Perhaps no one living in Moscow knows the surroundings of this city as well as I do, because no one is in the field more often than me, no one more than me wanders on foot, without a plan, without a goal - wherever the eyes look - through the meadows and groves , over hills and plains. Every summer I find new pleasant places or new beauty in old ones. But the most pleasant place for me is the place where the gloomy, Gothic towers of the Sin...nova Monastery rise. Standing on this mountain, you see right side almost all of Moscow, this terrible mass of houses and churches, which appears to the eye in the form of a majestic amphitheater: a magnificent picture, especially when the sun shines on it, when its evening rays glow on countless golden domes, on countless crosses ascending to the sky! Below are lush, densely green flowering meadows, and behind them, along the yellow sands, flows a light river, agitated by light oars fishing boats or rustling under the helm of heavy plows that sail from the most fertile countries Russian Empire and provide greedy Moscow with bread.
Visible on the other side of the river Oak Grove, near which numerous herds graze; there young shepherds, sitting under the shade of trees, sing simple, sad songs and reduce the summer days, so uniform for them. Further away, in the dense greenery of ancient elms, the golden-domed Danilov Monastery shines; even further, almost at the edge of the horizon, the Sparrow Hills are blue. On the left side you can see vast fields covered with grain, forests, three or four villages and in the distance the village of Kolomenskoye with its high palace.
I often come to this place and almost always see spring there; I come there and grieve with nature on the dark days of autumn. The winds howl terribly within the walls of the deserted monastery, between the coffins overgrown with tall grass, and in the dark passages of the cells. There, leaning on the ruins of tombstones, I listen to the dull groan of times, swallowed up by the abyss of the past - a groan from which my heart shudders and trembles. Sometimes I enter cells and imagine those who lived in them - sad pictures! Here I see a gray-haired old man, kneeling before the crucifix and praying for a quick release from his earthly shackles, for all the pleasures in life had disappeared for him, all his feelings had died, except for the feeling of illness and weakness. There a young monk - with a pale face, with a languid gaze - looks into the field through the lattice of the window, sees cheerful birds swimming freely in the sea of air, sees - and sheds bitter tears from his eyes. He languishes, withers, dries up - and the sad ringing of a bell announces to me his untimely death. Sometimes on the gates of the temple I look at the image of miracles that happened in this monastery, where fish fall from the sky to feed the inhabitants of the monastery, besieged by numerous enemies; here the image of the Mother of God puts the enemies to flight. All this renews in my memory the history of our fatherland - the sad history of those times when the ferocious Tatars and Lithuanians devastated the environs of the Russian capital with fire and sword and when unfortunate Moscow, like a defenseless widow, expected help from God alone in its cruel disasters.
But most often what attracts me to the walls of the Sin...nova Monastery is the memory of the deplorable fate of Lisa, poor Lisa. Oh! I love those objects that touch my heart and make me shed tears of tender sorrow!
Seventy yards from the monastery wall, near a birch grove, in the middle of a green meadow, there stands an empty hut, without doors, without endings, without a floor; the roof had long since rotted and collapsed. In this hut, thirty years before, the beautiful, amiable Liza lived with her old woman, her mother.
Lizin's father was a fairly prosperous villager, because he loved work, plowed the land well and always led sober life. But soon after his death, his wife and daughter became poor. The lazy hand of the mercenary poorly cultivated the field, and the grain ceased to be produced well. They were forced to rent out their land, and for very little money. Moreover, the poor widow, almost constantly shedding tears over the death of her husband - for even peasant women know how to love! – day by day she became weaker and could not work at all. Only Lisa, who remained after her father for fifteen years, - only Lisa, not sparing her tender youth, not sparing her rare beauty, worked day and night - weaving canvases, knitting stockings, picking flowers in the spring, and taking berries in the summer - and selling them in Moscow. The sensitive, kind old woman, seeing her daughter’s tirelessness, often pressed her to her weakly beating heart, called her divine mercy, nurse, the joy of her old age, and prayed to God to reward her for all that she does for her mother.
“God gave me hands to work with,” said Lisa, “you fed me with your breasts and followed me when I was a child; now it’s my turn to follow you. Just stop being upset, stop crying; our tears will not revive the priests.” .
But often tender Liza could not hold back her own tears - ah! she remembered that she had a father and that he was gone, but to reassure her mother she tried to hide the sadness of her heart and appear calm and cheerful. “In the next world, dear Liza,” answered the sad old woman, “in the next world I will stop crying. There, they say, everyone will be cheerful; I’ll probably be cheerful when I see your father. Only now I don’t want to die - what’s wrong with you?” will it be without me? Who will leave you? No, God grant that I will find a place for you first! a kind person. Then, having blessed you, my dear children, I will cross myself and calmly lie down in the damp earth.”
Two years have passed since the death of Lizin's father. The meadows were covered with flowers, and Lisa came to Moscow with lilies of the valley. A young, well-dressed, pleasant-looking man met her on the street. She showed him the flowers and blushed. "Are you selling them, girl?" – he asked with a smile. “I’m selling,” she answered. "What do you need?" - “Five kopecks.” - “It’s too cheap. Here’s a ruble for you.”
Lisa was surprised and dared to look at young man, - she blushed even more and, looking down at the ground, told him that she would not take the ruble. “For what?” – “I don’t need anything extra.” - “I think that beautiful lilies of the valley, plucked by the hands of a beautiful girl, are worth a ruble. When you don’t take it, here’s five kopecks for you. I would always like to buy flowers from you; I would like you to pick them just for me.” Lisa gave the flowers, took five kopecks, bowed and wanted to go, but the stranger stopped her by the hand: “Where are you going, girl?” - “Home.” - “Where is your house?” Lisa said where she lived, said and went. The young man did not want to hold her, perhaps so that those passing by began to stop and, looking at them, grinned insidiously.
