Summary county doctor Turgenev. Ivan Turgenev - county doctor

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Research project based on the story by I.S. Turgenev from the series “Notes of a Hunter” - “County Doctor”.
Completed by a student of 10 "A" class Zueva Ksenia. Teacher Plokhotnyuk I.V.
2010

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Thesaurus
Literary cycle - a series of literary works on a common or related topic, created by one author or one group of authors. The commonality that unites a number of works acts, in addition to the theme, also in the genre, place and time of action, characters, form and style of narration. A story is a work of small volume, containing a small number of characters, and also, most often, having one storyline.

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Introduction
The time of the creation of the story falls on April 1847, the original title of which was Poor Family. The main idea that inspired I.S. Turgenev to write the story “The District Doctor” was Belinsky’s memoirs about Lyubov Alexandrovna Bakunina, who fell in love with Dr. P.P. Klushnikov. But the writer, if this assumption is true, has moved far from the prototypes. His county doctor as a type, he does not in any way resemble P. P. Klyushnikov, an intelligent and talented doctor close to Bakunin's circle.

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Evaluation of the story "County Doctor" by V.G. Belinsky
“In The District Doctor,” he wrote to Annenkov on February 15, 1848, “I did not understand a single word, and therefore I will not say anything about him; but my wife is so delighted with him - a woman's business ... "

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Summary
The doctor told a story that happened to him a few years ago: he became very attached to his patient, a seriously ill girl, fell in love with her. His feelings were mutual. But his despair was boundless - every day the girl felt worse and worse, and he could not help her. These feelings turned out to be the strongest in his life - he remembers this girl, despite the past years and subsequent marriage.

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Formulation of the problem in the story
The problem of the story lies in the contradiction between medical duty and social prejudices.

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Is this text related to the history of the state?
In my opinion, the medical system itself, especially in remote areas of the Russian hinterland, remained at such a low level that it was very difficult to provide basic assistance and medicines, especially for poor people. Therefore, primitive district doctors, such as Trifon Ivanovich, made their decisions alone, often erroneous, bringing fatal errors to patients.

First, the story is told from the perspective of the author. One autumn he caught a bad cold while hunting. Fortunately, the height of the illness caught the author in a hotel in a county town. He immediately calls the doctor. He comes in half an hour and turns out to be a small and frail little man with black hair. The doctor prescribed the necessary medicines, put a mustard plaster on the patient and took his fee.

The doctor was about to leave, but for inexplicable reasons he remained. The author was only too happy about it. He was tormented by a fever, a sleepless night lay ahead. Why not chat

With a good person? They brought tea and the doctor began to tell various funny stories from his practice. The author notices a strange pattern: sometimes you have known a person for a long time, but there is no trust in him, and you see someone for the first time in your life - and you tell all the ins and outs. The author does not understand how he managed to earn the location of the doctor, but he took it and told a rather interesting and very personal story.

Further, the story is told on behalf of the county doctor. On one of the days of Great Lent, he calmly and peacefully plays preference in the house of the judge, who is a big fan of this game. Suddenly, through a servant, a note is passed with a request

Come to the patient. An impoverished widow's daughter dies. The doctor is begged to come urgently, the horses are already waiting. The doctor does not want to leave the hospitable and warm home and go twenty miles along the spring impassability. In addition, he understands that he will not receive much money from this visit. But debt is debt. The doctor hands over his cards and goes home to get the necessary medicines.

At the threshold of the house, he sees the carriage sent for him and once again realizes that there will be no profit from the patient. The horses are unsightly, peasant, on the goats an ordinary peasant, out of respect, took off his hat from his head. But you have to go, a person is dying.

The road was terrible, we barely got there. The doctor was met by a venerable old woman in a cap and took him to see his sick daughter. In the room, the doctor sees a young girl of about twenty, tossing about in bed in a fever. According to the mother, the disease began suddenly and develops very rapidly. Nearby are two frightened girls, her sisters. The doctor reassures the relatives and begins examination and treatment. He immediately notices the extraordinary beauty of the patient.

The girl fell asleep, the maid stayed with her just in case. The doctor comes down to the table, he decides to spend the night in the house. The doctor continues to reassure the mother. Finally, everyone in the household went to bed. The doctor cannot sleep and decides to visit his patient. The girl asks to cure her, not to let her die. He grabs the doctor by the hand and whispers something incomprehensible into his ear, as if he is in a state of delirium.

The next day did not justify the hopes for recovery. The doctor decides to stay in the house a little more. This is partly dictated by professional pride. But this is not the main reason. The doctor feels an emerging sympathy for his patient and her family. People are poor, but extremely noble and educated. Doctors also fell in love in the family, as a native.

Days pass, and the disease does not recede. The doctor fell in love with the girl. He does not believe too much in the reciprocity of his feelings. It seems to him that her love is an attempt by a hopeless patient to feel a taste for life and not think about the terrible.

The girl is getting worse. The doctor recalls his despair, disbelief in himself and his medical art - he does not recall in connection with this case, but speaks of such cases in principle. And in the situation with Alexandra Andreevna - that was the name of the sick girl - the doctor is most afraid of losing confidence in him.

