1. My portrait
2. Forget-me-nots and commas. Fable
3. Ambition
4. Conductor and tarantula. Fable
5. Trip to Kronstadt
6. My inspiration
7. Heron and racing droshky. Fable
8. Junker Schmidt
9. Disappointment
10. Epigram No. I (“Do you like cheese?..”)
11. Worm and butt. Fable
12. Aquilon
13. The poet's wishes
14. Memory of the past
15. Difference of tastes. Fable
16. Letter from Corinth
17. "On a soft bed..." Romance
18. Ancient plastic Greek
19. Landowner and gardener. Fable
20. Hopeless situation
21. In the album of a beautiful foreigner
22. Body and voice. Fable
23. Siege of Pamba
24. Epigram N II ("Once an architect came into contact with a bird house...")
25. Valiant studious
26. Neck
27. Landowner and grass. Fable
28. On the seaside
29. Katerina
30. German ballad
31. Official and chicken. Fable
32. Philosopher in the bathhouse.
33. Modern Greek song
34. To the album N.N.
35. Autumn
36. Star and belly. Fable
37. Traveler. Ballad
38. The desire to be Spanish
39. To the ancient Greek old woman, if she coveted my love
40. Shepherd, milk and reader. Fable
41. Native
42. Sparkles in the dark
43. Before the sea of life
44. My dream
45. Near-death
Applications:
46. To the crowd
47. Epigram N III ("Drink the fragrant juice of a flower...")
48. Heels are inappropriate. Fable
49. To friends after marriage
50. From Kozma Prutkov to the reader in a moment of frankness and repentance
51. To the place of printing
=========================================================================
POEMS
1. MY PORTRAIT
When you meet a person in the crowd,
Which is naked; 1].
Whose forehead is darker than the foggy Kazbek,
The step is uneven;
Whose hair is raised in disorder;
Who, crying out,
Always trembling in a nervous fit, -
Know: it's me!
Whom they sneer with ever-new anger,
From generation to generation;
From whom the crowd wears his laurel crown
Vomits madly;
Whoever bows his flexible back to no one, -
Know: it's me!..
There is a calm smile on my lips,
There's a snake in my chest!
1] Option: “Who is wearing a tailcoat.” Note by K. Prutkov.
2. FORGET-METALS AND COMMA
Shaking Pakhomych on his heels,
I carried a bunch of forget-me-nots with me;
Rubbing calluses on my heels,
I treated them at home with camphor.
Reader! in this fable, throwing away the forget-me-nots,
Placed here as a joke,
Just conclude this:
If you have calluses,
To get rid of pain,
You, like our Pakhomych, treat them with camphor.
3. AMBITION
Give me the strength of Samson;
Give me the Socratic mind;
Give Cleon's lungs,
Announcing the forum;
Cicero's eloquence,
Juvenalian anger,
And Aesop's mutilation,
And a magic cane!
Give the barrel of Diogenes;
Hannibal's sharp sword,
What glory is Carthage
So much space from the shoulders!
Give me Psyche's foot,
Sapphia feminine poem,
And Aspazi's ideas,
And Venus' belt!
Give me Seneca's skull;
Give me Virgil's verse -
People would shake
From the words of my mouth!
I would, with the courage of Lycurgus,
Looking around,
Stogny all St. Petersburg
Amazed with his poetry!
For the value inova
I would steal from the darkness
The glorious name is Prutkova,
Kozma is a big name!
4. CONDUCTOR AND TARANTULA
In the mountains of Gispania a heavy carriage
I went on a voyage with the conductor.
The Gishpanka, having sat down in it, immediately fell asleep;
Meanwhile, her husband, seeing the tarantula,
He shouted: “Conductor, stop!
Come quickly! oh my God!"
The conductor hurries to the cry
And then he drives out the cattle with a broom,
Having said: “You didn’t pay any money for the place!” -
And immediately he crushed him with his heel.
Reader! read your depans forward 1],
So as not to dare to sit on stagecoaches for nothing,
And try not to
Don't go on a journey without money;
The same thing will happen to you as to an insect,
You know.
1] costs, expenses (from French depenses).
5. TRIP TO KRONSTADT
Dedicated to my colleague
according to the Ministry of Finance,
Mr. Benediktov
The steamer flies like an arrow,
Menacingly crushes the waves into dust
And, smoking his pipe,
Cuts a trail in the gray waves.
Foam with a club. The steam is bubbling.
Splashes of pearls fly.
The sailor is busy at the helm.
Masts stick out in the air.
Here comes a cloud from the south,
It's getting blacker and blacker...
Although the blizzard on land is terrible,
But in the seas it’s even worse!
Thunder rumbles and lightning flashes.
The masts are bending, a crack is heard...
The waves are hitting the ship hard...
Screams, noise, and screaming, and splashing!
I stand alone on the bow 1],
And I stand like a rock.
I sing songs in honor of the sea,
And I sing not without tears.
The sea breaks the ship with a roar.
The waves are foaming all around.
But it’s not difficult for a ship to sail
With Archimedes screw.
Now it is very close to the goal.
I see that my spirit is seized with fear!
Our closest trace is barely
Barely visible in the waves...
And I don’t even remember the distant things,
There’s not even a mention of it;
Only the water plain,
I only see the trail of the storm!..
So sometimes in our world:
There lived, another poet wrote,
The sonorous verse forged on the lyre
And - disappeared in the wave of the world!..
I was dreaming. But the storm ceased;
Our ship was in the bay.
Gloomily hanging my head,
In vain for the vain people:
“So,” I thought, “in the world
The bright path of glory is dimming;
Oh, am I really in Summer too?
Will I ever drown?!"
1] Here, of course, it is the bow of the steamship, not the poet; the reader himself could
would have guessed this. Note by K. Prutkov
6. MY INSPIRATION
Am I walking alone in the Summer Garden 1],
I go to the park with friends,
Will I sit down in the shade of a weeping birch tree?
Do I silently look at the sky with a smile -
All thought after thought in the chapter is without origin,
One after another in a boring sequence,
And contrary to the will and the heart,
They crowd together like midges over warm water!
And, suffering greatly with an inconsolable soul,
I am unable to look at the light and people:
The light seems to me like pitch darkness;
And a mortal is like a gloomy, crafty villain!
And with a kind heart and a humble heart,
By submitting to thoughts, I become proud;
And I hit and hurt everyone with an inspired verse,
Like the ancient Attila, leader of the daring hordes...
And it seems to me that then I am the head
Higher than all, stronger than all with spiritual power,
And the world is spinning under my heel,
And I’m getting gloomier and gloomier!..
And filled with anger, like a menacing cloud,
I will suddenly pour poetry over the crowd:
And woe to those who fell under my mighty verse!
I laugh wildly at the cry of suffering.
1] We consider it necessary to explain for Russian provincials and foreigners,
that here, of course, is the so-called “Summer Garden” in St. Petersburg.
Note by K. Prutkov.
7. HERON AND RACING DRESS
The landowner rode in a racing droshky.
A heron was flying; he looked.
"Oh! why such legs
Zeus didn’t give me an inheritance?”
And the heron quietly answers:
“You don’t know, Zeus knows!”
Let every strict family man read this fable:
If you were born a Tatar, then be a Tatar;
If a tradesman is a tradesman,
And a nobleman is a nobleman.
But if you are a blacksmith and want to be a master,
Know this, fool
What finally
Not only will those long legs not give you,
But even the short droshky will be taken away.
8. JUNKER SCHMIDT
The leaf withers. Summer is passing.
Frost turns silver...
Junker Schmidt with a pistol
He wants to shoot himself.
Wait, crazy, again
The greenery will come to life!
Junker Schmidt! honestly,
Summer will return!
9. DISAPPOINTMENT
Y. P. Polonsky
Field. Moat. The sun is in the sky.
And in the garden, behind the ditch, there is a hut.
The sun is shining. In front of me
Book, bread and beer mug.
The sun is shining. Birds in cages.
The air is hot. There is silence all around.
Suddenly it goes straight into the hay
The owner's daughter, Malanya.
I follow her.
I also go out into the hallway;
I see: daughter on a rope
Lays out towels.
I tell her reproachfully:
"What were you washing? Wasn't it a vest?
And why isn’t it covered in silk?
Did you sew the loops with thread?"
And Malanya, turning around,
She answered me with a laugh:
Well, what if it’s not silk?
I hemmed it in front of you!”
And then she went to the kitchen.
I'm going there after her.
I see my daughter preparing dough
For lunch with a loaf of bread.
I turn to her with reproach:
"What are you cooking? Isn't it cottage cheese?"
"Dough for a loaf." - "Dough?"
"Yes; you seem to have gone deaf?"
And having said that, she went out into the kindergarten.
I went there, taking a mug of beer.
I see my daughter in the garden
Tearing ripe parsley.
I say again reproachfully:
"What did you find? Is it a mushroom?"
"You're all talking nonsense!
You already seem to be hoarse."
Struck by the remark
I thought: “Oh, Malanya!
How we often love as children
Unworthy of attention!"
10. EPIGRAM N 1
"Do you like cheese?" - they once asked a prude.
“I love him,” he answered, “I find taste in him.”
11. WORM AND HORRISH
One day a worm crawled behind the neck of the priest;
And so she orders the footman to get it.
The servant began to fumble with his butt...
"But what are you doing?!" - “I’m crushing a worm.”
Oh, if a worm has already crawled behind your neck,
Push him yourself and don’t give him to the lackey.
This fable, like everything published for the first time in the “Complete Works of K.
Prutkov", found in the morocco briefcases left after his death for
with numbers and printed drawn inscription; "Collection of unfinished
(d"inacheve) N".
12. AQUILON
In memory of Y. Benediktov
With a sad heart, with a full heart
Leaving Dover for Calais
I'm on the ardent, proud waves
Flew on a ship.
That was a mighty swimmer,
Steep-hipped genius of the waters,
Three-masted floating city,
A hundred-footed walker.
He is like a horse of the Don breed,
Stretching my neck forward,
The water cuts through the strong chest,
Rushing into the waves with a brave chest.
And, like the son of the boundless steppes,
He rushes over the abyss
On their spacious wings,
Like a damp Saracen.
Proudly tramples the waves
The terrible ruler of the sea,
And just a little bit out of reach
A wonderful giant of the sky.
But now with the thunder of the clouds
Borey rushes from the full countries.
Tame your flying run,
Veteran of salty waters!..
No! the giant does not heed the thunderstorm;
He is not afraid of the enemy.
Raises his head proudly
The ropes and sides are swollen,
And the sea runner is tall
Wave-cutting chest
Staring into the waves and wide
Cuts a path into the sea.
Angry Borey made a noise,
He boiled over and groaned;
And, completely covered in foam,
The ninth wave came.
Our giant tilted
I scooped up water on board;
The sail sank into the sea;
Our hero drowned...
And the once terrible destroyer of the seas
He humbly bows his victorious neck;
And with wild anger, ferocious Borey
He looks at the victim of vanity.
And gloomy, like the gloomy nights of the north,
He says, frowning his eyebrows:
“Everything that is water is to the waters, and everything that is mortal is to death;
Everything wet is moisture, and everything solid is solid!
And, obedient to commands,
The winds rushed with noise,
The sail was torn down in an instant;
The boards came off with a bang.
And all mortals are sad,
Sitting in fear on the boards,
And unwillingly they swam,
Rippling on the waves.
I'm alone, sitting on the mast,
Powerful arms crossed,
Seeing nothing around
Angry, calm, silent.
And I would like in anger,
As a reproach to the formidable sea,
Verse, in my ripe womb,
Belch up, shame on the waters!
But with mute courage they
Driving the mast to the shore,
Only contemptuous moisture
They boldly splash at me.
And suddenly, thinking about my salvation,
Noticing that thunder can no longer be heard,
Without thought, but with feeling looking at the moisture,
I proudly began to steer the oar.
13. DESIRE OF THE POET
I wish I was a tulip
Soar like an eagle through the sky,
Pour water from a cloud like a shower
Or howl like a wolf through the forest.
I would like to become a pine tree,
Fly like a blade of grass in the air,
Or the sun will warm the earth in spring,
Or an oriole whistles in the grove.
I wish I could glow like a star,
Look down from heaven on the world below,
Roll across the sky in the dark,
Shine like a yacht or a sapphire.
The nest is built high like a bird,
A dragonfly frolics in the garden,
The screeching owl is lonely,
A night thunderstorm thundering in my ears...
How sweet it would be to be free
Change your image often
And, wandering through nature for a century,
Either to console or to frighten!
14. MEMORY OF THE PAST
It's like from Heine
I remember you as a child
Soon to be forty years old;
Your apron is crumpled,
Your tight corset.
You felt awkward in it;
You told me secretly:
“Loosen the corset behind me;
I can't run in it."
Full of excitement
I untied your corset...
You ran away laughing
I stood there thoughtfully.
15. DIFFERENCE OF TASTES
[In the first edition (see Sovremennik magazine, 1853) this fable was
entitled: "A Lesson for Grandchildren" - in commemoration of an actual incident
in the family of Kozma Prutkov]
It would seem, well, how can you not know
Or not to hear
An old saying,
That a dispute about tastes is idle talk?
However, once, on some holiday,
It so happened that with my grandfather at the table,
In a large gathering of guests,
It was his grandson, the prankster, who started the argument about tastes.
The old man, getting excited, said in the middle of dinner:
“Puppy! Do you want to defame your grandfather?
You are young: all you need is radish and pork;
You swallow a dozen melons a day;
You and bitter horseradish - raspberries,
And for me and blancmange - wormwood!
Reader! The world has been like this for a long time:
We differ in fate
In tastes and even more so;
I explained this to you in a fable.
You're crazy about Berlin;
I like Medyn better.
For you, my friend, and bitter horseradish - raspberries,
And for me and blancmange - wormwood.
16. LETTER FROM CORINTH
Ancient Greek
Dedicated to the city of Shcherbina
I recently arrived in Corinth.
Here are the steps, and here is the colonnade.
I love the marble nymphs here
And the isthmian noise of the Vogtad.
I sit in the sun all day.
Rub oil around your lower back.
Between the Parian stones I follow
Behind the twisting of the blind copperhead.
Pomeranians are growing in front of me,
And I look at them in rapture.
The longed-for peace is dear to me.
"Beauty! beauty!" - I keep saying.
And night will only fall on the earth,
The slave and I will be completely stunned...
I send all slaves away
And again I rub myself with oil.
On a soft bed
I'm lying alone.
In the next room
The Armenian screams.
He screams and moans,
Hugging the beauty
And he bows his head;
Suddenly you hear: bang-bang!..
The girl fell
And drowns in blood...
Don Cossack
Swears his love...
And in the azure sky
The moon trembles;
And with a tinsel cord
Only the hat is visible.
In the next room
The Armenian fell silent.
On a narrow bed
I'm lying alone.
18. ANCIENT PLASTIC GREEK
I love you, maiden, when it's golden
And you are holding a lemon, soaked in the sun,
And I see the young man’s fluffy chin
Between acanthus leaves and white columns.
Beautiful chlamys with heavy folds
They fell one after another...
So in the hive rustling around the wounded uterus
A worried swarm scurries about.
19. LANDLORD AND GARDENER
To the landowner one Sunday
His neighbor brought the gift.
It was some kind of plant
Which, it seems, doesn’t even exist in Europe.
The landowner put him in a greenhouse;
But why didn't he do it himself?
(He was busy with something else:
I knitted bellies for my relatives),
Then he calls the gardener to him
And he says to him: “Efim!
Take special care of this plant;
Let him vegetate well."
Meanwhile winter has arrived.
The landowner remembers his plant
And so Efima asks:
“What? Is the plant vegetating well?”
“Pretty much,” he responded, “it’s completely frozen!”]
Let everyone hire such a gardener,
who understands
What does the word "vegetate" mean?
20. STAPLE SITUATION
Mr. Apollon Grigoriev,
regarding his articles in Moskvityanin
1850s
[In this poetic letter K. Prutkov gives a conscientious account of
unsuccessful application of the theory of literary creativity, persistently
preached by Mr. Apollon Grigoriev in "Moscowite"]
A huge crowd crowded into my mind
Varied, successful stories,
With a complex plot, with an analysis of the soul
And with a pathetic, mysterious ending.
I thought of developing them in the “Myrtava Poem”,
In big, mediocre or small
scale.