When Lisa came home, she told her mother what had happened to her. “You did well not to take the ruble. Maybe it was some bad person...” - “Oh no, mother! I don’t think so. He has such a kind face, such a voice...” - “ However, Liza, it’s better to feed yourself by your own labors and not take anything for nothing. You don’t know yet, my friend. evil people They might offend the poor girl! My heart is always in the wrong place when you go to town; I always put a candle in front of the image and pray to the Lord God that he will protect you from all troubles and misfortunes.” Tears welled up in Lisa’s eyes; she kissed her mother.
The next day Lisa picked the best lilies of the valley and again went into town with them. Her eyes were quietly searching for something.
Many wanted to buy flowers from her, but she replied that they were not for sale, and looked first in one direction or the other. Evening came, it was time to return home, and the flowers were thrown into the Moscow River. "Nobody owns you!" - said Lisa, feeling some kind of sadness in her heart.
The next day in the evening she was sitting under the window, spinning and singing plaintive songs in a quiet voice, but suddenly she jumped up and shouted: “Ah!..” A young stranger stood under the window.
"What happened to you?" – asked the frightened mother, who was sitting next to her. “Nothing, mother,” answered Lisa in a timid voice, “I just saw him.” - "Whom?" - “The gentleman who bought flowers from me.” The old woman looked out the window.
The young man bowed to her so courteously, with such a pleasant air, that she could not think anything but good things about him. “Hello, good old lady!” he said. “I’m very tired; do you have any fresh milk?”
The helpful Liza, without waiting for an answer from her mother - perhaps because she knew it in advance - ran to the cellar - brought a clean jar covered with a clean wooden mug - grabbed a glass, washed it, wiped it with a white towel, poured it and served it out the window, but she was looking at the ground. The stranger drank - and the nectar from Hebe’s hands could not have seemed tastier to him. Everyone will guess that after that he thanked Lisa, and thanked her not so much with words as with his eyes.
Meanwhile, the good-natured old woman managed to tell him about her grief and consolation - about the death of her husband and about the sweet qualities of her daughter, about her hard work and tenderness, and so on. and so on. He listened to her with attention, but his eyes were - need I say where? And Liza, timid Liza, glanced occasionally at the young man; but not so quickly the lightning flashes and disappears in the cloud, as quickly as her blue eyes turn to the ground, meeting his gaze. “I would like,” he said to his mother, “for your daughter not to sell her work to anyone but me. Thus, she will have no need to go to the city often, and you will not be forced to part with her. I myself can sometimes come to you." Here a joy flashed in Liza’s eyes, which she tried in vain to hide; her cheeks glowed like the dawn on a clear summer evening; she looked at her left sleeve and pinched it right hand. The old woman willingly accepted this offer, not suspecting any bad intention in it, and assured the stranger that the linen woven by Lisa, and the stockings knitted by Lisa, were excellent and last longer than any others.
It was getting dark, and the young man wanted to go. “What should we call you, kind, gentle master?” - asked the old woman. “My name is Erast,” he answered. “Erast,” said Lisa quietly, “Erast!” She repeated this name five times, as if trying to solidify it. Erast said goodbye to them and left. Lisa followed him with her eyes, and the mother sat thoughtfully and, taking her daughter by the hand, said to her: “Oh, Lisa! How good and kind he is! If only your groom were like that!” Liza's heart began to tremble. “Mother! Mother! How can this happen? He is a gentleman, and among the peasants...” - Lisa did not finish her speech.
Now the reader should know that this young man, this Erast, was quite a rich nobleman, with a fair amount of intelligence and kind hearted, kind by nature, but weak and flighty. He led an absent-minded life, thought only about his own pleasure, looked for it in secular amusements, but often did not find it: he was bored and complained about his fate. Lisa's beauty made an impression on his heart at the first meeting. He read novels, idylls, had a fairly vivid imagination and often moved mentally to those times (former or not), in which, according to the poets, all people carelessly walked through the meadows, bathed in clean springs, kissed like turtle doves, rested under They spent all their days with roses and myrtles and in happy idleness. It seemed to him that he had found in Lisa what his heart had been looking for for a long time. “Nature calls me into its arms, to its pure joys,” he thought and decided - at least for a while - to leave the big world.
Let's turn to Lisa. Night came - the mother blessed her daughter and wished her a gentle sleep, but this time her wish was not fulfilled: Lisa slept very poorly. The new guest of her soul, the image of the Erasts, appeared so vividly to her that she woke up almost every minute, woke up and sighed. Even before the sun rose, Lisa got up, went down to the bank of the Moscow River, sat down on the grass and, saddened, looked at the white mists that were agitated in the air and, rising upward, left shiny drops on the green cover of nature. Silence reigned everywhere. But soon the rising luminary of the day awakened all creation: the groves and bushes came to life, the birds fluttered and sang, the flowers raised their heads to drink in the life-giving rays of light. But Lisa still sat there, saddened. Oh, Lisa, Lisa! What happened to you? Until now, waking up with the birds, you had fun with them in the morning, and a pure, joyful soul shone in your eyes, like the sun shines in drops of heavenly dew; but now you are thoughtful, and the general joy of nature is alien to your heart. “Meanwhile, a young shepherd was driving his flock along the river bank, playing the pipe. Lisa fixed her gaze on him and thought: “If the one who now occupies my thoughts was born a simple peasant, a shepherd, - and if he were now driving his flock past me: ah! I would bow to him with a smile and say friendly: “Hello, dear shepherd! Where are you driving your flock? And here green grass grows for your sheep, and here flowers grow red, from which you can weave a wreath for your hat." He would look at me with a gentle look - he would perhaps take my hand... A dream!" A shepherd, playing the flute, passed by and disappeared with his motley flock behind a nearby hill.
