On the morning of July 11, 1856, the servants of one of the large St. Petersburg hotels near the Moscow station railway I was perplexed, and partly even alarmed. The day before, at 9 o'clock in the evening, a gentleman arrived with a suitcase, took a room, gave him his passport for registration, asked for tea and a cutlet, said not to be disturbed in the evening, because he was tired and wanted to sleep, but that they would certainly wake him up tomorrow at 8 o'clock, because he had urgent business, he locked the door of the room and, making noise with a knife and fork, making noise with the tea set, soon became quiet - apparently, he fell asleep. The morning has come; at 8 o'clock the servant knocked on the door of yesterday's visitor - the visitor did not give a voice; the servant knocked harder, very hard, but the newcomer still did not answer. Apparently, he was very tired. The servant waited a quarter of an hour, tried to wake him up again, but again he didn’t wake him up. He began to consult with other servants, with the barman. “Did something happen to him?” - “We need to break down the doors.” - “No, that’s not good: you have to break down the door with the police.” We decided to try to wake him up again, harder; If he doesn’t wake up here, send for the police. We made the last test; didn’t get it; They sent for the police and are now waiting to see what they see with them.

Around 10 o'clock in the morning a police official came, knocked himself, ordered the servants to knock - the success was the same as before. “There’s nothing to do, break down the door, guys.”

The door was broken down. The room is empty. “Look under the bed” - and there is no passer-by under the bed. The police official approached the table; there was a sheet of paper on the table, and on it was written in large letters:

“I leave at 11 o’clock in the evening and won’t come back. They will hear me on the Liteiny Bridge, between 2 and 3 am. Don’t have any suspicions about anyone.”

So here it is, the thing is now clear, otherwise they couldn’t figure it out,” said the police official.

What is it, Ivan Afanasyevich? - asked the barman.

Let's have some tea and I'll tell you.

The story of the police official was for a long time the subject of animated retellings and discussions in the hotel. This is what the story was like.

At half past 3 o'clock in the morning - and the night was cloudy and dark - a fire flashed in the middle of the Liteiny Bridge, and a pistol shot was heard. The guards rushed to the shot, a few passers-by came running - there was no one and nothing at the place where the shot was heard. This means he didn’t shoot, but shot himself. There were hunters to dive, after a while they brought in hooks, they even brought some kind of fishing net, they dived, groped, caught, caught fifty large chips, but the bodies were not found or caught. And how to find it? - the night is dark. In these two hours it’s already at the seaside - go and look there. Therefore, progressives arose who rejected the previous assumption: “Perhaps there was no body? maybe he was drunk, or just a mischievous person, fooling around - he shot and ran away - otherwise, perhaps, he was standing right there in the bustling crowd and laughing at the alarm he had caused.”

But the majority, as always, when reasoning prudently, turned out to be conservative and defended the old: “he was fooling around - he put a bullet in his forehead, and that’s all.” The progressives were defeated. But the winning party, as always, split up immediately after the victory. Shot himself, yes; but why? “Drunk,” was the opinion of some conservatives; “squandered,” other conservatives argued. “Just a fool,” someone said.

I
FOOL

On the morning of July 11, 1856, the servants of one of the large St. Petersburg hotels near the Moscow Railway station were perplexed, partly even alarmed. The day before, at nine o'clock in the evening, a gentleman arrived with a suitcase, took a room, gave his passport for registration, asked for tea and a cutlet, said that he should not be disturbed in the evening, because he was tired and wanted to sleep, but that tomorrow they would certainly wake him up at eight hours, because he had urgent business, he locked the door of the room and, making noise with a knife and fork, making noise with the tea set, soon became quiet - apparently, he fell asleep. The morning has come; at eight o'clock the servant knocked on the door of yesterday's visitor - the visitor did not speak; the servant knocked harder, very hard, but the newcomer still did not answer. Apparently, he was very tired. The servant waited a quarter of an hour, started to wake him up again, but again he didn’t wake him up. He began to consult with other servants, with the barman. “Did something happen to him?” - “We need to break down the doors.” - “No, that’s not good: you have to break down the door with the police.” We decided to try to wake him up again, harder; If he doesn’t wake up here, send for the police. We made the last test; didn’t get it; They sent for the police and are now waiting to see what they see with them. Around ten o'clock in the morning a police official came, knocked himself, ordered the servants to knock - the success was the same as before. “There’s nothing to do, break down the door, guys.”

The door was broken down. The room is empty. “Look under the bed” - and there is no passer-by under the bed. The police official approached the table; there was a sheet of paper on the table, and on it was written in large letters:

“I leave at 11 pm and won’t come back. They will hear me on the Liteiny Bridge, between 2 and 3 am. Don’t have any suspicions about anyone.”

So here it is, the thing is now clear, otherwise they couldn’t figure it out,” said the police official.

What is it, Ivan Afanasyevich? - asked the barman.

Let's have some tea and I'll tell you.

The story of the police official was for a long time the subject of animated retellings and discussions in the hotel. This is what the story was like.

At half past two in the morning - and the night was cloudy and dark - a fire flashed in the middle of the Liteiny Bridge, and a pistol shot was heard. The guards rushed to the shot, a few passers-by came running - there was no one and nothing at the place where the shot was heard. This means he didn’t shoot, but shot himself. There were hunters to dive, after a while they brought in hooks, they even brought some kind of fishing net, they dived, groped, caught, caught fifty large chips, but the bodies were not found or caught. And how to find it? - the night is dark. In these two hours it’s already at the seaside - go and look there. Therefore, progressives arose who rejected the previous assumption: “Perhaps there was no body? maybe he was drunk or just a mischievous person, fooling around - he shot and ran away, - otherwise, perhaps, he was standing right there in the bustling crowd and laughing at the alarm he had caused.”

But the majority, as always when reasoning prudently, turned out to be conservative and defended the old: “What a fool - he put a bullet in his forehead, and that’s all.” The progressives were defeated. But the winning party, as always, split up immediately after the victory. Shot himself, yes; but why? “Drunk,” was the opinion of some conservatives; “squandered,” other conservatives argued. “Just a fool,” someone said. Everyone agreed on this “just a fool,” even those who denied that he shot himself. Indeed, whether he was drunk, or wasted, shot himself, or was a mischievous person, he didn’t shoot himself at all, but just threw something away - it doesn’t matter, it’s a stupid, stupid thing.

This was the end of the matter on the bridge at night. In the morning, in a hotel near the Moscow railway, it was discovered that the fool was not fooling around, but had shot himself. But as a result of history, there remained an element with which the vanquished agreed, namely, that even if he did not fool around and shot himself, he was still a fool. This result, satisfactory for everyone, was especially lasting precisely because the conservatives triumphed: in fact, if he had only fooled around with a shot on the bridge, then, in essence, it would still be doubtful whether he was a fool or just a mischief-maker. But he shot himself on the bridge - who shoots on the bridge? how is it on the bridge? why on the bridge? stupid on the bridge! - and therefore, undoubtedly, a fool.

Again some doubts arose: he shot himself on the bridge; They don’t shoot on the bridge, so he didn’t shoot himself. But in the evening, the hotel servants were called to the unit to look at the bullet-ridden cap that had been pulled out of the water - everyone recognized that the cap was the same one that was on the road. So, he undoubtedly shot himself, and the spirit of denial and progress was completely defeated.

Everyone agreed that he was a “fool,” and suddenly everyone started talking: there’s a clever thing on the bridge! This means that you don’t have to suffer for a long time if you don’t manage to shoot well - he thought wisely! from any wound he will fall into the water and choke before he comes to his senses - yes, on the bridge... smart!

Now it was absolutely impossible to make out anything - both the fool and the smart one.

Vera Pavlovna grew up in a multi-storey building on Gorokhovaya, between Sadovaya and Semenovsky Bridge. Now this house is marked with the appropriate number, but in 1852, when there were no such numbers yet, there was an inscription on it: “the house of the actual state councilor Ivan Zakharovich Storeshnikov.” So said the inscription; but Ivan Zakharych Storeshnikov died back in 1837, and from then on the owner of the house was his son, Mikhail Ivanovich, so the documents said. But the residents of the house knew that Mikhail Ivanovich was the owner’s son, and the owner of the house was Anna Petrovna.

The house was then, as it is now, large, with two gates and four entrances along the street, with three courtyards deep. On the main staircase to the street, in the mezzanine, the landlady and her son lived in 1852, as they do now. Anna Petrovna remains as she was then, a distinguished lady. Mikhail Ivanovich is now a prominent officer and then he was a prominent and handsome officer.

I don’t know who now lives on the dirtiest of the countless back staircases of the first courtyard, on the 4th floor, in the apartment to the right; and in 1852, the manager of the house, Pavel Konstantinich Rozalsky, a stout, also prominent man, lived here with his wife Marya Aleksevna, a thin, strong, tall lady, with a daughter, a grown girl - she is Vera Pavlovna - and a 9-year-old son Fedya.

Pavel Konstantinich, in addition to managing the house, served as an assistant to the head of some department. He had no income from his position; around the house - he had, but in moderation: another would have received much more, but Pavel Konstantinich, as he himself said, knew his conscience; but the mistress was very pleased with him, and in fourteen years of management he accumulated up to ten thousand in capital. But from the owner’s pocket there were three thousand, no more; the rest grew to them from turnover, not to the detriment of the hostess: Pavel Konstantinich gave money on hand bail.

