Pechorin and Vulich's relationship briefly. What was Pechorin's character like? Why does Pechorin risk his life?

How Vulich helps to reveal the characteristics of Pechorin’s character in M. Yu. Lermontov’s novel “A Hero of Our Time”

The system of images of the novel by M.Yu. Lermontov's "Hero of Our Time", like all artistic structure of the novel, is subordinated, first of all, to the disclosure of the author's intention through the image of the main character. However, the secondary characters are valuable in their own right, they have quite independent meaning like full-blooded art types.

The theme of fate, predestination and free will is the main one in Lermontov’s work and reflects one of the facets of the author’s plan. This question arises most clearly in the story “The Fatalist”. It is no coincidence that it ends the novel and is a kind of result of the moral and philosophical quest of the hero, and with him the author.

The theme of fate can be revealed by comparing the images of Vulich and Pechorin. Main character"Fatalist", like main character throughout the novel, feels its unusualness, exclusivity.

Passion for the game itself in a broad sense – gambling, playing with death and playing with feelings, the stubbornness with which the lieutenant begins each time with the hope of winning, expose in Vulich something unusually close, somewhat akin to Pechorin, with his strange game with own life. Pechorin puts himself in great danger by kidnapping Bela, tracking down smugglers, agreeing to a duel with Grushnitsky, and neutralizing a drunken Cossack. In this respect, Vulich is Pechorin’s double.

However, in “The Fatalist” Pechorin no longer fights with people and circumstances, but with the very idea of fate, trying to prove to Vulich and himself that “there is no predestination”, that “often we mistake for a belief a deception of feelings or a lapse of reason.” And here Vulich considers the “fatalist” in contrast to the “skeptic” Pechorin, and is an ideological antipode.

Thus, the heroes converge in their unanimous desire to penetrate beyond the boundaries of everyday life, to comprehend the meaning of Fate and the power of its power over man. But we see that their attitude to fate, fate, is the opposite.

In addition, Vulich has the characteristic younger generation the thirties of the nineteenth century, spiritual passivity, a feeling of dissolution in own destiny, loss of the will to live, “the strong pleasure that the soul encounters in every struggle with people or with fate.” Hence the strange, painful game of the hero with death. All his life, Vulich strived to be stronger than fate. But soon he dies because of his senseless games. A Cossack kills him.

The description of this terrible and absurd death expresses the author's irony over a certain hero and weakness human nature in general, but at the same time the tragedy of an entire generation of people, a special spiritual “illness” of the era, is revealed.

Pechorin also seems to be a fatalist; it is not for nothing that he also decides to “tempt fate.”

By comparing these heroes, the author tries to solve the issue of human freedom. So, Pechorin states: “And if there is definitely predestination... why should we give an account of our actions?” Thus, the hero, unlike Vulich, expresses the position of a spiritually independent person, who in his thoughts and actions relies primarily on his own mind and will, and not on dubious “heavenly” destinies. At the same time, a person’s account of all his words and actions, first of all, to himself increases not only the measure of his personal freedom, but also his personal responsibility - for his life, for the fate of the world.

So the image of Vulich serves to comprehensively reveal his character central character novel and, therefore, the embodiment of the entire author's intention.

Finally, the introduction of Vulich into the system of images of the novel allows the author to most fully and reliably depict the social and spiritual contradictions of the thirties: his passivity, blind faith in the chosenness of man by fate and, at the same time, the effective position of part of this generation in an attempt to resist predestination.

In his novel “A Hero of Our Time,” Lermontov set out to write “a portrait made up of the vices of the entire ... generation, in their full development.” The main character of the work is Grigory Alexandrovich Pechorin. This is a very extraordinary, unusual, complex personality. To most fully reveal the image of his hero, Lermontov uses not only a special composition (the principle of broken chronology), but also compares Pechorin with other heroes.

At the center of the system artistic images Pechorin is located. All the other characters group around him, helping to develop his character. Pechorin has his own kind of doubles. These are the exponents of the hero’s second “I”. Pechorin's doubles can be understood as Grushnitsky, Werner, Vulich.

