6.3-6.4 You are a Schiller, you are an idealist!

Chapters consist of dialogue, or rather, stories from Svidrigailov.

Hello, Dostoevsky enthusiast!

List of articles by chapters you can find here

Reading schedule is here.

I attempted to finish the article today, on Fyodor Mikhailovich's birthday. What better way to commemorate the day than by writing about Svidrigailov's debaucheries and crimes?

I'm slightly behind schedule. I hope to complete the next chapter by Friday—it's one of my favorites in the novel, and Raskolnikov isn't in it. I must admit, he has become rather tiresome by the end. It's high time he decided what to do with his life.

Chapters 3 and 4 of Part Six consist of dialogue, or rather, stories from Svidrigailov. After his third and final meeting with Porfiry, which Dostoevsky depicted in detail, Raskolnikov decides to take a walk. He finds himself at Svidrigailov's, not fully understanding why. This man held some inexplicable power over him. Surprisingly, Raskolnikov is barely concerned with whether Svidrigailov might inform on him to Porfiry.

"A strange thing [...] but he was somehow weakly, absent-mindedly concerned about his present, immediate fate. Something else tormented him, much more important, extraordinary—about himself and no one else, but something else, something main."

This "main thing," as we can infer, encompasses the novel's core questions:

• How is the world truly arranged?

• Are there boundaries of good and evil?

• Do these boundaries apply to everyone?

Raskolnikov is one of those people who cannot live without resolving these questions. He hopes to find answers from Svidrigailov, correctly sensing and now understanding that it was Svidrigailov, not Sonya, who crossed the boundaries of good and evil—just like Raskolnikov himself. And so Svidrigailov has lived with this transgression for a long time and, as it appears to Raskolnikov, successfully—but how?

Diabolical Petersburg

Regarding Petersburg, Dostoevsky follows Gogol's tradition — depicting it as a city of devilry. Why this particular setting? Historically, Petersburg wasn't built organically like most cities, gradually expanding over centuries. Instead, the construction of this massive city on swampland was both unnatural and perilous. It grew rapidly from nothing to an impressive size by decree of Peter I, beginning in 1703. One might say the devil himself aided in its creation, crafting a luxurious city of palaces. The construction also claimed numerous lives, adding to its ominous reputation.

Rarely can one find so many gloomy, harsh, and strange influences on the human soul as in Petersburg. What can be said about the climatic influences alone!

The notion that natural conditions, especially climate, influenced abnormal human behavior was popular at the time. Many believed Petersburg's gray skies induced depression. While vitamin D deficiency is indeed common at those latitudes, it's worth noting that Raskolnikov committed his crime on July's hottest, sunniest day. For a northerner, such heat and sunlight can feel alien and oppressive.

In "Crime and Punishment," however, Petersburg's influence on the human soul is far more intricate. It's not merely climatic, but a complex interplay of socio-historical, moral, psychological, and ideological factors. Dostoevsky described it as

"the most abstract and intentional city on the whole globe" with "the most fantastic history of all the cities of the globe."

In Dostoevsky's vision, Petersburg becomes both a "co-author" of the idea and an "accomplice" in Rodion Raskolnikov's crime. "Crime and Punishment" is, in many ways, more of a novel about Petersburg than any of the writer's other works set there.

It's as if the city's spirit—or the devil himself—guides Raskolnikov to the tavern where Svidrigailov drinks. Once again, chance—or perhaps devilry—steers Raskolnikov's path.

Svidrigailov and Marfa's Dark Dealings

Svidrigailov, like Porfiry, is outraged that Raskolnikov walks around like a "pale angel" after murdering two women. He spends most of their conversation mocking Raskolnikov with biting remarks: "The Schiller in you is constantly perturbed," "Why have you plunged headlong into virtue?" "If you're convinced that eavesdropping at doors is wrong, but bashing old women with whatever comes to hand is perfectly fine, then you'd better hurry off to America!"

