notes from the underground- 第11部分

colour　is　too　gaudy；　it　looks　as　though　one　were　trying　to　be

conspicuous；〃　and　I　did　not　take　the　lemon…coloured　ones。　　I　had

got　ready　long　beforehand　a　good　shirt；　with　white　bone　studs；　my

overcoat　was　the　only　thing　that　held　me　back。　　The　coat　in

itself　was　a　very　good　one；　it　kept　me　warm；　but　it　was　wadded

and　it　had　a　raccoon　collar　which　was　the　height　of　vulgarity。　　I

had　to　change　the　collar　at　any　sacrifice；　and　to　have　a　beaver

one　like　an　officer's。　　For　this　purpose　I　began　visiting　the

Gostiny　Dvor　and　after　several　attempts　I　pitched　upon　a　piece　of

cheap　German　beaver。　　Though　these　German　beavers　soon　grow

shabby　and　look　wretched；　yet　at　first　they　look　exceedingly

well；　and　I　only　needed　it　for　the　occasion。　　I　asked　the　price；

even　so；　it　was　too　expensive。　　After　thinking　it　over　thoroughly

I　decided　to　sell　my　raccoon　collar。　　The　rest　of　the　moneya

considerable　sum　for　me；　I　decided　to　borrow　from　Anton　Antonitch

Syetotchkin；　my　immediate　superior；　an　unassuming　person；　though

grave　and　judicious。　　He　never　lent　money　to　anyone；　but　I　had；

on　entering　the　service；　been　specially　recommended　to　him　by　an

important　personage　who　had　got　me　my　berth。　　I　was　horribly

worried。　　To　borrow　from　Anton　Antonitch　seemed　to　me　monstrous

and　shameful。　　I　did　not　sleep　for　two　or　three　nights。　　Indeed；

I　did　not　sleep　well　at　that　time；　I　was　in　a　fever；　I　had　a

vague　sinking　at　my　heart　or　else　a　sudden　throbbing；　throbbing；

throbbing！　　Anton　Antonitch　was　surprised　at　first；　then　he

frowned；　then　he　reflected；　and　did　after　all　lend　me　the　money；

receiving　from　me　a　written　authorisation　to　take　from　my　salary

a　fortnight　later　the　sum　that　he　had　lent　me。　　In　this　way

everything　was　at　last　ready。　　The　handsome　beaver　replaced　the

mean…looking　raccoon；　and　I　began　by　degrees　to　get　to　work。　　It

would　never　have　done　to　act　offhand；　at　random；　the　plan　had　to

be　carried　out　skilfully；　by　degrees。　　But　I　must　confess　that

after　many　efforts　I　began　to　despair：　we　simply　could　not　run

into　each　other。　　I　made　every　preparation；　I　was　quite

determinedit　seemed　as　though　we　should　run　into　one　another

directlyand　before　I　knew　what　I　was　doing　I　had　stepped　aside

for　him　again　and　he　had　passed　without　noticing　me。　　I　even

prayed　as　I　approached　him　that　God　would　grant　me　determination。　

One　time　I　had　made　up　my　mind　thoroughly；　but　it　ended　in　my

stumbling　and　falling　at　his　feet　because　at　the　very　last

instant　when　I　was　six　inches　from　him　my　courage　failed　me。　　He

very　calmly　stepped　over　me；　while　I　flew　on　one　side　like　a

ball。　　That　night　I　was　ill　again；　feverish　and　delirious。　　And

suddenly　it　ended　most　happily。　　The　night　before　I　had　made　up

my　mind　not　to　carry　out　my　fatal　plan　and　to　abandon　it　all；　and

with　that　object　I　went　to　the　Nevsky　for　the　last　time；　just　to

see　how　I　would　abandon　it　all。　　Suddenly；　three　paces　from　my

enemy；　I　unexpectedly　made　up　my　mindI　closed　my　eyes；　and　we

ran　full　tilt；　shoulder　to　shoulder；　against　one　another！　　I　did

not　budge　an　inch　and　passed　him　on　a　perfectly　equal　footing！　

He　did　not　even　look　round　and　pretended　not　to　notice　it；　but　he

was　only　pretending；　I　am　convinced　of　that。　　I　am　convinced　of

that　to　this　day！　　Of　course；　I　got　the　worst　of　ithe　was