And I already made a plan. And to the worldview
Trying to accustom my mind to high things,
Without a second thought, I come to a simple understanding
I strove for everyday basics with all my soul.
But, faithful to the new teaching in literature,
Following others, I forever rejected:
And personal protest and disappointment,
Now it's cheap and fashionable dandyism,
And without foundations, struggle, suffering without outcome,
And the antipathies of a morbid quirk!
And in order not to fall into absurdity, I expelled
extravagance...
Having cleared the main idea of creation
From unusual and vulgar situations,
Already exchanged for small change in our time,
I removed both falsehood and even force
And I studied for a long time tirelessly, with persistence
Your own, in different bends, inner “I”.
Then, having chosen a simple plot for the outline,
I set my gaze to be a dead copy
Phenomena of sad reality
The superficial element cannot be introduced into the poem.
And empty technology without indulging too much,
I tried to explain the creation process
And say “a new word” in your creation!..
With a deposit of experienced practicality in everyday life,
With a supply of creative and correct principles,
With an abundance of soul strength and hard-won feelings,
Looking at your data objectively,
I conceived the types and created the ideal;
Banished everything private and individual;
And he outlined his path and summarized the faces;
And it seems that I approached the subject directly;
And, I want to develop it more poetically,
He determined his characters in advance;
But the decomposition is suddenly an unexpected moment
My glorious plan has overtaken me, and I try in vain
At least find the starting point in this trouble!
21. TO THE ALBUM
TO THE BEAUTIFUL STRANGER
Written in Moscow
There is charm all around you;
You are incomparable. You're sweet.
You have the power of wonderful charm
She attracted the poet to herself.
But he can't love you:
You were born in a foreign land,
And he won’t say a damn thing,
Loving you, to my honor.
A better figure than a sonorous voice,
It’s a hundred times more pleasant to have.
I’m happy to explain this to you with a fable.
Some kind of stalwart, rather corpulent,
Putting on a cotton robe,
Sat down by the open window
And silently began to stroke the cat.
Suddenly the voice of the turtledove was suddenly heard...
“Oh, if only I had your voice,”
So said the bailiff, - I would go to my mother-in-law
Sang pleasantly in the shady grove
And he captivated and delighted his relatives!”
And the turtle dove shook its head
And she answered the chief, cooing:
"And I envy your fate:
The voice was given to me, and the voice was given to you."
23. SIEGE OF PAMBA
Romansero,
from Spanish
Nine years Don Pedro Gomez,
Nicknamed the Lion of Castile,
Besieges the castle of Pambu,
Eating only milk.
And all the army of Don Pedro,
Nine thousand Castilians
Everything according to this vow,
Do not touch meat
They do not eat bread below;
They only drink milk.
Every day they get weaker
Wasting energy in vain.
Every day Don Pedro Gomez
Cries about his powerlessness,
Covering yourself with an epancho.
It's already the tenth year.
The evil Moors triumph;
And from the army of Don Pedro
There's barely any left
Nineteen people.
They were collected by Don Pedro Gomez
And he said to them: “Nineteen!
Let us unfurl our banners,
Let's jump into the loud pipes
And, striking the timpani,
We will retreat away from Pamba
Without shame and without fear.
Even though we didn’t take the fortress,
But we can safely swear
Before conscience and honor:
Never violated
Our vow, -
We haven't eaten for nine years,
Didn't eat anything at all
Except just milk!"
Encouraged by this speech,
Nineteen Castilians
Everyone, rocking on their saddles,
They shouted weakly:
Sancto Jago Compostello! 1]
Honor and glory to Don Pedro,
Honor and glory to the Lion of Castile!"
And his kaplan is Diego
So he said to himself through clenched teeth:
"If I were a commander,
I would vow to eat only meat,
Washed down with Santurino."
And, having heard this, Don Pedro
He said with a loud laugh:
“Give him a ram;
He made quite a joke."
1] Saint James of Compostela! (Spanish)
24. EPIGRAM N II
Once the architect came into contact with the bird house.
So what? - their brainchild mixed two natures:
The son of an architect - he attempted to build,
A descendant of a poultry woman, he only built “chickens.”
25. VALANT STUDIOUS
It's like from Heine
Fritz Wagner, student from Jena,
From Bonn Hieronymus Koch
They entered my office with excitement,
They entered without cleaning their boots.
"Great, our old comrade!
Resolve our dispute quickly:
Who is more valiant: Koch or Wagner?" -
They asked with the jingle of spurs.
"Friends! see you both in Jena and Bonn
I appreciated it a long time ago.
Koch learned logic well,
And Wagner drew skillfully."
Are you unhappy with my answer?
"Resolve our dispute quickly!" -
They repeated with passion
And with the same rattling of spurs.
I looked around the room
And, as if seduced by the pattern,
"I really like... the wallpaper!" -
I told them and ran out.
Understand my pun
Not one of them could
And we stood there thinking for a long time
Studios Wagner and Koch.
To my colleague Ya. Benediktov
Virgo's neck - pleasure;
Neck - snow, snake, daffodil;
Neck - sometimes aspirations upward;
The neck is sometimes a downward slope.
The neck is a swan, the neck is a peahen,
The neck is a delicate stalk;
Neck - joy, pride, glory;
The neck is a piece of marble!..
Who are you, shaking neck,
Will he embrace you with a powerful hand?
Who warms you with his breath,
Will it bake with a kiss?
Who are you, cool neck,
To the braid from the very shoulders,
In the days of July fire
Will guard with vigilance:
So that from the sun, in the scorching heat,
The tan didn't cover you;
So that the surface is shiny -
The evil mosquito was not captivated;
So that it is black from black dust
You didn't make it yourself;
So that you don't get dried out
Sadness, and winds, and winter?!
27. THE LANDLORD AND THE GRASS
Returning home from service,
The young landowner, loving success in everything,
Gathered his peasants:
"Friends, there is a connection between us -
Pledge of joy;
Let’s go, my friends, to inspect the fields!”
And the devotion of the peasants was inflamed by this speech,
He went shopping with them.
"What's mine here?" “Yes, that’s it,” answered the head.
Here is Timofey's grass..."
“Fraudster!” he cried, “you did
criminal!
Self-interest is beyond my reach;
I'm not looking for someone else's; I love my rights!
Of course, I’ll regret giving away my grass;
But return this one to Timothy immediately!”
This opportunity, for me, is not new.
Antonov is fire, but there is no law,
So that the fire always belongs to Anton.
28. ON THE SEASHORE
On the seaside, right next to the outpost,
I saw a large vegetable garden.
Tall asparagus grows there;
Cabbage grows modestly there.
There's always a gardener there in the morning
Lazily walks between the ridges;
He is wearing an unkempt apron;
His gloomy look is gloomy.
He will pour cabbage from a watering can;
He will casually water the asparagus;
Chop green onions
And then he takes a deep breath.
The other day he drives up to him
The official in the troika is dashing.
He is wearing warm, high galoshes,
There is a gold lorgnette on the neck.
"Where is your daughter?" - asks
The official, squinting through his lorgnette,
But, looking wildly, the gardener
He only waved his hand in response.
And the troika galloped back,
Sweeping dew from cabbage...
The gardener stands sullenly
And he digs in his nose with his finger.
29. KATERINA
Quousque tandem, Catilina,
abutere patientia nostra?
Cicero
"With a star, a big chip,
I'm not old yet...
Katerina! Katerina!"
“Here, I’m bringing you a samovar.”
"Real picture!"
“On the wall, or what? Where is it?”
"You are a painting, Katerina!"
"Yes, in proportion everywhere."
"You are a girl; I am a man..."
"Well, what's ahead?"
"Exactly coal, Katerina,
Something is burning in my chest!
"The tea is hot, that's the reason."
"Why is the tea so bitter?
Explain to me, Katerina?"
"Not enough sugar, me, tea?"
“As if there is no mention of him!”
"And good refined sugar."
"Bitter, bitter, Katerina,
Live for someone who is not married!"
"Like monks, everything is one,
Are you single or a widower?
"Out of patience, Katerina,
You're finally getting out!!"
30. GERMAN BALLAD
Baron von Greenwaldus,
Famous in Germany
In visors and armor,
On a stone in front of the castle,
In front of the castle of Amalia,
Sits frowning;
He sits and is silent.
Rejected by Amalya
Baron's hand!..
Baron von Greenwaldus
From castle windows
Doesn't take his eyes off
And he doesn’t move from his spot;
Doesn't drink or eat.
Years after years...
The barons are fighting
The barons are feasting...
Baron von Greenwaldus,
This valiant knight,
All in the same position
Sits on a stone.
31. OFFICER AND CHICKEN
The official is plump, not very young,
Along the street, with papers under my arm,
Sweating and puffing and short of breath,
He ran at a trot.
He looked at those he met with care and strangeness,
Although I didn't see anyone.
And fluttered on his neck,
Like a pendulum, with a crown Anna.
He hurried to work, repeating to himself: “Run,
Run quickly! You know,
That our executor is on both legs
Your boots will be hidden in the closet,
If only you’ll be a little late!”
He kept running. But here
Suddenly he hears a voice from the gate:
“Official! show me friendship;
Tell me, where are you going?" - "To work!"
"Why don't you follow my example,
Sit quietly? Confess for the last time!"
Official, seeing a chicken like this
Sitting in a basket, like in a house,
He answered her: “When I saw you,
I will not envy you in any way;
I'm rushing, just like that,
But I'm moving forward; and you’re running while sitting!”
If a reasonable person reads this fable,
That’s true, and morality will be drawn from it.
32. PHILOSOPHER IN THE BATH
From ancient Greek
Enough to stroke me, Levkonoya, with elasticity
palm;
Full of my loins along my lower back
slide.
Call the Disc Thrower, the strap-shod Taurus;
He will quickly replace you in your sweet work.
Taurus is experienced and strong; he doesn't care about rubbing!
He will jump on his back just right; the fifth will rest on the neck.
Meanwhile, you tickle my slightly hairless crown;
Quietly decorate the forehead dug up by science with roses."
33. MODERN GREEK SONG
The bay is sleeping. Hellas is dozing.
Mother goes under the portico
Squeeze pomegranate juice...
Zoya! no one will listen to us!
Zoya, let me hug you!
Zoya, in the morning
I'll leave here;
Soften up while it's night!
Zoya, in the morning
I'll leave here..;
Let the saber whistle like a whirlwind!
Kostaki is not my judge!
Costakis is right, so am I!
Let the saber whistle like a whirlwind,
Kostaki is not my judge!
On the battlefield
He fell for freedom, like a hero.
God be with him! Such is his fate.
But why is Kostaki alive?
When the Razrovaki are in the field
Fell for freedom, like a hero?!
I saw it yesterday in the bay
Eighteen ships;
All without masts and without rudders...
But I am happier than the Sultan;
Pour wine for me, Zoya, pour it!
Lay while Hellas sleeps,
While the mother struggles in vain
Squeeze pomegranate juice...
Zoya, no one will listen to us!
Zoya, let me hug you!
34. IN THE ALBUM N. N.
From Persian, from Ibn Fet
Autumn. Boring. The wind howls.
A light rain falls on the windows.
The mind is yearning; the heart aches;
And the soul is waiting for something.
And in inactive peace
There's nothing to relieve my boredom...
I don't know: what is it?
If only I could read a book!
36. STAR AND BElly
In the evening sky, a star was shining.
It was a fast day then:
Maybe Friday, maybe Wednesday.
At that time, someone's belly was walking around the garden
And I reasoned with myself like this,
Grumbling both plaintively and deafly;
"Which
My master
Nasty and obnoxious!
Because today is a fast day,
He won’t eat, the rascal, until the star;
Not only there is - where! - He won’t drink even a ladle of water!..
No, really, our brother can’t cope with him:
Know wanders through the garden, a hypocrite,
I have palms up to the bed;
He doesn’t feed him at all, he just pets him.”
Meanwhile, the dark shadow of the night lay all around,
The star, squinting, looks at the roundabout edge;
Either he will hide behind the bell tower;
It will peek out from around the corner,
It will flare brighter, then it will shrink,
Laughing secretly at my belly...
Suddenly my belly happened to see that star.
An grab!
She's already running head over heels
Down from heaven
Upside down
And falls, unable to maintain his flight;
Where to? - into the swamp!
What about the belly? Shouts: "Wow!" yes "ah!"
And well, scold the star in your hearts.
But there is nothing to do: there was no other
And the belly, no matter how much it swore,
Left,
Even in the evening, but on an empty stomach.
Reader! this fable
We are taught not to make, without extreme, a vow
Fast until the star
So as not to get yourself into trouble.
But if you really want
Fasting for salvation
That's my advice
(I speak out of friendship):
Save yourself, there is no word
But the main thing: don’t lag behind the service!
The authorities, who care about us day and night,
If you manage to please him,
Of course, good morning to you
Present to the Order of St. Stanislaus.
More than one mortal has experienced in his life,
How respectful and modest character is rewarded.
Then, - on a fast day, on a day
modest, -
Being a sedate general himself,
You can be in good spirits,
And with a full belly!
For who will forbid you always, everywhere?
To be under a star?
37. TRAVELER
The traveler rides uphill;
The traveler hurries across the field.
He looks around with a dull gaze
The snowy steppe looks sad.
"Who are you rushing to meet?
Proud and dumb traveler?
“I won’t answer anyone;
The secret is a sick soul!
I've been keeping this secret for a long time
I bury it in my chest
And the insensitive light
I will not reveal this secret:
Neither for nobility nor for gold,
Not for piles of silver,
Not under the waves of damask steel,
Not among the flames of the fire!"
He said and rushes into the distance
Sloping, covered in snow.
The frightened horse is shaking,
Stumbling while running.
The traveler drives with anger
Karabakh horse.
The tired horse falls
Drops the rider with him
And buries under the snow
Master and yourself.
Buried under a snowdrift
The traveler hid the secret with himself.
He will remain beyond the grave
The same proud and dumb.
38. THE DESIRE TO BE SPANISH
Quiet over the Alhambra.
All nature is dormant.
The castle of Pambra sleeps,
Extremadura is sleeping.
Give me the mantilla;
Give me a guitar;
Give it to Inezil,
A couple of castanets.
Give me a true hand,
Two inches of damask steel,
Immeasurable jealousy
A cup of chocolate.
I'll light a cigar
As soon as the moon rises...
Let the old duenna
Looking out the window!
Behind two bars
Let him curse me;
Let him move his rosary,
The old man is calling.
I hear it on the balcony
The rustle of a dress - wow! -
I'm approaching Donna
I threw off the epancha.
Wait, pretty girl!
Late or early
Silk staircase
I'll take it out of my pocket!..
Oh dear lady,
It's dark and gray here...
Passion boils sadly
In your cavalier.
Here, in front of the bananas,
If I don't get bored,
I'm between the fountains
I'll dance the cachucha.
But in this position
I'm afraid, fear,
To the Inquisition
The monk did not inform!
No wonder he’s disgusting,
Old Alguazil
To me with an insolent hand
Just now he threatened.
But for shame, I
Mavra 1) dress;
I'll drive you to the very top
To the Sierra Morena!
And in this place,
If you're happy to see me,
We'll sing together
At night serenades.
Will be in our power
Talk about the world
About enmity, about passion,
About Guadalquivir;
About smiles, glances,
Eternal ideal
About bullfighters
And about Escurial...
Quiet over the Alhambra.
All nature is dormant.
The castle of Pambra sleeps.
Extremadura is sleeping.
1) Here, obviously, the tribal name is of course: Moor, Mauritania, and not
Moor woman. However, this explanation is even superfluous; because about something else
The Mohammedan tribe is also sometimes spoken in the feminine gender: Turk. It's clear that
this determines eastern morals. Note by K. Prutkov.
39. TO THE ANCIENT GREEK OLD WOMAN,
IF SHE SOUGHT MY LOVE
Imitation of Catullus
Leave me alone, toothless!.. your caresses are disgusting!
With countless wrinkles artificial paints,
Like lime, they pour out and fall on your chest.
Remember your dear Styx and forget your passions!
In a goat's voice without offending the ears,
Shut up, fury!.. Cover, cover, old woman,
Hairless head, parchment of yellow shoulders
And the neck with which you imagine to attract me!
Take off your shoes and put your sandals on your hands;
And hide your legs from us somewhere!
