"Mtsyri": the history of the creation of the poem. The creative history of the creation of the poem “Mtsyri History of Mtsyri
In the works of the Russian poet and prose writer M.Yu. Lermontov's poem as a genre, as well as the theme of the Caucasus, has always occupied a special place. “Mtsyri” is a work written in adulthood and embodying the best experience of the romantic author, who more than once glorified the majestic nature of the mountains and created the image of an indomitable and freedom-loving hero.
The difficult history of the creation of Lermontov’s poem “Mtsyri” has always aroused interest among readers. Moreover, its plot helps to understand the ideals and moral beliefs of the author himself. To some extent, the hero’s confession can be considered a way of expressing the thoughts and hopes that tormented the poet in difficult times for Russia.
How did the idea for the poem “Mtsyri” come about?
The history of the creation of the work goes back to Lermontov’s youth. At the age of seventeen, he left a note in which he noted that he would like to dedicate one of his creations to a peer who was languishing in a monastery (the poet associated it with a prison) and dreaming of finding freedom. Lermontov himself wrote that the most difficult thing for him at that moment was the choice of ideals. As long as they were completely incomprehensible to the author’s passionate nature, the work failed. Everything that was possible to write (these poems of the 30s “Confession” and “Boyarin Orsha”) was not what the young man dreamed of.
The history of the creation of the poem “Mtsyri” by Lermontov: chronology
The hero-novice had related images in the poet’s earlier works. In 1830, the poem “Confession” was written. It was based on the monologue of a young Spanish hermit who ended up in a monastery-prison. The hero, sentenced to death, does not regret his fate at all. On the contrary, he rebels against cruel laws and shows readiness to fight for human love. He told the old monk about his unfulfilled dreams and aspirations - this already reveals the plot basis of “Mtsyri”.
A little later, the story of the creation of the story “Mtsyri” gets its development. In the mid-30s, Lermontov wrote another poem - “Boyarin Orsha”. The action in it takes place during the terrible years of the reign of Ivan the Terrible. The life story of the main character Arseny directly echoes the fate of the Spaniard, and some lines of their fiery speeches are almost completely repeated. In the new poem, the plot becomes more complex and includes the story of the unhappy love of a simple serf and the daughter of a noble boyar. Later, the main ideas of these works (by the way, Lermontov never published them) will be embodied in the story about Mtsyri, which allows us to talk about their direct relationship.
Thus, years passed before the youthful idea of M.Yu. Lermontov was embodied in the plot of a famous romantic poem. So the history of the creation of the work “Mtsyri” covered several years of the author’s work.
Travel along the Georgian Military Road
The next impetus for the realization of the poet’s plans was the first exile. In 1837 M.Yu. Lermontov, on his way to the place of “imprisonment,” drove past one of the Caucasian monasteries in Mtskheta (that was the name of the capital of Georgia in old times). Here he met with an already elderly monk, with whose image the story of the creation of “Mtsyri” is now associated. Lermontov, according to P. Viskovatov, after the conversation, remembered his old dream.
Bary (as the monastery minister was called in Georgia) told the sad story of his own life. Once upon a time, as a six-year-old boy, he was captured and brought by a Russian general (according to Lermontov - Ermolov) to these parts. One of the novices of the Javari monastery treated the child with sympathy and kept him with him. The prisoner at first tried to protest, even attempted to escape, which almost ended in his death. However, over time, he completely resigned himself to his fate and forever remained to live among the monks. It was this story that inspired Lermontov to write a new story about a freedom-loving and rebellious hero. So the fate of the old Bary and the history of the creation of the poem “Mtsyri” turned into one.
Working on a piece
Returning from the Caucasus, the poet returned to his old plan and organically combined it with the story he had heard. The wild and beautiful nature of the Caucasus, or rather the surroundings of the Javari monastery, located near the confluence of the two mighty and Aragva, was most suitable as a background (a feature of romantic poems) for the unfolding events. I also remembered Georgian folklore works (for example, the legend of the wild leopard), heard by Lermontov on previous trips to the Caucasus. It was they who significantly influenced the character of Mtsyri. The history of the creation of the poem, thus, became increasingly tied to the well-known features of life in the Caucasus and personal impressions left over from repeated visits to these places. As a result, the text of the romantic poem was born quite soon: the author’s note was preserved on its manuscript, indicating the day the work was completed: August 5, 1839. And the next year the work was published in a collection of poems by the poet.
The publication
The history of the creation of the poem “Mtsyri” also includes S. Aksakov’s story about how in May 1840 the poet personally read the chapter “Fight with the Leopard” at the name day of the writer N.V. Gogol. The writer himself was not present at the evening, but communicated with the guests who were there. According to him, Lermontov’s new “brainchild” was greeted with delight and evoked a lively response.
He left other memories of his acquaintance with the poem. He wrote that in 1839 he visited Tsarskoe Selo, where the poet was at that moment. One evening he visited Lermontov, who was in an excited state, and read him a new “magnificent” poem called “Mtsyri” from beginning to end.
Formation of the plot basis
Processing the story you heard and correlating it with the ideological concept of the work is also the story of the creation of “Mtsyri”. Lermontov did not immediately come up with such a name. In the draft version the poem was called "Bary". As the work progressed and the creative concept was realized, the title of the work changed. The word "beri" translated into Russian means "monk". But Lermontov’s hero had not yet undergone tonsure, so “Mtsyri” was more suitable for his name. In addition, in the Georgian language this word had another meaning - a stranger, a lonely person, without relatives and friends. This fully characterizes the main character of the poem.
