
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.

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’.

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.

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’?

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.

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.

Originally Posted by
JCamilo

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).

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.

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.

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’!