Chapter 9 Oblomov's dream description. Analysis of the fragment “Oblomov’s Dream” from Goncharov’s novel

PART ONE

OBLOMOV'S DREAM

Where are we? To what blessed corner of the earth did Oblomov’s dream take us? What a wonderful land!

No, really, there are seas there, no high mountains, rocks and abysses, no dense forests - there is nothing grandiose, wild and gloomy.

And why is it so wild and grandiose? The sea, for example? God bless him! It only brings sadness to a person: looking at it, you want to cry. The heart is embarrassed by timidity in front of the vast veil of waters, and there is nothing to rest the gaze, exhausted by the monotony of the endless picture.

The roar and frantic rolls of the waves are not pleasing to the weak of hearing: they keep repeating their own, from the beginning of the world, the same song of gloomy and unsolved content; and you can still hear in her the same groan, the same complaints as if of a monster doomed to torment, and someone’s piercing, ominous voices. Birds don't chirp around; only silent seagulls, like condemned ones, sadly rush along the coast and circle over the water.

The roar of the beast is powerless before these cries of nature, the voice of man is insignificant, and man himself is so small, weak, so imperceptibly disappears into the small details of the broad picture! This may be why it’s so hard for him to look at the sea.

No, God be with him, with the sea! Its very silence and immobility do not give rise to a gratifying feeling in the soul: in the barely noticeable fluctuations of the water mass, a person still sees the same immense, albeit sleeping, force, which sometimes so poisonously mocks his proud will and so deeply buries his brave plans, all his troubles and labors.

Mountains and abysses were also not created for human amusement. They are formidable, terrible, like the claws and teeth of a wild beast released and directed at him; they remind us too vividly of our mortal composition and keep us in fear and longing for life. And the sky there, above the rocks and abysses, seems so distant and inaccessible, as if it had retreated from people.

This is not the peaceful corner where our hero suddenly found himself.

The sky there, on the contrary, seems to be pressing closer to the earth, but not in order to throw arrows more powerfully, but perhaps only to hug it tighter, with love: it spreads out so low above your head, like a parent’s reliable roof, to protect, it seems , a chosen corner from all adversity.

The sun shines there brightly and hotly for about six months and then does not suddenly leave there, as if reluctantly, as if it were turning back to look once or twice at its favorite place and give it a clear, warm day in the fall, amidst bad weather.

The mountains there seem to be just models of those terrible mountains erected somewhere that terrify the imagination. This is a series of gentle hills, from which it is pleasant to roll, frolic, on your back, or, sitting on them, look thoughtfully at the setting sun.

The river runs merrily, frolicking and playing; It either spills into a wide pond, then rushes like a quick thread, or becomes quiet, as if lost in thought, and crawls a little over the pebbles, releasing playful streams on the sides, under the murmur of which it sweetly dozes.

The entire corner of fifteen or twenty miles around was a series of picturesque sketches, cheerful, smiling landscapes. The sandy and sloping banks of a bright river, small bushes creeping up from a hill to the water, a curved ravine with a stream at the bottom and a birch grove - everything seemed to have been deliberately tidied up one by one and masterfully drawn.

A heart exhausted by worries or completely unfamiliar with them asks to hide in this corner forgotten by everyone and live a happiness unknown to anyone. Everything there promises a peaceful, long-lasting life until the hair turns yellow and an imperceptible death, like a dream.

The annual cycle occurs there correctly and calmly.

According to the calendar, spring will come in March, dirty streams will run from the hills, the earth will thaw and smoke with warm steam; the peasant will take off his sheepskin coat, go out into the air in his shirt and, covering his eyes with his hand, admire the sun for a long time, shrugging his shoulders with pleasure; then he will pull the upturned cart by one shaft or the other, or inspect and kick the plow lying idly under the canopy, preparing for ordinary work.

Sudden blizzards do not return in the spring, do not cover fields and break trees with snow.

Winter, like an unapproachable, cold beauty, maintains its character until the legalized time of warmth; does not tease with unexpected thaws and does not bend in three arcs with unheard of frosts; everything goes in the usual, general order prescribed by nature.