Call of a passionate soul
The fates of the old man from Javari, who talked with the poet, and the young man from the poem turned out differently - this was fundamentally the author’s approach. The first accepted his fate and lived in the monastery until old age. The second wants to gain freedom by any means. In his quest, he is not afraid to oppose the unfamiliar, but so close to him, world of nature. She is a symbol of free life for Mtsyri.
The history of the creation of the poem also includes a similar transformation in the life of a young captive - the image of an old man largely determined the spirit of the hero born in the Caucasus.
Why Mtsyri dies
The ending of the poem is tragic. Mtsyri, who so strived to find unity with nature, dies. According to the laws of romanticism, the hero does not find unity either with the monks who have been living next to him for several years and who wish him well, or with the natural elements of nature. The first ones are alien to Mtsyri in spirit. The latter prevail over the hero’s monastic upbringing.
The ideological concept of “Mtsyri” and the history of the creation of the poem testify to the rebellious spirit of the poet himself, who was suffocating in the atmosphere of soullessness that reigned in Russia in the 30s of the 19th century. This is his dream of a “giant nature”, striving to fight and ready to go to the end in his quest.
The history of the creation of the poem "Mtsyri", the famous romantic poem by M. Lermontov, could itself serve as a plot for a story. The poet had the idea to write a poem about a young monk dying in captivity in a monastery in his youth. In the diary of seventeen-year-old Lermontov we read the following lines: “Write notes of a young monk of 17 years old. Since childhood, he had read nothing in the monastery except sacred books. A passionate thought lurks – Ideals.” But it took quite a long time, almost 10 years, for the poet’s plan to come true. The most difficult thing was to find those ideals for which the hero could die.
In 1830, Lermontov wrote a short poem “Confession”. In it, the hero-monk is condemned to execution for love. A few years later, the poet creates another poem, “Boyar Orsha.” Its hero is also a student of the monastery. However, these early developments (later included in the text of Mtsyri) could not satisfy Lermontov. The main work was still ahead of him.
The next stage in the history of the creation of “Mtsyri” is Lermontov’s impressions of the nature of the Caucasus. They say that we all come from childhood - and the great poet is no exception. As a child, his grandmother brings him to the Caucasus for treatment. Here he gets acquainted with the majestic nature and listens to mountain legends. One of these legends, the Caucasian legends about a young man and a tiger, will later appear in Mtsyri in the scene of the battle with a leopard.
Having become an adult, Lermontov returns to the Caucasus again, and childhood memories flash before him with renewed vigor. The old Georgian Military Road is especially striking. “The old Georgian military road, traces of which are still visible today, especially struck the poet with its beauty and a whole string of legends. These legends had been known to him since childhood, now they were renewed in his memory, arose in his imagination, strengthened in his memory along with powerful and luxurious pictures of Caucasian nature.” This is how his first biographer, P.A., writes about the poet’s impressions. Viskovatov. Admiring this road, Lermontov still does not know that on it he will meet his hero...
The story of the hero Mtsyri is noteworthy in that Lermontov was destined to meet him in person. Two relatives of the poet recalled this event at once - his cousin A.P. Shan-Girey and his maternal relative, A.A. Khastatov. According to them, in 1837, while traveling along the Georgian Military Road, the poet met an elderly monk, or rather a monastery servant. They started talking. This is how Lermontov learned about the life of the monk - he was the last from the monastery near Mtskheta. When he was very young, he was brought to the monastery by the Russian general Ermolov. The boy was sick and could not continue his journey. When the monk grew up, he tried to run away more than once because he was homesick. One of these attempts almost cost him his life. After a long illness, the monk finally resigned himself and decided to stay at the monastery.
The sincere story could not fail to impress Lermontov. Combining what he heard from the monk with his earlier sketches, the poet creates the final version of the poem. Interestingly, he practically did not change what the monk told, with the exception of one key detail. The hero of “Mtsyri” cannot come to terms with the monastery; this remains the most important thing for the poet. This is how the romantic work “Mtsyri” is born.
Literary scholars have doubts about the accuracy of the poetic legend about the creation of “Mtsyri”, set forth by the same Viskovatov. One thing, at least, is definitely beyond doubt - such a story could well have happened at that time. The war between Russia and Georgia was the reason for the emergence of many child prisoners, distinguished by their unquenchable love for their land. There is another similar case, which was also probably familiar to Lermontov: the sad story of the artist P. Z. Zakharov. He, a Chechen by birth, was also captured by the Russians. The same general Ermolov brought him to Tiflis, where he grew up.
Of course, whichever story was actually at the heart of the poem, it took enormous poetic talent to transform it from a simple story about military events into a brilliant poem. The creation of Lermontov’s “Mtsyri” required many years of inspired work from him, and their result delights readers to this day
Work test
Hypermarket of knowledge >>Literature >>Literature 7th grade >>From the history of the creation of the poem “Mtsyri”. "Mtsyri"
The idea to write about a monk who languishes in monastic captivity arose from Lermontov back in 1830, when he was studying at a boarding school. He then began to write a poem called “Confession” - about a young hermit, “a Spaniard by birth and soul.” A few years later, Lermontov again returned to the same topic and wrote the poem “Boyarin Orsha”. The action takes place in Russia, during the time of Ivan the Terrible. Its hero is Russian, rootless Arseny, a passionate and rebellious young man. But this poem also remained unpublished.
