Showing posts with label Luzhin. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Luzhin. Show all posts

Friday, July 6, 2018

Notes on CRIME AND PUNISHMENT The Issue of Sensuality:Pedophiles and Perverts

Dostoevsky's Morbid Characters, Representatives of "The Sick World" of FMD






The Issue of Sensuality: Pedophiles and Perverts

Dostoevsky, to put it mildly, writes fiction about the dark side of the human soul. Dostoevsky’s fiction is often sick, and reading too much of it at a time can have a deleterious effect on the reader. If you read Crime and Punishment, thoroughly digest it, take some time off before diving into another long and gut-wrenching Dostoevsky novel.

As one critic, Geir Kjetsaa, has pointed out, “in his [Dostoevsky’s] eyes sexuality was the fundamental condition for the relationship between man and woman.” Kjetsaa quotes from a letter that Dostoevsky wrote to his second wife Anna late in his life: “You think perhaps that this is only one aspect of the matter, the coarsest one even. But there is nothing coarse about it; everything else is dependent on it.”

Pedophilia and the sexual designs of older men on young women are prominently featured in Dostoevsky’s fiction from the very beginning. In his first novel, Poor People, the heroine Varvara breaks the heart of the narrator Devushkin when she makes a marriage of convenience with a man named Bykov. This is much the same situation as that of Dunya and Luzhin in C and P, although Luzhin’s designs on Dunya are foiled and the marriage does not take place. 

Bykov, like Luzhin, is attracted by the idea of exerting sexual control over a young female. The fatuous socialist Lebezyatnikov has similar proclivities. While professing to be selflessly interested in “educating” Sonya Marmeladova in socialist doctrines, while pretending to be interested in her as a representative of the oppressed masses, he also has prurient designs on her.

Probably the most negative character in C and P, Luzhin, a money grubber, incipient capitalist and social climber, is perversely attracted to the idea of possessing Dunya, a proud and attractive girl (she is eighteen). He will pull her, along with her family, out of poverty, so he thinks, and after their marriage she will be his love slave, totally submissive and grateful to him.

The genuine pedophiliac in the novel is Arkady Ivanovich Svidrigailov, who is sexually obsessed with Dunya, and, even worse, involved with very young girls from impoverished families. His first appearance in C and P is foreshadowed by a scene in Part 1, Ch. 4 (p. 39-43 in the Norton Critical Ed.), in which Raskolnikov sees a young drunken girl staggering down the street. She is followed by a plump fop with a lecherous gleam in his eye. Raskolnikov yells at him, “Hey, Svidrigailov, what do you want here?”

Svidrigailov’s actual appearance in the novel comes much later, at the very end of Part 3, when he almost seems to have been conjured up out of one of Raskolnikov’s violent nightmares. Raskolnikov dreams that he is striking the old woman—whom he has already murdered in the waking world—on the head with repetitive blows of the axe, but she just sits there laughing at him. He tries to run, wakes up, but “the dream seemed strangely to be continuing: his door was wide open and on the threshold stood a complete stranger, looking fixedly at him.”

This appearance of Svidrigailov as if out of the hero’s dream suggests that in some weird way he may be an extension of Raskolnikov’s personality, a part of his psyche. As has been emphasized by critics of Dostoevsky’s works, there are frequent doublings of characters. Svidrigailov and Sonya are both something of alter egos of Raskolnikov, she representing his good side, and he representing his evil side.

But in terms of sensuality Svidrigailov and Raskolnikov appear, at first glance, to have nothing in common. Svidrigailov is the supreme sensualist, who can find nothing to believe in except the flesh. He tells Raskolnikov at one point, “I have no confidence in anything but anatomy.” He has come to the conclusion that spirituality, morality, religion, and everything that most people cling to as a justification for living and behaving decently are mere abstractions. Debauchery is, in his ironic view, of positive value, as he tells Raskolnikov.

--Why should I give up women, if I have an inclination for them? It’s something to do, at any rate…
--So all you hope for is a spell of debauchery?
--Well, why not? Debauchery if you will! You seem to like the word! . . . . In ‘debauchery’ there is at least something constant, based on nature, indeed, and not subject to fantasy, something that exists in he blood as an eternal flame, always ready to set one on fire, and not to be readily extinguished, for a long time to come, perhaps for many years. You will agree that in its way it is an occupation (Part 6, Ch. 3).

