Classics and the Western Canon discussion
Dostoyevsky, Demons
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Week 1: Part I, chapters 1 and 2
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Roger
(last edited Dec 31, 2020 02:21PM)
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Dec 30, 2020 05:14AM

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She seems to be using him as a sort of intellectual tool--something to brag about in front of her friends. It's important to her he looks the part, dresses a certain way, says the "right" things, and keeps the "right" kind of friends. At times it appears as if she does respect his intellect; at other times, she treats him like a foolish child she controls with her words and her money.

I love the way the narrator praises the characters and then throws out a sentence to undermine them. The sarcasm and irony is delightful. I don't know if the novel will get dark later, but right now, I'm enjoying the humor. I would never have thought to associate Dostoevsky with humor before. So this is something new for me. And i'm loving it.

If not, I will at least be keeping in mind the passages from Pushkin and especially Luke in mind to see how the story relates. Knowing what we know of Dostoyevsky from previous reads, he seems to have a common theme in his works of the need to suffer through some sin or moral trial in order to sit at the feet of Jesus. The question seems to be, from the differently translated titles of this work, is if this sin or moral trial is being the one possessed by demons, or being the demon who possesses others?

I agree that Verkhovensky is being used as a tool of Varvara Petrovna, though he appears a poor choice. It seems that she wants to keep in touch with society, which in 1840-50s Russia meant getting behind the cause of emancipating the serfs (which happened in 1861) and embracing the rights of man. However, there were different views of how to handle the newly freed vassals which Dostoevsky sets up as the Westerner/Slavophil dichotomy.
"Western" Russians favored more liberal approaches (after the fashion of the French Revolutionists and German Marxists) including overthrowing the landowners and redistribution of wealth, something that would have impoverished Varvara Petrovna. "Slavophils" were in favor of reforming, but retaining old Slavic ways, such as Tsarism and elements of feudalism, often out of self-interest for their position. Essentially the perpetual liberal/conservative debate 19th century Russian style.
Varvara latches onto Verkhovensky after her husband dies because she wanted to be seen as being in touch with the times and to help her young son, Nicholas, learn to thrive in the changing world by employing someone she thinks represents new ideas. The events that brought Verkhovensky some degree of fame (for a provincial town, at least) aren't inspiring. He loses his position as a lecturer in Berlin after defending his thesis that offends Slavophils and publishes the first part of a study in a Westerner journal, but never publishes the second part, which the narrator notes is likely due to laziness, not censorship as was claimed.
Finally, Verkhovensky gets involved with an underground revolutionary group supporting translating Charles Fourier, a proponent of replacing feudalism with a socialist utopia. Dostoevsky used his own experience as part of the Petrashevsky Circle, it seems, though Verkhovensky gets off light by comparison, being sent back to his village as a quasi-exile. Dostoevsky's sentence of execution by hanging (commuted only when at the gallows to ten years imprisonment in SIberia) was far worse.
In any case, Varvara Petrovna seems to hear these things and thinks he's a great revolutionary mind that she can co-op for her own aggrandizement. Unfortunately for her, Verkhovensky seems to be more of an uncouth wanna-be than anything, having no revolutionary "credit" except scattered French.
I read it as Varvara thinking, in the manner she was groomed all her life as an aristocrat, to control lesser people with fear and money. Though Verkhovensky is a former serf of hers for whom she claims patronage as supporting the "common people," their brief adventures in Petersburg burst Varvara's bubble and show her how she is too far behind the times to even help the real thinkers due to her being "provincial."
Verkhovensky's frequent dialogue in French only seem to heighten his pretension and hypocrisy, being financial reliant on what a real revolutionary like the Petrachevists (and later the Bolsheviks) would see as an "enemy of the people."

While Dostoevsky's post-exile works were generally serious in nature, he kept his wit and sense of irony. The humor tends to be of either a satirical nature (as here) or laughing at the expense of a "fool" character. The title reflects the tone of the subject matter and of the times, which were fraught, but other than being about a political murder, it's filled with moments of Dostoevsky's sometimes-biting levity.

