The story of poor people to read. Analysis of the work "Poor People" (F. M. Dostoevsky). The beginning of the tender friendship between Varenka and Makar

Oh, these storytellers for me! Not to write something useful, pleasant, delightful, otherwise they are pulling out all the ins and outs in the ground! Well, what does it look like: you read ... you involuntarily ponder - and then all sorts of rubbish will go into your head; rightly, forbid them to write; would have just been banned altogether.

Book. V.F.Odoevsky

April 8th

My priceless Varvara Alekseevna!

Yesterday I was happy, overly happy, extremely happy! You at least once in your life, stubborn, obeyed me. In the evening, at eight o'clock, I wake up (you know, my dear, that I like to sleep for an hour or two after office), I got out a candle, I prepare papers, I fix my pen, suddenly, by chance, I raise my eyes - really, my heart jumped like that ! So you understood what I wanted, what my heart wanted! I see the corner of the curtain by your window is bent and attached to a pot of balsam, exactly as I hinted to you then; it immediately seemed to me that your face flashed by the window, that you were looking at me from your little room, that you too thought of me. And how annoying it was to me, my dear fellow, that I could not get a good look at your pretty face! There was a time when we saw light too, my dear. Old age is not a joy, my dear! And now everything is somehow dazzling in the eyes; If you work a little in the evening, do something, in the morning your eyes will turn red, and tears flow so that you even feel ashamed in front of strangers. However, in my imagination your smile, little angel, your kind, friendly smile, brightened up; and in my heart there was exactly the same sensation as when I kissed you, Varenka - do you remember, angel? Do you know, my darling, it even seemed to me that you shook your finger at me there? Is that so, minx? You will certainly describe all this in more detail in your letter.

Well, what is our idea about your curtain, Varenka? Nice, isn't it? Whether I am sitting at work, whether I go to bed, whether I wake up, I already know that you are thinking of me there too, you remember me, and you yourself are healthy and cheerful. Lower the curtain - that means goodbye, Makar Alekseevich, it's time to sleep! Wake up - so good morning, Makar Alekseevich, how did you sleep, or: what is your health, Makar Alekseevich? As for me, I, glory to the Creator, am healthy and prosperous! You see, my darling, how cleverly thought it up; and no letters are needed! Sly, isn't it? But the idea is mine! And what, what am I to do with these things, Varvara Alekseevna?

I will report to you, my dear, Varvara Alekseevna, that I slept that night in good order, contrary to expectations, with which I am very pleased; although in new apartments, with housewarming, and always somehow can not sleep; everything is so, but not so! I got up today as such a clear falcon - it’s good fun! What a good morning it is today, my dear! Our window has been opened; the sun is shining, the birds are chirping, the air breathes with spring aromas, and all nature is revived - well, everything else was also appropriate; everything is all right, spring-like. I even dreamed today quite pleasantly, and all of you were my dreams, Varenka. I compared you with a bird of heaven, for the joy of people and to decorate the created nature. Immediately I thought, Varenka, that we, people who live in care and anxiety, should also envy the carefree and innocent happiness of heavenly birds - well, the rest is all the same, the same thing; that is, I did all such remote comparisons. I have one book there, Varenka, it’s the same thing, everything is described in great detail. I also write that there are different dreams, my dear. But now it’s spring, so all the thoughts are so pleasant, sharp, intricate, and dreams come tender; everything is in pink. That's why I wrote it all; however, I took it all from the book. There, the writer discovers the same desire in rhymes and writes -

Why am I not a bird, not a bird of prey!

Well, etc. There and still have different thoughts, but God bless them! Where did you go this morning, Varvara Alekseevna? I didn't even get ready for the post, but you, truly like a spring bird, fluttered out of the room and walked around the yard so cheerful. How funny it was for me looking at you! Ah, Varenka, Varenka! you are not sad; one cannot help grief with tears; I know this, my dear, this I know from experience. Now you are so calm, and your health has recovered a little. Well, what's your Fedora? Oh, what a kind woman she is! You, Varenka, write to me how you live there with her now and are you satisfied with everything? Fedora is a little grumpy; don't look at that, Varenka. God be with her! She's so kind.

I already wrote to you about the local Teresa - she is also a kind and loyal woman. And how worried I was about our letters! How will they be transmitted? And here is how the Lord sent Teresa to our happiness. She is a kind, meek, wordless woman. But our mistress is simply ruthless. Rubs it into work like a rag.

Well, what a slum I am in, Varvara Alekseevna! Well, already an apartment! Before, after all, I lived as such a capercaillie, you know yourself: quietly, quietly; I used to have a fly flying, and I could hear the fly. And here is the noise, the scream, the hubbub! Why, you still don’t know how it all works here. Imagine, roughly, a long corridor, completely dark and unclean. On his right hand there will be a blank wall, and on his left all doors and doors, like numbers, all stretch out in a row like that. Well, here they are hiring these rooms, and in them there is one room in each; live in one and two and three. Don't ask the order - Noah's ark! However, it seems that people are good, they are all so educated, scientists. There is only one official (he is somewhere in the literary part), a well-read man: he talks about Homer, and Brambeus, and about their various authors there, talks about everything - an intelligent man! Two officers live and everyone is playing cards. The midshipman lives; the English teacher lives. Wait, I will amuse you, dear; I will describe them in a future letter satirically, that is, how they are there on their own, with all the details. Our hostess, a very small and unclean old woman, walks all day in shoes and in a dressing gown, and all day shouts at Teresa. I live in the kitchen, or it would be much more correct to say this: there is one room next to the kitchen (and we have, you should note, the kitchen is clean, bright, very good), the room is small, the corner is so modest ... that is, or even better say, the kitchen is large with three windows, so I have a partition along the transverse wall, so it looks like another room, a supernumerary number; everything is spacious, comfortable, and there is a window, and everything - in a word, everything is comfortable. Well, this is my corner. Well, don't think so, my dear, that there is something so different and mysterious in its meaning; what, they say, the kitchen! - that is, I, perhaps, live in this very room behind the partition, but that's nothing; I myself am aloof from everyone, little by little I live, I live quietly. I put up a bed, a table, a chest of drawers, a couple of chairs, I hung up the image. True, there are better apartments — perhaps there are much better ones — but convenience is the main thing; after all, I’m all for convenience, and you don’t think that it’s for anything else. Your window is opposite, across the yard; and the yard is narrow, you will see you in passing - all the more cheerful to me, the miserable, and cheaper. We have the very last room here, with a table, it costs thirty-five rubles in banknotes. It is too expensive! And my apartment costs me seven rubles in banknotes, and the table costs five rubles: here's twenty-four and a half rubles, and before that I paid exactly thirty, but I refused myself a lot; I didn’t always drink tea, but now I’ve made a fortune for tea and sugar. You know, my dear, it's a shame not to drink tea; here all the people are sufficient, so it is a shame. For the sake of strangers and drink it, Varenka, for the sight, for the tone; but for me it doesn't matter, I'm not whimsical. Put it this way, for pocket money - all is required - well, some boots, little dress - will there be many left? That's all my salary. I do not grumble and am pleased. It is enough. Enough for several years; there are also awards. Well, goodbye, my little angel. There I bought a couple of pots with balsam and geranium - inexpensive. And you, perhaps, also love mignonette? So there is mignonette, you write; yes, you know, write everything in as much detail as possible. You, however, do not think anything and do not doubt, my dear, about me, that I have hired such a room. No, this convenience compelled, and one convenience seduced me. After all, my dear, I'm saving up money, saving it: I have money. You don’t look at the fact that I’m so quiet that it seems that the fly will beat me with its wing. No, my dear, I’m not a blunder about myself, and the character is absolutely the same as a decently solid and serene soul to a person. Goodbye, my little angel! I signed for you almost on two sheets, and it is high time for the service. I kiss your fingers, mother, and remain your lowest servant and most faithful friend.

Makar Devushkin.

P. S. One thing I ask: answer me, my little angel, in as much detail as possible. With this, I am sending you, Varenka, a pound of sweets; so you eat them for health, yes, for God's sake, do not worry about me and do not be in a claim. Well, goodbye, dear.

April 8th

Dear sir, Makar Alekseevich!

Do you know that you will finally have to completely quarrel with you? I swear to you, good Makar Alekseevich, that it is even hard for me to accept your gifts. I know what they cost you, what hardships and denials of the most necessary to yourself. How many times have I told you that I don't need anything, absolutely nothing; that I am not able to repay you for the blessings with which you have showered me hitherto. And why do I need these pots? Well, the balms are still okay, but why geraniums? One word should be inadvertently said, as, for example, about this geranium, you will buy it right away; after all, isn't it expensive? What a delight the flowers are on her! Poon crosses. Where did you get such a pretty geranium? I put it in the middle of the window, in the most conspicuous place; I will put a bench on the floor, and I will put more flowers on the bench; just let me get rich myself! Fedora will not be overjoyed; we now have like paradise in the room - clean, bright! Well, why candy? And really, I immediately guessed from the letter that something was wrong with you - paradise and spring, and fragrances fly, and birds chirp. What is this, I think, is there no poetry here? Indeed, really, some verses are missing in your letter, Makar Alekseevich! Both gentle sensations and dreams in pink - everything is here! I didn't even think about the curtain; she probably caught herself when I rearranged the pots; there you are!

Ah, Makar Alekseevich! Whatever you say there, no matter how you calculate your income, in order to deceive me, to show that they all go entirely to you alone, but you will not hide or hide anything from me. It is clear that you are being deprived of what you need because of me. What is it you thought, for example, to rent such an apartment? After all, you are worried, disturbed; you are cramped, uncomfortable. You love solitude, but here and something that is not around you! And you could live much better, judging by your salary. Fedora says that you used to live better than now. Have you really lived like this all your life, alone, in hardship, without joy, without a friendly, welcoming word, hiring corners from strangers? Ah, good friend, how sorry I am for you! Have mercy on your health, Makar Alekseevich! You say that your eyes are getting weak, so do not write by candlelight; why write? Your zeal for the service is probably already known to your superiors.

