Mishka Koshevoy is a Cossack from the village of Tatarskaya, who went over to the side of the Bolsheviks. He is distinguished by impetuous character, he is characterized by great emotionality and maximalism. The hero takes the position of the "Reds" and fully devotes himself to the fight against the whites, whom he considers enemies of the people. Koshevoy now does not see in the people next to whom he lived all his life, countrymen, neighbors, friends. He now divides people into "his own" and "enemies."
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Koshevoy is fanatical about his work. He mercilessly kills people, and drowns out the pangs of conscience with the phrase "We are all murderers." The vengeance and anger of Koshevoy also extends to the families of the belligerents, does not spare the elderly and children. He cruelly kills grandfather Grishaka, burns many houses of his enemies: about one and a half hundred courtyards of the village of Karginskaya he set on fire along with three of his comrades.
Koshevoi takes care of Dunyashka, the sister of Grigory Melekhov. She agrees to marry him even though he killed Peter, her older brother.
Updated: 2012-12-16
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During the years of the imperialist war, he realized that justice was on the side of the people and organized agitation among the Cossacks, speaking out against these military battles. The bear could not be out of the fight when the fate of the people is being decided. Once in the otarschik, he cannot be alone, and is afraid that this steppe silence will swallow him up. If Grishka Melekhov was always at the crossroads of his views, then Koshevoy did not want to leave the struggle. On the contrary, having consciously chosen the right path to fight for changing life during the revolution, he copes with a feeling of pity for Gregory and criticizes his friend, with whom he once studied at school.
When Soviet power came to power in the farm, and Koshevoy was elected deputy chairman of the Soviet, he insistently wants Melekhov to be arrested. Mishka has a special hatred for the enemies of the Soviets, and therefore he mercilessly destroys the houses of merchants and clergy, and puts grandfather Grishaka to death. But at the same time, Sholokhov clearly shows his spiritual world. He was dreamy and loved his native land. Through all the years of the war, he shows love for Dunyasha and his children. With great tact, the writer depicts those moments when the hated Ilyinichna Koshevoy wins her trust, after which the old woman loses all hatred for him. Having married this sweet girl, despite a serious illness, he all goes to the household. However, he soon begins to condemn his labor zeal and goes into the struggle for a bright future for the Cossacks.
Sholokhov, on the last pages of the work, confronts Koshevoy and Grigory Melekhov, emphasizing Mishka's vigilance and growth in political views. The disclosure of Koshevoy's character is manifested through all his actions in the process of fighting for the strengthening of Soviet power among the Don Cossacks. In the novel, he is shown as the master of life and a representative of the working Cossacks, who found the right path in the revolution. Showing the image of Koshevoy, Sholokhov wanted to show that such a fanatical struggle, like Mishka's, would not lead to anything good.
Mishka Koshevoy.
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The writer traces the gradual growth of Mikhail Koshevoy's class consciousness. Being on the front of the imperialist war, he realized that he was on the side of the people. For the first time he awakens hatred for the old system. He deploys propaganda work in the Cossack units, opposes the war imposed on the people. Far away, not immediately, an understanding came to Mikhail of the stormy turn of the struggle, revolutionary energy and endurance were born in battles with the old world. The desire to achieve the truth, "equality for all" never left Koshevoy.
During the very first uprising of the Cossacks, Koshevoy resolutely invites his old friends to leave the farm and make their way to the Red Army. He did just that, despite Grigory Melekhov's ardent objections, but was caught and found himself out of the fight. Being in the otters, he is burdened by loneliness, afraid that the pacifying silence of the steppe will suck him in. Koshevoy is oppressed even by the temporary detachment from the severe struggle that is going on in the country. Unlike Grigory Melekhov, Koshevoy has no doubts and hesitations, he has no desire to withdraw from the fight. On the contrary, having consciously chosen the right path of struggle for a revolutionary change in life, he overcomes the feeling of pity for Grigory, severely condemns the restless school comrade (“Our paths seem to diverge”, “we are roots with him, we studied together at school, ran around the girls , he is like a brother to me ... but he began to fuss, and before that I was angry, my heart was swollen ... Kubyt takes something from me, the most miserable. Kubyt robs me! "). With the establishment of Soviet power on the Tatarsky farm, Koshevoy was elected deputy chairman of the Soviet, and even then, not trusting Grigory, he insisted on his arrest.
