Novel “The Captain's Daughter” Summary
Already during the Boldino autumn of 1830 A.S. Pushkin began to create prose works(“Belkin’s Tales”), and also conceived historical story about the notorious peasant war under the leadership of Pugachev. The main character of the story, on whose behalf the story is told, is the landowner Pyotr Grinev, who managed to resist the temptation to go over to the side of the rebels.
A very brief retelling of the plot of the novel “The Captain's Daughter”
In 1772, 16-year-old Pyotr Grinev noble origin departs from his father's house with his servant Savelich to pass military service in Orenburg. Due to inclement weather, the heroes lose their way, but a tramp helps them. In gratitude, Grinev gives him a sheepskin coat made of rabbit skins.
Next, Grinev serves in Belgorod fortress under the leadership of Captain Mironov and falls in love with his daughter Marya. Parents are opposed to the marriage of the still very young Petya. In 1773, the Pugachev uprising broke out. A gang of peasants captures the fortress, and Marya's parents die. They want to execute Grinev, but Pugachev recognizes him as the young man who gave him a sheepskin coat a year ago. He turns out to be a tramp. For his kind attitude, the robber releases Peter from custody.
But trouble still threatens the remaining orphan Marya. She is a prisoner in her own house, and the traitor Shvabrin wants to marry her against her will. Grinev decides to contact the leader of the rebel peasants personally, and he helps him rescue the girl from the hands of the scoundrel.
The fighting continues. Despite desperate resistance, the army wins a victory over the rebels, Pugachev is thrown into prison. Grinev is also arrested because of a denunciation by Shvabrin, an envious admirer of Marya Mironova. The hero is accused of being “friends” with Pugachev and faces exile. The captain's daughter Marya hurries to help her beloved out of trouble. She asks the empress for him. Grinev is released, and Pugachev is publicly executed.
The work “The Captain's Daughter” in a summary by chapter
Chapter 1: Guard Sergeant
We learn about the childhood and adolescence of Pyotr Grinev. He was enrolled in the Semyonovsky regiment even before he was born (there was such a tradition during the times of guards dominance). Childhood and adolescence passed happily - for a certain Beaupre, teacher French, turned out to be a big lover of women and alcohol. And one day, when the Frenchman was having fun with the women and was sleeping peacefully after a drinking session, Petrusha Grinev decided to turn a geographical map into a kite. The angry head of the family tore his son's ears, then kicked the unlucky teacher out of sight.
When Petrusha turned sixteen years old, Andrei Petrovich decided that it was time for his son to serve. The minor hoped to get to St. Petersburg and have a lot of fun - but no, he had to go to the distant Orenburg province. The stern father firmly decided that his son should truly serve in the army, and not hang around idle and participate in court intrigues.
Together with his servant Savelich, the ignoramus set off on a long journey. In a tavern in the city of Simbirsk, Petrusha Grinev first met Captain Zurin. The cunning campaigner easily persuaded the inexperienced youth to both play billiards and get very drunk. The young man lost a hundred rubles, and in addition earned a terrible morning hangover. At the request of Petrusha, Savelich gave those same hundred rubles to Zurin.
Chapter 2: Counselor
The road to Orenburg was not easy. Due to a snowstorm, the travelers were stuck in the steppe. Fortunately, an unfamiliar Cossack helped us get to the inn. Along the way, Pyotr Grinev saw a terrible dream, which turned out to be prophetic. But this became clear later.
At the inn, a conversation began with the counselor. In gratitude for the service, the young master decided to give the mysterious Cossack a hare sheepskin coat. The Cossack was very pleased.
And soon Grinev finally arrives in Orenburg. Old General, having read a letter from his longtime comrade Andrei Petrovich, sends the ignoramus to Belogorsk fortress- under the command of Captain Mironov.
Chapter 3: Fortress
The young sergeant of the guard thought that he would arrive at a fortress with a moat, powerful walls, and a stern commandant. Everything turned out to be completely different: the fortress was a village, and there was a palisade around it. And the commandant turned out to be not so harsh.
Grinev met the commandant himself, and his wife and daughter. The young man also met a young officer. It turned out that this was the desperate duelist Alexey Ivanovich Shvabrin, expelled from the guard for killing his opponent in a duel. At first, a pleasant acquaintance very soon turned into terrible troubles for Petrusha.
Chapter 4: Duel
Gradually, the young campaigner became friends with Masha, the daughter of Captain Mironov. Friendship grew into love, and soon the guard sergeant learned a lot of ugly truths about Shvabrin.
Having written a madrigal, Grinev decided to talk to Shvabrin. A desperate bully criticized the poems and said several bad words about Masha Mironova. Of course, Petrusha got angry.
When it turned out that Alexey Ivanovich was wooing captain's daughter, but was refused, Grinev realized that his rival was a brute force and a slanderer. The duel became inevitable. The rivals fought with swords. The duel ended with Petrusha seriously wounded.
Chapter 5: Love
After five days of unconsciousness, Grinev comes to his senses. It turned out that his love for the captain's daughter did not go unanswered. It would seem that nothing could interfere with the wedding - all that was needed was the approval of Andrei Petrovich. Alas, an unpleasant letter arrived: the father strongly scolded his son for the duel, did not give consent to the marriage and decided that the tomboy should be transferred to another place.
Such an unpleasant surprise terribly upset both lovers. Realizing that the wedding was upset, Grinev simply lost heart. It’s hard to say how it would have ended, but unexpectedly the famous saying “if there was no happiness, but misfortune helped,” came into play. What kind of misfortune? Pugachevism!
Chapter 6: Pugachevism
Having learned that Emelyan Pugachev, who called himself Emperor Peter the Third, was at the head of the rebellion of the Yaik Cossacks, the commandant of the Belogorsk fortress was seriously alarmed. Talk began about the impostor, and it became clear that this enemy was very dangerous.
We managed to catch a Bashkir with suspicious papers. It turned out that Pugachev was ready to go to the Belogorsk fortress and demanded that the garrison surrender in an amicable way. In case of resistance - death penalty.
Things are bad: the Nizhneozernaya fortification has been captured, Pugachev is only twenty-five miles from the Belogorsk fortress. Captain Mironov sent his daughter to Orenburg.
Chapter 7: Attack
Masha was unable to leave: the fortress was surrounded. Soon a skirmish ensued, and it ended predictably: Pugachev captured the fortress. The villain was unhappy - why did the commandant go against the “legitimate sovereign”? Captain Mironov's answer was direct: Pugachev is a thief and an impostor, unworthy of the imperial title. The captain was hanged.
This is where it took its toll prophetic dream Grineva: they decided to hang him. Shvabrin, who had already gone over to the side of the impostor, anticipated the death of his enemy. Fortunately, Savelich saved Petrusha from the gallows.
Having received the oath from the village residents, Pugachev prepared to leave. Captain Mironov's wife, seeing her husband in the noose, became angry: the killer turned out to be an escaped convict. By order of the impostor, the captain was killed.
Chapter 8: Uninvited Guest
Grinev is worried: the captain’s daughter could fall into the hands of a terrible impostor! The young man hurried to the priest, it turned out that, fortunately, Masha was alive, and everything worked out. Having calmed down, Petrusha returned to the commandant’s house. Savelich told about the reason for the unexpected complacency of the impostor: it turns out that the drunkard to whom Grinev gave the hare sheepskin coat is none other than Pugachev!
Soon the young guardsman had to go to the formidable impostor. It was a difficult situation: to directly call Pugachev a fraudster was to sign one’s death warrant; to swear allegiance was to betray the Motherland. Fortunately, we managed to come to an amicable agreement.
Chapter 9: Separation
Pugachev decided to go to Orenburg. Shvabrin became the commandant, and Grinev was seriously worried - what would happen to Masha? True, a little later, anxious thoughts about his beloved gave way to another kind of anxiety.
Arkhip Savelich gave Pugachev a register of stolen things, among which the notorious hare sheepskin coat was mentioned. The impostor became so angry that it seemed that Savelich would come to an end. Fortunately, everything worked out fine.
Chapter 10: Siege of the City
A guard sergeant arrived in Orenburg and spoke about the sad fate of Captain Mironov and his wife, about the dangers facing Masha Mironova, as well as about Pugachev’s plans.
