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Compiled by Tatyana Strygina
Christmas stories by Russian writers
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Series "Christmas Gift"
Approved for distribution Publishing Council Russian Orthodox Church IS 13-315-2235
Fyodor Dostoevsky (1821–1881)
The boy at Christ on the Christmas tree
Boy with a pen
Children are a strange people, they dream and imagine. In front of the Christmas tree and right before Christmas, I kept meeting on the street, on a certain corner, a boy, no more than seven years old. IN terrible frost he was dressed almost in summer fashion, but his neck was tied with some old stuff, which means that someone sent him to equip him. He walked "with a pen"; it is a technical term, it means to beg. The term was invented by these boys themselves. There are many like him, they spin on your road and howl something learned by heart; but this one did not howl, and spoke somehow innocently and unaccustomedly, and looked trustingly into my eyes—so, he was just beginning his profession. In response to my questions, he said that he had a sister, she was unemployed, sick; maybe it’s true, but only later I found out that these boys are in darkness and darkness: they are sent out “with a pen” even in the most terrible frost, and if they don’t get anything, then they will probably be beaten. Having collected kopecks, the boy returns with red, stiff hands to some basement, where some gang of negligent people is drinking, one of those who, “having gone on strike at the factory on Sunday on Saturday, return to work again no earlier than on Wednesday evening” . There, in the cellars, their hungry and beaten wives drink with them, their hungry babies squeak right there. Vodka, and dirt, and debauchery, and most importantly, vodka. With the collected kopecks, the boy is immediately sent to the tavern, and he brings more wine. For fun, they sometimes pour a pigtail into his mouth and laugh when he, with a short breath, falls almost unconscious on the floor,
... and bad vodka in my mouth
Ruthlessly poured...
When he grows up, they quickly sell him somewhere to the factory, but everything that he earns, he is again obliged to bring to the caretakers, and they again drink it away. But even before the factory, these children become perfect criminals. They wander around the city and know such places in different basements that you can crawl into and where you can spend the night unnoticed. One of them spent several nights in a row with a janitor in a basket, and he never noticed him. Of course, they become thieves. Theft turns into a passion even in eight-year-old children, sometimes even without any consciousness of the criminality of the action. In the end, they endure everything - hunger, cold, beatings - for only one thing, for freedom, and they run away from their negligent wanderers already from themselves. This wild creature sometimes does not understand anything, neither where he lives, nor what nation he is, whether there is a God, whether there is a sovereign; even such convey things about them that are unbelievable to hear, and yet they are all facts.
The boy at Christ on the Christmas tree
But I am a novelist, and it seems that I composed one "story" myself. Why do I write: “it seems”, because I myself know for sure what I composed, but I keep imagining that it happened somewhere and sometime, it happened just on the eve of Christmas, in some huge city and in a terrible freezing.
It seems to me that there was a boy in the basement, but still very small, about six years old or even less. This boy woke up in the morning in a damp and cold basement. He was dressed in some kind of robe and was trembling. His breath came out in white steam, and he, sitting in the corner on the chest, out of boredom, purposely let this steam out of his mouth and amused himself, watching how it flies out. But he really wanted to eat. Several times in the morning he approached the bunks, where on a bedding as thin as a pancake and on some bundle under his head, instead of a pillow, lay his sick mother. How did she get here? She must have come with her boy from a foreign city and suddenly fell ill. The mistress of the corners was captured by the police two days ago; the tenants dispersed, it was a festive matter, and the remaining one dressing gown had been lying dead drunk for a whole day, not even waiting for the holiday. In another corner of the room, some eighty-year-old old woman was moaning from rheumatism, who had once lived somewhere in nannies, and now she was dying alone, groaning, grumbling and grumbling at the boy, so that he already began to be afraid to come close to her corner. He got a drink somewhere in the entryway, but he didn’t find a crust anywhere, and once in the tenth he already came up to wake his mother. He felt terrible, at last, in the darkness: evening had already begun long ago, but no fire was lit. Feeling his mother's face, he was surprised that she did not move at all and became as cold as a wall. “It’s very cold here,” he thought, stood a little, unconsciously forgetting his hand on the dead woman’s shoulder, then breathed on his fingers to warm them, and suddenly, groping for his cap on the bunk, slowly, gropingly, went out of the cellar. He would have gone earlier, but he was always afraid upstairs, on the stairs, of a big dog that had been howling all day at the neighbor's door. But the dog was gone, and he suddenly went out into the street.
God, what a city! Never before had he seen anything like it. There, from where he came, at night such black darkness, one lamp on the whole street. Wooden low houses are locked with shutters; on the street, it gets a little dark - nobody, everyone shuts up at home, and only whole packs of dogs howl, hundreds and thousands of them, howl and bark all night. But it was so warm there and they gave him food, but here - Lord, if only he could eat! and what a knock and thunder here, what light and people, horses and carriages, and frost, frost! Frozen steam pours from driven horses, from their hotly breathing snouts; horseshoes clinking against the stones through the loose snow, and everyone is pushing like that, and, Lord, I so want to eat, at least a piece of some kind, and my fingers suddenly hurt so much. A law enforcement officer passed by and turned away so as not to notice the boy.
Here again the street - oh, what a wide! Here they will probably crush them like that; how they all shout, run and ride, but the light, the light! and what's that? Wow, what a big glass, and behind the glass is a room, and in the room there is a tree up to the ceiling; this is a Christmas tree, and there are so many lights on the Christmas tree, how many golden bills and apples, and all around are dolls, little horses; and children running around the room, smart, clean, laughing and playing, and eating, and drinking something. This girl started dancing with the boy, what a pretty girl! Here is the music, you can hear it through the glass. The boy looks, marvels, and already laughs, and his fingers and legs already hurt, and on his hands they have become completely red, they can no longer bend and move painfully. And suddenly the boy remembered that his fingers hurt so much, began to cry and ran on, and now again he sees through another glass a room, again there are trees, but on the tables there are pies, all sorts - almond, red, yellow, and four people are sitting there. rich ladies, and whoever comes, they give him pies, and the door opens every minute, many gentlemen enter them from the street. A boy crept up, suddenly opened the door and went in. Wow, how they shouted and waved at him! One lady came up quickly and thrust a kopeck into his hand, and she herself opened the door to the street for him. How scared he was! and the kopeck immediately rolled out and clinked up the steps: he could not bend his red fingers and hold it. The boy ran out and went quickly, quickly, but where he did not know. He wants to cry again, but he's afraid, and he runs, runs and blows on his hands. And longing takes him, because he suddenly felt so lonely and terrifying, and suddenly, Lord! So what is it again? People are standing in a crowd and marveling: on the window behind the glass are three dolls, small, dressed in red and green dresses and very, very much like they are alive! Some old man sits and seems to be playing on big violin, the other two stand right there and play small violins, and shake their heads in time, and look at each other, and their lips move, they talk, they really talk, only now you can’t hear it through the glass. And at first the boy thought that they were alive, but when he completely guessed that they were pupae, he suddenly laughed. He had never seen such dolls and did not know that there were such! and he wants to cry, but it's so funny, funny on pupae. Suddenly it seemed to him that someone grabbed him by the dressing gown from behind: a big angry boy stood nearby and suddenly cracked him on the head, tore off his cap, and gave him a leg from below. The boy rolled to the ground, then they screamed, he was stupefied, he jumped up and ran and ran, and suddenly ran he didn’t know where, into the doorway, into someone else’s yard, and sat down for firewood: “They won’t find it here, and it’s dark.”
