(20) Mr. and Mrs. Dostoevsky's stay in Vouvei: A summer in which they left Geneva in sorrow and mourned the death of their beloved daughter.

Dostoevsky and His Wife's Fateful Journey: Travels in Western Europe of Madness and Love

(20) Mr. and Mrs. Dostoevsky's Stay in Vvej: Leaving Geneva in Grief, a Summer of Mourning for the Death of Their Beloved Daughter

Their beloved daughter Sonya died when she was only 3 months old. Their grief is so great that they can no longer stay in Geneva, where Sonya's face remains...

We couldn't imagine staying any longer in Geneva, where everything was so uniquely Sonya's. So we moved to Vvez on the shores of Lake Geneva, a place we had planned to stay for some time. So we decided to move to Vvez on the shores of Lake Geneva, which we had always planned to do. It was a pity that we could not afford to leave Switzerland, which my husband had almost begun to hate. Her husband blamed her death on the changeable and unfavorable weather in Geneva, the doctor's overconfidence, and the inadequacy of his escort. My husband had never been fond of the Swiss, and this antipathy was further reinforced by the unkind treatment he had received from various people when we had been so grieving. Neighbors, knowing of our misfortune, would send me messages telling me not to cry so much because it would get on my nerves.

Misuzu Shobo, Anna Dostoevskaya, translated by Hiroshi MatsushitaDostoevsky in Recollection."p195-196

Vvej is a recreational area famous for the beautiful scenery of Lake Levant, and is also famous for the time that Chaplin spent here in his later years. Dostoevsky and his wife spent the summer of 1868 in this city.

I will never forget the sad day when we loaded our luggage onto the ship and went to say our final goodbyes together and laid a wreath at the grave of our sweet daughter. We knelt at the grave for an hour, shedding tears for Sonya. Then we turned and walked away from that last resting place, leaving her alone.

We were on a cargo ship, so there were few passengers around. It was a warm but cloudy day, just like our mood. He must have been very upset because he had said goodbye to his grave, and for the first time I heard him (a man who seldom complained) lament the cruelty of a fate that would torment him for the rest of his life. I would reminisce with her about the sad and lonely days of her youth after the death of her kind and loving mother, and I would recall the ridicule of her peers in the literary world who at first recognized her talent, but later treated her harshly. He also recalled the four years of imprisonment that he had endured. He also recalled his dream of marrying Mariya Dmitrievna and achieving his long-cherished wish of family happiness, but sadly it did not come true. They had no children, and her "strange, suspicious, and morbidly fanciful sexualitycaseHe says that life with her was not happy because of "the Now, again, "I am blessed with my own child, which is a big and only human thing.happiness**Just as I was about to cherish this happiness, a cruel fate took away a little life that I had cherished so much! Never before had I heard such a detailed and sometimes moving account of the painful insults I had had to endure from my relatives and loved ones.

 Fyodor Mikhailovich described the nature of his first wife in these words in a letter to Baron Vrangeli dated March 31, 1865.
**Letter to Vrangeli, dated February 18, 1866.

I tried to console them to accept their ordeal, but their overflowing grief could only be comforted by lamenting the fate they had endured. I could not help but shed tears with my unhappy husband, thinking what a sad life it must have been. The deep sorrow we shared together, and the sincerity with which he revealed the depths of his tragic heart, seemed to bind us together even more.

Misuzu Shobo, Anna Dostoevskaya, translated by Hiroshi MatsushitaDostoevsky in Recollection."p196-197

The tragic Dostoevsky's grief is conveyed... But in the next section, the father Dostoevsky's lament over the loss of his child is described in even stronger terms. Let us continue our look.

