Nikolay Alekseevich Nekrasov
Russian women
PRINCESS TRUBETSKAYA
Poem 1
(1826)
PART ONE
Calm, strong and light A marvelously well-coordinated carriage;
The count-father himself not once, not twice He tried it first.
Six horses were harnessed to it, A lantern was lit inside it.
The count himself straightened the pillows, He laid the bear's cavity in his legs,
While praying, the icon hung in the right corner
And - he sobbed ... The princess-daughter ... She is going somewhere this night ...
I
Yes, we tear the heart in half
To each other, but, dear, Tell me, what else can we do?
Can you help melancholy!
One who could help us
Now... I'm sorry, I'm sorry! bless own daughter
And let go in peace!
II
God knows, see you again
Alas! there is no hope. Forgive and know: your love,
Your last testament I will remember deeply
In the far side... I don't cry, but it's not easy
To part with you!
III
Oh, God knows! ... But the duty is different,
And higher and harder, Calling me... Forgive me, my dear!
Do not cry in vain! Far is my way, hard is my way,
My fate is terrible, But I dressed my chest with steel ...
Be proud - I'm your daughter!
IV
Forgive me too, my native land,
Sorry, unfortunate land! And you... oh fatal city,
Nest of kings... farewell! Who has seen London and Paris
Venice and Rome, That you will not seduce with brilliance,
But you were my love
V
Happy my youth
Passed within your walls, I loved your balls,
Riding from the steep mountains, I loved the splash of your Neva
In the evening silence, And this square in front of her
With a hero on horseback...
VI
I can't forget... Then, then
They will tell our story ... And you be damned, gloomy house,
Where did I dance the first quadrille... That hand
Until now it burns my hand ... Rejoice. . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .?
VI
Calm, strong and light, The cart rolls by the city.
All in black, deathly pale, the Princess rides in it alone,
And the father's secretary (in crosses, To inspire dear fear)
With a servant, he gallops ahead ... Whistle with a whip, shouting: "Down!"
The coachman passed the capital ... The path lay far for the princess,
It was a harsh winter ... At each station, she
A traveler comes out: "Hurry up the horses!"
And with a generous hand pours the Chervonets of the Yamskaya servants.
But the path is hard! On the twentieth day As soon as we arrived in Tyumen,
Another ten days galloped, "We'll see the Yenisei soon,
He told the princess to keep secret. The sovereign does not travel like that!...?
Forward! Soul full of sadness
The road is harder, But dreams are peaceful and easy
She dreamed of her youth. Wealth, shine! high house
On the banks of the Neva, the staircase is upholstered with a carpet,
There are lions in front of the entrance, The magnificent hall is gracefully decorated,
The lights are all on fire. O joy! now a children's ball,
Chu! the music is booming! Scarlet ribbons were woven into her
In two Russian braids, Flowers, outfits brought
Unseen beauty. Papa came - gray, blush,
He calls her to the guests: “Well, Katya! miracle sundress!
He drives everyone crazy! She loves, loves without limits.
A flower garden of cute children's faces is spinning in front of her,
Heads and curls. Children are dressed up like flowers,
Smarter old men: Plumes, ribbons and crosses,
With a ringing of heels ... A child dances, jumps,
Without thinking about anything, And frisky childhood joking
Flies ... Then another time, another ball
She dreams: a handsome young man is standing in front of her,
He whispers something to her... Then again balls, balls...
She is their mistress, They have dignitaries, ambassadors,
They have all the fashionable light ...
?Oh dear! why are you so gloomy?
What's on your heart?? - Child! I'm bored with secular noise, Let's leave soon, let's go!
And so she left
With your chosen one. Before her is a wonderful country,
Before her is eternal Rome... Ah! what would we remember life
If we didn't have those days When, having escaped somehow
From his homeland And passing the boring north,
Let's go south. Needs before us, rights over us
No one ... Himself-friend Always only with those who are dear to us,
We live as we want; Today we look at the ancient temple,
And tomorrow we will visit the Palace, the ruins, the museum ..
How fun, moreover, to share your thoughts
With your favorite being!
Under the spell of beauty
In the power of strict thoughts, you roam the Vatican,
Depressed and gloomy; Surrounded by an obsolete world,
You don't remember the living. But how strangely amazed
You in the first moment later, When, after leaving the Vatican,
You will return to the living world, Where the donkey neighs, the fountain rustles,
The artisan sings; Trade is booming
They shout in every way: "Corals!" shells! snails!
Ice cream water!? Dancing, eating, fighting naked,
Satisfied with herself, And a pitch black braid
A young old woman scratches a Roman woman ... It's a hot day,
Unbearable mob din, Where can we find peace and shade?
We go to the first temple.
The noise of life is not heard here,
Coolness, silence And semi-darkness... Strict thoughts
Again the soul is full. Saints and angels in a crowd
The temple is decorated above, Porphyry and jasper under the foot,
And marble on the walls...
How sweet to listen to the sound of the sea!
You sit for an hour; Undepressed, cheerful mind
Works meanwhile ... Up to the sun along a mountain path
Climb high What a morning before you!
How easy it is to breathe! But hotter, hotter southern day
There is no dewdrop on the green of the valleys ... Let's go under the shade
Umbrella pinn...
The princess remembers those days
Walks and conversations, They left in the soul
An indelible mark. But do not return her days of the past,
Those days of hopes and dreams, How not to return later about them
Tears shed by her!
Gone are the rainbow dreams
In front of her are a number of pictures of a downtrodden, driven country: 2
A stern master and a miserable worker-man
With a downcast head ... As the first to rule,
How slaves the second! She dreams of groups of benyakov
In the fields, in the meadows, She dreams of the groans of barge haulers
On the banks of the Volga ... Full of naive horror,
She doesn't eat, she doesn't sleep, she sleeps with her companion
He hurries with questions: “Tell me, is the whole region like this? There is no shade contentment?..? - You are in the kingdom of beggars and slaves! The short answer was...
She woke up - in the hand of a dream!
Chu, heard ahead Sad ringing - shackled ringing!
?Hey, coachman, wait a minute!? Then the exiled party is coming,
The chest ached more painfully, the Princess gives them money,
?Thanks, good luck!? She long, long their faces
They dream later, And she cannot drive away her thoughts,
Don't forget sleep! And that party was here... Yes... there are no other ways... But the blizzard covered their trail. Hurry, coachman, hurry!..?
The frost is stronger, the path is more deserted,
The farther to the east; Some three hundred miles
Wretched town, But how happy you look
On a dark row of houses, But where are the people? Silence everywhere
Can't even hear the dogs. Frost drove everyone under the roof,
They drink tea out of boredom. A soldier passed, a cart passed,
The chimes are striking somewhere. The windows are frozen... light
In one of them, I glimpsed a little... the Cathedral... at the exit of the jail...
The coachman waved his whip: "Hey you!?" - and there is no longer a town,
The last house has disappeared... To the right are the mountains and the river,
To the left is a dark forest...
Sick, tired mind boils,
Sleepless until the morning, Heart yearns. Change of thoughts
Excruciatingly fast; The princess sees friends
That gloomy prison, And then she thinks
God knows why, that the starry sky is sand
A sprinkled leaf, And a month - with red sealing wax
Wrinkled circle...
The mountains are gone; started
A plain without end. More dead! Won't meet the eye
Living tree. ?And here is the tundra!? - speaks
Coachman, Buryat steppe. The princess gazes
And he thinks with anguish: Here is a greedy man
Goes for gold! It lies along the riverbeds,
It is at the bottom of the marshes. Difficult mining on the river,
The swamps are terrible in the heat, But worse, worse in the mine,
Deep underground! .. There is deathly silence,
Dawnless darkness there ... Why, damned country,
Ermak found you?..
The haze of the night descended in succession,
The moon has risen again. The princess did not sleep for a long time,
Full of heavy thoughts... She fell asleep... She dreams of the tower...
She stands at the top; A familiar city before her
Agitated, noisy; They run to the vast square3
Countless crowds: Official people, merchant people,
Peddlers, priests; Hats, velvet, silk are full of colors,
Sheepskin coats, Armenians ... Some kind of regiment was already standing there, 4
More shelves came More than a thousand Soldier Agreed. They "hooray!" screaming,
They are waiting for something ... The people were clamoring, the people were yawning, Hardly a hundredth understood
What is being done here ... But he laughed out loud,
Slyly squinting his eyes, a Frenchman familiar with storms,
Capital kuafer...
New shelves arrived:
?Give up!? - they shout. The answer to them is bullets and bayonets,
They don't want to give up. Some brave general, Having flown in a square, began to threaten
They took him off the horse. Another approached the ranks: "The king will grant you forgiveness!?"
They killed that too.
The Metropolitan himself appeared
With banners, with a cross: "Repent, brethren!" - says
Fall before the king!? The soldiers listened, crossing themselves,
But the answer was friendly: - Go away, old man! pray for us! You don't care here...
It was then that the cannons were brought in, The king himself commanded: "Pa-li! .."? ... Oh, dear! Are you alive? The princess, having lost her memory, rushed forward and headlong
Fell from above!
In front of her is a long and damp
Underground corridor, every door has a sentry,
All doors are locked. The surf of the waves is like a splash
Outside is heard by her; Inside - rattling, guns shine
By the light of lanterns; Yes, the distant sound of footsteps
And a long rumble from them, Yes, the perfect chime of the clock,
Yes, the screams of sentries ...
With keys, old and gray-haired,
Mustachioed invalid? Go, sadness, follow me!
She speaks quietly. I will take you to him
Is he alive and well...? She trusted him
She followed him...
We walked for a long, long time ... Finally
The door screeched, - and suddenly before it he ... the living dead ...
Before her is a poor friend! Falling on his chest, she
In a hurry to ask: ?Tell me what to do? I am strong
I can take revenge! Will get courage in the chest,
Willingness is hot, Is it necessary to ask? ..? - Do not go,
Don't touch the executioner! ?Oh dear! what did you say? words
I don't hear yours. That terrible chime of the clock,
Those are the screams of sentries! Why is there a third between us? ..? - Your question is naive.
?It's time! the hour has passed!? That third one said...
The princess shuddered - looking
Frightened around, Horror chills her heart:
Not everything here was a dream!..
The moon floated among the skies
Without shine, without rays, To the left was a gloomy forest,
To the right is the Yenisei. Dark! Towards not a soul
The coachman on the goats slept, The hungry wolf in the wilderness
He groaned piercingly, Yes, the wind beat and roared,
Playing on the river, Yes, a foreigner sang somewhere
In a strange language Severe pathos sounded
Unknown language, And more heartbreak,
Like a seagull crying in a storm...
The princess is cold; that night
The frost was unbearable, Forces fell; she can't stand it
Fight more with him. Horror seized the mind,
That she can't get there. The coachman has not sung for a long time,
I didn’t urge the horses, I didn’t hear the front three,
?Hey! are you alive, coachman? What are you shutting up? don't you dare sleep!?
Don't worry, I'm used to...
They fly... From the frozen window
You can't see anything, she's a dangerous dream,
But don't chase him away! He will the sick woman
Instantly conquered And, like a magician, to another land
She was relocated. That edge - he already knows her,
As before, full of bliss, And warm sunbeam
And with the sweet singing of the waves He greeted her like a friend...
Wherever he looks: “Yes, this is the south!” yes, it's south!?
All the eyes say...
Not a cloud in the blue sky
The valley is full of flowers, everything is flooded with sun, on everything,
Down and on the mountains, The seal of mighty beauty,
Rejoices all around; To her sun, sea and flowers
They sing: "Yes - this is the south!"
In a valley between a chain of mountains
And the blue sea She flies at full speed
With your chosen one. Their road is a luxurious garden,
Fragrance pours from the trees, Every tree burns
Ruddy, lush fruit; Through the dark branches
Azure of skies and waters; Ships sail across the sea,
The sails are flashing, And the mountains, visible in the distance,
They go to heaven. How wonderful are their colors! In an hour
Rubies glowed there, now sparkled topaz
Along their white backbones ... Here is a pack mule walking a step,
In bells, in flowers, Behind the mule is a woman with a wreath,
With a basket in hand. She shouts to them: "Good trip!"
And, laughing suddenly, Throws quickly on her chest
Flower... yes! it's south! Country of ancient, swarthy maidens
And the land of eternal roses... Choo! melodic tune,
Chu! music is heard!
?Yes, it's south! yes, it's south! (Sings a good dream to her) Again, your beloved friend is with you, Again he is free! ..?
PART TWO
It's been almost two months now, day and night on the road
A marvelously well-coordinated carriage, And the end of the road is far away!
Knyaginin's companion was so tired that he fell ill near Irkutsk,
After waiting for him for two days, she rushed on alone ...
I met her in Irkutsk myself
City chief; How dry the relics are, how straight the stick is,
Tall and grey. Slipped from his shoulder doha,
Under it - crosses, a uniform, On a hat - feathers of a rooster.
The venerable brigadier, having scolded the coachman for something,
Hastily jumped up And the doors of the sturdy wagon
The princess opened...
Princess (enters the station house)
To Nerchinsk! Deposit quickly!
Governor
I have come to meet you.
Princess
Tell them to give me horses!
Governor
Please slow down. Our road is so bad
You need to rest...
Princess
Thank you! I am strong...
My path is far...
Governor
All the same it will be eight hundred miles,
And the main trouble: The road will go worse here,
Dangerous ride! .. Two words you need to say
In the service, - and, moreover, I had the happiness of the count to know,
Served with him for seven years. Your father is a rare man
By heart, by mind, Imprinted in the soul forever
Appreciation to him, At the service of his daughter
I'm ready... I'm all yours...
Princess
But I don't need anything!
(Opening the door to the hallway.)
Is the crew ready?
Governor
Until I say
It won't be served...
Princess So order it! I ask...
Governor
But there is a clue here: With the last mail sent
Paper...
Princess
What is in it: Should I not return?
Governor
Yes, it would be better.
Princess
But who sent you and about what
Paper? what - they were joking, or something, over their father?
He arranged everything himself!
Governor
No... I dare not say...
But the way is still far...
Princess
So what a gift and chat!
Is my cart ready?
Governor
No! I haven't ordered yet...
Princess! here I am the king! Sit down! I already said.
What did I know the count of old, And the count ... even though he let you go,
Out of kindness, But your departure killed him...
Come back soon!
Princess
No! once decided
I will complete it! It's funny for me to tell you
How I love my father, How he loves. But another duty
And above and holy, Calls me. My tormentor!
Let's have horses!
Governor
Allow me, sir. I agree myself
What is precious every hour, But do you know well
What's in store for you? Our side is barren
And that one is even poorer, In short, our spring is there,
Winter is even longer. Yes, eight months of winter
There - did you know? There people are rare without stigma,
And those souls are callous; Freely prowl around
There are only varnaks; The prison house is terrible there,
Deep mines. You don't have to be with your husband
Minutes eye to eye: You have to live in the common barracks,
And food: bread and kvass. Five thousand convicts there,
Embittered by fate, start fights at night
Murder and robbery; The judgment is short and terrible for them,
There is no more terrible court! And you, princess, are always here
Witness... Yes! Trust me, you won't be spared
Nobody will take pity! Let your husband - he is to blame ...
And you endure ... for what?
Princess
It will be terrible, I know
My husband's life. Let it be mine
Not happier than him!
Governor
But you won't live there:
That climate will kill you! I have to convince you
Don't go ahead! Oh! Do you live in a country like this
Where people have air Not by ferry - by icy dust
Coming out of the nostrils? Where darkness and cold all year round,
And in the brief heat of never-drying swamps
Bad couples? Yes ... a terrible edge! Get out of there
The beast of the forest also runs, When the hundred-day night
Hang over the country...
Princess
People live in that region
I'm used to joking...
Governor
Live? But my youth
Remember... child! Here mother is snowy water,
Having given birth, she will wash her daughter, The baby of a formidable storm howl
Lulls all night, A wild beast wakes up, growling
Near the forest hut, Yes, a blizzard, furiously pounding
Out the window, like a brownie. From dense forests, from deserted rivers
Collecting his tribute, the native man got stronger
With nature in battle, And you? ..
Princess
May death be my destiny
I have nothing to regret! .. I'm going! food! I must
Near her husband to die.
Governor
Yes, you will die, but first
Torture the one whose irrevocably head
She died. For him Please: do not go there!