He sat down and writhed, but he himself could not catch his breath from fear, and suddenly, quite suddenly, he felt so good: his arms and legs suddenly stopped hurting and it became as warm, as warm as on the stove; now he shuddered all over: oh, why, he was about to fall asleep! How good it is to fall asleep here: “I’ll sit here and go again to look at the pupae,” the boy thought and grinned, remembering them, “just like they are alive! ..” and suddenly he heard that his mother was singing a song over him. "Mom, I'm sleeping, oh, how good it is to sleep here!"
“Come to my Christmas tree, boy,” a quiet voice suddenly whispered above him.
He thought it was all his mother, but no, not her; Who called him, he does not see, but someone bent over him and hugged him in the darkness, and he held out his hand to him and ... And suddenly, - oh, what a light! Oh what a tree! And this is not a Christmas tree, he has not yet seen such trees! Where is he now: everything glitters, everything shines and all around are dolls - but no, they are all boys and girls, only so bright, they all circle around him, fly, they all kiss him, take him, carry him with them, yes and he himself flies, and he sees: his mother looks and laughs at him joyfully.
- Mother! Mother! Oh, how good it is here, mom! - the boy shouts to her, and again kisses the children, and he wants to tell them as soon as possible about those dolls behind the glass. - Who are you boys? Who are you girls? he asks, laughing and loving them.
“This is the Christ Tree,” they answer him. “Christ always has a Christmas tree on this day for little children who don’t have their own Christmas tree there ...” And he found out that these boys and girls were all the same as he, children, but some were still frozen in their baskets, in which they were thrown on the stairs to the doors of the St. Petersburg officials, others suffocated at the little huts, from the orphanage to be fed, the third died at the withered breasts of their mothers during the Samara famine, the fourth suffocated in third-class carriages from the stench, and yet they are now here, they are all now like angels, all with Christ, and He Himself is in the midst of them, and stretches out His hands to them, and blesses them and their sinful mothers... And the mothers of these children all stand right there, on the sidelines, and weep; each recognizes her boy or girl, and they fly up to them and kiss them, wipe their tears with their hands and beg them not to cry, because they feel so good here ...
And below, in the morning, the janitors found a small corpse of a boy who had run in and froze behind firewood; they also found his mother ... She died even before him; both met with the Lord God in heaven.
And why did I write such a story, so not going into an ordinary reasonable diary, and even a writer? and also promised stories mainly about real events! But that's just the point, it always seems and imagines to me that all this could really happen - that is, what happened in the basement and behind the firewood, and there about Christ's Christmas tree - I don’t know how to tell you could it happen or not? That's why I'm a novelist, to invent.
Anton Chekhov (1860–1904)
The tall, evergreen tree of fate is hung with the blessings of life... From bottom to top hang careers, happy occasions, suitable parties, wins, butter figs, clicks on the nose, and so on. Adult children crowd around the Christmas tree. Fate gives them gifts ...
- Children, which of you wants a rich merchant's wife? she asks, taking down a red-cheeked merchant's wife from head to toe, studded with pearls and diamonds from head to toe ... - Two houses on Plyushchikha, three iron shops, one porter shop and two hundred thousand in money! Who wants?
- To me! To me! hundreds of hands reach out for the merchant. - I need a merchant!
- Do not crowd, children, and do not worry ... Everyone will be satisfied ... Let the young doctor take the merchant's wife. A person who has devoted himself to science and enrolled in the benefactors of mankind cannot do without a pair of horses, good furniture, and so on. Take it, dear doctor! not at all ... Well, now the next surprise! A place on the Chukhlomo-Poshekhonskaya railway! Ten thousand salaries, the same amount of bonuses, work three hours a month, an apartment with thirteen rooms, and so on ... Who wants it? Are you Kolya? Take it, honey! More… Housekeeper's job at the lone Baron Schmaus! Ah, don't tear like that, mesdames! Have patience!.. Next! A young, pretty girl, the daughter of poor but noble parents! Not a penny of dowry, but an honest, sensitive, poetic nature! Who wants? (Pause.) Nobody?
- I would take it, but there is nothing to feed! - the voice of the poet is heard from the corner.
So no one wants to?
- Perhaps, let me take ... So be it ... - says a small, gouty old man who serves in a spiritual consistory. - Perhaps ...
- Zorina's handkerchief! Who wants?
- Ah! .. Me! Me!.. Ah! The leg was crushed! To me!
- Next surprise! A luxurious library containing all the works of Kant, Schopenhauer, Goethe, all Russian and foreign authors, a lot of old folios and so on ... Who wants to?
- I'm with! - says second-hand book dealer Svinopasov. - Please, sir!
Svinoherds takes the library, selects the Oracle, the Dream Book, the Letter Book, the Desk Book for Bachelors... he throws the rest on the floor...
- Next! Okreyts portrait!
Loud laughter is heard...
“Let me…” says Winkler, the owner of the museum. - Useful...
The boots go to the artist… in the end, the Christmas tree is taken away and the audience disperses… Only one employee of humorous magazines remains near the Christmas tree…
- What about me? he asks fate. - Everyone received a gift, but at least I had something. This is wickedness on your part!
- Everything was taken apart, nothing was left ... However, there was only one cookie with oil ... Do you want it?
- No need ... I'm already tired of these cookies with butter ... The cash desks of some Moscow editorial offices are full of this stuff. Is there anything more important?
Take these frames...
I already have them...
“Here’s the bridle, the reins… Here’s the red cross, if you like… Toothache…” Hedgehog gloves...A month in prison for defamation...
I already have all this...
“A tin soldier, if you like… A map of the North…”
The humorist waves his hand and goes home with the hope of next year's Christmas tree ...
1884
Christmas story
There are weathers when winter, as if angry at human infirmity, calls the harsh autumn to its aid and works together with it. Snow and rain swirl in the hopeless, misty air. The wind, damp, cold, piercing, with furious malice knocks on the windows and roofs. He howls in pipes and cries in vents. In the dark, like soot, the air hangs melancholy ... Nature is troubled ... Damp, cold and creepy ...
The weather was exactly like this on the night before Christmas in 1882, when I was not yet in the prison companies, but served as an appraiser in the loan office of the retired staff captain Tupaev.
It was twelve o'clock. The pantry, in which, by the will of the owner, I had my nightly residence and pretended to be a guard dog, was dimly lit by a blue lamp light. It was a large square room littered with bundles, chests, whatnots... on the gray wooden walls, from the cracks of which a disheveled tow looked, hare coats, undershirts, guns, paintings, a sconce, a guitar... I, who was obliged to guard this property at night, lay on a large red chest behind a display case with precious things and looked thoughtfully at the lamp flame ...
