crime and punishment: part six
selected passages from dostoevsky
ChatGPT summary:
The tension reaches its peak as Porfiry Petrovich closes in on Raskolnikov, while Svidrigailov plays a dangerous game of manipulation.
Raskolnikov meets Porfiry, who now openly suggests that he knows Raskolnikov is the murderer. However, instead of arresting him, Porfiry plays mind games, trying to push him into a confession. He argues that confession and repentance are Raskolnikov’s only escape, warning that the psychological burden will eventually destroy him.
Meanwhile, Svidrigailov reveals that he has overheard Raskolnikov’s confession to Sonya and uses this knowledge to exert control. However, his true obsession is Dunya. He corners her, declares his love, and threatens to force himself on her, but Dunya resists and even attempts to shoot him. Ultimately, Svidrigailov, realizing that he can never have Dunya and seeing no future for himself, takes his own life, further reinforcing the novel’s theme of guilt and self-destruction.
With nowhere left to turn, Raskolnikov visits Sonya, who begs him to confess publicly. After an intense internal struggle, he finally goes to the police station and confesses to the murders, signaling the beginning of his path toward redemption.
The Epilogue follows Raskolnikov’s fate after his confession. He is sentenced to eight years in a Siberian prison, where he remains emotionally detached and unrepentant. He still clings to his old ideas, believing himself different from the other prisoners and refusing to acknowledge his guilt.
Throughout his imprisonment, Sonya remains devoted to him, visiting regularly and offering him unwavering support. Despite his coldness, she represents his hope for salvation.
One day, Raskolnikov has a dream about a plague that drives people to madness, symbolizing the chaos and destruction caused by radical ideologies like his own. The dream shakes him, and in a pivotal moment, he finally breaks down and weeps before Sonya, fully embracing his guilt and her love. This signals the beginning of his spiritual rebirth, as he realizes that redemption comes through love, suffering, and humility.
The novel ends on a hopeful note—while his true redemption is still ahead of him, Raskolnikov’s journey toward self-awareness and renewal has begun.
chapter one
Cliffsnotes summary:
It was a strange time for Raskolnikov: Katerina Ivanovna is dead; Dunya has visited him; Svidrigailov, who had overheard his conversation with Sonya, worries him the most. Now Razumihkin comes to accuse him of being a scoundrel for ignoring his family. He informs Rodya that his mother, Pulcheria Alexandrovna, had come to see him thinking he was sick but eventually decided he had forgotten his mother.
Razumihkin is disgusted with Rodya until he hears about Dunya's visit and that Rodya wants him to look after both Dunya and her mother: "Whatever happens to me, wherever I go, you will stay and look after them. I entrust them to you." Razumihkin also tells Rodya that Dunya received a strange letter that upset her greatly. Just before Razumihkin leaves, he tells Rodya that Porfiry, using very complicated psychological terms, explained how the painter confessed to the murder, and again Raskolnikov wonders if Porfiry is again playing the "cat and mouse" game. At this moment, Porfiry knocks at the door.
Highlights:
She took both his hands and let her head sink on his shoulder. This slight friendly gesture bewildered Raskolnikov. It seemed strange to him that there was no trace of repugnance, no trace of disgust, no tremor in her hand. It was the furthest limit of self-abnegation, at least so he interpreted it.
Raskolnikov is discussing Sonia’s continued affection and love for him. He can’t understand how she doesn’t remain disgusted by him, in the way that he remains disgusted by himself. Why is that? Why is she not repelled by him? What does she actually feel?
But although he had almost always been by himself recently, he had never been able to feel alone. Sometimes he walked out of the town onto the high road, once he had even reached a little wood, but the lonelier the place was, the more he seemed to be aware of an uneasy presence near him. It did not frighten him, but greatly annoyed him, so he made haste to return to the town, to mingle with the crowd, to go into restaurants and taverns, to walk in busy streets. There he felt easier and even more solitary.
What is this presence, and why is it uneasy?
“No, better have the struggle again! Better have Porfiry again . . . or Svidrigailov . . . Better have some challenge again . . . some attack.”
This is Raskolnikov making the assessment that he prefers the challenges that Porfiry or Svidrigailov offer instead of the “uneasy presence” that he now constantly feels. I think many of us are like this; seek conflict and active engagement with others because we are restless on our own.
‘If he is ill, if his mind is giving way, who can look after him like his mother can?’
This is Raskolnikov’s mother trying to convince Razumikhin to let her see Raskolnikov. So touching, and it really made my heart hurt. I can’t imagine my mother suffering like this on my behalf.
The final moment had come, the last drops had to be drained! So a man will sometimes go through half an hour of mortal terror with a brigand, yet when the knife is at his throat at last, he feels no fear.
Amazing line. The fear and terror only animate you if you believe you have a way out. Raskolnikov has accepted his fate, and consequently feels no fear.
chapter two
Cliffsnotes summary:
Porfiry begins rattling on about these poisoned cigarettes, and Raskolnikov wonders if Porfiry is going to play the same old game again. He throws Raskolnikov off guard by apologizing for their last meeting — "it was such a strange scene" — and perhaps he acted unfairly. He wants to convince Raskolnikov that he is sincerely attracted to him, and he believes that Raskolnikov is "a most honorable man with elements of greatness in him." Furthermore, he possesses a noble soul and elements of magnanimity.