In 1837, following the Georgian Military Road to the place of his exile, Lermontov stopped in the ancient Georgian capital Mtskheta and examined the ancient Mtskheta Cathedral “Svetitskhoveli”. On a pointed mountain, above the very confluence of the Kura and Aragva, one could see the ancient monastery “Jvaris-sakdari” (“Monastery of the Cross”).
These impressions formed the basis of a new poem - about the fate of a monk dying in monastic captivity. This time Lermontov conceived a poem about modernity. Its action takes place not in Spain or in Russia during the time of Ivan the Terrible, but “a few years ago” in the Caucasus. Lermontov talks in it about a captive of the Russian autocracy, about the fate of his peer. Lermontov created this poem upon his return from exile. The date on the manuscript reads: “1839 August 5.” And on the cover there is a title: “Bary.” Lermontov made a note to this word: “Beri in Georgian is a monk.” But the hero of the poem is not a monk: he is still being trained to become a monk. And for such people there is another name in the Georgian language - “mtsyri”. And Lermontov changed the title of the poem, which he had been nurturing and thinking about for nine years.
According to I. Andronikov
Mtsyri
Tasting, we taste little honey,
and now I’m dying.
1st Book of Samuel
1
A few years ago,
Where they merged, they made noise,
Hugging like two sisters,
The streams of Aragva and Kura,
There was a monastery. From behind the mountain
And now the pedestrian sees
Collapsed gate posts
And the towers, and the church vault;
But there’s no smoking under it
Censer fragrant smoke,
Can't hear the singing at late hour
Monks praying for us.
Now there is one gray-haired old man,
The guard of the ruins is half dead,
Forgotten by people and death,
Sweeps dust from gravestones,
Which the inscription says
About the glory of the past - and about
How, depressed by my crown,
Such and such a king, in such and such a year
He handed over his people to Russia.
And God's grace came down
To Georgia! she was blooming
Since then, in the shade of their gardens,
Didn't fear enemies
Beyond friendly bayonets.
2
Once upon a time a Russian general
I drove from the mountains to Tiflis;
He was carrying a prisoner's child.
He fell ill and couldn’t bear it
Labors of a long journey;
He seemed to be about six years old;
Like a chamois of the mountains, timid and wild,
And weak and flexible, like a reed.
But he has a painful illness
Then developed a mighty spirit
His fathers. He has no complaints
I was languishing, even a weak moan
Didn't come out of children's lips,
He signly rejected food
And he died quietly, proudly.
Out of pity one monk
He looked after the sick man, and within the walls
He remained protective
Saved by friendly art.
But, alien to childish pleasures,
At first he ran away from everyone,
Wandered silently, alone,
I looked, sighing, to the east,
We are tormented by vague melancholy
On my own side.
But after that he got used to captivity,
I began to understand a foreign language,
Was baptized by the Holy Father
And, unfamiliar with the noisy light,
Already wanted in the prime of life
Take a monastic vow
Suddenly one day he disappeared
Autumn night. Dark forest
Stretched around the mountains.
Three days all the searches on it
They were in vain, but then
They found him unconscious in the steppe
And again they brought him to the monastery.
He was terribly pale and thin
And weak, as if long labor,
I experienced illness or hunger.
He did not answer the interrogation
And every day he became noticeably sluggish.
And his end was near;
Then the monk came to him
With exhortation and supplication;
And, having proudly listened, the patient
He stood up, gathering the rest of his strength,
And for a long time he said this:
3
"You listen to my confession
I came here, thank you.
Everything is better in front of someone
With words, ease my chest;
But I didn’t do harm to people,
And therefore my affairs
It's a little useful for you to know -
Is it possible to tell your soul?
I lived little and lived in captivity.
Such two lives in one,
But only full of anxiety,
I would trade it if I could.
I knew only the power of thoughts,
One but fiery passion:
She lived inside me like a worm,
She tore her soul and burned it.
She called my dreams
From stuffy cells and prayers
In that wonderful world of worries and battles,
Where rocks hide in the clouds,
Where people are as free as eagles.
I am this passion in the darkness of the night
Nourished with tears and melancholy;
Her before heaven and earth
I now loudly admit
And I don’t ask for forgiveness.
4
Old man! I've heard many times
That you saved me from death -
Why?.. Gloomy and lonely,
A leaf torn off by a thunderstorm,
I grew up in dark walls
By heart he is a child, by destiny he is a monk.
I couldn't tell anyone
The sacred words "father" and "mother".
Of course you wanted, old man,
So that I get out of the habit of being in the monastery
From these sweet names, -
In vain: their sound was born
With me. I've seen others
Fatherland, home, friends, relatives,
But I didn’t find it at home
Not only sweet souls - graves!
Then, without wasting empty tears,
In my soul I swore an oath:
Although for a moment someday
My burning chest
Hold the other one to your chest with longing,
Although unfamiliar, but dear.
Alas! now those dreams
Died in complete beauty,
And I, as I lived, in a foreign land
I will die a slave and an orphan.
The grave doesn't scare me:
There, they say, suffering sleeps
In the cold eternal silence;
But I’m sorry to part with life.
I'm young, young... Did you know
Dreams of wild youth?
Either I didn’t know or I forgot
How I hated and loved;
How my heart beat faster
At the sight of the sun and fields
From the high corner tower,
Where the air is fresh and where sometimes
In a deep hole in the wall,
Child of an unknown country,
Snuggled up, a young dove
Sitting, scared of a thunderstorm?