stronger；　but　that　was　not　the　point。　　The　point　was　that　I　had

attained　my　object；　I　had　kept　up　my　dignity；　I　had　not　yielded　a

step；　and　had　put　myself　publicly　on　an　equal　social　footing　with

him。　　I　returned　home　feeling　that　I　was　fully　avenged　for

everything。　　I　was　delighted。　　I　was　triumphant　and　sang　Italian

arias。　　Of　course；　I　will　not　describe　to　you　what　happened　to　me

three　days　later；　if　you　have　read　my　first　chapter　you　can　guess

for　yourself。　　The　officer　was　afterwards　transferred；　I　have　not

seen　him　now　for　fourteen　years。　　What　is　the　dear　fellow　doing

now？　　Whom　is　he　walking　over？





II



But　the　period　of　my　dissipation　would　end　and　I　always　felt　very

sick　afterwards。　　It　was　followed　by　remorseI　tried　to　drive　it

away；　I　felt　too　sick。　　By　degrees；　however；　I　grew　used　to　that

too。　　I　grew　used　to　everything；　or　rather　I　voluntarily　resigned

myself　to　enduring　it。　　But　I　had　a　means　of　escape　that

reconciled　everythingthat　was　to　find　refuge　in　〃the　sublime

and　the　beautiful；〃　in　dreams；　of　course。　　I　was　a　terrible

dreamer；　I　would　dream　for　three　months　on　end；　tucked　away　in　my

corner；　and　you　may　believe　me　that　at　those　moments　I　had　no

resemblance　to　the　gentleman　who；　in　the　perturbation　of　his

chicken　heart；　put　a　collar　of　German　beaver　on　his　great…coat。　

I　suddenly　became　a　hero。　　I　would　not　have　admitted　my　six…foot

lieutenant　even　if　he　had　called　on　me。　　I　could　not　even　picture

him　before　me　then。　　What　were　my　dreams　and　how　I　could　satisfy

myself　with　themit　is　hard　to　say　now；　but　at　the　time　I　was

satisfied　with　them。　　Though；　indeed；　even　now；　I　am　to　some

extent　satisfied　with　them。　　Dreams　were　particularly　sweet　and

vivid　after　a　spell　of　dissipation；　they　came　with　remorse　and

with　tears；　with　curses　and　transports。　　There　were　moments　of

such　positive　intoxication；　of　such　happiness；　that　there　was　not

the　faintest　trace　of　irony　within　me；　on　my　honour。　　I　had

faith；　hope；　love。　　I　believed　blindly　at　such　times　that　by　some

miracle；　by　some　external　circumstance；　all　this　would　suddenly

open　out；　expand；　that　suddenly　a　vista　of　suitable

activitybeneficent；　good；　and；　above　all；　_ready　made_　（what

sort　of　activity　I　had　no　idea；　but　the　great　thing　was　that　it

should　be　all　ready　for　me）would　rise　up　before　meand　I

should　come　out　into　the　light　of　day；　almost　riding　a　white

horse　and　crowned　with　laurel。　　Anything　but　the　foremost　place　I

could　not　conceive　for　myself；　and　for　that　very　reason　I　quite

contentedly　occupied　the　lowest　in　reality。　　Either　to　be　a　hero

or　to　grovel　in　the　mudthere　was　nothing　between。　　That　was　my

ruin；　for　when　I　was　in　the　mud　I　comforted　myself　with　the

thought　that　at　other　times　I　was　a　hero；　and　the　hero　was　a

cloak　for　the　mud：　for　an　ordinary　man　it　was　shameful　to　defile

himself；　but　a　hero　was　too　lofty　to　be　utterly　defiled；　and　so

he　might　defile　himself。　It　is　worth　noting　that　these　attacks　of

the　〃sublime　and　the　beautiful〃　visited　me　even　during　the　period

of　dissipation　and　just　at　the　times　when　I　was　touching　the

bottom。　　They　came　in　separate　spurts；　as　though　reminding　me　of

themselves；　but　did　not　banish　the　dissipation　by　their

appearance。　　On　the　contrary；　they　seemed　to　add　a　zest　to　it　by

