Nekrasov Russian women read online. Poem Russian women

Calm, strong and light. A wonderfully coordinated cart; The count father himself tried it more than once, not twice. Six horses were harnessed to it, and the lantern inside was lit. The count himself straightened the pillows, placed the bear's cavity at his feet, while saying a prayer, hung the icon in the right corner and began to sob... The princess daughter... She is going somewhere that night... I “Yes, we tear each other’s heart in half, but, dear, Tell me, what else should we do? Can you help with melancholy! One who could help us Now... Sorry, sorry! Bless your own daughter and let her go in peace! II God knows whether we will see each other again, Alas! there is no hope. Forgive and know: your love, your last testament I will remember deeply in a distant side... I don’t cry, but it’s not easy for me to part with you! III Oh, God knows!... But the duty is different, And higher and more difficult, Calls me... Forgive me, dear! Don't shed unnecessary tears! My path is long, my path is hard, My fate is terrible, But I clothed my chest with steel... Be proud - I am your daughter! IV Forgive you too, my native land, Forgive me, unfortunate land! And you... O fatal city, Nest of kings... farewell! Whoever saw London and Paris, Venice and Rome, You will not seduce him with your brilliance, But you were loved by me - V My youth passed happily within your walls, I loved your balls, The ride from the steep mountains, I loved the splash of your Neva in the evening silence, And this square in front of her With a hero on horseback... VI I won’t forget... Then, then They will tell our story... And damn you, gloomy house, Where I danced the first quadrille... That hand is still burning my hand... Rejoice......... …………………..” ______ Calm, strong and light, The cart rolls through the city. All in black, deathly pale, The princess rides alone in it, And her father’s secretary (in crosses, To instill dear fear) With the servants gallops ahead... Whistling with a whip, shouting: “Fall!” The coachman passed the capital... The princess had a long way to go, It was a harsh winter... At each station the traveler herself comes out: “Hurry, re-harness the horses!” And with a generous hand he pours out Chervontsy for the Yamskaya servants. But the path is difficult! On the twentieth day, as soon as we arrived in Tyumen, we rode for ten more days, “We’ll see the Yenisei soon,” the secretary told the princess. “The Emperor doesn’t travel like that!...” ______ Forward! The soul is full of melancholy, The road is becoming more and more difficult, But her dreams are peaceful and light - She dreamed of her youth. Wealth, shine! A tall house on the banks of the Neva, the staircase is covered with carpet, there are lions in front of the entrance, the lush hall is gracefully decorated, the whole place is lit with lights. O joy! It's a children's ball today, Chu! the music is booming! They wove scarlet ribbons into her two light brown braids, and brought her flowers and outfits of unprecedented beauty. Dad came - gray haired, rosy-cheeked - calling her to the guests: “Well, Katya! miracle sundress! He will drive everyone crazy!” She loves it, loves it without boundaries. A flower garden of cute children's faces, heads and curls is spinning in front of her. Children are dressed up like flowers, Old people are more dressed up: Plumes, ribbons and crosses, With jingling heels... A child dances and jumps, Without thinking about anything, And playful childhood flies by jokingly... Then Another time, another ball She dreams: a handsome young man stands in front of her , He whispers something to her... Then again balls, balls... She is their hostess, They have dignitaries, ambassadors, They have all the fashionable world... “Oh dear! Why are you so gloomy? What's on your heart? - Child! I'm bored with the social noise, Let's leave quickly, let's leave! - And so she left with her chosen one. Before her is a wonderful country, Before her is eternal Rome... Ah! How could we remember life - If we didn’t have those days, When, somehow escaping from our homeland And having passed the boring north, We rush to the south. There are needs before us, no one has rights over us... Myself-friend Always only with those who are dear to us, We live as we want; Today we are looking at an ancient temple, And tomorrow we will visit the Palace, ruins, museum... How fun it is to share your thoughts with your favorite creature! Under the spell of beauty, In the power of strict thoughts, You wander through the Vatican Depressed and gloomy; Surrounded by an obsolete world, you don’t remember the living. But how strangely amazed You are in the first moment later, When, having left the Vatican, You return to the living world, Where the donkey neighs, the fountain makes noise, the artisan sings; Trade is briskly in full swing, They shout in every possible way: “Corals! shells! snail! Ice cream water! The naked dances, eats, fights, pleased with itself, And the old woman scratches the jet-black braid of the young Roman woman... The day is hot, the din of the mob is unbearable, Where can we find peace and shade? We go into the first temple. No everyday noise can be heard here, Coolness, silence And semi-darkness... Stern thoughts Again the soul is full. A crowd of saints and angels The temple is decorated at the top, Porphyry and jasper underfoot, And marble on the walls... How sweet it is to listen to the sound of the sea! You sit silently for an hour, An unoppressed, cheerful mind Works meanwhile... You will climb high up the mountain path to the sun - What a morning before you! How easy it is to breathe! But the southern day is hotter, hotter, There are no dewdrops on the green valleys... Let's go under the shadow of Umbrella-shaped pinnas... The princess remembers those days of walks and conversations, They left an indelible mark on the soul. But she can’t bring back the days of the past, Those days of hopes and dreams, Just as she can’t bring back the tears she shed for them! The first is accustomed to rule, As the second slaves! She dreams of groups of benyaks In the fields, in the meadows, She dreams of the groans of barge haulers On the banks of the Volga... She is full of naive horror, She does not eat, does not sleep, She hurries to fall asleep to her companion with questions: “Tell me, is the whole region really like this? Is there no shadow contentment?..” - You are in the kingdom of beggars and slaves! - The short answer was... She woke up - sleep was in her hand! Chu, you can hear a sad ringing ahead - a shackled ringing! “Hey, coachman, wait!” Then the party of exiles is coming, My chest ached more painfully. The princess gives them money - “Thank you, good journey!” For a long, long time she sees their faces appear later, And she can’t drive away her thoughts, And she can’t forget herself in sleep! “And that party was here... Yes... there are no other ways... But the blizzard covered their trace. Hurry, coachman, hurry!..” ______ The frost is stronger, the path is more deserted than further to the east; Three hundred miles away is some wretched town, But how joyfully you look at the dark row of houses, But where are the people? It’s quiet everywhere, you can’t even hear the dogs. The frost drove everyone under the roof, They drink tea out of boredom. A soldier passed, a cart drove by, the chimes were striking somewhere. The windows froze... the light flickered a little in one... The cathedral... there was a prison outside... The coachman waved his whip: “Hey you!” - and there is no longer a town, The last house has disappeared... To the right are mountains and a river, To the left is a dark forest... A sick, tired mind is boiling, Sleepless until the morning, The heart is yearning. The change of thoughts is painfully fast; The princess sees now her friends, now a gloomy prison, And then she thinks - God knows why - That the starry sky is a leaf sprinkled with sand, And the month is a circle stamped with red sealing wax... The mountains have disappeared; The Plain began without end. More dead! Will not meet the eyes of a living tree. “Here comes the tundra!” - says Yamshchik, they are drilling the steppe. The princess looks intently and thinks with longing: This is where the greedy man comes for gold! It lies along river beds, It is at the bottom of swamps. Mining on the river is difficult, The swamps are terrible in the heat, But worse, worse in the mine, Deep underground!.. There is deathly silence, There is dawnless darkness... Why, damned country, did Ermak find you?.. ______ The darkness of the night descended in succession, It rose again moon. The princess did not sleep for a long time, full of heavy thoughts... She fell asleep... She dreams of the tower... It stands at the top; The familiar city in front of her is agitated and noisy; Countless crowds are running towards the vast square: Officials, merchants, peddlers, priests; Hats, velvet, silk, sheepskin coats, army jackets are colorful... There was already some regiment standing there, More regiments came, More than a thousand soldiers converged. They "hurray!" They are shouting, They are waiting for something... The people were noisy, the people were yawning, Hardly the hundredth understood, What was happening here... But he chuckled in his mustache, Slyly narrowing his gaze, A Frenchman familiar with storms, The capital's coffer... New regiments arrived: "Surrender!" - they shout. The answer to them is bullets and bayonets. They don’t want to surrender. Some brave general, flying into the square, began to threaten - They carried him off his horse. Another approached the ranks: “The king will grant you forgiveness!” They killed that one too. The Metropolitan himself appeared with banners and a cross: “Repent, brothers! - it says, “Fall before the king!” The soldiers listened, crossing themselves, But the answer was friendly: - Go away, old man! pray for us! You have no business here... - Then the guns were aimed, the Tsar himself commanded: “Pa-li!..” “...Oh, dear! Are you alive? The princess, having lost her memory, rushed forward and fell headlong from a height! In front of her is a long and damp underground corridor, There is a sentry at every door, All the doors are locked. She can hear the sound of waves like a splash outside; Inside there is a rattling sound, a gun shines in the light of the lanterns; Yes, the distant noise of footsteps And the long hum from them, Yes, the cross-strike of clocks, Yes, the cries of sentries... With the keys, an old and gray-haired, mustachioed invalid - “Come, sad woman, follow me!” - He speaks to her quietly. “I will take you to him, He is alive and unharmed...” She trusted him, She followed him... They walked for a long, long time... Finally, the Door squealed, and suddenly in front of her he was... a living dead... In front of her - a poor friend! Falling on his chest, she hurries to ask: “Tell me what to do? I am strong, I can take terrible revenge! There is enough courage in the chest, The readiness is hot, Is it necessary to ask?..” - Don’t go, You won’t touch the executioner! - “Oh dear! what did you say? I don't hear your words. Now this terrible chiming of the clock, now the screams of the sentries! Why is there a third one between us?..” - Your question is naive. - “It's time! The hour has struck!” - That “third” one said... ______ The princess shuddered - she looked around in fright, Horror chilled her heart: Not everything here was a dream!.. The moon floated among the skies Without shine, without rays, To the left was a gloomy forest, To the right was the Yenisei. Dark! There was not a soul in sight, The coachman was sleeping on the box, The hungry wolf in the wilderness was moaning piercingly, Yes, the wind was beating and roaring, Playing on the river, Yes, a foreigner was singing somewhere in a strange language. The unknown language sounded with harsh pathos, And it tore at my heart even more, Like the cry of a seagull in a storm... The princess is cold; That night the frost was unbearable, my strength fell; She can’t bear to fight him anymore. Horror took over her mind that she couldn’t get there. The coachman has not sung for a long time, He has not urged the horses, The front three have not been heard. "Hey! are you alive, coachman? Why are you silent? Don’t you dare sleep!” - Don’t be afraid, I’m used to it... - They’re flying... From the frozen window You can’t see anything, She drives away a dangerous dream, But you can’t drive it away! He instantly conquered the will of the sick woman and, like a magician, resettled her to another land. That region - it is already familiar to her - is as full of bliss as before, And greeted her with a warm ray of sunshine and the sweet singing of the waves, like a friend... Wherever she looks: “Yes, this is the south!” yes, this is the south! - Everything speaks to the eyes... Not a cloud in the blue sky, The valley is all in flowers, Everything is flooded with sunshine, on everything, Below and on the mountains, The seal of mighty beauty, Everything around is rejoicing; To her the sun, sea and flowers sing: “Yes - this is the south!” In the valley between the chain of mountains and the blue sea She flies at full speed with her chosen one. Their road is a luxurious garden, Aroma pours from the trees, Ruddy, lush fruit burns on every tree; Through the dark branches the Azure of heaven and water shines through; Ships fly across the sea, sails flash, and mountains visible in the distance go into the sky. How wonderful are their colors! For an hour, the Rubies glowed there, Now the topaz sparkled Along their white ridges... Here is a pack mule walking in steps, In bells, in flowers, Behind the mule is a woman with a wreath, With a basket in her hands. She shouts to them: “Bon voyage!” - And, suddenly laughing, He quickly throws a Flower on her chest... yes! This is the south! The country of ancient, dark-skinned maidens And the country of eternal roses... Chu! melodic tune, Chu! music can be heard!.. “Yes, this is the south! yes, this is the south! (Sings her a good dream) Again your beloved friend is with you, He is free again!..!

