A Hero Of Our Time

“His name was Grigori Aleksandrovich Pechorin. He was a splendid fellow, I can assure you, but a little peculiar.”

Maksim Maksimych has a positive impression of Pechorin, but he acknowledges that Pechorin is strange (“a little peculiar”) in a way that he cannot define. This introduction to Pechorin’s character establishes him as a person of mystery and contradictions.

“And so they settled the business—a bad business, to tell the truth! I said as much to Pechorin afterwards, but he only answered that a wild Circassian girl ought to consider herself fortunate in having such a charming husband as himself.”

Throughout the novel, Maksim Maksimych and others acknowledge the immorality of other’s actions—in this case, Pechorin’s marriage to the kidnapped Bela—but do nothing to intervene. This exemplifies the moral laxity that Lermontov criticizes through his characters in the theme The Danger of Moral Indifference. This passage also reveals the double standards and hypocrisy of men like Pechorin, who dismisses Bela as a “wild Circassian girl” seemingly lacking in refinement or true culture, while he himself—the "charming husband”—behaves in morally questionable ways, thereby exposing The Hypocrisy of Russian High Society.

“Perhaps, however, you would like to know the conclusion of the story of Bela? In the first place, this is not a novel, but a collection of travelling-notes, and, consequently, I cannot make the staff-captain tell the story sooner than he actually proceeded to tell it. Therefore, you must wait a bit, or, if you like, turn over a few pages.”

The narrator often addresses the reader directly, which disrupts the novelistic conventions of the time. This trope lends an illusion of authenticity to Pechorin’s notebooks as real-life artifacts and the narrator’s account as a presentation of true events. Lermontov intends to challenge the reader’s expectations, both in the novel’s subject matter and form.

“Oh, this Asia, I know it! Like people, like rivers! There’s no trusting them at all!”

The novel includes many biased, Orientalist depictions of the local people of the Caucasus. They are presented as an “other” that represents the wildness and unpredictability of the region, setting the stage for danger. Lermontov, however, also presents most of his Russian characters as not worthy of trust, rendering the remark “There’s no trusting [the Asiatic peoples] at all” ironic under the circumstances.

“A story with such an unusual beginning must also have an unusual ending.”

Here again, Lermontov both satisfies and frustrates the reader’s expectations of narrative logic by revealing that Maksim Maksimych’s initial account of Bela and Pechorin’s story, which he says ends unremarkably, is not accurate. This observation foreshadows Pechorin’s end, which may disappoint readers by being only vaguely conveyed: If any heroics or adventures caused Pechorin’s death, the narrator does not remark upon them, leaving the reader to see Pechorin’s life, which was full of adventure, as ultimately purposeless.

“I began madly to enjoy all the pleasures which money could buy—and, of course, such pleasures became irksome to me. Then I launched out into the world of fashion—and that, too, soon palled upon me. I fell in love with fashionable beauties and was loved by them, but my imagination and egoism alone were aroused; my heart remained empty.”

This description characterizes Pechorin as a classic Byronic hero and a superfluous man. His carelessness toward money and excess and his emotional emptiness even when pursuing women reveal him to be someone lacking a firm sense of purpose or moral direction. The source of these Byronesque characters’ alienation—both from themselves and from society—is never exactly pinpointed. Lermontov does not fully specify whether Pechorin is doomed by his own nature to wander, or if the blame rests on society for privileging conformity over authenticity.

“His face expressed nothing out of the common—and that vexed me. Had I been in his place, I should have died of grief […] He raised his head and burst into a laugh! At that laugh a cold shudder ran through me.”

Maksim Maksimych observes Pechorin’s unusual behavior after Bela’s death as evidence of his heartlessness. This foreshadows Pechorin’s reaction to the other women who enter his life later in the novel and his ultimate lack of concern for others.

“‘So you are off to Persia?... But when will you return?’ Maksim Maksimych cried after him. By this time the carriage was a long way off, but Pechorin made a sign with his hand which might be interpreted as meaning: ‘It is doubtful whether I shall return, and there is no reason, either, why I should!’”

This passage showcases Pechorin’s nihilism in that it expresses his indifference to both the course of life and where and how it will end. The scene highlights that Maksim Maksimych is more concerned for Pechorin’s welfare than Pechorin is for himself and makes Maksim Maksimych’s disappointment at Pechorin’s behavior all the more poignant.