Marya Aleksevna also had capital - five thousand, as she told the gossips - in fact, more. The foundation of the capital was laid 15 years ago by the sale of a raccoon fur coat, a dress and furniture that Marya Aleksevna inherited from her brother-official. Having rescued one and a half hundred rubles, she also put them into circulation on collateral, acted much more riskily than her husband, and several times fell for the bait: some rogue took 5 rubles from her. on the security of a passport - the passport turned out to be stolen, and Marya Aleksevna had to add another 15 rubles to get out of the case; another swindler pawned a gold watch for 20 rubles - the watch turned out to be taken from the murdered man, and Marya Aleksevna had to pay a lot to get out of the case. But if she suffered losses, which were avoided by her husband, who was picky about accepting collateral, then her profits came faster. Special occasions to receive money were also looked for. One day, Vera Pavlovna was still little then; Marya Aleksevna would not have done this with her adult daughter, but then why not do it? The child doesn't understand! and for sure, Verochka herself would not have understood, but, thank you, the cook explained it very clearly; and the cook would not have interpreted it, because the child should not know this, but it already happened that the soul could not stand it after one of the strong fights from Marya Aleksevna for an affair with her lover (however, Matryona always had a black eye, not from Marya Aleksevna, but from a lover - and this is good, because a cook with a black eye is cheaper!). So, one day an unprecedented familiar lady came to Marya Aleksevna, elegant, magnificent, beautiful, she came and stayed to stay. She stayed quietly for a week, only some civilian, also handsome, kept visiting her, and gave Verochka sweets, and gave her nice dolls, and gave her two books, both with pictures; were in one book nice pictures– animals, cities; and Marya Aleksevna took the other book from Verochka when the guest left, so she only saw these pictures once, in front of him: he showed them himself. So an acquaintance stayed for a week, and everything was quiet in the house: Marya Aleksevna did not go to the cupboard all week (where there was a decanter of vodka), the key to which she did not give to anyone, and did not hit Matryona, and did not hit Verochka, and did not swear loudly . Then one night Verochka was constantly awakened by the terrible screams of her guest, and by the walking and bustle in the house. In the morning, Marya Aleksevna went to the cabinet and stood there longer than usual, and kept saying: “Thank God, it was happy, thank God!” and after that, not just fighting and swearing, as happened other times after the cupboard, but she went to bed, kissing Verochka. Then again there was peace in the house for a week, and the guest did not scream, but just did not leave the room and then left. And two days after she left, a civilian came, only a different civilian, and brought the police with him, and scolded Marya Aleksevna a lot; but Marya Aleksevna herself did not yield to him in a single word and kept repeating: “I don’t know any of your affairs. Find out in the house books who was visiting me! The Pskov merchant Savastyanova, my friend, here’s the whole story!” Finally, after quarreling and quarreling, the civilian left and did not appear again. Verochka saw this when she was eight years old, and when she was nine years old, Matryona explained to her what kind of incident it was. However, there was only one such case; and others were different, but not so many.

When Verochka was ten years old, a girl walking with her mother to the Tolkuchy Market received an unexpected slap on the head when turning from Gorokhovaya to Sadovaya, with the remark: “You’re staring at the church, you fool, but why can’t you cross your forehead? You see, all the good people are being baptized!"

When Verochka was twelve years old, she began to go to a boarding school, and a piano teacher began to come to her - a drunk, but very kind German and a very good teacher, but, due to his drunkenness, very cheap.

When she was fourteen years old, she took care of the whole family, however, even the family was small.

When Verochka was sixteen years old, her mother began to shout at her like this: “Wash off your face, it’s like a gypsy’s! You can’t wash it off, such a stuffed animal was born, I don’t know who.” Verochka got a lot of punishment for her dark complexion, and she got used to considering herself ugly. Before, her mother used to take her around in almost rags, but now she began to dress her up. And Verochka, dressed up, goes with her mother to church and thinks: “These outfits would suit someone else, but no matter what you put on me, I’m still a gypsy - a stuffed animal, both in a chintz dress and in a silk one. But it’s good to be pretty. I wanted to be pretty!"

When Verochka turned sixteen, she stopped studying with the piano teacher and at the boarding school, and she herself began giving lessons at the same boarding school; Then her mother found other lessons for her.

Six months later, mother stopped calling Verochka a gypsy and a stuffed animal, and began to dress her up better than before, and Matryona - this was already the third Matryona, after that one: that one always had a black eye, and this one had a broken left cheekbone, but not always, - she said Verochka that her boss, Pavel Konstantinich, and some important boss with an order around his neck are going to marry her. Indeed, minor officials in the department said that the head of the department, for whom Pavel Konstantinich served, became favorable to him, and the head of the department began to express the opinion among his equals that he needed a wife, even if she was without a dowry, but a beauty, and also the opinion that Pavel Konstantinich is a good official.

How it would have ended is unknown: but the head of the department was planning for a long time, prudently, and then another case turned up.

The owner's son came to the manager to say that mother was asking Pavel Konstantinich to take samples of different wallpapers, because mother wanted to re-decorate the apartment in which she lived. Previously, such orders were given through the butler. Of course, the matter is understandable and not for such experienced people as Marya Aleksevna and her husband. The owner's son, having come in, sat for more than half an hour and deigned to have some tea (flower tea). The very next day, Marya Aleksevna gave her daughter a clasp that had remained unredeemed in the pawn, and ordered her daughter two new dresses, very good - the material alone cost: 40 rubles for one dress, 52 rubles for the other, and with frills and ribbons, and a cut both dresses cost 174 rubles; at least that’s what Marya Aleksevna told her husband, and Verochka knew that all the money they spent on them was less than 100 rubles - after all, purchases were also made in her presence - but after all, it was only 100 rubles. you can make two very good dresses. Verochka was happy about the dresses, she was happy about the clasp, but most of all she was happy that her mother finally agreed to buy her shoes from Korolev: after all, the shoes at the Tolkuchy Market are so ugly, and the royal ones fit so amazingly on her feet.

The dresses were not in vain: the owner’s son got into the habit of going to the manager and, of course, talked more with his daughter than with the manager and the managers, who also, of course, carried him in their arms. Well, the mother gave instructions to her daughter, everything was as it should be - there’s nothing to describe, it’s a well-known fact.

One day, after dinner, my mother said:

- Verochka, dress better. I’ve prepared a surprise for you - we’ll go to the opera, I took a ticket in the second tier, where all the generals’ ladies are. All for you, fool. I don’t regret my last bit of money. Father's stomach is already churning from spending on you. In one boarding house the madame was overpaid how much, and the piano drunk how much! You don’t feel anything about it, you ungrateful one, no, apparently you have a soul, you’re so insensitive!

All Marya Aleksevna said was no longer scolding her daughter, but what kind of scolding is this? Marya Aleksevna just spoke to Verochka like that, but she stopped scolding her a long time ago, and never hit her since the rumor about the head of the department spread.

Let's go to the opera. After the first act, the owner's son entered the box, and with him two friends - one a civilian, lean and very elegant, the other a military man, plump and simpler. They sat down and whispered a lot to each other, more and more the landlady's son with the civilian, and the military man said little. Marya Aleksevna listened attentively, understood almost every word, but could understand little, because they all spoke in French. She knew the words heels from their conversation: belle, charmante, amour, bonheur (beautiful, charming, love, happiness (French) - Ed.) - but what's the point in these words? Belle, charmante - Marya Aleksevna has been hearing for a long time that her gypsy is belle and charmante; amour - Marya Aleksevna herself sees that he is head over heels in amour; and if amour, then, of course, bonheur - what's the use of these words? But just what, will the match be soon?

“Verochka, you are as ungrateful as you are,” Marya Aleksevna whispers to her daughter: “Why are you turning your snout away from them?” Did they offend you by coming in? They do you honor, you fool. Is a wedding in French a marriage, or what, Verochka? What about the bride and groom, and how to get married in French?

Verochka said.

- No, I don’t hear such words... Vera, apparently you said the words to me wrong? Look at me!

- No, that’s right: you won’t hear these words from them. Let's go, I can't stay here much longer.

- What? what did you say, bastard? – Marya Aleksevna’s eyes became bloodshot.

- Let's go. Then do whatever you want with me, but I won’t stay. I'll tell you why later. “Mama,” this was already said out loud, “I have a very bad headache: I can’t sit here.” I ask you to!

Verochka stood up.

The cavaliers began to fuss.

“It will pass, Verochka,” Marya Aleksevna said sternly but decorously, “walk along the corridor with Mikhail Ivanovich, and your headache will pass.”

- No, it won’t work: I feel very bad. Rather, mommy.

The gentlemen opened the door and wanted to lead Verochka by the arm, but she refused, the vile girl! They brought the cloaks themselves and went to put them into the carriage. Marya Aleksevna proudly looked at the lackeys: “Look, boors, what kind of gentlemen are - but this one will be my son-in-law! I’ll get such boors myself. And you break, break, you scoundrel - I’ll break them!” “But wait, wait,” does the son-in-law say something to her nasty girl, putting the vile proud girl into the carriage? Sante - this seems to be health, savoir - I find out, visite and in our opinion the same, permettez - I ask permission. These words did not lessen Marya Aleksevna’s anger, but we must take them into account. The carriage moved.

– What did he tell you when he planted you?

“He said that tomorrow morning he would come to find out about my health.”

– You’re not lying, it’s tomorrow?

Verochka was silent.

- Happy is your god! - however, Marya Aleksevna could not resist, she pulled her daughter by the hair - only once, and then lightly. - Well, I won’t lay a finger on you, just so that tomorrow you will be cheerful! Sleep well, you fool! Don't you dare cry. Look, if I see tomorrow that I’m pale or my eyes are teary! I still let it go... I won’t let it go. I won’t regret a pretty face, but at the same time I’ll disappear, so at least I’ll let myself be known.

“I stopped crying a long time ago, you know.”

- That’s the same, just be more talkative with him.

- Yes, I will talk to him tomorrow.

- Well, it’s time to come to your senses. Fear God and have pity on your mother, poor woman!

Ten minutes passed.