The doctor talks to the patient for a long time, questions her and tells about himself. He falls in love more and more. One night, Alexandra Andreevna asked me to tell her the truth: was she really dying. The doctor tries to calm her down, but the girl does not believe him. She seems to be glad of the approaching death, waiting for her. The lovers confess their feelings to each other and embrace.

The next morning came the crisis. For the doctor, it was a real torture. It lasted three days. The hero spent all the nights next to his beloved. On the last night, he himself dreamed of death for both of them. Then the mother comes into the room. Alexandra says that she and the doctor gave each other a word. The doctor, confused, runs out of the room.

The next day the girl died. Before her death, she asked her relatives to leave them alone with the doctor. She asked for forgiveness and said that she had never loved anyone in her life like a doctor. I ordered not to forget her and take care of the ring.

Here the doctor turned away from the author, who, with sincere sympathy, took his hand. Suddenly the doctor abruptly changes the subject of the story. He offers to talk about something else or play preference. He mentions his wife Akulina ("Tryfon is a match"), a merchant's daughter with a rich dowry. The author and the doctor are playing preference. The doctor won two whole rubles and left satisfied.

One autumn day, on my way back from a field I was leaving, I caught a cold and fell ill. Fortunately, the fever overtook me in a provincial town, in a hotel; I sent for the doctor. Half an hour later the county doctor appeared, a man of small stature, thin and black-haired. He prescribed me the usual diaphoretic, ordered me to put a mustard plaster on, very deftly slipped a five-ruble note under his cuff, and, however, coughed dryly and glanced aside, and was already quite ready to go home, but somehow got into a conversation and stayed. The heat tormented me; I foresaw a sleepless night and was glad to chat with a kind man. They served tea. My doctor started talking. He was not a stupid fellow, he expressed himself smartly and rather amusingly. Strange things happen in the world: with another person you live together for a long time and are on friendly terms, but you never speak frankly, from the heart with him; you will hardly have time to get to know the other - lo and behold, either you tell him, or he, as if in a confession, blurted out all the ins and outs to you. I don’t know how I deserved the power of attorney of my new friend - only he, for no apparent reason, as they say, “took” and told me a rather remarkable case; and here I am now bringing his story to the attention of a benevolent reader. I will try to express myself in the words of a doctor.

Ivan Sergeevich Turgenev. Author of the story "County Doctor". Portrait by Repin

“You don’t deign to know,” he began in a relaxed and trembling voice (such is the effect of pure Berezovsky tobacco), “you don’t deign to know the local judge, Mylov, Pavel Lukich? .. You don’t know ... Well, it doesn’t matter. (He cleared his throat and rubbed his eyes.) Well, if you please, it was like great post , in the very growth. I sit with him, with our judge, and play preference. Our judge is a good person and a hunter to play preference. Suddenly (my doctor often used the word: suddenly) they say to me: your man asks you. I say what does he want? They say he brought a note, must be from a patient. Give me a note, I say. So it is: from the patient ... Well, all right, - this, you understand, is our bread ... But here's the thing: the landowner, a widow, writes to me; says, they say, the daughter is dying, come, for the sake of the Lord our God himself, and the horses, they say, have been sent for you. Well, that's still nothing ... Yes, she lives twenty miles from the city, and it's night in the yard, and the roads are such that fa! Yes, and she herself is getting poorer, you can’t expect more than two rubles, and that’s still doubtful, but is it really necessary to use the canvas and some grains. However, duty, you understand, first of all: a person dies. I suddenly hand over the cards to the indispensable member of Kalliopin and go home. I look: there is a cart in front of the porch; peasant horses - pot-bellied, pot-bellied, the wool on them is real felt, and the coachman, for the sake of respect, sits without a hat. Well, I think it’s clear, brother, your gentlemen don’t eat on gold ... You deign to laugh, but I’ll tell you: our brother, poor man, take everything into consideration ... If the coachman sits like a prince, but doesn’t break his hat, and even chuckles from under the beard, and wiggles with a whip - boldly beat on two deposits! And here, I see, it doesn't smell like that. However, I think there is nothing to do: duty comes first. I grab the most necessary medicines and set off. Believe me, I barely made it. The road is hellish: streams, snow, mud, waterholes, and then suddenly the dam broke through - trouble! However, I am coming. The house is small, covered with straw. There is light in the windows: to know, they are waiting. I enter. A respectable old woman like that, in a cap, will meet me. “Save me,” he says, “he is dying.” I say: “Don’t you worry… Where is the patient?” - "Here, please." I look: the room is clean, and in the corner there is a lamp, on the bed is a girl of about twenty, unconscious. The heat from her radiates, breathing heavily - fever. Immediately the other two girls, sisters, are frightened, in tears. “Here, they say, yesterday she was completely healthy and ate with appetite; in the morning today she complained about her head, and in the evening she was suddenly in this position ... "I again say:" Do not worry, you know, a doctor's duty, - and proceeded. He bled her, ordered mustard plasters to be put on her, prescribed a mixture. Meanwhile, I look at her, I look, you know, - well, by God, I have never seen such a face before ... a beauty, in a word! Pity understands me. Features are so pleasant, eyes ... Here, thank God, she calmed down; sweat came out, as if coming to her senses; She looked around, smiled, ran her hand over her face ... The sisters bent down to her, asking: “What is the matter with you?” - “Nothing,” she says, and turned away ... I look - she fell asleep. Well, I say, now the patient should be left alone. So we all tiptoed out and went out; the maid was left alone just in case. And in the living room there is already a samovar on the table, and a Jamaican one is right there: in our business it is impossible without it. They gave me tea, they asked me to stay overnight ... I agreed: where to go now! The old woman keeps groaning. “What are you? I say. “She will be alive, don’t worry, but rather take a rest yourself: the second hour.” - "Yes, you will order me to wake up, if something happens?" - "I will order, I will order." The old woman set off, and the girls also went to their room; They made a bed for me in the living room. So I lay down - only I can not fall asleep - what miracles! What, it seems, has suffered. All my sick people don't go crazy with me. Finally, he could not stand it, he suddenly got up; I think I'll go see what the patient is doing? And her bedroom is next to the living room. Well, I got up, quietly opened the door, and my heart was still beating. I look: the maid is sleeping, her mouth is open and she even snores, the beast! and the patient is lying facing me and spreading her arms, poor thing! I approached ... How she suddenly opens her eyes and stares at me! .. “Who is this? who is this?" I got confused. “Don’t be frightened,” I say, “madame: I’m a doctor, I came to see how you feel.” - "Are you a doctor?" - “Doctor, doctor ... Your mother was sent to the city for me; we let you bleed, madam; now, if you please, rest, and in a day or two, we will, God willing, put you on your feet. "Ah, yes, yes, doctor, don't let me die... please, please." - "What are you, God is with you!" And she has a fever again, I think to myself; felt the pulse: for sure, fever. She looked at me - and how she would suddenly take my hand. “I will tell you why I do not want to die, I will tell you, I will tell you ... now we are alone; only you, please, no one… listen…” I bent down; she moved her lips to my very ear, touched my cheek with her hair—I confess, my head went round—and began to whisper... I don’t understand anything... Oh, she’s delirious... finished in Russian, shuddered, dropped her head on the pillow and shook her finger at me. “Look, doctor, no one ...” Somehow I calmed her down, gave her a drink, woke up the maid and went out.