There was no sadder time in our fourteen years of marriage than the summer of 1868 in Vvez. Life seemed to have come to a standstill. All thoughts and stories were about Sonya, about the happy times when she was healthy and brightened up her life. Every time I saw the little one, I was reminded of the one who had died. Not wanting to suffer any longer, we took walks in the mountains. In the mountains, we did not have to worry about encountering children who would shake our hearts. It was hard for me to bear this grief, and I remember how many tears I wept when I thought of my daughter. But in the depths of my heart, I prayed fervently, never losing hope that God, in His mercy, would have mercy on our suffering and give us children again. My mother, who was also grieving over the loss of her granddaughter, tried to comfort me with the hope that she too would bear a child. Thus, through prayer and hope, my grief gradually eased. But this was not the case with my husband. I was truly astonished by the way he was feeling. It was when she read her husband's letter to Mrs. Malykov (dated June 22), to which he had added a greeting for her on the margin, that she wrote: "The more time goes by, the more I remember. As time goes by, the memories seem to burn more and more, and the image of the deceased Sonya comes to me more and more clearly. There are often moments when it becomes really unbearable. She could already recognize me. The day she died. I didn't know in my wildest dreams that she would die in a couple of hours, so when I went out to read the newspaper, she followed me with her little eyes and stared at me. Even now, it is burned into my eyes and I can see it even more vividly. I will never forget it. And I will always suffer. Even if I have another child, I don't know if I will be able to take care of it, and I don't know how I will be able to take care of it. I want Sonya. She is gone, and I will never see her again. I can't accept this.

To my mother's consolation, my husband responded with the same words. I was very anxious about my husband's mood, and I thought sadly, "If God were to give me another child, would he love her and be as happy as he was when Sonya was born? If God were to give him another child, would he be able to love him and be as happy as he had been when Sonya was born? The family was gloomy and sad, as if a black veil had fallen over the house.

Misuzu Shobo, Anna Dostoevskaya, translated by Hiroshi MatsushitaDostoevsky in Recollection."p197-198

I want Sonya. She is gone, and I will never see her again. I cannot accept this.

Ahhh...what a poignant word.

I will never see that child again. Even if we have another child, we will never see her again...

This lament of Dostoevsky's is actually a lateThe Brothers Karamazov.The same is true for the "motuliski. This is a bit complicated, but Motuliski'sA Critical Biography of Dostoevsky.The following is what is said about this in the following paragraphs. I would like to introduce you to a very important connection between Dostoevsky and Christianity, because it is written here. Motulisky quotes a letter written a month before the letter mentioned above by Mrs. Anna, stating

In a letter to Maikoff, the father lays out his sorrows. It is impossible to read this anguished letter without tears.

My Sonya died and I buried her three days ago. ...... Oh, Apollon Nikolaevich, I don't care if my love for my first child is ridiculous. In response to the many people who congratulated me, I have said many funny things about her in my letters, but that's okay. I was the only one who saw the funny in their eyes. I am not afraid to write to you. That three-month-old, that poor little thing, that tiny thing, was already a human being with a personality and character to me. She began to recognize me, to like me, to smile at me when I came near her. When I sang to her in my funny voice, she listened with delight. When I gave him a rosé, he neither cried nor frowned. When I went near him, he stopped crying. But now everyone tries to comfort me, telling me that the child will be ready again. But where is Sonya? Where is that little human being? I dare say that I would even suffer the pain of the cross if it would keep her alive.

Dostoevsky loved the Book of Job more than anything else in the Bible. He himself was Job, who contended with God about the truth. Like Job, he too was put to a great test of faith by the Lord. No one wrestled so boldly with God as the author of "The Legend of the Grand Inquisitor," no one so fearlessly questioned God about the validity of the world order. Perhaps no one loved the Lord more. The righteous men of the Old Testament were comforted when new children were born, and they forgot about their deceased children. Job-Dostoevsky, however, could not do so. The human soul is more precious than the entire universe. What "world harmony" can compensate for the loss of one soul? No matter how small and pitiful it may be. What "earthly paradise" can ease the heartache of a father who has lost his child? But where is Sonya?

From Dostoevsky's private grief, Ivan Karamazov's rebellion was born and nurtured. The "harmony of the world" is shattered into tiny pieces by a single drop of "the tears of a little child." Dostoevsky sees the face of his three-month-old child, the one, unique, eternal face. And the revelation of personality submitted to him the question of the resurrection of personality with a force that loosened his heart (the theme of "The Brothers Karamazov").

Chikuma Shobo, Konstantin Motulisky, translated by Hiroshi Matsushita and Kyoko Matsushita, "Critique Dostoevsky" p362-363

Many of you may have found it a little difficult to understand the Christian Bible. The Book of Job, preached in the Old Testament, is a sermon that poses the question, "What should we think about a good man who has done nothing wrong, who suffers a tragic loss? Satan causes the good man Job to suddenly lose his sons and all his possessions. He even becomes ill in his own body. But because he still did not give up his faith in God, God saved him at the last moment and gave him new children and possessions.

But to this Dostoevsky replied, "No!" Dostoevsky replied, "No! I cannot accept such salvation.

