Lev Nikolaevich Tolstoy (1828-1910). Artist I. E. Repin. 1887

The famous Russian theater director and creator of the acting system, Konstantin Stanislavsky, wrote in his book “My Life in Art” that in the difficult years of the first revolutions, when despair gripped people, many remembered that Leo Tolstoy was living with them at the same time. And my soul became lighter. He was the conscience of humanity. At the end of the 19th and beginning of the 20th centuries, Tolstoy became the spokesman for the thoughts and hopes of millions of people. He was moral support for many. It was read and listened to not only by Russia, but also by Europe, America and Asia.

True, at the same time, many contemporaries and subsequent researchers of Leo Tolstoy’s work noted that, outside of his artistic works, he was contradictory in many ways. His greatness as a thinker was manifested in the creation of broad canvases devoted to the moral state of society, in the search for a way out of the impasse. But he was petty picky, moralizing in his search for the meaning of an individual’s life. And the older he became, the more actively he criticized the vices of society, and looked for his own special moral path.

The Norwegian writer Knut Hamsun noted this feature of Tolstoy's character. According to him, in his youth Tolstoy allowed many excesses - he played cards, chased young ladies, drank wine, behaved like a typical bourgeois, and in adulthood he suddenly changed, became a devout righteous man and stigmatized himself and the whole society for vulgar and immoral actions. . It was no coincidence that he had a conflict with his own family, whose members could not understand his duality, his dissatisfaction and tossing-up.

Leo Tolstoy was a hereditary aristocrat. Mother is Princess Volkonskaya, one paternal grandmother is Princess Gorchakova, the second is Princess Trubetskaya. On his Yasnaya Polyana estate hung portraits of his relatives, high-born, titled persons. In addition to the title of count, he inherited a ruined farm from his parents, his relatives took over his upbringing, and he was taught by home teachers, including a German and a Frenchman. Then he studied at Kazan University. First he studied oriental languages, then legal sciences. Neither one nor the other satisfied him, and he left the 3rd year.

At the age of 23, Lev lost heavily at cards and had to repay the debt, but he did not ask anyone for money, but went to the Caucasus as an officer to earn money and gain impressions. He liked it there - the exotic nature, the mountains, hunting in the local forests, participating in battles against the mountaineers. There he first put pen to paper. But he began to write not about his impressions, but about his childhood.

Tolstoy sent the manuscript, titled “Childhood,” to the journal Otechestvennye zapiski, where it was published in 1852, praising the young author. Inspired by good luck, he wrote the stories “The Morning of the Landowner”, “Chance”, the story “Adolescence”, “ Sevastopol stories" A new talent has entered Russian literature, powerful in reflecting reality, in creating types, in reflecting the inner world of heroes.

Tolstoy arrived in St. Petersburg in 1855. Count, hero of Sevastopol, he was already a famous writer, he had money that he earned literary work. He was received in the best houses, and the editorial office of Otechestvennye zapiski was also waiting to meet him. But he was disappointed social life, but among the writers I did not find a person close to me in spirit. He was tired of the dreary life in wet St. Petersburg, and he went to his place in Yasnaya Polyana. And in 1857 he went abroad to disperse and look at a different life.

Tolstoy visited France, Switzerland, Italy, Germany, and was interested in the life of local peasants and the public education system. But Europe was not to his taste. He saw idle rich and well-fed people, he saw the poverty of the poor. The blatant injustice wounded him to the very heart, and an unspoken protest arose in his soul. Six months later he returned to Yasnaya Polyana and opened a school for peasant children. After his second trip abroad, he achieved the opening of more than 20 schools in the surrounding villages.

Tolstoy published the pedagogical magazine Yasnaya Polyana, wrote books for children, and taught them himself. But for complete well-being he did not have enough loved one, who would share with him all the joys and hardships. At 34, he finally married 18-year-old Sophia Bers and became happy. He felt like a zealous owner, bought land, experimented on it, and in his free time wrote the epoch-making novel “War and Peace,” which began to be published in “Russian Messenger.” Later, criticism abroad recognized this work as the greatest, which became a significant phenomenon in new European literature.

Next, Tolstoy wrote the novel Anna Karenina, dedicated to the tragic love of the woman of society Anna and the fate of the nobleman Konstantin Levin. Using the example of his heroine, he tried to answer the question: who is a woman - a person who demands respect, or simply a keeper of the family hearth? After these two novels, he felt some kind of breakdown in himself. He wrote about the moral essence of other people and began to peer into his own soul.

His views on life changed, he began to admit many sins in himself and taught others, talked about non-resistance to evil through violence - they hit you on one cheek, turn the other. This is the only way to change the world for the better. Many people came under his influence; they were called “Tolstyans”; they did not resist evil, they wished good to their neighbors. Among them were famous writers Maxim Gorky, Ivan Bunin.

During the 1880s, Tolstoy began to create short stories: “The Death of Ivan Ilyich”, “Kholstomer”, “The Kreutzer Sonata”, “Father Sergius”. In them, as an experienced psychologist, he showed the inner world common man, readiness to submit to fate. Along with these works, he worked on a large novel about the fate of a sinful woman and the attitude of those around her.

Resurrection” was published in 1899 and amazed the reading public with its poignant theme and author’s subtext. The novel was recognized as a classic, it was immediately translated into mainstream European languages. It was a complete success. In this novel, Tolstoy showed deformities with such frankness for the first time. state system, abomination and complete indifference of those in power to the pressing problems of people. In it, he criticized the Russian Orthodox Church, which did nothing to correct the situation, did nothing to make the existence of fallen and miserable people easier. A serious conflict broke out. Russian Orthodox Church saw blasphemy in this harsh criticism. Tolstoy's views were considered extremely erroneous, his position was anti-Christian, he was anathematized and excommunicated.

But Tolstoy did not repent. He remained faithful to his ideals, his church. However, his rebellious nature rebelled against the abominations of not only the surrounding reality, but also the lordly way of life of his own family. He was burdened by his well-being and position as a wealthy landowner. He wanted to give up everything, go to the righteous in order to cleanse his soul in a new environment. And he left. His secret departure from the family was tragic. On the way, he caught a cold and contracted pneumonia. He was unable to recover from this illness.

...We are all flying away into the distance on the same planet - we are the crew of the same ship. Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

Without the belief that nature is subject to laws, there can be no science. Norbert Wiener

Good nature has taken care of everything so much that everywhere you find something to learn. Leonardo da Vinci

The closest thing to the Divine in this world is nature. Astolphe de Custine

Wind is the breath of nature. Kozma Prutkov

IN immoral society all inventions that increase man’s power over nature are not only not good, but undoubted and obvious evil. Leo Tolstoy

In undeveloped countries it is deadly to drink water, in developed countries it is deadly to breathe air. Jonathan Rayban

In nature, everything is connected to each other, and there is nothing random in it. And if a random phenomenon occurs, look for a person’s hand in it. Mikhail Prishvin

In nature there are both grains and dust. William Shakespeare

In nature, nothing is lost except nature itself. Andrey Kryzhanovsky

Time destroys false opinions, and confirms the judgments of nature. Mark Cicero

In its own time, nature has its own poetry. John Keats

All the best in nature belongs to everyone together. Petronius

All living things are afraid of torment, all living things are afraid of death; recognize yourself not only in man, but in every living creature, do not kill and do not cause suffering and death. Buddhist wisdom

In all areas of nature... a certain pattern prevails, independent of the existence of thinking humanity. Max Planck

In his instruments man has power over external nature, while in his ends he is rather subordinate to it. Georg Hegel

In the old days, the richest countries were those whose nature was most abundant; Today the richest countries are those in which people are most active. Henry Buckle

Every thing in nature is either a cause directed towards you or an effect coming from us. Marsilio Ficino

Until people listen to the common sense of nature, they will be forced to obey either dictators or the opinion of the people. Wilhelm Schwebel

The one who is not happy with what happens according to the laws of nature is stupid. Epictetus

They say one swallow does not make spring; But is it really because one swallow does not make spring that the swallow that already feels spring should not fly, but wait? Then every bud and grass will have to wait, and there will be no spring. Leo Tolstoy

Great things are done with great means. Nature alone does great things for nothing. Alexander Ivanovich Herzen

Even in his most beautiful dreams, a person cannot imagine anything more beautiful than nature. Alphonse de Lamartine

Even the smallest pleasure given to us by nature is a mystery incomprehensible to the mind. Luc de Vauvenargues

The ideal of human nature is orthobiosis, i.e. in human development with the goal of achieving a long, active and vigorous old age, leading in the final period to the development of a sense of saturation with life. Ilya Mechnikov

The search for goals in nature has its source in ignorance. Benedict Spinoza

He who does not love nature does not love man is a bad citizen. Fyodor Dostoevsky

Whoever looks at nature superficially easily gets lost in the boundless “Everything,” but whoever listens more deeply to its wonders is constantly brought to God, the Ruler of the world. Karl de Geer

Our callousness, our selfishness encourages us to look at nature with envy, but she herself will envy us when we recover from our illnesses. Ralph Emerson

There is nothing more inventive than nature. Mark Cicero

But why change the processes of nature? There may be a deeper philosophy than we have ever dreamed of - a philosophy that reveals the secrets of nature, but does not change its course by penetrating it. Edward Bulwer-Lytton

One of the most difficult tasks of our time is the problem of slowing down the process of destruction of living nature... Archie Carr

The fundamental law of nature is the preservation of humanity. John Locke

Let us thank wise nature for making what is necessary easy and what is heavy unnecessary. Epicurus

Until people know the laws of nature, they blindly obey them, and once they know them, then the forces of nature obey people. Georgy Plekhanov

Nature will always take its toll. William Shakespeare

Nature is the house in which man lives. Dmitry Likhachev

Nature is dispassionate towards man; she is neither his enemy nor his friend; It is either a convenient or an inconvenient field for his activities. Nikolai Chernyshevsky

Nature is an eternal example of art; and the greatest and noblest object in nature is man. Vissarion Belinsky

Nature has invested in every good heart a noble feeling, due to which it cannot itself be happy, but must seek its happiness in others. Johann Goethe

Nature has endowed humans with some innate instincts, such as hunger, sexual feelings, etc., and one of the strongest feelings of this order is the sense of ownership. Peter Stolypin

Nature is always stronger than principles. David Hume

Nature is one, and there is nothing equal to it: mother and daughter of herself, she is the Divinity of the gods. Consider only her, Nature, and leave the rest to the common people. Pythagoras

Nature is in a sense the Gospel, loudly proclaiming the creative power, wisdom and all the greatness of God. And not only the heavens, but also the bowels of the earth preach the glory of God. Mikhail Lomonosov

Nature is the cause of everything, it exists thanks to itself; it will exist and operate forever... Paul Holbach

Nature, which endowed every animal with the means of subsistence, gave astrology as an assistant and ally to astronomy. Johannes Kepler

Nature mocks the decisions and commands of princes, emperors and monarchs, and at their request she would not change her laws one iota. Galileo Galilei

Nature does not make people, people make themselves. Merab Mamardashvili

Nature knows no stop in its movement and punishes all inactivity. Johann Goethe

Nature does not presuppose any goals for itself... All final causes are only human inventions. Benedict Spinoza

Nature does not accept jokes, she is always truthful, always serious, always strict; she is always right; mistakes and delusions come from people. Johann Goethe

Patience most closely resembles the method by which nature creates its creations. Honore de Balzac

What is contrary to nature never leads to good. Friedrich Schiller

A person has quite enough objective reasons to strive to preserve wildlife. But, ultimately, only his love can save nature. Jean Dorst

Good taste suggested to good society that contact with nature is the very last word of science, reason, and common sense. Fyodor Dostoevsky

Man will not become master of nature until he has become master of himself. Georg Hegel

Humanity - without being ennobled by animals and plants - will perish, become impoverished, and fall into the rage of despair, like a lonely person alone. Andrey Platonov

The more one delves into the actions of nature, the more visible the simplicity of the laws that it follows in its actions becomes. Alexander Radishchev

Tolstoy L.N. Tolstoy L.N.

