It was at this time that the meeting, or, rather gathering of the members of this inharmonious family took place in the cell of the elder who had such an extraordinary influence on Alyosha. The pretext for this gathering was a false one. It was at this time that the discord between Dmitri and his father seemed at its acutest stage and their relations had become insufferably strained. Fyodor Pavlovitch seems to have been the first to suggest, apparently in joke, that they should all meet in Father Zossimas cell, and that, without appealing to his direct intervention, they might more decently come to an understanding under the conciliating influence of the elders presence. Dmitri, who had never seen the elder, naturally supposed that his father was trying to intimidate him, but, as he secretly blamed himself for his outbursts of temper with his father on several recent occasions, he accepted the challenge. It must be noted that he was not, like Ivan, staying with his father, but living apart at the other end of the town. It happened that Pyotr Alexandrovitch Miüsov, who was staying in the district at the time, caught eagerly at the idea. A Liberal of the forties and fifties, a freethinker and atheist, he may have been led on by boredom or the hope of frivolous diversion. He was suddenly seized with the desire to see the monastery and the holy man. As his lawsuit with the monastery still dragged on, he made it the pretext for seeing the Superior, in order to attempt to settle it amicably. A visitor coming with such laudable intentions might be received with more attention and consideration than if he came from simple curiosity. Influences from within the monastery were brought to bear on the elder, who of late had scarcely left his cell, and had been forced by illness to deny even his ordinary visitors. In the end he consented to see them, and the day was fixed.
Who has made me a judge over them? was all he said, smilingly, to Alyosha.
Alyosha was much perturbed when he heard of the proposed visit. Of all the wrangling, quarrelsome party, Dmitri was the only one who could regard the interview seriously. All the others would come from frivolous motives, perhaps insulting to the elder. Alyosha was well aware of that. Ivan and Miüsov would come from curiosity, perhaps of the coarsest kind, while his father might be contemplating some piece of buffoonery. Though he said nothing, Alyosha thoroughly understood his father. The boy, I repeat, was far from being so simple as every one thought him. He awaited the day with a heavy heart. No doubt he was always pondering in his mind how the family discord could be ended. But his chief anxiety concerned the elder. He trembled for him, for his glory, and dreaded any affront to him, especially the refined, courteous irony of Miüsov and the supercilious halfutterances of the highly educated Ivan. He even wanted to venture on warning the elder, telling him something about them, but, on second thoughts, said nothing. He only sent word the day before, through a friend, to his brother Dmitri, that he loved him and expected him to keep his promise. Dmitri wondered, for he could not remember what he had promised, but he answered by letter that he would do his utmost not to let himself be provoked by vileness, but that, although he had a deep respect for the elder and for his brother Ivan, he was convinced that the meeting was either a trap for him or an unworthy farce.
Nevertheless I would rather bite out my tongue than be lacking in respect to the sainted man whom you reverence so highly, he wrote in conclusion. Alyosha was not greatly cheered by the letter.
Book II:
An Unfortunate Gathering
Chapter I.
They Arrive at the Monastery
It was a warm, bright day at the end of August. The interview with the elder had been fixed for halfpast eleven, immediately after late mass. Our visitors did not take part in the service, but arrived just as it was over. First an elegant open carriage, drawn by two valuable horses, drove up with Miüsov and a distant relative of his, a young man of twenty, called Pyotr Fomitch Kalganov. This young man was preparing to enter the university. Miüsov, with whom he was staying for the time, was trying to persuade him to go abroad to the university of Zurich or Jena. The young man was still undecided. He was thoughtful and absentminded. He was nicelooking, strongly built, and rather tall. There was a strange fixity in his gaze at times. Like all very absentminded people he would sometimes stare at a person without seeing him. He was silent and rather awkward, but sometimes, when he was alone with any one, he became talkative and effusive, and would laugh at anything or nothing. But his animation vanished as quickly as it appeared. He was always well and even elaborately dressed; he had already some independent fortune and expectations of much more. He was a friend of Alyoshas.
In an ancient, jolting, but roomy, hired carriage, with a pair of old pinkishgray horses, a long way behind Miüsovs carriage, came Fyodor Pavlovitch, with his son Ivan. Dmitri was late, though he had been informed of the time the evening before. The visitors left their carriage at the hotel, outside the precincts, and went to the gates of the monastery on foot. Except Fyodor Pavlovitch, none of the party had ever seen the monastery, and Miüsov had probably not even been to church for thirty years. He looked about him with curiosity, together with assumed ease. But, except the church and the domestic buildings, though these too were ordinary enough, he found nothing of interest in the interior of the monastery. The last of the worshippers were coming out of the church, bareheaded and crossing themselves. Among the humbler people were a few of higher ranktwo or three ladies and a very old general. They were all staying at the hotel. Our visitors were at once surrounded by beggars, but none of them gave them anything, except young Kalganov, who took a tencopeck piece out of his purse, and, nervous and embarrassedGod knows why!hurriedly gave it to an old woman, saying: Divide it equally. None of his companions made any remark upon it, so that he had no reason to be embarrassed; but, perceiving this, he was even more overcome.