I would say you're in the right frame of thinking. The Russian world really was upside-down when the political murder of an anarchist by two of his fellows gave Dostoevsky the idea for Demons in 1869. After decades of pushing, the Russian serfs were freed in 1861 and no one knew what would come next since the economy had depended on their unpaid labor.
Revolutionary times are dangerous times. Too easy for people to turn into 'demons' of chaos with their anarchist ideas or become 'possessed' (as Constance Garnett translated the title) by revolutionary zeal (or a charismatic manipulator) that leads to tragedy.

I am looking forward to seeing how relevant the epigram from Luke is to the story. I want to hold in abeyance, if possible, a proclivity to interpret in terms of mental derangement rather than perhaps in terms of external "demons" that can inhabit human actions. (I'm not one to be given to demons, so to step outside -- or into -- such possibilities may end up being an refreshing way to play with thinking about our contemporary world. We shall see.)

Probably because I just read it not long ago, I kept hearing echoes of Mark Anthony's funeral speech in Julius Caesar..."but Brutus is an honorable man." I know there were at least two or three times in the beginning where the narrator mentions "Stepan Trofimovitch was a most intelligent and gifted man," or words to that effect.
I've still yet to read chapter II, so I'll see how my perceptions of Stepan changes.

I certainly found this funny. In reference to a poem written by Stepan Trofimovich himself, the narrator tells us:
"I find it difficult to give the plot, because to tell the truth I understand nothing of it. It is some sort of allegory, in lyrical-dramatic form, resembling the second part of Faust. The scene opens with a chorus of women, then a chorus of men, then of some powers, and it all ends with a chorus of souls that have not yet lived but would very much like to live a little. All these choruses sing about something very indefinite, mostly about somebody's curse, but with a tinge of higher humor. Then suddenly the scene changes and some fort of 'Festival of Life' begins, in which even insects sing, a turtle appears with some sort of sacramental Latin words, and, if I remember, a mineral- that is, an altogether inanimate object-also gets to sing about something. Generally, everyone sings incessantly, and if they speak, they squabble somehow indefinitely, but again with a tinge of higher meaning."- From the P&V translation
So I guess I'd agree with Bryan's assessment that Stepan is a big bag of wind.

Who is the narrator, anyway? (Edit: The narrator is VIRGINSKY, a drinking buddy of Stepan. As per Roger's very first post. It pays to read closely :)
It sort of seems like the ghost stories we were reading. The narrator knows the story to be true because they witnessed it themselves.

Ashley -- reason for referring to the narrator in the plural?

Ashley -- reason for referring to the narrator in the plural?"
Since I'm still developing an idea of the narrator I opted for the generic third-person singular pronoun. A gender-neutral term.

I’ve been researching the Westerner/Slavophile debate while getting into the first chapter. From what I’ve read, the motives of the two groups were complex:
https://www.encyclopedia.com/referenc...
https://www.intellectualtakeout.org/b...
Undoubtedly the wealthy landowners wanted to retain their wealth and position but intellectuals like Dostoyevsky and later Solzhenitsyn recognized the dangers of socialism and also of Western problems associated with freedom such as materialism and pornography.
Which is worse: socialism or feudalism?

Actually, the narrator is a man named Anton Lavrentievich G----v, though the only place it is mentioned passingly is in Part 1, Chapter 4, so it's understandable to not be clear yet. In Tsarist Russia, actual Russia last names only showed the first and last letter in stories. I think it's safe to assume for that reason that the name itself is not meaningful in the way that Stavrogin (taken from "stavros," the Greek word for "cross") and Shatov (from the Russian verb for "to loosen, become unsteady, wobble") are meaningful.
Anton is only described as being in the civil service, but he was obviously present for some of the events described while other events of the story (the bulk of detail, it seems) is said by him to be an account of events as described to him by Stepan Verkhovensky some ten years afterwards.
Dostoevsky made the narrator a peripheral character to the main events, it seems, even though he could have simply told the story in third-person omniscient or first-person limited POV of one of the main players. That combined with the fact that Stepan Verkhovensky is shown to be a pretentious exaggerator, at best, suggest to me that the use of a third-person, limited and unreliable POV is important to the work.
I'm still on Part 2 in my first re-read of the novel in about 20 years yet, so I can't properly elaborate why it's important yet. I just thought I would share it to keep things clear.