Political adherence to principles and consistency, a sense of revolutionary duty, an irreconcilable attitude towards the enemies of Soviet power - these are the main features of Koshevoy's character. Revealing his burning hatred for the rebellious Cossacks, Sholokhov writes: “He waged an implacable, merciless war with Cossack satiety, with Cossack treachery, with all that indestructible and inert way of life that had rested for centuries under the roofs of imposing kurens.”
Koshevoi mercilessly burns down merchant and priestly houses, the huts of wealthy Cossacks, kills grandfather Grishaka, seeing in him the embodiment of the most inveterate Cossack traditions. “I have a firm hand against enemies that live in vain in this world,” Koshevoy declares with conviction and remains true to this word of his.
Sholokhov also emphasizes the changes taking place in Koshevoy with the help of portrait characteristics: when meeting with enemies, his blue eyes turned cold as ice, stubbornness was expressed in “Mishka’s stooped figure, in the tilt of the head, in firmly compressed lips”; and with the help of humorous situations (careful preparation for entering his native farm, consent to a wedding in a church and a conversation with the gundos priest Vissarion).
The writer deeply reveals the rich spiritual world of Koshevoy, his spontaneity and dreaminess, touching love for his native land and craving for peaceful work, cordial care for children and a bright feeling for Dunyashka, which he will mow down through all the years of the war. With great tact, Sholokhov shows how the "murderer" Koshevoy wins the trust of Ilyinichna, who loses her sense of resentment and anger towards him.
Having married Dunyashka, Koshevoy, despite a serious illness, "worked tirelessly", turned out to be a "zealous owner." Soon he condemns himself for prematurely leaving for the economy and devotes himself entirely to the struggle for the complete triumph of a new life on the Don, making every effort to ward off the discontent of the Cossacks "from his native Soviet power." He never leaves the belief that "peaceful Soviet power will be established throughout the world."
Bringing Koshevoy to the forefront, Sholokhov confronts him with Grigory Melekhov, contrasting their views and behavior. The writer emphasizes, on the one hand, the instability of those social forces that the “unreliable person” Grigory embodies, on the other hand, the vigilance, adherence to principles, political growth of the communist Koshevoy. The meeting of old friends takes place at a troubled time: gangs appear on the Don, in neighboring regions, an uprising against Soviet power breaks out. Under these conditions, the wariness of Koshevoy, his distrustful attitude towards Grigory Melekhov, who quite recently “spun the whole uprising”, is especially understandable.
With sincere frankness, Koshevoy expresses his attitude towards Grigory, and not without reason insists on his arrest. In a clash of previously close people, Sholokhov revealed the complexity of the situation of those years, the historical inevitability of Koshevoy's revolutionary ruthlessness in the struggle for a new life.
