Dostoevsky: the seeds of revolt, 1821-1849 9781400844449, 9780691062600, 9780691013558

Table of contents :
Frontmatter
List of Illustrations (page ix)
Preface (page xi)
Transliteration (page xvi)
PART I: MOSCOW
Chapter 1: Prelude (page 3)
Chapter 2: The Family (page 6)
Chapter 3: Childhood, Boyhood, Youth (page 23)
Chapter 4: The Religious Background (page 42)
Chapter 5: The Cultural Background (page 54)
PART II: ST. PETERSBURG
Chapter 6: The Academy of Engineers (page 69)
Chapter 7: "A Marvellous, Exalted Being" (page 92)
Chapter 8: The Two Romanticisms (page 101)
Chapter 9: The Gogol Period: I (page 113)
Chapter 10: The Gogol Period: II (page 127)
Chapter 11: Poor Folk (page 137)
PART III: IN THE LIMELIGHT
Chapter 12: Belinsky and His Pléiade (page 159)
Chapter 13: Belinsky and Dostoevsky: I (page 172)
Chapter 14: Belinsky and Dostoevsky: II (page 182)
Chapter 15: The Beketov Circle (page 199)
Chapter 16: The Petersburg Feuilletons (page 217)
Chapter 17: The Petrashevsky Circle (page 239)
Chapter 18: Dostoevsky and Speshnev (page 258)
Chapter 19: The Palm-Durov Circle (page 273)
PART IV: THE ROAD TO SELF-DISCOVERY
Chapter 20: The Double (page 295)
Chapter 21: Petersburg Grotesques (page 313)
Chapter 22: Reality and the Dreamer (page 332)
Chapter 23: Netotchka Nezvanova (page 348)
Chapter 24: Envoi (page 365)
Notes (page 369)
Appendix: Freud's Case-History of Dostoevsky (page 379)
Index (page 393)

Citation preview

DOSTOEVSKY

The adventurer In humanity has not conceived of a race Completely physical in a physical world.

Wallace Stevens, L’Esthétique du Mal.

DOSTOEVSKY The Seeds of Revolt | 1821-1849

JOSEPH FRANK

PRINCETON UNIVERSITY PRESS

Copyright © 1976 by Princeton University Press Published by Princeton University Press, Princeton, New Jersey

| In the United Kingdom: Princeton University Press, Chichester, West Sussex All Rights Reserved LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA

Frank, Joseph, 1918Dostoevsky : the seeds of revolt, 1821-1849. Includes bibliographical references and index. 1. Dostoevskii, Fedor Mikhailovich, 1821-1881.

PG3328.F7 = 891.7'3'3 [B] 76-3704 ISBN 0-691-06260-9 ISBN 0-691-01355-1 (pbk.)

This book has been composed in Linotype Primer Princeton University Press books are printed on acid-free paper and meet the guidelines for permanence and durability of the Committee on Production Guidelines for Book Longevity of the Council on Library Resources Printed in the United States of America by Princeton Academic Press

10 ,

Second printing, with corrections, 1977 First Princeton Paperback printing, 1979 ISBN-13: 978-0-691-01355-8 (pbk.) ISBN-10: 0-691-01355-1 (pbk.)

To my wife Guiguite, Enfin!—

and my daughters Claudine and Isabelle, who grew up with “Dostoevsky.”

BLANK PAGE

CONTENTS

Preface xi Transliteration Xvi

List of Illustrations ix

Chapter 1: Prelude 3 Chapter 2: The Family 6 PART I: MOSCOW

Chapter 3: Childhood, Boyhood, Youth 23 Chapter 4: The Religious Background 42

Chapter 5: The Cultural Background 54 _ PART II: ST. PETERSBURG

Chapter 6: The Academy of Engineers 69 Chapter 7: “A Marvellous, Exalted Being” 92 Chapter 8: The Two Romanticisms 101

