The Brothers Karamazov by Fyodor Dostoyevsky (easy to read books for adults list .txt) 📕
"Those innocent eyes slit my soul up like a razor," he used to say afterwards, with his loathsome snigger. In a man so depraved this might, of course, mean no more than sensual attraction. As he had received no dowry with his wife, and had, so to speak, taken her "from the halter," he did not stand on ceremony with her. Making her feel that she had "wronged" him, he took advantage of her phenomenal meekness and submissiveness to trample on the elemen
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had noticed before that Alyosha was shy and tried not to look at
her, and she found this extremely amusing. She waited intently to
catch his eye. Alyosha, unable to endure her persistent stare, was
irresistibly and suddenly drawn to glance at her, and at once she
smiled triumphantly in his face. Alyosha was even more disconcerted
and vexed. At last he turned away from her altogether and hid behind
the elder’s back. After a few minutes, drawn by the same
irresistible force, he turned again to see whether he was being looked
at or not, and found Lise almost hanging out of her chair to peep
sideways at him, eagerly waiting for him to look. Catching his eye,
she laughed so that the elder could not help saying, “Why do you
make fun of him like that, naughty girl?”
Lise suddenly and quite unexpectedly blushed. Her eyes flashed and
her face became quite serious. She began speaking quickly and
nervously in a warm and resentful voice:
“Why has he forgotten everything, then? He used to carry me
about when I was little. We used to play together. He used to come
to teach me to read, do you know. Two years ago, when he went away, he
said that he would never forget me, that we were friends for ever, for
ever, for ever! And now he’s afraid of me all at once. Am I going to
eat him? Why doesn’t he want to come near me? Why doesn’t he talk? Why
won’t he come and see us? It’s not that you won’t let him. We know
that he goes everywhere. It’s not good manners for me to invite him.
He ought to have thought of it first, if he hasn’t forgotten me. No,
now he’s saving his soul! Why have you put that long gown on him? If
he runs he’ll fall.”
And suddenly she hid her face in her hand and went off into
irresistible, prolonged, nervous, inaudible laughter. The elder
listened to her with a smile, and blessed her tenderly. As she
kissed his hand she suddenly pressed it to her eyes and began crying.
“Don’t be angry with me. I’m silly and good for nothing… and
perhaps Alyosha’s right, quite right, in not wanting to come and see
such a ridiculous girl.”
“I will certainly send him,” said the elder.
So Be It! So Be It!
THE elder’s absence from his cell had lasted for about twenty-five
minutes. It was more than half-past twelve, but Dmitri, on whose
account they had all met there, had still not appeared. But he
seemed almost to be forgotten, and when the elder entered the cell
again, he found his guests engaged in eager conversation. Ivan and the
two monks took the leading share in it. Miusov, too, was trying to
take a part, and apparently very eagerly, in the conversation. But
he was unsuccessful in this also. He was evidently in the
background, and his remarks were treated with neglect, which increased
his irritability. He had had intellectual encounters with Ivan
before and he could not endure a certain carelessness Ivan showed him.
“Hitherto at least I have stood in the front ranks of all that
is progressive in Europe, and here the new generation positively
ignores us,” he thought.
Fyodor Pavlovitch, who had given his word to sit still and be
quiet, had actually been quiet for some time, but he watched his
neighbour Miusov with an ironical little smile, obviously enjoying his
discomfiture. He had been waiting for some time to pay off old scores,
and now he could not let the opportunity slip. Bending over his
shoulder he began teasing him again in a whisper.
“Why didn’t you go away just now, after the ‘courteously kissing’?
Why did you consent to remain in such unseemly company? It was because
you felt insulted and aggrieved, and you remained to vindicate
yourself by showing off your intelligence. Now you won’t go till
you’ve displayed your intellect to them.”
“You again?… On the contrary, I’m just going.”
“You’ll be the last, the last of all to go!” Fyodor Pavlovitch
delivered him another thrust, almost at the moment of Father Zossima’s
return.
The discussion died down for a moment, but the elder, seating
himself in his former place, looked at them all as though cordially
inviting them to go on. Alyosha, who knew every expression of his
face, saw that he was fearfully exhausted and making a great effort.
Of late he had been liable to fainting fits from exhaustion. His
face had the pallor that was common before such attacks, and his
lips were white. But he evidently did not want to break up the
party. He seemed to have some special object of his own in keeping
them. What object? Alyosha watched him intently.
“We are discussing this gentleman’s most interesting article,”
said Father Iosif, the librarian, addressing the elder, and indicating
Ivan. “He brings forward much that is new, but I think the argument
cuts both ways. It is an article written in answer to a book by an
ecclesiastical authority on the question of the ecclesiastical
court, and the scope of its jurisdiction.”
“I’m sorry I have not read your article, but I’ve heard of it,”
said the elder, looking keenly and intently at Ivan.
“He takes up a most interesting position,” continued the Father
Librarian. “As far as Church jurisdiction is concerned he is
apparently quite opposed to the separation of Church from State.”