In November, snow and frost begin, which intensifies towards Epiphany to the point that a peasant, leaving his hut for a minute, will certainly return with frost on his beard; and in February, a sensitive nose already senses the soft breeze of approaching spring in the air.

But summer, summer is especially delightful in that region. There you need to look for fresh, dry air, filled - not with lemon or laurel, but simply with the smell of wormwood, pine and bird cherry; there to look for clear days, slightly burning, but not scorching rays of the sun and almost three months of cloudless skies.

As the days become clear, they last for three or four weeks; and the evening was warm there, and the night was stuffy. The stars twinkle from the sky so welcomingly, so friendly.

Will it rain - what a beneficial summer rain! It flows briskly, abundantly, jumping merrily, like large and hot tears of a suddenly joyful person; and as soon as it stops, the sun again, with a clear smile of love, inspects and dries the fields and hillocks; and the whole side again smiles with happiness in response to the sun.

The peasant joyfully welcomes the rain: “The rain will soak you, the sun will dry you!” - he says, exposing his face, shoulders and back with pleasure to the warm rain.

Thunderstorms are not terrible, but only beneficial there: they occur constantly at the same set time, almost never forgetting Ilya’s day, as if in order to support a well-known legend among the people. And the number and force of blows seem to be the same every year, just as if a certain amount of electricity was released from the treasury for the entire region for a year.

Neither terrible storms nor destruction can be heard in that region.

No one has ever read anything like this in the newspapers about this God-blessed corner. And nothing would have ever been published, and no one would have heard about this region, if only the peasant widow Marina Kulkova, twenty-eight years old, had not given birth to four babies at once, which was impossible to keep silent about.

The Lord did not punish that side with either Egyptian or simple plagues. None of the residents have seen or remember any terrible heavenly signs, no balls of fire, or sudden darkness; there are no poisonous reptiles there; the locusts do not fly there; there are no roaring lions, no roaring tigers, not even bears and wolves, because there are no forests. There are only plenty of chewing cows, bleating sheep and clucking chickens wandering through the fields and the village.

God knows whether a poet or a dreamer would be content with the nature of a peaceful corner. These gentlemen, as you know, love to look at the moon and listen to the clicking of nightingales. They love the coquette moon, which would dress up in fawn clouds and shine mysteriously through the branches of trees or sprinkle sheaves of silver rays into the eyes of its admirers.

And in this region no one knew what kind of moon it was - everyone called it a month. She somehow good-naturedly looked at the villages and fields with all her eyes and looked very much like a cleaned copper basin.

It would be in vain that the poet would look at her with enthusiastic eyes: she would look at the poet just as innocently as a round-faced village beauty looks in response to the passionate and eloquent glances of the city red tape.

Soloviev is also unheard of in that region, perhaps because there were no shady shelters or roses there; but what an abundance of quails! In the summer, when harvesting grain, the boys catch them with their hands.

Yes, they will not think, however, that quails constitute an object of gastronomic luxury there - no, such corruption has not penetrated the morals of the inhabitants of that region: the quail is a bird not indicated by the regulations as food. There she delights people's ears with her singing: that is why in almost every house a quail hangs under the roof in a thread cage.

The poet and dreamer would not have been satisfied even with the general appearance of this modest and unpretentious area. They would not be able to see some evening there in the Swiss or Scottish style, when all nature - the forest, the water, the walls of the huts, and the sandy hills - everything burns as if with a crimson glow; when, against this crimson background, a cavalcade of men riding along a sandy winding road is sharply shaded, accompanying some lady on walks to a gloomy ruin or hastening to a strong castle, where an episode about the war of the two roses awaits them, told by the grandfather, a wild goat for dinner and sung by the young miss a ballad to the sounds of a lute - the pictures with which the pen of Walter Scott so richly populated our imagination.

No, there was nothing like this in our region.

How quiet everything is, everything is sleepy in the three or four villages that make up this corner! They lay not far from each other and were as if accidentally thrown by a giant hand and scattered in different directions, and have remained that way ever since.