Even if she gives birth to a new child, what will happen to "that Sonya"? We will never see her again. Is she a sacrifice for the happiness of the future? If she herself cannot be saved, what is my salvation? So Dostoevsky asks.

As Motylski says here, Dostoevsky was a lifelong reader of the Book of Job, and during his stay in Bad Ems, Germany, in 1875, he wrote: "I am reading the Book of Job, and this book arouses in me a morbid admiration. (This book, Anya, is strange, but it is one of the first books in my life that has deeply impressed me (June 10)," Dostoevsky wrote in a letter to his wife Anna. The Book of Job was such an enormous book for Dostoevsky. Dostoevsky may seem to be a critic of Christianity when he says, "I do not accept such a salvation. But faith is not just blind belief. The essence of faith lies in the constant battle between faith and doubt. I will refrain from discussing this here because it would take too long, but for Dostoevsky, how he faced Christ was a fight with all his might, with his very existence at stake. I would like to emphasize this point.

The Book of Job itself is not very long and is an easy-to-read story, so if you are interested in reading it, please do so. For me, too, it is a story that has given me a great deal of guidance in thinking about what faith is.

Let us now look at the city of Vvei, where the Dostoevskys spent their summers.

The train ride from Geneva to Vouvey takes less than one hour. The train runs along the shores of Lake Geneva.

As we approach Vvej, a cliff-like mountain rises up on the opposite shore of the lake. The light shining through the clouds is also beautiful.

Arriving at the station in Vvey. A small station building. From here we head to the house where Dostoevsky lived.

Lake Geneva is already visible from the street in front of the station. The city seems to be quite compact.

We walk down a street lined with stores on both sides, not quite a shopping street. Soon we arrive at Dostoevsky's house.

This is the house where Mr. and Mrs. Dostoevsky spent their disappointing days. They lived on the second floor of this building.

Let's look at it from a different angle. As in Geneva, a commemorative plaque was inset into the wall on the first floor.

It takes less than 15 minutes to walk slowly from the station in Vvei.

If you leave the house and walk straight to the other side, you will immediately see Lake Geneva. Mr. and Mrs. Dostoevsky would have taken this path to take a walk together to distract themselves.

This is indeed a scenic spot that is the pride of Switzerland. The promenade along the lake is well maintained and lined with cafes and restaurants.

Walking along the boardwalk, I found a space that looked like an open observation deck, and there, for some reason, was a fork stuck in the surface of the lake. What a surreal sight. But strangely enough, I felt no sense of discomfort.

It is still beautiful...beyond those shining mountains, you will find Italy, the land of ideals. In the past, it was a common way to enter Italy from Germany via these mountains. I wonder how many writers and artists have traveled to Italy from here.

"If you cross those glistening Alps, you will find yourself in Italy, the land of ideals!"

It was clear to me that these images are truly visual and real. I think I could understand why I naturally became elated at the thought that the ideal art was out there. It was such a wonderful view.

But for the grief-stricken Dostoevsky and his wife, such a view would have been little consolation.

I couldn't help but think of Mr. and Mrs. Dostoevsky as I looked at this lake.

They had come here from Geneva by boat. While mourning Sonya's death, Dostoevsky confided in Anna about the difficult days they had spent together. This was only mentioned briefly in "Recollections," but it must have been extremely important for the relationship between the two.

The couple shared the grief and pain of Sonya's death. And Dostoevsky opened his heart to Mrs. Anna to the fullest. Grief and suffering brought them together in a real sense. Sonya's birth and death brought them together decisively. Such love is possible. It is not only about having fun and spending time passionately. It is about sharing the pain together and living together. That is where life is.

Mrs. Anna's.I couldn't help but shed tears with her, thinking what a sad life she must have led. The deep sorrow we shared and the sincerity with which he revealed the depths of his tragic heart seemed to bind us together even more.I think that the phrase "the world is a better place than we think it is" describes exactly that.

After the hellish days of Baden-Baden, they shared happiness and sorrow in Geneva and Vouvey.

I suspect that this period in the marriage of Dostoevsky and his wife Anna is decisive in their relationship.

The next two will continue to be as difficult as ever. But something has changed decisively. From this point on, the two of them are on the road to revival. From this point on, the two of them will be on the road to revival, working together as one in the writing business. And the road to a happy family life in their later years is steadily taking shape.

be unbroken

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