The image of the Russian land and the Russian people in the work. Glorious autumn! Healthy, vigorous

Stories about love for the Motherland, even in a foreign land there is longing and very strong sadness for the Motherland.

Evgeny Permyak. The Tale of the Great Bell

The sailor who arrived in England by ship and fell ill in the city of London has long been dead, but the fairy tale about him lives on.

The Russian sailor remained in the city of London. He was admitted to a good hospital. Provisions and money were left:

- Get well, friend, and wait for your ship!

The ship's buddies said so and headed back to their native Russian land.

The sailor was ill for a short time. He was treated with good medicine. They didn’t spare any medicine, powders or drops. Well, yes, life took its toll. The guy is of Arkhangelsk blood - the son of native Pomeranian parents. Can you really break someone like that with illness?

The sailor was discharged from the hospital. I cleaned the jacket and polished the buttons. Well, the rest of the clothing received a hot iron. I went to the harbor to look for fellow countrymen.

“Your fellow countrymen are not here,” they tell him in the harbor. — Iceland has been driving away fogs for three weeks. Why would there be Russian sails in London?

“It’s no problem,” says the sailor. - I'm big-eyed. And I will find fellow countrymen on your ships.

He said so and stepped onto the English ship. He wiped his feet on the mat and saluted the flag. Introduced himself.

The British love it. Because the maritime order is the same everywhere.

- Look what you are like! A sailor in full uniform. It’s just a pity that you won’t find any fellow countrymen on our royal ship.

And the sailor smiles at this, says nothing, and heads towards the mainmast.

“Why,” the sailors think, “does he need our mainmast? »

And the Russian sailor came up to her, stroked her with his hand and said:

- Hello, fellow countrywoman, Arkhangelsk pine!

The mast woke up and came to life.

It was as if I had woken up from a long sleep. She rustled with the Russian mast pine forest and shed an amber resin tear:

- Hello, fellow countryman! Tell me how things are going at home.

The English sailors looked at each other:

- Look how big-eyed you are! I found a fellow countrywoman on our ship.

Meanwhile, the sailor is having intimate conversations with the mainmast. What's going on at home, he tells, hugs the mast:

- Oh, my dear, you are good! You mast miracle tree. The forest winds did not blow your spirit away. The storm did not bend your pride.

The English sailors look - and the sides of the ship smile at the Russian sailor, the deck spreads under his feet. And he recognizes in them a pattern dear to his heart, he sees his native forests and groves.

- Look how many fellow countrymen he has! “It’s like being at home on a foreign ship,” the English sailors whisper to themselves. - And the sails flock to it.

Linen sails cling to the sailor, and the ship's hemp mooring ropes at his feet twist as if clinging to their own.

- Why do the sails flock to you? - asks the captain. “They were woven in our city of London.”

“That’s true,” the sailor answers. - Only before this they grew as fiber flax on Pskov land. How can I not love them! Yes, and take the same ropes. And they were born with four to five arshins of hemp. That's why they came to you.

The sailor says this, but he himself glances sideways at the anchors and glances at the guns. In those years, our iron, our copper, our cast iron from the Ural Mountains went to many countries: to Sweden, to Norway, to England.

- Well, what am I up to? good company got it! - the sailor rejoices.

- Oh, what a big-eyed Russian sailor you are! You can see your family everywhere. It's expensive, you see.

“Expensive,” answered the sailor and began to tell such things about our region that the swell of the sea subsided, the seagulls landed on the water.

The whole team listened.

And at this time, the clock began to chime in the main London bell tower. The big bell was struck. Far away its velvety ringing floated over the fields, forests, rivers and over the sea.

The Russian sailor listens to this ringing and cannot hear enough. He even closed his eyes. And the ringing spreads further and further, on a low, sloping wave it rocks you to sleep. There is no equal voice in all the bell towers of old England. The old man will stop, sigh, the girl will smile, the child will become silent when this big bell rings.

They are silent on the ship, listening. They love that the Russian sailor liked the sound of their bell.

Here the sailors, laughing, ask the sailor:

“Didn’t you recognize your fellow countryman in the bell again?”

And the sailor answered them:

The English captain was surprised how a Russian sailor could not only see his native land, but also hear it. He was surprised, but didn’t say anything about the bell, although he knew for certain that Russian craftsmen in Muscovy cast this bell for England and Russian blacksmiths forged the perfect language for it.

The ship's captain remained silent. And for whatever reason he kept silent, the fairy tale is silent about that. And I'll keep quiet.

And as for the large bell on the largest, Westminster, bell tower of old England, it is still Russian forged to this day english watch beats. Velvetly beats, with a Moscow accent.

Not everyone, of course, can hear his ringing to their hearts and ears, but now nothing can be done. Don't remove the bell!

And if you take it off, he will begin to proclaim the gospel even louder among people.

Let him hang as he hung, and ring back with the Moscow Kremlin brothers-bells, and talk about the blue sky, about calm water,

O sunny days... About friendship.

Mikhail Prishvin. Spring of light

At night, with electricity, snowflakes were born out of nothing: the sky was starry and clear.

The powder formed on the asphalt not just like snow, but an asterisk upon an asterisk, without flattening one another.

It seemed that this rare powder came straight out of nowhere, and yet as I approached my home in Lavrushinsky Lane, the asphalt from it was gray.

My awakening on the sixth floor was joyful.

Moscow lay covered with star powder, and, like tigers along the mountain ridges, cats walked everywhere on the roofs. How many clear traces, how many spring romances: in the spring of light all the cats climb onto the roofs.

And even when I went down and drove along Gorky Street, the joy of the spring light did not leave me. During a light morning in the rays of the sun, there was that neutral environment when the very thought smells: you think about something, and that’s what smells.

Sparrow descended from the roof of the Mossovet and drowned up to his neck in star powder.

Before we arrived, he managed to take a good swim in the snow, and when he had to fly away because of us, his wings were scattered by the wind

There are so many stars around that a circle almost the size of a large cap has turned black on the asphalt.

-Have you seen it? - one boy said to three girls.

And the children, looking up at the roof of the Mossovet, began to wait for the second gathering of the cheerful sparrow.

The spring of light warms during the afternoons.

By midday the powder had melted, and my joy was dulled, but it did not disappear, no!

As soon as the puddles froze in the evening, the smell of the evening frost again brought me back to the spring of light.

It was getting dark, but the blue evening stars did not appear in Moscow: the whole sky remained blue and slowly turned blue.

Against this new blue background, lamps with multi-colored lampshades flashed here and there in houses; You will never see these lampshades at dusk in winter.

Near the half-frozen puddles of melted star powder, children's enthusiastic screams could be heard everywhere, children's joy filled the entire air.

This is how children in Moscow begin spring, just as sparrows begin it in the village, then rooks, larks, black grouse in the forests, ducks on the rivers and sandpipers in the swamps.

From the children's spring sounds in the city, as well as from the bird cries in the forests, my shabby clothes suddenly fell off with melancholy and flu.

A real tramp, at the first rays of spring, often throws his rags along the road...

The puddles quickly froze everywhere. I tried to poke one with my foot, and the glass shattered with a special sound: dr... dr... dr...

Mindlessly to myself, as is the case with poets, I began to repeat this sound, adding the appropriate vowels: dra, dra, dri, drian.

And suddenly, out of this senseless rubbish, first my beloved goddess Driana (the soul of the tree, the forest) emerged, and then Driandia, the desired country to which I began my journey in the morning under the star powder.

I was so happy about this that I repeated out loud several times, testing for sonority, without paying attention to anyone around:

- Dryandia.

- What did he say? - one girl asked another behind me. - What did he say?

Then all the girls and boys from the other puddle rushed to catch up with me.

- Did you say something? - they asked me all at once.

“Yes,” I answered, “my words were: “Where is Malaya Bronnaya?”

What disappointment, what despondency my words produced: it turned out that we were standing right on this Malaya Bronnaya.

“It seems to me,” said one little girl with roguish eyes, “you said something completely different.”

“No,” I repeated, “I need Malaya Bronnaya, I’m going to my good friends at house number thirty-six.” Goodbye!

They remained in the circle, dissatisfied, and were probably now discussing this oddity among themselves: there was something like Driandia, but it turned out to be an ordinary Malaya Bronnaya!

Having moved a considerable distance away from them, I stopped at the lantern and shouted loudly to them:

- Dryandia!

Hearing this a second time, the children were convinced and rushed in with a unanimous cry:

- Driandia, Driandia!

- What is this? - they asked.

“The country of free Svans,” I answered.

- Who are they?

“These,” I began to tell calmly, “are not very tall people, but they are heavily armed.”

We entered under the black, old trees of Pioneer Ponds.

Large matte electric lanterns, like moons, appeared to us from behind the trees. The edges of the pond were covered with ice.

One girl tried to stand, the ice crackled.

- You'll go crazy! - I shouted.

- With your head? - she laughed. - How is it - with your head?

- With your head, with your head! - the guys repeated.

And, seduced by the opportunity to go headlong, they rushed onto the ice.

When everything ended well and no one left with their heads, the children again came to me, as if they were an old friend, and asked me to tell more about the small but heavily armed people of Driandia.

“These people,” I said, “always stay in twos.” One is resting, and the other is carrying him on a sled, and therefore their time is not wasted. They help each other in everything.

