Windows are a connection made possible because of separation. One can see through a window to the outside world, but the window is only there because of the wall within which it’s set. The view through the window is only remarkable because the wall blocks out everything around it. Thus, windows provide some connection to the outside world but are only there to begin with when the outside world is not fully accessible. They can also act as a lens that alters or shifts one’s perspective, especially as they present the world through a set angle. These themes appear in both Nikolai Leskov’s Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk and Leonid Andreyev’s Seven Who Were Hanged. In the former, windows emphasize the dynamics of the relationship between Katerina Lvovna and Sergei, while in the latter, windows reflect the structure of the story and the narratives of its subjects. 

Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk

In Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk, Sergei and Katerina Lvovna’s first interaction occurs because she’s looking out her window and decides to go outside. Throughout the beginning of the story, the window exists almost as a reminder of their separation, but it’s also the way Sergei visits her. Their affair begins shortly after she greets him from her window. Sergei passes through the window to get out of her room and is eventually caught by her father-in-law. The window both joins them and emphasizes their separation. At least at the beginning, it works almost as a doorway. It’s not that the outside world is visible but inaccessible; the window catalyzes movement between the inside and outside for both Katerina Lvovna and Sergei, sometimes directly through the window itself. Katerina Lvovna sits in her window and yawns until she begins “to feel ashamed of doing so much yawning. After all it was a lovely day, warm, bright and cheerful – and, through the green wooden trellis, she could see all the different birds fluttering from bough to bough of the fruit trees” and decides to venture into the yard (6). Although the text establishes earlier that she is bored with her life, her boredom alone doesn’t propel the events of the story. Her partial access to the outside world through the window is what prompts her to leave. She’s faced with a different way of existence; outside, the birds fly freely, while she is “cooped up in a cage like a canary” (11).

During their second encounter, Sergei claims that doors wouldn’t be able to keep him away from her, or rather a locked door wouldn’t, saying “For me, whether I'm coming or going, there are doors wherever I look” (12), but the thought of “Looking up from the barn at a candle burning in Katerina Lvovna's bedroom as she plumps up the feather bed and lies down to rest with her lawful husband Zínow Borisovich” has his blood “all curdled with grief” (21). Until the return of her husband, they pass back and forth between the inside and outside of the house, overall unhindered by the divide. When the divide is removed and her husband is dead, their relationship begins to get more complicated, eventually leading to her and Sergei’s murder of her nephew and their eventual arrest. The removal of the divisions between Katerina Lvovna and Sergei contribute to the division between them and the rest of the world; the murder of Zinovy Borisovich is a secret that the two of them keep from everyone around them, bringing them closer to each other and separating them from the outside world. The more secrets they share, beginning with their affair and ending with multiple murders, the more they need to close out the outside world. 

Their relationship continues as long as they are bound by their secrets. The outside world comes in through their windows, with the townspeople witnessing the murder of Fyodor Zakharov through “a chink between the shutters” (46). Once they’re out without that divide, their relationship turns sour. Even when the obstacles of Katerina Lvovna’s father in law and husband are eliminated, she and Sergei are still separated from the world in their “house of sin” (44). When they are both prisoners and on equal social footing, Sergei loses interest in her.

Seven Who Were Hanged

In Seven Who Were Hanged, the first appearance of the five main prisoners is shown from the perspective of those viewing their trial. It includes their physical appearance and the opinions of the judges. They’re viewed from the outside. Later on, in their cells, their inner thoughts and experiences are on display. The story sets up a divide between the prisoners and those observing them before revealing certain parts of them to the reader. Like a window, the story provides a connection while the barrier remains.

The opening section of Seven Who Were Hanged with the minister frames the whole story and provides a different view of the prisoners and their actions. With the nervous breakdown of the target of this group’s assassination plot, the reader is set up to be sympathetic towards him and have a better understanding of why the terrorists were being condemned to death. The reader is put on either side of a theoretical crime, where both parties face death and both parties have no moral qualms about the death of the other.

The window in the courtroom emphasizes the separation of the main five prisoners from the outside world and the bleakness of their situation, as well as the distant inevitably of their execution. That first “clear, warm, sunny day” that “the approaching spring sent as a forerunner” (206) happens outside of that upper window during their trial, and then when they’re taken to be hanged, the wind is fresh and warm and “the really wonderful spring night was filled with the odor of melting snow” (257). The beauty of that first warm day is highlighted by the hopelessness and solemnity of their situation, and the spring air on the day of the execution is only made sweeter by the fact that it’s the last air they will ever breathe. Windows frame a portion of the outside world; they’re a chosen view of a certain angle from a certain perspective. In Seven, we see multiple perspectives and multiple experiences of those last days before execution. 

In the case of Tsiganok, the dead window in his cell calls to attention the lack of access to the outside world, as well as his lack of introspection: “The restlessness of Tsiganok, which was now repressed by the walls and the bars and the dead window through which nothing could be seen, turned all its fury upon himself and burned his soul like coals scattered upon boards” (221). Unlike the others condemned to be executed with him, he is unable to use his situation as a lens through which to examine himself and his life. 

