Let's respect the misfortunes in it
and unripe hopes...
Pushkin about Batyushkov
The publishing house "New Literary Review" published a book by Andrei Zorin "The Appearance of a Hero" with the subtitle "From the history of Russian emotional culture of the late 18th - early 19th centuries" (M., 2016).
The reader, whose interests are far from studying Russian culture/literature/history of this period, will understand from the title only that the book will deal with the pre-Pushkin era; phrase emotional culture requires decoding - and in the future the author will present it.
Name hero books - the poet Andrei Ivanovich Turgenev (1781–1803) is most likely not familiar to the reader. But the study of the few texts left by the early deceased Andrei Turgenev - mainly his diaries - was studied by such classics of humanitarian thought as Alexander Veselovsky, Yuri Lotman, Vladimir Toporov, Vadim Vatsuro.
A close study of Andrei Turgenev's diaries, according to Zorin, makes it possible to understand how contradictory individual experiences were combined in one person in order to form a kind of cultural potential in the future. Now, Zorin believes, the question of the place of Andrei Turgenev " in the literary process<…>can be considered largely clear, and therefore in the book "It's about love and death."
Andrei Turgenev chose his death himself: he returned from a walk in wet clothes, went to bed in it and, in addition, already sick, drank iced tea. None of the contemporaries and none of the researchers found typical for that era misfortunes, which would explain his decision to die, such as unrequited love, the threat of dishonor, etc. Of the words spoken by Pushkin about Batyushkov, Andrei Turgenev can only be attributed unripe hopes…
So, in 1803 Andrei Turgenev was young and healthy; nothing threatened the well-being of his family. His father, Ivan Petrovich, was a highly educated man and a well-known freemason; he translated a lot - including the most important book for Masons: John Mason's popular manual on moral self-improvement.
In the Masonic environment in which Andrei Turgenev was brought up, keeping a diary was not only encouraged, but even prescribed; Ivan Petrovich Turgenev also had such a diary, and the author was very harsh on himself.
Andrei Turgenev systematically kept a diary for the last three and a half years of his life. It is possible to understand the content of the diary describing the life of a young man of the late 18th - early 19th centuries, provided that the reader imagines the “inner landscape” where this life takes place. To this end, the analysis of Andrei Turgenev's diary entries in Zorin's book is preceded by a detailed account of the environment to which his hero belonged (the first 200 pages of the book).
This is the court and the imperial court theater, where the empress herself writes the plays, and they are staged by pupils of the Smolny Institute. Circle of Rosicrucians with the cult of the inner and innermost; thoughtful reading and introspection; extensive correspondence and solitary walks. Young Karamzin, an old family friend who was patronized by Ivan Petrovich Turgenev, who served as director of Moscow University.
A close narration about the diary of Andrei Turgenev begins in the third chapter of the book. Andrei Ivanovich, a recent graduate of Moscow University, serving "without salary" in the Archives of the Collegium of Foreign Affairs (it is these young people who would later be called "archival youths"), decided to start writing a diary. There he intended to bring literary and theatrical impressions, as well as analyze his opinions, feelings and moods, " not afraid of anyone's criticism. Over time, Turgenev also rewrote letters important to him in his diary.
Zorin analyzes this "Diary" from the point of view of the conflict of culturally defined "emotional matrices" embodied in the author's personality. So, the author of the diary would like to translate into Russian the most important texts for him personally - "Werther" and "Deceit and Love". However, for no particular reason, these samples - however, like other similar attempts - do not go beyond a few fragments and quickly fizzle out.
Turgenev's diary entries most of all reflect his emotions and dreams; he, in essence, has no plans that are somehow rooted in reality - and not at all because of the objective impossibility of their implementation.
At the same time, Andrei Ivanovich can hardly be called frivolous or superficial, but every time he turned out to be not ready either for systematic mental labors or for emotional ties that would oblige him to something or limit him in some way.