Part two

For two months already, almost continuously day and night on the road, a wonderfully well-coordinated cart, and still the end of the road is far away! The princess's companion was so tired that he fell ill near Irkutsk. After waiting for him for two days, she rushed on alone... She was met in Irkutsk by the City Chief himself; As dry as a relic, straight as a stick, Tall and gray-haired. His dokha slid off his shoulder, Under it were crosses and a uniform, On his hat were rooster feathers. The venerable foreman, scolding the coachman for something, hastily jumped up and opened the doors of the sturdy cart for the Princess... Princess (included in the station house) To Nerchinsk! Lay it down quickly! Governor I came to meet you. Princess Tell me to give you horses! Governor Please pause for an hour. Our road is so bad, you need to rest... Princess Thank you! I am strong... My path is not far... Governor Still, it will be up to eight hundred miles, And the main problem: The road will get worse here, Dangerous driving! with him. Your father is a rare man, according to his heart, according to his mind, Having imprinted in his soul forever Gratitude for him, At the service of his daughter I am ready... I am all yours... Princess But I don’t need anything! (Opening the door to the hallway.) Is the crew ready? Governor Until I order, He will not be served... Princess So order it! I ask... Governor But there is a clue here: A paper was sent with the last mail... Princess What's in it: Shouldn't I come back? Governor Yes, sir, that would be more correct. Princess Who sent you the paper and what is it about? Well, were they joking, or what, at the expense of my father? He arranged everything himself! Governor No... I don’t dare to say... But the way is still long... Princess So why talk in vain! Is my cart ready? Governor No! I haven’t ordered it yet... Princess! here I am the king! Sit down! I already said. That I knew the count of old, And the count... even though he let you go, Out of his kindness, But your departure killed him... Come back quickly! Princess No! that once decided - I will fulfill it to the end! It’s funny for me to tell you how much I love my father, how he loves me. But another duty, higher and holy, calls me. My tormentor! Let's get some horses! Governor Allow me, sir. I myself agree that every hour is precious, but do you know well what awaits you? Our side is barren, And that side is even poorer, Spring is shorter than ours, Winter is even longer. Yes, sir, it’s winter for eight months there - did you know? There people are rare without a stigma, And those are callous in soul; In the wild they prowl around. There are only varnaki; The prison house there is terrible, the mines are deep. You don’t have to be with your husband. Minutes eye to eye: You have to live in a common barracks, And food: bread and kvass. Five thousand convicts there, Embittered by fate, Start fights at night, Murder and robbery; Their judgment is short and terrible, There is no more terrible trial! And you, princess, are always here as a Witness... Yes! Believe me, you will not be spared, No one will have mercy! Let your husband be the one to blame... But why should you endure... why? Princess The life of my husband will be terrible, I know. Let mine be no more joyful than his! Governor But you will not live there: That climate will kill you! I have to convince you, don’t drive forward! Oh! Do you want to live in a country like this, where people's air is not steam but icy dust coming out of their nostrils? Where is the darkness and cold all year round, And in short periods of heat there are never-drying swamps, harmful vapors? Yes... a terrible land! From there the forest beast will also run away, When the hundred-day night hangs over the country... Princess People live in that land, I'll get used to it jokingly... Governor Do they live? But remember your youth... child! Here the mother is a snowy water, Having given birth, she washes her daughter, Lulls the baby with a menacing storm all night, And a wild beast wakes up, growling Near the forest hut, And the storm, madly knocking on the window, like a brownie. From deep forests, from desert rivers, Collecting his tribute, the native man grew stronger With nature in battle, And you? .. Princess Let death be destined for me - I have nothing to regret!.. I’m going! I'm going! I must die near my husband. Governor Yes, you will die, but first, torture the one whose head is irrevocably lost. For him I ask: don’t go there! It’s more bearable to be alone, Tired of hard work, Come to your prison, Come and lie down on the bare floor And fall asleep with stale bread... and a good dream came - And the prisoner became a king! Flying with a dream to his family, to his friends, Seeing you yourself, He will wake up to the day's work And cheerful and quiet in heart, And with you?.. with you He will not know happy dreams, In himself he will recognize the Reason for your tears. Princess Ah!.. It’s better for you to save these speeches for others. All your tortures cannot remove Tears from my eyes! Having left my homeland, friends, Beloved father, Having accepted a vow in my soul to fulfill my duty to the end - I will not bring tears to the damned prison - I will save the pride, the pride in him, I will give him strength! Contempt for our executioners, Consciousness of being right will be our true support. Governor Beautiful dreams! But they will last for five days. Isn’t it time for you to be sad? Believe my conscience, you will want to live. Here there is stale bread, prison, shame, Need and eternal oppression, And there are balls, a brilliant courtyard, Freedom and honor. Who knows? Perhaps God has judged... Someone else will like you, The law has not deprived you of your rights... Princess Be silent!.. My God!.. Governor Yes, I say frankly, You better return to the world. Princess Thank you, thank you for your kind advice! And before there was an earthly paradise there, and now Nikolai has cleared this paradise with His caring hand. There people are rotting alive - walking coffins, Men are a bunch of Judas, And women are slaves. What will I find there? Hypocrisy, violated honor, triumph of impudent rubbish and petty revenge. No, they won’t lure me into this deforested forest, Where there were oak trees up to the skies, And now the stumps stick out! Return? to live among slander, Empty and dark deeds?.. There is no place there, there is no friend there for the one who has once received his sight! No, no, I don’t want to see Corrupt and stupid people, I won’t appear to be the executioner of the Free and the Saints. To forget the one who loved us, To return and forgive everything?.. Governor But he didn’t spare you? Think, child: Who is the longing about? to whom is love? Princess Keep quiet, general! Governor If it weren't for the valiant blood Flowing through you, I would have remained silent. But if you rush forward, Not believing anything, Perhaps pride will save you... He got you with wealth, with a name, with intelligence, With a trusting soul, And he, not thinking about what would happen to his wife, was carried away by an empty ghost, And - this is his fate!.. And what?.. you run after him, Like a pitiful slave! Princess No! I am not a pathetic slave, I am a woman, a wife! Even if my fate is bitter, I will be faithful to it! Oh, if he forgot me For another woman, I would have enough strength in my soul Not to be his slave! But I know: my love for my homeland is my rival, And if it were necessary, I would forgive Him again!.. ______ The princess finished... The stubborn old man was silent. "Well? Do you order, general, to prepare my cart?” Without answering the question, He looked at the floor for a long time, Then, thoughtfully, he said: - See you tomorrow - and left... ______ The next day the same conversation. He asked and convinced, But the venerable general was again rebuffed. Having exhausted all his convictions and lost his strength, He walked around the room for a long time, solemn, silent, and finally said: “Be it so!” You can’t be saved, alas!.. But know: by taking this step, you will lose everything! - “What else do I have to lose?” - Having galloped after your husband, you must sign a renunciation of your rights! - The old man fell silent effectively. He obviously expected benefit from these terrible words. But the answer was this: “You have a gray head, And you are still a child! Our rights seem like rights to you - not joking. No! I don’t value them, Take them quickly! Where is the renunciation? I'll sign it! And quickly - the horses!..” Governor Sign this paper! What are you talking about?.. My God! After all, this means becoming a beggar AND a simple woman! You will say “forgive” to everything that was given to you by your father, that which should be passed on by inheritance should come to you later! Lose property rights, rights of the Nobility! No, you think first, - I’ll come to you again!.. ______ He ​​left and wasn’t there all day... When darkness descended, the Princess, weak as a shadow, went to him herself. The general did not accept her: She was seriously ill... Five painful days passed while he was ill, and on the sixth he himself came and abruptly said to her: - I have no right to let you go, Princess, of your horses! You will be led along the stage with an escort... - Princess, my God! But months will pass on the road?.. Governor Yes, in the spring you will come to Nerchinsk, if the road does not kill you. The Chained One can hardly walk four miles an hour; In the middle of the day - a halt, With the sunset of the day - an overnight stay, And a hurricane caught in the steppe - Bury yourself in the snow! Yes, sir, there is no number of delays, Another fell, weakened... Princess I didn’t understand well - What does your stage mean? Governor Under the guard of the Cossacks With weapons in our hands We lead thieves and convicts in chains on stage, They are playing pranks on the road, The next minute they will run away, So they will be tied with a rope to each other - and they will be led. The path is difficult! Well, here it is: Five hundred will go, But not even a third will reach the Nerchinsk mines! They die like flies on the way, Especially in winter... And you, princess, should you go like this? . Come home now! Princess Oh no! I was waiting for this... But you, but you... a villain!.. A whole week has passed... People have no hearts! Why not say it all at once?.. I should have been on my way a long time ago... Tell me to collect the batch - I’m coming! I don’t care!.. ______ - No! you will go!.. - cried the old general unexpectedly, covering his eyes with his hand. - How I tormented you... My God!.. (A tear rolled down from under the hand onto the gray mustache). Sorry! Yes, I tormented you, But I also tormented myself, But I had strict orders to put barriers to you! And didn’t I install them? I did everything I could, Before the king my soul is pure, God is my witness! With careful, hard crackers, And with life locked up, With shame, horror, and labor, Along the staged path, I tried to scare you. You weren't scared! And even if I couldn’t hold my head on my shoulders, I can’t, I don’t want to Tyrannize you anymore... I’ll get you there in three days... (Opening the door, he shouts.) Hey! harness now!.. -

Princess M. N. Volkonskaya
Grandmother's Notes
(1826 - 27)

Chapter I

Prankster grandchildren! Today they returned from their walk again: “We’re bored, grandma!” On rainy days, When we sat in the portrait room And you started telling us, It was so fun!.. Dear, Tell me something else!.. - They sat down in the corners. But I drove them away: “You will have time to listen; There are enough of my stories for whole volumes, But you are still stupid: you will recognize them, As you become familiar with life! I have told you everything that was available to you in your childhood years: Go for a walk through the fields, through the meadows! Go ahead... take advantage of the summer!” And so, not wanting to remain in debt to my grandchildren, I write notes; For them I treasure portraits of people who were close to me, I bequeath to them an album - and flowers from the grave of my sister - Muravyova, a collection of butterflies, the flora of Chita and views of that harsh country; I bequeath to them an iron bracelet... Let them cherish it sacredly: As a gift to his wife, his grandfather forged it from his own chain once... ______ I was born, my dear grandchildren, Near Kiev, in a quiet village; I was the family's favorite daughter. Our family was rich and ancient, But my father exalted it even more: More tempting than the glory of a hero, More expensive than the fatherland - the fighter who did not like peace knew nothing. Working miracles, at the age of nineteen He was a regimental commander. With courage He won laurels of victory and honors revered by the world. His military glory began with the Persian and Swedish campaigns, But his memory inseparably merged with the great twelfth year: Here his life was a long battle. We shared our hikes with him, And we wouldn’t remember the date of another month, If we didn’t tremble for him. The “Defender of Smolensk” was always ahead of the dangerous cause... Near Leipzig, wounded, with a bullet in the chest, He fought again a day later, So the chronicle of his life says: Among the commanders of Russia, As long as our fatherland stands, He will be remembered! They showered my Father with praise, calling him Immortal; Zhukovsky honored him with a loud stanza, glorifying Russian leaders: Under Dashkova, the heat of personal courage And the sacrifice of the patriotic father the Poet glorifies. A martial gift, manifesting itself in countless battles, Your great-grandfather did not defeat his enemies in a gigantic struggle by force alone: ​​they said that he combined military genius with courage. Preoccupied with the war, in his family the Father did not interfere with anything, But at times he was cool; He seemed almost like a deity to our mother, and he himself was deeply attached to her. We loved our father - in a hero. Having finished his campaigns, in his estate He slowly faded into peace. We lived in a large suburban house. Having entrusted the children to the Englishwoman, the Old Man rested. I learned everything that a rich noblewoman needs. And after lessons I ran into the garden and sang all day carefree. My voice was very good, they say, my father listened to it willingly; He brought his notes to an end, He read newspapers, magazines, gave feasts; Grey-haired generals like him came to visit my father, And then there were endless disputes; Meanwhile, the youth danced. Should I tell you the truth? I was always the queen of the ball at that time: The blue fire of my languid eyes, And the large black braid with a blue tint, and the deep blush on my dark, beautiful face, And my tall height, and my flexible figure, And my proud gait - captivated the handsome men of that time: hussars, lancers, who stood close to the regiments. But I listened reluctantly to their flattery... My father tried for me: “Isn’t it time to get married?” There is already a groom, He fought gloriously near Leipzig, The sovereign, our father, loved him, And gave him the rank of general. Older than you... but well done, Volkonsky! You saw him at the royal review... and he visited us, He kept wandering around the park with you! - "Yes I remember! Such a tall general…” - He’s the one! - The old man laughed... “Father! he spoke to me so little!” - I noticed, I blushed... - You will be happy with him! - the Old Man decided coolly, - I didn’t dare object... Two weeks passed - and I stood under the aisle with Sergei Volkonsky, I didn’t know him much as a fiancé, I didn’t recognize him much as a husband, - We lived so little under the same roof, So rarely each other seen! His brigade was scattered across distant villages for winter quarters, Sergei traveled around it constantly. Meanwhile, I fell ill; In Odessa later, on the advice of doctors, I swam the whole summer; In winter, he came there for me, I rested with him for a week at the main apartment... and again there was trouble! One day I fell fast asleep, Suddenly I heard Sergei’s voice (in the night, It was almost dawn): “Get up! find me the keys quickly! Light the fireplace!” I jumped up... I looked: he was alarmed and pale. I lit the fireplace quickly. My husband carried papers from the boxes to the fireplace and burned them hastily. Some he read quickly, in a hurry, others he threw away without reading. And I helped Sergei, trembling and pushing them deeper into the fire... Then he said: “We will go now,” gently touching my hair. Everything was soon packed for us, and in the morning, without saying goodbye to anyone, we set off on the road. We rode for three days, Sergei was gloomy, in a hurry, took me to his father’s estate and immediately said goodbye to me.

