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eyes　almost　every　time　I　met　anyone。　　I　even　made　experiments

whether　I　could　face　so　and　so's　looking　at　me；　and　I　was　always

the　first　to　drop　my　eyes。　　This　worried　me　to　distraction。　　I

had　a　sickly　dread；　too；　of　being　ridiculous；　and　so　had　a

slavish　passion　for　the　conventional　in　everything　external。　　I

loved　to　fall　into　the　common　rut；　and　had　a　whole…hearted　terror

of　any　kind　of　eccentricity　in　myself。　　But　how　could　I　live　up

to　it？　　I　was　morbidly　sensitive　as　a　man　of　our　age　should　be。　

They　were　all　stupid；　and　as　like　one　another　as　so　many　sheep。　

Perhaps　I　was　the　only　one　in　the　office　who　fancied　that　I　was　a

coward　and　a　slave；　and　I　fancied　it　just　because　I　was　more

highly　developed。　　But　it　was　not　only　that　I　fancied　it；　it

really　was　so。　　I　was　a　coward　and　a　slave。　　I　say　this　without

the　slightest　embarrassment。　Every　decent　man　of　our　age　must　be

a　coward　and　a　slave。　　That　is　his　normal　condition。　　Of　that　I

am　firmly　persuaded。　　He　is　made　and　constructed　to　that　very

end。　　And　not　only　at　the　present　time　owing　to　some　casual

circumstances；　but　always；　at　all　times；　a　decent　man　is　bound　to

be　a　coward　and　a　slave。　　It　is　the　law　of　nature　for　all　decent

people　all　over　the　earth。　　If　anyone　of　them　happens　to　be

valiant　about　something；　he　need　not　be　comforted　nor　carried

away　by　that；　he　would　show　the　white　feather　just　the　same

before　something　else。　　That　is　how　it　invariably　and　inevitably

ends。　　Only　donkeys　and　mules　are　valiant；　and　they　only　till

they　are　pushed　up　to　the　wall。　　It　is　not　worth　while　to　pay

attention　to　them　for　they　really　are　of　no　consequence。



Another　circumstance；　too；　worried　me　in　those　days：　that　there

was　no　one　like　me　and　I　was　unlike　anyone　else。　　〃I　am　alone　and

they　are　_everyone_；〃　I　thoughtand　pondered。



From　that　it　is　evident　that　I　was　still　a　youngster。



The　very　opposite　sometimes　happened。　　It　was　loathsome　sometimes

to　go　to　the　office；　things　reached　such　a　point　that　I　often

came　home　ill。　　But　all　at　once；　a　propos　of　nothing；　there　would

come　a　phase　of　scepticism　and　indifference　（everything　happened

in　phases　to　me）；　and　I　would　laugh　myself　at　my　intolerance　and

fastidiousness；　I　would　reproach　myself　with　being　_romantic_。　

At　one　time　I　was　unwilling　to　speak　to　anyone；　while　at　other

times　I　would　not　only　talk；　but　go　to　the　length　of

contemplating　making　friends　with　them。　　All　my　fastidiousness

would　suddenly；　for　no　rhyme　or　reason；　vanish。　　Who　knows；

perhaps　I　never　had　really　had　it；　and　it　had　simply　been

affected；　and　got　out　of　books。　　I　have　not　decided　that　question

even　now。　　Once　I　quite　made　friends　with　them；　visited　their

homes；　played　preference；　drank　vodka；　talked　of　promotions。。。。

But　here　let　me　make　a　digression。



We　Russians；　speaking　generally；　have　never　had　those　foolish

transcendental　〃romantics〃German；　and　still　more　Frenchon

whom　nothing　produces　any　effect；　if　there　were　an　earthquake；　if

all　France　perished　at　the　barricades；　they　would　still　be　the

same；　they　would　not　even　have　the　decency　to　affect　a　change；

but　would　still　go　on　singing　their　transcendental　songs　to　the

hour　of　their　death；　because　they　are　fools。　　We；　in　Russia；　have

