Early work of L. Tolstoy (trilogy "Childhood. Youth", "Sevastopol stories"). L.N. Tolstoy "Childhood. Adolescence. Youth": description, heroes, analysis of the works of L. Tolstoy childhood part of the trilogy

Lev Nikolayevich Tolstoy

Childhood. Adolescence. Youth

Teacher Karl Ivanovich

On August 12, 18 ..., exactly on the third day after my birthday, on which I was ten years old and on which I received such wonderful gifts, at seven o'clock in the morning Karl Ivanovich woke me up by hitting a cracker - made of sugar paper - just above my head on a stick - on a fly. He did it so awkwardly that he touched the icon of my angel hanging on the oak headboard, and that the dead fly fell right on my head. I poked my nose out from under the blanket, with my hand stopped the icon, which continued to sway, threw the dead fly on the floor, and, though with sleepy, but angry eyes, looked at Karl Ivanitch. He, in a colorful cotton robe, girded with a belt of the same material, in a red knitted yarmulke with a tassel and in soft goat boots, continued to walk near the walls, aim and clap.

“Let’s suppose,” I thought, “I’m small, but why does he disturb me? Why doesn't he kill flies near Volodya's bed? there are so many! No, Volodya is older than me; but I am least of all: that is why he torments me. All his life he thinks about it, - I whispered, - how to make trouble for me. He sees very well that he woke me up and frightened me, but he shows as if he does not notice ... a nasty person! And the dressing gown, and the hat, and the tassel - how nasty!

While I was mentally expressing my annoyance with Karl Ivanovich in this way, he went up to his bed, looked at the clock that hung above it in an embroidered beaded shoe, hung the clapperboard on a carnation, and, as was noticeable, in the most pleasant mood turned to us.

- Auf, Kinder, auf!.. s'ist Zeit. Die Mutter ist schon im Saal! he shouted in a good German voice, then he came up to me, sat down at my feet and took a snuffbox out of his pocket. I pretended to be asleep. Karl Ivanovich first sniffed, wiped his nose, snapped his fingers, and only then set to work on me. He chuckled and began to tickle my heels. - Nu, nun, Faulenzer! he said.

No matter how I was ticklish, I did not jump out of bed and did not answer him, but only buried my head deeper under the pillows, kicked my legs with all my might and tried my best to keep from laughing.

“How kind he is and how he loves us, and I could think so badly of him!”

I was annoyed both with myself and with Karl Ivanovich, I wanted to laugh and I wanted to cry: my nerves were upset.

“Ach, lassen Sie, Karl Ivanitch!” I cried with tears in my eyes, sticking my head out from under the pillows.

Karl Ivanovich was surprised, left my soles alone and began to ask me with anxiety: what am I talking about? didn’t I see something bad in my dream? His kind German face, the concern with which he tried to guess the cause of my tears, made them flow even more profusely: I was ashamed, and I did not understand how, a minute before, I could not love Karl Ivanovich and find his dressing gown, cap and tassel disgusting; now, on the contrary, all this seemed to me exceedingly sweet, and even the tassel seemed a clear proof of his kindness. I told him that I was crying because I had a bad dream - that maman had died and they were carrying her to bury. I invented all this, because I absolutely did not remember what I dreamed that night; but when Karl Ivanovich, touched by my story, began to comfort and reassure me, it seemed to me that I had definitely seen this terrible dream, and tears were shed for another reason.

When Karl Ivanovich left me and I, rising up on the bed, began to pull the stockings over my small legs, the tears subsided a little, but gloomy thoughts about a fictitious dream did not leave me. Uncle Nikolai came in - a small, clean little man, always serious, neat, respectful and a great friend of Karl Ivanovich. He carried our dresses and shoes: Volodya's boots, and I still had unbearable shoes with bows. With him, I would be ashamed to cry; moreover, the morning sun shone merrily through the windows, and Volodya, mimicking Marya Ivanovna (the sister's governess), laughed so cheerfully and sonorously, standing over the washbasin, that even serious Nikolai, with a towel on his shoulder, with soap in one hand and with a washstand in the other, smiling, he said:

- It will be for you, Vladimir Petrovich, if you please, wash your face.

I was quite amused.

– Sind Sie bald fertig? - I heard the voice of Karl Ivanych from the classroom.

His voice was stern and no longer had that expression of kindness that moved me to tears. In the classroom, Karl Ivanovich was a completely different person: he was a mentor. I quickly dressed, washed, and, still with a brush in my hand, smoothing my wet hair, came to his call.

Karl Ivanitch, with spectacles on his nose and a book in his hand, was sitting in his usual place, between the door and the window. To the left of the door there were two shelves: one was ours, for children, the other was Karl Ivanovich, own. On ours there were all sorts of books - educational and non-educational: some were standing, others were lying. Only two large volumes of "Histoire des voyages", in red bindings, primly rested against the wall; and then they went, long, thick, large and small books - crusts without books and books without crusts; you used to press and stick everything in the same place when they were ordered to put the library in order before the recreation, as Karl Ivanovich loudly called this shelf. Collection of books on own if it was not as large as on ours, then it was even more diverse. I remember three of them: a German pamphlet on the manure of cabbage gardens - without binding, one volume of the history of the Seven Years' War - in parchment burned from one corner, and a complete course in hydrostatics. Karl Ivanovich Bo ́ spent most of his time reading, even spoiled his eyesight with it; but apart from these books and the Northern Bee, he read nothing.