LVI The prisoners were brought to Tatarsky at five o'clock in the afternoon. The fleeting spring twilight was already close, the sun was already descending towards sunset, touching with a flaming disk the edge of a shaggy gray cloud stretched out in the west. On the street, in the shade of a huge public barn, hundreds of Tatars were sitting and standing on foot. They were transferred to the right side of the Don to help the hundreds of Yelans, who could hardly hold back the onslaught of the red cavalry, and the Tatars, on the way to the position, went into the farm with the whole hundred to visit their relatives and feed on grub. They had to leave that day, but they heard that captured communists were being driven to Veshenskaya, among whom were Mishka Koshevoy and Ivan Alekseevich, that the prisoners were about to arrive in Tatarsky, and therefore decided to wait. The Cossacks, who were related to those killed in the first battle together with Peter Melekhov, especially insisted on a meeting with Koshev and Ivan Alekseevich. The Tatars, talking listlessly, leaning their rifles against the barn wall, sat and stood, smoking, husking seeds; they were surrounded by women, old men and children. The whole farm poured out into the street, and from the roofs of the kurens the children tirelessly watched - were they being driven? And then a childish voice squealed! - Showed up! They're driving! The servicemen hurriedly got up, the people began to tremble, a dull rumble of animated conversation shot up, the feet of the children running towards the captured children stamped. The widow of Alyoshka Shamil, under the fresh impression of grief that had not yet subsided, began to wail hysterically. - Chasing enemies! - Bassist said some old man. - Beat them, damn it! What are you looking at, Cossacks?! - To their judgment! - Our distorted! - To the bolt of Koshevoy with his friend! Daria Melekhova stood next to Anikushkina's wife. She was the first to recognize Ivan Alekseevich in the approaching crowd of beaten prisoners. - They brought your farmer! Show off on him, on the son of a bitch! Have Christ with him! - Covering the ferociously intensifying fractional dialect, women's screams and crying, the sergeant-major - the head of the convoy - croaked and stretched out his hand, pointing from the horse at Ivan Alekseevich. - Where's the other one? Where is Cat Bear? Antip Brekhovich climbed through the crowd, on the move taking off his rifle epaulette from his shoulder, hitting people with the butt and bayonet of a dangling rifle. - One of your farmer, there was no okromya. Yes, a piece per person and this is enough to stretch ... - said the sergeant-at-arms escort, raking copious sweat from his forehead with a red washcloth, heavily moving his leg through the saddle pommel. The woman's shrieks and screams, growing, reached the limit of tension. Darya made her way to the escorts and a few paces away, behind the wet croup of the escort's horse, she saw Ivan Alekseevich's face, cast iron from the beatings. His monstrously swollen head, with hair stuck together in dry blood, was the height of a bucket standing up. The skin on his forehead was swollen and cracked, his cheeks were shiny purple, and on the very top of his head, covered with a gelatinous mess, lay woolen gloves. He apparently put them on his head, trying to cover a solid wound from the stinging rays of the sun, from flies and midges teeming in the air. The gloves had dried to the wound, and remained on his head... He looked around in a haunted manner, looking for and afraid to find his wife or his little son with his eyes, he wanted to turn to someone with a request to be taken away from here if they were here. He already understood that he could not go further than Tatarsky, that he would die here, and did not want his relatives to see his death, and he waited for death itself with ever-increasing greedy impatience. Hunched over, slowly and difficultly turning his head, he looked around at the familiar faces of the farmers and did not read regret or sympathy in a single glance he met - the looks of the Cossacks and women were mean and fierce. His faded protective shirt bristled and rustled at every turn. She was all covered in brown smudges of flowing blood, in the blood were cotton quilted Red Army trousers, and large bare feet with flat feet and twisted fingers. Daria stood against him. Choking from the hatred rising to her throat, from pity and the agonizing expectation of something terrible that was about to happen, now, she looked into his face and could not understand in any way: did he see her and recognize her? And Ivan Alekseevich, just as anxiously, excitedly, rummaged through the crowd with one wildly shining eye (the other was closed by a tumor), and