Once again, I beg you, do not spend so much money on me. I know that you love me, but you yourself are not rich ... Today I also got up gaily. I felt so good; Fedora has been working for a long time, and she got me a job. I was so happy; I only went to buy some silk, and got to work. The whole morning it was so easy on my soul, I was so cheerful! And now again all the black thoughts, sad; the whole heart is languishing.

Ah, something will happen to me, what will be my fate! The hard thing is that I am in such uncertainty, that I have no future, that I can’t even predict what will become of me. Back and look scary. There is all such grief that my heart breaks in half at one recollection. For ages I will cry at the evil people who have ruined me!

It is getting dark. It's time to get to work. I would like to write to you about many things, but there is no time, the work is due. We need to hurry. Of course, writing is a good thing; everything is not so boring. Why would you never come to us yourself? Why is this, Makar Alekseevich? After all, now you are close, and sometimes you have free time. Please come in! I saw your Teresa. She seems so sick; I felt sorry for her; I gave her twenty kopecks. Yes! I almost forgot: be sure to write everything, as detailed as possible, about your life. What kind of people are you around, and do you live well with them? I really want to know all this. Look, be sure to write! Today I will bend the corner on purpose. Go to bed early; yesterday I saw your fire until midnight. Well, goodbye. Today it is melancholy, boring and sad! You know, it's such a day! Farewell.

Varvara Dobroselova.

April 8th

Gracious lady,

Varvara Alekseevna!

Yes, my dear, yes, my dear, you know, such a miserable day has turned out to be my lot! Yes; You made fun of me, an old man, Varvara Alekseevna! However, he himself is to blame, everything is to blame! In old age, it would be better not to indulge in cupids and equivocations in old age with a piece of hair ... And I will also say, my dear: sometimes a person is wonderful, very wonderful. And, you are my saints! what he will talk about, will bring it in at times! And what comes out, what follows from this? Yes, absolutely nothing follows, but it turns out such rubbish that save me, Lord! I, my dear, I am not angry, but it’s so annoying just to remember very much about everything, it’s a shame that I wrote to you so figuratively and stupidly. And I went to the post today such a goggle-dandy; such radiance was on the heart. For no reason at all, there was such a holiday in my soul; it was fun! He began zealously at the papers - but what came of it later! Then, as soon as I looked around, everything became the same - both grayish and dark. All the same ink stains, all the same tables and papers, and I am still the same; so, what it was, it remained exactly the same - so why was it really possible to ride a Pegasus? Where did it all come from? That the sun peeped through and the sky brightened! from this, or what? And what aromas are these when in our yard under the windows and something does not happen to be! Know, it all foolishly seemed so to me. But it happens sometimes that a person gets lost like that in his own feelings and bring in a devious one. This comes from nothing else but from an excessive, stupid ardor of the heart. I didn’t come home, I dragged myself along; for no reason at all my head ached; this, you know, is all one to one. (Somehow, it puffed me in the back.) I was delighted in the spring, I was a fool, but I went in a cold greatcoat. And in my feelings you were mistaken, my dear! Their outpouring was taken in a completely different direction. Fatherly affection inspired me, the only pure paternal affection, Varvara Alekseevna; for I am taking the place of your own father, because of your bitter orphanhood; I say this from the bottom of my heart, from a pure heart, in a related way. Whatever it was, I’m even a distant dear to you, even according to the proverb, and the seventh water on jelly, but still a relative, and now the closest relative and patron; for where you had the closest right to seek protection and protection, you found treason and insult. And as for the rhymes, I will tell you, my dear, that it is indecent for me to practice writing poetry in my old age. Nonsense poetry! For rhymes and in schools now children are flogged ... that's it, my dear.

Poor people

Oh, these storytellers for me! Not to write something useful, pleasant, delightful, otherwise they are pulling out all the ins and outs in the ground! Well, what does it look like: you read ... you involuntarily ponder - and then all sorts of rubbish will go into your head; rightly, forbid them to write; would have just been banned altogether.

Book. V.F.Odoevsky

April 8th

My priceless Varvara Alekseevna!

Yesterday I was happy, overly happy, extremely happy! You at least once in your life, stubborn, obeyed me. In the evening, at eight o'clock, I wake up (you know, my dear, that I like to sleep for an hour or two after office), I got out a candle, I prepare papers, I fix my pen, suddenly, by chance, I raise my eyes - really, my heart jumped like that ! So you understood what I wanted, what my heart wanted! I see the corner of the curtain by your window is bent and attached to a pot of balsam, exactly as I hinted to you then; it immediately seemed to me that your face flashed by the window, that you were looking at me from your little room, that you too thought of me. And how annoying it was to me, my dear fellow, that I could not get a good look at your pretty face! There was a time when we saw light too, my dear. Old age is not a joy, my dear! And now everything is somehow dazzling in the eyes; If you work a little in the evening, do something, in the morning your eyes will turn red, and tears flow so that you even feel ashamed in front of strangers. However, in my imagination your smile, little angel, your kind, friendly smile, brightened up; and in my heart there was exactly the same sensation as when I kissed you, Varenka - do you remember, angel? Do you know, my darling, it even seemed to me that you shook your finger at me there? Is that so, minx? You will certainly describe all this in more detail in your letter.

Well, what is our idea about your curtain, Varenka? Nice, isn't it? Whether I am sitting at work, whether I go to bed, whether I wake up, I already know that you are thinking of me there, you remember me, and you yourself are healthy and cheerful. Lower the curtain - that means goodbye, Makar Alekseevich, it's time to sleep! Wake up - that means good morning, Makar Alekseevich, how did you sleep, or: what is your health, Makar Alekseevich? As for me, I, glory to the Creator, am healthy and prosperous! You see, my darling, how cleverly thought it up; and no letters are needed! Sly, isn't it? But the idea is mine! And what, what am I to do with these things, Varvara Alekseevna?

I will report to you, my dear, Varvara Alekseevna, that I slept that night in good order, contrary to expectations, with which I am very pleased; although in new apartments, with housewarming, and always somehow can not sleep; everything is so, but not so! I got up today as such a clear falcon - it’s good fun! What a good morning it is today, my dear! Our window has been opened; the sun is shining, the birds are chirping, the air breathes with spring aromas, and all nature is revived - well, everything else was also appropriate; everything is all right, spring-like. I even dreamed today quite pleasantly, and all of you were my dreams, Varenka. I compared you with a bird of heaven, for the joy of people and to decorate the created nature. Immediately I thought, Varenka, that we, people who live in care and anxiety, should also envy the carefree and innocent happiness of heavenly birds - well, the rest is the same, the same thing; that is, I did all such remote comparisons. I have one book there, Varenka, it’s the same thing, everything is described in great detail. I also write that there are different dreams, my dear. But now it’s spring, so all the thoughts are so pleasant, sharp, intricate, and dreams come tender; everything is in pink. That's why I wrote it all; however, I took it all from the book. There, the writer discovers the same desire in rhymes and writes -

Why am I not a bird, not a bird of prey!

Well, etc. There and still have different thoughts, but God bless them! Where did you go this morning, Varvara Alekseevna? I didn't even get ready for the post, but you, truly like a spring bird, fluttered out of the room and walked around the yard so cheerful. How funny it was for me looking at you! Ah, Varenka, Varenka! you are not sad; one cannot help grief with tears; I know this, my dear, this I know from experience. Now you are so calm, and your health has recovered a little. Well, what's your Fedora? Oh, what a kind woman she is! You, Varenka, write to me how you live there with her now and are you satisfied with everything? Fedora is a little grumpy; don't look at that, Varenka. God be with her! She's so kind.

In his first novel, Dostoevsky, following Gogol, draws attention to the "little man" - and through letters written on behalf of a modest St. Petersburg official, for the first time tells in detail about his life, feelings and life tragedy.

comments: Tatiana Trofimova

What is this book about?

Poor official Makar Devushkin writes letters to poor girl Varenka Dobrosyolova. He has been serving in one place for thirty years, rewriting papers and dreaming of new boots, she lives alone with her assistant Fedora, takes home sewing and yearns for the carefree childhood days. Devushkin turns his letters into sketches of the everyday life of St. Petersburg hired corners and their inhabitants. Varenka is sad and reproaches him for taking too much care of her. Dostoevsky connects the sentimental tradition of the novel in letters with topical themes natural school Literary direction of the 1840s, the initial stage in the development of critical realism. The natural school is characterized by social pathos, everyday life, interest in the lower strata of society. This trend includes Nekrasov, Chernyshevsky, Turgenev, Goncharov, the formation of the school was significantly influenced by the work of Gogol. The almanac "Physiology of St. Petersburg" (1845) can be considered a manifesto of the movement. Reviewing this collection, Thaddeus Bulgarin was the first to use the term "natural school", and in a dismissive sense. But Belinsky liked the definition and subsequently took root. ⁠ , ending the novel with a sudden dissonance: sentimental Varenka decides to marry according to calculation and breaks off the correspondence, Makar Devushkin turns out to be emotionally unprepared for loss.

Fedor Dostoevsky. 1861 year

fedordostoevsky.ru

When was it written?

Dostoevsky himself in his "Diary of a Writer" recalled that "Poor People" was written a year after he decided to leave the engineering service and retired. In the fall of 1844, he settled in the same apartment with Dmitry Grigorovich, the future author of the Sovremennik magazine, and by the beginning of winter, according to him, the novel was conceived. In literary studies, however, there are different opinions. Early memoirists claim that the novel was conceived and started at the Main Engineering School. The creator of the consolidated chronicle of the life and work of Dostoevsky, Leonid Grossman, in the dating follows the instructions of the writer himself. A later researcher of Dostoevsky's work, Vera Nechaeva, attributes the appearance of the idea to 1843. One way or another, in March 1845 the novel was completed in a rough version, which Dostoevsky informed his brother about.

