I am a scoundrel, of course, and not a socialist. Ha ha!
Listen. I've reckoned them all up: a teacher who laughs with children at their God and at their cradle; is on our side.
The lawyer who defends an educated murderer because he is more cultured than his victims and could not help murdering them to get money is one of us.
The schoolboys who murder a peasant for the sake of sensation are ours.
The juries who acquit every criminal are ours.
The prosecutor who trembles at a trial for fear he should not seem advanced enough is ours, ours.
Among officials and literary men we have lots, lots, and they don't know it themselves.
On the other hand, the docility of schoolboys and fools has reached an extreme pitch; the schoolmasters are bitter and bilious. On all sides we see vanity puffed up out of all proportion; brutal, monstrous appetites.... Do you know how many we shall catch by little, ready-made ideas?
When I left Russia, Littre's dictum that crime is insanity was all the rage; I come back and I find that crime is no longer insanity, but simply common sense, almost a duty; anyway, a gallant protest.
'How can we expect a cultured man not to commit a murder, if he is in need of money.'
But these are only the first fruits.
The Russian God has already been vanquished by cheap vodka.
The peasants are drunk, the mothers are drunk, the children are drunk, the churches are empty, and in the peasant courts one hears, 'Two hundred lashes or stand us a bucket of vodka.'
Oh, this generation has only to grow up.
It's only a pity we can't afford to wait, or we might have let them get a bit more tipsy!
Ah, what a pity there's no proletariat!
But there will be, there will be; we are going that way...."
"It's a pity, too, that we've grown greater fools," muttered Stavrogin, moving forward as before.
"Listen. I've seen a child of six years old leading home his drunken mother, whilst she swore at him with foul words.
Do you suppose I am glad of that?
When it's in our hands, maybe we'll mend things... if need be, we'll drive them for forty years into the wilderness.... But one or two generations of vice are essential now; monstrous, abject vice by which a man is transformed into a loathsome, cruel, egoistic reptile. That's what we need!
And what's more, a little 'fresh blood' that we may get accustomed to it.
Why are you laughing?
I am not contradicting myself.
I am only contradicting the philanthropists and Shigalovism, not myself!
I am a scoundrel, not a socialist.
Ha ha ha!
I'm only sorry there's no time.
I promised Karmazinov to begin in May, and to make an end by October.
Is that too soon?
Ha ha!
Do you know what, Stavrogin? Though the Russian people use foul language, there's nothing cynical about them so far.
Do you know the serfs had more self-respect than Karmazinov?
Though they were beaten they always preserved their gods, which is more than Karmazinov's done."
"Well, Verhovensky, this is the first time I've heard you talk, and I listen with amazement," observed Stavrogin. "So you are really not a socialist, then, but some sort of... ambitious politician?"
"A scoundrel, a scoundrel!
You are wondering what I am.
I'll tell you what I am directly, that's what I am leading up to.
It was not for nothing that I kissed your hand.
But the people-must believe that we know what we are after, while the other side do nothing but 'brandish their cudgels and beat their own followers.'
Ah, if we only had more time!
That's the only trouble, we have no time.
We will proclaim destruction..... Why is it, why is it that idea has such a fascination.
But we must have a little exercise; we must.
We'll set fires going.... We'll set legends going. Every scurvy 'group' will be of use.
Out of those very groups I'll pick you out fellows so keen they'll not shrink from shooting, and be grateful for the honour of a job, too.
Well, and there will be an upheaval!
There's going to be such an upset as the world has never seen before.... Russia will be overwhelmed with darkness, the earth will weep for its old gods..... Well, then we shall bring forward... whom?"
"Whom?"
"Ivan the Tsarevitch."