To whom in Rus' to live well is a work. Nikolai Nekrasov - who lives well in Rus'
Nikolay Alekseevich Nekrasov
Who lives well in Rus'
PART ONE
In what year - count, In what land - guess, On the pole path Seven men converged: Seven temporarily liable, Tightened province, Terpigoreva Uyezd, Empty volost, From adjacent villages: Zaplatova, Dyryavina, Razutova, Znobishina, Gorelova, Neyolova - Crop failure, too, We agreed - and argued: Who lives happily, Freely in Rus'? Roman said: to the landowner, Demyan said: to the official, Luka said: to the priest. Fat-bellied merchant! - Said the Gubin brothers, Ivan and Mitrodor. The old man Pakhom strained And said, looking at the ground: To the noble boyar, to the Minister of the Sovereign. And Prov said: to the king ... A man is like a bull: vtemyashitsya In the head, what a whim - You can’t knock it out with a stake: they resist, Everyone stands on his own! Is such a dispute started, What do passers-by think - To know, the children found the treasure And divide it among themselves ... On business, everyone left the house in his own way Until noon: He kept the path to the forge, He went to the village of Ivankovo To call Father Prokofy The child to be christened. In the groin of honeycombs Carried to the bazaar in the Great, And the two brothers of Gubin It's so easy with a halter To catch a stubborn horse Into their own herd. It's high time for everyone to return on their own way - They walk side by side! They go, as if gray wolves are chasing them, What is farther is faster. They go - they perekorya! They shout - they will not come to their senses! And time does not wait. They did not notice the dispute, How the red sun set, How the evening came. Probably a whole night So they went - where they didn’t know, If only the woman they met, Crooked Durandiha, Didn’t shout: “Venerable! Where did you think of going at night? In the high skies, The moon has surfaced, black shadows Have cut the road to Zealous walkers. Oh shadows! black shadows! Who won't you chase? Who won't you overtake? You only, black shadows, You can not catch - hug! At the forest, at the path-path He looked, was silent Pahom, He looked - scattered with his mind And finally said: “Well! The goblin played a glorious joke on us! No way after all, we almost thirty versts moved away! Now toss and turn home - Tired - we will not reach, Let's sit down - there is nothing to do. Let's rest until the sun!..” Having blamed the trouble on the goblin, Under the forest by the path The peasants sat down. They lit a fire, formed, Two ran away for vodka, And the rest for a while A glass was made, Birch barks were pulled. The vodka came soon. The appetizer has also arrived - The peasants are feasting! They drank three kosushki, Ate - and argued Again: who should live happily, Freely in Rus'? Roman shouts: to the landowner, Demyan shouts: to the official, Luka shouts: to the priest; Kupchin fat-bellied, - Shout brothers Gubin, Ivan and Mitrodor; Pakhom shouts: to the Most Serene Noble Boyar, Minister of the Sovereign, And Prov shouts: to the tsar! The visor is stronger than ever The perky men, Cursing swearing, It's no wonder that they'll grab each other's hair... Look, they've already grabbed onto each other! Roman hits Pakhomushka, Demyan hits Luka. And the two bros of Gubin are ironing Prov hefty, - And everyone shouts his own! A booming echo woke up, It went for a walk, it went for a walk, It went to shout, shout, As if to provoke Stubborn men. King! - to the right is heard, to the left it responds: Ass! ass! ass! The whole forest was alarmed, With flying birds, Fast-footed animals And creeping reptiles, - And a groan, and a roar, and a rumble! First of all, a gray hare From a neighboring bush Suddenly jumped out, as if disheveled, And he took to his heels! Behind him, small jackdaws At the top of the birches raised a nasty, sharp squeak. And then at the warbler With fright, a tiny chick From the nest fell; Chirping, crying warbler, Where is the chick? - will not find! Then the old cuckoo woke up and decided to cuckle for someone; It was accepted ten times, Yes, every time it got lost And started again ... Cuckoo, cuckoo, cuckoo! Bread will sting, You will choke on an ear - You will not cuckle! Seven eagle owls have flocked, Admiring the carnage From seven large trees, Night owls are laughing! And their yellow eyes Burn like wax of ardent Fourteen candles! And a raven, a clever bird, Has ripened, sits on a tree Near the fire. He sits and prays to the devil, So that someone will be slapped to death! A cow with a bell, That has strayed from the herd since the evening, barely heard Human voices - Came to the fire, fixed her Eyes on the peasants, Listened to crazy speeches And began, cordially, Mooing, mooing, mooing! A stupid cow lows, Small jackdaws squeak. Violent guys shout, And the echo echoes everything. He has one concern - To tease honest people, To scare guys and women! No one has seen him, And everyone has heard to hear, Without a body - but it lives, Without a language - it screams! The owl - the Princess of Zamoskvoretskaya - immediately looms, Flies over the peasants, Shying either on the ground, or on the bushes with its wing ... The fox itself is cunning, Out of woman's curiosity, Crept up to the peasants, Listened, listened And went away, thinking: "And the devil will not understand them !" And indeed: the disputants themselves hardly knew, they remembered - What they were making noise about ... Having bowed their sides decently to each other, the Peasants finally came to their senses, They got drunk from the puddle, Washed, refreshed, Sleep began to heel them ... Meanwhile, a tiny chick, Little by little, half a sazhen, Low flying over, I crept up to the fire. Pakhomushka caught it, brought it to the fire, looked at it And said: “A small bird, And a nail is agile! I breathe - you roll off your palm, Sneeze - you roll into the fire, I click - you roll dead, And yet you, little bird, Are stronger than a man! Wings will get stronger soon, bye-bye! Wherever you want, you will fly there! Oh you little pichuga! Give us your wings, We will fly around the whole kingdom, Let's look, explore, Ask - and find out: Who lives happily, Freely in Rus'? “We wouldn’t even need wings, If only we had bread Half a pood a day, And so we would measure Mother Rus' With our feet!” - Said the sullen Prov. “Yes, a bucketful of vodka,” the brothers Gubin, Ivan and Mitrodor, eager for vodka, added. “Yes, in the morning there would be ten Salted cucumbers,” the men joked. "And at noon, a jar of Cold kvass." “And in the evening, a teapot of a hot teapot ...” While they were talking, A chiffchaff curled and circled Above them: she listened to everything And sat down by the fire. Chiviknula, jumped up And in a human voice Pakhom says: “Let the chick go free! For a small chick I will give a large ransom. – What will you give? - "I'll give you bread Half a pood a day, I'll give you a bucket of vodka, I'll give you cucumbers in the morning, And at noon sour kvass, And in the evening I'll have a cup of tea!" - And where, small pichuga, - Gubin brothers asked, - You will find wine and bread.
Centuries change, but the name of the poet N. Nekrasov - this knight of the spirit - remains unforgettable. In his work, Nekrasov revealed many aspects of Russian life, spoke about peasant grief, made it feel that under the yoke of need and darkness, still undeveloped heroic forces lurk.
The poem “To whom it is good to live in Rus'” is the pivotal work of N.A. Nekrasov. It is about peasant truth, about “old” and “new”, about “serfs” and “free”, about “rebellion” and “patience”.
What is the history of the creation of the poem "Who in Rus' should live well"? The 60s of the 19th century are characterized by an intensification of political reaction. Nekrasov needed to defend the Sovremennik magazine and the course followed by the publication. The struggle for the purity of the chosen direction required the activation of Nekrasov's muse. One of the main lines that Nekrasov adhered to, and which met the tasks of that time, was the folk, peasant. The work on the work “To whom it is good to live in Rus'” is the main tribute to the peasant theme.
The creative tasks that Nekrasov faced when creating the poem “Who Lives Well in Rus'” should be considered in the focus of literary and public life 60-70s XIX century. After all, the poem was created not for one year, but for more than ten years, and the moods that Nekrasov possessed in the early 60s changed, just as life itself changed. The beginning of writing the poem falls on 1863. By that time, Emperor Alexander II had already signed a manifesto on the abolition of serfdom.
The work on the poem was preceded by years of collecting bit by bit creative material. The author decided not just to write a work of art, but a work that is accessible and understandable to ordinary people, a kind of “folk book”, which shows with the utmost completeness a whole era in the life of the people.
What is genre originality of the poem "Who is living well in Rus'"? Literary experts identify this work by Nekrasov as an "epic poem". This definition goes back to the opinion of Nekrasov's contemporaries. An epic is a large work of art of an epic nature. According to the genre “To whom it is good to live in Rus'”, the work is lyrical-epic. It combines epic foundations with lyrical and dramatic ones. The dramatic element in general permeates many of Nekrasov's works; the poet's passion for dramaturgy is reflected in his poetic work.
The compositional form of the work “To whom it is good to live in Rus'” is rather peculiar. Composition is the construction, the arrangement of all the elements of a work of art. Compositionally, the poem is built according to the laws of the classical epic: it is a collection of relatively autonomous parts and chapters. The unifying motif is the motif of the road: seven men (seven is the most mysterious and magic number), are trying to find an answer to the question, which is essentially philosophical: who in Rus' has a good life? Nekrasov does not lead us to a certain climax in the poem, does not push us to the final event and does not activate the action. His task, as a major epic artist, is to reflect aspects of Russian life, draw the image of the people, show the diversity of folk roads, directions, ways. This creative work of Nekrasov is a major lyric-epic form. It involves a lot of characters, deployed a lot of storylines.
The main idea of the poem “To whom it is good to live in Rus'” is that the people are worthy of happiness and it makes sense to fight for happiness. The poet was sure of this, and with all his work he presented evidence of this. The happiness of one single individual is not enough, it is not a solution to the problem. The poem appeals to thoughts about the embodiment of happiness for the whole people, about the "Feast for the whole world."
The poem begins with the "Prologue", in which the author tells how seven men from different villages met on the high road. There was a dispute between them about who lives better in Rus'. Each of those arguing expressed his opinion, and no one wanted to give in. As a result, the debaters decided to go on a journey to find out firsthand who and how they live in Rus' and find out which of them was right in this dispute. From the warbler bird, the wanderers learned where the magic tablecloth was located, which would feed and drink them on a long journey. Having found a self-assembled tablecloth and convinced of its magical abilities, seven men set off on a long journey.
In the chapters of the first part of the poem, seven wanderers met people from different classes on their way: a priest, peasants at a rural fair, a landowner and asked them a question - how happy are they? Neither the priest nor the landowner believed that their life was full of happiness. They complained that after the abolition of serfdom their life worsened. Fun reigned at the village fair, but when the wanderers began to find out from the people dispersing after the fair how happy each of them was, it turned out that only a few of them could be called truly happy.
In the chapters of the second part, united by the title "Last Child", wanderers meet with the peasants of the village of Bolshie Vakhlaki, who live in a rather strange situation. Despite the abolition of serfdom, they portrayed serfs in the presence of the landowner, as in the old days. The old landowner reacted painfully to the reform of 1861 and his sons, afraid of being left without an inheritance, persuaded the peasants to portray serfs until the old man died. At the end of this part of the poem, it is said that after the death of the old prince, his heirs deceived the peasants and started a lawsuit with them, not wanting to give up valuable meadows.
After talking with the Vakhlak men, the travelers decided to look for happy people among women. In the chapters from the third part of the poem, under the general title "Peasant Woman", they met with a resident of the village of Klin, Matryona Timofeevna Korchagina, who was popularly called the "governor". Matrena Timofeevna told them without concealment all her long-suffering life. At the end of her story, Matryona advised the wanderers not to look for happy people among Russian women, while telling them a parable that the keys to women's happiness are lost, and no one can find them.
The wandering of seven peasants, seeking happiness throughout Rus', continues, and they end up at a feast arranged by the inhabitants of the village of Valakhchina. This part of the poem was called "A Feast for the Whole World." At this feast, seven wanderers come to the realization that the question for which they set off on a campaign in Rus' occupies not only them, but the entire Russian people.
IN last chapter the author of the poem gives the floor young generation. One of the participants in the folk feast, the son of a parish deacon, Grigory Dobrosklonov, unable to sleep after heated arguments, sets off to wander around his native expanses and the song “Rus” is born in his head, which became the ideological finale of the poem:
"You are poor
You are abundant
You are beaten
You are almighty
Mother Rus'!
Returning home, and having spoken this song to his brother, Grigory tries to fall asleep, but his imagination continues to work and is born new song. If the seven wanderers could find out what this new song is about, they could return home with a light heart, because the goal of the journey would be achieved, since Grisha's new song was about the embodiment of the happiness of the people.
Concerning the problems of the poem “Who should live well in Rus'”, we can say the following: two levels of problems (conflict) emerge in the poem - socio-historical (results of the peasant reform) - the conflict grows in the first part and persists in the second, and deep, philosophical (salt national character), which appears in the second and dominates in the third part. Problems raised by Nekrasov in the poem
(the chains of slavery have been lifted, but whether the peasants' lot has become easier, whether the oppression of the peasants has ceased, whether contradictions in society have been eliminated, whether the people are happy) will not be decided for a long time to come.
Analyzing N.A. Nekrasov’s poem “Who Lives Well in Rus'”, it is important to say that the main poetic size of this work is a trimeter non-rhyming iambic. Moreover, at the end of the line, after the stressed syllable, two unstressed ones (dactylic clause) follow. In some places of the work, Nekrasov also uses iambic tetrameter. This choice of meter was due to the need to present the text in a folk style, but with the preservation of the classical literary canons of that time. The folk songs included in the poem, as well as the songs of Grigory Dobrosklonov, are written using three-syllable meters.
Nekrasov sought to ensure that the language of the poem was understandable to a simple Russian person. Therefore, he refused to use the lexicon of classical poetry of that time, saturating the work with the words of common speech: “village”, “log”, “empty dance”, “fair market” and many others. This made the poem understandable to any peasant.
In the poem "To whom it is good to live in Rus'" Nekrasov uses numerous means artistic expressiveness. These include such epithets as “the sun is red”, “shadows are black”, “poor people, “heart is free”, “conscience is calm”, “strength is indestructible”. There are also comparisons in the poem: “he jumped out like a disheveled one”, “yellow eyes burn like ... fourteen candles!”, “how the killed men fell asleep”, “rainy clouds, like dairy cows”.
Metaphors found in the poem: "the earth is lying", "spring ... friendly", "a warbler is crying", "a bustling village", "cypress boyars".
Metonymy - “the whole path has become silent”, “the crowded square has become silent”, “When a man ... Belinsky and Gogol will be carried away from the market”.
In the poem, there was a place for such means of artistic expression as irony: "... a tale about a holy fool landowner: hiccups, I think, to him!" and sarcasm: "Proud pig: itched on the master's porch!".
There are also stylistic figures in the poem. These include appeals: “Well, uncle!”, “And you wait!”, “Come, welcome! ..”, “Oh people, Russian people!” and exclamations: “Chu! horse snoring!”, “But at least not this bread!”, “Eh! Eh!”, “Though swallow a pen!”
