 Book 11, Chapter 9 of the Brothers Karamazov This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Martin Giesen The Brothers Karamazov by Fyodor Dostoyevsky, translated by Constance Garnet Book 11, Chapter 9, The Devil, Ivan's Nightmare I am not a doctor, but yet I feel that the moment has come when I must inevitably give the reader some account of the nature of Ivan's illness. Anticipating events, I can say at least one thing. He was at that moment on the very eve of an attack of brain fever. Though his health had long been affected, it had offered a stubborn resistance to the fever, which in the end gained complete mastery over it. Though I know nothing of medicine, I venture to hazard the suggestion that he really had perhaps, by a terrible effort of will, succeeded in delaying the attack for a time, hoping of course to check it completely. He knew that he was unwell, but he loathed the thought of being ill at that fatal time, at the approaching crisis in his life, when he needed to have all his wits about him, to say what he had to say boldly and resolutely, and to justify himself to himself. He had however consulted the new doctor, who had been brought from Moscow by a fantastic notion of Katerina Ivanovna's, to which I have referred already. After listening to him and examining him, the doctor came to the conclusion that he was actually suffering from some disorder of the brain, and was not at all surprised by an admission which Ivan had reluctantly made him. Hallucinations are quite likely in your condition, the doctor opined, though it would be better to verify them. You must take steps at once without a moment's delay, or things will go badly with you. But Ivan did not follow this judicious advice, and did not take to his bed to be nursed. I am walking about, though I am strong enough. If I drop it will be different then. Anyone may nurse me who likes, he decided dismissing the subject. And so he was sitting almost conscious himself of his delirium, and as I have said already, looking persistently at some object on the sofa against the opposite wall, someone appeared to be sitting there. Though God knows how he had come in, for he had not been in the room when Ivan came into it on his return from Smerdiakov. This was a person, or more accurately speaking, a Russian gentleman of a particular kind, no longer young, qui faisait la cinquantaine. Translate his note 50-ish, as the French say, with rather long, still thick dark hair, slightly streaked with grey, and a small pointed beard. He was wearing a brownish reefer jacket, rather shabby, evidently made by a good tailor, though, and of a fashion at least three years old that had been discarded by smart and well-to-do people for the last two years. His linen and his long scarf-like necktie were all such as a worn by people who aim at being stylish, but on closer inspection his linen was not over-clean, and his wide scarf was very threadbare. The visitors' Czech trousers were of excellent cut, but were too light in colour and too tight for the present fashion. His soft, fluffy white hat was out of keeping with the season. In brief there was every appearance of gentility on straightened means. It looked as though the gentleman belonged to that class of idle landowners who used to flourish in the times of serfdom. He had unmistakably been at some time in good and fashionable society, had once had good connections, had possibly preserved them indeed. But after a gay youth becoming gradually impoverished on the abolition of serfdom, he had sunk into the position of a poor relation of the best class, wandering from one good old friend to another, and received by them for his a companionable and accommodating disposition, and as being after all the gentleman who could be asked to sit down with anyone, though of course not in a place of honour. Such gentleman of accommodating temper and dependent position who can tell a story, take a hand at cards, and who have a distinctive version for any duties that may be forced upon them, are usually solitary creatures, either bachelors or widowers. Sometimes they have children, but if so the children are always being brought up at a distance, at some aunts, to whom these gentlemen never allude in good society, seeming ashamed of the relationship. They gradually lose sight of their children altogether, though at intervals they receive a birthday or Christmas letter from them, and sometimes even answer it. The countenance of the unexpected visitor was not so much good-natured as accommodating and ready to assume any amiable expression as occasion might arise. He had no watch, but he had a tortoise shell launette on a black ribbon. On the middle finger of his right hand was a massive gold ring with a cheap opal stone in it. Ivan was angrily silent and would not begin the conversation. The visitor waited and sat exactly like a poor relation who had come down from his room to keep his host company at tea, and was discreetly silent, seeing that his host was frowning and preoccupied. But he was ready for any affable conversation as soon as his host should begin it. All at once his face expressed a sudden solicitude. I say he began to, Ivan, excuse me, I only mentioned it to remind you. You went to Smerdiakov's to find out about Katerina Ivanovna, but you came away without finding out anything about her. You probably forgot. Ah, yes, broke from, Ivan, and his face grew gloomy with uneasiness. Yes, I'd forgotten, but it doesn't matter now, never mind till tomorrow. He muttered to himself. And you, he added, addressing his visitor. I should have remembered that myself in a minute, that that was just what was tormenting me. Why do you interfere as if I should believe that you prompted me, that I didn't remember it of myself? Don't believe it then, said the gentleman, smiling amicably. What's the good believing against your will? Besides, proofs are no help to believing, especially material proofs. Thomas believed, not because he saw Christ risen, but because he wanted to believe before he saw. Look at the spiritualists, for instance, I'm very fond of them. Only fancy, they imagine that they are serving the cause of religion, because the devils show them their horns from the other world. That, they say, is a material proof, so to speak, of the existence of another world. The other world and material proofs, what next? And if you come to that, does proving there's a devil prove that there's a god? I want to join an idealist society. I'll lead the opposition in it. I'll say I am a realist, but not a materialist. Listen, Yvonne suddenly got up from the table. I seem to be delirious. I am delirious, in fact. Talk any nonsense you like. I don't care. You won't drive me to fury as you did last time. But I feel somehow ashamed. I want to walk about the room. I sometimes don't see you and don't even hear your voice as I did last time. But I always guess what you were preting, for it's I, I, myself speaking, not you. Only I don't know whether I was dreaming last time, or whether I really saw you. I'll wet a towel and put it on my head, and perhaps you'll vanish into air. Yvonne went into the corner, took a towel, and did as he said, and with a wet towel on his head began walking up and down the room. I am so glad you treat me so familiarly, the visitor began. Fool, laughed Yvonne, do you suppose I should stand on ceremony with you? I'm in good spirits now, though I've a pain in my forehead, and in the top of my head. Only please don't talk philosophy as you did last time. If you can't take yourself off, talk of something amusing. Talk gossip. You're a poor relation. You ought to talk gossip. What a nightmare to have. But I'm not afraid of you. I'll get the better of you. I won't be taken to a madhouse. C'est chacman, poor relation. Yes, I am in my natural shape. For what am I on earth but a poor relation? By the way, I'm listening to you, and I'm rather surprised to find you're actually beginning to take me for something real. Not simply your fancy as you persisted in declaring last time. Never for one minute have I taken you for reality, Yvonne cried with a sort of fury. You are a lie. You are my illness. You are a phantom. It's only that I don't know how to destroy you, and I see I must suffer for a time. You are my hallucination. You are the incarnation of myself, but only of one side of me. Of my thoughts and feelings, but only the nastiest and stupidest of them. From that point of view you might be of interest to me if only I had time to waste on you. Excuse me, excuse me, I'll catch you. When you flew out at Alyosha under the lamppost this evening and shouted to him, you learnt it from him. How do you know that he visits me? You were thinking of me then. So for one brief moment you did believe that I really exist. The gentleman laughed blandly. Yes, that was a moment of weakness, but I couldn't believe in you. I don't know whether I was asleep or awake last time. Perhaps I was only dreaming then and didn't see you really at all. And why were you so surly with Alyosha just now? He is a dear. I've treated him badly over Father Zosima. Don't talk of Alyosha. How dare you, you flunky, Yvonne, laughed again. You scold me, but you laugh, that's a good sign. But you were ever so much more polite than you were last time and I know why that great resolution of yours. Don't speak of my resolution, cried Yvonne savagely. I understand, I understand. C'est noble, c'est charmant, you are going to defend your brother and to sacrifice yourself. C'est chevaleresque. Hold your tongue, I'll kick you. I shan't be altogether sorry for then my object will be attained. If you kick me, you must believe in my reality, for people don't kick ghosts. Joking apart, it doesn't matter to me. Scold if you like, though it's better to be a trifle more polite, even to me. Fool, flunky, what words? Scolding you, I scold myself, Yvonne laughed again. You are myself, myself, only with a different face. You just say what I'm thinking and are incapable of saying anything new. If I am like you in my way of thinking, it's all to my credit, the gentleman declared with delicacy and dignity. You choose out only my worst thoughts and what's more, the stupid ones. You are stupid and vulgar, you are awfully stupid. No, I can't put up with you. What am I to do? What am I to do? Yvonne said through his clenched teeth. My dear friend, above all things I want to behave like a gentleman and to be recognised as such. The visitor began in an access of deprecating and simple-hearted pride, typical of a poor relation. I am poor, but I won't say very honest, but it's an axiom generally accepted in society that I am a fallen angel. I certainly can't conceive how I can ever have been an angel. If I ever was, it must have been so long ago that there's no harm in forgetting it. Now I only prize the reputation of being a gentlemanly person and live as I can, trying to make myself agreeable. I love men genuinely. I've been greatly culminated. Here when I stay with you from time to time, my life gains a kind of reality and that's what I like most of all. You