- Verochka, don’t be angry with me. I scold you out of love, I want the best for you. You don't know how sweet children are to their mothers. I carried you in my womb for nine months! Verochka, thank me, be obedient, you will see for yourself what is to your benefit. Behave as I teach, and tomorrow he will propose!

- Mama, you are mistaken. He doesn't think about proposing at all. Mama! what did they say!

- I know: if it’s not about the wedding, then we know what it’s about. Yes, it was not those who attacked. We will bend him into a ram's horn. I’ll bring it to church in a sack, I’ll circle it around the head for whiskey, and you’ll be glad to see it. Well, there’s no point in talking to you much, and I’ve already said too much: girls shouldn’t know this, it’s a mother’s business. But the girl must obey, she still doesn’t understand anything. So will you talk to him as I tell you?

- Yes, I will talk to him.

- And you, Pavel Konstantinich, why are you sitting like a stump? Tell her on your own behalf that you, as a father, order her to obey her mother, that her mother will not teach her anything bad.

- Marya Aleksevna, you are a smart woman, but this is a dangerous matter: don’t you want to lead too coolly!

- Fool! he blurted out - in front of Verochka! I'm not glad I stirred it up! The proverb says the truth: don’t touch the dermis, it doesn’t stink! Eco thumped! Don’t argue, but tell me: should a daughter obey her mother?

- Of course, I should; What can I say, Marya Aleksevna!

- Well, order it like a father.

- Verochka, listen to your mother in everything. Your mother is a smart woman, an experienced woman. She won't teach you anything bad. As a father, I order you.

The carriage stopped at the gate.

- That's enough, mummy. I told you that I would talk to him. I'm very tired. I need to rest.

- Lie down, sleep. I won't bother you. This is needed by tomorrow. Get a good night's sleep.

Indeed, the entire time they were ascending the stairs, Marya Aleksevna was silent - and what did it cost her! and again, what did it cost her when Verochka went straight to her room, saying that she didn’t want to drink tea, what did it cost Marya Aleksevna to say in a gentle voice:

- Verochka, come to me. - The daughter came up. “I want to bless you for your coming sleep, Verochka.” Bend your head! – The daughter bent down. - God bless you, Verochka, as I bless you.

She blessed her daughter three times and gave her her hand to kiss.

- No, mummy. I told you a long time ago that I would not kiss your hands. Now let me go. I really feel bad.

Oh, how Marya Aleksevna’s eyes flashed again. But she overcame herself and said meekly:

- Go, rest.

As soon as Verochka undressed and put away her dress - however, this took a lot of time, because she kept thinking: she took off the bracelet and sat with it in her hand for a long time, took out the earring - and again she forgot, and a lot of time passed before she remembered that after all she was terribly tired, that after all, she could not even stand in front of the mirror, but sank down on a chair in exhaustion, as she reached her room, that she needed to quickly undress and lie down - as soon as Verochka went to bed, Marya Aleksevna entered the room with a tray, on which there was a large father's cup and a whole pile of crackers.

- Eat, Verochka! Here, eat to your health! I brought it to you myself: you see, your mother remembers you! I sit and think: how did Verochka go to bed without tea? I drink it myself, but I think everything myself. So I brought it. Eat, my dear daughter!

- Eat, I’ll sit and look at you. Once you eat it, I'll bring you another cup.

The tea, half filled with thick, delicious cream, whetted my appetite. Vera raised herself on her elbow and began to drink. - “How delicious tea is when it is fresh, thick and when there is a lot of sugar and cream in it! Extremely tasty! It’s not at all like the drunken one, with one piece of sugar, which is even disgusting. When I have my own money, I will always drink tea like this."

- Thank you, mummy.

- Don’t sleep, I’ll bring another one. “She returned with another cup of the same wonderful tea. - Eat, and I’ll sit again.

She was silent for a minute, then suddenly she spoke in a special way, sometimes in a very rapid patter, sometimes drawing out her words.

“Here, Verochka, you thanked me.” I haven't heard gratitude from you for a long time. You think I'm evil. Yes, I'm evil, but you can't help but be evil! And I have become weak, Verochka! Three punches made me weak, and what a summer! Yes, and you upset me, Verochka - very upset! I became weak. And my life is hard, Verochka. I don't want you to live like this. Live richly. I have suffered so much, Verochka, and-and-and, and-and-and, how much! You don’t remember how your father and I lived when he was not yet a manager! Poor, and-and-and, how poorly they lived - and I was honest then, Verochka! Now I’m not honest - no, I won’t take a sin on my soul, I won’t lie to you, I won’t say that I’m honest now! Somehow, that time has long passed. You, Verochka, are learned, and I am unlearned, but I know everything that is written in your books; It also says that you shouldn’t do the same as they did to me. “They say you are dishonest!” Here is your father - he’s your father, but he wasn’t Nadya’s father - he’s a naked fool, and he’s also piercing my eyes, he’s abusing me! Well, anger took over me: and when, I say, in your opinion I’m not honest, then I will be like that! Nadenka was born. Well, so what was born? Who taught me this? Who got the position? Here my sin was less than his. And they took her away from me, sent her to an orphanage - and it was impossible to find out where she was - I never saw her and I don’t know if she’s alive... I mean, where can I be alive? Well, at the present time I would not have had enough grief, but then it was not so easy - I was even more angry! Well, she became angry. Then everything went well. Who gave your father, the fool, the position? – I delivered. And who promoted him to manager? - I made it. So we began to live well. And why? - because I became dishonest and evil. I know it’s written in your books, Verochka, that only the dishonest and the wicked can live well in the world. And this is true, Verochka! Now your father also has money, I provided it; and I have, maybe more than he has - I got it all myself, prepared a piece of bread for my old age. And your father, the fool, began to respect me, he began to follow my instructions, I trained him! Otherwise he persecuted me and abused me. For what? Then it was not for anything, but for the fact, Verochka, that she was not evil. And in your books, Verochka, it is written that it is not good to live like this, but you think I don’t know this? Yes, it’s written in your books that if you don’t live like this, then you need to start everything in a new way, but according to the current institution you can’t live the way they say, so why don’t they start a new order? Eh, Verochka, do you think I don’t know what new orders are written in your books? - I know: good. But you and I won’t live to see them, the people are painfully stupid - where can we establish good order with such people! So let's live according to the old ways. And you live by them. What is the old order? It’s written in your books: the old order is one that robs and deceives. And this is true, Verochka. This means that when there is no new order, live according to the old one: rob and deceive; for love te6e talk - hrr...

Marya Aleksevna began to snore and collapsed.

Marya Aleksevna knew what was said in the theater, but did not yet know what came out of this conversation.

While she, upset by grief from her daughter and in frustration, poured a lot of rum into her punch, was snoring for a long time, Mikhail Ivanovich Storeshnikov was having dinner in some fashionable restaurant with other gentlemen who came to the box. There was also a fourth person in the company - a French woman who arrived with an officer. Dinner was drawing to a close.

- Monsieur Storeshnik! - Storeshnikov rejoiced: the Frenchwoman addressed him for the third time during dinner: - Monsieur Storeshnikov! let me call you that, it sounds nicer and is easier to pronounce - I didn’t think that I would be the only lady in your company; I was hoping to see Adele here - that would be nice, I see her so rarely.

“Adele quarreled with me, unfortunately.

The officer wanted to say something, but remained silent.

“Don’t believe him, Mlle Julie,” said the civil servant, “he is afraid to reveal the truth to you, he thinks that you will be angry when you find out that he left a Frenchwoman for a Russian.”

“I don’t know why we came here either!” - said the officer.

- No, Serge, why, when Jean asked! and I was very pleased to meet Monsieur Storeshnik. But, Monsieur Storeshnik, wow, what bad taste you have! I would have nothing to object to if you left Adele for this Georgian woman, in whose bed you were with both of them; but exchanging a French woman for a Russian... I imagine! colorless eyes, colorless thin hair, a meaningless, colorless face... to blame, not colorless, but, as you say, blood and cream, that is, a food that only your Eskimos can put into their mouths! Jean, give an ashtray to the sinner against the graces, let him sprinkle ashes on his criminal head!

“You’ve talked so much nonsense, Julie, that it’s not him, but you who need to sprinkle ashes on your head,” said the officer: “after all, the one you called Georgian is the Russian.”

-Are you laughing at me?

“Pure Russian,” said the officer.

- Impossible!

“You are wrong to think, dear Julie, that our nation has the same type of beauty as yours.” Yes, and you have a lot of blondes. And we, Julie, are a mixture of tribes, from white-haired ones, like the Finns (“Yes, yes, Finns,” the Frenchwoman noted to herself), to black ones, much blacker than the Italians—these are Tatars, Mongols (“Yes, Mongols, I know,” she noted for herself a Frenchwoman), - they all gave a lot of their blood to ours! Our blondes, whom you hate, are only one of the local types - the most common, but not the dominant one.

- It is amazing! but she's great! Why doesn't she go on stage? However, gentlemen, I am only talking about what I saw. The question remains, a very important one: her leg? Your great poet Karasen, they told me, said that in all of Russia there are not five pairs of small and slender legs.

“Julie, it wasn’t Karasen who said this, and it’s better to call him Karamzin,” Karamzin was a historian, and even then not a Russian, but a Tatar, “here’s new proof of the diversity of our types.” Pushkin spoke about legs - his poems were good for their time, but now they have lost most of their value. By the way, Eskimos live in America, and our savages who drink deer blood are called Samoyeds.

- Thank you, Serge. Karamzin – historian; Pushkin - I know; Eskimos in America; Russians are Samoyeds; yes, Samoyeds - but it sounds very cute sa-mo-e-dy! Now I will remember. I, gentlemen, order Serge to tell me all this when we are alone, or not in our company. This is very useful for conversation. Moreover, science is my passion; I was born to be m-me Steel, gentlemen. But this is an extraneous episode. Back to the question: her leg?

