Sennaya Square
Sennaya Square.
Saint Petersburg. Photo: Dmitry Neumoin / photobank "Lori" Let's start our walk from Sennaya Square. It was here that the main character Rodion Raskolnikov got into his head the thought of killing the old pawnbroker. He overheard the conversation of her sister, Lizaveta Ivanovna, and learned that “the old woman... at exactly seven o’clock in the evening will be left alone at home.”
It was here that Raskolnikov repented of his crime. When Sonya Marmeladova told him: “Go to the crossroads, bow to the whole world and say: “I am a murderer,” he again came to Sennaya. He knelt down in the middle of the square and kissed “this dirty earth with pleasure and happiness.” However, the attention of passers-by did not allow him to confess out loud to the murder.
“He entered the Sennaya. He suddenly remembered Sonya’s words: “Go to the crossroads, bow to the people, kiss the ground, because you have sinned against it, and tell the whole world out loud: “I am a murderer!” He trembled all over, remembering this. And the hopeless melancholy and anxiety of all this time, but especially the last hours, had already crushed him to such an extent that he rushed into the possibility of this whole, new, complete sensation. It suddenly came to him like a fit: it ignited in his soul with one spark and suddenly, like fire, it engulfed everything. Everything in him softened at once, and tears flowed. As he stood, he fell to the ground.”
Fyodor Dostoevsky, “Crime and Punishment”
Crime and Punishment (Dostoevsky F. M., 1866)
III
He hurried to Svidrigailov. What he could hope from this man, he himself did not know. But this man had some kind of power over him. Having realized this once, he could no longer calm down, and now the time had come.
One question especially tormented him: was Svidrigailov with Porfiry?
How much could he judge and what would he swear to - no, he was not! He thought again and again, remembered Porfiry’s entire visit, and realized: no, he wasn’t, of course he wasn’t!
But if he hasn’t been yet, will he or won’t he go to Porfiry?
Now for the time being it seemed to him that it would not work. Why? He couldn’t explain this either, but even if he could explain it, now he wouldn’t bother racking his brains about it. All this tormented him, and at the same time he somehow had no time for it. It’s a strange thing, no one, perhaps, would have believed it, but he somehow weakly, absent-mindedly cared about his present, immediate fate. He was tormented by something else, much more important, extraordinary - about himself and not about anyone else, but something else, something important. In addition, he felt boundless moral fatigue, although his mind worked better that morning than in all these last days.
And was it worth it now, after everything that had happened, to try to overcome all these new miserable difficulties? Was it worth it, for example, to try to intrigue so that Svidrigailov would not go to Porfiry; study, find out, waste time on some Svidrigailov!
Oh, how tired he is of all this!
Meanwhile, he still hurried to Svidrigailov; didn't he expect anything new from him,
instructions, exit? And they are grasping at straws! Is it not fate, or some instinct that brings them together? Maybe it was just fatigue, despair; Maybe it was not Svidrigailov who was needed, but someone else, and Svidrigailov just happened to turn up here. Sonya? And why would he go to Sonya now? Ask her for her tears again? And Sonya was scary to him. Sonya represented an inexorable sentence, a decision without change. It’s either her way or his. Especially at that moment he was unable to see her. No, wouldn’t it be better to test Svidrigailov: what is it? And he couldn’t help but admit inside that he really did need him for something.
Well, however, what could be common between them? Even their villainy could not be the same. This man was also very unpleasant, obviously extremely depraved, certainly cunning and deceptive, and perhaps very angry. There are such stories about him. True, he worked for Katerina Ivanovna’s children; but who knows why and what this means? This person always has some intentions and projects.
One more thought constantly flashed through Raskolnikov’s mind all these days and worried him terribly, although he even tried to drive it away from himself, it was so heavy for him! He sometimes thought: Svidrigailov kept hovering around him, and is still hovering around him; Svidrigailov learned his secret; Svidrigailov had designs against Dunya. And what if it does now? It's almost certainly possible to say yes.
What if now, having learned his secret and thus gained power over him, he wants to use it as a weapon against Dunya?
