Crime and Punishment (49 page)

‘So you still believe in the New Jerusalem,
⁶
do you?’

‘Yes, I do,’ Raskolnikov answered firmly; as he said this he looked at the floor, as he had done throughout the whole of his long tirade, choosing a particular point on the carpet to fix his eyes on.

‘And – and – and do you believe in God? Forgive me for being so inquisitive.’

‘Yes, I do,’ Raskolnikov said again, raising his eyes to Porfiry.

‘And – and do you believe in the resurrection of Lazarus?’

‘Y-yes. Why are you asking all this?’

‘Do you believe in it literally?’

‘Yes.’

‘Really, sir… I was simply curious. Please forgive me. But there's just one thing – I'm going back to what you were saying just now – I mean, they don't always flog them or hang them; in fact, some of them…’

‘Come out on top in their own lifetime? Oh yes, some of them get what they want while they're still alive, and then…’

‘They themselves start flogging and executing people?’

‘If they have to, and you know, that's exactly what most of them do. On the whole your remark is rather a witty one.’

‘Thank you, sir. But now tell me this: how do you distinguish these extraordinary people from the ordinary ones? Do they have some sort of special birthmarks? What I mean is, we need a bit more precision there, a bit more external focus, as it were: you must forgive in me the natural anxiety of a practical and well-intentioned man, but might it not be possible to give them some sort of special clothing to wear, for example, or perhaps they could be branded?… For I think you'd agree that if there were to be a mix-up and a person from one of the categories thought he belonged to the other, and started to clear away all the “obstacles”, as you so neatly called them, I mean…’

‘Oh, that happens all the time! That remark was even wittier than your last one…’

‘Thank you, sir…’

‘Not at all, sir; but please bear in mind that mistakes are only possible on the part of the first category–that is, of the “ordinary” people (as I perhaps quite unsuitably called them). In spite of their inborn tendency towards obedience, a certain capriciousness of temperament, which is not denied even to the cow, leads rather a large number of them to fondly suppose they're progressive individuals, and in the guise of “destroyers” to appropriate the “new word” for themselves – and this in all sincerity, sir. Often,
however, they fail to notice the genuinely
new
people and even look down on them as being persons of backward and degrading views. But I do not believe that they represent any significant threat, and you really need not be anxious, as they never get very far. Of course, it would do them no harm to give them a thrashing now and then, to punish them for getting carried away and to remind them of their rightful place, but no more than that; one doesn't even need a whip-master for the job – they'll whip themselves, because they're very well-behaved; some of them will perform this service for one another, while others do it for themselves with their own hands… Moreover, they impose various public acts of penitence on themselves – the effect is both splendid and edifying and, in short, you have nothing to worry about… It's a kind of law.’

‘Well, you've set my mind at rest a little on that score, at least; but, you know, there are other things that trouble me, sir. Please tell me: are there many of these people who have the right to murder others, of these “extraordinary” folk, I mean? I'm prepared to treat them with the respect they merit, of course, but you must admit it would be a bit terrifying if there were a great many of them, sir, eh?’

‘Oh, you needn't worry about that, either,’ Raskolnikov went on in the same tone of voice. ‘On the whole there are extremely few people with new ideas, or who are even the merest bit capable of saying something
new
– so few that it's almost strange. The only thing that's clear is that the order that governs the way in which people come into the world and creates all these categories and subdivisions must be very accurately and precisely determined by some law of nature. This law is, of course, at present unknown to us, but I believe in its existence and think that one day we shall know what it is. The vast mass of people, the human material, exists in the world solely in order at last, by means of a kind of effort, a process that so far remains a mystery to us, involving some strange crossing of generations and races, to muster its strength and bring into the world the one person out of a thousand who is even slightly independent. One person out of ten thousand (I'm talking approximately, by way of illustration) is, perhaps, born with a somewhat higher
degree of independence. One out of a hundred thousand, with even more. People of genius are born one out of millions, while the great geniuses, the achievers of humanity, only come into being after many thousands of millions of people have passed through the earth. In a word, I haven't seen inside the retort where all this takes place. But there is quite certainly and is bound to be a law of some kind; all this cannot be the result of chance.’