- Why are they heavily armed?

“They must protect their homeland from enemies.

- Why are they on skids, do they have eternal winter?

- No, they always have, as we do now, neither summer nor winter, they always have spring of light: the ice crunches under their feet, sometimes it falls through, and then the poor Svans go headlong under the ice, others immediately save them. Blue stars don’t show up in the evening: their sky is so blue and bright, and as soon as it’s evening, multi-colored light bulbs light up everywhere in the windows...

I told them the same things that happen in Moscow in the spring of the world, as now, and none of them had any idea that my magical Driandia was right there in Moscow, and that so soon we would all go to war for this Driandia.

Irina Pivovarova. We went to the theater

We went to the theater.

We walked in pairs, and there were puddles, puddles, puddles everywhere because it had just rained.

And we jumped over puddles.

My new blue tights and my new red shoes were covered in black splashes.

And Lyuska’s tights and shoes too!

And Sima Korostyleva ran and jumped into the very middle of the puddle, and the entire hem of her new green dress turned black! Sima began to wring it out, and the dress became like a washcloth, all wrinkled and wet at the bottom. And Valka decided to help her and began to smooth out the dress with her hands, and this caused some gray stripes to form on Sima’s dress, and Sima was very upset.

But we told her:

And Sima stopped paying attention and began jumping over puddles again.

And our entire unit jumped - Pavlik, Valka, and Burakov. But, of course, Kolya Lykov jumped the best. His trousers were wet to the knees, his shoes were completely wet, but he did not lose heart.

And it was funny to be depressed over such trifles!

The whole street was wet and glistening from the sun.

Steam rose from the puddles.

Sparrows chattered on the branches.

Beautiful houses, all like new, just painted yellow, light green and pink, looked at us through clean spring windows. They joyfully showed us their black carved balconies, their white stucco decorations, their columns between the windows, their multi-colored tiles under the roofs, their cheerful dancing women in long clothes sculpted above the entrances and serious sad men with small horns in their curly hair.

All the houses were so beautiful!

So old!

So different from each other!

And this was the Center. Center of Moscow. Garden Street. And we went to puppet show. We walked from the metro itself! On foot! And jumped over puddles! How I love Moscow! I'm even scared how much I love her! I even want to cry, how much I love her! My stomach clench when I look at these ancient houses, and how people are running and running somewhere, and how cars are rushing, and how the sun sparkles in the windows of tall houses, and cars screech, and sparrows scream in the trees.

And now all the puddles are behind us - eight large, ten medium and twenty-two small - and we are at the theater.

And then we were in the theater and watched the performance. An interesting performance. We watched for two hours, we were even tired. And on the way back, everyone was in a hurry to go home and didn’t want to walk, no matter how much I asked, so we got on the bus and rode in the bus all the way to the metro.

Arguments for the essay

Problems 1. Man and homeland 2. Man’s connection with his people Affirmative theses 1. Love, appreciate and defend your homeland. 2. Love for the homeland is manifested not in loud words, but in careful attitude to what surrounds you. 3. Each of us is a living particle of the river of time, which flows from the past into the future. Quotes 1. A person cannot live without a homeland, just as one cannot live without a heart (K. Paustovsky). 2. I ask my descendants to follow my example: to be faithful to the fatherland until the end of their lives (A. Suvorov). 3. Every noble person is deeply aware of his blood relationship, his blood ties with the fatherland (V. Belinsky). Arguments A man cannot live without his homeland 1) A famous writer told the story of the Decembrist Sukhinov, who, after the defeat of the uprising, was able to hide from police bloodhounds and, after painful wanderings, finally made it to the border. Another minute - and he will find freedom. But the fugitive looked at the field, the forest, the sky and realized that he could not live in a foreign land, far from his homeland. He surrendered to the police, was shackled and sent to hard labor. 2) The outstanding Russian singer Fyodor Chaliapin, forced to leave Russia, always carried a box with him. No one had any idea what was in it. Only many years later did relatives learn that Chaliapin kept a handful of native land. No wonder they say: the native land is sweet in a handful. Obviously, the great singer, who passionately loved his homeland, needed to feel the closeness and warmth of his native land. 3) The Nazis, having occupied France, offered General Denikin, who fought against the Red Army during civil war, cooperate with them in the fight against the Soviet Union. But the general responded with a sharp refusal, because his homeland was more valuable to him than political differences. 4) African slaves taken to America yearned for their native land. In despair, they killed themselves, hoping that the soul, having thrown off the body, could fly home like a bird. 5) The most terrible punishment in ancient times was the expulsion of a person from a tribe, city or country. Outside your home there is a foreign land: a foreign land, a foreign sky, a foreign language... There you are completely alone, there you are nobody, a creature without rights and without a name. That is why leaving one’s homeland meant losing everything for a person. 6) The outstanding Russian hockey player V. Tretyak was offered to move to Canada. They promised to buy him a house and pay him a higher salary. Tretyak pointed to the sky and earth and asked: “Will you buy this for me too?” The famous athlete's answer confused everyone, and no one else returned to this proposal. 7) When, in the mid-19th century, an English squadron besieged the capital of Turkey, Istanbul, the entire population stood up to defend their city. Townspeople destroyed their own houses if they prevented Turkish cannons from conducting aimed fire at enemy ships. 8) One day the wind decided to knock down a mighty oak tree that grew on a hill. But the oak only bent under the blows of the wind. Then the wind asked the majestic oak tree: “Why can’t I defeat you?” The oak replied that it was not the trunk that was holding it up. Its strength lies in the fact that it is rooted in the ground and clings to it with its roots. This simple story expresses the idea that love for the motherland, a deep connection with national history, with the cultural experience of their ancestors makes the people invincible. 9) When the threat of a terrible and devastating war with Spain loomed over England, the entire population, hitherto torn apart by enmity, rallied around its queen. Merchants and nobles equipped the army with their own money, and people of ordinary rank enlisted in the militia. Even the pirates remembered their homeland and brought their ships to save it from the enemy. And the “invincible armada” of the Spaniards was defeated. 10) The Turks during their military campaigns captured captured boys and young men. Children were forcibly converted to Islam and turned into warriors called Janissaries. The Turks hoped that the new warriors, deprived of spiritual roots, having forgotten their homeland, brought up in fear and obedience, would become a reliable stronghold of the state. But this did not happen: the Janissaries had nothing to defend, they were cruel and merciless in battle, they fled in case of serious danger, constantly demanded higher salaries, and refused to serve without a generous reward. It all ended with the Janissary detachments being disbanded, and the residents, under pain of death, were forbidden to even utter this word. 11) Ancient historians talk about one Greek athlete who refused to fight for Athens, explaining that he needed to prepare for sports competitions. When he expressed a desire to participate in the Olympic Games, the citizens told him: “You did not want to share our grief, which means you are not worthy to share our joy.” 12) The famous traveler Afanasy Nikitin saw a lot of strange and unusual things during his travels. He talked about this in his travel notes “Walking across Three Seas.” But the exoticism of distant countries did not extinguish his love for his homeland; on the contrary, his longing for his father’s home flared up in his soul even more strongly. 13) Once during the First World War, at a military meeting, Nikolai-2 uttered a phrase that began like this: “To me and Russia...”. But one of the generals present at this meeting politely corrected the tsar: “Your Majesty, YOU probably wanted to say “To Russia and to you...” Nicholas II admitted his mistake. 14) Leo Tolstoy in his novel “War and Peace” reveals “ military secret" - the reason. which helped Russia in the Patriotic War of 1812 to defeat the hordes of French invaders. If in other countries Napoleon fought against armies, then in Russia the entire people opposed him. People of different classes, different ranks, different nationalities united in the fight against a common enemy, and no one can cope with such a powerful force. 15) The great Russian writer I. Turgenev called himself Antey, because it was his love for his homeland that gave him moral strength. 16) Napoleon, having entered Russia, knew that the peasants were greatly oppressed by the landowners, so he hoped for the support of the common people. But imagine his surprise when he was informed that the men did not want to sell fodder for hard currency. “They don’t understand their benefit?!” - the emperor exclaimed in bewilderment and confusion. 17) When the outstanding Russian doctor Pirogov came up with a device for inhaling ethereal vapors, he turned to a tinsmith with a request to make it according to the drawings. The tinsmith learned that this device was intended to operate on soldiers who fought during the Crimean War, and said that he would do everything for free for the sake of the Russian people. 18) German General Guderian recalled an incident that struck him. During the Great Patriotic War, a Soviet artilleryman was captured while single-handedly dragging a cannon with a single shell. It turns out that this fighter knocked out four enemy tanks and repelled a tank attack. What force forced a soldier, deprived of support, to desperately fight against enemies - the German general could not understand. It was then that he uttered the now historic phrase: “It doesn’t look like we’ll be walking around Moscow in a month.” 20) Red Army soldier Nikodim Korzennikov is called phenomenal: he was the only soldier in all the armies of the world who was deaf and mute from birth. He volunteered to go to the front to defend his homeland. While rescuing the squad leader, he was captured. They brutally beat him, not realizing that HE was simply not capable of revealing any military secrets - he was deaf and dumb! Nicodemus was sentenced to hang, but he managed to escape. I got hold of a German machine gun and went out to my own people. He fought as a machine gunner in the most dangerous parts of the war. Where did this man, who could neither hear nor speak, get the strength to do what nature itself had denied him? Of course, it was a sincere and selfless love for the homeland. 21) The famous polar explorer Sedov once gave the ballerina Anna Pavlova a beautiful, intelligent husky. Anna Pavlova loved to take this dog with her for a walk. But the unexpected happened. As they drove past the snow-covered Neva, the husky saw the endless expanses of the snowy field, jumped out of the sleigh barking and, rejoicing at the familiar landscape, quickly disappeared from sight. Pavlova never waited for her pet.