The city authorities decided to defend themselves. In vain - the artillery turned out to be useless against the rebel cavalry, and the siege of Orenburg threatened its inhabitants with starvation.
A little later, Peter met a Cossack and received a letter from Masha Mironova. It turned out that Shvabrin wanted to take her as his wife. Without hesitation, the guardsman goes to the rebellious fortress to rescue his beloved.
Chapter 11: Rebel Settlement
After serious adventures, Peter and Savelich ended up in the fortress, where Pugachev was in charge. Having got to the false sovereign, Grinev told that Shvabrin was offending an orphan girl.
The next day, the young warrior and the impostor went to the Belogorsk fortress. Along the way, an interesting conversation ensued.
Chapter 12: Orphan
Pugachev helps Pyotr Grinev rescue the captain’s daughter from the hands of the insidious deceiver Shvabrin. A couple in love goes on a trip. True, the young guardsman is in danger of trouble, because he is suspected of friendship with Pugachev.
Chapter 13: Arrest
Suddenly, Petrusha runs into Zurin, his billiards partner. They talked, and Zurin gave good advice: let captain's daughter will go to Grinev’s parents, and he himself will take part in the hunt for the impostor. The advice came in handy.
True, Pugachev turned out to be extremely resourceful, but the terrible war soon came to an end. It would seem that now nothing is stopping the wedding, but no, a new misfortune has befallen. This time the hero was put on trial.
Chapter 14: Judgment
Needless to say, the young guardsman got into big trouble. And it soon turned out that the informer was the incorrigible scoundrel Shvabrin. Grinev was threatened with exile to Siberia as retribution for his friendship with the impostor. Masha Mironova went to St. Petersburg to talk with the Empress. First there was a meeting with a lady, a serious conversation and a promise to keep this meeting a secret.
Then it turned out that the mysterious lady was the Empress herself. Pyotr Grinev was acquitted.
Characteristics of heroes:
Main characters:
- Peter Grinev – main character story, recalling the events of his life before marriage. An honest man, he overcame the temptation to support Pugachev. Author of a madrigal poem.
- Masha Mironova - daughter of the commandant of the Belogorsk fortress. Grinev's beloved, later his wife. She managed to meet with the empress and convince her of Petrusha’s innocence.
- Alexey Shvabrin - opponent of Peter Grinev. Insidious, deceitful, treacherous, vile and cruel. A born traitor.
- Pugachev - leader of the rebellious Cossacks. An impostor calling himself Emperor Peter Fedorovich.
Minor characters:
- Arkhip Savelich - uncle (that is, mentor) of Grinev. It was Savelich who saved Petrusha from the gallows, reminding Pugachev of the incident with the hare’s sheepskin coat.
- Captain Mironov - Commandant of the Belogorsk fortress. He was wounded in a battle with rebels and executed for refusing to recognize Pugachev as emperor.
- Zurin - a cunning warrior, he managed to beat Grinev at billiards, and also got the naive young man drunk.
Take care of your honor from a young age.
Proverb
CHAPTER I. SERGEANT OF THE GUARD.
If only he were a guard captain tomorrow.
This is not necessary; let him serve in the army.
Well said! let him push...
Who's his father?
Knyazhnin.
My father Andrei Petrovich Grinev in his youth served under Count Minich, and retired as prime minister in 17.. Since then, he lived in his Simbirsk village, where he married the girl Avdotya Vasilyevna Yu., the daughter of a poor nobleman there. There were nine of us children. All my brothers and sisters died in infancy. Mother was still pregnant with me, as I was already enrolled in the Semenovsky regiment as a sergeant, by the grace of Major of the Guard Prince B., a close relative of ours. If, beyond all hope, mother had given birth to a daughter, then the priest would have announced the death of the sergeant who had not appeared, and that would have been the end of the matter. I was considered on leave until I finished my studies. At that time, we were not brought up like today. From the age of five I was given into the hands of the eager Savelich, who was granted my uncle status for his sober behavior. Under his supervision, in my twelfth year, I learned Russian literacy and could very sensibly judge the properties of a greyhound dog. At this time, the priest hired a Frenchman for me, Monsieur Beaupré, who was discharged from Moscow along with a year's supply of wine and Provençal oil. Savelich did not like his arrival very much. “Thank God,” he grumbled to himself, “it seems the child is washed, combed, and fed. Where should you spend the extra money, and hire a monsieur, as if your people were no longer there!” Beaupré was a hairdresser in his homeland, then a soldier in Prussia, then he came to Russia pour Étre outchitel, not really understanding the meaning of this word. He was a kind fellow, but flighty and dissolute to the extreme. His main weakness was his passion for the fair sex; Not infrequently, for his tenderness, he received pushes, from which he groaned for whole days. Moreover, he was not (as he put it) an enemy of the bottle, that is, (speaking in Russian) he loved to drink too much. But since we served wine only at dinner, and then only in small glasses, and the teachers usually carried it around, my Beaupre very soon got used to the Russian liqueur, and even began to prefer it to the wines of his fatherland, as it was much healthier for the stomach. We hit it off immediately, and although according to the contract he was obliged to teach me French, German and all sciences, he preferred to quickly learn from me how to chat in Russian - and then each of us went about our own business. We lived in perfect harmony. I didn't want any other mentor. But soon fate separated us, and on this occasion: the washerwoman Palashka, a fat and pockmarked girl, and the crooked cowwoman Akulka somehow agreed at the same time to throw themselves at mother’s feet, blaming them for criminal weakness and crying with complaints about the monsieur who had seduced their inexperience . Mother didn’t like to joke about this, and complained to the priest. His reprisal was short. He immediately demanded the Frenchman's channel. They reported that Monsieur was giving me his lesson. Father went to my room. At this time, Beaupre was sleeping on the bed in the sleep of innocence. I was busy with business. You need to know that for me she was discharged from Moscow geographic map. It hung on the wall without any use and had long tempted me with the width and goodness of the paper. I decided to make snakes out of it, and taking advantage of Beaupre's sleep, I set to work. Father came in at the same time as I was adjusting the bast tail to the Cape Good Hope . Seeing my exercises in geography, the priest pulled me by the ear, then ran up to Beaupre, woke him up very carelessly, and began to shower him with reproaches. Beaupre, in confusion, wanted to get up, but could not: the unfortunate Frenchman was dead drunk. Seven troubles, one answer. Father lifted him out of bed by the collar, pushed him out of the door, and on the same day drove him out of the yard, to Savelich’s indescribable joy. That was the end of my upbringing. I lived as a teenager, chasing pigeons and playing chakharda with the yard boys. Meanwhile, I was sixteen years old. Then my fate changed. One autumn, my mother was making honey jam in the living room and I, licking my lips, looked at the boiling foam. Father at the window was reading the Court Calendar, which he received annually. This book always had a strong influence on him: he never re-read it without special participation, and reading this always produced in him an amazing excitement of bile. Mother, who knew by heart all his habits and customs, always tried to shove the unfortunate book as far away as possible, and thus the Court Calendar did not catch his eye sometimes for entire months. But when he found it by chance, he would not let it out of his hands for hours at a time. So the priest read the Court Calendar, occasionally shrugging his shoulders and repeating in a low voice: “Lieutenant General!.. He was a sergeant in my company!... Knight of both Russian orders!.. How long ago have we been...” Finally, the priest threw the calendar on the sofa , and plunged into reverie, which did not foretell anything good. Suddenly he turned to his mother: “Avdotya Vasilievna, how old is Petrusha?” “Yes, he’s just turned seventeen,” mother answered. - Petrusha was born in the same year that Aunt Nastasya Garasimovna frowned, and when... “Good,” the priest interrupted, “it’s time for him to go into service. He’s had enough of running around the maidens’ rooms and climbing into dovecotes.” The thought of the imminent separation from me struck my mother so much that she dropped the spoon into the saucepan, and tears streamed down her face. On the contrary, it is difficult to describe my admiration. The thought of service merged in me with thoughts of freedom, of the pleasures of St. Petersburg life. I imagined myself as a guard officer, which in my opinion was the height of human well-being. Father did not like to change his intentions or postpone their execution. The day for my departure was set. The day before, the priest announced that he intended to write with me to my future boss, and demanded a pen and paper. “Don’t forget, Andrei