More tolerable alone, Tired of hard work,
Come to your prison, Come - and lie on the bare floor
And with a stale cracker Fall asleep ... and a good dream came
And the prisoner became king! Flying a dream to relatives, to friends,
Seeing you yourself, He will wake up to the daily labors
And cheerful, and quiet at heart, And with you? .. with you do not know
Happy dreams to him, In himself he will be aware
The reason for your tears.
Princess
Oh!.. Keep these words
You are better for others. All your tortures won't extract
Tears from my eyes! Leaving home, friends,
Beloved father, Having taken a vow in my soul
Fulfill my duty to the end - I will not bring tears
To the cursed prison I will save pride, pride in it,
I will give him strength! Contempt for our executioners,
Consciousness of rightness Will be our true support.
Governor
Wonderful dreams! But they will get for five days.
Don't you be sad for a century? Trust my conscience
You want to live. Here is stale bread, prison, shame,
Need and eternal oppression, And there are balls, a brilliant courtyard,
Freedom and honor. How to know? Maybe God judged...
Like another, the law has not deprived you of the right ...
Princess
Be silent!.. My God!..
Governor
Yes, I'm being honest
Get back into the light.
Princess
Thank you, thank you
For your good advice! And before there was an earthly paradise,
And now this paradise caring hand
Cleared by Nicholas. There people are rotting alive
Walking coffins, Men are a bunch of Judas,
And women are slaves. What will I find there? hypocrisy,
Desecrated honor, impudent rubbish triumph
And petty revenge. No, in this cut down forest
They won't lure me, Where there were oaks to heaven,
And now the stumps are sticking out! Return? live among slander
Empty and dark deeds? .. There is no place, there is no friend
For those who have matured! No, no, I don't want to see
Corrupt and stupid, I will not show myself to the executioner
Free and holy. Forget the one who loved us
Return - Sun, I'm sorry? ..
Governor
But he didn't spare you, did he?
Think, child: About whom is longing? who is love for?
Princess
Be quiet, general!
Governor
If not for the valiant blood
Flowed into you - I would be silent. But if you rush forward,
Not believing in anything, Perhaps pride will save you...
You got him With wealth, with a name, with a mind,
With a trusting soul, And he, not thinking about
What will become of his wife, Carried away by an empty ghost,
And - this is his fate! .. And what? .. you run after him,
What a pitiful slave!
Princess
No! I'm not a pitiful slave
I am a woman, wife! Let my fate be bitter
I will be faithful to her! Oh if he forgot me
For another woman, my soul would have enough strength
Don't be his slave! But I know: love for the motherland
My rival, And if necessary, again
I would forgive him!
The princess finished ... He was silent
Stubborn old man. ?Well? Command, general,
Prepare my wagon?? Without answering the question
He looked at the floor for a long time, Then in thought he said:
- See you tomorrow" and left...
Same conversation tomorrow.
He asked and persuaded, But he was again rebuffed.
Honored General. All convictions exhausted
And exhausted, He is long, important, silent,
Walked around the room And finally said: - Be so! You will not be saved, alas! .. But know: by taking this step, you will lose everything!
"What else do I have to lose?
- Jumping after your husband, you sign a renunciation
A must from your rights!
The old man was effectively silent,
From these terrible words, He, obviously, expected good.
But the answer was this: "You have a gray head,
And you are still a child! Our rights seem to you
Rights are no joke. No! I don't value them
Take them quickly! Where is the renunciation? I will sign!
And alive - horses! ..?
Governor
Sign this paper!
What are you?.. My God! After all, it means to become a beggar
And a simple woman! You will say sorry to everything
What was given to you by your father, What is inherited
Should be to you later! Property rights, rights
Nobility to lose! No, you think first, I'll come to you again! ..
Went away and was gone all day...
When the darkness descended, the Princess, weak as a shadow,
I went to him myself. The general did not accept her:
He is seriously ill ... Five days, while he was ill,
Painful passed, And on the sixth he came himself
And abruptly said to her: - I have no right to let you go,
Princess, horses! You will be led through the stages
With convoy...
Princess
My God! But the months go by
On the road?..
Governor
Yes, you will come to Nerchinsk in the spring if you
The road won't kill you. Hardly four miles an hour
Chained goes; In the middle of the day - a halt,
With the sunset of the day - overnight, And the hurricane found in the bed
Dive into the snow! Yes, there are no delays,
Another fell, weakened ...
Princess
I don't understand well
What is your stage?
Governor
Under the guard of the Cossacks
With weapons in hand, we lead the thieves by stage
And convicts in chains, They play pranks on the road,
They’ll run away, so they’ll be tied with a rope
To each other - and lead. Difficult path! Yes, that's what it is:
Five hundred will go, And to the Nerchinsk mines
And the third will not come! They're dying like flies along the way
Especially in winter ... And you, princess, should you go like this? ..
Get back home!
Princess
Oh no! I was waiting for this...
But you, but you... a villain!... A whole week has passed...
People don't have hearts! Why not say it all at once?
I would have gone a long time ago ... Tell me to collect the party
I'm coming! I don't care!..
- No! you will go! .. - suddenly cried the old general,
Close your eyes with your hand. How I tormented you ... My God! .. (From under the arm to the gray mustache
A tear rolled down.) Sorry! yes, I tormented you,
But I myself suffered, But I had a strict order
Barriers to put up for you! And didn't I put them on?
I did everything I could, Before the king my soul
Clean, God be my witness! Sharp hard breadcrumbs
And life locked up, Shame, horror, labor
Staged way I tried to scare you.
You were not afraid! And even though I can't hold on
On the shoulders of the head, I can't, I don't want to
To tyrannize more than you... I'll take you there in three days...
(Opening the door, screams.)
Hey! buckle up now!..
Notes: The poem was written in 1871. According to the place of copying, with reference to the book, the text has the following differences: 1Instead of the Poem is the Poem in two parts 2The line is given as the side Forgotten by God 3The line is given as They are running to the Senate Square 4The line is given as The Moscow regiment was already standing there
PRINCESS M. N. VOLKONSKAYA
Grandma's Notes
(1826 - 27)
CHAPTER I
Pranksters grandchildren! Today they returned from the walk again: - We, grandmother, are bored! On rainy days, When we sat down in the portrait room And you began to tell us, It was so fun!.. Dear, Tell me something else! But I drove them away: “Have time to listen; Of my stories It will reach for whole volumes, But you are still stupid: you will recognize them, As you will be familiar with life! I have told you everything available to you According to your childish years: Go for a walk in the fields, in the meadows! Come on... enjoy the summer!?
And so, not wanting to be indebted to my grandchildren, I write notes; For them, I save portraits of people who were close to me; I bequeath to them an iron bracelet... Let them cherish it holy: As a gift to his wife, his grandfather forged it From his own chain once...
I was born, my dear grandchildren, Near Kiev, in a quiet village; I had a beloved daughter with my family. Our family was rich and ancient, But my father exalted it even more: More tempting than the hero's glory More expensive than the fatherland - the fighter who did not love peace did not know anything. Working miracles, for nineteen years He was a regimental commander, He gained courage and laurels of victories And honors honored by the world. His military glory began with the Persian and Swedish campaign, But his memory was inseparably merged With the great twelfth year: Here his life was a long battle. We shared campaigns with him And in another month we will not remember the date, If only we would not tremble for him. ?Defender of Smolensk? He was always ahead of a dangerous deed... Wounded near Leipzig, with a bullet in his chest, He fought again a day later, So the chronicle of his life says: 1 Among the generals of Russia, As long as our fatherland stands, He will be remembered! Vityi my Father was showered with praise, Calling him Immortal; Zhukovsky honored him with a loud stanza, glorifying the Russian leaders: Under Dashkova, personal courage is hot And the sacrifice of a patriotic father The poet sings. With courage, a military genius.
He is preoccupied with the war, in his family the Father did not interfere with anything, But he was cool at times; almost a deity He seemed to our mother, And he himself was deeply attached to her. We loved our father - in the hero. Having finished his campaigns, in his estate, He slowly died out at rest. We lived in a big suburban house. Having entrusted the children to an Englishwoman, the Old Man rested.3 I learned everything that a rich noblewoman needs. And after the lessons I ran to the garden And sang carefree all day, My voice was very good, they say, Father listened to him willingly; He brought his notes to an end, He read newspapers, magazines, Asked feasts; Gray-haired generals, like him, came to visit my father, And there were endless disputes then; Meanwhile, the youth danced. Do you tell the truth? I was always At that time the queen of the ball: The blue fire of my languid eyes, And the black with a blue tint The big braid, and the thick blush On the swarthy, beautiful face, And my tall height, and my flexible figure, And the proud tread - captivated The then beauties: hussars, lancers, That stood close to the regiments. But I reluctantly listened to their flattery ... My father tried for me: - Isn't it time to get married? There is already a groom, He fought gloriously near Leipzig, The sovereign, our father, fell in love with him, And gave him the rank of general. Older than you... and well done, Volkonsky! You saw him At the tsar's review... and he visited us, He roamed around the park with you! ?Yes I remember! Such a tall general...? - He is! - The old man laughed... ?Father! He didn't talk to me that much!? I noticed, blushed ... - You'll be happy with him! - the Old Man decided abruptly, - I did not dare to object ...
Two weeks passed - and I stood under the crown With Sergei Volkonsky, I didn’t know much about his fiancé, I didn’t know much about my husband, So little we lived under the same roof, So rarely we saw each other! In distant villages, for winter quarters, His brigade was scattered, Sergei incessantly traveled around her. And meanwhile I fell ill; In Odessa, then, on the advice of doctors, I swam for a whole summer; In the winter, he came for me there, I rested with him for a week At the main apartment ... and again trouble! Once I fell asleep soundly, Suddenly I hear the voice of Sergei (in the night, It was almost at dawn): “Get up! find me the keys! Fire up the fireplace! I jumped up... I looked: he was alarmed and pale. I fired up the fireplace. My husband carried papers from the boxes To the fireplace - and burned them hastily. Some read fluently, in a hurry, Others threw without reading. And I helped Sergei, trembling And pushing them deeper into the fire ... Then he said: "We'll go now", Gently touching my hair. Everything was soon packed with us, And in the morning, without saying goodbye to anyone, We set off on our way. We rode for three days, Sergei was gloomy, in a hurry, He took me to my father's estate And immediately said goodbye to me.
CHAPTER II
He left!.. What did his pallor mean And everything that happened that night? Why didn't he tell his wife? Something bad happened!? I did not know peace and sleep for a long time, Doubts tormented my soul: “I left, I left!” I'm alone again! Relatives consoled me, Father explained his haste With some random case: - Somewhere the emperor himself sent Him on a secret mission, Don't cry! You shared campaigns with me, You know the vicissitudes of military life; he'll be home soon! You carry a precious pledge under your heart: now you must beware! Everything will end well, dear; Husband's wife spent alone, And she will meet, shaking the child! ..
Alas! His prediction did not come true! To see his poor wife And his first-born son, the father had a chance Not here - not under the roof of his own!
How dearly my first-born cost me! I was sick for two months. Exhausted by the body, killed by the soul, I recognized the first nanny. I asked about my husband. - Haven't been yet! ?Did you write?? And there aren't even any letters. ?Where is my father?? - I rode off to Petersburg. ?And my brother?? - Went there.
“My husband didn't come, not even a letter, And my brother and father rode off, I said to my mother. - I'm going by myself! Enough, enough we've been waiting!? And no matter how hard the daughter of the Old Woman tried to beg, I firmly decided; I remembered that last night And everything that had happened then, And I clearly realized that something bad was going on with my husband...
It was spring, I had to drag myself along the river floods.
I arrived a little alive again. ?Where is my husband?? - I asked my father. - Your husband went to fight in Moldova. ?Doesn't he write?..? He looked sadly And the father came out ... The brother was dissatisfied, The servant was silent, sighing. I noticed that they were cunning with me, Carefully hiding something; Referring to the fact that I need peace, They didn’t let anyone in, They surrounded me with some kind of wall, They didn’t even give me newspapers! I remembered: my husband has a lot of relatives, I am writing - I beg you to answer. Weeks pass, - not a word from them! I'm crying, I'm losing my strength...
There is no feeling more painful than a secret thunderstorm. I swore my father's oath, That I would not shed a single tear, And he and all around were silent! Loving, my poor father tormented me; Regretting, doubling grief... I found out, I finally found out!.. I read in the verdict itself, That poor Sergei was a conspirator: They stood guard, Preparing the troops to overthrow the authorities. He was blamed, too, That he... My head was spinning... I didn't want to believe my eyes... ?Really?..? - the words did not fit in my mind: Sergey - and a dishonorable thing!
I remember a hundred times I read the verdict, Delving into the fatal words: I ran to my father, - the conversation with my father reassured me, dear! Like a heavy stone fell from my soul. I blamed Sergei for one thing: Why didn't he tell his wife anything? After thinking, and then I forgave: “How could he talk? I was young, When he parted with me, I carried my son under my heart then: For mother and child, he was afraid! So I thought. - Let the trouble be great, I have not lost everything in the world. Siberia is so terrible, Siberia is far away, But people live in Siberia too!..?
All night I was burning, dreaming about How I would cherish Sergei. In the morning, in a deep, restorative sleep, I fell asleep - and got up more cheerfully. My health soon recovered, I saw friends, I found my sister - I questioned her And I learned a lot of bitter things! Unfortunate people! .. "All the time Sergey (Said the sister) was kept In prison; he did not see either relatives or friends ... Only yesterday Father saw him. You can also see him: When the verdict was read, Dress them in rags, they took off the crosses, But they were given the right to meet! .. "
I missed a number of details here ... Leaving fatal traces, To this day they cry out for revenge ... Do not know them better, relatives.
I went to the fortress to my husband and sister. We first came to the "general", Then we were led by an elderly general Into a vast gloomy hall. ?Wait, princess! we will now!? Bowing politely to us, He left. I didn't take my eyes off the door. Minutes seemed like hours. Steps gradually fell silent in the distance, I flew behind them with my thoughts. It seemed to me: a bunch of keys was brought, And the rusty door creaked. In a gloomy closet with an iron window, the exhausted prisoner languished. ?The wife came to you!..? Pale in face, He trembled all over, perked up: "Wife! ..?" He quickly ran along the corridor, Not daring to trust the rumor ...
?Here he is!? the general said loudly. And I saw Sergei...
It was not for nothing that a thunderstorm swept over him: Wrinkles appeared on his forehead, His face was deathly pale, his eyes Didn't already shine so brightly, But there was more in them than in the old days, That quiet, familiar sadness; For a minute they looked inquisitively And suddenly shone with joy, It seemed that he looked into my soul ... I bitterly, crouching against his chest, Sobbed ... He hugged me and whispered: - There are strangers here. Then he said that it was useful for him to learn the virtue of humility, Which, however, easily endures prison, And he added a few words of encouragement... The Witness walked importantly around the room: we were embarrassed... Sergey showed his clothes: - Congratulate me, Masha , with a new thing, And quietly added: - Understand and forgive, Eyes sparkled with tears, But then the spy managed to come up, He bowed his head low. I said out loud, "Yeah, I didn't expect to find you in those clothes." And quietly whispered: "I understand everything. I love you more than before ..." - What to do? And I will live in penal servitude (Until I get bored with life). “You are alive, you are healthy, so why grieve? (After all, hard labor will not separate us?)?
- So that's what you are! - Sergey said, His face was cheerful ... He took out a handkerchief, put it on the window, And I put mine next to it, Then, parting, Sergeyev's handkerchief I took it - my husband stayed ... After a year of separation, an hour of Goodbye seemed short, But what was there to do! Our deadline has passed. Others would have had to wait ... The general put me in the carriage, Happily wished to stay ...
I found great joy in the handkerchief: Kissing him, I saw a few words on one corner; This is what I read, trembling: “My friend, you are free. Understand - do not blame! Mentally, I am cheerful and - I wish my wife to see the same. Goodbye! I send a bow to the little one ...?
There was a large relative in St. Petersburg. My husband; vsJ know - yes what! I went to them, worried for three days, begging to save Sergei. Father said: "Why are you suffering, daughter" I have experienced everything - it's useless!? And it's true: they already tried to help, Praying the emperor tearfully, But his requests did not reach his heart... I still saw my husband, And the time was ripe: they took him away!.. As soon as I was left alone, I immediately heard in my heart, That I should also hurry, My parents' house seemed stuffy to me, And I began to ask my husband.