Just as one hut ended up on the cliff of a ravine, it has been hanging there since time immemorial, standing with one half in the air and supported by three poles. Three or four generations lived quietly and happily in it.

It seems that a chicken would be afraid to enter it, but Onisim Suslov lives there with his wife, a respectable man who does not stare at his full height in his home.

Not everyone will be able to enter the hut to Onesimus; unless the visitor begs her stand with your back to the forest and your front towards it.

The porch hung over a ravine, and in order to get onto the porch with your foot, you had to grab the grass with one hand, the roof of the hut with the other, and then step straight onto the porch.

Another hut clung to the hillock like a swallow's nest; there three of them happened to be nearby, and two are standing at the very bottom of the ravine.

Everything in the village is quiet and sleepy: the silent huts are wide open; not a soul in sight; Only flies fly in clouds and buzz in the stuffy atmosphere.

Entering the hut, you will begin to call loudly in vain: dead silence will be the answer: in a rare hut, an old woman living out her days on the stove will respond with a painful groan or dull cough, or a barefoot, long-haired three-year-old child in only a shirt will appear from behind the partition, silently, looking intently at entered and timidly hides again.

The same deep silence and peace lie in the fields; only here and there, like an ant, a plowman, scorched by the heat, crawls in a black field like an ant, leaning on his plow and sweating profusely.

Silence and undisturbed calm reign in the morals of the people in that region. No robberies, no murders, no terrible accidents happened there; neither strong passions nor daring undertakings excited them.

And what passions and enterprises could excite them? Everyone knew himself there. The inhabitants of this region lived far from other people. The nearest villages and the district town were twenty-five and thirty miles away.

At a certain time, the peasants transported grain to the nearest pier to the Volga, which was their Colchis and the pillars of Hercules, and once a year some went to the fair, and had no further relations with anyone.

Their interests were focused on themselves, and did not intersect or come into contact with anyone else.

They knew that eighty miles from them there was a “province,” that is, a provincial city, but few went there; then they knew that further away, there, Saratov or Nizhny; they heard that there were Moscow and St. Petersburg, that beyond St. Petersburg the French or Germans lived, and then a dark world began for them, as for the ancients, unknown countries inhabited by monsters, people with two heads, giants; there followed darkness - and, finally, everything ended with that fish that holds the earth on itself.

And since their corner was almost impassable, there was nowhere to get the latest news about what was happening in this world: the transporters with wooden utensils lived only twenty miles away and knew no more than them. They didn’t even have anything to compare their life with; Do they live well? whether they are rich or poor; Could there be anything more you could wish for that others have?

Happy people lived thinking that it shouldn’t and couldn’t be any other way, confident that everyone else lived exactly the same way and that living differently was a sin.

They wouldn’t even believe it if they were told that others plow, sow, reap, and sell differently. What passions and worries could they have?

They, like all people, had worries and weaknesses, contributions of taxes or rent, laziness and sleep; but all this cost them cheap, without worrying about blood.

In the last five years, out of several hundred souls, not one has died, let alone a violent, or even a natural death.

And if someone, from old age or from some long-standing illness, fell into eternal sleep, then for a long time after that they could not marvel at such an extraordinary event.

Meanwhile, it did not seem at all surprising to them that, for example, the blacksmith Taras almost steamed himself to death in a dugout, to the point that it was necessary to pour water on him.

One of the crimes, namely the theft of peas, carrots and turnips from vegetable gardens, was in great circulation, and one day two pigs and a chicken suddenly disappeared - an incident that outraged the entire neighborhood and was unanimously attributed to a convoy with wooden utensils passing to the fair the day before. Otherwise, accidents of any kind were very rare.

Once, however, a man was found lying behind the outskirts, in a ditch, near the bridge, apparently a man who had lagged behind the artel that was passing into the city.

The boys were the first to notice him and ran to the village in horror with the news of some terrible snake or werewolf lying in a ditch, adding that he chased them and almost ate Kuzka.