This thought sometimes, even in his sleep, tormented him, but for the first time it appeared to him so consciously clearly as now, when he was walking to Svidrigailov. This very thought sent him into a gloomy rage. Firstly, then everything will change, even in his own situation: he should immediately reveal the secret to Dunechka. It might be necessary to betray oneself in order to distract Dounia from some careless step. Letter? Dunya received a letter this morning! From whom in St. Petersburg could she receive letters? (Luzhin, really?) True, Razumikhin is guarding there; but Razumikhin knows nothing. Maybe Razumikhin should also open up? Raskolnikov thought about this with disgust.
In any case, he must see Svidrigailov as soon as possible, he finally decided to himself. Thank God, details are not needed here as much as the essence of the matter; but if, if only he is capable, if Svidrigailov intrigues something against Dunya, then...
Raskolnikov was so tired during all this time, during this entire month, that he could no longer resolve such issues except with one decision: “Then I will kill him,” he thought in cold despair. A heavy feeling squeezed his heart; he stopped in the middle of the street and began to look around: what road was he on and where did he go? He was on -sky Avenue, about thirty or forty steps from the Sennaya, which he passed. The entire second floor of the house to the left was occupied by a tavern. All the windows were wide open; the tavern, judging by the moving figures in the windows, was packed. Songbooks were flowing in the hall, the clarinet and violin were ringing, and the Turkish drum was thundering. Women's squeals were heard. He was about to go back, wondering why he turned onto Sky Prospekt, when suddenly, in one of the outer open windows of the tavern, he saw Svidrigailov sitting at the tea table, with a pipe in his teeth, sitting right next to the window. It was scary, it struck him terribly. Svidrigailov watched and examined him in silence and, which also immediately struck Raskolnikov, seemed to want to get up so that he could quietly leave before he was noticed. Raskolnikov immediately pretended that he himself had not noticed him and was looking, lost in thought, to the side, while he continued to watch him out of the corner of his eye. His heart was beating anxiously. That’s right: Svidrigailov obviously doesn’t want to be seen. He took the pipe away from his lips and was about to hide; but, having stood up and pushed back his chair, he probably suddenly noticed that Raskolnikov was seeing and watching him. Something similar happened between them to the scene of their first date at Raskolnikov’s, during sleep. A roguish smile appeared on Svidrigailov’s face and expanded more and more. Both knew that they both saw and observed each other. Finally, Svidrigailov laughed loudly.
- Oh well! Come in if you want; I'm here! - he shouted from the window.
Raskolnikov went up to the tavern.
He found him in a very small back room, with one window, adjacent to a large hall, where merchants, officials and a multitude of all sorts of people were drinking tea on twenty small tables, amid the cries of a desperate chorus of singers. From somewhere came the sound of billiard balls. On the table in front of Svidrigailov stood an open bottle of champagne and a glass half full of wine. In the room there were also an organ grinder boy with a small hand organ, and a healthy, red-cheeked girl in a tucked striped skirt and a Tyrolean hat with ribbons, a singer, about eighteen years old, who, despite the choral song in the other room, sang to the accompaniment of the organ player, quite in a hoarse contralto, some kind of lackey song...
- Well, that's enough! - Svidrigailov interrupted her as Raskolnikov entered.
The girl immediately broke off and stood in respectful anticipation. She sang her rhymed lackeyism, too, with some kind of serious and respectful tint in her face.
- Hey, Philip, glass! - Svidrigailov shouted.
“I won’t drink wine,” said Raskolnikov.
- Whatever you want, I'm not for you. Drink, Katya! You won't need anything else today, go! “He poured her a whole glass of wine and handed her a little yellow ticket. [Yellow ticket - that is, one ruble (rubles were yellow).] Katya drank a glass at once, like women drink wine, that is, without stopping, in twenty sips, took the ticket, kissed Svidrigailov’s hand, which he very seriously allowed kiss her, and left the room, followed by the boy with the organ. Both of them were brought from the street. Svidrigailov had not even lived in St. Petersburg for a week, and everything around him was on some kind of patriarchal footing. The tavern footman, Philip, was also already “familiar” and servile. The door to the hall was locked; Svidrigailov was at home in this room and spent perhaps whole days in it. The tavern was dirty, trashy and not even mediocre.
“I was coming to you and looking for you,” Raskolnikov began, “but why now I suddenly turned onto - Sky Avenue with Senna!” I never turn here or go in. I turn right with Senna. And the road to you is not here. Just turned, and there you are! This is weird!
- Why don’t you say directly: this is a miracle!
- Because this may just be a case.
