~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~
When the noisy day is silent for a mortal,
And on the silent hailstorms
A translucent shadow will cast the night
And sleep, the reward of the day's work,
At that time for me they languish in silence
Hours of languid vigil:
In the inactivity of the night they burn more alive in me
Snakes of heart's remorse;
Dreams are boiling; in a mind overwhelmed by melancholy,
There is an excess of heavy thoughts;
The memory is silent before me
The scroll develops its long one;
And reading with disgust my life,
I tremble and curse
And I complain bitterly, and I shed bitter tears,
But I don’t wash away the sad lines.
I see in idleness, in frantic feasts,
In the madness of disastrous freedom,
In captivity, poverty, persecution, in the steppes
My lost years.
I hear my friends' treacherous greetings again
At the games of Bacchus and Cypris,
Again to the heart. . . . . applies a cool light
Irresistible grievances.
I hear. . . . the buzz of slander,
Solutions to evil stupidity,
And a whisper of envy and light vanity
The reproach is funny and bloody.
And there is no consolation for me - and it is quiet before me
Two young ghosts arise,
Two lovely shadows, two given by fate
An angel to me in days gone by.
But both with wings and a flaming sword,
And they guard - and they both take revenge on me,
And both speak to me in a dead language
About the secrets of happiness and the grave.
1828
Analysis of Pushkin’s poem “Memory”
The philosophical theme and intonations of sad reflection unite two works created by the poet in May 1828: “Memories” and Experiencing a period of crisis, the author comes to disappointing conclusions, indicating spiritual emptiness, idle melancholy and a lack of life guidelines.
The original titles of “Memoirs” were associated with the theme of forced night wakefulness, but later Pushkin changed the title, inviting readers to focus on the hero’s emotions caused by reading the “scroll” own life. The last image is especially interesting. It refers not only to biblical symbol books of life: the likening of human destinies to the process of spinning threads goes back to ancient Greek sources telling about the Moirai, goddesses of fate.
The beginning of the poem determines the place and time of the lyrical situation: Big city, the “translucent shadow” of white nights. Here an antithesis arises, contrasting the peace of “mortals,” rewarded with sleep for the worries of the day, and the insomnia of the hero, for whom the “hours of languid vigil” begin.
After a short introduction it’s time detailed description sensations of the lyrical “I”. It begins with an original metaphor, associating remorse with a snake. The allegorical image is complemented by vocabulary denoting melancholy and despondency, provoked by an abundance of “heavy thoughts.” The metaphor “dreams are boiling” conveys the intensity of the hero’s experiences.
The final episode is preceded by an extensive metaphorical construction, central to the figurative structure of the text: it interprets a memory as a life scroll. Reading the latter strengthens the negative emotions of the lyrical subject, which find external manifestation, resulting in bitter complaints and tears.
The final line gives new shades of meaning to the torment of the lyrical subject. A conscious refusal to correct, to erase the sad lines of one’s own life - such is the courageous choice of the matured hero. He is ashamed of his past, but does not feel the right to abandon it. The final phrase does not resolve the internal conflict, but relieves its severity by recognizing the value of life experience and a person’s responsibility for mistakes made earlier.
Deep philosophical thought is clothed in the form of one complex sentence, the parts of which are united by different types of syntactic connections. Such a stylistic decision indicates the strength and intensity of the experience.