“Of course we were friends—well, but what are friends nowadays?... What could I be to him? I’m not rich; I’ve no rank; and, moreover, I’m not at all his match in years!—See what a dandy he has become since he has been staying in Petersburg again!... What a carriage!... What a quantity of luggage!... And such a haughty manservant too!”

Maksim Maksimych’s commentary on Pechorin’s dismissiveness is not only an observation about Pechorin’s character but also points to The Hypocrisy of Russian High Society, which is superficial and only concerned with wealth and appearances. These qualities are on display when members of the upper class gather in Pyatigorsk.

“The history of a man’s soul, even the pettiest soul, is hardly less interesting and useful than the history of a whole people; especially when the former is the result of the observations of a mature mind upon itself.”

The narrator’s rationale for publishing Pechorin’s diaries speaks to his belief that they will be useful in both illuminating Pechorin’s particular character and meaningful in what they convey about more general truths about human behavior. Lermontov meant Pechorin to be a controversial character, so the idea that someone who possesses mostly negative qualities (or at least who acts in mostly destructive ways) is a stand-in for human nature is a critique of Russian society at large.

“The full moon was shining on the little reed-thatched roof and the white walls of my new dwelling. […] The shore descended precipitously to the sea, almost from its very walls, and down below, with incessant murmur, plashed the dark-blue waves.”

This description is typical of the Romantic genre in its depiction of a dangerous landscape under the moonlight. Such scenes are used to create tension and set up a dramatic event, while also speaking to the more general Romantic preoccupation with nature.

“What became of the old woman and the poor blind boy I know not. And, besides, what are the joys and sorrows of mankind to me—me, a travelling officer, and one, moreover, with an order for post-horses on Government business?”

Pechorin knows that his life is transient and that he does not have a real connection with anyone, whether he knows them well or whether he meets them in passing. He regrets having unintentionally interrupted the lives of the old woman and boy but makes no attempt to right the situation. His characterization of himself as an “officer” who can use “post-horses on Government business” also reveals his sense of self-importance due to his high social standing, which is part of why he regards himself as separate from “the joys and sorrows of mankind”, i.e. ordinary, lower-class people.

“There is not a man in the world over whom the past has acquired such a power as over me. Every recollection of bygone grief or joy strikes my soul with morbid effect, and draws forth ever the same sounds... I am stupidly constituted: I forget nothing—nothing!”

One of Pechorin’s most consistent traits is that he does not deceive himself about his own character. He knows that the way he has acted in the past will determine his actions in the present and that he cannot escape their emotional consequences. However, no amount of “morbid” sensations is enough to inspire him to alter his behavior, keeping him in a cycle of self-destruction throughout the entirety of the novel.

“Yes, I have already passed that period of spiritual life when happiness alone is sought, when the heart feels the urgent necessity of violently and passionately loving somebody. Now my only wish is to be loved, and that by very few. I even think that I would be content with one constant attachment. A wretched habit of the heart!”

Pechorin sees his desire to be loved as a “wretched habit of the heart” rather than a positive trait that could lead to meaningful and lasting connections with others. Since he regards love and emotional vulnerability as flaws, he can sabotage his attempts at finding love by turning courtship and emotional connection into sport.

“Women! Women! Who can understand them? Their smiles contradict their glances, their words promise and allure, but the tone of their voice repels.”

Grushnitski does not see that Pechorin is manipulating Princess Mary’s reactions to him and attributes her coldness to her contradictory nature as a woman rather than to the fact that she simply does not like him. Such statements emphasize the cynicism and world-weariness of young men like Grushnitski and Pechorin, who are unable to create lasting ties with others out of genuine affection.

“I look upon the sufferings and joys of others only from the point of view of their relation to myself, regarding them as the nutriment which sustains my spiritual forces.”

One of the darkest aspects of Pechorin’s character is his emotional vampirism, which underlies all of his interactions and relationships. This means he never considers how his actions may hurt others, only how others can serve him. His general indifference to others’ “sufferings and joys” ties into the theme The Danger of Moral Indifference, reflecting the moral crisis faced by Pechorin’s generation.

“‘Can it be possible,’ I thought, ‘that my sole mission on earth is to destroy the hopes of others?’”

