Symbolism and Religious Imagery in Dostoyevsky's The Idiot

        "There were always children there, and I was with children all the time I was there, only with children . . . What were they afraid of . . . A child can be told everything. Nothing should be hidden from children on the pretext that they are little and it's too soon for them to know . . . Through children the soul is healed (87-88). This passage from Fyodor Dostoyevsky's  The Idiot strongly parallels Christ's admonition to the Pharisees that "they must first become as little children in order to enter into the kingdom of God," and similarly reflects the metaphysical conflict which tragically and ironically condemns protagonist Lev Nikolayevitch Myshkin. The Prince's childlike innocence and devotion to truth evoke a sense of overwhelming awe and disbelief in the same fashion as Jesus' praise of the unconditional faith in his youthful followers (85). As the author suggests, "One of the prince's striking traits was a naiveté in the way he would always listen with great attention to anything that interested him and in the replies he would give when anyone addressed a question to him. His face and even the attitude of his body somehow reflect this naivete, this faith, unsuspicious of either mockery or humor" (356). In essence, the hero's message of moral purity closely corresponds with Christ's appeal for his apostles to be "in this world but not of it." In drawing this religious comparison, Dostoyevsky shows how the transforming power of love and compassion can change human lives. An archetypal interpretation of the sacrificial scapegoat facilitates an understanding of the hero's quest.

             Consequently, the author's tale of loss and redemption echoes the sentiment of an earlier martyr who encouraged his pupils above all to follow "what seemed to them to be right and true." Condemned to death for encouraging his pupils to follow their consciences first, even before Greek Law, Socrates chose to drink hemlock rather than recant. His final words before the jury were, "Thus we part and go our separate ways, you to live and I to die: which is better God only knows." As his student Plato later paid his teacher the highest compliment: "I thank God that I was born Greek and not barbarian, freeman and not slave, man and not woman, but above all, I am thankful that I was born in the age of Socrates" (Becker 118). Like Christ and Socrates, Prince Myshkin's personality leaves an indelible impression which even death could not efface. After persuading the children to stop insulting a young abandoned girl dying of consumption, the hero suffers scorn from all the villagers who accuse him of "corrupting the children" (94). Here again, Dostoyevsky compares his young prince to Socrates who was "denounced by the democratic party as an enemy of religion and a 'corrupter of Athenian youth'"(Becker 118).