Burned to powder, you would have long ago
It should rest in a clay urn.
40. SHEPHERD, MILK AND READER
One day a shepherd was carrying milk somewhere,
But it's so terribly far away
Why didn't he go back?
Reader! didn't you come across him?
41. NATIVE
Excerpt from a letter to I. S. Aksakov
Here is only a fragment of an unfinished poem,
found in Kozma Prutkov's morocco briefcase, which has a drawn printed
inscription: "Collection, unfinished (d"inacheve) N 2".
In a harsh struggle with stuffy life
I like to rest my heart;
Watch how our daily bread ripens
Or how they pave a wide path.
It’s easy for the mind, it’s good for the soul,
When weighty, huge,
Sparkling granite
It flies into pieces under the hammer...
I sometimes like to sit down with old women,
Look at their simple fabric.
I love listening with the Russian ear
At gatherings, related abuse.
So they gathered: “Hey, you devil!
Where is the zipun? - “Which zipun?”
“Where are you going? Know, it’s good, you’re on foot!”
"Eck, damn son!" - “Eck, old liar!”
And so to each other, screaming,
They ulcerate in the ascending knee.
42. SPARKLES IN THE DARKNESS
Above the weeping willow
Morning dawn...
And my soul is sad,
And my mouth is so bitter,
Inn yard
On the high road..;
And in my soul I’m tired
Secret worries.
On a winter field
Hound hunt...
And there is pain in my heart
More for some reason.
In the blue of heaven
The spot is not visible...
Why am I cramped?
Why am I ashamed?
Here I am again at home;
Luxuriously decorated...
And there is languor in my chest
And it’s like it’s sickening!
Wedding brunch,
Just a joke...
Why am I scared?
Why am I scared?
43. BEFORE THE SEA OF LIFE
[We remind you that this poem was written by Kozma Prutkov at the moment
his despair and confusion about the government reforms being prepared.
(See this above in the "Biographical Information".)]
I'm still standing on a stone, - Let me throw myself into the sea...
What will fate send me?
Joy or sorrow?
Might be puzzling...
Maybe it won't hurt...
After all, the grasshopper is jumping,
And he doesn’t see where.
44. MY DREAM
The sun has already set; the dawn is burning.
Heavenly cover, burning with fires,
Beautiful.
I would like to watch it all night long
To the mountainous, wonderful, starry network;
But my work overcomes fatigue and sleep
In vain!
I'm trying not to sleep, but I'm getting sleepy,
I'm fighting, oh muses, what if I fall asleep
Eternal sleep?
And who will take my lyre as an inheritance?
And who will wrap a wreath around my forehead?
And weeping will remember the poet in his coffin
Hearty?
Oh! here he is, my guardian! cute moon!..
How magnificently she rushes among the stars,
Shining!..
And, with faith, surrendering to the queen of the nights,
I succumbed to the will of tired eyes,
And I saw in a dream, among the bright rays,
I am the singer.
And I dreamed that I was that singer,
What's in the secret passions of alien hearts
I'm watching
And I see all their hidden thoughts,
And the sounds like a river from under my fingers
Flow through the universe from golden strings,
Charuya.
And my glory thunders like a trumpet,
And the crowd listens to my songs
With fear.
But suddenly... I fell silent, fell ill, and was buried;
Covered with earth; watered with tears...
And seventeen columns were erected in my honor
Above the ashes.
And I, a wonderful singer, appeared to Phoebus.
And with joy Phoebus put on the crown for me
Laurel.
And the nymphs crowd around me;
And Zeus strokes me with his omnipotent hand;
But - ah! - I woke up, unfortunately, alive,
Healthy!
45. PRE-DEATH
Found recently, during the audit of the Assay Office, in the files of this latter
It's time last bit of strength decline
From organic reasons...
Sorry, Assay Tent,
Where did I gain a high rank,
But the muses did not reject the embrace
Among the activities entrusted to me!
I'm two or three steps from the grave...
Sorry, my verse! and you, feather!
And you, oh writing paper,
On which I sowed good!
I'm already an extinguished lamp
Or an overturned boat!
Here, everyone has come... Friends, God help!
The Spanish and Greeks are standing around...
Here is Junker Schmidt... Brought by Pakhomych
A bunch of forget-me-nots on my coffin...
The Conductor is calling... Ah!..
Explanation required
This poem, as indicated in its title, was found recently, when
audit of the Assay Office, in a secret matter, during the management of this
Kozma Prutkov's tent. Colleagues and subordinates of the deceased, interrogated
Mr. Inspector separately, unanimously showed that this poem
written by him, probably on that very day and even before that very moment,
when all the officials of the Tent were suddenly, during office hours, shocked
and were frightened by a loud cry of “Ah!” that came from the director’s office. They
rushed into this office and saw their director there, Kozma Petrovich
Prutkova, motionless, in a chair in front of the desk. They carried it out carefully
him in the same chair, first to the reception hall, and then to his official
apartment, where he died peacefully three days later. Mr. Inspector recognized these
the testimony is worthy of full confidence for the following reasons; 1) handwriting
found manuscript of this poem is in all respects similar to that undoubted
in the handwriting of the deceased, in which he wrote his handwritten reports on secret
affairs and numerous administrative projects; 2) the content of the poem
is quite consistent with the circumstances explained by the officials, and 3) two
The last stanzas of this poem are written in a very unsteady, trembling voice.
in handwriting, with a clear but futile effort to keep the lines straight; and the last one
word: "Ah!" not even written, but as if drawn thickly and quickly, in
the last gust of flying life. Following this word there is on paper
a large ink stain, clearly caused by a pen falling out of the hand. On
Based on all of the above, Mr. Auditor, with the permission of the Minister
finances, left this matter without further consequences, limiting himself
by extracting a found poem from the director's secret correspondence
Assay Tent and transferring it completely privately, through colleagues
the late Kozma Prutkov, his closest employees. Thanks to this
It's a happy coincidence that this is Kozma's dying significant poem
Prutkova is now being made available to the domestic public. Already in
the last two verses of the 2nd stanza undoubtedly express a dying
confusion of thoughts and hearing of the deceased; and reading the third stanza, we seem to
We are personally present at the poet’s farewell to the creations of his muse. In a word, in this
the poem captures all the details of Kozma’s curious transition
Prutkov to another world, straight from the position of director of the Assay Office.
APPLICATION:
POEMS NOT INCLUDED IN THE COLLECTION
WORKS OF KOZMA PRUTKOV
46. TO THE CROWD
Brand, crowd, brand in the chaos of all-hour vanities
Out of low envy my thunderous verse:
You cannot frighten the pet of the beautiful muses.
You will not break the golden tripods!..
Are you angry?! so look at the fire of contempt,
With what pride my ardent gaze burns,
How boldly I draw inspiration from the sea
The lead verse is a shame on you!
Yes, yes! brand me!.. But do not dishonor me with delight
With your senseless poet's prophetic words!
I will never disgrace myself with despicable bargaining,
I will never bow before the host of enemies;
I will forever sing and enjoy the song,
I will forever drink the enchanting nectar.
Scatter away, crowd! Stop mocking!
Do you want to know Prutkov’s gift?!
Wait!.. Tell me: why are you laughing so evilly?
Tell me: what have you been waiting for so long from me?
Isn't this flattering praise?! No, you won't wait for them!
I will not change my calling to the grave,
But with the truth on my lips, a trembling smile,
With a gall snake in a worn-out chest,
I will guide you in verses scorching with fire,
On the way from the wrong path!
47. EPIGRAM N III
Pia fragrant flower juice,
The bee gives us honey in return;
Although your forehead is an empty barrel,
But still you are not Diogenes,
48. HEELS ARE INCORRECT
Who has a pain in the back of his head?
Don't scratch your heels!
My neighbor was too ardent
He lived in a village, in the middle of nowhere.
Once it happened to him while walking,
Hit a twig with your head;
He, after thinking for a moment,
Angry at the push,
Grab both heels with your hand -
And then get your nose in the mud!..
Many habits are nasty
But you can’t find anything worse
Grab your heels in vain!
49. TO FRIENDS AFTER MARRIAGE
I got married, the sky listened
To our ardent prayers;
The heart gave the message to the heart,
Passion led us into a bright temple.
O friends! your fear is in vain;
Don't I have a strong character?
In anger I am harsh, terrible,
Guardian of dashing marital rights.
There is for revenge on the black cogs
From a married singer
Above the bed, under the alcove,
A knife, a gun and a pound of lead!
A knife sharper than a Swiss razor;
Well-aimed bullets in the bag;
And the gun on the battlefield
I found it in the damp sand...
With that gun in the old days
The singer shot at the drokhva
And, I swear, they are always in the dark
I hit everyone with a load!
50. FROM GOAT PRUTKOV TO THE READER
IN A MINUTE OF FRANKENNESS AND REPENTANCE
With a smile of dull doubt, you layman
You look at my face and my proud gaze;
You are more interested in the capital's dandies,
Their vulgar talk, empty talk.
In your gaze I read, like in a book,
That you are a faithful slander of a vain life,
What do you think of us as a daring pack,
You don't love; but listen to what a poet means.
Who, from childhood, mastering poetry as directed,
I got my knack for it from childhood
In the guise of a sufferer, for greater publicity,
I decided to cover myself - that true poet!
Who, despising everyone, curses the whole world,
Who has no compassion and no pity,
Who looks with laughter at the tears of the unfortunate, -
That powerful, great and strong poet!
Who loves dearly the past Hellas,
Tunic, Athens, Acharnae, Miletus,
Zeus, Venus, Juno, Pallas, -
That wonderful, graceful, flexible poet!
Whose verse is euphonious, thunderous, even without thought,
Full of fire, water cannons, rockets,
To no avail, but accurately calculated on one’s fingers, -
He is also, believe me, a great poet!..
So, don't be scared, meet us,
Although we are stern and daring in appearance
And our heads rise proudly above you;
But who else can tell us apart?!
In the poet you see contempt and malice;
He looks gloomy, sick, clumsy;
But just look into anyone’s womb, -
He is kind in soul and good in body,
51. TO THE PRINTING PLACE
I love you, print place,
When without sealing wax, without dough,
And so, as if with coal,
"M.P." circled!
I can't, living in the world,
Forget peace and think,
And often, looking with longing,
I repeat: “think and drink”!
NOTES
My portrait. - For the first time - in Sovremennik, 1860, No. 3, under the heading:
"To my portrait (which will be published soon, with a full collection of my
essays)".
Forget-me-nots and commas. - For the first time - in Sovremennik, 1851, No. 11, without
signatures, in the article by I. I. Panaev “Notes of the New Poet about Russian
journalism" along with Prutkov's fables "The Conductor and the Tarantula", "Heron and
racing droshky."
Prutkov's fables are just as little like fables in the usual meaning of this
words, like his aphorisms on folk sayings. Prutkov retains only
external form of the fable. Essentially, this is a comic poem, the essence
which is not in allegory and the morality that follows from it, but in funny absurdity
content, a witty combination of disparate concepts - alogism.
Alogism is one of the main techniques of Prutkov’s comic portrayal, -
along with parody and grotesque - which is used in aphorisms, fables and
"historical" anecdotes. Some of Prutkov's fables have a satirical meaning,
they ridicule the ignorant landowners and adherence to the noble classes
privileges (“The Landowner and the Gardener”, “The Heron and the Racing Droshky”).
Ambition - For the first time - in Sovremennik, 1854, N2.
Conductor and tarantula. - For the first time - in Sovremennik, 1851, No. 11 (see.
note to the fable "Forget-me-nots and heels").
Trip to Kronstadt. - For the first time - in Sovremennik, 1854, No. 2.
Page 25. Venediktov V. G. (1807 - 1873) - poet, author of pompous
poems "consisting of pretentiousness and effects"; was an official
Ministry of Finance.
My inspiration. - For the first time - in Sovremennik, 1854, No. 10.
Heron and racing droshky. - For the first time - in Sovremennik, 1851, No. 11 (see.
note to the fable "Forget-me-nots and heels"),
Junker Schmidt. - For the first time - in Sovremennik, 1854, No. 2, under the heading:
"From Heine."
Disappointment. - For the first time - in Sovremennik, 1860, No. 3, with a footnote:
"Music of my own invention will be published in full
collection of my creations. Note Kozma Prutkov." Prutkov parodies
poem by Ya. P. Polonsky "The Finnish Coast".
Epigram N 1st - For the first time - in Sovremennik, 1854, N2.
Worm and trap. - For the first time - in the "Complete Works" of 1884.
Aquilon. - For the first time - in Sovremennik, 1854, No. 10, in the manuscript of V.
Zhemchuzhnikov, the footnote to the subtitle has been crossed out; "G. Benediktov also served in
Ministry of Finance". A parody of Benediktov's poem "The Sea".
In his poems, Prutkov, remaining true to himself, parodied the belated,
epigonic romanticism of Benediktov, exposing emptiness and meaninglessness
flowery vocabulary, lush and pretentious phrases that did not hide
real poetic feeling.
Page 34. Like a wet Saracen. - As P. N. Berkov rightly noted
(see "The Complete Works of Kozma Prutkov". M. - L., "Academia", 1933,
With. 542), this line parodies Benediktov’s verse “The wet Bedouin desert...”,
and, in order to strengthen the nonsense of the said line by Prutkov, the definition
“wet” is related not to “desert”, but to “Saracens”.
The poet's wishes. - For the first time - in Sovremennik, 1854, No. 10.
In the 1884 copy of the Complete Works, edited by V.
Zhemchuzhnikovsh for the 1885 edition, the author added a footnote to the title
poem, which, however, was not published: “The libels of the deceased
Kozma Prutkov strongly urged him not to publicly express such
desires; but he did not listen, citing the examples of many other poets and
arguing that such desires constitute one of the indispensable characteristics
true poet." A parody of A. S. Khomyakov's poem "Desire."
Memory of the past. - For the first time - in Sovremennik, 1860, No. 3.
Difference of tastes. - For the first time - in Sovremennik, 1854, No. 2.
In the 1884 copy of the Complete Works prepared for
edition of 1885 by V. Zhemchuzhnikov, a continuation of the footnote was written, which
was not printed. Here, as in the fable, satirically contrasted
Slavophiles to Westerners. "Precisely: on his name day, at a crowded dinner,
which was attended, among other officials, by a visitor from Moscow,
known for his dangerous political reliability, real
State Councilor Kashentsov - entered into a public dispute with the venerable owner
his grandnephew K.I. Sherstobitov spoke about the taste of endive salad. Kozma
Prutkov at first objected to the debater jokingly and even suddenly said, impromptu,
the following poem:
I don't like chicory -
Because in it, in chicory,
There is sand...
I love the sand at the seaside
Where the shuttle swings;
Where with the running wave
The oncoming wave is arguing
And sometimes at midnight
The silence is so gratifying!
This unexpected impromptu brought everyone into indescribable delight and caused
general applause. But Sherstobitov, hurt in his pride, resumed
dispute with even greater fervor, citing the example of Western Europe, where, according to
According to him, endive salad is respected by all educated people. Then
Kozma Prutkov, losing patience, publicly called him a puppy and told him
those bitter truths that are set out in the fable printed here, written by him
immediately after lunch, in the presence of guests. He dedicated this fable to the mentioned
Actual State Councilor Kashentsov as evidence of his
patriotic preference of even the worst native over the best foreign."
Letter from Corinth. - For the first time - in Sovremennik, 1854, No. 2, p.
subtitle: "Greek Poem".
A parody of the poem by N. F. Shcherbina (1821 - 1869) “Letter” (from
collection "Greek Poems of Nikolai Shcherbina", Odessa, 1850) by the author
anthological poems (written on ancient Greek themes).
"On a soft bed..." Romance. - For the first time - in the "Complete Collection"
works" of 1884.
Ancient plastic Greek. - For the first time - in Sovremennik, 1854, No. 4, under
title: "The Plastic Greek".
Landowner and gardener. - For the first time - in Sovremennik, I860, No. 3.
Stalemate. - For the first time - in Sovremennik, 1854, No. 3.
Apollon Grigoriev (1822 - 1864) - literary critic and poet.
In the album of a beautiful stranger. - For the first time - in Sovremennik, 1854, No. 3.