Compassion, love for one's neighbor

Arguments for the essay

A.I. Solzhenitsyn "Matryonin's Dvor" In the story “Matryonin’s Dvor” by the Russian writer, Nobel Prize winner in literature A.I. Solzhenitsyn is struck by the image of the peasant woman Matryona, her humanity, selflessness, compassion and love for everyone, even strangers. Matryona “helped strangers for free”, but she herself “didn’t chase after the acquisition”: she didn’t start “good”, didn’t try to get a tenant. Her mercy is especially evident in the situation with the upper room. She allowed her house (where she lived all her life) to be dismantled into logs for the sake of her pupil Kira, who had nowhere to live. The heroine sacrifices everything for the sake of others: the country, neighbors, relatives. And after her quiet death, a description arises of the cruel behavior of her relatives, who are simply overwhelmed by greed. Thanks to her spiritual qualities, Matryona made this world a better and kinder place, sacrificing herself and her life. Boris Vasiliev “My horses are flying...” In the work “My Horses Are Flying...” Boris Vasiliev tells a story about a wonderful man - Doctor Jansen. Out of compassion, the doctor, at the cost of his life, saved the children who had fallen into the sewer pit! L.N. Tolstoy "War and Peace" Having been captured, Pierre Bezukhov met there a simple soldier Platon Karataev. Plato, despite his suffering, lived lovingly with everyone: with the French, with his comrades. It was he who, with his mercy, helped Pierre find faith and taught him to value life. M. Sholokhov “The Fate of Man The story tells about the tragic fate of a soldier who lost all his relatives during the war. One day he met an orphan boy and decided to call himself his father. This act suggests that love and the desire to do good give a person strength to live. F.M. Dostoevsky "Crime and Punishment" Out of compassion, Raskolnikov gives his last money for Marmeladov’s funeral.

Patriotism

Arguments for the essay

V. Bykov "Sotnikov" The story "Sotnikov" by V. Bykov tells about two partisans who are captured by the Germans during the Second World War. One of the partisans betrays his homeland and agrees to cooperate with the Germans. The second partisan, Sotnikov, refuses to betray his homeland and chooses death. In this story, the centurion is shown as a true patriot who could not betray his native country, even under pain of death. L.N. Tolstoy. "War and Peace" One of the central problems of the novel is true and false patriotism. Tolstoy’s favorite heroes do not speak high words about love for their homeland, they do things in its name: Natasha Rostova, without hesitation, persuades her mother to give carts to the wounded at Borodino, Prince Andrei Bolkonsky is mortally wounded on the Borodino field. But true patriotism, according to Tolstoy, lies in ordinary Russian people, soldiers who, without pomp, without lofty phrases, perform their duty, giving their lives for their Motherland in a moment of mortal danger. If in other countries Napoleon fought against armies, then in Russia the entire people opposed him. People of different classes, different ranks, different nationalities rallied in the fight against a common enemy, and no one can cope with such a powerful force. Tolstoy even writes that at Borodin the French army suffered a moral defeat - our army won this battle thanks to spirit and patriotism. An example of true patriotism is Pierre Bezukhov, who, with his own money, equips a militia of a thousand people, himself participates in the Battle of Borodino, and remains in Moscow to kill Napoleon. L.N. Tolstoy “Sevastopol Stories”(this example can also go into the topic of “attitude to one’s work”) Nikolai Ivanovich Pirogov, an outstanding Russian surgeon, was the first to use anesthesia during the Crimean War, easing the suffering of the wounded. He entered into a fight with embezzlers-officials and demanded medicine, clothing, and equipment. Pirogov operated in battlefields, in the center of shelling. The great doctor was so famous among the soldiers that they created legends about him. One of them was reproduced by L.N. Tolstoy in “Sevastopol Stories”, when soldiers on a stretcher delivered a “body without a head” to the tent, saying that the magician doctor would sew it on. Pirogov considered serving Russia as the meaning of life and never despaired, did not condemn the shortcomings of his homeland, but worked for the benefit of its prosperity.

Memory of the heroic deeds of soldiers

Arguments for the essay

K. Simonov The poet Konstantin Simonov, who during the war years worked as a correspondent for the Krasnaya Zvezda newspaper and was constantly in the active army, writes: “Don’t forget about the soldiers who fought with all their might, moaned in bandages in the medical battalions and so hoped for peace!” I am sure that none of those soldiers about whom Simonov wrote will ever be forgotten, and their feat will forever remain in the memory of descendants.

Love to motherland

Arguments for the essay

Yu. G. Oksman “Capture of Lieutenant Sukhinov.” A famous writer told the story of the Decembrist Sukhinov, who, after the defeat of the uprising, was able to hide from police bloodhounds and, after painful wanderings, finally made it to the border. Another minute - and he will find freedom. But the fugitive looked at the field, the forest, the sky and realized that he could not live in a foreign land, far from his homeland. He surrendered to the police, was shackled and sent to hard labor. A.S. Pushkin “To Chaadaev”. In the friendly message “To Chaadaev” there is a fiery appeal from the poet to the Fatherland to dedicate “the beautiful impulses of the soul.” "The Tale of Igor's Campaign." The author's love for his native Russian land is clearly expressed. He was worried about the future. He proudly told us about the defender of the homeland. He described nature beautifully. Solar eclipse. It was the Russian land that became the main character of his work. Poems by Yesenin, Blok, Lermontov.