Among the items that lay on the shelf of Karl Ivanovich, there was one that reminds me of him most of all. This is a cardon circle inserted into a wooden leg, in which this circle moved by means of pegs. A picture was pasted on the mug, representing caricatures of some lady and a hairdresser. Karl Ivanovich glued it very well, and he himself invented and made this circle in order to protect his weak eyes from bright light.

As now I see before me a long figure in a padded robe and in a red cap, from under which sparse gray hair can be seen. He sits near a table on which stands a circle with a hairdresser who casts a shadow over his face; in one hand he holds a book, the other rests on the arm of the chair; next to him are a watch with a painted huntsman on the dial, a checkered handkerchief, a black round snuff box, a green spectacle case, tongs on a tray. All this is so orderly, neatly in its place, that from this order alone one can conclude that Karl Ivanovich has a clear conscience and a peaceful soul.

It used to happen that you would run down the hall to your fill, tiptoe upstairs to the classroom, look - Karl Ivanovich was sitting alone in his armchair and with a calmly majestic expression was reading one of his favorite books. Sometimes I found him even at such moments when he was not reading: his glasses went down on his big aquiline nose, his blue half-closed eyes looked with some special expression, and his lips smiled sadly. The room is quiet; all you can hear is his even breathing and the striking of the clock with the huntsman.

It happened that he did not notice me, and I stood at the door and thought: “Poor, poor old man! There are many of us, we play, we have fun, but he is all alone, and no one caresses him. He tells the truth that he is an orphan. And what a terrible story! I remember how he told it to Nikolai - it's terrible to be in his position! And it will become so pitiful that you used to go up to him, take him by the hand and say: “Lieber Karl Ivanovich!” He loved it when I told him so; always caresses, and it is clear that he is touched.

Landcards hung on the other wall, all almost torn, but skilfully pasted over by the hand of Karl Ivanovich. On the third wall, in the middle of which there was a door down, two rulers hung on one side: one was cut, ours, the other was brand new, own, used by him more for encouragement than for shedding; on the other, a black board, on which our big misdeeds were marked with circles and small ones with crosses. To the left of the board was a corner where we were put on our knees.

How I remember this corner! I remember the damper in the oven, the vent in that damper, and the noise it made when it was turned. Sometimes you stand, stand in a corner, so that your knees and back hurt, and you think: “Karl Ivanovich forgot about me: he must be calmly sitting on an easy chair and reading his hydrostatics, but what about me?” - and you will begin, in order to remind yourself, to slowly open and close the damper or pick the plaster from the wall; but if suddenly too large a piece falls with a noise to the ground - right, fear alone is worse than any punishment. You look back at Karl Ivanovich, and he is sitting with a book in his hand and seems not to notice anything.

In the middle of the room stood a table covered with a tattered black oilcloth, under which in many places one could see the edges cut with penknives. There were several unpainted stools around the table, but from long use of varnished stools. The last wall was occupied by three windows. This is what the view looked like from them: right under the windows there is a road on which every pothole, every pebble, every rut has long been familiar and dear to me; behind the road is a sheared linden alley, behind which in some places one can see a wicker palisade; through the alley one can see a meadow, on one side of which there is a threshing floor, and opposite a forest; far away in the forest, the watchman's hut is visible. From the window to the right, a part of the terrace is visible, on which the big ones usually sat until dinner. It used to happen that while Karl Ivanovich was correcting a sheet of dictation, you looked in that direction, you saw the black head of your mother, someone's back, and you vaguely heard talking and laughter from there; It will become so annoying that you can’t be there, and you think: “When will I be big, will I stop studying and will I always sit not at dialogues, but with those whom I love?” Annoyance will turn into sadness, and, God knows why and about what, you will think so hard that you don’t even hear how Karl Ivanovich is angry for mistakes.

© AST Publishing House LLC, 2017

Childhood

Chapter I
Teacher Karl Ivanovich

“How kind he is and how he loves us, and I could think so badly of him!”

I was annoyed both with myself and with Karl Ivanovich, I wanted to laugh and I wanted to cry: my nerves were upset.

- Ach, lassen Sie, Karl Ivanovich! I cried with tears in my eyes, sticking my head out from under the pillows.

- It will be for you, Vladimir Petrovich, if you please, wash your face.

I was quite amused.

– Sind Sie bald fertig? - I heard the voice of Karl Ivanych from the classroom.

Karl Ivanitch, with spectacles on his nose and a book in his hand, was sitting in his usual place, between the door and the window. To the left of the door there were two shelves: one was ours, for children, the other was Karl Ivanovich, own. On ours there were all sorts of books - educational and non-educational: some were standing, others were lying. Only two large volumes of "Histoire des voyages", in red bindings, decorously rested against the wall; and then they went, long, thick, large and small books - crusts without books and books without crusts; you used to press and stick everything in the same place when they were ordered to put the library in order before the recreation, as Karl Ivanovich loudly called this shelf. Collection of books on own if it was not as large as on ours, then it was even more diverse. I remember three of them: a German pamphlet on the manure of cabbage gardens - without binding, one volume of the history of the Seven Years' War - in parchment burned from one corner, and a complete course in hydrostatics. Karl Ivanovich Bo ́ spent most of his time reading, even spoiled his eyesight with it; but apart from these books and the Northern Bee, he read nothing.

Karl Ivanovich took off his dressing gown, put on a blue tailcoat with frills and ruffles on his shoulders, straightened his tie in front of the mirror, and led us downstairs to greet my mother.

Chapter II
Maman

Mother was sitting in the drawing-room pouring out tea; with one hand she held the teapot, with the other the tap of the samovar, from which water flowed over the top of the teapot onto the tray. But although she looked intently, she did not notice it, did not notice that we entered.