In his relationship with Ekaterina Fedorovna Sokovnina, who loved him, Turgenev, perhaps, would like to surrender to the power of emotions, but with horror he felt in himself cold. This coldness was all the more depressing to him, since Sokovnina's feeling was no less integral and tragic than the feelings of Werther and other literary heroes he loved so understandable to Turgenev ...
According to Zorin, Andrei Turgenev was a kind of "pilot issue" of a man of Russian romanticism. The logic of Turgenev's spiritual movements, perhaps, will become more intelligible for us if we use the metaphor of Andrei Zorin, who wrote in the conclusion to the book that "Onegin, hiding in Andrei Turgenev, killed his Lensky" ...
In March 1802 Andrei Turgenev wrote:
And you, who found solace in him,
Who cherished him, loved him
And for whom he was fragrant in the steppe,
Say goodbye to him forever! With downcast eyes
You will stand over the place where it bloomed,
You will remember him, and maybe with tears,
But it won't bloom again for your tears
And only sad ashes will find here.
Andrey Zorin's book "The Emergence of a Hero: From the History of Russian Emotional Culture of the Late 18th - Early 19th Centuries" was included in the long list of the award . Ekaterina Buz TrV-Nauka published it in No. 205 dated May 31, 2016.
Editorial
Andrei Ivanovich Turgenev
Poems
Poems composed by the road from Moscow to St. Petersburg
In vain ignorance raises its rough voice,
In vain it insults you, O Karamzin -
Sensitive hearts you will captivate for a century,
And can you wish for glory yourself?
Whoever honors Agathon, everyone sheds tears,
Captivated by the creation, the creator blesses;
To captivate your hearts, a gift dear by heaven is given,
Sing for pleasure, sing for the glory of the Russians!
K A.S.K<айсаро>woo
When spring smile
The forehead of nature will illuminate,
When in the breath of the marshmallow
Spilling sweetness and delight
Stronger hearts in the chest will beat
And the blood boils with love
When we see brothers in enemies
And in their arms we will shed
A tear of forgiveness, reconciliation, -
Then, then, my dear friend,
Seeing, as after terrible storms,
Like after a dark winter
Nature is green again
And good hearts again
Calls to holy pleasure, -
Reach for her arms
Drink in yourself the breath of spring
And languish their chest, revive them.
Her influence is beneficial
Despondency in the heart will destroy;
Hope is meek, good
Dispel the darkness of your soul
And bright rays of bliss
They burst into tears of joy.
epigrams
Why are you angry with me, I know that -
For the fact that I do not compose poems for you,
Forgive me for that, because it's because
That I don't want to slander anyone.
Adam was still obliged to live in paradise with his wife;
So before the fall, he was already punished.
Oh, how sacred religion suffers!
Voltaire scolds her, Kutuzov defends her.
He never blushed, and he does not know how to blush,
He lies, he lies and does not blush.
But maybe he always introduces others into the paint,
Just start praising them.
In the hour of boredom, thinking at least something to do,
Fate brought you into the world today,
But she couldn't stop laughing
Looking at you, and her sadness passed.
Kutuzov! Here's another job for you!
Write, rage, scold, and shame ... yourself.
S.I.P<лещеев>at
Whose heart is virtue
She built her throne
Who warms it
Like brothers he loves his neighbors,
Dedicated to them wholeheartedly
And happy with their bliss;
Whose path in this life is short
Love of the most tender friends,
Dear wife's love
Baby's angelic gaze
(Pledge of tender passion)
They cover with flowers;
Who in sorrowful moments
In moments of testing
Finds solace
In holy goodness,
He is happy, happy right;
Though shedding tears
Plays in tears
Ray of gentle joy,
Its source is in the soul
Bliss, pleasure!
In the breath of marshmallows
On the wings of grace
Spring will come to us -
Spring! Spring! Meek, kind, eternally young goddess! Spring will descend to us in the breath of paternal love. The fire of love will spread in the universe, happiness will illuminate people with bright rays in the arms of love. The spirit of life will be the spirit of love. Everything will triumph, everything will be filled with joy.
