All thats nonsense, he said hopefully, and there is nothing in it all to worry about! Its simply physical derangement. Just a glass of beer, a piece of dry bread and in one moment the brain is stronger, the mind is clearer and the will is firm! Phew, how utterly petty it all is!
But in spite of this scornful reflection, he was by now looking cheerful as though he were suddenly set free from a terrible burden: and he gazed round in a friendly way at the people in the room. But even at that moment he had a dim foreboding that this happier frame of mind was also not normal.
There were few people at the time in the tavern. Besides the two drunken men he had met on the steps, a group consisting of about five men and a girl with a concertina had gone out at the same time. Their departure left the room quiet and rather empty. The persons still in the tavern were a man who appeared to be an artisan, drunk, but not extremely so, sitting before a pot of beer, and his companion, a huge, stout man with a grey beard, in a short full-skirted coat. He was very drunk: and had dropped asleep on the bench; every now and then, he began as though in his sleep, cracking his fingers, with his arms wide apart and the upper part of his body bounding about on the bench, while he hummed some meaningless refrain, trying to recall some such lines as these:
His wife a year he fondly loved His wife a a year he fondly loved.
Or suddenly waking up again:
Walking along the crowded row He met the one he used to know.
But no one shared his enjoyment: his silent companion looked with positive hostility and mistrust at all these manifestations. There was another man in the room who looked somewhat like a retired government clerk. He was sitting apart, now and then sipping from his pot and looking round at the company. He, too, appeared to be in some agitation.
CHAPTER II
Raskolnikov was not used to crowds, and, as we said before, he avoided society of every sort, more especially of late. But now all at once he felt a desire to be with other people. Something new seemed to be taking place within him, and with it he felt a sort of thirst for company. He was so weary after a whole month of concentrated wretchedness and gloomy excitement that he longed to rest, if only for a moment, in some other world, whatever it might be; and, in spite of the filthiness of the surroundings, he was glad now to stay in the tavern.
The master of the establishment was in another room, but he frequently came down some steps into the main room, his jaunty, tarred boots with red turn-over tops coming into view each time before the rest of his person. He wore a full coat and a horribly greasy black satin waistcoat, with no cravat, and his whole face seemed smeared with oil like an iron lock. At the counter stood a boy of about fourteen, and there was another boy somewhat younger who handed whatever was wanted. On the counter lay some sliced cucumber, some pieces of dried black bread, and some fish, chopped up small, all smelling very bad. It was insufferably close, and so heavy with the fumes of spirits that five minutes in such an atmosphere might well make a man drunk.
There are chance meetings with strangers that interest us from the first moment, before a word is spoken. Such was the impression made on Raskolnikov by the person sitting a little distance from him, who looked like a retired clerk. The young man often recalled this impression afterwards, and even ascribed it to presentiment. He looked repeatedly at the clerk, partly no doubt because the latter was staring persistently at him, obviously anxious to enter into conversation. At the other persons in the room, including the tavern-keeper, the clerk looked as though he were used to their company, and weary of it, showing a shade of condescending contempt for them as persons of station and culture inferior to his own, with whom it would be useless for him to converse. He was a man over fifty, bald and grizzled, of medium height, and stoutly built. His face, bloated from continual drinking, was of a yellow, even greenish, tinge, with swollen eyelids out of which keen reddish eyes gleamed like little chinks. But there was something very strange in him; there was a light in his eyes as though of intense feeling perhaps there were even thought and intelligence, but at the same time there was a gleam of something like madness. He was wearing an old and hopelessly ragged black dress coat, with all its buttons missing except one, and that one he had buttoned, evidently clinging to this last trace of respectability. A crumpled shirt front, covered with spots and stains, protruded from his canvas waistcoat. Like a clerk, he wore no beard, nor moustache, but had been so long unshaven that his chin looked like a stiff greyish brush. And there was something respectable and like an official about his manner too. But he was restless; he ruffled up his hair and from time to time let his head drop into his hands dejectedly resting his ragged elbows on the stained and sticky table. At last he looked straight at Raskolnikov, and said loudly and resolutely:
May I venture, honoured sir, to engage you in polite conversation? Forasmuch as, though your exterior would not command respect, my experience admonishes me that you are a man of education and not accustomed to drinking. I have always respected education when in conjunction with genuine sentiments, and I am besides a titular counsellor in rank. Marmeladov such is my name; titular counsellor. I make bold to inquire have you been in the service?