So many memories of the past arise when you try to resurrect in your imagination the features of a beloved being that through these memories, as through tears, you dimly see them. These are tears of imagination. When I try to remember my mother as she was at that time, I imagine only her brown eyes, always expressing the same kindness and love, a mole on her neck, a little below where the little hairs curl, an embroidered white collar, a tender dry hand, who caressed me so often and whom I kissed so often; but the general expression eludes me.

To the left of the sofa stood an old English grand piano; my little sister Lyubochka was sitting in front of the piano, and with rosy fingers, freshly washed in cold water, she played the Clementi etudes with noticeable tension. She was eleven; she went about in a short linen dress, in little white pantaloons trimmed with lace, and she could only take octaves in arpeggio. Marya Ivanovna sat half-turned beside her, wearing a cap with pink ribbons, a blue katsaveyka, and a red, angry face, which assumed an even more stern expression as soon as Karl Ivanovich entered. She looked menacingly at him and, not answering his bow, continued, stamping her foot, counting: "Un, deux, trois, un, deux, trois" - even louder and more commandingly than before.

Karl Ivanovich, paying absolutely no attention to this, as usual, with a German greeting, went straight to mother's hand. She came to her senses, shook her head, as if wishing by this movement to drive away sad thoughts, gave her hand to Karl Ivanovich and kissed his wrinkled temple, while he kissed her hand.

“Ich danke, lieber Karl Ivanovich,” and, continuing to speak German, she asked: “Did the children sleep well?”

Karl Ivanovich was deaf in one ear, but now he could hear nothing at all from the noise at the piano. He leaned closer to the sofa, leaned one hand on the table, standing on one leg, and with a smile that then seemed to me the height of sophistication, raised his cap above his head and said:

“Will you excuse me, Natalya Nikolaevna?”

Karl Ivanovich, in order not to catch cold on his bare head, never took off his red cap, but every time he entered the drawing room he asked permission to do so.

- Put it on, Karl Ivanovich ... I ask you, did the children sleep well? - said maman, moving towards him and quite loudly.

But again he did not hear anything, covered his bald head with a red cap and smiled even sweeter.

“Wait a minute, Mimi,” said maman Marya Ivanovna with a smile, “nothing is heard.”

When mother smiled, no matter how good her face was, it became incomparably better, and everything around seemed to be cheerful. If in the difficult moments of my life I could even catch a glimpse of this smile, I would not know what grief is. It seems to me that what is called the beauty of the face consists in one smile: if a smile adds charm to the face, then the face is beautiful; if she does not change it, then it is usual; if she spoils it, then it is bad.

Having greeted me, maman took my head with both hands and threw it back, then looked intently at me and said:

Did you cry today?

I didn't answer. She kissed me on the eyes and asked in German:

What were you crying about?

When she spoke to us in a friendly way, she always spoke in this language, which she knew perfectly.

“It was I who wept in my sleep, maman,” I said, recalling with all the details the fictitious dream, and involuntarily shuddering at the thought.

Karl Ivanovich confirmed my words, but kept silent about the dream. After talking more about the weather—a conversation in which Mimi also took part—mamma placed six lumps of sugar on a tray for some of the honored servants, got up and went over to the embroidery frame that stood by the window.

- Well, now go to dad. ́ , children, tell him to come to me without fail before he goes to the threshing floor.

Music, counting and menacing looks began again, and we went to dad. Having passed the room that kept the name from the time of the grandfather waitress, we entered the office.

Chapter III
Dad

He stood by the desk and, pointing to some envelopes, papers and heaps of money, got excited and passionately explained something to the clerk Yakov Mikhailov, who, standing in his usual place, between the door and the barometer, with his hands behind his back, was very moving his fingers quickly and in different directions.

The more excited dad got, the faster the fingers moved, and vice versa, when dad fell silent, and the fingers stopped; but when Yakov himself began to speak, his fingers became extremely restless and desperately jumped in different directions. From their movements, it seems to me, one could guess Jacob's secret thoughts; his face was always calm - it expressed the consciousness of his dignity and at the same time subservience, that is: I am right, but by the way, your will!

When he saw us, dad just said:

- Wait, now.

And he showed the door with a movement of his head for one of us to close it.

- Oh, my God, merciful! What's the matter with you today, Jacob? he continued to the clerk, twitching his shoulder (he had this habit). - This envelope with an investment of eight hundred rubles ...

Yakov moved the abacus, threw in eight hundred and fixed his eyes on an indefinite point, waiting for what would happen next.

- ... for savings expenses in my absence. Understand? For the mill you should get a thousand rubles ... right or not? Pledges from the treasury you must receive back eight thousand; for hay, which, according to your own calculation, you can sell seven thousand pounds - I put in forty-five kopecks - you will receive three thousand: therefore, how much money will you have? Twelve thousand... right or not?

"That's right, sir," said Yakov.

But by the rapidity of the movements of his fingers, I noticed that he wanted to object; dad interrupted him:

- Well, from this money you will send ten thousand to the Council for Petrovsky. Now the money that is in the office, - continued dad (Yakov mixed up the previous twelve thousand and threw twenty-one thousand), - you will bring me and show the current number at the expense. (Yakov mixed up the bills and turned them over, indicating, probably by this, that the money twenty-one thousand will also be lost in the same way.) You will hand over the same envelope with the money from me to the address.

I stood close to the table and looked at the inscription. It was written: "To Karl Ivanovich Mauer."

Must have noticed that I had read something I didn't need to know, my dad put his hand on my shoulder and lightly motioned me away from the table. I did not understand whether this was a caress or a remark, just in case, I kissed the large sinewy hand that lay on my shoulder.