In enemies we will see gentle brothers
And in their arms we will shed
Tears of forgiveness, reconciliation.
Everything will bring a tribute of gratitude blessing, and we will exclaim in the joy of our hearts:
Bloom, love, in nature,
Be the life of the universe
Be the life of a speck
Be the life of the gods!
Show off, goodness!
Conjugated with love,
Get married with her beam
And pour joy into the hearts.
“O you who are oppressed by misfortune…”
O you who are oppressed by misfortune,
Whose heart feeds on sorrow alone,
Nowhere, in nothing does he find consolation,
Whose soul of despair is covered with darkness, -
Look to the heavens with tenderness of the heart,
To the heavenly father stretch out your languid voice
And with a fiery tear, pray for consolation.
But do not look for happiness - it is not here for us,
End of introductory segment.
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In the breath of marshmallows, On the wings of grace Spring will descend to us - Spring! Spring! Meek, kind, eternally young goddess! Spring will descend to us in the breath of paternal love. The fire of love will spread in the universe, happiness will illuminate people with bright rays in the arms of love. The spirit of life will be the spirit of love. Everything will triumph, everything will be filled with joy. In enemies we will see gentle brothers And in their arms we will shed A tear of forgiveness, reconciliation. Everything will bring a tribute of gratitude to the one who blesses, and we will exclaim in the joy of our hearts: Blossom, love, in nature, Be the life of the universe, Be the life of a speck of dust, Be the life of the gods! Show off, virtue! Conjugated with love, Marry with her beam, And pour joy into your hearts.
It's easy for you, my friend, to prescribe laws, To get angry, blow your lips, referring to them: It's easy to order, but difficult to execute. This, who serves, everyone, of course, should know, Whether in the archives, or in the salt office, In the senate, in the army, or in a ship at sea.
Let's forget to look for bliss here, In the vale of sorrow and tears: There, there, on the heights of heaven, The home of goodness, perfection. There, a poor earthly worker, Having reached eternal rest, Learns that there is a good God. But here, we drag him with our hand, Seeing in him a formidable judge, Disappearing like a shadow from grief, Shedding tears in vain, He silently curses his life.
And at the age of twenty I already experienced enough! I lost hope of being directly happy, I said goodbye forever to my dearest dream, And I must live only in the past, In the past, find joy; And only sometimes, with a tear of joy, revive the withered heart. Innocence of the heart! Morning is clear Blessed children's days! Why are you so beautiful, Why are you so fast? Only for you to sigh It remains for the poor, you are all my wealth! Live at least in my memory And pour a drop of balm into a cramped soul!
This dilapidated house, this deaf garden - A refuge of friends united by Phoebus, Where in the joy of hearts they swore before heaven, - They swore with their souls, - Having imprinted a vow with tears, To love the fatherland and forever be friends.
The sons of the fatherland swear! And heaven hears their oath! Oh, how strong their hearts beat! It is not blood that flows, but flames in them. You, holy fatherland, to love you, to serve you - This is our direct title! We are ready to buy your prosperity with our lives. Death for you is bliss, And death is immortality for us! We will not shudder in a terrible hour Among the swords on the battlefield, We will call on You as a god, And the enemy will not see the sun more Or we, the slain, will fall - And our death will be blessed! The sleep of eternity will cover us; When we breathe for the last time, This breath will be dedicated to you! ..
A funny old man, illustrious piita, To whom the road to us has long been open, I don’t know if my speech will reach you; It’s a pity if it doesn’t come, but I’m innocent of that. Overstepping the bounds of humility, Equaling you with yourself in your humility, Fenelon forgives what Cadmus did you build, But if he knows about Polydor? Kheraskov M. M. (1733-1807) - the author of epic poems, of which the most famous are "Vladimir Vozrozhdenny" and "Rossiada". Considered at the end of the XVIII century. recognized head of Russian literature, Kheraskov at the beginning of the 19th century. professed outdated artistic principles and frankly reactionary views. In the spring of 1800, Andrei Turgenev wrote in his diary “The Tsar has come out, a poem by M. M. Kheraskov. And the gray-haired old man was not ashamed to shame his gray hair with the meanest caresses, and, moreover, without any need. What a preface. What a spirit one must have in order to write so impudently, vilely, so shamelessly on behalf of the truth, what morality is “Laws are higher than princely thrones!” 1958, p. 12).