Let the beautiful light now
I hate you: you are weak, you are gray,
And you have lost the habit of desires.
What kind of need? You lived, old man!
There is something in the world for you to forget,
You lived, I could also live!
6
Do you want to know what I saw
Free? - Lush fields,
Hills covered with a crown
Trees growing all around
Noisy with a fresh crowd,
Like brothers dancing in a circle.
I saw piles of dark rocks
When the stream separated them,
And I guessed their thoughts:
It was given to me from above!
Stretched out in the air for a long time
Embrace them in stone
And they yearn for a meeting every moment;
But the days go by, the years go by -
They will never get along!
I saw mountain ranges
Bizarre as dreams
When at the hour of dawn
They smoked like altars,
Their heights in the blue sky,
And cloud after cloud,
Leaving his secret overnight stay,
Running towards the east -
It's like a white caravan
Migratory birds from distant countries1
In the distance I saw through the fog
In the snow, burning like a diamond,
The gray, unshakable Caucasus;
And it was in my heart
Easy, I don't know why.
A secret voice told me
That I once lived there too,
And it became in my memory
The past is clearer, clearer...
7
And I remembered my father's house
The gorge is ours, and all around
A scattered village in the shade;
I heard the evening noise
Home of the running herds
And the distant barking of familiar dogs.
I remembered dark old men
In the light of moonlit evenings
Against father's porch
Sitting with dignity on their faces;
And the shine of the framed scabbard
Long daggers... and like a dream
All this in a vague series
Suddenly it ran in front of me.
It froze. "Mtsyri"
Describe the illustration for the poem “Mtsyri”. Which line from the poem would you caption it with?
And my father? He's alive
In your combat clothes
He appeared to me and I remembered
The ringing of chain mail and the shine of guns,
And a proud, unyielding gaze,
And my young sisters...
The rays of their sweet eyes
And the sound of their songs and speeches
Over my cradle...
There was a stream running into the gorge there.
It was noisy, but shallow;
To him, on the golden sand,
I left to play at noon
And I watched the swallows with my eyes,
When they are before the rain
The waves touched the wing.
And I remembered our peaceful home
And before the evening fire
There are long stories about
How did the people of the old days live?
When the world was even more magnificent.
8
You want to know what I did
Free? Lived - and my life
Without these three blissful days
It would be sadder and gloomier
Your powerless old age.
A long time ago I thought
Look at the distant fields
Find out if the earth is beautiful
Find out for freedom or prison
We are born into this world.
And at the hour of the night, terrible hour,
When the thunderstorm scared you,
When, crowded at the altar,
You were lying prostrate on the ground,
I ran. Oh, I'm like a brother
I would be glad to embrace the storm!
I watched with the eyes of a cloud,
I caught lightning with my hand...
Tell me what's between these walls
Could you give me in return
That friendship is short, but alive,
Between a stormy heart and a thunderstorm?..
9
I ran for a long time - where, where?
Don't know! Not a single star
Didn't illuminate the difficult path.
I had fun inhaling
In my weary chest
The night freshness of those forests,
But only! I have a lot of hours
I ran and finally, tired,
He lay down among the tall grasses;
I listened: there was no chase.
The storm has subsided. Pale light
Stretched out in a long strip
Between dark sky and earth
And I distinguished, like a pattern,
On it are the jagged teeth of distant mountains;
I lay motionless and silent.
Sometimes there is a jackal in the gorge
Screamed and cried like a child
And, shining with smooth scales,
The snake slithered between the stones;
But fear did not squeeze my soul:
I myself, like an animal, was alien to people
And he crawled and hid like a snake.
10
Down deep below me
The flow, strengthened by the thunderstorm,
It was noisy, and its noise was dull
Hundreds of angry voices
Got it. Although without words,
I understood that conversation
Incessant murmur, eternal argument
With a stubborn pile of stones.
Then suddenly it calmed down, then it became stronger
It sounded in silence;
And so, in the foggy heights
The birds began to sing, and the east
Got rich; the breeze
The damp sheets moved;
The sleepy flowers have died,
And, like them, towards the day,
I raised my head...
I looked around; I'm not hiding:
I felt scared; on the edge
I lay in the threatening abyss,
Where the angry shaft howled and whirled;
Steps of rocks led there;
But only an evil spirit walked over them,
When, cast down from heaven,
He disappeared into an underground abyss.
11
All around me God's garden was blooming;
Plants rainbow outfit
Kept traces of heavenly tears,
And the curls of the vines
Weaving, showing off between the trees
Transparent green leaves;
And there are grapes full of them,
Earrings are like expensive ones,
They hung magnificently, and sometimes
A timid swarm of birds flew towards them.
And again I fell to the ground
And I began to listen again
To magical, strange voices;
They whispered in the bushes,
As if they were speaking
About the secrets of heaven and earth;
And all nature's voices
They merged here; didn't sound
In the solemn hour of praise
Only a man's proud voice.
Everything I felt then
Those thoughts - they no longer have a trace;
But I would like to tell them,
To live, at least mentally, again.
That morning there was a vault of heaven
So pure that an angel's flight
A diligent eye could follow;
It was so transparently deep.
So full of smooth blue!
I am in it with my eyes and soul
Drowning while the midday heat
Didn't disperse my dreams
And I began to languish with thirst.