Folklore expressions - on the "fair", apparently-invisibly.
The language of the poem is peculiar, adorned with sayings, sayings, dialects, “common” words: “young baby”, “virgin”, “hoot”.
I remember the poem “To whom it is good to live in Rus'” because, despite the difficult times in which it was created and which it describes, it shows a positive, life-affirming beginning. The people deserve happiness - this is the main theorem proved by Nekrasov. The poem helps people to understand, to become better, to fight for their happiness. Nekrasov is a thinker, a person with a unique social instinct. He touched the depths of folk life, pulled out of its bowels a scattering of original Russian characters. Nekrasov was able to show the fullness of human experiences. He sought to comprehend the full depth of human existence.
Nekrasov unconventionally solved his creative tasks. His work is imbued with the ideas of humanism.
Who lives well in Rus'
Nikolay Alekseevich Nekrasov
“Who lives well in Rus'” is the final work of Nekrasov, a folk epic, which included all the centuries-old experience of peasant life, all the information about the people collected by the poet “by word” for twenty years.
Nikolay Alekseevich Nekrasov
Who lives well in Rus'
PART ONE
In what year - count
In what land - guess
On the pillar path
Seven men came together:
Seven temporarily liable,
tightened province,
County Terpigorev,
empty parish,
From adjacent villages:
Zaplatova, Dyryavina,
Razutova, Znobishina,
Gorelova, Neelova -
Crop failure, too,
Agreed - and argued:
Who has fun
Feel free in Rus'?
Roman said: to the landowner,
Demyan said: to the official,
Luke said: ass.
Fat-bellied merchant! -
Gubin brothers said
Ivan and Mitrodor.
Old man Pahom pushed
And he said, looking at the ground:
noble boyar,
Minister of the State.
And Prov said: to the king ...
Man what a bull: vtemyashitsya
In the head what a whim -
Stake her from there
You won’t knock out: they rest,
Everyone is on their own!
Is there such a dispute?
What do passers-by think?
To know that the children found the treasure
And they share...
To each his own
Left the house before noon:
That path led to the forge,
He went to the village of Ivankovo
Call Father Prokofy
Baptize the child.
Pahom honeycombs
Carried to the market in the Great,
And two brothers Gubina
So simple with a halter
Catching a stubborn horse
They went to their own herd.
It's high time for everyone
Return your way -
They are walking side by side!
They walk like they're running
Behind them are gray wolves,
What is further - then sooner.
They go - they perekorya!
They shout - they will not come to their senses!
And time does not wait.
They didn't notice the controversy
As the red sun set
How the evening came.
Probably a whole night
So they went - where not knowing,
When they meet a woman,
Crooked Durandiha,
She did not shout: “Venerable!
Where are you looking at night
Have you thought about going?..”
Asked, laughed
Whipped, witch, gelding
And jumped off...
"Where? .." - exchanged glances
Here are our men
They stand, they are silent, they look down...
The night has long gone
Frequent stars lit up
In high skies
The moon surfaced, the shadows are black
The road was cut
Zealous walkers.
Oh shadows! black shadows!
Who won't you chase?
Who won't you overtake?
Only you, black shadows,
You can not catch - hug!
To the forest, to the path
He looked, was silent Pahom,
I looked - I scattered my mind
And he said at last:
"Well! goblin glorious joke
He played a trick on us!
After all, we are without a little
Thirty miles away!
Home now toss and turn -
We are tired - we will not reach,
Come on, there's nothing to be done.
Let's rest until the sun! .. "
Having dumped the trouble on the devil,
Under the forest along the path
The men sat down.
They lit a fire, formed,
Two ran away for vodka,
And the rest for a while
The glass is made
I pulled the birch bark.
The vodka came soon.
Ripe and snack -
The men are feasting!
Kosushki drank three,
Ate - and argued
Again: who has fun to live,
Feel free in Rus'?
Roman shouts: to the landowner,
Demyan shouts: to the official,
Luke yells: ass;
Fat-bellied merchant, -
The Gubin brothers are screaming,
Ivan and Mitrodor;
Pahom shouts: to the brightest
noble boyar,
Minister of the State,
And Prov shouts: to the king!
Taken more than ever
perky men,
Cursing swearing,
No wonder they get stuck
Into each other's hair...
Look - they've got it!
Roman hits Pakhomushka,
Demyan hits Luka.
And two brothers Gubina
They iron Prov hefty, -
And everyone screams!
A booming echo woke up
Went for a walk, a walk,
It went screaming, shouting,
As if to tease
Stubborn men.
King! - heard to the right
Left responds:
Butt! ass! ass!
The whole forest was in turmoil
With flying birds
By swift-footed beasts
And creeping reptiles, -
And a groan, and a roar, and a rumble!
First of all, a gray bunny
From a neighboring bush
Suddenly jumped out, as if tousled,
And off he went!
Behind him are small jackdaws
At the top of the birches raised
Nasty, sharp squeak.
And here at the foam
With fright, a tiny chick
Fell from the nest;
Chirping, crying chiffchaff,
Where is the chick? - will not find!
Then the old cuckoo
I woke up and thought
Someone to cuckoo;
Taken ten times
Yes, it crashed every time
And started again...
Cuckoo, cuckoo, cuckoo!
Bread will sting
You choke on an ear -
You won't poop!
Seven owls flocked,
Admire the carnage
From seven big trees
Laugh, midnighters!
And their eyes are yellow
They burn like burning wax
Fourteen candles!
And the raven, the smart bird,
Ripe, sitting on a tree
At the very fire.
Sitting and praying to hell
To be slammed to death
Someone!
Cow with a bell
What has strayed since the evening
Came to the fire, tired
Eyes on men
I listened to crazy speeches
And began, my heart,
Moo, moo, moo!
Silly cow mooing
Small jackdaws squeak.
The boys are screaming,
And the echo echoes everything.
He has one concern -
To tease honest people
Scare guys and women!
Nobody saw him
And everyone has heard
Without a body - but it lives,
Without a tongue - screaming!
Owl - Zamoskvoretskaya
Princess - immediately mooing,
Flying over peasants
Rushing about the ground,
That about the bushes with a wing ...
The fox herself is cunning,
Out of curiosity,
Sneaked up on the men
I listened, I listened
And she walked away, thinking:
"And the devil does not understand them!"
And indeed: the disputants themselves
Hardly knew, remembered -
What are they talking about...
Naming the sides decently
To each other, come to their senses
Finally, the peasants
Drunk from a puddle
Washed, refreshed
Sleep began to roll them ...
In the meantime, a tiny chick,
Little by little, half a sapling,
flying low,
Got to the fire.
Pakhomushka caught him,
He brought it to the fire, looked at it
And he said: "Little bird,
And the nail is up!
I breathe - you roll off the palm of your hand,
Sneeze - roll into the fire,
I click - you will roll dead,
And yet you, little bird,
Stronger than a man!
Wings will get stronger soon
Bye-bye! wherever you want
You will fly there!
Oh you little pichuga!
Give us your wings
We will circle the whole kingdom,
Let's see, let's see
Let's ask and find out:
Who lives happily
Feel free in Rus'?
"You don't even need wings,
If only we had bread
Half a pood a day, -
And so we would Mother Rus'
They measured it with their feet!” -
Said the sullen Prov.
"Yes, a bucket of vodka," -
Added willing
Before vodka, the Gubin brothers,
Ivan and Mitrodor.
“Yes, in the morning there would be cucumbers
Salty ten, "-
The men joked.
“And at noon would be a jug
Cold kvass."
"And in the evening for a teapot
Hot tea…”
While they were talking
Curled, whirled foam
Above them: listened to everything
And sat by the fire.
Chiviknula, jumped up
Pahomu says:
"Let go of the chick!
For a little chick
I'll give you a big ransom."
– What will you give? -
"Lady's bread
Half a pood a day
I'll give you a bucket of vodka
In the morning I will give cucumbers,
And at noon sour kvass,
And in the evening a seagull!
- And where,
Page 2 of 11
little pichuga, -
Gubin brothers asked, -
Find wine and bread
Are you on seven men? -
“Find - you will find yourself.
And I, little pichuga,
I'll tell you how to find it."
- Tell! -
"Go through the woods
Against the thirtieth pillar
A straight verst:
Come to the meadow
Standing in that meadow
Two old pines
Beneath these under the pines
Buried box.
Get her -
That box is magical.
It has a self-assembled tablecloth,
Whenever you wish
Eat, drink!
Quietly just say:
"Hey! self-made tablecloth!
Treat the men!”
At your request
At my command
Everything will appear at once.
Now let the chick go!”
- Wait! we are poor people
I'm going on a long road,
Pahom answered her. -
You, I see, are a wise bird,
Respect - old clothes
Bewitch us!
- So that the peasants' Armenians
Worn, not worn! -
Roman demanded.
- To fake bast shoes
Served, did not crash, -
Demyan demanded.
- So that a louse, a foul flea
I didn’t breed in shirts, -
Luke demanded.
- Wouldn’t the onuchenki ... -
Gubins demanded...
And the bird answered them:
"All the tablecloth is self-assembled
Repair, wash, dry
You will be ... Well, let it go! .. "
Opening a wide palm,
He let the chick go.
Let it go - and a tiny chick,
Little by little, half a sapling,
flying low,
Went to the hollow.
Behind him, a foam rose
And on the fly added:
“Look, chur, one!
How much food will take
Womb - then ask
And you can ask for vodka
In day exactly on a bucket.
If you ask more
And one and two - it will be fulfilled
At your request,
And in the third, be in trouble!
And the foam flew away
With my darling chick,
And the men in single file
Reached for the road
Look for the thirtieth pillar.
Found! - silently go
Straight, straight
Through the dense forest,
Every step counts.
And how they measured a mile,
We saw a meadow -
Standing in that meadow
Two old pines...
The peasants dug
Got that box
Opened and found
That tablecloth self-assembled!
They found it and shouted at once:
“Hey, self-assembled tablecloth!
Treat the men!”
Look - the tablecloth unfolded,
Where did they come from
Two strong hands
A bucket of wine was placed
Bread was laid on a mountain
And they hid again.
“But why aren’t there cucumbers?”
"What is not a hot tea?"
“What is there no cold kvass?”
Everything suddenly appeared...
The peasants unbelted
They sat down by the tablecloth.
Went here feast mountain!
Kissing for joy
promise to each other
Forward do not fight in vain,
And it's quite controversial
By reason, by God,
On the honor of the story -
Do not toss and turn in the houses,
Don't see your wives
Not with the little guys
Not with old old people,
As long as the matter is controversial
Solutions will not be found
Until they tell
No matter how it is for sure:
Who lives happily
Feel free in Rus'?
Having made such a vow,
In the morning like dead
Men fell asleep...
Chapter I. POP
wide path,
lined with birches,
stretched far,
Sandy and deaf.
Along the side of the path
The hills are coming
With fields, with hayfields,
And more often with inconvenience,
abandoned land;
There are old villages
There are new villages
By the rivers, by the ponds...
Forests, floodplain meadows,
Russian streams and rivers
Good in spring.
But you, spring fields!
On your seedlings are poor
It's not fun to watch!
"No wonder in the long winter
(Our wanderers interpret)
It snowed every day.
Spring has come - the snow has affected!
He is humble for the time being:
Flies - silent, lies - silent,
When he dies, then he roars.
Water - everywhere you look!
The fields are completely flooded
To carry manure - there is no road,
And the time is not early -
The month of May is coming!
Dislike and old,
It hurts more than that for new
Trees for them to look at.
Oh huts, new huts!
You are smart, let it build you
Not an extra penny
And blood trouble!
Wanderers met in the morning
More and more people are small:
His brother is a peasant-bast worker,
Artisans, beggars,
Soldiers, coachmen.
Beggars, soldiers
Strangers didn't ask
How is it easy for them, is it difficult
Lives in Rus'?
Soldiers shave with an awl
Soldiers warm themselves with smoke -
What happiness is here?
The day was already drawing to a close,
They go the way,
The pop is coming towards.
The peasants took off their hats.
bow low,
Lined up in a row
And gelding savrasoma
Blocked the way.
The priest raised his head
He looked and asked with his eyes:
What do they want?
“No way! we are not robbers!” -
Luka said to the priest.
(Luke is a squat man,
With a wide beard.
Stubborn, verbose and stupid.
Luka looks like a mill:
One is not a bird mill,
What, no matter how it flaps its wings,
Probably won't fly.)
"We are men of power,
Of the temporary
tightened province,
County Terpigorev,
empty parish,
Roundabout villages:
Zaplatova, Dyryavina,
Razutova, Znobishina,
Gorelova, Neelova -
Crop failure too.
Let's go on something important:
We have a concern
Is it such a concern
Which of the houses survived
With work unfriended us,
Got off food.
You give us the right word
To our peasant speech
Without laughter and without cunning,
According to conscience, according to reason,
Answer truthfully
Not so with your care
We will go to another…”
- I give you the right word:
When you ask a thing
Without laughter and without cunning,
In truth and reason
How should you answer.
"Thank you. Listen!
Walking the path,
We got together casually
They agreed and argued:
Who has fun
Feel free in Rus'?
Roman said: to the landowner,
Demyan said: to the official,
And I said: ass.
Fat-bellied merchant, -
Gubin brothers said
Ivan and Mitrodor.
Pahom said: to the brightest
noble boyar,
Minister of the State.
And Prov said: to the king ...
Man what a bull: vtemyashitsya
In the head what a whim -
Stake her from there
You won’t knock out: no matter how they argued,
We did not agree!
Argued - quarreled,
Quarreled - fought,
Podravshis - dressed up:
Don't go apart
Do not toss and turn in the houses,
Don't see your wives
Not with the little guys
Not with old old people,
As long as our dispute
We won't find a solution
Until we get it
Whatever it is - for sure:
Who wants to live happily
Feel free in Rus'?
Tell us Godly
Is the priest's life sweet?
You are like - at ease, happily
Do you live, honest father? .. "
Downcast, thinking
Sitting in a cart, pop
And he said: - Orthodox!
It's a sin to grumble at God
Bear my cross with patience
I live ... but how? Listen!
I'll tell you the truth, the truth
And you are a peasant mind
Dare! -
"Begin!"
What is happiness, in your opinion?
Peace, wealth, honor -
Isn't that right, dear ones?
They said yes...
- Now let's see, brethren,
What is the ass peace of mind?
Start, confess, it would be necessary
Almost from birth
How to get a diploma
the priest's son
At what cost popovich
The priesthood is bought
Let's better shut up!
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . .Page 3 of 11
. . . . . . . . . .
Our roads are difficult.
We have a large income.