It was strange that their arrival did not seem expected, and that they were not received with special honor, though one of them had recently made a donation of a thousand roubles, while another was a very wealthy and highly cultured landowner, upon whom all in the monastery were in a sense dependent, as a decision of the lawsuit might at any moment put their fishing rights in his hands. Yet no official personage met them.
Miüsov looked absentmindedly at the tombstones round the church, and was on the point of saying that the dead buried here must have paid a pretty penny for the right of lying in this holy place, but refrained. His liberal irony was rapidly changing almost into anger.
Who the devil is there to ask in this imbecile place? We must find out, for time is passing, he observed suddenly, as though speaking to himself.
All at once there came up a baldheaded, elderly man with ingratiating little eyes, wearing a full, summer overcoat. Lifting his hat, he introduced himself with a honeyed lisp as Maximov, a landowner of Tula. He at once entered into our visitors difficulty.
Father Zossima lives in the hermitage, apart, four hundred paces from the monastery, the other side of the copse.
I know its the other side of the copse, observed Fyodor Pavlovitch, but we dont remember the way. It is a long time since weve been here.
This way, by this gate, and straight across the copse the copse. Come with me, wont you? Ill show you. I have to go. I am going myself. This way, this way.
They came out of the gate and turned towards the copse. Maximov, a man of sixty, ran rather than walked, turning sideways to stare at them all, with an incredible degree of nervous curiosity. His eyes looked starting out of his head.
You see, we have come to the elder upon business of our own, observed Miüsov severely. That personage has granted us an audience, so to speak, and so, though we thank you for showing us the way, we cannot ask you to accompany us.
Ive been there. Ive been already; un chevalier parfait, and Maximov snapped his fingers in the air.
Who is a chevalier? asked Miüsov.
The elder, the splendid elder, the elder! The honor and glory of the monastery, Zossima. Such an elder!
But his incoherent talk was cut short by a very pale, wanlooking monk of medium height, wearing a monks cap, who overtook them. Fyodor Pavlovitch and Miüsov stopped.
The monk, with an extremely courteous, profound bow, announced:
The Father Superior invites all of you gentlemen to dine with him after your visit to the hermitage. At one oclock, not later. And you also, he added, addressing Maximov.
That I certainly will, without fail, cried Fyodor Pavlovitch, hugely delighted at the invitation. And, believe me, weve all given our word to behave properly here. And you, Pyotr Alexandrovitch, will you go, too?
Yes, of course. What have I come for but to study all the customs here? The only obstacle to me is your company.
Yes, Dmitri Fyodorovitch is nonexistent as yet.
It would be a capital thing if he didnt turn up. Do you suppose I like all this business, and in your company, too? So we will come to dinner. Thank the Father Superior, he said to the monk.
No, it is my duty now to conduct you to the elder, answered the monk.
If so Ill go straight to the Father Superiorto the Father Superior, babbled Maximov.
The Father Superior is engaged just now. But as you please the monk hesitated.
Impertinent old man! Miüsov observed aloud, while Maximov ran back to the monastery.
Hes like von Sohn, Fyodor Pavlovitch said suddenly.
Is that all you can think of?In what way is he like von Sohn? Have you ever seen von Sohn?
Ive seen his portrait. Its not the features, but something indefinable. Hes a second von Sohn. I can always tell from the physiognomy.
Ah, I dare say you are a connoisseur in that. But, look here, Fyodor Pavlovitch, you said just now that we had given our word to behave properly. Remember it. I advise you to control yourself. But, if you begin to play the fool I dont intend to be associated with you here. You see what a man he ishe turned to the monkIm afraid to go among decent people with him. A fine smile, not without a certain slyness, came on to the pale, bloodless lips of the monk, but he made no reply, and was evidently silent from a sense of his own dignity. Miüsov frowned more than ever.
Oh, devil take them all! An outer show elaborated through centuries, and nothing but charlatanism and nonsense underneath, flashed through Miüsovs mind.
Heres the hermitage. Weve arrived, cried Fyodor Pavlovitch. The gates are shut.
And he repeatedly made the sign of the cross to the saints painted above and on the sides of the gates.
When you go to Rome you must do as the Romans do. Here in this hermitage there are twentyfive saints being saved. They look at one another, and eat cabbages. And not one woman goes in at this gate. Thats what is remarkable. And that really is so. But I did hear that the elder receives ladies, he remarked suddenly to the monk.
Women of the people are here too now, lying in the portico there waiting. But for ladies of higher rank two rooms have been built adjoining the portico, but outside the precinctsyou can see the windowsand the elder goes out to them by an inner passage when he is well enough. They are always outside the precincts. There is a Harkov lady, Madame Hohlakov, waiting there now with her sick daughter. Probably he has promised to come out to her, though of late he has been so weak that he has hardly shown himself even to the people.