see, like you I suffer from the fantastic and so I love the realism of earth. Here with you everything is circumscribed. Here all is formulated and geometrical, while we have nothing but indeterminate equations. I wander about here dreaming. I like dreaming. Besides on earth I become superstitious. Please don't laugh, that's just what I like to become superstitious. I adopt all your habits here. I've grown fond of going to the public baths, would you believe it? And I go and steam myself with merchants and priests. What I dream of is becoming incarnate once for all and irrevocably in the form of some merchant's wife weighing eighteen stone and of believing all she believes. My ideal is to go to church and offer a candle in simple hearted faith upon my word it is. Then there would be an end to my sufferings. I like being doctored too. In the spring there was an outbreak of smallpox and I went and was vaccinated in a foundling hospital. If only you knew how I enjoyed myself that day. I subscribed ten rubles in the course of the Slavs. But you're not listening. Do you know you're not at all well this evening? I know you went yesterday to that doctor. Well what about your health? What did the doctor say? Fool, Yvonne snapped out. But you are clever anyway. You are scolding again. I didn't ask out of sympathy. You needn't answer. Now rheumatism has come in again. Fool, repeated Yvonne. You keep saying the same thing. But I had such an attack of rheumatism last year that I remember it to this day. The devil have rheumatism. Why not? If I sometimes put on fleshly form. I put on fleshly form and I take the consequences. Satansum et nihil humanum ame alienum puto. Translate as note. I am Satan and deem nothing human alien to me. What? Satansum et nihil humanum. That's not bad for the devil. I'm glad I've pleased you at last. But you didn't get that from me. Yvonne stopped suddenly, seeming struck. That never entered my head. That's strange. Translate as note. It's new, isn't it? This time I'll act honestly and explain to you. Listen, in dreams and especially in nightmares from indigestion or anything, a man sees sometimes such artistic visions, such complex and real actuality, such events, even a whole world of events, woven into such a plot with unexpected details from the most exalted matters to the last button on a cuff, as I swear Leo Tolstoy never yet invented. Yet such dreams are sometimes seen not by writers, but by the most ordinary people, officials, journalists, priests. The subject is a complete enigma. A statesman confessed to me indeed that all his best ideas came to him when he was asleep. Well, that's how it is now, though I am your hallucination. Yet just as in a nightmare, I say original things which had not entered your head before. So I don't repeat your ideas, yet I am only your nightmare, nothing more. You are lying. Your aim is to convince me you exist apart and are not my nightmare, and now you're asserting you're a dream. My dear fellow, I've adopted a special method today. I'll explain it to you afterwards. Stay, where did I break off? Oh yes, I caught cold then, only not here, but yonder. Where is yonder? Tell me, will you be here long? Can't you go away? Yvonne exclaimed almost in despair. He ceased walking to and fro, sat down on the sofa, leaned his elbows on the table again, and held his head tight in both hands. He pulled the wet towel off and flung it away in vexation. It was evidently of no use. Your nerves are out of order, observed the gentleman, with a carelessly easy though perfectly polite air. You're angry with me even for being able to catch cold, though it happened in the most natural way. I was hurrying then to a diplomatic soiree at the house of a lady of high rank in Petersburg, who was aiming at influence in the ministry. Well, an evening suit, white tie, gloves, nose wear, and had to fly through space to reach your earth. Of course it only took an instant, but you know a ray of light from the sun takes for full eight minutes, and fantasy in an evening suit and open waistcoat. Spirits don't freeze, but when one's in fleshly form, well, in brief I didn't think, and set off, and you know in those ethereal spaces, in the water that is above the firmament, there's such a frost. You can't call it frost. You fancy 150 degrees below zero. You know the game the village girls play? They invite the unwary to lick an axe in 30 degrees of frost. The tongue instantly freezes to it, and the dupe tears the skin off so it bleeds. But that's only in 30 degrees. In 150 degrees I imagine it would be enough to put your finger on the axe and it would be the end of it. If only there could be an axe there. And can there be an axe there? Ivan interrupted carelessly and disdainfully. He was exerting himself to the utmost not to believe in the delusion and not to sink into complete insanity. An axe, the guest interrupted in surprise. Yes, what would become of an axe there? Ivan cried suddenly with a sort of savage and insistent obstinacy. What would become of an axe in space? Can he dare? If it were to fall to any distance it would begin, I think, flying around the earth without knowing why, like a satellite. The astronomers would calculate the rising and the setting of the axe. Gatsuk would put it in his calendar, that's all. You are stupid, awfully stupid, said Ivan pivishly. Fib more cleverly, or I won't listen. You want to get the better of me by realism to convince me that you exist. But I don't want to believe you exist, I won't believe it. But I am not fibbing, it's all the truth. The truth is unhappily, hardly ever amusing. I see you persist in expecting something big of me and perhaps something fine. That's a great pity, for I only give what I can. Don't talk philosophy you ask. Philosophy, indeed, when all my right side is numb and I'm moaning and groaning. I've tried all the medical faculty. They can diagnose beautifully. They have the whole of your disease at their fingertips, but they've no idea how to cure you. There was an enthusiastic little student here. You may die, said he, but you'll know perfectly what disease you're dying of. And then what a way they have of sending people to specialists. We only diagnose, they say, but go to such and such a specialist, he'll cure you. The old doctor who used to cure all sorts of diseases has completely disappeared, I assure you. Now there are only specialists and they all advertise in the newspapers. If anything is wrong with your nose, they send you to Paris. There, they say, is a European specialist who cures noses. If you go to Paris, he'll look at your nose. I can only cure your right nostril, he'll tell you, but I don't cure the left nostril. That's not my specialty. But go to Vienna. There, there's a specialist who'll cure your left nostril. What are you to do? I fell back on popular remedies. A German doctor advised me to rub myself with honey and salt in the bath house. I took an extra bath, I went, smeared myself all over and it did me no good at all. In despair, I wrote to Count Mattei in Milan. He sent me a book and some drops, bless him. And only fancy, Hoff's malt extract cured me. I bought it by accident, drank a bottle and a half of it and I was ready to dance. It took it away completely. I made up my mind to write to the papers to thank him. I wrote to the institute and only fancy it led to no end of a bother. Not a single paper would take my letter. It would be very reactionary, they said, none will believe it. Le diable n'existe pointe. Translator's note, the devil does not exist. You'd better remain anonymous, they advised me. What use is a letter of thanks if it's anonymous? I laughed with the men at the newspaper office. It's reactionary to believe in God in our days, I said, but I am the devil, so I may be believed in. We quite understand that, they said. Who doesn't believe in the devil? Yet it won't do, it might injure our reputation as a joke, if you like. But I thought as a joke it wouldn't be very witty, so it wasn't printed. And you know, I've felt sore about it to this day. The things I've been told for instance, are literally denied me simply from my social position. Philosophical reflections again, Yvan snarled malignantly. God preserved me from it, but one can't help complaining sometimes. I am a slandered man. You upbraed me every moment with being stupid. One can see you are young. My dear fellow, intelligence isn't the only thing. I am kind and merry heart. I also write Vordervilles of all sorts. You seem to take me for Chlestakov grown old, but my fate is a far more serious one. Before time was, by some decree which I could never make out, I was predestined to deny. And yet I am genuinely good hearted and not at all inclined to negation. No, you must go and deny. Without denial there's no criticism. And what would a journal be without a column of criticism? Without criticism it would be nothing but one Hosanna. But nothing but Hosanna is not enough for life. The Hosanna must be tried in the crucible of doubt and so on in the same style. But I don't meddle in that. I didn't create it. I am not answerable for it. Well, they've chosen their scapegoat. They've made me write and so life was made possible. We understand that comedy. I, for instance, simply ask for annihilation. No live, I am told, for there'd be nothing without you. If everything in the universe was sensible, nothing would happen. There would be no events without you and there must be events. So against the grain I serve to produce events and do what's irrational because I am commanded to. For all their indisputable intelligence men take this farce as something serious and that is their tragedy. They suffer, of course, but then they live. They live a real life, not a fantastic one, for suffering is life. Without suffering what would be the pleasure of it? It would be transformed into an endless church service. It would be holy but tedious. But what about me? I am ex in an indeterminate equation. I am a sort of phantom in life who has lost all beginning and end and who has even forgotten his own name. You are laughing. No, you are not laughing. You are angry again. You are forever angry. All you care about is intelligence. But I repeat again that I would give away all this super stellar life, all the ranks and honours simply to be transformed into a soul of a merchant's wife weighing eighteen stone and set candles at God's shrine. Then even you don't believe in God, said Yvonne with a smile of hatred. What can I say? That is, if you're in earnest, is there a God or not? Yvonne cried with the same savage intensity. Ah, then you are in earnest. My dear fellow, upon my word I don't know. There, I've said it now. You don't know, but you see God. No, you are not someone apart. You are myself. You are I and nothing more. You are rubbish. You are my fancy. Well, if you like, I have the same philosophy as you. That would be true. Je pense, donc je suis. Translate his note, I think, therefore I am. All the rest, all these worlds, God and even Satan, all that is not proved to my mind. Does all that exist of itself or is it only