The 1859 manuscript contains the subtitle: “from a Slavophile.” IN
copy of the "Complete Works" of 1884, corrected for publication
1885, V. Zhemchuzhnikov made the following note (it was not printed):
"This patriotic poem was written, obviously, after joining
Kozma Prutkov to the Slavophile party, under the influence of Khomyakov, Aksakov and
Apollo Grigoriev. However, Kozma Prutkov, who always considered the views
government and his superiors, did not go to extremes and
Slavophilism: he sympathized with the Slavophiles in exalting only those
domestic features that the government left
inviolable, as useful or harmless, without altering them into
Western sample; but at the same time, following the instructions of the government,
preferred for Russia: the state council and the senate - the boyar duma and
zemstvo assemblies; clean shaving of the face - wearing a beard; raincoat almaviva -
zipunu, etc."
A parody of A. S. Khomyakov’s poem “Foreign Woman” (To A. O. Rosset).
Siege of Pamba. - For the first time - in Sovremennik, 1854, No. 3, Page. 48. Below -
not even, not at all.
Kaplan - chaplain, priest.
Epigram N II. - For the first time - in Iskra, 1859, No. 28, signed by B.F.,
under the title: "Rashness (fact)."
Valiant studious. - For the first time - in Sovremennik, 1854, No. 4, under
title: "From Heine".
Neck. - For the first time - in the "Complete Works" of 1884, with
subtitle: "Dedicated to the poet-colleague, Mr. Benediktov."
In V. Zhemchuzhnikov’s manuscript at the end of the poem there are the following lines
(crossed out by the author):
I would keep you in the hall
And I would protect and protect;
I would like you, walking in the field,
Covered it with a gentle haze.
I would treat your enemies with zeal
He pressed with his own hand;
And you would be with admiration
I would caress and love everyone!
Parody of the poem by V. G. Benediktov “Curls” 5
Curls of the maiden sorceress,
Curls - shine and aroma,
Curls - rings, streams, snakes,
Curls - silk cascade!
The landowner and the grass. - For the first time - in Sovremennik, 1860, No. 3.
At the seaside. - For the first time - in Sovremennik, 1854, No. 3, under the title:
"* * * (Imitation of Heine)".
Katerina. - For the first time - in the "Complete Works" of 1884.
"Quuousque tandem, Gatiliria, abutere patientia nostra?"
(lat.) “How long, Catiline, will you test our patience?” - from speech
Cicero (106 - 43 BC), an outstanding orator and political
figure of Ancient Rome, against Catiline (108 - 62 BC) -
political opponent of Cicero.
German ballad. - For the first time - in Sovremennik, 1854, No. 4, under
title: "Ballad (from German)". Parody of Schiller's ballad (translated
Zhukovsky) "Knight Togenburg"
Official and chicken. - For the first time - in Sovremennik, 1861, No. 1, p.
subtitle: "New fable by K. Prutkov."
Philosopher in the bathhouse. - For the first time - in Sovremennik, 1860, No. 3.
A parody of the poem by N. F. Shcherbina “My Goddess”, We present it
starting lines:
Rub oil on my members, pamper my noble body
With a soft touch of a hand moistened generously
Into the light amber juices of our Attic olive.
This hand shines under the unctuous moisture like marble,
A fresh cool stream spreading over the muscles and thighs,
Or as if a swan is touching with a white caressing breast.
When reprinting the poem, Shcherbina omitted these lines, as
suggests P.N. Verkov, under the influence of Prutkov’s parody (see “Complete
collected works of Kozma Prutkov". M. - L., "Academia", 1933),
Modern Greek song. - For the first time - in the "Complete Works" 1884
year.
In N.'s albums - For the first time - in Sovremennik, 1854, N 4.
Autumn. - For the first time - in Sovremennik, 1860, No. 3. In the subtitle -
an allusion to Fet's translations from Persian. Parody of a poem by A. A. Fet
"Bad weather. Autumn..."
Bad weather. Autumn. You smoke
You smoke - everything seems to be not enough...
At least I would read - just reading
It moves so sluggishly.
Star and belly. - For the first time - in the newspaper "New Time", 1881, N 2026.
Traveler. - For the first time - in Sovremennik, 1854, No. 4.
The desire to be Spanish. - For the first time in Sovremennik, 1854, No. 2. In
clerk's copy of the text published in Sovremennik by V. Zhemchuzhnikov
the following lines are included (before the final quatrain), not included
to the collected works:
Give me some candy
Jerez, Malaga,
Peach, amulet,
Sword brush;
Give me a fan
Brooch or veil,
If even a little
You feel sorry for this, -
To you I am my sad one
I turn my face:
Give me a national
At least I need a collar!..
Alhambra - fortress in Grenada;
Extremadura is a province in Spain.
Sierra Morena is a mountain range in Spain.
Escurial is a city with an ancient palace and monastery.
An ancient Greek old woman... - For the first time - in Sovremennik, 1854, No. 2.
Shepherd, milk and reader. - For the first time - in Sovremennik, 1859, N
10.
Native. - For the first time - in the "Complete Works" of 1884, with
subtitle: "From a letter to a Moscow friend."
Sparkles in the dark. - For the first time in the “Complete Works” of 1884.
The subtitle in the manuscripts is “From Persian. From Ibn Fet.” Parody of
poem by A. A. Fet; “The spring month floated up in an invisible haze...”
Before the sea of life. - For the first time - in the "Complete Works" 1884
year.
My dream. - For the first time - in Sovremennik, 1854, No. 10.
Pre-mortem. - For the first time - in the "Complete Works" of 1884.
A parody of D. V. Venevitinov’s poem “Testament” (see “Russian
Literature", 1968, No. 1, p. 201).
In the third edition of the Complete Works of 1893, the twelfth
the line is printed like this: “Or an overturned tub!” Regarding this, Alexey
Zhemchuzhnikov wrote to M. M. Stasyulevich: “By the way, about Prutkov. One of his
fans and connoisseurs recently pointed out to me (and with great sadness) one
amendment made in the 3rd edition. Namely, in the dying poem
Prutkov (p. 82) the last verse of the second stanza turns out to be changed.
Instead of: “or an overturned boat” it is printed: “or an overturned tub”,
Of course: the tub and the lamp rhyme; while the boat and the lamp are not
rhymes; but the boat is so good because it doesn’t rhyme. Prutkov accepted her
for the rhyme because at that time he was already fading away. On page 83 (at the end) it is
it is said: “already in the last two verses of the 2nd stanza it is undoubtedly expressed
death-bed confusion of thoughts and hearing of the deceased." After what was done in
In the third edition of the correction, this remark no longer has any meaning.
There was no confusion of hearing. The lamp and the tub are wonderful rhymes,
satisfying the most refined ears. How could this happen
circumstance? This is not a typo; this is an explicit, deliberate correction.
As you can see, I am also very upset. On this occasion I am contacting you with
the next most convincing request. If I don’t wait for the 4th edition of Prutkov,
and you, God willing, will be alive and well and will lead such in your
printing house (which I really wish), then by all means restore the boat, which is in
appeared with such success in the first two editions that it has not yet been
Prutkov's admirers forgot" ("M. M. Stasyulevich and his contemporaries in their
correspondence", vol. IV, St. Petersburg, 1912, p. 376).
Applications:
Poems not included in the collected works of Kozma Prutkov
To the crowd. - For the first time - in Sovremennik, 1954, No. 3.
Epigram N III. - For the first time - in Sovremennik, 1854, No. 3.
Heels are inappropriate. - For the first time - in Sovremennik, 1854, No. 3.
To friends after marriage. - For the first time - in Sovremennik, 1854, No. 10.
From Kozma Prutkov to the reader in a moment of frankness and repentance. TO
place of printing. - First published by B. Ya. Bukhshtab for proofreading
"Contemporary", 1860, No. 3, in "The Complete Works of Kozma Prutkov"
("Soviet Writer", 1949). These works were published in Sovremennik
were not.
===========================================================================
P85 Works of Kozma Prutkov / Comp. and after. D. A. Zhukova; Note A.
K. Baboreko; Form. V.V. Vagina. - M.: Sov. Russia, 1981. - 304 p., ill., 1
portrait
Kozma Prutkov - collective pseudonym of Russian writers of the mid-19th century
century A.K. Tolstoy and the three Zhemchuzhnikov brothers, who created the fictional
a satirical image of a smug poet-official. Under this name
poems, fables, aphorisms, comedies and literary parodies were published,
ridiculing imaginary greatness, conservatism of thought, reactionary
good intentions, various kinds of epigonism in literature.
This publication is based on a collection of works prepared by
Zhemchuzhnikov,
70301 - 156
C------------88-80 4702010100
M-105(03)81
WORKS OF KOZMA PRUTKOV
Editor E. S. Smirnova
Art editor G. V. Shotina
Technical editor T. S. Marinina
Proofreaders G. M. Ulyanova, M. E. Barabanova
Sd. in embankment 09.26.80. Subp. to print 06/01/81. Format 84X108/32. Paper
typogr. N 3. An ordinary new headset. High printing. Conditional oven l.
15.96. Academic ed. l. 13.03. Circulation 300,000 copies. (2nd head, 100.001 - 300.000
copy]). Order 235. Price 1 rub. 20 k. Ind. ind. LH-172.
Publishing house " Soviet Russia"State Committee of the RSFSR on
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13/15.
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Applications
Section 1
Advance notice I know, reader, that you want to know why I was silent for so long? I understand your curiosity! Listen and understand: I will talk to you like a father and son. Society started talking about some new needs, some new questions... I am the enemy of all so-called questions! I was indignant in my soul - and I was preparing!.., I was preparing to hit modern society with a blow; but Messrs. Grigory Blank, Nikolai Bezobrazov, etc. warned me... Praise be to them - they saved me from shame! Taught by their experience, I decided to follow the company. I confess, reader: I even repeated other people’s words against my conviction!.. So more than three years passed. Time has shown me that I was afraid in vain. Our society has been slandered: it has changed only in appearance... The wise man looks to the root: I looked to the root... Everything is there as before: there is a lot of unfinished (d"inacheve)!.. This reassured me. I blessed fate and again took up the lyre!.. Reader, you understand me! Goodbye! Your well wisher Kuzma Prutkov October 24, 1859 (annus, i). * * * Reader! Read about these notes in the preface that I published in the past years in the “Jumble” of Sovremennik. And now I only print “excerpts”. I have already warned you a hundred times that there is an abyss of materials left from my grandfather, but there is a lot in them that is incomplete and unfinished. Your well wisher Kuzma PrutkovMay 11, 1860 (annus, f). ABC for children by Kosma Prutkov (compiled by himself) A. Anton leads the goat B. Sick Julia. B. Bucket sale. G. Governor. D. Dunkirchen city. E. Elagin Island. AND. Sea of Life. 3 . A belated traveler. AND. Lieutenant engineer. TO. Police captain. L. Lemon juice. M. Martha the planter. N. Neutrality. ABOUT. District chief. P. Pelageya the housekeeper. R. A skilled draftsman. C. Aggregate cohabitation. T. A Tatar selling soap or bathrobes. U. Dance and logic teacher. F. Porcelain cup. X. Brave staff captain, C. Whole apple. H. Official of special assignments. Sh. Wool stocking. SCH. Chirping bird. E. Edward the pharmacist. Yu. Jupiter. I. Amber pipe. Kommersant. Y. b. ColdSeeing Yulia on the ramp
Steep mountains
I quickly got out of bed
And from then on
I feel a terrible runny nose
And the bones are broken,
I sneeze not only at home,
But also visiting.
I, endowed with rheumatism,
Even though I have become old,
But I don’t dare take it off boldly
papier-faillard,
* * *I got up early one morning
I sat awake by the window;
The river played with mother of pearl,
I could see the mill
And it seemed to me that the wheels
In vain they were given to the mill,
What does she, standing near the reach,
Pants would be nicer.
The hermit entered. Veleglasno
And suddenly he said:
“O you, who sorrow in vain
You grumble against God, man!”
He spoke, I shed tears,
The old man began to console me...
Silvered with frosty dust
His beaver collar
* * *Having accidentally hit my sister with a spur,
“Ma sceur,” I told her quietly, “
Your step is uneven and slow
I've been embarrassed more than once,
I'll take advantage of this moment
And I'll tell you, ma sceur,
That I am decorated with an instrument,
Which bell is sharp.”
(Khvoskurovo village) July 28.It's very hot. It must be many degrees in the shade...
I'm lying on a mountain under a birch tree,
I silently look at the birch tree,
But at the sight of a weeping birch tree
Tears welled up in my eyes.
Meanwhile, all the silence around,
Only sometimes do I suddenly hear,
And even then very close, on the Christmas tree,
How the quails chatter or whistle,
I lay there until evening,
He listened to that chatter or whistle,
And it’s only half past nine
I fell asleep on the mezzanine without tea.
July 29.The heat is still...The leaves on the trees turn yellow,
Clouds are rushing in the sky,
But there is no rain and the heat is scorching.
Everything that grows burns.
The plowman sweats on the threshing floor,
And behind the sheaves to the side
A woman from her day's work
Sweat is also visible everywhere,
But now the sun's rays are fading,
The month comes out from behind the clouds
And lights up the way
All the stars of the Milky Way.
Silence reigns everywhere
The moon is rolling across the sky,
But light also came from others
Suddenly the entire sky lit up.
Suffering from dental pain,
In a coat, with a tied cheek,
I look at the bright sky,
I keep an eye on every star.
I started going through them all,
Remember their names,
And time went by,
And there's a sentry at the barn
Every minute, as much as I can,
I've been banging on the board for a long time.
Saying goodbye to nature, sick,
I walked home slowly
And went to bed at nine half
Again no tea on the mezzanine.
August 1st.Again in the shade, it must be many degrees. When picking up a nail near the carriage houseNail, metal nail,
Who created the world?
Whose hand shackled you?
Why are you sharpened?
And where will you be? I guess
You can't give an answer;
I think for you
Interesting subject!
On the wall of a simple hut
We'll see you
Where is the hand of the blind old lady
What if he hangs up his ladle?
Or in the master's chambers
Hanging on you with a cord
There will be a bright picture
Or a tobacco pouch?
Or a parade major's hat,
Or a jagged broadsword,
Bloody Spur
And a carpet bag?
Is Aesculapian's apartment
Will the Eternal give you shelter?
For the hanging of the uniform
Will they hit you with a hammer?
Maybe for a barometer
Suddenly he will appoint you,
And then for the thermometer,
Or cardboard with recipes
Will he hang it on you?
Or Lapis Infernalis,
Or sumu with lancets?
In general, so as not to lie around
Things he needs.
Ile, lined under a jackboot,
Will you draw parquet flooring?
Where everything is of the first grade,
Where everything is stamped with comfort,
Where is the messenger's portrait?
Or, on the contrary, a towel
Will you hold yourself
Yes, a militia caftan,
Leaving for the army?
Knows to consume cloves
Each to your own taste,
But for now he dreams about it
(I take it and look)
This hat is waiting
My cap is on the mezzanine.
(I hastily go upstairs.)