Petrovich,” said mother, “to bow to Prince B. on my behalf; I say I hope that he will not abandon Petrusha with his favors.” - What nonsense! - answered the priest, frowning. - Why on earth would I write to Prince B.? “But you said that you would like to write to the chief of Petrusha.” - Well, what’s there? “But the chief of Petrushin is Prince B. After all, Petrusha is enrolled in the Semenovsky regiment.” - Recorded by! Why do I care that it’s recorded? Petrusha will not go to St. Petersburg. What will he learn while serving in St. Petersburg? hang out and hang out? No, let him serve in the army, let him pull the strap, let him smell gunpowder, let him be a soldier, not a chamaton. Enlisted in the Guard! Where is his passport? give it here. Mother found my passport, which was kept in her box along with the shirt in which I was baptized, and handed it to the priest with a trembling hand. Father read it with attention, placed it on the table in front of him, and began his letter. Curiosity tormented me: where are they sending me, if not to St. Petersburg? I didn’t take my eyes off Father’s pen, which was moving quite slowly. Finally he finished, sealed the letter in the same bag with his passport, took off his glasses, and calling me over, said: “Here is a letter to Andrei Karlovich R., my old comrade and friend. You are going to Orenburg to serve under his command.” So all my brilliant hopes were crushed! Instead of a cheerful life in St. Petersburg, boredom awaited me in a remote and remote place. The service, which I had been thinking about with such delight for a minute, seemed to me like a grave misfortune. But there was no point in arguing. The next day, in the morning, a road wagon was brought to the porch; they put a chamodan, a cellar with a tea set, and bundles of buns and pies, the last signs of home pampering. My parents blessed me. Father told me: “Goodbye, Peter. Serve faithfully to whom you pledge allegiance; obey your superiors; Don’t chase their affection; don’t ask for service; do not dissuade yourself from serving; and remember the proverb: take care of your dress when it’s new, and take care of your honor when you’re young.” Mother, in tears, ordered me to take care of my health and Savelich to look after the child. They put a bunny sheepskin coat on me, and a fox fur coat on top. I got into the wagon with Savelich and set off on the road, shedding tears. That same night I arrived in Simbirsk, where I had to stay for a day to purchase the necessary things, which was entrusted to Savelich. I stopped at a tavern. Savelich went to the shops in the morning. Bored of looking out the window at the dirty alley, I went to wander through all the rooms. Entering the billiard room, I saw a tall gentleman, about thirty-five, with a long black mustache, in a dressing gown, with a cue in his hand and a pipe in his teeth. He played with a marker, who, when he won, drank a glass of vodka, and when he lost, he had to crawl under the billiards on all fours. I started watching them play. The longer it went on, the more frequent the walks on all fours became, until finally the marker remained under the billiards. The master said several strong expressions over him in the form of a funeral word, and invited me to play a game. I refused out of incompetence. This seemed strange to him, apparently. He looked at me as if with regret; however, we started talking. I found out that his name is Ivan Ivanovich Zurin, that he is the captain of a hussar regiment and is in Simbirsk receiving recruits, and is standing in a tavern. Zurin invited me to dine with him as God sent, like a soldier. I readily agreed. We sat down at the table. Zurin drank a lot and treated me too, saying that I needed to get used to the service; he told me army jokes that almost made me laugh, and we left the table perfect friends. Then he volunteered to teach me to play billiards. “This,” he said, “is necessary for our service brother. On a hike, for example, when you come to a place, what do you want to do? After all, it’s not all about beating the Jews. Involuntarily, you will go to a tavern and start playing billiards; and for that you need to know how to play!” I was completely convinced, and began to study with great diligence. Zurin loudly encouraged me, marveled at my quick success, and after several lessons, he invited me to play money, one penny at a time, not to win, but so as not to play for nothing, which, according to him, is the worst habit. I agreed to this too, and Zurin ordered punch to be served and persuaded me to try, repeating that I needed to get used to the service; and without punch, what is the service! I listened to him. Meanwhile, our game continued. The more often I sipped from my glass, the more courageous I became. Balloons were constantly flying over my side; I got excited, scolded the marker, who counted God knows how, increased the game hour by hour, in a word, I behaved like a boy who had broken free. Meanwhile, time passed unnoticed. Zurin looked at his watch, put down his cue, and announced to me that I had lost a hundred rubles. This confused me a little. Savelich had my money. I started apologizing. Zurin interrupted me: “Have mercy! Don't worry. I can wait, but in the meantime we’ll go to Arinushka.” What do you order? I ended the day as dissolutely as I started it. We had dinner at Arinushka's. Zurin kept adding more to me every minute, repeating that I needed to get used to the service. Getting up from the table, I could barely stand on my feet; at midnight Zurin took me to the tavern. Savelich met us on the porch. He gasped when he saw the unmistakable signs of my zeal for service. “What has happened to you, sir?” - he said in a pitiful voice, “where did you load this? Oh my goodness! Such a sin has never happened in my life!” - Shut up, you bastard! - I answered him, stammering; - You’re probably drunk, go to bed... and put me to bed. The next day I woke up with a headache, vaguely remembering yesterday’s incidents. My thoughts were interrupted by Savelich, who came to me with a cup of tea. “It’s early, Pyotr Andreich,” he told me, shaking his head, “you start walking early. And who did you go to? It seems that neither the father nor the grandfather were drunkards; There’s nothing to say about my mother: from my childhood I didn’t deign to take anything into my mouth except kvass. And who is to blame for everything? damn monsieur. Every now and then, he would run to Antipyevna: “Madam, wow, vodka.” So much for you! There is nothing to say: he taught me good things, son of a dog. And it was necessary to hire an infidel as an uncle, as if the master no longer had his own people!” I was ashamed. I turned away and told him: Get out, Savelich; I don't want tea. But it was difficult to calm Savelich down when he started preaching. “You see, Pyotr Andreich, what it’s like to cheat. And my head feels heavy, and I don’t want to eat. A person who drinks is good for nothing... Drink cucumber pickle with honey, but it would be better to get over your hangover with half a glass of tincture. Would you like to order it?” At that time the boy came in and handed me a note from I. I. Zurin. I unfolded it and read the following lines: “Dear Pyotr Andreevich, please send me and my boy the hundred rubles that you lost to me yesterday. I am in dire need of money. Ivan Zurin is ready for service.” There was nothing to do. I assumed an indifferent look, and turning to Savelich, who was a steward of money and linen and my affairs, I ordered to give the boy a hundred rubles. "How! For what?" - asked the amazed Savelich. “I owe them to him,” I answered with all possible coldness. - "Must!" - Savelich objected, more and more astonished from hour to hour; - “When, sir, did you manage to owe him? Something is wrong. It’s your will, sir, but I won’t give you the money.” I thought that if at this decisive moment I didn’t overcome the stubborn old man, then in the future it would be difficult for me to free myself from his guardianship, and looking at him proudly, I said: “I’m yours.” lord, and you are my servant. The money is mine. I lost them because I felt like it. And I advise you not to be clever, and to do what you are ordered. Savelich was so amazed by my words that he clasped his hands and was dumbfounded. - Why are you standing there! - I shouted angrily. Savelich began to cry. “Father Pyotr Andreich,” he said in a trembling voice, “don’t kill me with sadness. You are my light! listen to me, old man: write to this robber that you were joking, that we don’t even have that kind of money. One hundred rubles! God you are merciful! Tell me that your parents strictly ordered you not to play, except for nuts...” “Stop lying,” I interrupted sternly, “give me the money, or I’ll kick you out.” Savelich looked at me with deep sorrow and went to get mine. debt. I felt sorry for the poor old man; but I wanted to break free and prove that I was no longer a child. The money was delivered to Zurin. Savelich hastened to take me out of the damned tavern. He came with the news that the horses were ready. With an uneasy conscience and silent repentance, I left Simbirsk, without saying goodbye to my teacher and without thinking of ever seeing him again.
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The story is narrated on behalf of 50-year-old Pyotr Andreevich Grinev, who recalls the time when fate brought him together with the leader of the peasant uprising, Emelyan Pugachev.