Arguments for the essay

Problems 1. Moral qualities of a real person 2. The fate of a person 3. Humane attitude towards a person 4. Mercy and compassion Affirmative theses 1. Bring light and goodness to the world! 2. Loving a person is the main principle of humanism. 3. We are responsible for other people's lives. 4. Help, comfort, support - and the world will become a little kinder. Quotes 1. The world in itself is neither evil nor good, it is a container of both, depending on what you yourself have turned it into (M. Montaigne, French humanist philosopher). 2. If your life does not awaken your life, in the eternal change of existence the world will forget you (I. Goethe, German writer). 3. The only commandment: “Burn” (M. Voloshin, Russian poet). 4. By shining on others, I burn (Van Tulp, Dutch physician). 5. While you are young, strong, cheerful, do not get tired of doing good (A. Chekhov, Russian writer). Arguments Self-sacrifice. Love for one's neighbor. 1) American writer D. London in one of his works talked about how a man and his wife got lost in the endless snow-covered steppe. Food supplies ran out, and the woman became weaker and weaker every day. When she fell exhausted, her husband found crackers in her pockets. It turns out that the woman, realizing that there was not enough food for two, saved food to allow her loved one to escape. 2) The outstanding Russian writer B. Vasiliev spoke about Dr. Jansen. He died saving children who had fallen into a sewer pit. The man, who was revered as a saint during his lifetime, was buried by the entire city. 3) In one of the books dedicated to the Great Patriotic War, a former siege survivor recalls that during a terrible famine, as a dying teenager, his life was saved by a neighbor who brought a can of stew sent by his son from the front. “I’m already old, and you’re young, you still have to live and live,” said this man. He soon died, and the boy he saved retained a grateful memory of him for the rest of his life. 4) The tragedy occurred in the Krasnodar region. A fire started in a nursing home where sick old people lived who could not even walk. Nurse Lidia Pashentseva rushed to help the disabled. The woman pulled several sick people out of the fire, but could not get out herself. 5) Lumpfish lay their eggs at the low tide. If the receding water exposes a pile of eggs, then you can see a touching sight: the male guarding the eggs waters them from his mouth from time to time so that they do not dry out. Probably, caring for one's neighbor is a property of all living things. 6) In 1928, the airship of the famous Italian traveler Nobile crashed. The victims found themselves on the ice; they sent a distress signal via radio. As soon as the message arrived, the Norwegian traveler R. Amundsen equipped a seaplane and, risking his life, went in search of Nobile and his comrades. Soon, communication with the plane was interrupted, and only a few months later its wreckage was found. The famous polar explorer died saving people. 7) During the Crimean War, the famous doctor Pirogov, having learned about the plight of the garrison defending Sevastopol, began to ask to go to war. He was refused, but he was persistent because he could not imagine a quiet life for himself, knowing that many wounded people needed the help of an experienced surgeon. 8) In the legends of the ancient Aztecs, the axis said that the world was completely destroyed four times. After the fourth cataclysm, the sun went out. Then the gods gathered and began to think about how to create a new luminary. They built a large fire, and its light dispersed the darkness. BUT in order for the light from the fire not to go out, one of the gods had to voluntarily sacrifice himself to the fire. And then one young god rushed into the blazing flames. This is how the sun appeared, which illuminates our earth. This legend expresses the idea that selflessness is the light of our lives. 9) The famous film director S. Rostotsky said that he made the film “And the dawns here are quiet...” as a tribute to the female nurse who pulled him out of the battlefield during the Great Patriotic War. Patriotic War. 10) Naturalist Evgeniy Mare, who lived among baboons in Africa for three years, once observed how a leopard lay down near the path along which a belated herd of baboons was hurrying to the saving caves: males, females, babies - in a word, sure prey. Two males separated from the herd, slowly climbed onto the rock above the leopard and jumped down at once. One grabbed the leopard's throat, the other grabbed the leopard's back. The leopard ripped open the belly of the first one with its hind paw and broke the bones of the second one with its front paws. But just a fraction of a second before death, the fangs of the first baboon closed on the vein of the leopard, and the whole trio went to the next world. Of course, both baboons could not help but sense mortal danger. But they saved the herd. Compassion and mercy. Sensitivity 1) M. Sholokhov has a wonderful story “The Fate of a Man.” It talks about tragic fate a soldier who lost all his relatives during the war. One day he met an orphan boy and decided to call himself his father. This act suggests that love and the desire to do good give a person strength to live, strength to resist fate. 2) V. Hugo in the novel “Les Miserables” tells the story of a thief. After spending the night in the bishop's house, in the morning this thief stole silverware from him. But an hour later the police detained the criminal and took him to a house where he was given lodging for the night. The priest said that this man did not steal anything, that he took all the things with the owner’s permission. The thief, amazed by what he heard, in one minute experienced a true rebirth, and after that he became an honest man. 3) One of the medical scientists insisted that laboratory staff work in the clinic: they had to see how patients suffer. This forced young researchers to work with triple energy, since a specific human life depended on their efforts. 4) In ancient Babylon, a sick person was taken to the square, and every passerby could give him advice on how to be healed, or simply say a sympathetic word. This fact shows that already in ancient times people understood that there is no other person’s misfortune, there is no other person’s suffering. 5) During the filming of the film “Cold Summer 53...”, which took place in a remote Karelian village, all the surrounding residents, especially children, gathered to see “Grandfather Wolf” - Anatoly Papanov. The director wanted to drive away the residents so that they would not interfere with the filming process, but Papanov gathered all the kids, talked to them, and wrote something in a notebook for each one. And the children, their eyes shining with happiness, looked at the great actor. Their meeting with this man, who interrupted expensive filming for their sake, remained forever in their memory. 6) Ancient historians said that Pythagoras bought fish from fishermen and threw it back into the sea. People laughed at the eccentric, and he said that by saving fish from nets, he was trying to protect people from a terrible fate - being enslaved by conquerors. Indeed, all living things are connected by invisible, but strong threads of causality: each of our actions, like a booming echo, rolls out across the space of the universe, causing certain consequences. 7) An encouraging word, a caring look, a gentle smile help a person achieve success and strengthen his faith in his abilities. Psychologists conducted an interesting experiment that clearly proves the validity of this statement. We recruited random people and asked them to make benches for a kindergarten for some time. Workers in the first group were constantly praised, while the other group was scolded for their inability and negligence. What is the result? In the first group, they made twice as many benches as in the second. This means that a kind word really helps a person. 8) Every person needs understanding, sympathy, warmth. One day, the outstanding Russian commander A. Suvorov saw a young soldier who, frightened by the upcoming battle, ran into the forest. When the enemy was defeated, Suvorov awarded the heroes, and the order went to the one who cowardly sat in the bushes. The poor soldier almost collapsed from shame. In the evening he returned the award and confessed his cowardice to the commander. Suvorov said: “I take your order for safekeeping because I believe in your courage!” In the next battle, the soldier amazed everyone with his fearlessness and courage and deservedly received the order. 9) One of the legends tells how Saint Kasyan and St. Nicholas the Pleasant once walked across the earth. We saw a man trying to pull a cart out of the mud. Kasyan, in a hurry to get to an important task and not wanting to stain his heavenly dress, went further, and Nikola helped the man. When the Lord found out about this, he decided to give Nikola two holidays a year, and Kasyan one every four years - February 29. 10) In the early Middle Ages, a well-bred, pious owner considered it his duty to shelter a beggar and a tramp under the roof of his house. It was believed that the prayers of the destitute were more likely to reach God. The owners asked the unfortunate tramp to pray for them in the temple, for which they gave him a coin. Of course, this cordiality was not without a certain self-interest, nevertheless, even then, moral laws arose in the minds of people, which demanded not to offend the disadvantaged, to feel sorry for them. 11) The famous figure skating coach Stanislav Zhuk drew attention to a girl whom everyone considered unpromising. The coach liked that she, although not possessing any special talent, worked without sparing herself. Zhuk believed in her, began training with her, and from this girl grew the most titled figure skater of the 20th century, Irina Rodnina. 12) Numerous studies by psychologists who study the problems of school education prove how important it is to instill in a child faith in his strength. When a teacher has high expectations for students and expects high results from them, then this alone is enough to increase the level of intelligence by 25 points. 13) An almost incredible incident was told in one of the television programs. The girl wrote a fairy tale about her friend, who had been unable to walk since childhood due to a serious illness. The fairy tale talked about the magical healing of a sick woman. A friend read the fairy tale and, as she herself admitted, decided that she should now recover. She simply threw away her crutches and walked. This is how genuine kindness turns into magic. 14) Compassion is not unique to humans. It is characteristic even of animals, and this is evidence of the natural nature of this feeling. Scientists did the following experiment: next to the experimental chamber they placed a cage with a rat, which received an electric shock every time one of its fellow tribesmen took a bread ball from the shelf. Some rats continued to run and eat food, not paying attention to the suffering creature. Others quickly grabbed the food, ran to another corner of the cell, and then ate it, turning away from the cage with the tortured relative. But most animals, having heard the squeak of pain and discovered its cause, immediately refused food and did not run up to the shelf with bread. Callous and callous attitude towards people 1) In January 2006, a terrible fire occurred in Vladivostok. The premises of a savings bank, which was located on the eighth floor of a high-rise building, caught fire. The boss demanded that the employees first hide all documents in a safe and then evacuate. While the documents were being removed, a fire engulfed the corridor, and many girls died. 2) During the recent war in the Caucasus, an incident occurred that caused justifiable indignation in society. A wounded soldier was brought to the hospital, but the doctors refused to admit him, citing the fact that their institution belonged to the Ministry of Internal Affairs, and the soldier belonged to the Ministry of Defense. While they were looking for the necessary medical unit, the wounded man died. 3) One of the German legends tells about a man who, after spending many years in sin, decided to repent and begin a righteous life. He went to the Pope to ask for his blessing. But the Pope, having heard the confession of the sinner, exclaimed that before his cane would be covered with leaves, he would receive the petition. The sinner realized that it was too late for him to repent and went on sinning. But the next day, the Pope’s cane suddenly became covered with green leaves, messengers were sent for the sinner to announce his forgiveness, but they could not find him anywhere. 4) The position of the rejected is always tragic. Even if he brings new knowledge, new truths, no one listens to him. Scientists point out that this phenomenon also occurs among animals. The monkey, who occupied a low position in his herd, was taught to obtain bananas using complex manipulations. The relatives simply took away these bananas, without even trying to understand how they were obtained. When the leader of the pack was taught such techniques, all his relatives watched his manipulations with interest and tried to imitate him. 5) With a word you can save a person, or you can destroy him. The tragedy happened the day before the operation. An English surgeon drew the famous Russian actor Evgeny Evstitneev’s heart and explained that of his four valves, only one was working, and then only 10 percent. “YOU will die in any case,” said the doctor, “whether you have surgery or not.” The meaning of his words was that you need to take a risk by agreeing to the operation, because we are all mortal, we will all die sooner or later. The great actor instantly imagined what the doctor was talking about. And my heart stopped. 6) Napoleon was poor in his youth, almost starving, his mother wrote him desperate letters, calling for help, because she had nothing to feed her huge family. Napoleon bombarded various authorities with petitions, asking for at least some alms, and was ready to serve anyone, just to earn meager funds. Was it not then, faced with swaggering arrogance and callousness, that he began to cherish dreams of power over the whole world in order to take revenge on all humanity for the torment he had experienced.

Moral choice

Arguments for the essay

This is my homeland, my native land, my fatherland,

- and there is nothing hotter in life,

deeper and more sacred feelings,

than love for you...

A.N. Tolstoy

“The Tale of Igor’s Campaign” - the greatest patriotic poem of Ancient Rus' .

Illustrations for “The Tale of Igor’s Campaign” by V.A. Favorsky. From woodcuts.
The pinnacle of lyricism is recognized as “The Lament of Yaroslavna,” the wife of the captured Igor: “I will fly like a cuckoo along the Danube, I will wet my silk sleeve in the Kayala River, I will wipe the prince’s bloody wounds on his mighty body.” Yaroslavna turns with a plaintive lament to the forces of nature - the Wind, the Dnieper, the Sun, reproaching them for the misfortune that befell her husband and imploring them to help him.