“If you allow me to come to you tomorrow, Mlle Julie, I will have the honor of bringing her shoe to you.”

– Bring it, I’ll try it on. This piques my curiosity.

Storeshnikov was delighted: how? - he barely clung to Jean's tail, Jean barely clung to Serge's tail, Julie is one of the first Frenchwomen among the Frenchwomen of Serge's society - an honor, a great honor!

“The leg is satisfactory,” Jean confirmed, “but as a positive person, I am interested in more significant things.” I looked at her bust.

“The bust is very good,” said Storeshnikov, encouraged by favorable reviews of the subject of his taste, and already planning that he could compliment Julie, which he had not yet dared to do: “her bust is charming, although, of course, praising the bust of another woman here is sacrilege.” .

- Ha, ha, ha! This gentleman wants to compliment my bust! I am not a hypocritic or a liar, Monsieur Storeshnik: I do not boast and do not tolerate others praising me for what is bad with me. Thank God, I still have enough left that I can truly boast about. But my bust – ha, ha, ha! Jean, have you seen my bust - tell him! Are you silent, Jean? Your hand, Monsieur Storeshnik,” she grabbed his hand, “do you feel that this is not a body?” Try again here - and here - now you know? I wear a false bust, just as I wear a dress, a skirt, a shirt, not because I like it - in my opinion, it would be better without these hypocrites - but because it is so accepted in society. But a woman who lived as long as I did - and how she lived, Monsieur Storeshnik! I am now a saint, a schema-monster before what I was - such a woman cannot keep her bust! - And suddenly she cried: - my bust! my bust! my purity! oh god, was that when I was born?

“You are lying, gentlemen,” she shouted, jumped up and hit the table with her fist: “you are slandering!” You low people! She is not his mistress! he wants to buy it! I saw how she turned away from him, burning with indignation and hatred. This is disgusting!

“Yes,” said the civilian, stretching lazily: “you boasted, Storeshnikov; your matter is not over yet, and you already said that you live with her, you even broke up with Adele to better reassure us. Yes, you described it to us very well, but you described something that you had not yet seen; however, that’s nothing; not a week before today, but a week after today - it’s all the same. And you will not be disappointed in the descriptions you made from your imagination; you will find even better than you think. I considered: you will be satisfied.

Storeshnikov was beside himself with rage:

- No, Mlle Julie, you were deceived, I dare to assure you, in your conclusion; Forgive me for daring to contradict you, but she is my mistress. It was an ordinary love quarrel out of jealousy; She saw that during the first act I was sitting in Mlle Matilda’s box—that’s all!

“You’re lying, my dear, you’re lying,” said Jean and yawned.

- I’m not lying, I’m not lying.

- Prove it. I am a positive person and don’t believe without evidence.

– What evidence can I present to you?

- Well, so you back away and incriminate yourself that you are lying. What evidence? Looks like it's hard to find? Here you go: tomorrow we are going to have dinner here again. Mlle Julie will be so kind that she will bring Serge, I will bring my dear Bertha, you will bring her. If you bring it, I lost, dinner is at my expense; If you don’t bring it, you’ll be expelled from our circle with shame! – Jean pulled the sonnet; a servant entered. - Simon, be so kind: tomorrow is dinner for six people, exactly the same as it was when I got married at your place with Bertha - remember, before Christmas? - and in the same room.

- How can you not remember such a dinner, monsieur! Will be done.

The servant left.

- Vile people! nasty people! I was a street woman in Paris for two years, I lived for six months in a house where thieves gathered, I have never met three such low people together! My God, with whom am I forced to live in society? Why such a shame, oh my God? - She fell to her knees. - God! I weak woman! I knew how to endure hunger, but it’s so cold in Paris in winter! The cold was so strong, the seductions were so cunning! I wanted to live, I wanted to love - God! After all, this is not a sin, why are you punishing me like this? Take me out of this circle, take me out of this mud! Give me the strength to become a street woman in Paris again, I don’t ask you for anything else, I’m unworthy of anything else, but free me from these people, from these vile people! “She jumped up and ran up to the officer: “Serge, are you the same?” No, you are better than them! (“Better,” the officer remarked phlegmatically.) Isn’t that disgusting?

- Disgusting, Julie.

-And you are silent? do you allow it? do you agree? are you participating?

“Sit on my lap, my dear Julie.” “He began to caress her, she calmed down. – How I love you at such moments! You are a nice woman. Well, why don’t you agree to marry me? how many times have I asked you about this! Agree.

- Marriage? yoke? prejudice? Never! I forbade you to tell me such nonsense. Don't make me angry. But... Serge, dear Serge! forbid him! he is afraid of you - save her!

– Julie, be calmer. This is impossible. It’s not him, it’s someone else, it doesn’t matter. Well, look, Jean is already thinking about taking her away from him, and there are thousands of such Jeans, you know. You can’t save it from everyone when a mother wants to sell her daughter. You can’t break through a wall with your forehead, we Russians say. We're smart people, Julie. You see how calmly I live, having accepted this Russian principle of ours.

- Never! You are a slave, the Frenchwoman is free. The Frenchwoman is struggling - she falls, but she fights! I won't allow it! Who is she? Where she lives? You know?

- We're going to see her. I'll warn her.

- At one o'clock in the morning? Let's go to sleep better. Goodbye, Jean. Goodbye, Storeshnikov. Of course, you won't be expecting Julie and me for your dinner tomorrow: you can see how annoyed she is. And to be honest, I don’t like this story either. Of course you don't care about my opinion. Goodbye.

“What a mad Frenchwoman,” said the civilian, stretching and yawning when the officer and Julie left. – A very piquant woman, but this is too much. It’s very nice to see a pretty woman wake up, but I couldn’t get along with her for four hours, let alone four years. Of course, Storeshnikov, our dinner is not upset by her whim. I'll bring Paul and Matilda instead. And now it's time to go home. I still need to call on Bertha and then little Lotchen, who is very sweet.

For the first time, Chernyshevsky’s most famous work, the novel “What is to be done?”, was published as a separate book. - published in 1867 in Geneva. The initiators of the book's publication were Russian emigrants; in Russia the novel was banned by censorship by that time. In 1863, the work was still published in the Sovremennik magazine, but those issues where its individual chapters were published soon found themselves banned. Summary"What to do?" The youth of those years passed Chernyshevsky on to each other by word of mouth, and the novel itself in handwritten copies, so much so did the work make an indelible impression on them.

Is it possible to do something

The author wrote his sensational novel in the winter of 1862-1863, while in dungeons Peter and Paul Fortress. The dates of writing are December 14-April 4. From January 1863, censors began working with individual chapters of the manuscript, but, seeing only a love line in the plot, they allowed the novel to be published. Soon the deep meaning of the work reaches the officials of Tsarist Russia, the censor is removed from office, but the job is done - a rare youth circle of those years did not discuss the summary of “What is to be done?” With his work, Chernyshevsky wanted not only to tell Russians about the “new people”, but also to arouse in them a desire to imitate them. And his bold call echoed in the hearts of many of the author’s contemporaries.

The youth late XIX centuries, Chernyshevsky's ideas were transformed into her own life. Stories about the numerous noble deeds of those years began to appear so often that for some time they became almost commonplace. Everyday life. Many suddenly realized that they were capable of Action.

Having a question and a clear answer to it

The main idea of ​​the work, and it is doubly revolutionary in its essence, is personal freedom, regardless of gender. That's why main character novel - a woman, since at that time the dominance of women did not extend beyond the confines of their own living room. Looking back at the life of her mother and close friends, Vera Pavlovna early realizes the absolute mistake of inaction, and decides that the basis of her life will be work: honest, useful, giving the opportunity to live with dignity. Hence morality - personal freedom comes from the freedom to perform actions that correspond to both thoughts and capabilities. This is what Chernyshevsky tried to express through the life of Vera Pavlovna. "What to do?" chapter by chapter paints readers a colorful picture of the phased construction " real life" Here Vera Pavlovna leaves her mother and decides to open her own business, so she realizes that only equality between all members of her artel will correspond to her ideals of freedom, so her absolute happiness with Kirsanov depends on Lopukhov’s personal happiness. interconnected with high moral principles - this is all Chernyshevsky.

Characteristics of the author's personality through his characters

Both writers and readers, as well as omniscient critics, have the opinion that the main characters of the work are a kind of literary copies of their creators. Even if not exact copies, they are very close in spirit to the author. The narration of the novel “What to do?” is told in the first person, and the author is acting character. He enters into conversation with other characters, even argues with them and, like a “voice-over,” explains to both the characters and the readers many points that are incomprehensible to them.

At the same time, the author conveys to the reader doubts about his writing abilities, says that “he doesn’t even speak the language well,” and he certainly doesn’t have a drop of “artistic talent.” But for the reader his doubts are unconvincing; this is also refuted by the novel that Chernyshevsky himself created, “What is to be done?” Vera Pavlovna and the rest of the characters are so accurately and versatilely drawn, endowed with such unique individual qualities, which an author without true talent would be unable to create.

New, but so different

Chernyshevsky’s heroes, these positive “new people”, according to the author’s conviction, from the category of unreal, non-existent, should one day by themselves firmly enter our lives. To enter, to dissolve in the crowd of ordinary people, to push them aside, to regenerate someone, to convince someone, to completely push the rest - those who are intractable - out of the general mass, ridding society of them, like a field of weeds. The artistic utopia that Chernyshevsky himself was clearly aware of and tried to define through its name is “What to do?” A special person, in his deep conviction, is capable of radically changing the world around him, but how to do this, he must determine for himself.