contrast；　and　were　only　sufficiently　present　to　serve　as　an

appetising　sauce。　　That　sauce　was　made　up　of　contradictions　and

sufferings；　of　agonising　inward　analysis；　and　all　these　pangs　and

pin…pricks　gave　a　certain　piquancy；　even　a　significance　to　my

dissipationin　fact；　completely　answered　the　purpose　of　an

appetising　sauce。　　There　was　a　certain　depth　of　meaning　in　it。　

And　I　could　hardly　have　resigned　myself　to　the　simple；　vulgar；

direct　debauchery　of　a　clerk　and　have　endured　all　the　filthiness

of　it。　　What　could　have　allured　me　about　it　then　and　have　drawn

me　at　night　into　the　street？　　No；　I　had　a　lofty　way　of　getting

out　of　it　all。



And　what　loving…kindness；　oh　Lord；　what　loving…kindness　I　felt　at

times　in　those　dreams　of　mine！　　in　those　〃flights　into　the

sublime　and　the　beautiful〃；　though　it　was　fantastic　love；　though

it　was　never　applied　to　anything　human　in　reality；　yet　there　was

so　much　of　this　love　that　one　did　not　feel　afterwards　even　the

impulse　to　apply　it　in　reality；　that　would　have　been　superfluous。　

Everything；　however；　passed　satisfactorily　by　a　lazy　and

fascinating　transition　into　the　sphere　of　art；　that　is；　into　the

beautiful　forms　of　life；　lying　ready；　largely　stolen　from　the

poets　and　novelists　and　adapted　to　all　sorts　of　needs　and　uses。　

I；　for　instance；　was　triumphant　over　everyone；　everyone；　of

course；　was　in　dust　and　ashes；　and　was　forced　spontaneously　to

recognise　my　superiority；　and　I　forgave　them　all。　　I　was　a　poet

and　a　grand　gentleman；　I　fell　in　love；　I　came　in　for　countless

millions　and　immediately　devoted　them　to　humanity；　and　at　the

same　time　I　confessed　before　all　the　people　my　shameful　deeds；

which；　of　course；　were　not　merely　shameful；　but　had　in　them　much

that　was　〃sublime　and　beautiful〃　something　in　the　Manfred　style。　

Everyone　would　kiss　me　and　weep　（what　idiots　they　would　be　if

they　did　not）；　while　I　should　go　barefoot　and　hungry　preaching

new　ideas　and　fighting　a　victorious　Austerlitz　against　the

obscurantists。　　Then　the　band　would　play　a　march；　an　amnesty

would　be　declared；　the　Pope　would　agree　to　retire　from　Rome　to

Brazil；　then　there　would　be　a　ball　for　the　whole　of　Italy　at　the

Villa　Borghese　on　the　shores　of　Lake　Como；　Lake　Como　being　for

that　purpose　transferred　to　the　neighbourhood　of　Rome；　then　would

come　a　scene　in　the　bushes；　and　so　on；　and　so　onas　though　you

did　not　know　all　about　it？　　You　will　say　that　it　is　vulgar　and

contemptible　to　drag　all　this　into　public　after　all　the　tears　and

transports　which　I　have　myself　confessed。　　But　why　is　it

contemptible？　　Can　you　imagine　that　I　am　ashamed　of　it　all；　and

that　it　was　stupider　than　anything　in　your　life；　gentlemen？　　And

I　can　assure　you　that　some　of　these　fancies　were　by　no　means

badly　composed。。。。　It　did　not　all　happen　on　the　shores　of　Lake

Como。　　And　yet　you　are　rightit　really　is　vulgar　and

contemptible。　　And　most　contemptible　of　all　it　is　that　now　I　am

attempting　to　justify　myself　to　you。　　And　even　more　contemptible

than　that　is　my　making　this　remark　now。　　But　that's　enough；　or

there　will　be　no　end　to　it；　each　step　will　be　more　contemptible

than　the　last。。。。



I　could　never　stand　more　than　three　months　of　dreaming　at　a　time

without　feeling　an　irresistible　desire　to　plunge　into　society。　

To　plunge　into　society　meant　to　visit　my　superior　at　the　of