Tolstoy Lev Nikolaevich (1828 - 1910)
Russian writer Aphorisms, quotes - Tolstoy L.N. - biography
All thoughts that have huge consequences are always simple. Our good qualities harm us more in life than bad ones. A person is like a fraction: the denominator is what he thinks about himself, the numerator is what he really is. The larger the denominator, the smaller the fraction. Happy is he who is happy at home. Vanity... It must be there characteristic feature and a special disease of our age. We must always marry in the same way as we die, that is, only when it is impossible otherwise. Time passes, but the spoken word remains. Happiness does not lie in always doing what you want, but in always wanting what you do. Most men demand from their wives virtues that they themselves are not worth. All happy families are alike, each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way. Be truthful even towards a child: keep your promise, otherwise you will teach him to lie. If a teacher has only love for the work, he will be a good teacher. If a teacher has only love for the student, like a father or mother, he will be better than the teacher who has read all the books, but has no love for either the work or the students. If a teacher combines love for his work and for his students, he is a perfect teacher. All the misfortunes of people arise not so much from the fact that they did not do what they need to do, but from the fact that they do what they should not do. In an immoral society, all inventions that increase man's power over nature are not only not good, but undoubted and obvious evil. Work is not a virtue, but an inevitable condition for a virtuous life. Your country produces only moneybags. In the years before and after Civil War the spiritual life of your people flourished and bore fruit. Now you are pathetic materialists. (1903, from a conversation with American journalist James Creelman) The easier it is for a teacher to teach, the more difficult it is for students to learn. Most often, it happens that you argue heatedly only because you can’t understand what exactly your opponent wants to prove. Freeing yourself from work is a crime. No matter what you say, your native language will always remain native. When you want to speak to your heart’s content, not a single French word comes to mind, but if you want to shine, then it’s a different matter. America, I'm afraid, believes only in the almighty dollar. Not the teacher who receives the upbringing and education of a teacher, but the one who has the inner confidence that he is, must be and cannot be otherwise. This confidence is rare and can only be proven by the sacrifices a person makes to his calling. You can only hate life due to apathy and laziness. One girl was asked what is the most important person, what is the most important time and what is the most necessary thing? And she answered, thinking that the most important person is the one with whom you are communicating at a given moment, the most important time is the time in which you are living now, and the most necessary thing is to do good to the person with whom you are dealing at every given moment." (one story idea) The most common and widespread reason for lying is the desire to deceive not people, but themselves. We must live in such a way that we do not fear death and do not desire it. A woman who tries to look like a man is just as ugly as an effeminate man. A person's morality is visible in his attitude to the word. An undoubted sign of true science is the awareness of the insignificance of what you know in comparison with what is revealed. A slave who is satisfied with his position is doubly a slave, because not only his body is in slavery, but also his soul. The fear of death is inversely proportional to a good life. We love people for the good we have done to them, and we do not love them for the evil we have done to them. A cowardly friend is worse than an enemy, because you fear an enemy, but rely on a friend. The word is the deed. By exterminating each other in wars, we, like spiders in a jar, cannot come to anything other than the destruction of each other. If you doubt and don’t know what to do, imagine that you will die in the evening, and the doubt is immediately resolved: it is immediately clear that it is a matter of duty and that it is personal desires. The most pitiful slave is a person who gives his mind into slavery and recognizes as truth what his mind does not recognize. The smarter and kinder a person is, the more he notices goodness in people. Women, like queens, hold nine-tenths of the human race captive in slavery and hard labor. And all because they were humiliated, deprived of equal rights with men. Destroy one vice and ten will disappear. Nothing confuses concepts of art more than the recognition of authorities. All art has two deviations from the path: vulgarity and artificiality. If how many heads - so many minds, then how many hearts - so many kinds of love. The best proof that the fear of death is not a fear of death, but of a false life, is that people often kill themselves out of fear of death. A lot is needed for art, but the main thing is fire! Great works of art are great only because they are accessible and understandable to everyone. The main property in any art is a sense of proportion. The ideal is guiding star. Without it there is no solid direction, and without direction there is no life. It always seems that we are loved because we are good. But we don’t realize that they love us because those who love us are good. To love means to live the life of the one you love. It is not shameful and harmful not to know, but it is shameful and harmful to pretend that you know what you do not know. Education seems to be a difficult matter only as long as we want, without educating ourselves, to educate our children or anyone else. If you understand that we can educate others only through ourselves, then the question of education is abolished and one question remains: how should we live ourselves? Only then is it easy to live with a person when you do not consider yourself higher or better than him, or him higher and better than yourself. Previously, they were afraid that objects that would corrupt people would be included in the list of art objects, and they banned everything. Now they are only afraid of losing some kind of pleasure given by art, and they patronize everyone. I think that the latter error is much grosser than the first and that its consequences are much more harmful. Don't be afraid of ignorance, be afraid of false knowledge. All the evil in the world comes from him. There is a strange, deep-rooted misconception that cooking, sewing, washing, and babysitting are exclusively women's work, and that it is even shameful for a man to do this. Meanwhile, the opposite is offensive: it is a shame for a man, often unoccupied, to spend time on trifles or do nothing while a tired, often weak, pregnant woman struggles to cook, wash or nurse a sick child. Good actor maybe, as it seems to me, it’s great to play the stupidest things and thereby increase their harmful influence. Stop talking immediately when you notice that you or the person you are talking to are getting irritated. The unspoken word is golden. If I were a king, I would make a law that a writer who uses a word whose meaning he cannot explain will be deprived of the right to write and receive a hundred blows of the rod. It is not the quantity of knowledge that is important, but its quality. You can know a lot without knowing what you really need. Knowledge is only knowledge when it is acquired through the efforts of one’s thoughts, and not through memory. __________ "War and Peace", volume 1 *), 1863 - 1869 He spoke that refined French language in which our grandfathers not only spoke, but also thought, and with those quiet, patronizing intonations that are characteristic of someone who has grown old in the world and at court. significant person. - (about Prince Vasily Kuragin) Influence in the world is capital that must be protected so that it does not disappear. Prince Vasily knew this, and once he realized that if he began to ask for everyone who asked him, then soon he would not be able to ask for himself, he rarely used his influence. - (Prince Vasily Kuragin) Living rooms, gossip, balls, vanity, insignificance - this is a vicious circle from which I cannot escape. [...] and Anna Pavlovna listens to me. And this stupid society, without which my wife and these women cannot live... If only you could know what all these women of good society and women in general are like! My father is right. Selfishness, vanity, stupidity, insignificance in everything - these are women when they show everything as they are. If you look at them in the light, it seems that there is something, but there is nothing, nothing, nothing! - (Prince Andrei Bolkonsky) Bilibin's conversation was constantly peppered with original, witty, complete phrases of general interest. These phrases were produced in Bilibin’s internal laboratory, as if on purpose, of a portable nature, so that insignificant secular people could conveniently remember them and transfer them from living rooms to living rooms. The gentlemen who visited Bilibin, secular, young, rich and cheerful people, formed a separate circle both in Vienna and here, which Bilibin, who was the head of this circle, called ours, les nftres. This circle, which consisted almost exclusively of diplomats, apparently had its own interests that had nothing to do with war and politics, interests of high society, relations with certain women and the clerical side of the service. Prince Vasily did not think about his plans. He even less thought of doing evil to people in order to gain benefit. He was only a secular man who had succeeded in the world and made a habit out of this success. He constantly, depending on the circumstances, depending on his rapprochement with people, drew up various plans and considerations, of which he himself was not well aware, but which constituted the entire interest of his life. Not one or two such plans and considerations were in his mind, but dozens, of which some were just beginning to appear to him, others were achieved, and others were destroyed. He did not say to himself, for example: “This man is now in power, I must gain his trust and friendship and through him arrange for the issuance of a one-time allowance,” or he did not say to himself: “Pierre is rich, I must lure him to marry his daughter and borrow the 40 thousand I need"; but a man in strength met him, and at that very moment instinct told him that this man could be useful, and Prince Vasily became close to him and at the first opportunity, without preparation, by instinct, flattered, became familiar, talked about what what was needed. For such a young girl and such tact, such a masterful ability to hold herself! It comes from the heart! Happy will be the one whose it will be! With her, the most unsecular husband will involuntarily occupy the most brilliant place in the world.- (Anna Pavlovna to Pierre Bezukhov about Helen) Prince Andrei, like all people who grew up in the world, loved to meet in the world that which did not have a common secular imprint on it. And such was Natasha, with her surprise, joy and timidity and even mistakes in the French language. He treated and spoke to her especially tenderly and carefully. Sitting next to her, talking with her about the simplest and most insignificant subjects, Prince Andrei admired the joyful sparkle of her eyes and smile, which related not to the speeches spoken, but to her inner happiness. Anna Pavlovna's living room began to gradually fill up. The highest nobility of St. Petersburg arrived, people of the most diverse ages and characters, but identical in the society in which they all lived [...] - Have you seen it yet? or: - you are not familiar with ma tante? (auntie) - Anna Pavlovna said to the arriving guests and very seriously led them to a little old woman in high bows, who floated out from another room, as soon as the guests began to arrive [...] All the guests performed the ritual of greeting the unknown, uninteresting and unnecessary aunt. Anna Pavlovna watched their greetings with sad, solemn sympathy, silently approving them. Ma tante spoke to everyone in the same terms about his health, about her health and about the health of Her Majesty, which was now, thank God, better. All those who approached, without showing haste out of decency, with a feeling of relief at the fulfillment of a difficult duty, walked away from the old woman, so as not to approach her once all evening. [...] Anna Pavlovna returned to her duties as a housewife and continued to listen and look closely, ready to give help to the point where the conversation was weakening. Just as the owner of a spinning workshop, having seated the workers in their places, walks around the establishment, noticing the immobility or the unusual, creaking, too loud sound of the spindle, hurriedly walks, restrains it or puts it into proper motion, so Anna Pavlovna, walking around her living room, approached the silent man. or to a circle that was talking too much and with one word or movement again started a uniform, decent conversational machine. [...] For Pierre, who was brought up abroad, this evening of Anna Pavlovna was the first he saw in Russia. He knew that the entire intelligentsia of St. Petersburg was gathered here, and his eyes widened, like a child in a toy store. He was still afraid of missing intelligent conversations that he might overhear. Looking at the confident and graceful expressions of the faces gathered here, he kept expecting something especially smart. [...] Anna Pavlovna's evening was over. The spindles made noise evenly and incessantly from different sides. Apart from ma tante, near whom sat only one elderly lady with a tear-stained, thin face, somewhat alien in this brilliant society, the society was divided into three circles. In one, more masculine, the center was the abbot; in the other, young, the beautiful Princess Helen, daughter of Prince Vasily, and the pretty, rosy-cheeked, too plump for her youth, little Princess Bolkonskaya. In the third, Mortemar and Anna Pavlovna. The Viscount was a handsome young man with soft features and manners, who obviously considered himself a celebrity, but, due to his good manners, modestly allowed himself to be used by the society in which he found himself. Anna Pavlovna obviously treated her guests to it. Just as a good headmaster serves as something supernaturally beautiful that piece of beef that you won’t want to eat if you see it in a dirty kitchen, so this evening Anna Pavlovna served her guests first the Viscount, then the Abbot, as something supernaturally refined.