Somehow I felt fear. The things stored in the storerooms of the loan offices are terrible ... at night, in the dim light of the lamp, they seem alive ... Now, when the rain murmured outside the window, and the wind howled plaintively in the furnace and above the ceiling, it seemed to me that they made howling sounds. All of them, before getting here, had to pass through the hands of an appraiser, that is, through mine, and therefore I knew everything about each of them ... I knew, for example, that powders for consumptive cough were bought for the money received for this guitar ... I knew that a drunkard shot himself with this revolver; wife hid the revolver from the police, pawned it with us and bought a coffin.
The bracelet looking at me from the window was pawned by the person who stole it... Two lace shirts marked 178 were pawned by a girl who needed a ruble to enter the Salon, where she was going to earn money... In short, I read hopeless grief on every item, disease, crime, corrupt debauchery ...
On the night before Christmas, these things were somehow especially eloquent.
- Let us go home! .. - they cried, it seemed to me, along with the wind. - Let go!
But not only things aroused in me a feeling of fear. When I stuck my head out from behind the shop window and cast a timid glance at the dark, sweaty window, it seemed to me that human faces were looking into the pantry from the street.
“What nonsense! I encouraged myself. “What stupid tenderness!”
The fact is that a person endowed by nature with the nerves of an appraiser was tormented by conscience on the night before Christmas - an incredible and even fantastic event. Conscience in loan offices is available only under a mortgage. Here it is understood as an object of sale and purchase, while other functions are not recognized for it ... It's amazing, where could it come from? I tossed and turned from side to side on my hard chest and, screwing up my eyes from the flickering lamp, tried with all my might to drown out the new, unwelcome feeling in me. But my efforts were in vain...
Of course, physical and moral fatigue after hard, all-day work was partly to blame here. On Christmas Eve, the poor crowded into the loan office in droves. On a big holiday, and in addition, even in bad weather, poverty is not a vice, but a terrible misfortune! at this time, a drowning poor man is looking for a straw in the loan office and receives a stone instead ... for the whole Christmas Eve we had so many people that three-quarters of the mortgages, for lack of space in the pantry, we were forced to demolish in a shed. From early morning until late evening, without ceasing for a minute, I bargained with ragamuffins, squeezed pennies and kopecks out of them, looked at tears, listened to vain pleas ... by the end of the day I could hardly stand on my feet: my soul and body were exhausted. No wonder I was awake now, tossing and turning from side to side and feeling terribly…
Someone gently knocked on my door ... Following the knock, I heard the voice of the owner:
"Are you asleep, Pyotr Demyanitch?"
- Not yet, why?
“You know, I’m thinking about opening the door for us early tomorrow morning?” The holiday is big, and the weather is furious. The poor will swarm like a fly on honey. So you don’t go to mass tomorrow, but sit at the box office ... Good night!
“That’s why I’m so terrified,” I decided after the owner left, “that the lamp is flickering ... I must put it out ...”
I got out of bed and went to the corner where the lamp was hanging. The blue light, weakly flashing and flickering, apparently struggled with death. Each flicker illuminated for a moment the image, the walls, the knots, the dark window... and in the window two pale faces, crouching against the panes, looked into the pantry.
“There is no one there…” I reasoned. “That seems to me.”
And when, having put out the lamp, I groped my way to my bed, a small incident occurred that had a considerable influence on my future mood ... Suddenly, suddenly, a loud, furiously squealing crack was heard above my head, which lasted no more than a second. Something cracked and, as if feeling a terrible pain, squealed loudly.
Then the fifth burst on the guitar, but I, engulfed panic fear, plugged his ears and, like a madman, stumbling over chests and bundles, ran to the bed ... I buried my head under the pillow and, barely breathing, fading with fear, began to listen.
- Let us go! the wind howled along with things. Let go for the holidays! After all, you yourself are poor, you know! He himself experienced hunger and cold! Let go!
Yes, I myself was poor and knew what hunger and cold meant. Poverty pushed me to this accursed appraiser's position, poverty made me despise grief and tears for the sake of a piece of bread. If it were not for poverty, would I have had the courage to value in pennies what is worth health, warmth, holiday joys? Why does the wind blame me, why does my conscience torment me?
But no matter how my heart beat, no matter how fear and remorse tormented me, fatigue took its toll. I fell asleep. It was a light sleep… I heard the owner knocking on my door again, how they struck for matins… I heard the wind howling and the rain pounding on the roof. My eyes were closed, but I saw things, a shop window, a dark window, an image. Things crowded around me and, blinking, asked me to let them go home. The strings on the guitar screeched one after another, bursting endlessly ... beggars, old women, prostitutes looked out the window, waiting for me to open the loan and return their things to them.
I heard through a dream how something scraped like a mouse. Scraping for a long time, monotonously. I tossed and cringed, because a strong cold and damp blew on me. Pulling the blanket over me, I heard a rustle and a human whisper.
"What a bad dream! I thought. - How terrible! Would wake up."
Something glass fell and broke. A light flickered behind the shop window, and light played on the ceiling.
- Don't knock! whispered. “Wake up that Herod… Take off your boots!”
Someone came up to the window, looked at me and touched the padlock. He was a bearded old man with a pale, emaciated physiognomy, in a torn soldier's frock coat and in props. He was approached by a tall thin guy with terribly long arms, in a loose shirt and a short, tattered jacket. Both of them whispered something and fussed around the shop window.
"They're robbing!" flashed through my head.
Although I was asleep, I remembered that there was always a revolver under my pillow. I quietly groped for it and squeezed it in my hand. Glass clinked in the window.
- Quiet, wake up. Then you'll have to poke.
Further, I dreamed that I cried out in a chesty, wild voice and, frightened by my own voice, jumped up. The old man and the young fellow, spreading their arms, pounced on me, but, seeing the revolver, stepped back. I remember that a minute later they stood before me pale and, tearfully blinking their eyes, begged me to let them go. The wind blew violently through the broken window and played with the flame of the candle that the thieves had lit.
- Your honor! someone spoke under the window in a weeping voice. - You are our benefactors! Merciful!
I looked at the window and saw an old woman's face, pale, emaciated, soaked in the rain.
- Don't touch them! Let go! she cried, looking at me with imploring eyes. - It's poverty!
- Poverty! the old man confirmed.
- Poverty! sang the wind.
My heart sank from pain, and in order to wake up, I pinched myself ... But instead of waking up, I stood at the window, took things out of it and convulsively shoved them into the pockets of the old man and the guy.
- Take it, quickly! I gasped. - Tomorrow is a holiday, and you are beggars! Take it!
Filling my beggarly pockets, I tied the rest of the jewels in a knot and tossed them to the old woman. I gave the old woman a fur coat, a bundle with a black pair, lace shirts and, incidentally, a guitar. There are such strange dreams! Then, I remember, the door creaked. It was as if they had grown out of the earth, and the owner, police officers, and police officers appeared before me. The owner is standing next to me, but I seem not to see and continue to knit knots.
"What are you doing, you scoundrel?"
“Tomorrow is a holiday,” I answer. - They need to eat.
Then the curtain falls, rises again, and I see new scenery. I'm no longer in the pantry, but somewhere else. A policeman walks around me, puts a mug of water for me at night and mutters: “Look! Look you! What did you think for the holiday! When I woke up, it was already light. The rain no longer knocked on the window, the wind did not howl. The festive sun was playing cheerfully on the wall. The first one who congratulated me on the holiday was the senior policeman.