Sick, dying
Born into the world
Do not choose time:
In stubble and haymaking,
In the dead of autumn night
In winter, in severe frosts,
And in the spring flood -
Go where you are called!
You go unconditionally.
And let only the bones
One broke,
No! every time it gets wet,
The soul will hurt.
Do not believe, Orthodox,
There is a limit to habit.
No heart to endure
Without some trepidation
death rattle,
grave sob,
Orphan sorrow!
Amen!.. Now think.
What is the peace of the ass?..
The peasants thought little
Letting the priest rest
They said with a bow:
"What else can you tell us?"
- Now let's see, brethren,
What is the honor of the priest?
A tricky task
Wouldn't make you angry...
Say, Orthodox
Who do you call
Foal breed?
Chur! respond to demand!
The peasants hesitated.
They are silent - and the pope is silent ...
Who are you afraid to meet?
Walking the way?
Chur! respond to demand!
They groan, shift,
- Who are you talking about?
You are fairy tales,
And obscene songs
And all the bullshit? ..
Mother-popadyu sedate,
Popov's innocent daughter
Seminarian of any -
How do you honor?
Who is after, like a gelding,
Shout: ho-ho-ho? ..
The kids got down
They are silent - and the pope is silent ...
The peasants thought
And pop with a big hat
Waving in my face
Yes, I looked at the sky.
In the spring, that the grandchildren are small,
With the ruddy sun-grandfather
Clouds are playing
Here is the right side
One continuous cloud
Covered - clouded
She froze and cried:
Rows of gray threads
They hung to the ground.
And closer, above the peasants,
From small, torn,
Merry clouds
Laughing red sun
Like a girl from sheaves.
But the cloud has moved
Pop hat is covered -
Be heavy rain.
And the right side
Already bright and joyful
There the rain stops.
Not rain, there is a miracle of God:
There with golden threads
Skeins are scattered…
“Not by themselves ... by parents
We are somehow ... ”- the Gubin brothers
They finally said.
And the others agreed:
“Not by themselves, by their parents!”
And the priest said, “Amen!
Sorry Orthodox!
Not in condemnation of the neighbor,
And at your request
I told you the truth.
Such is the honor of the priest
in the peasantry. And the landowners...
“You are past them, the landowners!
We know them!"
- Now let's see, brethren,
Otkudova wealth
Popovskoe is coming?..
During the near
Russian Empire
Noble estates
It was full.
And the landowners lived there,
eminent owners,
Which are no longer there!
Be fruitful and multiply
And they let us live.
What weddings were played there,
What babies were born
On free bread!
Though often cool,
However, well-meaning
Those were the gentlemen
The parish was not alienated:
They got married with us
Our children were baptized
They came to us to repent,
We buried them
And if it happened
That the landowner lived in the city,
So probably die
He came to the village.
When he dies by accident
And then punish firmly
Bury in the parish.
You look to the rural temple
On the funeral chariot
In six horses heirs
The deceased is being transported -
The ass is a good amendment,
For the laity, a holiday is a holiday ...
And now it's not like that!
Like a Jewish tribe
The landowners scattered
Through a distant foreign land
And in native Rus'.
No more pride now
Lie in native possession
Next to fathers, with grandfathers,
And many possessions
They went to the barryshniks.
oh damn bones
Russian, nobility!
Where are you not buried?
What land are you not in?
Then, an article… schismatics…
I'm not sinful, I didn't live
Nothing from the schismatics.
Luckily, there was no need
In my parish is
Living in Orthodoxy
two-thirds of the parishioners.
And there are such volosts
Where almost entirely schismatics,
So how to be an ass?
Everything in the world is changeable
The world itself will pass...
Laws, formerly strict
To the dissenters, softened,
And with them and priestly
Income mat came.
The landlords moved
They don't live in estates.
And die of old age
They don't come to us anymore.
Wealthy landowners
devout old ladies,
who died out
who settled down
Close to monasteries
Nobody is now a cassock
Don't give a pop!
No one will embroider the air ...
Live from the same peasants
Collect worldly hryvnias,
Yes pies on holidays
Yes, eggs oh saint.
The peasant himself needs
And I would be glad to give, but there is nothing ...
And that's not for everyone
And sweet peasant penny.
Our favors are meager,
Sands, swamps, mosses,
The cattle walks from hand to mouth,
Bread itself is born, friend,
And if it gets good
Cheese land-breadwinner,
So a new problem:
Nowhere to go with bread!
Lock in need, sell it
For a real trifle
And there - a crop failure!
Then pay exorbitant prices
Sell the cattle.
Pray Orthodox!
Great disaster threatens
And this year:
Winter was fierce
Spring is rainy
It would be necessary to sow for a long time,
And on the fields - water!
Have mercy, Lord!
Send a cool rainbow
To our skies!
(Taking off his hat, the shepherd is baptized,
And listeners too.)
Our poor villages
And in them the peasants are sick
Yes, sad women
Nurses, drinkers,
Slaves, pilgrims
And eternal workers
Lord give them strength!
With such works pennies
Life is hard!
It happens to the sick
You will come: not dying,
Terrible peasant family
At the moment when she has to
Lose the breadwinner!
You admonish the deceased
And support in the rest
You try your best
The spirit is awake! And here to you
The old woman, the mother of the deceased,
Look, stretching with a bony,
Callused hand.
The soul will turn
How they tinkle in this hand
Two copper coins!
Of course, it's clean
For demanding retribution,
Do not take - so there is nothing to live with.
Yes, a word of comfort
Freeze on the tongue
And as if offended
Go home... Amen...
Finished the speech - and the gelding
Pop lightly slapped.
The peasants parted
They bowed low.
The horse moved slowly.
And six comrades
As if they were talking
Attacked with reproaches
With selected big swearing
On poor Luke:
- What did you take? stubborn head!
Rustic club!
That's where the argument gets in! -
"Nobles bell -
Priests live like princes.
They go under the sky
Popov's tower,
The priest's patrimony is buzzing -
loud bells -
For the whole world of God.
Three years I, robots,
Lived with the priest in the workers,
Raspberry - not life!
Popova porridge - with butter.
Popov pie - with filling,
Popovy cabbage soup - with smelt!
Popov's wife is fat,
Popov's daughter is white,
Popov's horse is fat,
Popov's bee is full,
How the bell tolls!
Page 4 of 11
here's your praise
Pop's life!
Why was he yelling, swaggering?
Climbed into a fight, anathema?
Didn't you think to take
What is a beard with a shovel?
So with a goat beard
Walked the world before
than the forefather Adam,
And it's considered a fool
And now the goat! ..
Luke stood silent,
I was afraid they wouldn't slap
Comrades on the side.
It became so
Yes, fortunately the peasant
The road bent
The priest's face is strict
Appeared on a hillock ...
CHAPTER II. VILLAGE FAIR
No wonder our wanderers
They scolded the wet
Cold spring.
The peasant needs spring
And early and friendly,
And here - even a wolf howl!
The sun does not warm the earth
And rainy clouds
Like milk cows
They go to heaven.
Driven snow, and greenery
No weed, no leaf!
Water is not removed
The earth does not dress
Green bright velvet
And like a dead man without a shroud,
Lies under a cloudy sky
Sad and naked.
Pity the poor peasant
And more sorry for the cattle;
Feeding scarce supplies,
The owner of the twig
Chased her into the meadows
What is there to take? Chernekhonko!
Only on Nicholas of the spring
The weather turned up
Green fresh grass
The cattle enjoyed.
The day is hot. Under the birches
The peasants are making their way
They chat among themselves:
"We're going through one village,
Let's go another - empty!
And today is a holiday
Where did the people disappear to? .. "
They go through the village - on the street
Some guys are small
In the houses - old women,
And even locked up
Castle gates.
The castle is a faithful dog:
Doesn't bark, doesn't bite
He won't let you in the house!
Passed the village, saw
Mirror in green frame
With the edges of a full pond.
Swallows soar over the pond;
Some mosquitoes
Agile and skinny
Hopping, as if on dry land,
They walk on the water.
Along the banks, in the broom,
The corncrakes creak.
On a long, rickety raft
With a roll, the priest is thick
It stands like a plucked haystack,
Tucking the hem.
On the same raft
Sleeping duck with ducklings...
Chu! horse snore!
The peasants looked at once
And they saw over the water
Two heads: a man's.
Curly and swarthy
With an earring (the sun blinked
On that white earring)
Another - horse
With a rope, fathoms at five.
The man takes the rope in his mouth,
The man swims - and the horse swims,
The man neighed, and the horse neighed.
Float, scream! Under the grandmother
Under the little ducks
The raft is moving.
I caught up with the horse - grab it by the withers!
I jumped up and went to the meadow
Child: the body is white,
And the neck is like pitch;
Water flows in streams
From horse and rider.
“And what do you have in the village
Neither old nor small
How did the whole nation die?
- They went to the village of Kuzminskoye,
Today there is a fair
And a temple feast. -
“How far is Kuzminskoe?”
- Yes, it will be three miles.
"Let's go to the village of Kuzminskoye,
Let's watch the holiday-fair! -
The men decided
And they thought to themselves:
Isn't that where he hides?
Who lives happily? .. "
Kuzminsky rich,
And what's more, it's dirty.
Trading village.
It stretches along the slope,
Then it descends into the ravine.
And there again on the hill -
How can there not be dirt here?
Two churches in it are old,
One old believer
Another Orthodox
House with the inscription: school,
Empty, packed tightly
Hut in one window
With the image of a paramedic,
Bleeding.
There is a dirty hotel
Decorated with a sign
(With a big nosed teapot
Tray in the hands of the carrier,
And small cups
Like a goose by goslings,
That kettle is surrounded)
There are permanent shops
Like a county
Gostiny Dvor…
Wanderers came to the square:
A lot of goods
And apparently invisible
To the people! Isn't it fun?
It seems that there is no way of the godfather,
And, as if before the icons,
Men without hats.
Such a sidekick!
Look where they go
Peasant hats:
In addition to the wine warehouse,
Taverns, restaurants,
A dozen damask shops,
Three inns,
Yes, "Rensky cellar",
Yes, a couple of zucchini.
Eleven zucchini
Set for the holiday
Village tents.
With each five trays;
Carriers - youngsters
Trained, poignant,
And they can't keep up with everything
Can't handle surrender!
Look what? stretched out
Peasant hands with hats
With scarves, with mittens.
Oh, Orthodox thirst,
How big are you!
Just to douse the darling,
And there they will get hats,
How will the market go?
By drunken heads
The sun is playing...
Intoxicating, loud, festive,
Variegated, red all around!
The pants on the guys are plush,
striped vests,
Shirts of all colors;
The women are wearing red dresses,
The girls have braids with ribbons,
They float with winches!
And there are still tricks
Dressed in the capital -
And expands and pouts
Hem on hoops!
If you step in - they will undress!
At ease, new fashionistas,
You fishing tackle
Wear under skirts!
Looking at elegant women,
Furious Old Believer
Tovarke says:
"Be hungry! be hungry!
See how the seedlings got wet,
What spring flood
Worth to Petrov!
Ever since the women started
Dress up in red chintzes, -
Forests do not rise
But at least not this bread!
- Why are the chintzes red?
Did you do something wrong here, mother?
I won't put my mind to it! -
“And those French chintzes -
Painted with dog blood!
Well… understand now?…”
They hustled on horseback,
On the hill, where they are piled
Roe deer, rakes, harrows,
Bagry, cart looms,
Rims, axes.
There was a brisk trade
With godfather, with jokes,
With a healthy, loud laugh.
And how not to laugh?
The guy is kinda tiny
I went, I tried rims:
Bent one - do not like it
Bent the other, pushed.
And how will the rim straighten -
A flick on the man's forehead!
A man roars over the rim,
"Elm Club"
Scolds the fighter.
Another came with different
Wooden handicraft -
And dumped the whole cart!
Drunk! The axle is broken
And he began to do it -
The ax is broken! changed my mind
A man with an ax
Scolds him, reproaches him,
As if doing the job:
“You scoundrel, not an ax!
Empty service, don't give a damn
And he did not help.
All your life you bowed
And there was no affection!
Wanderers went to the shops:
Love handkerchiefs,
Ivanovo chintz,
Harnesses, new shoes,
The product of the Kimryaks.
At that shoe store
The strangers laugh again:
Here are the goat's shoes
Grandfather traded for granddaughter
Five times about the price
Page 5 of 11
asked
He turned in his hands, looked around:
First class product!
"Well, uncle! two kopecks
Pay, or get lost!" -
The merchant told him.
- And you wait! – Admire
An old man with a tiny boot
This is how he speaks:
- My son-in-law does not care, and the daughter will be silent,
Sorry granddaughter! hung herself
On the neck, fidget:
“Buy a hotel, grandfather.
Buy it! - silk head
The face tickles, caresses,
Kissing the old man.
Wait, barefoot crawler!
Wait, yule! gantry
Buy boots...
Vavilushka boasted,
Both old and small
Promised gifts,
And he drank himself to a penny!
How I shameless eyes
Will I show my family?
My son-in-law does not care, and my daughter will be silent,
Wife - do not care, let him grumble!
And I’m sorry for the granddaughter! .. - Went again
About granddaughter! Killed!..
The people gathered, listening,
Do not laugh, pity;
Happen, work, bread
He would have been helped
And take out two two-kopeck coins -
So you will be left with nothing.
Yes, there was a man
Pavlusha Veretennikov
(What kind, rank,
The men did not know
However, they were called "master".
He was much more of a baluster,
He wore a red shirt
Cloth undershirt,
Lubricated boots;
He sang Russian songs smoothly
And I loved listening to them.
It was taken down by many
In the inns,
In taverns, in taverns.)
So he rescued Vavila -
I bought him shoes.
Vavilo grabbed them
And he was! - for joy
Thanks even to the bar
Forgot to say old man
But other peasants
So they were disappointed
So happy, like everyone
He gave the ruble!
There was also a shop
With pictures and books
Ofeny stocked up
With your goods in it.
"Do you need generals?" -
The merchant-burner asked them.
“And give the generals!
Yes, only you in conscience,
To be real -
Thicker, more menacing."
“Wonderful! how you look! -
The merchant said with a smile,
It's not about the build…”
- And in what? kidding, friend!
Rubbish, or what, it is desirable to sell?
Where are we going with her?
You're naughty! Before the peasant
All generals are equal
Like cones on a fir tree:
To sell the shabby one,
You need to get to the dock
And fat and formidable
I'll give it to everyone...
Come on big, portly,
Chest uphill, bulging eyes,
Yes, more stars!
“But you don’t want civilians?”
- Well, here's another with the civilians! -
(However, they took it - cheap! -
some dignitary
For the belly with a barrel of wine
And for seventeen stars.)