Suddenly Lisa heard the sound of oars - she looked at the river and saw a boat, and in the boat - Erast.
All the veins in her were clogged, and, of course, not from fear. She got up and wanted to go, but she couldn’t. Erast jumped out onto the shore, approached Lisa and - her dream was partly fulfilled: for he looked at her with an affectionate look, took her hand... But Lisa, Lisa stood with downcast eyes, with fiery cheeks, with a trembling heart - she could not take his hands away, she couldn’t turn away when he approached her with his pink lips... Ah! He kissed her, kissed her with such fervor that the whole universe seemed to her to be on fire! “Dear Liza!” said Erast. “Dear Liza! I love you!”, and these words echoed in the depths of her soul like heavenly, delightful music; she hardly dared to believe her ears and...
But I throw down the brush. I will only say that at that moment of delight Liza’s timidity disappeared - Erast learned that he was loved, loved passionately with a new, pure, open heart.
They sat on the grass, and so that there was not much space between them, they looked into each other’s eyes, said to each other: “Love me!”, and two hours seemed to them like an instant. Finally Lisa remembered that her mother might worry about her. It was necessary to separate. “Oh, Erast!” she said. “Will you always love me?” - “Always, dear Lisa, always!” - he answered. “And can you swear to me this?” - “I can, dear Lisa, I can!” - “No! I don’t need an oath. I believe you, Erast, I believe you. Are you really going to deceive poor Liza? Surely this cannot be?” - “You can’t, you can’t, dear Lisa!” - “How happy I am, and how happy mother will be when she finds out that you love me!” - “Oh no, Lisa! She doesn’t need to say anything.” - “For what?” - “Old people can be suspicious. She will imagine something bad.” - “It can’t happen.” - “However, I ask you not to say a word to her about this.” - “Okay: I need to listen to you, although I wouldn’t want to hide anything from her.”
They said goodbye, kissed last time and they promised to see each other every day in the evening, either on the river bank, or in the birch grove, or somewhere near Liza’s hut, just to be sure, to see each other without fail. Lisa went, but her eyes turned a hundred times to Erast, who was still standing on the shore and looking after her.
Lisa returned to her hut in a completely different state than in which she left it. Heartfelt joy was revealed on her face and in all her movements. "He loves me!" - she thought and admired this thought. “Oh, mother!” Liza said to her mother, who had just woken up. “Oh, mother! What a wonderful morning! How fun everything is in the field! Never have the larks sung so well, never has the sun shone so brightly, never have the flowers been so pleasant smelled!" The old woman, propped up with a stick, went out into the meadow to enjoy the morning, which Lisa described in such lovely colors. It really seemed to her extremely pleasant; the kind daughter cheered up her whole nature with her joy. “Oh, Liza!” she said. “How good everything is with the Lord God! I’m sixty years old in this world, and I still can’t get enough of God’s works, I can’t get enough of the clear sky, like a high tent, and the earth, which Every year it is covered with new grass and new flowers. The king of heaven must love man very much when he cleansed up the local light so well for him. Oh, Liza! Who would want to die if we didn’t sometimes have grief? necessary. Maybe we would forget our souls if tears never fell from our eyes.” And Lisa thought: “Ah! I would sooner forget my soul than my dear friend!”
After this, Erast and Liza, afraid of not keeping their word, saw each other every evening (while Liza’s mother went to bed) either on the river bank, or in a birch grove, but most often under the shade of hundred-year-old oak trees (eighty fathoms from the hut) - oaks , overshadowing the deep clean pond, fossilized in ancient times. There, the often quiet moon, through the green branches, silvered Liza’s blond hair with its rays, with which the zephyrs and the hand of a dear friend played; often these rays illuminated in the eyes of tender Liza a brilliant tear of love, always dried with Erast’s kiss. They hugged - but chaste, bashful Cynthia did not hide from them behind a cloud: their embrace was pure and immaculate. “When you,” said Lisa to Erast, “when you tell me: “I love you, my friend!”, when you press me to your heart and look at me with your touching eyes, ah! then it happens to me so good, so good that I forget myself, I forget everything except Erast. It’s wonderful, my friend, that without knowing you I could live calmly and cheerfully! Now I don’t understand this, now I think that without you life is not life, but sadness and boredom. Without your eyes the bright month is dark; without your voice the singing nightingale is boring; without your breath the breeze is unpleasant to me.” Erast admired his shepherdess—that’s what he called Lisa—and, seeing how much she loved him, he seemed more kind to himself. All the brilliant fun big world seemed insignificant to him in comparison with the pleasures with which the passionate friendship of an innocent soul nourished his heart. With disgust he thought about the contemptuous voluptuousness with which his feelings had previously reveled. “I will live with Liza, like brother and sister,” he thought, “I will not use her love for evil and I will always be happy!” Reckless young man! Do you know your heart? Can you always be responsible for your movements? Is reason always the king of your feelings?