Porfiry also wants to explain all the various circumstances that led him to think Raskolnikov is the murderer — the pledges, the theory, the illness, the return to the scene of the crime, and other matters. He then explains why Nikolay the painter confessed to the murder. The painter happens to belong to an old religious order, which believes that man should suffer and to suffer at the hands of authorities is the best type of suffering, but above all "simply suffering is necessary."
At the end of his narration, Porfiry then explains how Nikolay could not have committed the murder. Instead, after describing the events surrounding the murder, he announces, "you Rodion Romanovitch, you are the murderer." After making this accusation, Porfiry tells him that he will not arrest him for several days because he wants Raskolnikov to come of his own volition and openly make the confession. To arrest him "is not to my interest."
Porfiry then tells Raskolnikov why he likes him and advises Raskolnikov to learn to love life, not to scorn the possibility of a mitigation of sentence. Likewise, he advises Raskolnikov to suffer "because suffering is a great thing." Before he leaves, Porfiry announces that he has no fear Raskolnikov might be tempted to run away; therefore, he is quite safe in letting him remain free until he confesses.
Highlights:
“No, Rodion Romanovich, Nikolai doesn’t come into it! This is a fantastic, gloomy business, a modern case, an incident of our time, when the heart of man is troubled, when the phrase is quoted that blood ‘renews,’ when comfort is preached as the aim of life. Here we have bookish dreams, a heart unhinged by theories. Here we see resolution in the first stage, but resolution of a special kind: he resolved to do it like jumping over a precipice or from a bell tower and his legs shook as he went to the crime. He forgot to shut the door after him, and murdered two people for a theory. He committed the murder and couldn’t take the money, and what he did manage to snatch up he hid under a stone. It wasn’t enough for him to suffer agony behind the door while they battered at the door and rung the bell, no, he had to go to the empty lodging, half delirious, to recall the bell-ringing, he wanted to feel the cold shiver over again ... Well, that we grant, was through illness, but consider this: he is a murderer, but looks upon himself as an honest man, despises others, poses as an injured innocent. No, that’s not the work of a Nikolai, my dear Rodion Romanovich!”
Porfiry nailed the psychological assessment of Raskolnikov.
“Damn it, if you like! You’ve lost faith and you think that I am grossly flattering you; but how long has your life been? How much do you understand? You made up a theory and then you were ashamed that it broke down and turned out to be not at all original! It turned out to be something base, that’s true, but you are not hopelessly base. By no means so base! At least you didn’t deceive yourself for long, you went straight to the furthest point in one leap. How do I see you? I see you as one of those men who would stand and smile at their torturer while he cuts their entrails out, if only they have found faith or God. Find it and you will live. You have long needed a change of air. Suffering, too, is a good thing. Suffer! Maybe Nikolai is right in wanting to suffer. I know you don’t believe in it—but don’t be over-wise; fling yourself straight into life, without deliberation; don’t be afraid—the flood will bring you to the bank and set you safe on your feet again. What bank? How can I tell? I only believe that you have a long life before you. I know that you think all my words now are a set speech prepared beforehand, but maybe you will remember them afterwards. They may be of use some time. That’s why I speak. It’s as well that you only killed the old woman. If you’d invented another theory you might perhaps have done something a thousand times more hideous. You ought to thank God, perhaps. How do you know? Perhaps God is saving you for something. But keep your good heart and have less fear! Are you afraid of the great atonement before you? No, it would be shameful to be afraid of it. Since you have taken such a step, you must harden your heart. There is justice in it. You must fulfill the demands of justice. I know that you don’t believe it, but life, in fact, will bring you through. You will live it down in time. What you need now is fresh air, fresh air, fresh air!”
What a stunning speech by Porfiry. This is his case for life for Raskolnikov; his case for not committing suicide. Suffer and meet the demands of justice, and you will find that there is plenty that life has in store for you. He rightly sees Raskolnikov as just one of many people that have been led astray to taking extreme actions under the guise of degenerate (yet unoriginal) ideas, but he still believes that redemption and resurrection are possible. Have faith in life! Don’t run away from suffering!
“And what if I run away?” asked Raskolnikov with a strange smile.
“No, you won’t run away. A peasant would run away, a fashionable dissenter would run away, the flunkey of another man’s thought, for you’ve only to show him the end of your little finger and he’ll be ready to believe in anything for the rest of his life. But you’ve ceased to believe in your theory already, what will you run away with? And what would you do in hiding? It would be hateful and difficult for you, and what you need more than anything in life is a definite position, an atmosphere to suit you. And what sort of atmosphere would you have? If you ran away, you’d come back to yourself. You can’t get along without us. And if I put you in prison—say you’ve been there a month, or two, or three—remember my word, you’ll confess of your own accord and perhaps to your own surprise. You won’t know an hour beforehand that you are coming to confess. I am convinced that you will decide ‘to take your suffering.’ You don’t believe my words now, but you’ll come to the same realization by yourself. For suffering, Rodion Romanovich, is a great thing. Never mind the fact that I’ve got fat, I know it anyway. Don’t laugh at it, there’s a fine idea in suffering; Nikolai is right. No, you won’t run away, Rodion Romanovich.”