Now I will tell you in detail, friends, My fatal victory. The whole family rebelled amicably and menacingly, When I said: "I'm going!" I don't know how I managed to resist, What have I suffered... My God! They persuaded, asked, But the Lord himself supported my will, Their speeches did not break her! And I had to cry a lot and bitterly ... When we gathered for dinner, Father casually threw a question to me: - What did you decide on? - "I'm going!" The father was silent... the family was silent... I wept bitterly in the evening, Rocking the child, I thought... Suddenly the father comes in, - I shuddered... I was waiting for a thunderstorm, but, sad and quiet, He said cordially and meekly: - Why do you offend blood relatives? What will happen to the poor orphan? What will happen to you, my dove? There is no need for female power! Your great sacrifice is in vain, You will find only a grave there! And he waited for an answer and caught my eye, Caressing me and kissing ... - It's my own fault! I ruined you! He exclaimed suddenly, indignantly. Where was my mind? Where were the eyes! Our whole army already knew ... And he tore his gray hair: - Forgive me! don't execute me, Masha! Stay! .. - And again he prayed fervently ... God knows how I resisted! Leaning my head on his shoulder, "I'll go!" I quietly said...
- Let's see! .. - And suddenly the old man straightened up, His eyes sparkled with anger: - One repeats your stupid language: "I'll go!" Isn't it time to say, Where and why? You think first! You don't know what you're talking about! Can your head think? Do you consider both mother and father to be enemies? Or are they stupid ... Why are you arguing with them, as with equals? Take a deeper look into your heart, Look ahead more calmly, Think!.. I'll see you tomorrow...
He left, threatening and angry, And I, a little alive, fell before the icon of the saint - in the exhaustion of my soul ...
CHAPTER III
- Think! .. - I did not sleep the whole night, I prayed and cried a lot. I mother of God I called for help, I asked God for advice, I learned to think: my father ordered Thinking ... not an easy task! How long has he thought for us - and decided, And our life flew peacefully?
I studied a lot; Read in three languages. I was noticeable In front drawing rooms, at social balls, Skillfully dancing, playing; I could talk about almost everything, I knew music, I sang, I even rode very well, But I didn’t know how to think at all.
It was only in my last, twentieth year that I learned that life is not a toy. Yes, in childhood, it happened, the heart would tremble, As a cannon would burst out accidentally. Life was good and free; my father did not speak sternly to me; Eighteen years old I went down the aisle And I didn't think much either...
Lately my head has been working hard, glowing; I was tormented by the unknown at first. When I learned of the misfortune, Sergey stood before me forever, Jail-weary, pale, And sowed many previously unknown passions in my poor soul.
I experienced everything, and most of all, a cruel feeling of impotence. I am the sky and strong people Prayed for him - in vain efforts! And anger burned my sick soul, And I worried out of tune, I was torn, I cursed ... but I had no strength, No time to think calmly.
Now by all means I owe it to my Father to think as he pleases. Let my will be invariably one, Let every thought be fruitless, I honestly fulfill my father's order I decided, my dears. The old man said: - You think about us, We are not strangers to you: And the mother, and the father, and the child, finally, You recklessly abandon everyone, For what? - "I'm doing my duty, father!" - Why are you dooming yourself to torment? - "I will not suffer there! Terrible torment awaits me here. Yes, if I stay, obedient to you, Separation torments me. Knowing no rest, night or day, Sobbing over the poor orphan, I will always think about my husband Yes, I will hear reproach Wherever I go, on the faces of people I read my sentence: In their whisper - the story of my betrayal, In a smile I guess reproach: That my place is not at a magnificent ball, But in the distant desert, gloomy, Where a tired prisoner in a prison corner Is tormented With a ferocious thought, Alone... without support... Hurry to him! There, I will only breathe freely. Shared joy with him, shared prison, I must... So the sky pleases!...
Sorry folks! My heart has long suggested to me a decision. And I firmly believe: it is from God! And in you says - regret. Yes, if I have to decide the choice Between husband and son - no more, I'm going to where I'm needed more, I'm going to the one who is in captivity! I will leave my son in my own family, He will soon forget me. Let grandfather be a father to the little one, Sister will be his mother. He's still so small! And when he grows up terrible secret He will know, I believe: he will understand his mother's feeling And in his heart he will justify her!
But if I stay with him ... and then He will find out the secret and ask: “Why didn’t you follow your poor father.” And he will throw a word of reproach at me. bring contempt on my son's future... No, no, I don't want contempt!...
And it can happen - I'm afraid to think! I will forget my first husband, I will obey the conditions of a new family, And I will not be a mother to my son, But a fierce stepmother?.. I am burning with shame... Forgive me, poor exile! Forget you! Never! never! You are the only chosen one of the heart ...
Father! you don't know how dear he is to me! You don't know him! First, In a brilliant outfit, on a proud horse, I saw Him in front of the regiment; About the exploits of his battle life I listened eagerly to the stories of his comrades in battle - and with all my heart I fell in love with the hero in him ...
Later, in him, I fell in love with Malyutka's father, who was born to me. The separation dragged on without end. He stood firmly under the storm... You know where we saw each other again Fate did its will! The last, best love of the heart In prison, I gave him!
In vain was his slander inked, He was more blameless than before, And I fell in love with him like Christ... In his prisoner's clothes Now he stands invariably before me, Shining with meek Majesty. A crown of thorns over his head, In his gaze - unearthly love ...
My father! I must see him... I will die, longing for my husband... You, serving your duty, spared nothing, And you taught us the same... your poor You yourself did not approve of the decision!?
That's what I thought in a long night, And so I spoke to my father ... He said quietly: - Crazy daughter! And went out; Silent sadly And brothers and mother ... I left at last ... Hard days dragged on: Like a cloud, a disgruntled father walked, Other household pouted. No one wanted to help either by advice, or by deed; but I did not doze off, Again I spent a sleepless night, I wrote a letter to the sovereign (At that time, the rumor began to spread, That it was as if the sovereign ordered Trubetskaya to return from the road. I was afraid of such a fate, But the rumor was wrong). The letter was taken by my sister, Katya Orlova. The king himself answered me ... Thank you, I found a kind word in the answer! He was elegant and sweet (Nicholas wrote in French.) At first the sovereign said, how terrible that land, Where I wanted to go, How rude the people there, how hard life is, How fragile and tender my age is; Then he hinted (I did not suddenly understand) That the return is hopeless; And then - I deigned to honor my Resolve with praise, regretting, That, obedient to my duty, I could not spare the Criminal husband ... Not daring To oppose such high feelings, He gave his permission; But I would rather wish that I would stay at home with my son ...
Anxiety seized me. "I'm going!" It's been a long time since my heart beat so joyfully... ?I'm going! I'm going! Now it's decided!..? I wept, prayed fervently... In three days I got ready for my long journey, I pawned everything of value, I stocked up on a reliable fur coat, stocked up with linen, I bought a simple wagon. Relatives looked at my preparations, Mysteriously somehow sighing; None of the family believed in the departure... I spent the last night With the child. Bending over my son, I tried to remember the smile of my dear little one; I played with him with the Seal of the fatal letter. She played and thought: “My poor son! You don’t know what you are playing with! Here is your fate: you will wake up alone, Unhappy! You will lose your mother!” And in grief, falling on his hands with my face, I whispered, sobbing: laqou; Forgive me for your father, My poor, should I leave ...?
And he smiled; he did not think to sleep, Admiring the beautiful package; This big and red seal amused Him...
With the dawn, the child calmly and soundly fell asleep, And his cheeks turned red. Without taking my eyes off my beloved face, Praying at his cradle, I greeted the morning...
I immediately got together. I conjured my sister again To be a mother to my son ... My sister swore ... The wagon was already ready. My relatives were sternly silent, Farewell was mute. I thought: "I died for the family, Everything sweet, everything dear I lose ... there is no count of sad losses! .." looked at his father. He sat at a distance dejectedly, He did not say a word, did not raise his face, It was pale and gloomy. The last things were taken down to the wagon, I cried, losing my courage, The minutes passed painfully slowly... I finally hugged my sister And hugged my mother. "Well, God bless you!" I said kissing brothers. Imitating their father, they were silent... The old man got up, indignant, Ominous shadows walked along his compressed lips, along the wrinkles of his brow... I silently handed him the icon And knelt before him: even a word, even a word, father! Forgive your daughter, for God's sake! ..? The old man looked at me at last Thoughtfully, intently, sternly And, raising his hands threateningly over me, He said in a barely audible voice (I was trembling): - Look! come back home in a year, otherwise - I'll curse! ..
I fell...
CHAPTER IV
?Enough, enough hugs and tears!? I sat down - and the troika rushed off. ?Farewell, dear!? In the December frost I parted from my father's house, And raced without rest for more than three days; I was fascinated by speed, She was the best doctor for me ... I soon rode to Moscow, To my sister Zinaida. 4 Sweet and smart There was a young princess. How did you know music? How she sang! Art was sacred to her. She left us a book of short stories, Filled with tender grace, Poet Venevitinov sang stanzas to her, Hopelessly in love with her; In Italy, Zinaida lived for a year And to us - according to the poet? Did she bring the color of the southern sky in her eyes? They respected and loved her And they called her Northern Korinna...
We cried. To her liking was my fatal determination: "Be strong, my poor!" be fun! You have become so dark. How can I drive these dark clouds away? How can we say goodbye to you? And that's what! go to bed until evening, And in the evening I will arrange a feast. Don't be afraid! Everything will be to your taste, My friends are not rake, We will sing your favorite songs, Play your favorite plays...?
And in the evening the news that I arrived, In Moscow, many already knew. At that time, our unfortunate husbands Moscow's attention was occupied: As soon as the court decision was announced, It was embarrassing and creepy for everyone, In the salons of Moscow, one Rostopchin joke was repeated then: “In Europe, a shoemaker, in order to become a gentleman, Rebels, - of course! We made a revolution to know: In the shoemakers, perhaps, wanted to? ..?
And I became the "heroine of the day." Not only artists, poets All of our noble relatives moved; Ceremonial, in a train of carriages Thundered; having powdered their wigs, Potemkin's equal in age, The former aces-old men appeared With excellently courteous greetings; The old women of the state ladies of the former court They embraced me: “What heroism! .. What time it is! ..? And they shook their heads to the beat.
Well, in a word, what was more visible in Moscow, What was visiting her in passing, In the evening I came to my Zina: There were many artists here, I heard Italian singers here, That they were then famous, My father's colleagues, friends There were, sadly killed . There were relatives of those who had gone there, Where I myself was in a hurry, A group of writers, beloved then, With me friendly goodbye: There were Odoevsky, Vyazemsky; was an inspired and sweet Poet, A cousin's admirer, who rested early, Untimely taken by the grave.
And Pushkin was here... I recognized him... He was a friend of our childhood, In Yurzuf7 he lived with my father. At that time, pranks and coquetry We laughed, we chatted, we ran with him, We threw flowers at each other. Our whole family went to the Crimea, And Pushkin went with us. We were having fun. Finally, the mountains and the Black Sea! Father ordered the carriages to stand, We walked here in the open.
Then I was already sixteen years old. Flexible, tall beyond my years, Leaving my family, I shot forward like an arrow, Rushed off with a curly-haired poet; Without a hat, with a loose long braid, Burning in the midday sun, I flew to the sea - and before me was the View of the southern coast of Crimea! I looked around with joyful eyes, I jumped, played with the sea; When the tide receded, I ran to the very water, When the tide returned again And the waves approached in a ridge, I hurried back to run away from them, And the waves overtook me! ..
And Pushkin looked ... and laughed that I wet my boots. ?Shut up! my governess is coming!? I said sternly... (I hid that my feet got wet...) Then I read wonderful lines in "Onegin". I will not hide that Pushkin at that time seemed to be in love with me ... but, to tell the truth, who did he not fall in love with then! But, I think, he did not love anyone Then, except for the Muse: hardly Not more love He was occupied by her excitement and sadness ...
Yurzuf is picturesque: in the luxurious gardens of the Valley they drowned him, At his feet the sea, in the distance Ayudag ... Tatar huts clung To the foot of the rocks; grapes ran out On the steep vine weighed down, And in places the poplar stood motionless A green and slender column. We occupied a house under an overhanging rock, The poet took shelter upstairs, He told us that he was pleased with fate, That he fell in love with the sea and mountains. His walks continued by day And were always alone, He often wandered by the sea at night. In English he took lessons from Lena, my sister: Byron then He was extremely interested. Sometimes my sister sometimes translated something from Byron - secretly; She read her attempts to me, And then she tore and quit, But someone from the family told Pushkin, That Lena composed poems: The poet picked up the shreds under the window And brought the whole thing to the stage. Praising the translations, for a long time afterwards he embarrassed the unfortunate Lena... Having finished his studies, he went downstairs And shared his leisure with us; By the very terrace stood a cypress, The poet called him a friend, Dawn often caught him under it, He said goodbye to him when he left ... And they told me that Pushkin's trace In the native legend remained: lauqo; A nightingale flew to the poet at night, How the moon floated into the sky, And together with the poet he sang - and, listening to the singers, nature fell silent! Then the nightingale, - the people narrate, He flew here every summer: And whistles, and cries, and as if calling To the forgotten friend of the poet! But the poet died - the feathered singer stopped flying ... Full of grief, Since then, the cypress has stood as an orphan, Listening only to the murmur of the sea ...? But Pushkin glorified him for a long time: Tourists visit him, Sit under him and pick fragrant branches from him as a keepsake...
Our meeting was sad. Poet Suppressed was a true grief. He remembered the games of childish years In the distant Yurzuf, over the sea. Leaving his usual mocking tone, With love, with endless longing, With the participation of his brother, he admonished the Girlfriend of that carefree life! He walked around the room with me for a long time, He is preoccupied with my fate, I remember, my relatives, what he said, Yes, I won’t be able to convey: “Go, go!” You are strong in soul, You are rich in bold patience, May your fateful path be peacefully completed, May you not be embarrassed by loss! Believe me, such purity of soul Is not worth this hateful light! Blessed is he who changes his vanities For the feat of selfless love! What is light? disgusting masquerade! In it, the heart becomes callous and slumbers, Eternal, calculated coolness reigns in it, And envelops the ardent truth...
Enmity will be pacified by the influence of the years, Before time the barrier will collapse, And you will return the penates of the fathers And the canopy of the home garden! Hereditary sweetness will merge healingly into the tired chest of the Valley, You will proudly look back at the path you have traveled And again you will recognize joy.
Yes I believe you! You will not endure grief for long, The royal wrath will not be eternal ... But if you have to die in the steppe, They will remember you with a heartfelt word: Captivating is the image of a brave wife, Showing spiritual strength And in the snowy deserts of a harsh country Hiding early in the grave!
You will die, but your suffering story Will be understood by living hearts, And after midnight your great-grandchildren about you Conversations will not end with friends. They will show them, sighing from the bottom of their hearts, Your unforgettable features, And in memory of the great-grandmother who died in the wilderness, Full bowls will be drained! remember.
But what am I?.. God grant you health and strength! And there you can see each other: The tsar, Pugacheva, "instructed me to write, Pugach torments me godlessly, I want to deal with him for glory, I will have to be in the Urals. having moved the Urals ... "
The poet wrote "Pugachev", But he did not get into our distant snows. How could he keep that word?
I listened to music, full of sadness, I eagerly listened to the singing; I didn’t sing myself - I was sick, I only begged others: “Think: I’m leaving with the dawn ... Oh, sing, sing! play! .. I won’t hear such music, Not a song ... Let me hear enough!?
And wonderful sounds flowed endlessly! Solemn songs of farewell The evening is over - I do not remember the face Without sadness, without sad thoughts! The features of the motionless, stern old women Have lost their arrogant cold, And the gaze that seemed to have gone out forever, Shined with a touching tear... The artists tried to surpass themselves, I do not know a song more charming That song-prayer for a good path, That blessing song... 0 how inspired they were! How they sang! .. and cried themselves ... And everyone said to me: "God save you!", Saying goodbye to me with tears ...
CHAPTER V
Frosty. The road is white and smooth, Not a cloud in the entire sky... The driver's mustache and beard are frozen, He is trembling in his robe. His back, shoulders and hat are covered with snow, He wheezes, urging the horses on, And his horses cough on the run, Sighing deeply and hard...
Ordinary views: the former beauty of the Deserted Russian region, Scaffolding grimly rustle, Casting giant shadows; The plains are covered with a diamond carpet, Villages drowned in the snow, A landowner's house flashed on a hillock, Church domes flashed...