When the noisy day falls silent for a mortal, And the translucent shadow of the night falls on the silent haystacks of hail And sleep, the reward of the day's labors, At that time for me the hours of languid vigil languish in silence: In the inaction of the night, the Serpents of heartfelt remorse burn alive within me; Dreams are boiling; in a mind suppressed by melancholy, an excess of heavy thoughts crowds in; The memory silently unfolds before me Its long scroll; And reading my life with disgust, I tremble and curse, And I complain bitterly, and I shed bitter tears, But I don’t wash away the sad lines.End of the poem in the manuscript:
I see in idleness, in frantic feasts, in the madness of disastrous freedom, in captivity, poverty, exile, in the steppes, My lost years. I again hear friends' treacherous greetings at the games of Bacchus and Cypris, Once again the cold light inflicts irresistible insults on my heart. I hear around me the buzz of slander, the decisions of evil stupidity, and the whisper of envy and light vanity, a cheerful and bloody reproach. And there is no consolation for me - and quietly before me Two young ghosts rise, Two lovely shadows, two angels given to me by fate in the days of yore; But both with wings and a flaming sword. And they guard... and they both take revenge on me. And both tell me in a dead language About the secrets of happiness and the grave.
Analysis of Pushkin’s poem “Memory”
The philosophical theme and intonations of sad reflection unite two works created by the poet in May 1828: “Memories” and “Experiencing a period of crisis, the author comes to disappointing conclusions, indicating spiritual emptiness, idle melancholy and a lack of life guidelines.
The original titles of “Memoirs” were associated with the theme of forced night wakefulness, but later Pushkin changed the title, inviting readers to focus on the hero’s emotions caused by reading the “scroll” of his own life. The last image is especially interesting. It refers not only to the biblical symbol of the book of life: the likening of human destinies to the process of spinning threads goes back to ancient Greek sources telling about the Moirai, goddesses of fate.
The beginning of the poem determines the place and time of the lyrical situation: a big city, a “translucent shadow” of white nights. Here an antithesis arises, contrasting the peace of “mortals,” rewarded with sleep for the worries of the day, and the insomnia of the hero, for whom the “hours of languid vigil” begin.
After a brief introduction, it’s time for a detailed description of the feelings of the lyrical “I”. It begins with an original metaphor, associating remorse with a snake. The allegorical image is complemented by vocabulary denoting melancholy and despondency, provoked by an abundance of “heavy thoughts.” The metaphor “dreams are boiling” conveys the intensity of the hero’s experiences.
The final episode is preceded by an extensive metaphorical construction, central to the figurative structure of the text: it interprets a memory as a life scroll. Reading the latter strengthens the negative emotions of the lyrical subject, which find external manifestation, resulting in bitter complaints and tears.
The final line gives new shades of meaning to the torment of the lyrical subject. A conscious refusal to correct, to erase the sad lines of one’s own life - such is the courageous choice of the matured hero. He is ashamed of his past, but does not feel the right to abandon it. The final phrase does not resolve the internal conflict, but relieves its severity by recognizing the value of life experience and a person’s responsibility for mistakes made earlier.
A deep philosophical thought is expressed in the form of one complex sentence, the parts of which are united by different types of syntactic connections. Such a stylistic decision indicates the strength and intensity of the experience.
Even more merciless than his elegy:Memory
When the noisy day is silent for a mortal,
And on the silent hailstorms
A translucent shadow will cast the night
And sleep, the reward of the day's work,
At that time for me they languish in silence
Hours of languid vigil:
In the inactivity of the night they burn more alive in me
Snakes of heart's remorse;
Dreams are boiling; in a mind overwhelmed by melancholy,
There is an excess of heavy thoughts;
The memory is silent before me
The scroll develops its long one;
And, reading my life with disgust,
I tremble and curse
And I complain bitterly, and I shed bitter tears,
But I don’t wash away the sad lines.
(1828)
Memories in Tsarskoe Selo
Confused by memories,
Filled with sweet melancholy
The gardens are beautiful, under the dusk your sacred
I enter with my head hanging down.
So the boy of the Bible, crazy spendthrift,
Having exhausted the vial of repentance to the last drop,
Having finally seen my native monastery,
He hung his head and began to sob.
In the heat of fleeting delights,
In a barren whirlwind of vanity,
Oh, I have squandered many treasures of my heart
For unattainable dreams,
And for a long time I wandered, and often, tired,
With repentance of grief, anticipating troubles,
I thought about you, blessed limit,
I imagined these gardens.