an emanation of myself, a logical development of my ego, which alone has existed forever? But I make haste to stop for I believe you will be jumping up to beat me directly. You'd better tell me some anecdote, said Yvonne, miserably. There is an anecdote precisely on our subject or rather a legend, not an anecdote. You reproach me with unbelief. You see, you say, yet you don't believe. But my dear fellow, I'm not the only one like that. We're all in a muddle over there now and all through your science. Once there used to be atoms, five senses, four elements, and then everything hung together somehow. There were atoms in the ancient world, but since we've learned that you've discovered the chemical molecule and protoplasm and the devil knows what, we had to lower our crest. There's a regular muddle and above all, superstition, scandal. There's as much scandal among us as among you, you know. A little more, in fact, and spying, indeed, for we have our secret police department where private information is received. Well, this wild legend is from the Middle Ages, not yours, but ours, and no one believes it, even among us, except the old ladies of 18 stone. Not your old ladies, I mean, but ours. We've everything you have. I'm revealing one of our secrets out of friendship for you, though it's forbidden. This legend is about paradise. There was, they say, here on earth a thinker and philosopher. He rejected everything, wars, conscience, faith and above all, the future life. He died. He expected to go straight to darkness and death and he found a future life before him. He was astounded and indignant. This is against my principles, he said and he was punished for that. That is, you must excuse me, I'm just repeating what I heard myself. It's only a legend. He was sentenced to walk one kilometres in the dark. We've adopted the metric system, you know. And when he has finished that quadrillion the gates of heaven would be open to him and he'll be forgiven. And what tortures have you in the other world besides the quadrillion kilometres? asked Ivan with a strange eagerness. What tortures? Ah, don't ask. In old days we had all sorts but now they've taken chiefly to moral punishments, and all that nonsense. We got that too from you from the softening of your manners and who's the better for it? Only those who've got no conscience for how can they be tortured by conscience when they have none. But decent people who have conscience and a sense of honour suffer for it. Reforms when the ground has not been prepared for them especially if they are institutions copied from abroad do nothing but mischief. Well, this man who was condemned to the quadrillion kilometres stood still, looked round and lay down across the road. I won't go. I refuse on principle. Take the soul of an enlightened Russian atheist and mix it with the soul of the prophet Jonah who sulked for three days and nights in the belly of the whale and you get the character of that thinker who lay across the road. What did he lie on there? Well, I suppose there was something to lie on. You're not laughing. Bravo! cried Yvonne still with the same strange eagerness now he was listening with an unexpected curiosity. Well, is he lying there now? That's the point that he isn't. He lay there almost a thousand years and then he got up and went on. What an ass! cried Yvonne laughing nervously and still seeming to be pondering intently. Does it make any difference whether he lies there forever or walks the quadrillion kilometres? It would take a billion years to walk it. Much more than that. I haven't got a pencil and paper or I could work it out. But he got there long ago and that's where the story begins. What he got there but how did he get the billion years to do it? Well, you keep thinking about Earth but our present Earth may have been repeated a billion times. Why it's become extinct been frozen cracked broken to bits disintegrated into its elements again the water above the firmament then again a comet again a sun again from the sun it becomes Earth and the same sequence may have been repeated endlessly and exactly the same to every detail most unseemly what happened when he arrived? Why the moment the gates of paradise were open and he walked in before he had been there two seconds by his watch though to my thinking his watch must have long dissolved into its elements on the way he cried out that those two seconds were worth walking not a quadrillion kilometres but a quadrillion of quadrillions raised to the quadrillionth power but Anna and overdid it so that some persons there of lofty ideas wouldn't shake hands with him at first he'd become too rapidly reactionary they said the Russian temperament I repeat it's a legend I give it for what it's worth so that's the sort of ideas we have on such subjects even now I've caught you Ivan cried with an almost childish delight as though he'd succeeded that anecdote about the quadrillion years I made up myself I was seventeen then I was at the high school I made up that anecdote and told it to a school fellow called Korovkin it was at Moscow the anecdote is so characteristic that I couldn't have taken it from anywhere I thought I'd forgotten it but I've unconsciously recalled it I recalled it myself it was not you telling it thousands of things are unconsciously remembered like that even when people are being taken to execution it's come back to me in a dream you are that dream you are a dream not a living creature from the vehemence with which you deny my existence laughed the gentleman I am convinced that you believe in me not in the slightest I haven't a hundredth part of a grain of faith in you but you have the thousands of a grain homeopathic doses of the longest confess that you have faith even to the ten thousandth of a grain not for one minute cried Yvonne furiously but I should like to believe in you he added strangely aha there's an admission but I am good natured I'll come to your assistance again listen it was I caught you not you me I told you your anecdote on purpose so as to destroy your faith in me completely you are lying the object of your visit is to convince me of your existence just so but hesitation, suspense, conflict between belief and disbelief is sometimes such torture to a conscientious man such as you are that it's better to hang oneself at once knowing that you're inclined to believe in me I administered some disbelief I lead you to believe and disbelief by turns and I have my motive in it it's the new method as soon as you disbelieve in me completely you'll begin assuring me to my face that I'm not a dream but a reality I know you then I shall have attained my object which is an honourable one I shall sow in you only a tiny grain of faith and it will grow into an oak tree and such an oak tree that sitting on it will grow into a branch of the hermits in the wilderness and the saintly women for that is what you are secretly longing for you'll dine on locusts you'll wander into the wilderness to save your soul then it's for the salvation of my soul you are working is it you scoundrel one must do a good work sometimes how ill-humoured you are fool did you ever tempt these holy men who ate locusts and prayed seventeen years in the wilderness till they were overgrown with moss my dear fellow I've done nothing else one forgets the whole world and all the worlds and sticks to one such saint because he is a very precious diamond one such soul you know is sometimes worth a whole constellation we have our system of reckoning you know the conquest is priceless and some of them on my word are inferior to you in culture though you won't believe it they can contemplate such depths of belief and disbelief at the same moment that sometimes it really seems that they're within a hares breadth of being turned upside down as the actor Garbunov says well did you get your nose pulled my dear fellow observed the visitor sententiously it's better to get off with your nose pulled than without a nose at all as an afflicted marquis observed not long ago he must have been treated by a specialist in confession to his spiritual father a Jesuit I was present it was simply charming give me back my nose he said and he beat his breast my son said the priest evasively all things are accomplished in accordance with the inscrutable decrees of providence and what seems a misfortune sometimes leads to extraordinary though unapparent benefits if stern destiny has deprived you of your nose it's to your advantage that no one can ever pull you by your nose holy father that's no comfort to cry the despairing marquis I'd be delighted to have my nose pulled every day of my life if it were only in its proper place my son says the priest you can't expect every blessing at once in accordance with providence who even in this has not forgotten you for if you repine as you repined just now declaring you'd be glad to have your nose pulled for the rest of your life your desire has already been fulfilled indirectly for when you lost your nose you were led by the nose full house stupid cry divan my dear friend I only wanted to amuse you but I swear that's the genuine word for word as I've told you it happened lately and gave me a great deal of trouble the unhappy young man shot himself that very night when he got home I was by his side till the very last moment those Jesuit confessionals are really my most delightful diversion at melancholy moments here's another incident that happened only the other day a little blonde Norman girl of 20 a buxom unsophisticated beauty in the water comes to an old priest she bends down and whispers her sin into the grating why my daughter have you fallen again already cries the priest oh Sancta Maria what do I hear not the same man this time how long is this going on aren't you ashamed ah mon père answers the sinner with tears of penitence translator's note oh my father this gives him so much pleasure and me so little pain fancy such an answer I drew back it was the cry of nature better than innocence itself if you like I absolved her sin on the spot and was turning to go but I was forced to turn back I heard the priest at the grating making an appointment with her and was an old man hard as flint he fell in an instant it was nature the truth of nature asserted its rights what are you turning up your nose again angry again I don't know how to please you leave me alone you are beating on my brain like a haunting nightmare Ivan moaned miserably helpless before his apparition and insufferably I would give anything to be able to shake you off I repeat moderate your expectations don't demand of me everything great and noble and you'll see how well we shall get on said the gentleman impressively you are really angry with me for not having appeared to you in a red glow with thunder and lightning with scorched wings in your first place in your aesthetic feelings and secondly in your pride how could such a vulgar devil visit such a great man as you yes there is that romantic strain in you that was so derided by Bialinsky I can't help it young man as I got ready to come to you I did think as a