Peter grew up in the family of a poor nobleman. The boy received practically no education - he himself writes that only by the age of 12, with the help of Uncle Savelich, was he able to “learn to read and write.” Until the age of 16, he led the life of a teenager, playing with village boys and dreaming of have a fun life in St. Petersburg, since he was enrolled as a sergeant in the Semenovsky regiment at a time when his mother was pregnant with him.
But his father decided differently - he sent 17-year-old Petrusha not to St. Petersburg, but to the army “to smell gunpowder”, to the Orenburg fortress, giving him the instruction to “preserve honor from a young age.” His teacher Savelich also went to the fortress with him.
At the entrance to Orenburg, Petrusha and Savelich got into a snowstorm and got lost, and only the help of a stranger saved them - he led them onto the road to their home. In gratitude for the rescue, Petrusha gave the stranger a hare sheepskin coat and treated him to wine.
Petrusha comes to serve in the Belogorsk fortress, which does not at all resemble a fortified structure. The entire army of the fortress consists of several “disabled” soldiers, and a single cannon acts as a formidable weapon. The fortress is run by Ivan Kuzmich Mironov, who is not distinguished by education, but is very kind and fair man. In truth, all the affairs in the fortress are run by his wife Vasilisa Egorovna. Grinev becomes close to the commandant’s family, spending a lot of time with them. At first, officer Shvabrin, who serves in the same fortress, also becomes his friend. But soon Grinev and Shvabrin quarrel because Shvabrin speaks unflatteringly about Mironov’s daughter, Masha, who Grinev really likes. Grinev challenges Shvabrin to a duel, during which he is wounded. While caring for the wounded Grinev, Masha tells him that Shvabrin once asked for her hand in marriage and was refused. Grinev wants to marry Masha and writes a letter to his father, asking for a blessing, but his father does not agree to such a marriage - Masha is homeless.
October 1773 arrives. Mironov receives a letter informing him of the Don Cossack Pugachev, posing as the late Emperor Peter III. Pugachev had already gathered a large army of peasants and captured several fortresses. The Belogorsk fortress is preparing to meet Pugachev. The commandant is going to send his daughter to Orenburg, but does not have time to do this - the fortress is captured by the Pugachevites, whom the villagers greet with bread and salt. All employees in the fortress are captured and must take an oath of allegiance to Pugachev. The commandant refuses to take the oath and is hanged. His wife also dies. But Grinev suddenly finds himself free. Savelich explains to him that Pugachev is the same stranger to whom Grinev once gave a hare sheepskin coat.
Despite the fact that Grinev openly refuses to swear allegiance to Pugachev, he releases him. Grinev leaves, but Masha remains in the fortress. He is sick, and the local priest tells everyone that she is her niece. Shvabrin was appointed commandant of the fortress, who swore allegiance to Pugachev, which cannot but worry Grinev. Once in Orenburg, he asks for help, but does not receive it. Soon he receives a letter from Masha, in which she writes that Shvabrin demands that she marry him. If she refuses, he promises to tell the Pugachevites who she is. Grinev and Savelich travel to the Belogorsk fortress, but on the way they are captured by the Pugachevites and again meet with their leader. Grinev honestly tells him where and why he is going, and Pugachev, unexpectedly for Grinev, decides to help him “punish the orphan who abused him.”
In the fortress, Pugachev frees Masha and, despite the fact that Shvabrin tells him the truth about her, lets her go. Grinev takes Masha to his parents, and he returns to the army. Pugachev’s speech fails, but Grinev is also arrested - at the trial, Shvabrin says that Grinev is Pugachev’s spy. He is sentenced to eternal exile in Siberia, and only Masha’s visit to the Empress helps to achieve his pardon. But Shvabrin himself was sent to hard labor.
Pushkin first published the historical story “The Captain's Daughter” in 1836. According to researchers, the work is at the intersection of romanticism and realism. The genre is not precisely defined - some consider “The Captain's Daughter” to be a story, others – a full-fledged novel.
The action of the work takes place during the uprising of Emelyan Pugachev and is based on real events. The story is written in the form of memoirs of the main character Pyotr Andreich Grinev - his diary entries. The work is named after Grinev’s beloved Marya Mironova, the captain’s daughter.
Main characters
Petr Andreich Grinev- the main character of the story, a nobleman, an officer, on whose behalf the story is told.
Marya Ivanovna Mironova- daughter of captain Mironov; “a girl of about eighteen, chubby, ruddy.”
Emelyan Pugachev- the leader of the peasant uprising, “about forty, average height, thin and broad-shouldered,” with a black beard.
Arkhip Savelich- an old man who was Grinev’s teacher from an early age.
Other characters
Andrey Petrovich Grinev- father of Pyotr Andreich, retired prime minister.
Ivan Ivanovich Zurin- an officer whom Grinev met in a tavern in Simbirsk.
Alexey Ivanovich Shvabrin- an officer whom Grinev met in the Belogorod fortress; joined Pugachev's rebels, testified against Grinev.
Mironov Ivan Kuzmich- captain, Marya’s father, commandant in the Belogorod fortress.
Chapter 1. Sergeant of the Guard
The father of the main character, Andrei Petrovich Grinev, retired as prime minister, began to live in his Simbirsk village, and married the daughter of a local nobleman. From the age of five, Petya was sent to be raised by the eager Savelich. When the main character turned 16 years old, his father, instead of sending him to St. Petersburg to the Semenovsky regiment (as previously planned), assigned him to serve in Orenburg. Savelich was sent along with the young man.
On the way to Orenburg, in a tavern in Simbirsk, Grinev met the captain of the hussar regiment, Zurin. He taught the young man to play billiards and offered to play for money. After drinking the punch, Grinev got excited and lost a hundred rubles. The distressed Savelich had to repay the debt.
Chapter 2. Counselor
On the way, Grinev dozed off and had a dream in which he saw something prophetic. Peter dreamed that he came to say goodbye to his dying father, but in bed he saw “a man with a black beard.” The mother called the man Grinev’s “planted father” and told him to kiss his hand so that he would bless him. Peter refused. Then the man jumped up, grabbed an ax and started killing everyone. The scary man affectionately called: “Don’t be afraid, come under my blessing.” At that moment Grinev woke up: they arrived at the inn. In gratitude for his help, Grinev gave the counselor his sheepskin coat.
In Orenburg, Grinev was immediately sent to the Belogorodskaya fortress, to the team of Captain Mironov.
Chapter 3. Fortress
“The Belogorsk fortress was located forty miles from Orenburg.” On the very first day, Grinev met the commandant and his wife. The next day, Pyotr Andreich met officer Alexei Ivanovich Shvabrin. He was sent here “for murder” - he “stabbed a lieutenant” during a duel. Shvabrin constantly made fun of the commandant’s family. Pyotr Andreich really liked Mironov’s daughter Marya, but Shvabrin described her as “a complete fool.”
Chapter 4. Duel
Over time, Grinev found in Marya a “prudent and sensitive girl.” Pyotr Andreich began to write poetry and once read one of his works dedicated to Marya and Shvabrin. He criticized the verse and said that the girl would prefer “a pair of earrings” instead of “tender poems.” Grinev called Shvabrin a scoundrel and he challenged Pyotr Andreich to a duel. The first time they failed to get along - they were noticed and taken to the commandant. In the evening, Grinev learned that Shvabrin had wooed Marya last year and was refused.
The next day, Grinev and Shvabrin fought again. During the duel, Pyotr Andreich was called out by Savelich who ran up. Grinev looked back, and the enemy struck him “in the chest below the right shoulder.”
Chapter 5. Love
All the time while Grinev was recovering, Marya looked after him. Pyotr Andreich invited the girl to become his wife, she agreed.
Grinev wrote to his father that he was going to get married. However, Andrei Petrovich replied that he would not give consent to the marriage and would even arrange for his son to be transferred “somewhere far away.” Having learned about the answer from Grinev’s parents, Marya was very upset, but she did not want to get married without their consent (particularly because the girl was without a dowry). From then on she began to avoid Pyotr Andreich.
Chapter 6. Pugachevism
News arrived that “Don Cossack and schismatic Emelyan Pugachev” had escaped from the guard, gathered a “villainous gang” and “caused outrage in the Yaik villages.” It soon became known that the rebels were going to march on the Belogoro fortress. Preparations have begun.
