The Crocodile Page #8

"The Crocodile" is a satirical novella by Fyodor Dostoevsky, first published in 1865. The story follows a man named Ivan Matveich, who is swallowed alive by a crocodile while visiting a zoo in St. Petersburg. Throughout the narrative, Dostoevsky explores themes of existentialism, identity, and the absurdity of human existence. As Ivan navigates his unusual circumstances, he reflects on society's reactions to his plight and the nature of life and death. The novella combines dark humor with philosophical insights, showcasing Dostoevsky's skill in blending the absurd with profound social commentary.

• Novel

								

deduced it by my own observation and experience, being, so to say, in the
very bowels of Nature, in its retort, listening to the throbbing of its
pulse. Even etymology supports me, for the very word crocodile means
voracity. Crocodile--crocodillo--is evidently an Italian word, dating
perhaps from the Egyptian Pharaohs, and evidently derived from the French
verb croquer, which means to eat, to devour, in general to absorb
nourishment. All these remarks I intend to deliver as my first lecture in
Elena Ivanovna's salon when they take me there in the tank."

"My friend, oughtn't you at least to take some purgative?" I cried
involuntarily.

"He is in a fever, a fever, he is feverish!" I repeated to myself in alarm.

"Nonsense!" he answered contemptuously. "Besides, in my present position it
would be most inconvenient. I knew, though, you would be sure to talk of
taking medicine."

"But, my friend, how ... how do you take food now? Have you dined to-day?"

"No, but I am not hungry, and most likely I shall never take food again.
And that, too, is quite natural; filling the whole interior of the
crocodile I make him feel always full. Now he need not be fed for some
years. On the other hand, nourished by me, he will naturally impart to me
all the vital juices of his body; it is the same as with some accomplished
coquettes who embed themselves and their whole persons for the night in raw
steak, and then, after their morning bath, are fresh, supple, buxom and
fascinating. In that way nourishing the crocodile, I myself obtain
nourishment from him, consequently we mutually nourish one another. But as
it is difficult even for a crocodile to digest a man like me, he must, no
doubt, be conscious of a certain weight in his stomach--an organ which he
does not, however, possess--and that is why, to avoid causing the creature
suffering, I do not often turn over, and although I could turn over I do
not do so from humanitarian motives. This is the one drawback of my present
position, and in an allegorical sense Timofey Semyonitch was right in
saying I was lying like a log. But I will prove that even lying like a
log--nay, that only lying like a log--one can revolutionise the lot of
mankind. All the great ideas and movements of our newspapers and magazines
have evidently been the work of men who were lying like logs; that is why
they call them divorced from the realities of life--but what does it
matter, their saying that! I am constructing now a complete system of my
own, and you wouldn't believe how easy it is! You have only to creep into a
secluded corner or into a crocodile, to shut your eyes, and you immediately
devise a perfect millennium for mankind. When you went away this afternoon
I set to work at once and have already invented three systems, now I am
preparing the fourth. It is true that at first one must refute everything
that has gone before, but from the crocodile it is so easy to refute it;
besides, it all becomes clearer, seen from the inside of the crocodile....
There are some drawbacks, though small ones, in my position, however; it is
somewhat damp here and covered with a sort of slime; moreover, there is a
smell of india-rubber like the smell of my old galoshes. That is all, there
are no other drawbacks."

"Ivan Matveitch," I interrupted, "all this is a miracle in which I can
scarcely believe. And can you, can you intend never to dine again?"

"What trivial nonsense you are troubling about, you thoughtless, frivolous
creature! I talk to you about great ideas, and you.... Understand that I am
sufficiently nourished by the great ideas which light up the darkness in
which I am enveloped. The good-natured proprietor has, however, after
consulting the kindly Mutter, decided with her that they will every
morning insert into the monster's jaws a bent metal tube, something like a
whistle pipe, by means of which I can absorb coffee or broth with bread
soaked in it. The pipe has already been bespoken in the neighbourhood, but
I think this is superfluous luxury. I hope to live at least a thousand
years, if it is true that crocodiles live so long, which, by the way--good
thing I thought of it--you had better look up in some natural history
to-morrow and tell me, for I may have been mistaken and have mixed it up
with some excavated monster. There is only one reflection rather troubles
me: as I am dressed in cloth and have boots on, the crocodile can obviously
not digest me. Besides, I am alive, and so am opposing the process of
digestion with my whole will power; for you can understand that I do not
wish to be turned into what all nourishment turns into, for that would be
too humiliating for me. But there is one thing I am afraid of: in a
thousand years the cloth of my coat, unfortunately of Russian make, may
decay, and then, left without clothing, I might perhaps, in spite of my
indignation, begin to be digested; and though by day nothing would induce
me to allow it, at night, in my sleep, when a man's will deserts him, I may
be overtaken by the humiliating destiny of a potato, a pancake, or veal.
Such an idea reduces me to fury. This alone is an argument for the revision
of the tariff and the encouragement of the importation of English cloth,
which is stronger and so will withstand Nature longer when one is swallowed
by a crocodile. At the first opportunity I will impart this idea to some
statesman and at the same time to the political writers on our Petersburg
dailies. Let them publish it abroad. I trust this will not be the only idea
they will borrow from me. I foresee that every morning a regular crowd of
them, provided with quarter-roubles from the editorial office, will be
flocking round me to seize my ideas on the telegrams of the previous day.
In brief, the future presents itself to me in the rosiest light."

"Fever, fever!" I whispered to myself.

"My friend, and freedom?" I asked, wishing to learn his views thoroughly.
"You are, so to speak, in prison, while every man has a right to the
enjoyment of freedom."

"You are a fool," he answered. "Savages love independence, wise men love
order; and if there is no order...."

"Ivan Matveitch, spare me, please!"

"Hold your tongue and listen!" he squealed, vexed at my interrupting him.
"Never has my spirit soared as now. In my narrow refuge there is only one
thing that I dread--the literary criticisms of the monthlies and the hiss
of our satirical papers. I am afraid that thoughtless visitors, stupid and
envious people and nihilists in general, may turn me into ridicule. But I
will take measures. I am impatiently awaiting the response of the public
to-morrow, and especially the opinion of the newspapers. You must tell me
about the papers to-morrow."

"Very good; to-morrow I will bring a perfect pile of papers with me."
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