Chapter 9: The Gogol Period: I , 113 Chapter 10: The Gogol Period: II 127

Chapter 11: Poor Folk : 137 PART III: IN THE LIMELIGHT

Chapter 12: Belinsky and His Pléiade 159 Chapter 13: Belinsky and Dostoevsky: I 172 Chapter 14: Belinsky and Dostoevsky: II 182

Chapter 15: The Beketov Circle 199

Chapter 16: The Petersburg Feuilletons 217

Chapter 17: The Petrashevsky Circle 239 Chapter 18: Dostoevsky and Speshnev 258 Chapter 19: The Palm-Durov Circle 273 PART IV: THE ROAD TO SELF-DISCOVERY |

Chapter 20: The Double 295

Chapter 21: Petersburg Grotesques 313 Chapter 22: Reality and the Dreamer 332 vill

CONTENTS

Notes : 369 Index 393

Chapter 23: Netotchka Nezvanova 348

Chapter 24: Envoi 365

Appendix: Freud’s Case-History of Dostoevsky 379

Viil

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

1. Dr. M. A. Dostoevsky 7 2. Mme M. F. Dostoevsky 7 3. Dostoevsky’s country cottage in Darovoe 29

4. A government courier on a mission 71

5. The Academy of Engineers 75

6. Interior of the Academy: A dormitory 75 7. Old Pokrovsky running after the hearse of his son 142

8. F. M. Dostoevsky in 1847 166

_ g. Feodor’s older brother, M. M. Dostoevsky, in 1847 170

10. V. G. Belinsky in 1843 173

11. V. N. Maikov. A portrait from the 1840s 203 12. M. V. Butashevich-Petrashevsky in 1840 240

13. N. A. Speshnev 259 14. Acaricature (1848) showing F. M. Dostoevsky in

conversation with his editor, A. A. Kraevsky 297

15. View of the Nevsky Prospect 333

ix

BLANK PAGE

PREFACE

The present volume is the first of a series devoted to the life and works of Dostoevsky. As presently planned, it will be composed of four volumes, dealing, in chronological sequence, each with another period of Dostoevsky’s life. A complete version of the entire work already exists in draft, and I hope to be able to publish the remainder—other obligations permitting—within a reasonable number of years. The entire project originated about twenty years ago, when I was invited to give a series of lectures by the Christian Gauss Seminars at

Princeton University. The Seminars were then under the chairmanship of E.B.O. Borgerhoff, soon to become a dear friend, and whose rare combination of debonair charm and scholarly seriousness still remains alive in the memory of those who knew him well. At that time I was very much interested in the new Existentialist literature making such a splash in the immediate postwar period, and I chose as my subject the topic, “Existential Themes in Modern Literature.” To provide some historical background, I began with an analysis of Dostoevsky’s Notes from Underground as a precursor of the mood and

the themes that one found in French Existentialism. My interpretation of that work derived from the writings of Leo Shestov and Nikolay Berdyaev, and I stressed the irrationalism and amoralism of the underground man as he tragically and defiantly asserted the freedom of his personality in the face of the laws of nature, whatever the cost to himself and to others.

Even as I was expounding this view, though, I had the uneasy feeling that it was far from adequate. What it accentuated in the work was unquestionably there; but so was much else to which an Existentialist reading offered no clue whatever. When I began to write up my lectures, I decided to study Notes from Underground more thoroughly, and to investigate the social-cultural background that so obviously served as Dostoevsky’s point of departure. This led

| me to read whatever I could find about the period in the languages at my disposal, and finally, when the limitations of such sources became apparent, to learn Russian. As time went by, I realized that my inter-

est in Existentialism had greatly diminished, while my fascination with Dostoevsky and Russian culture of the nineteenth century continued to grow by leaps and bounds. I abandoned the idea of writing