Chapter 7. Attack
Grinev did not sleep all night. Many armed people gathered at the fortress. Pugachev himself rode between them on a white horse. The rebels broke into the fortress, the commandant was wounded in the head, and Grinev was captured.
The crowd shouted “that the sovereign was waiting for the prisoners in the square and was taking the oath.” Mironov and Lieutenant Ivan Ignatyich refused to take the oath and were hanged. Grinev expected the same fate, but Savelich last moment threw himself at Pugachev’s feet and asked to let Pyotr Andreich go. Shvabrin joined the rebels. Marya's mother was killed.
Chapter 8. Uninvited Guest
Marya hid the priest, calling her her niece. Savelich told Grinev that Pugachev was the same man to whom Pyotr Andreich gave the sheepskin coat.
Pugachev summoned Grinev to his place. Peter Andreich admitted that he would not be able to serve him, since he was a “natural nobleman” and “sworn allegiance to the empress”: “My head is in your power: if you let me go, thank you; if you execute, God will be your judge; but I told you the truth.” The sincerity of Pyotr Andreich struck Pugachev, and he let him go “on all four sides.”
Chapter 9. Separation
In the morning, Pugachev told Grinev to go to Orenburg and tell the governor and all the generals to expect him in a week. The leader of the uprising appointed Shvabrin as the new commander in the fortress.
Chapter 10. Siege of the city
A few days later news came that Pugachev was moving towards Orenburg. Grinev was given a letter from Marya Ivanovna. The girl wrote that Shvabrin was forcing her to marry him and was treating her very cruelly, so she asked Grinev for help.
Chapter 11. Rebel settlement
Having received no support from the general, Grinev went to the Belogorodsk fortress. On the way, they and Savelich were captured by Pugachev’s people. Grinev told the leader of the rebels that he was going to the Belogorodskaya fortress, because there Shvabrin was offending an orphan girl - Grinev’s fiancée. In the morning, Pugachev, together with Grinev and his people, went to the fortress.
Chapter 12. Orphan
Shvabrin said that Marya is his wife. But upon entering the girl’s room, Grinev and Pugachev saw that she was pale, thin, and the only food in front of her was “a jug of water covered with a slice of bread.” Shvabrin reported that the girl was Mironov’s daughter, but Pugachev still let Grinev go with his lover.
Chapter 13. Arrest
Approaching the town, Grinev and Marya were stopped by guards. Pyotr Andreich went to the major and recognized him as Zurin. Grinev, after talking with Zurin, decided to send Marya to her parents in the village, while he himself remained to serve in the detachment.
At the end of February, Zurin's detachment set out on a campaign. After Pugachev was defeated, he again gathered a gang and went to Moscow, causing chaos. “Gangs of robbers were committing crimes everywhere.” “God forbid we see a Russian rebellion, senseless and merciless!”
Finally Pugachev was caught. Grinev got ready to visit his parents, but a document arrived about his arrest in the Pugachev case.
Chapter 14. Court
Grinev arrived in Kazan by order and was put in prison. During the interrogation, Pyotr Andreich, not wanting to involve Marya, kept silent about why he was leaving Orenburg. Grinev’s accuser, Shvabrin, argued that Pyotr Andreich was Pugachev’s spy.
Marya Ivanovna was received by Grinev’s parents “with sincere cordiality.” The news of Pyotr Andreich's arrest shocked everyone - he was threatened with lifelong exile to Siberia. To save her lover, Marya went to St. Petersburg and stopped in Tsarskoe Selo. During her morning walk, she got into conversation with an unfamiliar lady, told her her story and that she had come to ask the Empress for Grinev’s pardon.
On the same day, the Empress's carriage was sent for Marya. The Empress turned out to be the same lady with whom the girl had spoken in the morning. The Empress pardoned Grinev and promised to help her with her dowry.
According to no longer Grinev, but the author, at the end of 1774 Pyotr Andreich was released. “He was present at the execution of Pugachev, who recognized him in the crowd and nodded his head to him.” Soon Grinev married Marya. “The manuscript of Pyotr Andreevich Grinev was delivered to us from one of his grandchildren.”
Conclusion
In the historical story “The Captain's Daughter” by Alexander Sergeevich Pushkin, both the main and minor characters. The most controversial figure in the work is Emelyan Pugachev. The cruel, bloodthirsty leader of the rebels is portrayed by the author as a person not devoid of positive, somewhat romanticized qualities. Pugachev appreciates Grinev’s kindness and sincerity and helps his lovers.
The characters that contrast with each other are Grinev and Shvabrin. Pyotr Andreich remains true to his ideas to the last, even when his life depended on it. Shvabrin easily changes his mind, joins the rebels, and becomes a traitor.
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Take care of your honor from a young age.
Sergeant of the Guard
“If only he were a guard captain tomorrow.”
- That’s not necessary; let him serve in the army.
- Well said! let him push...
………………………………………………………
Who's his father?
My father, Andrei Petrovich Grinev, in his youth served under Count Minich and retired as prime minister in 17.... Since then, he lived in his Simbirsk village, where he married the girl Avdotya Vasilievna Yu., the daughter of a poor nobleman there. There were nine of us children. All my brothers and sisters died in infancy.
Mother was still pregnant with me, as I had already been enlisted in the Semenovsky regiment as a sergeant, by the grace of Guard Major Prince B., a close relative of ours. If, more than anything else, mother had given birth to a daughter, then the father would have announced the death of the sergeant who had not appeared, and that would have been the end of the matter. I was considered on leave until I finished my studies. At that time, we were not brought up in the traditional way. From the age of five I was given into the hands of the eager Savelich, who was granted my uncle status for his sober behavior. Under his supervision, in my twelfth year, I learned Russian literacy and could very sensibly judge the properties of a greyhound dog. At this time, the priest hired a Frenchman for me, Monsieur Beaupré, who was discharged from Moscow along with a year's supply of wine and Provençal oil. Savelich did not like his arrival very much. “Thank God,” he grumbled to himself, “it seems the child is washed, combed, and fed. Where should we spend the extra money and hire monsieur, as if our people were gone!”
Beaupre was a hairdresser in his homeland, then a soldier in Prussia, then he came to Russia pour être outchitel, not really understanding the meaning of this word. He was a kind fellow, but flighty and dissolute to the extreme. His main weakness was his passion for the fair sex; Often, for his tenderness, he received pushes, from which he groaned for whole days. Moreover, he was not (as he put it) and the enemy of the bottle, that is (speaking in Russian) he liked to take a sip too much. But since we only served wine at dinner, and then only in small glasses, and the teachers usually carried it around, my Beaupre very soon got used to the Russian liqueur and even began to prefer it to the wines of his fatherland, as it was much healthier for the stomach. We hit it off immediately, and although he was contractually obligated to teach me in French, German and all sciences, but he preferred to quickly learn from me how to chat in Russian, and then each of us went about our own business. We lived in perfect harmony. I didn't want any other mentor. But soon fate separated us, and for this reason.
The washerwoman Palashka, a fat and pockmarked girl, and the crooked cowwoman Akulka somehow agreed at the same time to throw themselves at mother’s feet, blaming themselves for their criminal weakness and complaining with tears about the monsieur who had seduced their inexperience. Mother didn’t like to joke about this and complained to the priest. His reprisal was short. He immediately demanded the Frenchman's channel. They reported that Monsieur was giving me his lesson. Father went to my room. At this time, Beaupre was sleeping on the bed in the sleep of innocence. I was busy with business. You need to know that a geographical map was issued for me from Moscow. It hung on the wall without any use and had long tempted me with the width and goodness of the paper. I decided to make snakes out of it and, taking advantage of Beaupre’s sleep, I set to work. Father came in at the same time as I was adjusting the bast tail to the Cape of Good Hope. Seeing my exercises in geography, the priest pulled me by the ear, then ran up to Beaupre, woke him up very carelessly and began to shower him with reproaches. Beaupre, in confusion, wanted to get up but could not: the unfortunate Frenchman was dead drunk. Seven troubles, one answer. Father lifted him out of bed by the collar, pushed him out of the door and drove him out of the yard that same day, to Savelich’s indescribable joy. That was the end of my upbringing.
I lived as a teenager, chasing pigeons and playing leapfrog with the yard boys. Meanwhile, I was sixteen years old. Then my fate changed.