Merchant - with all due respect,
Whatever, that will regale
(From Lubyanka - the first thief!) -
Dropped a hundred Blucher,
Archimandrite Photius,
Robber Sipko,
Sold the book: "Jester Balakirev"
And the "English milord" ...
Put in a box of books
Let's go for a walk portraits
By the kingdom of all Russia,
Until they settle down
In a peasant's summer goreka,
On a low wall...
God knows what for!
Eh! eh! will the time come
When (come, welcome! ..)
Let the peasant understand
What is a portrait of a portrait,
What is a book a book?
When a man is not Blucher
And not my lord stupid -
Belinsky and Gogol
Will you carry it from the market?
Oh people, Russian people!
Orthodox peasants!
Have you ever heard
Are you these names?
Those are great names
Worn them, glorified
Protectors of the people!
Here you would have their portraits
Hang in your boots,
“And I would be glad to heaven, but the door
Such speech breaks
In the shop unexpectedly.
What door do you want? -
“Yes, to the booth. Chu! music!.."
"Come on, I'll show you!" -
Hearing about the farce
Come and our wanderers
Listen, stare.
Comedy with Petrushka,
With a goat with a drummer
And not with a simple hurdy-gurdy,
And with real music
They looked here.
Comedy is not smart
However, not stupid
Wishful, quarterly
Not in the eyebrow, but right in the eye!
The hut is full-full.
People crack nuts
And then two or three peasants
Spread a word -
Look, vodka has appeared:
Look and drink!
Laugh, comfort
And often in a speech to Petrushkin
Insert a well-aimed word
What you can't imagine
At least swallow a pen!
There are such lovers -
How does the comedy end?
They will go for screens,
Kissing, fraternizing
Chatting with musicians:
"From where, well done?"
- And we were masters,
Played for the landowner.
Now we are free people
Who will bring, treat,
He is our master!
“And the thing, dear friends,
Pretty bar you amused,
Cheer up the men!
Hey! small! sweet vodka!
Pouring! tea! half a beer!
Tsimlyansky - live! .. "
And the flooded sea
It will go, more generous than the master's
The kids will be fed.
Not violent winds blow,
Not mother earth sways -
Noise, sing, swear,
sways, rolls,
Fighting and kissing
Holiday people!
The peasants seemed
How did you get to the hillock,
That the whole village is shaking
That even the old church
With a tall bell tower
It shook once or twice! -
Here sober, that naked,
Awkward... Our wanderers
Walked across the square
And left in the evening
Busy village...
CHAPTER III. DRUNK NIGHT
Not a barn, not barns,
Not a tavern, not a mill,
How often in Rus'
The village ended low
log building
With iron bars
In small windows.
Behind that milestone building
wide path,
lined with birches,
Opened right here.
Not crowded on weekdays
Sad and quiet
She's not the same now!
All along that lane
And along the roundabout paths,
How far did the eye go
They crawled, they lay, they rode.
Drunk floundering
And there was a groan!
Heavy carts hide,
And like calf's heads
Swinging, swinging
Victory heads
Sleepy men!
People go and fall
As if because of the rollers
Buckshot enemies
Shooting at the men!
The quiet night descends
Already out into the dark sky
Moon, really
Page 6 of 11
writes a letter
Lord of pure gold
Blue on velvet
That wise letter,
Which neither reasonable,
Buzzing! That the sea is blue
Falls silent, rises
Popular rumor.
“And we are fifty kopecks to the clerk:
The request was made
To the head of the province ... "
"Hey! the sack has fallen from the cart!”
“Where are you, Olenushka?
Wait! I'll give you a gingerbread
You are like a nimble flea,
She ate - and jumped.
I didn’t give a stroke! ”
"You are good, royal letter,
Yes, you are not written about us ... "
"Step aside, people!"
(Excise officials
With bells, with plaques
They swept from the market.)
“And I’m to that now:
And the broom is rubbish, Ivan Ilyich,
And walk on the floor
Wherever it sprays!
"God forbid, Parashenka,
You don't go to St. Petersburg!
There are such officials
You are their cook for a day,
And their night is sudarkoy -
So don't care!"
"Where are you jumping, Savvushka?"
(The priest shouts to the sotsky
On horseback, with a government badge.)
- In Kuzminskoye I jump
Behind the station. Opportunity:
There ahead of the peasant
Killed ... - "Eh! .. sins! .."
“You have become thin, Daryushka!”
- Not a spindle, friend!
That's what spins more
It's getting fatter
And I'm like a day-to-day ...
"Hey boy, stupid boy,
tattered, lousy,
Hey love me!
Me, simple-haired,
A drunken woman, an old one,
Zaaa-paaaa-chkanny! .. "
Our peasants are sober,
Looking, listening
They go their own way.
In the very middle of the path
Some guy is quiet
Dug a big hole.
"What are you doing here?"
- And I'm burying my mother! -
"Fool! what a mother!
Look: a new undershirt
You dug into the ground!
Hurry up and grunt
Lie down in the ditch, drink water!
Perhaps, the foolishness will jump off!
"Well, let's stretch!"
Two peasants sit down
Legs rest,
And live, and grieve,
Grunt - stretch on a rolling pin,
Joints are cracking!
Didn't like it on the rock
"Now let's try
Stretch your beard!"
When the order of the beard
Reduced each other
Grabbed cheekbones!
They puff, blush, writhe,
They moo, they squeal, but they stretch!
"Yes, you damned ones!
Don't spill water!"
In the ditch the women quarrel,
One shouts: "Go home
More sickening than hard labor!”
Another: - You're lying, in my house
Better than yours!
My elder brother-in-law broke a rib,
The middle son-in-law stole the ball,
A ball of spit, but the fact is -
Fifty dollars was wrapped in it,
And the younger son-in-law takes everything,
Look, he will kill him, he will kill him! ..
“Well, full, full, dear!
Well, don't be angry! - behind the roller
Heard in the distance. -
I'm okay...let's go!"
Such a bad night!
Is it right, is it left
Look from the road:
Couples go together
Isn't it right to that grove?
Nightingales sing…
The road is crowded
What later is uglier:
More and more often come across
Beaten, crawling
Lying in a layer.
Without swearing, as usual,
Word won't be spoken
Crazy, indecent,
She is the most heard!
The taverns are confused
The leads got mixed up
Frightened horses
They run without riders;
Little children are crying.
Wives and mothers yearn:
Is it easy to drink
Call the men?
Our wanderers are coming
And they see: Veretennikov
(That the goat's shoes
Vavila gave)
Talks with peasants.
Peasants open up
Milyaga likes:
Pavel will praise the song -
They will sing five times, write it down!
Like the proverb -
Write a proverb!
Having recorded enough
Veretennikov told them:
"Smart Russian peasants,
One is not good
What they drink to stupefaction
Falling into ditches, into ditches -
It's a shame to look!"
The peasants listened to that speech,
They agreed with the barin.
Pavlusha something in a book
I already wanted to write.
Yes, the drunk turned up
Man - he is against the master
Lying on his stomach
looked into his eyes,
Was silent - but suddenly
How to jump! Directly to the barin -
Grab the pencil!
- Wait, empty head!
Crazy news, shameless
Don't talk about us!
What did you envy!
What is the fun of the poor
Peasant soul?
We drink a lot in time
And we work more.
We see a lot of drunks
And more sober us.
Did you visit the villages?
Take a bucket of vodka
Let's go to the huts:
In one, in the other they will pile up,
And in the third they will not touch -
We have a drinking family
Non-drinking family!
They don’t drink, and also toil,
It would be better to drink, stupid,
Yes, the conscience is...
It's wonderful to watch how it falls
In such a hut sober
Man's trouble -
And I would not have looked! .. I saw
Russians in the village suffering?
In the pub, what, people?
We have vast fields
And not much generous
Tell me, whose hand
In the spring they will dress
Will they undress in the fall?
Did you meet a man
After work in the evening?
Good mountain on the reaper
Put, ate from a pea:
"Hey! hero! straw
I'll knock you off!"
Sweet peasant food
All century saw iron
Chews, but does not eat!
Yes, the belly is not a mirror,
We don't cry for food...
You work alone
And a little work is over,
Look, there are three equity holders:
God, king and lord!
And there is another destroyer
Fourth, angrier than the Tatar,
So he won't share.
All gobble up one!
We've got third days
The same poor gentleman,
Like you, from near Moscow.
writes songs,
Tell him a proverb
Solve the riddle.
And there was another - inquired,
How much per day do you work
Little by little, a lot
Pieces shove in your mouth?
Another land measures,
Another in the village of inhabitants
Count on fingers
But they didn't count
Because every summer
The fire blows into the wind
Peasant labor?
There is no measure for Russian hops.
Did they measure our grief?
Is there a measure for work?
Wine brings down the peasant
And grief does not bring him down?
Work not falling?
A man does not measure trouble,
Copes with everything
Whatever come.
A man, working, does not think,
What forces will break.
So really over the glass
To think that with too much
Will you fall into a ditch?
And what is shameful to look at you,
How drunks roll
So look, go
Like dragging from a swamp
Peasants have wet hay,
Mowed, dragged:
Where horses can't get through
Where and without a burden on foot
It's dangerous to cross
There is a peasant horde
On the rocks, on the gorges
Crawling crawling with whips -
The peasant's navel is cracking!
Under the sun without hats
In sweat, in dirt up to the top,
Sedge cut,
Swamp reptile midge
Eaten into the blood -
Are we prettier here?
Regret - sorry skillfully,
To the master's measure
Don't kill the peasant!
Not white women are tender,
And we are great people.
In work and in the spree! ..
Every peasant has
The soul is a black cloud -
Angry, formidable - and it would be necessary
Thunders rumble from there,
pouring bloody rains,
And everything ends with wine.
A charm went through the veins -
And kindly laughed
Peasant soul!
No need to mourn here
Look around - rejoice!
Hey guys, hey
Page 7 of 11
young women
They know how to walk!
The bones waved
They roused the darling
And the prowess of the young
They saved the case! ..
The man stood on the roller,
Stamped with bast shoes
And after a moment's silence,
Admiring the fun
Roaring Crowd:
- Hey! you are a peasant kingdom,
Headless, drunk,
Noise - free noise! .. -
"What's your name, old lady?"
- And what? write in a book?
Perhaps there is no need!
Write: "In the village of Basov
Yakim Nagoi lives
He works to death
Drinks half to death!”
The peasants laughed
And they told the barin
What a guy Yakim.
Yakim, poor old man,
Lived once in St. Petersburg,
Yes, he ended up in jail.
I wanted to compete with the merchant!
Like a peeled Velcro,
He returned to his home
And took up the plow.
Since then, it's been roasting for thirty years
On the strip under the sun
Saved under the harrow
From frequent rain
Lives - messes with the plow,
And death will come to Yakimushka -
Like a clod of earth will fall off,
What is dried up on the plow ...
There was a case with him: pictures
He bought his son
Hung them up on the walls
And himself no less than a boy
Loved to look at them.
God's disgrace has come
The village is on fire
And Yakimushka had
accumulated over a century
Ruble thirty-five.
Hurry to take a ruble,
And he first pictures
Began to tear off the wall;
Meanwhile his wife
fiddling with icons
And then the hut collapsed -
So blundered Yakim!
Merged into a lump of tselkoviki,
For that lump they give him
Eleven rubles...
“Oh brother Yakim! not cheap
The pictures are gone!
But in a new hut
Did you hang them up?”
- Hung up - there are new ones, -
Yakim said - and fell silent.
The master looked at the plowman:
The chest is sunken; like a depressed
Stomach; at the eyes, at the mouth
Bends like cracks
On dry ground;
And myself to mother earth
He looks like: a brown neck,
Like a layer cut off with a plow,
brick face,
Hand - tree bark,
And hair is sand.
The peasants noticed
What is not offensive to the master
Yakimov's words
And they agreed
With Yakim: - The word is true:
We need to drink!
We drink - it means we feel the power!
Great sadness will come
How to stop drinking!
Work would not fail
Trouble would not prevail
Hops will not overcome us!
Is not it?
"Yes, God is merciful!"
- Well, have a drink with us!
We got vodka and drank.
Yakim Veretennikov
He raised two scales.
- Hey sir! didn't get angry
Smart head!
(Yakim told him.)
Reasonable little head
How not to understand the peasant?
Do pigs walk on? zemi -
They do not see the sky for centuries! ..
Suddenly the song burst out in chorus
Deleted, consonant:
A dozen or three youngsters
Khmelnenki, not falling down,
They walk side by side, they sing,
They sing about Mother Volga,
About the prowess of the youth,
About girlish beauty.
The whole road was quiet
That one song is foldable
Wide, freely rolling,
As rye spreads under the wind,
According to the heart of the peasant
Goes with fire-longing! ..
To the song of that remote
Thinking, crying
Youth alone:
“My age is like a day without the sun,
My age is like a night without a month,
And I, baby,
What a greyhound horse on a leash,
What is a swallow without wings!
My old husband, jealous husband,
Drunk drunk, snoring snoring,
Me, baby,
And sleepy guards!
So the young woman cried
Yes, she suddenly jumped off the cart!
"Where?" shouts the jealous husband,
I got up - and a woman for a braid,
Like a radish for a tuft!
Oh! night, night drunk!
Not bright, but stellar
Not hot, but with affectionate
Spring breeze!
And our good fellows
You didn't pass for nothing!
They were sad for their wives,
It's true: with his wife
Now it would be more fun!
Ivan shouts: "I want to sleep,"
And Maryushka: - And I'm with you! -
Ivan shouts: "The bed is narrow,"
And Maryushka: - Let's settle down! -
Ivan shouts: "Oh, it's cold,"
And Maryushka: - Let's get warm! -
How do you remember that song?
Without a word - agreed
Try your chest.
One, why God knows
Between field and road
The dense linden has grown.
Wanderers sat under it
And they said carefully:
"Hey! self-assembled tablecloth,
Treat the men!”
And the tablecloth unrolled
Where did they come from
Two hefty hands:
A bucket of wine was placed
Bread was laid on a mountain
And they hid again.
The peasants fortified themselves.
A novel for a sentry
Left by the bucket
Others intervened
In the crowd - look for a happy one:
They strongly wanted
Get home soon...
CHAPTER IV. HAPPY
In the loud, festive crowd
Strangers wandered around
Called the call:
"Hey! is there no happy place?
Appear! When it turns out
that you live happily
We have a bucket ready:
Drink as much as you like -
We will treat you to glory! .. "
Such speeches unheard
Sober people laughed
And drunk and smart
Almost spat in the beard
Zealous screamers.
However, hunters
Take a sip of free wine
Found enough.
When the wanderers returned
Under the linden, calling the cry,
People surrounded them.
The deacon, fired, came
Skinny, like a sulfur match,
And loosened the fringes,
That happiness is not in pastures,
Not in sables, not in gold,
Not in expensive stones.
