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542 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 1859
The picture of Foma, erudite and miserable, acting the part of a clown to a capricious and cruel master, filled my uncle's heart with pity and indignation. He was quick to attribute all that was outlandish and mean in the character of Foma Fomich to the suffering, humiliation and bitterness of former days. In his gentle and lofty-minded way he immediately concluded that the poor devil could not be held responsible for his behaviour and that he must not only pardon him but soothe and heal his wounds with tenderness and compassion, so as to reconcile him with humanity. Having made up his mind on this point, he was carried away completely and proved utterly incapable of realizing that his newly found friend was nothing but a lascivious, capricious, selfish, indolent brute. In the genius and erudition of Foma Fomich he had supreme belief. I should mention that the very words ‘science� and ‘literature� inspired my uncle with the most naive and artless awe, although he had never studied anything himself in his life. This was one of his principal, if quite harmless, foibles.
‘Forgive me, forgive me, Foma! and try to forget! …� Uncle entreated.
‘“Forgive!� you say? But what use is my forgiveness to you? Well, supposing I do forgive you: I am a Christian; I can’t help forgiving; I’ve nearly done so already. Now tell me: would it not be violation of good sense and spiritual dignity for me to remain a minute longer in this house? And anyway � you have shown me the door!�
‘It wouldn’t be violation of anything, it wouldn’t, Foma! I assure you, it wouldn’t!�
‘Really? But how can we be equals from now on? Can you understand that I have, as it were, crushed you with my nobility of spirit, that you have indeed crushed yourself by your despicable behaviour? You have been crushed, and I have been exalted. So how can there be talk of equality? And how can there be friendship without equality? I say this with a bleeding heart and not, as you may perhaps suspect, to exult and elevate myself above you in triumph.�
‘My heart bleeds too, Foma, I assure you.