On the third day of the holidays there was supposed to be one of those balls at Yogel (the dance teacher), which he gave on holidays for all his students. [...] Yogel had the most fun balls in Moscow. This is what the mothers said, looking at their adolescentes (girls) performing their newly learned steps; adolescentes and adolescents themselves said this (girls and boys) , dancing until you drop; these grown-up girls and young men who came to these balls with the idea of ​​condescending to them and finding the best fun in them. In the same year, two marriages took place at these balls. The two pretty princesses of the Gorchakovs found suitors and got married, and even more so they launched these balls into glory. What was special about these balls was that there was no host and hostess: there was the good-natured Yogel, like flying feathers, shuffling around according to the rules of art, who accepted tickets for lessons from all his guests; was that only those who still wanted to dance and have fun, like 13 and 14-year-old girls who put on long dresses for the first time, want to go to these balls. Everyone, with rare exceptions, was or seemed pretty: they all smiled so enthusiastically and their eyes lit up so much. Sometimes even the best students danced pas de chèle, of whom the best was Natasha, distinguished by her grace; but at this last ball only ecosaises, anglaises and the mazurka, which was just coming into fashion, were danced. The hall was taken by Yogel to Bezukhov’s house, and the ball was a great success, as everyone said. There were a lot of pretty girls, and the Rostov ladies were among the best. They were both especially happy and cheerful. That evening, Sonya, proud of Dolokhov’s proposal, her refusal and explanation with Nikolai, was still spinning at home, not allowing the girl to finish her braids, and now she was glowing through and through with impetuous joy. Natasha, no less proud that she was wearing a long dress for the first time at a real ball, was even happier. Both were wearing white muslin dresses with pink ribbons. Natasha became in love from the very minute she entered the ball. She was not in love with anyone in particular, but she was in love with everyone. The one she looked at at the moment she looked at was the one she was in love with. [...] The newly introduced mazurka was played; Nikolai could not refuse Yogel and invited Sonya. Denisov sat down next to the old ladies and, leaning on his saber, stamping his beat, said something cheerfully and made the old ladies laugh, looking at the dancing young people. Yogel, in the first couple, danced with Natasha, his pride and best student. Gently, tenderly moving his feet in his shoes, Yogel was the first to fly across the hall with Natasha, who was timid, but diligently performing steps. Denisov did not take his eyes off her and tapped the beat with his saber, with an expression that clearly said that he himself did not dance only because he did not want to, and not because he could not. In the middle of the figure, he called Rostov, who was passing by, to him. - This is not at all the same. Is this a Polish mazurkka? And he dances excellently. - Knowing that Denisov was even famous in Poland for his skill in dancing the Polish mazurka, Nikolai ran up to Natasha: “Go, choose Denisov. He’s dancing! Miracle!” he said. When he came again It was Natasha’s turn, she stood up and quickly fingering her shoes with bows, timidly, she ran alone across the hall to the corner where Denisov was sitting [...] He came out from behind the chairs, firmly took his lady by the hand, raised his head and put his foot down. , waiting for the beat. Only on horseback and in the mazurka was not visible. short Denisov, and he seemed to be the same young man that he felt himself to be. Having waited for the beat, he glanced triumphantly and playfully at his lady from the side, suddenly tapped one foot and, like a ball, elastically bounced off the floor and flew along in a circle, dragging his lady with him. He silently flew halfway across the hall on one leg, and it seemed that he did not see the chairs standing in front of him and rushed straight towards them; but suddenly, clicking his spurs and spreading his legs, he stopped on his heels, stood there for a second, with the roar of spurs, knocked his feet in one place, quickly turned around and, clicking his right foot with his left foot, again flew in a circle. Natasha guessed what he intended to do, and, without knowing how, she followed him - surrendering herself to him. Now he circled her, now on his right, now on his left hand, now falling on his knees, he circled her around him, and again he jumped up and started forward with such swiftness, as if he intended to run across all the rooms without taking a breath; then suddenly he stopped again and again made a new and unexpected knee. When he, briskly spinning the lady in front of her place, snapped his spur, bowing before her, Natasha did not even curtsey for him. She stared at him in bewilderment, smiling as if she didn’t recognize him. - What is this? - she said. Despite the fact that Yogel did not recognize this mazurka as real, everyone was delighted with Denisov’s skill, they began to constantly choose him, and the old people, smiling, began to talk about Poland and the good old days. Denisov, flushed from the mazurka and wiping himself with a handkerchief, sat down next to Natasha and did not leave her side throughout the entire ball. "War and Peace", volume 4 *), 1863 - 1869 The science of law considers the state and power, as the ancients viewed fire, as something absolutely existing. For history, the state and power are only phenomena, just as for the physics of our time, fire is not an element, but a phenomenon. From this basic difference in the views of history and the science of law comes the fact that the science of law can tell in detail how, in its opinion, power should be structured and what power is, immovably existing outside of time; but it cannot answer historical questions about the meaning of power changing over time. The life of nations does not fit into the lives of a few people, because the connection between these several people and nations has not been found. The theory that this connection is based on the transfer of a set of wills to historical persons is a hypothesis that is not confirmed by the experience of history. *) Text "War and Peace", volume 1 - in the Maxim Moshkov Library Text "War and Peace", volume 2 - in the Maxim Moshkov Library Text "War and Peace", volume 3 - in the Maxim Moshkov Library Text "War and Peace", volume 4 - in the Maxim Moshkov Library "War and Peace", volume 3 *), 1863 - 1869 The actions of Napoleon and Alexander, on whose word it seemed that an event would happen or not happen, were as little arbitrary as the action of each soldier who went on a campaign by lot or by recruitment. This could not be otherwise because in order for the will of Napoleon and Alexander (those people on whom the event seemed to depend) to be fulfilled, the coincidence of countless circumstances was necessary, without one of which the event could not have happened. It was necessary that millions of people, in whose hands there was real power, soldiers who shot, carried provisions and guns, it was necessary that they agreed to fulfill this will of individual and weak people and were brought to this by countless complex, varied reasons. Fatalism in history is inevitable to explain irrational phenomena (that is, those whose rationality we do not understand). The more we try to rationally explain these phenomena in history, the more unreasonable and incomprehensible they become for us. Each person lives for himself, enjoys freedom to achieve his personal goals and feels with his whole being that he can now do or not do such and such an action; but as soon as he does it, this action, performed at a certain moment in time, becomes irreversible and becomes the property of history, in which it has not a free, but a predetermined meaning. There are two sides of life in every person: personal life, which is the more free the more abstract its interests are, and spontaneous, swarm life, where a person inevitably fulfills the laws prescribed to him. Man consciously lives for himself, but serves as an unconscious instrument for achieving historical, universal goals. A committed act is irrevocable, and its action, coinciding in time with millions of actions of other people, receives historical significance. The higher a person stands on the social ladder, than with big people he is bound, the more power he has over other people, the more obvious is the predetermination and inevitability of his every action. When an apple is ripe and falls, why does it fall? Is it because it gravitates towards the ground, is it because the rod is drying up, is it because it is being dried out by the sun, is it getting heavy, is it because the wind is shaking it, is it because the boy standing below wants to eat it? Nothing is a reason. All this is just a coincidence of the conditions under which every vital, organic, spontaneous event takes place. And that botanist who finds that the apple falls because the fiber is decomposing and the like will be just as right and wrong as that child standing below who will say that the apple fell because he wanted to eat him and that he prayed about it. Just as right and wrong will be the one who says that Napoleon went to Moscow because he wanted it, and died because Alexander wanted his death: just as right and wrong will be the one who says that the one that fell into a million pounds the dug mountain fell because the last worker struck under it for the last time with a pickaxe. In historical events, the so-called great people are labels that give names to the event, which, like labels, have the least connection with the event itself. Each of their actions, which seems to them arbitrary for themselves, is in the historical sense involuntary, but is in connection with the entire course of history and is determined from eternity. “I don’t understand what a skilled commander means,” said Prince Andrey with mockery. - A skillful commander, well, the one who foresaw all the contingencies... well, guessed the thoughts of the enemy. - (Pierre Bezukhov)“Yes, this is impossible,” said Prince Andrei, as if about a long-decided matter. - However, they say that war is like a chess game. - (Pierre Bezukhov)- Yes, only with this small difference that in chess you can think as much as you want over each step, that you are there outside the conditions of time, and with this difference that a knight is always stronger than a pawn and two pawns are always stronger than one, but in war one a battalion is sometimes stronger than a division, and sometimes weaker than a company. The relative strength of the troops cannot be known to anyone. Believe me, if anything depended on the orders of the headquarters, I would have been there and made the orders, but instead I have the honor of serving here, in the regiment with these gentlemen, and I believe that tomorrow will really depend on us, and not from them... Success has never depended and will not depend either on position, or on weapons, or even on numbers; and least of all from the position. - (Prince Andrei Bolkonsky)- And from what? - From the feeling that is in me... in every soldier. ... The battle will be won by the one who is determined to win it. Why did we lose the battle at Austerlitz? Our loss was almost equal to that of the French, but we told ourselves very early that we had lost the battle - and we lost. And we said this because we had no need to fight there: we wanted to leave the battlefield as quickly as possible. - (Prince Andrei Bolkonsky) War is not a courtesy, but the most disgusting thing in life, and we must understand this and not play at war. We must take this terrible necessity strictly and seriously. That's all there is to it: throw away the lies, and war is war, not a toy. Otherwise, war is the favorite pastime of idle and frivolous people... The military class is the most honorable. What is war, what is needed for success in military affairs, what are the morals of military society? The purpose of war is murder, the weapons of war are espionage, treason and its encouragement, the ruin of the inhabitants, their robbery or theft to feed the army; deception and lies, called stratagems; the morals of the military class are lack of freedom, that is, discipline, idleness, ignorance, cruelty, debauchery, drunkenness. And despite this, this is the highest class, respected by everyone. All kings, except the Chinese, wear a military uniform, and the one who killed the most people is given a large reward... They will come together, like tomorrow, to kill each other, kill, maim tens of thousands of people, and then they will serve thanksgiving services for that they killed many people (whose number is still being added), and they proclaim victory, believing that the more people are beaten, the greater the merit. How God looks and listens to them from there! - (Prince Andrei Bolkonsky) (Kutuzov) listened to the reports brought to him, gave orders when required by his subordinates; but, listening to the reports, he seemed not to be interested in the meaning of the words of what was being said to him, but something else in the expressions of the faces, in the tone of speech of those reporting, interested him. From long-term military experience, he knew and with his senile mind understood that it is impossible for one person to lead hundreds of thousands of people fighting death, and he knew that the fate of the battle is not decided by the orders of the commander-in-chief, not by the place where the troops are stationed, not by the number of guns and killed people, and that elusive force called the spirit of the army, and he watched over this force and led it, as far as it was in his power. The militia brought Prince Andrei to the forest where the trucks were parked and where there was a dressing station. ... Around the tents, covering more than two acres of space, lay, sat, and stood bloodied people in various clothes. ... Prince Andrei, as a regimental commander, walking through the unbandaged wounded, was carried closer to one of the tents and stopped, awaiting orders. ... One of the doctors... left the tent. ... After moving his head to the right and left for a while, he sighed and lowered his eyes. “Well, now,” he said in response to the words of the paramedic, who pointed him to Prince Andrei, and ordered him to be carried into the tent. There was a murmur from the crowd of waiting wounded. - Apparently, the gentlemen will live alone in the next world. Several tens of thousands of people lay dead in different positions and uniforms in the fields and meadows that belonged to the Davydovs and state-owned peasants, in those fields and meadows in which for hundreds of years the peasants of the villages of Borodin, Gorki, Shevardin and Semyonovsky simultaneously harvested crops and grazed livestock. At the dressing stations, about a tithe of space, the grass and soil were soaked in blood. ... Over the entire field, previously so cheerfully beautiful, with its sparkles of bayonets and smoke in the morning sun, there was now a haze of dampness and smoke and the smell of the strange acid of saltpeter and blood. Clouds gathered and rain began to fall on the dead, on the wounded, on the frightened, and on the exhausted, and on the doubting people. It was as if he was saying: “Enough, enough, people. Stop... Come to your senses. What are you doing?” Exhausted, without food and without rest, the people of both sides began to equally doubt whether they should still exterminate each other, and hesitation was noticeable on all faces, and in every soul the question arose equally: “Why, for whom should I kill and be killed? Kill whoever you want, do whatever you want, but I don’t want anymore!” By evening this thought had equally matured in everyone’s soul. At any moment all these people could be horrified by what they were doing, drop everything and run anywhere. But although by the end of the battle people felt the full horror of their action, although they would have been glad to stop, some incomprehensible, mysterious force still continued to guide them, and, sweaty, covered in gunpowder and blood, left one by three, the artillerymen, although stumbling and gasping from fatigue, they brought charges, loaded, aimed, applied wicks; and the cannonballs flew just as quickly and cruelly from both sides and flattened the human body, and that terrible thing continued to happen, which is done not by the will of people, but by the will of the one who leads people and worlds. “But every time there were conquests, there were conquerors; every time there were revolutions in the state, there were great people,” says history. Indeed, whenever conquerors appeared, there were wars, the human mind answers, but this does not prove that conquerors were the causes of wars and that it was possible to find the laws of war in the personal activity of one person. Every time, when I look at my watch, I see that the hand has approached ten, I hear that the gospel begins in the neighboring church, but from the fact that every time the hand comes to ten o’clock when the gospel begins, I I have no right to conclude that the position of the arrow is the reason for the movement of the bells. The activity of a commander does not have the slightest resemblance to the activity that we imagine when sitting freely in an office, analyzing some campaign on a map with a known number of troops, on both sides, and in a certain area, and starting our considerations with some famous moment. The commander-in-chief is never in those conditions of the beginning of any event in which we always consider the event. The commander-in-chief is always in the middle of a moving series of events, and so that never, at any moment, is he able to think through