As sometimes happens in a Hollywood film, a character actor steps into the narrative and begins stealing all the scenes. Svidrigailov steps into C and P very late in the action and almost steals all the attention from the main character Raskolnikov. Dostoevsky here has created probably the most in-depth and complex pedophile in the history of world literature.

Svidrigailov is aware that he is sick. “I agree that it [his pathological sensuality] is a disease.” In his past he is apparently responsible for the death of a deaf and dumb girl, whom Madam Resslich has procured for him, and whom he has abused (see p. 252, 429). He mentions to Raskolnikov his patronage of a thirteen-year-old girl and her mother, and, in the final part of the novel, he has become engaged to a fifteen-year-old. The description of how he visits his bride to be, then takes her up on his lap to fondle, are among the most perversely sensual of Dostoevsky’s writings, and they certainly provided Vladimir Nabokov with some of the material for his own treatment of pedophilia in Lolita. Even worse is Svidrigailov’s dream about a five-year-old girl whom he undresses, and who smiles lewdly at him.

Then again, Svidrigailov is not entirely a negative character. There is something even appealing about him at times. He finally has Dunya, after whom he lusts immeasurably, in his clutches, having lured her to his room with promises to tell her brother’s secret. But then, suppressing his own overwhelming feelings [“In the end I couldn’t bear even to hear the rustle of her dress. Really, I thought that I’d have a fit or something”], he lets her go. 

He provides money to help the Marmeladov orphans; he helps Sonya break free from prostitution. Then, as if realizing that there is no other way out for one whose amorality is an oppressive burden, he shoots himself.

But why do critics consider Svidrigailov a kind of double of Raskolnikov, who is extremely ascetic and appears almost non-sexed? You could approach this question by considering the character of Dunya, who is shown to be very similar to her brother. Svidrigailov tells Raskolnikov, “Avdotya Romanovna is terribly chaste, to a positively unheard-of degree . . . . . She is perhaps even morbidly chaste, and it will do her harm” (Part 6, Ch. 4). The implication is that morbid chastity, the obverse of morbid sensuality, represents another extreme condition. 

Complete renunciation of sexuality, Dostoevsky seems to suggest, is itself a kind of sexual impulse, and there is perhaps something perversely erotic in Dunya’s noble impulse to sacrifice herself by marrying the despicable Luzhin.

What about Raskolnikov, who is also “morbidly chaste”? In the first place, there are indications that Raskolnikov’s suppressed sexuality is not so dissimilar to Svidrigailov’s openly professed sexuality. This is especially apparent in brief mention of his one-time prospective bride, a sick and homely girl, daughter of his landlady. At one point Raskolnikov tells his mother that he “fell in love and wanted to be married.” But the impetus for this so-called “love” is sick and perverse, as only Dostoevsky’s characters seem capable of being.

“She was .  .  . very plain. I don’t really know what attracted me to her; I think it may have been that she was always ill… If she had been lame as well or hump-backed, I might very likely have loved her even more… (He smiled pensively). It was just because… Some kind of vernal delirium…”

So much for true love. There is something here fully as perverse in Raskolnikov’s morbid “love” as in Svidrigailov’s open profession of pathological sensuality and pedophilia. Lust is expressed in many ways, and the bottled-up libido will find an outlet. Some critics see the murder of the two women as a kind of rape, and act of subconscious sexual aggression on Raskolnikov’s part.

What about the love of Raskolnikov and Sonya? Not credible. In the first place, Sonya, the prostitute/nun in C and P is a character with little flesh on her bones. She is much less believable as a character than the lecherous Svidrigailov. And even much less interesting. What she is is Dostoevsky’s representative of the Christian message in the book. But Christian love is sexless, and there is never even a hint of sexuality between “the lovers” Raskolnikov and Sonya. They are, at some point we assume, to be married, but what kind of marriage will this turn out to be? Will Raskolnikov find an outlet for his own perverse sexuality by marrying, in effect, a nun?

