Demons

Demons

By Fyodor Dostoevsky.

Translated by Constance Garnett.

Table of Contents

1. Titlepage
2. Imprint
3. Epigraph
4. Demons
   1. Part I
      1. I: Introductory
         1. I
         2. II
         3. III
         4. IV
         5. V
         6. VI
         7. VII
         8. VIII
         9. IX
      2. II: Prince Harry. Matchmaking
         1. I
         2. II
         3. III
         4. IV
         5. V
         6. VI
         7. VII
         8. VIII
      3. III: The Sins of Others
         1. I
         2. II
         3. III
         4. IV
         5. V
         6. VI
         7. VII
         8. VIII
         9. IX
         10. X
      4. IV: The Cripple
         1. I
         2. II
         3. III
         4. IV
         5. V
         6. VI
         7. VII
      5. V: The Subtle Serpent
         1. I
         2. II
         3. III
         4. IV
         5. V
         6. VI
         7. VII
         8. VIII
   2. Part II
      1. I: Night
         1. I
         2. II
         3. III
         4. IV
         5. V
         6. VI
         7. VII
      2. II: Night (Continued)
         1. I
         2. II
         3. III
         4. IV
      3. III: The Duel
         1. I
         2. II
         3. III
         4. IV
      4. IV: All in Expectation
         1. I
         2. II
         3. III
      5. V: On the Eve of the Fête
         1. I
         2. II
         3. III
      6. VI: Pyotr Stepanovitch Is Busy
         1. I
         2. II
         3. III
         4. IV
         5. V
         6. VI
         7. VII
      7. VII: A Meeting
         1. I
         2. II
      8. VIII: Ivan the Tsarevitch
      9. IX: A Raid at Stepan Trofimovitch’s
      10. X: Filibusters. A Fatal Morning
          1. I
          2. II
          3. III
   3. Part III
      1. I: The Fête—First Part
         1. I
         2. II
         3. III
         4. IV
      2. II: The End of the Fête
         1. I
         2. II
         3. III
         4. IV
      3. III: A Romance Ended
         1. I
         2. II
         3. III
      4. IV: The Last Resolution
         1. I
         2. II
         3. III
         4. IV
      5. V: A Wanderer
         1. I
         2. II
         3. III
         4. IV
         5. V
         6. VI
      6. VI: A Busy Night
         1. I
         2. II
         3. III
      7. VII: Stepan Trofimovitch’s Last Wandering
         1. I
         2. II
         3. III
      8. VIII: Conclusion
5. Endnotes
6. Colophon
7. Uncopyright

Imprint

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“Strike me dead, the track has vanished,
Well, what now? We’ve lost the way,
Demons have bewitched our horses,
Led us in the wilds astray.
⋮
“What a number! Whither drift they?
What’s the mournful dirge they sing?
Do they hail a witch’s marriage
Or a goblin’s burying?”

A. Pushkin

“And there was one herd of many swine feeding on this mountain; and they besought him that he would suffer them to enter into them. And he suffered them.

“Then went the devils out of the man and entered into the swine; and the herd ran violently down a steep place into the lake and were choked.

“When they that fed them saw what was done, they fled, and went and told it in the city and in the country.

“Then they went out to see what was done; and came to Jesus and found the man, out of whom the devils were departed, sitting at the feet of Jesus, clothed and in his right mind; and they were afraid.”

Luke 8:32⁠–⁠37

Demons

Part I

I

Introductory

Some details of the biography of that highly respected gentleman Stepan Trofimovitch Verhovensky.

I

In undertaking to describe the recent and strange incidents in our town, till lately wrapped in uneventful obscurity, I find myself forced in absence of literary skill to begin my story rather far back, that is to say, with certain biographical details concerning that talented and highly-esteemed gentleman, Stepan Trofimovitch Verhovensky. I trust that these details may at least serve as an introduction, while my projected story itself will come later.

I will say at once that Stepan Trofimovitch had always filled a particular role among us, that of the progressive patriot, so to say, and he was passionately fond of playing the part⁠—so much so that I really believe he could not have existed without it. Not that I would put him on a level with an actor at a theatre, God forbid, for I really have a respect for him. This may all have been the effect of habit, or rather, more exactly of a generous propensity he had from his earliest years for indulging in an agreeable daydream in which he figured as a picturesque public character. He fondly loved, for instance, his position as a “persecuted” man and, so to speak, an “exile.” There is a sort of traditional glamour about those two little words that fascinated him once for all and, exalting him gradually in his own opinion, raised him in the course of years to a lofty pedestal very gratifying to vanity. In an English satire of the last century,