"And in what?"
- In kindness!
There are limits to possessions
Lords, nobles, kings of the earth,
And wise possession -
The whole garden of Christ!
When the sun warms
Let me skip the pigtail
So I'm happy! -
"Where can you get a pigtail?"
- Yes, you promised to give ...
"Get out! you're joking!.."
An old woman came
speckled, one-eyed,
And announced, bowing,
What makes her happy:
What does she have in autumn
Born rap to a thousand
On a small ridge.
- Such a large turnip,
This turnip is delicious.
And the whole ridge is three sazhens,
And across - arshin! -
They laughed at the grandmother
And they didn’t give a drop of vodka:
“Drink at home, old one,
Eat that turnip!”
A soldier came with medals
A little alive, but I want to drink:
- I'm happy! - speaks.
"Well, open up, old lady,
What is the happiness of a soldier?
Don't hide, look!"
- And in the first place, happiness,
What in twenty battles
I was, not killed!
And secondly, more importantly,
Me and during peacetime
Walked neither full nor hungry,
And death did not give!
And thirdly - for faults,
Great and small
Mercilessly I beat with sticks,
And at least feel it - it's alive!
"On the! drink, servant!
There is nothing to argue with you:
You are happy - there is no word!
Came with a heavy hammer
Olonchanin stonemason,
Shouldered, young:
- And I live - I do not complain, -
He said, - with his wife, with his mother
We do not know the need!
"Yes, what is your happiness?"
- But look (and with a hammer,
Like a feather, waved):
When I wake up to the sun
Let me unwind at midnight
So I will crush the mountain!
It happened, I do not brag
chipping stones
A day for five silver!
Pahom raised "happiness"
And, grunting decently,
Give the worker:
“Well, weighty! but will not
Carry with this happiness
Under old age is it hard? .. "
- Look, do not brag about your strength, -
Said the man with shortness of breath,
Relaxed, thin
(The nose is sharp, like a dead one,
Skinny hands like a rake
Like the spokes of the legs are long,
Not a man - a mosquito). -
I was no worse than a bricklayer
Yes, he also boasted of strength,
So God punished!
I realized
Page 8 of 11
contractor, beast,
What a simple kid,
Taught me to praise
And I'm foolishly happy
I work for four!
One day I wear a good
I laid bricks.
And here it is, damned,
And apply a hard one:
"What is this? - speaks. -
I don't recognize Tryphon!
To go with such a burden
Aren't you ashamed young man?
- And if it seems a little,
Add by the master's hand! -
I said, angry.
Well, with half an hour, I think
I waited, and he laid,
And planted, scoundrel!
I hear myself - a terrible craving,
I didn't want to back away.
And brought that damn burden
I'm on the second floor!
The contractor looks, marvels,
Screaming, scoundrel, from there:
“Ah well done, Trofim!
You don't know what you did
You took down one at the extreme
Fourteen pounds!
Oh, I know! hammer heart
Knocking in the chest, bloody
There are circles in the eyes
The back looks like it's cracked...
Trembling, weak legs.
I've been dying since then! ..
Pour, brother, half a cup!
“Pour? But where is the happiness?
We will treat the happy
And what did you say!”
- Listen! there will be happiness!
“Yes, in what, speak!”
- And here's what. me at home,
Like every peasant
I wanted to die.
From St. Petersburg, relaxed,
Crazy, almost without memory,
I got into the car.
Well, here we go.
In the car - feverish,
hot workers
We got a lot
Everyone wanted one
How do I: get to my homeland,
To die at home.
However, you need happiness
And then: we drove in the summer,
In the heat, in the heat
Many are confused
Completely sick heads
In the car hell went:
He groans, he rides,
Like a catechumen, by gender,
He raves about his wife, mother.
Well, at the nearest station
Down with this!
I looked at my comrades
I myself was on fire, I thought -
Bad for me too.
Crimson circles in the eyes,
And everything seems to me, brother,
That I cut peuns!
(We are also peuniatniks,
Happened to fatten a year
Up to a thousand goiters.)
Where do you remember, damned!
I have tried to pray
No! everyone is going crazy!
Will you believe? the whole party
Trembling before me!
Larynx cut,
The blood is gushing, but they sing!
And I with a knife: “Yes, you are full!”
How the Lord has mercy
Why didn't I scream?
I sit, I strengthen myself ... fortunately,
The day is over, and by the evening
It's cold, sorry
God over orphans!
Well, that's how we got there.
And I made it home
Here, by the grace of God,
And it became easier for me ...
- What are you bragging about?
With your manly happiness? -
Screaming broken to his feet
Yard man. -
And you treat me:
I'm happy, God knows!
At the first boyar,
At Prince Peremetiev,
I was a favorite slave.
Wife is a beloved servant
And the daughter, along with the young lady
Studied French too
And every language
She was allowed to sit
In the presence of the princess...
Oh! how prickly! .. fathers! .. -
(And started the right foot
rub palms.)
The peasants laughed.
- Why are you laughing, stupid -
Angered unexpectedly,
The doorman screamed. -
I'm sick, but can I tell you
What do I pray to the Lord?
Getting up and lying down?
I pray: "Let me, Lord,
my honorable illness,
According to her, I am a nobleman!
Not your vile sickness,
Not hoarseness, not a hernia -
noble disease,
What only happens
From the first persons in the empire,
I'm sick man!
Yes, the game is called!
To get it -
Champagne, Burgundy,
Tokay, Hungarian
You have to drink for thirty years ...
Behind the chair at the brightest
At Prince Peremetyev's
I stood for forty years
With French best truffle
I licked the plates
Foreign drinks
Drinking from glasses...
Well, pour it! -
"Get out!
We have peasant wine,
Simple, not overseas -
Not on your lips!
Yellow-haired, hunched,
Crept up timidly to the wanderers
Belarusian peasant,
It also reaches for vodka:
- Pour me a manenichko too,
I'm happy! - speaks.
“And you don’t go with your hands!
Report, prove
First, how happy are you?
- And our happiness is in bread:
I am at home in Belarus
With chaff, with a bonfire
Chewed barley bread;
Like a woman in labor you writhe
How to grab the bellies.
And now, by the grace of God! -
Filled with Gubonin
Give rye bread
I chew - I do not wait! -
Came some cloudy
A man with a twisted cheekbone,
Everything looks to the right:
- I go after bears.
And my happiness is great:
Three of my comrades
Bears broke,
And I live, God is merciful!
“Well, look to the left?”
I did not look, no matter how I tried,
What scary faces
The man writhed:
- The bear turned me
Manenichko cheekbone! -
“And you measure yourself with another,
Give her your right cheek
Correct ... "- Laughed,
However, they brought it up.
ragged beggars,
Hearing the smell of foam,
And they came to prove
How happy they are
- We have a shopkeeper on the doorstep
Meets with alms
And we will enter the house, so from the house
Escorted to the gate...
Let's sing a little song
The hostess runs to the window
With edge, with a knife,
And we are pouring:
“Come on give - the whole loaf,
Doesn't wrinkle or crumble
Hurry for you, but we argue ... "
Our wanderers have realized
That they spent vodka for nothing,
By the way, and a bucket
End. “Well, it will be with you!
Hey, happiness man!
Leaky with patches
Humpbacked with calluses
Get off home!"
- And you, dear friends,
Ask Ermila Girin, -
He said, sitting down with strangers,
Villages of Dymoglotov
Peasant Fedosey. -
If Yermil does not help out,
Lucky will not be declared
So there is nothing to stumble...
“And who is Yermil?
Is it a prince, a noble count?
- Not a prince, not an illustrious count,
But he's just a man!
"You speak smarter,
Sit down and we'll listen
What is Ermil?
- And here's one: an orphan
Yermilo kept the mill
On Unzha. By court
Decided to sell the mill:
Yermilo came with others
To the auction house.
Empty buyers
They fell off quickly.
One merchant Altynnikov
He entered into battle with Yermil,
Do not lag behind, traded,
He puts on a penny.
Yermilo how angry -
Grab five rubles at once!
The merchant again a pretty penny,
They went to battle;
The merchant with his penny,
And that one with his ruble!
Altynnikov could not resist!
Yes, an opportunity came out here:
Immediately began to demand
The makings of the third part,
And the third part - up to a thousand.
There was no money with Yermil,
Did he himself screw up
Did the clerks cheat
And it turned out to be rubbish!
Altynnikov cheered up:
“My, it turns out, a mill!”
"No! Ermil says
Approaches the chairman. -
Can't your grace
Intervene for half an hour?
What will you do in half an hour?
"I'll bring the money!"
- Where can you find it? Are you in your mind?
Thirty-five versts to the mill,
And an hour later the presence
The end, my dear!
“So, will you allow half an hour?”
“Maybe we’ll skip the hour!” -
Yermil went; clerks
exchanged glances with the merchant,
Laugh, scoundrels!
To the market square
Yermilo came (in the city
That market day was
He stood on a cart, we see: he is baptized,
On all four sides
Shouts: “Hey, good people!
Shut up, listen
I'll tell you a word!"
The crowded square has become silent,
And then Ermil about the mill
He told the people:
"For a long time the merchant Altynnikov
Wooed to the mill
I didn't make a mistake either
Five times consulted in the city,
They said with
Page 9 of 11
rebidding
Bidding has been scheduled.
Nothing to do, you know
Carry the treasury to the peasant
Country road is not a hand:
I came without a penny
But look - they pissed off
Without rebidding bargaining!
Vile souls cheated
Yes, and non-Christs laugh:
“What are you going to do about the hour?
Where will you find money?
Maybe I'll find it, God bless!
Cunning, strong clerks,
And their world is stronger
The merchant Altynnikov is rich,
And he can't resist
Against the worldly treasury -
Her like a fish from the sea
To catch a century is not to catch.
Well, brothers! God sees
Sharing that Friday!
The mill is not dear to me,
The insult is great!
If you know Yermila
If you believe Yermil,
So help me out, eh! .. "
And a miracle happened:
All over the marketplace
Every peasant has
Like the wind, half left
It turned over suddenly!
The peasantry forked out
They bring money to Yermil,
They give who is rich.
Yermilo is a literate guy,
Put on a full hat
Tselkovikov, Lobanchikov,
Burnt, beaten, ragged
Peasant banknotes.
Yermilo took - did not disdain
And a copper nugget.
Still, he would begin to disdain,
When I got here
Other hryvnia copper
More than a hundred rubles!
The sum has already been fulfilled
And the generosity of the people
Grew up: - Take it, Ermil Ilyich,
Give it up, it won't disappear! -
Yermil bowed to the people
On all four sides
He went into the ward with a hat,
Keeping the treasury in it.
The clerks were surprised,
Altynnikov turned green,
How he is full of the whole thousand
They put it on the table!
Not a wolf's tooth, so a fox's tail, -
Went to bustle clerks,
Congratulations on your purchase!
Yes, Ermil Ilyich is not like that,
Didn't say too much.
I didn't give them a penny!
Look the whole city came together
As on market day, Friday,
After a week of time
Yermil on the same square
The people counted.
Remember where everyone is?
At that time it was done
In a fever, in a hurry!
However, there were no disputes
And give a penny extra
Ermil did not have to.
Also, he himself said
An extra ruble, whose God knows!
Stayed with him.
All day with a purse open
Yermil walked and inquired:
Whose ruble? didn't find it.
The sun has already set
When from the marketplace
Yermil was the last to move,
Giving that ruble to the blind...
So this is what Ermil Ilyich is like. -
“Wonderful! the strangers said. -
However, it is desirable to know
What sorcery
A man over the whole neighborhood
Have you taken that kind of power?
- Not witchcraft, but truth.
Heard about Hell
Yurlov prince patrimony?
"Heard, so what?"
- It has a general manager
There was a gendarme corps
Colonel with a star
With him five or six assistants,
And our Yermilo is a clerk
Was in the office.
Twenty years old was small,
What is the will of the clerk?
However, for the peasant
And the clerk is a man.
You approach him first,
And he will advise
And he will provide information;
Where there is enough strength - will help out,
Don't ask for gratitude
And if you give it, you won't take it!
A bad conscience is needed -
Peasant from peasant
Extort a penny.
In this way, the whole estate
At the age of five, Ermila Girina
Got to know well
And then they kicked him out...
They felt sorry for Girin,
It was difficult to new
Grabber, get used to,
However, there is nothing to do
Fitted in time
And to the new scribe.
He is not a line without a triplet,
Not a word without a seventh worker,
Burnt, from kuteynikov -
And God told him!
However, by the will of God,
He reigned for a short time,
The old prince died
The young prince came
Chased that colonel out.
Chased away his assistant
He drove the whole office
And he ordered us from the patrimony
Choose a Burmese.
Well, we didn't think long
Six thousand souls, all fiefdom
We shout: - Yermila Girin! -
How one man!
They call Yermila to the master.
Talking to a peasant
From the balcony the prince shouts:
“Well, brothers! be your way.
My princely seal
Your choice is approved:
The man is agile, literate,
I’ll say one thing: aren’t you young? .. "
And we: - There is no need, father,
And young, but smart! -
Yermilo went to reign
Over the whole prince's patrimony,
And he reigned!
At seven years of a worldly penny
Didn't squeeze under the nail
At the age of seven, he did not touch the right one,
Did not allow the guilty.
I didn’t bend my heart…
Stop! - shouted reproachfully
Some gray-haired priest
Narrator. - You're wrong!
The harrow went straight
Yes, suddenly waved to the side -
Hit a rock with a tooth!
When I started to tell
So don't throw away the words
From the song: or wanderers
Are you telling a fairy tale?
I knew Ermila Girin ... "
“But I didn’t know?”
We were one estate,
of the same parish,
Yes, we have been transferred...
“And if you knew Girin,
So I knew brother Mitrius,
Think, my friend."
The narrator became thoughtful
And, after a pause, he said:
- I lied: the word is superfluous
It went off the rails!
There was a case, and Yermil-man
Gone Crazy: From Recruitment
Little brother Mitrius
He improved.
We are silent: there is nothing to argue,
The master of the elder's brother himself
Would not order to shave
One Nenila Vlasyev
Weeping bitterly for her son
Shouts: it's not our turn!
Known to have screamed
Yes, I would leave with that.
So what? Ermil himself,
Done with recruiting
Became sad, sad,
Doesn't drink, doesn't eat: that's the end
What's in the stall with a rope
Stopped by his father.
Here the son repented to his father:
“Since the son of Vlasyevna
I put it out of line
The white light is disgusting to me!”
And he reaches for the rope.
They tried to persuade
His father and brother
He is all the same: “I am a criminal!
The villain! tie my hands
Take me to court!"
So that it doesn't get worse
Father tied the heart,
Posted a guard.
The world has come together, making noise, clamoring,
Such a wonderful thing
never had to
Neither see nor decide.