Actual socialism as described in the texts of Marx and other political theorists of the early Enlightenment would definitely be preferable to aristocracy, at least as far as the majority were concerned. However, at the time this was happening (and throughout Dostoevsky's lifetime), socialism was only an idea of how to move forward from the Tsarist feudalism that was merciless on the Russian people.
Whether totalitarian socialism as we now know it in practice is preferable to feudalism is a whole other question that I don't think can be answered.

This still seems a puzzle to me. Is the relationship a wholly platonic one, or not; what difference would it make either way? Could they have romantic relationships with others; what would happen if they did?
I am still struggling with the significance of the two incidents that Varvara Petrovna will never forgive Stepan Trofimovich for. The first seems to be for Stepan's social gaf of a controlled and practiced emotional response, even if seen favorably by the visiting Baron. I do not quite understand the inappropriateness of Stepan's response unless it was simply Varvara Petorovna's expectation that he was to be seen but not heard. The second seems to be for Varvara Petrovna's apprehension of Stepan's unconscious vibe of his thinking not to propose to her.


I've pondered at that, too. The first time she will never forgive it is because Stepan Trofimovitch cheers the freeing of the serfs in front on the baron, which I read as an embarrassment to her because she wants to play both sides (regal with the nobility she grew up among, but having pretensions that her sponsorship of Stepan makes her a forward-thinker). On the surface, I read her "I will never forgive you" as a reproach for his boisterous behavior in mixed company.
The second time, after Stepan Trofimovitch's failed proposal, I initially read it as her never forgiving him for Stepan presuming that he, her former serf, could ever marry someone of her "status," regardless of how the times are changing. I took it as indication that she is not as forward-thinking as she likes to pretend. That was reinforced by the account of her treatment by the city liberals when she tried to start a magazine and they tell her that her ideas are too dated and obsolete to be of use.
It feels like Dostoevsky would want it to be clear about what she is not forgiving him for, so I've been thinking in the frame of the author's original audience. Literate 19th century Russians reading it in serial form. Demons seems to be the least studied of Dostoevsky's post-exile works, so we're on our own a bit in discerning meaning, but I'm enjoying that.

You may have, but you also may have confused the narrator with Virginsky, who I think is mentioned practicing some journalism, though not much is said about him. Virginsky is a minor character and definitely not the narrator.
Just to make sure I wasn't steering anyone wrong, I did a quick JSTOR search and the narration by Mr. G----v, who little is known or said about other than him being a close confidante of Stepan Tromifovitch Verkhovensky, is indeed a subject of scholarly interest/curiosity based on several journal abstracts.


A strange thought suddenly flashed through Stepan Trofimovich’s mind: ‘Isn’t the inconsolable widow counting on him, and isn’t she waiting for him to propose to her at the end of the year of mourning?’ . . .He fell to thinking: ‘Her fortune is immense, true enough, but…’ In fact, Varvara Petrovna did not altogether resemble a beauty: she was a tall, yellow, bony woman, with an excessively long face reminiscent of a horse.Then it is suggested the Varvara Petrovna, whether she was looking for a proposal or more likely she was not, picked up on what Stepan was thinking:
It must be supposed that she soon figured out for herself the strange expression on her friend’s faceBoth incidents show that Stepan is one who wears his emotions on his sleeve; and should probably avoid playing poker. My guess is that between the fact we are told that he cried rather often and these two incidents we should conclude Stepan easily becomes emotional over things, i.e., passionate to the point of losing self-control. And, as we know, uncontrolled emotions can sometime lead one into trouble, and the narrator warns us,
. . .but the first incident was also highly characteristic and seemed to bear so significantly on the fate of Stepan Trofimovich. . .