Where is it taking you? - the old people calmed down. - Is your neck strong? What do you want? Don't worry: you are not being persecuted.

But the men went and fifty yards away began to call out to the monster in different voices: there was no answer; they stopped; then they moved again.

A man was lying in a ditch, leaning his head on a hillock; near him lay a bag and a stick on which two pairs of bast shoes were hung.

The men did not dare to come close or touch.

Hey! You, brother! - they shouted in turn, scratching the back of their heads and their backs. - How are you? Hey, you! What do you want here?

The passer-by made a movement to raise his head, but could not: he was apparently unwell or very tired.

One decided to touch him with a pitchfork.

Don't hesitate! Don't hesitate! - many shouted. - Who knows what he’s like: look, he doesn’t give a damn: maybe he’s like that... Don’t cover him up, guys!

Let's go, - some said, - really, let's go: what is he to us, uncle, or what? Only trouble with him!

And everyone went back to the village, telling the old people that a stranger was lying there, not harming anything, and God knows he was there...

Stranger, don't bother! - the old men said, sitting on the rubble and putting their elbows on their knees. - Let him have it! And you had nothing to walk on!

This was the corner where Oblomov was suddenly transported in a dream.

Of the three or four villages scattered there, one was Sosnovka, the other was Vavilovka, one mile from each other.

Sosnovka and Vavilovka were the hereditary homeland of the Oblomov family and therefore were known under the common name Oblomovka.

There was a master's estate and residence in Sosnovka. About five versts from Sosnovka lay the village of Verkhlevo, which also once belonged to the Oblomov family and had long ago passed into other hands, and several more scattered huts belonging to the same village.

The village belonged to a wealthy landowner who never went to his estate: it was managed by a German manager.

That's the whole geography of this corner.

Ilya Ilyich woke up in the morning in his small bed. He is only seven years old. It's easy and fun for him.

How cute, red and plump he is! The cheeks are so round that some naughty people would pout on purpose, but they wouldn’t do something like that.

The nanny is waiting for him to wake up. She begins to pull on his stockings; he doesn’t give in, plays pranks, dangles his legs; the nanny catches him, and they both laugh.

Finally she managed to get him to his feet; she washes him, combs his head and takes him to his mother.

Oblomov, seeing his long-dead mother, trembled in his sleep with joy, with ardent love for her: in his sleepy state, two warm tears slowly floated out from under his eyelashes and became motionless.

His mother showered him with passionate kisses, then examined him with greedy, caring eyes to see if his eyes were cloudy, asked if anything hurt, asked the nanny if he slept peacefully, if he woke up at night, if he tossed about in his sleep, if he does he have a fever? Then she took him by the hand and led him to the image.

There, kneeling down and hugging him with one hand, she suggested to him the words of prayer.

The boy repeated them absentmindedly, looking out the window, from where coolness and the smell of lilac poured into the room.

Mama, shall we go for a walk today? - he suddenly asked in the middle of prayer.

Let’s go, darling,” she said hastily, without taking her eyes off the icon and hastening to finish the holy words.

The boy repeated them listlessly, but the mother put her whole soul into them.

Then they went to their father, then to tea.

Near the tea table, Oblomov saw an elderly aunt living with them, eighty years old, constantly grumbling at her little girl, who, shaking her head from old age, served her, standing behind her chair. There are three elderly girls, distant relatives of his father, and his mother’s slightly crazy brother-in-law, and the landowner of seven souls, Chekmenev, who was visiting them, and some other old women and old men.

This entire staff and retinue of the Oblomov house picked up Ilya Ilyich in their arms and began to shower him with affection and praise; he barely had time to wipe away the traces of uninvited kisses.

After that, they began feeding him buns, crackers, and cream.

Then the mother, having petted him some more, let him go for a walk in the garden, around the yard, in the meadow, with a strict confirmation to the nanny not to leave the child alone, not to let him near horses, dogs, a goat, not to go far from the house, and most importantly, not to let him into the ravine, as the most terrible place in the area, which enjoyed a bad reputation.