One autumn, my mother was making honey jam in the living room, and I, licking my lips, looked at the seething foam. Father at the window was reading the Court Calendar, which he receives every year. This book always had a strong influence on him: he never re-read it without special participation, and reading this always produced in him an amazing excitement of bile. Mother, who knew by heart all his habits and customs, always tried to shove the unfortunate book as far away as possible, and thus the Court Calendar did not catch his eye sometimes for entire months. But when he found it by chance, he would not let it out of his hands for hours at a time. So, the priest read the Court Calendar, occasionally shrugging his shoulders and repeating in a low voice: “Lieutenant General!.. He was a sergeant in my company!.. He was a holder of both Russian orders!.. How long ago have we…” Finally, the priest threw the calendar on the sofa and plunged into reverie, which did not bode well.
Suddenly he turned to his mother: “Avdotya Vasilyevna, how old is Petrusha?”
“Yes, I’ve just reached my seventeenth year,” answered my mother. “Petrusha was born in the same year that Aunt Nastasya Gerasimovna became sad, and when else...
“Okay,” interrupted the priest, “it’s time for him to go into service. It’s enough for him to run around the maidens and climb dovecotes.”
The thought of imminent separation from me struck my mother so much that she dropped the spoon into the saucepan and tears streamed down her face. On the contrary, it is difficult to describe my admiration. The thought of service merged in me with thoughts of freedom, of the pleasures of St. Petersburg life. I imagined myself as a guard officer, which, in my opinion, was the height of human well-being.
Father did not like to change his intentions or postpone their implementation. The day for my departure was set. The day before, the priest announced that he intended to write with me to my future boss, and demanded pen and paper.
“Don’t forget, Andrei Petrovich,” said mother, “to bow to Prince B. for me; I, they say, hope that he will not abandon Petrusha with his favors.
- What nonsense! - answered the priest, frowning. - Why on earth would I write to Prince B.?
“But you said that you would like to write to Petrusha’s boss.”
- Well, what’s there?
- But the chief Petrushin is Prince B. After all, Petrusha is enrolled in the Semenovsky regiment.
- Recorded by! Why do I care that it’s recorded? Petrusha will not go to St. Petersburg. What will he learn while serving in St. Petersburg? hang out and hang out? No, let him serve in the army, let him pull the strap, let him smell gunpowder, let him be a soldier, not a chamaton. Enlisted in the Guard! Where is his passport? give it here.
Mother found my passport, which was kept in her box along with the shirt in which I was baptized, and handed it to the priest with a trembling hand. Father read it with attention, placed it on the table in front of him and began his letter.
Curiosity tormented me: where are they sending me, if not to St. Petersburg? I didn’t take my eyes off Father’s pen, which was moving quite slowly. Finally he finished, sealed the letter in the same bag with his passport, took off his glasses and, calling me, said: “Here is a letter for you to Andrei Karlovich R., my old comrade and friend. You are going to Orenburg to serve under his command.”
So, all my brilliant hopes were dashed! Instead of a cheerful life in St. Petersburg, boredom awaited me in a remote and remote place. The service, which I had been thinking about with such delight for a minute, seemed to me like a grave misfortune. But there was no point in arguing! The next day, in the morning, a road wagon was brought up to the porch; They packed it with a suitcase, a cellar with a tea set, and bundles of buns and pies, the last signs of home pampering. My parents blessed me. Father told me: “Goodbye, Peter. Serve faithfully to whom you pledge allegiance; obey your superiors; Don’t chase their affection; don’t ask for service; do not dissuade yourself from serving; and remember the proverb: take care of your dress again, but take care of your honor from a young age.” Mother, in tears, ordered me to take care of my health and Savelich to look after the child. They put a hare sheepskin coat on me, and a fox fur coat on top. I got into the wagon with Savelich and set off on the road, shedding tears.
That same night I arrived in Simbirsk, where I was supposed to stay for a day to purchase the necessary things, which was entrusted to Savelich. I stopped at a tavern. Savelich went to the shops in the morning. Bored of looking out the window at the dirty alley, I went to wander through all the rooms. Entering the billiard room, I saw a tall gentleman, about thirty-five, with a long black mustache, in a dressing gown, with a cue in his hand and a pipe in his teeth. He played with a marker, who, when he won, drank a glass of vodka, and when he lost, he had to crawl under the billiards on all fours. I started watching them play. The longer it went on, the more frequent the walks on all fours became, until finally the marker remained under the billiards. The master uttered several strong expressions over him in the form of a funeral word and invited me to play a game. I refused out of incompetence. This apparently seemed strange to him. He looked at me as if with regret; however, we started talking. I found out that his name is Ivan Ivanovich Zurin, that he is the captain of the ** hussar regiment and is in Simbirsk receiving recruits, and is standing in a tavern. Zurin invited me to dine with him as God sent, like a soldier. I readily agreed. We sat down at the table. Zurin drank a lot and treated me too, saying that I needed to get used to the service; he told me army jokes that almost made me laugh, and we left the table perfect friends. Then he volunteered to teach me to play billiards. “This,” he said, “is necessary for our serving brother. On a hike, for example, you come to a place - what do you want to do? After all, it’s not all about beating the Jews. Involuntarily, you will go to a tavern and start playing billiards; and for that you need to know how to play!” I was completely convinced and began to study with great diligence. Zurin loudly encouraged me, marveled at my quick successes and, after several lessons, invited me to play for money, one penny at a time, not to win, but so as not to play for nothing, which, according to him, is the worst habit. I agreed to this too, and Zurin ordered punch to be served and persuaded me to try, repeating that I needed to get used to the service; and without punch, what is the service! I listened to him. Meanwhile, our game continued. The more often I sipped from my glass, the more courageous I became. Balloons were constantly flying over my side; I got excited, scolded the marker, who counted God knows how, increased the game hour by hour, in a word, I behaved like a boy who had broken free. Meanwhile, time passed unnoticed. Zurin looked at his watch, put down his cue and announced to me that I had lost a hundred rubles. This confused me a little. Savelich had my money. I started apologizing. Zurin interrupted me: “Have mercy! Don't worry. I can wait, but in the meantime we’ll go to Arinushka.”
What do you want? I ended the day as dissolutely as I started it. We had dinner at Arinushka's. Zurin kept adding more to me every minute, repeating that I needed to get used to the service. Getting up from the table, I could barely stand; at midnight Zurin took me to the tavern.
Savelich met us on the porch. He gasped when he saw the unmistakable signs of my zeal for service. “What has happened to you, sir? - he said in a pitiful voice, - where did you load this? Oh my goodness! Such a sin has never happened in my life!” - “Be quiet, you bastard! “I answered him, stuttering, “you’re probably drunk, go to bed... and put me to bed.”
The next day I woke up with a headache, vaguely remembering yesterday’s incidents. My thoughts were interrupted by Savelich, who came to me with a cup of tea. “It’s early, Pyotr Andreich,” he told me, shaking his head, “you start walking early. And who did you go to? It seems that neither the father nor the grandfather were drunkards; There’s nothing to say about my mother: from her childhood she never deigned to take anything into her mouth except kvass. And who is to blame for everything? damn monsieur. Every now and then, it would happen that he would run to Antipyevna: “Madam, wow, vodka.” So much for you! There is nothing to say: he taught me good things, son of a dog. And it was necessary to hire an infidel as an uncle, as if the master no longer had his own people!”
I was ashamed. I turned away and told him: “Get out, Savelich; I don’t want tea.” But it was difficult to calm Savelich down when he started preaching. “You see, Pyotr Andreich, what it’s like to cheat. And my head feels heavy, and I don’t want to eat. A person who drinks is good for nothing... Drink cucumber pickle with honey, but it would be better to get over your hangover with half a glass of tincture. Would you like to order it?"
At this time, the boy came in and gave me a note from I.I. Zurin. I unfolded it and read the following lines:
...“Dear Pyotr Andreevich, please send me and my boy the hundred rubles that you lost to me yesterday. I am in dire need of money.
Ready for service
Ivan Zurin."
There was nothing to do. I assumed an indifferent look and, turning to Savelich, who was and money, and linen, and my affairs, a steward, ordered to give the boy one hundred rubles. "How! For what?" – asked the amazed Savelich. “I owe them to him,” I answered with all possible coldness. "Must! - Savelich objected, more and more astonished from time to time, - but when, sir, did you manage to owe him? Something is wrong. It’s your will, sir, but I won’t give you any money.”