No, I am studying, answered the young man, somewhat surprised at the grandiloquent style of the speaker and also at being so directly addressed. In spite of the momentary desire he had just been feeling for company of any sort, on being actually spoken to he felt immediately his habitual irritable and uneasy aversion for any stranger who approached or attempted to approach him.
A student then, or formerly a student, cried the clerk. Just what I thought! Im a man of experience, immense experience, sir, and he tapped his forehead with his fingers in self-approval. Youve been a student or have attended some learned institution! But allow me He got up, staggered, took up his jug and glass, and sat down beside the young man, facing him a little sideways. He was drunk, but spoke fluently and boldly, only occasionally losing the thread of his sentences and drawling his words. He pounced upon Raskolnikov as greedily as though he too had not spoken to a soul for a month.
Honoured sir, he began almost with solemnity, poverty is not a vice, thats a true saying. Yet I know too that drunkenness is not a virtue, and that thats even truer. But beggary, honoured sir, beggary is a vice. In poverty you may still retain your innate nobility of soul, but in beggary never no one. For beggary a man is not chased out of human society with a stick, he is swept out with a broom, so as to make it as humiliating as possible; and quite right, too, forasmuch as in beggary I am ready to be the first to humiliate myself. Hence the pot-house! Honoured sir, a month ago Mr. Lebeziatnikov gave my wife a beating, and my wife is a very different matter from me! Do you understand? Allow me to ask you another question out of simple curiosity: have you ever spent a night on a hay barge, on the Neva?
No, I have not happened to, answered Raskolnikov. What do you mean?
Well, Ive just come from one and its the fifth night Ive slept so He filled his glass, emptied it and paused. Bits of hay were in fact clinging to his clothes and sticking to his hair. It seemed quite probable that he had not undressed or washed for the last five days. His hands, particularly, were filthy. They were fat and red, with black nails.
No, I have not happened to, answered Raskolnikov. What do you mean?
Well, Ive just come from one and its the fifth night Ive slept so He filled his glass, emptied it and paused. Bits of hay were in fact clinging to his clothes and sticking to his hair. It seemed quite probable that he had not undressed or washed for the last five days. His hands, particularly, were filthy. They were fat and red, with black nails.
His conversation seemed to excite a general though languid interest. The boys at the counter fell to sniggering. The innkeeper came down from the upper room, apparently on purpose to listen to the funny fellow and sat down at a little distance, yawning lazily, but with dignity. Evidently Marmeladov was a familiar figure here, and he had most likely acquired his weakness for high-flown speeches from the habit of frequently entering into conversation with strangers of all sorts in the tavern. This habit develops into a necessity in some drunkards, and especially in those who are looked after sharply and kept in order at home. Hence in the company of other drinkers they try to justify themselves and even if possible obtain consideration.
Funny fellow! pronounced the innkeeper. And why dont you work, why arent you at your duty, if you are in the service?
Why am I not at my duty, honoured sir, Marmeladov went on, addressing himself exclusively to Raskolnikov, as though it had been he who put that question to him. Why am I not at my duty? Does not my heart ache to think what a useless worm I am? A month ago when Mr. Lebeziatnikov beat my wife with his own hands, and I lay drunk, didnt I suffer? Excuse me, young man, has it ever happened to you hm well, to petition hopelessly for a loan?
Yes, it has. But what do you mean by hopelessly?
Hopelessly in the fullest sense, when you know beforehand that you will get nothing by it. You know, for instance, beforehand with positive certainty that this man, this most reputable and exemplary citizen, will on no consideration give you money; and indeed I ask you why should he? For he knows of course that I shant pay it back. From compassion? But Mr. Lebeziatnikov who keeps up with modern ideas explained the other day that compassion is forbidden nowadays by science itself, and that thats what is done now in England, where there is political economy. Why, I ask you, should he give it to me? And yet though I know beforehand that he wont, I set off to him and
Why do you go? put in Raskolnikov.