Lisa demanded that Erast often visit her mother. “I love her,” she said, “and I want the best for her, but it seems to me that seeing you is a great blessing for everyone.” The old lady was really always happy when she saw him. She loved to talk with him about her late husband and tell him about the days of her youth, about how she first met her dear Ivan, how he fell in love with her and in what love, in what harmony he lived with her. “Ah! We could never look at each other enough - until that very hour when cruel death crushed his legs. He died in my arms!” Erast listened to her with unfeigned pleasure. He bought Liza’s work from her and always wanted to pay ten times more than the price she set, but the old woman never took extra.
Several weeks passed in this way. One evening Erast waited a long time for his Lisa. Finally she came, but she was so sad that he was afraid; her eyes turned red from tears. "Lisa, Liza! What happened to you?" - “Oh, Erast! I cried!” - “About what? What is it?” - “I have to tell you everything. The groom, the son of a rich peasant from neighboring village; Mother wants me to marry him." - "And you agree?" - "Cruel! Can you ask about this? Yes, I feel sorry for mother; she cries and says that I don’t want her peace of mind, that she will suffer at the point of death if she doesn’t marry me off with her. Oh! Mother doesn’t know that I have such a dear friend!” Erast kissed Lisa, said that her happiness was dearer to him than anything in the world, that after her mother’s death he would take her to him and live with her inseparably, in the village and in the dense forests. forests, like in paradise. “But you can’t be my husband!” said Lisa with a quiet sigh. “Why?” “I’m a peasant.” For your friend, the most important thing is the soul, the sensitive, innocent soul - and Lisa will always be closest to my heart."
She threw herself into his arms - and at this hour her integrity had to perish! Erast felt an extraordinary excitement in his blood - Liza had never seemed so charming to him - never had her caresses touched him so much - never had her kisses been so fiery - she knew nothing, suspected nothing, was afraid of nothing - the darkness of the evening fed desires - not a single star shone in the sky - no ray could illuminate the errors. - Erast feels awe in himself - Lisa also, not knowing why, not knowing what is happening to her... Ah, Lisa, Lisa! Where is your guardian angel? Where is your innocence?
The delusion passed in one minute. Lisa did not understand her feelings, she was surprised and asked. Erast was silent - he searched for words and did not find them. “Oh, I’m afraid,” said Lisa, “I’m afraid of what happened to us! It seemed to me that I was dying, that my soul... No, I don’t know how to say it!.. Are you silent, Erast? Are you sighing?.. My God! What is it? Meanwhile, lightning flashed and thunder roared. Lisa trembled all over. “Erast, Erast!” she said. “I’m scared! I’m afraid that the thunder will kill me like a criminal!” The storm roared menacingly, rain poured from black clouds - it seemed that nature was lamenting about Liza’s lost innocence. Erast tried to calm Lisa down and walked her to the hut. Tears rolled from her eyes as she said goodbye to him. “Oh, Erast! Assure me that we will continue to be happy!” - “We will, Lisa, we will!” - he answered. - “God willing! I can’t help but believe your words: I love you! Only in my heart... But that’s enough! Forgive me! Tomorrow, tomorrow I’ll see you.”
Their dates continued; but how everything has changed! Erast could no longer be satisfied with just the innocent caresses of his Liza - just her glances filled with love - just one touch of a hand, one kiss, just one pure embrace. He wanted more, more, and finally could not want anything - and whoever knows his heart, who has reflected on the nature of its most tender pleasures, will, of course, agree with me that the fulfillment of all desires is the most dangerous temptation of love. For Erast, Lisa was no longer that angel of purity that had previously inflamed his imagination and delighted his soul. Platonic love gave way to feelings of which he could not be proud and which were no longer new to him. As for Lisa, she, completely surrendering to him, only lived and breathed him, in everything, like a lamb, she obeyed his will and placed her happiness in his pleasure. She saw a change in him and often told him: “Before you were more cheerful, before we were calmer and happier, and before I was not so afraid of losing your love!” Sometimes, saying goodbye to her, he told her: “Tomorrow, Liza, I can’t see you: I have an important matter to attend to,” and every time at these words Liza sighed.
Finally, for five days in a row she did not see him and was in the greatest anxiety; at six he came with sad face and said: “Dear Liza! I have to say goodbye to you for a while. You know that we are at war, I am in the service, my regiment is going on a campaign.” Lisa turned pale and almost fainted.
Erast caressed her, said that he would always love dear Liza and hoped that upon his return he would never part with her. She was silent for a long time, then she burst into bitter tears, grabbed his hand and, looking at him with all the tenderness of love, asked: “Can’t you stay?” “I can,” he answered, “but only with the greatest dishonor, with the greatest stain on my honor. Everyone will despise me; everyone will abhor me as a coward, as an unworthy son of the fatherland.” “Oh, when that’s the case,” said Lisa, “then go, go wherever God tells you! But they can kill you.” - “Death for the fatherland is not terrible, dear Liza.” - “I will die as soon as you are no longer in the world.” - “But why think about it? I hope to stay alive, I hope to return to you, my friend.” - “God willing! God willing! Every day, every hour I will pray about it. Oh, why can’t I read or write. You would notify me about everything that happens to you, and I would write to you - about your tears!" - “No, take care of yourself, Lisa, take care of your friend. I don’t want you to cry without me.” - “Cruel man! You think to deprive me of this joy! No! Having parted with you, will I stop crying when my heart dries up.” - “Think about the pleasant moment in which we will see each other again.” - “I will, I will think about her! Oh, if only she would come sooner! Dear, dear Erast! Remember, remember your poor Liza, who loves you more than herself!”
But I cannot describe everything that they said on this occasion. The next day was supposed to be the last date.
