The Kreutzer Sonata

Without the preoccupation of birthing, nursing, and caring for very young children, Pozdnychev’s wife unfurled her focus from the bounds of the home. She began paying attention to the world around her with joy, taking care of her appearance and pursuing her own interests such as playing the piano. Her husband imagined that she would next start to seek out romance and sensual love and that she would do so outside of the confines of marriage due to the disillusionment that their unhappy relationship must have caused her. It was at this point that Troukhatchevsky, a Paris-educated violinist, returned to the city and attempted to renew his acquaintanceship with Pozdnychev.

Pozdnychev explains how he was acquitted of the murder that he committed because the jury believed that he had acted in a jealous rage upon discovering his wife’s infidelity; a jilted husband was seen as having a right to kill his wife and avenge his honor. Pozdnychev himself disagrees that this was the reason that he killed his wife. Instead, he thinks that the crime was simply inevitable and that there was no way a marriage such as theirs could ever end in any way other than murder or suicide.

They continued the pattern of hating each other and arguing, then temporarily reconciling in a rush of sensual passion. The fights became increasingly fraught, though, with every impression that their relationship was progressing toward an inevitable crisis. Pozdnychev recounts a particular argument in which he became physically violent toward his wife, grabbing her roughly and painfully by the arm while she cried out to the children that he was beating her. He wished aloud that she would die, and she fled to the home of her widowed sister. He remained furious for the whole night, smoking, drinking, and brooding. When his wife’s sister came to speak with him, he rejected any prospect of reconciliation, despite feeling the pressure of his household’s astonishment at his wife’s continued absence.

Eventually, she returned and immediately attempted suicide by swallowing a vial of opium. She was saved and restored to health, and the two of them outwardly reconciled—insincerely and grudgingly on Pozdnychev’s part—but such incidents continued to occur with increasing regularity.

Pozdnychev renewed his acquaintanceship with Troukhatchevsky, and although he was immediately and instinctively wary of the younger man, he nonetheless invited Troukhatchevsky into his home and introduced him to his wife. Pozdnychev was internally seething with jealousy but was outwardly solicitous toward Troukhatchevsky, encouraging him to play duets with his wife—Troukhatchevsky on the violin and Pozdnychev’s wife on the piano. Although Pozdnychev was jealous, he insisted that Troukhatchevsky and his wife perform together, going so far as to organize a small soiree the following Sunday for the express purpose of listening to them perform.

Days later, he realized that Troukhatchevsky was visiting the house in order to practice music with Pozdnychev’s wife and finalize the program for their upcoming performance. Pozdnychev intruded on their discussion in the belief that something sordid was going on between the two but then helped them to make the necessary decisions with an uncharacteristic excess of geniality. He encouraged his wife repeatedly to concede to Troukhatchevsky’s good taste and experience.

Jealous and seething, Pozdnychev avoided his wife for the entire following day. Perhaps encouraged by his earlier good humor, she sought him out in his office and tentatively reached out to him. Seeing this not as an olive branch but rather as further confirmation of her guilt, Pozdnychev lashed out violently. He grabbed her arm and twisted it painfully, threw things at her, and threatened her until she fled his office.

His behavior so frightened her that her mental health was impacted and she remained in her bed. Chagrined and ashamed by the extent of the damage that he caused her, Pozdnychev nursed her back to health through the night. He confessed his jealousy and accepted her baffled and offended reassurances that no woman could find herself led astray by Troukhatchevsky of all people. Resolving to set aside his jealousy toward Troukhatchevsky, he encouraged her to continue with the planned performance. In retrospect, Pozdnychev believes that his wife was speaking honestly but that she was deluding herself as to her true feelings toward Troukhatchevsky.

On the night of the soiree, Pozdnychev felt no jealousy over his wife, as much out of self-preservation against the torments of jealousy as out of trust in his wife. The night went well, and Pozdnychev was deeply moved by their performance of Beethoven’s Kreutzer Sonata, feeling it transport him into a different state of mind. He ended the night without feeling any undue hostility toward Troukhatchevsky and feeling uncharacteristically warm toward his wife.

Pozdnychev left on a work trip without any impression or suspicion of wrongdoing on either Troukhatchevsky’s or his wife’s parts. While away, however, he received a letter from his wife mentioning that Troukhatchevsky had stopped by the house to drop off some music. Pozdnychev hadn’t anticipated that Troukhatchevsky might visit the house in his absence, so the letter threw him into a jealous rage. He was conflicted and initially tried to reason with himself. However, he could not stop his thoughts from reimagining the events of the soiree in a more sordid light, working himself up into greater heights of fury. He smoked the entire sleepless night through and eventually became so overcome with paranoia and fury that he convinced himself that they must be having an affair and abandoned his work commitments to hurry home.

The return journey took the entirety of that day, all of which Pozdnychev spent working himself into an increasingly heightened state of paranoia and jealousy. He ran through possibilities and potential outcomes over and over again, vacillating between self-recrimination and unbridled fury.

Pozdnychev was beside himself with paranoia and rage to such an extent that he forgot his baggage at the final station. Arriving home after midnight, he was horrified and vindicated, but not surprised, to learn from a servant that Troukhatchevsky was still in the house visiting his wife. Filled with a bestial cunning, Pozdnychev sent the servant away to retrieve his luggage so that he would be able to confront Troukhatchevsky and his wife without opposition or external intervention. His feelings of self-pity and righteous fury were so strong that he feared he might die before he was able to exact his punishment on the two of them. Soon, however, he had composed himself. Armed with a sharp knife and full of fury, he stalked toward the dining room where his wife and her guest were still unaware of his return.

At Pozdnychev’s entrance, his wife and Troukhatchevsky were shocked, afraid, and (on her part) seemingly miserable at the interruption. Enraged but entirely cognizant of his actions, he threw himself on his wife and attempted to stab her. To his surprise, Troukhatchevsky intervened and grabbed him, so Pozdnychev tried to attack him instead. This time, Pozdnychev’s wife intercepted the attack, giving Troukhatchevsky time to flee. She tried to reason with Pozdnychev, so he struck her, strangled her, and stabbed her. Fatally wounded, she cried out to the children’s nurse that he had killed her. Pozdnychev experienced a fleeting moment of guilt that quickly passed. He left his dying wife in the care of the servants and returned to his study. He intended to kill himself but smoked himself to sleep instead and dreamed that he and his wife had reconciled.

Several hours later, Pozdnychev was awoken by a knock on the door that he assumed to be the police. Instead, it was his wife’s sister informing him that his wife was dying and that he should go to her. Pozdnychev had already abandoned any idea of suicide by this point and so consented to go. His children, including his favorite daughter, Lise, watched him with fear as he entered his wife’s room. He saw her wounded and battered in bed, but at this point was still feeling justified in his fury and unrepentant of his crime. His wife informed him that he had killed her and that the children would go to live with her sister instead of with him, but his preoccupation remained solely on her assumed infidelity, his wounded pride, and the alleged offense to his honor.

Only when she began to weep and the children entered the room did Pozdnychev recognize her as a human being for the first time and begin to understand the extent to which he had wronged her. He asked for forgiveness and she, frightened of death, said that she would have forgiven him anything if only he had not killed her. She grew increasingly confused and died around noon, by which time Pozdnychev had already been arrested.

Weeping, Pozdnychev says that he only came to terms with the fact that he had killed her and realized the depth of his crime when he saw her corpse at her funeral three days later. He spent the next 11 months in prison awaiting the trial which ultimately acquitted him of the crime, ruminating on the events. His ultimate conclusion is that lusting after a woman is itself an act of adultery, especially if that woman is one’s own wife.