<С того света> G . Editor! Having been retired with the rank of major general, I wanted to do something with my free time, which I had too much of; and so I began to carefully read the newspapers, not limiting myself, as before, to reading only about productions and awards. Having become particularly interested in articles about spiritualism, I had the idea to explore with my own experience the phenomena that I had read about and which, I confess, seemed very stupid to my simple mind. I began the task with complete disbelief, but imagine my amazement when, after several unsuccessful experiments, it was discovered that I myself was a medium! I can’t find words to describe to you, dear sir, the joy that gripped me at the thought that from now on it will be possible for me, as a medium, to talk with smart and great people of the afterlife. Not being much in the sciences, but always trying to explain the inexplicable, I have long come to the conviction that the soul of a deceased person undoubtedly resides in the area where he especially strove during life. On this basis, I tried to ask the deceased Dibich - is he still outside the Balkans? Not receiving an answer to this and many other questions with which I addressed various dignitaries, I began to become embarrassed, despair, and even thought about quitting spiritualism; when suddenly there was a sudden knocking sound under the table at which I was sitting, made me shudder, and then completely lost my head when someone’s voice said very clearly and distinctly over my ears: “Don’t complain!” The first impression of fear was soon replaced by complete pleasure, for it was revealed to me that the spirit talking to me belonged to the poet, deep thinker and statesman, the late actual state councilor Kozma Petrovich Prutkov. From that moment on, my favorite pastime became writing under the dictation of this venerable writer. But since, by the will of the famous deceased, I have no right to keep secret what I hear from him, I propose to you, dear sir, through your respected newspaper, to acquaint the public with everything that I have already heard and that in the future I will hear from the deceased K. P. Prutkova. Accept the assurance of the highest respect from your humble servant. N. N. Retired Major General and Cavalier. I Hello, reader! After a long period of time, I am talking to you again. You are, of course, glad to see me. I praise you. But, of course, you are quite surprised, because you remember that in 1865 (annus, i) in one of the books of Sovremennik (now abolished) the news of my death was published. Yes, I really died; I will say more, the uniform in which I was buried has already decayed; but nevertheless, I’m talking to you again. Thank my friend N.N. for this. You probably already guessed that N.N. is a medium? Fine. It is through him that I can speak to you. I have long wanted to tell you about the possibility for the living to communicate with the dead, but I could not do this earlier because there was no suitable medium. It was impossible for me, who died with the rank of actual state councilor, to appear when summoned by mediums who do not have rank, for example, Hume, Bredifa and comp.<ании>. What would my former subordinates, the officials of the Assay Office, think if my spirit, summoned by one of the aforementioned foreigners, began to play the harmonica under the table or grab those present by the knees? No, beyond the grave I remained the same proud nobleman and official! From what has been said, I think you have already guessed that the medium I have chosen is a completely respectable person, and if I hide him under the letters N.N.. it is not because he belongs to the category of commoners, but because I wanted to spare my medium, the venerable and the experience of a wise general, from the mockery of modern liberals. Entering into a conversation with you again, through the medium of my medium, I consider it necessary to tell you the following: you have read, and probably more than once, the obituary about me, and therefore, you remember that I was married to the girl Proklevetantova. One of her relatives, the provincial secretary Iliodor Proklevetantov, served under my command in the Assay Office. I have always been a strict but fair boss, and in particular I did not like to indulge freethinkers. This happened with Proklevetantov, whom, despite his relationship, I fired on the 3rd point and, of course, made an enemy in him. This famous relative not only caused me trouble during his lifetime, but even when he died he would not leave me alone. So, just recently, for example, he boasted among some dignitaries that he would disgrace me by telling through some medium that I appeared at Hume’s sessions and played the harmonica under the table! my reputation; but let it be better, having become more familiar with the matter, you decide for yourself, reader: is my action worthy of censure? Yes, once, actually at Hume’s call, in one of his sessions, I not only played the harmonica under the table, but also threw the bell and even grabbed other people’s knees. But, firstly, it was in Paris, in Napoleon’s palace, where none of my former subordinate officials of the Assay Office were present, and secondly, I did it, wanting to take revenge on Napoleon for my son Parfen, killed near Sevastopol! After this session, having entered into direct relations with Napoleon himself, I instilled in him the idea of starting a war with Prussia! I directed it in Sedan! Did I thereby humiliate the title I bore? Not at all. Now, knowing the matter as it was, it depends on the degree of your good intentions to believe the gossip of the Prosecutor. But enough about that. There are many more interesting things that I want to talk to you about. You remember that I didn’t like idleness, right? Even now I do not sit idly by and constantly think about the good and success of our fatherland. In the former co-editor of Moskovskie Vedomosti, Leontyev, who recently moved here, I found great consolation for myself. We often talk with each other, and there has never been a time when our views differed on anything. And this is no wonder: we are both classics. True, my love for classicism has always been expressed almost exclusively by the word annus, i, displayed on my works; but is this not enough? After all, at that time classicism was not held in such esteem as it is now... Medium's note. (The well-known strictly conservative direction of the unforgettable K.P. Prutkov, his unparalleled morality and the purity of even his innermost thoughts, of course, cannot be suspected; but nevertheless, for my personal reasons, I had to release something from the proposed story , seeing that the deceased’s long stay as a spirit had accustomed him to a certain free-thinking, which he himself so ardently opposed during his lifetime. May the readers forgive me if, due to the omissions I made, the continuation of this conversation turned out to be somewhat unclear.) - In defense of the above, there is a subtle, indirect hint in my well-known aphorisms: “What will others say about you if you cannot say anything about yourself?” or: “Encouragement is as necessary for an artist as rosin is necessary for a virtuoso’s bow.” But, guided by these two wise pieces of advice based on the practice of life, remember the third, very smart, albeit short, saying - “watch.” This apparently very short word has a very deep meaning. Consciously or instinctively, every creature understands the meaning of this perhaps too short word. A fast-flying swallow and a voluptuous sparrow take refuge under the roof of the building of truth. The burbot, calmly playing in the river, instantly hides in a hole, noticing the approach of the deacon, who has become alert to catch this fish with his hands. The two-womb takes her cubs and rushes to the top of the tree, hearing the cracking of branches under the feet of the bloodthirsty leopard. The sailor, whose cap with ribbons was carried out to sea during a strong storm, does not rush into the waves to save this government item, because he has already noticed a predatory shark, opening its ugly horn with sharp teeth to swallow both the sailor himself and other government items , located on it. But nature, which protects everyone from the danger that threatens them, not without intent, as one must assume, allowed the possibility for animals and people to forget this short word: “watch.” It is known that if this word were never forgotten by anyone, then soon enough free space would not be found throughout the entire globe. II It is difficult for me, dear friend N.N., to answer all the questions you propose. You're asking too much of me. Be content with my messages about the afterlife that I have the right to convey to you, and do not try to penetrate into the depths that should remain a secret for the living. Take a pencil and against each question you make, write down what I will say. Question. What impression does the deceased experience in the first days of his appearance in the next world? Answer. Very strange, although different for everyone. It is directly dependent on our way of life on earth and the habits we have acquired. I'll tell you about myself personally. When, after long painful suffering, my spirit was freed from my body, I felt an extraordinary lightness and at first I could not give myself a clear account of what was happening to me. On the way of my flight into boundless space, I happened to meet some commanders who had died before me, and my first thought was to button up my uniform and straighten the order badge on my neck. Feeling and not finding either the order or the coat of arms buttons, I was involuntarily taken aback. My embarrassment increased even more when, looking around, I noticed that I had no clothes on at all. At that very moment, a picture I had seen a long time ago, depicting Adam and Eve after the fall, was resurrected in my memory; both of them, ashamed of their nakedness, hide behind a tree. I felt terrible from the realization that I had sinned a lot in my life and that my uniform, orders and even the rank of full state councilor would no longer cover up my sinfulness! I began to look around me with anxiety, trying to find at least a small cloud behind which I could hide; but found nothing! My gaze, sadly wandering, stopped on the ground, where, not without difficulty, I found the marshy area of St. Petersburg, and on one of its streets I noticed a funeral procession. It was my own funeral! Peering carefully at those accompanying the sad chariot carrying my mortal remains, I was unpleasantly surprised by the indifferent expression on the faces of many of my subordinates. In particular, I was deeply upset by the inappropriate gaiety of my secretary Lucilin, who was fidgeting around State Councilor Wenzelhosen, who had been appointed in my place. Such visible ingratitude in those whom I elevated and rewarded more than others brought tears to my eyes. I already felt how they, rolling down both cheeks, united into one large drop at the tip of my nose, and I wanted to wipe myself with a handkerchief, but stopped. I realized that this was a deception of feelings. I am a spirit, therefore, I could not have had a single tear, not a drop on my nose, or even a nose itself. A similar deception of feelings was repeated with me several times, until I finally got used to my new situation. Under the weight of new impressions, on the first day I did not even notice that I had not eaten anything, was not present and was not engaged in literature; but on the second and subsequent days the impossibility of satisfying all these habits greatly puzzled me. I felt the greatest awkwardness when I remembered that tomorrow was the name day of my boss and benefactor and that I would no longer come to him with the usual congratulations. Then the idea came to me to inform my widow about the need to serve on this day (as happened with me) a prayer for the health of my boss and his family and to continue spending on these prayers until she receives official notification of the assignment of a one-time allowance to her and pensions for my service. The matter was settled, however, by itself; my widow, how smart woman, did everything herself, without outside guidance. Question: Which is more correct: stomach coffee or stomach coffee? Answer. I don't answer such stupid questions. Question. Did Napoleon III have a premonition that he would soon die? Answer. Everyone can only answer for themselves, so ask him if you are so interested in this. Besides, you yourself can realize that, being his leader in last war, I’m embarrassed to meet him, much less enter into conversations. Questions: 1) What form or, better said, what appearance does the soul of the deceased receive? 2) What is the pastime of the dead? 3) Can the dead reveal to us living what awaits us in life? 4) Is Ovsyannikov guilty of setting fire to the Kokorevo mill? 5) Is Abbess Mitrofania really guilty? All five of these questions remained unanswered. III Anyone who thinks that a spirit that has appeared at the call of a medium can answer all the questions put to it, forgets that the spirit is also subject to certain laws, which it has no right to violate. Those who believe that the hands of some dead Chinese and Indian girls shown by various mediums really belong to these girls and not to charlatan mediums are also unfounded. Can a spirit have any members of a human body? Remember my story about how, wanting to wipe away tears and a drop on my nose, I did not find any tears, not a drop, or even a nose. If we assume that a spirit can have hands, then why not assume that the wind moves through its legs? Both are equally absurd. Just as people are divided into good and bad, so spirits can be good and bad. Therefore, be careful in your dealings with spirits and avoid those who are ill-intentioned among them. Among the latter belongs, by the way, Iliodor of the Slanders, about whom I have already spoken above. Not every spirit comes to the call of a medium. Only those of us who were too attached to everything earthly appear and answer, and therefore, even after the grave, do not cease to be interested in everything that is happening with you. I also belong to this category, with my unsatisfied ambition and thirst for fame. Being abundantly gifted by nature with literary talent, I still wanted to gain fame statesman. Therefore, I spent a lot of time drawing up projects, which, however, despite their serious national significance, had to remain in my portfolio without further movement, partly because someone always managed to present their project before me, partly because much it was not finished in them (d"inacheve). The unknown of these not quite finished projects of mine, as well as many of my literary works, still haunts me. How long will I suffer in this way - I don’t know; but I think that my spirit will not calm down until it conveys everything that I have acquired through sleepless nights, many years of experience and life practice. Maybe I will succeed, maybe not. How often does a person, in the arrogant consciousness of his intelligence and superiority over other creatures, when planning something, already decide in advance that the results of his assumptions will be exactly those and not others. But do his expectations always come true? Not at all. Often the most unexpected and even completely opposite results are obtained. Why, it would seem, would be more natural for a horse to at least try to resist when you give it a hard time on the nose, but who would dispute the validity of my well-known aphorism: “Click a mare on the nose, she will wave her tail”? Therefore, I cannot foresee now whether even then I will cease to be interested in what is happening here on earth, when my name will thunder even among the wild tribes of Africa and America, especially the Iroquois, whom I have always loved from a distance and platonically for their sonorous nickname . IV In the first conversations published by my medium in issue No. 84 of St. Petersburg. statements”, errors crept in. I’m sorry, but I’m not upset, because I remember that it’s common for everyone to make mistakes. I am not upset that my medium completely excluded some passages from my reasoning. But I do not hide from you, reader, that I am angry with the stupid reservation he made, as if those passages were released to him as a result of what he saw in them freethinking! Slander! Free-thinking in the judgments of a man whose good intentions were constantly envied even by the late B. M. Fedorov himself! Obviously, my medium's delusion stems from excessive caution. And, as you know, it is prudent to allow excess only in one case - when praising your superiors. In the briefcase that was left behind me with the inscription: “Collection of unfinished (d"inacheve)” there is, by the way, a small sketch entitled: “On what direction should be given to a well-meaning subordinate, so that his desire to criticize the actions of his superiors would be in favor this last one." The main idea of this sketch is that the younger one is inclined to discuss the actions of the older one and that the results of such discussion may not always be favorable for the latter. To assume that any measures can destroy a person’s tendency to criticize is as absurd as trying to embrace the immensity. Therefore, one thing remains: The right to discuss the actions of a senior should be limited to providing a subordinate with the opportunity to express his feelings with addresses of gratitude, presenting the titles of an honorary justice of the peace or an honorary citizen, arranging dinners, meetings, farewells and similar celebrations. This results in a twofold convenience: firstly, the boss, knowing about the right of his subordinates, encourages the feelings they voluntarily express and at the same time can judge the degree of good intentions of each. On the other hand, the pride of the younger ones, who are aware of their right to examine the actions of the elder, is also flattered. In addition, composing addresses, stimulating the imagination of subordinates, greatly contributes to the improvement of their style. I shared these thoughts with one of the governors and subsequently received gratitude from him, so that, having applied them in his administration, he soon became an honorary citizen of the nine cities under his control, and the style of his officials became exemplary. Judge for yourself by the following address given to your boss on the occasion of the New Year: “Your Excellency, father, shining in heavenly virtue! In the new year, everyone has new hopes and expectations, new ideas, enterprises, everything new. Should there really be new thoughts and feelings? There is no New Year new world, new time; the former was not reborn, the latter is irreversible. Consequently: the new year is only a continuation of the existence of the same world, a new category of life, new era memories of all the most important events! When is it more fitting than now to renew for us the sweet memory of his benefactor settled forever in our hearts? So, we greet you, excellent dignitary and honorary citizen, in this new era, with our new unanimous desire to be as happy in the full meaning of this myth as it is possible for a person to enjoy on earth in his own sphere; Be loved as much by everyone dear to your heart as we love, respect and honor you! Your prosperity is God's mercy for us, your peace of mind is our joy, your memory of us is the highest earthly reward! Live, valiant man, the age of Methuselah for the benefit of posterity. Take courage with the new strength of a patriot for the good of the people. And all we have to do is pray to the Knower of the Heart to send you a hundredfold of all these blessings with your entire family church for many years to come! These sincere shades of feelings are dedicated to your Excellency by grateful subordinates.” Unfortunately, as far as I know, none of the dignitaries have yet fully taken advantage of the advice I outlined in the above-mentioned sketch. Meanwhile, the strict application of these tips in practice would greatly contribute to improving the morality of subordinates. Consequently, the possibility of a repetition of sad incidents, such as the one I describe below, which happened in one family close to me, would be eliminated.Glafira stumbled
For my father's bag,
She turned around in fear:
There is an officer in front of her,
Glafira sees the ulan,
Ulan looks at Glafira,
Suddenly - they hear - from the closet
Grandfather's shadow says:
"Warlike descendant,
The bravest of men
Be bold, don't be timid
With my Glafira.
Glafira! from the closet
I order:
Love this lancer
Take him as your husband."
Grabbing Glafira's hands,
The uhlan asked her:
“Whose things are these, Glasha?
Who is this closet occupied by?
Glafira from fright
He turns pale and trembles,
And he presses closer to his friend,
And he says to his friend:
“I probably don’t remember
How many years have passed?
Our grief is unparalleled
It happened - my grandfather died.
During his life he is in the closet
Spent all the time
And only for the bath
I came out from there."
He listens with embarrassment
Glafire officer
And with a sign he invites
Go to the belvedere.
“Where are you going, Glafira?” -
The invisible grandfather screams.
"Where? Do you think you're delusional? -
Glafira says, -
After all, he himself ordered from the grave,
So that we get married?
“Well, yes, why both
Heading to the attic?
Go to church first
Let the ritual be completed
And, in festive clothes
Returning back
To be everywhere, whenever you like,
You two can do it.”
Ulan said rudely:
“No, we won’t go to church,
Basurman custom
Now introduced everywhere
We have a civil marriage
It may be concluded."
Instantly and quickly
The whole closet was opened,
And an impressive push to the chest
Felt a lancer.
He almost fell over
The stairs are steep
And with all my might I set off
Run headlong home.
Glafira of the night sits,
Glafira sits for days,
Crying with all his might,
But in the belvedere no, no!