I thought that if at this decisive moment I did not overcome the stubborn old man, then in the future it would be difficult for me to free myself from his tutelage, and, looking at him proudly, I said: “I am your master, and you are my servant. The money is mine. I lost them because I felt like it. And I advise you not to be smart and do what you are ordered.”
Savelich was so amazed by my words that he clasped his hands and was dumbfounded. “Why are you standing there!” – I shouted angrily. Savelich began to cry. “Father Pyotr Andreich,” he said in a trembling voice, “don’t kill me with sadness. You are my light! listen to me, old man: write to this robber that you were joking, that we don’t even have that kind of money. One hundred rubles! God you are merciful! Tell me that your parents firmly ordered you not to play, except like nuts...” - “Stop lying,” I interrupted sternly, “give me the money here or I’ll drive you away.”
Savelich looked at me with deep sorrow and went to collect my debt. I felt sorry for the poor old man; but I wanted to break free and prove that I was no longer a child. The money was delivered to Zurin. Savelich hastened to take me out of the damned tavern. He came with the news that the horses were ready. With an uneasy conscience and silent repentance, I left Simbirsk, without saying goodbye to my teacher and without thinking of ever seeing him again.
Is it my side, my side,
Unfamiliar side!
Was it not I who came upon you?
Wasn’t it a good horse that brought me:
She brought me, good fellow,
Agility, good cheerfulness
And the tavern's hop drink.
Old song
My thoughts on the road were not very pleasant. My loss, at the prices at that time, was significant. I could not help but admit in my heart that my behavior in the Simbirsk tavern was stupid, and I felt guilty before Savelich. All this tormented me. The old man sat gloomily on the bench, turned away from me, and was silent, only quacking occasionally. I definitely wanted to make peace with him and didn’t know where to start. Finally I told him: “Well, well, Savelich! that's enough, let's make peace, it's my fault; I see for myself that I am guilty. Yesterday I misbehaved, and I wronged you in vain. I promise to behave smarter and obey you in the future. Well, don't be angry; let's make peace."
- Eh, Father Pyotr Andreich! - he answered with a deep sigh. – I’m angry with myself; It's all my fault. How could I have left you alone in the tavern! What to do? I was confused by sin: I decided to wander into the sacristan’s house and see my godfather. That's it: I went to see my godfather and ended up in prison. Trouble and nothing more! How will I show myself to the gentlemen? what will they say when they find out that the child is drinking and playing?
To console poor Savelich, I gave him my word that in future I would not dispose of a single penny without his consent. He gradually calmed down, although he still occasionally grumbled to himself, shaking his head: “A hundred rubles! Isn’t it easy!”
I was approaching my destination. Around me stretched sad deserts, intersected by hills and ravines. Everything was covered with snow. The sun was setting. The carriage was traveling along a narrow road, or more precisely along a trail made by peasant sleighs. Suddenly the driver began to look to the side and, finally, taking off his hat, turned to me and said: “Master, would you order me to turn back?”
- What is this for?
– Time is unreliable: the wind rises slightly; see how it sweeps away the powder.
- What a problem!
– Do you see what there? (The coachman pointed his whip to the east.)
“I see nothing but the white steppe and the clear sky.”
- And there - there: this is a cloud.
I actually saw a white cloud at the edge of the sky, which at first I took for a distant hill. The driver explained to me that the cloud foreshadowed a snowstorm.
I heard about the blizzards there and knew that entire convoys were covered in them. Savelich, in agreement with the driver’s opinion, advised him to turn back. But the wind did not seem strong to me; I hoped to get to the next station in time and ordered to go quickly.
The coachman galloped off; but kept looking to the east. The horses ran together. Meanwhile, the wind became stronger hour by hour. The cloud turned into a white cloud, which rose heavily, grew and gradually covered the sky. It began to snow lightly and suddenly began to fall in flakes. The wind howled; there was a snowstorm. In an instant, the dark sky mixed with the snowy sea. Everything has disappeared. “Well, master,” the coachman shouted, “trouble: a snowstorm!..”
I looked out of the wagon: everything was darkness and whirlwind. The wind howled with such ferocious expressiveness that it seemed animated; the snow covered me and Savelich; the horses walked at a pace - and soon stopped. “Why aren’t you going?” – I asked the driver impatiently. “Why go? - he answered, getting off the bench, - God knows where we ended up: there is no road, and there is darkness all around. I started to scold him. Savelich stood up for him: “And I would have disobeyed,” he said angrily, “I would have returned to the inn, had some tea, rested until the morning, the storm would have subsided, and we would have moved on. And where are we rushing? You’d be welcome to the wedding!” Savelich was right. There was nothing to do. The snow was still falling. A snowdrift was rising near the wagon. The horses stood with their heads down and occasionally shuddering. The coachman walked around, having nothing better to do, adjusting the harness. Savelich grumbled; I looked in all directions, hoping to see at least a sign of a vein or a road, but I could not discern anything except the muddy whirling of a snowstorm... Suddenly I saw something black. “Hey, coachman! - I shouted, “look: what’s black there?” The coachman began to peer closely. “God knows, master,” he said, sitting down in his place, “a cart is not a cart, a tree is not a tree, but it seems that it is moving. It must be either a wolf or a man." I ordered to go towards an unfamiliar object, which immediately began to move towards us. Two minutes later we caught up with the man. "Hey, a kind person! - the coachman shouted to him. “Tell me, do you know where the road is?”
- The road is here; “I’m standing on a solid strip,” answered the roadie, “but what’s the point?”
“Listen, little man,” I told him, “do you know this side?” Will you undertake to take me to my lodging for the night?
“The side is familiar to me,” answered the traveler, “thank God, it’s well-trodden and traveled far and wide.” Look what the weather is like: you’ll just lose your way. It’s better to stop here and wait, maybe the storm will subside and the sky will clear: then we’ll find our way by the stars.
His composure encouraged me. I had already decided, surrendering myself to God’s will, to spend the night in the middle of the steppe, when suddenly the roadman quickly sat down on the beam and said to the coachman: “Well, thank God, he lived not far away; turn right and go."
- Why should I go to the right? – the driver asked with displeasure. -Where do you see the road? Probably: the horses are strangers, the collar is not yours, don’t stop driving. “The coachman seemed right to me.” “Really,” I said, “why do you think that they lived not far away?” “But because the wind blew away from here,” answered the roadman, “and I hear the smell of smoke; know the village is close." His intelligence and subtlety of instinct amazed me. I told the coachman to go. The horses tramped heavily through the deep snow. The wagon moved quietly, now driving onto a snowdrift, now collapsing into a ravine and rolling over to one side or the other. It was like sailing a ship on a stormy sea. Savelich groaned, constantly pushing against my sides. I lowered the mat, wrapped myself in a fur coat and dozed off, lulled by the singing of the storm and the rolling of the quiet ride.
I had a dream that I could never forget and in which I still see something prophetic when I consider the strange circumstances of my life with it. The reader will excuse me: for he probably knows from experience how human it is to indulge in superstition, despite all possible contempt for prejudice.
I was in that state of feelings and soul when materiality, yielding to dreams, merges with them in the unclear visions of first sleep. It seemed to me that the storm was still raging and we were still wandering through the snowy desert... Suddenly I saw a gate and drove into the manor’s courtyard of our estate. My first thought was the fear that my father would be angry with me for my involuntary return to my parents’ roof and would consider it deliberate disobedience. With anxiety, I jumped out of the wagon and saw: my mother met me on the porch with an air of deep grief. “Hush,” she tells me, “your father is dying and wants to say goodbye to you.” Struck with fear, I follow her into the bedroom. I see the room is dimly lit; there are people standing by the bedside sad faces. I quietly approach the bed; Mother lifts the curtain and says: “Andrei Petrovich, Petrusha has arrived; he returned after learning about your illness; bless him." I knelt down and fixed my eyes on the patient. Well?.. Instead of my father, I see a man with a black beard lying in bed, looking at me cheerfully. I turned to my mother in bewilderment, telling her: “What does this mean? This is not father. And why should I ask for a man’s blessing?” “It doesn’t matter, Petrusha,” my mother answered me, “this is your imprisoned father; kiss his hand and may he bless you...” I did not agree. Then the man jumped out of bed, grabbed the ax from behind his back and began swinging it in all directions. I wanted to run... and couldn’t; the room was filled with dead bodies; I stumbled over bodies and slid in bloody puddles... The scary man called me affectionately, saying: “Don’t be afraid, come under my blessing...” Horror and bewilderment took possession of me... And at that moment I woke up; the horses stood; Savelich tugged at my hand, saying: “Come out, sir: we’ve arrived.”