	Werner	Pechorin
Similarities	- Close spiritually and intellectually. - Hides the ability to love and compassion. - They learn indifference and selfishness. - They are afraid of manifestations of normal human feelings. - They suppress everything human in themselves.
Differences	A witness to life, rather an observer of everything that happens from the outside.	Trying to understand the meaning and purpose of his life.
	Grushnitsky	Pechorin
Similarities	People of the same circle served together.
Differences	- Poser, loves pompous phrases. - Dreams of becoming the hero of a novel. - Provincial romantic. - Shallow in his ambitions and desires. - In order to gain authority among people who are significant to him, he resorts to betrayal and meanness.	- Smart. - Feels other people subtly, knows how to understand their state and guess their actions. - Observant, able to analyze and draw conclusions. - Has a subtle intuition.

In the chapter “Fatalist” the image of officer Vulich appears. This hero is also in many ways similar to Pechorin. Vulich is a fatalist, he believes in fate and is sure that he will not die before his due date. Therefore, this officer easily makes a bet with Pechorin and shoots himself with a loaded pistol. The gun misfires. But Vulich dies that same evening, after Pechorin predicted his imminent death.

In this chapter, the reader can see that Pechorin, in fact, believes in fate. He is as fatalist as Vulich. But if Vulich surrenders to the will of fate, then Pechorin wants to control his own destiny. Throughout his life he struggles with fate. I think this is main conflict in his life.

Thus, the presence of doubles in a novel is another way to reveal the image of the main character of the work as richly and brightly as possible, to create the most full portrait man of that era.

The theme of fate, predestination and free will is the main one in Lermontov’s work and reflects one of the facets of the author’s plan. This stands out most clearly in the story “Fatalist”. It is no coincidence that it ends the novel and is a kind of result of the moral and philosophical quest of the hero, and with him the author. The theme of fate can be revealed by comparing the images of Vulich and Pechorin. The main character of "Fatalist", like the main character of the entire novel, feels his own unusualness and exclusivity. The passion for the game in the broadest sense - gambling, playing with death and playing with feelings, the stubbornness with which the lieutenant begins every time with the hope of winning, reveals in Vulich something unusually close, somewhat akin to Pechorin, with his strange game with his own life.

Pechorin puts himself in great danger by kidnapping Bela, tracking down smugglers, agreeing to a duel with Grushnitsky, and neutralizing a drunken Cossack. In this respect, Vulich is Pechorin’s double. However, in “The Fatalist” Pechorin no longer fights with people and circumstances, but with the very idea of fate, trying to prove to Vulich and himself that “there is no predestination”, that “often we mistake for a belief a deception of feelings or a lapse of reason.” And here Vulich considers the “fatalist” in contrast to the “skeptic” Pechorin, and is an ideological antipode. Thus, the heroes converge in their unanimous desire to penetrate beyond the boundaries of everyday life, to comprehend the meaning of Fate and the power of its power over man. But we see that their attitude towards fate and fate is the opposite.

In addition, Vulich is characterized by spiritual passivity, a feeling of dissolution in one’s own destiny, characteristic of the young generation of the thirties of the nineteenth century, the loss of the will to live, “the strong pleasure that the soul encounters in any struggle with people or with fate.” Hence the strange, painful game of the hero with death. All his life Vulich strived to be stronger than fate.

But soon he dies because of his senseless games. A Cossack kills him. The description of this terrible and absurd death expresses the author's irony over a certain hero and the weakness of human nature in general, but at the same time the tragedy of an entire generation of people, a special spiritual “illness” of the era, is revealed. Pechorin also seems to be a fatalist; it is not for nothing that he also decides to “tempt fate.”