On the most crucial matter, Svidrigailov reveals to Raskolnikov that he has long been living solely according to his nature—that is, succumbing to indulgences. This, he claims, allows him to maintain at least some interest in and desire for life. Raskolnikov, with his ascetic worldview, cannot comprehend this and merely grows indignant, much to Svidrigailov's delight. When it comes to the crimes attributed to him—the possible poisoning of his wife Marfa Petrovna, the abuse of a girl who later took her own life, and driving the house serf Philip to suicide—Svidrigailov steadfastly refuses to speak.

Let's consider Marfa, Svidrigailov's wife. A puzzling question arises: why did she bail Svidrigailov out of debtors' prison, paying such an exorbitant sum? It appears she didn't know him beforehand—couldn't she have found a more reputable husband? This remains a mystery. Perhaps the answer lies in shared secrets between them, possibly involving minors. It's reminiscent of those TV dramas where seemingly respectable families harbor dark secrets, like keeping hostages in their basements. These are mere speculations, of course; I can't claim to know Dostoevsky's intentions here. However, several facts point in this direction:

1. Marfa bailed out Svidrigailov despite knowing he was a criminal. She paid 30,000 rubles—a sum sufficient to purchase several estates. Why would she need Svidrigailov, a man without a title or savings? The likely answer: as an accomplice.

2. We've learned that they had agreements regarding infidelities and other matters—essentially, a form of "open relationship." Yet Marfa was enraged by Svidrigailov's flirtation with Dunya, despite this seemingly falling within their agreement. Could their arrangement have specifically pertained to minors?

3. Their mutual and long-standing acquaintance, Resslich, with whom Svidrigailov currently resides.

"And this Resslich, I tell you, is a rogue, she's got it in her mind: I'll get bored, leave my wife and go away, and the wife will fall to her, and she'll put her into circulation; in our circle, that is, and even higher."

Svidrigailov couldn't legally marry with the church's blessing so soon after his wife's death. It's been merely a couple of weeks since then. Orthodox tradition requires at least 40 days of mourning, and no priest would perform a wedding during this period—possibly not even for a year. Yet Svidrigailov claims he's already chosen a bride—a 15-year-old girl. What does this reveal about Resslich? She likely found him this bride, and Svidrigailov probably had forged documents or found a corrupt priest who would sanction the marriage. Their scheme seems clear: he'd marry the girl, then abandon her. The poor child would have few options but to turn to prostitution. This was their plan, it seems. Perhaps this is how Marfa amassed her vast fortune, and she was willing to invest it in Svidrigailov to earn even more.

What are your thoughts on this?

Why doesn't Dostoevsky speak directly about Svidrigailov's crimes?

Why did Dostoevsky make this decision? Likely because, for our understanding of the novel and Svidrigailov's character, the fact that he, like Raskolnikov, turned away from God is more significant than the crimes themselves. However, unlike Raskolnikov—who retained a distorted desire to align his thoughts and actions with a higher truth—Svidrigailov became utterly disillusioned with all truths, surrendering himself entirely to carnal indulgence.

Both Raskolnikov and Svidrigailov confess to fearing death. This reveals not only a desperate clinging to earthly life but also a subconscious dread of the afterlife—a fear born from guilty consciences.

It's crucial to recognize that Svidrigailov, through his self-revelations, aims not only to mock Raskolnikov and strip away the "pale angel's" pride but also to convince him that he, Arkady Ivanovich, is incapable of deep emotions, has forgotten Dunya, and is absorbed in other "projects." He succeeds in this aim: "And I could, even for a moment, expect something from this crude villain, this lustful debauchee and scoundrel!" Raskolnikov exclaims as he parts from Svidrigailov. (The narrator adds: "True, Raskolnikov pronounced his judgment too hastily and carelessly.")

Raskolnikov fails to consider that Svidrigailov could perceive "the face of a sorrowful holy fool" in the Sistine Madonna—and Rodion himself doesn't recall Sonya, whom he had recently dubbed a holy fool. But for Svidrigailov, this is precisely the outcome he sought—to part ways with Raskolnikov swiftly, without arousing suspicion, as he had a crucial meeting with Dunya ahead.

