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+Notes from the Underground, Dostoevsky, chapter 1 only.
+
+
+NOTES FROM THE UNDERGROUND[*]
+A NOVEL
+
+
+* The author of the diary and the diary itself are, of course,
+imaginary. Nevertheless it is clear that such persons as the writer of
+these notes not only may, but positively must, exist in our society,
+when we consider the circumstances in the midst of which our society is
+formed. I have tried to expose to the view of the public more
+distinctly than is commonly done, one of the characters of the recent
+past. He is one of the representatives of a generation still living. In
+this fragment, entitled “Underground,” this person introduces himself
+and his views, and, as it were, tries to explain the causes owing to
+which he has made his appearance and was bound to make his appearance
+in our midst. In the second fragment there are added the actual notes
+of this person concerning certain events in his life.—AUTHOR’S NOTE.
+
+
+
+
+PART I
+Underground
+
+
+
+
+I
+
+
+I am a sick man.... I am a spiteful man. I am an unattractive man. I
+believe my liver is diseased. However, I know nothing at all about my
+disease, and do not know for certain what ails me. I don’t consult a
+doctor for it, and never have, though I have a respect for medicine and
+doctors. Besides, I am extremely superstitious, sufficiently so to
+respect medicine, anyway (I am well-educated enough not to be
+superstitious, but I am superstitious). No, I refuse to consult a
+doctor from spite. That you probably will not understand. Well, I
+understand it, though. Of course, I can’t explain who it is precisely
+that I am mortifying in this case by my spite: I am perfectly well
+aware that I cannot “pay out” the doctors by not consulting them; I
+know better than anyone that by all this I am only injuring myself and
+no one else. But still, if I don’t consult a doctor it is from spite.
+My liver is bad, well—let it get worse!
+
+I have been going on like that for a long time—twenty years. Now I am
+forty. I used to be in the government service, but am no longer. I was
+a spiteful official. I was rude and took pleasure in being so. I did
+not take bribes, you see, so I was bound to find a recompense in that,
+at least. (A poor jest, but I will not scratch it out. I wrote it
+thinking it would sound very witty; but now that I have seen myself
+that I only wanted to show off in a despicable way, I will not scratch
+it out on purpose!)
+
+When petitioners used to come for information to the table at which I
+sat, I used to grind my teeth at them, and felt intense enjoyment when
+I succeeded in making anybody unhappy. I almost did succeed. For the
+most part they were all timid people—of course, they were petitioners.
+But of the uppish ones there was one officer in particular I could not
+endure. He simply would not be humble, and clanked his sword in a
+disgusting way. I carried on a feud with him for eighteen months over
+that sword. At last I got the better of him. He left off clanking it.
+That happened in my youth, though.
+
+But do you know, gentlemen, what was the chief point about my spite?
+Why, the whole point, the real sting of it lay in the fact that
+continually, even in the moment of the acutest spleen, I was inwardly
+conscious with shame that I was not only not a spiteful but not even an
+embittered man, that I was simply scaring sparrows at random and
+amusing myself by it. I might foam at the mouth, but bring me a doll to
+play with, give me a cup of tea with sugar in it, and maybe I should be
+appeased. I might even be genuinely touched, though probably I should
+grind my teeth at myself afterwards and lie awake at night with shame
+for months after. That was my way.
+
+I was lying when I said just now that I was a spiteful official. I was
+lying from spite. I was simply amusing myself with the petitioners and
+with the officer, and in reality I never could become spiteful. I was
+conscious every moment in myself of many, very many elements absolutely
+opposite to that. I felt them positively swarming in me, these opposite
+elements. I knew that they had been swarming in me all my life and
+craving some outlet from me, but I would not let them, would not let
+them, purposely would not let them come out. They tormented me till I
+was ashamed: they drove me to convulsions and—sickened me, at last, how
+they sickened me! Now, are not you fancying, gentlemen, that I am
+expressing remorse for something now, that I am asking your forgiveness
+for something? I am sure you are fancying that ... However, I assure
+you I do not care if you are....
+
+It was not only that I could not become spiteful, I did not know how to
+become anything; neither spiteful nor kind, neither a rascal nor an
+honest man, neither a hero nor an insect. Now, I am living out my life
+in my corner, taunting myself with the spiteful and useless consolation
+that an intelligent man cannot become anything seriously, and it is
+only the fool who becomes anything. Yes, a man in the nineteenth
+century must and morally ought to be pre-eminently a characterless
+creature; a man of character, an active man is pre-eminently a limited
+creature. That is my conviction of forty years. I am forty years old
+now, and you know forty years is a whole lifetime; you know it is
+extreme old age. To live longer than forty years is bad manners, is
+vulgar, immoral. Who does live beyond forty? Answer that, sincerely and
+honestly I will tell you who do: fools and worthless fellows. I tell
+all old men that to their face, all these venerable old men, all these
+silver-haired and reverend seniors! I tell the whole world that to its
+face! I have a right to say so, for I shall go on living to sixty
+myself. To seventy! To eighty! ... Stay, let me take breath ...
+
+You imagine no doubt, gentlemen, that I want to amuse you. You are
+mistaken in that, too. I am by no means such a mirthful person as you
+imagine, or as you may imagine; however, irritated by all this babble
+(and I feel that you are irritated) you think fit to ask me who I
+am—then my answer is, I am a collegiate assessor. I was in the service
+that I might have something to eat (and solely for that reason), and
+when last year a distant relation left me six thousand roubles in his
+will I immediately retired from the service and settled down in my
+corner. I used to live in this corner before, but now I have settled
+down in it. My room is a wretched, horrid one in the outskirts of the
+town. My servant is an old country-woman, ill-natured from stupidity,
+and, moreover, there is always a nasty smell about her. I am told that
+the Petersburg climate is bad for me, and that with my small means it
+is very expensive to live in Petersburg. I know all that better than
+all these sage and experienced counsellors and monitors.... But I am
+remaining in Petersburg; I am not going away from Petersburg! I am not
+going away because ... ech! Why, it is absolutely no matter whether I
+am going away or not going away.
+
+But what can a decent man speak of with most pleasure?
+
+Answer: Of himself.
+
+Well, so I will talk about myself.
+
+