Chernyshevsky created his novel as a counterweight to Turgenev’s “Fathers and Sons”; his “new people” are not at all like the cynical nihilist Bazarov, who irritates with his peremptory attitude. The cardinality of these images is in the implementation of their main task: Turgenev’s hero wanted to “clear a place” around him from everything old that had outlived his own, that is, to destroy, while Chernyshevsky’s characters tried more to build something, to create, before destroying.

Formation of the “new man” in the middle of the 19th century

These two works of great Russian writers have become the second half of the 19th century century as a kind of beacon - a ray of light in dark kingdom. Both Chernyshevsky and Turgenev loudly declared the existence of a “new man” and his need to create a special mood in society capable of bringing about fundamental changes in the country.

If you re-read and translate the summary of “What to do?” Chernyshevsky in the plane of revolutionary ideas that deeply affected the minds of a certain part of the population of those years, then many of the allegorical features of the work will become easily explainable. The image of the “bride of her grooms”, seen by Vera Pavlovna in her second dream, is nothing more than “Revolution” - this is precisely the conclusion drawn by writers who lived in different years, who studied and analyzed the novel from all sides. The rest of the images that are narrated in the novel are also marked by allegory, regardless of whether they are animated or not.

A little about the theory of reasonable egoism

The desire for change not only for oneself, not only for one’s loved ones, but also for everyone else runs like a red thread through the entire novel. This is completely different from the theory of calculating one’s own benefit, which Turgenev reveals in Fathers and Sons. In many ways, Chernyshevsky agrees with his fellow writer, believing that any person not only can, but should also reasonably calculate and determine his individual path to my own happiness. But at the same time, he says that you can only enjoy it surrounded by equally happy people. This is the fundamental difference between the plots of the two novels: in Chernyshevsky, the heroes forge well-being for everyone, in Turgenev, Bazarov creates his own happiness without regard to those around him. Chernyshevsky is all the closer to us through his novel.

“What to do?”, the analysis of which we give in our review, is ultimately much closer to the reader of Turgenev’s “Fathers and Sons.”

Briefly about the plot

As the reader who has never picked up Chernyshevsky’s novel has already been able to determine, the main character of the work is Vera Pavlovna. Through her life, the formation of her personality, her relationships with others, including men, the author reveals main idea of your novel. Summary “What to do?” Chernyshevsky's list of characteristics of the main characters and details of their lives can be conveyed in a few sentences.

Vera Rozalskaya (aka Vera Pavlovna) lives in a fairly wealthy family, but everything in her home disgusts her: her mother with her dubious activities, and her acquaintances, who think one thing, but say and do something completely different. Having decided to leave her parents, our heroine tries to find a job, but only with Dmitry Lopukhov, who is close to her in spirit, gives the girl the freedom and lifestyle that she dreams of. Vera Pavlovna creates a sewing workshop with equal rights on her income for all the seamstresses - a rather progressive idea for that time. Even her suddenly flared up love for her husband’s close friend Alexander Kirsanov, which she became convinced of while caring for the sick Lopukhov with Kirsanov, does not deprive her of sanity and nobility: she does not leave her husband, she does not leave the workshop. Seeing mutual love his wife and close friend, Lopukhov, by staging suicide, frees Vera Pavlovna from all obligations to him. Vera Pavlovna and Kirsanov get married and are quite happy about it, and a few years later Lopukhov appears in their lives again. But only under a different name and with a new wife. Both families settle in the neighborhood, spend quite a lot of time together and are quite satisfied with the circumstances that have arisen in this way.

Does being determine consciousness?

The formation of Vera Pavlovna’s personality is far from the pattern of character traits of those of her peers who grew up and were brought up in conditions similar to her. Despite her youth, lack of experience and connections, the heroine clearly knows what she wants in life. Getting married successfully and becoming an ordinary mother of a family is not for her, especially since by the age of 14 the girl knew and understood a lot. She sewed beautifully and provided the whole family with clothes; at the age of 16 she began earning money by giving private piano lessons. Her mother's desire to get her married is met with a firm refusal and she creates her own business - a sewing workshop. About broken stereotypes, about courageous actions strong character work "What to do?" Chernyshevsky in his own way gives an explanation for the well-established statement that consciousness determines the existence in which a person finds himself. He defines, but only in the way he decides for himself - either following a path not chosen by him, or finding his own. Vera Pavlovna left the path prepared for her by her mother and the environment in which she lived and created her own path.

Between the realms of dreams and reality

Determining your path does not mean finding it and following it. There is a huge gap between dreams and their implementation in reality. Someone does not dare to jump over it, but someone gathers all their will into a fist and takes a decisive step. This is how Chernyshevsky responds to the problem raised in his novel “What is to be done?” The analysis of the stages of formation of Vera Pavlovna’s personality is carried out by the author himself instead of the reader. He guides him through the heroine’s embodiment of her dreams of her own freedom in reality through active work. It may be a difficult path, but it is a straight and completely passable path. And according to it, Chernyshevsky not only guides his heroine, but also allows her to achieve what she wants, letting the reader understand that only through activity can the cherished goal be achieved. Unfortunately, the author emphasizes that not everyone chooses this path. Not every.

Reflection of reality through dreams

In a rather unusual form he wrote his novel “What is to be done?” Chernyshevsky. Vera's dreams - there are four of them in the novel - reveal the depth and originality of the thoughts that evoke in her real events. In her first dream, she sees herself freed from the basement. This is a certain symbolism of leaving her own home, where she was destined for an unacceptable fate. Through the idea of ​​liberating girls like her, Vera Pavlovna creates her own workshop, in which each seamstress receives an equal share of her total income.

The second and third dreams explain to the reader through real and fantastic dirt, reading Verochka’s diary (which, by the way, she never kept) what thoughts about existence different people take possession of the heroine at different periods of her life, what she thinks about her second marriage and the very necessity of this marriage. Explanation through dreams is a convenient form of presentation of the work that Chernyshevsky chose. "What to do?" - content of the novel , reflected through dreams, characters of the main characters in dreams is a worthy example of Chernyshevsky’s use of this new form.

Ideals of a bright future, or Vera Pavlovna’s Fourth Dream

If the heroine’s first three dreams reflected her attitude towards accomplished facts, then her fourth dream reflected dreams about the future. It is enough to remember it in more detail. So, Vera Pavlovna dreams of a completely different world, implausible and beautiful. She sees many happy people living in a wonderful house: luxurious, spacious, surrounded by amazing views, decorated with flowing fountains. In it no one feels disadvantaged, there is one common joy for everyone, one common well-being, everyone is equal in it.

These are the dreams of Vera Pavlovna, this is how Chernyshevsky would like to see reality (“What to do?”). Dreams, and they, as we remember, are about the relationship between reality and the world of dreams, reveal not so much the spiritual world of the heroine, but the author of the novel himself. And his full awareness of the impossibility of creating such a reality, a utopia that will not come true, but for which it is still necessary to live and work. And this is also what Vera Pavlovna’s fourth dream is about.

Utopia and its predictable ending

As everyone knows, his main work is the novel “What is to be done?” - Nikolai Chernyshevsky wrote while in prison. Deprived of family, society, freedom, seeing reality in the dungeons in a completely new way, dreaming of a different reality, the writer put it on paper, without believing in its implementation. Chernyshevsky had no doubt that “new people” are capable of changing the world. But the fact is that not everyone will withstand the power of circumstances, and not everyone will be worthy better life- he understood this too.

How does the novel end? The idyllic coexistence of two families close in spirit: the Kirsanovs and the Lopukhovs-Beaumonts. A small world created by active people full of nobility of thoughts and actions. Are there many similar happy communities around? No! Isn't this the answer to Chernyshevsky's dreams about the future? Who wants to create their own prosperous and happy world, he will create it, whoever doesn’t want it will go with the flow.

* * *

(Dedicated to my friend O.S.Ch.) {1}

I. Fool

On the morning of July 11, 1856, the servants of one of the large St. Petersburg hotels near the Moscow railway station were perplexed, partly even alarmed. The day before, at 9 o'clock in the evening, a gentleman arrived with a suitcase, took a room, gave him his passport for registration, asked for tea and a cutlet, said that he should not be disturbed in the evening, because he was tired and wanted to sleep, but that they would definitely wake him up tomorrow at 8 o'clock, because he had urgent business, he locked the door of the room and, making noise with a knife and fork, making noise with the tea set, soon became quiet - apparently, he fell asleep. The morning has come; at 8 o'clock the servant knocked on the door of yesterday's visitor - the visitor did not give a voice; the servant knocked harder, very hard - the newcomer still did not answer. Apparently, he was very tired. The servant waited a quarter of an hour, tried to wake him up again, but again he didn’t wake him up. He began to consult with other servants, with the barman. “Did something happen to him?” - “We need to break down the doors.” - “No, that’s not good: you have to break down the door with the police.” We decided to try to wake him up again, harder; If he doesn’t wake up here, send for the police. We made the last test; didn’t get it; They sent for the police and are now waiting to see what they see with them.

Around 10 o'clock in the morning a police official came, knocked himself, ordered the servants to knock - the success was the same as before. “There’s nothing to do, break down the door, guys.”

The door was broken down. The room is empty. “Look under the bed” - and there is no passer-by under the bed. The police official approached the table; there was a sheet of paper on the table, and on it was written in large letters:

“I leave at 11 o’clock in the evening and won’t come back. They will hear me on the Liteiny Bridge, between 2 and 3 am. Don’t have any suspicions about anyone.”

“So this is it, the thing is clear now, otherwise they couldn’t figure it out,” said the police official.

- What is it, Ivan Afanasyevich? - asked the barman.

- Let's have some tea, I'll tell you.

The story of the police official was for a long time the subject of animated retellings and discussions in the hotel. This is what the story was like.