Chapter II

“He left!.. What did his paleness mean And everything that happened that night? Why didn't he tell his wife anything? Something bad happened!” For a long time I did not know peace and sleep, Doubts tormented my soul: “I left, I left! I’m alone again!..” My relatives consoled me, Father explained his haste with some random matter: “The emperor himself sent Him somewhere on a secret mission, Don’t cry!” You shared campaigns with me, You know the vicissitudes of military life; he'll be coming home soon! You carry a precious deposit under your heart: now you must take care! Everything will end well, dear; Hubby's wife saw him off alone, And he met her, rocking the child!.. Alas! his prediction did not come true! The father had a chance to see his poor wife and his first-born son, not here - not under his own roof! How dearly my firstborn cost me! I was ill for two months. Exhausted in body, killed in soul, I recognized the first nanny. I asked about my husband. - I haven’t been there yet! - “Did you write?” - And there aren’t even any letters. - “Where is my father?” - He galloped off to St. Petersburg. - “What about my brother?” - I went there. - “My husband didn’t come, there’s not even a letter, And my brother and father galloped away,” I told my mother. - I’m going by myself! Enough, enough we have waited!” And no matter how hard the Old Woman tried to beg her daughter, I firmly decided; I remembered that last night And everything that happened then, And I clearly realized that something bad was happening to my husband... It was spring, and I had to drag myself like a turtle through the river floods. I arrived barely alive again. “Where is my husband?” - I asked my father. - Your husband went to fight in Moldova. - “He doesn’t write?..” He looked sadly and the father came out... The brother was dissatisfied, the servant was silent, sighing. I noticed that they were being cunning with me, Carefully hiding something; Citing the fact that I needed peace, no one was allowed to see me, they surrounded me with some kind of wall, they didn’t even give me newspapers! I remembered: my husband has a lot of relatives, I am writing - I beg you to answer. Weeks pass - not a word from them! I’m crying, I’m losing strength... There is no feeling more painful than a secret thunderstorm. I swore to my father that I would not shed a single tear. Both he and everything around were silent! Loving, my poor father tormented me; Feeling sorry, I doubled the grief... I found out, I finally found out everything!.. I read in the very verdict, That poor Sergei was a conspirator: They stood on guard, Preparing the troops for the overthrow of the authorities. He was also blamed for the fact that he... My head was spinning... I didn’t want to believe my eyes... “Really?..” - the words didn’t fit in my mind: Sergei - and a dishonorable deed! I remember, I read the sentence a hundred times, delving into the fatal words: I ran to my father, - the conversation with my father calmed me down, dear ones! It was as if a heavy stone had been lifted from my soul. I blamed Sergei for one thing: Why didn’t he tell his wife? After thinking about it, I forgave him: “How could he talk? I was young, When he broke up with me, I carried my son under my heart then: He was afraid for his mother and child! - That's what I thought. - Even though the trouble is great, I haven’t lost everything in the world. Siberia is so terrible, Siberia is far away, But people live in Siberia too!..” All night I burned, dreaming about how I would cherish Sergei. In the morning, in a deep, restorative sleep, I fell asleep and woke up more alert. My health soon improved, I saw some friends, I found my sister, I asked her, and I learned a lot of bitter things! Unhappy people!.. “All the time Sergei (Said the sister) was kept in prison; I didn’t see any relatives or friends... Only yesterday Father saw him. You can see him too: When the verdict was read, They dressed them in rags, took off their crosses, But they were given the right to meet!..” I missed a number of details here... Having left fatal traces, To this day they cry out for vengeance... Don’t know them better, dear ones . I went to the fortress to visit my husband and sister. We first came to the “general”, Then the elderly general led us into a vast gloomy hall. “Wait, princess! we'll be there now!" Having bowed politely to us, He left. I didn't take my eyes off the door. The minutes seemed like hours. The steps gradually fell silent in the distance, I flew with my thoughts behind them. It seemed to me that they brought a bunch of keys, and the rusty door creaked. In a gloomy closet with an iron window, an exhausted prisoner languished. “Your wife has come to see you!..” Pale-faced, He trembled all over, perked up: “Wife!..” He quickly ran down the corridor, Not daring to trust his rumor... “Here he is!” - the general said loudly. And I saw Sergei... No wonder a thunderstorm swept over him: Wrinkles appeared on his forehead, His face was deathly pale, his eyes no longer shone so brightly, But there was more of that quiet, familiar sadness in them than in previous days; They looked inquisitively for a minute, And suddenly they shone with joy, It seemed that he looked into my soul... I bitterly fell to his chest and sobbed... He hugged me and whispered: - There are strangers here. - Then he said that it was useful for him to learn the virtue of humility, Which, however, easily endures prison, And he added a few words of encouragement... The Witness walked importantly around the room: we were embarrassed... Sergei pointed to his clothes: - Congratulate me, Masha, on the new thing , - And he quietly added: - Understand and forgive, - His eyes sparkled with tears, But then the spy managed to approach, He hung his head low. I said loudly: “Yes, I didn’t expect to find you in these clothes.” And she quietly whispered: “I understand everything. I love you more than before...” - What should I do? And I will live in hard labor (Until I get bored with living). - “You’re alive, you’re healthy, so why bother? (After all, hard labor won’t separate us?)” - So that’s what you are like! - Sergei said, His face was cheerful... He took out a handkerchief, put it on the window, And I put mine next to it, Then, parting, I took Sergei’s handkerchief - mine was left for my husband... After a year-long separation, the hour-long meeting seemed short to us, But what could we do? ! Our time had passed - Others would have had to wait... The general put me in the carriage, He happily wanted to stay... I found great joy in the scarf: Kissing it, I saw a few words on one corner; This is what I, trembling, read: “My friend, you are free. Understand - don’t blame! I am mentally alert and I wish to see my wife the same. Goodbye! I send my regards to the little one...” My husband had a lot of relatives in St. Petersburg; know everything - yes what! I went to them, worried for three days, begging to save Sergei. The father said: “Why are you suffering, daughter? I tried everything - it’s useless! And it’s true: they were already trying to help, Tearingly begging the emperor, But the requests did not reach his heart... I saw my husband again, And the time was ripe: he was taken away!.. As soon as I was left alone, I immediately heard in my heart, What was needed and I was in a hurry, my parents’ house seemed stuffy to me, and I began to ask my husband. Now I will tell you in detail, friends, My fatal victory. The whole family rose up unanimously and menacingly, When I said: “I’m going!” I don’t know how I managed to resist, What I suffered... God!.. My mother was called from near Kyiv, And my brothers came too: My father ordered me to “reason with” me. They convinced, they asked, But God himself reinforced my will, Their speeches did not break it! And I had to cry a lot and bitterly... When we gathered for dinner, Father casually asked me a question: - What have you decided on? - “I’m coming!” The father was silent... the family was silent... I cried bitterly in the evening, Rocking the child, I thought... Suddenly the father comes in, - I shuddered... I was waiting for a thunderstorm, but, sad and quiet, He said heartily and meekly: - Why do you offend your blood relatives? What will happen to the unfortunate orphan? What will happen to you, my dove? It's not female power that's needed there! Your great sacrifice is in vain, You will only find a grave there! - And he waited for an answer, and caught my gaze, Caressing me and kissing me... - It’s my own fault! I ruined you! - He exclaimed suddenly, indignantly. -Where was my mind? Where were the eyes? Our whole army already knew... - And he tore out his gray hair: - Forgive me! don't execute me, Masha! Stay!.. - And again he begged fervently... God knows how I resisted! Leaning my head on his shoulder, “I’ll go!” - I said quietly... - Let's see! .. - And suddenly the old man straightened up, His eyes sparkled with anger: - Your stupid tongue repeats one thing: “I’ll go!” Isn't it time to say, Where and why? Think first! You don't know what you're talking about! Can your head think? Do you, perhaps, consider both your mother and father to be enemies? Or are they stupid... Why are you arguing with them as if you were your equal? Look deeper into your heart, Look ahead more calmly, Think!.. I will see you tomorrow... - He left, threatening and angry, And I, barely alive, fell in front of the holy icon - in spiritual languor...

Chapter III

- Think!.. - I didn’t sleep the whole night, I prayed and cried a lot. I called the Mother of God for help, I asked God for advice, I learned to think: my father ordered me to Think... not an easy task! How long ago did he think for us - and decide, And our life flew peacefully? I studied a lot; I read it in three languages. I was noticeable in state drawing rooms, at social balls, skillfully dancing and playing; I could talk about almost everything, I knew music, I sang, I even rode perfectly, but I couldn’t think at all. It was only in my last, twentieth year that I learned that life is not a toy. Yes, in childhood, it happened that my heart would tremble, as if a gun suddenly burst out. Life was good and free; Father did not speak strictly to me; At the age of eighteen I walked down the aisle And I didn’t think much either... Lately my head has been working hard, burning; The unknown tormented me at first. When I learned of the misfortune, Sergei stood before me, exhausted from prison, pale, and sowed many previously unknown passions in my poor soul. I experienced everything, and most of all, a cruel feeling of powerlessness. I prayed to heaven and strong people for him - my efforts were in vain! And anger burned my sick soul, And I worried out of tune, I was torn, I cursed... but I had no strength, No time to think calmly. Now I definitely have to think - My Father wants it this way. Let my will always be one, Let every thought be fruitless, I have honestly decided to carry out my father’s order, my dears. The old man said: - Think about us, We are not strangers to you: Mother, father, and child, finally - You are recklessly abandoning everyone, Why? - “I’m doing my duty, father!” - Why are you dooming yourself to torment? - “I won’t suffer there! A terrible torment awaits me here. Yes, if I remain, obedient to you, I will be tormented by separation. Not knowing peace either night or day, Sobbing over the poor orphan, I will always think about my husband and hear his meek reproach. Wherever I go, on the faces of people I will read my sentence: In their whispers is the story of my betrayal, In a smile I will guess the reproach: That my place is not at a magnificent ball, But in the distant gloomy desert, Where a tired prisoner in a prison corner is tormented by a fierce thought, Alone... without support... Hurry to him! There I will only breathe freely. I shared the joy with him, I must share the prison... It’s heaven’s will!.. Forgive me, dear ones! My heart suggested a decision to me a long time ago. And I firmly believe: it is from God! And it says in you - regret. Yes, if I have to make a choice Between my husband and son - no more, I go where I am needed most, I go to the one who is in captivity! I will leave my son with my family, He will soon forget me. Let the grandfather be the baby's father, Let the sister be his mother. He's still so small! And when he grows up and learns a terrible secret, I believe: he will understand his mother’s feelings and justify her in his heart! But if I stay with him... and then He finds out the secret and asks: “Why didn’t you follow your poor father?..” And throw a word of reproach at me? Oh, it’s better for me to lie in the grave alive, Than to deprive my husband of consolation And bring contempt upon my son in the future... No, no! I don’t want contempt!.. But it might happen - I’m afraid to think! - I will forget my first husband, I will submit to the conditions of the new family, And I will not be a mother to my son, But a fierce stepmother?.. I am burning with shame... Forgive me, poor exile! Forget you! Never! never! You are the only chosen one of the heart... Father! you don’t know how dear he is to me! You don't know him! At first, In a brilliant outfit, on a proud horse, I saw Him in front of the regiment; About the exploits of his life in battle The stories of his comrades in battle I listened to greedily - and with all my soul I fell in love with the hero in him... Later I fell in love with him for the father of Baby, who was born to me. The separation dragged on endlessly. He stood firmly under the thunderstorm... You know where we met again - Fate did its will! - I gave him the last, best love of my heart in prison! In vain is the ink of his slander, He was more impeccable than before, And I loved him like Christ... In his prison clothes Now he constantly stands before me, Shining with meek majesty. A crown of thorns over his head, In his gaze - unearthly love... My Father! I must see him... I will die, longing for my husband... You, serving your duty, did not spare anything, And you taught us the same... The hero who led his sons There, where the battle is deadlier, - I don’t believe that you yourself did not approved the decision! ______ That's what I thought during the long night, And that's how I talked to my father... He said quietly: - Crazy daughter! - And he left; Both brothers and mother were silent sadly... I finally left... Hard days dragged on: The dissatisfied father walked like a cloud, Other household members sulked. No one wanted to help either with advice or with deeds; but I did not doze, Again I spent a sleepless night, writing a letter to the sovereign (At that time, rumors began to spread, That it was as if the sovereign had ordered Trubetskoy to be returned from the road. I was afraid of experiencing such a fate, But the rumor was incorrect). The letter was delivered by my sister, Katya Orlova. The king himself answered me... Thank you, I found a kind word in the answer! He was elegant and sweet (Nicholas wrote in French.) First, the sovereign said how terrible that region is, Where I wanted to go, How rude the people are there, how hard life is, How fragile and tender my age is; Then he hinted (I did not suddenly understand) that a return was hopeless; And then - he deigned to honor my determination with praise, regretting that, obedient to duty, he could not spare the criminal husband... Not daring to resist such lofty feelings, he gave his permission; But I would rather wish that I stayed at home with my son... Excitement overwhelmed me. "I'm coming!" It’s been a long time since my heart beat so joyfully... “I’m going!” I'm coming! Now it’s decided!..” I cried, prayed fervently... In three days I got ready for my long journey, I pawned everything valuable, I stocked up on a reliable fur coat, I stocked up on linen, I bought a simple wagon. My relatives looked at my preparations, sighing mysteriously; None of the family believed in leaving... I spent the last night with the child. Bent over my son, I tried to remember the smile of my dear little one; I played with him with the seal of the fatal letter. She played and thought: “My poor son! You don't know what you're playing with! Here is your fate: you will wake up alone, Unhappy! You will lose your mother! And in grief, falling on his little arms with my face, I whispered, sobbing: “Forgive me that for your father, my poor one, I must leave you...” And he smiled; He didn’t think about going to sleep, Admiring the beautiful package; This big and red seal amused Him... At dawn the child fell asleep calmly and soundly, and his cheeks turned red. Without taking my eyes off my beloved face, Praying at his cradle, I greeted the morning... I instantly got ready. I conjured my sister again to be a mother to my son... My sister swore... The tent was already ready. My relatives were sternly silent, The farewell was silent. I thought: “I died for the family, I’m losing everything dear, everything dear... there’s no counting of sad losses! father. He sat at a distance, dejected, did not say a word, did not raise his face, - it was pale and gloomy. The last things were carried into the tent, I cried, losing courage, The minutes passed painfully slowly... I finally hugged my sister and hugged my mother. “Well, God bless you!” - I said, kissing my brothers. Imitating their father, they were silent... The old man stood up, indignant, Ominous shadows walked along his compressed lips, along the wrinkles of his brow... I silently handed him the icon and knelt before him: “I’m going! at least a word, at least a word, father! Forgive your daughter, for God’s sake!..” The old man finally looked at me thoughtfully, intently, sternly, and raising his hands threateningly above me, he said barely audibly (I was trembling): “Look!” come home in a year, otherwise I’ll curse you!.. - I fell...