joke of appearing in the figure of a retired general who had served in the Caucasus with a star of the lion relatively afraid of doing it for you'd have thrashed me for daring to pin the lion and the sun on my coat instead of at least the polar star or the serious and you keep on saying I'm stupid but mercy on us I make no claim to be equal to you in intelligence Mephistopheles declared to Faust that he desired evil but did only good well he can say what he likes it's quite the opposite with me I am perhaps the one man in all creation who loves the truth and genuinely desires good I was there when the word who died on the cross rose up into heaven bearing on his bosom the soul of the penitent thief I heard the glad shrieks of the cherubim singing and shouting hosanna and the thunderous rapture of the seraphim who chalk heaven and all creation to join the choir and shout hosanna with them all the word had almost escaped me had almost broken for my lips you know how susceptible and aesthetically impressionable I am but common sense our most unhappy tray in my character kept me in due bounds and I let the moment pass for what would have happened I reflected what would have happened after my hosanna everything on earth would have been extinguished at once and no events could have occurred and so solely from a sense of duty and my social position was forced to suppress the good moment and to stick to my nasty task somebody takes all the credit of what's good for himself and nothing but nastiness is left for me but I don't envy the honour of a life of idle imposture I'm not ambitious why am I of all the creatures in the world doomed to be cursed by all decent people and even to be kicked for if I put on mortal form I'm bound to take such consequences sometimes I know of course there's a secret in it but they won't tell me the secret for anything for then perhaps seeing the meaning of it I might ball hosanna and the indispensable minus would disappear at once and good sense would reign supreme for the whole world and that of course would mean the end of everything even of magazines and newspapers for who would take them in I know that at the end of all things I shall be reconciled I too shall walk my quadrillion and learn the secret but till that happens I'm sulking and fulfil my destiny though it's against the grain that is to ruin thousands for the sake of saving one how many souls have had to be ruined and how many honourable reputations destroyed for the sake of that one righteous man Job over whom they made such a fool of me in the old days yes till their secret is revealed there are two sorts of truth for me one their truth yonder which I know nothing about so far and the other my own and there's no knowing which will turn out the better are you asleep I might well be Yvonne groaned angrily all my stupid ideas outgrown thrashed out long ago and flung aside like a dead carcass you present to me as something new there's no pleasing you and I thought I should fascinate you by my literary style that Hosanna in the skies really wasn't bad was it and then that ironical tone alaheine no I was never such a flunky how then could my soul beget a flunky like you my dear fellow I know a most charming and attractive young Russian gentleman a young thinker and a great lover of literature and art the author of a promising poem entitled the Grand Inquisitor I was only thinking of him I forbid you to speak of the Grand Inquisitor as a young man crimson with shame and the geological cataclysm do you remember that was a poem now hold your tongue or I'll kill you you'll kill me no excuse me I will speak I came to treat myself to that pleasure oh I love the dreams of my ardent young friends quivering with eagerness for life there are new men you decided last spring they propose to destroy everything and begin with cannibalism stupid fellows they didn't ask my advice I maintain that nothing need be destroyed that we only need to destroy the idea of God in man that's how we have to set to work it's that, that we must begin with oh blind race of men who have no understanding as soon as men have all of them denied God and I believe that period of the geological period will come to pass the old conception of the universe will fall of itself without cannibalism and what's more the old morality and everything will begin anew men will unite to take from life all it can give but only for joy and happiness in the present world man will be lifted up with the spirit of divine titanic pride from hour to hour extending his conquest of nature infinitely by his will and his science man will feel such lofty joy from hour to hour in doing it that it will make up for all his old dreams of the joys of heaven everyone will know that he is mortal and will accept death proudly and serenely like a god his pride will teach him that it's useless for him to repine for a moment and he will love his brother without need of reward love will be sufficient only for a moment of life but the very consciousness of its momentariness will intensify its fire which now is dissipated in dreams of eternal love beyond the grave and so on and so on in the same style charming Ivan sat with his eyes on the floor of the grave the voice continued the question now is my young thinker reflected is it possible that such a period will ever come if it does everything is determined and humanity is settled forever but as owing to man's inveterate stupidity this cannot come about for at least a thousand years everyone who recognizes the truth even now may legitimately in that sense all things are lawful for him what's more even if this period never comes to pass since there is anyway no god and no immortality the new man may well become the man-god even if he is the only one in the whole world and promoted to his new position he may lightheartedly overstep all the barriers of the old morality of the old slave man if necessary there is no law for god where god stands the place is holy where i stand will be at once the foremost place all things are lawful and that's the end of it that's all very charming but if you want to swindle why do you want a moral sanction for doing it but that's our modern russian all over he can't bring himself to swindle without a moral sanction he is so in love with truth the visitor talked about his own eloquence speaking louder and louder and looking ironically at his host but he did not succeed in finishing he then suddenly snatched a glass from the table and flung it at the orator ah mais c'est bête enfin translator's note but after all that stupid cried the latter jumping up from the sofa and shaking the drops of tea off himself he remembers luther's ink stand he takes me for a dream and throws glasses at a dream it's like a woman i suspected you were only pretending to stop up your ears a loud persistent knocking was suddenly heard at the window yvonne jumped up from the sofa do you hear you'd better open cried the visitor it's your brother aliyasha with the most interesting and surprising news i'll be bound be silent deceiver he knew it was aliyasha i felt he was coming and of course he has not come for nothing of course he brings news yvonne exclaimed frantically open, open to him there's a snow storm and he is your brother monsieur c'est il le temps qu'il fait c'est à ne pas mettre un chien de or translator's note does the gentleman know the weather he's making it's not weather for a dog the knocking continued yvonne wanted to rush to the window that something seemed to fatter his arms and legs he strained every effort to break his chains but in vain the knocking at the window grew louder and louder at last the chains were broken and yvonne leapt up from the sofa he looked around him wildly both candles had almost burned out the glass he had just thrown at his visitor stood before him on the table and there was no one on the sofa opposite the knocking on the window frame went on persistently but it was by no means so loud as it had seemed in his dream on the contrary it was quite subdued it was not a dream no i swear it was not a dream it all happened just now cried yvonne he rushed to the window and opened the movable pane al yosha i told you not to come he cried fiercely to his brother in two words what do you want in two words do you hear an hour ago smirdiakov hanged himself al yosha answered from the yard come round to the steps i'll open it once going to open the door to al yosha end of chapter nine of book 11 recording by martin geeson in hazel mere surrey book 11 chapter 10 of the brothers karamazov this is a librivox recording all librivox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit librivox.org recording by martin geeson the brothers karamazov by fjodor dasayevsky translated by constants garnet book 11 chapter 10 it was he who said that al yosha coming in told yvonne that a little over an hour ago maria kondratievna had run to his rooms and informed him smirdiakov had taken his own life i went in to clear away the samovar and he was hanging on a nail in the wall on al yosha's inquiring whether she had informed the police she answered that she had told no one but i flew straight to you i've run all the way she seemed perfectly crazy al yosha reported and was shaking like a leaf when al yosha ran with her to the cottage he found smirdiakov still hanging on the table lay a note i destroy my life of my own will and desire so as to throw no blame on anyone al yosha left the note on the table and went straight to the police captain and told him all about it and from him i've come straight to you said al yosha in conclusion looking intently into yvonne's face he had not taken his eyes off him while he told his story as though struck by something in his expression brother he cried suddenly you must be terribly ill you look and don't seem to understand what i tell you it's a good thing you came said yvonne as though brooding and not hearing al yosha's exclamation i knew he had hanged himself from whom i don't know but i knew did i know yes he told me he told me so just now yvonne stood in the middle of the room and still spoke in the same brooding tone looking at the ground who is he al yosha involuntarily looking around he slipped away yvonne raised his head and smiled softly he was afraid of you of a dove like you you are a pure cherub the meter he calls you a cherub cherub the thunderous rapture of the seraphim what are seraphim perhaps a whole constellation but perhaps that constellation is certainly a chemical molecule there's a constellation of the lion and the sun don't you know it brother sit down said al yosha in alarm for goodness sake sit down on the sofa you are delirious put your head on the pillow that's right would you like a wet towel on your head perhaps it will do you good give me the towel it's here on the chair i just threw it down there don't worry yourself i know where it is here said al yosha finding a clean towel folded up and unused by yvonne's dressing table in the other corner of the room yvonne looked strangely at the towel recollection seemed to come back to him for an instant