Love your enemies: the unlovable Rogozhin

[Steveedo]

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]

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’

[Pompey Bum]

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]

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]

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]

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]

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]

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]

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]

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..."

----------

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

----------

"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.

----------

"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.

----------

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.

----------

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.

----------

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."

----------

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.

----------

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]

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]

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.

[Pompey Bum]

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.

Thank you. It's been a mixed bag so far but next week promises to be better.

[Gladys]

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.

[Pompey Bum]

Travel on angels wings.

Thank you. I'm sure there will be more leg room than on Japan Airlines.