However, if Vulich, as a true fatalist, really completely entrusts himself to fate and relies on destiny, without any preparation he pulls the trigger of a pistol in the episode of the major, then Pechorin in similar circumstances acts completely differently. He throws it out the window to the Cossack killer, having thought through the actions in advance and provided for many details. By comparing these heroes, the author tries to solve the issue of human freedom. So, Pechorin states: “And if there is definitely predestination..., why should we give an account of our actions? “Thus, the hero, unlike Vulich, expresses the position of a spiritually independent person, who in her thoughts and actions relies primarily on her own mind and will, and not on dubious “heavenly” destinies. At the same time, a person’s account of all his words and actions, first of all, to himself increases not only the measure of his personal freedom, but also his personal responsibility - for his life, for the fate of the world.

Pechorin spoke about this even after the duel with Grushnitsky, counting himself among those who have “the courage to take on the full burden of responsibility” without shifting it to circumstances. Let us also recall the conversation with Werner before the duel, in which the hero remarks: “there are two people in me: one lives in the full sense of the word, the other thinks and judges him...” So the image of Vulich serves to comprehensively reveal the character of the central character of the novel and, therefore, the embodiment of everything author's intention. Finally, the introduction of Vulich into the system of images of the novel allows the author to most fully and reliably depict the social and spiritual contradictions of the thirties: his passivity, blind faith in the chosenness of man by fate and, at the same time, the effective position of part of this generation in an attempt to resist predestination.

You have read the answer to the question Characteristics of the image of Vulich and if you liked the material, then bookmark it - » Characteristics of Vulich’s image? .

Discussion is closed.