“That’s interesting. But in what sense?” Father Zossima asked
Ivan.
The latter, at last, answered him, not condescendingly, as Alyosha
had feared, but with modesty and reserve, with evident goodwill and
apparently without the slightest arrierepensee
“I start from the position that this confusion of elements, that
is, of the essential principles of Church and State, will, of
course, go on for ever, in spite of the fact that it is impossible for
them to mingle, and that the confusion of these elements cannot lead
to any consistent or even normal results, for there is falsity at
the very foundation of it. Compromise between the Church and State
in such questions as, for instance, jurisdiction, is, to my
thinking, impossible in any real sense. My clerical opponent maintains
that the Church holds a precise and defined position in the State. I
maintain, on the contrary, that the Church ought to include the
whole State, and not simply to occupy a corner in it, and, if this is,
for some reason, impossible at present, then it ought, in reality,
to be set up as the direct and chief aim of the future development
of Christian society!”
“Perfectly true,” Father Paissy, the silent and learned monk,
assented with fervour and decision.
“The purest Ultramontanism!” cried Miusov impatiently, crossing
and recrossing his legs.
“Oh, well, we have no mountains,” cried Father Iosif, and
turning to the elder he continued: “Observe the answer he makes to the
following ‘fundamental and essential’ propositions of his opponent,
who is, you must note, an ecclesiastic. First, that ‘no social
organisation can or ought to arrogate to itself power to dispose of
the civic and political rights of its members.’ Secondly, that
‘criminal and civil jurisdiction ought not to belong to the Church,
and is inconsistent with its nature, both as a divine institution
and as an organisation of men for religious objects,’ and, finally, in
the third place, ‘the Church is a kingdom not of this world.’
“A most unworthy play upon words for an ecclesiastic!” Father
Paissy could not refrain from breaking in again. “I have read the book
which you have answered,” he added, addressing Ivan, “and was
astounded at the words ‘The Church is a kingdom not of this world. ‘If
it is not of this world, then it cannot exist on earth at all. In
the Gospel, the words ‘not of this world’ are not used in that
sense. To play with such words is indefensible. Our Lord Jesus
Christ came to set up the Church upon earth. The Kingdom of Heaven, of
course, is not of this world, but in Heaven; but it is only entered
through the Church which has been founded and established upon
earth. And so a frivolous play upon words in such a connection is
unpardonable and improper. The Church is, in truth, a kingdom and
ordained to rule, and in the end must undoubtedly become the kingdom
ruling over all the earth. For that we have the divine promise.”
He ceased speaking suddenly, as though checking himself. After
listening attentively and respectfully Ivan went on, addressing the
elder with perfect composure and as before with ready cordiality:
“The whole point of my article lies in the fact that during the
first three centuries Christianity only existed on earth in the Church
and was nothing but the Church. When the pagan Roman Empire desired to
become Christian, it inevitably happened that, by becoming
Christian, it included the Church but remained a pagan State in very
many of its departments. In reality this was bound to happen. But Rome
as a State retained too much of the pagan civilisation and culture,
as, for example, in the very objects and fundamental principles of the
State. The Christian Church entering into the State could, of
course, surrender no part of its fundamental principles-the rock on
which it stands-and could pursue no other aims than those which
have been ordained and revealed by God Himself, and among them that of
drawing the whole world, and therefore the ancient pagan State itself,
into the Church. In that way (that is, with a view to the future) it
is not the Church that should seek a definite position in the State,
like ‘every social organisation,’ or as ‘an organisation of men for
religious purposes’ (as my opponent calls the Church), but, on the
contrary, every earthly State should be, in the end, completely
transformed into the Church and should become nothing else but a
Church, rejecting every purpose incongruous with the aims of the
Church. All this will not degrade it in any way or take from its
honour and glory as a great State, nor from the glory of its rulers,
but only turns it from a false, still pagan, and mistaken path to
the true and rightful path, which alone leads to the eternal goal.
This is why the author of the book On the Foundations of Church
Jurisdiction would have judged correctly if, in seeking and laying
down those foundations, he bad looked upon them as a temporary
compromise inevitable in our sinful and imperfect days. But as soon as
the author ventures to declare that the foundations which he
predicates now, part of which Father Iosif just enumerated, are the
permanent, essential, and eternal foundations, he is going directly
against the Church and its sacred and eternal vocation. That is the
gist of my article.”
“That is, in brief,” Father Paissy began again, laying stress on
each word, “according to certain theories only too clearly
formulated in the nineteenth century, the Church ought to be
transformed into the State, as though this would be an advance from
a lower to a higher form, so as to disappear into it, making way for
science, for the spirit of the age, and civilisation. And if the
Church resists and is unwilling, some corner will be set apart for her
in the State, and even that under control and this will be so
everywhere in all modern European countries. But Russian hopes and
conceptions demand not that the Church should pass as from a lower
into a higher type into the State, but, on the contrary, that the
State should end by being worthy to become only
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