This is why Porfiry doesn’t believe he needs to imprison Raskolnikov. He has nothing left but to stay and confess.
chapter three
Cliffsnotes summary:
After Porfiry's pronouncement, Raskolnikov hurries to Svidrigailov's. He feels that the man has some power over him, a feeling he cannot understand. At the same time he feels some repulsion toward Sonya and thinks that he must go his own way or hers.
As he walks towards Svidrigailov's room, he wonders if the man has talked to Porfiry and decides that he hasn't. He suddenly sees Svidrigailov in a restaurant. Svidrigailov appears as though he was anxious not to be seen or as if he was trying to avoid him, but he finally calls to Raskolnikov to join him.
Raskolnikov immediately warns Svidrigailov to stop all attempts to see Dunya and threatens to kill him if he tries again. Due to the overheard conversation between Sonya and him, Svidrigailov should know that Raskolnikov is capable of murder and will certainly carry out his threat. Svidrigailov pretends to be interested only in becoming better acquainted with Raskolnikov and in learning from him about the new ideas and new ways of enjoying oneself. Suddenly Raskolnikov feels oppressed by Svidrigailov's talk of debauchery and sensuality, and he begins to leave.
Highlights:
And was it worthwhile, after all that had happened, to contend with these new trivial difficulties? Was it worthwhile, for instance, to perform some maneuver so that Svidrigailov would not go to Porfiry’s? Was it worthwhile to investigate, to establish the facts, to waste time over anyone like Svidrigailov? Oh how sick he was of it all! And yet he was hastening to Svidrigailov’s; could he be expecting something new from him, information, or means of escape? People do clutch at straws! Was it destiny or some instinct bringing them together? Perhaps it was only fatigue, despair; perhaps it was not Svidrigailov but some other person whom he needed, and Svidrigailov had simply presented himself by chance. Sonia? But what should he go to Sonia for now? To beg for her tears again? He was afraid of Sonia, too. Sonia stood before him like an irrevocable sentence.
Raskolnikov questions why he’s even bothering with Svidrigailov; why is he afraid of what he might do when his sentence is already inevitably laid out in front of him? And the framing of Sonia as an “irrevocable sentence” is interesting; part of him still is squirming and searching for a way out.
“Oh, that’s the way with all you people,” laughed Svidrigailov. “You won’t admit it, even if you inwardly believe it’s a miracle! Here you say that it may only be chance. And what cowards they all are here, about having an opinion of their own, you can’t imagine, Rodion Romanovich. I don’t mean you, you have an opinion of your own and you aren’t afraid to have it. That’s how you attracted my curiosity.”
Interesting line by Svidrigailov; he still views Raskolnikov as non-cowardly because he acted on his ideas; that made him someone of interest. Curious what Porfiry would say about it.
chapter four
Cliffsnotes summary:
Svidrigailov persuades Raskolnikov to remain a while longer and he tells how his wife Marfa rescued him from debtor's prison, and knowing that he had a wandering eye, made him agree to a verbal contract where she was to be informed of his various "wandering eyes." He did often flirt with the hired help until Dunya reprimanded him. When Dunya grew sorry for him, he knew he had a chance with her because she was the type of woman who could enjoy being martyred. As he tells the story of his seduction of a faithful wife, Raskolnikov becomes more and more disgusted, especially when he speaks of how "Dunya's eyes can flash fire." When he tells of all the intimate details of his 15-year-old fiancée who would often cuddle in his lap and then confesses that in his own debauchery he likes "my sewers to be filthy," Raskolnikov's repulsion is too much. He departs this "vile, nasty, depraved, sensual man."
Highlights:
There was so much swinishness in my soul and honesty too, of a sort, that I told her straight out I couldn’t be absolutely faithful to her. This confession drove her to frenzy, but yet she seems in a way to have liked my brutal frankness. She thought it showed I was unwilling to deceive her if I warned her like this beforehand and for a jealous woman, you know, that’s the first consideration.
Crazy! His frankness about his lack of fidelity made her trust him even more.
With all Avdotia Romanovna’s natural aversion and in spite of my invariably gloomy and repellent aspect—she did at least feel pity for me, pity for a lost soul. And once a girl’s heart is moved to pity, it’s more dangerous than anything. She is bound to want to ‘save him,’ to bring him to his senses, and lift him up and draw him to nobler aims, and restore him to new life and usefulness—well, we all know how far such dreams can go.
Now Svidrigailov is talking about how he “woo-ed” Dunia. How many women have wasted their lives trying to save men?
She is simply thirsting to face some torture for someone, and if she can’t get her torture, she’ll throw herself out of a window.
Raskolnikov got this read of his sister too! It’s the same tendency, manifesting itself in a variety of forms.