12
Then to the stream from above,
Holding on to flexible bushes,
From stove to stove I did my best
He began to descend. From under your feet
Having broken off, the stone sometimes
Rolled down - behind him the reins
It was smoking, the ashes were in a column,
Humming and jumping then
He was swallowed up by the wave;
And I hung above the depths,
But free youth is strong,
And death seemed not scary!
Only I'm from steep heights
Descended, the freshness of mountain waters
She blew towards me,
And greedily I fell to the wave.
Suddenly - a voice - a light noise of footsteps.
Instantly hiding between the bushes,
Embraced by involuntary trepidation,
I looked up fearfully
And he began to listen eagerly:
And closer, closer everything sounded
Georgian woman's voice is young,
So artlessly alive
So sweetly free, as if he
Only the sounds of friendly names
I was accustomed to pronouncing.
It was a simple song
But it stuck in my mind,
And for me, only darkness comes,
The invisible spirit sings it.
13
Holding the jug above your head,
Georgian woman on a narrow path
I went to the shore. Sometimes
She slid between the stones
Laughing at your awkwardness.
And her outfit was poor;
And she walked easily, back
Curves of long veils
Throwing it back. Summer heat
Covered with golden shadow
Her face and chest; and heat
I breathed from her lips and cheeks.
And the darkness of the eyes was so deep,
So full of the secrets of love,
What are my ardent thoughts
Confused. Only I remember
The jug rings when the stream
Slowly poured into him,
And a rustle... nothing more.
When did I wake up again
And the blood drained from the heart,
She was too far away
And she walked, at least more quietly, but easily,
Slender under her burden,
Like a poplar, the king of her fields!
Not far away, in the cool darkness,
It seemed like we were rooted to the rock
Two saklas as a friendly couple;
Above a flat roof
The smoke flowed blue.
It's as if I see now
How the door quietly opened...
And it closed again!..
I know you won't understand
My longing, my sadness;
And if I could, I would be sorry:
Memories of those minutes
In me, with me, let them die.
14
Exhausted by the labors of the night,
I lay down in the shade. Pleasant dream
I closed my eyes involuntarily...
And again I saw in a dream
Georgian woman image is young.
And strange, sweet melancholy
My chest began to ache again.
I struggled to breathe for a long time -
And I woke up. Already the moon
Above she shone, and alone
Only a cloud was sneaking behind her,
As if for your prey,
Greedy arms opened.
The world was dark and silent;
Only silver fringe
Tops of the snow chain
In the distance they sparkled before me
Yes, a stream splashed into the banks.
There is a light in the familiar sakla
It fluttered, then went out again:
In heaven at midnight
So the bright star goes out!
I wanted to... but I'm going there
I didn’t dare to go up. I have one goal -
Go to your home country -
Had it in my soul and overcame it
Suffering from hunger, as best I could,
And here's the straight road
He set off, timid and dumb.
But soon in the depths of the forest
Lost sight of the mountains
And then I began to lose my way.
15
In vain to be furious at times
I tore with a desperate hand
Thorn tangled with ivy:
It was all forest, eternal forest all around,
Scarier and thicker Every hour;
And a million black eyes
Watched the darkness of the night
Through the branches of every bush...
My head was spinning;
I began to climb trees;
But even at the edge of heaven
It was still the same jagged forest.
Then I fell to the ground,
And he sobbed in a frenzy,
And gnawed the damp breast of the earth,
And the tears, the tears flowed
Into her with flammable dew...
But, believe me, human help
I didn't want... I was a stranger
For them forever, like a beast of the steppe;
And if only for a minute cry
He cheated on me - I swear, old man,
I would tear out my weak tongue.
16
Do you remember your childhood years:
I have never known tears;
But then I cried without shame.
Who could see? Only a dark forest
Yes, a month floating among the heavens!
Illuminated by its ray,
Covered with moss and sand,
An impenetrable wall
Surrounded, in front of me
There was a clearing. Suddenly on her
A shadow flashed and two lights
Sparks flew... and then
Some beast in one leap
He jumped out of the thicket and lay down,
While playing, lie down on the sand.
It was the desert's eternal guest -
Mighty leopard. Raw bone
He gnawed and squealed joyfully;
Then he fixed his bloody gaze,
Wagging its tail affectionately,
For a full month, and on it
The wool shone silver.
I was waiting, grabbing a horned branch,
A minute of battle; heart suddenly
Ignited with a thirst for fight
And blood... yes, the hand of fate
I was led in a different direction...
But now I'm sure
What could happen in the land of our fathers
Not one of the last daredevils.
17
I was waiting. And here in the shadows of the night
He sensed the enemy, and howl
Lingering, plaintive, like a groan,
Suddenly there was a sound... and he began
Angrily digging the sand with your paw,
He reared up, then lay down,
And the first mad leap
I was threatened with a terrible death...
But I warned him.
My blow was true and quick.
My reliable bitch is like an axe,
His broad forehead was cut...
He groaned like a man
And he capsized. But again,
Although blood poured from the wound
Thick, wide wave,
The battle has begun, a mortal battle!
V. Milashevsky. "Fight with the Leopard"
How did the artist manage to convey the most intense episode from the poem “Mtsyri” in this illustration?
18
He threw himself on my chest;
But I managed to stick it in my throat
And turn there twice
My weapon... He howled
He rushed with all his strength,
And we, intertwined like a pair of snakes,
Hugging tighter than two friends,
They fell at once, and in the darkness
The battle continued on the ground.
And I was terrible at that moment;
Like a desert leopard, angry and wild,
I was on fire and screaming like him;
As if I myself was born
In the family of leopards and wolves
Under the fresh forest canopy.