Ordinary encounters: a convoy without end, A crowd of praying old women, Thundering mail, the figure of a merchant On a pile of featherbeds and pillows; Treasury truck! about a dozen carts: Rifles and knapsacks are piled. Soldiers! Thin, beardless people: Must be more recruits; Sons are seen off by male fathers Yes, mothers, sisters and wives: ? they take the hearts to the shelves!? Bitter groans...
Raising his fists over the coachman's back, the courier frantically rushes. On the very road, having caught up with the hare, The mustachioed landowner huntsman Waved across the ditch on a nimble horse, Beats off the prey from the dogs. With all his retinue, the Landowner stands aside - he calls the greyhounds ...
Ordinary scenes: at hell stations Swearing, arguing, jostling. ?Well, touch!? From the windows the guys are looking, Priests are fighting at the taverns; Near the smithy a horse beats in the machine, It turns out, covered with soot A blacksmith with a red-hot horseshoe in his hand: ?Hey, boy, hold her hooves!..?
In Kazan, I made the first halt, I fell asleep on a hard sofa; From the windows of the hotel I saw the ball And, I confess, I sighed deeply! I remembered: an hour or two with a little left until the new year. ?Happy people! how fun they are! They have both peace and freedom, They dance, laugh! It would not be necessary to allow such thoughts, Yes, youth, youth, grandchildren!
Here again they frightened me with Trubetskoy, As if they had turned her back: "But I'm not afraid - permission with me!?" The clock has already struck ten, It's time! I dressed up. "Is the coachman ready"? “Princess, you had better wait for Dawn,” the old caretaker remarked. The blizzard has begun to rise! ?Oh! whether it is necessary to try again! I'll go. Hurry, for God's sake!
The bell is ringing, you can’t see it, What’s next, the road is worse, Pushing the beginning strongly to the sides, We’re driving in some kind of ridges, I don’t even see the driver’s back: The hillock has swollen between us. My wagon almost fell, The troika shied away and stopped. My coachman groaned: "I reported: Wait! The road is gone! .."
She sent a road to look for a coachman, She closed the kibitka with matting, Thought: it’s true, it’s close to midnight, Suppressed the clock spring: Twelve struck! The year is over, and a new one has been born! Throwing back the mat, I look ahead As before, the blizzard is spinning. What does she care about our sorrows, Before our new year? And I'm indifferent to your anxiety And to your moans, bad weather! I have my own fatal longing, And I struggle with it alone...
I congratulated my coachman. "Wintering is not far here, He said, - we'll wait for the dawn in it!?" We drove up, woke up some miserable forest guards, their smoky stove was flooded. A resident of the forest told horrors, Yes, I forgot his tales ... We warmed ourselves with tea. Time to rest! The blizzard howled more and more terribly. The forester crossed himself, turned off the night lamp, And with the help of his stepson Fedya Heaved two huge stones to the door. ?For what?? - The bears got it!
Then he lay down on the bare floor, Sun soon fell asleep in the gatehouse, I thought, thought ... lying in the corner On the frozen and hard matting ... At first there were cheerful dreams: I remembered our holidays, The hall burning with lights, flowers, Gifts, congratulations bowls, And noisy speeches, and caresses... All around is sweet, everything is dear But where is Sergei?.. And, thinking about him, I forgot everything else!
I jumped up briskly as soon as the coachman Chilled knocked on the window. As soon as it was light, a forester led us out onto the road, But he refused to accept the money. ?Don't, dear! God protect you, Are the roads further dangerous!? The frosts grew stronger along the way And soon became terrible. I completely closed my wagon And it's dark, and terrible boredom. What to do? I remember poems, I sing, Someday the flour will end! Let my heart weep, let the wind roar And snowstorms cover my path, And yet I move forward! So I went for three weeks...
Once, when I heard some sodom, I opened my mat, I looked: we were driving through a vast village, My eyes were immediately blinded: Fires were burning along my road... There were peasants, peasant women, Soldiers - and a whole herd of horses... ?Here station: silver coins are waiting, * Said my driver. - We will see her, She, tea, is not far ...?
Siberia sent its wealth, I was glad to see this meeting: “I'll wait for the silver! Maybe something About her husband, about our learn. With her an officer, from Nerchinsk their way ...? I am sitting in the tavern, waiting... A young officer entered; He smoked, He didn't nod his head to me, He somehow haughtily looked and walked, And so I said with anguish: "You saw, right ... do you know Those ... victims of the December case ... Are they healthy?" What is it like for them there? I would like to know about my husband...? Insolently, he turned his face to me, The features were angry and severe And, releasing a ring of smoke from his mouth, He said: - Undoubtedly healthy, But I don’t know them - and I don’t want to know, I never saw convicts! .. How painful it was for me, my dear ! I'm silent ... Unfortunate! I offended me!.. I cast only a contemptuous glance, With dignity the young man came out... Some soldier was warming himself by the stove, He heard my curse And a kind word - not barbaric laughter Found in his soldier's heart: - Healthy! - he said, - I saw them all, They live in the Blagodatsky mine! .. But then the haughty hero returned, I hurriedly left for the wagon. Thanks soldier! thank you dear! No wonder I endured torture!
In the morning I look at the white steppes, I heard the ringing of a bell, Quietly I enter the wretched church, Mixed with the prayerful crowd. After listening to mass, she approached the priest, asked to serve a prayer service ... Everything was calm - the crowd did not leave ... I was completely overcome by grief! Why are we offended so much, Christ? Why are they covered with reproach? And rivers of long-accumulated tears Fell on hard slabs! It seemed that the people shared my sadness, Praying silently and sternly, And the voice of the priest sounded sorrowful, Asking for the exiles of God... A miserable, lost temple in the desert! I was not ashamed to cry in it, The fate of the sufferers praying there, The murdered soul is not offended ...
(Father John, that he served a prayer service And prayed so unfeignedly, Then he was a priest in the casemate And became related to us in soul.)
And at night the coachman could not restrain his horses, The mountain was terribly steep, And I flew with my wagon From the high peak of Altai!
In Irkutsk they did the same to me, What they tormented Trubetskaya with... Baikal. Crossing - and such a cold, That the tears in the eyes froze. Then I parted with my wagon (The toboggan run disappeared). I felt sorry for her: I wept in her And thought, thought a lot!
Road without snow - in a cart! At first the cart occupied me, But soon afterwards, neither alive nor dead, I recognized the charm of the cart. I also knew hunger on this way, Unfortunately, they didn't tell me, That it's impossible to find anything here, The Buryats kept their mail here. They dry the beef in the sun. They warm themselves with brick tea, And that one with lard! Lord save Try you, unaccustomed! But near Nerchinsk, they gave me a ball: Some merchant with a thorny In Irkutsk noticed me, overtook And in my honor a rich man Arranged a holiday ... Thank you! I was glad And delicious dumplings and a bath ... And the holiday, like the dead, slept all over In his living room on the sofa ...
I didn't know what lay ahead of me! I galloped to Nerchinsk in the morning, I can't believe my eyes - Trubetskaya is coming! ?Caught up with you, I caught up!? - They are in Blagodatsk! - I rushed to her, Dropping happy tears ... Only twelve miles away is my Sergey, And Katya with me Trubetskaya!
CHAPTER VI
Who knew loneliness on a long journey, Whose companions are grief and blizzard, Who is given by providence to find a friend unexpectedly in the desert, He will understand our mutual joy ... - I'm tired, I'm tired, Masha! ?Don't cry, my poor Katya! Our friendship and youth will save us! We were inextricably linked by one lot, Fate deceived us equally, And the same stream swept away your happiness, In which mine drowned. Let's go hand in hand the hard way As they walked through the green meadow. And we will both carry our cross with dignity And we will be strong with each other. What have we lost? think sister! Vanity toys... Not much! Now before us is the road of goodness, the road of God's chosen ones! We will find humiliated, mournful husbands, But we will be their consolation, We will soften the executioners with our meekness, We will overcome suffering with patience. Support for the perishing, the weak, the sick We will be in a hateful prison And we will not lay down our hands until we fulfill the Vow of selfless love!.. Our sacrifice is pure - we give everything to our Chosen Ones and to God. And I believe: we will pass unscathed All our difficult road ...?
Nature is tired of fighting with itself. The day is clear, frosty and quiet. The snows near Nerchinsk appeared again, We rolled famously in the sleigh... The Russian coachman spoke about the exiles (He even knew their names): - On these horses I drove them to the mine, Yes, only in a different carriage. It must have been an easy road for them: They joked, made each other laugh; For breakfast, my mother baked a cheesecake for me, So I gave them a cheesecake, They gave me two kopecks - I didn’t want to take it: Take it, boy, it will come in handy ... "
Chatting, he quickly flew into the village: - Well, ladies! where to stay"? Take us to the chief directly to the jail?. - Hey, friends, don't give offense!
The chief was corpulent and, it seems, strict, He asked: what kind are we? “In Irkutsk they read the instructions to us And they promised to send them to Nerchinsk ...? - Stuck, stuck, my dear, there! ?Here's a copy, they gave it to us...? - What's the copy? you will get into trouble with her! ?Here is the royal permission for you!? The stubborn eccentric did not know French, He did not believe us - laughter and torment! ?Do you see the king's signature: Nicholas?? He doesn't care about the signature, Give him a paper from Nerchinsk! I wanted to go after her, But he announced that he would go himself And by morning he would get the paper. ? Is it true? ..? - Honestly! And you will sleep better! ..
And we got to some hut, Dreaming about tomorrow morning; With a window made of mica, low, without a chimney, Our hut was such that I touched the wall with my head, And rested my feet against the door; But these trifles were funny to us, Not that it really happened to us. We are together! now I could easily endure And the most difficult torment... I woke up early, and Katya was asleep. I went through the village out of boredom: Huts, like ours, up to a hundred in number, stuck out in a ravine, And here is a brick house with bars! There were sentries with him. ?Are there criminals here?? - Here, let's go. ?Where?? - Get to work, let's go! Some children led me ... We all ran - unbearably I wanted to see my husband soon; He's close! He walked here recently! ?Do you see them?? - I asked the children. - Yes, we see! They sing well! There's the door... look! Let's go now, Farewell! .. - The guys ran away ...
And as if underground leading the door I saw - and a soldier. The sentry looked sternly, his saber flashed naked in his hand. Not gold, grandchildren, and it helped here, Although I offered gold! Perhaps you want to read further, Yes, the word is asked from the chest! Let's slow down a bit. I want to say Thank you, Russian people! On the road, in exile, wherever I have been, All hard times of hard labor, People! I more cheerfully carried with you My unbearable burden. May many sorrows fall to your part, You share other people's sorrows, And where my tears are ready to fall, Yours have fallen there long ago! .. You love the unfortunate, Russian people! Suffering made us related... ?The law itself won't save you in penal servitude!? At home they told me; But good people I also met there, At the last step of the fall, Were able in their own way to express to us Criminals a tribute of respect; I was greeted with my inseparable Katya with my contented smile: "You are our angels!" For our husbands Lessons they performed. More than once, a branded potato maker gave me furtively from the floor: “Eat!” hot, now from the ashes!? The baked potatoes were good, But even now my chest groans with melancholy, When I remember about it... Accept my low bow, poor people! Thank you all send! Thank you! .. They considered their work to be nothing For us, these people are simple, But no one poured bitterness into the cup, Nobody - from the people, relatives! ..
The sentry yielded to my sobs. How I asked God! He lit a lamp (kind of a torch), I entered some cellar, And for a long time I went down lower and lower; then I went along a deaf corridor, It walked in ledges: it was dark in it And stuffy; where the mold pattern lay; where the water flowed quietly And flowed down in puddles. I heard a rustle; the earth sometimes fell in lumps from the walls; I saw terrible holes in the walls; It seemed that such roads started from them. I forgot my fear, Deftly my feet carried me!
And suddenly I heard shouts: "Where, Where are you?" Do you want to kill yourself? Ladies are not allowed to go there! Come back soon! Wait!? My trouble! apparently, the duty officer came (His sentry was so afraid), He shouted so menacingly, his voice was so angry, The noise of quick steps was approaching ... What to do? I blew out the torch. Forward In the dark, she ran at random ... The Lord, if He wants, He will lead you everywhere! I don't know how I didn't fall, How I didn't leave my head there! Fate took care of me. Past Terrible clefts, dips and pits, God brought me out unscathed: I soon saw the light ahead, There, an asterisk seemed to glow... And a joyful cry flew out of my chest: ?Fire!? I made a sign of the cross... I threw off my fur coat... I run to the fire, How God saved my soul! A frightened horse that has fallen into a quagmire So breaks when it sees dry land...
And it became, relatives, brighter and brighter! I saw an elevation: Some kind of square... and shadows on it... Chu... a hammer! work, movement ... There are people! Will they be the only ones to see? The figures became more distinct... Closer, the lights flickered more strongly. They must have seen me... And someone, standing on the very edge, Exclaimed: "Isn't it an angel of God" Look, look!? - After all, we are not in paradise: Cursed mine similar to hell! - said others, laughing, And quickly ran out to the edge, And I hastily approached. Wondering, Motionless they waited.
?Volkonskaya!? - Trubetskoy suddenly shouted (I recognized the voice). They let down a ladder for me; I went up like an arrow! All the people I knew were: Sergei Trubetskoy, Artamon Muravyov, the Borisovs, Prince Obolensky... A stream of cordial, enthusiastic words, Praise of my feminine insolence I was showered; tears flowed down their faces, full of sympathy... But where is my Sergei? “They’ve already gone after him, He wouldn’t just die of happiness! The lesson ends: three pounds of ore We get for Russia a day, As you can see, we were not killed by labors!” They were funny, they were joking, but I'm under their cheerfulness sad tale I read (The chains on them were news to me, That they would be chained - I did not know) ... The news about Katya, about my dear wife, I consoled Trubetskoy; All the letters, fortunately, were with me, With greetings from my native land, I was in a hurry to convey them. Meanwhile, downstairs, the officer was getting excited: “Who took the ladder? Where and why did the Superintendent of Works leave? Madam! Remember my word, You will be killed! .. Hey, stairs, devils! Live! .. (But no one set her up ...) You will kill yourself, you will kill yourself to death! Feel free to come down! so what are you?..? But we went deeper into the depths... From everywhere the gloomy children of the prison ran towards us, marveling at an unprecedented miracle. They paved the way ahead for me, They offered their Stretchers ...
Tools of underground work on the way, We met failures, mounds. Work was in full swing to the sounds of shackles, To songs, - work on the abyss! They knocked on the elastic chest of the mines And the spade and the iron hammer. There, with a burden, a prisoner walked along a log, I involuntarily shouted: "Hush!" There, a new mine was led into the depths, There people climbed higher On shaky props... What labors! What courage! .. The blocks of ore mined in places sparkled And they promised a generous tribute ...
Suddenly someone exclaimed: "He's coming! he's coming!" Looking around the space with my eyes, I almost fell, rushing forward, The ditch was in front of us. ?Be quiet, be quiet! Surely then you flew thousands of miles, Trubetskoy said, - so that on the mountain we all die In a ditch - at the goal ?? And he held me tightly by the hand: “What would happen when you fell?” Sergei was in a hurry, but he walked quietly. The shackles sounded sad. Yes, chains! The executioner did not forget anything (O vengeful coward and tormentor!), But he was meek, like the redeemer who chose him as his Weapon. The working people and the guard parted before him, keeping silence... And then he saw, he saw me! And he stretched out his hands to me: "Masha!" And he stood, as if exhausted, far away ... Two exiles supported him. Tears flowed down his pale cheeks, His outstretched hands trembled...
To the soul of my sweet voice, the sound Instantly sent renewal, Joy, hope, oblivion of torment, Oblivion of the father's threat! And with a cry: "I'm coming!" I ran at a run, Unexpectedly jerking my arm, On a narrow plank over a gaping moat Towards the inviting sound... ?I'm coming!..? A drunken face sent me its caress With a smile... And I ran up... And a holy feeling filled my soul. Only now, in the fatal mine, Hearing the terrible sounds, Seeing the fetters on my husband, I fully understood his torments, And his strength... and readiness to suffer! , She put shackles to her lips! ..