Chapter IV

“Enough, enough hugs and tears!” I sat down and the troika rushed off. “Farewell, dear ones!” In the December frost I parted with my father’s house, and rushed without rest for more than three days; I was fascinated by the speed, She was the best doctor for me... I soon galloped to Moscow, to my sister Zinaida. The young princess was sweet and smart. How I knew music! How she sang! Art was sacred to her. She left us a book of short stories, Filled with tender grace, The poet Venevitinov sang stanzas to her, Hopelessly in love with her; Zinaida lived in Italy for a year and, according to the poet, “brought the color of the southern sky in her eyes” to us. The queen of Moscow light, She did not shy away from artists - they lived in Zina’s living room; They respected, loved her and called her Northern Corinna... We cried. She liked my fatal determination: “Be strong, my poor one! be cheerful! You've become so gloomy. How can I drive away these dark clouds? How will we say goodbye to you? Here's what! Go to bed until evening, and in the evening I will arrange a feast. Don't be afraid! everything will be to your taste, My friends are not rakes, We will sing your favorite songs, We will play your favorite plays...” And in the evening the news that I had arrived, Many in Moscow already knew. At that time, our unfortunate husbands occupied the attention of Moscow: As soon as the court decision was announced, everyone was embarrassed and terrified, In the salons of Moscow then one Rostopchin joke was repeated: “In Europe, a shoemaker, in order to become a master, Revolts - of course! Our nobility made a revolution: Did you want to become a shoemaker?..” And I became the “heroine of the day.” Not only artists, poets - All our noble relatives moved; The front doors, the train of carriages thundered; having powdered their wigs, Potemkin's age was equal, the former aces-old men appeared with an excellently courteous greeting; The old state ladies of the former court embraced me: “What heroism!.. What a time!..” - And they shook their heads to the beat. Well, in a word, what was more visible in Moscow, What was visiting it in passing, Everything came to my Zina in the evening: There were many artists here, I heard Italian singers here, Who were famous then, My father’s colleagues, friends were here, killed by sadness . Here were the relatives of those who had gone there, Where I myself was in a hurry, A group of writers, loved then, said goodbye to me in a friendly manner: There were Odoevsky, Vyazemsky; was an inspired and sweet poet, an admirer of his cousin who died early, taken by an untimely grave. And Pushkin was here... I recognized him... He was a friend of our childhood, In Yurzuf he lived with my father. At that time of mischief and coquetry, we laughed, chatted, ran with him, threw flowers at each other. Our whole family went to Crimea, and Pushkin went with us. We rode happily. Here at last are the mountains and the Black Sea! Father ordered the carriages to stand, We walked here in the open space. I was already sixteen years old then. Flexible, tall beyond my years, Having left my family, I rushed forward like an arrow with the curly-haired poet; Without a hat, with a loose long braid, scorched by the midday sun, I flew to the sea - and before me was the view of the southern coast of Crimea! I looked around with joyful eyes, I jumped, played with the sea; When the tide receded, I ran all the way to the water, but when the tide returned again and the waves approached in a ridge, I hurried to run away from them, and the waves overtook me!.. And Pushkin looked... and laughed that I got my boots wet. “Be quiet! my governess is coming! - I said sternly... (I hid that my feet were wet...) Then I read wonderful lines in Onegin. I flushed all over - I was happy... Now I’m old, those red days are so far away! I will not hide that Pushkin at that time seemed to be in love with me... but, to tell the truth, who did he not fall in love with then! But, I think, he did not love anyone Then, except for the Muse: hardly more love occupied him with her worries and sorrows... Yurzuf is picturesque: in the luxurious gardens his valleys were drowned, at his feet the sea, in the distance Ayudag... Tatar huts clung to the foot of the rocks; the grapes ran out onto the steep slope like a heavy vine, and in some places the poplar stood motionless in a green and slender column. We occupied a house under an overhanging rock, The poet took refuge at the top, He told us that he was happy with his fate, That he fell in love with the sea and mountains. His walks continued throughout the days and were always alone. He often wandered by the sea at night. He took lessons in English from Lena, my sister: Byron occupied Him extremely then. Sometimes it happened to my sister to translate something from Byron - secretly; She read to me her attempts, And then she tore it up and threw it away, But someone from the family told Pushkin, That Lena wrote poetry: The poet picked up the scraps under the window And brought the whole thing to the stage. Praising the translations, he embarrassed the unfortunate Lena for a long time... Having finished his studies, he went downstairs and shared his leisure time with us; There was a cypress tree right next to the terrace, The poet called it a friend, The dawn often found him under it, When he left, he said goodbye... And they told me that Pushkin’s trace remained in the native legend: “A nightingale flew to the poet at night, Like the moon in the sky floated out, And sang together with the poet - and, listening to the singers, nature fell silent! Then the nightingale, the people say, flew here every summer: And whistles, and cries, and seems to be calling to the poet’s forgotten friend! But the poet died - the Feathered singer stopped flying... Full of grief, Since then the cypress stood as an orphan, Hearing only the murmur of the sea...” But Pushkin glorified him for a long time: Tourists visit him, Sit under him and pluck fragrant branches from him as a souvenir... Ours was sad meeting. The poet was depressed by true grief. He remembered the games of his childhood years in distant Yurzuf, above the sea. Leaving his usual mocking tone, With love, with endless melancholy, With the participation of his brother, he admonished the Friend of that carefree life! He walked around the room with me for a long time, preoccupied with my fate, I remember, dear ones, what he said, but I can’t convey it like this: “Go, go! You are strong in soul, you are rich in courageous patience, may your fateful path be completed peacefully, may losses not embarrass you! Believe me, such spiritual purity is not worth this hateful light! Blessed is he who exchanges his vanity for the feat of selfless love! What's the light? the disgusting masquerade! In it the heart hardens and slumbers, Eternal, calculated coldness reigns in it And embraces the ardent truth... Enmity will be pacified by the influence of the years, Before time, the barrier will collapse, And the penates of your fathers And the canopy of your home garden will return to you! The hereditary sweetness will flow healingly into the tired chest of the Valley, You will proudly look back at the path you have traveled And again you will recognize joy. Yes I believe you! You won’t endure grief for long, the royal wrath will not be eternal... But if you have to die in the steppe, they will remember you with a word from the heart: Captivating is the image of a brave wife, who showed spiritual strength and in the snowy deserts of a harsh country, hid early in the grave! You will die, but the story of your suffering will be understood by living hearts, And until midnight your great-grandchildren will not end their conversations with their friends about you. They will show them, with a sigh from the soul, Your unforgettable features, And in memory of the great-grandmother who died in the wilderness, Full cups will be drained! at all. But what am I?.. May God give you health and strength! And there you can see each other: Tsar “Pugachev” instructed me to write, Pugach is tormenting me godlessly, I want to deal with him to glory, I will have to be in the Urals. I’ll go in the spring, I’ll quickly grab whatever good stuff is going on there, and I’ll come to you, having crossed the Urals...” The poet wrote “Pugachev”, But he didn’t get into our distant snows. How could he keep this word?.. ______ I listened to the music, full of sadness, I eagerly listened to the singing; I didn’t sing myself - I was sick, I just begged others: “Think: I’m leaving at dawn... Oh, sing, sing! play!.. I will not hear such music, nor songs... Let me listen enough!” And wonderful sounds flowed endlessly! Solemn songs and farewell The evening ended - I don’t remember the face Without sadness, without sad thoughts! The features of the motionless, stern old women have lost their arrogant coldness, And the gaze that seemed to go out forever, Glowed with a touching tear... The artists tried to surpass themselves, I don’t know a more charming song That song-prayer for a good journey, That blessing song... 0, how inspired they played They! How they sang!.. and cried themselves... And everyone said to me: “God bless you!” - Saying goodbye to me with tears...

Chapter V

It's frosty. The road is white and smooth, Not a cloud in the entire sky... The driver's mustache and beard are frozen, He is trembling in his robe. His back, shoulders and hat are covered in snow, He wheezes, urging his horses, And his horses cough as they run, Sighing deeply and difficultly... The usual views: the former beauty of the Desert Russian region, The scaffolding gloomily rustles, Casting giant shadows; The plains are covered with a diamond carpet, The villages are drowned in the snow, A landowner's house flashed on a hillock, Church chapters flashed... Ordinary meetings: a convoy without end, A crowd of praying old women, A rattling post office, the figure of a merchant On a pile of feather beds and pillows; State-owned truck! about a dozen carts: Guns and backpacks piled up. Toy soldiers! A thin, beardless people, They must still be recruits; Their sons are seen off by manly fathers and mothers, sisters and wives: “They are taking them away, they are taking away their dear ones to the regiments!” - Bitter moans are heard... Raising his fists over the coachman’s back, the courier rushes furiously. On the road itself, having caught up with the hare, the mustachioed landowner's huntsman waved across the ditch on an agile horse, recapturing the prey from the dogs. The landowner stands aside with his entire retinue - he calls the greyhounds... Usual scenes: hell at the stations - They swear, argue, jostle. “Well, touch it!” The guys are looking out of the windows, The priests are fighting at the taverns; At the forge, a horse is beating in the machine, It turns out that the blacksmith is covered in soot with a red-hot horseshoe in his hand: “Hey, guy, hold her hooves!..” In Kazan, I made my first stop, I fell asleep on a hard sofa; I saw the ball from the hotel windows and, I confess, took a deep breath! I remembered: a little over an hour or two left until the New Year. "Happy people! how fun they are! They have peace and freedom, They dance, they laugh!.. but I don’t know Fun... I’m going to suffer!..” There should be no need to allow such thoughts, Yes, youth, youth, grandchildren! Here again Trubetskoy frightened me, as if they were turning her back: “But I’m not afraid - permission is with me!” The clock has already struck ten, it's time! I dressed up. “Is the coachman ready?” “Princess, you better wait for Dawn,” said the old caretaker. - The snowstorm has begun to rise! - “Ah! Or you'll have to try it again! I'll go. Hurry, for God’s sake!..” The bell is ringing, I can’t see anything, What’s further is worse, the road is starting to push hard in the sides, We’re driving in some ridges, I can’t even see the coachman’s back: The hillock is muddy between us. My wagon almost fell, the troika shied away and stopped. My driver groaned: “I reported: Wait! the road is gone!..” She sent the road to look for the driver, covered the wagon with matting, thought: surely, midnight is already close, suppressed the spring of the clock: Twelve struck! The year has ended, and a new one has been born! Throwing back the mat, I look forward - The blizzard is still spinning. What does she care about our sorrows, about our new year? And I am indifferent to your anxiety And to your groans, bad weather! I have my own fatal melancholy, And I struggle with it alone... I congratulated my coachman. “There is a winter quarters not far from here,” he said, “we’ll wait for dawn there!” We drove up, woke up some wretched forest guards, and flooded their smoky stove. A forest dweller told horror stories, Yes, I forgot his tales... We warmed up with tea. It's time to retire! The blizzard howled more and more horribly. The forester crossed himself, turned off the night light, and with the help of his stepson Fedya the Huge, he rolled two stones to the door. "For what?" - The bears prevailed! - Then he lay down on the bare floor, Everything soon fell asleep in the guardhouse, I thought, thought... lying in the corner On the frozen and hard matting... At first there were merry dreams: I remembered our holidays, the hall burning with lights, flowers, Gifts, congratulatory bowls, And noisy speeches and caresses... all around Everything is sweet, everything is dear - But where is Sergei?.. And, thinking about him, I forgot everything else! I jumped up quickly as soon as the coachman Chilled knocked on the window. As soon as it was light, the forester led us out onto the road, but he refused to accept the money. “No need, dear! God protect you, the roads further are dangerous!” The frosts grew stronger as we walked and soon became terrible. I completely closed my tent - It was both dark and terrible boredom. What to do? I remember poems, I sing, Someday the torment will end! Let my heart weep, let the wind roar, And my path is covered by snowstorms, But still I move forward! I rode like this for three weeks... One day, hearing some kind of soda, I opened my mat, looked: we were driving through a vast village, My eyes were immediately blinded: Fires were burning along my road... There were peasants, peasant women, Soldiers - and a whole herd of horses... “Here is the station: they are waiting for silver coins,” said my coachman. “We will see her, She, tea, is not far away...” Siberia sent her wealth, I was glad to see this meeting: “I’ll wait for the silver coin!” Maybe I’ll find out something about my husband, about our people. There’s an officer with her, they’re on their way from Nerchinsk...” I’m sitting in the tavern, waiting... A young officer came in; he was smoking, He didn’t nod his head to me, He looked and walked somehow arrogantly, And so I said with sadness: “You saw, right... do you know those... victims of the December case... Are they healthy? What is it like for them there? I would like to know about my husband...” He turned his face impudently to me - His features were angry and stern - And, blowing a ring of smoke from his mouth, He said: - Undoubtedly healthy, But I don’t know them - and I don’t want to know, I don’t know how many convicts I saw!.. - How painful it was for me, dear ones! I’m silent... Unhappy! You offended me! .. I only cast a contemptuous glance, The young man walked out with dignity... Some soldier was warming himself at the stove here, He heard my curse And a kind word - not a barbaric laugh - I found in my soldier’s heart: - Healthy! - he said, - I saw them all, They live in the Blagodatsky mine!.. - But then the arrogant hero returned, I hastily went into the wagon. Thank you, soldier! thank you dear! No wonder I endured torture! In the morning I look at the white steppes, I heard the ringing of a bell, I quietly entered the wretched church, I mixed with the crowd of worshipers. After listening to mass, she approached the priest and asked to serve a prayer service... Everything was calm - the crowd did not leave... My grief completely broke me! Why are we offended so much, Christ? Why are you covered in reproach? And rivers of long-accumulated tears fell onto hard slabs! It seemed that the people shared my sadness, Praying silently and strictly, And the voice of the priest sounded with sorrow, Asking for the exiles of God... Poor, lost temple in the desert! I was not ashamed to cry in it, The participation of the sufferers praying there does not offend the murdered soul... (Father John, who served a prayer service And so unfeignedly prayed, Then in the dungeon he became a priest And became related to us in soul.) And at night the coachman did not hold back the horses, The mountain was terribly steep, and I flew with my tent from the high peak of Altai! In Irkutsk they did the same thing to me, What they tormented Trubetskaya with... Baikal. Crossing - and it was so cold that the tears in my eyes froze. Then I parted with my wagon (the toboggan road disappeared). I felt sorry for her: I cried in her And thought, thought a lot! A road without snow - in a cart! At first the Cart occupied me, But soon afterwards, neither alive nor dead, I learned the charm of the cart. I also learned about hunger along the way. Unfortunately, they didn’t tell me that it was impossible to find anything here. The Buryats kept the post office here. They dry the beef in the sun and warm themselves with brick tea, and that too with lard! God forbid Try it for you, unaccustomed ones! But near Nerchinsk they gave me a ball: Some plump merchant In Irkutsk noticed me, overtook me And in my honor a rich man arranged a holiday... Thank you! I was glad to have delicious dumplings and a bath... And I slept through the entire holiday like a dead woman in his living room on the sofa... I didn’t know what awaited me ahead! I rode to Nerchinsk this morning, I can’t believe my eyes, Trubetskoy is coming! “I caught up with you, I caught up with you!” - They are in Blagodatsk! - I rushed to her, shedding happy tears... Only twelve miles away is my Sergei, And Katya Trubetskoy is with me!