- After all, what a fold all these people have! - Svidrigailov laughed, “he won’t admit it, even if he believed a miracle inside!” After all, you yourself say that “maybe” is only a case. And you can’t imagine how cowardly everyone here is about their own opinion, Rodion Romanych! I'm not talking about you. You have your own opinion and are not afraid to have it. That's why you piqued my curiosity.
- Nothing more?
- Yes, and that’s enough.
Svidrigailov was obviously in an excited state, but only a little; He only drank half a glass of wine.
“It seems to me that you came to me before you knew that I was capable of having what you call my own opinion,” Raskolnikov noted.
- Well, then it was a different matter. Everyone has their own steps. And as for the miracle, I’ll tell you that you seem to have slept these last two or three days. I myself assigned this tavern to you and there was no miracle that you came straight away; he explained the entire route himself, told me the place where he was standing and the hours at which he could find me here. Remember?
“I forgot,” Raskolnikov answered in surprise.
- I believe. I told you twice. The address is stamped into your memory mechanically. You turned here mechanically, and yet strictly to the address, without knowing it yourself. Even when I told you then, I didn’t hope that you understood me. You really show yourself off, Rodion Romanych. And here’s another thing: I’m convinced that in St. Petersburg a lot of people talk to themselves as they walk. This is a city of half-crazy people. If we had science, then doctors, lawyers and philosophers could do the most precious research on St. Petersburg, each in their own specialty. Rarely where can you find so many dark, harsh and strange influences on the human soul as in St. Petersburg. What are climate influences alone worth? Meanwhile, this is the administrative center of all of Russia, and its character should be reflected in everything. But that’s not the point now, but the fact that I’ve already looked at you from the side several times. You leave the house - still keep your head straight. After twenty steps you lower it, fold your arms back. You look and, obviously, you no longer see anything either in front of you or to the sides. Finally, you begin to move your lips and talk to yourself, and sometimes you free your hand and recite, and finally stop in the middle of the road for a long time. This is very bad, sir. Maybe someone besides me notices you, and that’s not profitable. In essence, I don’t care, and I won’t cure you, but you, of course, understand me.
- Do you know that they are watching me? - Raskolnikov asked, looking at him inquisitively.
“No, I don’t know anything,” Svidrigailov answered as if in surprise.
“Well, let’s leave me alone,” Raskolnikov muttered, frowning.
- Okay, let's leave you alone.
“Tell me better, if you come here to drink and you yourself ordered me twice to come here to you, then why did you hide and want to leave now, when I was looking out the window from the street?” I noticed this very well.
- Heh! heh! And why did you, when I was standing on your doorstep then, lie on your sofa with your eyes closed and pretend to be sleeping, while you were not sleeping at all? I noticed this very well.
- I could have... reasons... you know that yourself.
“And I might have my reasons, although you won’t know them.”
Raskolnikov lowered his right elbow onto the table, rested his chin under the fingers of his right hand and stared intently at Svidrigailov. He looked at his face for a minute, which had always amazed him before. It was some kind of strange face, like a mask: white, ruddy, with ruddy, scarlet lips, with a light blond beard and still quite thick blond hair. The eyes were somehow too blue, and their gaze was somehow too heavy and motionless. There was something terribly unpleasant in this handsome and extremely youthful, judging by his age, face. Svidrigailov’s clothes were smart, summer, light, and he especially showed off his underwear. On the finger was a huge ring with an expensive stone.
“Do I really still have to bother with you too,” Raskolnikov suddenly said, going out into the open with convulsive impatience, “although you may be the most dangerous person if you want to harm, but I don’t want to break myself.” more. I will show you now that I do not value myself as much as you probably think. Know, I came to you directly to tell you that if you keep your previous intentions regarding my sister and if you are thinking of using anything from what has been discovered lately for this, then I will kill you before you put me in prison . My word is true: you know that I can keep it. Second, if you want to announce something to me - because all this time it seemed to me that you seemed to want to tell me something - then announce it quickly, because time is precious and, perhaps, very soon it will be too late.
- Where are you in such a hurry? - Svidrigailov asked, looking at him curiously.
“Everyone has his own steps,” Raskolnikov said gloomily and impatiently.
“You yourself have now called for frankness, but you refuse to answer the very first question,” Svidrigailov noted with a smile. “It all seems to you that I have some goals, and that’s why you look at me suspiciously.” Well, that's completely understandable in your situation. But no matter how much I want to get along with you, I still won’t take the trouble to convince you otherwise. By God, the game is not worth the candle, and I didn’t intend to talk to you about anything special.