Pagan Motifs

There's an interesting connection between Svidrigailov and Dunya. I've written about this partially before. Svidrigailov's surname comes from Svidrigailo, which has pagan roots. The Lithuanian prince Svidrigailo was baptized and given another name, which few remember, but due to his cruelty prior to that, he remains known in history as Svidrigailo. Now, Svidrigailov's statement about Dunya needing to be a martyr whose breasts are burned has a pagan foundation. This moment is depicted in Sebastiano del Piombo's painting "The Martyrdom of Saint Agatha," which Dostoevsky saw in 1862 at a gallery in Florence.

But there's a nuance. Saint Agatha's breasts weren't burned, but torn with iron pincers—and this was done by pagans. The kind of pagans like Svidrigailov. There's an explanation for this, and I find these pagan motifs very intriguing.

The Christian church commemorates Saint Agatha (Agafia) on February 5th. However, on the same date is tied to another early martyr—Theodulia. She was ordered to be tortured with iron hooks, burning her breasts, in one of the cities of Asia Minor. Essentially, Dostoevsky combines both saints, who suffered in similar ways. Dunya thus becomes a passion-bearer, and Porfiry refers to Raskolnikov in the same way. He said about him:

"I consider you one of those who could have their guts cut out, and they would stand there smiling at their tormentors—if only they find faith or God."

Dostoevsky clearly brings the sister and brother closer through these images. But Dunya and Rodion are so different...

We'll delve deeper into pagan motifs when discussing Svidrigailov. This is precisely how Dostoevsky wants to draw the line between Raskolnikov and Svidrigailov: they are both criminals, but one is still a believer. Will their fates be different?

What does Schiller have to do with this?

In these chapters, Svidrigailov often calls Raskolnikov "Schiller."

"You are a Schiller, you are an idealist! [...] By the way, do you like Schiller? I'm terribly fond of him."

Svidrigailov's ironic use of the German poet's name echoes the sarcastic attacks on the "eternally young Schiller" by the cynical Prince Valkovsky in the novel "Humiliated and Insulted". Valkovsky relished "suddenly bewildering some Schiller," "caressing, encouraging" him, then "lifting the mask before him and making a grimace out of his ecstatic face, sticking out one's tongue at him when he least expects it."

Similarly, Svidrigailov aims to reveal to Rodion the "true" human essence, which he believes is fundamentally amoral. He seeks to shatter any illusions about inherent human morality. Ironically, Raskolnikov shouldn't believe in morality, having transgressed it himself—though he did so in pursuit of his "higher idea."

At eighteen, Dostoevsky wrote passionately:

"I memorized Schiller, spoke with him, raved about him; I believe fate did nothing more fitting in my life than to introduce me to the great poet at that time; [...] Schiller's name [...] became dear to me, a magical sound evoking countless dreams."

The mature Dostoevsky, having endured the "anthropological hell" of hard labor, developed a more complex attitude towards Schiller: a mix of love, continuity, skepticism, and critique of "humanistic utopias and illusions." He "lost his youthful faith in Schiller"—a symbol for all that's "high and beautiful" in idealistic humanism. While this faith faltered, Dostoevsky's faith in Christ endured. As Berdyaev noted, "He lost his humanistic faith in man, but remained faithful to the Christian faith in man, strengthening and enriching it." This marks a crucial distinction.

Thus, the reference to "Schiller," who "is constantly embarrassed," as a characterization of Raskolnikov's moral reactions, belongs solely to Svidrigailov, not Dostoevsky. Svidrigailov's ironic use of Schiller's name aims to highlight the inconsistency in Raskolnikov's thinking—exposing the lingering "moral stereotypes" that clash with the amorality of his ideas and deeds.

There's not much left? What are your thoughts on what's to come?

Enjoy your reading!