I once happened to live for two weeks in a Cossack village on the left flank; an infantry battalion was stationed right there; The officers gathered at each other's houses one by one and played cards in the evenings. One day, having become bored with Boston and throwing the cards under the table, we sat at Major S***’s for a very long time; The conversation, contrary to usual, was entertaining. They reasoned that the Muslim belief that a person’s fate is written in heaven also finds many admirers among us Christians; each told different extraordinary cases, pro or contra. “All this, gentlemen, does not prove anything,” said the old major, “after all, none of you witnessed those strange cases with which you confirm your opinions?” Of course, no one, many said, but we heard from faithful people... All this is nonsense! - someone said, - where are these faithful people who saw the list on which the hour of our death is appointed?.. And if there is definitely a predestination, then why are we given will, reason? why should we give an account of our actions? At this time, one officer, who was sitting in the corner of the room, stood up and slowly approached the table, looking at everyone with a calm look. He was a Serb by birth, as was clear from his name. Lieutenant Vulich's appearance corresponded completely to his character. High growth and his dark complexion, black hair, black penetrating eyes, a large but correct nose, belonging to his nation, a sad and cold smile that always wandered on his lips - all this seemed to agree in order to give him the appearance of a special being, incapable to share thoughts and passions with those whom fate gave him as comrades. He was brave, spoke little, but sharply; I didn’t trust anyone with my heart and soul family secrets; He drank almost no wine at all; he never pursued young Cossack girls, whose beauty is difficult to achieve without seeing them. They said, however, that the colonel's wife was partial to his expressive eyes; but he was seriously angry when it was hinted at. There was only one passion that he did not hide: the passion for the game. At the green table he forgot everything and usually lost; but constant failures only irritated his stubbornness. They said that once, during the expedition, at night, he threw a bank on his pillow, he was terribly lucky. Suddenly shots rang out, the alarm sounded, everyone jumped up and rushed to their weapons. “Go all in!” - Vulich shouted, without getting up, to one of the hottest punters. “Seven is coming,” he answered, running away. Despite the general turmoil, Vulich threw a tally, the card was given. When he arrived at the chain, there was already a heavy firefight. Vulich did not care about bullets or Chechen sabers: he was looking for his lucky punter. Seven given! “he shouted, finally seeing him in the chain of skirmishers who were beginning to push the enemy out of the forest, and, coming closer, he took out his purse and wallet and gave them to the lucky one, despite objections about the inappropriateness of the payment. Having fulfilled this unpleasant duty, he rushed forward, dragged the soldiers along with him and, until the very end of the matter, exchanged fire with the Chechens in cold blood. When Lieutenant Vulich approached the table, everyone fell silent, expecting some original trick from him. Gentlemen! he said (his voice was calm, although in a lower tone than usual), gentlemen! Why empty disputes? You want proof: I suggest you try it on yourself, can a person arbitrarily dispose of his life, or is a fatal moment assigned to each of us in advance... Anyone? Not for me, not for me! was heard from all sides, what an eccentric! will come to mind!.. I offer a bet! I said jokingly. Which one? “I affirm that there is no predestination,” I said, pouring out about two dozen ducats onto the table, everything that was in my pocket. “I hold it,” Vulich answered in a dull voice. Major, you will be the judge; here are fifteen ducats, you owe me the remaining five, and be kind to me and add them to these. “Okay,” said the major, “I just don’t understand, really, what’s the matter and how will you resolve the dispute?.. Vulich walked out silently into the major's bedroom; we followed him. He walked up to the wall on which the weapons hung, and at random took one of the different-caliber pistols from a nail; We didn’t understand it yet; but when he cocked the trigger and poured gunpowder onto the shelf, many, involuntarily screaming, grabbed his hands. What do you want to do? Listen, this is crazy! They shouted to him. Gentlemen! - he said slowly, freeing his hands, - who wants to pay twenty ducats for me? Everyone fell silent and walked away. Vulich went into another room and sat down at the table; everyone followed him: he motioned for us to sit in a circle. We silently obeyed him: at that moment he acquired some kind of power over us. mysterious power. I looked into his eyes intently; but he met my searching gaze with a calm and motionless gaze, and his pale lips smiled; but, despite his composure, it seemed to me that I read the mark of death on his pale face. I have noticed, and many old warriors have confirmed my observation, that often on the face of a person who is supposed to die in a few hours, there is some kind of strange print inevitable fate, so that it is difficult for habitual eyes to make a mistake. You will die today! I told him. He quickly turned to me, but answered slowly and calmly: Maybe yes, maybe no... Then, turning to the major, he asked: is the gun loaded? The major, confused, did not remember well. Come on, Vulich! someone shouted, it’s probably loaded, if it’s hanging in your head, what kind of desire to joke!.. Silly joke! picked up by another. I bet fifty rubles against five that the gun is not loaded! The third one shouted. New bets were made. I'm tired of this long ceremony. “Listen,” I said, “either shoot yourself, or hang up the pistol in its original place, and let’s go to sleep.” “Of course,” many exclaimed, “let’s go to bed.” Gentlemen, I ask you not to move! said Vulich, putting the muzzle of a pistol to his forehead. Everyone seemed to have turned to stone. “Mr. Pechorin,” he added, “take the