- Why do you need me so much then? After all, you were courting me?
- Yes, just as a curious subject to observe. I liked you because of the fantastic nature of your position—that’s why! In addition, you are the brother of a person who interested me very much, and, finally, from this person herself at one time I heard an awful lot and often about you, from which I concluded that you have great influence over her; Isn't that enough? Hehehehe! However, I confess that your question is very difficult for me, and it is difficult for me to answer it for you. Well, for example, you came to me now not only on business, but for something new? It is so? It is so? - Svidrigailov insisted with a roguish smile, - well, imagine after this that I myself, while traveling here in the carriage, was counting on you, that you would also tell me something new
and that I will be able to borrow something from you! That's how rich we are!
- How can I borrow this?
- What can I tell you? Do I know what? You see, in what little tavern I sit all the time, and I enjoy it to my heart’s content, that is, not exactly to my heart’s content, but just like that, I need to sit down somewhere. Well, have you seen this poor Katya?.. Well, if only I, for example, were a glutton, a club deli, otherwise this is what I can eat! (He pointed his finger at the corner, where on a small table, on a tin saucer, stood the remains of a terrible steak and potatoes.) By the way, have you had lunch? I had a snack and don't want anymore. For example, I don’t drink wine at all. Apart from champagne, nothing, and only one glass of champagne the whole evening, and even then my head hurts. Now, in order to mount, [To mount - to get excited (from the French monter).] I ordered the filing, because I’m going somewhere, and you see me in a special mood. That’s why I hid just now, like a schoolboy, because I thought that you would disturb me; but it seems (he took out his watch) I can stay with you for an hour; It's half past four now. Believe it or not, at least there was something; well, to be a landowner, well, a father, well, a lancer, a photographer, a journalist... n-nothing, no specialty! Sometimes it's even boring. Really, I thought you would tell me something new.
-Who are you and why did you come here?
-Who am I? You know: a nobleman, he served for two years in the cavalry, then he hung around here in St. Petersburg, then he married Marfa Petrovna and lived in the village. Here's my biography!
— You seem to be a player?
- No, what kind of player am I? Shuler is not a player.
- Were you a sharper?
- Yes, he was a sharper.
- Well, were you beaten?
- It happened. And what?
- Well, it means that they could challenge you to a duel... and in general it revives you.
“I’m not contradicting you, and besides, I’m not a master at philosophizing.” I confess to you, I came here more quickly about the women.
“Have you just buried Marfa Petrovna?”
“Well, yes,” Svidrigailov smiled with triumphant frankness. - So what? You seem to find something bad in my talking about women like that?
- That is, do I find something bad in debauchery or not?
- In depravity! Well, here you are! However, in order, first I will answer you about women in general; you know, I'm inclined to chat. Tell me, why will I restrain myself? Why abandon women if I’m even after them? At least it's something to do.
“So you’re only hoping for debauchery here!”
- Well then, let’s go to debauchery! They were given debauchery. Yes, I like, at least a direct question. In this debauchery, at least, there is something permanent, based even on nature and not subject to fantasy, something that always remains like a kindled coal in the blood, eternally igniting, which for a long time, and with age, perhaps, will not be drowned out so soon. Agree, isn’t this an activity of its own?
- What is there to be happy about? This is a disease, and a dangerous one.
- Oh, where are you going? I agree that this is a disease, like everything that goes beyond the limit - and here you will certainly have to go beyond the limit - but this, firstly, is one way, another another, and secondly, of course, keep it in everything measure, calculation, albeit vile, but what to do? If it weren’t for this, I probably would have had to shoot myself like that. I agree that a decent person is obliged to be bored, but, nevertheless...
- Could you shoot yourself?
- Here you go! “Svidrigailov retorted with disgust. “Do me a favor, don’t talk about it,” he added hastily and even without any fanfare, which was evident in all his previous words. Even his face seemed to change. “I confess to an unforgivable weakness, but what can I do: I’m afraid of death and don’t like it when they talk about it.” Do you know that I am partly a mystic?
- A! ghosts of Marfa Petrovna! Well, do they keep coming?