the full significance of the event taking place. The event is imperceptibly, moment by moment, carved into its meaning, and at every moment of this sequential, continuous carving of the event, the commander-in-chief is at the center the most difficult game, intrigues, worries, dependence, power, projects, advice, threats, deceptions, he is constantly in the need to answer countless questions offered to him, always contradicting one another. This event - the abandonment of Moscow and its burning - was as inevitable as the retreat of troops without a fight for Moscow after the Battle of Borodino. Every Russian person, not on the basis of inferences, but on the basis of the feeling that lies in us and lay in our fathers, could have predicted what happened. ... The consciousness that it will be so, and will always be so, lay and lies in the soul of the Russian person. And this consciousness and, moreover, the premonition that Moscow would be taken, lay in the Russian Moscow society of the 12th year. Those who began to leave Moscow back in July and early August showed that they were expecting this. ... “It’s a shame to run from danger; only cowards run from Moscow,” they were told. Rastopchin in his posters inspired them that leaving Moscow was shameful. They were ashamed to be called cowards, they were ashamed to go, but they still went, knowing that it was necessary. Why were they going? It cannot be assumed that Rastopchin frightened them with the horrors that Napoleon produced in the conquered lands. They left, and the first to leave were rich, educated people who knew very well that Vienna and Berlin remained intact and that there, during their occupation by Napoleon, the inhabitants had fun with the charming Frenchmen, whom Russian men and especially ladies loved so much at that time. They went because for the Russian people there could be no question: whether it would be good or bad under the rule of the French in Moscow. It was impossible to be under French control: that was the worst thing. The totality of causes of phenomena is inaccessible to the human mind. But the need to find reasons is embedded in the human soul. And the human mind, without delving into the innumerability and complexity of the conditions of phenomena, each of which separately can be represented as a cause, grabs the first, most understandable convergence and says: this is the cause. In historical events (where the object of observation is the actions of people), the most primitive convergence seems to be the will of the gods, then the will of those people who stand in the most prominent historical place - historical heroes. But you just have to delve into the essence of each historical event, that is, in the activities of the entire mass of people participating in the event, to make sure that the will historical hero Not only does she not direct the actions of the masses, but she herself is constantly led. One of the most tangible and beneficial deviations from the so-called rules of war is the action of scattered people against people huddled together. This kind of action always manifests itself in a war that takes folk character. These actions consist in the fact that, instead of becoming a crowd against a crowd, people disperse separately, attack one by one and immediately flee when they are attacked in large forces, and then attack again when the opportunity presents itself. This was done by the Guerillas in Spain; this was done by the mountaineers in the Caucasus; the Russians did this in 1812. A war of this kind was called partisan and they believed that by calling it that, they explained its meaning. Meanwhile, this kind of war not only does not fit any rules, but is directly opposite to the well-known and recognized infallible tactical rule. This rule says that the attacker must concentrate his troops in order to be stronger than the enemy at the moment of battle. Guerrilla warfare (always successful, as history shows) is the exact opposite of this rule. This contradiction occurs because military science accepts the strength of troops as identical with their number. Military science says that the more troops, the more power. Then, when it is no longer possible to stretch such elastic threads further historical reasoning When an action is already clearly contrary to what all humanity calls good and even justice, historians have a saving concept of greatness. Greatness seems to exclude the possibility of measuring good and bad. For the great there is no bad. There is no horror that can be blamed on someone who is great. "C"est grand!" (This is majestic!) - say historians, and then there is no longer either good or bad, but there is “grand” and “not grand”. Grand is good, not grand is bad. Grand is a property, according to their concepts, of some special animals, which they call heroes. And Napoleon, walking home in a warm fur coat from the perishing not only of his comrades, but (in his opinion) of the people he had brought here, feels que c"est grand, and his soul is at peace. ... And it would not occur to anyone that recognition greatness, immeasurable by the measure of good and bad, is only recognition of one’s insignificance and immeasurable smallness. For us, with the measure of good and bad given to us, there is no immeasurable, and there is no greatness where there is no simplicity, goodness and truth. When a person sees a dying animal. , horror seizes him: what he himself is, his essence, is obviously destroyed in his eyes - ceases to be. But when the dying is a person, and a loved one is felt, then, in addition to the horror of the destruction of life, a gap and a spiritual wound are felt. , which, like a physical wound, sometimes kills, sometimes heals, but always hurts and is afraid of external irritating touch. In the 12th and 13th years, Kutuzov was directly blamed for his mistakes. Recently, by order of the highest, it was said that Kutuzov was a cunning court liar, who was afraid of the name of Napoleon and, with his mistakes at Krasnoye and near Berezina, deprived the Russian troops of glory - a complete victory over the French. This is not the fate of great people, not grand-homme, whom the Russian mind does not recognize, but the fate of those rare, always lonely people who, comprehending the will of Providence, subordinate their personal will to it. The hatred and contempt of the crowd punish these people for their insight into higher laws. For Russian historians - it’s strange and scary to say - Napoleon is the most insignificant instrument of history - never and nowhere, even in exile, who did not show human dignity - Napoleon is an object of admiration and delight; he's grand. Kutuzov, the man who, from the beginning to the end of his activity in 1812, from Borodin to Vilna, without ever changing one action or word, shows an extraordinary example in history of self-sacrifice and consciousness in the present of the future significance of the event, “Kutuzov seems to them like something vague and pitiful, and when talking about Kutuzov and the 12th year, they always seem to be a little ashamed. Meanwhile, it is difficult to imagine a historical person whose activity would be so invariably and constantly directed towards the same goal. It is difficult to imagine a goal more worthy and more consistent with the will of the entire people. It is even more difficult to find another example in history where the goal that a historical figure set for himself would be so completely achieved as the goal towards which all of Kutuzov’s activities were directed in 1812. This simple, modest and therefore truly majestic figure (Kutuzov) could not fall into that deceitful form of a European hero, ostensibly controlling people, which history had invented. For a lackey there cannot be a great person, because the lackey has his own concept of greatness. If we assume, as historians do, that great people lead humanity to achieve certain goals, which consist either in the greatness of Russia or France, or in the balance of Europe, or in spreading the ideas of revolution, or in general progress, or whatever it may be, it is impossible to explain the phenomena of history without the concepts of chance and genius. ... “Chance made the situation; genius took advantage of it,” says history. But what is a case? What is a genius? The words chance and genius do not mean anything that really exists and therefore cannot be defined. These words only denote a certain degree of understanding of phenomena. I don't know why such and such a phenomenon occurs; I don’t think I can know; That’s why I don’t want to know and say: chance. I see a force producing an action disproportionate to universal human properties; I don’t understand why this happens, and I say: genius. For a herd of rams, the ram that is driven every evening by the shepherd into a special stall to feed and becomes twice as thick as the others must seem like a genius. And the fact that every evening this very same ram ends up not in a common sheepfold, but in a special stall for oats, and that this very same ram, doused in fat, is killed for meat, should seem like an amazing combination of genius with a whole series of extraordinary accidents . But the rams just have to stop thinking that everything that is done to them happens only to achieve their ram goals; it is worth admitting that the events happening to them may also have goals that are incomprehensible to them, and they will immediately see unity, consistency in what happens to the fattened ram. Even if they do not know for what purpose he was fattened, then at least they will know that everything that happened to the ram did not happen by accident, and they will no longer need the concept of either chance or genius. Only by renouncing the knowledge of a close, understandable goal and recognizing that the final goal is inaccessible to us, will we see consistency and purposefulness in the lives of historical persons; the reason for the action they produce, disproportionate to universal human properties, will be revealed to us, and we will not need the words chance and genius. Having detached ourselves from knowledge of the ultimate goal, we will clearly understand that just as it is impossible for any plant to come up with other colors and seeds that are more appropriate to it than those that it produces, in the same way it is impossible to come up with two other people, with all their past, which would correspond to such an extent, to such the smallest details, to the purpose that they were to fulfill. The subject of history is the life of peoples and humanity. It seems impossible to directly grasp and embrace in words - to describe the life of not only humanity, but one people. All ancient historians used the same technique in order to describe and capture the seemingly elusive life of the people. They described the activities of individual people ruling the people; and this activity expressed for them the activity of the entire people. To questions about how individual people forced nations to act according to their will and how the very will of these people was controlled, the ancients answered: to the first question - by recognizing the will of the deity, which subordinated the peoples to the will of one chosen person; and to the second question - by recognition of the same deity who directed this will of the chosen one to the intended goal. For the ancients, these questions were resolved by faith in the direct participation of the deity in the affairs of mankind. New history in its theory rejected both of these positions. It would seem that, having rejected the beliefs of the ancients about the subordination of people to the deity and about a certain goal towards which peoples are being led, the new history would have to study not the manifestations of power, but the reasons that form it. But the new history did not do this. Having rejected the views of the ancients in theory, she follows them in practice. Instead of people gifted with divine power and directly guided by the will of the deity, the new history placed either heroes gifted with extraordinary, inhuman abilities, or simply people of the most diverse properties, from monarchs to journalists leading the masses. Instead of the previous goals of the peoples, pleasing to the deity: Jewish, Greek, Roman, which the ancients seemed to be the goals of the movement of mankind, new history has set its own goals - the good of the French, German, English and, in its highest abstraction, the goal of the good of the civilization of all mankind, under which of course, usually the peoples occupying the small northwestern corner of the large continent. As long as the history of individuals is written - be they Caesars, Alexanders or Luthers and Voltaires, and not the history of all, without one exception, all people taking part in an event - there is no way to describe the movement of humanity without the concept of the force that makes people direct their activities towards one goal. And the only such concept known to historians is power. Power is the totality of the wills of the masses, transferred by expressed or tacit consent to rulers elected by the masses. Historical science is still, in relation to questions of humanity, similar to circulating money - banknotes and specie. Biographical and personal folk stories similar to banknotes. They can walk and handle, satisfying their purpose, without harm to anyone and even with benefit, until the question arises about what they are provided with. One has only to forget about the question of how the will of the heroes produces events, and the stories of the Thiers will be interesting, instructive and, in addition, will have a touch of poetry. But just as doubt about the real value of pieces of paper will arise either from the fact that since they are easy to make, they will start making a lot of them, or from the fact that they will want to take gold for them, in the same way doubt arises about the real meaning of stories of this kind - either because there are too many of them, or because someone in the simplicity of their soul will ask: by what force did Napoleon do this? that is, he will want to exchange a walking piece of paper for the pure gold of a real concept. General historians and cultural historians are like people who, recognizing the inconvenience of banknotes, would decide instead of a piece of paper to make a specie from a metal that does not have the density of gold. And the coin would indeed come out ringing, but only ringing. The piece of paper could still deceive those who did not know; and the coin is sound, but not valuable, and cannot deceive anyone. Just as gold is only gold when it can be used not just for exchange, but also for business, so general historians will only be gold when they are able to answer the essential question of history: what is power? General historians answer this question contradictoryly, and cultural historians completely dismiss it, answering something completely different. And just as tokens that resemble gold can only be used between a collection of people who have agreed to recognize them as gold, and between those who do not know the properties of gold, so general historians and cultural historians, without answering the essential questions of humanity, for some then they serve their purposes as a walking coin to universities and a crowd of readers - hunters of serious books, as they call it. "War and Peace", volume 2 *), 1863 - 1869 On December 31st, on New Year's Eve 1810, there was a ball at Catherine's nobleman's house. The diplomatic corps and the sovereign were supposed to be at the ball. On the Promenade des Anglais, the famous house of a nobleman glowed with countless lights. At the illuminated entrance with a red cloth stood the police, and not only gendarmes, but the police chief at the entrance and dozens of police officers. The carriages drove off, and new ones drove up with red footmen and footmen with feathered hats. Men in uniforms, stars and ribbons came out of the carriages; ladies in satin and ermine carefully stepped down the noisily laid down steps, and hurriedly and silently walked along the cloth of the entrance. Almost every time a new carriage arrived, there was a murmur in the crowd and hats were taken off. - Sovereign?... No, minister... prince... envoy... Don't you see the feathers?... - said from the crowd. One of the crowd, better dressed than the others, seemed to know everyone, and called by name the most noble nobles of that time. [...] Along with the Rostovs, Marya Ignatievna Peronskaya, a friend and relative of the countess, a thin and yellow maid of honor of the old court, leading the provincial Rostovs in the highest St. Petersburg society, went to the ball. At 10 o'clock in the evening the Rostovs were supposed to pick up the maid of honor at the Tauride Garden; and yet it was already five minutes to ten, and the young ladies were not yet dressed. Natasha was going to the first big ball in her life. That day she got up at 8 o'clock in the morning and was in feverish anxiety and activity all day. All her strength, from the very morning, was aimed at ensuring that all of them: she, mother, Sonya were dressed in the best possible way. Sonya and the Countess trusted her completely. The countess was supposed to be wearing a masaka velvet dress, the two of them were wearing white smoky dresses on pink, silk covers with roses in the bodice. Hair had to be combed a la grecque (in Greek) . Everything essential had already been done: the legs, arms, neck, ears were already especially carefully, like a ballroom, washed, perfumed and powdered; they were already wearing silk, fishnet stockings and white satin shoes with bows; the hairstyles were almost finished. Sonya finished dressing, and so did the Countess; but Natasha, who was working for everyone, fell behind. She was still sitting in front of the mirror with a peignoir draped over her thin shoulders. Sonya, already dressed, stood