Ermilov family
That's not what they were trying to do
So that we can reconcile them
And judge more strictly -
Return the boy to Vlasyevna,
Otherwise Yermil will hang himself,
You can't look after him!
Yermil Ilyich himself came,
Barefoot, thin, with stocks,
With rope in hand
He came and said: "It was time,
I judged you according to your conscience,
Now I myself am more sinful than you:
Judge me!"
And bowed at our feet.
Neither give nor take holy fool,
Stands, sighs, crosses himself,
We were sorry to see
As he is in front of the old woman,
Before Nenila Vlasyeva,
Suddenly fell on his knees!
Well, things worked out
With a strong lord
Everywhere hand; Vlasyevna's son
He returned, handed over Mitriy,
Yes, they say, and Mitriya
It's easy to serve
The prince himself takes care of him.
And for the fault with Girin
We have fined:
Penalty money recruit,
A small part of Vlasyevna,
Part of the world for wine...
However, after this
Yermil did not soon cope,
I've been walking like crazy for a year.
No matter how the patrimony asked,
Resigned from office
Rented that mill
And he became thicker than before
All the people love:
I took it for a prayer in good conscience.
Didn't stop the people
clerk, manager,
Wealthy landowners
And the poorest men
All queues obeyed
The order was strict!
I myself am in that province
Haven't been in a while
And I heard about Yermila,
People don't brag about them.
You go to him.
- In vain you pass, -
Said once arguing
Grey-haired pop. -
I knew Ermila, Girin,
I ended up in that province
Five years ago
(I traveled a lot in my life,
Our Grace
translate priests
Loved)… With Ermila Girin
We were neighbors.
Yes! there was only one man!
He had everything he needed
For happiness: and peace,
And money and honor
Honor enviable, true,
Not purchased either
Page 10 of 11
money,
Not fear: strict truth,
Mind and kindness!
Yes, I repeat to you
In vain you pass
He sits in jail...
"How so?"
- And the will of God!
Have any of you heard
How the patrimony rebelled
Landowner Obrubkov,
frightened province,
County Nedykhaniev,
The village of Stolbnyaki?..
How to write about fires
In the newspapers (I read them):
"remained unknown
Reason" - and here:
So far unknown
Neither the zemstvo police officer,
Nor the higher government
Not tetanus themselves,
What happened to the occasion.
And it turned out to be rubbish.
It took a military.
The Sovereign himself sent
He spoke to the people
That curse will try
And shoulders with epaulettes
Raise high
That kindness will try
And chest with royal crosses
In all four directions
Will start turning.
Yes, the scolding was superfluous here,
And the caress is incomprehensible:
Orthodox peasantry!
Mother Rus'! king-father!
And nothing more!
Having beaten enough
They wanted the soldiers
Command: fall!
Yes to the parish clerk
A happy thought came here
It's about Yermila Girin
The chief said:
- The people will believe Girin,
The people will listen to him ... -
"Call him alive!"
…………………………….
Suddenly a cry: “Ai, ai! have mercy!"
Breaking out unexpectedly
Disrupted the priest's speech
Everyone rushed to look:
At the road roller
They flog a drunken lackey -
Caught stealing!
Where he is caught, here is his judgment:
Three dozen judges met
We decided to give a vine,
And everyone gave a vine!
The footman jumped up and, spanking
skinny shoemakers,
Without a word, he gave cravings.
“Look, he ran like a disheveled one! -
Our strangers joked
Recognizing in him a baluster,
that boasted of some
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Notes
Kosushka is an old measure of liquid, approximately 0.31 liters.
The cuckoo ceases to crow when the bread is scorched ("choking on an ear," the people say).
Poemnye meadows - located in the floodplain of the river. When the river that flooded them during the flood subsided, a layer of natural fertilizers remained on the soil, which is why tall grasses rose here. Such meadows were especially valued.
This refers to the fact that until 1869 a graduate of the seminary could receive a parish only if he married the daughter of a priest who left his parish. It was believed that in this way the "purity of the estate" was maintained.
The parish is an association of believers.
The schismatics are opponents of the reforms of Patriarch Nikon (XVII century).
Parishioners are regular visitors to the parish.
Mat - zd.: the end. Checkmate is the end of a game of chess.
Air - embroidered bedspreads made of velvet, brocade or silk, used in the performance of church rites.
Sam is the first part of invariable complex adjectives with ordinal or quantitative numbers, with the meaning "so many times more." Bread itself is a friend - a crop twice as large as the amount of grain sown.
Cool rainbow - to the bucket; sloping - to the rain.
Pyatak is a copper coin worth 5 kopecks.
Treba - "the administration of a sacrament or a sacred rite" (V.I. Dal).
Smelt - cheap small fish, lake smelt.
Anathema is a church curse.
Yarmonka - i.e. fair.
Spring Nikola is a religious holiday celebrated on May 9 according to the old style (May 22 according to the new style).
Procession - a solemn procession of believers with crosses, icons, banners.
Shlyk - “hat, hat, cap, cap” (V.I. Dal).
A tavern is “a drinking house, a place for selling vodka, sometimes also beer and honey” (V.I. Dal).
A tent is a temporary space for trade, usually a light frame covered with canvas, later with tarpaulin.
French chintz - crimson calico, usually dyed using madder, a dye from the roots of a herbaceous perennial plant.
Equestrian - part of the fair, where horses were traded.
A roe deer is a type of heavy plow or a light plow with one share, which rolled the earth in only one direction. In Russia, roe deer were usually used in the northeastern regions.
Cart machine - the main part of a four-wheeled cart, cart. It holds the body, wheels and axles.
Harness - part of the harness, fitting the sides and croup of the horse, usually leather.
Kimryaks are residents of the city of Kimry. At the time of Nekrasov, it was a large village, 55% of the inhabitants of which were shoemakers.
Ofenya is a peddler, “a petty trader peddling and carting around small towns, villages, villages, with books, paper, silk, needles, cheese and sausage, with earrings and rings” (V.I. Dal).
Doka is “a master of his craft” (V.I. Dal).
Those. more orders.
Those. not military, but civilian (then - civilian).
A dignitary is a high-level official.
Lubyanka - street and square in Moscow, in the XIX century. wholesale center for popular prints and books.
Blucher Gebhard Leberecht - Prussian general, commander-in-chief of the Prussian-Saxon army, which decided the outcome of the battle of Waterloo and defeated Napoleon. Military successes made the name of Blucher very popular in Russia.
Archimandrite Photius - in the world Pyotr Nikitich Spassky, leader of the Russian church in the 20s. XIX century, repeatedly joked in the epigrams of A.S. Pushkin, for example, “Fotiy's conversation with gr. Orlova", "On Photius".
Robber Sipko - an adventurer who pretended to be different people, incl. for retired captain I.A. Sipko. In 1860, his trial attracted a lot of public attention.
"Jester Balakirev" - a popular collection of jokes: "Balakirev complete collection anecdotes of a jester who was at the court of Peter the Great.
“The English Milord” is the most popular work of the 18th century writer Matvey Komarov “The Tale of the Adventures of the English Milord George and his Brandenburg Mark-Countess Frederick Louise”.
Goat - this is how an actor was called in the folk theater-booth, on whose head a goat's head made of burlap was fixed.
Drummer - drumming at performances attracted the public.
Riga - a sheaf drying and threshing shed (with a roof, but almost no walls).
A fifty-kopeck coin is a coin worth 50 kopecks.
Royal letter - royal letter.
Excise is a type of tax on consumer goods.
Sudarka is a mistress.
Sotsky - elected from the peasants, who performed police functions.
The spindle is a hand tool for yarn.
Tat - "thief, predator, kidnapper" (V.I. Dal).
Kocha is a form of the word "bump" in the Yaroslavl-Kostroma dialect.
Zazhorina - snowy water in a pit along the road.
Scourge - in the northern dialects - a large tall basket.
Pastures - in the Tambov-Ryazan dialects - meadows, pastures; in Arkhangelsk - belongings,
Page 11 of 11
property.
complacency - state of mind conducive to mercy, goodness, goodness.
Vertograd Christov is synonymous with paradise.
Arshin is an old Russian measure of length, equal to 0.71 m.
Olonchanin - a resident of the Olonets province.
Peun is a rooster.
Peunyatnik - a person who feeds roosters for sale.
Truffle is a mushroom that grows underground. The French black truffle was especially highly valued.
Bonfire - lignified parts of the stems of flax, hemp, etc.
End of introductory segment.
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Nikolay Alekseevich Nekrasov
Who lives well in Rus'
© Lebedev Yu. V., introductory article, comments, 1999
© Godin I. M., heirs, illustrations, 1960
© Design of the series. Publishing house "Children's Literature", 2003
* * *
Y. Lebedev
Russian odyssey
In the "Diary of a Writer" for 1877, F. M. Dostoevsky noticed salient feature, which appeared in the Russian people of the post-reform period - "this is a multitude, an extraordinary modern multitude of new people, a new root of Russian people who need the truth, one truth without conditional lies, and who, in order to achieve this truth, will give everything resolutely." Dostoevsky saw in them "the advancing future Russia."
At the very beginning of the 20th century, another writer, V. G. Korolenko, made a discovery that struck him from a summer trip to the Urals: North Pole - in the distant Ural villages there were rumors about the Belovodsk kingdom and their own religious and scientific expedition was being prepared. Among the ordinary Cossacks, the conviction spread and grew stronger that “somewhere out there, “beyond the distance of bad weather”, “beyond the valleys, behind the mountains, behind the wide seas” there is a “blissful country”, in which, by the providence of God and the accidents of history, it has been preserved and flourishes throughout inviolability is a complete and whole formula of grace. This is a real fairy-tale country of all ages and peoples, colored only by the Old Believer mood. In it, planted by the Apostle Thomas, the true faith flourishes, with churches, bishops, a patriarch and pious kings ... This kingdom knows neither punishment, nor murder, nor self-interest, since true faith gives rise to true piety there.
It turns out that back in the late 1860s, the Don Cossacks were written off with the Urals, collected a fairly significant amount and equipped Cossack Varsonofy Baryshnikov and two comrades to search for this promised land. Baryshnikov set out on his journey through Constantinople to Asia Minor, then to the Malabar coast, and finally to the East Indies ... The expedition returned with disappointing news: they could not find Belovodye. Thirty years later, in 1898, the dream of the Belovodsk kingdom flares up with renewed vigor, funds are found, a new pilgrimage is equipped. On May 30, 1898, a "deputation" of the Cossacks boarded a steamboat departing from Odessa for Constantinople.
“From that day, in fact, the foreign trip of the deputies of the Urals to the Belovodsk kingdom began, and among the international crowd of merchants, military men, scientists, tourists, diplomats traveling around the world out of curiosity or in search of money, fame and pleasure, three people got mixed up, as it were from another world, who were looking for ways to the fabulous Belovodsk kingdom. Korolenko described in detail all the vicissitudes of this unusual journey, in which, for all the curiosity and strangeness of the planned enterprise, the same Russia noted by Dostoevsky stood out. honest people, “who need only the truth”, who have “the desire for honesty and truth is unshakable and indestructible, and for the word of truth, each of them will give his life and all his advantages.”
By the end of the 19th century, not only the top of Russian society was drawn into the great spiritual pilgrimage, but all of Russia, all of its people, rushed to it. “These Russian homeless wanderers,” Dostoevsky noted in a speech about Pushkin, “continue their wandering to this day and, it seems, will not disappear for a long time.” For a long time, “for the Russian wanderer needs precisely world happiness in order to calm down - he will not reconcile cheaper.”
“There was, approximately, such a case: I knew one person who believed in a righteous land,” said another wanderer in our literature, Luka, from M. Gorky's play “At the Bottom”. “There must be, he said, a righteous country in the world ... in that, they say, land - special people inhabit ... good people! They respect each other, they help each other - without any difficulty - and everything is nice and good with them! And so the man was going to go ... to look for this righteous land. He was poor, he lived badly ... and when it was already so difficult for him that at least lie down and die, he did not lose his spirit, but everything happened, he only smiled and said: “Nothing! I will endure! A few more - I’ll wait ... and then I’ll give up this whole life and go to the righteous land ... “He had one joy - this land ... And in this place - in Siberia, it was something - they sent an exiled scientist ... with books, with plans he, a scientist, and with all sorts of things ... A man says to a scientist: “Show me, do me a favor, where is the righteous land and how is the road there?” Now the scientist opened the books, spread out the plans ... looked, looked - no nowhere righteous land! “That's right, all the lands are shown, but the righteous one is not!”
Man - does not believe ... Should, he says, be ... look better! And then, he says, your books and plans are useless if there is no righteous land ... The scientist is offended. My plans, he says, are the most correct, but there is no righteous land at all. Well, then the man got angry - how so? Lived, lived, endured, endured and believed everything - there is! but according to the plans it turns out - no! Robbery! .. And he says to the scientist: “Oh, you ... such a bastard! You are a scoundrel, not a scientist ... “Yes, in his ear - one! And more!.. ( After a pause.) And after that he went home - and strangled himself!”
The 1860s marked a sharp historical turning point in the destinies of Russia, which from now on broke away from a sub-legal, "home-bound" existence and the whole world, all the people set off on a long path of spiritual quest, marked by ups and downs, fatal temptations and deviations, but the righteous path is precisely in passion , in the sincerity of his inescapable desire to find the truth. And perhaps for the first time, Nekrasov's poetry responded to this deep process, which embraced not only the "tops", but also the very "lower classes" of society.
1
The poet began work on a grandiose plan " folk book"In 1863, and ended up mortally ill in 1877, with a bitter consciousness of incompleteness, incompleteness of what was conceived:" One thing that I deeply regret is that I did not finish my poem "To whom it is good to live in Rus'." It “should have included all the experience given to Nikolai Alekseevich by studying the people, all the information about him accumulated“ by word of mouth ”for twenty years,” recalled G. I. Uspensky about conversations with Nekrasov.
However, the question of the “incompleteness” of “Who should live well in Rus'” is highly controversial and problematic. First, the confessions of the poet himself are subjectively exaggerated. It is known that a writer always has a feeling of dissatisfaction, and the larger the idea, the sharper it is. Dostoevsky wrote about The Brothers Karamazov: "I myself think that even one tenth of it was not possible to express what I wanted." But on this basis, do we dare to consider Dostoevsky's novel a fragment of an unfulfilled plan? The same is with "Who in Rus' to live well."
Secondly, the poem “To whom it is good to live in Rus'” was conceived as an epic, that is, a work of art depicting with the maximum degree of completeness and objectivity an entire era in the life of the people. Since folk life is boundless and inexhaustible in its countless manifestations, the epic in any of its varieties (epic poem, epic novel) is characterized by incompleteness, incompleteness. This is its specific difference from other forms of poetic art.