And God sent a quiet angel In the underground mines - in an instant And the talk and the roar of work fell silent, And the movement froze like strangers, their own - with tears in their eyes, Agitated, pale, stern Stood around. On motionless legs The fetters did not make a sound, And the raised hammer froze in the air... All is quiet - no song, no speech... It seemed that everyone here shared with us Both the bitterness and the happiness of the meeting! Holy, holy was the silence! Some kind of high sadness, Some kind of solemn thought is full.
“Yes, where did you all disappear to?” Suddenly, a violent scream came from below. The overseer of works has appeared. ?Go away! the old man said with tears. On purpose, lady, I hid, now go away. It's time! They will take away! Bosses are cool people...? And as if from paradise I descended into hell... And only... and only, dear! In Russian, the officer scolded me, Downstairs, waiting in alarm, And from above, my husband said in French: “See you, Masha, in prison! ..?
NOTES TO THE POEM "KN M. N. VOLKONSKAYA"***
1 See "Acts of Russian commanders and generals who marked themselves in a memorable war in France, in 1812-1815". St. Petersburg. 1822. Part 3, pp. 30-64. Biography of the cavalry general Nikolai Nikolaevich Raevsky.
2 See op. Zhukovsky, ed. 1849, volume 1, "A singer in the camp of Russian soldiers", p. 280:
Raevsky, the glory of our days, Praise! before the ranks He is the first - chest against swords With brave sons ...
The fact which is mentioned here is told in Acts as follows, part 3, page 52:
"In the battle of Dashkovo, when the brave Russians, from the extraordinary superiority in forces and the terrible action of the enemy's artillery, hesitated somewhat, General Raevsky, knowing how much the personal example of the chief inspires the soldiers subordinate to him, taking by the hands of his two sons, who had not yet reached the age of twenty , rushed forward with them to one enemy battery, which still persisted in submitting to the courage of the heroes, exclaimed: “Forward, guys, for the king and the fatherland! I and my children, whom I sacrifice, will open the way for you!” - and what could after resist the efforts and zeal of troops led by such a leader! The battery was immediately taken."
This fact is also told by Mikhailovsky-Danilevsky (vol. 1, p. 329, ed. 1839), with the difference that, according to Danilevsky, it happened not near Dashkova, but near Saltanovka, and in this case the feat of a sixteen-year-old a cadet, the same age as Raevsky, who carried a banner in front of the regiment, when crossing rowing, under deadly fire, and when the youngest of the Raevskys (Nikolai Nikolaevich) asked him for a banner, under the pretext that he was tired: "Let me carry the banner," cadet, without giving it away, he answered: "I myself know how to die!" The authenticity of all this is also confirmed by General Liprandi, whose note (? From the diary and memoirs of IP Liprandi?) is placed in the? Archive? Mr. Bartenev (1866, p. 1214).
3 Our poem was already written when we remembered that General Raevsky, even after returning from the campaign that ended in the capture of Paris, continued to serve. We did not consider it necessary to change our text, since this circumstance is purely external; moreover, Raevsky, who commanded a corps located near Kiev, in old age, indeed, often lived in the village, where, according to Pushkin, who knew N. N. Raevsky well and was a friend with his sons, he was engaged, among other things, in home medicine and gardening . By the way, we cite Pushkin's testimony about Raevsky in one of his letters to his brother:
“My friend, I spent the happiest moments in my life among the family of the venerable Raevsky. I loved in him a man of a caring friend, always a sweet, affectionate host. strong character sensitive, he will unwittingly bind to himself anyone who is only worthy of understanding and appreciating his high qualities.
4 Zinaida Volkovskaya, nee Prince. Beloselskaya, was a relative of our heroine by her husband.
5 Quatre Nouvelles. Par M-me La Princesse Z "en" eide Wolkonsky, n "ee P-sse B" eloselsky. Moscou, dans l "imprimerie d" Auguste Semen, 1819.
6 See poems by DV Venevitinov, ed. A. Pyatkovsky. St. Petersburg, 1862 (Elegy, p. 96):
?On the color of heaven you have seen enough for a long time And the color of heaven in the eyes of us brought?.
Pushkin also dedicated a poem (1827) to Z. Vkoi, beginning with the verse:
?Queen of muses and beauty? etc.
7 Yurzuf, a charming corner of the southern coast of Crimea, lies on the eastern tip of the southern coast, on the way between Yaila and Yalta. We note here that in our entire story about Pushkin's stay with the Raevskys in Yurzuf, we did not invent a single word. An anecdote about Pushkin's pranks about the translations of Elena Nikolaevna Raevskaya is told in Mr. Bartenev's article "Pushkin in Southern Russia"(? Russian archive? 1866, p. 1115). Pushkin himself mentions his friend cypress in a famous letter to Delvig: "A cypress grew a stone's throw from the house; every morning I visited him and became attached to him with a feeling similar to friendship. "The legend that later contacted this friend of Pushkin is told in the Crimean Letters by Evgenia Tur ("St. Petersburg Vedomosti" of 1854, letter 5th) and repeated in the above-mentioned article by Mr. Bartenev.
8
I remember the sea before a thunderstorm, How I envied the waves, Flying in a friendly succession With love to fall at her feet,
and so on.
("Onegin" by Pushkin)****
» (1872, no. 4 and 1873, vol. 206).
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✪ Russian WOMEN. Nikolai Nekrasov
✪ N.A. Nekrasov. Poem "Russian Women", "Princess Trubetskaya"| Russian Literature Grade 7 #21 | info lesson
✪ Brief retelling by N. Nekrasov Princess Trubetskaya
✪ Russian women summary(N.A. Nekrasov). 7th grade
✪ "Russian women" Nekrasov Nikolai Alekseevich
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Friends, if you do not have the opportunity to read Nikolai Nekrasov's poem "Russian Women", watch this video. This is a story about two wives of the Decembrists who followed their conspiring husbands to Siberia. The poem is in two parts. The first is about Princess Ekaterina Trubetskoy. The second is about Princess Maria Volkonskaya. Nekrasov wrote the poem in 1872. At first it was called "Decembrists". So ... On a winter night in 1826, the count-father helped his daughter Ekaterina Trubetskoy to collect things. That night she was leaving far, far away - to Siberia. The daughter understood that it was unlikely that she would ever see her father again. She even said goodbye to her native and beloved Petersburg. I drove for a long time - about two months. On the way, the princess dreamed of her youth, balls, noble guests in their house, her husband, a trip with him to Italy. In general, I dreamed of the former rich carefree life. But in reality before her was the kingdom of the poor and slaves. The farther east, the colder it got. We were passing through some miserable town, in which all the inhabitants hid in their houses from the frost. The princess dreamed of the December uprising. The way the sovereign pardoned its participants and exiled them to Siberia. The way she came to visit her arrested husband. Awoke. Left - dark forest , on the right is the Yenisei, and a hungry wolf howls in the forest. Two months later, the princess arrived in Irkutsk. She was met by the governor of the city. The princess wanted to go on immediately, but the governor asked her to stay, to rest from the road. - There's still 800 miles to go, - he said. And the road is terrible. And I've served your father for 7 years. Ready to help you. - Super. I need fresh horses. - You see, here comes the paper. Above. You need to return. To the father. He is very worried. - I'm going to my husband. It's my duty. Then the governor began to describe all the horrors of life in Siberia: a long winter, only criminals around, you will live in a common barracks, bread and kvass from food. - No one will feel sorry for you. If the husband screwed up - let him answer. And why should you suffer? “I am ready for this,” the princess replied. - People live there. So I can too. And if I die, I will die next to my husband. - Yes, that's what you're saying now. Understand that it will be easier for your husband alone than when he sees you in those conditions. And in Petersburg balls, life, meet another man. The governor begged her not to go, but the princess was adamant. "All right," said the governor. - Know that if you go to your husband, you will lose everything. We will have to renounce our rights: from the nobility, from the inheritance. - Where to sign the renunciation? the princess asked. Five days later the governor said that he would not give her horses. And that if she wants to go to her husband, then she will be led along the stage along with the convoy. It will come to Nerchinsk only in the spring. After all, convicts go slowly. Finally the governor could not stand it. He said that he had an order from the king not to let her see her husband. - I did everything I could to dissuade you. I will give you horses. In three days you will see your husband. An old woman, Princess Maria Nikolaevna Volkonskaya (maiden name Raevskaya), is writing the story of her life for her grandchildren. So that when they grow up, they can read and understand everything. - I was born near Kiev in a quiet village. Our family was rich and ancient. I was a beloved daughter. My father was in the military. He became famous in the battle with Napoleon. After military campaigns, it slowly faded away in our estate. I was taught by a governess from England. My father arranged feasts, his friends-generals came to us. I then was the first beauty. All the guys wanted my location. My father found a groom for me - a man who fought, to whom the sovereign himself awarded the rank of general. His name was Sergei Volkonsky. I did not dare to object to my father, and two weeks later we were married. My husband was constantly away from home - on business trips. So we hardly saw each other. I got sick and went to Odessa. She spent the whole summer there, in the winter her husband came. One night he woke me up and told me to light the fire. He burned some papers in it. And in the morning we left. Sergei brought me to his father in the estate, and he again left somewhere. He was alarmed. Didn't tell me anything. My father comforted me. He said that her husband would return soon - he had such a job. And at that time I was already pregnant. She didn't know anything about her husband. He didn't even write letters. I felt that something bad happened to him. My relatives hid something from me, they didn’t even let me read newspapers. And it was only from the verdict that I learned that Sergei was a conspirator. He was plotting a coup d'état. At first I couldn't understand why he didn't tell me anything. And then I understood. I was pregnant then, and he didn't want me to worry. Even then I decided that I would follow him to Siberia. I went to visit my husband in prison. When I saw him, I realized how much I love him. Sergei's relatives begged the emperor to punish him more mildly, but no - Sergei was sent to Siberia. My whole family rebelled when I said that I would follow my husband. The father asked me to think about the newborn son, about himself, about him and his mother. “It’s my fault,” my father said. "You didn't have to meet him. At night, I thought about the fact that all my life decisions were made for me. I even got married at the decision of my father. And so all 20 years. The next morning I said that I would leave my son to my parents - they would raise him. I was sure that my son, when he grew up, would understand me. And if I had stayed, he would have reproached me for leaving my father alone. I wrote a letter to the sovereign, in which I announced my desire to go to my husband. He answered me. He wrote that he admired my act, although he did not approve of it. I got together in three days. Relatives until the last did not believe that I would go. Last night I spent with my son. In the morning she asked her sister to be his mother. I hugged my mother, sister, kissed my brothers. And my father said goodbye that I should return in a year. Otherwise he will curse me. It was on such a “positive note” that I left my home. It was at the end of December. After 3 days I arrived in Moscow to Zinaida (my husband's relative). She supported me. Organized a party. At that time, an attempted uprising was being monitored in Moscow. There was even such a joke that in Europe shoemakers raise an uprising in order to become gentlemen, but in Russia the nobility rose. She probably wanted to be a shoemaker. In Moscow, I became the "heroine of the day." Everyone came to see me. Everyone admired me. Even Pushkin came. We already knew him before. Once in the Crimea, he lived in our house. I was then 16 years old. And he was in love with me. Although, with whom Alexander just was not in love. We talked a lot that evening. He worried about me. He consoled with the fact that the anger of the king could not be eternal. I left just before New Years. I was sad, but it was my choice. And here we go, we go, we go for a long time. Caught in a snowstorm - even the road was not visible. The coachman said that he needed to spend the night somewhere, and in the morning to go further. Well, we stopped at the foresters in their hut. At night, they blocked the doors with stones so that the bears would not enter. In the morning we drove on. And so it went for three weeks. In one tavern, a soldier said that he saw the conspirators in the Blagodatsky mine - alive and well. The further road was hard - cold, hungry, scary. When she ended up in Nerchinsk, she met with Princess Trubetskoy. God, how happy we were for each other. The coachman who drove the two of us said that he also drove our husbands. He said that they even joked. So they're not all that bad. We arrived at the village. I saw a brick house with bars. I was told that now the prisoners were taken to work. The local kids took me to that mine. I asked the sentry to let me get inside. He let. I walked with a candle in the dark until the attendant called me. Then I put out the candle and ran forward. I saw the light, where the Decembrists worked in the mine. Trubetskoy was the first to recognize me. There were other officers that I knew as well. When they saw me, they cried. I told Trubetskoy that his Katya was also here. And others gave letters from relatives. And finally my Sergey appeared. He was crying, his hands were trembling. I went up to him, knelt down and kissed his shackles. Immediately all work in the mine stopped. Everyone was staring at us. The caretaker came up and said that I was not allowed to be here. My husband said goodbye in French that we would see him in prison. That's all, friends!
"Princess Trubetskaya"
The action of the poem, dedicated to Princess Trubetskoy, begins at the moment of Ekaterina Ivanovna's farewell to her father. Count Laval, parting with his daughter, cannot hold back his tears. On the way, the princess recalls standing on the shore high house, where she spent her childhood, balls and holidays, meeting with the chosen one. Having married Prince Trubetskoy, she becomes the mistress of high society receptions, attended by ambassadors and dignitaries. Then the Trubetskoys go abroad; either in a dream, or in the memory of Ekaterina Ivanovna, pictures of a former life emerge, when she and her husband visited palaces and museums, listened to the lapping of the sea in the evenings.
Two months later, Ekaterina Ivanovna gets to Irkutsk, where the governor himself meets her. The princess is waiting for a fresh carriage to be prepared for her; the governor urges her to stay. During the conversation, he reports that he is familiar with Count Laval, after which he invites Ekaterina Ivanovna to return home. The governor recalls that in those parts where Trubetskaya is heading, she will be surrounded by five thousand embittered convicts, incessant fights and robbery, a short suffocating summer and a long winter lasting eight months.
Seeing that the princess, in spite of everything, is ready to share the fate of her husband, the governor gives the last argument: if she goes further, she will lose title of nobility and inheritance rights. In this case, she will go to the Nerchinsk mines along the stage under the supervision of the Cossacks. Hearing that the woman is ready to move forward even with a party of convicts, the governor admits that he received orders to scare as much as possible. When he realized that no obstacles would stop her, he ordered to lay a carriage for Trubetskoy and promised to personally deliver her to the place of exile of Sergei Petrovich.
"Princess M. N. Volkonskaya"
The poem is a note of Princess Volkonskaya addressed to her grandchildren. Memories begin with a story about the Kiev childhood of the heroine. Maria Raevskaya was surrounded by admirers from a young age, but when the time came for her choice, she listened to the advice of her father, General Raevsky, and agreed to become the wife of Prince Volkonsky, whom she barely knew.
One night, the princess was awakened by her husband, who asked him to urgently kindle a fireplace. Without asking unnecessary questions, Maria Nikolaevna, together with Sergei Grigorievich, began to burn papers and documents lying in the drawers of the table. Then the prince took his wife to his father's estate and left. Relatives calmed the agitated woman, explained that in the life of a general there are long trips and secret assignments; she, who is expecting her first child, should think about herself and the unborn child.
Relatives, protecting Maria Nikolaevna, for a long time did not dare to tell her that Sergei was arrested and sentenced to hard labor. When the princess found out about the verdict and announced her decision to go to her husband in Siberia, her parents and brothers tried to stop her. The hardest part was parting with a young son; Maria Nikolaevna spent the night before her departure with the child, from whom she asked for forgiveness for the forced separation. On the way, Maria Nikolaevna visited a relative - Zinaida Volkonskaya. She supported Trubetskaya in her "fatal determination". In the evening, guests arrived at the Moscow house of Zinaida Volkonskaya. Among them was Pushkin, whom Maria Nikolaevna knew from adolescence. The poet wished the princess patience, strength and health. Then there was a long road, ending with a meeting with her husband. Before embracing Sergei, the princess knelt down and put his chains to her lips.
History of creation
The creation of the poem was preceded by Nekrasov's acquaintance with the son of Sergei and Maria Volkonsky - Mikhail Sergeyevich, who was born at the Petrovsky Plant. During a joint hunt, the poet asked Mikhail Sergeevich about the life of the Decembrists in Transbaikalia; he, trying not to touch on the political background, talked about the life and customs of the places where he grew up. The memoirs of Mikhail Volkonsky, like Andrey Rozen's Notes of the Decembrist, were used in Nekrasov's poem Grandfather (1870).