up my lectures and decided instead to write a book on Dostoevsky. , XI

PREFACE

This was the far-away and almost accidental origin of the present book and its successors—though I had no intention of writing a work on any such scale when I started out. The intrinsic interest of the material, however, led me on further and further. And I gradually realized ‘that, if I were to do justice to my vision of Dostoevsky, it would be necessary to present him in the context of a massive reconstruction of the social-cultural life of his period. For this vision may be summed up, briefly, by saying that I see Dostoevsky’s work as a brilliant artistic synthesis of the major issues of his time, a personal utterance, to be sure, but one, more than most, oriented by concerns outside himself. It is not simply—as we too often tend to think in the West—the passionately febrile expression of an unbalanced but extraordinarily gifted temperament. Indeed, one way of defining Dostoevsky’s genius is to locate it in his ability to fuse his private dilemmas with those raging in the society of which he was a part. My interest in Dostoevsky’s personal life is therefore strictly limited, and anyone who seeks a conventional biography in the following pages will be sorely disappointed. Numerous works of this kind already

exist, and I never had any intention of adding still another to their number. I sketch in the background of the events of Dostoevsky’s pri-

vate existence, but I deal at length only with those aspects of his quotidian experience which seem to me to have some critical relevance—only with those that help to cast some light on his books. My work is thus not a biography, or if so, only in a special sense—for I do not go from the life to the work, but rather the other way round.

My purpose is to interpret Dostoevsky’s art, and this purpose commands my choice of detail and my perspective. It has always seemed to me paradoxical that what is of greatest interest about the life of an artist—indeed, the only reason we are concerned with him at all, i.e., his works—are ordinarily scanted in the usual biography in favor of personal anecdote and the details of private life. Such a narrative may contribute to the study of human character, or to the social history of the period it depicts, but it usually leaves art in the background; or at best, treats it only as ancillary and as an adjunct to more fundamental life-experiences. I have adopted the opposite proce-

dure of making Dostoevsky the man an adjunct to his artistic concerns and their products—a procedure which seems to me to correspond more accurately to the actual hierarchy of values in the life of any creative personality.

This does not mean that I see any unbridgeable gap between art and “life”; but this latter word can be taken on the level of [homme Xil

PREFACE

moyen sensuel, or on that of an artist who lives equally at the level of mind, spirit, and consciousness. For this reason, rather than devoting space to the routine incidents of Dostoevsky’s day-to-day existence, I dwell much more on the social-cultural milieu in which he

lived. It is from this milieu that he derived the ideas and values through which he assimilated whatever life-experiences came his way,

and was enabled to transform them into the themes and technique of his art. I shall try to show that an exploration of his life from this point of view, on the plane of what Hegel would call the “objective spirit” of Dostoevsky’s time, can lead to, if not a totally different, then

a far better understanding of the significance of his achievement. This is of course not a new approach to Dostoevsky, particularly in the Russian criticism of the last half-century, and I am conscious of a considerable obligation to such predecessors as Leonid Grossman, N. F. Belchikov, A. S. Dolinin, and V. L. Komarovich. I have tried to

build on the foundations they have laid, and to put to good use a freedom of interpretation they were not always able to enjoy.

During the twenty or so years I have thought about this book— though only able to work on it intermittently because of the demands of a teaching career largely devoted to other subjects—I have of course accumulated a great many debts of gratitude towards those who have

encouraged me to persist in what, all too often, seemed a quixotic undertaking. Several of those to whom I feel most grateful are now, alas, deceased: R. P. Blackmur, Alexandre Koyré, Erich Kahler, H. B. Parkes. Their active concern for my progress was a potent stimulus in moments of discouragement, and I shail never forget an approving

letter from the first at a dark moment, a smiling remark from the second that opened a whole new horizon on an important problem, an

enthusiastic telephone call from the third after reading a chapter. The fourth was a teacher and inspiration of my youth who became a companion in maturity, and I should have liked to present him with a copy of this volume that he never doubted would get written. Others who have helped me greatly over the years are Allen Tate, Francis Fergusson; and Harry Levin, to all of whom I am indebted both intellectually and personally, and on whose friendship I could always rely. John McCormick, Lionel Abel, Ralph Manheim, Charles Foster, Jackson Mathews, Theodore Weiss, Eugene Goodheart, and David Goldstein are other friends associated with the present work, and from whose presence I have derived cheer, sustenance, and ideas. M. and Mme Georges Ambrosino of Paris invariably asked about my “Dostoevski” whenever I turned up, and Mme Ambrosino translated

) xiii

several chapters of an early draft into French; the publication of

PREFACE

these sections in Critique was the result of their efforts. I am immensely grateful for their help, offered with such warm spontaneity, and I cherish the recollection of discussions about Dostoevsky in the

| cercle that gathered around them every Saturday evening to read a philosophical text. Pierre Andler is another French friend who kindly

| | translated articles and reviews connected with my Dostoevsky researches for Le Contrat Social, and exhibited a lively appreciation of their contents.