card and throw it up. I took from the table, as I now remember, the ace of hearts and threw it up: everyone’s breathing stopped; all eyes, expressing fear and some vague curiosity, ran from the pistol to the fatal ace, which, trembling in the air, descended slowly; the minute he touched the table, Vulich pulled the trigger... misfire! Thank God! many cried out, not charged... “We’ll see, however,” said Vulich. He cocked the hammer again and took aim at the cap hanging over the window; a shot rang out and smoke filled the room. When it dissipated, they took off their cap: it was pierced in the very middle and the bullet was deeply embedded in the wall. For three minutes no one could utter a word. Vulich poured my ducats into his wallet. There were rumors about why the pistol did not fire the first time; others argued that the shelf was probably clogged, others said in a whisper that before the gunpowder was damp and that after Vulich sprinkled it with fresh; but I argued that the latter assumption was unjust, because I had my eye on the pistol all the time. “You are happy in the game,” I said to Vulich... “For the first time in my life,” he answered, smiling smugly, “it’s better than a bank and a stoss.” But a little more dangerous. What? have you started to believe in predestination? I believe; I just don’t understand now why it seemed to me that you must certainly die today... This same man, who had so recently been calmly aiming at himself, now suddenly flushed and became embarrassed. But enough is enough! he said, getting up, our bet is over, and now your comments, it seems to me, are inappropriate... He took his hat and left. This seemed strange to me and not without reason!.. Soon everyone went home, talking differently about Vulich’s quirks and, probably, unanimously calling me an egoist, because I bet against a man who wanted to shoot himself; as if he couldn’t find an opportunity without me!.. I was returning home empty alleys villages; the moon, full and red, like the glow of a fire, began to appear from behind the jagged horizon of houses; the stars shone calmly on dark blue vault, and I felt funny when I remembered that there were once wise people who thought that the heavenly bodies took part in our insignificant disputes over a piece of land or for some fictitious rights!.. So what? these lamps, lit, in their opinion, only to illuminate their battles and triumphs, burn with their former brilliance, and their passions and hopes have long ago died out with them, like a light lit at the edge of the forest by a careless wanderer! But what strength of will was given to them by the confidence that the whole sky with its countless inhabitants was looking at them with participation, albeit mute, but unchanging!.. And we, their pitiful descendants, wandering the earth without convictions and pride, without pleasure and fear, Apart from that involuntary fear that squeezes the heart at the thought of the inevitable end, we are no longer capable of great sacrifices, either for the good of humanity, or even for our own happiness, therefore we know its impossibility and indifferently move from doubt to doubt, as our ancestors rushed from one error to another, having, like them, neither hope, nor even that vague, although true, pleasure that the soul encounters in every struggle with people or fate... And many other similar thoughts passed through my mind; I didn’t hold them back because I don’t like to dwell on some abstract thought. And what does this lead to?.. In my first youth I was a dreamer, I loved to caress alternately gloomy and rosy images that my restless and greedy imagination painted for me. But what does this leave me with? only fatigue, as after a night battle with a ghost, and a vague memory filled with regrets. In this vain struggle I exhausted both the heat of my soul and the constancy of will necessary for real life; I entered this life having already experienced it mentally, and I felt bored and disgusted, like someone who reads a bad imitation of a book he has long known. The incident of this evening made a rather deep impression on me and irritated my nerves; I don’t know for sure whether I now believe in predestination or not, but that evening I firmly believed in it: the proof was striking, and I, despite the fact that I laughed at our ancestors and their helpful astrology, unwittingly fell into their rut; but I stopped myself in time on this dangerous path and, having a rule not to reject anything decisively and not to trust anything blindly, I threw metaphysics aside and began to look at my feet. This precaution was very useful: I almost fell, bumping into something thick and soft, but apparently lifeless. I’m leaning over the moon has already shone directly on the road and so what? in front of me lay a pig, cut in half with a saber... I barely had time to examine it when I heard the sound of footsteps: two Cossacks were running from the alley, one came up to me and asked if I had seen a drunken Cossack who was chasing a pig. I announced to them that I had not met the Cossack, and pointed out the unfortunate victim of his furious courage. What a robber! said the second Cossack, as soon as he got drunk, he went off to crumble whatever he found. Let's go get him, Eremeich, we need to tie him up, otherwise... They left, and I continued on my way with greater caution and finally arrived happily at my apartment. I lived with an old policeman, whom I loved for his kind disposition, and especially for his pretty daughter Nastya. She, as usual, was waiting for me at the gate, wrapped in a fur coat; the moon illuminated her lovely lips, blue from the night cold. Recognizing me, she smiled, but I had no time for her. “Goodbye, Nastya,” I said, passing by. She wanted to answer something, but just sighed. I closed the door of my room behind me, lit the candle and threw myself on the bed; only the dream this time made itself wait more than usual. The east was already beginning to turn pale when I fell asleep, but apparently it was written in heaven that I would not get enough sleep that night. At four o'clock in the morning two fists knocked on my window. I jumped up: what is it?.. “Get up, get dressed!” several voices shouted to me. I quickly got dressed and went out. “Do you know what happened?” the three officers who came after me told me in one voice; they were pale as death. What? Vulich was killed. I was dumbfounded. “Yes, he was killed,” they continued, “let’s go quickly.” But where? Dear, you will find out. We are going. They told me everything that happened, with an admixture of various remarks about the strange predestination that saved him from certain death half an hour before his death. Vulich was walking alone along a dark street: a drunken Cossack ran into him, chopped up a pig, and perhaps would have passed by without noticing him, if Vulich, suddenly stopping, said: “Who are you, brother, looking for?” You!