A delightfully trenchant passage from Fyodor Dostoevsky’s Idiot (part IV, ch. I):
В самом деле, нет ничего досаднее, как быть, например, богатым, порядочной фамилии, приличной наружности, недурно образованным, неглупым, даже добрым, и в то же время не иметь никакого таланта, никакой особенности, никакого даже чудачества, ни одной своей собственной идеи, быть решительно «как и все». Богатство есть, но не Ротшильдово; фамилия честная, но ничем никогда себя не ознаменовавшая; наружность приличная, но очень мало выражающая; образование порядочное, но не знаешь, на что его употребить; ум есть, но без своих идей; сердце есть, но без великодушия, и т. д., и т. д. во всех отношениях. Таких людей на свете чрезвычайное множество и даже гораздо более, чем кажется; они разделяются, как и все люди, на два главные разряда: одни ограниченные, другие «гораздо поумнее». Первые счастливее. Ограниченному «обыкновенному» человеку нет, например, ничего легче, как вообразить себя человеком необыкновенным и оригинальным и усладиться тем без всяких колебаний.
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Here’s Julius Katzer’s translation (1985):
Indeed, nothing is more vexing than to be, for instance, wealthy, of good family, passable in looks, fairly well educated and intelligent, and even kindly, and yet to possess no talent, no outstanding feature or even quirk, not a single idea of one’s own, and to be positively “just like anybody else”. There is wealth, but far less than the Rothschilds possess; the family is an honorable one, but has never won the least distinction; one’s looks are pleasant enough, but express nothing in particular; one’s education is quite sound, but one has no idea of what to direct it towards; one has intelligence but no ideas of one’s own; one has a kind heart but no magnanimity, and so and so forth, on all counts. There is a vast multitude of such people in the world, and even far more than may seem. Like all other people, they fall into two categories: those of limited intelligence, and those that are “far cleverer than most”. The former are the happier. To the “common-place” man of limited intelligence, for instance, nothing is easier than to imagine that he is exceptional and original, and to derive the utmost enjoyment therefrom, without the least hesitation.
And here’s another translation (1913):
There is, indeed, nothing more annoying than to be, for instance, wealthy, of good family, nice-looking, fairly intelligent, and even good-natured, and yet to have no talents, no special faculty, no peculiarity even, not one idea of one’s own, to be precisely “like other people.” To have a fortune, but not the wealth of the Rothschild; to be of an honorable family, but one which has never distinguished itself in any way; to have a decent intelligence, but no ideas of one’s own; to have a good heart, but without any greatness of soul; and so and so on. There is an extraordinary multitude of such people in the world, far more than it appears. They may, like all other people, be divided into two classes: some of limited intelligence; others much cleverer. The first are happier. Nothing is easier for “ordinary” people of limited intelligence than to imagine themselves exceptional and original and revel in that delusion without the slightest misgiving.
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Source:
Федор Михайлович Достоевский, Идиот, 1868.