in the middle of the room and, pressing painfully with her small finger, pinned the last ribbon that squealed under the pin. [...] It was decided to be at the ball at half past ten, but Natasha still had to get dressed and stop by the Tauride Garden. [...] The issue was Natasha’s skirt, which was too long; Two girls were hemming it, hastily biting the threads. The third, with pins in her lips and teeth, ran from the Countess to Sonya; the fourth held her entire smoky dress on her high-raised hand. [...] “Excuse me, young lady, allow me,” said the girl, standing on her knees, pulling off her dress and turning the pins from one side of her mouth to the other with her tongue. - Your will! - Sonya cried out with despair in her voice, looking at Natasha’s dress, - your will, it’s long again! Natasha moved away to look around in the dressing table. The dress was long. “By God, madam, nothing is long,” said Mavrusha, crawling on the floor behind the young lady. “Well, it’s long, so we’ll sweep it up, we’ll sweep it up in a minute,” said the determined Dunyasha, taking out a needle from the handkerchief on her chest and getting back to work on the floor. [...] At a quarter past ten they finally got into the carriages and drove off. But we still had to stop by the Tauride Garden. Peronskaya was already ready. Despite her old age and ugliness, she did exactly the same thing as the Rostovs, although not with such haste (this was a common thing for her), but her old, ugly body was also perfumed, washed, powdered, and the ears were also carefully washed , and even, and just like the Rostovs, the old maid enthusiastically admired her mistress’s outfit when she came out into the living room in a yellow dress with a code. Peronskaya praised the Rostovs' toilets. The Rostovs praised her taste and dress, and, taking care of her hair and dresses, at eleven o'clock they settled into their carriages and drove off. Since the morning of that day, Natasha had not had a minute of freedom, and not once had time to think about what lay ahead of her. In the damp, cold air, in the cramped and incomplete darkness of the swaying carriage, for the first time she vividly imagined what awaited her there, at the ball, in the illuminated halls - music, flowers, dancing, the sovereign, all the brilliant youth of St. Petersburg. What awaited her was so beautiful that she did not even believe that it would happen: it was so incongruous with the impression of cold, cramped space and darkness of the carriage. She understood everything that awaited her only when, having walked along the red cloth of the entrance, she entered the entryway, took off her fur coat and walked next to Sonya in front of her mother between the flowers along the illuminated stairs. Only then did she remember how she had to behave at the ball and tried to adopt the majestic manner that she considered necessary for a girl at the ball. But fortunately for her, she felt that her eyes were running wild: she saw nothing clearly, her pulse beat a hundred times a minute, and the blood began to pound at her heart. She could not accept the manner that would make her funny, and she walked, frozen with excitement and trying with all her might to hide it. And this was the very manner that suited her most of all. In front and behind them, talking just as quietly and also in ball gowns, guests entered. The mirrors on the stairs reflected ladies in white, blue, pink dresses, with diamonds and pearls on open hands and necks. Natasha looked in the mirrors and in the reflection could not distinguish herself from others. Everything was mixed into one brilliant procession. Upon entering the first hall, the uniform roar of voices, footsteps, and greetings deafened Natasha; the light and shine blinded her even more. The owner and hostess, who had been standing at the front door for half an hour and said the same words to those entering: “charm? de vous voir” (in delight to see you) , the Rostovs and Peronskaya were greeted in the same way. Two girls in white dresses, with identical roses in their black hair, sat down in the same way, but the hostess involuntarily fixed her gaze longer on thin Natasha. She looked at her and smiled especially at her, in addition to her masterful smile. Looking at her, the hostess remembered, perhaps, both her golden, irrevocable girlhood time and her first ball. The owner also followed Natasha with his eyes and asked the count who was his daughter? - Charmante! - he said, kissing the tips of his fingers. Guests stood in the hall, crowding at the front door, waiting for the sovereign. The Countess placed herself in the front row of this crowd. Natasha heard and felt that several voices asked about her and looked at her. She realized that those who paid attention to her liked her, and this observation calmed her somewhat. “There are people just like us, and there are people worse than us,” she thought. Peronskaya named the countess the most significant people who were at the ball. [...] Suddenly everything began to move, the crowd began to speak, moved, moved apart again, and between the two parted rows, at the sound of music playing, the sovereign entered. The master and hostess followed him. The Emperor walked quickly, bowing to the right and left, as if trying to quickly get rid of this first minute of the meeting. The musicians played Polskoy, known then by the words composed on it. These words began: “Alexander, Elizabeth, you delight us...” The Emperor walked into the living room, the crowd poured to the doors; several faces with changed expressions hurriedly walked back and forth. The crowd again fled from the doors of the living room, in which the sovereign appeared, talking with the hostess. Some young man with a confused look was advancing on the ladies, asking them to move aside. Some ladies with faces expressing complete obliviousness to all conditions of the world, spoiling their toilets, pressed forward. The men began to approach the ladies and form Polish pairs. Everything parted, and the sovereign, smiling and leading the mistress of the house by the hand, walked out of the living room door. The owner and M.A. followed him. Naryshkina, then envoys, ministers, various generals, whom Peronskaya kept calling. More than half of the ladies had gentlemen and were going or preparing to go to Polskaya. Natasha felt that she remained with her mother and Sonya among the minority of ladies who were pushed to the wall and not taken in Polskaya. She stood with her slender arms hanging down, and with her chest rising steadily, slightly defined, holding her breath, her shining, frightened eyes looked ahead of her, with an expression of readiness for the greatest joy and greatest sorrow. She was not occupied either by the sovereign or by everyone important persons, which Peronskaya pointed out - she had one thought: “will no one really come up to me, won’t I dance among the first ones, won’t all these men notice me, who now, it seems, don’t see me, and if they look They look at me with such an expression as if they are saying: Oh! it’s not her, there’s nothing to look at. No, it can’t be!” - she thought. “They should know how much I want to dance, how great I am at dancing, and how much fun it will be for them to dance with me.” The sounds of Polish, which continued for quite a long time, were already beginning to sound sad - a memory in Natasha’s ears. She wanted to cry. Peronskaya moved away from them. The Count was at the other end of the hall, the Countess, Sonya and she stood alone as if in a forest in this alien crowd, uninteresting and unnecessary to anyone. Prince Andrei walked past them with some lady, obviously not recognizing them. Handsome Anatole, smiling, said something to the lady he was leading, and looked at Natasha’s face with the look with which they look at walls. Boris walked past them twice and turned away each time. Berg and his wife, who were not dancing, approached them. Natasha found this family bonding here at the ball offensive, as if there was no other place for family conversations except at the ball. [...] Finally, the sovereign stopped next to his last lady (he was dancing with three), the music stopped; a preoccupied adjutant ran towards the Rostovs, asking them to step aside somewhere else, although they were standing against the wall, and the distinct, cautious and captivatingly measured sounds of a waltz were heard from the choir. The Emperor looked at the audience with a smile. A minute passed - no one had started yet. The adjutant manager approached Countess Bezukhova and invited her. She raised her hand, smiling, and placed it, without looking at him, on the adjutant’s shoulder. The adjutant manager, a master of his craft, confidently, slowly and measuredly, hugging his lady tightly, first set off with her on a glide path, along the edge of the circle, and picked her up at the corner of the hall left hand , turned it, and because of the ever-accelerating sounds of the music, only the measured clicks of the spurs of the adjutant’s fast and dexterous legs could be heard, and every three beats at the turn, the fluttering velvet dress of his lady seemed to flare up. Natasha looked at them and was ready to cry that it was not she who was dancing this first round of the waltz. Prince Andrei, in his colonel's white (cavalry) uniform, in stockings and shoes, lively and cheerful, stood in the front rows of the circle, not far from the Rostovs. [...] Prince Andrei observed these gentlemen and ladies timid in the presence of the sovereign, dying with desire to be invited. Pierre walked up to Prince Andrei and grabbed his hand. - You always dance. There is my protege here, young Rostova, invite her [...] - Where? - asked Bolkonsky. “Sorry,” he said, turning to the baron, “we’ll finish this conversation somewhere else, but we have to dance at the ball.” - He stepped forward in the direction that Pierre pointed out to him. Natasha’s desperate, frozen face caught the eye of Prince Andrei. He recognized her, guessed her feeling, realized that she was a beginner, remembered her conversation at the window and with a cheerful expression on his face approached Countess Rostova. “Let me introduce you to my daughter,” said the countess, blushing. “I have the pleasure of being an acquaintance, if the countess remembers me,” said Prince Andrei with a polite and low bow, completely contradicting Peronskaya’s remarks about his rudeness, approaching Natasha and raising his hand to hug her waist even before he finished the invitation to dance. He suggested a waltz tour. That frozen expression on Natasha’s face, ready for despair and delight, suddenly lit up with a happy, grateful, childish smile. “I’ve been waiting for you for a long time,” as if this frightened and happy girl said, with her smile that appeared due to ready tears, raising her hand on Prince Andrei’s shoulder. They were the second couple to enter the circle. Prince Andrey was one of the best dancers of his time. Natasha danced superbly. Her feet in ballroom satin shoes quickly, easily and independently of her did their job, and her face shone with the delight of happiness. Her bare neck and arms were thin and ugly. Compared to Helen's shoulders, her shoulders were thin, her breasts were vague, her arms were thin; but Helen already seemed to have a varnish on from all the thousands of glances sliding over her body, and Natasha seemed like a girl who had been exposed for the first time, and who would have been very ashamed of it if she had not been assured that it was so necessary. Prince Andrei loved to dance, and wanting to quickly get rid of political and smart conversations, with which everyone turned to him, and wanting to quickly break this annoying circle of embarrassment formed by the presence of the sovereign, he went to dance and chose Natasha, because Pierre pointed him out to her and because she was the first of the pretty women to catch his eye; but as soon as he embraced this thin, mobile figure, and she moved so close to him and smiled so close to him, the wine of her charm went to his head: he felt revived and rejuvenated when, catching his breath and leaving her, he stopped and began to look on the dancers. After Prince Andrei, Boris approached Natasha, inviting her to dance, and the adjutant dancer who started the ball, and more young people, and Natasha, handing over her excess gentlemen to Sonya, happy and flushed, did not stop dancing the whole evening. She did not notice anything and did not see anything that occupied everyone at this ball. She not only did not notice how the sovereign spoke for a long time with the French envoy, how he spoke especially graciously to such and such a lady, how prince such and such did and said this, how Helen was a great success and received special attention such and such; she did not even see the sovereign and noticed that he left only because after his departure the ball became more lively. One of the merry cotillions, before dinner, Prince Andrei danced with Natasha again. [...] Natasha was as happy as she had never been in her life. She was at that highest level of happiness when a person becomes completely trusting and does not believe in the possibility of evil, misfortune and grief. [...] To Natasha’s eyes, everyone who was at the ball was equally kind, sweet, wonderful people loving each other: no one could offend each other, and therefore everyone should be happy. "Anna Karenina" *), 1873 - 1877 Respect was invented in order to hide the empty place where love should be. - (Anna Karenina to Vronsky) This is a St. Petersburg dandy, they are made by car, they all look the same, and they are all rubbish. - (Prince Shcherbatsky, Kitty’s father, about Count Alexei Vronsky) The St. Petersburg high circle is, in fact, one; everyone knows each other, they even visit each other. But in this big circle have their own divisions. Anna Arkadyevna Karenina had friends and close connections in three different circles. One circle was the official circle of her husband, consisting of his colleagues and subordinates, connected and separated in social conditions in the most diverse and whimsical ways. Anna could now hardly remember the feeling of almost pious respect that she had at first for these persons. Now she knew them all, as they know each other in county town; she knew who had what habits and weaknesses, who had what boot was pinching his foot; knew their relationship to each other and to the main center; she knew who was holding on to whom and how and with what, and who agreed and disagreed with whom and on what; but this circle of government, male interests could never, despite the suggestions of Countess Lydia Ivanovna, interest her; she avoided it. Another circle close to Anna was the one through which Alexey Alexandrovich made his career. The center of this circle was Countess Lydia Ivanovna. It was a circle of old, ugly, virtuous and pious women and smart, learned, ambitious men. One of smart people, belonging to this circle, called him “the conscience of St. Petersburg society.” Alexey Alexandrovich valued this circle very much, and Anna, who knew how to get along with everyone, found friends in this circle during the first time of her St. Petersburg life. Now, after returning from Moscow, this circle became unbearable for her. It seemed to her that she and all of them were pretending, and she became so bored and awkward in this society that she went to Countess Lydia Ivanovna as little as possible. The third circle, finally, where she had connections, was the world itself - the light of balls, dinners, brilliant toilets, a light that held onto the courtyard with one hand so as not to descend into the half-world, which the members of this circle thought they despised, but with which tastes he had not only similar ones, but the same ones. Her connection with this circle was maintained through Princess Betsy Tverskaya, the wife of her cousin, who had an income of one hundred and twenty thousand and who, from the very appearance of Anna in the world, especially loved her, courted her and drew her into her circle, laughing at the circle of Countess Lydia Ivanovna . “When I’m old and ugly, I’ll become the same,” said Betsy, “but for you, for a young, pretty woman, it’s too early to go to this almshouse.” At first, Anna avoided, as much as she could, this world of Princess Tverskaya, since it required expenses beyond her means, and she preferred the former to her liking; but after a trip to Moscow the opposite happened. She avoided her moral friends and went to the big world. There she met Vronsky and experienced an exciting joy at these meetings. Mom is taking me to the ball: it seems to me that she is only taking me so that she can get me married as quickly as possible and get rid of me. I know it's not true, but I can't push these thoughts away. I cannot see the so-called suitors. It seems to me that they are taking measurements from me. Before, going somewhere in a ballgown was a simple pleasure for me, I admired myself; Now I'm ashamed and embarrassed. - (Kitty)- So when is the ball now? - (Anna Karenina)- Next week, and a wonderful ball. One of those balls that is always fun. - (Kitty)- Are there places where it’s always fun? - Anna said with gentle mockery. - It’s strange, but there is. The Bobrishchevs are always having fun, the Nikitins are too, and the Meshkovs are always boring. Haven't you noticed? “No, my soul, for me there are no such balls where there is fun,” said Anna, and Kitty saw in her eyes that special world that was not open to her. - For me, there are those at which it is less difficult and boring... - How can you be bored at a ball? - Why can’t I be bored at the ball? Kitty noticed that Anna knew what the answer would be. - Because you are always the best. Anna had the ability to blush. She blushed and said: “First of all, never; and secondly, if it were, then why would I need it? - Will you go to this ball? - asked Kitty. - I think it will be impossible