Note. For some time now, someone has been publishing his works in the Petersburg Newspaper under the name K. Prutkov Jr. I remind you, reader, that all the Prutkovs who worked in the literary field were three: my grandfather, father and me. Of my many descendants, unfortunately, none inherited literary talent. Therefore, I should truly be called “younger.” And therefore, in order to avoid misunderstandings, I declare that I have nothing in common with the author of the articles published in the Petersburg Newspaper; he is not only not a relative of me, but not even my namesake. K. P. Prutkov. With authenticity it is true: medium N.N. Some materials for the biography of K. P. Prutkov Taken from a briefcase with the inscription: “Collection of unfinished (d"inacheve)” All respectable and well-intentioned subjects know that my famous uncle Kozma Petrovich Prutkov (his name is spelled “Kozma”, like “Kozma Minin”), unfortunately, died long ago, but, as a true son of the fatherland, although he did not participate in the editorial magazine and newspaper of this name, even after his death he did not cease to lovingly follow all the events in our dear fatherland and, as you know, reader, he recently began to share his comments, information and assumptions with some high-ranking persons. Of these persons, he especially loves his medium, Pavel Petrovich N. N.... a valiant and already venerable spirit seer. But, with all due respect to this spirit seer, I consider it necessary, in the form of sacred justice, to warn you, well-meaning reader, that although he is called by the patronymic of my late uncle - “Petrovich”, he is not related to him or me at all, not an uncle or even a namesake. All these serious reasons, however, do not in the least interfere with the mutual friendly goodwill that existed and exists between the late Kozma Petrovich and the still living Pavel Petrovich. Between both (if I can put it this way for brevity) “Petrovichs” there are many similarities and just as much difference. The intelligent reader will understand that we are not talking about appearance here. This latter (I use this word, of course, not in a bad sense) was so unusual for the late Kozma Petrovich that it was impossible not to notice it even among a large company. Here is what, by the way, I said in a short obituary about the blessed dead man (Sovremennik, 1865): “The appearance of the deceased was majestic, but stern; a high, bowed back forehead, covered below with thick reddish eyebrows, and above shaded with poetically tousled, gray-tinged chantret hair; yellow-chestnut complexion and hands; the snake-like, sarcastic smile that always showed a whole series, however, blackened and thinned by tobacco and time, but still large and strong teeth, finally, a head forever thrown back ... " Quite the opposite of this is the appearance of Pavel Petrovich. He is less than average height, his upturned red small nose resembles a carnelian cufflink; there is almost no hair on the head and face, but the mouth is filled with teeth made by Wagenheim or Wallenstein. Kozma and Pavel Petrovich, as mentioned above, although they were never related to each other, they were both born on April 11, 1801 near Solvychegodsk, in the village. Tenteleva; Moreover, it was discovered that Pavel Petrovich’s mother, who had recently been a German girl, Shtokfish, was at that time already legally married to retired lieutenant Pyotr Nikiforovich N.N., a friend of the father of the famous K.P. Prutkov. At that time, the parent of the unforgettable Kozma Petrovich was considered a rich man among his neighbors. On the contrary, Pavel Petrovich’s parent had almost nothing; and therefore it is not surprising that after the death of his wife, he joyfully accepted his friend’s offer to move into his house. Thus, “from childhood,” as the venerable Pavel Petrovich puts it, fate connected him with the future famous writer, the only son of his worthy parents, K.P. Prutkov! But let the famous uncle himself talk further about himself. In the papers of the deceased, stored in a briefcase with the inscription: “Collection of the unfinished (d"inacheve)”, in a special notebook entitled “Materials for my biography”, it is written: “In 1801, April 11, at 11 o’clock in the evening, in the spacious wooden house with a mezzanine of the owner of the village. Tenteleva, near Solvychegodsk, the cry of a healthy newborn male baby was heard for the first time; This cry belonged to me, and the house belonged to my dear parents. Three hours later, a similar cry was heard at the other end of the same landowner’s house, in the so-called “bosquet” room; This second cry, although it also belonged to a male baby, was not mine, but the son of a former German girl, Shtokfisch, who had shortly before married Pyotr Nikiforovich, who was temporarily staying in my parents’ house. The christening of both newborns took place on the same day, in the same font, and the same persons were our successors, namely: Solvychegodsk tax farmer Sysoy Terentyevich Seliverstov and the postmaster’s wife, Kapitolina Dmitrievna Grai-Zherebets. Exactly five years later, on my birthday, when they were getting ready for breakfast, a bell was heard, and a carriage appeared in the yard, in which, by his gray camelot overcoat, everyone recognized Pyotr Nikiforovich. It was indeed he who came with his son Pavlusha. Their arrival to us had long been expected, and on this occasion, almost several times a day, I heard from everyone at home that Pavlusha would soon arrive, whom I should love because we were born almost at the same time, baptized in the same font and that we both have the same godfather and mother. All this preparation was of little use; At first we were both shy and only looked at each other from under our brows. From that day on, Pavlusha stayed with us to live, and until I was 20 years old, I was not separated from him. When we both turned ten years old, we were forced to learn the alphabet. Our first teacher was the kind Father John Proleptov, our parish priest. He later taught us other subjects. Now, in the decline of life, I often like to remember the time of my childhood and lovingly look through the notebook of the venerable presbyter, which accidentally survived, along with my study notebooks, with his own handwritten notes about our successes. Here is one of the pages of this book: God's Law: Kozma - successful; Pavel - carefully Explanation of the liturgy: Kozma - from the heart; Pavel - humbly and wisely Arithmetic: Kozma - strong and lively good; Pavel - fast and correct Penmanship: Kozma - satisfactory; Pavel - nice Exercise on abacus: Kozma - boldly and clearly; Pavel - smartly Sacred history: Kozma - reasonable and understandable; Pavel - interesting Russian literature: Kozma - edifying and praiseworthy; Pavel - diligently and conscientiously During the week, both pets behaved extremely well. Kozma, being more nimble, always wants to excel. They are friendly, God-fearing and respectful to elders. Such marks brought my parents to indescribable joy and strengthened their conviction that something extraordinary would come of me. Their premonition did not deceive them. The literary forces that developed in me early on encouraged me to study and saved me from the destructive hobbies of my youth. I was barely seventeen years old when the briefcase in which I hid my youthful works was overflowing. There was prose and poetry. Someday I will introduce you, reader, to these works, and now read the fable I wrote at that time. Having once noticed Father John dozing on a bench in the garden, I wrote the following fable for this occasion:One day, with a staff and a book in hand,
Father Ivan deliberately trudged towards the river,
Why to the river? then, so that again
Look how the crayfish crawl in it.
Father Ivan's character is like this.
Here, reasoning with myself,
He is a Reisfeder in that book
I drew various, although not very, marks,
Notes. Tired, I sat down river bank,
I fell asleep and out of my hand
First the book, the humilastic,
And there is the staff - everything goes to the bottom.
When suddenly a tadpole floats up,
And, greedily grabbing one thing in an instant
Like a staff, so
And humilastic,
Well, in a word, everything that the shepherd missed,
He addressed this speech to him:
“Priest! I wouldn't wear a cassock,
If you want, father, you sit in idleness
Or sharpen balusters in idle talk!
You must watch day and night,
To instruct those, to take care of those,
Who does not know the dogmas of faith,
And don't sit
And don't stare
And don't snore
Like a sexton, not knowing the limits.”
Let this fable go to Moscow, Ryazan and St. Petersburg,
Repeats it by heart more often
God-fearing presbyter.
I vividly remember the sad consequence of this youthful prank. The day of my parent’s name day was approaching, and it occurred to Father John to force me and Pavlush to learn poems for this day to congratulate the dear birthday boy. The poems he chose, although very awkward, were pompous. We both memorized these verses well and on the special day we spoke them without hesitation before the hero of the occasion. The parent was delighted, he kissed us, kissed Father John. During the day we were repeatedly forced either to show these verses, written on a large sheet of notepaper, or to recite them to one or another guest. We sat down at the table. Everything was jubilant, noisy, talking, and it seemed that trouble was nowhere to be expected. Unfortunately for me, it had to happen that at dinner I had to sit next to our neighbor Anisim Fedotich Puzyrenko, who took it into his head to tease me that I myself couldn’t write anything and that the rumors that had reached him about my ability to write were unfair; I got excited and answered him rather obstinately, and when he demanded proof, I did not hesitate to give him the piece of paper that was in my pocket, on which my fable “The Priest and the Humilastic” was written. The piece of paper passed from hand to hand. Some, having read it, praised it, and some, having looked at it, silently passed it on to another. Father John, having read and written on the side in pencil: “Gunly, but boldly,” passed it on to his neighbor. Finally the piece of paper ended up in the hands of my parent. Seeing the presbyter’s inscription, he frowned and, without hesitation, said loudly: “Kozma! come to me." I obeyed, sensing, however, something evil. And so it happened - from the chair on which my parent was sitting, I hurriedly went to the mezzanine, in tears, to my room, with the back of my head badly bruised... This incident had an impact on the future fate of me and my friend. It was recognized that we were both too spoiled, and therefore it was enough to stuff us with science, but it would be better to assign both of us to the service and introduce us to military discipline. Thus, we entered as cadets, I joined the *** Army Hussar Regiment, and Pavlusha joined one of the Army Infantry Regiments. From that moment on we took different paths. Having married in the twenty-fifth year of my life, I was retired for some time and was engaged in farming on the estate that I inherited from my parent near Solvychegodsk. Subsequently, he entered the service again, but in the civilian department. At the same time, never leaving literary pursuits, I have the consolation of enjoying the justly deserved glory of a poet and statesman. On the contrary, my childhood comrade, Pavel Petrovich, modestly continued his service in the same regiment until the highest ranks and showed no inclination towards literature. However, no: his next literary work gained fame in the regiment. Concerned that the provisions specified for the soldiers reached them in full, Pavel Petrovich issued an order in which he recommended Messrs. officers have to monitor the proper digestion of soldiers. Upon entering the civil service, I moved to St. Petersburg, which I would hardly ever agree to leave, because this is the only place where an employee can make a career for himself if there is no special patronage. I never counted on protection. My intelligence and undoubted talents, supported by boundless good intentions, constituted my patronage. In particular, this last quality was highly valued by one influential person, who had long since taken me under his protection and greatly contributed to ensuring that the then opening vacancy of the head of the Assay Office would go to me and not to anyone else. Having received this place, I came to thank my patron, and these are the unforgettable words that were expressed to him in response to my expression of gratitude: “Serve as you have served until now, and you will go far. Thaddeus Bulgarin and Boris Fedorov are also well-intentioned people, but they do not have your administrative abilities, and their appearance is unrepresentative, and you should be made governor for your figure alone.” This opinion about my professional abilities made me work harder in this area. Various projects, assumptions, thoughts leaning exclusively towards the benefit of the fatherland soon filled my portfolio. Thus, under the experienced guidance of an influential person, my administrative abilities were improved, and a number of various projects and assumptions I submitted to his discretion inspired both him and many others with an opinion about my remarkable talents as a statesman. I will not hide that such flattering reviews of me turned my head so much that they even, to a certain extent, influenced the carelessness of the finishing of the projects I presented. This is the reason why this branch of my work bears the stamp of the unfinished (d"inacheve). Some projects were particularly brevity, and even more than is usually customary, so as not to tire the attention of the elder. Perhaps it was precisely this circumstance that the reason was that my projects were not paid due attention. But it was not my fault. I gave the idea, but it was the responsibility of the secondary figures to develop and process it. I did not limit myself to projects about reducing correspondence, but constantly touched upon the various needs and requirements of our state. At the same time, I noticed that those projects came out more fully and better for me, which I myself sympathized with with all my soul. I will point out, as an example, the two that at one time attracted the most attention: 1) “about the need to establish one common opinion in the state” and 2) “about what direction should be given to a well-intentioned subordinate, so that his desire to criticize his actions the authorities were in favor of this latter.” Both of these projects, as far as I know, were not officially and completely accepted, but, having met with great sympathy from many superiors, in particular, they were repeatedly applied in practice, not without success. For a long time I did not believe in the possibility of implementing peasant reform. Sharing the fair views of Mr. Blank and others on this subject, I, of course, did not sympathize with the reform, but nevertheless, when I was convinced of its inevitability, I came with my project, although I was aware of the inapplicability and impracticality of the measures I proposed. However, I always devoted most of my time to literature. Neither service in the Assay Office, nor drawing up projects that opened up a wide path for me to honors and promotions, nothing diminished my passion for poetry. I wrote a lot, but didn't publish anything. I was content with the fact that my handwritten works were read with delight by numerous admirers of my talent, and I especially valued the reviews of my works from my friends: gr. A.K. Tolstoy and his cousins Alexei, Alexander and Vladimir Zhemchuzhnikov. Under their direct influence and guidance, my enormous literary talent, which glorified the name of Prutkov and amazed the world with its extraordinary diversity, developed, matured, strengthened and improved. Yielding only to their insistence, I decided to publish my works in Sovremennik. Gratitude and strict justice are always characteristic of the character of a great and noble person, and therefore I can boldly say that these feelings inspired me with the idea of obliging the above-mentioned persons with my spiritual testament to publish a complete collection of my works, at their own expense, and thereby forever linking their little-known names with the great and famous name K. Prutkova.” This information ends the manuscript of my late uncle, entitled “Materials for my biography.” The remaining pages of the notebook are covered with various kinds of poems and notes. The latter are especially remarkable for their diversity. It is very unfortunate that the pages of this notebook are written too illegibly, crossed out in places, and even covered in ink in places, so that very little can be made out. One page, for example, is so dirty that it is difficult to read the following: “Instructions on how to prepare the glorious chamber cadet, Schaffhausen plaster.” On the next page there are separate notes that have no connection with each other, namely; About excellence What is superior? Manir, or way of expressing of the highest degree quality, in strength, kindness, concept, in goodness and beauty, or size, in longitude, height, breadth, in thickness, in depth, and so on. How many superlatives? Two. Superlative dominant and superior relative or similar. - Why is the gray one always jealous of the dun? - They say that the spleen of walkers is cut out so that their legs gain greater agility. This rumor requires careful verification. - It is known that Cardinal de Richelieu drank a glass of radish juice every morning, on the advice of his physician. - A genius thinks and creates. An ordinary person carries it out. A fool takes advantage and does not thank you. - A certain boss, inspecting one educational institution, went, by the way, into the infirmary. Seeing a patient there, he asked him: “What is your last name?” He also heard that they were asking him what he was sick with, and therefore he answered with bashfulness: “Diarrhea, your Excellency.” - “Ah! Greek surname,” the boss noted. - Buy only soap that says: la loi punit le contrefa-cteur (Counterfeiting is punishable by law (French)). Excerpts from my diary in the village I July 28th, 1861. The village of Khvoskurovo. It's very hot even in the shade it must be many degrees. I'm lying on a mountain under a birch tree, II (Two days later. The mercury is rising higher and it seems will soon reach the place where it says St. Petersburg.) The leaves on the trees turn yellow. - Anyone who says ruble, karap, crane instead of ruble, ship, crane will probably say kolidor, faletor, kufnya, galdareya. - Why is a foreigner less eager to live with us than we are in his land? Because he is already abroad. -Before you decide on any commercial business, find out: are a Jew or a German engaged in such a business? If yes, then act boldly, then there will be profits. Excerpt from the poem "Medicine"The crafty doctor is looking for medicine,
To help the watchman's aunt, -
There is no cure; he whistles into his fist,
And it’s already night outside.
There is not a single bottle in the closet,
Total there to tomorrow
One envelope with dry raspberries
And very little rhubarb.
Meanwhile, in a fever, the aunt is raving,
Auntie is sick with fever...
The crafty doctor still doesn’t come,
She has been waiting for medicine for a long time!
The old woman's body is burning with fire,
Nature's strange game!
It's dry everywhere, but I'm sweating
Only one left calf...
Here comes from the front
The call is hasty: ding-ding-ding.
“You should come the other day!”
"And what?" - “Amen to auntie!”
“There is no way to help the old woman,”
So the evil doctor says, -
Does she have any inheritance left?
Who will pay me for the visit?
Spirit speaks to me, under the grave roof.
“Sage and patriot! Your turn has come;
Instruct and help! Prutkov! Do you hear?
With my pen I zealously served my native land,
When did you live in the world... And it seems how long ago?!
And now, dead man, I again play in her destinies -
I was a servant of power; but not embarrassed by fear,
Of those who do not bend their flexible backs,
And proudly I wore the star and deserved -
I, an old monarchist, am indignant at the new ones:
They will compromise - I’m very afraid -
And the supreme power, and with it the holy -
The solemn vow gave birth to hope in the country
And was greeted with approval by everyone...