Vladimirsky prospect, 11. House where Dostoevsky lived in 1842-1845

How is it written?

Poor People is a novel in letters. This is traditional for sentimentalism Literary trend of the second half of the 18th century. Sentimental writers proceeded from the fact that the main thing in human nature is not reason, as the leaders of the era of classicism believed, but feeling. They are not interested in historical events and heroic deeds, but in everyday, private; the life of the soul, often reflected in descriptions of nature. The most famous representatives: in England - Lawrence Stern, in France - Jean-Jacques Rousseau, in Russia - Nikolai Karamzin. ⁠ form, the example of which in foreign literature is often called "Julia, or New Heloise" by Jean-Jacques Rousseau. It was usually used to tell the story of two lovers who are separated by circumstances and forced to communicate through letters filled with detailed descriptions of the characters' experiences. In Russian literature, Nikolai Karamzin was one of the first to turn to the sentimental - although not directly epistolary - tradition in the story Poor Liza, in which he decided to tell about the feelings of ordinary people and to which the title of the novel Poor People refers. However, choosing a form that was half-forgotten by the mid-1840s, Dostoevsky filled it with an uncharacteristic content: the vicissitudes of the life of “little people”, that is, a reality discovered several years earlier by the authors of everyday stories and essays and canonized as a material by the natural school. Dostoevsky's formerly silent heroes of the Petersburg “bottom” found their own voice and began to talk about themselves and their lives.

The first to get acquainted with the novel was the writer Dmitry Grigorovich, who at that time shared an apartment with Dostoevsky. Delighted, he took the manuscript to Nikolai Nekrasov, and he, having read the novel overnight, handed it over to Vissarion Belinsky with the words "New Gogol has appeared!" Belinsky's first reaction was more restrained: “Gogols will be born like mushrooms to you,” but after reading the critic, he was so imbued with the novel that he wished to see Dostoevsky in person and told him that he himself did not understand what he had created. The novel was first published in 1846 in the Petersburg Collection, published by Nekrasov. At that time, the novice publisher already had two famous volumes of the anthology "Physiology of St. Petersburg" on his account; he enjoyed the fame of the founder of the natural school and negotiated the purchase of Pushkin's journal Sovremennik. This context provided Dostoevsky's debut novel with increased attention.

Dmitry Grigorovich. The year is 1895. Grigorovich was the first to read the novel and took it to Nekrasov

Nikolay Nekrasov. Mid-1860s. After reading Nekrasov announced the appearance in literature of the "new Gogol" and published the novel in the "Petersburg collection"

What influenced her?

The most important landmark of Dostoevsky's contemporaries, due to the similarity of the heroes, considered Nikolai Gogol's Petersburg Tales. But it is known that simultaneously with the emergence of the idea of ​​Poor People, Dostoevsky translated the novel Eugene Grande by Honore de Balzac. Balzac was considered one of the founders of French naturalism with his appeal to the everyday side of life and a critical view of the social structure. Russian literature adopted the experience of French naturalism in essays, and Balzac's translations helped Dostoevsky, one of the first in the natural school, to master the large form. In addition to literary sources, Dostoevsky was also inspired by direct observation of the life of the poor in St. Petersburg, especially after he settled in the same apartment in 1843 with a longtime friend of the Dostoevsky brothers, Dr. Riesenkampf. He received a wide variety of patients at home, and many of them belonged to the social class described later in Poor People.

Drawings by Ignatius Shchedrovsky from the book Scenes from Russian Folk Life. 1852 year

How was she received?

The history of the publication largely predetermined the perception of Poor People. In the light of the expectation of a "new Gogol", the main question became - how much and in what way Dostoevsky inherits the author of "Petersburg Tales". Confused attempts to identify what is borrowed - form or content, summed up Valerian Maikov, pointing out that these attempts are senseless, since writers are interested in fundamentally different things: "Gogol is a poet predominantly social, and Dostoevsky is predominantly psychological." However, the most violent reaction was caused by the style of letters of Makar Devushkin. Stepan Shevyryov considered their language entirely Gogol's, Alexander Nikitenko seemed too sophisticated, Sergei Aksakov was sure that the official could speak like that, but he could not write that way, and Pavel Annenkov reproached the author for stylistic games to the detriment of the content. And even Belinsky changed his initial assessment, calling the work too wordy. The reason for this heightened attention was not only the style in itself, but also the fact that Poor People became, in fact, the first phenomenon of long direct speech of the “little man”. The closest known prototype - Akaki Akakievich Bashmachkin - was much less verbose. By the mid-1840s, the very figure of an official in literature had already acquired an anecdotal character with an emphasis on the comical portrayal of the hero in the most absurd situations. Dostoevsky invited this anecdotal character to tell about his experiences - on the wave of the natural school, the result was impressive.

Having finished Poor People, Dostoevsky immediately set to work on the story The Double, about a titular councilor (Makar Devushkin had the same rank) Golyadkin, who suddenly had a double in a mysterious way. Poor People and Dvoinik were published in the journal Otechestvennye Zapiski almost simultaneously. In the next three years, the writer managed to realize a huge number of ideas: the novels "Mistress", "Weak Heart", "White Nights", published later "Netochka Nezvanova", the story "Mister Prokharchin" and many others. But the success of "Poor People" could not be repeated, the attention of critics and the public weakened with each new work. Waking up overnight famous and immediately changing the trajectory of creativity in the direction of the so-called fantastic realism, where the realistic world begins to subtly distort under the influence of grotesque-fantastic forces, Dostoevsky could not keep his popularity. And the success of Poor People themselves, despite the appearance almost immediately of German, French and Polish translations, turned out to be not very strong: a separate publication of the novel, for which Dostoevsky greatly revised and shortened the text, received rather restrained reviews. This was largely predetermined by the evolution of Dostoevsky's writing style, who, having dropped out of the literary process for ten years in 1849, tried to return to the theme of the "humiliated and insulted" on his return, but for the second time he gained popularity with completely different novels about the dark sides of the human personalities such as Crime and Punishment.

Anichkov bridge. 1860s

Why was Dostoevsky called the new Gogol?

By the mid-1840s, despite a developed essay and everyday life tradition, Gogol remained the only major Russian writer. Moreover, having published in 1842 the first volume of "Dead Souls" and "The Overcoat" from the cycle "Petersburg Tales", he actually left literature. In this situation, the authors of the natural school claim the role of Gogol's students and followers - and any author of a large form is considered from the point of view of potential continuity. In this sense, special hopes were pinned on Dostoevsky as the author of a novel that is thematically close to the Gogol tradition. Despite the fact that the first critics and readers of the novel were never able to give an unambiguous answer to the question of what exactly Dostoevsky took from Gogol, the clue is contained in the novel itself. The culmination of the correspondence is letters from Makar Devushkin of July 1 and 8, in which he shares his impressions of two read works, Pushkin's "Station Keeper" and Gogol's "Overcoat". In both cases Devushkin recognizes himself in the main character, but if he empathizes with the fate of Samson Vyrin, then the image of Akaki Akakievich only makes him angry. Devushkin's main complaint is that the author of The Overcoat made public the details of his plight and personal life. Refusing to agree with the ending of the story, Devushkin demands compensation for Akaki Akakievich - let the general raise him in rank or find an overcoat. Through Devushkin's letters, Dostoevsky, in fact, reflects on Gogol's Petersburg Tales, where he is concerned not so much with the material as with the manner of depiction. Dostoevsky gives the hero the opportunity to tell about himself in the way he sees fit. At the same time, most of all, the author of Poor People was pleased with the fact that his author's attitude to what is happening in the novel practically does not appear in the text.

Unknown artist. Portrait of N. V. Gogol. 1849 year. State Historical, Artistic and Literary Museum-Reserve "Abramtsevo". Gogol rather liked Poor People, he praised Dostoevsky for choosing the topic, but noted that the text was too verbose

How did Gogol himself react to Dostoevsky's novel?

The reaction of Gogol - the undoubted "great genius" in whose light, according to Belinsky, "ordinary talents" work - to literary novelties, as expected, aroused increased attention of his contemporaries, although most often it was more than restrained. Gogol read Dostoevsky's Poor People a few months after the publication of Petersburg Collection, and his impressions are known from a letter to Anna Mikhailovna Vielgorskaya dated May 14, 1846. Assessing the choice of the topic as an indicator of Dostoevsky's spiritual qualities and indifference, Gogol also noted the obvious youth of the writer: "... There is still a lot of talkativeness and little concentration in oneself." The novel, in his opinion, would be much more lively if it were less verbose. Nevertheless, such a restrained reaction was enough for his contemporaries to decide that Gogol liked everything. In a similar situation, when the author of "The Inspector General" listened to Ostrovsky's first play "Bankrupt" (later known as "Our people - we will be numbered"), almost a similar opinion - about youth, length and "inexperience in techniques" - was regarded as evidence that Ostrovsky " moved "Gogol, that is, made a strong impression on him.

What is the natural school and how does sentimentalism relate to it?

The natural school as a literary phenomenon arose at the time of the publication in 1845 of the anthology "Physiology of St. Petersburg", and immediately after that it received its name from his ideological opponent - Faddey Bulgarin, publisher of the newspaper "Severnaya Beelya", who in polemical articles criticized young representatives of the Gogol school for dirty naturalism. Nekrasov became the publisher of Physiology of St. Petersburg, and Belinsky became the ideologist. Together they directly declared their conscious desire to form a new direction in literature, the authors of which will look into all the keyholes and talk about the previously hidden sides of life. In addition, in the preface to The Physiology of St. Petersburg, Belinsky proposed his theory of the literary process, which is created jointly by the efforts of “geniuses” and “ordinary talents”. By "genius" the authors of the almanac quite transparently meant Gogol, whose principles they planned to develop. Sentimentalism, with its craving for describing the emotions and experiences of heroes, seems to have very little in common with the natural school. But both the one and the other literary direction in the Russian version was treated with great attention to ordinary people, and this allowed Dostoevsky to build his text at the intersection of these two traditions. The correspondence, which takes a period of time from spring to autumn, is sustained in the spirit of sentimentalism, and the culminating point is Makar Devushkin's emotional reading of Pushkin's Station Keeper and Gogol's Overcoat. The event series of the novel obeys the canons of the natural school, and here the culmination is the departure and exit from the correspondence of Varenka Dobrosyolova. This discrepancy between plot currents - correspondence and "offscreen" events - largely determines the tragic effect that arises in the novel's finale. Literary critic Apollon Grigoriev even coined a special term to characterize Dostoevsky's "Poor People" - "sentimental naturalism."