Here the doctor again took a savage sniff of tobacco and was momentarily numb.

“However,” he continued, “the next day the patient, contrary to my expectations, did not feel better. I thought, thought, and suddenly decided to stay, although other patients were waiting for me ... And you know, you can’t neglige with this: practice suffers from this. But, firstly, the patient was really in despair; and secondly, I must tell the truth, I myself felt a strong disposition towards her. Besides, I liked the whole family. Although they were poor people, they were educated, one might say, extremely rare ... Their father was a scientist, a writer; he died, of course, in poverty, but he managed to give an excellent upbringing to his children; also left a lot of books. Whether it was because I was diligently busying myself with the patient, or for some other reason, only I, I dare to say, was loved in the house as a native ... Meanwhile, the mudslide became terrible: all communications, so to speak, ceased completely; even the medicine was delivered with difficulty from the city... The patient did not get better... Day after day, day after day... But here... here... snuff, grunted, and took a sip of tea.) I’ll tell you without prejudice, my sick ... how could it be ... well, she fell in love with me ... or not, not that she fell in love ... but anyway ... right, like this, that, sir ... (The doctor looked down and blushed.)

- No, - he continued with liveliness, - which one I liked! Finally, you need to know your worth. She was an educated, intelligent, well-read girl, and I even forgot my Latin, one might say, completely. As for the figure (the doctor looked at himself with a smile) also, it seems, there is nothing to brag about. But the Lord God did not make me a fool either: I will not call white black; I laugh at something too. For example, I understood very well that Alexandra Andreevna - her name was Alexandra Andreevna - did not feel love for me, but a friendly, so to speak, disposition, respect, or something. Although she herself, perhaps, was mistaken in this respect, but what was her position, you judge for yourself ... However, - added the doctor, who delivered all these abrupt speeches without taking a breath and with obvious confusion, - I seem to be a little I have reported... You won't understand anything that way... but let me tell you everything in order.

