The Idiot, The Innocent
Fyodor Dostoevsky wanted to write a story about a perfect man and show how that perfection jarred with the world. He created Prince Myshkin, a somewhat Christ-like figure, and placed him with less perfect persons in a complicated scenario populated by Russian aristocrats.
You couldn’t help but love the gentle and humble prince, or hate him. Were you a truer person in his presence, or were you threatened by his purity? He graciously accepted being referred to as an idiot, happily acknowledging his lack of knowledge regarding most subjects of worldly concern.
But Myshkin could see into the hearts of men and women. He was no idiot. But the world, because it could not understand such a man, took pleasure in calling him The Idiot
Perhaps The Innocent
Jesus Christ was innocent of any crime, or sin, as he hung crucified at Golgotha. Jesus could see into the hearts of men and women, know their light and their darkness. He knew everything that was in the human heart, yet was there ever anyone more innocent?
Having such knowledge is not like having an illegal firearm in your night table drawer or marijuana plants in your basement. Knowing evil does not make one evil. Is a physician who diagnoses a cancer in his patient doomed to develop cancer?
Like Jesus, Prince Myshkin enters into a world of sin, recognizes sin, but does not himself succumb to sin.
It takes a supremely special person, a saint or a Man-God, to remain innocent in this, our world.
As far as the rest of us… We were innocent once, before our knowledge of good and evil, before that first moment in our tottering little lives when we consciously chose to put our needs and pleasures before those of others, regardless of the collateral damage our choices may have caused.
To have knowledge of sin and to succumb to it regularly is uniquely human. This is not to say most people do not want to be good. We are good, most of us, but we are weak and inclined to make poor choices.
The state of the world shows us as much. As do literature and history. As does the Bible, which in addition to recording the Inspired Word of God, doubles as a chronicle of human folly.
No one ever called a sheep an idiot, to my knowledge, but maybe the Divine Shepherd was acknowledging a special brand of obtuseness in his metaphor for his followers, those who hear his voice. Sheep, though docile, are not noted for their acumen, after all. And they tend to stray.
If someone were to refer to Christians as The Flock of Idiots, should we be offended? For having heard His Voice, what excuse have we for our sins? Does our deeply embedded human weakness explain it? Does it entitle us?
This observation may engender smiles from those who don’t like Christians on principle, but no one ever said Christians were not sinners. It could be argued we are the greatest of all sinners.
The way I look at it, perhaps The Innocent better represents Dostoyevsky’s Prince Myshkin, whereas The Idiot
Not saying Dostoyevsky erred in his choice of title. Far be it from me… No, The Idiot is the perfect title because it makes clear The World’s interpretation of innocence. And similarly, I do not question McEwan’s choice of The Innocent, so finely laced with irony.
It happens that Marnham has worn his innocence for longer than most, like a baptismal gown that has shrunk and disintegrated with each passing day, until, at 25, there is no more gown and he is left naked. He is no different from the rest of us. It is just that some are late bloomers.
Marnham is a radio technician who has left his home in England, where he lived with his parents, to work for the Americans in West Berlin in 1955, the beginning of the Cold War.
To his surprise, he is assigned a small role in a joint US-British covert operation (setting up and repairing tape recorders), which involves the building of a secret tunnel from the American sector to the Soviet sector. The goal of the operation is to tap phone lines and intercept communications of the Soviet High Command.
For 25 years Marnham has led a comfortable, sheltered life. He lacks knowledge, not only of the world, but of people. Everything is new and surprising. His first apartment, his role in the covert operation, post-war Berlin, the Americans, the Germans, women, sex.
Unlike Prince Myshkin, he is unable to see into the hearts of men and women. He cannot see into his own heart, nor probe his insulated self. His is a lethargic, immature spirit, more attentive to proper protocol and social etiquette than to human emotion. He lacks decisiveness and conviction. He is like a pampered child, completely self-centered.
Marnham may think he is in love with Maria, the German woman he met in a night club. But his inability to see into her heart, and to understand her fears, leads him in one moment to treat her in a way that shakes her to the core. He sluggishly recognizes his mistake, and wins her back after some time, but she no longer sees the safe young innocent she was first attracted to.
When Maria’s former husband, a drunken German veteran, enters their shared life, Marnham is confronted with a series of disastrous circumstances that change his life forever.
Like most of us, Marnham the Innocent is ill-equipped to act unhesitatingly in a crisis. He is trapped in a miasma of fear, guilt and self-preservation. Maria, the survivor, infinitely more experienced, draws him out and sets him (and herself) in motion on a dark path, having made the decision for them both.
We can understand why Marnham ends up doing what he does, maybe. Each act can, perhaps, be justified, however unthinkable. We can place ourselves in Marnham’s shoes, take each step with him, and, given the sinister peculiarities and difficulties of the situation, think, yes, maybe I too would do the same. Maybe.
But all extenuating circumstances and justifications aside, would it be right?
Perhaps, ultimately, The Innocent
Tagged with: Dostoevsky • Ian McEwan • Jesus Christ • Marnham • Myshkin • Prince Myshkin • The Idiot • The Innocent
Filed under: Authors • Book Talk
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