not to go. [...] - I will be very glad if you go - I would so like to see you at the ball. - At least, if I have to go, I will be consoled by the thought that it will give you pleasure... [...] And I know why you are inviting me to the ball. You expect a lot from this ball, and you want everyone to be here, everyone to take part. [...] how good is your time. I remember and know this blue fog, like the one on the mountains in Switzerland. This fog that covers everything in that blissful time when childhood is about to end, and from this huge circle, happy, cheerful, the path becomes narrower and narrower, and it is fun and eerie to enter this enfilade, although it seems bright and beautiful... Who hasn't gone through this? *) Text "Anna Karenina" - in the Maxim Moshkov Library The ball had just begun when Kitty and her mother entered the large staircase, filled with flowers and lackeys in powder and red caftans, flooded with light. From the hall came a steady rustle of movement, as if in a beehive, and while they were straightening their hair and dresses in front of the mirror on the platform between the trees, the cautiously distinct sounds of the violins of the orchestra were heard from the hall, starting the first waltz. An old civilian, straightening his gray temples in front of another mirror and exuding the smell of perfume, bumped into them on the stairs and stood aside, apparently admiring the unfamiliar Kitty. A beardless young man, one of those secular youths whom old Prince Shcherbatsky called Tyutki, in an extremely open waistcoat, straightening his white tie as he walked, bowed to them and, running past, returned, inviting Kitty to a square dance. The first quadrille had already been given to Vronsky; she had to give the second to this young man. The military man, fastening his glove, stood aside at the door and, stroking his mustache, admired pink Kitty. Despite the fact that the toilet, hairstyle and all the preparations for the ball cost Kitty a lot of work and consideration, she now, in her complex tulle dress with a pink cover, entered the ball as freely and simply, as if all these rosettes, laces, all the details the toilet did not cost her and her family a moment's attention, as if she had been born in this tulle, lace, with this high hairstyle, with a rose and two leaves on top of it. When the old princess, at the entrance to the hall, wanted to straighten the wrapped ribbon of her belt, Kitty leaned away slightly. She felt that everything should naturally look good and graceful on her and that there was no need to correct anything. Kitty was on one of her happy days. The dress did not restrict anywhere, the lace bertha did not droop anywhere, the rosettes did not crumple or come off; pink shoes with high arched heels did not sting, but rather cheered up the foot, Thick braids of blond hair hung like their own on her small head. All three buttons fastened without tearing on the tall glove, which wrapped around her hand without changing its shape. The black velvet medallion surrounded the neck especially tenderly. This velvet was lovely, and at home, looking at her neck in the mirror, Kitty felt that this velvet was speaking. There could still be doubt about everything else, but the velvet was lovely. Kitty smiled here at the ball too, looking at her in the mirror. Kitty felt a cold marbledness in her bare shoulders and arms, a feeling that she especially loved. The eyes sparkled, and the rosy lips could not help but smile from the consciousness of their attractiveness. Before she had time to enter the hall and reach the tulle-ribbon-lace-colored crowd of ladies waiting for an invitation to dance (Kitty never stood in this crowd), she was already invited to a waltz, and invited by the best gentleman, the main gentleman in the ballroom hierarchy, the famous ball conductor, master of ceremonies, married, handsome and stately man Yegorushka Korsunsky. Having just left Countess Banina, with whom he had danced the first round of the waltz, he, looking around his household, that is, several couples who had started to dance, saw Kitty entering and ran up to her with that special, cheeky amble characteristic only of ball conductors, and, bowing, did not even asking if she wanted, he raised his hand to hug her thin waist. She looked around to see who she should give the fan to, and the hostess, smiling at her, took it. “It’s so good that you arrived on time,” he told her, hugging her waist, “but what a manner of being late.” She placed her left hand bent on his shoulder, and her small feet in pink shoes moved quickly, easily and regularly to the beat of the music on the slippery parquet floor. “You relax by waltzing with you,” he told her, taking the first slow steps of the waltz. “Lovely, what lightness, precision,” he told her what he told almost all his good friends. She smiled at his praise and continued to look at the room over his shoulder. She was not a new traveler, whose faces at the ball all merge into one magical impression; She was not a girl worn out to balls, to whom all the faces of the ball were so familiar that she became bored; but she was in the middle of these two - she was excited, and at the same time she had such self-control that she could observe. In the left corner of the hall, she saw the color of society grouped together. There was the incredibly naked beauty Lidi, Korsunsky’s wife, there was the hostess, there was Krivin shining with his bald head, who was always where the flower of society was; the young men looked there, not daring to approach; and there she found Stiva with her eyes and then saw the lovely figure and head of Anna in a black velvet dress. [...] - Well, another tour? Aren't you tired? - said Korsunsky, slightly out of breath. - No, thank you. -Where should I take you? - Karenina is here, it seems... take me to her. - Wherever you want. And Korsunsky waltzed, slowing his pace, right into the crowd in the left corner of the hall, saying: “Pardon, mesdames, pardon, pardon, mesdames,” and, maneuvering between a sea of ​​lace, tulle and ribbons and without catching a feather, turned his lady sharply , so that her thin legs in fishnet stockings were revealed, and the train was blown apart by a fan and covered Krivin’s knees with it. Korsunsky bowed, straightened his open chest and offered his hand to lead her to Anna Arkadyevna. Kitty, flushed, took the train from Krivin's knees and, slightly dizzy, looked around, looking for Anna. Anna was not in lilac, as Kitty certainly wanted, but in a black, low-cut velvet dress, revealing her full shoulders and chest, chiseled like old ivory, and rounded arms with a thin, tiny hand. The entire dress was trimmed with Venetian guipure. On her head, in her black hair, without any admixture, there was a small garland of pansies and the same on the black ribbon of the belt between the white laces. Her hairstyle was invisible. The only thing noticeable, decorating her, were those willful short ringlets of curly hair that always stood out at the back of her head and temples. There was a string of pearls on the chiseled, strong neck. [...] Vronsky approached Kitty, reminding her of the first quadrille and regretting that he had not had the pleasure of seeing her all this time. Kitty looked admiringly at Anna as she waltzed and listened to him. She expected him to invite her to a waltz, but he did not, and she looked at him in surprise. He blushed and hurriedly invited her to waltz, but he had just put his arm around her slender waist and took the first step when suddenly the music stopped. Kitty looked at his face, which was at such a close distance from her, and for a long time, several years later, that look, full of love, with which she then looked at him and to which he did not answer her, cut her heart with painful shame. - Pardon, pardon! Waltz, waltz! - Korsunsky shouted from the other side of the hall and, picking up the first young lady he came across, began to dance himself. Vronsky and Kitty went through several rounds of the waltz. After the waltz, Kitty went up to her mother and barely had time to say a few words with Nordston before Vronsky had already come to pick her up for the first quadrille. During the quadrille nothing significant was said. [...] Kitty did not expect anything more from the quadrille. She waited with bated breath for the mazurka. It seemed to her that everything should be decided in the mazurka. The fact that during the quadrille he did not invite her to the mazurka did not bother her. She was sure that she would dance the mazurka with him, as at previous balls, and she refused the mazurka to five people, saying that she was dancing. The entire ball until the last quadrille was for Kitty a magical dream of joyful colors, sounds and movements. She did not dance only when she felt too tired and asked for rest. But while dancing the last quadrille with one of the boring young men who could not be refused, she happened to be vis-a-vis with Vronsky and Anna. She had not gotten along with Anna since her arrival, and then suddenly she saw her again, completely new and unexpected. She saw in her the trait of excitement from success that was so familiar to her. She saw that Anna was drunk with the wine of the admiration she aroused. She knew this feeling and knew its signs and saw them on Anna - she saw the trembling, flashing sparkle in her eyes and the smile of happiness and excitement that involuntarily curved her lips, and the distinct grace, fidelity and ease of movements. [...] The whole ball, the whole world, everything was covered in fog in Kitty’s soul. Only the strict school of education she went through supported her and forced her to do what was required of her, that is, dance, answer questions, speak, even smile. But before the start of the mazurka, when they had already begun to arrange the chairs and some couples moved from the small halls to the large hall, Kitty was overcome by a moment of despair and horror. She refused five and now did not dance the mazurka. There was not even a hope that she would be invited, precisely because she had too much success in the world, and it could not have occurred to anyone that she had not been invited until now. She should have told her mother that she was sick and gone home, but she didn’t have the strength to do that. She felt killed. She walked into the depths of the small living room and sat down on an armchair. The airy skirt of the dress rose like a cloud around her slender figure; one naked, thin, tender girl’s hand, powerlessly lowered, sank into the folds of a pink tunic; in the other she held a fan and fanned her hot face with quick, short movements. But, despite this view of the butterfly, which had just clung to the grass and was about to fly up and unfold its rainbow wings, a terrible despair pinched her heart. [..] Countess Nordston found Korsunsky, with whom she was dancing a mazurka, and told him to invite Kitty. Kitty danced in the first couple, and, fortunately for her, she did not need to speak, because Korsunsky was constantly running around, managing his household. Vronsky and Anna were sitting almost opposite her. She saw them with her far-sighted eyes, she saw them close up when they collided in pairs, and the more she saw them, the more convinced she was that her misfortune had happened. She saw that they felt alone in this full room. And on Vronsky’s face, always so firm and independent, she saw that expression of loss and submission that struck her, similar to the expression of a smart dog when it is guilty. [...] Kitty felt crushed, and her face expressed it. When Vronsky saw her, having encountered her in the mazurka, he did not suddenly recognize her - that’s how she changed. - Wonderful ball! - he told her to say something. “Yes,” she answered. In the middle of the mazurka, repeating the complex figure again invented by Korsunsky, Anna went to the middle of the circle, took two gentlemen and called one lady and Kitty to her. Kitty looked at her in fear as she approached. Anna squinted at her and smiled, shaking her hand. But noticing that Kitty’s face only responded to her smile with an expression of despair and surprise, she turned away from her and spoke cheerfully to the other lady. “After the ball” *), Yasnaya Polyana, August 20, 1903 On the last day of Maslenitsa, I was at a ball given by the provincial leader, a good-natured old man, a rich hospitable man and a chamberlain. He was received by his wife, who was as good-natured as he, in a velvet puce dress, with a diamond feronniere on her head and with open old, plump, white shoulders and breasts, like portraits of Elizaveta Petrovna. The ball was wonderful; the hall is beautiful, with choirs, the musicians are famous serfs of the amateur landowner at that time, there is a magnificent buffet and a sea of ​​champagne poured out. Although I was a lover of champagne, I didn’t drink, because without wine I was drunk with love, but I danced until I dropped, danced quadrilles, waltzes, and polkas, of course, as far as possible, all with Varenka. She was wearing a white dress with a pink belt and white kid gloves that did not reach her thin, sharp elbows, and white satin shoes. The Mazurka was taken from me; disgusting engineer Anisimov [...] So I danced the mazurka not with her, but with one German girl, whom I had courted a little before. But, I’m afraid, that evening I was very discourteous with her, did not speak to her, did not look at her, but saw only a tall, slender figure in a white dress with a pink belt, her radiant, flushed face with dimples and gentle, sweet eyes. I wasn’t the only one, everyone looked at her and admired her, both men and women admired her, despite the fact that she outshone them all. It was impossible not to admire. According to the law, so to speak, I did not dance the mazurka with her, but in reality I danced almost all the time with her. She, without embarrassment, walked straight across the hall to me, and I jumped up without waiting for an invitation, and she thanked me with a smile for my insight. When we were brought to her and she did not guess my quality, she, giving her hand not to me, shrugged her thin shoulders and, as a sign of regret and consolation, smiled at me. When they did the mazurka waltz figures, I waltzed with her for a long time, and she, breathing quickly, smiled and told me: “Encore.” (also in French). And I waltzed again and again and did not feel my body. [...] I danced with her more and did not see how time passed. The musicians, with a kind of desperation of weariness, you know, as happens at the end of the ball, picked up the same mazurka motif, father and mother rose from the living room from the card tables, waiting for dinner, footmen ran in more often, carrying something. It was three o'clock. We had to take advantage of the last minutes. I chose her again, and we walked along the hall for the hundredth time. [...] “Look, dad is being asked to dance,” she told me, pointing to the tall, stately figure of her father, a colonel with silver epaulettes, standing in the doorway with the hostess and other ladies. “Varenka, come here,” we heard the loud voice of the hostess in a diamond feronniere and with Elizabethan shoulders. - Persuade, ma chere (dear - French), father to walk with you. Well, please, Pyotr Vladislavich,” the hostess turned to the colonel. Varenka's father was a very handsome, stately, tall and fresh old man. [...] When we approached the door, the colonel refused, saying that he had forgotten how to dance, but still, smiling, throwing left side hand, took the sword out of the belt, gave it to the helpful young man and, pulling a suede glove over right hand“Everything must be done according to the law,” he said, smiling, took his daughter’s hand and began a quarter turn, waiting for the beat. Having waited for the start of the mazurka motif, he briskly stamped one foot, kicked out the other, and his tall, heavy figure, sometimes quietly and smoothly, sometimes noisily and violently, with the clatter of soles and feet against feet, moved around the hall. The graceful figure of Varenka floated next to him, imperceptibly, shortening or lengthening the steps of her small white satin legs in time. The entire hall watched the couple's every move. I not only admired them, but looked at them with rapturous emotion. I was especially touched by his boots, covered with strips - good calf boots, but not fashionable, sharp ones, but ancient ones, with square toes and without heels. [...] It was clear that he had once danced beautifully, but now he was overweight, and his legs were no longer elastic enough for all those beautiful and fast steps that he tried to perform. But he still deftly completed two laps. When he, quickly spreading his legs, brought them together again and, although somewhat heavily, fell to one knee, and she, smiling and straightening her skirt, which he had caught, smoothly walked around him, everyone applauded loudly. Rising with some effort, he gently and sweetly grabbed his daughter by the ears and, kissing her forehead, brought her to me, thinking that I was dancing with her. I said that I am not her boyfriend. “Well, it doesn’t matter, now go for a walk with her,” he said, smiling affectionately and threading the sword into the sword belt. [...] The Mazurka ended, the hosts asked for guests for dinner, but Colonel B. refused, saying that he had to get up early tomorrow, and said goodbye to the hosts. I was afraid that they would take her away too, but she stayed with her mother. After dinner, I danced the promised quadrille with her, and, despite the fact that I seemed to be infinitely happy, my happiness grew and grew. We didn't say anything about love. I didn’t even ask her or myself whether she loved me. It was enough for me that I loved her. And I was afraid of only one thing, that something might spoil my happiness. [...] I left the ball at five o’clock. *) Text “After the Ball” - in the Maxim Moshkov Library