Think what the passion for propaganda will bring some girls to! I, of course, threw it all on my destiny, posed as hungering and thirsting for light, and finally resorted to the most powerful weapon in the subjection of the female heart, a weapon which never fails. It’s the well-known resource—flattery. Nothing in the world is harder than speaking the truth and nothing easier than flattery. If there’s the hundredth part of a false note in speaking the truth, it leads to a discord, and that leads to trouble. But if everything, to the last note, is false in flattery, it is just as agreeable, and is heard not without satisfaction. It may be a coarse satisfaction, but still a satisfaction. And however coarse the flattery, at least half will be sure to seem true. That’s so for all stages of development and classes of society. A vestal virgin might be seduced by flattery. I can never remember without laughter how I once seduced a lady who was devoted to her husband, her children, and her principles. What fun it was and how little trouble! And the lady really had principles, of her own, anyway. All my tactics lay in simply being utterly annihilated and prostrate before her purity. I flattered her shamelessly, and as soon as I succeeded in getting a pressure of the hand, even a glance from her, I would reproach myself for having snatched it by force, and would declare that she had resisted, so that I could never have gained anything but for the fact that I was so unprincipled. I maintained that she was so innocent that she could not foresee my treachery, and yielded to me unconsciously, unawares, and so on. In fact, I triumphed, while my lady remained firmly convinced that she was innocent, chaste, and faithful to all her duties and obligations and had succumbed quite by accident. And how angry she was with me when I explained to her at last that it was my sincere conviction that she was just as eager as I.
He’s laying out the fantasy; making it more tolerable to the conscience. Others can’t even tell when they’re being led astray. He’s right though; there is tremendous power in flattery and self-flagellation, insulating others from their own conscience and taking all the responsibility.
To what a pitch of stupidity a man can be brought by frenzy! Never undertake anything in a frenzy, Rodion Romanovich.
Right!
“The fact is that this monstrous difference in age and development excites your sensuality! Will you really make such a marriage?”
“But of course. Everyone thinks of himself, and the man who lives most gaily knows best how to deceive himself. Ha-ha! But why are you so keen on virtue? Have mercy on me, my good friend. I am a sinful man. Ha-ha-ha!”
Raskolnikov is asking why a monstrous age difference doesn’t repulse Svidrigailov. He responds by just giving in to his sinfulness! He doesn’t even bother trying to be “virtuous” since he believes all sense of inner virtue to be based on self-deceit. In his eye, might as well do away with the deceit and just indulge. Many people live this way, don’t they?
chapter five
Cliffsnotes summary:
Raskolnikov fears that Svidrigailov still has evil designs on his sister and is determined to follow him. Svidrigailov is disgusted and annoyed because the designated time to meet Dunya has almost elapsed. Therefore, he begins to bring up the subject of the murder and to make caustic remarks to Raskolnikov calling him a romantic (Schillerresque Romantic) who objects to people listening at doors but it's alright to murder an old louse. Finally, Raskolnikov is disgusted with being around Svidrigailov and he leaves.
As he walks away he passes Dunya but does not see her. At the same time Dunya sees Svidrigailov waiting for her and she hurriedly goes to meet him. Svidrigailov tricks Dunya into his room by hinting about strange things Raskolnikov has done and also by assuring her that all the neighbors, including Sonya, will be present.
In his room he reveals to her all that he has heard about Raskolnikov's confession. He explains how Raskolnikov committed the crime to support some theories of his. As he explains the theories, Dunya is able to believe him because she has carefully read the article that Raskolnikov published about his theories of crime and the criminal. Svidrigailov then suggests that Raskolnikov get a ticket to some place far away, maybe America, because Raskolnikov "may yet be a great man." After he convinces her of her brother's guilt, he then reveals that only she can save her brother by submitting to his seduction.
Dunya quickly rushes to the door and finds it locked. Svidrigailov reveals that the other tenants, including Sonya, are away and will not return until late at night. Svidrigailov implores Dunya to submit to the seduction even though he points out how easily it would be for him to overpower her; she is at his mercy. She would not be able to complain to the authorities without implicating and finally condemning her own brother.
At this time, Dunya pulls out a gun that Svidrigailov recognizes as belonging to him; she had taken it long ago when she was the governess. Svidrigailov begins to threateningly approach Dunya. She shoots once and misses. She shoots once more and the bullet grazes his hair. Svidrigailov does not rush Dunya; instead, he gives her all the time she needs in order to reload the pistol. He is willing to let Dunya kill him. After she has reloaded the pistol, he approaches her again saying that this time at three paces, she can hardly miss, but she can't fire and she drops the pistol. Svidrigailov feels that this is a good sign. He takes her in his arms and asks her if she can love him. To her response of "Never," he then gives her the key and tells her to take it but make haste and leave. Svidrigailov remains a few minutes longer, and then takes his hat and leaves.
Highlights:
“I’m not thinking of that at all,” Raskolnikov interrupted with disgust.
“I understand (but don’t put yourself out, don’t discuss it if you don’t want to). I understand the questions you are worrying over—moral ones, aren’t they? Duties of citizen and man? Lay them all aside. They are nothing to you now, ha-ha! You’ll say you are still a man and a citizen. If so you ought not to have got into this coil. It’s no use taking up a job you are not fit for. Well, you’d better shoot yourself, or don’t you want to?”
Svidrigailov asks Raskolnikov why he’s bothered by appearances and morality; he seemingly gave up those concerns by killing someone. It’s not that simple though, it is?
He has suffered a great deal and is still suffering from the idea that he could make a theory, but was incapable of boldly overstepping the law, and so he is not a man of genius. And that’s humiliating for a young man of any pride, in our day especially.