no　fools；　that　is　well　known。　　That　is　what　distinguishes　us　from

foreign　lands。　　Consequently　these　transcendental　natures　are　not

found　amongst　us　in　their　pure　form。　　The　idea　that　they　are　is

due　to　our　〃realistic〃　journalists　and　critics　of　that　day；

always　on　the　look　out　for　Kostanzhoglos　and　Uncle　Pyotr

Ivanitchs　and　foolishly　accepting　them　as　our　ideal；　they　have

slandered　our　romantics；　taking　them　for　the　same　transcendental

sort　as　in　Germany　or　France。　　On　the　contrary；　the

characteristics　of　our　〃romantics〃　are　absolutely　and　directly

opposed　to　the　transcendental　European　type；　and　no　European

standard　can　be　applied　to　them。　（Allow　me　to　make　use　of　this

word　〃romantic〃…an　old…fashioned　and　much　respected　word　which

has　done　good　service　and　is　familiar　to　all。）　The

characteristics　of　our　romantic　are　to　understand　everything；　_to

see　everything　and　to　see　it　often　incomparably　more　clearly　than

our　most　realistic　minds　see　it_；　to　refuse　to　accept　anyone　or

anything；　but　at　the　same　time　not　to　despise　anything；　to　give

way；　to　yield；　from　policy；　never　to　lose　sight　of　a　useful

practical　object　（such　as　rent…free　quarters　at　the　government

expense；　pensions；　decorations）；　to　keep　their　eye　on　that　object

through　all　the　enthusiasms　and　volumes　of　lyrical　poems；　and　at

the　same　time　to　preserve　〃the　sublime　and　the　beautiful〃

inviolate　within　them　to　the　hour　of　their　death；　and　to　preserve

themselves　also；　incidentally；　like　some　precious　jewel　wrapped

in　cotton　wool　if　only　for　the　benefit　of　〃the　sublime　and　the

beautiful。〃　　Our　〃romantic〃　is　a　man　of　great　breadth　and　the

greatest　rogue　of　all　our　rogues；　I　assure　you。。。。　I　can　assure

you　from　experience；　indeed。　　Of　course；　that　is；　if　he　is

intelligent。　　But　what　am　I　saying！　　The　romantic　is　always

intelligent；　and　I　only　meant　to　observe　that　although　we　have

had　foolish　romantics　they　don't　count；　and　they　were　only　so

because　in　the　flower　of　their　youth　they　degenerated　into

Germans；　and　to　preserve　their　precious　jewel　more　comfortably；

settled　somewhere　out　thereby　preference　in　Weimar　or　the　Black

Forest。　　I；　for　instance；　genuinely　despised　my　official　work　and

did　not　openly　abuse　it　simply　because　I　was　in　it　myself　and　got

a　salary　for　it。　　Anyway；　take　note；　I　did　not　openly　abuse　it。　

Our　romantic　would　rather　go　out　of　his　minda　thing；　however；

which　very　rarely　happensthan　take　to　open　abuse；　unless　he　had

some　other　career　in　view；　and　he　is　never　kicked　out。　　At　most；

they　would　take　him　to　the　lunatic　asylum　as　〃the　King　of　Spain〃

if　he　should　go　very　mad。　　But　it　is　only　the　thin；　fair　people

who　go　out　of　their　minds　in　Russia。　　Innumerable　〃romantics〃

attain　later　in　life　to　considerable　rank　in　the　service。　　Their

many…sidedness　is　remarkable！　　And　what　a　faculty　they　have　for

the　most　contradictory　sensations！　　I　was　comforted　by　this

thought　even　in　those　days；　and　I　am　of　the　same　opinion　now。　

That　is　why　there　are　so　many　〃broad　natures〃　among　us　who　never

lose　their　ideal　even　in　the　depths　of　degradation；　and　though

they　never　stir　a　finger　for　their　ideal；　though　they　are　arrant

thieves　and　knaves；　yet　they　tearfully　cherish　their　first　ideal

and　are　extraordinarily　honest　at　heart。　　Yes；　it　is　only　among

us　that　the　most　incorrigible　rogue　can　be　absolutely　and　loftily