stay he got up from the sofa an hour ago i took that new towel from there and wetted it there was no other you put that towel on your head asked al yosha yes and walked up and down the room an hour ago why have the candles burnt down so what's the time nearly 12 no no no yvonne cried suddenly it was not a dream he was here he was sitting here on that sofa when you knocked at the window wait a minute i was asleep last time but this dream was not a dream it has happened before i have dreams now al yosha yet they are not dreams but reality i walk about, talk and see though i am asleep but he was sitting here on that sofa there he is frightfully stupid al yosha frightfully stupid yvonne laughed suddenly and began pacing about the room who is stupid of whom are you talking brother al yosha asked anxiously again the devil he's taken to visiting me he's been here twice almost three times he taunted me with being angry at his being a simple devil and not satan with scorched wings in thunder and lightning but he is not satan that's a lie the master is simply a devil a paltry, trivial devil he goes to the bath if you undressed him you'd be sure to find he had a tail long and smooth like a danish dog a yard long, done colour al yosha you're cold you've been in the snow would you like some tea what? is it cold? shall i tell you to bring some sitan ne pas mettre un chien de orre al yosha ran to the washing stand wetted the towel persuaded yvonne to sit down again and put the wet towel round his head he sat down beside him what were you telling me just now about Lisa? yvonne began again he was becoming very talkative i like Lisa i said something nasty about her it was a lie i like her i'm afraid for kathya tomorrow i don't have anything on account of the future she will cast me off tomorrow and trample me underfoot she thinks that i'm ruining netia from jealousy on her account yes she thinks that but it's not so tomorrow the cross but not the gallows no i shan't hang myself do you know i can never commit suicide al yosha is it because i'm base i'm not a coward smerdiakov had hanged himself yes it was he told me so and you are quite convinced that there has been someone here after al yosha yes on that sofa in the corner you would have driven him away you did drive him away he disappeared when you arrived i love your face al yosha did you know i left your face and he is myself al yosha all that's base in me all that's mean and contemptible yes i'm a romantic he guessed it though it's a liable he is frightfully stupid but it's to his advantage he has cunning animal cunning he knew how to infuriate me he kept taunting me with believing in him and that was how he made me listen to him he fooled me like a boy he told me a great deal that was true about myself though i should never have owned it well do you know al yosha Ivan added in an intensely earnest and confidential tone i should be awfully glad to think that it was he and not i he has worn you out said al yosha looking compassionately at his brother he's been teasing me and you know he does it so cleverly so cleverly conscience what is conscience what is self why am i tormented by it from habit from the universal habit of mankind for the seven thousand years so let us give it up and we shall be gods it was he who said that it was he said that and not you not you al yosha could not help crying looking frankly at his brother never mind him anyway have done with him and forget him and come back yes but he is spiteful he laughed at me he was impudent al yosha Ivan said with a shudder of offence but he was unfair to me unfair to me about lots of things he told lies about me to my face oh you're going to perform an act of heroic virtue to confess you murdered your father that the valet murdered him at your instigation brother al yosha interposed restrain yourself it was not you murdered him it's not true that's what he said he and he knows it you're going to perform an act of heroic virtue and you don't believe in virtue that's what tortures you and makes you angry that's why you were so vindictive he said that to me about me and he knows what he said it's you say that not he and you say it because you're ill and delirious tormenting yourself no he knows what he said you are going from pride he said you'll stand up and say it was I killed him and why do you writhe with horror you are lying I despise your opinion I despise your horror he said that about me and do you know you are longing for their praise he's a criminal a murderer but what a generous soul he wanted to save his brother and he confessed that's a lie yosha Ivan cried suddenly with flashing eyes I don't want the low rabble to praise me I swear I don't that's a lie that's why through the glass at him and it broke against his ugly face brother calm yourself stop yosha and treated him yes he knows how to torment one he's cruel Ivan went on unheeding I had an inkling from the first what he came for granting that you go through pride still you had a hope that Smerdiakov might be convicted and sent to Siberia and Mitya would be acquitted while you only would be punished with moral condemnation do you hear he laughed then and some people will praise you but now Smerdiakov's dead he has hanged himself and who'll believe you alone but yet you are going you are going you'll go all the same you've decided to go what are you going for now that's awful yosha I can't endure such questions who dare ask me such questions brother interposed yosha his heart sank with terror but he still seems to hope to bring Ivan to reason how could he have told you of Smerdiakov's death before I came when no one knew of it and there was no time for anyone to know it he told me said Ivan firmly refusing to admit a doubt it was all he did talk about if you come to that and it would be all right if you believed in virtue he said no matter if they disbelieve you you are going for the sake of principle if you are Dor Pavlovich and what do you want with virtue why do you want to go meddling if your sacrifices of no use to anyone because you don't know yourself why you go oh you'd give a great deal to know yourself why you go and can you have made up your mind you've not made up your mind you'll sit all night deliberating whether to go or not but you will go you know you'll go you know that whichever way you decide on you you'll go because you won't dare not to go why won't you dare you must guess that for yourself that's a riddle for you he got up and went away you came and he went he called me a coward Alyosha Lomodil Enigma is that I am a coward it is not for such eagles to soar above the earth it was he I did that he Katya despises me I've seen that for a month past even Lisa will begin to despise me you're going in order to be praised that's a brutal lie and you despise me too Alyosha now I'm going to hate you again and I hate the monster too I hate the monster I don't want to save the monster let him rot in Siberia he's become singing a hymn oh tomorrow I'll go stand before them and spit in their faces he jumped up in a frenzy flung off the towel and fell to pacing up and down the room again Alyosha recalled what he had just said I seem to be sleeping awake I walk I speak I see but I am asleep it seemed to be just like that now Alyosha did not leave him the thought passed through his mind to run for a doctor but he was afraid to leave his brother alone there was no one to whom he could leave him by degrees Yvonne lost consciousness completely at last he still went on talking talking incessantly but quite incoherently and even articulated his words with difficulty suddenly he staggered violently but Alyosha was in time to support him Yvonne let him lead him to his bed Alyosha undressed him somehow and put him to bed he sat watching over him for another two hours the sick man slept soundly without stirring breathing softly and evenly Alyosha took a pillow and lay down on the sofa without undressing as he fell asleep he prayed for Metia and Yvonne he began to understand Yvonne's illness the anguish of a proud determination and earnest conscience God in whom he disbelieved and his truth were gaining mastery of his heart which still refused to submit yes the thought floated through Alyosha's head as it lay on the pillow yes if Smirjakov is dead no one will believe Yvonne's evidence but he will go and give it Alyosha smiled softly God will conquer the thought he will either rise up in the light of truth or he'll perish in hate revenging on himself and on everyone is having served the cause he does not believe in Alyosha added bitterly and again he prayed for Yvonne end of book 11 recording by Martin Giesen in Hazelmere Surrey book 12 chapter 1 of the Brothers Karamazov this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org recording by J. C. Guan the Brothers Karamazov by Fyodor Dostoevsky translated by Constance Garnet book 12 A Judicial Error chapter 1 The Fatal Day at ten o'clock in the morning of the day following the events I have described the trial of Dmitry Karamazov began in our district court I hastened to emphasise the fact that I am far from estiming myself capable of reporting all that took place at the trial in full detail or even in the actual order of events I imagine that to mention everything with full explanation would fill a volume even a very large one and so I trust I may not be reproached for confining myself to what struck me I may have selected as of most interesting what was of secondary importance and may have omitted the most prominent and essential details but I see I shall do better not to apologise I will do my best and the reader will see for himself that I have done all I can and to begin with before entering the court I will mention what surprised me most on that day indeed as it appeared later everyone was surprised at it too we all knew that the affair had aroused great interest that everyone was burning within patience for the trial to begin that it had been a subject of talk, conjecture, exclamation and surmise for the last two months in local society everyone knew too that the case had become known throughout Russia but yet we had not imagined that it had aroused such burning such intense interest in everyone not only among ourselves but all over Russia this became evident at the trial this day visitors had arrived not only from the chief town of our province but from several other Russian towns as well as from Moscow and Petersburg among them were lawyers, ladies and even several distinguished personages every ticket of admission had been snatched up a special place behind the table at which the three judges sat was set apart for the most distinguished and important of the men visitors a row of armchairs had been placed there something exceptional which had never been allowed before a large proportion half of the public were ladies there were such a large number of lawyers from all parts that they did not know where to seat them for every ticket had long since been eagerly sought for and distributed I saw at the end of the room behind the platform a special partition hurriedly put