-Where have you arrived? – I asked, rubbing my eyes.
- To the inn. The Lord helped, we ran straight into a fence. Come out, sir, quickly and warm yourself up.
I left the tent. The storm still continued, although with less force. It was so dark that you could put out your eyes. The owner met us at the gate, holding a lantern under his skirt, and led me into the upper room, cramped, but quite clean; a torch illuminated her. A rifle and a tall Cossack hat hung on the wall.
The owner, a Yaik Cossack by birth, seemed to be a man of about sixty, still fresh and vigorous. Savelich brought the cellar behind me and asked for a fire to prepare tea, which I never seemed to need so much. The owner went to do some work.
- Where is the counselor? – I asked Savelich. “Here, your honor,” the voice from above answered me. I looked at the Polati and saw a black beard and two sparkling eyes. “What, brother, are you cold?” - “How not to vegetate in one skinny armyak! There was a sheepskin coat, but let’s be honest? I laid the evening at the kisser’s: the frost did not seem too great.” At that moment the owner came in with a boiling samovar; I offered our counselor a cup of tea; the man got off the floor. His appearance seemed remarkable to me: he was about forty, average height, thin and broad-shouldered. His black beard showed streaks of gray; the lively big eyes kept darting around. His face had a rather pleasant, but roguish expression. The hair was cut into a circle; he was wearing a tattered overcoat and Tatar trousers. I brought him a cup of tea; he tasted it and winced. “Your Honor, do me such a favor - order me to bring a glass of wine; tea is not our Cossack drink.” I willingly fulfilled his wish. The owner took a damask and a glass out of the stall, walked up to him and, looking into his face: “Ehe,” he said, “you’re in our land again!” Where did God bring it?” My counselor blinked significantly and answered with a saying: “He flew into the garden, pecked hemp; Grandmother threw a pebble - yes, it missed. Well, what about yours?”
- Yes, ours! - the owner answered, continuing the allegorical conversation. “They started ringing for vespers, but the priest didn’t say: the priest is visiting, the devils are in the graveyard.”
“Be quiet, uncle,” my tramp objected, “there will be rain, there will be fungi; and if there are fungi, there will be a body. And now (here he blinked again) put the ax behind your back: the forester is walking. Your honor! For your health!" - With these words, he took the glass, crossed himself and drank in one breath. Then he bowed to me and returned to the floor.
I couldn’t understand anything from this thieves’ conversation at the time; but later I guessed that it was about the affairs of the Yaitsky army, which at that time had just been pacified after the riot of 1772. Savelich listened with an air of great displeasure. He looked with suspicion first at the owner, then at the counselor. Inn, or, in the local language, able, was located on the side, in the steppe, far from any settlement, and very much looked like a robber's haven. But there was nothing to do. It was impossible to even think about continuing the journey. Savelich's anxiety amused me very much. Meanwhile, I settled down for the night and lay down on a bench. Savelich decided to go to the stove; the owner lay down on the floor. Soon the whole hut was snoring, and I fell asleep like the dead.
Waking up quite late in the morning, I saw that the storm had subsided. The sun was shining. The snow lay in a dazzling veil on the vast steppe. The horses were harnessed. I paid the owner, who took such a reasonable payment from us that even Savelich did not argue with him and did not bargain as usual, and yesterday’s suspicions were completely erased from his mind. I called the counselor, thanked him for his help and told Savelich to give him half a ruble for vodka. Savelich frowned. “Half a ruble for vodka! - he said, - what is this for? Because you deigned to give him a ride to the inn? It's your choice, sir: we don't have any extra fifty. If you give everyone vodka, you’ll soon have to starve.” I couldn't argue with Savelich. The money, according to my promise, was at his complete disposal. I was annoyed, however, that I could not thank the person who rescued me, if not from trouble, then at least from a very unpleasant situation. “Okay,” I said coolly, “if you don’t want to give half a rouble, then take him something from my dress. He is dressed too lightly. Give him my hare sheepskin coat."
- Have mercy, Father Pyotr Andreich! - said Savelich. - Why does he need your hare sheepskin coat? He will drink it, the dog, in the first tavern.
“This, old lady, is not your sadness,” said my tramp, “whether I drink or not.” His nobility grants me a fur coat from his shoulder: it is his lordly will, and it is your serf’s business not to argue and obey.
- You are not afraid of God, robber! - Savelich answered him in an angry voice. “You see that the child doesn’t understand yet, and you’re glad to rob him, for the sake of his simplicity.” Why do you need a master's sheepskin coat? You won’t even put it on your damned shoulders.
“Please don’t be smart,” I told my uncle, “now bring the sheepskin coat here.”
- Lord, master! - my Savelich groaned. – The hare sheepskin coat is almost brand new! and it would be good for anyone, otherwise it’s a naked drunkard!
However, the hare sheepskin coat appeared. The man immediately began trying it on. In fact, the sheepskin coat that I had grown out of was a little narrow for him. However, he somehow managed to put it on, tearing it apart at the seams. Savelich almost howled when he heard the threads crackle. The tramp was extremely pleased with my gift. He walked me to the tent and said with a low bow: “Thank you, your honor! God reward you for your virtue. I will never forget your mercies." - He went in his direction, and I went further, not paying attention to Savelich’s annoyance, and soon forgot about yesterday’s blizzard, about my counselor and about the hare’s sheepskin coat.
Arriving in Orenburg, I went straight to the general. I saw a man who was tall, but already hunched over with old age. Long hair his were completely white. The old faded uniform resembled a warrior from the time of Anna Ioannovna, and his speech was strongly reminiscent of a German accent. I gave him a letter from my father. At his name, he looked at me quickly: “My dear!” - he said. - How long ago, it seems, Andrei Petrovich was even younger than your age, and now he has such a hammer ear! Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh!” He opened the letter and began to read it in a low voice, making his comments. “Dear Sir Andrei Karlovich, I hope that your Excellency”... What kind of ceremony is this? Ugh, how inappropriate he is! Of course: discipline is the first thing, but is this how they write to the old comrade?.. “Your Excellency has not forgotten”... um... “and... when... the late Field Marshal Min... campaign... also... Karolinka”... Ehe, brooder! So he still remembers our old pranks? “Now about the matter... I’ll bring my rake to you”... um... “keep a tight rein”... What are mittens? This must be a Russian proverb... What does “handle with gloves” mean?” – he repeated, turning to me.
“This means,” I answered him with an air as innocent as possible, “to treat him kindly, not too strictly, to give him more freedom, to keep a tight rein.”
“Hm, I understand... “and don’t give him free rein” - no, apparently, Yesha’s mittens mean the wrong thing... “At the same time... his passport”... Where is he? And, here... “write off to Semyonovsky”... Okay, okay: everything will be done... “Allow yourself to be embraced without rank and... by an old comrade and friend” - ah! finally I guessed... and so on and so forth... Well, father,” he said, having read the letter and putting my passport aside, “everything will be done: you will be transferred as an officer to the *** regiment, and so as not to waste time, then tomorrow go to the Belogorsk fortress, where you will be in the team of captain Mironov, kind and honest man. There you will be in real service, you will learn discipline. There is nothing for you to do in Orenburg; scattering is harmful young man. And today you are welcome to dine with me.”
“It’s not getting any easier hour by hour! - I thought to myself, - what did it serve me that even in my mother’s womb I was already a guard sergeant! Where has this got me? To the *** regiment and to a remote fortress on the border of the Kyrgyz-Kaisak steppes!..” I dined with Andrei Karlovich, the three of us with his old adjutant. Strict German economy reigned at his table, and I think that the fear of sometimes seeing an extra guest at his single meal was partly the reason for my hasty removal to the garrison. The next day I said goodbye to the general and went to my destination.