Winter Palace from the side of Palace Square. Lithograph by Giuseppe Daziaro

Why write so much about poverty, humiliation and suffering?

Considering that while working on Poor People, Dostoevsky is engaged in translations of Balzac and is friends with Grigorovich, it becomes clear that his choice of topic is largely determined by the literary context. The release of Physiology of St. Petersburg became a landmark event as a declaration of a new literary phenomenon, but, in fact, consolidated the interest of Russian literature that had already arisen several years earlier in everyday reality and ordinary people. And if ordinary people and their feelings have already become the object of depiction within the framework of the sentimental tradition, in particular in the work of Karamzin, then everyday reality in all its manifestations eluded for a long time, first from sentimentalist writers, and then from romantics. That is why the beginning of the 1840s was marked by the emergence of a powerful essay tradition with an eye to French naturalism, within which Russian-speaking authors rushed to describe the structure of the city with ethnographic accuracy as a space for life, everyday affairs and everyday life of ordinary people.

Alexander Bashutsky was one of the first to discover this world in the anthology "Ours, written off from nature by the Russians", also inspired by the French essay tradition and the almanac "The French, drawn by them themselves." Simultaneously with Physiology of Petersburg, Yakov Butkov launched a similar project - the collection Petersburg Peaks, which was popular with readers, but could not compete with Nekrasov's almanac, because he did not offer any conceptual understanding of interest in the life of the social lower classes. The natural school brought this interest to a critical stage, having descended, according to the accusations of the same Bulgarin, to the depiction of completely unattractive aspects of life, in order to find a new form through this material, uncharacteristic for the literature of that time, and develop a new language for the further multilayered development of Russian literature. Answering Bulgarin, Belinsky promised in a critical article that after the development of the necessary tools, writers would naturally move on to depicting more pleasant things, but in a new manner. In this sense, Dostoevsky's Poor People were organically integrated into the literary process of his time.

Pyotr Boklevsky. Makar Devushkin. Illustration for Poor People. 1840s

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Pyotr Boklevsky. Varvara Dobrosyolova. Illustration for Poor People. 1840s

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Is Devushkin a speaking surname?

By the time Poor People was written, a solid tradition of speaking surnames had undoubtedly developed in Russian literature - the characters in Griboyedov's Woe from Wit alone generated a lot of research on this topic. However, by and large, it is not always possible to clearly distinguish between the situation when the author deliberately gives the hero a surname designed to help the reader navigate and tell about the character and function of the character, and the situation when the meaning can be read into the hero's surname due to the recognizable root. If we assume that Dostoevsky also follows this Gogol tradition, but, as in the rest, greatly reduces the comic component, then Devushkin and Dobrosyolova can be speaking surnames: in the first case, this is an indication of the spontaneity, naivety, kind-heartedness and sensitivity of the hero, and in the second - on good intentions and sincerity. However, traditionally, the images of carriers of speaking surnames are devoid of psychological layering and evolution in the work: Skalozub in Griboyedov or Lyapkin-Tyapkin in Gogol as a whole invariably show character traits accentuated in this way. Meanwhile, both Makar Devushkin and Varenka Dobrosyolova were initially not very transparent in their intentions, and besides, they underwent considerable evolution during their correspondence. If we talk about the name, then, as noted, in particular, the literary critic Moisey Altman, in one of the letters Makar Devushkin complains that from him “they made a proverb and almost a swear word”, referring to the saying: “Poor Makar has all the bumps are falling. " In this case, both the name and surname of the protagonist, quite in the spirit of the natural school, introduce an element of typification into the image.

“Poor People” is “acme”, the high point of “humane” literature of the forties, and in them there is a premonition of that destructive pity that has become so tragic and ominous in his great novels.

Who is Varenka Dobrosyolova to Makar Devushkin?

Formally, Varenka Dobrosyolova is a relative of Makar Devushkin. But despite the fact that Dostoevsky gives them a common patronymic - Alekseevich and Alekseevna, the relationship between them is distant. As it becomes clear in the course of the correspondence, Makar Devushkin previously helped Varenka escape from Anna Fedorovna's house, continues to help with the arrangement of her life, often to his own detriment, and takes care of her and empathizes with her, guided by family feelings. In any case, this is how Devushkin himself justifies participation in Varenka's fate in his letters. In fact, his feelings for her are much more complicated. From Devushkin's letter after reading Pushkin's "The Station Keeper" it is clear that he is trying on the fate of Samson Vyrin, abandoned by his daughter, who fled with a visiting captain Minsky. Responding to the desire expressed by Varenka to leave and no longer burden him, Makar Devushkin calls himself an old man and asks what he will do without her, after which he immediately shares with her his impressions of reading Pushkin's story. There is also romantic affection in his feelings, although in his letters he deliberately emphasizes that he will look at Varenka's happiness from the outside if this happens. There is also a desire by all means to keep her close to him by caring so that Varenka does not feel the need and does not strive for changes in her life: in response to the mention of the possibility of such changes, Makar Devushkin invariably expresses doubts about their expediency.

Nikolaevsky bridge. 1870s

Why do the heroes write letters to each other if they live next door?

Makar Devushkin and Varenka Dobrosyolova really live, if not strictly opposite each other, then at least so that Devushkin has the opportunity to watch Varenka's window, which he often reports in letters, drawing conclusions about the mood and well-being of the owner of the room by the position of the curtain. However, physically having the opportunity to just visit her, he does it extremely rarely, because he is afraid of rumors, word of mouth and what they will “think” about him and about Varenka. It is difficult to judge how justified his fears are, given his relationship with Varenka. But the fact that an unmarried young girl lived alone, indeed, in itself could be perceived ambiguously, and the presence of Fedora's assistant in preserving her reputation did not help in any way. Given Varenka's borderline position, Makar Devushkin is afraid to visit her too often, so as not to give rise to rumors. On the other hand, Makar Devushkin almost immediately, in his very first letters, informs that the correspondence carries additional meaning for him: complaining about the lack of a "syllable" and good education, he uses the space of the correspondence for a kind of training and even notes with satisfaction closer to the finale. that he began to "form a syllable." Varenka's departure means for him, among other things, the collapse of these ambitions, so that he can not even resist and writes to her about this in the last, apparently, no longer sent letter.

Postman. From the photographic series "Russian Types". 1860s-70s

Who is Anna Fedorovna and why does she constantly interfere in Varenka's life?

Like Makar Devushkin, Anna Fedorovna is a distant relative of Varenka Dobrosyolova, and many unclear motives of the novel are associated with this character. So, it is Anna Fedorovna who receives Varenka and her mother in her house after the head of the family, Varenka's father, dies. She does this of her own free will, but rather quickly begins to reproach poor relatives with a piece of bread, and after that she even weds Varenka to Mr. Bykov. This is how Mr. Bykov appears in the novel for the first time. The matchmaking ends with Varenka indignantly fleeing Anna Fyodorovna's house, where she leaves her beloved cousin Sasha. Having met her later, Varenka in despair writes to Makar Devushkin that “she will die too,” transparently hinting that Mr. Bykov, instead of supposedly marrying Varenka, dishonored her. She even tells Makar the offensive words of Anna Fyodorovna that "it is not possible to marry everyone." This fully explains why Varenka can now, in violation of decency, live alone (the situation has already gone beyond the bounds of decency) and why Makar Devushkin is so afraid of rumors that will go out if he visits her too often. And Varenka in her letters tells about several episodes when strange gentlemen came to her with vague intentions and only the appearance of Fedora saved her in these awkward moments. The figure of Anna Fyodorovna also appears at the moment of the second appearance in the novel of Mr. Bykov - this time in connection with the story of the poor student Pokrovsky, with whom Varenka was in love. It is known that the mother of the student Pokrovsky was hastily married to his father with a dowry from Mr. Bykov, and the student Pokrovsky himself was always under the personal tutelage of Mr. Bykov, who eventually settled him after leaving the university in the house of Anna Fedorovna. Varenka was surprised more than once by how disdainful the son was of his kindest father. In this situation, the assumption is not devoid of logic that it is Mr. Bykov who is the father of the student Pokrovsky, and the hasty absurd marriage of his beautiful mother was an attempt to save her reputation. Thus, Anna Fedorovna, whose occupation remains unknown, although she, according to Varenka, is constantly absent from home for a long time, has repeatedly helped Mr. escape from her house.

Why are there so many diminutive suffixes and weird expressions in Poor People?

The style of Makar Devushkin's letters really was one of the most problematic issues for contemporaries in the perception of the novel. Where did such a manner come from for an ordinary titular adviser, could he actually speak or write that way, was Dostoevsky not too much involved in stylistic games - all this was actively discussed immediately after the release of the novel. The heavily littered language of Makar Devushkin - which is worth one address "mother" several times per letter, not to mention hundreds of diminutive suffixes - looks especially contrasting in comparison with the calm, correct syllable of Varenka Dobrosyolova. And in this respect, nothing has changed, even with the reduction that Poor People underwent after the first publication. However, observations on the text of the novel show that Devushkin does not always choose this style for his letters. “Noisy street! What shops, shops are rich; everything shines and burns, matter, flowers under glass, different hats with ribbons. You would think that this is all so, it is laid out for beauty - but no: there are people who buy all this and give to their wives, ”Devushkin describes his walk along Gorokhovaya Street in detail, but quite stylistically, in a letter dated September 5, which called the physiological sketch within the novel. But as soon as he reaches in his thoughts Varenka - "I remembered about you here," the style changes abruptly: "Oh, my darling, my dear! as I remember now about you, so my whole heart languishes! Why are you, Varenka, so unhappy? My angel! " At least Devushkin can change his style depending on the topic, and if we take into account his desire to improve his own "syllable", then the abundance of diminutive suffixes can be considered his deliberate choice in communication with Varenka.