Homeland in the life and work of N.M. Karamzin

“...We must nurture love for the fatherland and a feeling for the people... It seems to me that I see how people’s pride and love of fame are increasing in Russia with new generations!.. And those cold people who do not believe the strong influence of grace on the education of souls and laugh at the romantic patriotism, is it worthy of an answer? These words belong to N. Karamzin, and they appeared in the journal “Bulletin of Europe” founded by him. This is how the birth of Karamzin the writer happened, about whom Belinsky would later say: “Karamzin began a new era of Russian literature.” The homeland occupied a special place in Karamzin’s life and work. Each writer revealed the theme of his homeland using the example of different images: his native land, familiar landscapes, and Karamzin used the example of the history of his country, and his main work is “History of the Russian State”

“The History of the Russian State” is an epic creation that tells the story of the life of a country that has passed through a difficult and glorious path. The undoubted hero of this work is Russian national character taken in development, formation, in all its endless originality, combining features that seem incompatible at first glance. Many people later wrote about Russia, but its true history was written before the work of Karamzin, translated into most important languages, the world has not yet seen. From 1804 to 1826, over 20 years that Karamzin devoted to the “History of the Russian State,” the writer decided for himself the question of whether he should write about his ancestors with the impartiality of a researcher studying ciliates: “I know, we need the impartiality of a historian: sorry, I don’t always could hide his love for the Fatherland..."

The article “On Love for the Fatherland and National Pride,” written in 1802, was the most complete expression of Karamzin’s views. It is the fruit of long thought, a confession of the philosophy of happiness. Dividing love for the fatherland into physical, moral and political, Karamzin eloquently shows their characteristics and properties. A person, Karamzin claims, loves the place of his birth and upbringing - this affection is common to everyone, “a matter of nature and should be called physical”
Nowadays, it is especially clear that without Karamzin, without his “History of the Russian State,” not only Zhukovsky, Ryleev’s “Dumas,” Odoevsky’s ballads, but also Dostoevsky, L.N. Tolstoy, A.N. Tolstoy would have been impossible.

A.S. Pushkin - historian, philosopher, politician, man and patriot.

Pushkin embodied world harmony in his poetic word, and although he, a passionate poet, had so much immediate life and curiosity about it that he could have given himself to life selflessly. And that is why Pushkin is the most precious thing that Russia has, the dearest and closest to each of us; and that is why, as one researcher of Russian literature noted, it is difficult for us to talk about him calmly, without delight.

Pushkin was more than a poet. He was a historian, philosopher, politician, a Man, and, of course, an ardent patriot of his homeland, representing the era.

The image of Peter I - the “lord of fate” - is integral to Russia.

Pushkin saw in the image of Peter I an exemplary ruler of the Russian state. He speaks of the glorious reign of Peter, calling him “the master of fate,” who raised “Russia on its hind legs” and cut through “a window to Europe.”

The Motherland as an object of love, pride, poetic understanding of its fate in the works of M.Yu. Lermontov.

There, behind the joys comes reproach.

There is a man groaning from slavery and chains!

Friend! This is the land... my homeland.

In Lermontov’s lyrical works, the Motherland is an object of love, a poetic understanding of its fate and its future. For him, this concept has a broad, rich and multifaceted content. Lermontov's poems are almost always an internal, intense monologue, a sincere confession, questions asked to oneself and answers to them.

Already in early works Lermontov can be found in his thoughts about the future of Russia. One of these thoughts is the poem “Prediction”. The sixteen-year-old poet, who hated tyranny, political oppression and the Nicholas reaction, which came after the defeat of the revolutionary action of the best part of the Russian nobility, predicts the inevitable death of the autocracy: “... the crown of the kings will fall.”

Homeland is the theme of Lermontov’s lyrics, which developed throughout the poet’s entire work.

But I love - why, I don’t know
Its steppes are coldly silent,
Her boundless forests sway,
The floods of its rivers are like seas. \

Undoubtedly, Lermontov became a national poet. Some of his poems were set to music and became songs and romances, such as “I go out alone on the road...” In less than 27 years of his life, the poet created so much that he forever glorified Russian literature and continued the work of the great Russian poet Pushkin, becoming on par with him. Lermontov's view of Russia, his critical love for his homeland turned out to be close to the next generations of Russian writers, influenced the work of such poets as A. Blok, Nekrasov, and especially the work of Ivan Bunin.

Searching for an answer to the question “To be or not to be Russia?” in the works of I.A. Bunin.

It is difficult to imagine next to Bunin any of the writers of the 20th century who caused equally opposite assessments. The “eternal religious conscience” of Russia and the chronicler of the “memorable failures” of the revolution - these are the extreme poles between which there are a great many other judgments. According to the first of these points of view, Bunin only occasionally succumbed to the “deceptive existence”, the haze of “historical Russia”, and during periods of highest creative insights he “tuned all the strings of his soul” to the chorale “of God’s order and order, which was Russia.”

Homeland in the life and work of Igor Severyanin

“The days of party discord are bleak for us among brutal people”

It so happened that in 1918, during the civil war, the poet found himself in a zone occupied by Germany. He ends up in Estonia, which then, as we know, becomes independent. And from that time, almost until the beginning of the Great Patriotic War, that is, until his death, he lived in a foreign land. It was abroad, in separation from their native land, that such writers as Kuprin, Bryusov, Balmont and many others created their works about Russia, and Igor Severyanin’s longing for his homeland also left its mark on the poet’s work.

Northerner creates a series of poems dedicated to Russian writers, in which he says how important their work is for Russian literature, for Russia. Here are poems about Gogol, Fet, Sologub, Gumilyov. Without false modesty, Igor Severyanin dedicates poetry to himself. They are called “Igor Severyanin”. Let's not forget that back in 1918 he was called the “King of Poets.”

It is also worth noting that many of Severyanin’s poems contain irony. Irony for himself, for his time, for people and for everything that surrounds him. But there was never any anger or hatred in his poems towards those who did not understand him, who mocked his self-praise. The poet himself called himself an ironist, making it clear to the reader that this was his style, the style of the author hiding behind his hero with an ironic grin.

The image of Russia - a country of enormous power and energy - in the works of Alexander Blok.

Wide, multicolor, full of life and movement, the picture of his native land “in tear-stained and ancient beauty” is formed in Blok’s poems. Vast Russian distances, endless roads, deep rivers, scanty clay of washed-out cliffs and flaming rowan trees, violent blizzards and snowstorms, bloody sunsets; burning villages, mad troikas, gray huts, alarming cries of swans, factory chimneys and whistles, the fire of war and mass graves. This is what Russia was like for the Bloc.

Homeland in the life and work of Sergei Yesenin.

Native land! The fields are like saints,

Groves in icon rims,

I would like to get lost

In your hundred-ringing greens.

So in Yesenin’s songs about the homeland there is no -

no yes and they slip

thoughtful and sad notes,

like a light cloud of sadness on

cloudless - its blue sky

youthful lyrics.

The poet did not spare colors to make it brighter

convey wealth and beauty

native nature. Image

Yesenin's relationship with nature is complemented by another feature: love for all living things: animals, birds, domestic animals. In poetry they are endowed with almost human feelings.

Results of the evolution of the theme of the Motherland in the lyrics of Sergei Yesenin

Thus, born and growing from landscape miniatures and song stylizations, the theme of the Motherland absorbs Russian landscapes and songs, and poetic world Sergei Yesenin, these three concepts: Russia, nature and the “song word” - merge into one. Admiration for the beauty of the native land, a depiction of the difficult life of the people, the dream of a “peasant paradise”, rejection of urban civilization and the desire to comprehend “Soviet Rus'”, a feeling of unity with every inhabitant of the planet and the “love for the native land” remaining in the heart - this is the evolution of the theme of the native land in the lyrics of Sergei Yesenin.

“The topic of Russia... I consciously devote my life to this topic...” - words from Blok’s famous letter, which were not just a declarative statement. They acquired a programmatic meaning and were confirmed by all the poet’s work and the life he lived.

This immortal theme, the theme of a deep feeling of love for the Motherland, hard-won faith in Russia, faith in Russia’s ability to change - while preserving its original nature - was inherited and renewed by the great writers XIX-XX centuries and has become one of the most important topics in Russian literature.

Mind Russia Not understand , Arshin general Not measure : U her special become - IN Russia Can only believe .

They love homeland Not behind That , What she great , A behind That , What its .

But I love you , homeland meek ! A behind What - unravel Not Can . Vesela yours joy short WITH loud song in the spring on meadow .

The most the best purpose There is protect yours fatherland .

Two feelings wonderful close us - IN them gains heart food : Love To to my native ashes , Love To fatherly coffins .

Russia - Sphinx . Rejoicing And mourning , AND pouring himself black blood , She looks , looks , looks V you , AND With hatred , And With love !..

Annotation

This small book presents picturesque pictures of our homeland, created in the works of Russian writers of the 19th century. By reading these works, the child will be able to prepare well for reading and literature lessons and get acquainted with poetry and prose that are not included in traditional anthologies and textbooks.

Compiled by S. F. Dmitrenko

Parents, teachers and inquisitive schoolchildren

Ivan Nikitin

Vladimir Benediktov

Alexey Khomyakov

Peter Vyazemsky

Stepan Shevyrev

Polixena Solovyova

Lukyan Yakubovich

Sergey Maksimov

Dmitry Mamin-Sibiryak

Vlas Doroshevich

Compiled by S. F. Dmitrenko

For parents, teachers and curious students

This book does not replace, but significantly complements traditional anthologies and collections of literary reading. That's why you won't find many here famous works, constantly reprinted and included in these books. Fortunately, Russian literature is inexhaustibly rich, and you can expand your reading circle endlessly, if only you have a passion.

