50 pages • 1 hour read
Mikhail LermontovA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
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Pechorin’s moral indifference is the source of suffering for many characters in the novel. Lermontov pairs Pechorin with various character types to show how his lack of empathy and concern for others affects them in negative ways. Maksim Maksimych, Grushnitski, and the women Pechorin meets are all affected by Pechorin for the worse because they mistakenly place their trust in someone who lacks a moral compass.
Maksim Maksimych and Pechorin represent opposing moral standpoints: Maksim Maksimych is humble and earnest while Pechorin is disengaged and cynical. The comparison is striking because, as an older man who has been in the military for over 20 years, Maksim Maksimych could easily be expected to be the more cynical individual. He believes in kindness, acting as a father figure to Bela and a genuine friend to Pechorin. He even shares his knowledge of the Caucasus with the narrator though he is under no obligation to do so. Though not a perfect character—he harbors many biases toward the people of the Caucasus and does little to intervene in the immoral acts he witnesses—he provides a counterpoint to Pechorin’s alienation by serving as an example of true friendship.
After Maksim Maksimych’s disappointing meeting with Pechorin, the narrator notes: “For the first time in his life, probably, the poor old man had [...] thrown aside official business ‘for the sake of his personal requirements’” (47). This signifies how important Maksim Maksimych considered their friendship and how out-of-character he acted to show Pechorin his feelings. The negative effect of their meeting transfers to the narrator, with Maksim Maksimych telling him: “You young men are fashionable and proud: under the Circassian bullets you are friendly enough with us...but when you meet us afterwards you are ashamed even to give us your hand!” (47, emphasis added).
The narrator protests that he has not done anything to merit such an opinion, but Pechorin’s actions have hurt Maksim Maksimych so much that he expresses cynicism about an entire generation. Maksim Maksimych’s description of Pechorin and his ilk as “fashionable and proud” suggests that there is an arrogance and superficiality in the younger generation that is at odds with Maksim Maksimych’s simpler, more honest values.
Grushnitski’s demeanor also changes for the worse after he becomes the victim of Pechorin’s emotional manipulation. For all Grushnitski’s pretentiousness, at least initially, he is harmless. When they first meet, Pechorin notes that “his epigrams are frequently amusing, but never malicious, nor to the point. He slays nobody with a single word” (62). Whereas Maksim Maksimych trusts Pechorin out of true friendship, Grushnitski trusts Pechorin because Pechorin plays to his ego. Similarly, Pechorin damages Grushnitski’s ego rather than his feelings, and that wounded ego sets Grushnitski on a self-destructive path of revenge that ends in his death.
Bela, Vera, and Princess Mary all fall in love with Pechorin, mistaking his passion for genuine feeling. He has a condescending attitude toward women in general, declaring, “I have ceased to be afraid of them and have comprehended their little weaknesses” (100). What Pechorin considers “love” is really seduction and a chance to assert power over them. As such, each of the women suffers after meeting Pechorin. Bela comes to a tragic end. She embodies the Orientalist trope of the captive princess, and Lermontov paints her as little more than a cliché that arouses Pechorin’s lust and pity. Pechorin’s manipulative actions leave emotional scars on Princess Mary, who gets her heart broken and becomes embittered as a result. Vera’s affair with Pechorin ruins her marriage, and she leaves knowing that she will never see Pechorin again.
While Pechorin is aware that he only brings suffering to others, he does not care enough to change his actions. Pechorin’s moral indifference is arguably worse than intentional immorality because he seems to not be able to distinguish right from wrong, and can therefore ruin people’s lives without remorse. The damage he inflicts and his indifference to the harm he causes speaks to a moral vacuum at the heart of Russian society, which is raising privileged young men like Pechorin without strong convictions or moral values.
In A Hero of Our Time, Lermontov examines how fate and chance relate to both the characters’ lives as individuals and their relationships with others. In many passages throughout the novel, characters speculate on their freedom of choice versus participation in events that are predestined, debating whether their actions will have consequences beyond their own lives. Pechorin in particular goes back and forth about his belief in fate. In Book 4, during his duel with Grushnitski, he takes fate into his own hands by reloading his pistol, but in Book 5, his experience with Vulich convinces him that predestination exists.
