Allegorical overtones in ‘The Idiot’
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Originally Posted by
JCamilo
btw, Gladys, if our disagreement point is basically the view of Myshkin and that you are focusing on his goodness because of the previous exaggerated negativity towards him, then you could have said so and we would have no disagreement (or at least not significantly) at all...
No, no, no. Our disagreement is major, and pertains to the allegorical intent of the The Idiot, which I have up to now avoided by preferring to focus on discrete evidence rather than existential complexities. So, throwing caution to the wind, here is my overview of the religious or allegorical dimension of the novel.
Quote:
Originally Posted by
JCamilo
...the prince (the symbol of the idiot) is something particular moving to an universal symbolism (In this case two universal : the fool and the martyr. Since the allegory moves from universal to particular, that is not the case)
The prince (the symbolic representative of God’s elect) arrives in Russia (the symbol for Christendom). Here is something universal moving to a particular symbolism: the individual’s or reader’s (our own) relationship to love (agape) and so to the God of love: to the eternal, the absolute and the infinite.
The core of The Idiot expresses Dostoevsky’s religious and existential world-view. He sees Prince Myshkin as a courageous follower of Christ, one of the few thousand elect in The Grand Inquisitor: exceptional humans (overmen) who can existentially stare freedom in the face. Predictably, the disciple (Myshkin) ‘fails’ just as Jesus failed, both on Calvary and fifteen centuries later at the hands of the aged inquisitor. The prince’s tears, falling on Roghozin’s cheek, parallels Jesus kissing the devilish, old inquisitor. Both the prince and Jesus (see Alyosha's words quoted below) are vindicated through loving, suffering, crucifixion and resurrection: they triumph gloriously, in life as in 'death'. The Idiot ends with understated ecstasy, hidden in 'a fog cloud': Myshkin’s spiritual resurrection. It is crucial to appreciate that Myshkin, in leading a life of love (agape), succeeds from moment to moment (existentially), not just at the end. Dostoevsky reveres and venerates this witness to the truth, who loves (agape) much. The prince becomes a pattern, a universal symbol, a rallying cry for humanity.
Are not our positions, JCamilo, worlds apart? We more or less agree that the prince is insightful and loving. You see his ethical strength but not his religious audacity, because you characterise as ambivalence or even failure, what for Dostoevsky and Alyosha is unblemished, ongoing triumph. Martyrdom plays only a minor role. Why do we see differently? While you are more widely read, I suspect my knowledge of Christianity and the existential religious writings of Soren Kierkegaard (a towering genius, and a Christian like Dostoevsky) help in understanding the many religious allusions in ‘The Idiot’.
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Originally Posted by
JCamilo
I said about books which the literal meaning are contradictory to the allegorical meaning or that even writers use the literal as a fog cloud to manipulate the [reader].
Both The Idiot and The Grand Inquisitor are fictional reflections of Kierkegaard's religious writings of the 1840’s, culminating in his vitriolic ‘Attack on Christendom’ (1855). The suffering servant (Jesus or Myshkin) of Isaiah 53, though ‘despised and rejected of men; a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief’, is vindicated with ‘he shall see his seed, he shall prolong his days, and the pleasure of the LORD shall prosper in his hand’. In both The Idiot and The Grand Inquisitor, Dostoevsky uses the literal, the apparent failures of Myshkin and Jesus, as a fog to cloud their existential and eternal success.
The first work of Soren Kierkegaard (1813 – 1855) was On the Concept of Irony with Continual Reference to Socrates and last was Attack upon Christendom. Irony is fundamental to Dostoevsky and Kierkegaard; both play the devil’s advocate consummately. The last work is one of several that attacked Christendom in the same vein as The Grand Inquisitor. In Ivan’s poem, the devilish inquisitor shows the duplicity of Christendom, but Dostoevsky sympathies align with Alyosha’s viewpoint.
"But all that is absurd!" suddenly exclaimed Alyosha, who had hitherto listened perplexed and agitated but in profound silence. "Your poem is a glorification of Christ, not an accusation, as you, perhaps, meant to be. And who will believe you when you speak of 'freedom'? Is it thus that we Christians must understand it? It is Rome (not all Rome, for that would be unjust), but the worst of the Roman Catholics, the Inquisitors and Jesuits, that you have been exposing!
Similarly, Alyosha would rightly interpret The Idiot as a glorification of the prince, not an accusation.
A couple of years ago, when I finished reading 'The Idiot', I drew much the same verdict on the novel as you, except that "his tears flowed on to Roghozin's cheek" jarred terribly. This anticlimax of an ending was not what I had come to expect from Dostoevsky. Hours later I recognised the heartbroken prince’s banishment to Switzerland as a ‘crucifixion’, a splendid sacrifice, but weeks passed before I perceived Myshkin’s ‘resurrection’ and the jigsaw began to make thorough sense.