Maybe so. We can only assume that in the years of the Russian Civil War Red soldiers—warriors for the cause of atheism—took great voluptuous pleasure in raping nuns. By that time Dostoevsky was no longer alive to write about such things, but had he still been alive he certainly would have been capable of expressing, in fictional art, the feelings of such men. Most important of all, he would have dared to write about such feelings, which more timid literary artists prefer not to touch.

In another novel, The Idiot, Dostoevsky attempted to portray the ideal man, a Christlike innocent devoid of sensuality. But at the end of that novel the hero fails utterly in his attempt to interact with his fellow man and woman; he degenerates into idiocy. There is no place for a sexless man in a world dominated by passion.

Want to see a good example of Dostoevsky’s influence on writers worldwide? Try reading Flannery O’Connor’s “Good Country People,” the story of a bible salesman in Georgia with perverse, Dostoevskian inclinations.



                   "Crime and Punishment" Beating a Horse to Death and Killing an Old Woman


Monday, July 2, 2018

Notes to CRIME AND PUNISHMENT Radical-left Doctrines in the Novel: Utopian Socialism, Utilitarianism, Nihilism





Utopian Socialism, Utilitarianism, Nihilism

Dostoevsky the journalist and fiction writer was always deeply concerned with the social and political ideas of his time. In his younger days, he himself had been caught up in the fervor of Utopian Socialism—with its lofty ideals and conviction that human life on earth could be bettered for all. But after his return from Siberian prison and exile he spent the remainder of his days fighting a variety of political notions and social ideas—all of which, so he thought, depended too much on reason, and all of which were imported to Russia from Western Europe. 

He saw Western ideas as, basically, alien and dangerous on Russian soil, capable of producing highly unfavorable social and political changes. As it turned out, he was right, since the political system of Marxism-Leninism, which fueled the establishment of the new Soviet Union, ended up being a disaster for the Russian people, and even more of a disaster for peoples in a minority position in the U.S.S. R.

The Russian social and political situation in 1863-1865 was extremely complicated. For an in depth treatment of all its ramifications, the best place for the Anglophone reader to go is to Joseph Frank’s literary biography of Dostoevsky, Vol. III: Dostoevsky: The Miraculous Years, 1865-1871. Suffice it to say here that Raskolnikov’s deranged mind is much influenced by both (1) French Utopian Socialism (2) English Utilitarianism and (3) Russian Nihilism.

The spokesman for Utopian Socialism in C and P is the fatuous Lebezyatnikov, described as “a singularly commonplace and silly person.” In his empty-headedness he resembles the caricatures of radicals who are Bazarov’s “disciples” in Turgenev’s Fathers and Sons (Kukshina and Sitnikov). Lebezyatnikov espouses views that were already somewhat old-fashioned in Russia by the mid-sixties of the nineteenth century: glorification of the common people, free love, the necessity to organize communal living, beyond the restraints of traditional marriage. 

He also mouths the theory about how the environment that people live in determines their behavior. Dostoevsky uses one of the most positive characters in the novel, the generous, intelligent and impulsive Razumikhin, to criticize the environmental theory:
“they explain everything by the ‘deleterious influence of the environment’—and that’s all! Their favorite cliché . . . from that it follows that if society is properly organized all crimes will instantly disappear. . . Nature is not taken into account, nature is banished, nature is not supposed to exist! . . . . . . They have no use for the living soul. The living soul demands life, the living soul will not submit to mechanism, the living soul must be regarded with suspicion, the living soul is reactionary!” (Part 3, Ch. 5).

Here we have Dostoevsky’s insistence that the irrational ways of life often take precedence over the rational, that an overemphasis on reason can pervert life’s natural processes. His spokesman for such a view is a character whose very name reeks with reason: Razumikhin (Russian razum=reason).

At one point the dull-minded Lebezyatnikov explains to Raskolnikov modern methods of curing the mad by using logical persuasion: “madness is, so to speak, a logical mistake, a mistake of judgment, an incorrect view of things” (Part 5, Ch. 5). Katerina Ivanovna Marmeladova, who raves and rants all the way through the narrative, could be calmed (opines Lebezyatnikov), would stop crying if only she would listen to reason:

“what I mean is this: if you convinced a man logically that he had nothing to cry for, he would stop crying. That’s clear. Or are you of the opinion that he wouldn’t stop?”
“’That would make living too easy,’ answered Raskolnikov,” (Слишком легко тогда было бы жить).