A month later I was judged. For what? I assured the judges that it was a dream, that it was unfair to judge a man for a nightmare. Judge for yourself, could I give other people's things to thieves and scoundrels for no reason at all? And where is it seen to give things away without receiving a ransom? But the court took the dream for reality and condemned me. In prison companies, as you can see. Could you, your honor, put in a good word for me somewhere? Oh god, it's not your fault.
Christmas stories of Russian writers / comp. T. V. Strygina. - M. : Nikea, 2017. - 432 p. - (A Christmas gift).
Yuletide stories in Russian literature are an almost forgotten phenomenon. The years of Soviet power tried to eradicate from the consciousness of the Russian people the feeling of a miracle and the holiday of Christmas. But the memory remained, and modern writers still returned to it in their works. AND this collection- a clear confirmation of this.
What are the Christmas stories about? In the Christmas stories, there is traditionally a miracle, and the heroes overcome trials with the strength of spirit and love, do good, despite the obstacles of the outside world. This book contains stories of classic writers such as A. Bestuzhev-Marlinsky, N. Gogol, N. Leskov, A. Kuprin, I. Shmelev and stories of modern prose writers such as N. Klyuchareva, O. Nikolaeva, V. Kaplan , B. Ekimov, N. Agafonov, K. Parkhomenko and others.
About genre features of the Christmas story (and they were created strictly according to certain literary canons), the Russian writer Nikolai Leskov accurately said: some moral ... and finally, - so that it ends without fail cheerfully.
And this is confirmed by the intriguing story of Nikolai Leskov about the family jewel "Pearl Necklace" or the fatal love affair of the protagonist in Alexander Bestuzhev-Marlinsky's story "Terrible fortune-telling", or the blacksmith Vakula's journey full of dangers for laces for his beloved Oksana from Nikolai Gogol's story "The Night Before Christmas ”, a phantasmagoric story by Alexander Kuprin “Millionaire” about the thirst for wealth of a “little man” and the illusory nature of achieving this golden dream. The memoirs of Ivan Shmelev, written in distant emigration, in the stories "Christmas and Christmas time" about the anticipation of Christmas in early childhood, about home preparations for the holiday and about those poor and unfortunate people who were welcomed by the hospitable family of the writer these days. In the Christmas stories of Nikolai Pozdnyakov "On a hairline" and "Revolver" shows the facets human personality, fatal deeds, for which it is then a shame.
The story of Archpriest Nikolai Agafonov “The Werewolf” tells about the celebration of Christmas by monks in a poor monastery being revived, about prejudices and about a real Christmas miracle of mercy and love. The story "Readers" illuminates the complex life story former chorister and cathedral reader Sergei Avdeev, whose once amazing voice led one of the seminarians to deep faith. Boris Yekimov's Christmas story "For Warm Bread" shows the lonely old age of two elderly people and hopeless poverty, the lack of what is necessary. And, despite the fact that grandfather Arkhip's trip to the city for coal turns into disappointment and resentment, the taste of fresh bread revives him and returns the desire to live. Vasily Kaplan's piercing story "Learning Star" plunges us into the era of the criminal 90s, the difficult path to the faith of one of the heroes and the acquisition of simple human happiness through suffering. Did the teacher of physics Mikhail Nikolaevich, returning from the nightly Christmas service, think that life would soon present him with a terrible surprise, but the providence of God would turn out to be stronger than the fierce laws of life.
The Christmas excerpt from Olesya Nikolaeva's story "It's okay" shows the story of rejection, hatred and love of two pure and beautiful-hearted young people - Anastasia and Alexei. Disagreements over the subtleties of faith, prejudices and doubts for a very long time prevented two lovers from finding their happiness. And they would never have reunited if not for one criminal circumstance. And in the Christmas story of Maxim Yakovlev "Kalyamka" the main character, a little boy from orphanage, taken to a foster family, really wants to know: is the real Santa Claus sitting under a thuja in the garden and what is in his bag. The discovery shocked little Kalyamka so much that the already elderly Nikolai Petrovich cannot forget this episode from his distant childhood. In the story "A Gift of Random" the main character stands at a crossroads: to help a boy begging for alms or to pass by indifferently. And if he helps, then what will happen...?
In the amazing short story of our countrywoman Natalia Klyuchareva "Yurkino Christmas" a tragedy is shown drinking family and the forgotten schoolboy Yurka. The lesson that life taught him made his heart cold and cruel. And only a Christmas tree can melt this deep ice…. A Christmas story Archpriest Konstantin Parkhomenko Christmas miracle at polar circle” tells about the amazing journey to Yakutia of a St. Petersburg student Suzy and her desire to help a boy dying of leukemia. What trials awaited the inexperienced traveler Suzy, and what a miracle shocked her - the author of this mystical novel tells about this very vividly and fascinatingly. The story of Larisa Podistova "Christmas, Mom" is dedicated to the relationship between mother and son, and his main point in that good should be done in time, and parents should be loved while they are alive. In the story of the priest Alexander Shantaev "On the holiday" and "Katin's dream" Christmas appears as a miracle of the transformation of life, giving a warm light of hope. In the stories of Sergei Durylin "In the native corner" and "The Fourth Magus" - touching childhood memories of the Christmas holiday and the wonderful discoveries associated with it, about the light of the human soul, about unearthly joy and the hope that it will always be so.
The collection of Christmas stories by Russian writers is very bright, emotional and kind. The topics covered in it are eternal and will never lose their relevance. And the bright holiday of Christmas after reading this book will become closer and more desirable.
Christmas and Christmas story in Russian Literature XVIII-XXI centuries
miraculous winter holidays have long included and, probably, still include, and old folk festivals(pagan in origin), and ecclesiastical feast of the Nativity, and mundane New Year's holiday. Literature has always been a reflection of the life of the people and society, and even the mysterious Christmas theme- just a storehouse of fantastic stories that convey the world of the wonderful and the other world, always bewitching and attracting the average reader.
Christmas time, according to the capacious expression of A. Shakhovsky, - "evenings of folk fun": fun, laughter, mischief are explained by a person’s desire to influence the future (in accordance with the proverb “as you started, so you finished” or with the modern one - “as you meet New Year, so you will spend it"). It was believed that the more fun a person spends the beginning of the year, the more prosperous the year will be ...
However, where there is excessive laughter, fun, provocativeness, there is always restless and even somehow disturbing ... This is where an intriguing plot begins to develop: detective, fantastic or simply romantic ... The plot is always timed to holy days – time from Christmas to Epiphany.
In Russian literature, the Christmas theme begins to develop from the middle 18th century: at first it was anonymous comedies about merrymaking, Christmas tales and stories. Their characteristic feature was the old idea that it is during the period of Christmas time that the greatest activity acquires " devilry"- devils, goblin, kikimors, banniks, etc. This emphasizes the hostility and danger of Christmas time ...
Divination, and caroling of mummers, and subservient songs were widely spread among the people. Meanwhile, Orthodox Church long time ago condemned such behavior is sinful. In the decree of Patriarch Joachim of 1684, which forbids Christmas "monsters", it is said that they lead a person into "soul-destructive sin." Christmas games, fortune-telling and masquerading (“Mask-people”, putting on “beast-like mugs”) have always been condemned by the Church.