Erast also wanted to say goodbye to Liza’s mother, who could not hold back tears when she heard that her affectionate, handsome master was about to go to war. He forced her to take some money from him, saying: “I don’t want Lisa to sell her work in my absence, which, by agreement, belongs to me.” The old lady showered him with blessings. “God grant,” she said, “that you return to us safely and that I see you once again in this life! Perhaps by that time my Lisa will find a groom according to her thoughts. How I would thank God if you came for our wedding! When Lisa has children, know, master, that you must baptize them! Oh! Lisa stood next to her mother and did not dare look at her. The reader can easily imagine what she felt at that moment.
But what did she feel then when Erast, hugging her for the last time, pressing her to his heart for the last time, said: “Forgive me, Liza!..” What a touching picture! The morning dawn, like a scarlet sea, spread across the eastern sky. Erast stood under the branches of a tall oak tree, holding in his arms his poor, languid, sorrowful friend, who, saying goodbye to him, said goodbye to her soul. The whole nature was silent.
Lisa sobbed - Erast cried - left her - she fell - knelt down, raised her hands to the sky and looked at Erast, who was moving away - further - further - and finally disappeared - the sun rose, and Lisa, abandoned, poor, fainted and memory.
She came to her senses - and the light seemed dull and sad to her. All the pleasant things of nature were hidden for her along with those dear to her heart. “Ah!” she thought. “Why did I stay in this desert? What keeps me from flying after dear Erast? War is not scary for me; it’s scary where my friend is not there. I want to live with him, die with him, or die by my own.” to save his precious life. Wait, wait, dear! I’m flying to you!” She already wanted to run after Erast, but the thought: “I have a mother!” – stopped her. Lisa sighed and, bowing her head, walked with quiet steps towards her hut. From that hour, her days were days of melancholy and sorrow, which had to be hidden from her tender mother: all the more did her heart suffer! Then it only became easier when Lisa, secluded in the depths of the forest, could freely shed tears and moan about separation from her beloved. Often the sad turtledove combined his plaintive voice with her moaning. But sometimes - although very rarely - a golden ray of hope, a ray of consolation, illuminated the darkness of her sorrow. “When he returns to me, how happy I will be! How everything will change!” From this thought her gaze cleared, the roses on her cheeks were refreshed, and Lisa smiled like a May morning after a stormy night. Thus, about two months passed.
One day Lisa had to go to Moscow to buy rose water, which her mother used to treat her eyes. On one of the big streets she met a magnificent carriage, and in this carriage she saw Erast. "Oh!" - Lisa screamed and rushed towards him, but the carriage drove past and turned into the yard. Erast came out and was about to go to the porch of the huge house, when he suddenly felt himself in Lisa’s arms. He turned pale - then, without answering a word to her exclamations, he took her hand, led her into his office, locked the door and said to her: “Lisa! Circumstances have changed; I was engaged to get married; you must leave me alone for your own peace of mind.” forget me. I loved you and now I love you, that is, I wish you every good thing. Here are a hundred rubles - take them,” he put the money in her pocket, “let me kiss you for the last time - and go home.” Before Lisa could come to her senses, he took her out of the office and said to the servant: “Escort this girl from the yard.”
My heart is bleeding at this very moment. I forget the man in Erast - I’m ready to curse him - but my tongue does not move - I look at him, and a tear rolls down my face. Oh! Why am I writing not a novel, but a sad true story?
So, Erast deceived Lisa by telling her that he was going to the army? No, he really was in the army, but instead of fighting the enemy, he played cards and lost almost all his property. Peace was soon concluded, and Erast returned to Moscow, burdened with debts. He had only one way to improve his circumstances - to marry an elderly rich widow who had long been in love with him. He decided to do so and moved to live in her house, dedicating a sincere sigh to his Lisa. But can all this justify him?
Lisa found herself on the street, and in a position that no pen could describe. "He, he kicked me out? Does he love someone else? I'm dead!" - these are her thoughts, her feelings! A severe faint interrupted them for a while. One kind woman who was walking down the street stopped over Liza, who was lying on the ground, and tried to bring her to memory. The unfortunate woman opened her eyes and stood up with the help of this kind woman– thanked her and went, not knowing where. “I can’t live,” thought Lisa, “I can’t!.. Oh, if the sky would fall on me! If the earth would swallow up the poor woman!.. No! The sky doesn’t fall; the earth doesn’t shake! Woe to me!” She left the city and suddenly saw herself on the shore of a deep pond, under the shade of ancient oak trees, which a few weeks before had been silent witnesses to her delight. This memory shook her soul; the most terrible heartache was depicted on her face. But after a few minutes she fell into some thoughtfulness - she looked around her, saw her neighbor’s daughter (a fifteen-year-old girl) walking along the road - she called her, took ten imperials out of her pocket and, handing them to her, said: “Dear Anyuta, dear friend! Take it to her.” this money to my mother - it is not stolen - tell her that Liza is guilty against her, that I hid from her my love for one cruel man - for E... Why know his name - Tell me that he cheated on me? - ask her to forgive me, - God will be her helper, kiss her hand the way I kiss yours now, say that poor Lisa ordered me to kiss her, - say that I...” Then she threw herself into the water. Anyuta screamed and cried, but could not save her, she ran to the village - people gathered and pulled Lisa out, but she was already dead.
Thus she ended her life beautiful soul and body. When we see each other there in a new life, I will recognize you, gentle Lisa!