There they once found a dog, recognized as rabid only because it rushed away from people when they attacked it with pitchforks and axes, and disappeared somewhere over the mountain; carrion was taken into the ravine; in the ravine there were supposed to be robbers, wolves, and various other creatures that either did not exist in that region or did not exist at all.

The child did not wait for his mother’s warnings: he had been out in the yard for a long time.

With joyful amazement, as if for the first time, he looked and ran around his parents’ house with a gate crooked to one side, with a wooden roof sagging in the middle, on which delicate green moss grew, with a wobbly porch, various extensions and settings, and a neglected garden.

He passionately wants to run up to the hanging gallery that goes around the whole house to look at the river from there; but the gallery is dilapidated, barely holds up, and only “people” are allowed to walk along it, but gentlemen do not walk.

He did not heed his mother’s prohibitions and was about to head towards the seductive steps, but the nanny appeared on the porch and somehow caught him.

He rushed from her to the hayloft, with the intention of climbing up the steep stairs, and as soon as she had time to reach the hayloft, she had to rush to destroy his plans to climb into the dovecote, enter the barnyard and, God forbid! - into the ravine.

Oh, Lord, what a child, what a spinning top! Will you sit still, sir? Ashamed! - said the nanny.

And the whole day, and all the days and nights of the nanny were filled with turmoil, running around: now torture, now living joy for the child, now fear that he will fall and break his nose, now tenderness from his unfeigned childish affection or vague longing for his distant future: This was the only thing that kept her heart beating, these emotions warmed the old woman’s blood, and somehow they supported her sleepy life, which without it, perhaps, would have died out a long time ago.

The child is not always playful, however: sometimes he suddenly becomes quiet, sitting next to the nanny, and looks at everything so intently. His childish mind observes all the phenomena taking place in front of him; they sink deep into his soul, then grow and mature with him.

The morning is magnificent; the air is cool; the sun is still low. From the house, from the trees, and from the dovecote, and from the gallery - long shadows ran far away from everything. Cool corners have formed in the garden and yard, inviting thoughtfulness and sleep. Only in the distance the field with rye seems to be burning with fire, and the river glitters and sparkles so much in the sun that it hurts your eyes.

Why is it, nanny, that it’s dark here and light there, and why will it be light there too? - asked the child.

Because, father, the sun goes towards the month and does not see it, it frowns; and as soon as he sees it from afar, he will brighten up.

The child becomes thoughtful and looks around: he sees how Antip went to fetch water, and on the ground, next to him, another Antip walked, ten times larger than the real one, and the barrel seemed as big as a house, and the horse’s shadow covered the entire meadow, the shadow only stepped twice across the meadow and suddenly moved over the mountain, and Antip had not yet managed to leave the yard.

The child also took a step or two, another step - and he would go over the mountain.

He would like to go to the mountain to see where the horse went. He was heading towards the gate, but his mother’s voice was heard from the window:

Nanny! Don't you see that the child ran out into the sun? Take him into the cold; if it gets on his head, he will get sick, feel nauseous, and won’t eat. He'll go into your ravine like that!

Uh! darling! - the nanny quietly grumbles, dragging him out onto the porch.

The child looks and observes with a sharp and perceptive gaze, how and what adults do, what they devote their morning to.

Not a single detail, not a single feature escapes the child’s inquisitive attention; the picture of home life is indelibly etched into the soul; the soft mind is fed with living examples and unconsciously draws a program for his life based on the life around him.

It cannot be said that the morning was wasted in the Oblomovs’ house. The sound of knives chopping cutlets and herbs in the kitchen even reached the village.

From the people's room one could hear the hiss of a spindle and the quiet, thin voice of a woman: it was difficult to discern whether she was crying or improvising a mournful song without words.

In the yard, as soon as Antip returned with the barrel, women and coachmen crawled towards her from different corners with buckets, troughs and jugs.

And there the old woman will carry a cup of flour and a bunch of eggs from the barn into the kitchen; there the cook will suddenly throw water out of the window and pour it on Little Arapka, who, all morning, without taking her eyes off, looks out the window, affectionately wagging her tail and licking her lips.