It is rare when experts in one field welcome the efforts of an unlicensed intruder into their domain. Not a professional Slavist myself, I am all the more happy to record the welcome I have received from various members of the academic community of Slavists in the United States. They kindly overlooked the deficiencies of my preparation, and

were more than willing to give my ideas a hearing. Their advice has constantly served to guide my own researches, and their knowledge has always been at my disposal to supplement the gaps of my own. I am particularly grateful to Rufus Mathewson for many years of close friendship and conversations in Grimaud, Paris, New York, and London, and to Robert L. Jackson, Robert Belknap, Donald Fanger, my colleague Clarence Brown, Victor Weintraub, René Wellek, and Victor Erlich for their support and stimulation. It was also my good fortune to have encountered Father George Florovsky at Princeton, and to imbibe, from this greatest of living Russian cultural historians, some sense of the tradition descending from Dostoevsky of which he is one of the last representatives. Richard Ellmann selflessly took time out from his own work to read the first several chapters of the final draft, and to suggest many corrections and improvements which have been incorporated into the text. Paul Zweig read an earlier version of the same material, and his perceptive criticisms led to a complete recasting of the original; Robert Belknap read the same manuscript, and made many helpful comments. Rufus Mathewson, Harry Levin, Francis Fergusson, and S. Frederick Starr read the final draft, and gave me the benefit of their observations. My heartfelt thanks to them all. Over the years I have received much support from various foundations and academic institutions. I should like to thank the Guggenheim Foundation, the Bollingen Foundation, and the American Council of Learned Societies for grants-in-aid. The University of Minnesota,

Rutgers University, Harvard University, and Princeton University were all kind enough to supply funds for research and editorial expenses. My work was also much facilitated by the cooperation of

librarians in these universities, and, in France, at the Ecole des X1V

PREFACE

Langues Orientales, the reading room of the Institut des Etudes Slaves, and the Bibliotheque de la Sorbonne.

My typist, Mrs. Helen Wright, patiently untangled all my errors, and cheered me greatly by finding the text itself to be absorbing. Gaylord Brynolfson took the laborious task of compiling the index off my shoulders and corrected many textual oversights. The title of the present volume was supplied by my oldest daughter, Claudine, in the course of a long automobile trip between Marbella and Santander.

My mother-in-law, Mrs. Paulette Straus, eagerly fulfilled a longawaited opportunity to help with the proofreading. My copy editor, Polly Hanford, was a patient and skillful guide through the intricacies

of preparing the book for the press. | My wife, French by birth and a mathematician by profession, carefully scrutinized each draft as it came into being, and held me to the highest standards of conceptual rigor as well as lucidity and felicity of expression. Whatever of such qualities this book may possess is as

much her work as my own; and her faith in the value of what I had | undertaken, as the years went by and the end never seemed to be in sight, is really responsible for the project having been brought even

as far as the publication of this first volume. :

Paris, February, 1976 , Joseph Frank

XV

TRANSLITERATION

The problem of transliteration is always a difficult one, and I have opted for the simplest solution. For all Russian words, names or otherwise, I use System I in the transliteration chart contained in J. Thomas Shaw, The Transliteration of Modern Russian for English Language Publications (Madison, Milwaukee, and London, 1967), 8-9. I have, however, occasionally inserted a “y” to indicate a soft sound where

this would not be the natural pronunciation of the transliterated word in English, even though System I does not pay any attention to this feature of Russian. And I have always used English forms, rather

than transliteration, where such exist and have become customary (Alexander rather than Aleksandr, for example). Citations to Dostoevsky’s texts in Russian are made in two editions.