This small book presents picturesque pictures of our homeland - from Kyiv, the cradle of East Slavic civilization, to the Pacific Ocean, from the White Sea to the Caucasus. In fact, you get an amazing opportunity to take an exciting journey back in time and see many of the regions and places of our homeland as they were about a century and a half ago. Your reliable guides will be Russian writers and poets - true talents, masters of words.

In the era of the universal spread of the Internet and the ease of obtaining any help and explanation through it, we decided to do without systematic comments on texts and detailed biographical information about writers. Some readers may need them, some may not, but in any case, every student gets an excellent opportunity to make sure that an independent search for interpretations of incomprehensible words and expressions on the Internet is no less exciting than the famous “shooting games” and similar attractions.

Almost all prose works for obvious reasons we are forced to give small passages, however, fascinating, so I would like to hope: schoolchildren will have the opportunity to read them in full, and the work of the outstanding Russian writer and ethnographer, author of the famous dictionary book “Winged Words” Sergei Vasilyevich Maksimov (1831–1901) will become a joyful discovery for them and read at all life!

Ivan Nikitin

Rus

Under the big tent

Blue skies -

I see the distance of the steppes

Turns green.

And on their edges,

Above the dark clouds

The chains of mountains stand

Giants.

Across the steppes to the seas

The rivers are rolling

And there are paths

In all directions.

I'll look south -

Mature fields,

That the reeds are thick,

They move quietly;

Ant of meadows

It spreads like a carpet,

Grapes in the gardens

It's pouring.

I'll look north -

There, in the wilderness of the desert,

Snow is like white fluff,

Spins quickly;

Raises the chest

The sea is blue,

And mountains of ice

Walks on the sea;

And the sky is on fire

Bright glow

Lights up the darkness

Impenetrable...

It's you, my

Sovereign Rus',

My motherland

Orthodox!

Wide are you, Rus',

Across the face of the earth

In royal beauty

Turned around!

Don't you have

Pure fields

Where would I find revelry?

Is the will bold?

Don't you have

About the treasury reserves,

For friends - a table,

A sword to an enemy?

Don't you have

Bogatyr forces,

Saint of old,

Loud feats?

Before whom?

Have you humiliated?

To whom on a rainy day

Did you bow low?

In their fields,

Under the mounds

You put it

Tatar hordes.

You are life and death

Had a dispute with Lithuania

And gave a lesson

Lyakh proud.

And how long ago was it,

When from the West

I hugged you

Is the cloud dark?

Under her thunderstorm

The forests fell

The mother of cheese is the earth

I hesitated

And ominous smoke

From the burning villages

stood up high

Black cloud!

But the king just called

Your people to battle -

Suddenly from all over

Rus' has risen.

Gathered the children

Old men and wives,

Received guests

To a bloody feast.

And in the remote steppes,

Under the snowdrifts

We went to bed

Guests forever.

They buried them

Snowy blizzards,

Storms of the North

They cried for them!..

And now among

of your cities

Swarming with ants

Orthodox people.

Across gray seas

From distant countries

To bow to you

The ships are coming.

And the fields are blooming,

And the forests are noisy,

And they lie in the ground

Piles of gold.

And in all directions

White light

it's about you

The glory is loud.

There's a reason for it,

Mighty Rus',

To love you

Call me mother

Stand for your honor

Against the enemy

For you in need

Lay down your head!

Vladimir Benediktov

Moscow

Close... My heart skipped a beat;

Closer... closer... You can see it!

Now it has opened up, turned around, -

Temples shine: here she is!

Even an old woman, even a gray-haired one,

And all fiery,

Radiant, holy,

Golden-headed, dear

White stone!

Here she is! - how long has it been since you left the ashes?

And look: what it is!

Got up, grew, got stronger,

And still alive!

Current page: 1 (book has 2 pages in total) [available reading passage: 1 pages]

Compiled by S. F. Dmitrenko
Motherland. Works of Russian writers about the Motherland

For parents, teachers and curious students

This book does not replace, but significantly complements traditional anthologies and collections of literary reading. Therefore, you will not find here many famous works, constantly reprinted and included in the named books. Fortunately, Russian literature is inexhaustibly rich, and you can expand your reading circle endlessly, if only you have a passion.

This small book presents picturesque pictures of our homeland - from Kyiv, the cradle of East Slavic civilization, to the Pacific Ocean, from the White Sea to the Caucasus. In fact, you get an amazing opportunity to take an exciting journey back in time and see many of the regions and places of our homeland as they were about a century and a half ago. Your reliable guides will be Russian writers and poets - true talents, masters of words.

In the era of the universal spread of the Internet and the ease of obtaining any help and explanation through it, we decided to do without systematic comments on texts and detailed biographical information about writers. Some readers may need them, some may not, but in any case, every student gets an excellent opportunity to make sure that an independent search for interpretations of incomprehensible words and expressions on the Internet is no less exciting than the famous “shooting games” and similar attractions.

For obvious reasons, we are forced to give almost all prose works in small passages, however fascinating, so we would like to hope that schoolchildren will have the opportunity to read them in full, and the work of the outstanding Russian writer and ethnographer, author of the famous dictionary book “Winged Words” Sergei Vasilievich Maksimov (1831–1901) will be a joyful discovery and lifelong reading for them!

Ivan Nikitin

Rus

Under the big tent
Blue skies -
I see the distance of the steppes
Turns green.

And on their edges,
Above the dark clouds
The chains of mountains stand
Giants.

Across the steppes to the seas
The rivers are rolling
And there are paths
In all directions.

I'll look south -
Mature fields,
That the reeds are thick,
They move quietly;

Ant of meadows
It spreads like a carpet,
Grapes in the gardens
It's pouring.

I'll look north -
There, in the wilderness of the desert,
Snow is like white fluff,
Spins quickly;

Raises the chest
The sea is blue,
And mountains of ice
Walks on the sea;

And the sky is on fire
Bright glow
Lights up the darkness
Impenetrable...

It's you, my
Sovereign Rus',
My motherland
Orthodox!

Wide are you, Rus',
Across the face of the earth
In royal beauty
Turned around!

Don't you have
Pure fields
Where would I find revelry?
Is the will bold?

Don't you have
About the treasury reserves,
For friends - a table,
A sword to an enemy?

Don't you have
Bogatyr forces,
Saint of old,
Loud feats?

Before whom?
Have you humiliated?
To whom on a rainy day
Did you bow low?

In their fields,
Under the mounds
You put it
Tatar hordes.

You are life and death
Had a dispute with Lithuania
And gave a lesson
Lyakh proud.

And how long ago was it,
When from the West
I hugged you
Is the cloud dark?

Under her thunderstorm
The forests fell
The mother of cheese is the earth
I hesitated

And ominous smoke
From the burning villages
stood up high
Black cloud!

But the king just called
Your people to battle -
Suddenly from all over
Rus' has risen.

Gathered the children
Old men and wives,
Received guests
To a bloody feast.

And in the remote steppes,
Under the snowdrifts
We went to bed
Guests forever.

They buried them
Snowy blizzards,
Storms of the North
They cried for them!..

And now among
of your cities
Swarming with ants
Orthodox people.

Across gray seas
From distant countries
To bow to you
The ships are coming.

And the fields are blooming,
And the forests are noisy,
And they lie in the ground
Piles of gold.

And in all directions
White light
it's about you
The glory is loud.

There's a reason for it,
Mighty Rus',
To love you
Call me mother

Stand for your honor
Against the enemy
For you in need
Lay down your head!

Vladimir Benediktov

Moscow

Close... My heart skipped a beat;
Closer... closer... You can see it!
Now it has opened up, turned around, -
Temples shine: here she is!
Even an old woman, even a gray-haired one,
And all fiery,
Radiant, holy,
Golden-headed, dear
White stone!
Here she is! - how long has it been since you left the ashes?
And look: what it is!
Got up, grew, got stronger,
And still alive!
And by that cruel fire
Sweetly stirring the memory,
Curls with a wide belt
Around the high Kremlin.
And calm, majestic,
The cheerful guardian of Russian glory -
The Kremlin is both red and great,
Where, only God's hour arose,
Crowned with a bright dome
John's Bell Tower
Moves his copper tongue;
Where are the church crosses far away?
By air steps
They are coming, in gold, towards
To the bright, divine skies;
Where beyond the boundaries of the stronghold,
Behind the shield of a steep wall,
The sacraments of the shrine are alive
And a shrine of antiquity.
The ancient city, the stubborn city,
A city surrounded by beauty
Church city, cathedral city
Both sovereign and holy!
He has a cheerful Russian disposition,
Heavy harmony regulations
Rebellious, lay down freely
And he spread out as best he could.
Obedient to old habits,
He has a welcoming smile
Through the opening of your gates
He calls everyone into his arms.
He lived a lot in the world.
Remembers the times of our ancestors,
And greet him live
Rus' is visible wide open.