Oblomov the old man himself is also not without activities. He sits by the window all morning and strictly watches everything that is happening in the yard.

Hey, Ignashka? What are you talking about, fool? - he will ask a man walking in the yard.

“I’m taking the knives to the servants’ room to sharpen,” he answers without looking at the master.

Well, bring it, carry it, and get it right, look, sharpen it!

Then he stops the woman:

Hey grandma! Woman! Where did you go?

“To the cellar, father,” she said, stopping and, covering her eyes with her hand, looking at the window, “to get milk for the table.”

Well, go, go! - answered the master. - Be careful not to spill the milk. - And you, Zakharka, little shooter, where are you running again? - he shouted later. - Here I will let you run! I already see that this is the third time you are running. I went back to the hallway!

And Zakharka went into the hallway again to doze.

When the cows come from the field, the old man will be the first to make sure they are given water; If he sees from the window that a mongrel is chasing a chicken, he will immediately take strict measures against the riots.

And his wife is very busy: she spends three hours talking with Averka, the tailor, about how to alter Ilyusha’s jacket from her husband’s sweatshirt, she herself draws with chalk and watches so that Averka doesn’t steal the cloth; then he will go to the girls' room, ask each girl how much lace to weave on the day; then he will invite Nastasya Ivanovna, or Stepanida Agapovna, or another of his retinue to walk around the garden with a practical purpose: to see how the apple is pouring, to see if yesterday’s apple, which is already ripe, has fallen; graft there, prune there, etc.

But the main concern was the kitchen and dinner. The whole house discussed dinner; and the elderly aunt was invited to the council. Everyone offered their own dish: some soup with giblets, some noodles or gizzard, some tripe, some red, some white gravy for the sauce.

Any advice was taken into account, discussed in detail and then accepted or rejected according to the final verdict of the hostess.

Nastasya Petrovna and Stepanida Ivanovna were constantly sent to the kitchen to remind them whether to add this or cancel that, to bring sugar, honey, and wine for the meal and to see if the cook would put in everything that had been set aside.

Taking care of food was the first and main concern of life in Oblomovka. What calves grew fat there for the annual holidays! What a bird was raised! How many subtle considerations, how much knowledge and care there is in courting her! Turkeys and chickens assigned to name days and other special days were fattened with nuts; The geese were deprived of exercise and forced to hang motionless in a bag several days before the holiday, so that they would swim with fat. What stocks there were of jams, pickles, and cookies! What honeys, what kvass were brewed, what pies were baked in Oblomovka!

And so until noon everything was fussing and worrying, everything lived such a full, ant-like, such a noticeable life.

On Sundays and holidays, these hardworking ants also did not stop: then the knocking of knives in the kitchen was heard more often and louder; the woman made the journey from the barn to the kitchen several times with double the amount of flour and eggs; there was more groaning and bloodshed in the poultry yard. They baked a gigantic pie, which the gentlemen themselves ate the next day; on the third and fourth days, the leftovers went to the maiden room; the pie lived until Friday, so that one completely stale end, without any filling, went, as a special favor, to Antipus, who, crossing himself, undauntedly destroyed this curious fossil with a crash, enjoying more the knowledge that this was the master's pie than the pie itself, like an archaeologist who enjoys drinking crappy wine from a shard of some thousand-year-old pottery.

And the child looked and observed everything with his childish mind, which did not miss anything. He saw how, after a useful and troublesome morning spent, noon and lunch came.

The afternoon is sultry; the sky is clear. The sun stands motionless overhead and burns the grass. The air has stopped flowing and hangs motionless. Neither the tree nor the water moves; There is an imperturbable silence over the village and the field - everything seems to have died out. A human voice is heard loudly and far away in the void. Twenty fathoms away you can hear a beetle flying and buzzing, and in the thick grass someone is still snoring, as if someone has fallen in there and is sleeping in a sweet dream.

And dead silence reigned in the house. The time for everyone's afternoon nap has arrived.