Subsequently, there was a need for folk Christmas bylichki and stories to be literary processed. These began to be dealt with by writers, poets, ethnographers and folklorists, in particular M.D. Chulkov, which published during 1769 the humorous magazine "Both That and Sio", and F.D. Nefedov, since the end of the XIX century. publishing Christmas-themed magazines, and, of course, V.A. Zhukovsky who created the most popular Russian ballad "Svetlana", which is based on a folk story about a heroine fortune-telling at Christmas time ... Many poets also turned to the Christmas theme 19th century: A. Pushkin("Fortune-telling and Tatyana's dream"(excerpt from the novel "Eugene Onegin") A. Pleshcheev("The Legend of the Christ Child"), Ya. Polonsky ("Christmas tree"),A. Fet ("Divination") and etc.
Gradually, during the development of romanticism, the Christmas story attracts the whole world of the miraculous. Many of the stories are based on miracle of bethlehem, and this is the transformation of just a Christmas story into a Christmas story ... Christmas Story in Russian literature, in contrast to Western literature, only by the 40s. 19th century this is explained by the different from Europe, the special role of the holiday. Christmas day- a great Christian holiday, the second most important after Easter. For a long time in Russia Christmas time was celebrated all over the world, and only the Church celebrated the Nativity of Christ.
In the West Christian tradition much earlier and more closely intertwined with paganism, in particular, this happened with the custom of decorating and lighting a Christmas tree for Christmas. The ancient pagan rite of honoring the tree has become a Christian custom. Christmas tree became a symbol of the Divine Child. The Christmas tree entered Russia late and took root slowly, like any Western innovation.
WITH mid-nineteenth V. the appearance of the first stories with a Christmas theme is also associated. Earlier texts such as "Christmas Eve"N.V. Gogol, are not indicative, firstly, Gogol's story depicts Christmas time in Ukraine, where the celebration and experience of Christmas was closer to the western one, and secondly, Gogol's pagan element ("devilry") prevails over the Christian one.
Another thing "Christmas Night" Moscow writer and actor K. Baranova, published in 1834. This is really a Christmas story: the motive of mercy and sympathy for the child, a typical motive of the Christmas story, turns out to be the leading one in it. The mass appearance of such texts is observed after they were translated into Russian. christmas stories Ch. Dickens early 1840s - " A Christmas Carol in Prose", "Bells", "Cricket on the Stove", and later others. These stories were a huge success with the Russian reader and gave rise to many imitations and variations. One of the first writers to turn to the Dickenian tradition was D.V. Grigorovich, who published in 1853 the story "Winter evening".
An important role in the emergence of Russian Christmas prose was played by "Lord of the Fleas" And "Nutcracker"Hoffmann and some fairy tales Andersen, especially "Christmas tree" And "Girl with matches". Plot last fairy tale used F.M.Dostoevsky in the story "Christ's boy on the Christmas tree", and later V. Nemirovich-Danchenko in the story "Stupid Fedka".
The death of a child on Christmas night is an element of phantasmagoria and too terrible event, emphasizing the crime of all mankind in relation to children ... But from a Christian point of view, little heroes get true happiness not on earth, but in Heaven: they become angels and fall on the Christmas tree of Christ Himself. In fact, a miracle is happening: the miracle of Bethlehem repeatedly affects the fate of people ...
Later Christmas and Christmas stories almost all major prose writers have written To.XIX - n. XX centuries Christmas and Christmas stories could be funny and sad, funny and scary, they could end in a wedding or death of heroes, reconciliation or quarrel. But with all the diversity of their plots, they all had something in common - something that was in harmony with the festive mood of the reader, sometimes sentimental, sometimes unrestrainedly cheerful, invariably evoking a response in the hearts.
Each story was based on “a small event that has a completely Christmas character”(N.S. Leskov), which made it possible to give them a common subtitle. The terms "Christmas story" and "Christmas story", for the most part, were used as synonyms: in the texts under the heading "Christmas story" motifs related to the Christmas holiday could prevail, and the subtitle "Christmas story" did not imply the absence of folk motifs in the text. Christmas time…
The best examples of the genre created N.S. Leskov. In 1886, the writer writes a whole cycle "Christmas stories".
in the story "Pearl necklace" he reflects on the genre: “It is absolutely required from the Christmas story that it be timed to coincide with the events of the Christmas evening - from Christmas to Epiphany, so that it is somehow fantastic, had some morality... and finally - so that it ends without fail funny. In life, there are few such events, and therefore the author is not free to invent himself and compose a plot suitable for the program. Peculiar Christmas stories are and "Roly", And "At the holidays" A.P. Chekhov.
In n. 20th century., with the development of modernism in literature, parodies of the Christmas tree genre and playful recommendations began to appear on how Christmas stories should be composed. So, for example, in the newspaper "Rech" in 1909. O.L.D”or(Orsher I.) puts the following guide for young writers:
“Any man who has hands, two kopecks for paper, pen and ink, and has no talent, can write a Christmas story.
You just need to stick to known system and keep the following rules in mind:
1) Without a pig, a goose, a Christmas tree and a good man, the Christmas story is not valid.
2) The words "nursery", "star" and "love" must be repeated at least ten, but not more than two or three thousand times.
3) bell ringing, tenderness and repentance should be at the end of the story, and not at the beginning of it.
All the rest does not matter".
Parodies testified that the Yuletide genre had exhausted its possibilities. Of course, one cannot fail to note the interest in the sphere of the spiritual among the intelligentsia of that time.
But the Christmas story is moving away from its traditional norms. Sometimes, as, for example, in the story V. Bryusova "The Child and the Madman", it makes it possible to depict mentally extreme situations: the Bethlehem miracle as an unconditional reality in the story is perceived only by a child and the mentally ill Semyon. In other cases, Christmas works are based on medieval and apocryphal texts, in which religious moods and feelings are especially intensively reproduced (the contribution of A.M. Remizova).
Sometimes, due to the reproduction of the historical situation, the Christmas story is given a special flavor (as, for example, in the story S. Auslander Christmas time in old Petersburg), sometimes the story gravitates towards an action-packed psychological novel.
He especially honored the traditions of the Christmas story A. Kuprin, creating wonderful examples of the genre - stories about faith, kindness and mercy "Poor Prince" And « Miraculous Doctor ", as well as writers of the Russian diaspora I.A. Bunin ("Epiphany Night" and etc.), I.S. Shmelev ("Christmas" etc.) and V.Nikiforov-Volgin (« silver blizzard» and etc.).
In many holiday stories childhood theme- main. This theme is developed statesman and Christian thinker K. Pobedonostsev in your essay "Christmas": “The Nativity of Christ and Holy Pascha are primarily children's holidays, and in them the power of Christ's words seems to be fulfilled: Unless you are like children, do not enter into the kingdom of God. Other holidays are not so accessible to children's understanding ... "
“A quiet night over the Palestinian fields, a secluded nativity scene, a manger. Surrounded by those domestic animals that are familiar to the child from the first impressions of memory - in a manger a twisted Baby and above Him a meek, loving Mother with a thoughtful look and a clear smile of maternal happiness - three magnificent kings, following a star to a wretched den with gifts - and away in the field, shepherds in the midst of their flock, listening to the joyful news of the Angel and the mysterious choir of the Powers of Heaven. Then the villain Herod, pursuing the innocent Child; the massacre of babies in Bethlehem, then the journey of the holy family to Egypt - how much life and action in all this, how much interest for the child!