           The hero's compassion serves as a principal component in the role of the scapegoat. Like his predecessors, the young Prince serves as a friend and guide, giving his time and counsel to those largely preoccupied with the material values of nineteenth-century Russia. Myshkin also acts as a prophet and priest, offering hope and a patient ear as well for those lost in a society of changing attitudes. Nastassya Filippovna fills the Prince with concern over her moral and physical development. The young hero fears that Totsky's lavishing his fortune on her cultural refinement only to abandon her to Gavril Ardalionovitch for 75,000 roubles would only cause her "darker loneliness" and cause her to lose "all faith in the possibility of a new life" (67). After agreeing with the Prince's decision that she should not marry Gavril Ardalionovitch, Nastassya Filippovna confesses, "The prince is the first man I have ever met in my whole life whose sincerity and devotion I have believed in. He believed in me at first sight, and I believe in him" (175). In this case, the Prince's inherent faith in human nature transcends the ordinary, and as a result of his courage in this instance, Nastassya similarly finds the strength to tell General Ivolgin that he take his pearls back and give them to his wife instead (176). Here, the author demonstrates the Prince's overpowering influence over Nastassya. Realizing that Filippovna "has suffered and come out pure from that hell" of her past, the protagonist confesses his love for her. As a hero, he senses the torment that the young woman feels, and if necessary, is even willing to marry her himself to assuage her pain. In a similar fashion, the Prince writes the following note to Aglaya Yepanchin: "I need you very much" and "I terribly want you to be happy" (209). As Aglaya reads the message, she recalls that she has kept it in Don Quixote de la Mancha, a novel which ironically portrays a knight like the Prince, futilely attempting to preserve the virtue of his unfortunate damsel. Although Aglaya laughs at the comparison, Dostoyevsky suggests that she cherished the hero's affection by not showing the message to her sisters (209). Later, when Prince S. questions Aglaya about the "malicious" and "offensive" suggestion underlying the poor knight symbolism, with a grave and earnest voice she defends the Prince by saying, "There's no foolishness of any kind, nothing but the deepest respect" (268). Comparing Myshkin to the hero in a "fragmentary Russian poem," Aglaya righteously defends the protagonist by saying, "Deepest respect because this poem presents a man who is capable of having an ideal and, what's more, who having set himself an ideal believes in it, and having believed in it blindly devotes his whole life to it. That does not always happen in our days. The poem doesn't say exactly what the 'poor knight's ideal was, but it's clear that it's some kind of bright vision, 'a vision of pure beauty,' and the enamored knight even wears, instead of a scarf, a rosary around his neck" (268). Clearly the author uses this allusion to illustrate the tragic yet noble nature of the hero. The symbolism equally applies to Nastassya, since both are lost in a world of misplaced values. Tragically, the Prince's sacrifice to save Filippovna, Rogozhin, and Aglaya costs him his mental and emotional stability, a sad commentary on the state of affairs in Dostoyevsky's time. Ironically, Nastassya realizes that she could never marry Prince Lev because of her own unworthiness, which she cloaks under the name of "shamelessness" (190). Thus, as Filippovna rejects Myshkin, she is not only breaking his heart, but even worse, she is breaking her own because he is the only man she will ever love. As Nastassya cries out to Darya Alexeyevna, "You didn't really think I'd ruin a child like that . . . Not a chance! I'm a shameless person myself. I was Totsky's concubine . . . You may not be afraid, but I'd be afraid of ruining you, and of you reproaching me afterward" (190). She shouts to Rogozhin, "It's better this way, Prince, really much better, afterward you would have begun to despise me, and we would not have been happy." She then says, "I am a dreamer too, and nothing good could have come of it. Haven't I dreamed of you? . . . and I always imagined someone like you, kind, honest, and good, and silly, so silly that he would suddenly appear and say, 'You are not to blame, Nasstassya Filippovna, and I adore you!' Yes, I used to dream like that until I nearly went out of my mind" (192). Later, Rogozhin further confirms Nastassya's sentiment when he tells the Prince, "She has loved you ever since that time, since her birthday. Only she thinks she can't marry you because she would disgrace you and ruin your whole life" (235). Here Dostoyevsky's ironic twist behind the couple's tragic incompatibility proves heartbreaking. It is no coincidence that the Prince finds a copy of Madame Bovary in Nastassya's room. Like Emma, Filippovna searches in vain for a similar idealistic love, only to be sadly disillusioned. In the same respect, When the Prince sadly acknowledges to Yevgeny Pavlovitch that he feels "superfluous" in society because he is "afflicted" and an invalid, Aglaya also strongly defends him, saying, "There is not a person here who is worth such words! Not a single one who is worth your little finger—or your mind, or your heart. You are more honest, nobler, better, kinder, cleverer than any of them! There are people here who are unworthy to stoop and pick up the handkerchief you have just dropped" (362). Tragically, although the Prince confesses his love for Aglaya (531-532), his proposed marriage to Nastassya (610) and subsequent infirmity over her murder clouds his reasoning. Dostoyevsky, nevertheless, leaves the option open, in view of Aglaya's failed affair with an émigré posing as a count (631-632).