Porfiry Petrovich, the police inspector, frequently emphasizes that evidence “cuts both ways” in the investigation of a crime. The Russian expression is “a stick with two ends” (палка о двух концах). But anyone reading much of Dostoevsky’s fiction soon discovers that the formula of the stick with two ends operates consistently. Despite his denigration of what he sees as a simplistic environmental theory, Dostoevsky does not deny the influence of the environment in motivating human behavior. 

One of his most intelligent characters, Porfiry Petrovich, assures Razumikhin at one point that environment can have a good deal to do with inspiring crime. Dostoevsky clearly illustrates how the squalid conditions in which Raskolnikov lives and the stifling, poisonous atmosphere of underclass Petersburg exacerbates his morbid state of mind. Frequent reference is made to his room, a horrible, cramped little cubbyhole that is compared to a coffin [see the cover art to the Norton Critical Edition of C and P, which depicts the view out the window from that room]. Environment is indeed important, but human beings cannot get away with rationalizing all their conduct by blaming it on their surroundings.

As for the ideas of English Utilitarianism, very popular in Russia in the mid-nineteenth century among the radical intelligentsia, Lebezyatnikov also mouths a few of these. Their most vocal spokesperson in Russia was Chernyshevsky, who was convinced that utilitarian theories could solve all problems of ethics and personal conduct. As Joseph Frank has written, “This has caused a great deal of confusion because only in Russia do we find the peculiar blend of French Utopian Socialism, with its belief in the possibility of a future world of love and moral perfection, held conjointly with a view of human nature stemming from the egoistic individualism [utilitarianism] of Bentham and Mill” (Norton Critical Ed., p. 563).

His “friend” Luzhin, perhaps the most despicable character in the novel, sniggers at Lebezyatnikov’s lectures on the utilitarian: “Everything that is useful to humanity is honorable, I understand only one word, useful!” (Part 5, Ch. 1). But Luzhin preaches the same utilitarian principles, using them to justify his own utter selfishness: “by the very act of devoting my gains solely and exclusively to myself, I am at the same time benefitting the whole community” (Part 2, Ch. 5).

Russian radicalism of the mid-1860s had advanced beyond the principles of Utopian Socialism. Utilizing the ideals of Utilitarianism and a love for the scientific method (positivism), the new radicals had arrived at so-called “Nihilism.’ The first important Nihilist in Russian literature was Bazarov in Turgenev’s Fathers and Sons, a man who has no great love for the common man, or for anyone else as well. He disdains what he sees as the sentimentality of Utopian Socialism; he sneers at over-idealization of the common man. He is an elitist who worries little about whose feelings he tramps on in his single-minded effort to change the social and political system.

While brought up with a Christian view of brotherly love, Raskolnikov has long since left the Orthodox religion behind. At the moment that C and P begins he is an atheist who has already gone beyond socialism and utilitarianism to his own nihilistic theory of the amoral “great man,” who can change the world if he is willing to trample upon generally accepted human morals.

Of course, one of Raskolnikov’s motivations for the crime is strictly utilitarian. He claims that he will make good use of the money he steals upon committing murder, devoting his life to serving humanity and changing the world for the better. But the error of his thinking—this being only one of many errors in his confused mind—is apparent in his own subconscious when he tells Luzhin what Luzhin’s doctrines of utilitarian “rational egoism” will lead to ultimately: “Carry to its logical conclusion what you were preaching just now, and it emerges that you can cut people’s throats” (Part 2, Ch. 5).

Such is the confusion of radical ideas that were in the air in the middle of the Russian nineteenth century, ideas that battle for ascendancy in the deranged mind of the main protagonist of C and P. The author Dostoevsky viewed all of these ideas as alien and dangerous. His great hope was that Russia and Russians could return to their roots, embracing the Russian earth and the Russian Orthodox doctrine of love, suffering their way through to a non-rational enlightenment.




"Cuts Both Ways" Caricature of Dostoevsky Sitting on an Axe, by Eugene Ivanov



                                                        Luzhin and Porfiry Petrovich