up behind which all these lawyers were admitted and they thought themselves lucky to have standing room there for all chairs had been removed for the sake of space and the crowd behind the partition stood throughout the case closely packed shoulder to shoulder some of the ladies especially those who came from a distance made their appearance in the gallery very smartly dressed but the majority of the ladies were oblivious even of dress their faces betrayed hysterical intense almost morbid curiosity a peculiar fact established afterwards by many observations was that almost all the ladies or at least the vast majority of them were on Metia's side and in favor of his being acquitted this was perhaps chiefly owing to his reputation as a conqueror of female hearts it was known that two women rivals were to appear in the case one of them Katerina Ivanovna was an object of general interest all sorts of extraordinary tales were told about her amazing anecdotes of her passion for Metia in spite of his crime her pride and aristocratic connections were particularly insisted upon she had called upon scarcely anyone in the town people said she intended to petition the government for leave to accompany the criminal to Siberia and to be married to him somewhere in the mines the appearance of Groschenka in court was awaited with no lessen patience the public was looking forward with anxious curiosity to the meeting of the two rivals the proud aristocratic girl and the hetaira but Groschenka was a more familiar figure to the ladies of the district than Katerina Ivanovna Fyodor Pavlovich and his unhappy son and all almost without exception wondered how father and son could be so in love with such a very common ordinary Russian girl who was not even pretty in brief there was a great deal of talk I know for a fact that there were several series family quarrels on Metia's account in our town many ladies quarreled violently over differences of opinion about the dreadful case and it was that the husbands of these ladies far from being favourably disposed to the prisoner should enter the court bitterly prejudiced against him in fact one may say pretty certainly that the masculine as distinguished from the feminine part of the audience was biased against the prisoner there were numbers of severe, frowning Metia indeed had managed to offend many people during his stay in the town some of the visitors were of course in excellent spirits and quite unconcerned as to the fate of Metia personally but all were interested in the trial and the majority of men were certainly hoping for the conviction of the criminal except perhaps the lawyers who were more interested in the legal than in the moral aspect of the case everybody was excited in the presence of the celebrated lawyer Fetyukovich his talent was well known and this was not the first time he had defended notorious criminal cases in the provinces and if he defended them such cases became celebrated and long remembered all over Russia there were stories too about our prosecutor and about the president of the court it was said that Ipolit Kirilovich was in a tremor at meeting Fetyukovich and that they had been enemies from the beginning of their careers in Petersburg that though our sensitive prosecutor who always considered that he had been aggrieved by someone in Petersburg because his talents had not been properly appreciated was keenly excited and even dreaming of rebuilding his flagging fortunes by means of it Fetyukovich they said was his one anxiety but these rumors were not quite the just our prosecutor was not one of those men who lose heart in face of danger on the contrary his self confidence increased with the increase of danger it must be noted that our prosecutor was in general too hasty he would put his whole soul into some case and work at it as though his whole fate and his whole fortune depended on its result this was the subject of some ridicule in the legal world for just by this characteristic our prosecutor had gained a wiser notoriety than could have been expected from his modest position people laughed particularly at his passion for psychology in my opinion and our prosecutor was I believe a character of greater depth than was generally supposed but with his delicate health he had failed to make his mark at the outset of his career and had never made up for it later as for the president of our court I can only say that he was a humane and cultured man who had a practical knowledge of his work and progressive views very ambitious but did not concern himself greatly about his future career the great aim of his life was to be a man of advanced ideas he was too a man of connections and property he felt as we learnt afterwards rather strongly about the Karamazov case but from a social not from a personal standpoint he was interested in it as a social phenomenon in its classification and its character as a product of our social conditions as typical of the national character and so on and so on his attitude to the personal aspect of the case to its tragic significance and the persons involved in it including the prisoner was rather indifferent and abstract as was perhaps fitting indeed our court was packed and overflowing long before the judges made their appearance our court is the best hall in the town spacious lofty and good for sound on the right of the judges who were on a raised platform a table and two rows of chairs had been put ready for the jury on the left was the place of the prisoner and the counsel for the defense in the middle of the court near the judges was a table with the material proofs on it Le Fyodor Pavlovich white silk dressing gown stained with blood the fatal brass pestle with which the supposed murder had been committed mitius shirt with a blood stained sleeve his coat stained with blood in patches over the pocket blood and vinyl quite yellow the pestle loaded by mitia at Perhutins with a view to suicide and taken from him on the slide at Mokro by Dreyfond Porisovich the envelope in which the 3,000 rubles had been put ready for Grushenka the narrow pink ribbon with which it had been tied and many other articles I don't remember in the body of the hall at some distance came the seats for the public but in front of the ballast trade a few chairs had been placed for witnesses who remained in the court after giving their evidence at ten o'clock the three judges arrived the president one honorary judge of the peace and one other the prosecutor of course entered immediately after the president was a short dispeptic complexion dark hair turning grey and cut short and a red ribbon of what order I don't remember the prosecutor struck me and the others too as looking particularly pale almost green his face seemed to have grown suddenly thinner perhaps in a single night for I had seen him looking as usual only two days before the president began with asking the court whether all the jury were present but I see I can't go on like this partly because some things I did not hear others I did not notice and others I have forgotten but most of all because as I have said before I have literally no time or space to mention everything that was said and done I only know that neither side objected to very many of the jury men four were petty officials of the town two were merchants and six peasants and artisans of the town I remember long before the trial questions were continually asked with some surprise especially by ladies can such a delicate, complex and psychological case be submitted for decision to petty officials and even peasants and what can an official stand in such an affair all the four officials in the jury were in fact men of no consequence and of low rank except one who was rather younger they were grey-headed men little known in society who had vegetated on a pitiful salary and who probably had elderly, unpresentable wives and crowds of children perhaps even without shoes and stockings at most they spent their leisure over cars and of course had never read a single book the two merchants looked respectable but were strangely silent and stolid one of them was close-shaven and was dressed in European style the other had a small grey beard and wore a red ribbon with some sort of a medal upon it on his neck there is no need to speak of the artisans and the peasants the artisans of Skotopringonevsk are almost peasants and even work on the land two of them also were European dress and perhaps for that reason were dirtier and more uninviting looking than the others so that one might well wonder as I did as soon as I had looked at them what men like that could possibly make of such a case yet their faces made a strangely imposing almost menacing impression they were stern and frowning at last the president opened the case of the murder of Fyodor Pavlovich Karmasov I don't quite remember how he described him the court asher was told to bring in the prisoner and Mitya made his appearance there was a hush through the court one could have heard a fly I don't know how it was with others but Mitya made the most unfavorable impression on me he looked an awful dandy in a brand new frock coat I heard afterwards that he had ordered it in Moscow expressly for the occasion from his own tailor who had his measure he wore immaculate black kid gloves and exquisite linen he walked in with his yardlong strides looking stiffly straight in front of him and sat down in his place with a most unperturbed air at the same moment the council for defense the celebrated Fetyukovich entered in a sort of subdued hum passed through the court he was a tall spare man with long, thin legs with extremely long thin, pale fingers clean shaven face demurely brushed rather short hair and thin lips that were at times curved into something between a sneer and a smile he looked about forty his face would have been pleasant if it had not been for his eyes which, in themselves small and inexpressive were set remarkably close together with only the thin, long nose as a dividing line between them in fact there was something strikingly bird-like about his face he was in evening dress and white tie I remember the president's first question to Mitya about his name his calling and so on Mitya answered sharply and his voice was so unexpectedly loud that it made the president start and look at the prisoner with surprise then followed a list of persons who were to take part in the proceedings that is of the witnesses and experts it was a long list four of the witnesses were not present Musov who had given evidence at the preliminary inquiry but was now in Paris Madame Hochlakov and Maximov who were absent through illness and Smerdiakov through his sudden death of which an official statement from the police was presented the news of Smerdiakov's death produced a sudden stir and whisper in the court many of the audience of course had not heard of the sudden suicide what struck people most was Mitya's sudden outburst as soon as the statement of Smerdiakov's death was made he cried out aloud from his place he was a dog and died like a dog I remember how his counsel rushed to