And not only for a child ... Holy days are amazing time when everyone becomes children: simple, sincere, open, kind and loving to everyone. 
Later, and not surprisingly, the Christmas story "revolutionarily" reincarnated as New Year. The New Year as a holiday supplants Christmas, the good Father Frost comes to replace the Christ Child ... But the state of trembling and the expectation of a miracle is also present in the "new" stories. "Yolka in Sokolniki", "Three assassination attempts on V.I. Lenin" V.D. Bonch-Bruevich,"Chuk and Gek" A. Gaidar- one of the best Soviet idylls. Undoubtedly, the orientation to this tradition of films is also undeniable. E. Ryazanova "Carnival Night" And "Irony of Fate or Enjoy Your Bath"…
Christmas and Christmas stories are returning to the pages of modern newspapers and magazines. Several factors play a special role here. Firstly, the desire to restore the broken connection of times, and in particular, the Orthodox worldview. Second, return to many customs and forms cultural life that were so forcibly interrupted. The traditions of the Christmas story are continued by modern children's writers. S. Serova, E. Chudinova, Yu. Voznesenskaya, E. Sanin (Mont. Varnava) and etc.
Christmas reading has always been a special reading, because it is about the sublime and non-futile. Holy days are a time of silence and a time for such pleasant reading. Indeed, after such a great holiday - the Nativity of Christ - the reader simply cannot afford anything that would distract him from lofty thoughts about God, about kindness, mercy, compassion and love ... Let's use this precious time!
Prepared by L.V. Shishlova
Used Books:
- The Miracle of Christmas Night: Yuletide Stories / Comp., Intro. st., note. E. Dushechkina, H. Barana. - St. Petersburg: Artist. Lit., 1993.
- Star of Bethlehem. Christmas and Easter in verse and prose: Collection / Comp. and entered. M. Written, - M .: Det. lit., - 1993.
- Christmas Star: Yuletide Stories and Poems / Comp. E. Trostnikova. - M .: Bustard, 2003
- Leskov N.S. Sobr. Op. in 11 vols. M., 1958. v.7.
“There are holidays that have their own smell. On Easter, Trinity and Christmas, the air smells of something special. Even non-believers love these holidays. My brother, for example, interprets that there is no God, and on Easter he is the first to run to matins ”(A.P. Chekhov, story“ On the Way ”).
Orthodox Christmas is just around the corner! With the celebration of this have a bright day(and even a few - Christmas time) many are connected interesting traditions. In Rus', it was customary to devote this period to serving one's neighbor, to works of mercy. Everyone knows the tradition of caroling - the performance of chants in honor of the born Christ. Winter holidays inspired many writers to create magical Christmas stories.
There is even special genre holiday story. The plots in it are very close to each other: often the heroes of Christmas stories find themselves in a state of spiritual or material crisis, the resolution of which requires a miracle. Christmas stories are imbued with light, hope, and only a few of them have a sad ending. Especially often Christmas stories are dedicated to the triumph of mercy, compassion and love.
Especially for you, dear readers, we have prepared a selection of the best Christmas stories, both Russian and foreign writers. Read and enjoy, let festive mood will last longer!
"Gifts of the Magi", O. Henry
The well-known story of sacrificial love who will give her last for the happiness of her neighbor. A story about quivering feelings that cannot but surprise and delight. At the end, the author ironically remarks: “And I was just telling you an unremarkable story about two stupid children from an eight-dollar apartment who, in the most unwise way, sacrificed their greatest treasures for each other.” But the author does not make excuses, he only confirms that the gifts of his heroes were more important than the gifts of the Magi: “But let it be said for the edification of the wise men of our days that of all the donors these two were the wisest. Of all those who offer and receive gifts, only those like them are truly wise. Anywhere and everywhere. They are the Magi." In the words of Joseph Brodsky, "on Christmas everyone is a little magician."
"Nikolka", Evgeny Poselyanin
The plot of this Christmas story is very simple. The stepmother did a very mean thing to her stepson on Christmas eve, he had to die. At the Christmas service, a woman experiences belated remorse. But on a bright festive night, a miracle happens ...
By the way, Yevgeny Poselyanin has wonderful memories of the childhood experience of Christmas - "Christmas Days". Read - and plunge into the pre-revolutionary atmosphere noble estates, childhood and joy.
"A Christmas Carol" by Charles Dickens
The work of Dickens is the story of a real spiritual rebirth of a person. The main character, Scrooge, was a miser, became a merciful benefactor, from a lone wolf turned into a sociable and friendly person. And this change was helped by the spirits that flew to him and showed him a possible future. watching different situations from his past and future, the hero felt remorse for his wrongly lived life.
"Christ's boy on the Christmas tree", F. M. Dostoevsky
A touching story with a sad (and joyful at the same time) ending. I doubt if it should be read to children, especially sensitive ones. But for adults, it's probably worth it. For what? I would answer with the words of Chekhov: “It is necessary that behind the door of every satisfied, happy person someone stood with a hammer and would constantly remind by knocking that there are unfortunate people, that no matter how happy he is, sooner or later life will show him its claws, trouble will strike - illness, poverty, loss, and no one will see him and no one will He will hear, as now he does not see and does not hear others.
Dostoevsky included it in the "Diary of a Writer" and himself was surprised how this story came out from under his pen. And his writer's intuition tells the author that this very much could actually happen. Like tragic story the main sad storyteller of all time, G. H. Andersen, also has it - “The Girl with Matches”.
"Gifts of the Christ Child" by George MacDonald
The story of one young family going through difficult times in relationships, difficulties with a nanny, alienation from their daughter. The latter is a thinly feeling lonely girl Sophie (or Fauci). It was through her that joy and light returned to the house. The story emphasizes that the main gifts of Christ are not gifts under the Christmas tree, but love, peace and mutual understanding.
"Christmas letter", Ivan Ilyin
I would call this short work, composed of two letters from mother and son, a real hymn of love. It is she, unconditional love, that runs like a red thread through the whole work and is its main theme. It is this state that opposes loneliness and defeats it.
“Whoever loves, his heart blooms and smells sweet; and he gives his love just like a flower gives its scent. But then he is not alone, because his heart is with the one he loves: he thinks about him, takes care of him, rejoices in his joy and suffers in his sufferings. He doesn't even have time to feel lonely or think about whether he is lonely or not. In love man forgets himself; he lives with others, he lives in others. And that is happiness."
After all, Christmas is a holiday of overcoming loneliness and alienation, this is the day of the appearance of Love ...
"God in the Cave" by Gilbert Chesterton
We are accustomed to perceive Chesterton primarily as the author of detective stories about Father Brown. But he wrote in different genres: he wrote several hundred poems, 200 stories, 4,000 essays, a number of plays, the novels The Man Who Was Thursday, The Ball and the Cross, The Flying Tavern, and much more. Chesterton was also an excellent publicist and deep thinker. In particular, his essay "God in the Cave" is an attempt to comprehend the events of two thousand years ago. I recommend it to people with a philosophical mindset.