Pechorin’s ambivalence about whether the events he experiences are inevitable or arbitrary, the result of his own free will or inflicted by forces beyond his control, leaves him unable to work toward a constructive goal. Thus, Pechorin’s actions can avert a bad outcome, as when he heroically subdues the Cossack who kills Vulich, but they cannot ensure a positive outcome, such as leading to his or someone else’s happiness.
Like Vulich the gambler, Pechorin cannot undertake any activity that does not have a potential high-risk-high-reward outcome. Actions that minimize risk to assure the best possible outcome do not interest Pechorin: He could, for example, woo Princess Mary with the intention of marrying her and succeed in doing so. However, not only does he find settled life mundane, he dislikes undertaking things that have no risk of failure.
The irony of the superfluous man trope is that, because he is highly talented, his efforts usually succeed. This certainty of success clashes with his existential need to confront death, and so the superfluous man must sabotage his own efforts or only engage in activities that have more variables than he can control. From this impulse comes his need for adventure and his philosophical preoccupation with fate and chance.
In A Hero of Our Time, the reader knows that Pechorin dies long after the events he describes in his journals, but to Pechorin, each risky moment may be his last, and each bit of intrigue may have an exciting or tragic conclusion. After shooting Grushnitski, Pechorin exclaims, “Finita la commedia!” (118), showing that he sees life and death as a game. The “comedy” also refers to the trick Grushnitski and his friends were trying to play on Pechorin, which ends tragically for them because Pechorin changes the rules.
In “The Fatalist,” Lermontov creates the expectation that a loaded gun may misfire, so when Pechorin shoots Grushnitski, the possibility that Grushnitski will live (or that Pechorin will purposely miss) exists. However, the ending to this scene is much starker and grimmer, with Pechorin knowingly becoming an instrument of fate.
Honor and decorum are two of the highest values of the Russian elite, and yet Lermontov shows characters from this social class repeatedly engaging in actions that are dishonorable and indiscreet. This contradiction is meant to show the hypocrisy of the upper class, which prides itself on its lofty moral ideals while undermining those ideals with their own behavior.
Pechorin takes advantage of the different social norms that exist in the Caucasus to engage in behavior that would be unacceptable in St. Petersburg or Moscow: “I went up to Princess Mary immediately, and, availing myself of the local customs which allowed one to dance with a stranger, I invited her to waltz with me” (80, emphasis added). His actions are appropriate under the circumstances, but his intentions are opportunistic.
When he goes to see Princess Mary in her home, Pechorin once again takes advantage of the situation: “I entered the ante-room, there was nobody there, and, availing myself of the freedom afforded by the local customs, I made my way, unannounced, into the drawing-room” (96, emphasis added). Pechorin’s willingness to overstep the bounds of social propriety once outside of the usual reach of Russian norms reveals both his opportunism and his cynicism, suggesting that the manners and values outwardly cultivated by the Russian elite are a mere façade.
If they were in St. Petersburg or Moscow, Pechorin would not be able to approach Princess Mary while she is alone, and it would be much more difficult for him to manipulate her as he does while they are in the Caucasus. Werner even cautions Pechorin not to get carried away: “[T]here are occasions […] in which an honourable man is obliged to marry” (97, emphasis added). This implies that it is common practice for “honourable” men to take advantage of women because the local society permits it, whereas back in the metropolitan center, such liberties would never be tolerated, leading to the “oblig[ation] to marry” instead of seducing or manipulating without consequences. Meanwhile, Russian characters consider the people of the Caucasus uncivilized, even calling them “savages.” However, they are quick to take advantage of the lax social norms when it suits them, thereby exposing their own hypocrisy.
Grushnitski’s plan for the duel is another example of dishonorable behavior. By not loading Pechorin’s pistol, he and his friends intend to make a fool out of him, but they also give Grushnitski the opportunity to kill Pechorin unfairly. While duels are illegal, they are subject to rules that ensure their fairness, as they are a pact between gentlemen.
Similarly, Grushnitski courts Princess Mary according to the norms of decorum, but when she rejects him, he does not hesitate to make a remark intended to compromise her. This shows that Grushnitski only acts honorably when it serves him, not because he has a sense of honor. Lermontov therefore emphasizes repeatedly that Russian high society is morally bankrupt, suggesting that the crisis embodied by these young men runs very deep.