suddenly, fixing his gaze on the face of Darya, who was a few steps away from him, he stepped forward unsteadily, like a very drunk one. He was dizzy from a great loss of blood, he was losing consciousness, but this transitional state, when everything around him seems unreal, when bitter dope turns his head and darkens the light in his eyes, bothered him, and he still kept on his feet with great tension. Seeing and recognizing Daria, he took a step, swayed. Some distant semblance of a smile touched his once hard, now disfigured lips. And this smile-like grimace made Darya's heart beat loudly and often; it seemed to her that it was beating somewhere near her throat. She came close to Ivan Alekseevich, breathing rapidly and rapidly, turning more and more pale with every second. - Well, great, kumanek! The ringing, passionate timbre of her voice, the extraordinary intonations in it, made the crowd quiet down. And in the silence, a muffled but firm answer sounded: - Great, godfather Daria. - Tell me, dear little kumanek, how are you godfather of your ... my husband ... - Daria gasped, grabbed her chest with her hands. She lacked a voice. There was a complete, tightly stretched silence, and in this unkind quiet silence, even in the most distant rows, they heard Daria finish the question a little intelligibly: - ... how did you kill my husband, Pyotr Panteleevich, killed-executed? - No, godfather, I did not execute him! - How did you not execute? Darya's groaning voice rose even higher. - Did you kill the Cossacks with Mishka Koshevoy? You? - No, godfather... We... I didn't kill him... - And who translated him from the world? Well who? Tell! - Zaamursky regiment then... - You! You killed! .. The Cossacks said that they saw you on a hillock! You were on a white horse! Refuse, you damned one? - I was also in that battle ... - Ivan Alekseevich's left hand rose with difficulty to the level of his head, adjusted the gloves that had dried to the wound. Uncertainty appeared in his voice when he said: - I was also in that battle, but it was not I who killed your husband, but Mikhail Koshevoy. He shot him. I am not responsible for godfather Peter. - And you, enemy, whom did you kill from our farms? Whose children have you disbanded as orphans in the world? - the widow of Yakov Podkovy shouted piercingly from the crowd. And again, heating up the already tense atmosphere, there were hysterical woman's sobs, screams and voices for the dead in a "bad voice" ... Subsequently, Daria said that she did not remember how and where the cavalry carbine ended up in her hands, who slipped it to her . But when the women wailed, she felt the presence of a foreign object in her hands, without looking, she guessed by touch that it was a rifle. She grabbed her first by the barrel in order to hit Ivan Alekseevich with the butt, but a front sight stuck painfully into her palm, and she intercepted the lining with her fingers, and then turned, raised her rifle and even took the fly on the left side of Ivan Alekseevich’s chest. She saw how the Cossacks shied away behind him, exposing the gray chopped wall of the barn; I heard frightened cries: "Tyu! Crazy! You'll beat your own! Wait, don't shoot!" And pushed by the bestially wary expectation of the crowd, the eyes focused on her, the desire to avenge the death of her husband and partly the vanity that suddenly appeared because now she is not at all like the rest of the women, that they are looking at her with surprise and even with fear and waiting denouement of the Cossacks, that she must therefore do something unusual, special, capable of frightening everyone - driven simultaneously by all these heterogeneous feelings, with frightening speed approaching something predetermined in the depths of her consciousness, which she did not want, and did not could think at that moment, she hesitated, carefully feeling for the trigger, and suddenly, unexpectedly for herself, she pressed it with force. The recoil made her sway sharply, the sound of the shot was deafening, but through the narrowed slits of her eyes she saw how instantly - terribly and irreparably - the trembling face of Ivan Alekseevich changed, how he spread and folded his arms, as if about to jump from a great height into the water, and then fell back, and with feverish speed his head twitched, the fingers of his outstretched hands began to stir, carefully scratching the ground ... Darya threw down the rifle, still not realizing what she had just done, turned her back In simple simplicity, she straightened her head scarf with a gesture, picked up her stray hair. “And he’s still throwing up ...” one of the Cossacks rendered, with excessive helpfulness avoiding Darya, who was passing by. She looked around, not understanding who and what they