I imagine a happy day
When the lyceum arose among you,
And I hear our games again, the playful noise,
And I see my family of friends again.
Once again a tender youth,
sometimes ardent, sometimes lazy,
Vague dreams melt in my chest,
Wandering through meadows, through silent groves,
So I forget myself.<...>
(1829)
What did our poet repent of so bitterly, so mercilessly? Of course, in sins against the seventh commandment - in this regard, his conscience turned out to be more sensitive even in comparison with the conscience of Blessed Augustine, who wrote his sincere confession.
The latter openly repented before his readers, not sparing his hierarchical authority, but what was the main reason? Alas, here too he showed more of a Roman lawyer than a humble Christian: he mourns the sins of his youth, but mainly that as a child... he stole apples and other fruits from someone else’s garden, which, of course, every decent boy does , especially in the hot South, where fruit is cheaper than our sorrel. Blessed Augustine cruelly torments his heart because, when stealing fruit, he did it not under the pressure of need, but for the sake of stupid youth. But he mentions extremely indifferently about his former illegitimate child, whom death stole away already at a young age.
Pushkin’s repentance for his youthful sins was not just an outburst of unconscious feeling, but had a close connection with his social and even state convictions. These are the dying words he puts into the mouth of the dying Tsar Boris Godunov to his son Theodore:
Keep, keep holy purity
Innocence and proud modesty:
Who with feelings in vicious pleasures
In my younger days I got used to drowning,
He, having matured, is gloomy and bloodthirsty,
And his mind untimely darkens.
Always be the head of your family;
Honor your mother, but rule over yourself -
You are a husband and a king; love your sister -
You are her only guardian.
Pushkin was far from the now generally accepted paradox that moral life everyone's business is exclusively his own private matter, and social activity it is completely unrelated to the first one.
In the years of his manhood, Pushkin hoped to free himself from youthful passions and wrote the poem “Renaissance”:
Barbarian artist with a sleepy brush
The picture of a genius is blackened
And your drawing is lawless
Draws senselessly over her.
But the colors are alien, with age,
They fall off like old scales;
The creation of a genius is before us
It comes out with the same beauty.
This is how misconceptions disappear
From my tormented soul
And visions arise in her
Initial, pure days.
He returns to this same topic more than once, revealing to the reader the changing better mood of your soul.
I've lived through my desires
I fell out of love with my dreams;
I'm left with only suffering,
The fruits of heart emptiness.
Under the storms of cruel fate
My blooming crown has faded;
I live sad, lonely
And I wait: will my end come?
Thus, struck by the late cold,
The winter whistle is heard like a storm,
One - on a naked branch
The belated leaf trembles!..
Pushkin constantly thought about the inevitable outcome of human life:
Do I wander along the noisy streets,
I enter a crowded temple,
Am I sitting among crazy youths,
I indulge in my dreams.
I say: the years will fly by,
And no matter how much we are seen here,
We will all descend under the eternal vaults -
And someone else's hour is near.
I look at the solitary oak tree,
I think: patriarch of the forests
Will outlive my forgotten age,
How he survived the age of his fathers.
Am I caressing a sweet baby?
I’m already thinking: sorry!
I give up my place to you:
It's time for me to smolder, for you to bloom.
Every day, every year
I'm used to accompanying my thoughts,
Coming death anniversary
Trying to guess between them.
And where will fate send me death?
Is it in battle, on a journey, in the waves?
Or the neighboring valley
Will my cold ashes take me?
And even to an insensitive body
Equally decay everywhere,
But closer to the cute limit
I would still like to rest.
And let at the tomb entrance
The young one will play with life
And indifferent nature
Shine with eternal beauty.