“Listen, sir,” said Yakov. - And what order will be about the Khabarovsk money?

Khabarovka was the village of maman.

“Leave it in the office and never use it anywhere without my order.

Jacob was silent for a few seconds; then suddenly his fingers twirled with increased speed, and he, changing the expression of obedient stupidity with which he listened to his master's orders, into an expression of roguish sharpness characteristic of him, drew the abacus towards him and began to say:

“Allow me to report to you, Pyotr Alexandritch, that as you please, but it is impossible to pay to the Council by the deadline. You are so kind as to say,” he continued with an arrangement, “that money should come from pledges, from a mill and from hay ... (Calculating these articles, he threw them on the bones.) So I’m afraid that we might make a mistake in the calculations,” he added he paused a little and looked thoughtfully at papa.

- From what?

- But if you please see: about the mill, the miller has already come to me twice to ask for a respite and swore by Christ God that he had no money ... and he is here now: so would you like to talk to him yourself?

– What does he say? Papa asked, making a sign with his head that he did not want to talk to the miller.

- Yes, it is known that, he says that there was no grinding at all, that what kind of money there were, he put everything in the dam. Well, if we take it off, sir, so again, can we find a calculation here? As for collaterals, you deigned to speak, so I seem to have already reported to you that our money has landed there and soon it will not be necessary to receive it. The other day I sent a load of flour and a note about this matter to Ivan Afanasich in the city: so they again answer that I would be glad to try for Pyotr Alexandritch, but the matter is not in my hands, and that, as everything shows, it is unlikely and in two months you will receive your receipt. As for hay, they deigned to talk, let's say that it will be sold for three thousand ...

He threw three thousand into the accounts and was silent for a minute, looking first at the accounts, then into the eyes of his father, with such an expression: “You yourself see how little this is! Yes, and again we will trade in the hay, if we sell it now, you yourself deign to know ... "

It was evident that he still had a large supply of arguments; that must have been why dad interrupted him.

“I won’t change my orders,” he said, “but if there really is a delay in receiving this money, then there’s nothing to do, you can take as much as you need from Khabarovsk.

- I'm listening.

From the expression on Yakov's face and fingers it was evident that the last order gave him great pleasure.

Yakov was a serf, a very diligent and devoted man; he, like all good clerks, was extremely stingy for his master and had the strangest ideas about the advantages of the master. He was always concerned about the increment of his master's property at the expense of his mistress's property, trying to prove that it was necessary to use all the income from her estates in Petrovsky (the village in which we lived). At the present moment, he was triumphant, because he had completely succeeded in this.

Having greeted each other, dad said that he would beat us back in the village, that we had ceased to be small and that it was time for us to study seriously.

“You already know, I think that I am going to Moscow tonight and taking you with me,” he said. - You will live with your grandmother, and maman and the girls will stay here. And you know this, that there will be one consolation for her - to hear that you study well and that you are satisfied.

Although we were already expecting something extraordinary from the preparations that had been noticeable for several days, this news shocked us terribly. Volodya blushed and in a trembling voice conveyed his mother's instructions.

“So this is what my dream foreshadowed! I thought, “God forbid that there be nothing worse.”

I felt very, very sorry for my mother, and at the same time the thought that we had definitely become big pleased me.

“If we are going today, then it’s true that there will be no classes; it's nice! I thought. “However, I feel sorry for Karl Ivanych. They’ll probably let him go, because otherwise they wouldn’t have prepared an envelope for him ... It would be better to study for a century and not leave, not to part with my mother and not offend poor Karl Ivanovich. He is already very unhappy!”

These thoughts flashed through my head; I did not move from my seat and gazed intently at the black bows of my shoes.

Having said a few more words with Karl Ivanovich about lowering the barometer and ordering Yakov not to feed the dogs in order to leave after dinner to listen to the young hounds, dad, against my expectation, sent us to study, consoling, however, with a promise to take him hunting.

On the way to the top, I ran to the terrace. At the door in the sun, squinting, lay my father's favorite greyhound dog - Milka.

“My dear,” I said, caressing her and kissing her face, “we are going today; Goodbye! never see you again.

I got emotional and cried.

Lev Nikolaevich Tolstoy is one of the most famous Russian writers. His most famous novels are Anna Karenina, Sunday, War and Peace, as well as the trilogy Childhood, Adolescence, Youth. Many works of the great writer were filmed, so in our time we have the opportunity not only to read, but also to see the heroes of the novels with our own eyes. One of the screened books is the trilogy "Childhood, adolescence, youth" full of interesting events. A brief summary of the novel will help to better understand the problems of the work. Perhaps someone will have a desire to read the novel in its entirety.

The novel "Childhood, adolescence, youth"

Lev Nikolayevich wrote his novel for five years. The work "Childhood, adolescence, youth" tells about the life of a boy in different periods of his life. The book describes the experiences, first love, resentment, as well as a sense of injustice that many boys experience during their growing up periods. In this article we will talk about the trilogy written by Leo Tolstoy. “Childhood, adolescence, youth” is a work that will definitely not leave anyone indifferent.

"Childhood, adolescence, youth." Summary. Book one. "Childhood"

The novel begins with a description of Nikolenka Irtenyev, who some time ago turned 10 years old. Karl Ivanovich, a teacher, takes him and his brother to their parents. Nikolenka loves her parents very much. The father announces to the boys that he is taking them with him to Moscow. The children are upset by this decision of their father, Nikolenka likes to live in the village, communicate with Katenka, her first love, and go hunting, and he really does not want to part with his mother. Nikolenka has been living with her grandmother for six months now. On her birthday, he reads poetry to her.