him and how the president addressed him threatening to take stern measures if such an irregularity were repeated Mitya nodded and in a subdued voice repeated several times abruptly to his counsel with no show of regret I won't again I won't I won't do it again and of course this brief episode did him no good with the jury or the public his character was displayed and it spoke for itself it was under the influence of this incident that the opening statement was read it was rather short but circumstantial it only stated the chief reasons why he had been arrested why he must be tried and so on yet it made a great impression on me the clerk read it loudly and distinctly the whole tragedy was suddenly unfolded before us concentrated in both relief in a fatal and pitiless light I remember how immediately after it had been read the president asked Mitya in a loud, impressive voice prisoner do you plead guilty Mitya suddenly rose from his seat I plead guilty to drunkenness and dissipation he explained again in a startling almost frenzied voice to ardullness and debauchery I meant to become an honest man for good just at the moment when I was struck down by fate but I am not guilty of the death of that old man my enemy and my father no, no I am not guilty of robbing him Dimitri Karamazov is a scoundrel but not a thief he sat down again visibly trembling all over the president again briefly but impressively admonished him to answer only what was asked and not to go off in irrelevant exclamations then he ordered the case to proceed all the witnesses were led up to take the oath then I saw them all together the brothers of the prisoner were, however allowed to give evidence without taking the oath after an exhortation from the priest and the president the witnesses were led away and were made to sit as far as possible apart from one another then they began calling them up one by one end of chapter 1 of book 12 read by J. C. Guan Montreal, February 2009 book 12, chapter 2 of The Brothers Karamazov this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org recording by J. C. Guan The Brothers Karamazov by Fyodor Dostoyevsky translated by Constance Garnet book 12, chapter 2 dangerous witnesses I do not know whether the witnesses for the defense and for the prosecution were separated into groups by the president and whether it was arranged to call them in a certain order but no doubt it was so I only know that the witnesses for the prosecution were called first I repeat I don't intend to describe all the questions step by step besides my account would be to some extent superfluous because in the speeches for the prosecution and for the defense the whole course of the evidence was brought together and set in a strong and significant light and I took down parts of those two remarkable speeches in fall and we'll quote them in due course together with one extraordinary and quite unexpected episode which occurred before the final speeches and undoubtedly influenced the sinister and fatal outcome of the trial I will only observe that from the first moments of the trial one peculiar characteristic of the case was conspicuous and observed by all that is the overwhelming strength of the prosecution as compared with the arguments the defense had to rely upon everyone realized it from the first moment they began to group themselves round a single point and the whole horrible and bloody crime was gradually revealed everyone perhaps felt from the first that the case was beyond dispute that there was no doubt about it that there could be really no discussion and that the evidence was only a matter of form and that the prisoner was guilty obviously and conclusively guilty I imagine that even the ladies who were so impatiently longing for the acquittal of the interesting prisoner were at the same time without exception convinced of his guilt what's more I believe they would have been mortified if his guilt had not been so firmly established as that would have lessened the effect of the closing scene of the criminal's acquittal that he would be acquitted or the ladies strange to say were firmly persuaded up to the very last moment he is guilty but he will be acquitted from motives of humanity in accordance with the new ideas the new sentiments that had come into fashion and so on and so on and that was why they had crowded into the court so impatiently the men were more interested than the ladies all were wondering and asking themselves what could even a talent like Fetyukovich's make of such a desperate case and so they followed his achievement step by step with concentrated attention but Fetyukovich remained an enigma to all up to the very end up to his speech persons of experience some object but it was almost impossible to guess what it was his confidence and self-reliance were unmistakable, however everyone noticed with pleasure moreover that he, after so short a stay not more than three days perhaps among us had so wonderfully succeeded in mastering the case and had studied it to a nice tea people described with relish afterwards how cleverly he had taken down all the witnesses for the prosecution and as far as possible perplexed them and what's more had dispersed their reputation and so depreciated the value of their evidence but it was supposed that he did this rather by way of sport so to speak for professional glory to show nothing had been omitted to know real good by such disparagement of the witnesses and probably was more aware of this than anyone having some idea of his own in the background some concealed weapon of defence which he would suddenly reveal when the time came but meanwhile conscious of his strength he seemed to be diverting himself so for instance in the evening Fyodor Pavlovich's old servant who had given the most damning piece of evidence about the open door was examined the counsel for the defence positively fastened upon him when his turn came to question him it must be noted that Grigory entered the trial with a composed and almost stately air not the least disconcerted by the mastery of the court and the evidence with as much confidence as though he had been talking with his Marfa only perhaps more respectfully it was impossible to make him contradict himself the prosecutor questioned him first in detail about the family life of the Karamasovs the family picture stood out in lurid colours it was plain to hear an eye in spite of his profound reverence for the memory of his deceased master he yet bore witness that he had been unjust to Mitya and had then brought up his children as he should he'd have been devoured by lice when he was a little if it hadn't been for me he added describing Mitya's early childhood it wasn't fair either of the father to wrong his son over his mother's property in reply to the prosecution's question what grounds he had for asserting that Fyodor Pavlovich had wronged his son in their money relations Gregory to the surprise of everyone had no proof at all to bring forward but he still persisted that the arrangement with the son was unfair and that he ought to have paid him several thousand rubles more I must note by the way that the prosecution asked this question whether Fyodor Pavlovich had really kept back part of Mitya's inheritance with marked persistence of all the witnesses who could be asked it not accepting Alyosha and Ivan but he obtained no exact information from anyone all alleged that it was so but were unable to bring forward any distinct proof Gregory's description of the scene at the dinner table was written in and beaten his father threatening to come back to kill him made a sinister impression on the court especially as the old servant's composure in telling it his parsimony of words and peculiar phraseology were as effective as eloquence he observed that he was not angry with Mitya for having knocked him down and struck him on the face he had forgiven him long ago he said by crossing himself that he was a lad of ability but stupid and afflicted and worse still and infidel and that it was Fyodor Pavlovich and his elder son who had taught him to be so but he defended Smerdiakov's honesty almost with warmth and related as Smerdiakov had once found the master's money in the yard and instead of concealing it had taken it to his master for peace for it and trusted him implicitly from that time forward he maintained obstinately that the door into the garden had been open but he was asked so many questions that I can't recall them all at last the council for the defences began to cross examine him and the first question he asked was about the envelope in which Fyodor Pavlovich had given rubles for a certain person have you ever seen it you who were so many years in closed attendance on your master Gregory answered that he had not seen it and had never heard of the money from anyone till everybody was talking about it this question about the envelope Fyodor Pavlovich put to everyone who could conceivably have known of it as persistently the prosecutor asked his question about Dimitri's inheritance and got the same answer from all that no one had seen the envelope though many had heard of it from the beginning everyone noticed Fyodor Pavlovich's persistence on the subject now with your permission I'll ask you a question Fyodor Pavlovich said suddenly and unexpectedly of what was that bosom or rather deconcoction made which as we learn from the preliminary inquiry you used on that evening to rub your lumbago and the hope of curing it Gregory looked blankly at the questioner and after a brief silence muttered there was saffron in it nothing but saffron don't you remember any other ingredients there was male foil in it too and pepper perhaps Fyodor Pavlovich queried yes there was pepper too et cetera and all dissolved in vodka in spirit there was a faint sound of laughter in the court you see in spirit after rubbing your back I believe you drank what was left in the bottle with a certain pious prayer to your wife I did did you drink much roughly speaking a wine glass or two it might have been a tumbler full a tumbler full even perhaps a tumbler and a half Gregory did not answer he seemed to say what was meant a glass and a half of neat spirit is not at all bad don't you think you might see the gates of heaven open not only the door into the garden Gregory remained silent there was another laugh in the court the president made a movement do you know for a fact Fyodor Pavlovich persisted whether you were awake or not when you saw the open door I was on my legs that's not a proof that you were awake there was again laughter in the court could you have answered at that moment if anyone has asked you a question for instance what year it is I don't know and what year is it do you know Gregory stood with a perplexed face looking straight at his tormentor strange to say it appeared he really did not know what year it was but perhaps you can tell me how many fingers you have on your hands I am a servant Gregory said suddenly in a loud and distinct voice if my better stink fit to make game of me it is my duty to suffer it Fyodor Pavlovich was a little