were talking about, heard a deep moan, coming not from her throat, but from somewhere, as if from her very insides, lingering on one note, interrupted by death hiccups. And only then did she realize that it was Ivan Alekseevich who had accepted death at her hand. Quickly and easily, she walked past the barn, heading for the square, accompanied by rare glances. People's attention turned to Antip Brekhovich. He, as if at a training review, quickly, on only socks, ran up to the lying Ivan Alekseevich, for some reason hiding the bare knife bayonet of a Japanese rifle behind his back. His movements were calculated and correct. He squatted down, pointed the tip of the bayonet at Ivan Alekseevich's chest, said quietly: - Well, die, Kotlyarov! - and leaned on the hilt of the bayonet with all his strength. Ivan Alekseevich died hard and long. With reluctance, life left his healthy, mousy body. Even after the third blow with the bayonet, he still opened his mouth, and from under his snarled, blood-stained teeth came a viscous, hoarse: - Aaaa! .. - Oh, cutter, to hell! - shoving Brekhovich away, said the sergeant-major, the head of the convoy, and raised his revolver, busily screwing up his left eye, aiming. After the shot, which served as a signal, the Cossacks, who were interrogating the prisoners, began to beat them. They rushed in all directions. Rifle shots, interspersed with shouts, clicked dryly and briefly ... An hour later, Grigory Melekhov rode up to Tatarsky. He drove the horse to death, and he fell on the road from Ust-Khoperskaya, on the stretch between two farms. Having dragged the saddle on himself to the nearest farm, Grigory took an inferior horse there. And he was late... A hundred Tatars on foot left like a mound to the Ust-Khopersky farms, to the edge of the Ust-Khopersky yurt, where there were battles with units of the Red Cavalry Division. The farm was quiet, deserted. The night of a dark wadded wing, the surrounding hillocks, the Zadonye, the murmuring poplars and ash-trees... Grigory rode into the base, entered the hut. There was no fire. Mosquitoes rang in the thick darkness, and the icons in the front corner shone with dull gilding. Inhaling from childhood the familiar, exciting smell of his native home, Grigory asked: - Is there anyone at home there? Mommy! Dunyashka! - Grisha! Are you? - Dunyashkin's voice from the burner. The slapping tread of bare feet, in the opening of the doors the white figure of Dunyashka, hastily tightening the belt of her underskirt. - Why did you go to bed so early? Where is mother? - We have here ... Dunya was silent. Grigory heard her breathing rapidly, excitedly. - What do you have here? Have the prisoners been driven away for a long time? - Beat them. - Ka-a-ak? .. - The Cossacks beat ... Oh, Grisha! Our Dasha, damned bitch, I ... - indignant tears were heard in Dunyashka's voice, - ... she herself killed Ivan Alekseevich ... shot at him ... - What are you talking about ?! cried Grigory, frightened, grabbing his sister by the collar of her embroidered shirt. The whites of Dunyashka's eyes sparkled with tears, and from the fear frozen in her pupils, Grigory realized that he had not misheard. - And Mishka Koshevoy? And Shtokman? - They were not with the prisoners. Dunyashka briefly, inconsistently told about the massacre of the prisoners, about Daria. - ... Mom was afraid to spend the night with her in the same hut, she went to the neighbors, and Dasha came from somewhere drunk ... She came drunker than mud. Sleeping at once ... - Where? - In the barn. Grigory entered the barn, flung open the door. Darya, shamelessly heading her hem, slept on the floor. Her slender arms were outstretched, her right cheek shone, abundantly moistened with saliva, from her open mouth she sharply reeked of moonshine fumes. She lay with her head awkwardly turned upside down, her left cheek pressed against the floor, breathing heavily and heavily. Never before had Gregory felt such a mad desire to chop. For several seconds he stood over Daria, groaning and swaying, tightly clenching his teeth, examining this lying body with a feeling of irresistible disgust and disgust. Then he took a step, stepped with the heel of his boot on Darya's face, blackened by half-arches of high eyebrows, croaked: - Ggga-du-ka! Daria groaned, muttering something drunkenly, and Grigory clutched his head with his hands and, rattling the sabers on the thresholds, ran out to the base. That same night, without seeing his mother, he left for the front.Introduction
Mikhail Koshevoy in the novel "Quiet Flows the Don" is originally a minor person. But gradually his image comes to the fore. It is this, at first, insignificant character that plays a decisive role in the fate of a number of central heroes of the work.