At half past 3 o'clock in the morning - and the night was cloudy and dark - a fire flashed in the middle of the Liteiny Bridge, and a pistol shot was heard. The guards rushed to the shot, a few passers-by came running - there was no one and nothing at the place where the shot was heard. This means he didn’t shoot, but shot himself. There were hunters to dive, after a while they brought in hooks, they even brought some kind of fishing net, they dived, groped, caught, caught fifty large chips, but the bodies were not found or caught. And how to find it? - the night is dark. In these two hours it’s already at the seaside - go and look there. Therefore, progressives arose who rejected the previous assumption: “Perhaps there was no body? maybe he was drunk, or just a mischievous person, fooling around - he shot and ran away - otherwise, perhaps, he’s standing right there in the bustling crowd and laughing at the trouble he’s caused.”

But the majority, as always when reasoning prudently, turned out to be conservative and defended the old: “he was just fooling around - he put a bullet in his forehead, and that’s all.” The progressives were defeated. But the winning party, as always, split up immediately after the victory. Shot himself, yes; but why? “Drunk,” was the opinion of some conservatives; “squandered,” other conservatives argued. “Just a fool,” someone said. Everyone agreed on this “just a fool,” even those who denied that he shot himself. Indeed, whether he was drunk, or wasted, shot himself, or was a mischievous person, he didn’t shoot himself at all, but just threw something away - it doesn’t matter, it’s a stupid, stupid thing.

This was the end of the matter on the bridge at night. In the morning, in a hotel near the Moscow railway, it was discovered that the fool was not fooling around, but had shot himself. But as a result of history, there remained an element with which the vanquished agreed, namely, that even if he did not fool around and shot himself, he was still a fool. This result, satisfactory for everyone, was especially lasting precisely because the conservatives triumphed: in fact, if he had only fooled around with a shot on the bridge, then, in essence, it would still be doubtful whether he was a fool or just a mischief-maker. But he shot himself on the bridge - who shoots on the bridge? how is it on the bridge? why on the bridge? stupid on the bridge! - and therefore, undoubtedly, a fool.

Again some doubts arose: he shot himself on the bridge; They don’t shoot on the bridge, so he didn’t shoot himself. “But in the evening, the hotel servants were called to the unit to look at a bullet-ridden cap that had been pulled out of the water; everyone recognized that the cap was the same one that was on the road. So, he undoubtedly shot himself, and the spirit of denial and progress was completely defeated.

Everyone agreed that he was a “fool,” and suddenly everyone started talking: there’s a clever thing on the bridge! this means that you don’t have to suffer for a long time if you don’t manage to shoot well—he thought wisely! from any wound he will fall into the water and choke before he comes to his senses - yes, on the bridge... smart!

Now it was absolutely impossible to make out anything - both the fool and the smart one.

II. The first consequence of a stupid case

That same morning, at about 12 o'clock, a young lady was sitting in one of the three rooms of a small dacha on Kamenny Island, sewing and in a low voice humming a French song, lively and bold.

“We are poor,” said the song, “but we are working people, we have healthy hands. We are dark, but we are not stupid and we want light. Let us study - knowledge will free us; we will work - the work will enrich us, - this thing will work, - we will live, we will live -

We are rude, but we ourselves suffer from our rudeness. We are filled with prejudices, but we ourselves suffer from them, we feel it. We will seek happiness, and we will find humanity, and we will become kind, - this will work, - we will live, we will live.

Work without knowledge is fruitless, our happiness is impossible without the happiness of others. Let us be enlightened and enriched; we will be happy - and we will be brothers and sisters, - this thing will work out - we will live, we will live.

Let's study and work, let's sing and love, there will be heaven on earth. Let's be happy in life, - this thing will work out, it will come soon, we'll all wait for it, -

Donc, vivons,
Ca bien vite ira,
Ca viendra,
Nous tous le verrons.”

It was a bold, lively song, and its melody was cheerful - there were two or three sad notes in it, but they were covered by the general bright character of the motive, disappeared in the refrain, disappeared throughout the final verse - at least they should have been covered, disappeared , - would disappear if the lady was in a different frame of mind; but now these few sad notes sounded more audible to her than the others, she seemed to perk up, noticing this, lowered her voice at them and began to sing more loudly the cheerful sounds that replaced them, but then again she was carried away in her thoughts from the song to her thought, and again the sad sounds take over. It is clear that the young lady does not like to succumb to sadness; it’s just clear that sadness doesn’t want to leave her, no matter how much it pushes her away. But whether the cheerful song becomes sad or becomes cheerful again, as it should be, the lady sews very diligently. She's a good seamstress.

A maid, a young girl, entered the room.

- Look, Masha, what is it like for me to sew? I’ve almost finished the sleeves that I’m preparing for your wedding.

- Oh, but they have less pattern than the ones you embroidered for me!

- Still would! If only the bride weren’t the most elegant at the wedding!

– And I brought you a letter, Vera Pavlovna.

Perplexity flashed across Vera Pavlovna’s face when she began to open the letter: the envelope had a city postmark. “How is this possible? After all, he’s in Moscow?” She hastily unfolded the letter and turned pale; her hand with the letter dropped. “No, that’s not true, I didn’t have time to read it, that’s not in the letter at all!” And she again raised her hand with the letter. Everything was a matter of two seconds. But this second time her eyes looked long and motionlessly at the few lines of the letter, and these light eyes dimmed, dimmed, the letter fell from her weakened hands onto the sewing table, she covered her face with her hands and began to sob. "What have I done! What have I done!" - and again sobbing.

- Verochka, what’s wrong with you? Are you willing to cry? when does this happen to you? what's wrong with you?

The young man entered the room with quick but light, cautious steps.

- Read... it's on the table...

She was no longer sobbing, but sat motionless, barely breathing.

The young man took the letter; and he turned pale, and his hands trembled, and he looked at the letter for a long time, although it was not large, only about a dozen words:

“I embarrassed your calmness. I'm leaving the stage. Don't be sorry; I love you both so much that I am very happy with my determination. Farewell".

The young man stood for a long time, rubbing his forehead, then began to twirl his mustache, then looked at the sleeve of his coat; Finally, he collected his thoughts. He took a step forward towards the young woman, who still sat motionless, barely breathing, as if in lethargy. He took her hand:

- Verochka!

But as soon as his hand touched her hand, she jumped up with a cry of horror, as if raised by an electric shock, and quickly recoiled from young man, frantically pushed him away:

- Get out! Do not touch me! You're covered in blood! His blood is on you! I can not see you! I'll leave you! I'll leave! get away from me! - And she pushed, kept pushing away the empty air and suddenly staggered, fell into a chair, covered her face with her hands.

“And I have his blood on me!” On me! It's not your fault - I'm alone... I'm alone! What have I done! What have I done!

She was choking with sobs.

“Vera,” he said quietly and timidly, “my friend...

She took a deep breath and said in a calm and still trembling voice, barely able to speak:

- My dear, leave me now! Come in again in an hour, I’ll be calm. Give me some water and go away.

He obeyed silently. He entered his room, sat down again at his desk, at which he had been sitting so calm, so contented a quarter of an hour before, and took up his pen again... “At such and such moments you need to be able to control yourself; I have a will - and everything will pass... it will pass”... And the pen, without his knowledge, wrote among some article: “Will it endure? “It’s terrible, happiness is gone”...

- My dear! I'm ready, let's talk! – was heard from the next room. The young woman's voice was muffled but firm.

- My dear, we must part. I made up my mind. It's hard. But it would be even harder for us to see each other. I'm his killer. I killed him for you.

- Verochka, what is your fault?

“Don’t say anything, don’t justify me, or I’ll hate you.” It's all my fault. Forgive me, my dear, that I am making a decision that is very painful for you - and for me, my dear, too! But I cannot do otherwise; after a while you will see for yourself that this should have been done. This is constant, my friend. Listen now. I'm leaving St. Petersburg. It will be easier to be away from places that resemble the past. I sell my things; I can live on this money for some time - where? in Tver, in Nizhny, I don’t know, it doesn’t matter. I will look for singing lessons; I’ll probably find it because I’ll settle somewhere in a big city. If I don’t find it, I’ll go to governess. I think I won't need; but if I do, I will turn to you; make sure that you have some money ready for me just in case; because you know, I have many needs and expenses, even though I am stingy; I can't do without it. Do you hear? I don't refuse your help! let, my friend, this prove to you that you remain dear to me... And now, let's say goodbye forever! Go to town... now, now! It will be easier for me when I'm left alone. Tomorrow I won't be here anymore - then come back. I’m going to Moscow, I’ll look around there, and find out which provincial city is the best place to get lessons. I forbid you to be at the station to accompany me. Goodbye, my dear, give me your hand in farewell, last time I'll shake it.

He wanted to hug her,” she warned his movement.

- No, it’s not necessary, it’s impossible! It would be an insult to him. Give me a hand. I press it - see how hard it is! But forgive me!

He didn't let go of her hand.

- That's enough, go. “She took her hand away, he didn’t dare resist. - Forgive me!

She looked at him so tenderly, but with firm steps she went into her room and never looked back at him as she left.

For a long time he could not find his hat; At least five times he took it in his hands, but did not see that he was taking it. He looked like he was drunk; Finally he realized that it was the hat he was looking for that he had on hand, he went out into the hall and put on his coat; Now he is already approaching the gate: “Who is this running after me? That’s right, Masha... that’s right, she’s really bad!” He turned around - Vera Pavlovna threw herself on his neck, hugged him, and kissed him deeply.

- No, I couldn’t resist, my dear! Now, forgive me forever!

She ran away, threw herself into bed and burst into tears that she had been holding back for so long.

III. Preface

“It’s true,” I say.