Winter groove. Early 20th century postcard

What prevents Makar Devushkin from finding another job and stop being in poverty?

Makar Devushkin has served as a titular adviser all his life, is constantly in poverty, but in his letters one can see no desire to either make a career or change his occupation. “I myself know that I do a little by rewriting; but still I am proud of it: I work, I spill sweat, ”he says in a letter dated June 12. In addition to the fact that he considers such work to be honest, he is also convinced that someone should still do it. We can say that Devushkin not only does not think about changing his profession, but is also proud of the business he is doing. In the course of the correspondence, however, it turns out that he still has "ambition", however, judging by the usage of words, it is connected with his reputation - with what others might think of him. It is “ambition” that makes him hide his plight. She also suffers when he reads "The Overcoat" by Gogol, where the plight of Akaki Akakievich is brought up for general consideration, but she does not allow him to try to realize himself in literature. So, Makar Devushkin admits to Varenka that he would be pleased if, for example, a collection of his poems were published. However, it is not clear from the text of the letters, in fact, whether he writes these poems, and from his description of his own supposed emotions if such a collection is published, one can find out that most of all he is afraid that they will recognize not only the author, but also the poor official who is hiding in him. their poverty. Devushkin's world order actually completely deprives him of the opportunity for maneuvers and getting out of his deplorable state. But, even having relatively corrected his affairs closer to the end of the novel with additional work, he does not change either his way of life or his views. The poor man of Dostoevsky is firmly locked in his poverty - far from only material.

Dostoevsky made, as it were, on a small scale the Copernican revolution, making the moment of self-determination of the hero what was the firm and final author's definition

Did people in Petersburg really live in such terrible conditions?

In the late 1830s and 40s, St. Petersburg was not only the capital of the Russian Empire, but also lived an active life and developed rapidly in opposition to the conservative and slow Moscow. In the essay "Petersburg and Moscow" Belinsky assigns just such images to the two cities. In Moscow, where even the arrangement of the city with its either circular or chaotic development does not dispose to active activity, it is good to study slowly, but you need to build a career in St. Petersburg, a city that is young and sharpened just for this. There are opportunities for a bureaucratic career, there are many tenement houses, all the brightest magazines are published here, Dostoevsky himself moves here among many writers, and this path is even described by Ivan Goncharov as quite typical in his first novel, An Ordinary History. In the late 1830s - early 1840s, people from the provinces rushed to St. Petersburg, and given the generally low level of well-being at this time, as well as the high degree of inequality, it is likely that about half of the city's population actually lived in the conditions described by Dostoevsky. ... An amendment should be made only to the fact that the first half of the 1840s became the time of close attention of literature to the life of ordinary people with all its everyday details. Therefore, it cannot be considered that at this time there was an exceptional drop in the standard of living in the city, it is just that this standard of living became noticeable to us through the attention to it of authors close to the natural school.

Andreevsky market on Vasilievsky island. 1900s

Why does Varenka Dobrosyolova marry Mr. Bykov if she does not love him?

From the very beginning of the correspondence, Varenka Dobrosyolova confesses to Makar Devushkin: most of all she is afraid that Anna Fedorovna will find her and Mr. Bykov will reappear in her life. In this context, Varenka's decision to marry Mr. Bykov, who is disgusting to her, looks emotionally unexpected. However, from a pragmatic point of view, it can be read as the only true one. Finding herself, presumably, in a situation of dishonor, Varenka is endlessly worried about her future, and, objectively, she really has few options to arrange her. Despite the fact that Makar Devushkin in every possible way discourages her from going to governess in someone else's house, this is one of the best options for the development of her fate. The option, when Mr. Bykov, who dishonored her, appears with a marriage proposal, is almost unbelievable. Let it be known at the same time that Mr. Bykov is interested exclusively in the birth of an heir, but Varenka says that she would rather agree to such an offer than live in poverty all her life. Such a marriage will really securely secure Varenka's future, but, in addition, it will return her to her good name, which in her position seemed an unlikely prospect. The beginning of the evolution of the image of Varenka in the novel is connected with such a pragmatic decision about marriage: the young lady, full of sadness, fears and worries, gradually turns into a prudent woman who has cast aside doubts and does not hesitate to laconically give Devushkin instructions and demand their fulfillment. The sentimental paradigm in the image of Varenka Dobroselova is surrendering under the onslaught of pragmatic, natural-school reality.

Pyotr Boklevsky. Bykov. Illustration for Poor People. 1840s

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What does the epigraph of the novel mean?

The epigraph of the novel is taken by Dostoevsky from the story of Prince Vladimir Odoevsky "The Living Dead", published in the journal "Otechestvennye zapiski" in 1844, that is, during the period of work on "Poor People". Borrowing a quote, Dostoevsky makes small adjustments to it - he changes the impersonal form of the verb “forbid” to a personal one: “Oh, these storytellers for me! Not to write something useful, pleasant, delightful, otherwise they are pulling out all the ins and outs in the ground! Well, what is it like: you read ... you involuntarily ponder - and then all sorts of rubbish will go into your head; rightly, forbid them to write; I would just have banned it altogether. " Researchers of the novel have noticed more than once that stylistically the epigraph is quite similar to the style of Makar Devushkin, but there is also a specific episode of the novel to which the quotation refers - this is a letter from Devushkin, who read Gogol's Overcoat and was outraged by the fact that the writer carefully presented hidden details of his own life. Devushkin's speech also features some "they" who are interested in revealing the secret, laughing, making a libel out of everything. In fact, the epigraph becomes the only element of Poor People, apart from the title, which directly reveals the author's will: Dostoevsky emphasizes the culminating moment of the novel - Devushkin's indignation at the manner of portraying the hero in The Overcoat (while Devushkin is pleased with the depiction of the hero in The Station Keeper ). This is how the novel takes on a new dimension. Dostoevsky not only sets himself the task of showing the life of "poor people" in St. Petersburg, but also takes a position in literary discussions of the mid-1840s, the beginning of which is the almanac "Physiology of St. Petersburg": in this manifesto of the natural school, the question was raised that should be portrayed by literature and what this image should be.

The Moyka River at the Green (from 1820 to 1918 - Police) Bridge. Photo-tinto-engraving of the "Education" partnership

Where is the famous "Dostoyevschina"?

The novel Poor People became Dostoevsky's literary debut, and there is indeed much less so-called Dostoyevsky in it than in his later works, in particular Crime and Punishment or The Brothers Karamazov. But here you can already grasp those literary features that will later become the hallmark of the writer: for example, the complex and often contradictory internal motivation of the heroes and increased attention to the life of the lower social strata. Between Dostoevsky's literary debut and the appearance of the famous "Dostoyevshchina" - not only a multitude of works in which the writer desperately searched for his style in attempts to repeat the success of "Poor People", but also dramatic life circumstances: a staged "execution", prolonged exile and hard labor. The episode with the "execution" was the result of Dostoevsky's acquaintance with Mikhail Butashevich-Petrashevsky and visiting his "Fridays", on one of which the writer read aloud Belinsky's letter to Gogol, which was banned at that time. On the basis of this episode, in 1849, Dostoevsky was accused of having links with the revolutionary movement and, after eight months of investigation and trial, was sentenced to death. The highest pardon of Emperor Nicholas I was deliberately announced only after the convicts were brought to the Semyonovsky parade ground, forced to ascend the scaffold and dressed in shrouds. Thus, Dostoevsky fully felt what the last night before the execution was like, after which he went to hard labor, which was replaced by the death sentence. Dostoevsky's return to literature ten years after his pardon did not bring him new instant popularity. The same "Notes from the Underground", written in 1864, were suddenly discovered by criticism only after the publication of the novel "Crime and Punishment" in 1866, when Dostoevsky again became a noticeable literary figure. At the same time, a controversy arose about the psychological component of his novels, which reached its peak after the publication of the novel "Demons". Only then did Dostoevsky acquire the reputation of a "cruel talent" who considered it necessary to portray human suffering and the dark movements of the soul, and deep psychologism became part of his writing style.

bibliography

• Bocharov S. G. Transition from Gogol to Dostoevsky // Bocharov S. G. About artistic worlds. M .: Soviet Russia, 1985. S. 161–209.
• Vinogradov V. V. School of sentimental naturalism (Dostoevsky's novel "Poor People" against the background of literary evolution of the 40s) // Vinogradov V. V. Selected Works: Poetics of Russian Literature. Moscow: Nauka, 1976. P. 141–187.
• Chronicle of the life and work of F.M.Dostoevsky: in 3 volumes. St. Petersburg: Academic project, 1993.
• Mann Yu. V. Dialectics of the artistic image. M .: Soviet writer, 1987.

• Nechaeva V.S. Early Dostoevsky. 1821-1849. Moscow: Nauka, 1979.
• Tseitlin A. G. The Story of the Poor Official of Dostoevsky (To the History of One Plot). M .: Glavlit, 1923.

The entire list of references

Dostoevsky wrote "Poor People" in 1845, and already in 1846 - the novel appeared in Nekrasov's almanac "Petersburg Collection". It took two years to create the novel. This is the first work written by the writer, which received recognition from many critics and ordinary readers. It was it that glorified the name of Fyodor Mikhailovich Dostoevsky and opened the way for him to the world of literature.

