About Pushkin's "Queen of Spades" and that, they say, it would be nice to make a separate post, but somehow everything will not work out.
Therefore, I will manage with loosely connected extracts:
- In fact, Lizaveta Ivanovna was a miserable creature. Someone else's bread is bitter, says Dante, and the steps of someone else's porch are heavy., and who knows the bitterness of dependence, if not a poor pupil of a noble old woman? (A. Pushkin. The Queen of Spades. Chapter Two. 1833).
And, as rightly said in the comments, "Bitter is someone else's bread ..." - this is really a quote from Dante's "Divine Comedy".
And for the first time this quote appeared in Pushkin in January 1825, in sketches of a scene for "Gypsies" (but never got into the printed text of the poem, published in April 1827) - the scene where Aleko utters a monologue over the cradle of his son:
No, he won't bend [the knee]
Before an idol of some honor
Will not invent changes
Trembling secretly with a thirst for revenge
[Won't test] m<альчик>my
How [cruel penalties]
How stale and bitter is someone else's bread
How hard<медленной>[foot]
Climb up strange steps.
Tu proverai sì come sa di sale
Lo pane altruì, e com"è duro calle
60 Lo scendere e "l salir per l" altrui scale
.
and the corresponding translation of M. Lozinsky "Paradise", XVII:
55 You will give up everything for which you desire
Strived tenderly; this plague to us
Inflicts a bow of banishment the fastest.
58
You will know how bitter the lips
Someone else's chunk, how difficult it is in a foreign land
Go down and up the stairs.
In conclusion:
K. Balmont. Dante (poem 1895).
And you will understand how bitter is someone else's bread,
How heavy are the steps of other people's houses,
You will rise - in the struggle with yourself,
And you will go down - ashamed of your shadow.
P.S.
And in order to somehow close the story with Lizaveta Ivanovna - the poor pupil of a noble old woman, let's open Mr. Turgenev:
“My uncle, Mr. Sipyagin, my mother’s brother, took care of me - I am on his bread, he is my benefactor, and Valentina Mikhailovna is my benefactor, - and I cry to them with black ingratitude, because I must have a callous heart - and someone else's bread is bitter- and I can't stand condescending insults - and I can't stand patronage ... and I can't hide - and when they constantly prick me with pins, I just don't scream because I'm very proud.
While making these fragmentary speeches, Marianne walked faster and faster.
And I must say that this poor (but talkative) relative - Marianna Sinetskaya - in her build, as they say, resembled Florentine figurines.
P.S.S.
And by the way, Dante's bread is not called bitter at all, but salty..
Someone else's bread is bitter Express. It is hard, humiliating to live at someone else's expense, to be dependent on someone else, maintenance, etc. Lizaveta Ivanovna was a miserable creature. Someone else's bread is bitter, says Dante, and the steps of someone else's porch are heavy.(Pushkin. Queen of Spades). - Someone else's bread is bitter, and I cannot bear condescending insults.(Turgenev. Nov).
Phraseological dictionary of the Russian literary language. - M.: Astrel, AST. A. I. Fedorov. 2008 .
See what "Someone else's bread is bitter" in other dictionaries:
Alien bread is bitter- Alien bread is bitter. Wed Other people's bread is whimsical, People feed, but they are quick-witted, They give a chunk for free, Let them grind for a week. Wed D. Knyazhevich. Sobr. last 1822 cf. With strangers, White bread is bitter, Braga is intoxicated Not blurry, Speech is free ... ... Michelson's Big Explanatory Phraseological Dictionary (original spelling)
someone else's bread is bitter- Wed. Other people's bread is picky, People feed, but they are quick-witted, They will give a chunk for nothing, Yes, they will make them grind for a week. Wed D. Knyazhevich. Sobr. last 1822 cf. For strangers, White bread is bitter, Intoxicating Braga Is not vague, Speech is free Everything is connected, Feelings ... ...
Alien bread is bitter.- see. You will choke on someone else's bite ...