- Well, don’t remember them; it hasn’t been in St. Petersburg yet; and to hell with them! - he cried with some irritability. - No, let’s talk about it better... yes, however... Hm! Eh, I don’t have much time, I can’t stay with you for a long time, what a pity! That would be something to report.
- What do you have, woman?
- Yes, woman, one unexpected incident... no, I’m not talking about that.
- Well, the abomination of this whole situation no longer affects you? Have you already lost the strength to stop?
- Do you also pretend to be strong? Hehehehe! You surprised me just now, Rodion Romanych, even though I knew in advance that it would be like this. You are talking to me about debauchery and aesthetics! You are Schiller, you are an idealist! All this, of course, is how it should be, and one would be surprised if it were otherwise, but, nevertheless, somehow it’s still strange in reality... Ah, it’s a pity that there is little time, because you yourself are a very curious subject! By the way, do you like Schiller? I love it terribly.
- But what a fanfare you are, however! - Raskolnikov said with some disgust.
- Well, by God, no! - Svidrigailov answered, laughing, - but I don’t argue, even if it’s a fanfare; but why not make a show of it when it is harmless. I lived in the village with Marfa Petrovna for seven years, and therefore, having now attacked an intelligent person like you - intelligent and extremely curious, I’m just happy to chat, and besides, I drank this half a glass of wine and it’s already a bit of a headache . And most importantly, there is one circumstance that really bothered me, but which I… will not mention. Where are you going? - Svidrigailov suddenly asked with fear.
Raskolnikov began to get up. He felt heavy, stuffy, and somehow embarrassed that he had come here. He became convinced of Svidrigailov as the most empty and insignificant villain in the world.
- Eh! Sit, stay,” Svidrigailov begged, “and tell yourself to at least bring some tea.” Well, sit down, well, I won’t talk nonsense, about myself, that is. I'll tell you something. Well, do you want me to tell you how a woman, to use your style, “saved” me? This will even be the answer to your first question, because this person is your sister. Can I tell you? And we'll kill time.
- Tell me, but I hope you...
- Oh, don't worry! Moreover, Avdotya Romanovna, even in such a nasty and empty person as me, can only inspire the deepest respect.
Kokushkin Bridge
Kokushkin Bridge. Griboedov Canal. Saint Petersburg. Photo: Litvyak Igor / photobank “Lori”
From Sennaya Square, all the characters in the novel walked to their home across the Kokushkin Bridge: Sennaya Bridge, which could have shortened the path, did not yet exist. Here, on the left side of the Griboyedov Canal embankment, today is the “Dostoyevsky Quarter” with the houses of Sonechka Marmeladova and Rodion Raskolnikov.
Grazhdanskaya, 19. Raskolnikov House
Raskolnikov's house. Saint Petersburg. Photo: Alexander Shchepin / photobank “Lori”
Stolyarny Lane leads from Kokushkin Bridge to Raskolnikov’s house, a yellow four-story building. The writer did not directly indicate this address in the novel.
“At the beginning of July, in an extremely hot time, in the evening, one young man came out of his closet, which he had rented from tenants in the S-th lane, onto the street and slowly, as if in indecision, went to the K-nu bridge.”
Fyodor Dostoevsky, “Crime and Punishment”
However, Fyodor Dostoevsky described many details of the house and its surroundings. For example, 13 steps in the upper flight of stairs, a closet that today resembles a large attic, and a janitor's room in the courtyard where Raskolnikov found the ax. After a major renovation of the building, many details changed, but they were restored according to old descriptions by researchers of Dostoevsky’s work. One of them, Daniil Granin, wrote about the author’s love for small details: “This was the originality of his method. At some point he stopped composing and began to live, embodying his heroes.”
In 1999, a high relief with the image of a wanderer and an inscription compiled by Dmitry Likhachev and Daniil Granin were placed on the facade: “Raskolnikov’s House. The tragic fates of the people of this area of St. Petersburg served as the basis for Dostoevsky’s passionate preaching of goodness for all humanity.”
Summary of “Crime and Punishment”
Fyodor Mikhailovich Dostoevsky's novel Crime and Punishment was written in 1866.