Soon the hero realizes that he is in love with Sonya, whom he recently met, and admits this to Volodya. Suddenly, his father receives a letter from the village that Nikolenka's mother is sick and asks them to come. They come and pray for her health, but to no avail. After some time, Nikolenka was left without a mother. This left a deep imprint on his soul, as this was the end of his childhood.

Book two. "Boyhood"

The second part of the novel "Childhood, adolescence, youth" describes the events that took place after Nikolenka moved to Moscow with her brother and father. He feels changes in himself and in his attitude to the world around him. Nikolenka is now able to empathize and sympathize. The boy understands how the grandmother who lost her daughter suffers.

Nikolenka goes deeper and deeper into herself, believing that he is ugly and not worthy of happiness. He is jealous of his handsome brother. Grandmother Nikolenka is told that the children were playing with gunpowder, although it was only lead shot. She is sure that Karl has grown old and looks after the children badly, so she changes their tutor. It is hard for children to part with their teacher. But Nikolenka does not like the new French teacher. The boy allows himself to be insolent to him. For some unknown reason, Nikolenka tries to open her father's briefcase with the key and breaks the key in the process. He thinks that everyone is against him, so he hits the tutor and swears with his father and brother. They close him in a closet and promise that they will flog him with rods. The boy feels very lonely and humiliated. When he is released, he asks his father for forgiveness. Nikolenka begins to convulse, which shocks everyone. After twelve hours of sleep, the boy feels better and is pleased that everyone is worried about him.

After some time, Nikolenka's brother, Volodya, enters the university. Soon their grandmother dies, the whole family is very upset by the loss. Nikolenka cannot understand people who swear because of their grandmother's inheritance. He also notices how his father has aged and concludes that with age people become calmer and softer.
When there are several months left before entering the university, Nikolenka begins to prepare intensively. He meets Dmitry Nekhlyudov, Volodya's acquaintance from the university, and they become friends.

Book three. "Youth"

The novel "Childhood, adolescence, youth" in the third part tells about the time when Nikolenka continues to prepare for entering the university at the Faculty of Mathematics. He is looking for his purpose in life. Soon the young man enters the university, and his father gives him a carriage with a coachman. Nikolenka feels like an adult and tries to light a pipe. He starts to feel sick. He tells Nekhlyudov about this incident, who in turn tells him about the dangers of smoking. But the young man wants to imitate Volodya and his friend Dubkov, who smoke, play cards and talk about their love affairs. Nikolenka goes to a restaurant where he drinks champagne. He has a conflict with Kolpikov. Nekhludoff reassures him.

Nikolay decides to go to the village to visit his mother's grave. He remembers his childhood and thinks about the future. His father remarries, but Nikolai and Vladimir disapprove of his choice. Soon the father begins to get along badly with his wife.

Studying at the University

While studying at the university, Nikolai meets many people whose meaning of life is only to have fun. Nekhlyudov tries to reason with Nikolai, but he succumbs to the opinion of the majority. In the end, Nikolai fails his exams, and regards Dmitry's consolation as an insult.

One evening, Nikolai finds his notebook with the rules for himself, in which he wrote a very long time ago. He repents and cries, and later begins to write for himself a new notebook with the rules by which he is going to live all his life, without changing his principles.

Conclusion

Today we talked about the content of the work written by Leo Tolstoy. "Childhood, adolescence, youth" is a novel with a deep meaning. After reading its summary, each reader will be able to draw certain conclusions, despite the fact that they have not read it in full. The novel "Childhood, adolescence, youth" teaches us not to withdraw into ourselves with our experiences, but to be able to sympathize and empathize with other people.

The great Russian writer Lev Nikolaevich Tolstoy was very fond of children and youth. In them, he saw ideal people, not yet spoiled by the vices and troubles of life. This pure, primordial light illuminated the beginning of his famous trilogy “Childhood. Adolescence. Youth". The protagonist of the trilogy Nikolenka Irteniev wakes up because Karl Ivanovich hit him with a firecracker and a fly fell on his head. This made the boy very angry, and he begins to analyze the behavior of his mentor in an aloof and cold way. Even his dressing gown, cap and tassel seem disgusting to Nikolenka. But Nikolenka is a very kind boy, and his attitude towards his mentor is quickly changing for the better. The irritation of a suddenly awakened person passes, giving way to a more natural state of love and gratitude for the teacher for the boy.

The author himself acts here as a psychologist. He scrupulously examines the behavior of the child at various points in his life. Another episode with Nikolenka is not outwardly connected with the first, but an internal psychological connection is seen. Nikolenka returns from the hunt and decides to draw everything he has seen over the past day. But since he had only blue paint, he very vividly depicted a blue boy riding a blue horse and blue dogs. The boy is in a great mood, he admires his blue creations, but suddenly the thought comes to his mind: are there blue hares? Having asked his father about this and received an affirmative answer, Nikolenka drew a blue hare, but remade it into a blue bush, and made a blue tree out of the bush, then clouds instead of a tree, and so on. All this eventually angered him, and he tore up the drawings. Why was there annoyance this time? After all, at first the boy drew blue dogs, and he liked them. It's simple: when the boy gave himself up to the creative process, without thinking about anything, no questions arose before him, but as soon as he began to explore the creative process, irritation immediately arose. Tolstoy seems to be saying that the immediacy of a living feeling is always more harmonious than a cold, rational attitude to life. Immediacy is inherent in children from birth, but as they grow older, this gift disappears for many people. Tolstoy often refers to the analysis of this moment. For example, when he describes children's games, a similar situation occurs: the children sat on the ground and, imagining that they were sailing on a boat, began to “row”. Only Nikolenka's brother Volodya sat motionless. When they reprimanded him, he said that it was all nonsense and that no matter how much or how little they waved their hands, nothing would change. It seems that Volodya was right, but to agree with him means to spoil the whole game. The chapter ends like this: “If you really judge, then there will be no game. And there will be no game, what will be left then? Indeed, cold reason shows that there are no blue hares, that sitting on the grass and waving your arms you won’t swim away, and Karl Ivanovich’s hat and dressing gown are really not so attractive. But in love, kindness and fantasy there is truth that adorns our lives.