Another's bread is bitter- BITTER, oh, oh; rivers, ryka, ryko, ryka and ryka; bitter, bitter, bitter; bitterest. Explanatory dictionary of Ozhegov. S.I. Ozhegov, N.Yu. Shvedova. 1949 1992 ... Explanatory dictionary of Ozhegov
BREAD- bread, pl. loaves, loaves, and bread, loaves, m. 1. only units. A food product baked from flour dissolved in water. Rye or black bread. White or wheat bread. Baked bread. Sitny, bread. Baked bread. There is bread and butter. Kilogram ... ... Explanatory Dictionary of Ushakov
STRANGER- ALIEN, not one's own, third-party, own of another, unknown, unfamiliar; not relatives, not our families, not from our home, our home; | not our land, foreign. I save my own, but I don't need someone else's. None of our business, someone else's. I went into someone else's house for nothing, someone else's thing ... ... Dahl's Explanatory Dictionary
You will choke on someone else's bite.- Someone else's bread is bitter. You will choke on someone else's bite. See YOUR ALIEN... IN AND. Dal. Proverbs of the Russian people
OWN - FOREIGN- Everyone is good. Everyone is a sight for himself. Hello me, and even my mercy! His hand only pulls towards him. Every hand rakes in. Every bird pecks with its toe (stuffs its goiter). Bravshi, the hand will not get tired (it will not clean up, it will not become dull ... IN AND. Dal. Proverbs of the Russian people
BITTER- BITTER, pungent in taste, caustic, combustible, the opposite of sweet, e.g. pepper, bitterly combustible; wormwood, purely bitter. You bored me like a bitter radish. Alien bread is bitter. Bitter, they say at the wedding table, about wine, it is necessary to sweeten, and ... ... Dahl's Explanatory Dictionary
foreign side (foreign land)“Spring is not good on the other side. One matchmaker praises a foreign land. Wed There is nothing to do however (it is necessary to endure); a foreign side, though a stepmother, but not to depart it. Dal. Varnak. See someone else's bread is bitter. See stepmother... Michelson's Big Explanatory Phraseological Dictionary
Express. It is hard, humiliating to live at someone else's expense, to be dependent on someone else, maintenance, etc. Lizaveta Ivanovna was a miserable creature. Someone else's bread is bitter, says Dante, and the steps of someone else's porch are heavy.(Pushkin. Queen of Spades). - Someone else's bread is bitter, and I cannot bear condescending insults.(Turgenev. Nov).
- - Alien bread is bitter. Wed Other people's bread is whimsical, People feed, but they are quick-witted, They give a chunk for free, Let them grind for a week. Wed D. Knyazhevich...
Michelson Explanatory Phraseological Dictionary (original orph.)
- - Razg. Prejudice Live at someone else's expense. - But I'm old school, my friend. I'm not used to eating other people's bread...
- - Express. It is hard, humiliating to live at someone else's expense, to be at someone's expense, maintenance, etc. Lizaveta Ivanovna was an unfortunate creature. Someone else's bread is bitter, says Dante, and the steps of someone else's porch are heavy...
Phraseological dictionary of the Russian literary language
- - Bitter as wormwood...
- - Cm....
IN AND. Dal. Proverbs of the Russian people
- - See GUEST -...
IN AND. Dal. Proverbs of the Russian people
- - See MAN -...
IN AND. Dal. Proverbs of the Russian people
- - See REQUEST - CONSENT -...
IN AND. Dal. Proverbs of the Russian people
- - He lives a different age. He eats someone else's age ...
IN AND. Dal. Proverbs of the Russian people
- - See WILL - CUSTODY See YOUR -...
IN AND. Dal. Proverbs of the Russian people
- - Bread and salt! - Eat mine. - There is bread! - Nowhere to sit...
IN AND. Dal. Proverbs of the Russian people
- - Razg. Unapproved To live at someone else's expense, to be at someone else's. dependent. BMS 1998, 602; BTS, 297; FM 2002, 583; FSRYA, 506...
Big dictionary of Russian sayings
- - Adverb, number of synonyms: 1 bitter...
Synonym dictionary
- - adj., number of synonyms: 7 was a parasite on the neck, living behind someone else's back, living at someone else's expense, living at someone else's expense, sitting on the neck, parasitizing ...
Synonym dictionary
- - freeloader, freeloader, freeloader, sits on the neck, freeloader, lives on strangers ...
Synonym dictionary
- - live at someone else's expense, live at someone else's expense, be on the neck, live behind someone else's back, sit on the neck, idle, ...