The writer came up with the idea for the work back in 1859, when he was serving his sentence at hard labor. Initially, Dostoevsky was going to write the novel “Crime and Punishment” in the form of a confession, but in the process of work, the original idea gradually changed and, describing his new work to the editor of the magazine “Russian Messenger” (in which the book was first published), the author characterizes the novel as “a psychological report of one works." “Crime and Punishment” belongs to the literary movement of realism, written in the genre of a philosophical and psychological polyphonic novel, since the ideas of the characters in the work are equal to each other, and the author stands next to the characters, and not above them.
help me please! description of Raskolnikov, where he lives, for what purpose does the author describe his home?
The motif of St. Petersburg, the image of St. Petersburg in the works of Dostoevsky is an unchanging motif, an unchanging image.
A summary of chapters and parts compiled on “Crime and Punishment” allows you to familiarize yourself with the key points of the novel, prepare for a literature lesson in the 10th grade or a test.
Therefore, the concept of “Dostoevsky’s Petersburg” has long been firmly established in the everyday life of critics and researchers of Russian literature. Anyone who has ever been to Northern Palmyra, reading Dostoevsky’s St. Petersburg novels, mentally projects the events taking place in them onto the streets and squares of real St. Petersburg, because the writer often indicates with topographical accuracy the addresses of his characters and their routes of movement around the city.
Dostoevsky’s Petersburg is not a literary double of a real city, but a whole unique world, an “intentional” city, living an intense inner life, in which the heroes of the writer’s novels suffer from humiliation and insults, and are tormented over the “damned questions of existence.” The novel opens with action that takes place in the dirty St. Petersburg slums, where people suffer and suffer
Kaznacheyskaya, 7. House of merchant Alonkin
House of merchant Alonkin. Saint Petersburg. Photo: Alexander Shchepin / photobank “Lori”
Raskolnikov walked to the house of the old pawnbroker along Stolyarny Lane. He passed by the building where Dostoevsky himself lived in 1864–1867 - the apartment building of the merchant Ivan Alonkin.
Here the writer worked on “Crime and Punishment”, “Notes from the Underground” and the novel “The Player”, which was written by stenographer Anna Snitkina, Dostoevsky’s future wife, under his dictation. Today, Ivan Alonkin’s house is declared a historical and architectural monument.
“On the fourth of October, on the significant day of the first meeting with my future husband, I woke up cheerful, in joyful excitement with the thought that today a long-cherished dream of mine would come true: from a schoolgirl or student to become an independent figure in my chosen field. At twenty-five minutes past eleven I went up to Alonkin’s house and asked the janitor standing at the gate where apartment No. 13 was. He showed me to the right, where under the gate there was an entrance to the stairs. The house was large, with many small apartments inhabited by merchants and artisans. It immediately reminded me of the house in the novel Crime and Punishment, in which the hero of the novel Raskolnikov lived. Apartment No. 13 was on the second floor. I rang the bell, and the door was immediately opened by an elderly maid wearing a green checkered scarf draped over her shoulders. I read “Crime” so recently that I couldn’t help thinking whether this scarf was the prototype of the draped shawl that played such a big role in the Marmeladov family.”
Anna Dostoevskaya, "Memoirs"
Parade Petersburg
The image of St. Petersburg in the novel “Crime and Punishment” is one of the main characters. Leningrad, St. Petersburg, Petrograd, St. Petersburg - the majestic city of dreams. The past, present and future of our country merge together in it.
Famous poets and prose writers admired the splendor of the palaces of St. Petersburg, artists tried to capture it on their canvases, tourists admire it, and residents are proud of it. The Northern capital appears to us in a completely different capacity on the pages of the wonderful book by Fyodor Mikhailovich Dostoevsky. The author, skillfully using the details of the city landscape, helps the reader understand the internal state of his heroes, people belonging to the lower class of society.
Griboedov Canal Embankment, 104. House of the old money-lender
House of the old woman-pawnbroker. Saint Petersburg. Photo: Alexander Alekseev / photobank “Lori”
Then Rodion Raskolnikov walked along Sadovaya Street along Yusupovsky Garden - to the house where the old woman-pawnbroker lived.
“It wasn’t long for him to go; he even knew how many steps from the gates of his house: exactly seven hundred and thirty. Once he counted them when he was really daydreaming. With a sinking heart and nervous trembling, he approached a huge house, one wall facing a ditch and the other onto the street. This house was all small apartments and was inhabited by all sorts of industrialists - tailors, mechanics, cooks, various Germans, girls living on their own, petty officials, etc.”