She was buried near a pond, under a gloomy oak tree, and a wooden cross was placed on her grave. Here I often sit in thought, leaning on the receptacle of Liza’s ashes; a pond flows in my eyes; The leaves rustle above me.
Lisa's mother heard about terrible death her daughter, and her blood ran cold with horror - her eyes closed forever. The hut was empty. The wind howls in it, and the superstitious villagers, hearing this noise at night, say: “There is a dead man moaning there; poor Lisa is moaning there!”
Erast was unhappy until the end of his life. Having learned about Lizina’s fate, he could not console himself and considered himself a murderer. I met him a year before his death. He himself told me this story and led me to Lisa’s grave. Now maybe they have already reconciled!
According to the publication: Karamzin N. M. Selected works: In 2 volumes - M.; L.: Fiction, 1964.
In the outskirts of Moscow, not far from the Simonov Monastery, there once lived a young girl Lisa with her old mother. After the death of Liza's father, a fairly wealthy villager, his wife and daughter became poor. The widow became weaker day by day and could not work. Liza alone, not sparing her tender youth and rare beauty, worked day and night - weaving canvases, knitting stockings, picking flowers in the spring, and berries in the summer and selling them in Moscow.
One spring, two years after her father’s death, Lisa came to Moscow with lilies of the valley. A young, well-dressed man met her on the street. Having learned that she was selling flowers, he offered her a ruble instead of five kopecks, saying that “beautiful lilies of the valley, plucked by the hands of a beautiful girl, are worth a ruble.” But Lisa refused the offered amount. He did not insist, but said that in the future he would always buy flowers from her and would like her to pick them only for him.
Arriving home, Lisa told her mother everything, and the next day she picked the best lilies of the valley and came to the city again, but this time she did not meet the young man. Throwing flowers into the river, she returned home with sadness in her soul. The next day in the evening the stranger himself came to her house. As soon as she saw him, Lisa rushed to her mother and excitedly told him who was coming to them. The old woman met the guest, and he seemed to her to be a very kind and pleasant person. Erast—that was the young man’s name—confirmed that he was going to buy flowers from Lisa in the future, and she didn’t have to go into town: he could stop by to see them himself.
Erast was a rather rich nobleman, with a fair amount of intelligence and a naturally kind heart, but weak and flighty. He led an absent-minded life, thought only about his own pleasure, looked for it in secular amusements, and not finding it, he was bored and complained about fate. At the first meeting, Lisa’s immaculate beauty shocked him: it seemed to him that in her he found exactly what he had been looking for for a long time.
This was the beginning of their long dates. Every evening they saw each other either on the river bank, or in a birch grove, or under the shade of hundred-year-old oak trees. They hugged, but their hugs were pure and innocent.
Several weeks passed like this. It seemed that nothing could interfere with their happiness. But one evening Lisa came to a date sad. It turned out that the groom, the son of a rich peasant, was wooing her, and her mother wanted her to marry him. Erast, consoling Lisa, said that after his mother’s death he would take her to him and live with her inseparably. But Lisa reminded the young man that he could never be her husband: she was a peasant woman, and he noble family. You offend me, said Erast, for your friend the most important thing is your soul, a sensitive, innocent soul, you will always be closest to my heart. Lisa threw herself into his arms - and at that hour her integrity was about to perish.
The delusion passed in one minute, giving way to surprise and fear. Lisa cried saying goodbye to Erast.
Their dates continued, but how everything changed! Lisa was no longer an angel of purity for Erast; platonic love gave way to feelings that he could not be “proud of” and that were not new to him. Lisa noticed a change in him, and it saddened her.
One day during a date, Erast told Lisa that he was being drafted into the army; they will have to part for a while, but he promises to love her and hopes to never part with her upon his return. It is not difficult to imagine how hard it was for Lisa to be separated from her beloved. However, hope did not leave her, and every morning she woke up with the thought of Erast and their happiness upon his return.
About two months passed like this. One day Lisa went to Moscow and on one of the big streets she saw Erast passing by in a magnificent carriage, which stopped near a huge house. Erast came out and was about to go out onto the porch, when he suddenly felt himself in Lisa’s arms. He turned pale, then, without saying a word, led her into the office and locked the door. Circumstances have changed, he announced to the girl, he is engaged.
Before Lisa could come to her senses, he took her out of the office and told the servant to escort her out of the yard.
Finding herself on the street, Lisa walked wherever she looked, unable to believe what she heard. She left the city and wandered for a long time until she suddenly found herself on the shore of a deep pond, under the shadow of ancient oak trees, which several weeks before had been silent witnesses to her delight. This memory shocked Lisa, but after a few minutes she fell into deep thought. Seeing a neighbor's girl walking along the road, she called her, took all the money out of her pocket and gave it to her, asking her to tell her mother, kiss her and ask her to forgive her poor daughter. Then she threw herself into the water, and they could no longer save her.
Liza’s mother, having learned about the terrible death of her daughter, could not withstand the blow and died on the spot. Erast was unhappy until the end of his life. He did not deceive Lisa when he told her that he was going to the army, but, instead of fighting the enemy, he played cards and lost his entire fortune. He had to marry an elderly rich widow who had been in love with him for a long time. Having learned about Liza’s fate, he could not console himself and considered himself a murderer. Now, perhaps, they have already reconciled.
Once upon a time there lived a young and sweet girl, Lisa. Her wealthy father died, and Lisa was left with her mother to live in poverty. The unfortunate widow grew weaker every day and could no longer work. Lisa wove canvases day and night, knitted stockings, went to buy flowers in the spring, and picked berries in the summer, then sold them in Moscow.
