The following is an excerpt from The Brothers Karamazov. It’s one of those parts in a book that you know is really important. It moves you, but you aren’t quite sure exactly what it means. Mitya has just been up all night being interrogated for the murder of his father, which he has denied. He falls asleep as the paperwork is being finalized, and has a dream. He is riding in a sleigh through the countryside, and he sees a group of sickly peasant women in the distance standing amidst their burnt village. One is holding a crying baby.
*****
“Why are they crying? Why are they crying?” Mitya asks, flying past them at a great clip.
“The wee one,” the driver answers, “it’s the wee one crying.” And Mitya is struck that he has said it in his own peasant way: “the wee one,” and not “the baby.” And he likes it that the peasant has said “the wee one”: there seems to be more pity in it.
“But why is it crying?” Mitya insists, as if he were foolish, “why are its little arms bare, why don’t they wrap it up?”
“The wee one’s cold, its clothes are frozen, they don’t keep it warm.”
“But why is it so? Why?” foolish Mitya would not leave off.
“They’re poor, burn out, they’ve got not bread, they’re begging for their burnt-down place.”
“No, no,” Mitya still seems to not understand, “tell me: why are these burnt-out mothers standing here, why are the people poor, why is the wee one poor, why is the steppe bare, why don’t they embrace and kiss, why don’t they sing joyful songs, why are they blackened with such misery, why don’t they feed the wee one?”
And he feels within himself that, though his questions have no reason or sense, he still certainly wants to ask in just that way, and he should ask in just that way. And he also feels a tenderness such as he has never known before surging up in his heart, he wants to weep, he wants to do something for them all, so that the wee one will no longer cry, so that the blackened, dried-up mother of the wee one will not cry either, so that there will be no more tears in anyone from that moment on, and it must be done at once, at once, without delay and despite everything, with all his Karamazov unrestraint.
*****
I don’t know how to react to that. Of course if you haven’t read the book, it would be hard to understand it out of context. But I think the dream itself can mean something. If not mean something, then cause the reader to be moved by something.