“ the Cossack answered, hitting him with a saber, and cut him from the shoulder almost to the heart... Two Cossacks who met me and were watching the killer arrived in time, raised the wounded man, but he was already at his last breath and said only two words: “He right! I was the only one who understood dark meaning these words: they applied to me; I unwittingly predicted the poor man’s fate; my instinct did not deceive me: I definitely read on his changed face the mark of his imminent death. The killer locked himself in an empty hut at the end of the village. We were going there. Many women ran crying in the same direction; From time to time, a late Cossack would jump out into the street, hastily fastening his dagger, and run ahead of us. The turmoil was terrible. Finally we have arrived; we look: there is a crowd around the hut, the doors and shutters of which are locked from the inside. The officers and Cossacks are arguing heatedly among themselves: the women are howling, condemning and lamenting. Among them it caught my eye significant person old woman, expressing insane despair. She was sitting on a thick log, leaning her elbows on her knees and supporting her head with her hands: she was the mother of the murderer. Her lips moved from time to time: were they whispering a prayer or a curse? Meanwhile, it was necessary to decide on something and capture the criminal. No one, however, dared to rush in first. I went up to the window and looked through the crack in the shutter: pale, he was lying on the floor, holding a right hand gun; a bloody saber lay next to him. His expressive eyes rolled around terribly; sometimes he shuddered and grabbed his head, as if vaguely remembering yesterday. I did not read much determination in this restless look and told the major that it was in vain that he did not order the Cossacks to break down the door and rush in there, because it was better to do it now than later, when he completely came to his senses. At this time, the old captain came to the door and called him by name; he responded. “I’ve sinned, brother Efimych,” said the captain, “there’s nothing to do, submit!” I will not submit! - answered the Cossack. Fear God. After all, you are not a cursed Chechen, but an honest Christian; Well, if your sin has entangled you, there is nothing to do: you will not escape your fate! I will not submit! The Cossack shouted menacingly, and you could hear the cocked trigger click. Hey, auntie! “Esaul said to the old woman, “Tell your son, maybe he’ll listen to you... After all, this is only to anger God.” Look, the gentlemen have been waiting for two hours already. The old woman looked at him intently and shook her head. “Vasily Petrovich,” said the captain, approaching the major, “he will not give up,” I know him. And if the door is broken, many of our people will be killed. Would you rather order him to be shot? There is a wide gap in the shutter. At that moment a strange thought flashed through my head: like Vulich, I decided to tempt fate. “Wait,” I told the major, I’ll take him alive. Ordering the captain to start a conversation with him and placing three Cossacks at the door, ready to knock it out and rush to my aid at this sign, I walked around the hut and approached the fatal window. My heart was beating fast. Oh, you damned one! - shouted the captain, - are you laughing at us, or what? Do you think that you and I can’t cope? He began to knock on the door with all his might, I, putting my eye to the crack, followed the movements of the Cossack, who was not expecting an attack from this side, and suddenly he tore off the shutter and threw himself head down through the window. The shot rang out right next to my ear, and the bullet tore off my epaulette. But the smoke that filled the room prevented my opponent from finding the checker lying near him. I grabbed his hands; The Cossacks burst in, and less than three minutes passed before the criminal was already tied up and taken away under escort. The people dispersed. The officers congratulated me - that’s right! After all this, how can one not become a fatalist? But who knows for sure whether he is convinced of something or not?.. and how often do we mistake for a belief a deception of feelings or a blunder of reason!.. I like to doubt everything: this disposition of mind does not interfere with the decisiveness of my character; on the contrary, as for me, I always move forward more boldly when I do not know what awaits me. After all, nothing worse can happen than death, and you can’t escape death! Returning to the fortress, I told Maxim Maksimych everything that happened to me and what I witnessed, and wanted to know his opinion about predestination. At first he did not understand this word, but I explained it as best I could, and then he said, shaking his head significantly: Yes, sir! Of course, sir! This is a rather tricky thing!.. However, these Asian triggers often misfire if they are poorly lubricated or if you do not press firmly enough with your finger; I admit, I also don’t like Circassian rifles; they are somehow indecent for our brother: the butt is small, and just look at it, it will burn your nose... But they have checkers just my respect! Then he said, after thinking for a while: Yes, it’s a pity for the poor guy... The devil dared him to talk to a drunk at night!.. However, apparently, it was written in his family... I couldn’t get anything more out of him: he doesn’t like metaphysical debates at all.