In contrast, Musya reconstructs an image of the outside world based only on the sounds of the military band outside of her window. Whether or not she’s imagining it, the band restarts when her eyes are closed. When they pass by a second time, they become incorporated into her dream: “the figures bent over her, they surrounded her in a transparent cloud and lifted her up, where the migrating birds were soaring and screaming, like heralds” (239). The window comes up just as she’s blending reality and imagination in her situation. The window appears as the divide between reality and fiction in the text becomes unclear. It serves as a portal to let in the visions of the figures that carry her away. The description of Musya’s transcendent visions are followed by surveillance: “The little casement window in the door opened noiselessly. A dark, mustached face appeared in the black hole. For a long time it stared at Musya in astonishment–and then disappeared as noiselessly as it had appeared” (239). This man’s presence invades the illusion of solitude that briefly follows Musya’s immersion in her own imagination. Even in this ostensibly private moment, the outside world is still peering in at her through the window. The casement windows are a reminder that despite their separation from the guards, the prisoners are never alone. Throughout the prisoners’ isolation, the casement windows in their cells mean that they’re never fully alone. 

On the morning of the execution, the window of the carriage that takes them to the gallows is covered but provides their only information about where they are and where they’re going: “At times it seemed as though they had been turning around on one and the same spot for hours for some reason or other. At first a bluish electric light penetrated through the lowered, heavy window shades; then suddenly after a certain turn it grew dark, and only by this could they guess that they had turned into deserted streets in the outskirts of the city and that they were nearing the S. railroad station” (258).

The story itself is a window into the experiences of its characters. It’s more of a one-way window, similar to the casement windows, but while the prisoners are aware of at least the possible presence of guards, the reader’s presence is undetectable and has no bearing on the course of the story or the prisoners’ actions. In the courtroom, the prisoners are closed off: “each was simply as calm as was necessary to hedge in his soul, from curious, evil and inimical eyes” (205). The characters deliberately remain closed off from the people around them, but the story displays the inner workings of their minds that they try so hard to hide. The text is a window through the defenses they put up against the world.

Each of the later sections frame an insight into a character’s internal struggle with their own mortality. The story follows each prisoner's experience in a relatively similar manner, framing their behavior leading up to execution with details about their imprisonment leading up to their trial, their crimes, their relationships to others in the group, and some elements of their pasts. Even within this group of seven, two are outsiders and five are friends. They share their sentence in common, and are thus both united and separated. We see their lives through the lens of their impending deaths. Their memories and beliefs make the fact of their sentence more painful, the way a window to the outside of a cell emphasizes the divide between the occupant of that cell and the outside world. 

This divide also presents a duality; the characters share the state of being in between life and death, and for some this position is explicitly described. For instance, Tsiganok, whose “brain thus racked on a monstrously sharp blade between life and death was falling to pieces like a lump of dry clay” (224), and Werner, who seemed to be “walking along the highest mountain-ridge, which was narrow like the blade of a knife, and on one side he saw Life, on the other side–Death,–like two sparkling, deep, beautiful seas, blending in one boundless, broad surface at the horizon” (253). Both characters are in a sort of liminal space that they each navigate differently. Werner is able to balance between the two spaces while seeing the beauty in them, while Tsiganok swings between extremes of erratic behavior as his mental state crumbles. 

In Werner’s case, he temporarily sheds his cynicism towards humanity and sees life as beautiful. “Thus, for a man who goes up in an airship, the filth and litter of the narrow streets disappear and that which was ugly becomes beautiful” (253). His separation from his own life allows him to view that life from a new perspective. These characters act as windows into the experience of being between life and death. The story also connects narratives through the relationships between characters; Tanya’s worry over Musya provides the transition into Musya’s state of mind. Their shared situation provides insight into their lives, experiences, and personalities. The characters’ reactions to each other’s behavior reflects both their personalities and the nature of their relationship as a group. The reunion of the group on the morning of their execution gives some insight into the nature of their history together: “Suddenly Musya took Werner by the hand and with an expression of surprise, she said like an actress on the stage, with measured emphasis: ‘Werner, what is this? You said “I love”? You never before said “I love” to anybody. And why are you all so––tender and serene? Why?’” (255). 

Conclusion

In both texts, the outside world is representative of both freedom and death for those imprisoned. In the case of the prisoners in Seven, they return to the outside world only to be executed. In Lady Macbeth, facing the outside world means facing punishment for their crimes, and for Katerina Lvovna, leads to her suicide. In both stories, windows provide a connection to the outside world while emphasizing the characters’ removal from that world.

Bibliography

Andreyev, Leonid. Seven Who Were Hanged. Ten Modern Short Novels, edited by Leo Hamalian and Edmond L. Volpe, McAinsh & Co., 1908, pp. 199-270.

Leskov, Nikolai. Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk. Translated by Robert Chandler. Hesperus Press Limited, 2003.