Description of Mikhail Koshevoy
In the first part of The Quiet Flows the Don, Mishka Koshevoy appears before us as an ordinary farm boy with a naive, even somewhat childish, expression on his face and amused eyes. It is on the eyes of the hero that Sholokhov draws the reader's attention. Dark in the first book, they suddenly become "unsmiling", "blue and cold as ice" in the third.
During the war years, “Mikhail’s face matured and, as it were, faded.” The hero hardens, frowns, and often grits his teeth. Koshevoi "jerked up his eyes, and they looked straight into the pupils of the enemy, pierced into them." His dull eyes briefly revive only when he looks at Mishatka and Dunyashka. "The fires of admiration and caress flashed in them for a moment and went out."
Characteristics of Mikhail Koshevoy
In peacetime, Koshevoy behaves like his peers. Lives with the care of the economy, takes part in the entertainment of the farm youth. Participation in Shtokman's circle changes his outlook on life. Mishka is imbued with the ideas of a visiting member of the RSDLP and unconditionally takes the side of the Soviet government. Unlike Grigory Melekhov, Koshevoy does not doubt for a moment which side he is on. His devotion to the ideas of the party gradually reaches fanaticism, and the hero becomes completely hardened. The feeling of class hatred displaces everything universal from his soul. The final rebirth of Koshevoy occurs after he learns about the death of his comrades. “After the murder of Shtokman, after Mishka heard a rumor about the death of Ivan Alekseevich and the Yelan communists, Mishka’s heart was dressed with burning hatred for the Cossacks. He no longer thought, did not listen to the hated voice of pity, when a captured rebel Cossack fell into his hands. He kills, burns houses. Particularly indicative are the scenes of Koshevoy's participation in a punitive expedition to the village of Karginskaya, where he personally let the "red kochet" into 150 houses.
Michael was not naturally cruel. He says that, unlike other Cossacks, he cannot even slaughter a pig. But, the opponents of the new government for him are no longer people. In his opinion, they live in vain in the world, Koshevoy has a “firm hand” on them. It is characteristic that the word "enemy" constantly sounds in the hero's speech. He sees enemies everywhere. Even Dunyasha, the person closest to him, he is ready to throw out of his life just because she spoke unflatteringly about the Communists. “If you say this again - you and I don’t live together, just know it!
Your words are the enemy’s…” – declares Koshevoy.
Koshevoy and Melekhovs
It is difficult to develop Koshevoy's relationship in the Quiet Don with the Melekhov family. He personally shoots the captive Peter, kills the matchmaker of the Melekhovs, grandfather Grishaka Korshunov, and sets fire to his house, insists on the arrest of his former comrade Grigory. For all that, he does not feel guilty for what he did. For him, they are not fellow villagers with whom he lived side by side for so many years, but class enemies. Mishka tells Ilyinichna, who reproaches him for killing his grandfather: “I can’t kill an animal ... but a dirty trick, like this matchmaker of yours or some other enemy, I can do as much as I like!” To the accusations of killing Peter, he replies that Peter would have done the same to him if they had switched places.
It is interesting that it is Koshevoy, who brought so much grief to the Melekhovs, who undertakes to improve her life. He, having come to Ilyinichna's house as Dunya's fiancé, puts up a wattle fence, mends a longboat, and helps with mowing. But, despite these seemingly positive moments, in his soul he is not able to understand and accept someone else's position. He considers Dunyasha's mother, who calls him a "murderer", "a furious old woman." He hates Mishka and Gregory, who, even after everything that happened, opens his arms to him, considering Koshevoy his own.
If in the first three books Mishka still shows uncertainty, sometimes even confusion, then they completely disappear in the fourth book, when Koshevoy becomes chairman of the farm revolutionary committee. The only feeling he has for his fellow villagers is anger because they do not want to unconditionally accept the new government, as he himself did.
Conclusion
Positive or negative character Koshevoy? From a political point of view, of course, yes. After all, it is difficult to imagine a more devoted fighter for a brighter future. But, if you look at the hero from a universal position, it becomes scary. What bright future can be built by a fanatic who has neither understanding nor compassion in his soul?
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