I understand her relationship in contrast to her relationship with her son, Nikolai Stavrogin. Nikolai seems to be the one person who Varvara respects, probably because she can't control him. This is in stark contrast to Stepan's passivity. But Stepan and all his friends seem to be like this. Virginsky is "retired" by his wife, whereupon he tells her, "up to now I have only loved you, but now I respect you." Nikolai kisses Liputin's wife quite passionately in front of Liputin and Liputin's response is to send his servant to tell Nikolai that Nikolai is the most intelligent man in the town. These seem to me rather implausible men. (If they can be called men. Varvara Petrovna at one point calls Stepan an old woman, and later an "old granny.")
On the other hand, there's Nikolai, who is dashing but reckless and possibly mad. Varvara apparently respects this. Her affection for him increases with his rashness, as when he is broken to the ranks. Nikolai "goes to seed" and likes it, whereas Stepan "goes to seed" (Dostoevsky uses the same phrase) and despairs. Nikolai is described in demonic terms though. In the first section of chapter 2, Dostoevsky writes twice of Nikolai "...and then the beast showed its claws." Can anyone who reads Russian tell us what the word is for "beast" there? I'm curious if it has any relation to the word for demon.
In any case Varvara Petrovna seems to know her son. After Nikolai pulls Gaganov's nose, she says " it's begun," like she knows how this is going to play out. She's frightened of him, but fascinated.

I read you post after I posted my explanation. You summed it up better than I did with the addition of the presumption aspect of it.

I was focussed on the engagement with Darya, and how she lists what their finances will be and who will control what in great detail. She seems like the kind of person who very much enjoys controlling people through her money, and here she has two people she can keep an iron grip on. The best way to achieve that is to get them married.

I think both made good points and I would agree that a conclusion of both the presumption of the proposal and the preemptive rejection as reasons for Varvara's second "never forgive you" is justified by the text.

Maybe it's because I'm too familiar with the author's background, but every time I see Dostoevsky put a strange look on Nikolai's face before he does something odd, I think of epilepsy. As an epileptic, Dostoevsky would have been very familiar with post-ictal states following a seizure that can produce aggressive and uncharacteristic behavior.
I'm not sure whether the epilepsy comparison is justified by the text, intentional or coincidental to Dostoevsky's life experience going into his characters. Either way, I thought the similarities were interesting when comparing Nicholai's "outrages" to an epileptic's fits.

The narrator tells us that Stepan was impacted by the two times Stavrogin said to him, “I’ll never forgive you for this.” He then proceeds to tells us about the incident in the garden and Stepan wondering if he is expected to propose.
Stepan is still impacted by the incident even though it had happened ten years before he recounts it to the narrator. He still doesn’t know for sure what he did wrong, especially since Stavrogin later behaved as if nothing had happened. But the incident left Stepan “petrified” and we are told he became ill for two weeks after the event. He even began to suspect he had imagined the whole thing.
I hesitate to inject a nasty example into the discussion, but I’ve come across this type of behavior before when I did volunteer work at shelters for victims of domestic violence and sexual assault. Frequently, the perpetrator would accuse the victim of triggering the assault because of something she said or did. The victim would then try to avoid the specific behavior, mistakenly believing that would put an end to the violence. It never did. But there were also times when the victim was kept guessing as to why the assault was taking place. The perpetrator wouldn’t tell her, so she didn’t know what she had done or said that had ostensibly triggered the assault. At times like that, she became almost catatonic—afraid to move or speak in case she might inadvertently overstep her boundaries.
I realize this is an extreme example, but I’m wondering if the same thing is happening here. Mrs. Stavrogin is exercising a form of mind control. She wants Stepan to know he upset her. But she won’t tell him why in order to keep him guessing, to keep him off balance. Because he doesn’t know what he’s done to offend her, he has to be extra vigilant so as not to step out of line, again. He becomes ill for two weeks and is still scarred by the event ten years later.
Ten years later, when Mr. Verkhovensky related this sad story to me in a subdued whisper behind closed doors, he swore that he had never been so petrified that he neither saw nor heard Mrs. Stavrogin leave. (MacAndrew translation)
I think Stavrogin is engaging in a form of psychological abuse—just another tool in the tool box she uses to control him.