The child sees that his father, his mother, his old aunt, and his retinue have all scattered to their own corners; and whoever didn’t have one went to the hayloft, another to the garden, a third sought coolness in the hallway, and another, covering his face with a handkerchief from the flies, fell asleep where the heat overpowered him and the bulky dinner fell on him. And the gardener stretched out under a bush in the garden, next to his pick, and the coachman slept in the stable.

Ilya Ilyich looked into the people's room: in the people's room everyone lay down, on the benches, on the floor and in the hallway, leaving the children to their own devices; children crawl around the yard and dig in the sand. And the dogs climbed far into their kennels, fortunately there was no one to bark at.

You could walk through the entire house and not meet a soul; it was easy to rob everything around and take it out of the yard on carts: no one would have interfered, if only there were thieves in that region.

It was some kind of all-consuming, invincible dream, a true likeness of death. Everything is dead, only from all corners comes a variety of snoring in all tones and modes.

Occasionally, someone will suddenly raise his head from sleep, look senselessly, with surprise, at both sides and roll over to the other side, or, without opening his eyes, he will spit in his sleep and, chewing his lips or muttering something under his breath, will fall asleep again.

And the other quickly, without any preliminary preparations, will jump with both feet from his bed, as if afraid to lose precious minutes, grab a mug of kvass and, blowing on the flies floating there, so that they are carried to the other edge, causing the flies, until motionless, begin to move violently, in the hope of improving their situation, wet their throat and then fall back onto the bed as if shot.

And the child watched and watched.

After dinner, he and the nanny went out into the air again. But the nanny, despite all the severity of the lady’s orders and her own will, could not resist the charm of sleep. She also became infected with this epidemic disease that prevailed in Oblomovka.

At first she cheerfully looked after the child, did not let him go far from her, sternly grumbled about his playfulness, then, feeling the symptoms of an approaching infection, she began to beg him not to go beyond the gate, not to touch the goat, not to climb into the dovecote or gallery.

She herself sat down somewhere in the cold: on the porch, on the threshold of the cellar, or simply on the grass, apparently in order to knit a stocking and look after the child. But soon she lazily calmed him down, nodding her head.

“Oh, just behold, this spinning top will climb into the gallery,” she thought almost in a dream, “or else... into a ravine, as it were...”

Here the old woman’s head bowed to her knees, the stocking fell out of her hands; she lost sight of the child and, opening her mouth a little, let out a light snore.

And he was looking forward to this moment with which his independent life began.

It was as if he was alone in the whole world; he ran away from the nanny on tiptoe, looking at everyone who was sleeping where; stops and watches intently as someone wakes up, spits or mutters something in his sleep; then, with a sinking heart, he ran up to the gallery, ran around on the creaking boards, climbed the dovecote, climbed into the wilderness of the garden, listened to the buzzing of the beetle, and with his eyes followed its flight in the air far away; listened to someone chirping in the grass, looked for and caught the violators of this silence; catches a dragonfly, tears off its wings and sees what becomes of it, or pokes a straw through it and watches how it flies with this addition; with pleasure, fearing to die, he watches the spider, how he sucks the blood of a caught fly, how the poor victim beats and buzzes in his paws. The child will end up killing both the victim and the tormentor.

Then he climbs into the ditch, digs around, looks for some roots, peels off the bark and eats to his heart's content, preferring the apples and jam that his mother gives him.

He will run out of the gate: he would like to go into the birch forest; it seems so close to him that he could get to it in five minutes, not around along the road, but straight through the ditch, hedges and holes; but he is afraid: there, they say, there are goblins, and robbers, and terrible beasts.

He wants to run into the ravine: it is only fifty yards from the garden; the child had already run to the edge, closed his eyes, wanted to look, as into the crater of a volcano... but suddenly all the rumors and legends about this ravine rose before him: he was seized with horror, and he, neither alive nor dead, rushes back and, trembling from out of fear, rushed to the nanny and woke up the old woman.