           The scapegoat characteristically forfeits his life in order for others to survive or reach a clearer understanding of themselves and their world. The initiate, in essence, undergoes a series of extraordinary adventures or temptations, inspiring others to follow his example, and consequently, come of age. The protagonist's voluntary suffering for the sins or disbelief of his subjects in this way enables them to realize the heroic nature of his character. Typically, the hero's innocence constitutes one of the primary traits. Just as both Christ was blameless concerning the charges brought against him, so is the Prince regarding the death of Nastassya. Ironically, absolution in both cases occurs too late. The Yepanchins openly forgave Myshkin (631), but the effect of their earlier condemnation proved irreparable. By this time, as in the story's inception, the hero's mental instability again requires constant supervision under Doctor Schneider's care (629-630). Just as Christ lived to fulfill His Father's work and set Himself apart, so does Dostoyevsky's hero experience a greater sense of compassion for others, sharing in their grief, and inspiring them to persevere. The author uses the intensity of the hero's suffering to reflect the Prince's desire for others to be loved and accepted. His internal struggle to ensure the contentment of Aglaya, Nastassya, and even Rogozhin through their unique predicaments preoccupy his thoughts during the day and haunt his dreams in the night. In a sense, Myshkin undergoes a picaresque psychological odyssey, moving from the misunderstanding of one character to another, attempting to discern the true motivations underlying each intention. In this respect, the protagonist's existential quest for meaning functions on a dual level, that is, by maintaining harmony in others' lives, he fulfills his spiritual and emotional need for order in his own. Thus, the act of sacrificial love provides a means of redemption, as is typical of the scapegoat archetype.

            Being misunderstood serves as an identifiable feature of the scapegoat archetype as well. In many cases, the subject's adherence to the moral or spiritual truth rather than the material values of society places him at odds with the social mores of his time. Here Dostoyevsky's hero clearly meets the criteria. Although Myshkin's associates regard him as an idiot, ironically they cannot cope with the bewildering circumstances of their daily existence without continually appealing to the Prince for counsel and support. The young man listens carefully to each of their concerns, providing sensible, discreet advice. The fighter Keller, for instance, confesses the sad events of his life, and after hearing the Prince's advice, exclaims, "Even the preacher Bourdaloue wouldn't have shown a man such mercy, but you have shown mercy and judged me in a human way" (329). The protagonist tells Keller, "What matters is that you have a child's trusting nature and extraordinary truthfulness. Do you know that a great deal can be forgiven you for that alone?" (327). The Prince also unsuccessfully encourages Kolya and Lizaveta to forgive Hippolyte for his speech on his failed life and imminent death (361). Consequently, for kindness and understanding such as this, even those who initially disliked young Lev eventually return to him for information or suggestions. Although the Prince is labeled an idiot, a clown, and a simpleton (340-341), his wisdom and truthfulness transcends worldly values. In this manner, the hero earns the other characters' respect, to the extent that they need him even more than they realize. This affinity also forms a vital part of the scapegoat's role as a tragic figure. The more noble the hero appears, the greater his tragic downfall. Being misunderstood also invites severe criticism, which though unfounded, serves to justify the claims of the hero's unworthiness. The members of the Sanhedrin twisted Christ's own words to pronounce judgment against Him as a blasphemer. The Democratic Party condemned Socrates as an "enemy of religion and a corrupter of Athenian youth" (Becker 118). In a similar respect, the Prince suffers from public jealously, misunderstanding, and ridicule because of seizures that induce confusion and memory loss. Offended, the Prince bravely defends himself; however, as he tells Gavril Ardalionovitch, "I must tell you that in the past I was indeed so ill I really was almost an idiot, but for some time now I have been completely cured, and this is why I find it decidedly unpleasant to be called an idiot to my face" (108). Following a series of "violent and painful attacks," the young man recounts being unable to recall what had occurred "during more than two or three days in a row." As the seizures abated, however, he remembered how the "foreignness" of events forgotten led to periods of severe depression, unbearable sadness, bewilderment, and uneasiness (76). Ironically, Myshkin's form of physical and mental anguish further serves to enhance the tragic nature of his fate. Even the Prince's description of a man's decapitation just minutes before death focuses upon a similar aspect of hopeless despair on the face of the victim, the cross above him, and the "faces of the priests, assistants," and a few heads and eyes below (85-86).