Synonym dictionary
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The old countess *** was sitting in her dressing-room in front of a mirror. Three girls surrounded her. One held a jar of rouge, another a box of hairpins, a third a tall cap with fiery ribbons. The Countess had not the slightest pretension to a long-faded beauty, but retained all the habits of her youth, strictly followed the fashions of the seventies, and dressed just as long, just as diligently as she had sixty years ago. At the window sat a young lady, her pupil, at the embroidery frame. Hello, grand "maman," the young officer said, entering. Bon jour, mademoiselle Lise. Grand "maman, I'm asking you. What is it, Paul? Let me introduce one of my friends and bring him to your place on Friday for the ball. Bring him to me directly to the ball, and then you will introduce him to me. Were you yesterday at ***? How! it was very fun; danced until five o'clock. How good was Yeletskaya! And, my dear! What's good about her? Was her grandmother, Princess Darya Petrovna, like that? .. By the way: I’m tea, she’s already very old, Princess Darya Petrovna? How old? answered absently Tomsky, she died seven years ago. The young lady raised her head and made a sign to the young man. He remembered that the death of her peers had been concealed from the old countess, and he bit his lip. But the countess heard the news, new to her, with great indifference. Died! she said, I didn't know! Together we were granted maids of honor, and when we introduced ourselves, the empress ... And the countess for the hundredth time told her grandson her anecdote. Well, Paul, she said afterwards, now help me up. Lizanka, where is my snuffbox? And the countess with her girls went behind the screens to finish her toilette. Tomsky stayed with the young lady. Who do you want to introduce? Lizaveta Ivanovna asked quietly. Narumova. Do you know him? No! Is he military or civilian? Military. Engineer? No! cavalryman. Why do you think he is an engineer? The young lady laughed and did not answer a word. Paul! shouted the countess from behind the screens, send me some new novel, but please, not from the current ones. How is it, grand "maman? That is, such a novel, where the hero would not crush either his father or mother, and where there would be no drowned bodies. I'm terribly afraid of drowned people! There are no such novels today. Don't you want Russians? Are there Russian novels?.. Come, father, please come! Excuse me, grand "maman: I'm in a hurry ... Excuse me, Lizaveta Ivanovna! Why did you think that Narumov was an engineer? And Tomsky came out of the lavatory. Lizaveta Ivanovna was left alone: she left her work and began to look out the window. Soon, on one side of the street, a young officer appeared from behind a coal house. A blush covered her cheeks: she set to work again and bent her head over the canvas itself. At that moment the countess entered, fully dressed. Order, Lizanka, she said, to lay the carriage, and let's go for a walk. Lizanka got up from the hoop and began to clean up her work. What are you, my mother! deaf, right? shouted the countess. Ordered to lay the carriage as soon as possible. Now! the young lady answered quietly and ran into the hall. The servant entered and gave the countess books from Prince Pavel Alexandrovich. Good! Thank you, said the Countess. Lizanka, Lizanka! where are you running to? Get dressed. You will succeed, mother. Sit here. Open up the first volume; read aloud... The young lady took the book and read a few lines. Louder! said the Countess. What is the matter with you, my mother? was she sleeping with her voice, or what?.. Wait a minute: move the bench for me, closer ... well! Lizaveta Ivanovna read two more pages. The Countess yawned. Drop this book, she said, what nonsense! Send this to Prince Pavel and tell him to thank him... But what about the carriage? The carriage is ready, said Lizaveta Ivanovna, looking out into the street. Why are you not dressed? said the countess, you always have to wait! This, mother, is unbearable. Lisa ran to her room. In less than two minutes, the countess began to call with all her urine. Three girls ran in one door, and the valet in another. What is it you do not call? the countess told them. Tell Lizaveta Ivanovna that I am waiting for her. Lizaveta Ivanovna came in wearing a bonnet and a hat. Finally, my mother! said the Countess. What outfits! Why is this? .. whom to seduce? .. And what is the weather like? seems to wind. No way, sir, Your Excellency! very quiet! answered the valet. You always speak at random! Open the porthole. So it is: the wind! and chilly! Postpone the carriage! Lizanka, we won't go: there was nothing to dress up. "And here's my life!" thought Lizaveta Ivanovna. In fact, Lizaveta Ivanovna was a miserable creature. Someone else's bread is bitter, says Dante, and the steps of someone else's porch are heavy, and who knows the bitterness of dependence, if not the poor pupil of a noble old woman? Countess ***, of course, did not have an evil soul; but she was wayward, like a woman spoiled by the world, stingy and immersed in cold selfishness, like all old people who have fallen out of love in their age and are alien to the present. She participated in all the vanities of the big world, dragged herself to balls, where she sat in a corner, flushed and dressed in the old fashion, like an ugly and necessary decoration of a ballroom; visiting guests approached her with low bows, as if according to the established rite, and then no one took care of her. She hosted the whole city, observing strict etiquette and not recognizing anyone by sight. Numerous of her servants, having grown fat and graying in her anteroom and maiden's, did what they wanted, vying with each other robbing the dying old woman. Lizaveta Ivanovna was a domestic martyr. She spilled tea and was reprimanded for spending too much sugar; she read novels aloud and was to blame for all the mistakes of the author; she accompanied the countess on her walks and was in charge of the weather and the pavement. She was given a salary