- Yes, so-and-so. My patient got worse, worse, worse. You are not a doctor, dear sir; you cannot understand what is happening in the soul of our brother, especially at first, when he begins to guess that the disease is overcoming him. Where is the self-confidence going? You will suddenly become so timid that it is impossible to say. So it seems to you that you forgot everything you knew, and that the patient no longer trusts you, and that others are already beginning to notice that you are lost, and reluctantly tell you the symptoms, they look askance, whisper ... uh, bad! After all, there is a cure, you think, against this disease, you just have to find it. Isn't that it? Try it - no, it's not! You do not give time for the medicine to work properly ... you will grab on to this, then to that. You used to take a prescription book ... because here it is, you think, here! The right word, sometimes you will reveal at random: maybe, you think, fate ... And meanwhile a person dies; and another doctor would have saved him. A council, you say, is needed; I take no responsibility. And what a fool you look in such cases! Well, you'll get used to it in time, nothing. A person died - not your fault: you acted according to the rules. And then here's what else painfully happens: you see blind trust in you, but you yourself feel that you are not able to help. This is exactly the kind of trust that the whole family of Alexandra Andreevna had in me: they forgot to think that their daughter was in danger. For my part, I assure them, too, that nothing, they say, but at the very soul goes into the heels. To top off the misfortune, such a muddle approached that for medicine for whole days, it happened, the coachman drives. But I don’t leave the sick room, I can’t tear myself away, I tell different, you know, funny jokes, I play cards with her. I spend the night. The old woman thanks me with tears; and I think to myself: "I'm not worth your gratitude." I confess to you frankly - now there is nothing to hide - I fell in love with my patient. And Alexandra Andreevna became attached to me: she used to let no one into her room except me. He will start talking to me, asking me where I studied, how I live, who are my relatives, who do I go to? And I feel that it is not a trace for her to talk; but I can’t forbid her, resolutely that way, you know, I can’t. I used to grab myself by the head: “What are you doing, robber?”. And then he will take my hand and hold, look at me, look at me for a long, long time, turn away, sigh and say: “How kind you are!” Her hands are so hot, her eyes are big, languid. “Yes,” he says, “you are kind, you are a good person, you are not like our neighbors ... no, you are not like that, you are not like that ... How did I not know you until now! "-" Alexandra Andreevna, calm down, - I say ... - I, believe me, I feel, I don’t know what I deserved ... just calm down, for God's sake, calm down ... everything will be fine, you will be healthy. And meanwhile, I must tell you,” added the doctor, bending forward and raising his eyebrows, “that they didn’t get along with their neighbors much because the small ones were not a match for them, and pride forbade them to know the rich. I tell you: the family was extremely educated - so, you know, it was flattering to me. From one of my hands she took medicine ... she will rise, poor thing, with my help she will take it and look at me ... my heart will roll. And meanwhile she was getting worse and worse: she would die, I think, she would certainly die. Believe me, even lie down in the coffin yourself; and then my mother, sisters are watching, looking into my eyes ... and trust is gone. "What? How?" - "Nothing, nothing, nothing!" And what nothing, sir, the mind gets in the way. Here, sir, I was sitting one night, alone again, near the patient. The girl is also sitting here and snoring in all Ivanovo ... Well, it is impossible to recover from the unfortunate girl: she also slowed down. Alexandra Andreevna felt very unwell all evening; the fever tormented her. Until midnight, everything was tossing about; finally fell asleep; at least not moving, lying down. The lamp in the corner in front of the image is on. I'm sitting, you know, looking down, dozing too. Suddenly, as if someone pushed me in the side, I turned around ... Lord, my God! Alexandra Andreevna is looking at me with all her eyes ... her lips are parted, her cheeks are burning. "What's wrong with you?" “Doctor, am I going to die?” - "God have mercy!" “No, doctor, no, please don’t tell me that I will be alive… don’t tell me… if you knew… listen, for God’s sake don’t hide my situation from me! - And she breathes so quickly. “If I know for sure that I must die ... then I will tell you everything, everything!” - "Alexandra Andreevna, have mercy!" “Listen, I haven’t slept at all, I’ve been looking at you for a long time ... for God’s sake ... I believe you, you are a kind person, you are an honest person, I conjure you with everything that is holy in the world - tell me the truth! If you knew how important this is to me ... Doctor, for God's sake tell me, am I in danger? - “What can I tell you, Alexandra Andreevna, have mercy!” "For God's sake, I beg you!" - “I can’t hide from you, Alexandra Andreevna, - you are definitely in danger, but God is merciful ...” - “I will die, I will die ...” And she seemed to be delighted, her face became so cheerful; I was afraid. “Don’t be afraid, don’t be afraid, death doesn’t frighten me at all.” She suddenly got up and leaned on her elbow. "Now ... well, now I can tell you that I am grateful to you from the bottom of my heart, that you are a kind, good person, that I love you ..." I look at her like crazy; I’m terrified, you know ... “Do you hear, I love you ...” - “Alexandra Andreevna, what have I done to deserve it! - “No, no, you don’t understand me ... you don’t understand me ...” And suddenly she stretched out her hands, grabbed my head and kissed me ... Believe me, I almost screamed ... I threw myself on my knees and hid my head in the pillows. She is silent; her fingers tremble in my hair; I hear crying. I began to console her, to assure her... I really don't know what I was saying to her. “The girl,” I say, “wake up, Alexandra Andreevna ... thank you ... believe ... calm down.” “Yes, it’s full, it’s full,” she repeated. – God be with them all; well, they’ll wake up, well, they’ll come - it’s all the same: after all, I’ll die ... Yes, and why are you shy, what are you afraid of? Raise your head… Or maybe you don’t love me, maybe I was deceived… in that case, excuse me.” - "Alexandra Andreevna, what are you saying? .. I love you, Alexandra Andreevna." She looked me straight in the eyes, opened her arms. “So hug me…” I’ll tell you frankly: I don’t understand how I didn’t go crazy that night. I feel that my patient is ruining herself; I see that she is not quite in my memory; I also understand that if she had not honored herself at death, she would not have thought of me; otherwise, if you want, it’s terrifying to die at twenty-five, having loved no one: after all, that’s what tormented her, that’s why, out of desperation, at least grabbed hold of me, do you understand now? Well, she does not let me out of her hands. “Spare me, Alexandra Andreevna, and spare yourself, I say.” “Why,” he says, “why be sorry? After all, I must die ... ”She constantly repeated this. “Now, if I knew that I would stay alive and again get into decent young ladies, I would be ashamed, as if ashamed ... but what?” “Who told you that you were going to die?” “Eh, no, that’s enough, you won’t deceive me, you don’t know how to lie, look at yourself.” - “You will be alive, Alexandra Andreevna, I will cure you; we will ask your mother for a blessing ... we will unite in bonds, we will be happy. - “No, no, I took your word from you, I must die ... you promised me ... you told me ...” I was bitter, bitter for many reasons. And judge, these are the things that sometimes happen: it seems nothing, but it hurts. She took it into her head to ask me what my name is, that is, not a surname, but a given name. It's such a misfortune that they call me Tryphon. Yes, yes, yes; Trifon, Trifon Ivanovich. Everyone in the house called me Doctor. I, there is nothing to do, I say: "Tryphon, ma'am." She narrowed her eyes, shook her head, and whispered something in French—oh, something bad—and then she laughed, not good either. So I spent most of the night with her. In the morning he went out, as if mad; went into her room again in the afternoon, after tea. My God, my God! You can’t recognize her: they put her in a coffin more beautifully. I swear on your honor, I don’t understand now, I don’t understand decisively how I withstood this torture. Three days, three nights, my patient still screeched ... and what nights! What did she say to me! .. And on the last night, imagine, I’m sitting next to her and I’m asking God for one thing: clean up, they say, her as soon as possible, and me right there ... Suddenly the old mother - walk into the room ... I already told her the day before, mother, that there is not enough, they say, hope, it’s bad, and a priest would not be bad. The sick woman, as her mother saw, said: “Well, it’s good that you came ... look at us, we love each other, we gave each other our word.” “What is she, doctor, what is she?” I died. “He’s delirious,” I say, “fever ...” And she: “Enough, enough, you just told me something completely different, and you accepted the ring from me ... what are you pretending to be? My mother is kind, she will forgive, she will understand, but I am dying - I have nothing to lie; give me your hand…” I jumped up and ran out. The old woman, of course, guessed.