Chapter VI

Whoever knew loneliness on a long journey, Whose companions are grief and blizzards, Whose providence was given to find an unexpected friend in the desert, He will understand our mutual joy... - I’m tired, I’m tired, Masha! - “Don’t cry, my poor Katya! Our friendship and youth will save us! We were inextricably linked by one lot, Fate deceived us equally, And the same stream of your happiness rushed away, In which mine drowned. Let us walk hand in hand along the difficult path, As we walked through a green meadow. And we will both bear our cross with dignity and we will be strong for each other. What have we lost? think about it, sister! Vanity toys... Not many! Now before us is the road of goodness, the road of God’s chosen ones! We will find humiliated, sorrowful men, But we will be their consolation, We will soften the executioners with our meekness, We will overcome suffering with patience. We will be a support for the perishing, weak, and sick in the hateful prison And we will not lay down our hands until we have fulfilled the Vow of selfless love!.. Our sacrifice is pure - we give everything to our Chosen Ones and to God. And I believe: we will pass our whole difficult road unharmed...” Nature is tired of fighting with itself - The day is clear, frosty and quiet. The snow near Nerchinsk appeared again, We rode dashingly in the sleigh... A Russian coachman spoke about the exiles (He even knew their last names): - On these horses I took them to the mine, But only in a different carriage. The road must have been easy for them: They joked, made each other laugh; For breakfast, my mother baked a cheesecake for me, So I gave them a cheesecake, They gave me two kopecks - I didn’t want to take it: “Take it, boy, it will come in handy...” Chatting, he quickly flew to the village: - Well, ladies! where to stay? - “Take us to the chief straight to the prison.” - Hey, friends, don't let me offend you! - The boss was obese and, it seems, strict. He asked: what type are we? “In Irkutsk they read the instructions to us And they promised to send us to Nerchinsk...” - Stuck, stuck, my dear, there! - “Here is a copy, they gave it to us...” - What is a copy? You'll get into trouble with her! - “Here is your royal permission!” The stubborn eccentric didn’t know French, didn’t believe us - laughter and torment! “Do you see the Tsar’s signature: Nicholas?” He doesn’t care about the signature, give him the paper from Nerchinsk! I wanted to go after her, but he announced that he would go himself and get the paper by morning. “Is it really true?..” - Honestly! And it will be healthier for you to sleep!.. - And we got to some hut, Dreaming about tomorrow morning; With a window made of mica, low, without a chimney, Our hut was such that my head touched the wall, and my feet rested against the door; But these little things were funny to us, That’s not what happened to us. We are together! Now I could easily bear even the most difficult torments... I woke up early, and Katya was sleeping. I walked around the village out of boredom: There were huts just like ours, up to a hundred in number, sticking out in the ravine, And here was a brick house with bars! There were sentries with him. “Are there criminals here?” - Here, they left. - "Where?" - To work, of course! - Some children took me... We all ran - unbearably. I wanted to see my husband as soon as possible; He's close! He walked here recently! "Do you see them?" - I asked the children. - Yes, we see! They sing nicely! There's the door... look! Let's go now, Farewell!.. - The guys ran away... And as if there was a leading door underground I saw - and a soldier. The sentry looked sternly, - the saber sparkled in his hand. Not gold, grandchildren, it helped here too, Even though I offered gold! Perhaps you want to read further, Yes, the word is begging from your chest! Let's slow down a bit. I want to say Thank you, Russian people! On the road, in exile, wherever I was, All the difficult time of hard labor, people! I bore My unbearable burden more cheerfully with you. May many sorrows befall you, You share other people's sorrows, And where my tears are ready to fall, Yours have fallen there long ago!.. You love the unfortunate Russian people! Suffering has brought us closer together... “The law itself will not save you in hard labor!” - At home they told me; But I met kind people there too, At the extreme stage of decline, Criminals knew how to express their tribute of respect to us in their own way; My inseparable Katya and I were greeted with a satisfied smile: “You are our angels!” They performed their lessons for our husbands. More than once the convict sneakily gave me branded Potatoes from the floor: “Eat! hot, out of the ash now!” The baked potatoes were good, But my chest still aches with melancholy when I think about it... Accept my deep bow, poor people! I send thanks to you all! Thank you!.. They considered their work to be nothing For us, these people are simple, But no one added bitterness to the cup, None of the people, dear ones!.. The sentry gave in to my sobs. I asked him like God! He lit a lamp (a kind of torch), I entered some basement and for a long time went lower and lower; then I walked along a remote corridor, He walked along ledges: it was dark and stuffy in it; where the mold lay in a pattern; where the water flowed quietly and flowed down in puddles. I heard a rustling sound; the earth sometimes fell in lumps from the walls; I saw terrible holes in the walls; It seemed that the same roads began from them. I forgot my fear, My feet carried me quickly! And suddenly I heard shouts: “Where, Where are you going? Do you want to kill yourself? Ladies are not allowed to go there! Come back soon! Wait!” My trouble! Apparently, the duty officer had arrived (His sentry was so afraid), He shouted so menacingly, his voice was so angry, The noise of quick steps was approaching... What to do? I blew out the torch. She ran forward in the dark at random... The Lord, if He wants, will take you everywhere! I don’t know how I didn’t fall, How I didn’t leave my head there! Fate was watching over me. God led me past the terrible crevices, gaps and pits unharmed: I soon saw a light ahead, There a star seemed to be shining... And a joyful cry flew out of my chest: “Fire!” I crossed myself... I threw off my fur coat... I run into the fire, How God saved my soul! A frightened horse caught in a quagmire is so eager to see the land... And it became, dear ones, brighter and brighter! I saw a hill: Some kind of square... and shadows on it... Chu... a hammer! work, movement... There are people there! Will only they see? The figures became clearer... The lights began to flash closer and stronger. They must have seen me... And someone standing on the very edge exclaimed: “Isn’t this an angel of God? Look, look!” - After all, we are not in heaven: The damned mine looks like hell! - others said, laughing, and quickly ran out to the edge, and I approached hastily. Marveling, motionless they waited. "Volkonskaya!" - Trubetskoy suddenly shouted (I recognized the voice). They lowered the ladder for Me; I rose like an arrow! All the people were familiar: Sergei Trubetskoy, Artamon Muravyov, the Borisovs, Prince Obolenskaya... I was showered with a stream of heartfelt, enthusiastic words, Praise for my feminine audacity; tears flowed down their faces, full of compassion... But where is my Sergei? “They should have gone after him, he wouldn’t have died only from happiness!” Finishes the lesson: We get three pounds of ore a day for Russia, As you can see, our labors didn’t kill us!” They were so cheerful, They were joking, but under their cheerfulness I read their sad story (The shackles on them were news to me, That they would be shackled - I didn’t know)... With the news about Katya, about my dear wife, I consoled Trubetskoy; All the letters, fortunately, were with me, With greetings from my native land, I hastened to convey them. Meanwhile, Downstairs, the officer was getting excited: “Who took the ladder? Where and why did the Works Supervisor go? Madam! Remember my words, You will kill yourself!.. Hey, stairs, devils! Live!.. (But no one set her up...) You will kill yourself, you will kill yourself to death! Please come down! what about you?...” But we kept going deeper... From everywhere the gloomy children of the prison ran to us, Marveling at the unprecedented miracle. They paved the way for me ahead, They offered me their stretchers... Tools for underground work along the way, We encountered gaps and mounds. Work was in full swing to the sounds of shackles, to songs - work over the abyss! The iron spade and hammer knocked on the elastic chest of the mines. There, a prisoner with a burden walked along a log. I involuntarily shouted: “Hush!” There a new mine was led into the depths, There people climbed higher On shaky supports... What labor! What courage!.. In some places the mined blocks of ore sparkled and they promised a generous tribute... Suddenly someone exclaimed: “He’s coming!” coming!” Looking around the space with my eyes, I almost fell, rushing forward - the ditch was in front of us. “Quiet up, quiet down! “Did you really fly thousands of miles,” said Trubetskoy, “so that we could all die on grief in a ditch - at the goal?” And he held my hand tightly: “What would happen if you fell?” Sergei was in a hurry, but walked quietly. The shackles sounded sad. Yes, chains! The executioner did not forget anything (Oh, vengeful coward and tormentor!), - But he was meek, like the redeemer who chose him as his instrument. Working people and guards made way for him, keeping silence... And then he saw, saw me! And he stretched out his hands to me: “Masha!” And he stood, as if exhausted, far away... Two exiles supported him. Tears flowed down his pale cheeks, His outstretched hands trembled... The sound of my sweet voice instantly sent renewal, Joy, hope, oblivion of torment, oblivion of my father's threat! And shouting “I’m coming!” I ran at a run, Suddenly jerking my hand, along a narrow board over a gaping ditch Towards the calling sound... “I’m coming!..” A worn-out face sent me its caress with a smile... And I ran up... And my soul was filled with a holy feeling. Only now, in the fatal mine, Having heard the terrible sounds, Having seen the shackles on my husband, I fully understood his torment, And his strength... and his readiness to suffer!.. ** Involuntarily I bowed my knees before him - and, before hugging my husband, put it to her lips!.. And God sent down a quiet angel Into the underground mines - in an instant And the conversation and the roar of work fell silent, And the movement froze, Strangers, our own - with tears in their eyes, Excited, pale, stern - They stood around. On motionless legs the shackles did not make a sound, And the raised hammer froze in the air... Everything was quiet - no song, no speech... It seemed that everyone here shared with us Both the bitterness and the happiness of the meeting! Holy, holy there was silence! Some kind of high sadness, Some kind of solemn thought is full. “Where have you all gone?” “Suddenly a frantic scream came from below. The work supervisor appeared. “Go away! - the old man said with tears. - I hid on purpose, lady, now go away. It's time! They'll take you away! The bosses are cool people..." And it was as if I had descended from heaven into hell... And only... and only, dear ones! The officer scolded me in Russian, Waiting below in alarm, And from above my husband said to me in French: “See you, Masha, in prison!” Nikolai Alekseevich Nekrasov is a wonderful Russian poet who wrote a large number of wonderful poetic works.

The author dedicated most of his works to the common people, so the poem “Russian Women” occupies a special place in his work. This time the main characters were nobles, whose lives changed dramatically due to the political situation in the country. This work tells the story of the wives of the Decembrists who went to Siberian penal servitude to support their husbands.

Concept and creation

One day Nikolai Nekrasov was introduced to Mikhail Sergeevich Volkonsky, with whom he later spent a lot of time. They hunted together and had long conversations, from which the great poet learned about the difficult fate of his parents. Sergei Volkonsky, Mikhail's father, was one of those Decembrists who were exiled to Siberia for hard labor, and his wife, Maria, followed her husband. Mikhail himself was born and raised in Transbaikalia.

Nikolai Nekrasov was very interested in the topic of the Decembrists, but he structured all his questions with this man in such a way as not to touch upon politics, but only to learn about the customs of the place where this man lived for a long time. Therefore, he used all these memories in another poem - “Grandfather”. But the poet’s interest in this topic did not disappear, but only flared up even more.

Nikolai Nekrasov began to collect any historical material that could provide at least some information about the Decembrists. To do this, he goes to Karabikha for the whole summer and already there begins work on his new poem. The first part of Nekrasov’s poem originally had the title “Decembrists”.

Nekrasov told his friends more than once that writing this poem was very difficult, since he was constantly thinking about creating a work that could pass any censorship restrictions. Another problem is that he has a hard time collecting material, since the nobles try not to touch this topic at all. There was especially little material on Princess Trubetskoy, where it was necessary to use artistic speculation in the scene of departure and the path of a real Russian woman. The poet devoted the entire summer of next year to writing the second chapter of the poem. But due to the fact that there was very little historical material, researchers consider the events described to be far from what happened in reality.

The image of one of the heroines, Countess Volkonskaya, was recreated from small notes that her son sacredly kept. All memoirs of Maria Volkonskaya were written in French. Once Nikolai Nekrasov managed to persuade Sergei Volkonsky to read these notes, and then he told in his memoirs how the poet reacted to all this. The poet listened for a short time, but then jumped up several times, nervously ran to the fireplace and grabbed his head with his hands. Sergei Volkonsky wrote:

"... cried like a child."

According to Nekrasov’s plan, the poem should have had not two parts, but three. His drafts even preserved sketches of this very third part, where Alexandra Muravyova was to become the third female image. It was known about her that in 1832 this woman died at the Petrovsky Plant. But unfortunately, the poet never managed to realize this plan. Therefore, today the reader has a work consisting of two chapters. One, the first, chapter is dedicated to Ekaterina Trubetskoy. It is believed that it was created by the poet in 1871. The other part of the poem, created in 1872, was written based on the short memoirs of Maria Volkonskaya and is dedicated to her.

The poet conceived his work as a single whole, but in which there would be several heroines. Therefore, the entire Nekrasov poem is divided into two parts:

⇒ “Princess Trubetskoy.”
⇒ “Princess Volkonskaya.”

The first part of the poem begins with the farewell of the charming and educated Princess Trubetskoy to her father. Count Laval is so saddened by this parting with his beloved daughter that he cannot even hold back his tears. And now the reader sees Ekaterina Ivanovna, who is on a long journey.

On the way, the princess begins to doze off a little, and then balls and all the holidays flash before her, then her memories are transported to her childhood, to her home, which is comfortably located on the bank of the river. Her first meeting with her husband is vividly depicted in her mind. She, a young and charming girl, having married Prince Trubetskoy, becomes the mistress of his luxurious house and all the social events that take place there. These balls and receptions attract people of the highest ranks: dignitaries, ambassadors. And after that, she and her husband go abroad to relax a little at sea. Ekaterina Ivanovna recalls the splash of waves and visits to museums and palaces.

This is how Ekaterina Ivanovna’s time passes on the road. And now, two months later, she finally gets to the big city, where the governor himself is waiting for her. He tries to persuade her to stay. But Ekaterina Ivanovna is stubbornly waiting for a new crew to immediately set off on the road. The governor even invites the princess to return home and take pity on her father. The governor is trying to scare Trubetskoy by depicting the life that awaits her ahead: convicts, fights and robberies, a short summer and a long winter, which lasts for eight whole months in this region.

And when the governor realizes that nothing can scare or stop this woman, he tries to explain that she will forever lose her noble title and her children will not have any rights to the noble inheritance. But Trubetskoy is ready to do anything just to be close to her husband and always support him: in sorrow and in joy. And then the governor promises the princess that she will go to the mines in stages, as criminals go, and the Cossacks will look after her. But she is ready for this too. The amazed governor, seeing such willpower and perseverance of the woman, immediately orders Trubetskoy’s carriage to arrive and sends her to the place as soon as possible.

The second chapter of Nekrasov’s poem is also interesting, which is the notes of another heroine with the same fate. These notes are addressed to the princess's grandchildren. The story begins with the childhood of Maria Nikolaevna. From her earliest years, the charming girl was always surrounded by many fans. When the time came to get married, she listened to the advice of her father, the famous General Raevsky. So she became the wife of Sergei Volkonsky, whom she barely knew at that time.

Maria Nikolaevna recalls how one day, right in the middle of the night, Sergei Grigorievich woke her up and asked for help. They lit a fireplace and began to burn some papers. The woman didn't ask any questions. After that, the husband took her to her father and left himself. At that time, she was expecting the birth of a child, but she was very worried and her relatives tried in every way to calm her down. When the relatives learned the truth about the Decembrist uprising, they could not decide to tell the whole truth: her husband was arrested and is in hard labor.

When the princess found out the truth, she immediately decided to go to her husband. And nothing could stop her. But the hardest parting was with my little son. She spent the whole night with him, trying to beg his forgiveness for such a separation. On the road, she also met Pushkin, visiting her distant relative. And then again a long and difficult road, which finally ended with a meeting with her husband.

Artistic Features

The first chapter, dedicated to Trubetskoy, is written in two-syllable meter, iambic. It is logically divided into two parts. The first part tells with sadness and sadness how the girl says goodbye to her father, and the second part tells of her journey to Irkutsk. Being on the road turns out to be interesting in Nekrasov's manner of depiction: she is either sleeping and dreaming of something that cannot be distinguished from reality, or she is simply dreaming in reality. The author is trying to show that the girl acts on one impulse.