However, the thought of death does not inspire him with despondency, but with submission to the will of God and reconciliation with his lot:
...I visited again
That corner of the earth where I spent
Exile for two years unnoticed<...>
Pushkin’s religious feeling did not only have a strictly individual character: the image of an inspired prophet, to whom he turned more than once, floated before his consciousness. More than once we have read about the stunning impression that Dostoevsky’s recitation of Pushkin’s “Prophet” made. At these moments, both great writers seemed to merge into one being, obviously applying to themselves the vision of the prophet Isaiah, which Pushkin outlined in his poem:
We are tormented by spiritual thirst,
I dragged myself in the dark desert,
And the six-winged Seraphim
He appeared to me at a crossroads;
With fingers as light as a dream,
He touched my eyes.
The prophetic eyes have opened,
Like a frightened eagle.
He touched my ears, -
And they were filled with noise and ringing:
And I heard the sky tremble,
And the heavenly flight of Angels,
And the reptile of the sea underwater,
And the valley of the vine is vegetated.
And he came to my lips
And my sinner tore out my tongue,
And idle and crafty,
And the sting of the wise snake
My frozen lips
He put it with his bloody right hand.
And he cut my chest with a sword,
And he took out my trembling heart,
And coal blazing with fire,
I pushed the hole into my chest.
I lay like a corpse in the desert.
And God’s voice cried out to me:
“Rise up, prophet, and see and listen,
Be fulfilled by My will
And, bypassing the seas and lands,
Burn the hearts of people with the verb.”
To be continued...
VITALY VOLOBUEV
PUSHKIN’S POEM “MEMORY”
“When the noisy day ceases for a mortal...”
Pushkin was one of those creative geniuses
those great historical figures,
who, working for the present,
prepare the future, and for that very reason
can no longer belong to only one past.
V. G. Belinsky
“Be quiet and wait!” - one could say to Pushkin during that difficult period of his activity, when critics greeted his best creations with hostile reviews, while readers loudly spoke about the decline of Pushkin’s talent.” This is what A.V. Druzhinin writes about the period of the poet’s life when the poem “Memories” was written. Similar in mood to it are poems such as “In the worldly steppe, sad and boundless,” “A vain gift, an accidental gift...” At this time, he is overcome by gloomy, dreary thoughts. This is also due to the depressing social atmosphere, when moods of depression, hopelessness, and despondency dominated, after the defeat of the Decembrists, among the noble intelligentsia. Not being able to speak freely in public, many “withdrew into themselves,” into the world of their own feelings and experiences. This could not but affect Pushkin. In addition, the feelings of insulted talent also increased; it is not for nothing that the poem “The Poet and the Crowd” was written at this time. Belinsky writes: “Not a single poet in Rus' enjoyed such nationality, such fame during his lifetime, and not a single one was so cruelly insulted.”
After “Boris Godunov,” which Pushkin considered one of the pinnacles of his work, not a single serious analysis of the tragedy appeared; they even talked about Pushkin’s failure. A contemporary testifies to this: “Why is there still so little talk about Pushkin? Why do his best works remain unexamined, and instead of analyzes and judgments we hear only empty exclamations” (I. Kireevsky). Even his fellow writers were upset by the lack of understanding. The same Druzhinin, for example, writes: “...Unfortunately, the more our poet clung to Russian literature, the more noble he behaved with his fellow writers, the more clearly he realized how much lower the Russian literary world of his time was than his ideal.” .
In such an environment, it was no wonder to feel sad, to fill the poems with sadness, complaints, and reproaches. Moreover, in this situation, there was a share of the guilt (or, rather, merit) of Pushkin himself. Here is what V. Odoevsky writes: “There was a time when Pushkin, carefree, careless, threw his precious beads at every crossroads; smart people raised it, boasted about it, sold it and made money; ...Then all the literary industrialists were on their knees before the poet, smoking over him the incense of praise, deserved and undeserved... But... Pushkin, Pushkin understood his significance in Russian literature, understood the weight that his name gave to the publications honored by him works; he looked around him and was struck by the sad picture of our literary massacre - its vulgar abuse, its commercial direction, and the name of Pushkin disappeared from many, many publications! ...And the praises of the poet fell silent.”
