NIGHTS OF JASMINE AND THUNDER

Nights of jasmine & thunder,
torn petals,
wind in the tangled kadamba trees-
nothing has changed.
Spring comes again and we've
simply grown older.
In the cane groves of Narmada River
he deflowered my
girlhood before we were
married.
And I grieve for those far-away nights
we played at love
by the water.

- Shilabhattarika, 9th century (translation from the Sanskrit by Andrew Schelling)

Crime and Punishment

I recently finished reading Dostoyevsky's novel, Crime and Punishment, and have been pondering the similarities and differences between the characters of Sonya and Raskolnikov. Raskolnikov, a desperately impoverished university drop-out living in St. Petersburg in 1865, has developed a theory, based on historical observation, that the man of genius, the superior man, in view of his potential for becoming a benefactor to humanity, may commit murder if to do so will catapult him to the position of power and influence for which he is destined. Consequently, Raskolnikov works out a plan to murder an old pawnbroker and steal her money. He reckons that, with 3000 rubles, he will, as a gifted and promising student of the law, be enabled to commence a career which will benefit thousands, and his one act of evil will be more than compensated for by his future largesse, particularly since the victim of his crime is an avaricious old woman who profits from the wretchedness of the poor. The murder is carried out, but Raskolnikov's scheme goes awry when he is unexpectedly confronted with the pawnbroker's innocent and simple-minded sister, whom he had expected to be away, and is compelled to murder her, as well, to conceal his moments-old crime. He loses his nerve at this point, and flees the scene without even stealing his victim's money. This precipitates a moral crisis which manifests in Raskolnikov as physical and mental breakdown, since he is unable to recognize the moral dimension of his situation.

Sonya is an angelic young woman who becomes Raskolnikov's savior. She is a prostitute who has taken to the street solely to support her destitute stepmother and half-siblings because, otherwise, her father's uncontrollable alcoholism would shortly render them homeless. Like Raskolnikov, Sonya engages in transgressive behavior, in vice, for the purpose of aiding others. However, unlike Raskolnikov, her integrity and purity of spirit remain, for the present, intact. Why?

First of all, let me say that from the point of view of history, of purely natural reason, Raskolnikov's theory is correct. Leaders of nations and great movements cannot exist without murder, usually on a grand scale; and if they do not lose their nerve, and above all, if they succeed, far from being regarded as criminals, they will be revered as national heros. After all, by the death of thousands, millions are benefited. All this depends, however, on the absolute suppression of the supernatural principle of the infinite value of the human person. When this principle is recognized, there can be no more question of sacrificing another's life for the greater good...because nothing can be greater than that which is of infinite value. All purely natural scales of valuation and judgement are rendered meaningless. There can be no more question of recognizing "great" men and women apart from the "common herd". Raskolnikov fails, his nerve fails, because his essentially good heart is not as hardened against humanity as is his proud, immature and susceptible mind. It is precisely this conflict between mind and heart, exacerbated by extreme poverty, which plunges Raskolnikov into illness and near-madness, and which serves as the central conflict of the novel.

While Raskolnikov consciously holds to the natural ethic of human worth and the will-to-power described above, and is therefore motivated by a desire for self-aggrandizement, Sonya's descent into vice has no ulterior motives and no stimulus of pride. It is her humility, her Christlike willingness to suffer for others, and her concomitant sensitivity to the suffering of others, which preserves her spiritual virginity - if one may use the phrase - intact. She is the one who is able to make Raskolnikov understand that he is loved in spite of his crime and failure, and consequently to understand, finally, the true nature of his crime, whereupon repentance and healing become possible.

An Atmospheric Passage from CRIME AND PUNISHMENT

I'm working my way slowly through Dostoyevsky's novel, Crime and Punishment, and I came today across this striking passage:

Following his old habit, and taking the customary route of his previous walks, he set off straight for the Haymarket. Some distance before he got there, in the roadway in front of a chandler's shop, he encountered a young man with black hair who was playing the hurdy-gurdy, churning out a thoroughly poignant romance. He was accompanying a girl of about fifteen who stood before him on the pavement, dressed like a young lady of the aristocracy in a crinoline, mantilla, gloves and a straw hat with a bright orange feather in it; all of these were old and shabby. In a nasal street voice that was none the less strong and appealing she was singing the romance to it's end in the expectation of receiving a two-copeck piece from the shop. Raskolnikov stopped, side by side with two or three other members of the audience, listened for a while, took out a five-copeck coin and placed it in the girl's hand. Quite suddenly she interrupted her singing on the very highest and most poignant note, as though she had cut it with a knife, called sharply to the hurdy-gurdy player: "That's enough!", and they both dragged themselves off to the next little shop.

"Do you like street-singing?" Raskolnikov suddenly inquired, addressing himself to the elderly passer-by who had been standing next to him listening to the hurdy-gurdy and who had the appearance of a flaneur. The man looked at him in timid astonishment. "I do," Raskolnikov went on, but with an air that suggested he was talking about some subject quite removed from that of street-singing. "I like to hear street-singing to the accompaniment of a hurdy-gurdy on a cold, dark and damp autumn evening, it must be a damp one, when the faces of all the passers-by are pale green and sickly looking; or even better, when wet snow is falling, quite vertically, with no wind, do you know? And through it the gas-lamps gleaming..."

"No, sir, I don't know...Excuse me..." the gentleman muttered, frightened both by Raskolnikov's question and by his strange appearance, and crossed over to the other side of the street. -translation by David McDuff

A picturesque exhibit from the museum of lost images.