The reader is not limited to such easy conclusions - after all, a man’s thinking ability is naturally stronger and much more developed than a woman’s; he says - the reader probably also thinks this, but does not consider it necessary to say, and therefore I have no reason to argue with her - the reader says: “I know that this gentleman who shot himself did not shoot himself.” I grab the word “know” and say: you don’t know this, because this has not been told to you yet, and you only know what they will tell you; You yourself know nothing, you don’t even know that by the way I began the story, I insulted and humiliated you. You didn’t know this, did you? - well, just know this.

Yes, the first pages of the story reveal that I think very poorly of the audience. I used the usual trick of novelists: I began the story with spectacular scenes, torn out from the middle or end of it, and covered them with fog. You, the public, are kind, very kind, and therefore you are indiscriminate and slow-witted. You cannot be trusted to be able to discern from the first pages whether the content of a story will be worth reading; you have a bad instinct, it needs help, and there are two of these help: either the name of the author, or the effectiveness of the manner. I am telling you my first story, you have not yet acquired a judgment as to whether the author is gifted with artistic talent (after all, you have so many writers to whom you have assigned artistic talent), my signature would not yet have lured you in, and I had to throw a bait to you with the lure of showiness. Don’t judge me for this - it’s your own fault; your simple-minded naivety forced me to stoop to this vulgarity. But now you have already fallen into my hands, and I can continue the story, as I think it should, without any tricks. Then there will be no mystery, you will always see the denouement of each situation twenty pages in advance, and for the first time I will tell you the denouement of the whole story: it will end happily, with glasses, a song: there will be no showiness, no embellishment. The author has no time for embellishment, good audience, because he keeps thinking about how much confusion you have in your head, how much unnecessary, unnecessary suffering the wild confusion of your concepts causes to every person. I feel sorry and funny to look at you: you are so weak and so angry from the excessive amount of nonsense in your head.

I’m angry at you because you’re so angry with people, but people are you: why are you so angry with yourself? That's why I scold you. But you are angry from mental weakness, and therefore, while scolding you, I am obliged to help you. Where to start providing assistance? Yes, at least from what you are thinking now: what kind of writer is this, speaking to me so brazenly? – I’ll tell you what kind of writer I am.

I don't have a shadow of artistic talent. I don’t even speak the language well. But it’s still nothing: read, kind audience! you will read it not without benefit. Truth – a good thing: She rewards the shortcomings of the writer who serves her. Therefore, I will tell you: if I had not warned you, you would probably have thought that the story was written artistically, that the author had a lot of poetic talent. But I warned you that I have no talent, and you will now know that all the merits of the story are given to it only by its truth.

However, my kind audience, when talking to you, you need to talk everything through to the end; After all, although you are a hunter, you are not a master at guessing the unsaid. When I say that I do not have a shadow of artistic talent and that my story is very weak in execution, do not think of concluding that I am explaining to you that I am worse than those of your narrators whom you consider great, and my novel is worse than their works. That's not what I'm saying. I say that my story is very weak in execution compared to the works of people truly gifted with talent; With the famous works of your famous writers, you can boldly rank my story along with the merits of its execution, even put it above them - you won’t be mistaken! There is still more artistry in him than in them: you can be calm about this.

Thank me; After all, you are a hunter of bowing to those who neglect you - bow to me too.

But there is a certain proportion of people in you, the public - now quite a significant proportion - whom I respect. With you, with the vast majority, I am insolent, but only with him, and only with him, have I spoken so far. With the people I have now mentioned, I would speak modestly, even timidly. But I didn't have to explain myself to them. I value their opinions, but I know in advance that it is for me. Kind and strong, honest and skillful, you recently began to appear among us, but you are no longer few, and there are more and more of you quickly. If you were an audience, I would no longer need to write; If you weren’t already there, I wouldn’t be able to write yet. But you are not yet the public, and you are already among the public—that’s why I still need and can already write.

Chapter first
The life of Vera Pavlovna in her parents' family

I

Vera Pavlovna's upbringing was very ordinary. Her life before she met the medical student Lopukhov (3) was something remarkable, but not special. And even then there was something special in her actions.

Vera Pavlovna grew up in a multi-storey building on Gorokhovaya, between Sadovaya and Semenovsky Bridge. Now this house is marked with the appropriate number, and in 1852, when there were no such numbers yet (4), there was an inscription on it: “the house of the actual state councilor Ivan Zakharovich Storeshnikov.” So said the inscription; but Ivan Zakharych Storeshnikov died back in 1837, and from then on the owner of the house was his son, Mikhail Ivanovich, so the documents said. But the residents of the house knew that Mikhail Ivanovich was the owner’s son, and the owner of the house was Anna Petrovna.

The house was then, as it is now, large, with two gates and four entrances along the street, with three courtyards deep. On the main staircase to the street, on the first floor, the landlady and her son lived in 1852, as they still do now. Anna Petrovna remains as she was then, a distinguished lady. Mikhail Ivanovich is now a prominent officer and then he was a prominent and handsome officer.

I don’t know who now lives on the dirtiest of the countless back staircases of the first courtyard, on the 4th floor, in the apartment to the right; and in 1852, the manager of the house, Pavel Konstantinich Rozalsky, a stout, also prominent man, lived here with his wife Marya Aleksevna, a thin, strong, tall lady, with a daughter, a grown girl - she is Vera Pavlovna - and a 9-year-old son Fedya.

Pavel Konstantinich, in addition to managing the house, served as an assistant to the head of some department. He had no income from his position; around the house - he had, but in moderation: another would have received much more, but Pavel Konstantinich, as he himself said, knew his conscience; but the mistress was very pleased with him, and in fourteen years of management he accumulated up to ten thousand in capital. But from the owner’s pocket there were three thousand, no more; the rest grew to them from turnover, not to the detriment of the hostess: Pavel Konstantinich gave money on hand bail.

Marya Aleksevna also had capital - five thousand, as she told the gossips - in fact, more. The foundation of the capital was laid 15 years ago by the sale of a raccoon fur coat, a dress and furniture that Marya Aleksevna inherited from her brother, an official. Having rescued one and a half hundred rubles, she also put them into circulation on collateral, acted much more riskily than her husband, and several times fell for the bait: some rogue took 5 rubles from her. on the security of a passport - the passport turned out to be stolen, and Marya Aleksevna had to add another 15 rubles to get out of the case; another swindler pawned a gold watch for 20 rubles - the watch turned out to be taken from the murdered man, and Marya Aleksevna had to pay a lot to get out of the case. But if she suffered losses, which were avoided by her husband, who was picky about accepting collateral, then her profits came faster. Special occasions to receive money were also looked for. One day, Vera Pavlovna was still little then; Marya Aleksevna would not have done this with her adult daughter, but then why not do it? The child doesn't understand! and for sure, Verochka herself would not have understood, but, thank you, the cook explained it very clearly; and the cook would not have interpreted it, because the child should not know this, but it already happened that the soul could not stand it after one of the strong fights from Marya Aleksevna for an affair with her lover (however, Matryona always had a black eye, not from Marya Aleksevna, but from a lover - and this is good, because a cook with a black eye is cheaper!). So, one day an unprecedented familiar lady came to Marya Aleksevna, elegant, magnificent, beautiful, she came and stayed to stay. She stayed quietly for a week, only some civilian, also handsome, kept visiting her, and gave Verochka sweets, and gave her nice dolls, and gave her two books, both with pictures; in one book there were good pictures - animals, cities; and Marya Aleksevna took the other book from Verochka when the guest left, so she only saw these pictures once, in front of him: he showed them himself. So an acquaintance stayed for a week, and everything was quiet in the house: Marya Aleksevna did not go to the cupboard all week (where there was a decanter of vodka), the key to which she did not give to anyone, and did not hit Matryona, and did not hit Verochka, and did not swear loudly . Then one night Verochka was constantly awakened by the terrible screams of her guest, and by the walking and bustle in the house. In the morning, Marya Aleksevna went to the cabinet and stood there longer than usual, and kept saying: “Thank God, it was happy, thank God!” and after that, not just fighting and swearing, as happened other times after the cupboard, but she went to bed, kissing Verochka. Then again there was peace in the house for a week, and the guest did not scream, but just did not leave the room and then left. And two days after she left, a civilian came, only a different civilian, and brought the police with him, and scolded Marya Aleksevna a lot; but Marya Aleksevna herself did not yield to him in a single word and kept repeating: “I don’t know any of your affairs. Check the house books to see who was visiting me! Pskov merchant Savastyanova, my friend, here’s the whole story for you!” Finally, after quarreling and quarreling, the civilian left and did not appear again. Verochka saw this when she was eight years old, and when she was nine years old, Matryona explained to her what kind of incident it was. However, there was only one such case; and others were different, but not so many.

When Verochka was ten years old, a girl walking with her mother to Tolkuchy Market received an unexpected slap on the head when turning from Gorokhovaya to Sadovaya, with the remark: “You’re staring at the church, you fool, but why don’t you cross your forehead? Chat, you see, all good people are baptized!”

When Verochka was twelve years old, she began to go to a boarding school, and a piano teacher began to come to her - a drunk, but very kind German and a very good teacher, but, due to his drunkenness, very cheap.

When she was fourteen years old, she took care of the whole family, however, even the family was small.

When Verochka was sixteen years old, her mother began to shout at her like this: “Wash your face, you have it like a gypsy! You can’t wash it off, such a scarecrow was born, I don’t know who.” Verochka got a lot of punishment for her dark complexion, and she got used to considering herself ugly. Before, her mother used to take her around in almost rags, but now she began to dress her up. And Verochka, dressed up, goes with her mother to church and thinks: “These outfits would suit someone else, but no matter what you put on me, I’m still a gypsy - a scarecrow, both in a chintz dress and in a silk one. And it's good to be pretty. How I wish I could be pretty!”

When Verochka turned sixteen, she stopped studying with the piano teacher and at the boarding school, and she herself began giving lessons at the same boarding school; Then her mother found other lessons for her.