This is what Svidrigailov says to Dunia about Raskolnikov. He absolutely lays him dry here! And makes it clear that Raskolnikov is suffering from wounded pride more than anything else.
chapter six
Cliffsnotes summary:
After Dunya's departure, Svidrigailov indulges his low, vulgar taste in entertainment places on his way to Sonya's room, next door to his. He tells her that Katerina's three children are very well taken care of. He then gives her 3,000 rubles for her own use. When she tries to refuse, he tells her of Raskolnikov's two alternatives — either a bullet through the head or prison in Siberia. There is only one qualification for accepting the money; she is to tell absolutely no one where it came from. Also she should take it tomorrow or as soon as possible and deposit it with Razumihkin.
Svidrigailov continues on his way to see his 15-year-old fiancée and leaves her a note for 15,000 rubles. Returning now to his room, he dreams of finding a young five-year-old girl whom he picks up and takes to his room. In his dream, this girl suddenly grows older and assumes the role of a depraved French prostitute. Svidrigailov then gets up and wanders to the park where he takes out his revolver and puts a bullet through his head.
Highlights:
No highlights, just lots to reflect on. Why does Svidrigailov kill himself? Why hasn’t Raskolnikov yet? I think it’s because Raskolnikov has Sonia; Svidrigailov has no one; he’s completely untouched by love. In fact, as evidenced by his dream, he only corrupts the people around him. Even though he encouraged Raskolnikov to give in to his own inner depravity earlier, Svidrigailov realizes that it’s a shallow existence; he has nothing to live for now. Especially after Dunia rejected him in the previous chapter. He didn’t want to simply take advantage of her and use her; he wanted her to want him, which of course she didn’t.
chapter seven
Cliffsnotes summary:
On that same day that Svidrigailov commits suicide, Rodya is on way to pay his last visit to this mother. She is alone. She refuses to question him about his whereabouts and maintains that she has read his article three times and feels that he is destined for greatness. She states that she will not interfere. He tells her "I came to assure you that I have always loved you, and now I am glad that we are alone." Again and again, he assures her of his abiding love for her, but also tells her that he has to go away for a long time. However, before he leaves, he asks his mother "to kneel down and pray to God for me. Your prayers perhaps will reach Him." She makes the cross over him and blesses him, and he leaves promising that someday he will return to her.
When he returns to his room, he finds Dunya waiting for him. She has been all day with Sonya waiting for him. Dunya now knows of the crime and agrees that it was wrong but is proud that he "is ready to face suffering." She, like Sonya and Porfiry, also believes that he expiates his crime "by facing his suffering." Still Raskolnikov cannot bring himself to admit the crime as evil: "Crime? What crime?. . .Killing a foul, noxious louse, that old moneylender, no good to anybody, who sucked the life-blood of the poor, so vile that killing her ought to bring absolution for forty sins."
He only admits that it was his own baseness, his incompetence, and clumsiness that were at fault. But he assures Dunya that he is ready to take his suffering even though he can see no value to it. He also promises that he shall be honorable and manly and that some day, she will hear him spoken of favorably. As he leaves, he asks himself why is he going to Sonya's house now. He feels he has already made her suffer too much, but all the same he goes.
Highlights:
Yes, he was glad, he was very glad that there was no-one there, that he was alone with his mother. For the first time after all those awful months his heart was softened. He fell down in front of her, he kissed her feet and both of them wept, embracing. And she was not surprised and did not question him this time. For some days she had realized that something awful was happening to her son and that now some terrible moment had come for him.
“Rodia, my darling, my firstborn,” she said, sobbing, “now you are just as when you were little. You would run like this to me and hug me and kiss me. When your father was alive and we were poor, you comforted us simply by being with us and when I buried your father, how often we wept together at his grave and embraced, as now. And if I’ve been crying recently, it’s because my mother’s heart has had a foreboding of trouble. The first time I saw you, that evening you remember, as soon as we arrived here, I guessed it just from your eyes. My heart sank at once, and today when I opened the door and looked at you, I thought the fatal hour had come. Rodia, Rodia, you are not going away today?”
There is nothing like the bond between mother and son; this reconciliation melted my heart. Even though they don’t share the specifics of what happened, it’s sufficient for Raskolnikov’s mother to sense the trouble that Raskolnikov is facing and to pray over him.
“What God sends . . . just pray for me.” Raskolnikov went to the door, but she clutched him and gazed despairingly into his eyes. Her face was gripped with terror.
“Enough, Mother,” said Raskolnikov, deeply regretting that he had come.
“Not forever, it’s not yet forever? You’ll come, you’ll come tomorrow?”
“I will, I will, goodbye.” He tore himself away at last.
No mother wants to see her son suffer and face atonement; she just wants him to be happy and just wants to spend time together. All mothers want to do is spare their children from pain.
“I don’t remember clearly. You see, sister, I wanted to make up my mind once and for all, and several times I walked by the Neva, I remember that I wanted to end it all there, but . . . I couldn’t make up my mind,” he whispered, looking at her mistrustfully again.
“Thank God! That was just what we were afraid of, Sofia Semionovna and I. Then you still have faith in life? Thank God, thank God!”
This is Dunia, who is so relieved that Raskolnikov didn’t kill himself like Svidrigailov. She thinks this means that Raskolnikov has faith in life, but I don’t think he does yet; he doesn’t know why he didn’t kill himself.
“A contemptible person, but ready to face suffering! You are, aren’t you?”