My friend! If you could be mistaken And with a pure, fiery soul, Bliss on earth caress, - Quickly say goodbye to your dream. With your simplicity of heart, you will be the victim of deceit; You learn by evil experience How caustic the sting of slander is; All your good deeds in return Villains will denigrate you. You will entrust yourself to the enemy, as to your brother, And you will plunge yourself into the abyss. You will rise, struck by fate, But you will not shed tears; Burdened with silent grief, you will curse your fate; The flame of feelings will go out in the heart, The ray of life will go out in the eyes, You will carry a stone in your chest, And your gaze will be on the coffins.
Inspired by the free genius of nature, He depicted it in fiery features, And in the feeling of the heart he drew only the laws, Not subjugated by any other laws.
O you, whom misfortune oppresses, Whose heart feeds on sorrow alone, Nowhere, in nothing finds consolation, Whose soul of despair is covered with darkness, - Look at heaven with tender tenderness of the heart, Extend your languid voice to the heavenly father And with a fiery tear pray for consolation. But do not look for happiness - it is not here for us, In this world, where the villain, forgetting the fear of God, Thinks of finding bliss in atrocities, Crushing orphans and widows with a daring hand, Not heeding tears, despair, curses.
Let me be unhappy to her alone, But millions are blessed to her; Zealous son of the Fatherland, I glorified her, but, admiring my heart, I did not seek mercy, I sang holy mercy. The right does not need forgiveness: He sees another insult in mercy. Is the king's wrath terrible for him who is pure in his soul?
In whose heart virtue has built its throne, who we warm with it, like brothers loves neighbors, is devoted to them with all his soul and is happy with their bliss; Whose path in this life is short The love of the most tender friends, The love of the sweet wife, The gaze of the angelic baby (The pledge of tender passion) Covered with flowers; Who, in sorrowful moments, In moments of trial, Finds consolation In holy goodness, - He is happy, happy right; Although sheds tears, In his tears plays a ray of gentle joy, In his soul is a source of Bliss, pleasures! P, know yourself here! And, in vain the holy heavens favor you, Bless the creator in heartfelt tenderness. What else is there for you to wish for!
Is it possible that she (of course, not he) left you. I forgot! She whom you loved so dearly? What to do! Windiness for many here is the law. What was nice to us, we often leave only in order to find something new. Let's find - and in an hour we sigh, We want to turn the past again, But ah! it's too late, it's all gone. What used to delight so much, Lost - where to look for it? Be afraid to change the good for the better! One is with you before your eyes, Another is somewhere beyond the mountains; Moreover, everything in the distance is deceptive to the eyes; And can hope be compared with certainty? You will repent yourself, but everything will not be at the hour; And you will be left with one moralizing! Oh! The friend of your unfaithful damage (He is only pathetic to me) will not be rewarded with anything. Oh! If he knew to appreciate his bliss, When would he feel what he will lose in you! In vain he will shed tears for you, No one, no one will replace you. But you, born under a happy star, With a kind, fiery, most tender soul, You will again find a friend for your heart, You will find - and you will lull his path with roses. To taste paradise, unknown to others in this world, Paradise forever, forever to live in your lovely soul, He will not spare his life for you: Let evil fate take up arms against him - He will fearlessly fight fate for you And at the hour of death he will bless you.
In vain ignorance raises its rude voice, in vain it denigrates you, O Karamzin - You will captivate sensitive hearts for a century, And can you yourself desire another glory? Whoever honors Agathon, everyone sheds tears, Captivated by creation, blesses the creator; You hearts to captivate the gift dear heaven given, Sing for pleasure, sing for the glory of the Russians!