When describing the hero of a novel, it is important to understand the role of this hero. Accordingly, it is necessary to show what the hero was like before meeting Pechorin (or at the very beginning of the meeting) and what he was like after.

The characterization must begin with a portrait (description of appearance), which in Lermontov is always psychologized, that is, it helps to understand the characteristics of the hero’s personality.

Here is a portrait of Vulich, where the description of appearance turns into a direct description of the hero:

“At this time, one officer, sitting in the corner of the room, stood up and, slowly approaching the table, looked at everyone with a calm and solemn look. He was a Serb by birth, as was clear from his name.

Lieutenant Vulich's appearance corresponded completely to his character. Tall stature and dark complexion, black hair, black penetrating eyes, a large but correct nose, belonging to his nation, a sad and cold smile that always wandered on his lips - all this seemed to be coordinated in order to give him the appearance of a special being, unable to share thoughts and passions with those whom fate gave him as comrades.

He was brave, spoke little, but sharply; I didn’t trust my spiritual secrets to anyone; He drank almost no wine at all; he never pursued young Cossack girls, whose charms are difficult to comprehend without betraying them. They said, however, that the colonel's wife was partial to his expressive eyes; but he was seriously angry when it was hinted at.

There was only one passion that he did not hide: the passion for the game. At the green table he forgot everything and usually lost; but constant failures only irritated his stubbornness.”

The character of the hero helps to reveal various situations. So, one day while playing cards the alarm sounded. All the officers jumped up, but Vulich did not get up until he threw the tackle. Then he found a “lucky punter” in the chain, right during the shootout he gave him his purse and wallet and then fought bravely, carrying the soldier with him “and until the very end of the case, he exchanged fire with the Chechens in cold blood.”

It is important to show the interaction between the hero and Pechorin, defining the problem that drives this interaction.

Thus, the bet between Pechorin and Vulich is based on problems of value human life and faith in the fate that dominates man. Pechorin plays with other people's lives - Vulich, making a bet, plays with his life :

“—...You want proof: I suggest you try it on yourself, whether every person can arbitrarily dispose of his life, or whether a fatal moment has been assigned to each of us in advance...”

Vulich puts his life on the line - and life itself immediately puts his existence on the line. In India they would call this the inevitability of karma: one cannot joke about such things.

But the situation with the misfire would not have arisen if Pechorin had not offered Vulich a bet, which he, as a player, could not refuse. In addition, Pechorin acted as a provocateur:

“You are going to die today! - I told him. He quickly turned to me, but answered slowly and calmly:

“Maybe yes, maybe no...”Material from the site

It must be said that such behavior of Vulich is possible only in the complete absence of meaningful life guidelines: his life is not dear to him, because he does not see anything in it that would fill his existence with meaning, that would give meaning to his actions.

In this, Vulich is similar to Pechorin; it is not for nothing that after the death of Vulich, Pechorin risked taking the murderer locked in the house alive:

“At that moment a strange thought flashed through my head: like Vulich, I decided to tempt fate.”

However, Pechorin differs from Vulich in that Vulich in his meaningless life reached extreme point, and Pechorin at that time was still interested in the world, despite his declarations.

Didn't find what you were looking for? Use the search

On this page there is material on the following topics:

novel hero of our time characterization of Vulich
our hero: how Vulich’s appearance reflects his character
description of Vulich from Hero of Our Time
What is the difference between Pechorin and Vulich
Vulich Daniel