- I will not, however, torment you any longer, and I myself, I confess, find it hard to remember all this. My patient died the next day. The kingdom of heaven to her (added the doctor quickly and with a sigh)! Before her death, she asked her people to come out and leave me alone with her. “Forgive me,” he says, “maybe I’m to blame for you ... illness ... but, believe me, I didn’t love anyone more than you ... don’t forget me ... take care of my ring ... "

The doctor turned away; I took his hand.

- Eh! - he said. - Let's talk about something else, or would you like to be a little one? Our brother, you know, is not a trace to indulge in such lofty feelings. Our brother, think of one thing: no matter how the children squeal and the wife does not scold. After all, since then I have managed to enter into a legal, as they say, marriage ... How can I ... I took the merchant's daughter: seven thousand dowry. Her name is Akulina; Trifon something to match. Baba, I must tell you, she is evil, but she sleeps all day long ... But what about preference?

We sat down in preference for a penny. Trifon Ivanovich won two and a half rubles from me - and left late, very pleased with his victory.

"Death" was published in Sovremennik No. 2 for 1848. The story entered the cycle of "Notes of a Hunter" and reflected the stories that happened to Turgenev during hunting wanderings, the family traditions of the Turgenevs. For example, the river Zusha, mentioned at the beginning, flows not far from Spassky-Lutovinovo. The lady, who was going to pay the priest for the departure prayer, has a prototype. This is Turgenev's grandmother Katerina Ivanovna Somova.

Literary direction and genre

Turgenev, as a realist, explores the features of the Russian character, highlighting a simple and cold attitude towards death as a national trait. The psychological story has the features of a philosophical essay, it is a kind of ode to death and to those who accept it with dignity.

Issues

The story is dedicated to one feature of the Russian people - the attitude to death as something ordinary and familiar. Turgenev analyzes various cases and comes to a generalization: an unusual attitude towards death is a feature of the Russian mentality. "The Russian peasant is dying amazingly... The Russian people are dying amazingly." The attentive reader will see behind the descriptions of various deaths the social reasons for such an attitude, but contemporary reviewers did not see them.

Plot and composition

The exposition of the story is the storyteller's visit to the forest where he used to walk as a child with a French tutor. The forest suffered from frosts in 1840. The method of contrast allows us to compare the former living and cool forest and the current dead one.