I noticed that Tolstoy's little hero overcomes irritation with the world by his love for the people around him. And these people, with their reciprocal love for Nikolenka, help him overcome various temporary negative emotions, as, for example, in the case of a fly.

After the release of the second part of the trilogy - "Boyhood" N.G. Chernyshevsky wrote: "Extraordinary observation, subtle analysis of spiritual movements, distinctness and poetry in the pictures of nature, elegant simplicity - a distinctive feature of Count Tolstoy's talent."

I got the impression that all six years of the life of Nikolenka Irtenyev passed before my eyes (the reader meets the boy when he is 10 years old, and breaks up when he is 16), but in the trilogy there is no consistent, day by day, description of the life of heroes. This is a story of just a few, but significant episodes.

So, in "Boyhood" the author tells about the saddest days in Nikolenka's life, when he received a unit, was rude to the teacher, opened his father's briefcase and broke the key. Tolstoy tells in detail over six chapters how the hero was punished and how his punishment ended.

In Youth, three days are especially highlighted: the day after entering the university, the day following it, when Nikolenka makes visits, and then his visit to the Nekhlyudov family.

Nikolenka and Nekhlyudov discover a new moral law. But it turned out to be very difficult to correct all of humanity, because even sincere and persistent attempts at self-improvement most often failed. Behind all these lofty concepts, ordinary vanity, narcissism, arrogance often hid.

In my opinion, the last part of the trilogy is more devoted not to the throwing of heroes, but to the author's attempt to prove to himself the possibility of moral perfection.

In his youth, Nikolenka constantly plays some role with varying success. Either the role of a lover with an eye on the novels he read, then a philosopher, since he was little noticed in the world, and thoughtfulness could mask his failure, then a great original. All this pushed into the background his real feelings and thoughts.

Nikolenka strives to be loved, tries to please. But no matter how much the hero wants to resemble the people around him, the author shows that this cannot be done because the world is morally alien to him. These people never created moral values and did not try to follow them, all the more they did not suffer from the fact that they could not be realized in life. They, unlike Nikolenka, always used those moral laws that were accepted in their environment and were considered mandatory.

As a reader, I believe that Nikolenka, for all her failures, will never stop in her moral quest. It is not for nothing that at the end of the trilogy he again sits down to write the rules of life with the conviction that he will never do anything wrong, will not spend a single minute idly and will never change his rules. I understand that this impulse was inherent in the writer himself. Tolstoy either renounced his entire past life, or affirmed the truth that had been revealed to him anew. But for us, he remained a man who constantly strived for moral self-improvement, full of doubts and contradictions, and therefore real.

Grandmother is a countess, one of the most important figures in the trilogy, as if representing the past majestic era (like Prince Ivan Ivanovich). The image of B. is fanned by universal reverence and respect. She knows how to give a word or intonation to understand her attitude towards a person, which for many others is a decisive criterion. The narrator portrays her not so much with the help of static characteristics, but through the description of her interaction with other characters who arrive to congratulate her on her name day, her reactions and words. B. seems to feel his strength and power, his special significance. After the death of her daughter, Nikolenka's mother, she falls into despair. Nikolenka catches her at the moment when she is talking to the deceased as if she were alive. Despite the importance of the old woman, he considers her kind and cheerful, but her love for her grandchildren is especially intensified after the death of their mother. Nevertheless, the narrator compares her with a simple old woman, housekeeper Natalya Savishna, finding that the latter had a greater influence on his worldview.

Valakhina Sonechka is the daughter of an acquaintance of the Irtenevs, Mrs. Valakhina. Nikolenka meets her at her grandmother's birthday party and immediately falls in love. Here is his first impression: “... A wonderful twelve-year-old girl emerged from the muffled person in a short open muslin dress, white pantaloons and tiny black shoes. There was a black velvet ribbon on her white neck; her head was all in dark blond curls, which went so well in front to her beautiful swarthy face, and in the back to her bare shoulders ... ”He dances a lot with S., makes her laugh in every possible way and is jealous of other boys. In Youth, Nikolenka, after a long separation, meets again with S., who has grown ugly, but "the charming bulging eyes and a bright, good-natured cheerful smile were the same." The grown-up Nikolenka, whose feelings require food, is again carried away by it.

Grap Ilinka - the son of a foreigner who once lived with the grandfather of the Irtenevs, owed something to him and considered it his duty

send them I. "A boy of thirteen, thin, tall, pale, with a bird's face and a good-natured submissive expression." They pay attention to him only when they want to laugh at him. This character - a participant in one of the games of the Ivins and Irtenevs - suddenly becomes the object of general mockery, ending with him crying, and his hunted appearance painfully affects everyone. The narrator's recollection of him is associated with remorse and, according to him, is the only dark spot of his childhood.

“How did I not approach him, protect him and comfort him?” he asks himself. Later, I., like the narrator, enters the university. Nikolenka admits that he is so used to looking down on him that he is somewhat unpleasant that he is the same student, and he refuses father I.'s request to allow his son to spend the day with the Irtenevs. From the moment of entering the university, I., however, comes out from under the influence of Nikolenka and keeps up with a constant challenge.