An interesting and I would say at least partially apt parallel. I would agree that Varvara Petrovna ("Stavrogin" is normally used when referring to her son, Nikolai, to avoid confusion) is engaging in a sort of psychological abuse of those she still feels a right to power over. In her case, it is power in the form of wealth and connections, but abusive spouses often use money to control their victims.
As an extension, I would posit that the situation of Stepan Tromifovitch is emblematic of the former serfs in general in relation to their "betters" after freedom. Some (such as Liputin) rebelled against the pull of continued reliance on the favor of the wealthy who they viewed as corrupt exploiters of their labor while others saw no better options for themselves since they were only wannabe revolutionaries without the stomach for the work of true reform. Stepan Trofimovitch seems an excellent example of the latter.

I read this more as some fondness for Stepan, but largely motivated by Varvara to keep her pet liberal happy and under her sway. To Tamara's analogue, it's also true that abusive spouses tend to convince their victims that they deserve their treatment, but that they still care about them deeply, probably often believing it themselves.
I suppose the question is whether Varvara's fondness is for Stepan as a fellow person or Stepan as a handy social prop.

It may not be an either/or proposition. It may be both.

Ashley -- reason for referring to the narrator in the plural?"
Ashley's Response: "Since I'm still developing an idea of the narrator I opted for the generic third-person singular pronoun. A gender-neutral term.
I'm confused, Ashley. "They" isn't singular; or maybe you don't intend "narrator" to be the antecedent of "they" in your sentence? "The narrator knows the story to be true because they witnessed it themselves."
Are the witnesses, whether the narrator or others, reliable? seems possibly a germane question to me....
Added later -- see also Msg 17 re unreliable narration.


How are they different?

I think the flip side of this is something we may need to keep in mind throughout; Stepan allows Varvara control him. How far does Varvara go to keep Stepan dependent on her compared to how much autonomy is Stepan willing to give up in order to maintain his dependency?

Would you say the same if Varvara was a man? Or perhaps more appropriate, can one name in what ways gender does or does not bend one's judgment of Varvara's actions?

I don't think I can respond until I have a better sense of how large is the circle D is drawing -- are we drawn into a little circle that encompasses one or more bands of thinkers/activists/intelligentsia within limited demographics of Russia with some tentacles out into Europe or is one looking at something of the scope of Tolstoy's War and Peace, taking us from palace intrigue to families to battlefield to ...? I am at the moment asking, of what community is this the story -- a band of intellectuals or activists or rebels or of a typical region at this time in Russian politics or....? What are the analogues, if any, in modern America? More comment than (view spoiler)

The Russian word there is ‘ЗВЕРЬ’, which means exactly that, beast or wild animal.
That would be it, at first approximation that is.
But.. Nuances can always be found, of course, and we sometimes like to be picky. I’m not sure that in this group linguistic nuances can be that interesting, I just can’t help but drop a few more lines on the issue. Hopefully, somebody is interested. I like words and linguistics in general so … I'll try to go sort of backwards, start with the word 'demon' and see if we can arrive at the 'beast'.
…It has been already noted in this thread that the Russian title of the novel is ‘БЕСЫ’ (BESY), plural for ‘БЕС’ (BES), and is commonly translated as DEMONS. Fair enough. (I cringed when I first learned it, isn’t there a better English word for БЕС? Apparently, not. Not a big deal, it’s just my personal quirk). I imagine a demon as a pure spirit (a fallen angel if you will), maybe with a trace of something material. БЕС is also a spirit but being a folk version for ‘demon’ has a strong earthly aspect in it, with horns and hoofs, and… claws. It's much easier identifiable with a beast, and it's often drawn as a beast.
A simple experiment (that's where we go backwards): take an English-Russian dictionary, look up the word ‘demon’, first what you will see is ДЕМОН, which even sounds almost identical to the English DEMON. Some dictionaries may give БЕС further along the line of synonyms, (although the translations of classic works affect dictionaries, don’t they?)
Seems like a minor, and it sure is, but in a Russian reader’s mind, after reading that Nikolai/ЗВЕРЬ(beast) showed its claws, remembering the title, an image of БЕС may be conjured up easier than that of a ДЕМОН. ДЕМОНЫ are too spiritual, claws don’t associate with them somehow. But it’s just me. Other Russians may disagree with my interpretation. As for me, Thomas has a great intuition, far beyond first approximation.