"Silver Blizzard", Vasily Nikiforov-Volgin
Nikiforov-Volgin in his work surprisingly subtly shows the world of children's faith. His stories are thoroughly permeated with a festive atmosphere. So, in the story "Silver Blizzard" he shows the boy with trepidation and love with his zeal for piety, on the one hand, and with mischief and pranks, on the other. What is worth one well-aimed phrase of the story: “These days I don’t want anything earthly, and especially school”!
Holy Night, Selma Lagerlöf
Story Selma Lagerlöf continues the theme of childhood.
Grandmother tells her granddaughter interesting legend about Christmas. It is not canonical in the strict sense, but reflects the immediacy of popular faith. This amazing story about mercy and how pure heart opens the eyes with which a person can enjoy the contemplation of the beauty of heaven.
"Christ Visiting a Man", "The Unchangeable Ruble", "On Christmas Offended", Nikolai Leskov
These three stories struck me to the core, so it was difficult to choose the best one from them. I discovered Leskov from some unexpected side. These works of the author have common features. This is both a fascinating story and general ideas mercy, forgiveness and doing good deeds. Examples of heroes from these works surprise, cause admiration and a desire to imitate.
"Reader! be kind: intervene in our history too, remember what today's Newborn taught you: punish or pardon? The one who gave you "verbs eternal life"... Think! This is very worthy of your thought, and the choice is not difficult for you ... Do not be afraid to seem ridiculous and stupid if you act according to the rule of the One Who told you: “Forgive the offender and get yourself a brother in him” (N. S. Leskov, “Under Christmas offended").
In many novels there are chapters dedicated to Christmas, for example, in B. Shiryaev’s “The Unquenchable Lamp”, L. Kassil’s “Konduit and Shvambrania”, A. Solzhenitsyn’s “In the First Circle”, I. S. Shmelev’s “The Summer of the Lord”.
The Christmas story, for all its seeming naivety, fabulousness and extraordinaryness, has always been loved by adults. Maybe because Christmas stories are primarily about goodness, about faith in a miracle and in the possibility of a person's spiritual rebirth?
Christmas is really a celebration of children's faith in a miracle ... Many Christmas stories dedicated to the description of this pure joy of childhood. Here are some wonderful words from one of them: Great holiday Christmas, surrounded by spiritual poetry, is especially understandable and close to the child ... The Divine Infant was born, and to Him be praise, glory and honors of the world. Everyone rejoiced and rejoiced. And in memory of the Holy Infant in these days of bright memories, all children should have fun and rejoice. This is their day, a holiday of innocent, pure childhood…” (Klavdiya Lukashevich, “Christmas Holiday”).
P.S. In preparing this collection, I read a lot of Christmas stories, but, of course, not all that are in the world. I chose according to my taste those that seemed the most fascinating, artistically expressive. Preference was given to little-known works, so, for example, the list does not include N. Gogol's The Night Before Christmas or Hoffmann's The Nutcracker.
And what are your favorite Christmas stories, dear matrons?
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Anton Pavlovich Chekhov- surprisingly subtle and delicately psychological Russian classic writer.
Childhood
Anton's very first childhood memories were associated with singing in the church choir with his brothers. Now the street of Taganrog, where the writer was born and lived in 1860, bears his name. In the family of the owner of a grocery store, Pavel Yegorovich Chekhov, there were only five sons and a daughter. Naturally, everyone somehow learned from his father. business. But in addition, children received education in the gymnasium. The boy got there at the age of eight. For his good-naturedly humorous look at things, he received the cheerful nickname "Chekhonte" from Fyodor Pokrovsky, a teacher of the Law of God. The guy also crossed paths within the walls of the alma mater with the father of the famous chairman of the Cheka, Felix Dzerzhinsky, Edmund, a mathematics teacher.
As a teenager, Anton first tasted the delights of theatrical acting, and plunged into this world performing arts with head. Cheerful production of the founder of the French operetta Jacques Offenbach Beautiful Elena» impressed young man so much so that he wrote many of his first plays about actors and actresses. And the very first dramatic work"Fatherless" saw the light in the gymnasium years. In an educational institution, the young man also published a satirical magazine.
Merchant activities of the father, unfortunately, suddenly began to decline, and soon the family had to flee the city. In order to somehow pay off the creditors, all the property was sold, and the Chekhovs moved to Moscow, initially wandering around the removable basements. True, so far without Anton, who decided to stay at the gymnasium. Without a penny, the young man begins to learn to survive on his own, relying only on himself. And he does it well by giving private lessons. However, after receiving his diploma in 1879, he also joins his relatives in Moscow. In the capital, he chooses a serious and practical profession of a doctor - he enters Moscow University (now - the First Moscow State Medical University named after I.M. Sechenov). Despite the heavy information load with medical terms and Latin, the student finds time for a literary hobby - he continues to compose cute, good stories. Getting acquainted with the anatomy of the human body, Chekhov pays special attention to the mental state of the patient. My medical practice he started at the Chikinskaya hospital, then continued in Zvenigorod.
Early work
Little stories and feuilletons of Anton Chekhov were taken to publish the magazines "Dragonfly", "Spectator", "Alarm Clock", "Shards". He also collaborated with the popular newspapers Novoye Vremya and Russkiye Vedomosti. By own confession, Anton Pavlovich at that time tried to write at least one story a day. Their reader success was in the simplicity of presentation of what was going on around. Suffice it to recall such stories as "Thick and thin", "Salty", "Chameleon", "Roly" ... However, not everyone accepted his prose rosy. Due to censorship requirements, his first collection "Prank" could not be released. However, at the age of 24, Chekhov nevertheless publishes the first collection, Tales of Melpomene, followed by Motley Stories, At Twilight (for which Chekhov was awarded half Pushkin Prize), "Gloomy people". Then he notices the symptoms of consumption.
Many contemporary writers closely followed Antosha Chekhonte. It seemed to them that he was wasting his talent right and left, which did not give himself time to mature for great works. In 1886, the editor of the St. Petersburg edition of Novoye Vremya, Alexander Sumarokov, made Chekhov a solid Commercial offer about permanent cooperation. And the following year, the premiere of Chekhov's first production of Ivanov took place at the Korsh Theater in Moscow. After the death of one of the brothers, the writer stopped turning to humorous genres and began to travel. His most significant trip was the road to Sakhalin, where Chekhov became an eyewitness to the life of exiles and prisoners. Health failed every now and then, and yet Anton Pavlovich inspired and painstakingly worked on the book "Sakhalin Island" and a collection of essays "Across Siberia".
General fame
The journal "Russian Thought" in 1892 publishes Chekhov's story "Ward No. 6". In the same year, again thanks to the patrons Sumarokov and Grigorovich, Chekhov got the opportunity to acquire the Melikhovo estate, where he took his parents and his sister Masha. The writer also resumes medical practice and plunges headlong into the whirlpool of socially useful deeds: landscaping the area, building chapels, schools and libraries, laying roads, and census. The famous "Seagull" and "Uncle Vanya" were also "born" here.