Two years after her father's death, the girl went to the city to sell lilies of the valley and met a young man on the street. He offered a whole ruble for her goods instead of five kopecks, but the girl refused. The guy asked to always sell him flowers picked just for him.
When Lisa returned home, she told her mother about the stranger. In the morning she picked the most beautiful lilies of the valley, but did not meet the guy. Upset, Lisa threw the flowers into the river, and in the evening of the next day the young man himself came to her house.
Lisa and her mother greeted the guest. He seemed very nice and accommodating to them. The guy introduced himself as Erast and said that from now on he would become Lisa’s only buyer, and to bigger girl I didn't go to the city.
Erast was rich, smart, kind, but his character was weak and fickle. Lisa's beauty sank deeply into the nobleman's soul. Thus began their meetings and long dates. Several weeks passed and everything was fine with them, but one day Lisa came with sadness on her face. A rich groom began wooing her, and her mother decided to marry her off. Erast promised the girl to take her to him after the death of her mother, despite the fact that the peasant woman and the nobleman cannot be together. One more moment and the couple would have drowned in depravity, but delusion gave way to reason.
After some time, Erast went into the army, but promised to return and love the girl forever. But two months later, Lisa met Erast in the city and found out that he was engaged. Lisa was beside herself with grief. She walked along the street and reached the local deep pond. She stood there for a long time, lost in her thoughts. I saw a girl passing by and gave her all the money so that she would give it to her mother, and then rushed into the water.
Upon learning of her daughter's death, the old woman died on the spot. And Erast was unhappy until the end of his days. In the army, he played cards and lost his entire fortune, after which he had to marry an elderly rich widow to pay off the debt. He learned about Lisa's fate and felt guilty.
What do we know about Nikolai Mikhailovich Karamzin? Among his contemporaries, he was known for his education, advanced educational views and propaganda for the spread of Western European culture in Russia. In addition, he was a multi-talented person. Traveled a lot, did translations, wrote unusual for that time works of art. It is with his name that the development of “Russian sentimentalism”, the discovery for literature of the concept of “psychologism”, the image of “ little man", the so-called "smoothness" in prose and a new genre - the "sensitive story". For one person and one life, there are a lot of amazing and important discoveries. All of the above is reflected in the books of the greatest Russian writer, poet and prose writer. Read "Poor Liza" at school curriculum eighth graders need it.
Karamzin wrote the sentimental story in 1792 at the age of 25. So young years did not prevent the author from raising in the story “ Poor Lisa» such complex topics social inequality, the eternal confrontation between city and countryside, the difficult fate of the “little man” and others. Special attention the writer devotes love. For the first time he talks about the fact that people from different segments of the population, including peasants, can love. Next, he glorifies the beauty of this extraordinary feeling, which can transform a person, change him inner world. To come to such thoughts, Karamzin has to look inside a person, explore his secret thoughts of desire. Thus, he moves away from the civic themes characteristic of the Enlightenment and turns to sentimentalism, which highlights the experiences, sensations and moods of the characters described. And here it cannot be said that society rejected such ideas and innovations. On the contrary, they were welcomed, they were in tune with the trends of the times, and the story “Poor Lisa” became very popular and brought its creator unprecedented fame and recognition.
The main characters of Karamzin's "Poor Liza" are Liza, her lover Erast and the narrator tragic story, played by the writer himself. Lisa is a gentle and sensitive girl from the lower class. Her first love was cruelly betrayed, leaving her unable to see that the world was worth living. Her image is contrasted with Erast - a rich nobleman who leads a chaotic life full of pleasure and is not responsible for his actions. It was his image that opened the way for a new hero in Russian literature - “ extra person" The text of the story can be read in full online or downloaded for free on our website.
Karamzin N M
Poor Lisa
Perhaps no one living in Moscow knows the surroundings of this city as well as I do, because no one is in the field more often than me, no one more than me wanders on foot, without a plan, without a goal - wherever the eyes look - through the meadows and groves , over hills and plains. Every summer I find new pleasant places or new beauty in old ones. But the most pleasant place for me is the place where the gloomy, Gothic towers of the Si...nova Monastery rise. Standing on this mountain, you see on the right side almost the whole of Moscow, this terrible mass of houses and churches, which appears to the eye in the form of a majestic amphitheater: a magnificent picture, especially when the sun shines on it, when its evening rays glow on countless golden domes, on countless crosses ascending to the sky! Below are lush, densely green flowering meadows, and behind them, along the yellow sands, flows a bright river, agitated by the light oars of fishing boats or rustling under the helm of heavy plows that sail from the most fertile countries of the Russian Empire and supply greedy Moscow with bread.
On the other side of the river one can see an oak grove, near which numerous herds graze; there young shepherds, sitting under the shade of trees, sing simple, sad songs and thereby shorten the summer days, so uniform for them. Further away, in the dense greenery of ancient elms, the golden-domed Danilov Monastery shines; even further, almost at the edge of the horizon, the Sparrow Hills are blue. On the left side you can see vast fields covered with grain, forests, three or four villages and in the distance the village of Kolomenskoye with its high palace.