LEADING: Lev Nikolaevich, what is “patriotism” for you?

TOLSTOY: Patriotism is an immoral feeling because instead of recognizing oneself as the son of God, as Christianity teaches us, or at least a free man, guided by his own reason - every person, under the influence of patriotism, recognizes himself as a son of his fatherland, a slave of his government and commits acts that are contrary to his reason and his conscience. Patriotism in its simplest, clearest and most undoubted meaning is nothing more for rulers than a tool for achieving power-hungry and selfish goals, and for the governed it is a renunciation of human dignity, reason, conscience and slavish subordination of oneself to those in power. This is how it is preached everywhere.

LEADING: Do you really think that there can be no modern positive patriotism?

TOLSTOY: Patriotism cannot be good. Why don’t people say that selfishness cannot be good, although this could rather be argued, because selfishness is a natural feeling with which a person is born, and patriotism is an unnatural feeling, artificially instilled in him. So, for example, in Russia, where patriotism in the form of love and devotion to faith, the Tsar and the Fatherland is instilled in the people with extraordinary intensity by all the instruments in the hands of the government: the church, the school, the press and all solemnity, the Russian working man is one hundred million Russian people , despite the undeserved reputation that was given to them, as a people especially devoted to their faith, tsar and fatherland, there is a people freest from the deception of patriotism. For the most part, he does not know his faith, that Orthodox, state faith, to which he is supposedly so devoted, and as soon as he finds out, he abandons it and becomes a rationalist; he treats his king, despite the incessant, intense suggestions in this direction, as he treats all superior authorities - if not with condemnation, then with complete indifference; he either doesn’t know his fatherland, if we don’t mean his village or volost by this, or, if he knows, he doesn’t make any difference between it and other states.