You are kind! But before you, the unfortunate, oppressed, Innocent to heaven raises a heavy groan. The villain, and in honor, and in nobility clothed, Shining in the crosses, and faith, and the law In the instrument of his villainy transforms. There is no justice, there is no protection anywhere, The earthly gods sleep in carelessness... And the very thunder of heaven falls silent for a while. Look for happiness here, O good friend of people, Look for it for yourself...
The spirit troubled by grief no longer consoles Himself with anything; Spring resurrects nature, But your orphaned friend Among the laughing nature One wanders in anguish, Waits in vain, deprived of freedom, A happy part for himself too! He does not believe who is prosperous, My friend! unfortunate tears; But who suffered in this life himself, Who himself was tormented by longing, And, having a moment of happy sight, Forever deprived of happiness, Anger suffers cruel fate, And, condemned to torment, Does not see, does not see the end of troubles, - All disasters are probable for him , Tom everywhere, everywhere understandable In sadness, aching hearts.
Your mind is illuminated with light And you see the abyss before you; But you aspire to them, carried away by a blind, fiery soul. A mournful sigh flies to the sky, You are weak - it torments you, It pours despair into you And tells you to be firm. Freedom you have comprehended bliss, But the chains on you rattle; Love comprehended perfection And you drink poison together with love. And you are tormented by longing, When you put another in a coffin! Pour tears over yourself, Weep, weep that you live!
Ainsi s'eteint tout ce qui brille un moment sur la terre! .. J. J. Rousseau The cold, stormy wind devastates the fields, And the roaring river foams menacingly. Where shadows of peace hitherto stretched, Where songs of careless joy were heard, - Faded forests stand in silence, Mists creep over the valley, over the hills. Where the ancient pines meditatively rustle The dead settlers over the peaceful coffins, Where everything around me weighs a deep sleep, Only a night bell sounds in the distance, And slow hours with a languid accent In the empty ruins I hear a muffled groan, - On the coffin stone, a sad, quiet Genius Sits in silence, with a drooping head; His mournful smile tells me: "Look how everything dries up, grows cold, decays; Look how terrible, ruthless death Eats all your joys forever! Everything lived, everything bloomed to die after! run away from these places, happy man! But you, unfortunate, persecuted by Fate, you, who in this world have said goodbye forever to Bliss with a sweet, charming dream, In whose sorrowful hearts the voice of merriment has ceased, Come - there is still bliss for you! or separated from a friend! Come, come here to talk with melancholy! Neither youth, for others the dawn of beautiful days, nor the charms of the mind, nor the paradise of your soul, Which everything around you was happy, - Nothing, nothing softened the cruel fate! As if in a sweet dream you recognized happiness , woke up ah - and there is no longer a captivating dream! In vain your soul strives after her, In vain do you want to fall asleep again, to dream: Ah! the one whom you would still like to press To your withered chest - cry! - he will not return Forever! .. Here you will mourn him, All the joys of life forever deprived of him. Here, in a stormy autumn, Nature is naked Will share with tenderness the sadness of your heart; Her sad darkness is more similar to your soul, Can you find joy in worldly noise? One faded leaf is dearer to the unfortunate, Than all the brilliant spring flowers And sorrow is more tolerable in the arms of freedom! Here, nothing will separate you from him, nothing will separate you: Here everything will only tell you about him. With the languid smile of the faded Nature, you will remember His last smile; And there, having seen sad traces of flowers, You will tell me where they are? here only their ashes smolder, And soon the stormy whirlwind will scatter the very ashes! And the time of your speedy bliss, And the sacred shadow, and the image of the eternally sweet Will resurrect, come to life in your sad soul. You will remember how you yourself bloomed in his eyes! How a gentle hand formed you And attracted you to goodness with the charm of goodness; How did you contain all the joys in his love And could not comprehend the joys of others; The whole universe seemed to you like a paradise... But life is a deceit, and you, seduced by a moment, Wanted to live forever for happiness, for him; I wanted to - thunder rumbles - you see ... his coffin! .. What is happiness? A quick ray through the gloomy autumn clouds: It will flash - and only the unfortunate in admiration will turn his arms and eyes to him, Everything that the poor had fun with has already been hidden, The consoling ray has disappeared, and the darkness has thickened over him, And he, deceived, torn to pieces, stands And the sky reproaches with a bitter tear! So there is no happiness in the world, and whoever lives suffers! In vain do you want, O good friend of men, To find peace within your soul, In vain will you rejoice at this thought, That with a peaceful conscience your spirit will not be troubled! May you be born with a good soul for happiness, But being unhappy from everywhere, But witnessing the disasters of your neighbor from all sides - Virtue will not be bliss for you How often good joy is only in tears, Peace in the earth, and happiness in heaven! - Not forever and you, not forever here to languish! comfort yourself; and thither let your gaze rush, Where your confused spirit will find rest for itself And forget everything that it tormented before; Where faith is not needed, where there is no place for hope, Where is the eternal kingdom of one holy love! * So everything that instantly shines on the earth fades away! J.-J. Rousseau (French).
