POST-MODERN FICTION
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now be forgotten; he need no longer put his theories to the test; the
way ahead, he tells himself, is clear.
But Dostoevsky: is the way now clear for him? May not Ras–
kolnikov's salvation prove to be Dostoevsky's undoing? For Dostoevsky
must now ask himself: how, if the old pawnbroker need no longer
be destroyed, can Raskolnikov's pride be brought to a visible dra–
matic climax? The theme remains, for we may imagine that Raskol–
nikov will still be drawn to notions about the rights of superior indi–
viduals; but a new way of realizing this theme will now have to
be found.
It is a common assumption of modern criticism that Dostoev–
sky's ultimate concern was not with presenting a picture of society,
nor merely with showing us the difficulties faced by .an impoverished
young intellectual in Czarist Russia. He was concerned with the ques–
tion of what a human being, acting in the name of his freedom or
disenchantment, may take upon himself. Yet we cannot help noticing
that the social setting of his novel "happens" to fit quite exactly
the requirements of his theme: it is the situation in which Raskolni–
kov finds himself that embodies the moral and metaphysical problems
which, as we like to say, form Dostoevsky's deepest interest.
The sudden removal of Raskolnikov's poverty, as I have imag–
ined it a moment ago, does not necessarily dissolve the temptation
to test his will through killing another human being; but it does
eliminate the immediate cause for committing the murder. Gliding
from fellowship to fellowship, Raskolnikov may now end his life
as a sober Professor of Literature. Like the rest of us, he will occa–
sionally notice in himself those dim urges and quavers that speak
for hidden powers beyond the assuagement of reason. He may re–
member that once, unlikely as it has now come to seem, he was
even tempted to murder .an old woman. But again like the rest of us,
he will dismiss these feelings as unworthy of a civilized man.
The case is not hopeless for Dostoevsky: it never is for a writer
of his stature. He can now invent other ways of dramatizing the prob–
lem that had concerned him in the novel as it was to be, the novel
before Moevsky's letter arrived; but it is questionable whether even
he could imagine circumstances-imagine circumstances, as distinct
from expressing sentiments-which would lead so persuasively, so
inexorably to a revelation of Raskolnikov's moral heresy as do those
