Section 6
Part I, Section 6 — Inertia explained simply
Notes from Underground by Fyodor Dostoevsky
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Oh, if I had done nothing simply from laziness! Heavens, how I should have respected myself, then. I should have respected myself because I should at least have been capable of being lazy; there would at least have been one quality, as it were, positive in me, in which I could have believed myself. Question: What is he? Answer:...
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VI
Oh, if I had done nothing simply from laziness! Heavens, how I should
have respected myself, then. I should have respected myself because I
should at least have been capable of being lazy; there would at least
have been one quality, as it were, positive in me, in which I could
have believed myself. Question: What is he? Answer: A sluggard; how
very pleasant it would have been to hear that of oneself! It would mean
that I was positively defined, it would mean that there was something
to say about me. “Sluggard”—why, it is a calling and vocation, it is a
career. Do not jest, it is so. I should then be a member of the best
club by right, and should find my occupation in continually respecting
myself. I knew a gentleman who prided himself all his life on being a
connoisseur of Lafitte. He considered this as his positive virtue, and
never doubted himself. He died, not simply with a tranquil, but with a
triumphant conscience, and he was quite right, too. Then I should have
chosen a career for myself, I should have been a sluggard and a
glutton, not a simple one, but, for instance, one with sympathies for
everything sublime and beautiful. How do you like that? I have long had
visions of it. That “sublime and beautiful” weighs heavily on my mind
at forty But that is at forty; then—oh, then it would have been
different! I should have found for myself a form of activity in keeping
with it, to be precise, drinking to the health of everything “sublime
and beautiful.” I should have snatched at every opportunity to drop a
tear into my glass and then to drain it to all that is “sublime and
beautiful.” I should then have turned everything into the sublime and
the beautiful; in the nastiest, unquestionable trash, I should have
sought out the sublime and the beautiful. I should have exuded tears
like a wet sponge. An artist, for instance, paints a picture worthy of
Gay. At once I drink to the health of the artist who painted the
picture worthy of Gay, because I love all that is “sublime and
beautiful.” An author has written _As you will:_ at once I drink to the
health of “anyone you will” because I love all that is “sublime and
beautiful.”
I should claim respect for doing so. I should persecute anyone who
would not show me respect. I should live at ease, I should die with
dignity, why, it is charming, perfectly charming! And what a good round
belly I should have grown, what a treble chin I should have
established, what a ruby nose I should have coloured for myself, so
that everyone would have said, looking at me: “Here is an asset! Here
is something real and solid!” And, say what you like, it is very
agreeable to hear such remarks about oneself in this negative age.
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What happens here
He says he could not even become anything definite: not wicked, good, heroic, or insect-like.
Why this scene matters
The confession deepens into existential paralysis. His identity is built around refusal and failure.
Characters in this scene
- The underground man: Defining himself through inability and refusal.
Simple story version
He says he never became anything clear. His life is stuck in not choosing and not becoming.