"This song is tricky
He will sing to the word
Who is the whole earth, Rus' baptized,
It will go from end to end."
Her own saint of Christ
Not finished singing - sleeping eternal sleep -
this is how Nekrasov expressed his understanding of the epic plan in the poem "Peddlers". The epic can be continued indefinitely, but you can also put an end to some high segment of its path.
Until now, researchers of Nekrasov’s work are arguing about the sequence of the arrangement of the parts of “Who Lives Well in Rus'”, since the dying poet did not have time to make final orders on this matter.
It is noteworthy that this dispute itself involuntarily confirms the epic nature of "Who should live well in Rus'." The composition of this work is built according to the laws of the classical epic: it consists of separate, relatively autonomous parts and chapters. Outwardly, these parts are connected by the theme of the road: seven men-truth-seekers wander around Rus', trying to resolve the question that haunts them: who lives well in Rus'? In the Prologue, a clear outline of the journey seems to be outlined - meetings with the landowner, official, merchant, minister and tsar. However, the epic is devoid of a clear and unambiguous purposefulness. Nekrasov does not force the action, he is in no hurry to bring it to an all-permissive result. As an epic artist, he strives for the completeness of the reconstruction of life, for revealing all the diversity folk characters, all indirectness, all the winding of folk paths, paths and roads.
The world in the epic narrative appears as it is - disordered and unexpected, devoid of rectilinear movement. The author of the epic allows "retreats, visits to the past, jumps somewhere sideways, to the side." According to the definition of the modern literary theorist G. D. Gachev, “the epic is like a child walking through the cabinet of curiosities of the universe. Here his attention was attracted by one hero, or a building, or a thought - and the author, forgetting about everything, plunges into him; then he was distracted by another - and he just as fully surrenders to him. But this is not just a compositional principle, not just the specifics of the plot in the epic ... The one who, while narrating, makes “digressions”, unexpectedly long lingers on one or another subject; he who succumbs to the temptation to describe both this and that and chokes with greed, sinning against the pace of the narration - he thereby speaks of the extravagance, abundance of being, that he (being) has nowhere to hurry. Otherwise: it expresses the idea that being reigns over the principle of time (whereas the dramatic form, on the contrary, sticks out the power of time - it was not without reason that, it would seem, only the “formal” demand for the unity of time was born there too).
The fairy-tale motifs introduced into the epic “Who Lives Well in Rus'” allow Nekrasov to freely and naturally handle time and space, easily transfer the action from one end of Russia to the other, slow down or speed up time according to fairy-tale laws. What unites the epic is not an external plot, not a movement towards an unambiguous result, but an internal plot: slowly, step by step, the contradictory, but irreversible growth of people's self-consciousness, which has not yet come to a conclusion, is still on difficult roads of search, becomes clear in it. In this sense, the plot-compositional friability of the poem is not accidental: it expresses, by its lack of assembly, the diversity and diversity of folk life, thinking about itself differently, evaluating its place in the world, its destiny in different ways.
In an effort to recreate the moving panorama of folk life in its entirety, Nekrasov also uses all the wealth of oral folk art. But the folklore element in the epic also expresses the gradual growth of people's self-consciousness: the fabulous motifs of the "Prologue" are replaced by epic epic, then lyrical folk songs in "Peasant Woman" and, finally, the songs of Grisha Dobrosklonov in "A Feast for the Whole World", striving to become folk and already partially accepted and understood by the people. Men listen to his songs, sometimes nod in agreement, but last song, "Rus", they have not yet heard: he has not yet sung it to them. That is why the finale of the poem is open to the future, not resolved.
Would our wanderers be under the same roof,
If only they could know what happened to Grisha.
But the wanderers did not hear the song "Rus", which means they did not yet understand what the "embodiment of the happiness of the people" is. It turns out that Nekrasov did not finish his song, not only because death interfered. In those years, people's life itself did not sing his songs. More than a hundred years have passed since then, and the song begun by the great poet about the Russian peasantry is still being sung. In "The Feast" only a glimpse of the future happiness is outlined, which the poet dreams of, realizing how many roads lie ahead until his real incarnation. The incompleteness of “Who is to live well in Rus'” is fundamental and artistically significant as a sign of a folk epic.
“Who should live well in Rus'” both in general and in each of its parts resembles a peasant secular gathering, which is the most complete expression of democratic people's self-government. At such a meeting, the inhabitants of one village or several villages that were part of the "world" decided all the issues of joint secular life. The meeting had nothing to do with the modern meeting. There was no chairperson leading the discussion. Each community member, at will, entered into a conversation or skirmish, defending his point of view. Instead of voting, the principle of general consent was used. The dissatisfied were persuaded or retreated, and in the course of the discussion, a “worldly sentence” ripened. If there was no general agreement, the meeting was postponed to the next day. Gradually, in the course of heated debates, a unanimous opinion matured, agreement was sought and found.
An employee of Nekrasov's "Notes of the Fatherland", the populist writer H. N. Zlatovratsky described the original peasant life: “This is the second day that we have gathering after gathering. You look out the window, then at one end of the village, then at the other end of the village crowds of owners, old people, children: some are sitting, others are standing in front of them, with their hands behind their backs and attentively listening to someone. This someone waves his arms, bends his whole body, shouts something very convincingly, falls silent for a few minutes and then again begins to convince. But then suddenly they object to him, they object somehow at once, the voices rise higher and higher, they shout at the top of their lungs, as befits for such a vast hall as the surrounding meadows and fields, everyone speaks, not embarrassed by anyone or anything, as befits a free gathering of equals. Not the slightest sign of officiality. Sergeant Major Maksim Maksimych himself is standing somewhere on the side, like the most invisible member of our community... Here everything goes straight, everything becomes an edge; if someone, out of cowardice or out of calculation, takes it into his head to get away with silence, he will be ruthlessly brought to clean water. Yes, and there are very few of these faint-hearted, at especially important gatherings. I have seen the humblest, most unrequited men who<…>at gatherings, in moments of general excitement, completely transformed and<…>they gained such courage that they managed to outdo the obviously brave men. In the moments of its apogee, the gathering becomes simply an open mutual confession and mutual exposure, a manifestation of the widest publicity.
The whole epic poem by Nekrasov is a flaring up, gradually gaining strength, worldly gathering. It reaches its pinnacle in the final "Feast for the World". However, the general "worldly sentence" is still not pronounced. Only the path to it is outlined, many of the initial obstacles have been removed, and on many points there has been movement towards a common agreement. But there is no result, life has not stopped, gatherings have not been stopped, the epic is open to the future. For Nekrasov, the process itself is important here, it is important that the peasantry not only thought about the meaning of life, but also set off on a difficult, long path of truth-seeking. Let's try to take a closer look at it, moving from the "Prologue. Part One" to "Peasant Woman", "Last Child" and "Feast for the Whole World".
2
In the Prologue, the meeting of the seven men is narrated as a great epic event.
In what year - count
In what land - guess
On the pillar path
Seven men got together...
So epic and fairy-tale heroes converged on a battle or on a feast of honors. The epic scale acquires time and space in the poem: the action is carried out to the whole of Rus'. The tightened province, Terpigorev district, Pustoporozhnaya volost, the villages of Zaplatovo, Dyryavino, Razutovo, Znobishino, Gorelovo, Neelovo, Neurozhaina can be attributed to any of the Russian provinces, districts, volosts and villages. The general sign of the post-reform ruin is captured. Yes, and the very question that excited the peasants concerns the whole of Russia - peasant, noble, merchant. Therefore, the quarrel that arose between them is not an ordinary event, but great controversy. In the soul of every grain grower, with his own private destiny, with his worldly interests, a question has awakened that concerns everyone, the entire people's world.
To each his own
Left the house before noon:
That path led to the forge,
He went to the village of Ivankovo
Call Father Prokofy
Baptize the child.
Pahom honeycombs
Carried to the market in the Great,
And two brothers Gubina
So simple with a halter
Catching a stubborn horse
They went to their own herd.
It's high time for everyone
Return your way -
They are walking side by side!
Each peasant had his own path, and suddenly they found a common path: the question of happiness united the people. And therefore, before us are no longer ordinary men with their individual destiny and personal interests, and guardians for the whole peasant world, truth seekers. The number "seven" in folklore is magical. Seven Wanderers- an image of a large epic scale. The fabulous coloring of the Prologue raises the narrative above everyday life, above peasant life, and gives the action an epic universality.
The fairy-tale atmosphere in the Prologue is ambiguous. Giving the events a nationwide sound, it also turns into a convenient device for the poet to characterize the national self-consciousness. Note that Nekrasov playfully manages with a fairy tale. In general, his handling of folklore is more free and uninhibited in comparison with the poems "Pedlars" and "Frost, Red Nose". Yes, and he treats the people differently, often makes fun of the peasants, provokes readers, paradoxically sharpens the people's view of things, makes fun of the limitations of the peasant worldview. The intonation structure of the narrative in “Who Lives Well in Rus'” is very flexible and rich: here is the author’s good-natured smile, and indulgence, and light irony, and bitter joke, and lyrical regret, and sorrow, and meditation, and appeal. The intonational and stylistic polyphony of the narration in its own way reflects a new phase of folk life. Before us is the post-reform peasantry, which has broken with the immovable patriarchal existence, with centuries of worldly and spiritual settledness. This is already wandering Rus' with awakened self-awareness, noisy, discordant, prickly and uncompromising, prone to quarrels and disputes. And the author does not stand aside from her, but turns into an equal participant in her life. He either rises above the disputants, then he is imbued with sympathy for one of the disputing parties, then he is touched, then he is indignant. As Rus' lives in disputes, in search of truth, so the author is in a tense dialogue with her.
In the literature about “Who is to live well in Rus'”, one can find the assertion that the dispute of the seven wanderers that opens the poem corresponds to the original compositional plan, from which the poet subsequently retreated. Already in the first part, there was a deviation from the intended plot, and instead of meeting with the rich and noble, the truth-seekers began to question the crowd.
But after all, this deviation immediately takes place at the “upper” level. Instead of a landowner and an official, scheduled by the peasants for questioning, for some reason there is a meeting with a priest. Is it by chance?
First of all, we note that the “formula” of the dispute proclaimed by the peasants signifies not so much the original intention as the level of national self-consciousness, manifested in this dispute. And Nekrasov cannot but show the reader his limitations: peasants understand happiness in a primitive way and reduce it to a well-fed life, material security. What is worth, for example, such a candidate for the role of a lucky man, who is proclaimed "merchant", and even "fat-bellied"! And behind the argument of the peasants - who lives happily, freely in Rus'? - immediately, but still gradually, muffled, another, much more significant and important question arises, which is the soul of the epic poem - how to understand human happiness, where to look for it and what does it consist of?
In the final chapter "A Feast for the Whole World", Grisha Dobrosklonov gives such an assessment current state people's life: "The Russian people are gathering strength and learning to be a citizen."
In fact, this formula contains the main pathos of the poem. It is important for Nekrasov to show how the forces that unite him are ripening among the people and what kind of civic orientation they are acquiring. The idea of the poem is by no means reduced to making the wanderers carry out successive meetings according to the program they have outlined. A completely different question turns out to be much more important here: what is happiness in the eternal, Orthodox Christian understanding of it, and is the Russian people capable of combining peasant "politics" with Christian morality?
Therefore, folklore motifs in the Prologue play a dual role. On the one hand, the poet uses them to give the beginning of the work a high epic sound, and on the other hand, to emphasize the limited consciousness of the disputants, who deviate in their idea of happiness from the righteous to the evil ways. Recall that Nekrasov spoke about this more than once a long time ago, for example, in one of the versions of the "Song of Eremushka", created back in 1859.
change pleasure,
To live does not mean to drink and eat.
There are better aspirations in the world,
There is a nobler good.
Despise wicked ways:
There is debauchery and vanity.
Honor the covenants forever right
And learn from Christ.
The same two paths, sung over Russia by the angel of mercy in "A Feast for the Whole World," are now opening up before the Russian people, who are celebrating the wake of the fortress and facing a choice.
In the middle of the world
For a free heart
There are two ways.
Weigh the proud strength
Weigh your firm will:
How to go?
This song resounds over Russia coming to life from the lips of the messenger of the Creator himself, and the fate of the people will directly depend on which path the wanderers will take after long wanderings and windings along the Russian country roads.
In the meantime, the poet is pleased only with the very desire of the people to seek the truth. And the direction of these searches, the temptation of wealth at the very beginning of the path cannot but cause bitter irony. Therefore, the fabulous plot of the Prologue also characterizes the low level of peasant consciousness, spontaneous, vague, with difficulty making its way to universal questions. People's thought has not yet acquired clarity and clarity, it is still merged with nature and is sometimes expressed not so much in words as in action, in deeds: instead of thinking, fists are used.
The men still live according to the fabulous formula: "go there - I don't know where, bring that - I don't know what."
They walk like they're running
Behind them are gray wolves,
What is further - then sooner.
…
Probably b, whole night
So they went - where, not knowing ...
Isn't that why the disturbing, demonic element grows in the Prologue. “The woman on the other side”, “the clumsy Durandikha”, turns into a laughing witch before the eyes of the peasants. And Pahom scatters his mind for a long time, trying to understand what happened to him and his companions, until he comes to the conclusion that the "goblin's glorious joke" played a trick on them.
In the poem, a comic comparison of the dispute between the peasants with the fight of bulls in a peasant herd arises. And the cow, lost in the evening, came to the fire, stared at the peasants,
I listened to crazy speeches
And began, my heart,
Moo, moo, moo!
Nature responds to the destructiveness of the dispute, which develops into a serious fight, and in the person of not so much good as sinister forces, representatives of folk demonology, enrolled in the category of forest evil spirits. Seven eagle owls flock to look at the arguing wanderers: from seven large trees “midnight owls laugh”.
And the raven, the smart bird,
Ripe, sitting on a tree
By the fire itself
Sitting and praying to hell
To be slammed to death
Someone!
The commotion grows, spreads, covers the entire forest, and it seems that the “spirit of the forest” itself laughs, laughs at the peasants, responds to their skirmish and carnage with malicious intentions.
A booming echo woke up
Went for a walk, a walk,
It went screaming, shouting,
As if to tease
Stubborn men.
Of course, the author's irony in the Prologue is good-natured and condescending. The poet does not want to strictly judge the peasants for the wretchedness and extreme limitation of their ideas about happiness and a happy person. He knows that this limitation is connected with the harsh everyday life of a peasant, with such material deprivations, in which suffering itself sometimes takes on soulless, ugly and perverted forms. This happens every time a people is deprived of their daily bread. Recall the song "Hungry" that sounded in "Feast":
The man is standing
swaying
A man is walking
Don't breathe!