taken aback and the president intervened reminding him that he must ask more relevant questions Fyodor Pavlovich bowed with dignity and said that he had no more questions to ask of the witness the public and the jury of course were left with a grain of doubt in their minds as to the evidence of a man who might while undergoing a certain cure have seen the gates of heaven and who did not even know what year he was living in but before Gregory left the box another episode occurred the president turning to the prisoner asked him whether he had any comment to make on the evidence of the last witness except about the door all he had said is true cried Mitya in a loud voice for combing the lice off me I thank him for forgiving my blows I thank him the old man has been honest all his life and as faithful to my father as seven hundred poodles prisoner be careful in your language the president admonished him I am not a poodle Gregory murdered cried Mitya if it's an insult I take it to myself and I beg his pardon I was a beast and cruel to him I was cruel to Izap too what Izap the president asked Stanley again oh Piero my father Fyodor Pavlovich the president again and again warned Mitya impressively and very Stanley to be more careful in his language yourself in the opinion of your judges the counsel for the defense was equally clever in dealing with the evidence of Rakitin I may remark that Rakitin was one of the leading witnesses and one to whom the prosecutor attached great significance it appeared that he knew everything his knowledge was amazing he had been everywhere seen everything talked to everybody in detail of the biography of Fyodor Pavlovich and all the Karamazovs of the envelope it is true he had only heard from Mitya himself but he described minutely Mitya's exploits in the metropolis all his compromising doings and sayings and told the story of Captain Snigiryev's Wisp of Tao but even Rakitin could say nothing positive about Mitya's inheritance and his generalities who could tell which of them was to blame and which was in depth to the other with their crazy Karamazov way of muddling things so that no one could make head or tail of it he attributed the tragic crime to the habits that had become ingrained by ages of serfdom and the distressed condition of Russia due to the lack of appropriate institutions he was in fact allowed some latitude of speech this was the first occasion on which Rakitin showed what he could do and attracted notice the prosecutor knew that the witness was preparing a magazine article on the case and afterwards in his speech as we shall see later quoted some ideas from the article showing that he had seen it already the picture drawn by the witness was a gloomy and sinister one and greatly strengthened all together Rakitin's discourse fascinated the public by its independence and the extra-ordinability of its ideas there were even two or three outbreaks of applause when he spoke of serfdom and the distressed condition of Russia but Rakitin in his useful order made a slight blunder of which the counsel for the defense at once adroitly took advantage answering certain questions about Khrushenka and carried away by the loftiness of his own sentiments and success of which he was, of course, conscious he went so far as to speak somewhat contentiously of Agrafena Aleksandrovna as the captain mistress of Samsonov he could have given a good deal to take back his words afterwards for Fetyukovich caught him out over it at once and it was all reckoned on the lawyer having been able to become so intimately acquainted with every detail in so short a time Allow me to ask began the counsel for the defense with the most affable and even respectful smile You are, of course, the same Mr. Rakitin whose pamphlet The Life of the Deceased Elder published by the diocesan authorities full of profound and religious reflections and preceded and devout dedication to the bishop I have just read with such pleasure I did not write it for publication it was published afterwards for some reason fearfully disconcerted and almost ashamed Oh, that's excellent a thinker like you can and indeed ought to take the widest view a very social question Your most instructive pamphlet has been widely circulated through the patronage of the bishop in a considerable service but this is the chief thing I should like to learn from you You stated just now that you were very intimately acquainted with Madame Svietlov It must be noted that Grushenko's sonning was Svietlov I heard it for the first time that day during the case I cannot answer for all my acquaintances I am a young man and who can be responsible for everyone he meets all over I understand I quite understand as though he too were embarrassed and in haste to excuse himself You, like any other might well be interested in an acquaintance with a young and beautiful woman who would readily entertain the elite of the youth of the neighbourhood but I only wanted to know it has come to my knowledge that Madame Svietlov was very eager to make the acquaintance of the younger Karamasov Alexei Feodorovich and promised you 25 rubles if you would bring him to her in his monastic dress and that actually took place on the evening of the day on which the terrible crime which is the subject of the present investigation was committed you brought Alexei Karamasov to Madame Svietlov and did you receive a letter from you it was a joke I don't see of what interest that can be to you I took it for a joke meaning to give it back later then you did take but you have not given it back yet or have you that's of no consequence I refuse to answer such questions of course I shall give it back the president intervened but Feodorovich did not give any questions to ask of the witness Mr. Rakitin left the witness box not absolutely without a stain upon his character the effect left by the lofty idealism of his speech was somewhat marred and Feodorovich's expression as he watched him walk away seemed to suggest to the public this is a specimen of the lofty minded persons who accuse him I remember that this incident too enraged by the tone in which Rakitin had referred to Groschenka he suddenly shouted Bernard when after Rakitin's cross examination the president asked the prisoner if he had anything to say Mitya cried out loudly since I have been arrested he has borrowed money from me he is a contemptible Bernard and a opportunist and he doesn't believe in God he took the bishop in Mitya of course was pulled up again for the intemperance of his language but Rakitin was done for Captain Snigiryev's evidence was a failure too but from quite a different reason he appeared in ragged and dirty clothes muddy boots and in spite of the vigilance and expert observation of the police officers he turned out to be hopelessly drunk on being asked about Mitya's attack upon him he refused to answer God bless him Ilushra told me not to God will make it up to me yonder who told you not to tell of whom are you talking Ilushra, my little son father, father how he insulted you he said that at the stone now he is dying the captain suddenly began sobbing and plumped down on his knees before the president he was hurriedly led away amidst the laughter of the public the attack prepared by the prosecutor did not come at all Fetyukovich went on making the most of every opportunity and amazed people more and more by his minute knowledge of the case thus, for example Trifon Borisovich made a great impression of course very prejudicial to Mitya he calculated almost on his fingers that on his first visit to Makro Mitya must have spent or very little less just think what he squandered on those gypsy girls alone and as for our lousy peasants it wasn't the case of flinging half a rubble in the street he made them presents of 25 rubbles each at least he didn't give them less and what a lot of money was simply stolen from him and if anyone did steal he did not leave a receipt how could one catch the thief at a time our peasants and robbers, you know they have no care for their souls and the way he went on with the girls our village girls they are completely set up since then I tell you they used to be poor he recalled in fact every item of expense and added it all up so the theory that only 1500 had been spent and the rest had been put aside in a little bag not 3000 as clear as a penny in his hands I saw it with my own eyes I should think I ought to know how to reckon money cried Trifon Borisovich doing his best to satisfy his betters when Fetyukovic had to cross examine him his costly tried to refute this evidence but began asking him about an incident at the first carousel at Mokro a month before the arrest when Timofey and another peasants called Akim had picked up on the floor in the passage a hundred rubles dropped by Mitya when he was drunk and had given them to Trifon Borisovich and received a rubble each from him for doing so well asked the lawyer did you give that hundred rubles back to Mr. Karamazov Trifon Borisovich in vain he was obliged after the peasants had been examined to admit the finding of the hundred rubles only adding that he had religiously returned it all to Dmitry Feodorovich in perfect honesty and it's only because his honor was in liquor at the time he wouldn't remember it but as he had denied the incident of the hundred rubles till the peasants had been called to prove it Mitya was naturally regarded with great suspicion so one of the most dangerous witnesses brought forward by the prosecution was again discredited the same thing happened with the polls they took up an attitude of pride and independence they reciprocated loudly that they had both been in the service of the crown and that Pan Mitya had offered them three thousand rubles and that they had seen a large sum of money in his hands Pan Musialovitch introduced a terrible number of Polish words into his sentences and seeing that this only increased his consequence in the eyes of the president and the prosecutor grew more and more pompous and ended by talking in Polish altogether but Feodorovich caught them too in his nares Trifon Borisovich in spite of his evasions to admit that Pan Wroblewski had substituted another pack of cards for the one he had provided and that Pan Musialovitch had cheated during the game Kalgonov confirmed this and both the polls left the witness box with damaged reputations and missed laughter from the public then exactly the same thing happened with almost all of the most dangerous witnesses Feodorovich succeeded in casting a slur on all of them and dismissing them with a certain derision the lawyers and experts were lost in admiration and were only at a loss to understand what good purpose could be served by it for all I repeat felt that the case for the prosecution could not be refuted but was growing more and more tragically overwhelming but from the confidence of the great magician that he was serene and awaited feeling that such a man had not come to Petersburg for nothing and that he was not a man to return unsuccessful and of Chapter 2 Book 12 Recording by J. C. Guan Montreal February 2009