‘What are you both doing – playing jokes, or something?’ Razumikhin exclaimed, at last. ‘Are you pulling each other's legs, or aren't you? There they sit, chaffing each other! Are you being serious, Rodya?’

Raskolnikov silently raised his pale and almost mournful face to him, and made no reply. And, beside this quiet, mournful countenance, Razumikhin thought strange the irritable, obtrusive, unconcealed and
uncivil
causticity of Porfiry.

‘Well, brother, if this really is serious, then… Of course you're right when you say that this is nothing new and resembles all the things we've read and heard a thousand times; but what is really
original
about all this – and this really is your own exclusive property, much to my horror – is that you condone the shedding of blood
on grounds of conscience
, and, if you'll forgive me, with such fanaticism… That's what your article is really all about. I mean, to condone the shedding of blood
on grounds of conscience
is… is in my opinion more terrible than if it were to be permitted officially, by law…’

‘Perfectly true – it is more terrible, sir,’ Porfiry remarked.

‘No, you must have got carried away! There's some mistake here. I'll read it… You got carried way! You can't possibly think that… I'll read it.’

‘None of that's actually in the article, it's merely alluded to,’ Raskolnikov said.

‘Quite so, sir, quite so,’ Porfiry said, unable to keep still in his seat. ‘I think I've almost grasped the way in which you choose to view crime, sir, but… please forgive me for being so insistent (I really am putting you to a lot of trouble, I feel quite guilty!) – you see, sir, it's like this: you set my mind at rest just now with regard to erroneous instances of confusion between the two
categories, but… well, there are certain practical possibilities that still bother me! Oh, take some man or some young chap who imagines he's a Lycurgus or a Mahomet… a budding one, of course – well, off he goes to clear away all the obstacles… and he says to himself: “I've a long way ahead of me, and I'll need some money for the road…” Well, and so he starts going about getting his hands on that money… you know what I mean?’

Zamyotov gave a sudden snort from the corner in which he was sitting. Raskolnikov did not even raise his eyes to look at him.

‘I must admit,’ he replied calmly, ‘that cases of that kind are indeed bound to occur. Those who are stupid and vain are particularly liable to swallow that hook – especially the young.’

‘Well, sir, you take my point, then. I mean, how can that be allowed, sir?’

‘Oh, that's just the way things are, I'm afraid,’ Raskolnikov said, with an ironic smile. ‘It's not my fault they're like that. That's the way things are and that's how they'll always be. Take what he’ – he nodded at Razumikhin – ‘said just now about my condoning bloodshed. So what if I do? I mean, society's all too well provided with such phenomena as exile, prison, legal investigators and penal servitude – so what's there to worry about? All you have to do is catch your thief!’

‘All right, say we do catch him – what then?’

‘He's got what he deserves!’

‘One can't say you're not logical. Well, sir, and what about his conscience?’

‘Why should you care about that?’

‘Oh, for humanitarian reasons, sir.’

‘If he has one, he'll suffer when he realizes the error of his ways. That's his punishment – that, in addition to penal servitude.’

‘Yes, but what about the really gifted ones?’ Razumikhin asked, frowning. ‘I mean, the ones who have been granted the right to murder – are they not obliged to suffer at all, not even for the blood they've shed?’

‘Why do you use the word
obliged
? There's no permission or
prohibition involved in all this. Let him suffer if he's sorry for his victim… Pain and suffering are inevitable for persons of broad awareness and depth of heart. The truly great are, in my view, always bound to feel a great sense of sadness during their time upon earth,’
⁷
he suddenly added in a reflective tone that was hardly that of a conversation.

He raised his eyes, looked at them all thoughtfully, smiled and picked up his cap. He was very calm now, compared to the way he had been when he had walked in just now, and he could feel this. They all got up.