Pushkin himself, in a letter to P. A. Osipova at the beginning of 1828, writes from St. Petersburg: “This life, I must admit, is quite empty, and I am burning with the desire to change it one way or another.”
Alas, this desire remains just a dream. Benckendorff, whom Pushkin asks to convey to the Tsar a request for a trip to Paris, does not fulfill his request and Pushkin is forced to remain in Russia, in the difficult atmosphere of the post-Decembrist era.
At this very time, the poem “When the noisy day falls silent for a mortal...” The poem in its final version has sixteen lines and is a complete lyrical work in which the poet, describing a sleepless night (initially it was called “Insomnia” or “Vigil” "), experiences "heartbreak." He reads “his life” with “disgust,” but - and this line crowns the poem - “I don’t wash away the sad lines.”
This is the whole of Pushkin - no matter how harsh, no matter how painful life is, both past and present, only it - good or bad - has the right to artistic embodiment. And no tears can wash away what has already been written, what has already been said, what has already been done. A part of life has been lived, there is already something to remember - both good and bad, but nothing can be changed, but thinking about the past can help avoid bad things in the future and present.
This nightly “vigil” is a comprehension of the past, a memory of days gone by, friends of the heart, before whom the poet feels guilty, also because they are no longer there. But - “I don’t wash away the sad lines.” The ambiguity of this line is striking and delightful. In fact, “I don’t wash it off” - is it because of the inability to wash it off or because of the reluctance to wash it off? The meaning changes in each case. And with it, the perception changes. But the truth, apparently, is that these are two sides of the same coin. I don’t want to, and I can’t. What if you could? No, that’s not how he’s built, it’s not in his will to want to wash away the “sad lines” of his life. That means they are dear to him, that means he couldn’t live otherwise, that means there is no other way, and only this one is correct, which brought and continues to bring disappointment, insult, and humiliation, but also the highest pleasure and understanding of his high mission.
“But I don’t wash away the sad lines...” This and only this line could and should have ended the poem, and it is no coincidence that the poet crossed out everything that was written after it. But there were also wonderful lines. This is how Druzhinin writes about them: “After the final line (“But the lines...”) followed (in the draft manuscript) sixteen poems, almost unparalleled in beauty, energy, deep feeling poured into them, and finally, in some special way, their intermittent musicality." The same Druzhinin expresses in another place an idea that can explain this act of Pushkin: “Not embarrassed by the need for fame, Pushkin mercilessly destroys the most excellent stanzas related to his most sacred personal memories, and what’s more, he at times masks his feeling, averts the reader’s eyes, hides a tear under a smile, a joyful memory under a tear.”
As you know, in these crossed out stanzas we are talking about two women, the memory of which torments the poet - “two young ghosts, // Two lovely shadows, - two given by fate // An angel to me in the days of yore.” No one now will say who they are - one can only guess - maybe these are the two “charming girls” about whom Pushkin writes in the early poems “To Shcherbinin” - Nadenka Forst and Fanny - the St. Petersburg “maidens of fun”. It’s not for nothing that Pushkin’s first, barely begun story of 1819 is entitled with Nadenka’s name (see about this: A.S. Pushkin. Collected works in ten volumes. M., GIHL, 1959, vol. 1, p. 568)
In the same poem, in its second part, the poet prophesies: “But the young days will fly by, ...Then - without songs, without girlfriends, // Without pleasures, without desires, // We will find joy, dear friend, // In the foggy dream of memories! This is just an assumption, and it takes us away from the main idea, just as the second, crossed out part of Pushkin’s “Memoirs” once took us away from the main idea of the poem. After all, the line “But I don’t wash away the lines...” raises the lyrical thought to such a height that its further development leads to decline - Pushkin could not help but feel this, because immediately the “air” of the poem (or, as they say now, “aura” ), its atmosphere narrows, the thought begins to beat, as if in a cage, in the mention of two women, even in such a beautiful mention. In the white version adopted by Pushkin, “two dear shadows” are only implied, they are hidden in the first sixteen lines, which is why they (the lines) are so filled with emotional content. Pushkin's taste, his lyrical flair are impeccable in this case and the poem becomes the pearl of Russian poetry in general, and not just Pushkin's lyrics.