Rus'... Brilliant in orderly order
Petropol is her head,
You are her zealous heart,
Orthodox Moscow!
Decorous, strict, thoughtful
He, the harsh city of Peter,
Full of reasonable care
And by acquiring goodness.
Child of cold midnight -
He proudly entered the sea:
He has Russian eyes,
And her fate is the language.
And she is native Moscow -
It lay in the chest of Russia,
Deepened, centuries-old.
She locked it in the depths of the treasure.
And boiling with Russian blood
And mighty love
Hot for royal glory,
The giants are crowned
And it rings and triumphs;
But when she is threatened
The forces of the enemy pressure,
She composes for herself
Glorious sacrificial pyre
And, seeing the enemies' banner,
Close to the ancient wall,
Plunges into flames
And it flaunts on fire!
I waited for a long time... my chest is filled with longing -
The Duma is now the head;
Finally you are in front of me,
Beloved Moscow!
The spirit is disturbed by you,
The gaze is drawn to your beauty.
Chu! They're calling you back!

Hasty greetings
Here's my voice: many summers
And be alive and well!
May your peals be preserved
Traces of Russian valor!
Let your chambers shine!
Let your gardens bloom!
And dressed with grace
And love and silence
And marked with a seal
Unforgettable antiquity,
Without a stain, without reproach,
Under the influence of miracles,
Be the glory of the fatherland,
Be the joy of heaven.

Beginning 1838

Alexey Khomyakov

Kyiv

High in front of me
Old Kyiv over the Dnieper,
The Dnieper sparkles under the mountain
Iridescent silver.

Glory, eternal Kyiv,
The cradle of Russian glory!
Glory, our fleeting Dnieper,
Rus' is a pure font!

Sweet songs rang out,
There is a quiet evening ringing in the sky:
“Where are you coming from?
Dear pilgrims, take a bow?

- “I am from where it flows
The Quiet Don is the beauty of the steppes.”
- “I’m from where it swirls
The boundless Yenisei!

- “My land is the warm shore of Euxinus!”
- “My land is the shore of those distant countries,
Where is one solid ice floe
Encased the ocean."
- “I am from Mother Moscow.”

- “The top of Altai is wild and scary,
The shine of its snows is eternal,
That’s my native country!”
- “My homeland is old Pskov.”

- “I am from cold Ladoga.”
- “I am from the blue waves of the Neva.”
- “I am from the Kama, full of water.”
- “I am from Mother Moscow.”

Glory, Dnieper, gray waves!
Glory, Kyiv, wonderful city!
The darkness of your caves is silent
More beautiful than royal chambers.

We know, in centuries past,
In the ancient night and deep darkness,
Russia flashed above you
The sun of the eternal east.

And now from distant lands,
From the unknown steppes,
From deep midnight rivers -
A regiment of praying children -

We are around our shrine
All collected with love...
Brothers, where are the sons of Volyn?
Galich, where are your sons?

Woe, woe! they were burned
Poland wild fires;
They were lured, they were captured
Poland noisy feasts.

Sword and flattery, deceit and flame
They were stolen from us;
They are led by someone else's banner,
They are ruled by an alien voice.

Wake up, Kyiv, again!
Call your fallen children!
Sweet is the voice of a dear father,
A call of prayer and love.

And rejected children
Only they will hear your call,
Having broken the treachery of the network,
Forgetting the alien banner,

Again, as in time,
They'll come to calm down
To your holy bosom,
To your parents' shelter.

And around the banners of the fatherland
They will flow in a crowd,
To the life of the spirit, to the spirit of life,
Revived by you!

<Ноябрь 1839>

Peter Vyazemsky

Steppe

Endless Russia
Like an eternity on earth!
You go, you go, you go, you go,
Days and miles don’t matter!
Time and space are drowning
In your vastness.

The steppe is wide open
It lies across and along,
Like a sea of ​​fire
The heat is burning and scorching.

The compressed air becomes numb,
Doesn't smell good on a hot day
A winged breeze from the sky,
Not a cool cloud shadow.

Heaven is like a copper dome,
They got hot. The steppe is bare;
Somewhere in front of the poor man's hut
The poor willow is drying up.

Long-legged stork from the roof
Looks like a faithful homebody;
Good friend of the family, poor,
He keeps her from harm.

Step by step, with calm importance
Oxen drag heavy loads;
Dust blows like a sultry blizzard,
A blizzard of fiery ash.

Like broken tents
At the crossroads of the tribes -
Here are the mounds, here are the riddles
Unsolved times.

Everything is empty, monotonous,
It was as if the spirit had stopped living;
Thought and feeling slumber idly,
The eyes and ears are hungry.

Sad! But you are sad about this
Do not defame or slander:
From her my soul is warmed
Holy love glows.

The steppes are bare, silent,
Still, both song and honor to you!
You are all Mother Russia,
Whatever it is!

Stepan Shevyrev

Oka

Many beautiful rivers flow
In the kingdom of Rus' young,
Blue, gold and clear,
Arguing with the sky with beauty.
But now simple praise
I’ll write about one river:
Blue, draft,
Polyhydrous Oka.
In the character of the Russian expanse
She bends:
Gives cities freedom
A slow wave.
Wonderful laziness pleases the eyes;
She poured out the water generously;
I threw away the lakes for nothing -
Like a mirror to the sky.
Preparing fish for fishermen,
Heavy ships are rushing;
Chain of gold trade
Knits Russian cities:
Murom and Nizhny have become brothers!
But it reached the Volga;
She modestly led the waves, -
And fell into her arms,
To bring it to the sea.

Polixena Solovyova

Petersburg

City of fogs and dreams
Stands before me
With an unclear bulk
heavy houses,
With a chain of palaces,
Reflected by the cold Neva.
Life wanders hastily
Here to the invisible goal...
I recognize you with the same longing,
The city is sick
Favorite unkind city!
You torment me like a dream
A timid question...
It’s night, but the dawn sky is flickering...
You're all defeated
White dusk.

Lukyan Yakubovich

Ural and Caucasus

The Ural and Caucasus mountains began to argue.
And the Urals said: “The world knows us!
I am rich in gold, rich in silver,
Diamond, and jasper, and all sorts of good things;
Many treasures have been extracted from my depths
And many treasures are still hidden in them!
I pay people a rich tax:
I cherish their lives, silver them, gild them!
Did the Caucasus get to be equal to me:
He is a beggar and hides robbery from the beggars!”
- Shut up, you despicable one! - exclaimed
Caucasus. -
I am a doctor, a true believer; the world knows us!
Wealth gives birth to diseases, vices,
Caucasian currents heal people;
I target the inhabitants of the valleys, the sick;
I love the mighty mountain inhabitants:
I renew health and life alone,
For others, I preserve their freedom and peace;
In ancient times I was the first to give shelter to Noah:
That’s why they know me, love me, and honor me!

Sergey Maksimov
(From the book “A Year in the North”)

Trip to the Solovetsky Monastery

<…>A strong wind drove us forward quickly and strongly. The ship, tilted heavily to its side, fought off the side waves and cut the front ones boldly and straight. An island will float out and instantly begin to shrink, as if someone is pulling it back; another appears and moves back - a decisive pile of huge stones, thrown in a wonderful disorder one on top of the other, and after it a third island, covered with moss and spruce, appears to the eye. On this island roam deer, brought here from the Kem coast, from the city, for the whole summer. These deer lose their hair here, fleeing from gadflies, who torment them in other places until they are extremely exhausted. Here, according to the rowers, they manage to run wild throughout the summer to such an extent that they are difficult to handle. They then catch them by driving them into fences and throwing nooses on the horns, which even then have time to re-grow, knocked down by animals in the summer. Among the deer you can see more sheep, also Kem and also brought here from the shore for the summer.

We've been driving for more than two hours now. Directly opposite our karbas, in a clear, cloudless sky, a small light cloud floats out of the sea, vaguely outlined and presenting a rather strange, original appearance. This cloud, as we further left the islands, turned into a simple white spot and yet – still stuck, as if nailed to the sky.

The rowers crossed themselves.

- Solovki are visible! - was their answer to my demand.

“It will be another thirty versts before them,” one remarked.

“It will be, it will certainly be,” answered the other.

– We must be there by ten o’clock in the evening! (We left Kemi at three o'clock in the afternoon.)

- And perhaps we will!..

- How could it not be, if the weather continues like this? Take hold of the oars, brothers, things will go sooner, we’ll get there sooner.

The rowers, apparently bored with sitting idle, willingly take up the oars, although the wind, noticeably subsiding, still lingers in the sails. The water is the most meek, that is, it is in that state when, with its ebb, it was able to adjust to a tailwind. The islands continue to shrink, the ship continues to rock, and noticeably more strongly as we approach the twenty-five-verst Salma that separates the monastery from last islands from the Body group. Finally we enter this salma. The wind is blowing stronger; the motion becomes stronger and interferes with writing and continuing notes. It carries us forward unusually quickly. The monastery appears as a solid white mass. The rowers throw down their oars so as not to tease the wind. The waves are still spinning and flying away with foam, no longer as frequent and small as those that accompanied us between the Bodies. To the left, far back, the Burnt Islands remained in the fog. On Golomyan, in the distance to the sea to the right, two sails are white, belonging, they say, to Murmansk shnyaks, carrying cod and halibut in fresh salts to Arkhangelsk...