The narrator calls oaks and ash trees old friends and describes them as sick or dead people: “Dried, naked, in some places covered with consumptive greens ... lifeless, broken branches ... dead branches ... fell down and rotted like corpses, on the ground".

The exposition sets the reader up for discussions about human death, as quiet as the death of trees. Turgenev chooses different deaths: accidents (hit by a tree, burned), illness (he overstrained, died from consumption) and death from old age. The death of people of different classes and professions is described: a contractor, a peasant, a miller, a teacher, a landowner.

The death of the landowner is the climax, a kind of parable with a moral: “Yes, Russian people die surprisingly.” This refrain is the main idea of ​​the story.

Heroes of the story

The author in the story is interested in the hero's encounter with death. The reason for reflection was the death of the contractor Maxim, who was killed in the forest by a falling ash tree cut down by peasants. In the death of Maxim (as well as other heroes) there is nothing ugly. Despite the fact that the branches of a falling tree broke Maxim's arms and legs, he almost did not moan, bit his blue lips, looked around "as if with surprise." The trembling chin, the hair sticking to the forehead, the unevenly rising chest make him look like a romantic hero in great excitement. He is really worried about the meeting with death, which, as he feels, is approaching.

But for Turgenev, what matters is not how the hero looks, but what he thinks and feels at the moment of death. Maxim's first thought is that he himself is to blame for his death: God punished him for telling the peasants to work on Sunday. Then Maxim disposes of the property, not forgetting the horse he bought yesterday, for which he gave a deposit, asks for forgiveness from the peasants. The narrator described the death of the Russian peasant in this way: “He dies as if performing a ritual: cold and simple,” but not stupidly or indifferently, as it might seem from the outside.

Another man, courageously waiting for death, is a neighbor's burnt peasant. The narrator is struck not so much by the behavior of the peasant as by his wife and daughter, who sit in deathly silence in the hut and also await death, so that the narrator "could not bear it and went out." At the same time, other family members treat the approaching death of a relative as something ordinary, they do not even stop their daily activities.

Lybovshinsky miller Vasily Dmitritch, who had a hernia, only on the 10th day came to the paramedic for help: “And should I die because of this rubbish?” Melnik utters an almost anecdotal phrase about dying better at home, where in his absence "God knows what will happen." The miller does not have any panic in the face of death, on the way home he bows to those he meets, and this is 4 days before his death!

The narrator describes the death of his friend Avenir Sorokoumov, who taught the children of the landowner Gur Krupynikov. Sorokoumov possessed a childishly pure soul. He rejoiced at the successes of his comrades, he did not know envy and pride. Avenir enjoys the days allotted to him: he reads his favorite poems, remembers Moscow and Pushkin with his guest, talks about literature and theater, and pities his dead friends. Sorokoumov is satisfied with the life he has lived, he does not want to leave and be treated, because "it does not matter where to die." Krupynikov announced the death of Sorokoumov in a letter, adding that he died "with the same insensitivity, without showing any signs of regret." That is, Sorokoumov took death for granted.

The situation of the death of an old landowner who tried to pay the priest for her own waste and was unhappy with the fact that the priest shortened the prescribed prayer looks completely anecdotal.

Stylistic features

The story is full of absurdities and paradoxes. The narrator's neighbor's cousin had a great heart, but no hair. In response to a French rhyme on the occasion of the opening of the Krasnogorsk hospital by the lady in the album, in which someone obsequiously called the hospital a temple, a certain Ivan Kobylyatnikov, thinking that it was about nature, wrote that he also loves her.

The sick are tamed in the hospital by a crazy carver Pavel, a dry-handed woman works as a cook, who is even more crazy than Pavel, beats him and makes him guard the turkeys. The absurdity at the plot level is the behavior of the dying landowner. But the most absurd thing is the veracity of all the incredible stories.

It presents a holistic picture of Russia, illuminated by the author's loving, poetic attitude to his native land, reflections on the present and future of its talented people. There are no scenes of torture, but it is the everyday scenes of serf life that testify to the anti-human essence of the entire social system.

In this work, the author does not offer us bright plot moves with active action, but pays great attention to portrait characteristics, manners, habits and tastes of heroes. Although the general plot is still present. The narrator makes a trip around Russia, but his geography is very limited - this is the Oryol region. He meets along the way various types people, as a result of which a picture of Russian life emerges.

Turgenev attached great importance the location of the stories in the book. Thus, not a simple selection of thematically homogeneous stories appears, but a single work of art, within which the regularities of the figurative interconnection of essays operate. The Hunter's Notes opens with two thematic "phrases", each of which includes three stories. First, variations are given on the theme of the folk character - "Khor and Kalinich", "Yermolai and the Miller's Woman", "Raspberry Water". In the following three stories, the theme of the ruined nobility is developed - “The county doctor”, “My neighbor Radimov”, “Ovsyanikov's Odnodvorets”. The following stories: "Lgov", "Bezhin meadow", "Kas-yan with the Beautiful Sword" - again develop the theme of the people, but the motifs of the decaying gosya appear in them and sound more insistently. harmful influence serfdom over the souls of people, this is especially felt in the essay "Lgov".