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Originally Posted by
JCamilo
Existentialism is not just about having good will or better, good ethics, but the practice of it. The prince acts in good faith seeking his (and others equally) good. His failure lies in doing both
His success, understood from an eternal standpoint, ‘lies in doing both’. A paradox.
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Originally Posted by
JCamilo
The prince social limitations leads him to misunderstanding the motives of others
He looks for and understands the good in others; he loves (agape) much. Can you provide even one substantial example where the prince misunderstands ‘the motives of others’?
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Originally Posted by
JCamilo
Thus, all the negative points in the books I listed.
Through Ivan in The Grand Inquisitor, Dostoevsky seamlessly plays devil's advocate, as he does in all his novels: and like Kierkegaard, he argues both sides most convincingly.
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Originally Posted by
JCamilo
Just saying that he loved [agape] is not enough, it is how it happens, the practice that is shown that gives the dimensions of a character.
Yes, it's not enough, because agape is nothing less than works of love. Practice (self-sacrificing works and actions) is all. While, love may be ambiguous, agape is not.
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Originally Posted by
JCamilo
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Originally Posted by
Gladys
From a human, rational standpoint, the prince achieves absolutely nothing. No success. Nil.
The prince achieves and fails.
His comprehensive success is evident on the plane of 'the Eternal and the Absolute' (to quote from The Grand Inquisitor).
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Originally Posted by
JCamilo
His redemption is his failure, his success should be the redemption of others.
The disciple succeeds like his master, Jesus: betrayed, deserted, denied and crucified.
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Originally Posted by
JCamilo
The world does not mock who mocks him. Dostoevsky is the one who does it
You have not understood Dostoevsky's irony here.
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Originally Posted by
JCamilo
So, I think he demanded more than just suffering servant...
The words 'suffering servant' allude to Jesus, and his demand is 'Follow me', in my footsteps. If the Christian 'Dostoevsky is not a fan of absolute certainties', what are we to make of 'the Eternal and the Absolute' at the heart of Christianity? His Christianity, like Kierkegaard’s, is radical, as blatantly expressed in Ibsen’s play, Brand. In an 1854 letter (to N.D. Fonvisin, Russian novelist) Fyodor Dostoevsky wrote,
"If anyone could prove to me that Christ is outside the truth, and if the truth really did exclude Christ, I should prefer to stay with Christ and not with the truth."
Surely, ‘a fan of absolute certainties’!
Myshkin understands Nastasya and Aglaya
We aren’t placing the same pieces in different configurations, JCamilo, because you have gravely underestimated the prince’s intuitive understanding of Nastasya and Aglaya - and of others too, I suspect. You have misconstrued the clear literal meaning.
Myshkin’s success, understood from an eternal standpoint, is paradoxical in that Russian society (and many a reader) sees his life as essentially a failure. And so do you, inasmuch as, you imagine the prince has misinterpreted how the two women, Aglaya and Nastasya, would react. HE DOES NOT! This fact is key to understanding the novel. Even with hindsight, the prince would behave in exactly the same way again towards the two women, because he intuits their deepest motives and feelings accurately. If Dostoevsky’s irony is lost on you here, you cannot possibly make sense of the rest: Myshkin’s earthly failure and eternal success.
Can’t you see that the prince, though labelled ‘the idiot’, understands better than anyone the desires, motives and feelings of all the needy characters in the novel? He especially understands Roghozin, Aglaya and Nastasya. Dostoevsky makes this clear, as a literal reading shows time and time again. My interpretation is based on this.
I have been using ‘allegory’ in the sense of ‘In literature, a symbolic story that serves as a disguised representation for meanings other than those indicated on the surface’ or ‘The representation of abstract ideas or principles by characters, figures, or events’. The prince is one of God’s elect, not Jesus Christ. The prince’s story symbolises the elect’s relationship with agape and with Christendom. And challenges to the reader.
The book portrays the relationship one of God’s elect (not some existential man) to society. And yes, Dostoevsky is placing the existential Christian in the world, in Russian society, in Christendom, and exposing his apparent failures.
‘Jesus had an eternal success’? Not in his lifetime! Much the same with Myshkin. Alyosha, Jesus, Myshkin and Sonia ‘confessed that they were strangers and pilgrims on the earth’ to quote Hebrews 11:13. Dostoevsky religious position aligns squarely with these four. Nevertheless, he is intensely and sincerely sympathetic to almost all his characters, including Fyodor Pavlovich Karamazov, Pavel Smerdyakov and Roghozin. Both points are fundamental in understanding his irony.