But in the second part there is no longer such strain, and everything goes calmly and rhythmically. Now the poet uses a trisyllabic meter, amphibrach, which is necessary for the author to show the conversational level of this part. The intonation also changes, and even the narration is already conducted in the first person. In this part there are no longer any fragmentary actions, but everything goes smoothly, as if these are family memories: childhood, pride in the father, going out into the world and marriage. The author tries to adhere to the notes of Maria Nikolaevna, which have been preserved. That is why there is such a detailed description of how the Decembrists themselves and their families lived in Siberia. By the way, this is not the case in the first part, but in the second part both Trubetskaya and Volkonskaya meet on the road and together they get to the place where their husbands are.

The meeting of the wives with their exiled husbands is what gives the whole poem completeness. Now the plot becomes something whole and unified.

Princess M.N. Volkonskaya

From N. Nekrasov’s poem “Russian Women”

Reading
Vera Enyutina, Anatoly Ktorov, Yuri Rashkin

A lovely young woman looks at us from an old watercolor with a deep, dreamy gaze. We do not know either the name of the artist or the exact date of creation of the portrait. But we know that it depicts Marina Raevskaya - one of the most famous women of the 19th century, the daughter of the famous general of 1812, a secular beauty...
Young Pushkin stayed with the Raevsky family for a long time, who knew Maria Nikolaevna as a girl and was captivated, like many others, by her beauty, intelligence and grace. Traces of ardent youthful love remained in the poet’s soul for the rest of his life. Many wonderful lines in Pushkin’s verses and poems are dedicated to Raevskaya. At least these:

At least recognize the sounds
It happened, dear to you, -
And think that in the days of separation,
In my changing fate,
Your sad desert
The last sound of your speeches -
One treasure, a shrine.
One love of my soul.

These words (from the “dedication to Poltava”), imbued with sadness and some surprisingly tender, reverent feeling, were written in 1828. At this time, Maria Nikolaevna had been married for several years. Behind a stern and reserved man, much older than himself, a hero of the battle with Napoleonic troops and also a general, like her father. Maria Nikolaevna’s husband belonged to the noble, wealthy, “highly connected” family of the Volkonsky princes, “showered with favors from the royal court.” He was highly valued in noble society, envied of his position, and respected for his strong, independent character. In a word, the life of Maria Volkonskaya, it would seem, should have been cloudless. She spent almost a year in Italy, her son was born. And her beauty blossomed like never before... But why is there so much sadness in Pushkin’s lines? What “desert” and “separation”, what “last sound” of her speeches are they talking about? And why does the “dedication” mention this charming woman in a tone of hopeless bitterness, irreparable loss? Let's remember the story. In December 1825, an unheard-of event occurred that shook all the foundations of the autocratic “order” - the “noble rebellion.” It involved people who were just as highly revered, who occupied the same privileged position in the “society” as Prince Volkonsky... Profiles of the five Decembrists who died on the scaffold fill the margins of drafts of Pushkin’s works. The rest became prisoners of terrible stone sacks, a “convict shackrap” that lost all the “rights of fortune” and, together with thieves and murderers, marched along the convoy to the Siberian mines... Few returned from there thirty years later, according to the “merciful” manifesto of Alexander II. Only nineteen people out of one hundred and twenty...
Sergei Volkonsky is back. The meeting with this stern, piercingly intelligent, “simplified” man became a huge event for the young writer Count Leo Tolstoy: he began writing the novel “The Decembrists.” The image of Andrei Bolkonsky began to appear in his mind. Maria Nikolaevna soon (in 1863) passed away. Only in 1902 did the tsarist censorship decide to allow the “Notes” she wrote in French to be published. It was a stunning document, despite its simplicity, that recreated the tragic episodes of the life of the exiled Decembrists. And her own fate, which she chose herself and which many considered voluntary suicide.
Russian women, wives of the Decembrists - there were few of them. But their names - Volkonskaya, Trubetskaya, Muravyova and others - remained forever in literature, in history, in memory, in hearts... Nikolai Alekseevich Nekrasov’s wonderful poem “Russian Women”, created in 1870-1872, is dedicated to them.
They were not revolutionaries - these young, gentle, beautiful women. They even - like Maria Volkonskaya, for example - never fully accepted the “bloody” plans of their husbands. But they could not serenely “reign at balls” or enjoy motherhood, knowing that people dear to them were suffering in hard labor, in shackles. That is why Nekrasov named his two poems “Russian Women,” seeing in “the selflessness shown by them evidence of the great spiritual strength inherent in a Russian woman.”
In the preface to the “Notes” of M. N. Volkonskaya, her son told how the poet listened to this chronicle of “proud patience,” suffering and heroism, trying not to miss a single word for his future poem: “Several times in the evening Nekrasov jumped up and words! “Enough, I can’t,” he ran to the fireplace, sat down next to it and, clutching his head with his hands, cried like a child.”
He was particularly impressed by Volkonskaya’s first meeting with her husband in the Nerchinsky mine, when this elegant twenty-year-old lady, brought up in “decent” rules, threw herself on her knees in the mud - “and, before hugging her husband, she put the shackles to her lips!”
Nekrasov’s poem appeared in print during a difficult, terrible time for the progressive Russian people - the period of the defeat of the revolutionary populist movement of the 60s, when any mention of the Decembrists, despite the belated amnesty of the “liberator” tsar, was considered “sedition.” Publishing in the magazine “Domestic Notes” the poem “Grandfather” (the prototype of the hero was S. G. Volkonsky), and then the first (“Princess Trubetskaya”) and the second (“Princess M. N. Volkonskaya” with the subtitle “Grandma’s notes") part of “Russian Women”, the poet was forced to express in a hidden form the idea of ​​​​the continuity of revolutionary traditions. He did not talk, for example, about the “Decembrists,” replacing this word with others - “sufferer,” “saint.” He never once called the “vengeful coward and executioner” by name. But it was clear to everyone that we were talking about Nicholas I...
The poem became a romantic hymn of firmness and loyalty to one's convictions. It has become a classic work of Russian poetry, the property of which has always been images of high spiritual nobility.
M. B a b a e v a.

Part one

Calm, strong and light
A wonderfully well-coordinated cart;

The Count Father himself more than once, not twice
Tried it first.

Six horses were harnessed to it,
The lantern inside was lit.

The Count himself adjusted the pillows,
I laid the bear's cavity at my feet,

Making a prayer, icon
Hung it in the right corner

And - he began to sob... Princess-daughter
Going somewhere this night...

"Yes, we tear our hearts in half
To each other, but, dear,
Tell me, what else should we do?
Can you help with melancholy!
One who could help us
Now... Sorry, sorry!
Bless your own daughter
And let me go in peace!

God knows if we'll see you again
Alas! there is no hope.
Forgive and know: your love,
Your last testament
I will remember deeply
In a distant place...
I don't cry, but it's not easy
I have to break up with you!

Oh, God knows!.. But the duty is different,
And higher and more difficult,
He's calling me... Sorry, dear!
Don't shed unnecessary tears!
My path is long, my path is hard,
My fate is terrible,
But I covered my chest with steel...
Be proud - I am your daughter!

Forgive me too, my native land,
Sorry, unfortunate land!
And you... oh fatal city,
Nest of kings... goodbye!
Who has seen London and Paris,
Venice and Rome
You won’t seduce him with shine,
But you were loved by me -

Happy my youth
Passed within your walls,
I loved your balls
Skiing from steep mountains,
I loved the shine of your Neva
In the evening silence,
And this square in front of her
With a hero on horseback...

I can't forget... Then, later
They will tell our story...
And you be damned, gloomy house,
Where is the first quadrille
I danced... That hand
It still burns my hand...
Rejoice........................
..............................."

Calm, strong and light,
The cart is rolling through the city.

All in black, deathly pale,
The princess rides in it alone,

And my father’s secretary (in crosses,
To instill expensive fear)

With servants he gallops ahead...
Fistula with a whip, shouting: “Get down!”

The coachman passed the capital...
The princess had a long way to go,

It was a harsh winter...
At each station itself

A traveler comes out: “Hurry
Re-harness the horses!"

And pours with a generous hand
Chervontsi of Yamskaya servants.

But the path is difficult! On the twentieth day
We barely arrived in Tyumen,

They rode for ten more days,
“We’ll see the Yenisei soon,”

The secretary said to the princess,
The Emperor doesn’t travel like that!..”

Forward! The soul is full of melancholy
The road is getting more and more difficult,
But dreams are peaceful and light -
She dreamed of her youth.
Wealth, shine! High house
On the banks of the Neva,
The staircase is covered with carpet,
There are lions in front of the entrance,
The magnificent hall is elegantly decorated,
Everything is on fire.
O joy! today is a children's ball,
Chu! the music is booming!
They wove scarlet ribbons for her
In two light brown braids,
They brought flowers and clothes
Unprecedented beauty.
Dad came - gray haired, rosy-cheeked -
He calls her to guests.
"Well, Katya! A miracle sundress!
He'll drive everyone crazy!"
She loves it, loves it without boundaries.
Spinning in front of her
A flower garden of cute children's faces,
Heads and curls.
Children are dressed up like flowers,
Older people dress up:
Plumes, ribbons and crosses,
Clinking heels...
The child dances and jumps,
Without thinking about anything,
And childhood is playful and joking
It flies by... Then
Another time, another ball
She dreams: in front of her
A handsome young man stands
He whispers something to her...
Then again balls, balls...
She is their mistress
They have dignitaries, ambassadors,
They have all the fashionable world...
“Oh dear! Why are you so gloomy?
What's on your heart?"
- “Child! I’m bored by secular noise,
Let's leave quickly, let's leave!"

And so she left
With your chosen one.
Before her is a wonderful country,
Before her is eternal Rome...
Oh! How can we remember life -
If we didn't have those days
When, somehow snatching away
From his homeland
And having passed the boring north,
We'll rush south.
Needs are before us, rights are above us
No one... Sam-friend
Always only with those who are dear to us,
We live as we want;
Today we are visiting an ancient temple,
We'll visit tomorrow
Palace, ruins, museum...
How fun it is
Share your thoughts
With your favorite creature!

Under the spell of beauty
In the grip of strict thoughts,
You're wandering around the Vatican
Depressed and gloomy;
Surrounded by an obsolete world,
You don't remember anything alive.
But how terribly amazed
You, in the first moment then,
When, after leaving the Vatican,
You will return to the living world,
Where the donkey neighs, the fountain makes noise,
The artisan sings;
Trade is brisk,
They shout at the top of their voices:
"Corals! shells! snails!
Ice cream water!"
The naked dances, eats, fights,
Satisfied with myself
And a pitch black braid
Young Roman woman
The old woman is scratching... It's a hot day,
The din of the mob is unbearable,
Where can we find peace and shade?
We go into the first temple.

The noise of life is not heard here,
Cool, quiet
And twilight... Stern thoughts
The soul is full again.
Saints and angels in droves
The temple is decorated at the top,
Porphyry and jasper underfoot
And marble on the walls...

How sweet it is to listen to the sound of the sea!
You sit silently for an hour,
Undepressed, cheerful mind
Meanwhile it works....
Mountain path to the sun
You'll climb high -
What a morning before you!
How easy it is to breathe!
But hotter, hotter is the southern day,
In the green valleys
There is no dewdrop... Let's go under the shadow
Umbrella pin...

The princess remembers those days
Walks and conversations
They left in my soul
An indelible mark.
But she can’t return her days of yore,
Those days of hopes and dreams,
How not to return about them later
The tears she shed!..

Rainbow dreams have disappeared,
There is a row of paintings in front of her
Downtrodden, driven country:
Stern gentleman
And a pathetic working man
With my head down...
How the first one got used to rule!
How the second one slaves!
She dreams of groups of poor people
In the fields, in the meadows,
She dreams of the groans of barge haulers
On the banks of the Volga...
Full of naive horror
She doesn't eat, doesn't sleep,
She will fall asleep to her companion
He rushes with questions:
“Tell me, is the whole region really like this?
Is there no contentment in the shadow?..”
- “You are in the kingdom of beggars and slaves!” -
The short answer was...

She woke up - sleep was in her hand!
Chu, heard ahead
A sad ringing - a shackled ringing!
“Hey, coachman, wait!”
Then the party of exiles is coming,
My chest began to ache more painfully.
The princess gives them money, -
"Thank you, bon voyage!"
For a long, long time their faces
They dream later
And she can’t drive away her thoughts,
Don't forget about sleep!
"And that party was here...
Yes... there is no other way...
But the blizzard covered their tracks.
Hurry, coachman, hurry!.."

The frost is stronger, the path is deserted,
Than further to the east;
Some three hundred miles
Poor town
But how happy you look
On a dark row of houses,
But where are the people? Quiet everywhere
You can't even hear the dogs.
The frost drove everyone under the roof,
They drink tea out of boredom.
A soldier passed, a cart passed,
The chimes are striking somewhere.
The windows are frozen...light
One flashed a little...
Cathedral... on the outskirts of the prison...
The driver waved his whip:
"Hey you!" - and there is no longer a town,
The last house has disappeared...
To the right are mountains and a river,
To the left is a dark forest...

A sick, tired mind is seething,
Sleepless until the morning
My heart is sad. Change of mind
Painfully fast:
The princess sees her friends
That dark prison
And then she thinks -
God knows why -
That the starry sky is sand
Sprinkled leaf
And the month is in red sealing wax
Printed circle...

The mountains are gone; started
Plain without end.
More dead! Will not meet the eye
A living tree.
"Here comes the tundra!" - speaks
Coachman, steppe drill.
The princess looks intently
And he thinks sadly:
Here's a greedy man
He's going for the gold!
It lies along river beds,
It's at the bottom of the swamps.
Mining on the river is difficult,
The swamps are terrible in the heat,
But it's worse, worse in the mine,
Deep underground!..
There's deathly silence there,
It's pitch black there...
Why, damned country,
Did Ermak find you?..

The darkness of the night descended in succession,
The moon has risen again.
The princess did not sleep for a long time,
Full of heavy thoughts...
She fell asleep... She dreams of the tower...
She stands at the top;
A familiar city in front of her
Worried, noisy;
They run towards a vast square
Huge crowds:
Official people, merchant people,
Peddlers, priests;
Hats, velvet, silk are colorful,
Tulupas, Armenian jackets...
There was already some regiment standing there,
More shelves have arrived
More than a thousand soldiers
It worked out. They "hurray!" shouting
They are waiting for something...
The people were noisy, the people were yawning,
Hardly the hundredth understood
What's going on here...
But he laughed out loud,
Slyly narrowing my gaze,
A Frenchman familiar with storms,
Capital kuafer...