The release of "Grandfather" did not extinguish the poet's interest in the theme of Russian women who voluntarily followed their husbands to Siberia. In the winter of 1871, he began to collect and study in detail the available historical materials; spent the summer in Karabikha, working on the first part of the poem, which in drafts was called "Decembrists". The main problems identified by the poet after the completion of "Princess Trubetskoy" were connected, firstly, with overcoming censorship barriers, "commanding to touch the subject only sideways"; secondly, "with the extreme inflexibility of Russian aristocrats to communicate facts." The lack of facts in the case of Ekaterina Trubetskoy was compensated by the imagination of the author, who "clearly imagined both Trubetskoy's departure and the endlessly long winter journey."
The next summer, 1872, Nekrasov devoted to work on the second part. If the image of Ekaterina Trubetskoy, due to the scarcity of the material found, turned out, according to the researchers, “very far from the real”, then the character of Maria Volkonskaya was created on the basis of those notes of the princess that were kept in the house of her son Mikhail Sergeyevich. The poet learned about these memories by accident; after much persuasion, Mikhail Volkonsky agreed to read them aloud, putting them as mandatory condition to acquaint him with the preliminary - prepress - version of the future poem. The memoirs were written in French. The son of the Decembrist, who read and translated them for several evenings, subsequently spoke about Nekrasov's reaction to some episodes:
The poet's interest in the theme of the Decembrists was so strong that after the publication of the first two parts, he planned to start the third: in Nekrasov's drafts, dated March 1873, a plan was found for a new work with main character Alexandra Grigorievna Muravyova, who died at the Petrovsky Zavod in 1832. This plan remained unfulfilled.
Reviews and reviews
The poem evoked mixed responses. So, Mikhail Sergeevich Volkonsky, who introduced the "Princess Trubetskoy" in the proofreading version, found "the character of the heroine is greatly changed compared to the original." Having made some corrections to the text at his request, the author nevertheless refused to remove from the poem those episodes that seemed important to him. Sending the work to Otechestvennye Zapiski, Nekrasov accompanied the manuscript with a note that he found out too late about the factual inaccuracies present in the poem, but the main thing for him was that "there should be no significant infidelity".
The same claims - the lack of reliability - were voiced after the release of the second part from the sister of Princess Volkonskaya - Sofya Nikolaevna Raevskaya, who expressed dissatisfaction with the fact that "the story that he [the author] puts into the mouth of my sister would be quite appropriate in the mouth of some men." Quite harsh reviews about "Russian Women" were heard from the pages of "St. Petersburg News" (1873, No. 27) and "Russian World" (1873, No. 46).
However, the general mood of the press and readers was favorable. In one of his letters to his brother, Nekrasov said that "Princess Volkonskaya" was an unprecedented success, "which none of my previous writings had." Literary critic Alexander Skabichevsky, a few years after the release of both parts of the poem, admitted:
Artistic features
First part
“Princess Trubetskaya”, written in “fast, tense iambic”, consists of two parts. The first tells about the heroine's farewell to her father, and also represents a series of memories of childhood, youth, balls, marriage, and travels. In the second part, the heroine, having reached Irkutsk, demonstrates her will and character in her confrontation with the governor. “Princess Trubetskaya” was created using the “adjacent image of dreams and reality” method: during a long journey, Ekaterina Ivanovna either daydreams awake, then again plunges into a dream indistinguishable from reality. According to the literary critic Nikolai Skatov, the fragmentary structure of the first part, which is an “alloy of alternating pictures” (realistic memories of life in Italy or the uprising on Senate Square suddenly break off, turning into romantic visions), was deliberately applied by the author: such a kaleidoscope should show that “the heroine embraced by one all-consuming impulse."
When creating the image of Trubetskoy, Nekrasov was guided by the information that he managed to glean from the memoirs of people who knew the princess, as well as from Rosen's Notes of the Decembrist, who said that the local authorities received a special order to use every opportunity to "keep the wives of state criminals from following their husbands » :
He [the governor] decided to use the last resort, persuaded, begged and, seeing all the arguments and convictions rejected, announced that he could not send her to her husband otherwise than on foot with a party of exiles on a tightrope and in stages. She quietly agreed to this; then the governor wept and said: "You will go."
Second part
In "Princess M. N. Volkonskaya" iambic is replaced by "calm, conversational amphibrach"; tempo and intonation also break down, turning into a lyrical first-person narrative. There are no fragmentary impressions here; the whole action is “family memories” with exact chronology: childhood, pride in the father and surname, upbringing, publication, marriage. In "Princess M. N. Volkonskaya" the author strictly follows the composition of the notes of Maria Nikolaevna, preserved in the house of Mikhail Sergeevich Volkonsky. The memoirs themselves tell in sufficient detail about the stay of the Decembrists and their wives in Siberia, but Nekrasov took from them only the part in which the princess gets to Nerchinsk.
The fact that in the finale of "Princess Volkonskaya" Volkonskaya meets Trubetskoy and finally both of them meet with the exiles gives plot completeness to both poems and the work as a whole.
The image of Pushkin in the poem
Pushkin, the author includes in the action of the second part of "Russian Women" twice. At first, his image appears in those memoirs of Princess Volkonskaya that belong to the carefree period of "leprosy and coquetry." At that time, the poet lived in the house of General Raevsky in Yurzuf, then, together with his family, he moved to the Crimea, where he talked a lot with fifteen-year-old Maria. The second time Pushkin appears in the poem under dramatic circumstances: he comes to the salon to Zinaida Volkonskaya to say goodbye to the princess leaving for Siberia and give her parting words on the road.
Turning to Maria Nikolaevna, the poet utters a monologue in which he completely abandons the “usual mocking tone” familiar to many; in a conversation with Volkonskaya, he acts as a humanist and guardian of freedom, admiring the act of the princess: “Believe me, such spiritual purity / This hateful light is not worth it! / Blessed is he who changes his fuss / To the feat of selfless love! According to the author of the monograph “Mastership Nekrasov” by Korney Chukovsky, the words of Alexander Sergeevich addressed to Maria Nikolaevna echo the stanza from the sixth chapter of “Eugene Onegin”, which was not included in the final edition: “ Among the soulless proud, / Among the brilliant fools ... / In this pool, where I am with you / I swim, dear friends ". Pushkin's parting words in "Russian Women", according to Nekrasov's plan, should have ended with the words:
This quatrain was removed by censorship and was not included in the text of "Russian Women" until 1949. It is about the young Natalia Dolgorukova (Sheremeteva), who, having become the wife of Prince Ivan Dolgorukov, a few days after the wedding, followed her husband into exile in Berezovo. Noting that the image of Princess Volkonskaya is close to the character of Natalia Dolgorukova, Chukovsky clarified that in the memoirs of Maria Nikolaevna Pushkin is described more restrained than in the poem; according to her notes, during a meeting in the salon of Zinaida Volkonskaya, the poet said that he planned to complete the “History of Pugachev”, and then go “to the Nerchinsk mines to ask for shelter”. However, he did not reach Nerchinsk.
The poem "Russian Women" by N. A. Nekrasov sings of the feat of the wives of the Decembrists. In the lesson materials you will find a brief historical background on the Decembrist uprising and its sad consequences. Attentive, thoughtful reading of the text will help you analyze the images of the main characters of the poem: Ekaterina Trubetskoy and Maria Volkonskaya.
They showed their contemporaries an example, exemplary. Before them, only peasant women left for exile with their husbands. They were the first of the noblewomen, and from the most eminent noble families, to follow their husbands into exile, leaving their families, children, friends, their mansions and servants behind. They understood that they were leaving for a place where they would have to become on a par with the same peasant women - to wash, cook, sew themselves. They were not embarrassed by the pleas of their relatives, the misunderstanding of society, the threats of the authorities. They abandoned their titles to fulfill their duty. Their act caused a huge resonance, became an example for many.
The feat of the Decembrists was sung by N. A. Nekrasov in the poem "Russian Women".
There were 11 of them, but Nekrasov in the poem spoke only about the first ones, who were almost the most difficult of all: they "They paved the way for others" - this is Ekaterina Trubetskaya and Maria Volkonskaya.
Rice. 2. Wives of the Decembrists ()
Compositionally, the poem is divided into two parts:
- Princess M.N. Volkonskaya.
The idea of the poem expressed by Nekrasov in the words:
High and holy is their unforgettable feat!
Like guardian angels they
Were the backbone of the unchanging
Exiles in the days of suffering.
According to contemporaries, Ekaterina Ivanovna Trubetskaya, nee Countess Lavl, was not a beauty - short, plump, but charming, cheerful, with a beautiful voice. In Paris in 1819, Catherine Laval met Prince Sergei Petrovich Trubetskoy and married him a year later.
Trubetskoy was ten years older than her and was considered enviable groom: noble, rich, smart, educated, went through the war with Napoleon and rose to the rank of colonel. His career went uphill, and Catherine had a chance to become a general.
Five years after the wedding, it suddenly became clear that Sergei Trubetskoy, together with his friends, was preparing an uprising.
Trubetskaya was the first of the wives of the Decembrists to make a decision to leave for Siberia. The path was very long. The authorities were obstructing. For example, Trubetskaya spent 5 months in Irkutsk, because. Governor Zeidler received an order from Petersburg to persuade her to return back. However, Ekaterina Ivanovna was firm in her decision.
Rice. 3. Princess Trubetskaya ()
The image of Princess Trubetskoy in the poem.
In the poem, N. A. Nekrasov tells about the difficult journey of Princess Trubetskoy to Siberia and her heroic opposition to the Irkutsk governor.
The story is told in 3rd person. Thus, the main task of the author is not only to tell about the events, but also to assess the actions of the heroine, her female feat.
The poem begins with the scene of farewell to the father:
The count himself corrected the pillows,
I made a bear cavity at my feet,
Making a prayer, scapular
Hung in the right corner
And - sobbed ... Princess-daughter ...
Goes somewhere tonight...
Nekrasov emphasizes how father and daughter love each other. But, having married, having given a vow of fidelity before God to be with her husband both in sorrow and in joy, Trubetskaya makes a decision:
Oh, God knows! ... But the duty is different,
And higher and harder
Calling me... Forgive me, my dear!
Do not cry in vain!
Far is my way, hard is my way,
My fate is terrible
But I dressed my chest with steel ...
Be proud - I'm your daughter!
Thus, from the first lines of the poem, Nekrasov highlights in the character of the heroine such features as courage, determination, fortitude.
Catherine says goodbye to the past, to the cheerful and rich life of an aristocrat. Says goodbye to his native Petersburg, to his stepfather's house:
Happy my youth
Passed within your walls
I loved your balls
Catania from the steep mountains,
I loved the splash of your Neva
In the evening silence
And this square in front of her
With a hero on horseback...
We see that Catherine from childhood was very cheerful.
In the memories of the youth of the heroine, the following lines may be incomprehensible:
And you be damned, gloomy house,
Where is the first quadrille
I danced... That hand
So far it's burning my hand...
Rejoice. . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .?
Whose hand in question? Who is the heroine cursing?
Ekaterina Trubetskaya recalls her first ball, where she danced her very first dance with Grand Duke Nikolai Pavlovich, the future Emperor Nicholas I, who began his reign with the massacre of the Decembrists. In the poem, he acts as an executioner.
Rice. 4. Russian Emperor Nicholas I (1796-1855) ()
childhood memories
Wealth, shine! high house
On the banks of the Neva
Staircase upholstered with carpet
Lions in front of the entrance
The magnificent hall is elegantly decorated,
The lights are all on fire.
O joy! now a children's ball,
Chu! the music is booming!
Memories of meeting my husband and happy life with him
Another time, another ball
She dreams: in front of her
A handsome young man is standing
He whispers something to her...
Then again balls, balls ...
She is their mistress
They have dignitaries, ambassadors,
They have all the fashionable light ...
Memories of a trip with her husband to Italy
And so she left
With your chosen one.
Before her is a wonderful country,
Before her is eternal Rome...
But the princess feels happy only in a dream. Upon awakening reality strikes her with tragedy and bitterness:
Chu, heard ahead
Sad ringing - shackled ringing!
Hey coachman, wait!
Then the exiled party is coming,
Painful chest,
The princess gives them money,
Thanks, have a good trip!
She long, long their faces
Dreaming later,
And do not drive away her thoughts,
Don't forget sleep!
Here, to the qualities of the main character, we, of course, must add such features as mercy, kindness.
Thus, the story about the heroine is built on the antithesis: the opposition of a beautiful dream and a terrible reality.
A long way, a lot of time for memories. The princess recalls the tragic day of the uprising and its terrible consequences, recalls how she came to the casemate to meet her husband. It is known that Trubetskaya knew about the impending uprising. In the poem, she is shown by Nekrasov not just loving and faithful wife. This person is independent, thinking, analyzing. Returning from a trip to Italy, Trubetskaya compares this beautiful, free country with a miserable and unhappy Russia:
In front of her are a number of paintings.
Downtrodden, driven country:
Severe lord
And a miserable worker-man
With a bowed head...
As the first to rule,
How slaves the second!
Catherine turns to her husband with a question:
Tell me, is the whole region like this?
There is no shade contentment? ..
You are in the kingdom of beggars and slaves! -
The short answer was...
Here we must add the following features to the characterization of the heroine: independence; observation; inquisitive mind; love of freedom.
Nekrasov emphasizes that Trubetskaya shares her husband's views. Her decision to follow him is dictated not only by love, but also by courage. civic position. That's why the climax of the poem was the episode "Trubetskoy's meeting with the Irkutsk governor."
The princess overcame almost five thousand miles and suddenly runs into an obstacle: the Irkutsk governor does not allow her to go further. The forces are unequal. On the one hand - Princess Trubetskaya, a young, fragile, defenseless woman. On the other hand, the Irkutsk governor, representative state power (« Princess, here I am the king”), wise by life and service experience, already a middle-aged man.
And Princess Trubetskaya wins this duel. This brave, young, defenseless, powerless woman. How much determination she has! What courage! What a character!
No! I'm not a pitiful slave
I am a woman, wife!
Let my fate be bitter
I will be faithful to her!
Oh if he forgot me
For a different woman
I would have enough strength in my soul
Don't be his slave!
But I know: love for the motherland
my rival,
And if it were necessary, again
I would forgive him!
Carefully reading the poem, the reader understands what is the weakness of the Irkutsk governor. He tries to return Trubetskaya, following the order of the tsar, intimidates her with terrible trials, but in his heart he sympathizes with her and admires her courage:
How I tormented you... My God!...
(From under the arm of a gray-haired mustache
A tear rolled down.)
Sorry! yes, I tormented you,
But he himself suffered
But I had a strict order
Barriers to put up for you!
It is this moment that explains why the authorities were so opposed to the decision of the wives of the Decembrists. It meant the moral support of the prisoners, aroused sympathy among many. The authorities in the person of Tsar Nicholas I did not want anyone to sympathize with the Decembrists.
Nekrasov admires his heroine, her willpower, self-esteem and fearlessness.
In the poem, Trubetskaya was detained in Irkutsk for only 2 weeks. In fact, she stayed there for 5 months. It was here that the second Decembrist, M.N. Volkonskaya, to whom the second part of the poem "Russian Women" is dedicated.
- Didactic materials on literature Grade 7. Author - Korovina V.Ya. - 2008
- Homework in literature for grade 7 (Korovina). Author - Tishchenko O.A. - year 2012
- Literature lessons in grade 7. Author - Kuteynikova N.E. - year 2009
- Textbook on literature grade 7. Part 1. Author - Korovina V.Ya. - year 2012
- Textbook on literature grade 7. Part 2. Author - Korovina V.Ya. - year 2009
- Textbook-reader on literature Grade 7. Authors: Ladygin M.B., Zaitseva O.N. - year 2012
- Textbook-reader on literature Grade 7. Part 1. Author - Kurdyumova T.F. - 2011
- Phonochrestomathy in literature for the 7th grade to the textbook by Korovina.
- FEB: Dictionary of literary terms ().
- Dictionaries. Literary terms and concepts ().
- N. A. Nekrasov. Russian women ().
- Nekrasov N. A. Biography, life history, creativity ().
- N. A. Nekrasov. Biography pages ().
- History of the Russian Empire. Wives of the Decembrists ().
- Dictionary Russian language ().
- Prepare expressive reading excerpts from the poem "Russian Women" by N. A. Nekrasov "Trubetskoy's conversation with the Irkutsk governor"
- Think about why Nekrasov called the poem not "Decembrists", but "Russian Women".