It seemed that the words of people
I forgot - and in my chest
That terrible cry was born
It's like my tongue has been around since childhood
I'm not used to a different sound...
But my enemy began to grow weak,
Throw about, breathe slower,
Squeezed me for the last time...
The pupils of his motionless eyes
They flashed menacingly - and then
Quietly closed in eternal sleep;
But with a triumphant enemy
He faced death face to face
How a fighter should behave in battle!..
19
You see on my chest
Deep claw marks;
They haven't overgrown yet
And they didn’t close; but the earth
The damp cover will refresh them
And death will heal forever.
I forgot about them then
And again, having gathered the rest of my strength,
I wandered into the depths of the forest...
But I argued in vain with fate:
She laughed at me!
20
I left the forest. And so
The day woke up and there was a round dance
The guiding light has disappeared
In its rays. Foggy forest
He spoke. Aul in the distance
Started smoking. Vague hum
Ran through the valley with the wind...
I sat down and began to listen;
But it fell silent along with the breeze.
And I glanced around:
That region seemed familiar to me.
And I was scared to understand
I couldn’t for a long time, that again
I returned to my prison;
That so many days are useless
I caressed a secret plan,
He endured, languished and suffered,
And why all this?.. So that in the prime of life,
Barely looking at God's light,
With the sonorous murmur of the oak forests
Having experienced the bliss of freedom,
Take it to the grave with you
Longing for the holy homeland,
A reproach to the hopes of the deceived
And shame on your pity!..
Still immersed in doubt,
I thought: this is a bad dream...
Suddenly a distant bell rings
It rang out again in the silence -
And then everything became clear to me...
ABOUT! I recognized him immediately!
He has seen children's eyes more than once
Driven away the visions of living dreams
About dear neighbors and relatives,
About the wild will of the steppes,
About light, mad horses,
About wonderful battles between the rocks,
Where I alone defeated everyone!..
And I listened without tears, without strength.
It seemed that the ringing was coming out
From the heart - as if someone
The iron struck me in the chest.
And then I vaguely realized
What traces do I have to my homeland?
Will never pave it.
21
Yes, I deserve my lot!
A mighty horse, a stranger in the steppe,
Having thrown off the bad rider,
To my homeland from afar
Finds a direct and short way...
What am I in front of him? Breasts in vain
Full of desire and longing:
That heat is powerless and empty,
A dream game, a disease of the mind.
I have my prison stamp on me
Left... Such is the flower
Temnichny: grew up alone
And he is pale between the damp slabs,
And for a long time the young leaves
I didn’t bloom, I was still waiting for the rays
Life-giving. And many days
Passed and a kind hand
The flower was touched with sadness,
And he was carried into the garden,
In the neighborhood of roses. From all sides
The sweetness of life was breathing...
But what? The dawn has barely risen,
The scorching ray burned her
A flower raised in prison...
22
And what's his name, he scorched me
The fire of a merciless day.
In vain I hid in the grass
My tired chapter:
A withered leaf is her crown
Thorn over my brow
Curled up and in the face with fire
The earth itself breathed to me.
Flashing quickly in the heights,
Sparks swirled; from the white cliffs
Steam was flowing. The world of God was sleeping.
In a deaf daze
Despair of heavy sleep.
At least the corncrake screamed,
Or a dragonfly's living trill
I heard it, or a stream
Baby talk... Just a snake
rustling dry weeds,
Shining with a yellow back,
It's like a golden inscription
The blade is covered to the bottom,
I'm crumbly sand,
She glided carefully; Then,
Playing, basking on it,
Curled in a triple ring;
It's like suddenly being burned,
She rushed and jumped
And she was hiding in the distant bushes...
23
And everything was in heaven
Light and quiet. Through couples
Two mountains loomed black in the distance.
Our monastery because of one
The jagged wall sparkled.
Below are Aragva and Kura,
Wrapped in silver
The soles of the fresh islands,
By the roots of whispering bushes
They ran together and easily...
I was far from them!
I wanted to stand up - in front of me
Everything was spinning quickly;
I wanted to scream - my tongue was dry
He was silent and motionless...
I was dying. I was tormented
Death delirium. It seemed to me
That I'm lying on a damp bottom
Deep river - and there was
There is a mysterious darkness all around.
And I thirst for eternal singing,
Like ice, a cold stream,
Murmuring, it poured into my chest...
And I was only afraid to fall asleep, -
It was so sweet, I love it...
And above me in the heights
Wave pressed against wave
And the sun through the crystal waves
Shined sweeter than the moon...
And colorful herds of fish
Sometimes they played in the rays.
And I remember one of them:
She is friendlier than others
She caressed me. Scales
Was covered in gold
Her back. She curled
Over my head more than once,
And the look of her green eyes
He was sadly tender and deep...
And I couldn’t be surprised:
Her silver voice
He whispered strange words to me,
And he sang, and fell silent again.
*
He said: “My child,
Stay here with me:
Living freely in the water
And cold and peace.
*
I will call my sisters:
We're dancing in a circle
Let's cheer up the foggy eyes
And your spirit is tired.
Go to sleep, your bed is soft.
Your cover is transparent
Years will pass, centuries will pass
Under the talk of wonderful dreams.
*
Oh my dear! I won’t hide it.
That I love you,
I love it like a free stream,
I love you like my life..."
And for a long, long time I listened;
And it seemed like a sonorous stream
She poured out her quiet murmur
With the words of a golden fish.
