Other
Read books online Ā» Other Ā» The Brothers Karamazov Fyodor Dostoevsky (the reader ebook txt) šŸ“–

Book online Ā«The Brothers Karamazov Fyodor Dostoevsky (the reader ebook txt) šŸ“–Ā». Author Fyodor Dostoevsky



1 ... 99 100 101 102 103 104 105 106 107 ... 346
Go to page:
gone.ā€

ā€œFather Zossima has talked of that more than once,ā€ observed Alyosha; ā€œhe, too, said that the face of a man often hinders many people not practiced in love, from loving him. But yet thereā€™s a great deal of love in mankind, and almost Christlike love. I know that myself, Ivan.ā€

ā€œWell, I know nothing of it so far, and canā€™t understand it, and the innumerable mass of mankind are with me there. The question is, whether thatā€™s due to menā€™s bad qualities or whether itā€™s inherent in their nature. To my thinking, Christlike love for men is a miracle impossible on earth. He was God. But we are not gods. Suppose I, for instance, suffer intensely. Another can never know how much I suffer, because he is another and not I. And whatā€™s more, a man is rarely ready to admit anotherā€™s suffering (as though it were a distinction). Why wonā€™t he admit it, do you think? Because I smell unpleasant, because I have a stupid face, because I once trod on his foot. Besides, there is suffering and suffering; degrading, humiliating suffering such as humbles meā ā€”hunger, for instanceā ā€”my benefactor will perhaps allow me; but when you come to higher sufferingā ā€”for an idea, for instanceā ā€”he will very rarely admit that, perhaps because my face strikes him as not at all what he fancies a man should have who suffers for an idea. And so he deprives me instantly of his favor, and not at all from badness of heart. Beggars, especially genteel beggars, ought never to show themselves, but to ask for charity through the newspapers. One can love oneā€™s neighbors in the abstract, or even at a distance, but at close quarters itā€™s almost impossible. If it were as on the stage, in the ballet, where if beggars come in, they wear silken rags and tattered lace and beg for alms dancing gracefully, then one might like looking at them. But even then we should not love them. But enough of that. I simply wanted to show you my point of view. I meant to speak of the suffering of mankind generally, but we had better confine ourselves to the sufferings of the children. That reduces the scope of my argument to a tenth of what it would be. Still weā€™d better keep to the children, though it does weaken my case. But, in the first place, children can be loved even at close quarters, even when they are dirty, even when they are ugly (I fancy, though, children never are ugly). The second reason why I wonā€™t speak of grownup people is that, besides being disgusting and unworthy of love, they have a compensationā ā€”theyā€™ve eaten the apple and know good and evil, and they have become ā€˜like gods.ā€™ They go on eating it still. But the children havenā€™t eaten anything, and are so far innocent. Are you fond of children, Alyosha? I know you are, and you will understand why I prefer to speak of them. If they, too, suffer horribly on earth, they must suffer for their fathersā€™ sins, they must be punished for their fathers, who have eaten the apple; but that reasoning is of the other world and is incomprehensible for the heart of man here on earth. The innocent must not suffer for anotherā€™s sins, and especially such innocents! You may be surprised at me, Alyosha, but I am awfully fond of children, too. And observe, cruel people, the violent, the rapacious, the Karamazovs are sometimes very fond of children. Children while they are quite littleā ā€”up to seven, for instanceā ā€”are so remote from grownup people; they are different creatures, as it were, of a different species. I knew a criminal in prison who had, in the course of his career as a burglar, murdered whole families, including several children. But when he was in prison, he had a strange affection for them. He spent all his time at his window, watching the children playing in the prison yard. He trained one little boy to come up to his window and made great friends with him.ā ā€Šā ā€¦ You donā€™t know why I am telling you all this, Alyosha? My head aches and I am sad.ā€

ā€œYou speak with a strange air,ā€ observed Alyosha uneasily, ā€œas though you were not quite yourself.ā€

ā€œBy the way, a Bulgarian I met lately in Moscow,ā€ Ivan went on, seeming not to hear his brotherā€™s words, ā€œtold me about the crimes committed by Turks and Circassians in all parts of Bulgaria through fear of a general rising of the Slavs. They burn villages, murder, outrage women and children, they nail their prisoners by the ears to the fences, leave them so till morning, and in the morning they hang themā ā€”all sorts of things you canā€™t imagine. People talk sometimes of bestial cruelty, but thatā€™s a great injustice and insult to the beasts; a beast can never be so cruel as a man, so artistically cruel. The tiger only tears and gnaws, thatā€™s all he can do. He would never think of nailing people by the ears, even if he were able to do it. These Turks took a pleasure in torturing children, too; cutting the unborn child from the motherā€™s womb, and tossing babies up in the air and catching them on the points of their bayonets before their mothersā€™ eyes. Doing it before the mothersā€™ eyes was what gave zest to the amusement. Here is another scene that I thought very interesting. Imagine a trembling mother with her baby in her arms, a circle of invading Turks around her. Theyā€™ve planned a diversion: they pet the baby, laugh to make it laugh. They succeed, the baby laughs. At that moment a Turk points a pistol four inches from the babyā€™s face. The baby laughs with glee, holds out its little hands to the pistol, and he pulls the trigger in the babyā€™s face and blows out its brains. Artistic, wasnā€™t it? By the way, Turks are particularly fond of sweet things, they say.ā€

ā€œBrother,

1 ... 99 100 101 102 103 104 105 106 107 ... 346
Go to page:

Free ebook Ā«The Brothers Karamazov Fyodor Dostoevsky (the reader ebook txt) šŸ“–Ā» - read online now

Comments (0)

There are no comments yet. You can be the first!
Add a comment