Grisha is a wanderer, holy fool. "A man of about fifty, with a pale oblong face pitted with smallpox, long gray hair and a sparse reddish beard." Very tall. “His voice was rough and hoarse, his movements hurried and uneven, his speech was meaningless and incoherent (he never used pronouns), but the accents were so touching, and his yellow ugly face sometimes took on such an openly sad expression that, listening to him, it was impossible to resist from some mixed feeling of regret, fear and sadness. The main thing known about him is that he goes barefoot in winter and summer, visits monasteries, gives icons to those he loves, and speaks mysterious words that are taken for predictions. To see the pood chains that he wears, the children peep how he undresses before going to bed, they see how selflessly he prays, evoking a feeling of tenderness in the narrator: “Oh, great Christian Grisha! Your faith was so strong that you felt the closeness of God, your love is so great that the words poured out of your mouth by themselves - you did not believe them with your mind ... "

Dubkov - adjutant, friend of Volodya Irtenyev. “... A small wiry brunette, no longer the first youth and a little short-legged, but not bad-looking and always cheerful. He was one of those narrow-minded people who are especially pleasant precisely because of their narrow-mindedness, who are unable to see objects from different angles and who are always carried away. The judgments of these people are one-sided and erroneous, but always sincere and fascinating. A big fan of champagne, trips to women, playing cards and other entertainments.

Epifanova Avdotya Vasilievna - a neighbor of the Irtenevs, then the second wife of Pyotr Aleksandrovich Irtenyev, Nikolenka's father. The narrator notes her passionate, devoted love for her husband, which, however, does not in the least prevent her from loving to dress beautifully and go out into the world. Strange, playful relations are established between her and the young Irtenyevs (with the exception of Lyubochka, who fell in love with her stepmother, who reciprocates her feelings), hiding the absence of any kind of relationship. Nikolenka is surprised at the contrast between that young, healthy, cold, cheerful beauty that E. appears before the guests, and a middle-aged, exhausted, yearning woman, sloppy and bored without guests. It is her slovenliness that robs her of her final respect as a storyteller. About her love for her father, he remarks: “The only purpose of her life was to acquire the love of her husband; but she did, it seemed, on purpose everything that could only be unpleasant for him, and everything with the aim of proving to him the full strength of her love and readiness for self-sacrifice. E.'s relationship with her husband becomes a subject of special attention for the narrator, since the “family thought” already occupies Tolstoy at the time of the creation of the autobiographical trilogy and will be developed in his subsequent writings. He sees that in their relationship, “a feeling of quiet hatred, that restrained disgust for the object of affection, which is expressed by an unconscious desire to do all possible minor moral troubles to this object,” begins to appear.

Zukhin is Nikolenka's comrade at the university. He is eighteen years old. Ardent, receptive, active, riotous nature, full of strength and energy wasted in revelry. Drinks from time to time. The narrator meets him at a meeting of a circle of students who have decided to prepare for exams together. “... A small dense brunette with a somewhat swollen and always glossy, but extremely intelligent, lively and independent face. This expression was especially given to him by a low, but humpbacked forehead above deep black eyes, bristly short hair and a frequent black beard, which always seemed unshaven. He never seemed to think about himself (which I always especially liked in people), but it was clear that his mind was never left without work. He does not respect and does not like science, although they are given to him with extreme ease.

3. - a type of commoner, intelligent, knowing, although not belonging to the category of people comme il faut, which at first causes the narrator "not only a feeling of contempt, but also some personal hatred that I felt for them for not being comme il faut, they seemed to consider me not only equal to themselves, but even good-naturedly patronized me. Despite his irresistible disgust at their untidy appearance and manners, the narrator feels something good in Z. and his comrades and is drawn to them. He is attracted by knowledge, simplicity, honesty, poetry of youth and daring. In addition to the abyss of shades that make up the difference in their understanding of life, Nikolenka cannot get rid of the feeling of inequality between him, a wealthy person, and them, and therefore cannot “enter into even, sincere relations with them.” However, he is gradually drawn into their life and once again discovers for himself that the same 3., for example, judges literature better and more clearly and in general not only is not inferior to him in anything, but even surpasses him, so that the height, with which he, a young aristocrat, looks at Z. and his comrades - Operov, Ikonin and others - is imaginary.

Ivin Seryozha is a relative and peer of the Irtenevs, “a swarthy, curly-haired boy, with an upturned hard nose, very fresh red lips that rarely completely covered the slightly protruding upper row of white teeth, dark blue beautiful eyes and an unusually lively expression on his face. He never smiled, but either looked completely serious, or laughed heartily with his sonorous, distinct and extremely captivating laugh. His original beauty strikes Nikolenka, and he falls in love with him like a child, but he does not find any response in I., although he feels his power over him and unconsciously, but tyrannically uses it in their relationship.

Irteniev Volodya (Vladimir Petrovich) is Nikolenka's older (for a year and several months) brother. The consciousness of his seniority and primacy constantly prompts him to actions that hurt his brother's pride. Even the condescension and grin, with which he often honors his brother, turns out to be a reason for resentment. The narrator characterizes V .: “He was ardent, frank and fickle in his hobbies. Carried away by the most heterogeneous subjects, he indulged in them with all his soul. He emphasizes the "happy, nobly frank character" of V. However, despite occasional and brief disagreements or even quarrels, relations between the brothers remain good. Nikolenka is involuntarily carried away by the same passions as V., but out of pride she tries not to imitate him. With admiration and a feeling of some envy, Nikolenka describes V.'s admission to the university, the general joy in the house on this occasion. V. has new friends - Dubkov and Dmitry Nekhlyudov, with whom he soon disagrees. His favorite pastimes with Dubkov are champagne, balls, cards. V.'s relationship with the girls surprises his brother, because he "did not allow the thought that they could think or feel anything human, and even less allowed the possibility of discussing anything with them."