Fyodor Dostoevsky, “Crime and Punishment”
The house had two exits: to Srednyaya Podyacheskaya and to the Griboyedov Canal. Raskolnikov entered the courtyard through Srednyaya Podyacheskaya Street. But it should have gone to the channel, according to Dostoevist researchers. Otherwise, Dostoevsky would not have indicated that there were two entrances: the writer was always very scrupulous and consistent in details.
The plot of the novel Crime and Punishment
The plot of the work, at first glance, resembles a detective story.
The main character, Rodion Raskolnikov, took his last valuable thing to the old woman pawnbroker Alena Ivanovna, whom he was going to kill, and accidentally met a former official, drunkard Semyon Marmeladov, in a tavern. He told how poverty, consumption and drunkenness pushed his wife, Katerina Ivanovna, to a terrible act - to force Sonya, his daughter from his first marriage, to earn money on the panel by purchasing a “yellow ticket”.
Then Rodion received from his mother, Pulcheria Alexandrovna, a letter describing the ordeals of his sister Dunya in the house of a depraved landowner Arkady Svidrigailov.
Mother and sister were planning to come to St. Petersburg, where Dunya’s fiancé, Pyotr Luzhin, was waiting for them. Dunya does not like this pragmatic and cynical businessman, but hopes that the rich man will be able to pay for the education of her brother Rodion. Luzhin doesn’t love her either, but professes the theory of “wives taken out of poverty by blessed husbands.”
Presentation “Description of interiors in the novel “Crime and Punishment””
Description of the interiors in the novel “Crime and Punishment” The work was performed by: Pechenkin Georgy, Muginova Regina, Shiryaev Egor, Bogatenkova Elizaveta, Ugarin Artem, Tsygankova Anastasia, Bobojonov Sasha.
In the novel Crime and Punishment, the description of interiors plays an important role.
By describing the interiors, the author conveys the atmosphere of the work and helps to understand the character of the hero even better. What surrounds a person affects not only his views and worldview, but also his state of mind.
Description of Raskolnikov's closet Raskolnikov's home plays a vital role in the formation of his state of mind. Closet, sea cabin, closet, chest, coffin, etc. - all these epithets refer to Raskolnikov’s tiny home.
.there, in the corner, in this terrible closet, all this has been ripening for more than a month....a bad apartment.like a coffin.I’m sure you’re half out of the apartment
Voznesensky Bridge
Voznesensky Bridge over the Griboyedov Canal. Photo: Alexander Alekseev / photobank “Lori”
Rodion Raskolnikov could return back through the Voznesensky Bridge. During the course of the novel, the hero indulged in reflection here more than once. On the Voznesensky Bridge, before his eyes, the bourgeois Afrosinyushka threw herself into the Griboyedov Canal, and Katerina Marmeladova forced her children to sing and dance for alms.
“Katerina Ivanovna’s hoarse, torn voice could be heard from the bridge. Indeed, it was a strange spectacle that could interest the street audience. Katerina Ivanovna, in her old dress, in a draped shawl and in a broken straw hat, knocked down in an ugly lump on the side, was really in a real frenzy... She rushed to the children, shouted at them, persuaded them, taught them right there in front of the people how to dance and what sing, began to explain to them what it was for, came to despair at their lack of understanding, beat them...”
Fyodor Dostoevsky, “Crime and Punishment”
Griboyedov Canal Embankment, 73. House of Sonya Marmeladova
House of Sonya Marmeladova. Saint Petersburg. Photo: Alexander Alekseev / photobank “Lori”
Moving from the Voznesensky Bridge along the left embankment of the Griboyedov Canal, we approach the house of Sonya Marmeladova - “the house on the ditch”. The writer invariably called the Griboyedov Canal itself a ditch (until 1923 - Ekaterininsky). In this house, according to Dostoevsky’s descriptions, Sonya Marmeladova rented a room. The main feature of the building is its obtuse angle.
“And Raskolnikov went straight to the house on the ditch where Sonya lived. The house was three stories high, old and green. Sonya’s room looked like a barn, had the appearance of a very irregular quadrangle, and this gave it something ugly. A wall with three windows, overlooking a ditch, cut the room somehow at an angle, causing one corner, terribly sharp, to run away somewhere deeper, so that, in the dim light, it was impossible to even see it well; the other angle was already too outrageously obtuse.”
"Crime and Punishment", Fyodor Dostoevsky