Subsequent lines ground the poem, and “grounding” often harms a lyric poem, especially if it turned out to be so full from the first stanzas that its further flow only reveals the content of what was said earlier and thereby weakens the effect produced. Revisiting what has already been said has never helped to better perceive a lyric poem. And many have sinned with this. It would seem that we should stop, leave the melody on the highest note, but no, the singer continues, and the melody becomes boring. Pushkin stops...
But not only that, the poet’s completion of the poem with this line also speaks of another feature of Pushkin. Here is how I. S. Aksakov writes about this: “Pushkin was not a poet of “negation,” but not because he was incapable of seeing, comprehending the negative sides of life and being offended by them, but because, first of all, that was not his calling as artist. ...Also because, perhaps, Pushkin, with his Russian mind and heart, understood life more broadly than many writers who paint its phenomena with solid black paint.”
So, it turns out, what other thought does Pushkin’s “Memoir” suggest? (To be fair, it is worth noting that the quoted statement of I. S. Aksakov was not inspired by this poem, which, however, does not change the essence of the argument) The poet, by his nature, could not be in any one mood for a long time, however, being in it, he always sank into its depths, immersed himself in it, until it poured out into a poem. Chernyshevsky writes: “It can be said about him, more than about anyone else, that he lived by the impressions that the present moment brought. Transitions from sadness to cheerfulness, from despondency to carelessness, from despair to hope were frequent and very fast for him.” It is this characteristic feature of Pushkin’s nature that allows us to explain the appearance almost side by side of “Memories”, and “You and You”, and “A Vain Gift, an Accidental Gift”, and “Young Mare”, then “Her Eyes” and “Don’t Sing, beauty, with me” or “And on rainy days...” Here is another remark from Chernyshevsky: “He so loved sharp transitions from one extreme to another that he only liked either strong physical movement or perfect peace.”
No, the appearance of sad poems can be explained not only by the fact that the poet was depressed by the social atmosphere; mixed with this was the consciousness of his aging and the memory of some insults once inflicted, especially on women, often unconsciously. And many, many things could act on the poet’s heart, extracting from him masterpieces of lyricism.
And isn’t there a selfish idea here for the researcher to understand the poet’s desires and moods enough to get closer to his level of feeling and, perhaps, steal the secrets of owning the lyre? But no, no matter how much we struggle with the reasons or impressions that prompted the lyricist to create a work, we can only get closer to true understanding, but never fully comprehend it. Like the elusive smile of Gioconda, the lyrical thought expressed by a true poet changes with each new lighting and angle, with each passing minute, with each disturbance in the air, with each shift of society, which with each new generation is trying to rethink the old ones, like the world. , creations.
Maybe it wouldn’t be worth talking about the lyrics, but just enjoying them, but who can resist expressing their opinion, because “everyone’s opinion, if it is made in conscience and based on pure conviction, has the right to everyone’s attention” ( I. Kireevsky).
Sources:
1. V. G. Belinsky. A look at Russian literature. M. Contemporary. 1982
2. A. V. Druzhinin. Literary criticism. M. Soviet Russia. 1983
3. I. V. Kireevsky. Selected articles. M. Contemporary. 1984
4. V. F. Odoevsky. About literature and art. M. Contemporary. 1982
5. A. S. Pushkin. Collected works in ten volumes. M. GIHL. 1962. v.9.
6. K. S. Aksakov, I. S. Aksakov. Literary criticism. M. Contemporary. 1981
7. N. G. Chernyshevsky. Letters without an address. M. Contemporary. 1983