In the stories "Burmistr", "Office" and "Biryuk" the theme of the nobility is continued, but in a sharply updated version. In Burmist-re, for example, the type of a landowner of a new formation is presented, here the image of a lord's servant is also given. In The Office, the curious results of the transfer of the old noble habits of management to new forms of public institutions and new types of clerical servants from the peasants are given. The essay "Biryuk" describes a strange, mysterious person, personifying the powerful elemental forces that are still unconsciously wandering in the soul of a Russian person.

In the following eight stories, thematic phrases are mixed, and a kind of thematic diffusion takes place. However, at the very end of the cycle, the elegiac note of two stories about the nobleman Tchertop-hanov is replaced by folk theme in the essays "Living Powers" and "Knocks".

The “Notes of a Hunter” depicts provincial Russia, but one feels the deadening pressure of those vital spheres that weigh on the Russian province and dictate their conditions and laws to it.

The first story of this cycle is called "Khor and Kalinich". The author-narrator meets the landowner Polutykin, a passionate hunter, who invites him to his estate, where he introduces him to his peasants, whom he appreciates quite highly. The first character is Khor, in whose image there is a certain type, quite common among the people. Khor was well acquainted with the practical side of the matter; common sense is visible in his actions and work. He is in the position of a serf, although he has the opportunity to pay off his master.

His friend Kalinich is his complete opposite. He once had a wife, but now he lives alone. Hunting became the meaning of his life, giving him the opportunity to contact nature.

Heroes look at life differently, perceive different situations, even their manners are absolutely opposite.

The author does not idealize the peasants. Turgenev saw in folk types people of common sense, whose tragedy is that they cannot realize their talents and opportunities. Hor saw a lot, knew and well understood the psychology of human relations. “While talking with Khor, for the first time I heard the simple intelligent speech of a Russian peasant.” But Khor could not read, and Kalinich could, but he was devoid of common sense. These opposites in real life do not contradict each other, but complement and thus find a common language.

Here the author acted as a mature master of the folk story, here the peculiar feudal pathos of the whole book was determined, depicting strong, courageous, bright folk characters, the existence of which turned serfdom into a disgrace and humiliation of Russia, into social phenomenon, incompatible with the national dignity of a Russian person.

In the essay “Khor and Kalinich”, the character of the landowner Polutykin is sketched out only with light strokes, his passion for French cuisine is casually reported, and the lord's office is also mentioned. But this element is by no means accidental. In the essay "Office" similar French passions are presented in the image of the landowner Penochnik, and the destructive consequences of this element are shown in the story "Burmister".

In this work, the devastating economic consequences of the so-called civilizing activity of the upper classes are mercilessly exposed. Their manner of managing undermines the foundations of the work of the peasant on the ground. The essay “Two Landowners,” for example, tells about the economic activities of one important St. Petersburg dignitary who decided to sow poppy seeds in all his fields, “since it costs more than rye, so it is more profitable to sow it.”

The activities of this dignitary are echoed by the management of the land by the landowner Pantelei Yeremeevich Chertopkhanov, who began to rebuild peasant huts according to a new plan. In addition, he ordered all his subjects to be numbered and sew his number on each collar. In such atrocities of the provincial landowner, other actions of the all-Russian, state scale are visible. Here the author hints at the activities of Arakcheev, the organizer of peasant military settlements.

Gradually, the book develops an artistic thought about the non-absurdity of the age-old serf way of life. For example, in the story Ovsyanikov's Odnodvorets, the story of the transformation of the illiterate French drummer Lejeune into a music teacher, tutor, and then into a Russian nobleman is given.

In the "Notes of a Hunter" there are stories that gravitate towards satire, as they contain an anti-serf theme. For example, in the story "Lgov" it is said about a peasant nicknamed Suchok, who during his life served with the masters as a coachman, fisherman, cook, actor in the home theater, bartender Anton, although his real name was Kuzma. Having several names and pro-nicknames, the personality turned out to be completely impersonal.

Different destinies, combined and echoing with others, participate in the creation of a monumental image of the serf yoke, which has a detrimental effect on the life of the nation.

This image complements and enhances nature. A lifeless landscape runs like a red thread through the entire book. For the first time, he appears in the essay "Khor and Kalinich", which mentions the Oryol village, located next to the ravine. In the story "Singers" the village of Kolotovka is cut by a terrible ravine right in the middle of the street. In the essay “Bezhin Meadow”, a lost hunter experiences a “terrible feeling” when he finds himself in a hollow that looks like a cauldron with sloping glasses. The image of a terrible place cursed by people appears repeatedly in the story. Landscapes of this kind concentrate centuries-old people's troubles and hardships associated with Russian serfdom.

This work is devoid of patriarchal goodness, since it touches upon the all-Russian social conflict, and also collide and argue with each other two national images of the world, two Russias - official, deadly life, and people-peasant, living and poetic. In addition, all heroes gravitate towards two different poles - dead or alive.

