader is left to grapple accordingly between doubt and faith.
Herein lies Dostoevsky's sparkling paradox: the so-called Holy Fool fails to save anyone, yet succeeds as savior! To appreciate this, the reader, himself, needs to grapple between doubt and faith...and prevail. Evgenie Pavlovitch and Vera Lebedeff are in the vanguard, leading the way.
Travel on angels wings. http://boboss.fm.interia.pl/aniolek_t.jpg
Pompey Bum
11-04-2014, 11:25 AM
Travel on angels wings. http://boboss.fm.interia.pl/aniolek_t.jpg
Thank you. I'm sure there will be more leg room than on Japan Airlines. :)
prendrelemick
11-16-2016, 05:35 PM
I've just finished it and thought I'd been reading a farce! (Though a black one.)
Brilliant discussion by the way.
Pompey Bum
11-16-2016, 06:40 PM
I've just finished it and thought I'd been reading a farce! (Though a black one.)
Brilliant discussion by the way.
Thank you. Gladys is a smart lady and a good debater. I wish she'd post more.
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