Poor People is an epistolary novel. It tells about the life of people who have to constantly borrow money from someone, take a salary in advance, limit themselves in everything. From the book, we learn what these characters think, what worries them, how they try to improve their lives. The book begins with an epigraph. It presents an excerpt from the story "The Living Dead" by Odoevsky. It says that it is necessary to write "light" works, and not those that make you think about some serious things. This idea will later be repeated by the hero of the novel in his letter to Varenka.

The book "Poor People" presents the correspondence of two people: a modest titular adviser Makar Devushkin, who earns a living by writing department papers, and Varvara Dobroselova. From it we learn that they are distant relatives in relation to each other. Makar is already an elderly man, and as he admits in a letter, he has the most real paternal feelings for the girl. He takes care of Varvara, helps her with money, tells her how to behave in a given situation. Makar tries to protect the girl from all troubles and needs, however, he himself is very poor. In order to support himself and her, he has to sell his things, live in the kitchen, eat poorly. But Makar is used to difficulties and is ready to endure everything. He believes that the main thing is not how a person is dressed and looks, but what is “inside” him. By this he means "the purity of the soul."

But still, as he admits, he is upset that he cannot fully provide for Varenka, make him truly happy. He treats her very warmly and at every opportunity he tries to please her with something: he will buy sweets for her, then flowers. He is very sorry for the poor girl, who was left an orphan without a livelihood at a young age, and, moreover, dishonored by the rich landowner Bykov. He does not understand why fate is favorable to some people, but not to others, some have everything, while others have nothing.

Reading the correspondence between Makar Devushkin and Varya Dobroselova, we learn a lot about the life of ordinary people: what they think about, what feelings they often experience, how they try to deal with various difficulties. The epistolary form of the narration allows the writer to broadly embrace reality and show not only the life circumstances of “little people”, but their ability to sympathize with their neighbors, selflessness, high moral qualities. Personal correspondence between two people becomes a real source of warmth for them.

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Poor people

Ox, these are storytellers for me! Not to write something useful, pleasant, delightful, otherwise they are pulling out all the ins and outs in the ground! Well, what is it like: you read ... you involuntarily ponder - and then all sorts of rubbish will go into your head; I would have forbidden them to write, but I would have simply forbidden them altogether.

April 8th.

My priceless Varvara Alekseevna!

Yesterday I was happy, overly happy, extremely happy! You at least once in your life, stubborn, obeyed me. In the evening, at eight o'clock, I wake up (you know, my dear, that I like to sleep for an hour or two after office), I got out a candle, I prepare papers, I fix my pen, suddenly, by chance, I raise my eyes - really, my heart jumped like that ! So you did understand what I wanted, what my heart wanted! I see the corner of the curtain by your window is bent and attached to a pot of balsam, exactly as I hinted to you then; it immediately seemed to me that your face flashed by the window, that you were looking at me from your little room, that you too thought of me. And how annoying it was to me, my dear fellow, that I could not get a good look at your pretty face! There was a time when we saw light too, my dear. Old age is not a joy, my dear! And now everything is somehow dazzling in the eyes; If you work a little in the evening, do something, in the morning your eyes will turn red, and tears flow so that you even feel ashamed in front of strangers. However, in my imagination your smile, little angel, your kind, friendly smile, brightened up; and in my heart there was exactly the same sensation as when I kissed you, Varenka - do you remember, angel? Do you know, my dear, it even seemed to me that you shook your finger at me there. Is that so, minx? You will certainly describe all this in more detail in your letter.

Well, what is our idea about your curtain, Varenka? Nice, isn't it? Whether I am sitting at work, whether I go to bed, whether I wake up, I already know that you are thinking of me there, you remember me, and you yourself are healthy and cheerful. Lower the curtain - that means goodbye, Makar Alekseevich, it's time to sleep! Wake up - so good morning, Makar Alekseevich, how did you sleep, or: what is your health, Makar Alekseevich? As for me, I, glory to the Creator, am healthy and prosperous! You see, my darling, how cleverly thought it up; and no letters are needed! Sly, isn't it? But the idea is mine! And what, what am I to do with these things, Varvara Alekseevna?

I will report to you, my dear, Varvara Alekseevna, that I slept that night in good order, contrary to expectations, with which I am very pleased; although in new apartments, with housewarming, and always somehow can not sleep; everything is so, but not so! I got up today as such a clear falcon - it’s good fun! What a good morning it is today, my dear! Our window has been opened; the sun is shining, the birds are chirping, the air breathes with spring aromas, and all nature is revived - well, everything else was also appropriate; everything is all right, spring-like. I even dreamed today quite pleasantly, and all of you were my dreams, Varenka. I compared you with a bird of heaven, for the joy of people and to decorate the created nature. Immediately I thought, Varenka, that we, people who live in care and anxiety, should also envy the carefree and innocent happiness of heavenly birds - well, the rest is all the same, the same thing; that is, I did all such remote comparisons. I have one book there, Varenka, it’s the same thing, everything is described in great detail. I also write that there are different dreams, my dear. But now it’s spring, so thoughts are all so pleasant, sharp, intricate, and dreams come tender; everything is pink. That's why I wrote it all; however, I took it all from the book. There, the writer discovers the same desire in rhymes and writes -

Why am I not a bird, not a bird of prey!

Well, etc. There and still have different thoughts, but God bless them! Where did you go this morning, Varvara Alekseevna? I didn't even get ready for the post, but you, truly like a spring bird, fluttered out of the room and walked around the yard so cheerful. How funny it was for me looking at you! Ah, Varenka, Varenka! you are not sad; one cannot help grief with tears; I know this, my dear, this I know from experience. Now you are so calm, and your health has recovered a little. Well, what's your Fedora? Oh, what a kind woman she is! You, Varenka, write to me how you live there with her now and are you satisfied with everything? Fedora is a little grumpy; don't look at that, Varenka. God be with her! She's so kind.

I already wrote to you about the local Teresa - she is also a kind and loyal woman. And how worried I was about our letters! How will they be transmitted? And here is how the Lord sent Teresa to our happiness. She is a kind, meek, wordless woman. But our mistress is simply ruthless. Rubs it into work, like some kind of rag.

Well, what a slum I am in, Varvara Alekseevna! Well, already an apartment! Before, after all, I lived as such a capercaillie, you know yourself: quietly, quietly; I used to have a fly flying, and I could hear the fly. And here is the noise, the scream, the hubbub! Why, you still don’t know how it all works here. Imagine, roughly, a long corridor, completely dark and unclean. On his right hand there will be a blank wall, and on his left all the doors and doors, like numbers, all stretch out in a row like that. Well, here they are hiring these rooms, and in them there is one room in each; live in one and two and three. Don't ask the order - Noah's ark! However, it seems that people are good, they are all so educated, scientists. There is only one official (he is somewhere in the literary part), a well-read person: both about Homer and about Brambeus , and he talks about different authors there, - he talks about everything, - an intelligent man! Two officers live and play cards. The midshipman lives; the English teacher lives. Wait, I will amuse you, dear; I will describe them in a future letter satirically, that is, how they are there on their own, with all the details. Our hostess, a very small and unclean old woman, walks all day in shoes and in a dressing gown, and all day shouts at Teresa. I live in the kitchen, or it would be much more correct to say this: there is one room next to the kitchen (and we have, you should note, the kitchen is clean, bright, very good), the room is small, the corner is so modest ... that is, or even better say, the kitchen is large, with three windows, so I have a partition along the transverse wall, so it looks like another room, a supernumerary number; everything is spacious, comfortable, and there is a window, and everything - in a word, everything is comfortable. Well, this is my corner. Well, don't think so, my dear, that there is something so different and mysterious in its meaning; what, they say, the kitchen! - that is, I, perhaps, live in this very room behind the partition, but that's nothing; I myself am aloof from everyone, little by little I live, I live quietly. I put up a bed, a table, a chest of drawers, a couple of chairs, I hung up the image. True, there are better apartments — perhaps there are much better ones — but convenience is the main thing; after all, I’m all for convenience, and you don’t think that it’s for anything else. Your window is opposite, across the yard; and the yard is narrow, you will see you in passing - all the more cheerful to me, the miserable, and cheaper. We have the very last room here, with a table, thirty-five rubles in bank notes costs. It is too expensive! And my apartment costs me seven rubles in banknotes, and the table costs five rubles: here's twenty-four and a half rubles, and before that I paid exactly thirty, but I refused myself a lot; I didn’t always drink tea, but now I’ve made a fortune for tea and sugar. You know, my dear, it's a shame not to drink tea; here all the people are sufficient, so it is a shame. For the sake of strangers and drink it, Varenka, for the sight, for the tone; but for me it doesn't matter, I'm not whimsical. Put it this way, for pocket money - all is required - well, some boots, little dress - will there be much left? That's all my salary. I do not grumble and am pleased. It is enough. Enough for several years; there are also awards. Well, goodbye, my little angel. There I bought a couple of pots with balsam and geranium - inexpensive. And you, perhaps, also love mignonette? So there is mignonette, you write; Yes, you know, write everything in as much detail as possible. You, however, do not think anything and do not doubt, my dear, about me, that I have hired such a room. No, this convenience compelled, and one convenience seduced me. After all, my dear, I am saving, saving; I have a lot of money. You don’t look at the fact that I’m so quiet that it seems that the fly will beat me with its wing. No, my dear, I’m not a blunder about myself, and the character is absolutely the same as a decently solid and serene soul to a person. Goodbye, my little angel! I signed for you almost on two sheets, and it is high time for the service. I kiss your fingers, dear, and abide

your lowest servant and most faithful friend

Makar Devushkin.

P. S. One thing I ask: answer me, my little angel, in as much detail as possible. With this, I am sending you, Varenka, a pound of sweets; so you eat them for health, but for God's sake do not worry about me and do not be in a claim. Well, goodbye, dear.

April 8th.