She becomes the mistress of high society receptions, attended by ambassadors and dignitaries. Then the Trubetskoys go abroad; either in a dream, or in the memory of Ekaterina Ivanovna, pictures of a former life emerge, when she and her husband visited palaces and museums, listened to the lapping of the sea in the evenings. Two months later, Ekaterina Ivanovna gets to Irkutsk, where the governor himself meets her. The princess is waiting for a fresh carriage to be prepared for her; the governor urges her to stay. During the conversation, he reports that he is familiar with Count Laval, after which he invites Ekaterina Ivanovna to return home. The governor recalls that in those parts where Trubetskaya is heading, she will be surrounded by five thousand embittered convicts, incessant fights and robbery, a short suffocating summer and a long winter lasting eight months.
Seeing that the princess, in spite of everything, is ready to share the fate of her husband, the governor gives the last argument: if she goes further, she will lose both her title of nobility and her rights to inheritance. In this case, she will go to the Nerchinsk mines along the stage under the supervision of the Cossacks. Hearing that the woman is ready to move forward even with a party of convicts, the governor admits that he received orders to scare as much as possible. When he realized that no obstacles would stop her, he ordered to lay a carriage for Trubetskoy and promised to personally deliver her to the place of exile of Sergei Petrovich.
"Princess M. N. Volkonskaya"
The poem is a note of Princess Volkonskaya addressed to her grandchildren. Memories begin with a story about the Kiev childhood of the heroine. Maria Raevskaya was surrounded by admirers from a young age, but when the time came for her choice, she listened to the advice of her father, General Raevsky, and agreed to become the wife of Prince Volkonsky, whom she barely knew. 
One night, the princess was awakened by her husband, who asked him to urgently kindle a fireplace. Without asking unnecessary questions, Maria Nikolaevna, together with Sergei Grigorievich, began to burn papers and documents lying in the drawers of the table. Then the prince took his wife to his father's estate and left. Relatives calmed the agitated woman, explained that in the life of a general there are long trips and secret assignments; she, who is expecting her first child, should think about herself and the unborn child.
Relatives, protecting Maria Nikolaevna, for a long time did not dare to tell her that Sergei was arrested and sentenced to hard labor. When the princess found out about the verdict and announced her decision to go to her husband in Siberia, her parents and brothers tried to stop her. The hardest part was parting with a young son; Maria Nikolaevna spent the night before her departure with the child, from whom she asked for forgiveness for the forced separation. On the way, Maria Nikolaevna visited a relative - Zinaida Volkonskaya. She supported Trubetskaya in her "fatal determination". In the evening, guests arrived at the Moscow house of Zinaida Volkonskaya. Among them was Pushkin, whom Maria Nikolaevna knew from adolescence. The poet wished the princess patience, strength and health. Then there was a long road, ending with a meeting with her husband. Before embracing Sergei, the princess knelt down and put his chains to her lips.
History of creation
The creation of the poem was preceded by Nekrasov's acquaintance with the son of Sergei and Maria Volkonsky - Mikhail Sergeevich, who was born at the Petrovsky Plant. During a joint hunt, the poet asked Mikhail Sergeevich about the life of the Decembrists in Transbaikalia; he, trying not to touch on the political background, talked about the life and customs of the places where he grew up. The memoirs of Mikhail Volkonsky, like Andrey Rozen's Notes of the Decembrist, were used in Nekrasov's poem Grandfather (1870).
The release of "Grandfather" did not extinguish the poet's interest in the theme of Russian women who voluntarily followed their husbands to Siberia. In the winter of 1871, he began to collect and study in detail the available historical materials; spent the summer in Karabikha, working on the first part of the poem, which in drafts was called "Decembrists". The main problems identified by the poet after the completion of "Princess Trubetskoy" were connected, firstly, with overcoming censorship barriers, "commanding to touch the subject only sideways"; secondly, "with the extreme inflexibility of Russian aristocrats to communicate facts." The lack of facts in the case of Ekaterina Trubetskoy was compensated by the imagination of the author, who "clearly imagined both Trubetskoy's departure and the endlessly long winter journey." 
The next summer, 1872, Nekrasov devoted to work on the second part. If the image of Ekaterina Trubetskoy, due to the scarcity of the material found, turned out, according to the researchers, “very far from the real”, then the character of Maria Volkonskaya was created on the basis of those notes of the princess that were kept in the house of her son Mikhail Sergeyevich. The poet learned about these memories by accident; after much persuasion, Mikhail Volkonsky agreed to read them aloud, setting as a prerequisite to acquaint him with the preliminary - pre-press - version of the future poem. The memoirs were written in French. The son of the Decembrist, who read and translated them for several evenings, subsequently spoke about Nekrasov's reaction to some episodes:
The poet's interest in the theme of the Decembrists was so strong that after the publication of the first two parts, he planned to start the third: in Nekrasov's drafts, dated March 1873, a plan was found for a new work with the main character Alexandra Grigoryevna Muravyova, who died at the Petrovsky Zavod in 1832. This plan remained unfulfilled.
Reviews and reviews
The poem evoked mixed responses. So, Mikhail Sergeevich Volkonsky, who introduced the "Princess Trubetskoy" in the proofreading version, found "the character of the heroine is greatly changed compared to the original." Having made some corrections to the text at his request, the author nevertheless refused to remove from the poem those episodes that seemed important to him. Sending the work to Otechestvennye Zapiski, Nekrasov accompanied the manuscript with a note that he found out too late about the factual inaccuracies present in the poem, but the main thing for him was that "there should be no significant infidelity". 
The same claims - the lack of reliability - were voiced after the release of the second part from the sister of Princess Volkonskaya - Sofya Nikolaevna Raevskaya, who expressed dissatisfaction with the fact that "the story that he [the author] puts into the mouth of my sister would be quite appropriate in the mouth of some men." Quite harsh reviews about "Russian Women" were heard from the pages of "Sankt-Peterburgskie Vedomosti" (1873, No. 27) and "Russian World" (1873, No. 46).
However, the general mood of the press and readers was favorable. In one of his letters to his brother, Nekrasov said that "Princess Volkonskaya" was an unprecedented success, "which none of my previous writings had." Literary critic Alexander Skabichevsky, a few years after the release of both parts of the poem, admitted:
Artistic features
First part
“Princess Trubetskaya”, written in “fast, tense iambic”, consists of two parts. The first tells about the heroine's farewell to her father, and also represents a series of memories of childhood, youth, balls, marriage, and travels. In the second part, the heroine, having reached Irkutsk, demonstrates her will and character in her confrontation with the governor. “Princess Trubetskaya” was created using the “adjacent image of dreams and reality” method: during a long journey, Ekaterina Ivanovna either daydreams awake, then again plunges into a dream indistinguishable from reality. According to the literary critic Nikolai Skatov, the fragmentary structure of the first part, which is “an alloy of alternating pictures” (realistic memories of life in Italy or the uprising on Senate Square suddenly break off, turning into romantic visions), was deliberately applied by the author: such a kaleidoscope should show that “the heroine embraced by one all-consuming impulse."
When creating the image of Trubetskoy, Nekrasov was guided by the information that he managed to glean from the memoirs of people who knew the princess, as well as from Rosen's Notes of the Decembrist, who said that the local authorities received a special order to use every opportunity to "keep the wives of state criminals from following their husbands » :
He [the governor] decided to use the last resort, persuaded, begged and, seeing all the arguments and convictions rejected, announced that he could not send her to her husband otherwise than on foot with a party of exiles on a tightrope and in stages. She quietly agreed to this; then the governor wept and said: "You will go."
Second part
In "Princess M. N. Volkonskaya" iambic is replaced by "calm, conversational amphibrach"; tempo and intonation also break down, turning into a lyrical first-person narrative. There are no fragmentary impressions here; the whole action is “family memories” with exact chronology: childhood, pride in the father and surname, upbringing, publication, marriage. In "Princess M. N. Volkonskaya" the author strictly follows the composition of the notes of Maria Nikolaevna, preserved in the house of Mikhail Sergeevich Volkonsky. The memoirs themselves tell in sufficient detail about the stay of the Decembrists and their wives in Siberia, but Nekrasov took from them only the part in which the princess gets to Nerchinsk.
The fact that in the finale of "Princess Volkonskaya" Volkonskaya meets Trubetskoy and finally both of them meet with the exiles gives plot completeness to both poems and the work as a whole.
The image of Pushkin in the poem
Pushkin, the author includes in the action of the second part of "Russian Women" twice. At first, his image appears in those memoirs of Princess Volkonskaya that belong to the carefree period of "leprosy and coquetry." At that time, the poet lived in the house of General Raevsky in Yurzuf, then, together with his family, he moved to the Crimea, where he talked a lot with fifteen-year-old Maria. The second time Pushkin appears in the poem under dramatic circumstances: he comes to the salon to Zinaida Volkonskaya to say goodbye to the princess leaving for Siberia and give her parting words on the road.
Turning to Maria Nikolaevna, the poet utters a monologue in which he completely abandons the “usual mocking tone” familiar to many; in a conversation with Volkonskaya, he acts as a humanist and guardian of freedom, admiring the act of the princess: “Believe me, such spiritual purity / This hateful light is not worth it! / Blessed is he who changes his fuss / To the feat of selfless love! According to the author of the monograph Nekrasov's Mastery Korney Chukovsky, the words of Alexander Sergeevich addressed to Maria Nikolaevna echo the stanza from the sixth chapter of Eugene Onegin, which was not included in the final edition: “ Among the soulless proud, / Among the brilliant fools ... / In this pool, where I am with you / I swim, dear friends ". Pushkin's parting words in "Russian Women", according to Nekrasov's plan, should have ended with the words:
Let the marble of the graves be more durable,
Than a wooden cross in the desert
But the light of Dolgoruky has not yet forgotten,
And Biron is not in sight.
This quatrain was removed by censorship and was not included in the text of "Russian Women" until 1949. It is about the young Natalia Dolgorukova (Sheremeteva), who, having become the wife of Prince Ivan Dolgorukov, a few days after the wedding, followed her husband into exile in Berezovo. Noting that the image of Princess Volkonskaya is close to the character of Natalia Dolgorukova, Chukovsky clarified that in the memoirs of Maria Nikolaevna Pushkin is described more restrained than in the poem; according to her notes, during a meeting in the salon of Zinaida Volkonskaya, the poet said that he planned to complete The History of Pugachev, and then go "to the Nerchinsk mines to ask for shelter." However, he did not reach Nerchinsk.
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Notes
- , With. 434.
- , With. 435.
- , With. 667.
- , With. 437.
- , With. 436.
- , With. 441.
- , With. 440.
- , With. 43.
- Notes of Maria Nikolaevna Volkonskaya with a preface and appendix by the publisher, Prince M. S. Volkonsky. - St. Petersburg, 1904. - S. XVII.
- , With. 439.
- , With. 14.
- Archive of the Decembrist S. G. Volkonsky / M. S. Volkonsky, B. L. Modzalevsky. - Pg, 1918. - T. 1. - S. XI.
- , With. 669.
- , With. 669-670.
- Skabichsky A. M.// Domestic notes. - 1877. - No. 3. - S. 9.
- , With. 132.
- , With. 131.
- , With. 42.
- , With. 438.
- , With. 444.
- Korney Chukovsky. Mastery of Nekrasov // . - M .: Terra-Book Club, 2005. - Vol. 10. - ISBN 5-275-01261-6.
- M. N. Volkonskaya. Notes. - L., 1924. - S. 36.
Literature
- N. Nekrasov. Poems. Poems / Korney Chukovsky. - M .: Fiction, 1971. - S. 665-671. - (Library of World Literature).
- V. Zhdanov. Nekrasov. - M .: Young Guard, 1971. - (Life of wonderful people).
- Evgeniev-Maximov V. E. Nekrasov // History of Russian literature: In 10 volumes / USSR Academy of Sciences. Institute of Russian Literature (Pushkin House). - M., L .: Publishing house of the USSR Academy of Sciences, 1956. - T. 8. - S. 56-160 ..
- Nekrasov N. A. Selected works / N. Skatov. - M .: Fiction, 1987. - (Library of classics. Russian literature).
- N. A. Nekrasov. Collected works in 4 volumes / N. Skatov. - M .: Pravda, 1979. - T. 1.
An excerpt characterizing Russian women (poem)
The young officer, with an expression of bewilderment and suffering on his face, moved away from the punished man, looking inquiringly at the passing adjutant.Prince Andrei, having left for the front line, rode along the front. Our chain and the enemy's were on the left and on the right flank far apart, but in the middle, in the place where the truce passed in the morning, the chains came together so close that they could see each other's faces and talk among themselves. In addition to the soldiers who occupied the chain in this place, on both sides stood many curious people who, chuckling, looked at strange and alien enemies.
From early morning, despite the prohibition to approach the chain, the chiefs could not fight off the curious. The soldiers standing in chains, like people showing something rare, no longer looked at the French, but made their observations of those who came and, bored, waited for a change. Prince Andrei stopped to examine the French.
“Look, look,” one soldier said to a comrade, pointing to a Russian musketeer soldier who, with an officer, approached the chain and talked something often and passionately with the French grenadier. “Look, he mutters so cleverly! Already the guardian does not keep up with him. Well, what are you, Sidorov!
- Wait, listen. Look, smart! - answered Sidorov, who was considered a master of speaking French.
The soldier pointed out by the laughers was Dolokhov. Prince Andrei recognized him and listened to his conversation. Dolokhov, together with his company commander, entered the chain from the left flank, on which their regiment stood.
- Well, more, more! the company commander incited, leaning forward and trying not to utter a single word he did not understand. – Please, more often. What he?
Dolokhov did not answer the company commander; he was involved in a heated argument with a French grenadier. They talked, as they should have, about the campaign. The Frenchman argued, confusing the Austrians with the Russians, that the Russians had surrendered and fled from Ulm itself; Dolokhov argued that the Russians did not give up, but beat the French.
“Here they order to drive you away and drive you away,” Dolokhov said.
“Just try not to be taken away with all your Cossacks,” said the French grenadier.
The French spectators and listeners laughed.
- You will be forced to dance, as you danced under Suvorov (on vous fera danser [you will be forced to dance]), - said Dolokhov.
- Qu "est ce qu" il chante? [What is he singing there?] - said one Frenchman.
- De l "histoire ancienne, [ Ancient history,] - said another, guessing that it was about the previous wars. - L "Empereur va lui faire voir a votre Souvara, comme aux autres ... [The Emperor will show your Suvar, like others ...]
“Bonaparte…” began Dolokhov, but the Frenchman interrupted him.
- No Bonaparte. There is an emperor! Sacre nom… [Damn it…] he shouted angrily.
“Damn him to your emperor!”
And Dolokhov cursed in Russian, rudely, like a soldier, and, throwing up his gun, walked away.
"Let's go, Ivan Lukich," he said to the company commander.
“That’s how it is in the guardian style,” the soldiers in the chain began to speak. - Come on, Sidorov!
Sidorov winked and, turning to the French, began to babble incomprehensible words often, often:
“Kari, mala, tafa, safi, muder, kaska,” he muttered, trying to give expressive intonations to his voice.
- Go Go go! ha ha, ha, ha! Wow! Wow! - there was a roar of such healthy and cheerful laughter between the soldiers, involuntarily communicated to the French through the chain, that after that it seemed necessary to unload their guns, blow up the charges and disperse as soon as possible to everyone's homes.
But the guns remained loaded, the loopholes in the houses and fortifications looked forward just as menacingly, and just as before, the cannons turned against each other, removed from the limbers.
Having traveled the entire line of troops from the right to the left flank, Prince Andrei climbed the battery from which, according to the officer's headquarters, the entire field was visible. Here he got off his horse and stopped at the last of the four guns removed from the limbers. A sentry gunner walked ahead of the guns, stretched out in front of the officer, but at the sign made to him resumed his even, boring walk. Behind the guns were the limbers, still behind the hitching post and fires of the artillerymen. To the left, not far from the last gun, was a new wicker hut, from which animated officer voices were heard.