And its execution is not visible between
The Black Hundreds are already preparing for such a deal:
When a host of guests gathers for a formal feast -
Place them decorously and give them a plate -
And the role of government, to me, is not safe;
There is something d"inacheve... No! We must take care of power,
So that she doesn’t disagree with her action -
I, a loyal subject, think about it this way:
Since the authorities themselves have given hope -
Let the request be: “Give!” - ends with the answer:
I said the main thing; but out of love for the fatherland
I will gladly teach those thoughts,
Which I carefully followed during my life -
Ruler! Let your days not pass idlely;
At least throw pebbles, if you have time for it;
But watch: in the water they breed -
Ruler! avoid walking on a slope:
Slipping, or falling, or stopping your boots;
And don’t set out on the road, unless it’s at night -
Having given a rest to the play of the service fountain,
Follow the opinion of the country more closely;
And so as not to become a victim of self-deception, -
Let me remind you of a truth that will help
My compatriots will not fall into error;
That the immensity cannot be embraced by itself -
My teaching, it seems to me, is this:
What could help others in the midst of struggle and turmoil?
For everyone, a true refuge of peace -
Works by Kozma Prutkov
Biographical information about Kozma Prutkov
Sources:
1) Personal information.
2) Works of Kozma Prutkov.
The works of Kozma Prutkov were first published exclusively in magazines. "Contemporary" 1851, 1853–1854 and 1860–1864. (in 1851, only three of his fables were placed there, without a signature, in “Notes of a New Poet”). Subsequently, in the first 1860s. several (mostly the weakest) of his works were published in journals. "Spark"; and in 1861 it was placed in the journal. “Entertainment”, No. 18, his comedy “Love and Silin”. Then in 1881 it was printed for the first time in gas. “New Time”, No. 2026, fable “The Star and the Belly”. Here are all the publications in which the works of Kozma Prutkov were published.
The present Complete Works of Kozma Prutkov includes everything that he ever published, except for the following: a) poems: “Return from Kronstadt”, “To Friends after Marriage”, “To the Crowd”, an epigram about Diogenes, the same about Lysimache and the fable “Inopportune Heels”, b) several aphorisms, c) several “excerpts from the grandfather’s notes”, d) the comedy “Love and Silin” and e) the project: “On the introduction of unanimity in Russia.” Of these, not included in this edition of K. Prutkov’s works, his grandfather’s poems, aphorisms and stories were excluded by him from the collection of his works being prepared due to their weakness; com. “Lyubov and Silin” was excluded by him because it was published without his knowledge, before its final finishing; and the project “on unanimity” was excluded by the publishers because it constitutes an official work, and not a literary work, by K. Prutkov. But, in addition to the previously published works of Kozma Prutkov, this edition includes many that have not yet been published.
3) “Obituary of Kozma Petrovich Prutkov,” in the journal. "Contemporary", 1863, book. IV, signed by K. I. Sherstobitov [In the “St. Petersburg Gazette” of 1876, fictitious information about Kozma Prutkov was published, incorrectly signed also with the name of K. I. Sherstobitov]
4) “Correspondence” of Mr. Alexey Zhemchuzhnikov, to gas. “St. Petersburg Gazette”, 1874, No. 37, regarding the “Anthology for Everyone” published by Mr. Gerbel. 5) Articles: “Protecting the memory of Kozma Prutkov,” in gas. “New Time”, 1877, No. 892 and 1881, No. 2026, signed: “An indispensable member of Kozma Prutkov.” 6) Letter to the editor of the magazine “Vek” from Vladimir Zhemchuzhnikov, in the newspaper: “Voice”, 1883, No. 40 and “New Time”, 1883, No. 2496. 7) Article: “The origin of the pseudonym Kozma Prutkov” A. Zhemchuzhnikova, published in “News”, 1883, No. 20.
Kozma Petrovich Prutkov spent his entire life, except for the years of childhood and early adolescence, in public service: first in the military department, and then in the civil service. He was born April 11, 1803; died January 13, 1863
In the "Obituary" and in other articles about him, attention was drawn to the following two facts: firstly, that he marked all his printed prose articles with the 11th day of April or another month; and secondly, that he wrote his name: Kozma, not Kuzma. Both of these facts are true; but the first of them was interpreted erroneously. It was believed that, by marking his works with the 11th, he wanted to commemorate his birthday each time; in fact, with such a mark he commemorated not his birthday, but his wonderful dream, which probably only coincided by chance with his birthday and had an influence on his entire life. The content of this dream is described below, from the words of Kozma Prutkov himself. As for the way he wrote his name, in reality it was not even written “Kozma”, but Kosma, like his famous namesakes: Kosma and Damian, Kosma Minin, Kosma Medici and a few others like that.
In 1820 he joined military service, only for the uniform, and spent only a little over two years in this service, in the hussars. It was at this time that he had the above-mentioned dream. Namely: on the night of April 10, 1823, returning home late from a comradely drinking party and barely laying down on his bed, he saw in front of him a naked brigadier general, in epaulettes, who, lifting him from the bed by the hand and not allowing him to get dressed, He dragged him silently along some long and dark corridors, to the top of a high and pointed mountain, and there he began to take out various precious materials from the ancient crypt in front of him, showing them to him one after another and even placing some of them on his chilled body. Prutkov awaited with bewilderment and fear the outcome of this incomprehensible event; but suddenly, from the touch of the most expensive of these materials, he felt a strong electric shock throughout his body, from which he woke up covered in perspiration. It is unknown what importance Kozma Petrovich Prutkov attached to this vision. But, often talking about him later, he always became very excited and ended his story with a loud exclamation: “That same morning, as soon as I woke up, I decided to leave the regiment and resigned; and when my resignation came, I immediately decided to serve in the Ministry of Finance, in the Assay Office, where I will remain forever!” - Indeed, having entered the Assay Office in 1823, he remained in it until his death, that is, until January 13, 1863. His superiors recognized and rewarded him. Here, in this Tent, he was honored to receive all civil ranks, up to and including full state councilor, and the highest position: director of the Assay Tent; and then - the Order of St. Stanislav 1st degree, who always seduced him, as can be seen from the fable “The Star and the Belly.”
In general, he was very pleased with his service. It was only during the period of preparing the reforms of the previous reign that he seemed at a loss. At first it seemed to him that the ground was disappearing from under him, and he began to grumble, shouting everywhere about the prematureness of any reforms and that he was “the enemy of all so-called questions!” However, later, when the inevitability of reforms became undeniable, he himself tried to distinguish himself with transformative projects and was very indignant when these projects rejected him for their obvious inconsistency. He explained this by envy, disrespect for experience and merit, and began to become despondent, even despairing. At one of the moments of such gloomy despair, he wrote a mystery: “The Affinity of World Forces,” published for the first time in this edition and quite accurately conveying the then painful state of his spirit [In the same state of mind, he wrote the poem “Before the Sea of Life,” also published for the first time in this edition]. Soon, however, he calmed down, felt the same atmosphere around him, and the same soil beneath him. He again began to write projects, but in a shy direction, and they were accepted with approval. This gave him reason to return to his former complacency and expect a significant promotion. A sudden nervous shock that befell him in the director's office of the Assay Office, just as he was about to leave for duty, put an end to these hopes, ending his glory days. This edition contains for the first time his “Dying” poem, recently found in the secret file of the Assay Office.
But no matter how great his career successes and merits were, they alone would not have given him even a hundredth part of the fame that he acquired through his literary activities. Meanwhile, he remained in public service (counting the hussarship) for more than forty years, and acted publicly in the literary field for only five years (in 1853-54 and in the 1860s).
Until 1850, precisely before his accidental acquaintance with a small circle of young people, consisting of several Zhemchuzhnikov brothers and their cousin, Count Alexei Konstantinovich Tolstoy, Kozma Petrovich Prutkov had never thought about literary or any other public activities. He understood himself only as a zealous official of the Assay Office and dreamed of nothing further than career success. In 1850, Count A.K. Tolstoy and Alexei Mikhailovich Zhemchuzhnikov, not foreseeing serious consequences from their undertaking, decided to assure him that they saw in him remarkable talents for dramatic creativity. He, believing them, wrote under their leadership the comedy “Fantasy”, which was performed on stage with. - St. Petersburg Alexandria Theater, in the highest presence, January 8, 1851, at a benefit performance of the then public favorite, Mr. Maksimov 1st. That same evening, however, it was removed from the theatrical repertoire, by special order; this can only be explained by the originality of the plot and the poor acting of the actors. It is being published for the first time only now.
1. MY PORTRAIT
When you meet a person in the crowd,
Which is naked; 1].
Whose forehead is darker than the foggy Kazbek,
The step is uneven;
Whose hair is raised in disorder;
Who, crying out,
Always trembling in a nervous fit, -
Know: it's me!
Whom they sneer with ever-new anger,
From generation to generation;
From whom the crowd wears his laurel crown
Vomits madly;
Whoever bows his flexible back to no one, -
Know: it's me!..
There is a calm smile on my lips,
There's a snake in my chest!
1] Option: “Who is wearing a tailcoat.” Note by K. Prutkov.
2. FORGET-METALS AND COMMA
Shaking Pakhomych on his heels,
I carried a bunch of forget-me-nots with me;
Rubbing calluses on my heels,
I treated them at home with camphor.
Reader! in this fable, throwing away the forget-me-nots,
Placed here as a joke,
Just conclude this:
If you have calluses,
To get rid of pain,
You, like our Pakhomych, treat them with camphor.
3. AMBITION
Give me the strength of Samson;
Give me the Socratic mind;
Give Cleon's lungs,
Announcing the forum;
Cicero's eloquence,
Juvenalian anger,
And Aesop's mutilation,
And a magic cane!
Give the barrel of Diogenes;
Hannibal's sharp sword,
What glory is Carthage
So much space from the shoulders!
Give me Psyche's foot,
Sapphia feminine poem,
And Aspazi's ideas,
And Venus' belt!
Give me Seneca's skull;
Give me Virgil's verse -
People would shake
From the words of my mouth!
I would, with the courage of Lycurgus,
Looking around,
Stogny all St. Petersburg
Amazed with his poetry!
For the value inova
I would steal from the darkness
The glorious name is Prutkova,
Kozma is a big name!
4. CONDUCTOR AND TARANTULA
In the mountains of Gispania a heavy carriage
I went on a voyage with the conductor.
The Gishpanka, having sat down in it, immediately fell asleep;
Meanwhile, her husband, seeing the tarantula,
He shouted: “Conductor, stop!
Come quickly! oh my God!"
The conductor hurries to the cry
And then he drives out the cattle with a broom,
Having said: “You didn’t pay any money for the place!” -
And immediately he crushed him with his heel.
Reader! read your depans forward 1],
So as not to dare to sit on stagecoaches for nothing,
And try not to
Don't go on a journey without money;
The same thing will happen to you as to an insect,
You know.
1] costs, expenses (from French depenses).
5. TRIP TO KRONSTADT
Dedicated to my colleague at the Ministry of Finance, Mr. Benediktov
The steamer flies like an arrow,
Menacingly crushes the waves into dust
And, smoking his pipe,
Cuts a trail in the gray waves.
Foam with a club. The steam is bubbling.
Splashes of pearls fly.
The sailor is busy at the helm.
Masts stick out in the air.
Here comes a cloud from the south,
It's getting blacker and blacker...
Although the blizzard on land is terrible,
But in the seas it’s even worse!
Thunder rumbles and lightning flashes.
The masts are bending, a crack is heard...
The waves are hitting the ship hard...
Screams, noise, and screaming, and splashing!
I stand alone on the bow 1],
And I stand like a rock.
I sing songs in honor of the sea,
And I sing not without tears.
The sea breaks the ship with a roar.
The waves are foaming all around.
But it’s not difficult for a ship to sail
With Archimedes screw.
Now it is very close to the goal.
I see that my spirit is seized with fear!
Our closest trace is barely
Barely visible in the waves...
And I don’t even remember the distant things,
There’s not even a mention of it;
Only the water plain,
I only see the trail of the storm!..
So sometimes in our world:
There lived, another poet wrote,
The sonorous verse forged on the lyre
And - disappeared in the wave of the world!..
I was dreaming. But the storm ceased;
Our ship was in the bay.
Gloomily hanging my head,
In vain for the vain people:
“So,” I thought, “in the world
The bright path of glory is dimming;
Oh, am I really in Summer too?
Will I ever drown?!"
1] Here, of course, it is the bow of the steamship, not the poet; the reader himself could guess this. Note by K. Prutkov
6. MY INSPIRATION
Am I walking alone in the Summer Garden 1],
I go to the park with friends,
Will I sit down in the shade of a weeping birch tree?
Do I silently look at the sky with a smile -
All thought after thought in the chapter is without origin,
One after another in a boring sequence,
And contrary to the will and the heart,
They crowd together like midges over warm water!
And, suffering greatly with an inconsolable soul,
I am unable to look at the light and people:
The light seems to me like pitch darkness;
And a mortal is like a gloomy, crafty villain!
And with a kind heart and a humble heart,
By submitting to thoughts, I become proud;
And I hit and hurt everyone with an inspired verse,
Like the ancient Attila, leader of the daring hordes...
And it seems to me that then I am the head
Higher than all, stronger than all with spiritual power,
And the world is spinning under my heel,
And I’m getting gloomier and gloomier!..
And filled with anger, like a menacing cloud,
I will suddenly pour poetry over the crowd:
And woe to those who fell under my mighty verse!
I laugh wildly at the cry of suffering.
1] We consider it necessary to explain to Russian provincials and foreigners that here, of course, is the so-called “Summer Garden” in St. Petersburg. Note by K. Prutkov.
7. HERON AND RACING DRESS
The landowner rode in a racing droshky.
A heron was flying; he looked.
"Oh! why such legs
Zeus didn’t give me an inheritance?”
And the heron quietly answers:
“You don’t know, Zeus knows!”
Let every strict family man read this fable:
If you were born a Tatar, then be a Tatar;
If a tradesman is a tradesman,
And a nobleman is a nobleman.
But if you are a blacksmith and want to be a master,
Know this, fool
What finally
Not only will those long legs not give you,
But even the short droshky will be taken away.
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Kozma Prutkov: created and creators
In 1854, a new name appeared on the horizon of Russian poetry - Kozma Prutkov. Nekrasov's magazine Sovremennik, which had discovered many talents by that time, did not miscalculate this time either. True, the works of the novice author were published on the pages of a humorous supplement to the magazine - in the “Literary Jumble”, but Turgenev also first saw his “Khor and Kalinich” in the “Mixture” section of the same “Sovremennik”, and now he is the famous author of “Notes” hunter"...
It was clear that the new poet was full of hope and inspiration.
I will forever sing and enjoy the song,
I will forever drink the enchanting nectar.
Scatter away, crowd!.. enough mocking!
Do you want to know Prutkov’s gift?!
However, already in the next stanza of this poem, under the significant title “To the Crowd,” the author replaced contempt with condescension towards it:
Wait!.. Tell me: why are you laughing so evilly?
Tell me: what have you been waiting for so long from me?
Isn't this flattering praise?! No, you won't wait for them!
I will not change my calling to the grave,
But with the truth on my lips, a trembling smile,
With a gall snake in a worn-out chest,
I will guide you in verses scorching with fire,
On the way from the wrong path!
Having thus declared his creative program Prutkov, with no less passion, began to bring it to life. Apparently, he especially liked genres that helped correct morals and expose vice: fables, comedies, epigrams...
To me, in deep thought,
Lysimachus once said:
“What a sighted man sees with a healthy eye,
A blind person can’t see even with glasses!”
Lysimachus is a stern Stoic philosopher from the time of the decline of Rome. And Kozma Prutkov himself is no stranger to the craving for the winged word. His “Fruits of Thought” are published - a collection of coined aphorisms, among which are the now famous “Look at the root!”, “No one will embrace the immensity”, “Don’t walk along the slope, you’ll trample your boots!”, as well as many others, no less expressive: “The first step of a baby is the first step towards his death”, “Click a mare on the nose - she will wave her tail”, “Encouragement is as necessary for a brilliant writer as rosin is necessary for a virtuoso’s bow”, “What is better? “By comparing the past, bring it together with the present!”
Following the last aphorism, Kozma Prutkov published “Historical materials of Fedot Kuzmich Prutkov (grandfather)”, modestly declaring in the preface: “My whole family was engaged in literature” - and promising, following his grandfather’s notes, to publish his father’s notes and his own.