Here I forgot. God's light
It faded in the eyes. Crazy nonsense
I gave in to the powerlessness of my body...
24
So I was found and raised...
You know the rest yourself.
I'm done. Believe my words
Or don't believe me, I don't care.
There is only one thing that saddens me:
My corpse is cold and dumb
It will not smolder in its native land,
And the story of my bitter torments
Will not call the deaf between the walls
No one's sad attention
In my dark name.
25
Farewell, father... give me your hand:
Do you feel mine is on fire...
Know this flame from your youth,
Melting away, he lived in my chest;
But now there is no food for him,
And he burned through his prison
And will return again to that
Who to all the lawful succession
Gives suffering and peace...
But what does that matter to me? - let him be in heaven,
In the holy, transcendental land
My spirit will find a home...
Alas! -(for a few minutes
Between steep and dark rocks,
Where did I play as a child?
I would trade heaven and eternity...
26
When I start to die,
And believe me, you won't have to wait long,
You told me to move
To our garden, to the place where they bloomed
Two white acacia bushes...
The grass between them is so thick,
And the fresh air is so fragrant,
And so transparently golden
A leaf playing in the sun!
They told me to put it there.
The glow of a blue day
I'll get drunk for the last time.
The Caucasus is visible from there!
Perhaps he is from his heights
He will send me farewell greetings,
Will send with a cool breeze...
And near me before the end
The sound will be heard again, dear!
And I will begin to think that my friend
Or brother, bending over me,
Wipe with an attentive hand
Cold sweat from the face of death
And what sings in a low voice
He tells me about a sweet country...
And with this thought I will fall asleep,
And I won’t curse anyone!..”
Questions and tasks
Let's share our first impressions
1. “...What a fiery soul, what a mighty spirit, what a gigantic nature this Mtsyri has!” - wrote V. G. Belinsky about the main character of Lermontov’s poem. What did you see special, unusual in the image of Mtsyri?
Let's delve into the text of the poem
2. Try to delve into the lines of the poem again in order to better understand its meaning and its hero. Notice how the tone of the narrative changes in the third chapter of the poem. What is this connected with?
3. “Can you tell your soul?” - Mtsyri asks excitedly at the beginning of his confession. What feelings and thoughts, not shared with anyone, lurked in his soul for many years? (Read the third and fourth chapters of the poem expressively. Note the role of epithets, comparisons, metaphors in depicting the hero’s internal state.)
4. How did Mtsyri see nature in the wild? Why do her descriptions take up so much space (chapter 6)?
5. Mtsyri’s confession allows us to find out what his memories were like in freedom. What is especially touching about his story (chapter 7)?
6. Mtsyri ran away from the monastery during a thunderstorm, when everyone was “lying prostrate on the ground.” How do we see Mtsyri in this “nightly, terrible hour”? Which of Belinsky’s definitions, in your opinion, is most suitable here: “fiery soul”, “mighty spirit”, “gigantic nature”?
7. “God’s garden was blooming all around me” - this is how Mtsyri saw the morning in the mountains after a thunderstorm. What does he notice around him, what does he hear, what feelings does he experience? Why, remembering all this, does he want to talk about what he experienced (chapter 11)?
8. What trials does Mtsyri encounter on the way to his desired homeland? Why, tormented by thirst, did he hide and give himself away when he met a beautiful Georgian woman in the mountains? Was it easy for him to do this (chap. 12, 13)?
9. How much effort did it take Mtsyri not to enter the hut? What was stronger for him than hunger and thirst (chapter 14)?
10. How do we see Mtsyri in moments of mortal danger - in a fight with a leopard? What is the significance of this episode for understanding the main idea of the poem (that is, its idea)?
11. How does Mtsyri perceive nature when he realized that, having gotten lost, he returned to the places from which he fled? What new pictures, images, intonations appear in his story (chapter 22)?
12. Mtsyri is dying, but is his mighty spirit broken? What mood is imbued with the last chapter of the poem? What thoughts and feelings does it awaken in you, modern readers?
13. Belinsky said that Mtsyri is Lermontov’s favorite ideal1, that “it is a reflection in poetry of the shadow of his own personality.” Why did the critic compare Lermontov with the hero of his poem?
The history of the creation of the poem Mtsyri
Back in 1830-1831, Lermontov conceived the idea of creating the image of a young man rushing to freedom from a monastery or prison. In 1830, in the unfinished poem “Confession,” he spoke about a young Spanish monk imprisoned in a monastery prison. The character created here is close to Mtsyri. But the poem did not satisfy Lermontov and remained unfinished. However, the poet’s idea to create such a character did not disappear. In one of the notes from 1831 we find: “Write the notes of a young monk aged 17. - He has been in a monastery since childhood... A passionate soul languishes. Ideals..."
But several years passed before Lermontov managed to implement this plan. In 1837, while traveling along the Georgian Military Road, in Mtskheta he met an old monk who told the poet the story of his life. He is a mountaineer by birth; As a child, he was captured by the troops of General Ermolov. The general took him with him, but the boy fell ill on the way and was left in the monastery in the care of the monks. Here he grew up, but for a long time he could not get used to monastic life and repeatedly tried to escape to the mountains, to his homeland. The consequence of one of these attempts was a long and serious illness, after which the young highlander reconciled with his fate and remained in the monastery.
This story of the old highlander monk reminded the poet of his previous plan and gave him a real plot basis taken from life. The location of the action was also determined: the Caucasus, the outskirts of Mtskheta, a monastery at the confluence of the Kura and Aragva.