A cloud came and sprinkled us with a brisk, heavy rain, forcing me to hide in the booth. The rain immediately stopped and ran like an impenetrable fog to the right, pulling the Zayatsky Islands, belonging to the Solovetsky group, from our eyes.

“The monasteries live there, a church was built, a monk lives next to the church, he is decrepit, the weakest: he looks after the cattle, he even had a dispute with the aglechki, he did not give them cattle. That’s where the goat lives that didn’t fall into the hands of his adversaries...

This is how the rowers explained it to me.

A platoon continues to roam the sea, which rocks our ship much more strongly than before. The wind died down; We're rowing. The sails dangle now in one direction, now in the other, the wind seems to want to set again, but which one is unknown. We waited for him for a long time and got nothing. The platoon gradually settles down, begins to rock the carbass less, and ripples with gentle and low waves. These waves sometimes hit the side of our carbass, roll it from one side to the other, and suddenly it seemed as if they started throwing stones, large stones, at the starboard side; the knocking began loudly. The rowers leaned harder on the oars, the waves spun one through the other in some vague, unnatural disorder. The sea for a considerable space ahead rippled with a wide strip, it became like fish scales, although in front and all around the water had long since settled down like a smooth mirror.

- We’re going with ours, we came to a place where both waters met: a high tide (high tide) with a low tide (low tide). Ingod, you won’t be able to master it, especially on steep ones, or you’ll even drown,” the rowers explained to me when these throwing waves at the keel parts of the carbass finally stopped. We drove out onto a smooth sea, on which the recent strong platoon had already managed to subside.

The monastery seems clearer and clearer: the bell tower has separated from the churches, the towers have stood out from the wall, and much more is visible. The Zayatsky Islands to the right become clear in equally remarkable detail. We continue rowing. The monastery was completely white between a group of trees and presented one of those views that you can admire and admire. Its view was as good as a group of stone buildings can be, and especially in such a place and after that, when before the eye had met only bare, barren granite islands and desolation and silence everywhere. In general, the monastery was very similar to all other Russian monasteries. The only difference was that its wall was full of huge stones, unhewn, randomly driven into the wall as if by inhuman hands and force. This diversity of picturesqueness and - so to speak - its wildness captivated me. My rowers also praised the monastery fence.

At half past ten o'clock the monastery was about two versts away, which was promised to take only half an hour. At exactly ten o'clock we are already walking along the Solovetsky Bay between a row of granite corgas with a myriad of wooden crosses. All three banks, facing the sides, are lined with the same crosses. There are boats and small vessels in the bay; They say that the largest ships can approach the very monastery pier - the lip is so deep!

<…>Horses with bells on their necks roam along the coast; disabled soldiers walk; Orthodox people are moving on the moored boat; from behind the fence, the monastery churches turn white and a ringing bell rings out, echoing for a long time. To the right of the Arkhangelsk hotel there is a green aspen forest, to the left there are birch trees, and low white posts of the second fence can be seen. Further on, the sea sparkles with its boundless, endless surface. The seagulls continue to scream unbearably sadly, the sail is white at the pier - the monks are catching herring for today's meal. The sun is shining cheerfully and spreading a pleasant, captivating warmth.

I left the room and went to wander near the fence.

Here, on the shore of the bay, two chapels were built: one Petrovskaya, in memory of Peter the Great’s two-time visit to the monastery, the other Konstantinovskaya, in memory of the visit of the monastery by Grand Duke Konstantin Nikolaevich. Near them stands a granite obelisk as a souvenir and with a detailed description of the bombing of the monastery by the British.<…>

Directly opposite the monastery gates there was a third chapel, called Prosforo-Chudovaya.

“At this place,” the monks explained to me, “the Novgorod merchants dropped the prosphora that our righteous father Zosima gave them. A dog ran past and wanted to eat, but the fire coming from the prosphora burned it.

A mile from the monastery, the fourth chapel, Taborskaya, was built on the spot where the dead and killed from the Moscow army that besieged the monastery from 1667 to 1677 were buried.

The reason for the uprising of the Solovetsky elders, as is known, was the correction of church books by Patriarch Nikon. In 1656, the newly corrected books were sent to the Solovetsky Monastery. The elders, already knowing about the Moscow riots and strife, as well as the fact that the correctional officer himself (once a Solovetsky monk) was under the tsar’s wrath, did not look at the books sent from Moscow, but, having sealed them in chests, placed them in the armory. Church services were conducted according to old books. In 1661, many priests were sent from Moscow to convert the elders to repentance. The Moscow government thought of doing good, but made a mistake.<…>

Inspecting the current state of the monastery and delving into all the details of its internal and external structure, we encounter the name of St. at almost every step. Metropolitan Philip, who was abbot here from 1548 to 1566. In these eighteen years, he managed to do a lot that still has all the power of its material significance. Placed in an exceptional position, the favorite of the formidable king, generous with gifts and alms, himself the son of a rich father from the old boyar family of the Kolychevs, St. Philip did not embarrass himself material resources in order to satisfy all your aspirations and thoughts. He exclusively devoted his activities to making the Solovetsky Island, until that time very neglected, as comfortable as possible for habitation: he dug ditches, cleared out hay meadows and increased their number, built roads through forests, mountains and swamps, built a hospital for the sick brethren, established the best and healthiest food possible, inside the monastery, next to the drying room, built a stone water mill and for it brought water from 52 distant lakes of the main Solovetsky Island, built a well in the fraternal and common kitchen, into which water was piped from the Holy Lake through an underground pipe under fortress wall. The pump of this well is heated in winter by a specially constructed stove. Another oven now cooks up to 200 loaves at a time. When there are many pilgrims, two kneading bowls are placed in this oven a day, the bread is left to rest for a day, and the next day it is all eaten. The workers eat the leftovers, and the remains of these leftovers are turned into crackers. Previously, it was the custom to give each pilgrim a wide slice for the journey, but now this, they say, has fallen out of use. The kvass store contains 50 barrels of 200 buckets each.

Above all this, St. Philip multiplied livestock and built a special cow yard for them on the Muksalmah Islands. He also bred Lapland deer on the island, which live there to this day; built spacious cathedral churches and a huge meal that could accommodate over a thousand guests and brethren. Near the monastery, he made embankments and various machines to ease the work of workers, built brick factories, replaced the ancient cast-iron slabs - riveting, beating - with bells, appointed salaries to the rulers of the Pomeranian volosts, tiuns, servants and door closers, etc., etc.

The monastery is currently in such a state that it does not need much; Only wheat, wine, rye and a certain amount of salt are purchased for the monastery, and he has his own almost everything else. Even with a slight glance, the monastery amazes with its immense wealth. Without looking into his chests, which, they say, are bursting with an excess of silver, gold, pearls and other jewelry, you can easily see that in addition to the annual expenses for the brethren, he still has a huge surplus, which is allowed to grow on interest.<…>

Trade is carried out everywhere, in almost all corners of the monastery: on the porch of the Anzersky skete they sell a popular print of this monastery, on the Anzerskaya Mount Golgotha ​​(in the monastery) they sell a view of the Golgotha ​​monastery, and everywhere there are some books, and everywhere the monk’s poems. You can buy boots made of seal leather, you can also buy a wide monastic belt made of the same leather, quite well dressed in the monastery itself. In the monastery itself, icons are painted, and dresses are sewn not only for monks, but also for full-time servants who are required to do menial and more difficult work. More than half of the workers live by vow. They make vows in case of dangers, which are so rich in the inhospitable White Sea. The seal fishery, called dragging, is tempting in terms of the richness of its prey, dangerous in its nature, and kills many people. The beast is killed on distant ice floes; These ice floes are often torn off by the winds and dragged out to sea along with industrialists. The lucky ones are nailed to the island of Sosnowiec or to the Tersky coast. They give, in gratitude for salvation, a vow to work for free for the monastery for three to five years.

Most are carried into the ocean to inevitable death.

In the monastery, sea animals are caught, their fat is rendered, and their skin is tanned. There are seines for belugas, and there are nets for seals and white whales. The best variety of White Sea herring, small, tender in meat, and fatty, comes to Monastery Bay in countless numbers. Only extremely bad salting, some kind of neglect of this matter, prevents them from being put on sale. The herring caught in the summer go to fish soup, the herring caught in the fall are partly consumed, and partly are used for future use in the winter. The linen for monastic underwear is not purchased: it is carried by religious women from different parts of vast Russia; they also bring threads. The monastery has its own cows for milk, cottage cheese and butter; Sheep living on Zayatsky Island provide wool for winter monastic sheepskin coats and meat for the meals of full-time monastic servants on fasting days. The monastery also has its own horses. Between the monks and full-time ministers there are representatives of all kinds of crafts: silversmiths, metalworkers, coppersmiths, tinsmiths, tailors, shoemakers, carvers. All other skills that do not require special knowledge are divided into obediences; these are: fishermen, sellers, bakers, millers, painters.

In this respect, the monastery represents a whole separate society, independent, strong in resources and, moreover, significantly populous. Annual abundant contributions and proper management promise the monastery countless years ahead.<…>

Attention! This is an introductory fragment of the book.

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