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.

    But of the uppish ones
        there was one officer
               in particular
         I could not endure.