Indeed, from the battery, a view of almost the entire disposition of Russian troops and most of the enemy was opened. Directly opposite the battery, on the horizon of the opposite hillock, the village of Shengraben could be seen; to the left and to the right, in three places, among the smoke of their fires, masses of French troops could be distinguished, of which, obviously, most of them were in the village itself and behind the mountain. To the left of the village, in the smoke, it seemed that something like a battery, but with a simple eye could not be seen well. Our right flank was located on a rather steep hill, which dominated the position of the French. Our infantry was stationed along it, and dragoons were visible at the very edge. In the center, where Tushin's battery was located, from which Prince Andrei examined the position, there was the most gentle and direct descent and ascent to the stream that separated us from Shengraben. To the left, our troops adjoined the forest, where the fires of our infantry chopping firewood smoked. The French line was wider than ours, and it was clear that the French could easily outflank us on both sides. Behind our position was a steep and deep ravine, along which it was difficult for artillery and cavalry to retreat. Prince Andrei, leaning on the cannon and taking out his wallet, drew for himself a plan for the disposition of the troops. In two places he made notes with a pencil, intending to communicate them to Bagration. He intended, firstly, to concentrate all the artillery in the center and, secondly, to transfer the cavalry back to the other side of the ravine. Prince Andrei, constantly being with the commander-in-chief, following the movements of the masses and general orders, and constantly studying historical descriptions battles, and in this forthcoming business he involuntarily considered the future course of hostilities only in general terms. He imagined only the following kind of major accidents: “If the enemy leads an attack on the right flank,” he said to himself, “the Kiev grenadier and Podolsk chasseurs will have to hold their position until the reserves of the center approach them. In this case, the dragoons can hit the flank and knock them over. In the event of an attack on the center, we set up the central battery on this hill and, under its cover, pull the left flank and retreat to the ravine in echelons, ”he reasoned to himself ...
All the time that he was on the battery at the gun, he, as often happens, without ceasing, heard the sounds of the voices of the officers speaking in the booth, but did not understand a single word of what they said. Suddenly the sound of voices from the booth struck him with such an intimate tone that he involuntarily began to listen.
“No, my dear,” said a pleasant and seemingly familiar voice to Prince Andrei, “I say that if it were possible to know what would happen after death, then none of us would be afraid of death. So, dove.
Another, younger voice interrupted him:
“Yes, be afraid, don’t be afraid, it doesn’t matter, you won’t pass it.”
- You're still afraid! Eh, you learned people,” said a third courageous voice, interrupting both of them. - Then you, artillerymen, are very learned because you can bring everything with you, both vodka and snacks.
And the owner of the manly voice, apparently an infantry officer, laughed.
“But you’re still afraid,” continued the first familiar voice. You're afraid of the unknown, that's what. No matter how you say that the soul will go to heaven... after all, we know that there is no sky, but only one sphere.
Again the courageous voice interrupted the gunner.
“Well, treat yourself to your herbalist, Tushin,” he said.
“Ah, this is the same captain who stood at the sutler without boots,” thought Prince Andrei, recognizing with pleasure the pleasant philosophizing voice.
“You can have a herbalist,” Tushin said, “but all the same future life comprehend…
He did not agree. At this time, a whistle was heard in the air; closer, closer, faster and more audible, more audible and faster, and the core, as if not having finished everything that was needed, exploding spray with inhuman force, plopped into the ground not far from the booth. The earth seemed to gasp from a terrible blow.
At the same instant, little Tushin jumped out of the booth, first of all, with his pipe bitten on his side; his kind, intelligent face was somewhat pale. Behind him came the owner of a courageous voice, a dashing infantry officer, and ran to his company, buttoning up as he ran.
Prince Andrei stopped on horseback on the battery, looking at the smoke of the gun from which the cannonball flew out. His eyes darted across the vast expanse. He only saw that the hitherto motionless masses of the French were swaying, and that there really was a battery to the left. It hasn't blown smoke yet. Two French cavalry, probably adjutants, galloped up the mountain. Downhill, probably to strengthen the chain, a clearly visible small column of the enemy was moving. The smoke of the first shot had not yet dissipated, when another smoke and a shot appeared. The battle has begun. Prince Andrei turned his horse around and galloped back to Grunt to look for Prince Bagration. Behind him he heard the cannonade becoming more frequent and louder. Apparently, ours began to respond. Below, in the place where the parliamentarians were passing, rifle shots were heard.
Lemarrois (Le Marierois) with Bonaparte's formidable letter had just galloped to Murat, and the ashamed Murat, wanting to make amends for his mistake, immediately moved his troops to the center and bypassing both flanks, hoping to crush the insignificant one who stood in front of him before evening and before the arrival of the emperor. him, squad.
"Began! Here it is!" thought Prince Andrei, feeling how the blood began to rush to his heart more often. “But where? How will my Toulon be expressed? he thought.
Passing between the same companies that ate porridge and drank vodka a quarter of an hour ago, he everywhere saw the same quick movements of soldiers lining up and dismantling their guns, and on all faces he recognized the feeling of animation that was in his heart. "Began! Here it is! Scary and fun! the face of every soldier and officer spoke.
Before reaching the fortification under construction, he saw in the evening light a cloudy autumn day horsemen advancing towards him. The front man, in a cloak and cap with fur coats, rode a white horse. It was Prince Bagration. Prince Andrei stopped, waiting for him. Prince Bagration stopped his horse and, recognizing Prince Andrei, nodded his head to him. He continued to look ahead while Prince Andrei told him what he had seen.
Expression: "It has begun! here it is!" it was even on the strong brown face of Prince Bagration with half-closed, cloudy, as if sleepy eyes. Prince Andrei peered into this motionless face with restless curiosity, and he wanted to know whether he was thinking and feeling, and what he thought, what this man felt at that moment? "Is there anything at all behind that motionless face?" Prince Andrei asked himself, looking at him. Prince Bagration bowed his head, in agreement with the words of Prince Andrei, and said: “Good,” with such an expression, as if everything that happened and that he was told was exactly what he had already foreseen. Prince Andrei, shoved from the speed of the ride, spoke quickly. Prince Bagration uttered the words with his oriental accent especially slowly, as if suggesting that there was nowhere to hurry. However, he trotted his horse in the direction of Tushin's battery. Prince Andrei, together with his retinue, went after him. Prince Bagration was followed by: an officer of the retinue, the prince's personal adjutant, Zherkov, an orderly, an officer on duty on a beautiful english horse, and a state official, an auditor, who, out of curiosity, asked to go to battle. Auditor, fat man With full face, with a naive smile of joy, looked around, shaking on his horse, imagining a strange look in his camlot overcoat on a Furshtat saddle among hussars, Cossacks and adjutants.
“He wants to see the battle,” Zherkov said to Bolkonsky, pointing to the auditor, “but it hurt in the pit of the stomach.
“Well, that’s enough for you,” said the auditor, with a radiant, naive, and at the same time sly smile, as if he were flattered that he was the subject of Zherkov’s jokes, and as if he deliberately tried to appear more stupid than he really was.
- Tres drole, mon monsieur prince, [Very funny, my lord prince,] - said the officer on duty. (He remembered that in French the title prince is somehow especially pronounced, and he could not get it right.)
At this time, they were all already approaching Tushin's battery, and a cannonball hit ahead of them.
- What did it fall? the auditor asked with a naive smile.
“French cakes,” said Zherkov.
- This is what they beat, then? the auditor asked. - What a passion!
And he seemed to be full of pleasure. As soon as he finished, an unexpectedly terrible whistle was heard again, suddenly ending with a blow to something liquid, and sh sh sh slap - a Cossack, riding a little to the right and behind the auditor, with his horse collapsed to the ground. Zherkov and the officer on duty crouched down in their saddles and turned the horses away. The auditor stopped in front of the Cossack, examining him with attentive curiosity. The Cossack was dead, the horse was still beating.
Prince Bagration, screwing up his eyes, looked around and, seeing the reason for the confusion that had occurred, turned away indifferently, as if saying: is it worth doing stupid things! He stopped the horse, with the reception of a good rider, leaned over a little and straightened the sword caught on the cloak. The sword was an old one, not like the one worn now. Prince Andrei recalled the story of how Suvorov in Italy presented his sword to Bagration, and at that moment this memory was especially pleasant to him. They drove up to the very battery at which Bolkonsky stood when he was examining the battlefield.
- Whose company? - Prince Bagration asked the fireworks, standing by the boxes.
He asked: whose company? but in essence he was asking: are you not timid here? And the fireworker figured it out.
“Captain Tushin, Your Excellency,” shouted a red-haired fireworker with a freckled face, stretching out in a cheerful voice.
- So, so, - said Bagration, thinking something, and drove past the limbers to the extreme gun.
While he was approaching, a shot rang out from this cannon, deafening him and his retinue, and in the smoke that suddenly surrounded the cannon, artillerymen were visible, grabbing the cannon and, hastily straining, rolling it back to its original place. A broad-shouldered, huge soldier of the 1st with a banner, legs wide apart, jumped back to the wheel. The 2nd, with a trembling hand, put a charge into the muzzle. A small, round-shouldered man, officer Tushin, stumbled on his trunk and ran forward without noticing the general and looking out from under his small hand.
“Add two more lines, that’s exactly what will happen,” he shouted in a thin voice, to which he tried to give a youthfulness that did not suit his figure. - Second! he squeaked. - Crush, Medvedev!
Bagration called out to the officer, and Tushin, with a timid and awkward movement, not at all like the military salute, but like the priests bless, putting three fingers to the visor, approached the general. Although Tushin's guns were assigned to bombard the hollow, he fired fire-brandskugels at the village of Shengraben, which was visible ahead, in front of which large masses of the French advanced.
No one ordered Tushin where and with what to shoot, and he, after consulting with his sergeant major Zakharchenko, for whom he had great respect, decided that it would be good to set fire to the village. "Fine!" Bagration said to the report of the officer and began to look around the entire battlefield that opened before him, as if thinking something. On the right side, the French came closest. Below the height on which the Kiev regiment stood, in the hollow of the river, the erratic rumble of guns was heard, and much to the right, behind the dragoons, the retinue officer pointed out to the prince at the French column that was bypassing our flank. To the left the horizon was limited to a close forest. Prince Bagration ordered two battalions from the center to go for reinforcements to the right. The retinue officer dared to remark to the prince that after the departure of these battalions, the guns would be left without cover. Prince Bagration turned to the retinue officer and looked at him with dull eyes in silence. It seemed to Prince Andrei that the remark of the retinue officer was just and that there really was nothing to say. But at this time an adjutant galloped up from the regimental commander, who was in the hollow, with the news that huge masses of the French were coming down, that the regiment was upset and was retreating to the Kyiv grenadiers. Prince Bagration bowed his head in agreement and approval. He walked at a pace to the right and sent an adjutant to the dragoons with orders to attack the French. But the adjutant sent there arrived half an hour later with the news that the dragoon regimental commander had already retreated beyond the ravine, for strong fire had been directed against him, and he was wasting people in vain and therefore hurried shooters into the forest.
- Fine! Bagration said.
While he was driving away from the battery, shots were also heard to the left in the forest, and since it was too far to the left flank to have time to arrive on time himself, Prince Bagration sent Zherkov there to tell the senior general, the same one who represented the regiment to Kutuzov in Braunau, so that he retreats as quickly as possible behind the ravine, because the right flank will probably not be able to hold the enemy for a long time. About Tushin, and the battalion that covered him, was forgotten. Prince Andrei carefully listened to the conversations of Prince Bagration with the chiefs and to the orders he gave, and noticed to his surprise that no orders were given, and that Prince Bagration only tried to pretend that everything that was done out of necessity, chance and the will of private chiefs, that all this was done, if not by his order, but according to his intentions. Thanks to the tact shown by Prince Bagration, Prince Andrei noticed that, despite this randomness of events and their independence from the will of the chief, his presence did an extremely great deal. The commanders, who drove up to Prince Bagration with upset faces, became calm, the soldiers and officers greeted him cheerfully and became livelier in his presence and, apparently, flaunted their courage in front of him.
He keeps the diaries of his mother, who went to Siberia with her husband, he began to ask him for permission to get acquainted with the papers. For three evenings, Mikhail Sergeevich and Nikolai Alekseevich read the notes. During the reading, the poet repeatedly jumped up, clutched his head and began to cry. These documentary evidence formed the basis of the poem "Russian Women". Description of Princess Trubetskoy (Part 1) and Princess Volkonskaya (Part 2) - plot basis famous work, first read by the poet in the summer of 1871.
Historical reference
Ekaterina Ivanovna Laval married Sergei Trubetskoy for love. She became his faithful friend and like-minded person, was aware of her husband's political views. Having learned about the events at the twenty-five-year-old Catherine, she immediately decided for herself that she would share his fate with her husband, no matter how terrible it was. The princess became the first of eleven women who set off after the verdict was announced on July 23, and the very next day she set off on the road. She was accompanied by her father's secretary, Karl Voshe (on the way, he would fall ill and return back, as Nekrasov writes about in a poem). "Russian Women" is a poem that tells about a difficult journey from St. Petersburg to Irkutsk, showing the heroine's resilience, tolerance, her devotion to her husband and readiness for self-sacrifice.
Description of the road
The sobs of a father seeing off his daughter, who is "going somewhere this night." Farewell words of the heroine, who understands that she will never see her relatives again. The full confidence of the princess that her duty is to be close to her husband. Memories of serene youth and the person who became the culprit of her misfortunes (referring to the dance at the ball in 1818 with the future Emperor Nicholas I). This is how the poem begins (Nekrasov attached great importance to it in his work) “Russian Women”.
Princess Trubetskaya is the central image of the first part. The author does not give the heroine, because something else is important for him - to show her inner world, trace the formation of essential character traits. From the very beginning of the poem, Ekaterina Ivanovna is full of determination and has no doubts about her act. She knows how terrible her future fate will be. In order to obtain permission to travel, she deliberately renounced the title, the opportunity to communicate with relatives, welfare - her father's house was the best in St. Petersburg. “I dressed my chest with steel,” she admits when parting with her father, and in these words one can hear the readiness to follow her beloved at all costs, the ability to overcome any obstacles for the sake of being able to fulfill her sacred duty and be close to her husband.
The role of memories and dreams
The road to Siberia is very long and difficult, but there is no time for rest. Approaching the station, the princess demands to change horses as soon as possible and goes on. In doing so, the author uses a very successful technique, describing the pictures that her imagination draws in this endless journey. Whether dreams, or just memories that arise in her head - this best characteristic Princess Trubetskoy from the poem "Russian Women". At first she sees a magnificent secular life with fun and balls, a trip abroad with her young husband, all that has now become insignificant and unimportant for her. These vivid pictures are suddenly replaced by a painful sight: working men in the field, barge haulers groaning by the river. Her husband attracted her attention to this side of Russian life.
Along the way, there is a party of exiles, which reminds of the hard fate of the Decembrists. The consciousness of the heroine brings her back to the tragic events of six months ago. A condensed but accurate picture of the uprising. Ekaterina Ivanovna not only knew about its preparation, but also kept a printing press. And then there was a meeting with her husband in prison, during which he gave her complete freedom. However loving woman even at the moment of Sergei Petrovich's arrest, she decided that she would support him in everything. It is from such details that the poem “Russian Women” is formed. The author shows the heroine's sympathy for the common people, hatred for the tsar and his regime. And also the desire to fight and prove their right to independence.
Meeting with the Governor
The second chapter is a dialogue. It is he who helps to fully understand the character of the heroine, her determination and confidence in the correctness of the choice made. It must be said that the scene described by Nekrasov actually took place, and Zeidler actually received an order from the emperor to stop Ekaterina Ivanovna at any cost. The arguments of the heroine during the conversation can also be perceived as a characteristic of Princess Trubetskoy from the poem "Russian Women". She is not afraid of the details of how convicts live, or the harsh climate, where the sun shines only three months a year, or the fact that the princess and her children will be equated with ordinary peasants. Ekaterina Ivanovna, who has signed a waiver of all her rights, is ready to move forward even as part of a convict party. solid character, great power the will, incomparable courage and steadfastness of Trubetskoy forced the governor to retreat. “I did everything I could ...”, - these words of Zeidler became an acknowledgment of the moral victory won by a decisive, ready-for-everything woman.
Instead of an afterword
“She captivated others to a feat,” N. Nekrasov said about Ekaterina Ivanovna. Russian women, Princess Trubetskaya in particular, who wished to share the fate of their husbands, to fulfill their duty to God and themselves to the end, forever became a symbol of inexhaustible heroism, self-sacrifice, great human love and devotion.
Ekaterina Ivanovna fully experienced both hunger and prison life, and the debilitating Siberian cold. The first of the Decembrists did not live up to the amnesty for only two years and died in Irkutsk. But although she never saw her relatives or the capital again, according to contemporaries, she never regretted what she had done.
Such is the characterization of Princess Trubetskoy from the poem "Russian Women" by N. Nekrasov.