that was never paid; meanwhile, they demanded of her that she be dressed like everyone else, that is, like very few. She played the most miserable role in the world. Everyone knew her and no one noticed; at balls she danced only when there was a lack of vis-à-vis, and the ladies took her by the arm whenever they had to go to the dressing-room to fix something in their attire. She was self-loving, she vividly felt her position and looked around herself, impatiently waiting for a deliverer; but the young people, prudent in their frivolous vanity, did not honor her with attention, although Lizaveta Ivanovna was a hundred times nicer than the insolent and cold brides around whom they hung around. How many times, quietly leaving the boring and magnificent living room, she went off to cry in her poor room, where there were screens pasted over with wallpaper, a chest of drawers, a mirror and a painted bed, and where a tallow candle burned darkly in a copper shandal! Once - it happened two days after the evening described at the beginning of this story, and a week before the scene on which we stopped, - once Lizaveta Ivanovna, sitting under the window at the embroidery frame, accidentally looked into the street and saw a young engineer standing motionless and fixed his eyes on her window. She lowered her head and went back to work; five minutes later she looked again the young officer was standing in the same place. Not having the habit of flirting with passing officers, she stopped looking at the street and sewed for about two hours without raising her head. Served for dinner. She got up, began to put away her embroidery frame, and, looking inadvertently into the street, again saw the officer. It seemed rather strange to her. After dinner, she went to the window with a feeling of some unease, but the officer was already gone, and she forgot about him ... Two days later, going out with the countess to get into the carriage, she saw him again. He stood at the very entrance, covering his face with a beaver collar: his black eyes sparkled from under his hat. Lizaveta Ivanovna was frightened, without knowing why, and got into the carriage with an inexplicable trembling. Returning home, she ran to the window, the officer stood in the same place, fixing his eyes on her: she moved away, tormented by curiosity and excited by a feeling completely new to her. Since that time, not a day has passed that the young man, at a certain hour, did not appear under the windows of their house. An unconditional relationship was established between him and her. Sitting in her place at work, she felt his approach, raised her head, looked at him longer and longer every day. The young man seemed to be grateful to her for this: she saw with the sharp eyes of youth how a quick blush covered his pale cheeks whenever their eyes met. A week later she smiled at him... When Tomsky asked permission to introduce his friend to the countess, the poor girl's heart began to beat. But having learned that Narumov was not an engineer, but a horse guard, she regretted that she had expressed her secret to the windy Tomsky with an indiscreet question. Hermann was the son of a Russified German who left him a small capital. Being firmly convinced of the need to strengthen his independence, Hermann did not even touch the interest, he lived on his salary, did not allow himself the slightest whim. However, he was secretive and ambitious, and his comrades rarely had the opportunity to laugh at his excessive frugality. He had strong passions and a fiery imagination, but firmness saved him from the ordinary delusions of youth. So, for example, being a player at heart, he never took cards in his hands, because he calculated that his condition did not allow him (as he said) sacrifice what is necessary in the hope of gaining what is superfluous, meanwhile, he spent whole nights sitting at the card tables and followed with feverish trepidation the various turns of the game. The anecdote about the three cards had a strong effect on his imagination and the whole night did not leave his head. “What if,” he thought the next day in the evening, wandering around Petersburg, “what if the old countess reveals her secret to me! or assign me these three correct cards! Why not try your luck?.. Introduce yourself to her, win her grace, perhaps, become her lover, but all this takes time and she is eighty-seven years old, she may die in a week, in two days! .. Yes, and the most anecdote? .. Can you believe him? .. No! calculation, moderation and diligence: these are my three true cards, this is what will triple, sevenfold my capital and bring me peace and independence! Reasoning in this way, he found himself in one of the main streets of Petersburg, in front of a house of ancient architecture. The street was lined with carriages, the carriages rolled one after another to the lighted entrance. The slender leg of a young beauty, the rattling jackboot, the striped stocking and diplomatic shoe were constantly stretched out of the carriages. Fur coats and raincoats flashed past the stately porter. Hermann stopped. Whose house is this? he asked the corner guard. Countess ***, answered the watchman. Hermann trembled. The amazing anecdote again presented itself to his imagination. He began to walk around the house, thinking about his mistress and about her wonderful ability. Late he returned to his humble corner; For a long time he could not fall asleep, and when sleep took possession of him, he dreamed of cards, a green table, piles of banknotes and heaps of chervonets. He placed card after card, bent the corners resolutely, won incessantly, and raked in the gold, and put banknotes in his pocket. Waking up late, he sighed about the loss of his fantastic wealth, went again to wander around the city and again found himself in front of the house of the countess ***. An unknown force seemed to be drawing him to him. He stopped and looked at the windows. In one he saw a black-haired head, probably bent over a book or work. The head rose. Hermann saw a fresh face and black eyes. This moment sealed his fate.