The description of Mtsyri’s wanderings in the forest in search of a way to his homeland made it possible for Lermontov to saturate the poem with pictures of Caucasian nature, which he knew perfectly well, and to use the peoples of the Caucasus: the scene of Mtsyri’s fight with a leopard was suggested by a Khevsurian song about a tiger and a young man and the scene of Tariel’s fight with a tigress from a Georgian poem poet Shota Rustaveli “The Knight in the Skin of a Tiger.”
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- The theme of the poem is the image of a strong, courageous, freedom-loving personality, a young man eager for freedom, for his homeland from a monastery that is alien and hostile to him. In the poem “Mtsyri” Lermontov created the image of a positive hero. In the conditions of Russian reality of that time, the image of Mtsyri was perceived by the poet’s contemporaries as Mtsyri - in Georgian it means “non-serving monk”, something like a “novice”. And in the Georgian language this word has the same meaning as the poet embodied the passionate longing of Lermontov’s advanced contemporaries for a beautiful, free homeland in the poem “Mtsyri”. Touching your native land - that's about
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The poem is one of the central genres in the work of M. Yu. Lermontov. During his life, the great poet created about thirty poems. One of the best - poem "Mtsyri". This is the fruit of the active and intense creative work of M. Yu. Lermontov.
The freedom-loving lyricist based the poem, according to the opinion of many literary scholars, on a story that was not uncommon for those times. A Russian general is bringing a captive boy from the Caucasus, who falls ill along the way, and the general leaves him in a monastery, where the rest of the unfortunate captive’s life passes. This plot was spiritually close to this romance. And the idea to write about a seventeen-year-old monk, cut off from his homeland, had been brewing for M. Yu. Lermontov for a long time.
At first, the poet wanted to call his work “Beri,” which translated from Georgian means “monk.” However, it was important for Lermontov to place at the center of the poem a person who was not alien to worldly joys and thirsted for the excitement of life, so he abandoned the original name and chose another one - “Mtsyri”, which means “non-serving monk”. The hero of the poem, as a six-year-old boy, ends up in a foreign land and remains in a monastery, where a novice sheltered him out of pity. At first, he does not make contact with the monk and protests as best he can against his position: he refuses food and behaves proudly. Nevertheless, over time he gets used to everything and even forgets his native language.
The disappearance of Mtsyri becomes a real mystery for the inhabitants of the monastery. To explain the hero’s behavior, the author provides the reader with his confession. In his confession, Mtsyri talks about the melancholy that, like a worm, has been gnawing at him all these years. Not knowing the words “father” and “mother,” the hero tried to find at least one of his loved ones and cuddle up to their chest. He also dreamed of a life full of worries and passions. For one such life, he was ready to give two lives in the monastery and went for such a life, escaping. The days of escape became true life for Mtsyri, true happiness.
In the poem “Mtsyri” the author embodies the patriotic idea. It is no coincidence that the original epigraph to the work said that a person has only one fatherland. The named idea is combined in the poem with the idea of freedom. Both ideas merge into one, but the “fiery passion” of the hero. Love for the homeland and thirst for will are the reasons for Mtsyri’s escape. The monastery is a prison for him. The usual cells are stuffy and disgusting. Mtsyri is driven by the desire to find out “for freedom or prison we were born into this world.”
The hero is ready to fight for his homeland, and Lermontov sings with sympathy the warlike dreams of Mtsyri. In dreams there are Mtsyri battles, where he is the winner. His dreams call him to the “wonderful world of worries and battles.” Longing for his homeland, the young man says that he could be “in the land of his fathers, not one of the last daredevils.”
Mtsyri has reason to believe so. He is characterized by fortitude and stern restraint; he is a strong man. “Do you remember, in my childhood I never knew tears,” he says about himself.
For Mtsyri, meeting a beautiful Georgian woman becomes a huge emotional shock. The image of the dark-eyed dark woman vividly touched his heart, which had not yet known love. However, the young man, defeating the surging feelings, renounces personal happiness in the name of the ideal of freedom to which he strives.
The hero, who fled from the monastery, is also amazed by the wonderful landscapes, the magnificent open spaces that open up to him, yearning for freedom. He speaks with ecstasy about lush fields, about hills covered with a crown, about trees “growing all around,” about piles of dark rocks, about mountain ranges, about “the gray, unshakable Caucasus.”
The landscape painted by Lermontov serves as an excellent means of revealing the image of the hero. A former monastery prisoner feels close to nature.
In a fight with a leopard, the full power of Mtsyri’s strong character is revealed. He emerges victorious from a duel with a mighty beast. Death is not scary for Mtsyri. True death for him is a return to the monastery.
Great disappointment overtakes the hero when, having gotten lost, he again finds himself at the walls of the monastery, from which he fled. The tragic ending does not deprive Mtsyri of fortitude. He does not repent of what he has done, and for a few minutes of will he is still ready to give up “paradise and eternity.” Defeated by the will of circumstances, the young man is not spiritually broken. He makes you admire his masculinity and integrity of character.
“What a fiery soul, what a mighty spirit, what a gigantic nature this mtsyri has!” — wrote V. G. Belinsky. Belinsky also believed that Mtsyri was the poet’s favorite ideal, “a reflection in poetry of the shadow of his own personality.” These words of an authoritative critic allow us to assert that the poem “Mtsy-ri” is one of the peaks of Lermontov’s artistic heritage.