In most of his works, Dostoevsky’s ‘main aim’ is ‘the glorification of’ God. In so doing, like Kierkegaard, he can and does present both sides of the argument with astonishing insight and skill. He is never shallow. He is not cynical but Christian, although his irony fools many.
The ‘disciple succeeds like his master’ and both actively change the world through agape. Jesus kept his disciples? No, one betrayed, another denied, and all deserted. And after Jesus’ death, was there a multitude of followers? No; as the grand inquisitor says, “But remember that these are but a few thousands--of gods, not men…”
Quote:
Originally Posted by
Gladys
Fyodor Dostoevsky wrote, "If anyone could prove to me that Christ is outside the truth, and if the truth really did exclude Christ, I should prefer to stay with Christ and not with the truth."
Dostoevsky is ‘a fan of absolute certainties’ who glorifies one side, with the ironic subtlety of genius.
Myshkin behaves appropriately
Quote:
Originally Posted by
JCamilo
This became circular. I think we will have to sneer to each other and learn to live with that
I have nothing useful to add on existential Christianity, the life of Christ, allegory, literal meaning, The Grand Inquisitor, The Brothers Karamzov or Dostoevsky the person. I always had good reason to doubt my ability or wisdom in trying to explain the existential religious complexities of Kierkegaard, as reflected in Dostoevsky or Ibsen. My prime interest remains textual evidence in The Idiot.
Our discussion has been circular for a week, through language difficulties and differences in background. As you say, we have both been repeating positions. Please understand that my last couple of posts have been more aggressive, without sneering :thumbs_up, simply to break communication deadlock. I finally understand you better in the following crucial area.
Quote:
Originally Posted by
JCamilo
And again, I never said he [Myshkin] would misinterpret how the women would react. Here are walking in circles. The prince is keen about the feelings and motives of others. He is not keen in how to deal with the intricate social conducts and places his own feeling as norm. And that is what shows his failure to deal with the social interactions: as result one women he tried to save, died killed by the very friend he tried to made and the other in a unhappy marriage. All because he know not how to balance his true feelings and noble intentions to help with them.
Walking in circles, I had thought you disagreed that the prince understands how Aglaya and Nastasya would react. Of course, I still assert that the prince behaves appropriately in key social interactions with both women. Is there evidence to the contrary? Far from being responsible for disasters that befall Nastasya, Roghozin and Aglaya, the prince acts courageously and appropriately to forestall disaster, while all around gawk. That he fails to avert disaster is not his fault.
If you can accept this proposition, everything about the prince changes.
What do you mean by "romantic"?
It appears to me the discussion presupposes all of us agree on the definition of the term "romantic." It might be presumed that most of us know what is being referred to when we speak of the Romantics of the earliest part of the 19th century. Even if that is true, I think it would be worthwhile for someone among us to find a definition of romanticism we can agree on, because in some of the replies the word is used in the popular sense as in the sigh: "How romantic!" which means something like—you make my heart beat and it blinds my reasoning process. And in others, the word is expressed in relation to the Romantic Movement in literature, music, and fine arts. It would be very superficial to leave Dostoyesvky thinking that his message to us is something similar to what is expressed by the former, popular meaning—feelings as the ultimate source of truth. At the same time, even though Dostoyevsky is writing in the third quarter of the 19th century, what elements can be considered "romantic" in his works, even if not related to the Romantics, strictly speaking, fifty years before him?
I wish to give an example of the confusion that can arise, taken from my personal experience. After I had read some of Jane Austen's novels, I wanted to comment viva voce with a friend of mine on the intricate human relationships portrayed in Austen's novels through elaborately refined conversations between the characters. My friend, after listening a while, simply said: "Oh, those stories are romances." I felt very let down, because I do not think the love stories Austen presents have anything to do with the main issues she is trying to communicate in her works on a much deeper level: the human virtues, decisions made from discernment processes, ethical issues demanding loyalty between the characters, etc. If you read her books looking for "romances" in the popular sense of the word, you might as well save yourself the great effort it takes to read and understand her novels, and watch the afternoon soap opera.
Don't misunderstand me. I am not saying love affairs cannot be the main attraction in great literature. If that were so, I would have to exclude The Betrothed by Alessandro Manzoni (which novel, by the way, I am surprised is not included on our online-literature list). No, it has nothing to do with "what" the author is talking about, in the sense of what the story is about. Rather, it has to do with the message the author is trying to convey, using the vehicle of the particular story he is narrating. I realize the difference between these two principles should not be exaggerated, however it is worth making the distinction in order to decide what really makes a novel great.