True, none of them appeared, but after his death, respectful descendants spoke in detail about the life and creative path of this statesman and literary figure. The reader learned that K. P. Prutkov rose to the high rank of actual state councilor and director of the Assay Office, that in addition to works of fine literature, he created “government projects,” of which the most famous is “On the introduction of unanimity in Russia,” which, however, was not implemented at that time.
The artists, delighted with Prutkov’s fame, created his portrait, and the person depicted demanded that a lyre be added below, from which rays emanate upward. The wish was fulfilled. Subsequently, a bust of the poet appeared, now kept in the local history museum of the city of Tambov, and at the end of the 20th century, a sculpture of Kozma Prutkov was erected in the Bryansk park-museum named after A.K. Tolstoy. It can be added that Prutkov’s works were cited by Turgenev and Herzen, Goncharov and Saltykov-Shchedrin. Prutkov’s long poem “The Siege of Pamba” is read by the heroes of Dostoevsky’s novel “The Village of Stepanchikovo and Its Inhabitants.” And in other works of writers the name of this writer, according to Dostoevsky’s definition, “the beauty of our time” appears...
This is Kozma Petrovich Prutkov (1803–1863) - one of the amazing and bright creations of Russian literary and social life. It’s no secret: he himself, with his entire biography and pedigree, with fables, poems, plays, aphorisms, was invented by the poet Alexey Konstantinovich Tolstoy and his cousins, Alexey and Vladimir Zhemchuzhnikov. Other Zhemchuzhnikovs also contributed - Alexander and Lev (he, together with the artists Beideman and Lagorio, depicted Prutkov), as well as the poet Pyotr Ershov, author of the famous “The Little Humpbacked Horse”. But this official-poet became no mere amusement for them.
Yes, the poet Alexei Tolstoy, the eldest among the brothers, loved jokes, fun, and by nature had an absolute sense of humor. Yes, the poet Alexei Zhemchuzhnikov remained faithful to the themes of Russian satirical poetry for decades. Yes, the whole friendly atmosphere big family Zhemchuzhnikov’s life was permeated with cheerfulness and at the same time rejection of the inert, official, stupid-minded.
There are many stories about pranks that the brothers organized in bureaucratic St. Petersburg. One day, one of them, dressed in the uniform of an aide-de-camp, that is, an officer of the imperial retinue, toured St. Petersburg architects at night, conveying the alleged order of Nicholas I to appear at the palace the next morning due to the fact that St. Isaac's Cathedral had fallen into the ground. His Majesty was very unhappy with this joke...
But over time, youthful rejection of the regulated way of life in the capital and throughout Russian life(“Our land is rich, but there is no order in it,” wrote A.K. Tolstoy in his famous satirical chronicle) began to give way to reflections on the creative essence of human nature, on the true values of existence.
When preparing the first “Complete Works of Kozma Prutkov” in 1884, the Zhemchuzhnikovs said that when creating Prutkov, they “developed in him qualities that they wanted to ridicule publicly.” Prutkov “adopted from other people who had success: courage, complacency, self-confidence, even arrogance, and began to consider his every thought, every writing and saying of his as a truth worthy of publication. He suddenly considered himself a dignitary in the field of thought and began to smugly expose his limitations and his ignorance.” The idea, widespread in Russian life, that an official, flesh and blood of the state mechanism, has the sole right to the truth, including in the areas of intellectual activity and creativity, was exposed to public scrutiny and obvious ridicule, which in itself paralyzes creative forces. “According to the proverb: “The city takes courage,” Kozma Prutkov won literary fame for himself with his courage. Being mentally limited, he gave advice of wisdom, not being a poet, he wrote poetry and dramatic works, believing to be a historian, he told jokes, having neither education nor even the slightest understanding of the needs of the fatherland, he composed government plans for him, - „ Diligence overcomes everything!’”
If Prutkov himself, with his, so to speak, biographical and mental data, is a satire on our eternal Russian bureaucrat, on the undying type of bureaucratic thinking, then the “lyrics” of the director of the Assay Office parody those literary forms and means that, with the development of poetry, have worn out and become banal and are perceived by readers without any aesthetic experiences, and thoughts - as a kind of walking morality, sad edification.
But the figure of Prutkov itself has served Russian literature well. The idea of literature as a servant of the state was brought to the point of absurdity in his writings and from now on could not be taken seriously. By its very existence, this image convinces the reader of the impossibility of reducing poetry to clerical instructions, and genuine, free inspiration to the search for encouragement. Any literary administrator who forgot about this sooner or later found himself in Prutkov’s position.
Sergey Dmitrenko
Fruits of meditation thoughts and aphorisms
1
The wedding ring is the first link in the chain of married life.
2
Our life can be conveniently compared to a capricious river, on the surface of which a boat floats, sometimes rocked by a quiet wave, often delayed in its movement by shallows and broken on an underwater rock. Is it necessary to mention that this fragile boat on the market of fleeting time is none other than the man himself?
3
No one will embrace the immensity.
4
There is no thing so great that it cannot be surpassed in magnitude by an even greater one. There is no thing so small that something even smaller cannot fit into it.
5
Look at the root!
6
It’s better to say little, but well.
7
Science refines the mind; learning will sharpen your memory.
8
What will others say about you if you can’t say anything about yourself?
9
Self-sacrifice is the target of every shooter's bullet.
10
A person's memory is a sheet of white paper: sometimes it is written well, and sometimes poorly.
11
A fading memory is like a lamp going out.
12
A weakening memory can also be compared to a fading forget-me-not.
13
I will always liken weakening eyes to an old, tarnished mirror, even cracked.
14
The imagination of a poet, dejected by grief, is like a foot enclosed in a new boot.
15
He who is passionately in love with one person endures another only out of convenience.
16
If you want to be beautiful, join the hussars.
17
Man, not being clothed with beneficent nature, received from above the gift of tailoring.
18
If there were no tailors, tell me: how would you distinguish between service departments?
19
Hiding the truth from your friends, to whom will you open up?
20
What's the best? – Compare the past and bring it together with the present.
21
It is more useful to go through the path of life than the entire universe.
22
If you have a fountain, shut it up; give the fountain a rest.
23
A married rake is like a sparrow.
24
A diligent doctor is like a pelican.
25
An egoist is like someone who has been sitting in a well for a long time.
26
Genius is like a hill rising out of a plain.
Mazurovsky V. Battle for the Banner (fragment)
27
Clever speeches are like lines printed in italics.
28
I would boldly liken the beginning of a clear day to the birth of an innocent baby: perhaps the first one cannot do without rain, and the life of the second one – without tears.
29
If the shadows of objects did not depend on the size of these latter, but had their own arbitrary growth, then, perhaps, soon there would not be a single bright place left on the entire globe.
30
Shooting at a target exercises the hand and gives fidelity to the eye.
31
A berdysh in the hands of a warrior is the same as a well-aimed word in the hands of a writer.
32
The magnetic needle, irresistibly drawn to the north, is like a husband who observes the laws.
33
The baby's first step is the first step towards his death.
34
Death is placed at the end of life in order to more conveniently prepare for it.
35
In a house without residents, you won’t find the famous insects.
36
Do not take anything to the extreme: a person who wants to eat too late runs the risk of eating the next day in the morning.
37
Food is as necessary for health as decent treatment is necessary for an educated person.
38
“Why,” says the egoist, “will I work for posterity, when it has done absolutely nothing for me?” - You are unfair, you madman! Posterity has already done for you that you, bringing the past closer to the present and future, can at will consider yourself: a baby, a youth and an old man.
39
Melt down the wax, but save the honey.
40
Explanatory expressions explain dark thoughts.
41
Not even a hussar uniform suits every person.
42
43
The chamberlain rarely enjoys nature.
44
No one will embrace the immensity.
45
Three things, once started, are difficult to finish: a) eat good food; b) talk with a friend who has returned from a hike and c) scratch where it itches.
46
Before you meet a person, find out: is his acquaintance pleasant for others?
47
Health without strength is the same as hardness without elasticity.
48
Everyone says that health is most valuable; but no one follows this.
49
The wealth of a dissolute person is equal to a short blanket: if you pull it to your nose, your legs will be exposed.
50
Do not irritate the wounds of your neighbor: offer balm to the suffering one... When you dig a hole for someone else, you yourself will fall into it.
51
If you are asked: what is healthier, the sun or the month? – answer: month. For the sun shines during the day, when it is already light; and the month is at night.
52
But, on the other hand: the sun is better because it shines and warms; and the moon only shines, and then only on a moonlit night!
Kulikov I. S. Portrait of A. S. Uvarov
53
Self-love and love of fame are the best evidence of the immortality of the human soul.
Just talk about what your concepts allow you to talk about. So: without knowing the laws of the Iroquois language, can you make such a judgment on this subject that would not be unreasonably stupid?
56
When you get down to business, gather your courage.
57
I would boldly liken a pen writing for money to a barrel organ in the hands of a wandering foreigner.
58
Click the mare on the nose and she will wag her tail.
59
Do not be timid in front of the enemy: a person’s fiercest enemy is himself.
60
And turpentine is good for anything!
61
Everyone necessarily causes benefit when used in its place. On the contrary: the exercises of the best dance master in chemistry are inappropriate; The dance advice of an experienced astronomer is stupid.
62
Time is measured by clocks, and human life is measured by time; but how, tell me, will you measure the depth of the Eastern Ocean?
63
They say that work kills time; but this latter, without diminishing in any way, continues to serve humanity and the entire universe constantly in the same completeness and continuity.
64
There is sediment at the bottom of every heart.
65
Under sweet expressions, insidious thoughts lurk: for example, someone who smokes tobacco often smells of perfume.
66
Many things are incomprehensible to us not because our concepts are weak; but because these things are not included in the range of our concepts.
67
No one will embrace the immensity!
68
A chatterbox is like a pendulum: both need to be stopped.
69
Two people of the same build would not fight for long if the strength of one overcame the strength of the other.
70
Not everything that grows is strigi.
71
Nails and hair are given to a person in order to provide him with constant but easy occupation.
72
Some singers sometimes wheeze.
73
Encouragement is as necessary for a brilliant writer as rosin is necessary for a virtuoso’s bow.
74
Once you lie, who will believe you?
75
Life is an album. Man is a pencil. Things are a landscape. Time is gumelastic: it bounces off and erases.
76
It is easier to continue laughing than to stop laughing.
77
Look into the distance - you will see the distance; look at the sky - you will see the sky; When you look into a small mirror, you only see yourself.
78
Where is the beginning of the end with which the beginning ends?
79
The sooner you drive, the sooner you will arrive.
80
If you want to be happy, be it.
Kramskoy I. N. Mina Moiseev
81
Do not seek unity in the totality, but rather in the uniformity of division.
82
He who is diligent in service should not be afraid of his ignorance; for he will read every new case.
83
The rooster wakes up early; but the villain is even earlier.
84
Diligence overcomes everything!
85
What we have, we don’t store; Having lost, we cry.
86
And the oyster has enemies!
87
A renewed wound is much worse than a new one.
88
In the depths of every chest there is a snake.
89
Only in public service will you learn the truth.
90
I would boldly liken another walking old man to an hourglass.
91
Don't joke with women: these jokes are stupid and indecent.
92
An excessively rich man who does not help the poor is like a hefty nurse suckling with appetite her own breast at the cradle of a starving child.
93
The magnet points north and south; It is up to a person to choose a good or bad path of life.
94
Don't put leggings on other people's legs.
95
A person is bifurcated from below, and not from above, so that two supports are more reliable than one.
96
A person corresponds with the entire globe, and through the press communicates even with distant posterity.
97
The stupidest man was the one who invented tassels for decoration and gold nails on furniture.
98
Many people are like sausages: what they are stuffed with is what they carry around with them.
99
A sensitive person is like an icicle; warm it up, it will melt.
100
Many officials are like a steel pen.
101
A specialist is like gumboil: its completeness is one-sided.
102
In the edifice of human happiness, friendship builds the walls, and love forms the dome.
103
Looking at tall people and on tall objects, hold your cap by the visor.
104
Spit in the eyes of anyone who says that you can embrace the immensity!
105
The globe, revolving in boundless space, serves as a pedestal for everything found on it.
106
If you read the inscription “buffalo” on an elephant’s cage, don’t believe your eyes.
107
Ant eggs are greater than the creature that gave birth to them; so the glory of a gifted person is far longer lasting than his own life.
108
Every thing is a form of manifestation of infinite diversity.
Dow J. Portrait of A. A. Tuchkov the fourth
109
All parts of the globe have their own, sometimes even very curious, other parts.
110
Looking at the world, one cannot help but be surprised!
111
The most distant point on the globe is close to something, and the closest point is distant from something.
112
The philosopher easily triumphs over future and past sorrows, but he is easily defeated by the present.
113
I will always liken the sky dotted with stars to the chest of an honored general.
114
Dobliy 1
Valiant (Church Slav.).
A husband is like a mausoleum.
115
Blackax blackens with benefit, and an evil person with pleasure.
116
Vices are part of virtue, just as poisonous drugs are part of healing remedies.
117
Of all the fruits, the best comes from good education.
118
Love, supported like fire by constant movement, disappears along with hope and fear.
119
It is calculated that a St. Petersburg resident living in the sun gains twenty percent of his health.
120
Man is given two hands at that end, so that, receiving with his left, he distributes with his right.
121
Sometimes it is enough to curse a person in order not to be deceived by him!
122
Do not seek salvation in a separate agreement.
123
A jealous husband is like a Turk.
124
Almost every person is like a vessel with taps filled with the life-giving moisture of productive forces.
125
An intelligent woman is like Semiramis.
126
Any veil is like a wagtail.
127
The messenger is like a sieve.
128
Girls are generally like checkers: not every one succeeds, but everyone wants to get into the kings.
129
Always stay alert!
130
The peace of mind of many would be safer if it were allowed to attribute all troubles to the public account.
131
Don't walk along the slope, you'll wear out your boots!
132
I advise everyone: even in particularly wet and windy weather, stuff your ears with cotton paper or marine rope.
133
Who's stopping you from inventing waterproof gunpowder?
134
Snow is considered a shroud of dead nature; but it also serves as the first route for life supplies. So unravel nature!
135
The barometer in agriculture can be, with great benefit, replaced by diligent servants suffering from deliberate rheumatism.
Ge N. N. Portrait of the writer and public figure Elena Osipovna Likhacheva
136
A dog sitting on hay is harmful. A chicken sitting on eggs is healthy. From a sedentary life they become fat: so, every money changer is fat.
137
Wrongful wealth is like watercress - it grows on every felt.
138
Every human head is like a stomach: one digests the food that enters it, and the other becomes clogged with it.
139
Things are great and small not only according to the will of fate and circumstances, but also according to the concepts of everyone.
140
And sago, consumed in excess, can cause harm.
141
Looking at the sun, squint your eyes, and you can clearly see the spots in it.
142
Time is like a skillful manager, constantly producing new talents to replace those that have disappeared.
143
Talents measure the success of civilization, and they also provide milestones of history, serving as telegrams from ancestors and contemporaries to posterity.
144
And when railways It's better to keep the gig.
145
Submission cools anger and gives dimension to mutual feelings.
146
If everything that was past was present, and the present continued to exist with the future, who would be able to make out: where are the causes and where are the consequences?
147
Happiness is like a ball that rolls up: today under one, tomorrow under another, the day after tomorrow under a third, then under a fourth, fifth, etc., according to the number and line of happy people.
148
Others insist that everyone's life is written in the book of Genesis.
149
I don’t quite understand: why do many people call fate a turkey, and not some other bird that is more similar to fate?
150
151
What seems best to everyone is what he has a desire for.
152
Publishing some newspapers, magazines and even books can be profitable.
153
Never lose sight of the fact that it is much easier not to satisfy many than to please them.
154
A good ruler is rightly likened to a coachman.
155
A good cigar is like the globe: it spins for man's pleasure.
156
When throwing pebbles into the water, look at the circles they form; otherwise such throwing will be empty fun.
157
Piety, hypocrisy, superstition - three different things.
158
Sedateness is a reliable spring in the mechanism of community life.
159
For many people, skating causes shortness of breath and shaking.
160
I’ll say it again: no one can embrace the immensity!