The Brothers Karamazov

In a word, Ippolit Kirillovich, though very much carried away, still ended on a note of pathos—and, indeed, the impression he produced was extraordinary. He himself, having finished his speech, left hastily and, I repeat, nearly fainted in the next room. The courtroom did not applaud, but serious people were pleased. And if the ladies were not so pleased, they still admired such eloquence, the more so as they were notât all fearful of the consequences and waited for everything from Fetyukovich: “He will finally speak and, of course, overcome them all!” Everyone kept glancing at Mitya; he sat silently throughout the prosecutor’s speech, clenching his fists, gritting his teeth, looking down. Only from time to time did he raise his head and listen. Especially when there was mention of Grushenka. When the prosecutor quoted Rakitin’s opinion of her, a contemptuous and spiteful smile appeared on his face, and he said quite audibly: “Bernards!” When Ippolit Kirillovich told about interrogating him and tormenting him in Mokroye, Mitya raised his head and listened with terrible curiosity. At one point in the speech he even seemed about to jump up and shout something; he controlled himself, however, and merely shrugged his shoulders contemptuously. About this finale of the speech—namely, to do with the prosecutor’s feats in Mokroye during the interrogation of the criminal—there was talk later among our society, and Ippolit Kirillovich was made fun of: “The man couldn’t help boasting of his abilities,” they said. The session was interrupted, but for a very short time, a quarter of an hour, twenty minutes at the most. There were exchanges and exclamations among the public. I recall some of them:

“A serious speech!” a gentleman in one group observed, frowning.

“Too wrapped up in psychology,” another voice was heard.

“Yes, but all true, irrefutably true!”

“Yes, he’s a master of it.”

“Summed it all up.”

“Us, too, he summed us up, too,” a third voice joined in, “at the start of the speech, remember, that we’re all the same as Fyodor Pavlovich?”

“And at the end, too. But that was all rubbish.”

“There were some vague spots.”

“Got a bit carried away. “

“Unjust, unjust, sir.”

“No, but anyway it was clever. The man waited for a long time, and finally he said it, heh, heh!”

“What will the defense attorney say?”

In another group:

“It wasn’t very smart of him to prod the Petersburg fellow: ‘aimed at your emotions,’ remember?”

“Yes, that was awkward.”

“Much too hasty.”

“A nervous man, sir.”

“We may laugh, but how about the defendant?” “Yes, sir, how about Mitenka?”

“And what will the defense attorney say?”

In a third group:

“Which lady, the one with the lorgnette, the fat one, at the end?”

“Former wife of a general, a divorcée, I know her.”

“That’s the one, with the lorgnette.”

“Trash.”

“No, no, quite sprightly.”

“The little blonde two seats away from her is better.”

“Clever how they caught him at Mokroye, eh?”

“Yes, clever. And he had to tell it again. He’s already told it all over town.”

“And now he just couldn’t resist. Vanity.”

“An offended man, heh, heh!”

“Quick to take offense, too. And too much rhetoric, long phrases.”

“And browbeating, did you notice how he kept browbeating us? Remember the troika? ‘They have their Hamlets, but so far we have only Karamazovs!’ That was clever.”

“Courting liberalism. Afraid.”

“He’s also afraid of the defense attorney.”

“Yes, what will Mr. Fetyukovich say?”

“Well, whatever he says, he won’t get around our peasants.”

“You don’t think so?”

In a fourth group:

“But that was good about the troika, the part about the other nations.”

“And it’s true, remember, where he said the other nations won’t wait.”

“What do you mean?”

“In the English Parliament just last week one member stood up, to do with the nihilists, and asked the Ministry if it wasn’t time to intervene in a barbarous nation, in order to educate us. It was him Ippolit meant, I know it was him. He talked about it last week.”

“There’s many a slip.”

“What slip? Why many?”

“We’ll close Kronstadt and not give them any bread.^[345] Where will they get it?”

“And America? It’s America now.”

“Rubbish.”

But the bell rang, all rushed to their places. Fetyukovich mounted the rostrum.

Chapter 10: The Defense Attorney’s Speech. A Stick with Two Ends