New shelves have arrived:
"Give up!" - they shout.
The answer to them is bullets and bayonets,
They don't want to give up.
Some brave general
Having flown into the square, he began to threaten -
They took him off his horse.
Another approached the ranks:
"The king will grant you forgiveness!"
They killed that one too.

The Metropolitan himself appeared
With banners, with a cross:
“Repent, brothers!” it says,
Fall before the king!"
The soldiers listened, crossing themselves,
But the answer was friendly:
"Go away, old man! Pray for us!"
You have no business here..."

Then the guns were pointed,
The king himself commanded: “Pa-li!..”
The grapeshot whistles, the cannonball roars,
People are falling in rows...
"Oh, honey! Are you alive?.."
Princess, having lost her memory,
She rushed forward and headlong
Fell from a height!

Before her is long and damp
underground corridor,
There is a sentry at every door,
All doors are locked.
The splash of the waves is like a splash
She can hear it from outside;
There's a rattling sound inside, the shine of guns
By the light of the lanterns;
Yes, the distant sound of footsteps
And a long roar from them,
Yes, the clock crosses,
Yes, the screams of the sentries...

With keys, old and gray,
Mustachioed disabled person.
"Come, sad woman, follow me! -
He speaks to her quietly. -
I'll take you to him
He's alive and well..."
She trusted him
She followed him...

We walked for a long, long time... Finally
The door squealed - and suddenly
Before her he is... a living dead...
Before her is a poor friend!
Falling on his chest, she
Hastens to ask:
"Tell me what to do? I'm strong
I can take terrible revenge!
Enough courage in the chest,
Readiness is hot
Should I ask?..” - “Don’t go,
You won't touch the executioner!"
- "Oh dear! What did you say? Words
I can't hear yours.
That terrible chime of the clock,
Those are the screams of the sentries!
Why is there a third one between us?.."
- “Your question is naive.”

"It's time! The hour has struck!" -
That “third” one said...

The princess shuddered and looked
Scared all around
Horror chills her heart:
Not everything here was a dream!..

The moon floated among the skies
Without shine, without rays,
To the left was a gloomy forest,
To the right is the Yenisei.
Dark! Not a soul in sight
The driver was sleeping on the box,
Hungry wolf in the wilderness
Moaned shrilly
Yes, the wind beat and roared,
Playing on the river
Yes, a foreigner was singing somewhere
In a strange language.
Sounded like harsh pathos
Unknown language
And it tore my heart even more,
Like a seagull's cry in a storm...

The princess is cold; that night
The frost was unbearable
Strength has fallen; she can't bear it
Fight him more.
Horror took over my mind,
Why can't she get there?
The coachman hasn't sung for a long time,
Didn't push the horses
You can't hear the front three.
“Hey! are you alive, coachman?
Why are you silent? Don't you dare sleep!"
- “Don’t be afraid, I’m used to it...”

Flying... From a frozen window
Nothing is visible
She drives a dangerous dream,
But don't drive him away!
He is the will of a sick woman
Instantly captivated
And, like a wizard, to another land
She was moved.
That land - it is already familiar to her -
Full of bliss as before,
And a warm ray of sunshine
And the sweet singing of the waves
She was greeted like a friend...
Everywhere he looks:
"Yes, this is the south! Yes, this is the south!" -
It says everything to the eye...

Not a cloud in the blue sky,
The valley is all in flowers,
Everything is flooded with sunshine, on everything,
Below and on the mountains,
The seal of mighty beauty,
Everything around is rejoicing;
She loves the sun, sea and flowers
They sing: “Yes, this is the south!”

In a valley between a chain of mountains
And the blue sea
She's flying at full speed
With your chosen one.
Their road is a luxurious garden,
The aroma flows from the trees,
It's burning on every tree
Ruddy, lush fruit;
It shines through the dark branches
Azure of skies and waters;
Ships sail across the sea,
The sails flutter
And the mountains visible in the distance
They go to heaven.
How wonderful are their colors! In an hour
The rubies glowed there,
Now the topaz sparkles
Along their white ridges...
Here is a pack mule walking in steps,
In bells, in flowers,
Behind the mule is a woman with a wreath,
With a basket in his hands.
She shouts to them: “Bon voyage!” -
And suddenly laughing,
Throws it quickly onto her chest
Flower... yes! This is the south!
The land of ancient, dark-skinned maidens
And the land of eternal roses...
Chu! melodic tune,
Chu! music is heard!..
"Yes, this is the south! Yes, this is the south!
(Sings her a good dream.)
My beloved friend is with you again,
He's free again!.."

Part two

It's been almost two months now
Constantly day and night on the road

A wonderfully well-coordinated cart,
But the end of the road is far away!

The princess's companion is so tired,
That he fell ill near Irkutsk.

I met her in Irkutsk myself
City Chief;
As dry as a relic, as straight as a stick,
Tall and gray-haired.
His doha slid off his shoulder,
Underneath are crosses, a uniform,
There are rooster feathers on the hat.
Dear Brigadier,
Scolding the driver for something,
Hastily jumped up
And the doors of a strong cart
He opened the door for the princess...

Princess

(included in the station house)

To Nerchinsk! Lay it down quickly!

Governor

I came to meet you.

Princess

Tell me to give you the horses!

Governor

Please pause for an hour.
Our road is so bad
You need to rest...

Princess

Thank you! I'm strong...
My path is not far...

Governor

It will still be up to eight hundred miles,
And the main problem:
The road will get worse there,
Dangerous ride!..
I need to tell you two words
In service, and moreover
I had the happiness of knowing the count,
He served with him for seven years.
Your father is a rare person
According to the heart, according to the mind,
Imprinted in the soul forever
Gratitude to him
At his daughter's service
I'm ready... I'm all yours...

Princess

But I don't need anything!

(Opening the door to the hallway)

Is the crew ready?

Governor

Until I order
It won't be served...

Princess

So order it! I ask...

Governor

But there is a clue here:
Sent with the last mail
Paper...

Princess

What's in it:
Shouldn't I go back?

Governor

Yes, sir, that would be more correct.

Princess

But who sent you and about what?
Paper? what is there
Were you joking about your father?
He arranged everything himself!

Governor

No... I don’t dare say...
But the way is still far...

Princess

So why bother chatting for nothing!
Is my cart ready?

Governor

No! I haven't ordered yet...
Princess! here I am the king!
Sit down! I already said
What did I know of the Count of old?
And the Count... even though he let you go,
By your kindness,
But your departure killed him...
Come back soon!

Princess

No! that once it was decided -
I will complete it to the end!
It's funny for me to tell you,
How I love my father
How he loves. But the duty is different
And higher and holy,
Calling me. My tormentor!
Let's get some horses!

Governor

Allow me, sir. I agree myself
How precious is every hour?
But do you know well
What awaits you?
Our side is barren
And she is even poorer,
In short, it’s our spring there,
Winter is even longer.
Yes, sir, eight months of winter
There - did you know?
People there are rare without a stigma,
And those are callous in soul;
In the wild they prowl around
There are only varnaki there;
The prison house there is terrible,
The mines are deep.
You don't have to be with your husband
Minutes eye to eye:
You have to live in a common barracks,
And food: bread and kvass.
Five thousand convicts there,
Embittered by fate
Fights start at night
Murder and robbery;
Their judgment is short and terrible,
There is no more terrible trial!
And you, princess, are always here
Witness... Yes!
Believe me, you will not be spared
No one will have mercy!
Let your husband be the one to blame...
And you have to endure... why?

Princess

It will be terrible, I know
My husband's life.
Let it be mine too
No happier than him!

Governor

But you won't live there:
That climate will kill you!
I have to convince you
Don't drive forward!
Oh! Do you want to live in a country like this?
Where is the air for people?
Not steam - icy dust
Coming out of the nostrils?
Where there is darkness and cold all year round,
And in brief heatwaves -
Never-drying swamps
Malicious couples?
Yes... A terrible land! Get out of there
The forest beast also runs,
When is the hundred day night
Hangs over the country...

Princess

People live in that region
I'll get used to it jokingly...

Governor

Are they alive? But my youth
Remember... child!
Here the mother is the snow water,
Having given birth, he will wash his daughter,
Little menacing storm howl
Cradles you all night
And a wild beast wakes up, growling
Near the forest hut,
Yes, it's a blizzard, knocking madly
Out the window, like a brownie.
From deep forests, from desert rivers
Collecting your tribute,
The native man grew stronger
With nature in battle,
And you?..

Princess

Let death be destined for me -
I have nothing to regret!..
I'm coming! I'm going! I must
To die near my husband.

Governor

Yes, you will die, but first
Torment the one
Whose irrevocably head
Died. For him
Please don't go there!
More bearable alone
Tired of hard work,
Come to your prison
Come and lie down on the bare floor
And with stale crackers
To fall asleep... and a good dream has come -
And the prisoner became a king!
Flying with a dream to family, to friends,
Seeing yourself
He will wake up to the day's work
And cheerful, and quiet in heart,
What about you?.. I don’t know about you
Happy dreams to him,
In himself he will be aware
The reason for your tears.

Princess

Ah!.. Save these speeches
You are better for others.
All your tortures cannot be extracted
Tears from my eyes!
Leaving home, friends,
Beloved father,
Taking a vow in my soul
Execute to the end
My duty - I will not bring tears
To the damned prison -
I will save the pride, the pride in him,
I will give him strength!
Contempt for our executioners,
Consciousness of Rightness
It will be a true support for us.

Governor

Beautiful dreams!
But they will last for five days.
Isn’t it time for you to be sad?
Believe my conscience
You will want to live.
Here is stale bread, prison, shame,
Need and eternal oppression,
And there are balls, a brilliant courtyard,
Freedom and honor.
Who knows? Perhaps God was judging...
Someone else will like it
The law has not deprived you of your rights...

Princess

Be silent!.. My God!..

Governor

Yes, I say frankly,
Better return to the light.

Princess

Thank you, thank you
For your good advice!
And before there was heaven on earth,
And now this paradise
With your caring hand
Nikolai cleared it.
There people are rotting alive -
walking coffins,
Men are a bunch of Judases,
And women are slaves.
What will I find there? Hypocrisy
Desecrated honor
Sassy trash celebration
And petty revenge.
No, to this deforested forest
I won't be lured in
Where were the oak trees up to the sky?
And now the stumps are sticking out!

"(1872, no. 4 and 1873, vol. 206).

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✪ Russian WOMEN. Nikolay Nekrasov

✪ N.A. Nekrasov. Poem “Russian Women”, “Princess Trubetskoy” | Russian literature 7th grade #21 | Info lesson