From its bark
swelled up,
Longing trouble
Exhausted…
3
And in order to shade the limited peasant understanding of happiness, Nekrasov brings the wanderers in the first part of the epic poem not with the landowner and not with the official, but with the priest. A priest, a spiritual person, closest to the people in his way of life, and called upon to keep a thousand-year-old national shrine by duty, very accurately compresses ideas of happiness, vague for the wanderers themselves, into a capacious formula.
What is happiness, in your opinion?
Peace, wealth, honor -
Isn't that right, dear ones? -They said yes...
Of course, the priest himself ironically distances himself from this formula: “This, dear friends, is happiness in your opinion!” And then, with visual persuasiveness, he refutes with all life experience the naivety of each hypostasis of this triune formula: neither "peace", nor "wealth", nor "honor" can be put at the foundation of a truly human, Christian understanding of happiness.
The priest's story makes the men think about a lot. The commonplace, ironically condescending assessment of the clergy reveals its untruth here. According to the laws of epic narration, the poet trustingly surrenders to the priest's story, which is constructed in such a way that behind the personal life of one priest, the life of the entire clergy rises and rises to its full height. The poet is in no hurry, in no hurry with the development of the action, giving the hero a full opportunity to utter everything that lies on his soul. Behind the life of a priest, the life of all of Russia in its past and present, in its various estates, opens on the pages of the epic poem. Here are dramatic changes in the estates of the nobility: the old patriarchal-noble Rus', which lived settled, in customs and customs close to the people, is fading into the past. The post-reform burning of life and the ruin of the nobles destroyed its age-old foundations, destroyed the old attachment to the family village nest. “Like a Jewish tribe,” the landlords scattered around the world, adopted new habits, far from Russian moral traditions and traditions.
In the story, the priest unfolds before the eyes of the savvy peasants a “great chain”, in which all the links are firmly connected: if you touch one, it will respond in another. The drama of the Russian nobility drags drama into the life of the clergy. To the same extent this drama is exacerbated by the post-reform impoverishment of the muzhik.
Our poor villages
And in them the peasants are sick
Yes, sad women
Nurses, drinkers,
Slaves, pilgrims
And eternal workers
Lord give them strength!
The clergy cannot be at peace when the people, their drinker and breadwinner, are in poverty. And the point here is not only the material impoverishment of the peasantry and nobility, which entails the impoverishment of the clergy. The main trouble of the priest is something else. The misfortunes of the peasant bring deep moral suffering to sensitive people from the clergy: “It’s hard to live on such pennies!”
It happens to the sick
You will come: not dying,
Terrible peasant family
At the moment when she has to
Lose the breadwinner!
You admonish the deceased
And support in the rest
You try your best
The spirit is awake! And here to you
The old woman, the mother of the deceased,
Look, stretching with a bony,
Callused hand.
The soul will turn
How they tinkle in this hand
Two copper coins!
The priest's confession speaks not only of the suffering that is associated with social "disorders" in a country that is in a deep national crisis. These "disorders" that lie on the surface of life must be eliminated; a righteous social struggle is possible and even necessary against them. But there are other, deeper contradictions connected with the imperfection of human nature itself. It is precisely these contradictions that reveal the vanity and cunning of people who seek to present life as sheer pleasure, as thoughtless intoxication with wealth, ambition, complacency, which turns into indifference to one's neighbor. Pop in his confession deals a crushing blow to those who profess such a morality. Talking about parting words to the sick and dying, the priest speaks about the impossibility of peace of mind on this earth for a person who is not indifferent to his neighbor:
Go where you are called!
You go unconditionally.
And let only the bones
One broke,
No! every time it gets wet,
The soul will hurt.
Do not believe, Orthodox,
There is a limit to habit.
No heart to endure
Without some trepidation
death rattle,
grave sob,
Orphan sorrow!
Amen!.. Now think
What is the peace of the ass?..
It turns out that a completely free from suffering, “freely, happily” living person is a stupid, indifferent, morally flawed person. Life is not a holiday, but hard labour, not only physical, but also spiritual, requiring self-denial from a person. After all, Nekrasov himself affirmed the same ideal in the poem “In Memory of Dobrolyubov”, the ideal of high citizenship, surrendering to which it is impossible not to sacrifice oneself, not to consciously reject “worldly pleasures”. Isn’t that why the priest looked down when he heard the question of the peasants, far from the Christian truth of life - “Is the priestly life sweet,” and with the dignity of an Orthodox minister turned to the wanderers:
… Orthodox!
It's a sin to grumble at God
Bear my cross with patience...
And his whole story is, in fact, an example of how every person can carry the cross, ready life put "for your friends."
The lesson taught to the wanderers by the priest has not yet gone to their benefit, but nevertheless brought confusion into the peasant consciousness. The men unanimously took up arms against Luka:
- What did you take? stubborn head!
Rustic club!
That's where the argument gets in!
"Nobles bell -
The priests live like princes.”
…
Well, here's your praise
Pop's life!
The irony of the author is not accidental, because with the same success it was possible to “finish” not only Luka, but each of them individually and all of them together. The peasant scolding is again followed by the shadow of Nekrasov, who makes fun of the limitedness of the people's initial ideas about happiness. And it is no coincidence that after meeting with the priest, the nature of the behavior and way of thinking of wanderers change significantly. They become more and more active in dialogues, more and more energetically intervene in life. And the attention of the wanderers is beginning to capture more and more powerfully not the world of masters, but the people's environment.
Year of writing:
1877
Reading time:
Description of the work:
The widely known poem Who Lives Well in Rus' was written in 1877 by the Russian writer Nikolai Nekrasov. It took many years to create it - Nekrasov worked on the poem from 1863-1877. It is interesting that some ideas and thoughts arose from Nekrasov back in the 50s. He thought to capture in the poem Whom in Rus' to live well as much as possible everything that he knew about the people and heard from the lips of people.
Read below summary poems To whom it is good to live in Rus'.
One day, seven men converge on the high road - recent serfs, and now temporarily liable "from adjacent villages - Zaplatova, Dyryavin, Razutov, Znobishina, Gorelova, Neyolova, Neurozhayka, too." Instead of going their own way, the peasants start a dispute about who in Rus' lives happily and freely. Each of them judges in his own way who is the main lucky man in Rus': a landowner, an official, a priest, a merchant, a noble boyar, a minister of sovereigns or a tsar.
During the argument, they do not notice that they gave a detour of thirty miles. Seeing that it is too late to return home, the men make a fire and continue to argue over vodka - which, of course, little by little turns into a fight. But even a fight does not help to resolve the issue that worries the men.
The solution is found unexpectedly: one of the peasants, Pahom, catches a warbler chick, and in order to free the chick, the warbler tells the peasants where they can find a self-assembled tablecloth. Now the peasants are provided with bread, vodka, cucumbers, kvass, tea - in a word, everything they need for a long journey. And besides, the self-assembled tablecloth will repair and wash their clothes! Having received all these benefits, the peasants give a vow to find out "who lives happily, freely in Rus'."
The first possible "lucky man" they met along the way is a priest. (It was not for the oncoming soldiers and beggars to ask about happiness!) But the priest's answer to the question of whether his life is sweet disappoints the peasants. They agree with the priest that happiness lies in peace, wealth and honor. But the pop does not possess any of these benefits. In haymaking, in stubble, in a dead autumn night, in severe frost, he must go where there are sick, dying and being born. And every time his soul hurts at the sight of grave sobs and orphan sorrow - so that his hand does not rise to take copper nickels - a miserable reward for the demand. The landlords, who formerly lived in family estates and got married here, baptized children, buried the dead, are now scattered not only in Rus', but also in distant foreign land; there is no hope for their reward. Well, the peasants themselves know what honor the priest is: they feel embarrassed when the priest blames obscene songs and insults against priests.
Realizing that the Russian pop is not among the lucky ones, the peasants go to the festive fair in the trading village of Kuzminskoye to ask the people about happiness there. In a rich and dirty village there are two churches, a tightly boarded-up house with the inscription "school", a paramedic's hut, a dirty hotel. But most of all in the village of drinking establishments, in each of which they barely manage to cope with the thirsty. Old man Vavila cannot buy his granddaughter goat's shoes, because he drank himself to a penny. It’s good that Pavlusha Veretennikov, a lover of Russian songs, whom everyone calls “master” for some reason, buys a treasured gift for him.
Wandering peasants watch the farcical Petrushka, watch how the women are picking up book goods - but by no means Belinsky and Gogol, but portraits of fat generals unknown to anyone and works about "my lord stupid." They also see how a busy trading day ends: rampant drunkenness, fights on the way home. However, the peasants are indignant at Pavlusha Veretennikov's attempt to measure the peasant by the master's measure. In their opinion, it is impossible for a sober person to live in Rus': he will not endure either overwork or peasant misfortune; without drinking, bloody rain would have poured out of the angry peasant soul. These words are confirmed by Yakim Nagoi from the village of Bosovo - one of those who "work to death, drink half to death." Yakim believes that only pigs walk the earth and do not see the sky for a century. During a fire, he himself did not save money accumulated over a lifetime, but useless and beloved pictures that hung in the hut; he is sure that with the cessation of drunkenness, great sadness will come to Rus'.
Wandering men do not lose hope of finding people who live well in Rus'. But even for the promise to give water to the lucky ones for free, they fail to find those. For the sake of gratuitous booze, both an overworked worker, and a paralyzed former courtyard, who for forty years licked the master's plates with the best French truffle, and even ragged beggars are ready to declare themselves lucky.
Finally, someone tells them the story of Ermil Girin, a steward in the estate of Prince Yurlov, who has earned universal respect for his justice and honesty. When Girin needed money to buy the mill, the peasants lent it to him without even asking for a receipt. But Yermil is now unhappy: after the peasant revolt, he is in jail.
About the misfortune that befell the nobles after the peasant reform, the ruddy sixty-year-old landowner Gavrila Obolt-Obolduev tells the peasant wanderers. He recalls how in the old days everything amused the master: villages, forests, fields, serf actors, musicians, hunters, who belonged undividedly to him. Obolt-Obolduev tells with emotion how on the twelfth holidays he invited his serfs to pray in the manor's house - despite the fact that after that they had to drive women from all over the estate to wash the floors.
And although the peasants themselves know that life in serf times was far from the idyll drawn by Obolduev, they nevertheless understand: the great chain of serfdom, having broken, hit both the master, who at once lost his usual way of life, and the peasant.
Desperate to find a happy man among the men, the wanderers decide to ask the women. The surrounding peasants remember that Matrena Timofeevna Korchagina lives in the village of Klin, whom everyone considers lucky. But Matrona herself thinks differently. In confirmation, she tells the wanderers the story of her life.
Before her marriage, Matryona lived in a non-drinking and prosperous peasant family. She married Philip Korchagin, a stove-maker from a foreign village. But the only happy night for her was that night when the groom persuaded Matryona to marry him; then the usual hopeless life of a village woman began. True, her husband loved her and beat her only once, but soon he went to work in St. Petersburg, and Matryona was forced to endure insults in her father-in-law's family. The only one who felt sorry for Matryona was grandfather Saveliy, who lived out his life in the family after hard labor, where he ended up for the murder of the hated German manager. Savely told Matryona what Russian heroism is: a peasant cannot be defeated, because he "bends, but does not break."
The birth of the first-born Demushka brightened up the life of Matryona. But soon her mother-in-law forbade her to take the child into the field, and old grandfather Savely did not follow the baby and fed him to the pigs. In front of Matryona, the judges who arrived from the city performed an autopsy on her child. Matryona could not forget her first child, although after she had five sons. One of them, the shepherd Fedot, once allowed a she-wolf to carry away a sheep. Matrena took upon herself the punishment assigned to her son. Then, being pregnant with her son Liodor, she was forced to go to the city to seek justice: her husband, bypassing the laws, was taken to the soldiers. Matryona was then helped by the governor Elena Alexandrovna, for whom the whole family is now praying.
By all peasant standards, the life of Matryona Korchagina can be considered happy. But it is impossible to tell about the invisible spiritual storm that passed through this woman - just like about unrequited mortal insults, and about the blood of the firstborn. Matrena Timofeevna is convinced that a Russian peasant woman cannot be happy at all, because the keys to her happiness and free will are lost from God himself.
In the midst of haymaking, wanderers come to the Volga. Here they witness a strange scene. A noble family swims up to the shore in three boats. The mowers, who have just sat down to rest, immediately jump up to show the old master their zeal. It turns out that the peasants of the village of Vakhlachina help the heirs to hide the abolition of serfdom from the landowner Utyatin, who has lost his mind. For this, the relatives of the Last Duck-Duck promise the peasants floodplain meadows. But after the long-awaited death of the Afterlife, the heirs forget their promises, and the whole peasant performance turns out to be in vain.
Here, near the village of Vakhlachin, wanderers listen to peasant songs - corvée, hungry, soldier's, salty - and stories about serf times. One of these stories is about a serf exemplary Jacob faithful. Yakov's only joy was to please his master, the petty landowner Polivanov. Samodur Polivanov, in gratitude, beat Yakov in the teeth with his heel, which aroused even greater love in the lackey's soul. By old age, Polivanov lost his legs, and Yakov began to follow him as if he were a child. But when Yakov's nephew, Grisha, decided to marry the serf beauty Arisha, out of jealousy, Polivanov sent the guy to the recruits. Yakov began to drink, but soon returned to the master. And yet he managed to take revenge on Polivanov - the only way available to him, in a lackey way. Having brought the master into the forest, Yakov hanged himself right above him on a pine tree. Polivanov spent the night under the corpse of his faithful serf, driving away birds and wolves with groans of horror.
Another story - about two great sinners - is told to the peasants by God's wanderer Iona Lyapushkin. The Lord awakened the conscience of the ataman of the robbers Kudeyar. The robber prayed for sins for a long time, but all of them were released to him only after he killed the cruel Pan Glukhovsky in a surge of anger.
Wandering men also listen to the story of another sinner - Gleb the elder, who hid the last will of the late widower admiral for money, who decided to free his peasants.
But not only wandering peasants think about the happiness of the people. The son of a sacristan, seminarian Grisha Dobrosklonov, lives in Vakhlachin. In his heart, love for the deceased mother merged with love for the whole of Vahlachina. For fifteen years, Grisha knew for sure whom he was ready to give his life, for whom he was ready to die. He thinks of everything mysterious Rus', as about a wretched, plentiful, powerful and powerless mother, and expects that the indestructible strength that he feels in his own soul will still affect her. Such strong souls, like those of Grisha Dobrosklonov, the angel of mercy himself calls for an honest path. Fate prepares Grisha "a glorious path, a loud name people's protector, consumption and Siberia.
If the wanderer men knew what was happening in the soul of Grisha Dobrosklonov, they would surely understand that they could already return to their native roof, because the goal of their journey had been achieved.