On the other hand, some of these gaps are rather strange--we've already talked about the second 'I'll never forgive you for this', and what exactly that may have concerned. But some other aspects I've wondered about (which may very well resolve themselves later, I don't know) are, for one, why was Stepan's son never reunited with his father once he became settled on Varvara Petrovina's estate? What was the point of the episode with Luputin guessing what Nikolai's response would be when he sent his servant to his door?
These may not have answers--I'm not really expecting anyone to provide them. The larger point is I often find Dostoyevsky's characters acting in what seems to me frankly baffling ways. There does not seem to be any kind of straightforward cause and effect. On the other hand, I've lived long enough now to realize that people in real life seldom act in a manner consistent with whatever stimuli is at hand (at least to my mind). But in their own heads, all their actions make perfect sense.
Tolstoy's characters seem to me to act in a manner that you would expect, or at least seems believable, given the circumstances. Chekhov's characters may be crippled or warped, but he still makes them appear consistent. It's only Dostoyevsky that makes me scratch my head.

I don't think I can respond until I have a better sense of how large is the circle D is drawing -- are we drawn into a little circle that encompasses one o..."
I think we're dealing with a small group in a provincial town. Varvara Petrovina and Stepan Trofimovich and Nikolai Vsevolodovich tried to make it big in the capital, and they failed. Stepan still believes each provinical governor has orders to keep an eye on him, but that's only in his imagination.

That would be it, at first approximation that is.
But.. Nuances can always be found, of course, and we sometimes like to be picky. I’m not sure that in this group linguistic nuances can be that interesting, "
Thanks for your help with this. If Dostoevsky is a careful writer, then linguistic nuance is important and definitely interesting, He is already playing with ambiguities and open questions, so if you spot clues in the Russian text I hope you will share.

You may appreciate Vladimir Nabokov's assessment:
Dostoyevsky as we know is a great seeker after truth, a genius of spiritual morbidity, but as we also know he is not a great writer in the sense Tolstoy, Pushkin and Chekhov are. And, I repeat, not because the world he creates is unreal -all the worlds of writers are unreal - but because it is created too hastily without any sense of that harmony and economy which the most irrational masterpiece is bound to comply with (in order to be a masterpiece).
Nabokov thinks that Dostoevsky gives us ideas in the likeness of people, rather than realistic characters. I'm not sure if that's completely true, but even if it is, Dostoevsky still has a duty to resolve the gaps and ambiguities in the "ideas." I expect he will, though the resolution will be a little messier and less elegant that what we get from Tolstoy.

That seems to fit some Dickensian characters as well. I do not know why but I instantly thought of Mrs. Jellyby's "Telescopic Philanthropy" from Bleak House.

Controlling personalities and personalities who want to be controlled naturally attract each other and when the differences are too extreme it is generally seen as an area to be worked on. The idea seems to fit with the confusion over the title whether it is about the demons who possesses others vs. those who are possessed by demons, but apparently it takes at least two such mutual attractants to tango in either game.
Maybe Vavara and Stepan's relations is an unhealthy one, or maybe we will find it it is an example of a relatively healthy one when compared to others?

Books mentioned in this topic
The Making of a Story: A Norton Guide to Writing Fiction and Nonfiction (other topics)The Idiot (other topics)