Six months later, mother stopped calling Verochka a gypsy and a stuffed animal, and began to dress her up better than before, and Matryona - this was already the third Matryona, after that one: that one always had a black eye, and this one had a broken left cheekbone, but not always, - she said Verochka that her boss, Pavel Konstantinich, and some important boss with an order around his neck are going to marry her. Indeed, minor officials in the department said that the head of the department, for whom Pavel Konstantinich served, became favorable to him, and the head of the department began to express the opinion among his equals that he needed a wife, even if she was without a dowry, but a beauty, and also the opinion that Pavel Konstantinich is a good official.

How it would have ended is unknown: but the head of the department was planning for a long time, prudently, and then another case turned up.

The owner's son came to the manager to say that mother was asking Pavel Konstantinich to take samples of different wallpapers, because mother wanted to re-decorate the apartment in which she lived. Previously, such orders were given through the butler. Of course, the matter is understandable and not for such experienced people as Marya Aleksevna and her husband. The owner's son, having come in, sat for more than half an hour and deigned to have some tea (flower tea). The very next day, Marya Aleksevna gave her daughter a clasp that had remained unredeemed in the pawn, and ordered her daughter two new dresses, very good ones - the material alone cost: 40 rubles for one dress, 52 rubles for the other, and with frills and ribbons, and a style both dresses cost 174 rubles; at least that’s what Marya Aleksevna told her husband, and Verochka knew that all the money they spent on them was less than 100 rubles - after all, purchases were also made in her presence - but after all, it was only 100 rubles. you can make two very good dresses. Verochka was happy about the dresses, she was happy about the clasp, but most of all she was happy that her mother finally agreed to buy her shoes from Korolev (5): after all, at the Tolkuchy market the shoes are so ugly, and the royal ones fit so amazingly on her feet.

The dresses were not in vain: the owner’s son got into the habit of going to the manager and, of course, talked more with his daughter than with the manager and the managers, who also, of course, carried him in their arms. Well, the mother gave instructions to her daughter, everything was as it should be - there’s nothing to describe, it’s a well-known fact.

One day, after dinner, my mother said:

- Verochka, dress better. I’ve prepared a surprise for you - we’ll go to the opera, I took a ticket in the second tier, where all the generals’ ladies are. All for you, fool. I don’t regret my last bit of money. Father's stomach is already churning from spending on you. In one boarding house the madame was overpaid how much, and the piano drunk how much! You don’t feel anything about it, you ungrateful one, no, apparently you have a soul, you’re so insensitive!

All Marya Aleksevna said was no longer scolding her daughter, but what kind of scolding is this? Marya Aleksevna just spoke to Verochka like that, but she stopped scolding her a long time ago, and never hit her since the rumor about the head of the department spread.

Let's go to the opera. After the first act, the owner's son entered the box, and with him two friends - one a civilian, lean and very elegant, the other a military man, plump and simpler. They sat down and whispered a lot to each other, more and more the landlady's son with the civilian, and the military man said little. Marya Aleksevna listened attentively, understood almost every word, but could understand little, because they all spoke in French. She knew the words heels from their conversation: belle, charmante, amour, bonheur - but what’s the point in these words? Belle, charmante - Marya Aleksevna has been hearing for a long time that her gypsy is belle and charmante; amour - Marya Aleksevna herself sees that he is head over heels in amour; and if amour, then, of course, bonheur - what's the use of these words? But just what, will the match be soon?

“Verochka, you are as ungrateful as you are,” Marya Aleksevna whispers to her daughter: “Why are you turning your snout away from them?” Did they offend you by coming in? They do you honor, you fool. But a wedding in French is a marriage, or what, Verochka? What about the bride and groom, and how to get married in French?

Verochka said.

- No, I don’t hear such words... Vera, apparently you said the words to me wrong? Look at me!

- No, that’s right: you won’t hear these words from them. Let's go, I can't stay here much longer.

- What? what did you say, bastard? – Marya Aleksevna’s eyes became bloodshot.

- Let's go. Then do whatever you want with me, but I won’t stay. I'll tell you why later. “Mama,” this was already said out loud, “I have a very bad headache: I can’t sit here.” I ask you to!

Verochka stood up.

The cavaliers began to fuss.

“It will pass, Verochka,” Marya Aleksevna said sternly, but decorously; - Walk along the corridor with Mikhail Ivanovich, and your head will pass.

- No, it won’t work: I feel very bad. Rather, mommy.

The gentlemen opened the door and wanted to lead Verochka by the arm, but she refused, the vile girl! They brought the cloaks themselves and went to put them into the carriage. Marya Aleksevna proudly looked at the lackeys: “Look, boors, what kind of gentlemen are - but this one will be my son-in-law! I’ll take care of such boors myself. And you break with me, break, you bastard - I’ll break them!” “But wait, wait,” does the son-in-law say something to her nasty girl, putting the vile proud girl into the carriage? Sante - this seems to be health, savoir - I recognize, visite and in our opinion the same, permettez - I ask permission. These words did not lessen Marya Aleksevna’s anger, but we must take them into account. The carriage moved.

– What did he tell you when he planted you?

“He said that tomorrow morning he would come to find out about my health.”

– You’re not lying, it’s tomorrow?

Verochka was silent.

- Happy is your god! - however, Marya Aleksevna could not resist, she pulled her daughter by the hair - only once, and then lightly. - Well, I won’t lay a finger on you, just so that tomorrow you will be cheerful! Sleep well, you fool! Don't you dare cry. Look, if I see tomorrow that I’m pale or my eyes are teary! I still let it go... I won’t let it go. I won’t regret a pretty face, but at the same time I’ll disappear, so at least I’ll let myself be known.

The floating bridge across the Neva, connecting the city with the Vyborg side; a permanent one was built in 1874–1879.

The youngest of the orders worn around the neck was the Order of Stanislav, 2nd degree, the next was the Order of Anna, 2nd degree, and the Order of Vladimir, 4th degree. The head of the department about whom Chernyshevsky writes most likely had one of the first two named orders. (Reported by V. M. Glinka - State Hermitage Museum).

A special type of tea containing an admixture of young leaves and flowers of tea rose; it was more expensive than regular tea and was considered especially tasty.

History of creation

Chernyshevsky himself called these people a type that “has recently been born and is quickly multiplying,” and is a product and sign of the times.

These heroes are characterized by a special revolutionary morality, which is based on the Enlightenment theory of the 18th century, the so-called “theory reasonable selfishness" This theory is that a person can be happy if his personal interests coincide with public ones.

Vera Pavlovna is the main character of the novel. Her prototypes are Chernyshevsky’s wife Olga Sokratovna and Marya Aleksandrovna Bokova-Sechenova, who fictitiously married her teacher and then became the wife of the physiologist Sechenov.

Vera Pavlovna managed to escape from the circumstances that surrounded her since childhood. Her character was tempered in a family where her father was indifferent to her, and for her mother she was simply a profitable commodity.

Vera is as enterprising as her mother, thanks to which she manages to create sewing workshops that generate good profits. Vera Pavlovna is smart and educated, balanced and kind to both her husband and girls. She is not a prude, not hypocritical and smart. Chernyshevsky admires Vera Pavlovna’s desire to break outdated moral principles.

Chernyshevsky emphasizes the similarities between Lopukhov and Kirsanov. Both are doctors, engaged in science, both from poor families and achieved everything through hard work. For the sake of helping an unfamiliar girl, Lopukhov gives up his scientific career. He is more rational than Kirsanov. This is also evidenced by the idea of ​​imaginary suicide. But Kirsanov is capable of any sacrifice for the sake of friendship and love, avoids communication with his friend and lover in order to forget her. Kirsanov is more sensitive and charismatic. Rakhmetov believes him, embarking on the path of improvement.

But main character novel (not in plot, but in idea) - not just “ new person“, but a “special person” is the revolutionary Rakhmetov. He generally renounces egoism as such, and happiness for himself. A revolutionary must sacrifice himself, give his life for those he loves, live like the rest of the people.

He is an aristocrat by birth, but has broken with the past. Rakhmetov earned money as a simple carpenter, a barge hauler. He had the nickname “Nikitushka Lomov”, like a hero-barge hauler. Rakhmetov invested all his funds in the cause of the revolution. He led the most ascetic lifestyle. If new people are called Chernyshevsky the salt of the earth, then revolutionaries like Rakhmetov are “the color the best people, engine engines, salt of the earth.” The image of Rakhmetov is shrouded in an aura of mystery and understatement, since Chernyshevsky could not say everything directly.

Rakhmetov had several prototypes. One of them is the landowner Bakhmetev, who in London transferred almost his entire fortune to Herzen for the cause of Russian propaganda. The image of Rakhmetov is collective.

Rakhmetov's image is far from ideal. Chernyshevsky warns readers against admiring such heroes, because their service is unrequited.

Stylistic features

Chernyshevsky widely uses two means artistic expression- allegory and omission. Vera Pavlovna's dreams are full of allegories. The dark basement in the first dream is an allegory of women’s lack of freedom. Lopukhov's bride is a great love for people, real and fantastic dirt from the second dream - the circumstances in which the poor and the rich live. The huge glass house in the last dream is an allegory of a communist happy future, which, according to Chernyshevsky, will definitely come and give joy to everyone without exception. The silence is due to censorship restrictions. But some mystery of the images or storylines does not spoil the pleasure of reading at all: “I know more about Rakhmetov than I say.” The meaning of the ending of the novel, which is interpreted differently, remains vague, the image of a lady in mourning. All the songs and toasts of a cheerful picnic are allegorical.

In the last tiny chapter, “Change of Scenery,” the lady is no longer in mourning, but in elegant clothes. In a young man of about 30, one can discern the released Rakhmetov. This chapter depicts the future, albeit a short one.