The Arabic numerals refer to the volumes of the new Soviet edition now in the course of publication: F. M. Dostoevsky, Polnoe Sobranie

- Sochinenii (Leningrad, 1972—); 13 volumes of this planned 30volume publication have so far been published as this work goes to press. For material not yet in this edition, I have used Roman numerals to refer to the best previous Soviet edition: F. M. Dostoevsky, Polnoe Sobranie Khudozhestvennikh Proizvedenii, ed. B. Tomashevsky and K. Khalabaev, 13 vols. (Leningrad, 1926-1930).

For my quotations from Dostoevsky’s short stories and novels, I have used the translations of Constance Garnett because she takes fewer liberties with the literal meaning than more recent translators. However, I have not hesitated to alter her version where this seemed

indicated. If no source is given for a translation, I have made it myself.

Xvi

PART I : Moscow

| I see in criticism a fervent effort to bring out the full _ power of the chosen work. It is just the opposite, then, to

| what Sainte-Beuve does when he takes us from the work to the author and then sprays him with a shower of anecdotes. Criticism is not biography, nor is it justified as an

: independent labor unless its purpose is to complete the | work. This means first of all that the critic is expected to provide in his work all the sentimental and ideological aids which will enable the ordinary reader to receive the most intense and clearest possible impression of the book. José Ortega y Gasset, Meditations on Quixote

CHAPTER 1

Prelude | The last years of the reign of Alexander I were a troubled, uncertain,

and gloomy time in Russian history. Alexander had come to the throne as the result of a palace revolution against his father, Paul I, whose increasingly erratic and insensate rule led his entourage to suspect madness. The coup was carried out with at least the implicit consent of Alexander, whose accession to power, after his father’s murder, at first aroused great hopes of liberal reform in the small, enlightened segment of Russian society. Alexander’s tutor, carefully selected by his grandmother Catherine the Great, had been a Swiss of advanced liberal views named La Harpe. This partisan of the Enlightenment imbued his royal pupil with republican and even democratic ideas; and during the first years of his reign, Alexander

surrounded himself with a band of young aristocrats sharing his progressive persuasions. A good deal of work was done preparing plans for major social reforms, such as the abolition of serfdom and the granting of personal civil rights to all members of the population. Alexander’s attention, however, was soon diverted from internal affairs by the great drama then proceeding on the European stage—the rise of Napoleon as a world-conqueror. Allied at first with Napoleon, and then becoming his implacable foe, Alexander I led his people in the great national upsurge that resulted in the defeat of the Grand Army and its hitherto invincible leader. The triumph over Napoleon brought Russian armies to the shores of the Atlantic, and exposed both officers and men (the majority of the troops were peasant serfs) to prolonged contact with the relative freedom and amenities of life in Western Europe. It was expected that, in reward for the loyalty of his people, Alexander would make some spectacular gesture consonant with his earlier intentions and

institute the social reforms that had been put aside to meet the menace of Napoleon. But the passage of time, and the epochal events he had lived through, had not left Alexander unchanged. More

and more he had come under the influence of the religious mysticism | and irrationalism so prevalent in the immediate post-Napoleonic era. Instead of reforms, the period between 1820 and 1825 saw an intensi3

I. MOSCOW

fication of reaction and the repression of any overt manifestation of liberal ideas and tendencies in Russia. Meanwhile, secret societies had begun to form among the most brilliant and cultivated cadres of the Russian officers’ corps. These so-

cieties, grouping the scions of some of the most important aristocratic families, sprang from impatience with Alexander’s dilatoriness and a desire to transform Russia on the model of Western liberal and democratic ideas. Some of the societies were moderate in their aims,

| others more radical; but all were discontent with Alexander’s evident abandonment of his earlier hopes and ambitions as a social reformer. Alexander died unexpectedly in November 1825; and the societies seized the opportunity a month later, at the time of the coronation of Nicholas I, to launch a pitifully abortive eight-hour uprising known to history as the Decembrist insurrection. An apocryphal story about this event has it that the mutinous troops, told to shout for “Constantine and konstitutsia” (Constantine, the older brother of Nicholas, had renounced the throne and had a reputation as a liberal), believed that