✪ Brief retelling of N. Nekrasov Princess Trubetskoy

✪ Russian women summary (N.A. Nekrasov). 7th grade

✪ "Russian women" Nekrasov Nikolai Alekseevich

Subtitles

Friends, if you do not have the opportunity to read Nikolai Nekrasov’s poem “Russian Women,” watch this video. This is the story of two Decembrist wives who followed their conspiratorial husbands to Siberia. The poem consists of two parts. The first is about Princess Ekaterina Trubetskoy. The second is about Princess Maria Volkonskaya. Nekrasov wrote the poem in 1872. At first it was called “Decembrists”. So... On a winter night in 1826, the count father helped pack his daughter Ekaterina Trubetskoy’s things. That night she left far, far away - to Siberia. The daughter understood that she was unlikely to ever see her father again. She even said goodbye to her native and beloved St. Petersburg. It took a long time to travel – about two months. On the road, the princess dreamed of her youth, balls, noble guests in their house, her husband, and a trip with him to Italy. In general, I dreamed of the old rich, carefree life. But in reality, before her was a kingdom of beggars and slaves. The further you went to the East, the colder it became. We passed some wretched town in which all the inhabitants hid in their homes from the frost. The princess dreamed of the December uprising. The way the sovereign pardoned its participants and exiled them to Siberia. The way she went on a date with her arrested husband. Awoke. On the left is a dark forest, on the right is the Yenisei, and a hungry wolf howls in the forest. After two months of travel, the princess arrived in Irkutsk. She was met by the city governor. The princess wanted to move on immediately, but the governor asked her to stay and take a break from the road. “There’s still 800 miles to go,” he said. - And the road is terrible. And I served with your father for 7 years. Ready to help you. - Super. I need fresh horses. - You see, the paper arrived. Above. You need to go back. To my father. He is very worried. - I'm going to see my husband. It's my duty. Then the governor began to describe all the horrors of life in Siberia: a long winter, there are only criminals around, you will live in a common barracks, the only food you can eat is bread and kvass. - Nobody will feel sorry for you. If the husband messed up, let him answer. Why should you suffer? “I’m ready for this,” answered the princess. - People live there. So I can do it too. And if I die, I’ll die next to my husband. - Yes, that’s what you’re saying now. Understand that it will be easier for your husband alone than when he sees you in those conditions. And in St. Petersburg there are balls, life, you will meet another man. The governor begged her not to go, but the princess was adamant. “Okay,” said the governor. - Know that if you go to your husband, you will lose everything. You will have to renounce your rights: the nobility, the inheritance. - Where to sign the renunciation? - asked the princess. Five days later, the governor said that he would not give her horses. And that if she wants to go to her husband, then she will be taken along the stage along with the convoy. It will come to Nerchinsk only in the spring. After all, the convicts walk slowly. Finally the governor could not stand it anymore. He said that he had an order from the king not to let her see her husband. - I did everything I could to dissuade you. I'll give you horses. In three days you will see your husband. An old woman, Princess Maria Nikolaevna Volkonskaya (maiden name Raevskaya), writes the story of her life for her grandchildren. So that when they grow up, they can read and understand everything. - I was born near Kiev in a quiet village. Our family was rich and ancient. I was the favorite daughter. My father was a military man. He became famous in the battle with Napoleon. After the military campaigns, he slowly faded away on our estate. A governess from England was in charge of my education. My father gave feasts, his general friends came to us. I was the first beauty then. All the guys wanted my affection. My father found a groom for me - a man who fought, and was awarded the rank of general by the sovereign himself. His name was Sergei Volkonsky. I didn’t dare object to my father, and two weeks later we got married. My husband was constantly away from home - on business trips. That's why we hardly saw each other. I got sick and went to Odessa. I spent the whole summer there, my husband came in the winter. One night he woke me up and told me to light the fireplace. He burned some papers in it. And in the morning we left. Sergei brought me to my father’s estate, and he himself left again somewhere. He was alarmed. Didn't tell me anything. My father calmed me down. He said that my husband would return soon - that’s his job. And at that time I was already pregnant. I didn’t know anything about my husband. He didn't even write letters. I felt that something bad had happened to him. My family hid something from me; they didn’t even let me read newspapers. And it was only from the verdict that I learned that Sergei was a conspirator. He was preparing a coup d'etat. At first I couldn’t understand why he didn’t tell me anything. And then I understood. I was pregnant then, and he didn’t want me to worry. Even then I decided that I would follow him to Siberia. I went to visit my husband in prison. When I saw him, I realized how much I love him. Sergei's relatives begged the emperor to punish him more mildly, but no - Sergei was sent to Siberia. My whole family rebelled when I said that I would follow my husband. The father asked to think about his newborn son, about himself, about him and his mother. “It’s my fault,” said the father. “There was no need to introduce you to him.” At night I thought about the fact that all my life decisions were made for me. I even got married by my father’s decision. And so on for 20 years. The next morning I said that I would leave my son to my parents - they would raise him. I was sure that when my son grew up, he would understand me. And if I had stayed, he would have reproached me for leaving my father alone. I wrote a letter to the sovereign, in which I announced my desire to go to my husband. He answered me. He wrote that he admired my action, although he did not approve of it. I got ready in three days. Until recently, my family didn’t believe that I would go. I spent my last night with my son. In the morning I asked my sister to become a mother for him. I hugged my mother, sister, kissed my brothers. And my father said goodbye to me to come back in a year. Otherwise he will curse me. It was on such a “positive note” that I left my home. This was at the end of December. After 3 days I arrived in Moscow to visit Zinaida (my husband’s relative). She supported me. Organized a party. At that time, Moscow was watching the attempted uprising. There was even such a joke that in Europe shoemakers were starting a rebellion in order to become masters, but in Russia the nobility rose up. She probably wanted to become a shoemaker. In Moscow, I became the “heroine of the day.” Everyone came to see me. Everyone admired me. Even Pushkin came. We already knew him before. Once in Crimea he lived in our house. I was about 16 then. And he was in love with me. Although, who was Alexander not in love with? That evening we talked a lot with him. He was worried about me. He consoled him with the fact that the king’s anger could not last forever. I left just before the New Year. I was sad, but it was my choice. And so we go, we go, we go for a long time. We were caught in a snowstorm - we couldn’t even see the road. The coachman said that we needed to spend the night somewhere and move on in the morning. Well, we stopped with the foresters in their hut. At night they rolled up the doors with stones to prevent the bears from entering. In the morning we moved on. And so they drove for three weeks. In one tavern, a soldier said that he saw the conspirators in the Blagodatsky mine - alive and well. The further road was difficult - cold, hungry, scary. When I ended up in Nerchinsk, I met Princess Trubetskoy. God, how glad we were for each other. The coachman who was driving the two of us said that he was also driving our husbands. He said that they even joked. So things aren't so bad for them. We arrived in the village. I saw a brick house with bars. I was told that the prisoners were now taken to work. Local kids took me to that mine. I asked the guard to allow me to get inside. He let me in. I walked with a candle in the dark until the duty officer called out to me. Then I put out the candle and ran forward. I saw the light where the Decembrists worked in the mine. Trubetskoy was the first to recognize me. There were other officers there that I knew. They cried when they saw me. I told Trubetskoy that his Katya was also here. And she gave others letters from relatives. And finally my Sergei appeared. He was crying, his hands were shaking. I walked up to him, knelt down and kissed his bonds. All work in the mine immediately stopped. Everyone was staring at us. The caretaker came up and said that I couldn’t be here. When leaving, my husband told me in French that we would see him in prison. That's all, friends!

"Princess Trubetskoy"

The action of the poem, dedicated to Princess Trubetskoy, begins at the moment of Ekaterina Ivanovna’s farewell to her father. Count Laval, parting with his daughter, cannot hold back his tears. On the way, the princess remembers the tall house standing on the shore, where she spent her childhood, balls and holidays, and a meeting with her chosen one. Having married Prince Trubetskoy, she becomes the hostess of high society receptions, which are attended by ambassadors and dignitaries. Then the Trubetskoys go abroad; either in a dream, or in the memory of Ekaterina Ivanovna, pictures of her former life emerge, when she and her husband visited palaces and museums, listened to the splash of the sea in the evenings.

Two months later, Ekaterina Ivanovna gets to Irkutsk, where the governor himself meets her. The princess is waiting for a fresh carriage to be prepared for her; the governor urgently asks her to stay. During the conversation, he says that he knows Count Laval, after which he invites Ekaterina Ivanovna to return home. The governor reminds that in the regions where Trubetskoy is heading, she will be surrounded by five thousand embittered convicts, incessant fights and robbery, a short suffocating summer and a long winter lasting eight months.

Seeing that the princess, no matter what, is ready to share the fate of her husband, the governor makes the last argument: if she goes further, she will lose both her noble title and her rights to inheritance. In this case, she will go to the Nerchinsk mines in stages under the supervision of the Cossacks. Hearing that the woman is ready to move forward even with a party of convicts, the governor admits that he received orders to scare as much as possible. When he realized that no obstacles would stop her, he ordered a carriage for Trubetskoy and promised to personally deliver her to Sergei Petrovich’s place of exile.

"Princess M. N. Volkonskaya"

The poem is notes from Princess Volkonskaya addressed to her grandchildren. The memoirs begin with a story about the heroine’s childhood in Kiev. Maria Raevskaya was surrounded by admirers from a young age, but when the time came to choose, she listened to the advice of her father, General Raevsky, and agreed to become the wife of Prince Volkonsky, whom she barely knew.

One night the princess was awakened by her husband, who asked her to urgently light the fireplace. Without asking unnecessary questions, Maria Nikolaevna began, together with Sergei Grigorievich, to burn the papers and documents lying in the desk drawers. Then the prince took his wife to his father’s estate and left. Relatives calmed the agitated woman, explained that in the life of a general there are long campaigns and secret assignments; She, who is expecting her first child, should think about herself and the unborn child.

Relatives, protecting Maria Nikolaevna, for a long time did not dare to inform her that Sergei had been arrested and sentenced to hard labor. When the princess learned about the verdict and announced her decision to go to her husband in Siberia, her parents and brothers tried to stop her. The hardest part was parting with my little son; Maria Nikolaevna spent the night before leaving with the child, from whom she asked forgiveness for the forced separation. On the way, Maria Nikolaevna visited a relative, Zinaida Volkonskaya. She supported Trubetskoy in her “fatal determination.” In the evening, guests arrived at the Moscow house of Zinaida Volkonskaya. Among them was Pushkin, whom Maria Nikolaevna knew from her adolescence. The poet wished the princess patience, strength and health. Then there was a long road that ended with a meeting with my husband. Before hugging Sergei, the princess knelt down and pressed his bonds to her lips.

History of creation

The creation of the poem was preceded by Nekrasov’s acquaintance with the son of Sergei and Maria Volkonsky, Mikhail Sergeevich, who was born at the Petrovsky Plant. During a joint hunt, the poet asked Mikhail Sergeevich about the life of the Decembrists in Transbaikalia; he, trying not to touch on political background, talked about the life and customs of the places where he grew up. The memoirs of Mikhail Volkonsky, like Andrei Rosen’s “Notes of the Decembrist,” were used in Nekrasov’s poem “Grandfather” (1870).

The release of “Grandfather” did not extinguish the poet’s interest in the topic of Russian women who voluntarily followed their husbands to Siberia. In the winter of 1871, he began collecting and detailed study of available historical materials; spent the summer in Karabikha, working on the first part of the poem, which in drafts was called “Decembrists”. The main problems identified by the poet after the completion of “Princess Trubetskoy” were associated, firstly, with overcoming censorship barriers, “commanding to touch the subject only from the side”; secondly, “with the extreme intractability of Russian aristocrats to report facts.” The lack of facts in the case of Ekaterina Trubetskoy was compensated by the imagination of the author, who “clearly imagined both Trubetskoy’s departure and the endlessly long winter journey.”

Nekrasov devoted the following summer, 1872, to working on the second part. If the image of Ekaterina Trubetskoy, due to the scarcity of the material found, turned out, according to researchers, “very far from the real,” then the character of Maria Volkonskaya was created on the basis of the princess’s notes that were kept in the house of her son Mikhail Sergeevich. The poet learned about these memories by chance; after much persuasion, Mikhail Volkonsky agreed to read them aloud, making it a prerequisite to acquaint him with the preliminary - pre-press - version of the future poem. The memoirs were written in French. The Decembrist’s son, who read and translated them over several evenings, subsequently talked about Nekrasov’s reaction to some episodes:

The poet's interest in the theme of the Decembrists was so strong that after the publication of the first two parts, he planned to begin the third: in Nekrasov's drafts, dated March 1873, a plan for a new work was found with the main character Alexandra Grigorievna Muravyova, who died at the Petrovsky Factory in 1832. This plan remained unfulfilled.

Reviews and Reviews

The poem evoked mixed responses. Thus, Mikhail Sergeevich Volkonsky, who introduced “Princess Trubetskoy” in the proofreading version, found “the character of the heroine greatly changed compared to the original.” Having made some adjustments to the text at his request, the author nevertheless refused to remove from the poem those episodes that seemed important to him. When sending the work to Otechestvennye Zapiski, Nekrasov accompanied the manuscript with a remark that he learned too late about the factual inaccuracies present in the poem, but the main thing for him was that “there was no significant inaccuracy.”

The same complaints - lack of reliability - were voiced after the release of the second part from the sister of Princess Volkonskaya - Sofia Nikolaevna Raevskaya, who expressed dissatisfaction with the fact that “the story that he [the author] puts into the mouth of my sister would be quite appropriate in the mouth of some little men." Quite harsh reviews of “Russian Women” were heard from the pages of “St. Petersburg Gazette” (1873, No. 27) and “Russian World” (1873, No. 46).

However, the general mood of the press and readers was favorable. In one of his letters to his brother, Nekrasov said that “Princess Volkonskaya” was having unprecedented success, “which none of my previous writings had.” Literary critic Alexander Skabichevsky admitted several years after the release of both parts of the poem:

Artistic Features

First part

“Princess Trubetskoy,” written in “fast, tense iambic,” consists of two parts. The first tells about the heroine's farewell to her father, and also represents a series of memories of childhood, youth, balls, marriage, and travel. In the second part, the heroine, who reaches Irkutsk, demonstrates her will and character in her confrontation with the governor. “Princess Trubetskaya” was created using the method of “adjacent depiction of dreams and reality”: during a long journey, Ekaterina Ivanovna either dreams in reality, then again plunges into sleep, indistinguishable from reality. According to literary critic Nikolai Skatov, the fragmentary structure of the first part, which is a “fusion of alternating pictures” (realistic memories of life in Italy or the uprising on Senate Square suddenly end, turning into romantic visions), was used by the author deliberately: such a kaleidoscope should show that “the heroine gripped by one all-consuming impulse."

When creating the image of Trubetskoy, Nekrasov was guided by the information that he was able to glean from the memories of people who knew the princess, as well as from Rosen’s “Notes of the Decembrist,” who said that the local authorities received a special order to use all opportunities to “keep the wives of state criminals from following their husbands.” ":

He [the governor] decided to use the last resort, persuaded, begged, and, seeing all arguments and convictions rejected, announced that he could not send her to her husband otherwise than on foot with a party of exiles along a rope and in stages. She calmly agreed to this; then the governor began to cry and said: “You will go.”

Second part

In “Princess M.N. Volkonskaya” the iambic is replaced by a “calm, conversational amphibrach”; the tempo and intonation also break, shifting into a lyrical first-person narrative. There are no longer fragmentary impressions here; the entire action represents “family memories” with precise adherence to chronology: childhood, pride in the father and surname, upbringing, going out, marriage. In “Princess M.N. Volkonskaya,” the author strictly follows the composition of Maria Nikolaevna’s notes, preserved in the house of Mikhail Sergeevich Volkonsky. The memoirs themselves tell in sufficient detail about the stay of the Decembrists and their wives in Siberia, but Nekrasov took from them only the part in which the princess gets to Nerchinsk.

The fact that in the finale of “Princess Volkonskaya” Volkonskaya meets with Trubetskoy and finally both meet with exiles gives plot completeness to both poems and the work as a whole.

The image of Pushkin in the poem

The author includes Pushkin in the action of the second part of “Russian Women” twice. At first, his image appears in those memories of Princess Volkonskaya that relate to the carefree period of “pranks and coquetry.” At that time, the poet lived in the house of General Raevsky in Yurzuf, then, together with his family, he moved to Crimea, where he communicated a lot with fifteen-year-old Maria. The second time Pushkin appears in the poem is under dramatic circumstances: he comes to Zinaida Volkonskaya’s salon to say goodbye to the princess who is leaving for Siberia and to give her farewell instructions for the journey.

Addressing Maria Nikolaevna, the poet pronounces a monologue in which he completely abandons the “habitual mocking tone” familiar to many; in a conversation with Volkonskaya, he acts as a humanist and guardian of freedom, admiring the princess’s actions: “Believe me, such purity of soul / This hateful light is not worth it! / Blessed is he who exchanges his vanity / For the feat of selfless love!” According to the author of the monograph “Nekrasov’s Mastery” Korney Chukovsky, Alexander Sergeevich’s words addressed to Maria Nikolaevna echo the stanza from the sixth chapter of “Eugene Onegin”, which was not included in the final edition: “ Among the soulless proud, / Among the brilliant fools... / In this pool, where I / Swim with you, dear friends.”. Pushkin’s parting words in “Russian Women,” according to Nekrasov’s plan, should have ended with the words:

This quatrain was removed by censorship and was not included in the text of “Russian Women” until 1949. It is about young Natalia Dolgorukova (Sheremeteva), who, having become the wife of Prince Ivan Dolgorukov, a few days after the wedding, followed her husband into exile in Berezovo. Noting that the image of Princess Volkonskaya is close to the character of Natalia Dolgorukova, Chukovsky clarified that Maria Nikolaevna’s memoirs talk about Pushkin more restrainedly than in the poem; according to her notes, during a meeting in Zinaida Volkonskaya’s salon, the poet said that he planned to complete “The History of Pugachev” and then go “to the Nerchinsk mines to ask for shelter.” However, he did not reach Nerchinsk.