Well, when one has no one, nowhere else one can go! For every man must have somewhere to go. Since there are times when one absolutely must go somewhere! When my own daughter first went out with a yellow ticket, then I had to go (for my daughter has a yellow passport), he added in parenthesis, looking with a certain uneasiness at the young man. No matter, sir, no matter! he went on hurriedly and with apparent composure when both the boys at the counter guffawed and even the innkeeper smiled No matter, I am not confounded by the wagging of their heads; for everyone knows everything about it already, and all that is secret is made open. And I accept it all, not with contempt, but with humility. So be it! So be it! Behold the man! Excuse me, young man, can you No, to put it more strongly and more distinctly; not can you but dare you, looking upon me, assert that I am not a pig?
The young man did not answer a word.
Well, the orator began again stolidly and with even increased dignity, after waiting for the laughter in the room to subside. Well, so be it, I am a pig, but she is a lady! I have the semblance of a beast, but Katerina Ivanovna, my spouse, is a person of education and an officers daughter. Granted, granted, I am a scoundrel, but she is a woman of a noble heart, full of sentiments, refined by education. And yet oh, if only she felt for me! Honoured sir, honoured sir, you know every man ought to have at least one place where people feel for him! But Katerina Ivanovna, though she is magnanimous, she is unjust And yet, although I realise that when she pulls my hair she only does it out of pity for I repeat without being ashamed, she pulls my hair, young man, he declared with redoubled dignity, hearing the sniggering again but, my God, if she would but once But no, no! Its all in vain and its no use talking! No use talking! For more than once, my wish did come true and more than once she has felt for me but such is my fate and I am a beast by nature!
Rather! assented the innkeeper yawning. Marmeladov struck his fist resolutely on the table.
Such is my fate! Do you know, sir, do you know, I have sold her very stockings for drink? Not her shoes that would be more or less in the order of things, but her stockings, her stockings I have sold for drink! Her mohair shawl I sold for drink, a present to her long ago, her own property, not mine; and we live in a cold room and she caught cold this winter and has begun coughing and spitting blood too. We have three little children and Katerina Ivanovna is at work from morning till night; she is scrubbing and cleaning and washing the children, for shes been used to cleanliness from a child. But her chest is weak and she has a tendency to consumption and I feel it! Do you suppose I dont feel it? And the more I drink the more I feel it. Thats why I drink too. I try to find sympathy and feeling in drink I drink so that I may suffer twice as much! And as though in despair he laid his head down on the table.
Young man, he went on, raising his head again, in your face I seem to read some trouble of mind. When you came in I read it, and that was why I addressed you at once. For in unfolding to you the story of my life, I do not wish to make myself a laughing-stock before these idle listeners, who indeed know all about it already, but I am looking for a man of feeling and education. Know then that my wife was educated in a high-class school for the daughters of noblemen, and on leaving she danced the shawl dance before the governor and other personages for which she was presented with a gold medal and a certificate of merit. The medal well, the medal of course was sold long ago, hm but the certificate of merit is in her trunk still and not long ago she showed it to our landlady. And although she is most continually on bad terms with the landlady, yet she wanted to tell someone or other of her past honours and of the happy days that are gone. I dont condemn her for it, I dont blame her, for the one thing left her is recollection of the past, and all the rest is dust and ashes. Yes, yes, she is a lady of spirit, proud and determined. She scrubs the floors herself and has nothing but black bread to eat, but wont allow herself to be treated with disrespect. Thats why she would not overlook Mr. Lebeziatnikovs rudeness to her, and so when he gave her a beating for it, she took to her bed more from the hurt to her feelings than from the blows. She was a widow when I married her, with three children, one smaller than the other. She married her first husband, an infantry officer, for love, and ran away with him from her fathers house. She was exceedingly fond of her husband; but he gave way to cards, got into trouble and with that he died. He used to beat her at the end: and although she paid him back, of which I have authentic documentary evidence, to this day she speaks of him with tears and she throws him up to me; and I am glad, I am glad that, though only in imagination, she should think of herself as having once been happy And she was left at his death with three children in a wild and remote district where I happened to be at the time; and she was left in such hopeless poverty that, although I have seen many ups and