Having a charismatic-disposing appearance and inner spirituality, the man enjoyed big rating at the female. Every now and then various persons tried to marry him, whom he did not repulse, but, as a psychologist, studied and described in the characters of his characters. But he was in no hurry to part with personal freedom.
A severe aggravation of tuberculosis nevertheless forced him to sell the Melikhovo estate and go to the Crimea and Europe. Having invested the proceeds in the plot and the construction of a house in Yalta, Chekhov invites theater actress Olga Knipper to visit. In the first year of the 20th century, they met and began home rehearsals for the play Three Sisters. In the second year, they got married. performer leading role Olga Knipper also became a member of The Cherry Orchard in 1903, on the eve of Anton Pavlovich's death.
During his hypersocial life, Chekhov was friends with a huge number of people of different classes. Including with the literary genius fraternity - Maxim Gorky, Leo Tolstoy, Vladimir Korolenko, Alexander Kuprin, Vladimir Nemirovich-Danchenko, Ivan Bunin. This communication was his outlet from the boring household chores of improving the health of the peasants, often stubborn and unwilling to follow the doctor's recommendations. Watching from the inside different strata of society, Chekhov reflects on the essence of life, analyzes in many ways what he encounters.
The writer was buried in a cemetery in Moscow. His works have been translated into many languages of the world. In 2016, a beautiful film was shot in France Feature Film about the "Melikhov period" of Chekhov.
Nikolai Semenovich Leskov famous Russian classic writer of the 19th century.
The village of Gorokhovo, Oryol province, in 1831, when the eldest son Kolya was born in the family of an investigator and a poor noblewoman, was a small number of houses and a wooden church of the Three Hierarchs, later transported to the village of Berezovo, where it burned down. The whole family was connected with the churches along the line of the father: right there, not far away, in the village of Leska, my grandfather, great-grandfather and great-great-grandfather were priests. Hence the surname Leskovs was formed. In Gorokhov, relatives of Nikolai's mother lived - Strakhova, where the boy spent his childhood until he was 8 years old. Cousins and sisters did not like the guy because of his abilities in the sciences. Therefore, his parents took him to Orel, and then (due to a quarrel with the governor) - to the Panino estate, where Semyon Leskov showed concern for the land in front of his son - he plowed and sowed, looked after the garden.
At the age of 10, the boy was placed in the Oryol provincial gymnasium, where, despite his talent, he studied out of the ordinary disgustingly. However, poor grades did not affect his further successful career in the place where his father previously served, who died of cholera around the same time: the Oryol Criminal Court. The clerical routine did not really impress Leskov's creative nature, and after another promotion for Good work he asked to go to the Kyiv Treasury Chamber, where he settled with his maternal uncle, Doctor of Medicine Sergey Alferyev. Here future writer spends a lot of time getting acquainted with Ukrainian architectural monuments, and is also fond of the ideas of the Old Believers and the abolition of serfdom. After leaving the state chamber, Nikolai enters the private service as an agent in the company of his aunt's husband "Shkott and Wilkens", which is mainly engaged in agriculture. Here he is truly satisfied: “These are the most best years my life, when I saw a lot and lived easily. Traveling around the country on assignments from the company's management delighted Leskov.
In such a complacent mood, the young man fell in love with the daughter of a wealthy Kyiv merchant, Olga Smirnova. However, different views and aspirations gradually pushed Leskov away from his wife more and more. Even the children who were born could not save the marriage. Son Mitya soon died, and daughter Vera remained.
Compared to others famous classics Russian literature, Nikolai Leskov began his creative activity at a serious age - by the age of 30. In 1860, he moved to St. Petersburg and became the author of a number of articles in the newspapers St. Petersburg Vedomosti, Severnaya Pchela and the Otechestvennye Zapiski magazine, often under pseudonyms. As a journalist, he often went on foreign trips to Europe. But his publications were not without scandals, since Leskov carefully “dug” into what he wrote about. At the same time, Nikolai Semenovich turned to the genres fiction- writes the story "Extinguished Business", the stories "The Life of a Woman", "Musk Ox", "Lady Macbeth Mtsensk district". But it was the first novel of the writer "Nowhere" that attracted the attention of the public. He countered the modern nihilism of youth with Christian values. After the publication, Leskov's fans split into two: some considered the novel to be custom-made for its progressiveness, others, on the contrary, supported it, like, for example, the publisher of Russkiy Vestnik, Mikhail Katkov. This friendship, however, did not last long. Mikhail Nikiforovich was not satisfied with Leskov's new novel "On the Knives", and Katkov kept demanding that it be redone over and over again.
Of particular interest to the reader was the bright folklore story about the savvy flea "Lefty" with humor and puns. The folk legend acquired its peculiar "I" precisely thanks to the author, who greatly reveres creative legacy Nikolai Gogol.
By the mid 70s financial position Leskov’s work deteriorated sharply due to the final break in relations with the publisher Katkov. The membership of a special department of the Scientific Committee of the Ministry of Public Education for the review of books did not save either. Moreover, Nikolai Semenovich had just become burdened with a second marriage and went abroad. The novel "Cathedrals" called the Empress Maria Alexandrovna pleasant experience, because of which she granted the writer the position of a member of the educational department of the Ministry of State Property. And Leo Tolstoy called Leskov "the most Russian of our writers." (pseudonym - Maxim Gorky) (1868-1936), Russian writer. Born 16 (28) March 1868 in Nizhny Novgorod. At the age of nine, he was orphaned, and his grandmother, a master of telling fairy tales, had a decisive influence on him. An unsuccessful attempt to enter Kazan University, the death of his grandmother, unrequited love, confusion in thoughts and poverty led him to a suicide attempt on December 25, 1887.
For more than five years, Gorky wandered around Russia on foot, accumulating impressions that later nourished his work. During this first period, from 1892 to 1902, he described social troubles, creating images of protesting heroes who could not find their place in life. His characters were mostly vagabonds, prostitutes, thieves. Stories such as Chelkash, One Autumn, On the Rafts, The Orlovs, and Twenty-six and One; the novels Foma Gordeev and Troy; the plays Meshchane and At the Bottom represent typical examples of Gorky's work of that time.
The second period (1902-1913), marked by close cooperation with revolutionary organizations, was most clearly reflected in the plays Summer Residents (1905) and Enemies (1906) and the novel Mother (1907). In 1905, Gorky traveled to the United States, mostly living on the island of Capri.
In the third period of his work, from 1913 until his death, Gorky published a number of excellent autobiographical works, the most significant of them are Childhood (1913-1914), In People (1916), My Universities (1923) and Diary Notes. Memories (1924). The grandiose (unfinished) epic novel The Life of Klim Samgin and numerous literary critical articles were written in the last years of his life. Gorky died (there is a version that he was poisoned) in Gorki, near Moscow, on June 18, 1936, when Stalin was preparing Moscow show trials, in which many of Gorky's old friends were to be accused.
As a poet, Gorky is not so significant, but with his inspired revolutionary poems Song of the Petrel and Song of the Falcon, he earned the reputation of the "Singer of the Russian Revolution." An artist of words, a socialist and a romantic realist, an intermediary between the two worlds, Gorky is the link between old and new Russia.
