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Notes from the

Underground

FYODOR DOSTOYEVSKY

PART I

Underground*

*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.

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.