Do you know that you will finally have to completely quarrel with you? I swear to you, good Makar Alekseevich, that it is even hard for me to accept your gifts. I know what they cost you, what hardships and denials of the need for yourself. How many times have I told you that I don't need anything, absolutely nothing; that I am not able to repay you for the blessings with which you have showered me hitherto. And why do I need these pots? Well, the balms are still okay, but why geraniums? One word should be inadvertently said, as, for example, about this geranium, you will buy it right away; isn't it, dear? What a delight the flowers are on her! Poon crosses. Where did you get such a pretty geranium? I put it in the middle of the window, in the most conspicuous place; I will put a bench on the floor, and I will put more flowers on the bench; just let me get rich myself! Fedora will not be overjoyed; we now have like paradise in the room - clean, light! Well, why candy? And really, I immediately guessed from the letter that something was wrong with you - paradise and spring, and fragrances fly, and birds chirp. What is this, I think, is there no poetry here? Indeed, really, some verses are missing in your letter, Makar Alekseevich! Both gentle sensations and dreams in pink - everything is here! I didn't even think about the curtain; she probably caught herself when I rearranged the pots; there you are!

Ax, Makar Alekseevich! Whatever you say there, no matter how you calculate your income, in order to deceive me, to show that they all go entirely to you alone, but you will not hide or hide anything from me. It is clear that you are being deprived of what you need because of me. What is it you thought, for example, to rent such an apartment? After all, you are worried, disturbed; you are cramped, uncomfortable. You love solitude, but here and something that is not around you! And you could live much better, judging by your salary. Fedora says that you used to live better than now. Have you really lived like this all your life, alone, in hardship, without joy, without a friendly, welcoming word, hiring corners from strangers? Ah, good friend, how sorry I am for you! Have mercy on your health, Makar Alekseevich! You say that your eyes are getting weak, so do not write by candlelight; why write? Your zeal for the service is probably already known to your superiors.

Once again, I beg you, do not spend so much money on me. I know that you love me, but you yourself are not rich ... Today I also got up gaily. I felt so good; Fedora has been working for a long time, and she got me a job. I was so happy; I only went to buy some silk, and got to work. The whole morning it was so easy on my soul, I was so cheerful! And now again all the black thoughts, sad; the whole heart is languishing.

Ah, something will happen to me, what will be my fate! The hard thing is that I am in such uncertainty, that I have no future, that I can’t even predict what will become of me. Back and look scary. There is all such grief that my heart breaks in half at one recollection. For ages I will cry at the evil people who have ruined me!

It is getting dark. It's time to get to work. I would like to write to you about many things, but there is no time, the work is due. We need to hurry. Of course, writing is a good thing; everything is not so boring. Why would you never come to us yourself? Why is this, Makar Alekseevich? After all, now you are close, and sometimes you have free time. Please come in! I saw your Teresa. She seems so sick; I felt sorry for her; I gave her twenty kopecks. Yes! I almost forgot: be sure to write everything, as detailed as possible, about your life. What kind of people are you around, and do you live well with them? I really want to know all this. Look, be sure to write! Today I will bend the corner on purpose. Go to bed early; yesterday I saw your fire until midnight. Well, goodbye. Today it is melancholy, boring and sad! You know, it's such a day! Farewell.

Yours, Varvara Dobroselova.

April 8th.

Yes, my dear, yes, my dear, you know, such a miserable day has turned out to be my lot! Yes; You made fun of me, an old man, Varvara Alekseevna! However, he himself is to blame, everything is to blame! In old age, it would be better not to indulge in cupids and equivocations in old age with a piece of hair ... And I will also say, my dear: sometimes a person is wonderful, very wonderful. And, you are my saints! what he will talk about, will bring it in at times! And what comes out, what follows from this? Yes, absolutely nothing follows, but it turns out such rubbish that save me, Lord! I, my dear, I am not angry, but it’s so annoying just to remember very much about everything, it’s a shame that I wrote to you so figuratively and stupidly. And I went to the post today such a goggle-dandy; such radiance was on the heart. For no reason at all, there was such a holiday in my soul; it was fun! He began zealously at the papers - but what came of it later! Then, as soon as I looked around, everything became the same - both grayish and dark. All the same ink stains, all the same tables and papers, and I am still the same; the way it was, it remained exactly the same - so what was there to ride on a Pegasus? Where did it all come from? That the sun peeped through and the sky brightened! from this, or what? And what aromas are these when in our yard under the windows and something does not happen to be! Know, it all foolishly seemed so to me. But it happens sometimes that a person gets lost like that in his own feelings and bring in a devious one. This comes from nothing else but from an excessive, stupid ardor of the heart. I didn’t come home, I dragged myself along; for no reason at all my head ached; this, you know, is all one to one. (Somehow, it puffed me in the back.) I was delighted in the spring, I was a fool, but I went in a cold greatcoat. And in my feelings you were mistaken, my dear! Their outpouring was taken in a completely different direction. Fatherly affection inspired me, the only pure paternal affection, Varvara Alekseevna; for I am taking the place of your own father, because of your bitter orphanhood; I say this from the bottom of my heart, from a pure heart, in a related way. Whatever it was, but I’m even a distant dear to you, even though, according to the proverb, and the seventh water on jelly, but still a relative, and now the closest relative and patron; for where you had the closest right to seek protection and protection, you found treason and insult. And as for the rhymes, I will tell you, my dear, that it is indecent for me to practice writing poetry in my old age. Nonsense poetry! For rhymes and in schools now children are flogged ... that's it, my dear.

What are you writing to me, Varvara Alekseevna, about convenience, about peace and about various differences? My mother, I am not squeamish or demanding, I have never lived better than now; so why be picky in old age? I am full, dressed, shod; and where do we start ventures! Not a count's kind! My parent was not a nobleman and with his whole family was poorer than me in income. I'm not a sissy! However, if it came to the truth, then in my old apartment everything was much better; It was more casual, my dear. Of course, my present apartment is also good, even in some respects more cheerful and, if you like, more varied; I am not saying anything against it, but everything is a pity for the old one. We, old people, that is, elderly people, get used to old things as if they were our own. The apartment was, you know, such a small one; the walls were ... well, what can I say! - the walls were, like all the walls, it’s not about them, but the memories of all my past make me longing ... It's a strange thing - it's hard, but the memories seem to be pleasant. Even that was bad, for which at times he was annoyed, and even then in the memories it somehow cleared of the bad and appears to my imagination in an attractive form. We lived quietly, Varenka; I am my mistress, an old woman, a deceased. Now I remember my old woman with a sad feeling! She was a good woman and took an inexpensive rent. She used to knit everything from shreds of different blankets on arshin knitting needles; that's all she did. She and I held the fire together, so we worked at the same table. Her granddaughter Masha was - I still remember her as a child - she will now be thirteen years old. She was such a minx, cheerful, all of us amused; so the three of us lived like that. Sometimes, on a long winter evening, we would sit down at a round table, drink some tea, and then get down to business. And the old woman, so that Masha would not be bored and so that the minx would not be naughty, would start telling fairy tales. And what fairy tales there were! Not like a child, and an intelligent and intelligent person will listen. What! I myself used to smoke my pipe, but I listen so well that I forget about the case. And the child, our minx, will ponder; he will support his pink cheek with his little hand, open his pretty mouth and, a little scary fairy tale, hugs like that, hugs the old woman. And we liked to look at her; and you will not see how the candle will light up, you will not hear how sometimes the blizzard is angry in the yard and the blizzard is sweeping. It was good for us to live, Varenka; and that's how we lived together for almost twenty years. What am I talking about? Perhaps you do not like such matter, and it’s not so easy for me to remember, especially now: the time of twilight. Teresa is fiddling with something, my head hurts, and my back hurts a little, and the thoughts are so wonderful, as if they also hurt; I'm sad today, Varenka! What are you writing this, my dear? How will I come to you? My dear boy, what will people say? After all, you will have to cross the courtyard, our people will notice, they will start asking questions, - talk will go, gossip will go, the case will be given a different meaning. No, my little angel, I'd rather see you tomorrow at the all-night vigil; it will be more sensible and harmless to both of us. Do not excuse me, my dear, for writing such a letter to you; as I read it, I see that everything is so incoherent. I, Varenka, am an old, uneducated person; I didn’t learn from my youth, and now nothing will go into my mind if I’m learning to start again. I confess, my dear, not a master at describing, and I know, without someone else's instructions and laughing, that if I want to write something more prepossessing, I will heap nonsense. I saw you at the window today, saw how you lowered the side. Goodbye, goodbye, God bless you! Goodbye, Varvara Alekseevna.

Your selfless friend Makar Devushkin.

R. S. I, my dear, do not write satire about anyone now. I have become old, mother, Varvara Alekseevna, to bare my teeth in vain! and they will laugh at me, according to the Russian proverb: who, they say, digs a hole for another, so he ... and himself there.

April 9th.

Dear sir, Makar Alekseevich!

Well, shame on you, my friend and benefactor, Makar Alekseevich, be so twisted and capricious. Are you really offended! Ah, I am often incautious, but I did not think that you would take my words for a sharp joke. Rest assured that I will never dare to joke about your years and your character. It all happened because of my frivolity, and more because it was terribly boring, but out of boredom, and for what would you not take it? I thought that you yourself wanted to laugh in your letter. I felt terribly sad when I saw that you were unhappy with me. No, my good friend and benefactor, you would be mistaken if you suspect me of insensitivity and ingratitude. I know how to appreciate in my heart everything that you have done for me, protecting me from evil people, from their persecution and hatred. I will forever pray to God for you, and if my prayer is profitable to God and heaven hears it, then you will be happy.

I feel very unwell today. Fever and chills in me alternately. Fedora is very worried about me. You are wrongly ashamed to come to us, Makar Alekseevich. What other business! You know us, and that's the end of it! .. Farewell, Makar Alekseevich. There is nothing more to write about now, and I can’t: I’m terribly unwell. I ask you once again not to be angry with me and to be sure of that everlasting respect and affection,

with whom I have the honor to be the most faithful

and your most humble servant

Varvara Dobroselova.

April 12th.

Dear Empress, Varvara Alekseevna!