           The hero's physical or moral distinction similarly constitutes an important aspect in the development of the scapegoat archetype. Christ enters the world as the product of the Virgin Birth, living a sin-free existence, performing miracles, and teaching a doctrine of love and forgiveness. Socrates claimed that there was a "demon" or an inner "voice" that "commanded him to inquire of men what they could teach him about the meaning of life—about such things as truth, justice, virtue, happiness and morality." The philosopher went on to say that "whenever he ignored this voice, things went badly with him, but whenever he followed it, all was well" (Becker 117). Often the scapegoat is born into the world with a single moral object in mind. Christ lived a life of celibacy to fulfill the work of the Father. This form of self-denial characterizes his fate. Prince Myshkin, in the same manner, avoids relationships with women. He tells Rogozhin on the Warsaw-Petersburg train, "Perhaps you don't know, but on account of my illness I don't know women at all" (35). When Gavril Ardalionovitch asks the Prince if he would marry such a woman as Nastassya Filippovna, the main character again replies that he "cannot marry anyone" because he is an "invalid" (57). After talking to Gavril Ardalionovitch one evening and hearing Ganya discuss the affairs of Nastassya Filippovna, Yevgeny Pavlovitch, Lizaveta Prokofyevna , and Aglaya Yepanchin, the exhausted Prince "had suddenly a terrible longing to leave everything here and go back where had come from, to some remote solitude, to leave at once without saying goodbye to anyone." The hero's weariness almost overcomes his desire to serve others, although he "had a premonition that if he remained here even for only a few more days he would be irrevocably drawn into this world and his life would be bound to this world forever." Nevertheless, the protagonist remains true to his goal, and decides that it "would be impossible to run away, that it would almost be cowardice, that there were problems before him that he now had to solve or at least do everything he could to solve" (326). The young man would not abandon his mission, just as Christ asks His Father if it would be possible "to take this cup from him," and responds, "nevertheless not My will but Thine." In this respect, the hero voluntarily accepts the circumstances which fate places before him, despite the suffering it entails.

            As a result of his affliction, the Prince manifests a degree of empathy for other victims of mental anguish and persecution. This form of heightened concern denotes a trait of the scapegoat as well. Speaking to the servant on his initial visit to the Yepanchin home, Myshkin related the horrors of capital punishment. Referring to the hanging of a middle-aged man named Legros, the protagonists asks rhetorically, "What goes on inside a person at that moment, what kind of agony is he put through?" He goes on to say, "Killing someone for having murdered is punishment infinitely more terrible than murder by bandits. Whoever is murdered by bandits, knifed at night in the woods or somewhere like that, inevitably hopes until the very last moment that he will manage to save himself" (43). He calls it an outrage to the spirit because of its "finality." With other prisoners there remains a glimmer of hope even until the last moment, but in this case, such a "verdict eliminates all possibility of hope or reprieve." Consequently, in the young hero's mind, there exists no "greater suffering" on earth (44). What man can endure "such a trial without slipping into madness?" he asks. It is like the condemnation of the damned, or in the Prince's words, "This was the agony and the horror of which Christ told, too" (44).

           In many cases, the scapegoat is born into the world fatherless; consequently, he spends a large portion of his life in a quest for his identity. Oedipus, for example, devoted his life to the search for his father, the ultimate realization of which tragically destroyed him. Following the death of his parents, young Lev lived in numerous villages until he fell under the care of surrogate fathers Pavlishchev and Schneider (48). The issues associated with Pavlishchev's death and the hero's rightful inheritance clearly suggests the theme of quest for fatherhood.

            Dostoyevsky uses the symbolism of the cross to compare Myshkin and Rogozhin. The author's religious imagery here again reinforces the notion of sacrifice. Their exchange of crosses the night that the Prince visited the hereditary estate suggests a psychological kinship. In Freudian terms, the two characters function as complementary elements of the ideal personality. Rogozhin's uncontrollable passion represents what Freud calls the Id; whereas the cultural restrictions symbolize the Superego. In both cases, the young Filippovna serves as a form of Ego fulfillment, but in her absence, both men lapse into varying degrees of paranoia, neurosis, or even psychosis. Dostoyevsky describes how the Prince's guilt over the anguish in the lives of Rogozhin and Nastassya induced the hero to wander aimlessly, mechanically, for long periods, most of the time noticing "neither the people nor where he was going" (243). This form of withdrawal characterizes the Prince's neurosis. The author describes Myshkin's symptoms in the following passage: "He was in a state of painful anxiety and his nerves were on edge and at the same time he felt an extraordinary craving for solitude. He wanted to be alone and give