“Yes, I am going. At once. Yes, to escape the disgrace I thought of drowning myself, Dunia, but as I looked into the water, I thought that if I had considered myself strong until now I’d better not be afraid of disgrace,” he said, hurrying on. “It’s pride, Dunia.”
“Pride, Rodia.”
There was a gleam of fire in his lusterless eyes; he seemed to be glad to think that he was still proud.
“You don’t think, sister, that I was simply afraid of the water?” he asked, looking into her face with a sinister smile.
“Oh, Rodia, hush!” cried Dunia bitterly. Silence lasted for two minutes. He sat with his eyes fixed on the floor; Dunia stood at the other end of the table and looked at him with anguish. Suddenly he got up.
“It’s late, it’s time to go! I am going at once to give myself up. But I don’t know why I am going to give myself up.”
Big tears fell down her cheeks.
“You are crying, sister, but can you hold out your hand to me?”
“You doubted it?” She threw her arms round him.
“Aren’t you half atoning for your crime by facing the suffering!” she cried, holding him close and kissing him.
“Crime? What crime?” he cried in sudden fury. “That I killed a vile noxious insect, an old pawnbroker woman, of no use to anyone! . . . Killing her was an atonement for forty sins. She was sucking the life out of poor people. Was that a crime? I am not thinking of it and I am not thinking of atoning for it, and why are you all rubbing it in on all sides? ‘A crime! A crime!’ Only now I see clearly the imbecility of my cowardice, now that I have decided to face this superfluous disgrace. It’s simply because I am contemptible and have nothing in me that I have decided to, perhaps too for my advantage, as that . . . Porfiry . . . suggested!”
“Rodia, Rodia, what are you saying! You have shed blood!” cried Dunia in despair.
“Which all men shed,” he put in almost frantically, “which flows and has always flowed in streams, which is spilt like champagne, and for which men are crowned in the Capitol73 and are later called benefactors of mankind. Look into it more carefully and understand it! I too wanted to do good and would have done hundreds, thousands of good deeds to make up for that one piece of stupidity, not stupidity even, simply clumsiness, for the idea was by no means as stupid as it seems now that it has failed . . . (Everything seems stupid when it fails.) By that stupidity I only wanted to put myself into an independent position, to take the first step, to obtain means, and then everything would have been smoothed over by benefits immeasurable in comparison . . . But I . . . I couldn’t carry out even the first step, because I am contemptible, that’s what’s the matter! And yet I won’t look at it as you do. If I had succeeded I would have been crowned with glory, but now I’m trapped.”
“But that’s not so, not so! Rodia, what are you saying!”
“Ah, it’s not picturesque, not esthetically attractive! I fail to understand why bombarding people by regular siege is more honorable. The fear of appearances is the first symptom of impotence. I’ve never, never recognized this more clearly than now, and I am further than ever from seeing that what I did was a crime. I’ve never, never been stronger and more convinced than now.”
The color had rushed into his pale exhausted face, but as he uttered his last explanation, he happened to meet Dunia’s eyes and he saw such anguish in them that he could not help being checked. He felt that he had any way made these two poor women miserable, that he was in any case the cause . . .
Raskolnikov still doesn’t understand why he’s atoning for the murder because he still doesn’t view it as a crime; he views it as an error of execution and not one of intent. I think it’s the case for many people that they accept that they must face atonement and punishment before they understand why. There’s a delta here that Dostoevsky so neatly paints! The pride takes a long time to let go of.
They say it is necessary for me to suffer! What’s the object of these senseless sufferings? Shall I know any better what they are for, when I am crushed by hardships and idiocy, and weak as an old man after twenty years’ penal servitude? And what shall I have to live for then? Why am I consenting to that life now? Oh, I knew I was contemptible when I stood looking at the Neva at daybreak today!
Another passage from Raskolnikov that highlights that he can’t understand the purpose of suffering and punishment. It’s his wounded pride speaking!
I am wicked, I see that,” he thought to himself, feeling ashamed a moment later of his angry gesture to Dunia. “But why are they so fond of me if I don’t deserve it? Oh, if only I were alone and no-one loved me and I too had never loved anyone! None of this would have happened. But, I wonder, shall I in those fifteen or twenty years grow so meek that I shall humble myself before people and whimper at every word that I am a criminal. Yes, that’s it, that’s it, that’s what they are sending me there for, that’s what they want. Look at them running to and fro about the streets, every one of them a scoundrel and a criminal at heart and, worse still, an idiot. But try to get me off and they’d be wild with righteous indignation. Oh, how I hate them all!”
He start imagining the process which would accomplish it, that he could be humbled before all of them, indiscriminately—humbled by conviction. And yet why not? It must be so. Would not twenty years of continual servitude crush him utterly? Water wears out a stone. And why, why should he live after that? Why should he go now when he knew that it would be so? It was the hundredth time perhaps that he had asked himself that question since the previous evening, but still he went.
He still feels burdened by Dunia and Sonia’s affection; he’s essentially only facing atonement for them instead of for himself. He still doesn’t understand why he doesn’t kill himself; he thinks the humiliation far worse. But he still goes. Why? It’s not completely clear.
chapter eight
Cliffsnotes summary:
Dunya and Sonya had been waiting all day for Rodya, fearing that he might have taken his life. Dunya gives up and goes to Rodya's room to wait for him. When he arrives at Sonya's, she is overjoyed to see him. He immediately tells her "I have come for your crosses — it was you who sent me to the cross-roads." As she goes for the crosses, he decides that he will not go to Porfiry because he is sick of him.