Irteniev Nikolenka (Nikolai Petrovich) is the main character on whose behalf the story is being told. Nobleman, Count. From a noble aristocratic family. The image is autobiographical. The trilogy shows the process of internal growth and formation of N.'s personality, his relationship with the people around him and the world, the process of comprehending reality and himself, the search for peace of mind and the meaning of life. N. appears before the reader through his perception of different people with whom one way or another confronts his life.

Chapter I
Teacher Karl Ivanovich

- Auf, Kinder, auf!.. s'ist Zeit. Die Mutter ist schon im Saal,” he called out in a good German voice, then he came up to me, sat down at my feet and took a snuffbox out of his pocket. I pretended to be asleep. Karl Ivanovich first sniffed, wiped his nose, snapped his fingers, and only then set to work on me. He chuckled and began to tickle my heels. - Nu, nun, Faulenzer! he said.

“How kind he is and how he loves us, and I could think so badly of him!”

I was annoyed both with myself and with Karl Ivanovich, I wanted to laugh and I wanted to cry: my nerves were upset.

“Ach, lassen Sie, Karl Ivanitch!” I cried with tears in my eyes, sticking my head out from under the pillows.

- It will be for you, Vladimir Petrovich, if you please, wash your face.

I was quite amused.

– Sind Sie bald fertig? - I heard the voice of Karl Ivanych from the classroom.

Karl Ivanitch, with spectacles on his nose and a book in his hand, was sitting in his usual place, between the door and the window. To the left of the door there were two shelves: one was ours, for children, the other was Karl Ivanovich, own. On ours there were all sorts of books - educational and non-educational: some were standing, others were lying. Only two large volumes of "Histoire des voyages", in red bindings, primly rested against the wall; and then they went, long, thick, large and small books - crusts without books and books without crusts; you used to press and stick everything in the same place when they were ordered to put the library in order before the recreation, as Karl Ivanovich loudly called this shelf. Collection of books on own if it was not as large as on ours, then it was even more diverse. I remember three of them: a German pamphlet on the manure of cabbage gardens - without binding, one volume of the history of the Seven Years' War - in parchment burned from one corner, and a complete course in hydrostatics. Karl Ivanovich spent most of his time reading, even ruining his eyesight with it; but apart from these books and the Northern Bee, he read nothing.

Karl Ivanovich took off his dressing gown, put on a blue tailcoat with frills and ruffles on his shoulders, straightened his tie in front of the mirror, and led us downstairs to greet my mother.

Chapter II
Maman

“Ich danke, lieber Karl Ivanovich,” and, continuing to speak German, she asked: “Did the children sleep well?”

“Will you excuse me, Natalya Nikolaevna?”

Karl Ivanovich, in order not to catch cold on his bare head, never took off his red cap, but every time he entered the drawing room he asked permission to do so.

- Put it on, Karl Ivanovich ... I ask you, did the children sleep well? - said maman, moving towards him and quite loudly.

But again he did not hear anything, covered his bald head with a red cap and smiled even sweeter.

“Wait a minute, Mimi,” said maman Marya Ivanovna with a smile, “nothing is heard.”

Having greeted me, maman took my head with both hands and threw it back, then looked intently at me and said:

Did you cry today?

I didn't answer. She kissed me on the eyes and asked in German:

What were you crying about?

When she spoke to us in a friendly way, she always spoke in this language, which she knew perfectly.

“It was I who wept in my sleep, maman,” I said, recalling with all the details the fictitious dream, and involuntarily shuddering at the thought.

- Well, now go to daddy, children, but tell him to come to me without fail before he goes to the threshing floor.

Music, counting and menacing looks began again, and we went to dad. Having passed the room that kept the name from the time of the grandfather waitress, we entered the office.

Chapter III
Dad

When he saw us, dad just said:

- Wait, now.

And he showed the door with a movement of his head for one of us to close it.

- Oh, my God, merciful! What's the matter with you today, Jacob? he continued to the clerk, twitching his shoulder (he had this habit). - This envelope with an investment of eight hundred rubles ...

Yakov moved the abacus, threw in eight hundred and fixed his eyes on an indefinite point, waiting for what would happen next.

"That's right, sir," said Yakov.

But by the rapidity of the movements of his fingers, I noticed that he wanted to object; dad interrupted him:

I stood close to the table and looked at the inscription. It was written: "To Karl Ivanovich Mauer."

“Listen, sir,” said Yakov. - And what order will be about the Khabarovsk money?

Khabarovka was the village of maman.

“Leave it in the office and never use it anywhere without my order.

- From what?

– What does he say? Papa asked, making a sign with his head that he did not want to talk to the miller.

It was evident that he still had a large supply of arguments; that must have been why dad interrupted him.

“I won’t change my orders,” he said, “but if there really is a delay in receiving this money, then there’s nothing to do, you can take as much as you need from Khabarovsk.

- I'm listening.

From the expression on Yakov's face and fingers it was evident that the last order gave him great pleasure.

Having greeted each other, dad said that he would beat us back in the village, that we had ceased to be small and that it was time for us to study seriously.

“So this is what my dream foreshadowed! I thought, “God forbid that there be nothing worse.”

I felt very, very sorry for my mother, and at the same time the thought that we had definitely become big pleased me.