honest　at　heart　without　in　the　least　ceasing　to　be　a　rogue。　　I

repeat；　our　romantics；　frequently；　become　such　accomplished

rascals　（I　use　the　term　〃rascals〃　affectionately）；　suddenly

display　such　a　sense　of　reality　and　practical　knowledge　that

their　bewildered　superiors　and　the　public　generally　can　only

ejaculate　in　amazement。



Their　many…sidedness　is　really　amazing；　and　goodness　knows　what

it　may　develop　into　later　on；　and　what　the　future　has　in　store

for　us。　　It　is　not　a　poor　material！　　I　do　not　say　this　from　any

foolish　or　boastful　patriotism。　　But　I　feel　sure　that　you　are

again　imagining　that　I　am　joking。　　Or　perhaps　it's　just　the

contrary　and　you　are　convinced　that　I　really　think　so。　　Anyway；

gentlemen；　I　shall　welcome　both　views　as　an　honour　and　a　special

favour。　　And　do　forgive　my　digression。



I　did　not；　of　course；　maintain　friendly　relations　with　my

comrades　and　soon　was　at　loggerheads　with　them；　and　in　my　youth

and　inexperience　I　even　gave　up　bowing　to　them；　as　though　I　had

cut　off　all　relations。　　That；　however；　only　happened　to　me　once。　

As　a　rule；　I　was　always　alone。



In　the　first　place　I　spent　most　of　my　time　at　home；　reading。　　I

tried　to　stifle　all　that　was　continually　seething　within　me　by

means　of　external　impressions。　　And　the　only　external　means　I　had

was　reading。　　Reading；　of　course；　was　a　great　helpexciting　me；

giving　me　pleasure　and　pain。　　But　at　times　it　bored　me　fearfully。　

One　longed　for　movement　in　spite　of　everything；　and　I　plunged　all

at　once　into　dark；　underground；　loathsome　vice　of　the　pettiest

kind。　　My　wretched　passions　were　acute；　smarting；　from　my

continual；　sickly　irritability　I　had　hysterical　impulses；　with

tears　and　convulsions。　　I　had　no　resource　except　reading；　that

is；　there　was　nothing　in　my　surroundings　which　I　could　respect

and　which　attracted　me。　I　was　overwhelmed　with　depression；　too；　I

had　an　hysterical　craving　for　incongruity　and　for　contrast；　and

so　I　took　to　vice。　　I　have　not　said　all　this　to　justify

myself。。。。　But；　no！　　I　am　lying。　　I　did　want　to　justify　myself。　

I　make　that　little　observation　for　my　own　benefit；　gentlemen。　　I

don't　want　to　lie。　　I　vowed　to　myself　I　would　not。



And　so；　furtively；　timidly；　in　solitude；　at　night；　I　indulged　in

filthy　vice；　with　a　feeling　of　shame　which　never　deserted　me；

even　at　the　most　loathsome　moments；　and　which　at　such　moments

nearly　made　me　curse。　　Already　even　then　I　had　my　underground

world　in　my　soul。　　I　was　fearfully　afraid　of　being　seen；　of　being

met；　of　being　recognised。　　I　visited　various　obscure　haunts。



One　night　as　I　was　passing　a　tavern　I　saw　through　a　lighted

window　some　gentlemen　fighting　with　billiard　cues；　and　saw　one　of

them　thrown　out　of　the　window。　　At　other　times　I　should　have　felt

very　much　disgusted；　but　I　was　in　such　a　mood　at　the　time；　that　I

actually　envied　the　gentleman　thrown　out　of　the　windowand　I

envied　him　so　much　that　I　even　went　into　the　tavern　and　into　the

billiard…room。　　〃Perhaps；〃　I　thought；　〃I'll　have　a　fight；　too；

and　they'll　throw　me　out　of　the　window。〃　　　　　　



I　was　not　drunkbut　what　is　one　to　dodepression　will　drive　a

man　to　such　a　pitch　of　hysteria！　　But　nothing　happened。　　It

seemed　that　I　was　not　even　equal　to　being　thrown　out　of　the

window　and　I　went　away　without　having　my　fight。



An　off