Sonya returns with the crosses, makes the sign of the cross over him, and hangs the little cypress-wood cross on his breast. He then tells Sonya, "This then is a symbol that I am taking up my cross." At Sonya's fervent request, he makes the "sign of the cross several times" and Sonya gets her shawl to accompany him, but he tells her he has to go alone. She follows discreetly but remains at a distance in the shadows.
As he goes to confess, he does not understand Sonya's grief since he is doing what she had asked. But he remembers her advice to go to the cross-roads and as he kneels and kisses the ground, a roar of laughter erupts from all who were around him. Some thought he was drunk; others thought him mad. He is about to abandon the entire idea and then he sees Sonya in the shadows at a distance. "In that moment Raskolnikov knew in his heart, once and for all, that Sonya would be with him for always, and would follow him to the ends of the earth."
He enters the police station and asks for Zametov, who is not there and he has to listen to some ravings from Ilya Petrovitch. Suddenly Raskolnikov overhears that Svidrigailov has shot himself. Without making his confession, he turns to go out and once on the steps he sees Sonya standing in the distance. He turns and goes back and tells the official: "It was I who killed the old pawnbroker woman and her sister Lizaveta with an axe and robbed them."
Highlights:
“Is it possible that he has nothing but cowardice and fear of death to make him live?” she thought at last in despair.
Sonia’s doubt that the only reason he’s facing his punishment is because he’s afraid to die. It’s real!
But do you know what angers me? It annoys me that all those stupid brutish faces will be gaping at me directly, pestering me with their stupid questions, which I shall have to answer—they’ll point their fingers at me . . .
Raskolnikov’s pride! He still views himself as above others! This is why he doesn’t see what he did as a crime.
But his feeling was stirred; his heart ached, as he looked at her. “Why is she grieving too?” he thought to himself. “What am I to her? Why does she weep? Why is she looking after me, like my mother or Dunia?”
Raskolnikov doesn’t understand why Sonia grieves for him. To be honest, I also don’t completely understand.
“Why, with what object did I go to her just now? I told her—on business; on what business? I had no sort of business! To tell her I was going; but where was the need? Do I love her? No, no, I drove her away just now like a dog. Did I want her crosses? Oh, how low I’ve sunk! No, I wanted her tears, I wanted to see her terror, to see how her heart ached! I had to have something to cling to, something to delay me, some friendly face to see! And I dared to believe in myself, to dream of what I would do! I am a beggarly contemptible wretch, contemptible!”
Sometimes we allied a friendly face as we walk a painful path. That makes all the difference; I think this is why he confessed while Svidrigailov killed himself.
“It was I who killed the old pawnbroker woman and her sister Lizaveta with an axe and robbed them.” Ilia Petrovich opened his mouth. People ran up on all sides. Raskolnikov repeated his statement.
The confession at last. Wow.
epilogue
Highlights:
But they immediately deduced that the crime could only have been committed through temporary mental derangement, through homicidal mania, without any purpose or pursuit of gain. This fell in with the most recent fashionable theory of temporary insanity, so often applied nowadays in criminal cases.
This is the logic they used to reduce his sentence from 20 years to 8. Wild!
And yet he was even ashamed when he came to see Sonia, because of which he tortured her with his rough, contemptuous manner. But it was not his shaven head and his chains he was ashamed of: his pride had been stung to the quick. It was wounded pride that made him ill. Oh, how happy he would have been if he could have blamed himself! He could have endured anything then, even shame and disgrace. But he judged himself severely, and his exasperated conscience found no particularly terrible fault in his past, except a simple blunder which might happen to anyone. He was ashamed just because he, Raskolnikov, had so hopelessly, stupidly come to grief through some decree of blind fate, and must humble himself and submit to “the idiocy” of a sentence in order somehow to find peace.
Vague and aimless anxiety in the present, and in the future a continual sacrifice leading to nothing—that was all that lay before him. And what comfort was it to him that at the end of eight years he would be only thirty-two and able to begin a new life! What did he have to live for? What did he have to look forward to? Why should he strive? To live in order to exist? He had been ready a thousand times before to give up existence for the sake of an idea, for a hope, even for a whim. Mere existence had always been too little for him; he had always wanted more. Perhaps it was just because of the strength of his desires that he had considered himself a man to whom more was permissible than to others.
And if only fate would have sent him repentance—burning repentance that would have torn his heart and robbed him of sleep, that repentance, the awful agony of which brings visions of hanging or drowning! Oh, he would have been glad of it! Tears and agonies would at least have been life. But he did not repent of his crime.
At least he might have found relief in raging at his stupidity, as he had raged at the grotesque blunders that had brought him to prison. But now in prison, in freedom, he thought over and criticized all his actions again and by no means found them as blundering and as grotesque as they had seemed at the fatal time.
“In what way,” he asked himself, “was my theory more stupid than others that have swarmed and clashed from the beginning of the world? You only have to look at the thing entirely independently, broadly, and uninfluenced by commonplace ideas, and my idea will by no means seem so . . . strange. Oh, skeptics and halfpenny philosophers, why do you halt halfway!”