‘Well, sir, you'll no doubt curse me for this, and it'll probably make you angry, but I simply cannot restrain myself,’ Porfiry Petrovich said, resuming his argument again. ‘Please permit me to give expression to just one more little question (I know I'm causing you the most dreadful bother, sir!), one more little idea, simply so I don't forget it…’

‘Very well, tell me your little idea,’ Raskolnikov said, standing before him in pale and serious anticipation.

‘What I mean is, sir… goodness, I don't even know how to find the right words for it… it's such a playful little idea… a psychological one, sir… What I mean is, sir, that when you were writing your article, it couldn't just possibly have been, could it – ha, ha! – that you too considered yourself – oh, just the merest bit – to be one of the “extraordinary” people who can say
a new word
– in the sense you've explained… I mean, is that the case, sir?’

‘I wouldn't rule it out,’ Raskolnikov answered, contemptuously.

Razumikhin made a movement.

‘And if that
is
the case, sir, then is it really possible that you might also have decided – oh, because of some everyday setback or financial difficulty, let's say, or because you wanted to further the interests of all humanity in some way – to step across an obstacle?… Well, by robbing and murdering someone, for example?…’

And again he suddenly winked at him with his left eye and shook with silent laughter, in exact repetition of his behaviour a few minutes earlier.

‘If I had, I certainly wouldn't tell you,’ Raskolnikov replied with a challenging, haughty contempt.

‘Oh, but I mean, sir, you must understand, my interest stems solely from a desire to understand your article, and is of a purely literary nature…’

‘Ugh! How brazen and obvious this is!’ Raskolnikov thought with disgust.

‘Please let me make it perfectly clear,’ he replied coldly, ‘that I consider myself neither a Mahomet nor a Napoleon… nor any of those other persons of that kind, and, not being one of them, am consequently unable to give you a satisfactory account of how I might have behaved.’

‘Oh, for heaven's sake! Who doesn't think he's a Napoleon among us in Russia these days?’ Porfiry suddenly articulated with breathtaking familiarity. This time even the intonation of his voice contained an extraordinarily clear hint.

‘Perhaps it was some budding Napoleon who did in old Alyona Ivanovna with an axe last week,’ Zamyotov suddenly barked out from his corner.

Raskolnikov said nothing, and looked at Porfiry with a firm, fixed gaze. Razumikhin frowned gloomily. Even before this, he had begun to sense that something was wrong. Angrily, he looked about him. A moment of gloomy silence elapsed. Raskolnikov turned to go.

‘Off already?’ Porfiry said sweetly, extending his hand in a thoroughly amiable manner. ‘Most, most glad to have made your acquaintance. Oh, and about your application, don't let anyone put you off. Just write it the way I told you. In fact, the best thing would be if you looked in to see me there… in a day or two… or why not tomorrow? You can be sure of finding me there at around eleven. We'll sort it all out… have a bit of a talk… As one of the last people to have been
there
, you may be able to tell us a few things…’ he added with the most good-natured air.

‘You want to question me officially, with all the trappings?’ Raskolnikov asked, sharply.

‘Now why would I want to do that, sir? That's not at all required for the time being. You took what I said the wrong
way. You see, I never miss a chance and… and since I've already talked to all the people who had pawned things… taken statements from some of them… and you, as the last person… Oh, but listen, by the way!’ he exclaimed, suddenly brightening up at some recollection. ‘I've just remembered, what could I have been thinking of…?’ he said, turning to Razumikhin. ‘I mean, you know that Nikolashka you were giving me an earache about the other day?… Well, I mean, I know, I know perfectly well,’ he continued, addressing Raskolnikov, ‘that the fellow's got clean hands, but what was I to do, after all, I had to inconvenience Mitka as well… that's where the heart of the matter lies, sir, its very essence: now permit me to ask… when you made your way up that staircase… well, would it have been some time between seven and eight, sir?’

‘Yes, that's right,’ Raskolnikov replied, at that very second experiencing a nasty feeling that it might have been better not to say this.

‘Well, between seven and eight that evening, as you were making your way… up that staircase… didn't you see, in the apartment on the second floor… the one that was unlocked and had its door open – remember? – two workmen, or at any rate one of them? They were decorating in there, didn't you notice? Now this is very, very important for them!…’