At times, the extent of Pechorin’s destructive nature surprises even him. Whether by impulse or intention, he cannot resist interfering with others’ lives in a way that makes them directly or indirectly worse than before he met them. Only the narrator benefits from meeting Pechorin because it gives him the opportunity to publish his diaries. Pechorin’s musing on his destruction of “the hopes of others,” and his inability to alter his behavior in spite of these self-realizations, form the core of his tragedy.

“Your presumptuous action... I must, I must forgive you for it, because I permitted it... Answer, speak, I want to hear your voice!”

Princess Mary could easily blame Pechorin for making an inappropriate advance toward her, but she takes responsibility because she has genuine feelings for him—she admits that she “permitted it.” This scene shows Pechorin’s cruelty because he takes advantage of both her respectability and her good nature.

“Well? If I must die, I must! The loss to the world will not be great; and I myself am already downright weary of everything. I am like a guest at a ball, who yawns but does not go home to bed, simply because his carriage has not come for him. But now the carriage is here... Good-bye!”

The night before the duel, Pechorin struggles between accepting his fate and regretting a life lived without purpose, tying into the theme Fate Versus Chance. Pechorin’s claim, “Well? If I must die, I must!” reveals his sense of fatalism, while his complaint that he is “already downright weary of everything” emphasizes his cynicism and aimlessness as a superfluous man. Pechorin also presents himself as passive, as someone who awaits the “carriage” of death and fate instead of attempting to alter his course, thereby enabling him to disavow himself of any responsibility for his own behavior.

“I remember that on that occasion I loved Nature more than ever before. With what curiosity did I examine every dewdrop trembling upon the broad vine leaf and reflecting millions of rainbowhued rays! How eagerly did my glance endeavour to penetrate the smoky distance! There the road grew narrower and narrower, the cliffs bluer and more dreadful, and at last they met, it seemed, in an impenetrable wall.”

The description of the landscape leading to the location of the duel creates a feeling of inescapable fate, with the road growing “narrower and narrower” and the cliffs “more dreadful.” Rather than using personification, Lermontov intensifies Pechorin’s sensory experience to show both his heightened psychological state and the emotion the landscape conveys.

“At the foot of the precipice all seemed dark and cold as in a tomb; the moss-grown jags of the rocks, hurled down by storm and time, were awaiting their prey.”

In this description, Lermontov uses several literary techniques to create thematic resonance. The simile “dark and cold as a tomb” symbolizes the bottom of the cliffs as a place of death; indeed, the rules of the duel state that the men will take turns standing at the cliff’s edge to make the death look accidental. Lermontov also uses pathetic fallacy (a form of personification) to give the landscape animal-like characteristics (“awaiting their prey”) so that it seems active and malevolent in its anticipation of death, rather than merely foreboding.

“That is just like men! […]: they know beforehand all the bad points of an act, they help, they advise, they even encourage it, seeing the impossibility of any other expedient—and then they wash their hands of the whole affair and turn away with indignation from him who has had the courage to take the whole burden of responsibility upon himself.”

After the duel, Pechorin reflects sardonically on Werner’s quickness to abandon him after Grushnitski’s death. Pechorin finds this hypocritical because, while Werner is abhorred by Pechorin’s actions, he went along with the plot and did nothing to dissuade Pechorin from firing at Grushnitski, suggesting both The Danger of Moral Indifference and The Hypocrisy of Russian High Society.

“However assiduously I sought in my breast for even a spark of love for the charming Mary, my efforts were of no avail!”

At one point, Pechorin believes he is falling in love with Princess Mary, but in the end, he remains unmoved, claiming there is not “even a spark of love” for her. Calling her the “charming Mary” shows his cynicism by implying that, although she is pleasant, she does not inspire great passion. In this way, he subtly shifts the blame for his lack of feeling away from himself and onto her.

“[W]e are no longer capable of great sacrifices, either for the good of mankind or even for our own happiness, because we know the impossibility of such happiness; and, just as our ancestors used to fling themselves from one delusion to another, we pass indifferently from doubt to doubt, without possessing, as they did, either hope or even that vague though, at the same time, keen enjoyment which the soul encounters at every struggle with mankind or with destiny.”

This passage characterizes Pechorin’s entire generation as superfluous men who have lost the ability and desire to serve a higher cause, and who cannot care “even for [their] own happiness.” Neither Pechorin nor Lermontov explains why this large-scale social change has occurred, which may be further commentary on that generation’s fundamental indifference.