Director of Moscow University. He graduated from the Moscow University Boarding School (1800). In 1797-1800, he headed a pre-romantic literary circle, which took shape in 1801 as a Friendly Literary Society (Vasily Andreevich Zhukovsky, Alexei Fedorovich Merzlyakov, Alexander Fedorovich Voeikov and others); criticized Nikolai Mikhailovich Karamzin and his school, preaching patriotic citizenship and folk literature (speech "On Russian Literature", "On Love for the Fatherland"). The philosophical lyrics of Turgenev testified to the search for the ideal of a true son of the Fatherland, a citizen and a patriot. He translated the book by A. Kotzebue "Negroes in captivity" (1803); also translated Friedrich Schiller, William Shakespeare, Jean-Jacques Rousseau.
Used materials from the site Great Encyclopedia of the Russian people.
Compositions:
An excerpt from the notes of the Franklins [Translation]. M., 1799; [Poems] // Poets of the 1790-1810s. L., 1971.
Read further:
Turgenev Ivan Petrovich(1752-1807), active privy councilor, freemason, father of Andrey Ivanovich:
Turgenev Ivan Petrovich (June 21, 1752-February 27, 1807), active Privy Councilor, Freemason. The son of a wealthy landowner, Second Major Pyotr Andreevich Turgenev, from his marriage to Anna Petrovna Okoyomova. In 1767 he was enrolled in the St. Petersburg Infantry Regiment as a sergeant. While in Moscow, until 1770 he studied at the university gymnasium simultaneously with M.N. Muravyov.
Turgenev Alexander Ivanovich(1784-1845), public figure, publicist, brother of Andrei Ivanovich:
Turgenev Alexander Ivanovich (1784-1845) - historian and writer, close friend of N. M. Karamzin, V. A. Zhukovsky, P. A. Vyazemsky, brother of the Decembrist N. I. Turgenev. Pushkin knew from childhood, contributed to his admission to the Lyceum, was one of the first connoisseurs of his developing talent. Artist P. F. Sokolov. 1816
Used materials of the book: Pushkin A.S. Works in 5 vol. M., Synergy Publishing House, 1999.
Video:
Poet Andrey Turgenev (1781-1803). Alexander Gami introduces the poet Andrei Turgenev 1781-1803 from his poetic anthology "Club under 40", about Russian poets who did not live to be 40 years old, and reads his poems. Video - Svetlana Bruzhina.
| In antiquity, humanity separated itself from the animal world not by learning how to use tools. This, as it turned out, can be done by some animals. Mankind created a civilization, and that was the civilization of the book. Since then, a written or printed text has invariably accompanied a person. But now people are taking another step in working with information, in the development of civilization - from the printed word to a living image. Increasingly, any cool video is posted on the Internet. The old is no longer interesting, fresh videos and new jokes are appreciated. Whether this technological step in working with information will be a movement forward, progress, or whether it is a regression - time will tell. |
