The Theme in the Work
Fate in the work goes by the name of natural law, and free will by that of willing. The underground man argues that if everything man does could be calculated in a table, man would be a piano key, and that the only worthy answer to that is an act the table does not foresee. The word the work places at its center is not freedom; it is willing: the faculty of desiring what one desires, even if it is the fool's desire, even if it does harm.
The first form of fate is the offense without a culprit. In ch. V of Part One the narrator's anger breaks down under the laws of consciousness, the culprit evaporates, and the offense becomes fate, like a toothache for which no one answers, and all that is left is to beat against the wall (The Stone Wall). The counterpart comes in ch. VII of Part One, where will gains its driest thesis.
Человеку надо — одного только самостоятельного хотенья, чего бы эта самостоятельность ни стоила и к чему бы ни привела., Man needs one thing only: independent willing, whatever that independence may cost and wherever it may lead.
In ch. VIII of Part One the argument is carried to its end: if a formula of willing existed, man would become the piano key, a pin on the cylinder of an organ, and for that reason he would desire the absurd, in order to have the right to want what does harm and not be bound by the obligation to want only what is intelligent.
чтоб иметь право пожелать себе даже и глупейшего и не быть связанным обязанностью желать себе одного только умного., in order to have the right to wish for oneself even the most foolish thing and not be bound by the obligation to wish only for the intelligent.
In ch. X of Part One the question passes from man to his constitution: why was I made with these desires, and only to arrive at the conclusion that my whole makeup is a sham? The answer is a flat "I do not believe it," which the text leaves without any object.
Зачем же я устроен с такими желаниями? Неужели ж я для того только и устроен, чтоб дойти до заключения, что все мое устройство одно надувание? Неужели в этом вся цель? Не верю., Why was I made with these desires? Was I made only to arrive at the conclusion that my whole constitution is a sham? Is that the whole purpose? I do not believe it.
In Part Two the thesis becomes conduct, and every attempt at willing because one wills ends up in dependence on the other. In ch. III of Part Two he goes to the dinner on purpose, and the more indecorous it is to go, the faster he will go. In ch. V of Part Two, back in the sledge, he says he is predestined, that it is fate, and punches the coachman in the neck. In ch. VIII of Part Two he decides to withhold the wages of Apollon just to prove he can.
«не хочу, не хочу, просто не хочу выдать ему жалованье, не хочу, потому что так хочу», потому что на это «моя воля господская», I do not want to, I do not want to, I simply do not want to pay him his wages, I do not want to because I want it that way, because for that I have my lordly will.
The proof fails, because the lordly will is worth something only if the other respects it. In ch. IX of Part Two the narrator, weeping in Liza's arms, says that they do not let him be good, that he cannot be good. What he had asserted in Part One as the only thing man needs, independent will, in Part Two is what he has most at hand and least effective.
The work's fate and free will therefore form a paradox assembled from end to end. A freedom is defended that can be proven only by going against one's own interest, and Part Two shows what it costs to live that way: a freedom that asserts itself in reverse depends on whatever it opposes.
Who Embodies It
The underground man, who defends willing and exercises it in small, failed scenes. Apollon, in the opposite sense, who gives the narrator proof that willing for its own sake needs someone to ask. And Liza, who acts without plan or repertoire, and who for that reason seems free to him in a way he cannot measure.
Where It Appears
- Part One, ch. V: The underground man says that anger, broken down by consciousness, turns the offense into fate, like a toothache no one is to blame for, and that all that is left is to beat the wall.
- Part One, ch. VII: The underground man affirms that man needs one thing only, an independent will, whatever that independence costs and wherever it leads.
- Part One, ch. VIII: The underground man argues that if there were a formula for all willings, man would become a pin on an organ, and so would desire the absurd to prove he is not a piano key.
- Part One, ch. X: The underground man asks why he was made with such desires and whether he was made only to conclude that his whole constitution is a sham, and answers that he does not believe it.
- Part Two, ch. III: The underground man knows he is going to the dinner on purpose, and that the more discourteous the going, the faster he will go.
- Part Two, ch. V: The underground man returns to the sledge saying he is predestined and that it is fate, and punches the coachman in the neck.
- Part Two, ch. VIII: The underground man decides to withhold Apollon's wages just to prove he can, and gets ready to say he does not want to pay because he wants it that way, out of lordly will.
- Part Two, ch. IX: The underground man tells Liza, between sobs, that they do not let him be good and that he cannot be good, and collapses face down on the sofa.
Where the Readings Diverge
The work's independent will can be read in two ways. On one reading it is the center of the book and Dostoevsky's answer to the determinism of the time: man cannot be reduced to calculation, and the suffering this costs is proof that he exists. On the other, Joseph Frank reads Part One as satire: the narrator accepts Chernyshevsky's determinism and discovers that this acceptance makes any moral reaction impossible, guilt, forgiveness or revenge, because there is no longer any culprit, only fate.
The two readings agree on one point: caprice, when put to the test in Part Two, yields no freedom; it yields the scene with Apollon, in which the lordly will depends on the servant asking. What remains of Part One, in that case, is the question, and the answer the book gives to it is Liza's embrace, which the narrator's will did not foresee.