I often come to this place and almost always see spring there; I come there and grieve with nature on the dark days of autumn. The winds howl terribly within the walls of the deserted monastery, between the coffins overgrown with tall grass, and in the dark passages of the cells. There, leaning on the ruins of tombstones, I listen to the dull groan of times, swallowed up by the abyss of the past - a groan from which my heart shudders and trembles. Sometimes I enter cells and imagine those who lived in them - sad pictures! Here I see a gray-haired old man, kneeling before the crucifix and praying for a quick release from his earthly shackles, for all the pleasures in life had disappeared for him, all his feelings had died, except for the feeling of illness and weakness. There a young monk - with a pale face, with a languid gaze - looks into the field through the lattice of the window, sees cheerful birds swimming freely in the sea of air, sees - and sheds bitter tears from his eyes. He languishes, withers, dries up - and the sad ringing of a bell announces to me his untimely death. Sometimes on the gates of the temple I look at the image of miracles that happened in this monastery, where fish fall from the sky to feed the inhabitants of the monastery, besieged by numerous enemies; here the image of the Mother of God puts the enemies to flight. All this renews in my memory the history of our fatherland - the sad history of those times when the ferocious Tatars and Lithuanians devastated the environs of the Russian capital with fire and sword and when unfortunate Moscow, like a defenseless widow, expected help from God alone in its cruel disasters.
But most often what attracts me to the walls of the Si...nova Monastery is the memory of the deplorable fate of Lisa, poor Lisa. Oh! I love those objects that touch my heart and make me shed tears of tender sorrow!
Seventy yards from the monastery wall, near a birch grove, in the middle of a green meadow, there stands an empty hut, without doors, without endings, without a floor; the roof had long since rotted and collapsed. In this hut, thirty years before, the beautiful, amiable Liza lived with her old woman, her mother.
Lizin's father was a fairly prosperous villager, because he loved work, plowed the land well and always led a sober life. But soon after his death, his wife and daughter became poor. The lazy hand of the mercenary poorly cultivated the field, and the grain ceased to be produced well. They were forced to rent out their land, and for very little money. Moreover, the poor widow, almost constantly shedding tears over the death of her husband - for even peasant women know how to love! - day by day she became weaker and could not work at all. Only Lisa, who remained after her father for fifteen years, - only Lisa, not sparing her tender youth, not sparing her rare beauty, worked day and night - weaved canvas, knitted stockings, picked flowers in the spring, and took berries in the summer - and sold them in Moscow. The sensitive, kind old woman, seeing her daughter’s tirelessness, often pressed her to her weakly beating heart, called her divine mercy, nurse, the joy of her old age, and prayed to God to reward her for all that she does for her mother.
“God gave me hands to work with,” said Lisa, “you fed me with your breasts and followed me when I was a child; now it’s my turn to follow you. Just stop being upset, stop crying; our tears will not revive the priests.” .
But often tender Liza could not hold back her own tears - ah! she remembered that she had a father and that he was gone, but to reassure her mother she tried to hide the sadness of her heart and appear calm and cheerful. “In the next world, dear Liza,” answered the sad old woman, “in the next world I will stop crying. There, they say, everyone will be cheerful; I’ll probably be cheerful when I see your father, Only now I don’t want to die - what’s wrong with you?” without me? Who will I leave you with? No, God grant that I will find a place for you first! Then, after blessing you, my dear children, I will cross myself and lie down calmly in the damp earth.”
Two years have passed since the death of Lizin's father. The meadows were covered with flowers, and Lisa came to Moscow with lilies of the valley. A young, well-dressed, pleasant-looking man met her on the street. She showed him the flowers and blushed. "Are you selling them, girl?" - he asked with a smile. “I’m selling,” she answered. "What do you need?" - “Five kopecks?” - “It’s too cheap. Here’s a ruble for you.” Lisa was surprised, she dared to look at the young man, she blushed even more and, looking down at the ground, told him that she would not take the ruble. "For what?" - “I don’t need anything extra.” - “I think that beautiful lilies of the valley, plucked by the hands of a beautiful girl, are worth a ruble. When you don’t take it, here’s five kopecks for you. I would like to always buy flowers from you; I would like you to pick them just for me,” Lisa gave the flowers, took five kopecks, bowed and wanted to go, but the stranger stopped her by the hand; "Where are you going, girl?" - “Home” - “Where is your home?” Lisa said where she lived, said and went. The young man did not want to hold her, perhaps so that those passing by began to stop and, looking at them, grinned insidiously.
In the novels and stories of Russian writers before the beginning of the 19th century, plots in which reason is placed above feelings are most often traced. Nikolai Karamzin was one of the first who began to write works in which the feelings of the characters were put in first place. Such is the story “Poor Liza,” which was not immediately accepted by critics, but society really liked it. The writer makes you think, focusing not only on logic and common sense, but also taking into account the experiences of the characters, which he skillfully conveys to readers.
A young peasant girl named Lisa is forced to work hard to support herself and her mother since their father died. One day she falls in love with the nobleman Erast. He experiences mutual feelings and is so seriously attracted to her that he is ready to leave the world and spend evenings only in her company. But this young man is flighty and fickle, he experiences sincere sympathy, which the next day could disappear without a trace. But can a girl so easily let go of her feelings and accept her lover’s departure?
The book also describes the location of the action, which is not typical for the literature of that time. Readers were so imbued with Lisa's story that they went to the places where she walked in the story. Many even believed that the story was real. The author does not lecture anyone, does not condemn, does not try to impose his point of view, but only wants to evoke sympathy for the characters, and he succeeds.
The work belongs to the Prose genre. It was published in 1792 by the publishing house Eksmo. The book is part of the "List" series school literature Grades 7-8." On our website you can download the book "Poor Lisa" in epub, fb2, pdf, txt format or read online. The book's rating is 4 out of 5. Here you can also, before reading, refer to the reviews of readers who are already familiar with book, and find out their opinion. In our partner’s online store you can buy and read the book in paper version.