“Why does my action strike them as so horrible?” he said to himself. “Is it because it was a crime? What is meant by crime? My conscience is at rest. Of course, it was a legal crime, of course, the letter of the law was broken and blood was shed. Well, punish me for the letter of the law . . . and that’s enough. Of course, in that case many of the benefactors of mankind who snatched power for themselves instead of inheriting it ought to have been punished at their first steps. But those men succeeded and so they were right, and I didn’t, and so I had no right to have taken that step.”
He still views his sacrifice and punishment as leading to nothing; he thinks it’s bad luck that he got sentenced and that things played out the way they did. And he doesn’t think he has anything to live for! He doesn’t repent, and in fact he’s emboldened in thinking that his “theory” was no worse than others; he doesn’t view his crime as very contemptible.
He suffered from another question: why had he not killed himself ? Why had he stood looking at the river and preferred to confess?
He still doesn’t know! Even as he’s serving his sentence!
He looked at his fellow prisoners and was amazed to see how they all loved life and prized it. It seemed to him that they loved and valued life more in prison than in freedom.
It’s because they’ve repented and surrendered their pride; at leas that’s my theory.
There was another question he could not resolve: why were they all so fond of Sonia?
They understand, in a way Raskolnikov doesn’t, how sacred her constant presence, attention, and love is. It’s not about her doing anything special for others; her being is enough.
He dreamt that the whole world was condemned to a terrible strange new plague that had come to Europe from the depths of Asia. Everyone was to be destroyed except a few chosen ones. Some sort of new microbe was attacking people’s bodies, but these microbes were endowed with intelligence and will. Men attacked by them became instantly furious and mad. But never had men considered themselves so intellectual and so completely in possession of the truth as these sufferers, never had they considered their decisions, their scientific conclusions, their moral convictions so infallible. Whole villages, whole towns and peoples were driven mad by the infection. Everyone was excited and did not understand one another. Each thought that he alone had the truth and was wretched looking at the others, beat himself on the breast, wept, and wrung his hands. They did not know how to judge and could not agree what to consider evil and what good; they did not know who to blame, who to justify. Men killed each other in a sort of senseless spite. They gathered together in armies against one another, but even on the march the armies would begin attacking each other, the ranks would be broken and the soldiers would fall on each other, stabbing and cutting, biting and devouring each other. The alarm bells kept ringing all day long in the towns; men rushed together, but why they were summoned and who was summoning them no-one knew. The most ordinary trades were abandoned, because everyone proposed their own ideas and their own improvements, and they could not agree. The land too was abandoned. Men met in groups, agreed on something, swore to keep together, but at once began on something quite different from what they had proposed. They accused one another, fought and killed each other. There were conflagrations and famine. All men and all things were involved in destruction. The plague spread and moved further and further. Only a few men could be saved in the whole world. They were a pure chosen people, destined to found a new race and a new life, to renew and purify the earth, but no-one had seen these men, no-one had heard their words and their voices.
This is the logical consequence of Raskolnikov’s way of being; with no way of telling who is chosen and who is not, everyone takes the mantle, turning the world into a hellhole. He finally sees this through the dream. And the world described in his dream doesn’t seem to dissimilar to the one we currently inhabit!
How it happened he did not know. But all at once something seemed to seize him and fling him at her feet. He wept and threw his arms round her knees. At first instant she was terribly frightened and she turned pale. She jumped up and looked at him trembling. But at the same moment she understood, and a light of infinite happiness came into her eyes. She knew and had no doubt that he loved her above everything else and that at last the moment had come . . .
They wanted to speak, but could not; tears stood in their eyes. They were both pale and thin; but those sick pale faces were bright with the dawn of a new future, of a full resurrection into a new life. They were renewed by love; the heart of each held infinite sources of life for the heart of the other.
He finally repents! He finally softens! He finally surrenders his pride! He’s finally ready for renewal! This is such a powerful moment.
He thought of her. He remembered how continually he had tormented her and wounded her heart. He remembered her pale, thin little face. But these recollections scarcely troubled him now; he knew with what infinite love he would now repay all her sufferings. And what were all the agonies of the past! Everything, even his crime, his sentence and imprisonment, seemed to him now in the first rush of feeling an external, strange fact with which he had no concern. But he could not think of anything for long that evening, and he could not have analyzed anything consciously; he was simply feeling. Life had stepped into the place of theory and something quite different would work itself out in his mind.
He has changed. Before, he was still attached to the details of his crime and his past misfortune; now, he’s ready to look ahead, to life!
At the beginning of their happiness at some moments they were both ready to look on those seven years as though they were seven days. He did not know that the new life would not be given him for nothing, that he would have to pay dearly for it, that it would cost him great striving, great suffering.
But that is the beginning of a new story—the story of the gradual renewal of a man, the story of his gradual regeneration, of his transition from one world into another, of his initiation into a new, unknown life. That might be the subject of a new story, but our present story is over.
Of course, it’s not that simple; and as Dostoevsky describes, change and a new lease on life requires immense suffering and striving; a heavy cost to be paid. It doesn’t just happen in a moment. But it’s coming for Raskolnikov; and if redemption and renewal is possible for him, then there’s hope for us all.