the second noun, whose gender in Russian is feminine, referred to Constantine’s wife. Whether true or only a witticism, the story highlights the isolation of the aristocratic rebels; and their revolution was crushed with a few whiffs of grapeshot by the new Tsar, who condemned five of the ringleaders to be hanged and thirty-one to be exiled to Siberia for life. Nicholas thus provided the nascent Russian intelligentsia with its first candidates for the new martyrology that would soon replace the saints of the Orthodox Church. Feodor Mikhailovich Dostoevsky was born in Moscow on October 3, 1821, just a few years before this crucial event in Russian history; and he was, of course, too young at the time to have had any aware-

ness of the ill-fated uprising and its tragic aftermath. But these | events, nonetheless, were destined to be interwoven with his life in the most intimate fashion. The world in which Dostoevsky grew up lived in the shadow of the Decembrist insurrection, and suffered from | the harsh police-state atmosphere instituted by Nicholas I to ensure that nothing similar could occur again. Later, himself an exile in Siberia, Dostoevsky would meet the wives and families of the surviving Decembrists, who had dedicated themselves to alleviating the lot of the newly arrived “unfortunates.” These women had voluntarily followed their husbands to Siberia; and their selfless devotion, as well as their unceasing efforts to soften the blows of fate for a new generation of political exiles, served him as a living refutation of all theories denying the existence of free will and the possibility of moral heroism and self-sacrifice. 4

PRELUDE

Most important of all, the Decembrist insurrection marked the opening skirmish in the long and deadly duel between the Russian intelligentsia and the supreme autocratic power that shaped the course of Russian history and Russian culture in Dostoevsky’s lifetime. And it was out of the inner moral and spiritual crises of this intelligentsia —out of their self-alienation, and their desperate search for new values _ on which to found their lives—that the child born in Moscow at the conclusion of the reign of Alexander I would one day produce his great novels.

3

, CHAPTER 2 The Family

Of all the great Russian writers of the first part of the nineteenth century—Pushkin, Lermontov, Gogol, Herzen, Turgenev, Tolstoy, Nekrasov—Dostoevsky was the only one who did not come from a

family belonging to the landed gentry. This is a fact of great importance, and influenced the view he took of his own position as a writer. Comparing himself with his great rival Tolstoy, as he did very frequently in later life, Dostoevsky defined the latter’s work as being that of a “historian,” not a novelist. For, in his view, Tolstoy depicted

the life “which existed in the tranquil and stable, long-established Moscow landowners’ family of the middle-upper stratum.” Such a life,

with its settled traditions of culture and fixed moral-social norms, had become in the nineteenth century only that of a small “minority”

| of Russians; it was “the life of the exceptions.” The life of the majority, on the other hand, was rather one of confusion and moral chaos, of a social order in continual flux, of the incessant destruction of all

. the traditions of the past. Dostoevsky felt that his own work was an attempt to grapple with the chaos of the present, while Tolstoy’s Childhood, Boyhood, Youth and War and Peace (it was these that he specifically had in mind) were pious efforts to enshrine for posterity the beauty of a gentry-life already vanishing and doomed to extinction. (Even in Anna Karenina, where Tolstoy does depict some of the moral instability that began to undermine the gentry in mid-century —an instability whose consequences can be seen in the plays of Chekhov—he still portrays gentry-life with more sympathy than Dostoevsky could ever feel. )}

Such a self-definition, made at a late stage of Dostoevsky’s career, of course represents the distillation of many years of reflection on his literary position. But it also throws a sharp light back on Dostoevsky’s own past, and helps us to see that his earliest years were spent in an | atmosphere which prepared him to become the chronicler of the moral

consequences of flux and change, and of the breakup of the traditional forms of Russian life. This does not mean, as too many biographers have tried to make us believe, that there was any “moral chaos” in Dostoevsky’s life as a child similar to what we find in his novels. 6

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