Oh, my dear, what is it with you! After all, every time you scare me so. I am writing to you in every letter so that you are careful, so that you wrap yourself up, so that you do not go out in bad weather, you would observe caution in everything - and you, my little angel, do not obey me. Oh, my darling, well, as if you were some kind of child! After all, you are weak, as weak as a straw, I know that. A little breeze, so you are sick. So you need to beware, try to avoid the dangers of yourself, and not to introduce your friends in grief and despondency.

Express your desire, my dear, to learn in detail about my life and about everything around me. With joy I hasten to fulfill your wish, my dear. I'll start from the beginning, my dear: there will be more order. Firstly, in our house, on a clean entrance, the stairs are very mediocre; especially the front one - clean, light, wide, all cast iron and mahogany. But don't ask about the black one: the spiral, damp, dirty, the steps are broken, and the walls are so fat that your hand sticks when you lean on them. On each site there are chests, broken chairs and wardrobes, rags hung, windows broken; the pelvis stand with all kinds of evil spirits, with dirt, with litter, with eggshells and with fish bubbles; the smell is bad ... in a word, not good.

I have already described to you the arrangement of the rooms; it is, needless to say, comfortable, it’s true, but it’s somehow stuffy in them, that is, it’s not that it smelled bad, but, so to speak, a slightly rotten, acutely sweetened smell of some sort. For the first time, the impression is not favorable, but it’s all okay; it's only a two minute stay with us, and it will pass and you won't feel how everything will go away, because you yourself smell foul, and the dress will smell, and your hands will smell, and everything will smell, - well, you will get used to it. Our siskins are dying. The midshipman is already buying the fifth - they don't live in our air, and that's all. Our kitchen is large, spacious and light. True, in the mornings it is a little sweet, when fish or beef are fried, and they will pour and wet it everywhere, but in the evening it is paradise. In the kitchen we always have old clothes hanging on the clothesline; and since my room is not far away, that is, it is almost adjacent to the kitchen, the smell from the linen disturbs me a little; but nothing: you will live and get used to it.

From the very early morning, Varenka, a fuss begins with us, they get up, walk around, knock - all those who need it, who are in the service, or so, by themselves, get up; everyone starts drinking tea. Samovars are our master's, for the most part, there are few of them, well, so we all keep a queue; and whoever gets out of line with his kettle will now wash his head. Here I was for the first time, yes ... but what to write! It was then that I met everyone. I met the midshipman first; Such frank, he told me everything: about the priest, about the mother, about the sister behind the Tula assessor, and about the city of Kronstadt. He promised to patronize me in everything and immediately invited me to his place for tea. I found him in the very room where we usually play cards. There they gave me tea and they certainly wanted me to gamble with them. Whether they laughed at me or not, I do not know; only they themselves lost all night long, and when I entered, they also played like that. Chalk, maps, smoke went all over the room so that it gulped my eyes. I didn’t play, and they just noticed to me that I was talking about philosophy. Then no one spoke to me all the time; yes, in truth, I was glad of that. I will not go to them now; they have passion, pure passion! The literary official also has meetings in the evenings. Well, that one is good, modest, innocent and delicate; everything is on a thin leg.

Well, Varenka, I will note to you in passing that an ugly woman is our mistress, and, moreover, she is a real witch. You saw Teresa. Well, what is she really? Thin as a plucked, stunted chicken. There are only two people in the house: Teresa da Faldoni , the master's servant. I don’t know, maybe he has another name, only he responds to this; everyone calls him that. He is red-haired, some kind of chukhna, crooked, snub-nosed, rude: everyone scolds Teresa, almost fights. Generally speaking, it’s not so good for me to live here ... To fall asleep and calm down all at once at night - this never happens. They always sit somewhere and play, and sometimes they do this that it is shameful to tell. Now I have got used to it, but I wonder how family people get along in such a sodomy. A whole family of poor people, of some kind, rents a room from our hostess, just not next to other rooms, but on the other side, in the corner, separately. People are meek! Nobody hears anything about them. They live in one room, fencing in it with a partition. He is some kind of official without a job, expelled from service seven years ago for something. His surname Gorshkov; so gray, small; walks in such a greasy, in such worn-out dress that it is painful to look at; much worse than mine! Pathetic, sickly like that (we sometimes meet in the corridor); his knees are trembling, his hands are trembling, his head is trembling, from an illness or something, what, God knows; timid, afraid of everyone, walking aside; I'm shy at times, and this one is even worse. He has families - a wife and three children. The eldest, a boy, all like a father, is also so stunted. The wife was once very handsome by herself, and now it is noticeable; walks, poor, in such a pitiful rabble. They, I heard, owe their mistress; she's not too affectionate with them. I also heard that Gorshkov himself has some kind of trouble, for which he lost his job ... the process is not a trial, not a trial, a trial, some kind of investigation, I really cannot tell you. Poor they are, poor - Lord, my God! Always in their room it is quiet and peaceful, as if no one lives. You can't even hear the children. And it does not happen that children will ever frolic, play, and this is a bad sign. Once, in the evening, it happened to me to pass by their doors; at that time in the house it became something unusual quiet; I hear a sobbing, then a whisper, then again a sobbing, as if they were crying, but so quietly, so sorry that my heart was breaking, and then the thought of these poor people did not leave me all night, so I could not sleep well.

Well, goodbye, my priceless friend, Varenka! I described everything to you as best I could. Today I’m all day all day and think only about you. For you, my dear, my whole heart is languishing. After all, my darling, I know that you don't have a warm coat. These Petersburg springs for me, winds and rains with a snowball - this is my death, Varenka! Such a blissfulness of the air that save me, Lord! Do not seek, darling, in the scriptures; there is no syllable, Varenka, there is no syllable. At least there was some! I am writing whatever comes to mind so that you can only amuse you with something. After all, if I studied somehow, it would be another matter; but how did I study? not even for copper money.

Your always and faithful friend Makar Devushkin.

April 25th.

Dear sir, Makar Alekseevich!

Today I met my cousin Sasha! Horror! and she will perish, poor! I also heard from the outside that Anna Fyodorovna was trying to find out everything about me. She never seems to stop haunting me. She says that she wants to forgive me, forget all the past and that she will certainly visit me herself. She says that you are not a relative to me at all, that she is closer to me a relative, that you have no right to enter into our family relations and that I am ashamed and indecent to live by your alms and on your support ... she says that I have forgotten her bread and salt, that she and my mother, perhaps, saved me from starvation, that she gave us food and food, and for over two and a half years lost money on us, that she forgiven us over and above all this. And she didn't want to spare Mother! And if poor mother knew what they did to me! God knows! .. Anna Fyodorovna says that due to the stupidity of my happiness I did not know how to keep my happiness, that she herself led me to happiness, that she was not to blame for anything else and that I myself did not know how for my honor, and maybe and did not want to intervene. And who is to blame here, great God! She says that Mr. Bykov is absolutely right and that it is not possible to marry anyone who ... but what to write! It's cruel to hear such a lie, Makar Alekseevich! I do not know what is happening to me now. I tremble, cry, cry; I wrote this letter to you for two hours. I thought that at least she was conscious of her guilt before me; and she's like it now! For God's sake, do not worry, my friend, my only well-wisher! Fedora exaggerates everything: I'm not sick. I just caught a cold a little yesterday, when I went to Volkovo to serve my mother's requiem. Why didn't you come with me; I asked you so. Oh, poor, poor my mother, if you would rise from the coffin, if you knew, if you saw what they did to me! ..

My dear, Varenka!

I am sending you some grapes, darling; for a convalescent this, they say, is good, and the doctor recommends for quenching thirst, so only for thirst. You wanted some roses the other day, my dear; so now I am sending them to you. Do you have an appetite, darling? - that's the main thing. However, thank God that everything is over and over, and that our misfortunes are also completely over. Give thanks to heaven! As for books, I can't get it anywhere. There is, they say, a good book here, written in a very high syllable; They say that it is good, I have not read it myself, but here they praise it very much. I asked her for myself; promised to forward. But will you read something? You are a finicky man in this respect; it's hard to please your taste, I know you, my dear; You, surely, need all the poetry, sighs, cupids - well, I’ll get poetry, I’ll get everything; there is one rewritten notebook.

I live well. You, my dear, do not worry about me, please. And what Fedora told you about me is all nonsense; you tell her that she lied, be sure to tell her, the gossip! .. I did not sell a new uniform at all. And why, judge for yourself, why sell? Here, they say, I get forty rubles in silver awards, so why sell? You, my dear, do not worry: she is suspicious, Fedora, she is suspicious. We will live, my dear! Only you, angel, get well, for God's sake, get well, do not upset the old man. Who is this telling you that I have lost weight? Slander, slander again! he is healthy and has grown so fat that he himself becomes ashamed, full and satisfied up to the throat; if only you get well! Well, goodbye, my little angel; kiss all your fingers and abide

your eternal, unchanging friend

Makar Devushkin.

R. S. Ah, my darling, why are you really starting to write again? ... what are you so happy about! but how can I go to you so often, my dear, how? I'm asking you. Is it using the darkness of the night; but now there are almost no nights: the time is like that. Even then, my dear, little angel, I almost never left you at all during your illness, during your unconsciousness; but even here I myself do not know how I handled all these matters; and even then he stopped walking; for they began to curiosity and question. Here already some gossip has become entangled. I hope for Teresa; she is not chatty; but still, you judge for yourself, my dear, what will it be like when they find out everything about us? What will they think and what will they say then? So you will hold your heart together, dear, but wait until you recover; and then we do so, outside the house, somewhere rendezvous let's give.

June 1st.

Brambeus is the pseudonym of the writer and editor of the Library for Reading magazine OI Senkovsky (1800–1858), whose works were popular among undemanding readers.

Teresa da Faldoni are the household names of the heroes of the popular sentimental novel N.-J. Leonard "Teresa and Faldoni, or Letters of Two Lovers Who Lived in Lyon" (1783).