LEADING: So you think that there is no need to cultivate a sense of patriotism in people?!

TOLSTOY: I have already had occasion to express several times the idea that patriotism in our time is an unnatural, unreasonable, harmful feeling, causing a large share of the disasters from which humanity suffers, and that therefore this feeling should not be cultivated, as is being done now - but on the contrary, it is suppressed and destroyed by all means depending on reasonable people.

(There is panic in the editorial office, the bugs in the presenters’ ears are straining...)

HOST: Well, you know... We don't... You... at least put on a nice suit!!

TOLSTOY: But the amazing thing is, despite the undeniable and obvious dependence only on this feeling of universal armaments and disastrous wars ruining the people, all my arguments about the backwardness, untimeliness and harm of patriotism were and are still met with either silence, or deliberate misunderstanding, or always one and the same with a strange objection: it is said that only bad patriotism, jingoism, chauvinism are harmful, but that real, good patriotism is a very sublime moral feeling, which to condemn is not only unreasonable, but also criminal. What this real, good patriotism consists of is either not said at all, or instead of an explanation, pompous, pompous phrases are uttered, or the concept of patriotism is presented as something that has nothing in common with the patriotism that we all know and from which everything we suffer so cruelly.

... HOST: We have one minute left, and I would like all participants in the discussion to formulate in literally two or three words - what is patriotism?

TOLSTOY: Patriotism is slavery.

Quotes from L.N. Tolstoy’s articles “Christianity and Patriotism” (1894), “Patriotism or Peace?” (1896), “Patriotism and Government” (1900). Note that the time is quiet and prosperous; Russo-Japanese War, the First World War and the rest of the 20th century are still ahead... However, that’s why Tolstoy is a genius.)

TOLSTOY Leo

To be kind and to live a good life means to give to others more than you take from them. – Leo Tolstoy

To be yourself, to believe and think in your own way - is it really so difficult, is it impossible under any circumstances and conditions?.. – Leo Tolstoy

It is impossible to introduce a substance alien to it into a living organism without this organism suffering from the efforts to free itself from the alien substance inserted into it and sometimes dying in these efforts. – Leo Tolstoy

There is only one undoubted happiness in a person’s life - to live for others! – Leo Tolstoy

In true faith, what is important is not to talk well about God, about the soul, about what was and what will be, but one thing is important: to know firmly what should and should not be done in this life. – Leo Tolstoy

In true work of art there are no limits to aesthetic pleasure. Every little thing, every line, is a source of pleasure. – Leo Tolstoy

There is a side to a dream that is better than reality; in reality there is a side that is better than the dream. Complete happiness would be a combination of both. – Leo Tolstoy

In a world where people run around like trained animals and are incapable of any other thought except to outwit each other for the sake of mammon, in such a world they may consider me an eccentric, but I still feel within me a divine thought about the world which is so beautifully expressed in the Sermon on the Mount. In my deepest conviction, war is only trade in large sizes, - the trade of ambitious and powerful people with the happiness of nations. – Leo Tolstoy

At my age, I have to hurry to do my plans. There is no time to wait anymore. I'm heading towards death. – Leo Tolstoy

In our youth, we think that there is no end to our memory, our abilities of perception. As you get older, you feel that memory also has limits. You can fill your head so full that you can’t hold it anymore: there’s no room, it falls out. Only this, perhaps, is for the best. How much garbage and all sorts of rubbish we stuff into our heads. Thank God that at least in old age the head is freed. – Leo Tolstoy

In science, mediocrity is still possible, but in art and literature, whoever does not reach the top falls into the abyss. – Leo Tolstoy

In our time, the life of the world goes on as usual, completely independent of the teachings of the church. This teaching has remained so far back that the people of the world no longer hear the voices of the teachers of the church. And there is nothing to listen to, because the church only gives explanations for the structure of life from which the world has already grown and which either no longer exists at all, or which is being uncontrollably destroyed. – Leo Tolstoy

In our time, it cannot but be clear to all thinking people that the life of people - not just the Russian people, but all the peoples of the Christian world, with its ever-increasing need of the poor and the luxury of the rich, with its struggle of all against all, revolutionaries against governments, governments against revolutionaries, enslaved peoples against enslavers, the struggle of states among themselves, between the West and the East, with their ever-growing armaments that absorb the strength of the people, their sophistication and depravity - that such a life cannot continue, that the life of Christian peoples, if it will not change, it will inevitably become more and more miserable. – Leo Tolstoy

In our time, only a person completely ignorant or completely indifferent to the issues of life sanctified by religion can remain in the church faith. – Leo Tolstoy

There are no boundaries for a person in the area of ​​goodness. He is as free as a bird! What prevents him from being kind? – Leo Tolstoy

In the field of science, research and verification of what is being studied are considered necessary, and although the subjects of pseudoscience themselves are insignificant, i.e. everything that concerns serious moral issues of life is excluded from it; nothing absurd, directly contrary to common sense, is allowed in it. – Leo Tolstoy

The vast majority of letters and telegrams say essentially the same thing. They express sympathy for me for the fact that I contributed to the destruction of false religious understanding and gave something that was beneficial to people in a moral sense, and this alone makes me happy in all this - precisely what public opinion has established in this regard. How sincere it is is another matter, but when public opinion is established, the majority directly adheres to what everyone says. And I must say this in highest degree Nice. Of course, the most joyful letters are from people, from workers. – Leo Tolstoy

In one smile lies what is called the beauty of the face: if a smile adds beauty to the face, then the face is beautiful; if she does not change it, then it is ordinary; if she spoils it, then it is bad. – Leo Tolstoy

You can't say stupid things into a bullhorn. – Leo Tolstoy

In the old days they kept slaves and did not feel the horror of it. When you go around the peasants now and see how they live and what they eat, you feel ashamed that you have all this... They have bread with green onions for breakfast. For an afternoon snack - bread with onions. And in the evening - bread with onions. There will be a time when the rich will be as ashamed and impossible to eat what they eat and live as they live, knowing about this bread and onions, as we are now ashamed of our grandfathers who kept slaves... - Leo Tolstoy

In intelligent criticism of art, everything is true, but not the whole truth. – Leo Tolstoy

In private and common life one law: if you want to improve your life, be ready to give it up. – Leo Tolstoy

What is the purpose of life? Reproduction of one's own kind. For what? Serve people. And what should we do for those whom we will serve? Serve God? Can't He do what He needs without us? If He orders us to serve ourselves, it is only for our good. Life cannot have any other purpose than goodness and joy. – Leo Tolstoy

In an immoral society, all inventions that increase man's power over nature are not only not good, but undoubted and obvious evil. - Leo Tolstoy

In the matter of cunning, a stupid person deceives smarter ones. - Leo Tolstoy

In money matters the main interest of life (if not the main, then the most constant) and in them the character of a person is best expressed. - Leo Tolstoy

God lives in every good person. – Leo Tolstoy

In a moment of indecision, act quickly and try to take the first step, even if it’s the wrong one. - Leo Tolstoy

In one smile lies what is called the beauty of the face: if a smile adds beauty to the face, then the face is beautiful; if she does not change it, then it is ordinary; if she spoils it, then it is bad. – Leo Tolstoy

In the periodic forgiveness of sins in confession, I see a harmful deception that only encourages immorality and destroys the fear of sin. - Leo Tolstoy

I always feel worse in the presence of a Jew. - Leo Tolstoy

In the very devotion to another being, in the renunciation of oneself for the sake of the good of another being, there is a special spiritual pleasure. - Leo Tolstoy

In the best, most friendly and simple relationships, flattery or praise is necessary, just as greasing is necessary for the wheels to keep them moving. - Leo Tolstoy

Bringing people together is the main task of art. - Leo Tolstoy

In the old days, when there was no Christian teaching, for all teachers of life, starting with Socrates, the first virtue in life was abstinence and it was clear that every virtue should begin with it and pass through it. It was clear that a person who did not control himself, who had developed a huge number of lusts and obeyed all of them, could not lead a good life. It was clear that before a person could think not only about generosity, about love, but about selflessness and justice, he had to learn to control himself. In our opinion, this is not necessary. We are quite confident that a person who has developed his lusts to the highest degree to which they are developed in our world, a person who cannot live without satisfying hundreds of unnecessary habits that have gained power over him, can lead a completely moral, good life.

In our time and in our world, the desire to limit one’s lusts is considered not only not the first, but not even the last, but completely unnecessary for leading a good life.

Leo Tolstoy

There are no accidents in fate; man creates rather than meets his destiny. - Leo Tolstoy

While we are the living graves of killed animals, how can we hope for any improvement in living conditions on earth? - Leo Tolstoy

What is important has always been and will be only what is needed for the good of not just one person, but of all people. - Leo Tolstoy

It is not the quantity of knowledge that is important, but its quality. No one can know everything. – Leo Tolstoy

It is not the quantity of knowledge that is important, but its quality. No one can know everything, and it is shameful and harmful to pretend that you know what you do not know. - Leo Tolstoy