downs of all sort, I dont feel equal to describing it even. Her relations had all thrown her off. And she was proud, too, excessively proud And then, honoured sir, and then, I, being at the time a widower, with a daughter of fourteen left me by my first wife, offered her my hand, for I could not bear the sight of such suffering. You can judge the extremity of her calamities, that she, a woman of education and culture and distinguished family, should have consented to be my wife. But she did! Weeping and sobbing and wringing her hands, she married me! For she had nowhere to turn! Do you understand, sir, do you understand what it means when you have absolutely nowhere to turn? No, that you dont understand yet And for a whole year, I performed my duties conscientiously and faithfully, and did not touch this (he tapped the jug with his finger), for I have feelings. But even so, I could not please her; and then I lost my place too, and that through no fault of mine but through changes in the office; and then I did touch it! It will be a year and a half ago soon since we found ourselves at last after many wanderings and numerous calamities in this magnificent capital, adorned with innumerable monuments. Here I obtained a situation I obtained it and I lost it again. Do you understand? This time it was through my own fault I lost it: for my weakness had come out We have now part of a room at Amalia Fyodorovna Lippevechsels; and what we live upon and what we pay our rent with, I could not say. There are a lot of people living there besides ourselves. Dirt and disorder, a perfect Bedlam hm yes And meanwhile my daughter by my first wife has grown up; and what my daughter has had to put up with from her step-mother whilst she was growing up, I wont speak of. For, though Katerina Ivanovna is full of generous feelings, she is a spirited lady, irritable and short tempered Yes. But its no use going over that! Sonia, as you may well fancy, has had no education. I did make an effort four years ago to give her a course of geography and universal history, but as I was not very well up in those subjects myself and we had no suitable books, and what books we had hm, anyway we have not even those now, so all our instruction came to an end. We stopped at Cyrus of Persia. Since she has attained years of maturity, she has read other books of romantic tendency and of late she had read with great interest a book she got through Mr. Lebeziatnikov, Lewes Physiology do you know it? and even recounted extracts from it to us: and thats the whole of her education. And now may I venture to address you, honoured sir, on my own account with a private question. Do you suppose that a respectable poor girl can earn much by honest work? Not fifteen farthings a day can she earn, if she is respectable and has no special talent and that without putting her work down for an instant! And whats more, Ivan Ivanitch Klopstock the civil counsellor have you heard of him? has not to this day paid her for the half-dozen linen shirts she made him and drove her roughly away, stamping and reviling her, on the pretext that the shirt collars were not made like the pattern and were put in askew. And there are the little ones hungry And Katerina Ivanovna walking up and down and wringing her hands, her cheeks flushed red, as they always are in that disease: Here you live with us, says she, you eat and drink and are kept warm and you do nothing to help. And much she gets to eat and drink when there is not a crust for the little ones for three days! I was lying at the time well, what of it! I was lying drunk and I heard my Sonia speaking (she is a gentle creature with a soft little voice fair hair and such a pale, thin little face). She said: Katerina Ivanovna, am I really to do a thing like that? And Darya Frantsovna, a woman of evil character and very well known to the police, had two or three times tried to get at her through the landlady. And why not? said Katerina Ivanovna with a jeer, you are something mighty precious to be so careful of! But dont blame her, dont blame her, honoured sir, dont blame her! She was not herself when she spoke, but driven to distraction by her illness and the crying of the hungry children; and it was said more to wound her than anything else For thats Katerina Ivanovnas character, and when children cry, even from hunger, she falls to beating them at once. At six oclock I saw Sonia get up, put on her kerchief and her cape, and go out of the room and about nine oclock she came back. She walked straight up to Katerina Ivanovna and she laid thirty roubles on the table before her in silence. She did not utter a word, she did not even look at her, she simply picked up our big green drap de dames shawl (we have a shawl, made of drap de dames), put it over her head and face and lay down on the bed with her face to the wall; only her little shoulders and her body kept shuddering And I went on lying there, just as before And then I saw, young man, I saw Katerina Ivanovna, in the same silence go up to Sonias little bed; she was on her knees all the evening kissing Sonias feet, and would not get up, and then they both fell asleep in each others arms together, together yes and I lay drunk.