Nature also plays an active role in creating a holistic image of living Russia. The best heroes of this work are not just depicted against the backdrop of nature, but also act as its continuation. Thus, the book achieves a poetic feeling of the mutual connection of all living things: man, river, forest, steppe. The soul of this unity is the personality of the author, merged with the life of the people, with the deep layers of Russian culture. Nature here is not indifferent to man, on the contrary, she is very strict in her relations with him, as she takes revenge on him for too unceremonious and rational intrusion into her secrets, as well as for excessive courage and self-confidence with her.

Peculiarity national character is revealed in the story "Death", which lists the tragic stories about the death of the contractor Maxim, the peasant, the miller Vasil, the commoner-intellectual Avenir Sokoloumov, the old landowner. But all these stories are united by one common motive: in the face of death, heart strings appear in a Russian person. All Russian people "die amazingly", because at the hour of the last test they think not about themselves, but about others, about close people. This is the source of their courage and mental endurance.

Much attracts the writer in Russian life, but also repels much. However, there is one quality in it that the author puts very highly - it is democracy, friendliness, a living talent for mutual understanding, which was not exterminated from the people's environment, but only, on the contrary, was sharpened by the centuries of serfdom, the severe trials of Russian history .

There is another leitmotif in the "Notes of a Hunter" - the musical talent of the Russian people, which was first announced in "Chorus and Kalinich". Kalinich sings, and the businesslike Khor sings along with him. The song unites even such opposite natures in a general mood. The song is the beginning that brings people together in the joys and sorrows of life.

In the essay "Raspberry Water" the characters have one thing in common: they are all losers. And at the end of the essay, on the other side, an unfamiliar singer sang a sad song that brings people together, because through separate destinies it leads to a common Russian fate and thereby makes the heroes related to each other.

In the story “Kasian with a Beautiful Sword”, a mournful melody is heard among the fields, which calls for a journey, away from the land where untruth and evil reign, to the promised land, where all people live in contentment and justice.

The song of Yakov from the story "Singers" calls the heroes to the same country. Here, not only Yakov's singing is poeticized, but also the spiritual connection that his song establishes in characters very different in position and origin. Yakov sang, but the souls of the people around him sang along with him. The whole Prytynny tavern lives with the song.

But Turgenev is a realist writer, so he will show how such an impulse is replaced by spiritual depression. A drunken evening follows, where Yakov and the whole world in the tavern become completely different.

The collection contains stories imbued with a special lyricism. For example, "Bezhin Meadow" differs sharply in elegance from other short stories of this cycle. The author pays much attention here to the elements of nature. The traveler lost his way in the late afternoon and decided to choose a lodging for the night. He comes out to a fire burning near the river, near which peasant children are sitting, grazing horses. The hunter becomes a witness to their conversation. He is delighted with those folk stories with which he met at the same time. Interesting is Kostya's story about Gavril, a suburban carpenter, who ran into a mermaid. He went to meet her, but the inner strength stopped him, he laid a cross, after which she stopped laughing and cried, saying: “You will be killed until the end of your days.” Here the satanic power is defeated by the sign of the cross, but it is capable of instilling sadness in a person. material from the site

The "Notes of a Hunter" end with the essay "Forest and Steppe". There are no heroes here, but there is a subtle lyrical description of the natural elements, the beauty of nature and the human being in it. These two opposites do not crowd, do not interfere, but mutually complement each other. Both the forest and the steppe delight the traveler, he likes them at the same time. Man must also harmoniously fit into nature. The essay is imbued with a life-affirming optimistic mood, since all this is important for the healthy existence of people.

Thus, the central conflict of this book is complex and deep. Undoubtedly, social antagonisms are outlined here quite sharply. Of course, the burden of serfdom falls primarily on the shoulders of the peasant, because it is he who has to endure physical torture, hunger, want and spiritual humiliation. However, Turgenev looks at serfdom from a broader, national point of view, as a phenomenon that is painful at the same time for both the master and the peasant. He sharply condemns the cruel feudal lords and sympathizes with those nobles who themselves were victims of the feudal yoke. After all, it is not by chance that the singing of Yakov the Turk causes a “heavy tear” from the eyes of the Wild Master.

In Turgenev, not only peasants are endowed with national Russian features; Russian by nature are also some landowners who escaped the corrupting influence of serfdom. Pyotr Petrovich Karataev is no less a Russian person than the peasants. National traits of character are also emphasized in the moral character of Chertop-hanov. He is a landowner, but not a serf-owner. Such is Tatyana Borisovna, a patriarchal landowner, but at the same time a simple being, with a "straightforward pure heart."

The author sees the living forces of the nation both in the peasant and in the nobility. Admiring the poetic talent or, conversely, the efficiency of a Russian person, the writer comes to the conclusion that serfdom is contrary to national dignity, and all living Russia, not only peasant, but also noble, should take part in the fight against it.

Plan

1. The theme of folk character and people.
2. The theme of the ruined nobility.
3. The motives of the corrupting influence of serfdom on the souls of people.
4. Plots, characters, situations.
5. The main artistic principles in the depiction of the national character and life: the contrast of the high and the everyday, the ugly and the beautiful, strength and impotence.
6. Special means of artistic expression: landscape, light and color scheme.

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