She woke up from her sleep, straightened the scarf on her head, picked up scraps of gray hair under it with her finger and, pretending that she had not slept at all, glances suspiciously at Ilyusha, then at the master's windows and begins with trembling fingers to poke the needles of the stocking that lay with her one into the other on the knees.

Meanwhile, the heat began to subside little by little; everything in nature has become more lively; the sun has already moved towards the forest.

And little by little the silence in the house was broken: in one corner a door creaked somewhere; someone's footsteps were heard in the yard; someone sneezed in the hayloft.

Soon a man hurriedly carried a huge samovar from the kitchen, bending over from the weight. They began to get ready for tea: some of their faces were wrinkled and their eyes were swollen with tears; he left a red spot on his cheek and temples; the third speaks from sleep in a voice that is not his own. All this sniffles, groans, yawns, scratches his head and stretches, barely coming to his senses.

Lunch and sleep gave rise to an unquenchable thirst. Thirst burns my throat; twelve cups of tea are drunk, but this does not help: groaning and groaning can be heard; they resort to lingonberry water, pear water, kvass, and others even to medical aid, just to relieve the drought in their throat.

Everyone was looking for liberation from thirst, as from some kind of punishment from the Lord; everyone is rushing about, everyone is languishing, like a caravan of travelers in the Arabian steppe, not finding a spring of water anywhere.

The child is here, next to his mother: he peers into the strange faces surrounding him, listens to their sleepy and sluggish conversation. It’s fun for him to look at them, and every nonsense they say seems curious to him.

After tea, everyone will do something: some will go to the river and quietly wander along the bank, pushing pebbles into the water with their feet; another will sit by the window and catch with his eyes every fleeting phenomenon: whether a cat runs across the yard, whether a jackdaw flies by, the observer pursues both with his eyes and the tip of his nose, turning his head now to the right, now to the left. So sometimes dogs like to sit for whole days on the window, exposing their heads to the sun and carefully looking at every passerby.

The mother will take Ilyusha’s head, put it on her lap and slowly comb his hair, admiring its softness and making both Nastasya Ivanovna and Stepanida Tikhonovna admire, and talks with them about Ilyusha’s future, making him the hero of some brilliant epic she has created. They promise him mountains of gold.

But now it begins to get dark. The fire is crackling in the kitchen again, the rattling sound of knives is heard again: dinner is being prepared.

The servants have gathered at the gate: a balalaika and laughter can be heard there. People play burners.

And the sun was already setting behind the forest; it cast several slightly warm rays, which cut a fiery stripe through the entire forest, brightly bathing the tops of the pines with gold. Then the rays went out one after another; the last ray remained for a long time; he, like a thin needle, pierced the thicket of branches; but that too went out.

Objects lost their shape; everything merged first into a gray, then into a dark mass. The singing of the birds gradually weakened; soon they became completely silent, except for one stubborn one, who, as if in defiance of everyone, in the midst of the general silence, chirped monotonously at intervals, but less and less, and she finally whistled weakly, silently, for the last time, perked up, slightly moving the leaves around me... and fell asleep.

Everything fell silent. Some grasshoppers made louder noises when they started. White vapors rose from the ground and spread across the meadow and river. The river also calmed down; a little later, someone suddenly splashed inside her one last time, and she became motionless.

It smelled damp. It got darker and darker. The trees were grouped into some kind of monsters; It became scary in the forest: there, someone would suddenly creak, as if one of the monsters was moving from its place to another, and a dry twig seemed to crunch under his foot.

The first star sparkled brightly in the sky, like a living eye, and lights flickered in the windows of the house.

These are the moments of general, solemn silence of nature, those moments when the creative mind works stronger, poetic thoughts boil hotter, when passion flares up more vividly in the heart or melancholy aches more painfully, when in a cruel soul the seed of a criminal thought ripens more calmly and strongly, and when... in Everyone rests so soundly and peacefully in Oblomovka.

Let’s go for a walk, mom,” says Ilyusha.

What are you, God bless you! Now go for a walk,” she replies, “it’s damp, you’ll catch cold in your legs; and it’s scary: a goblin is now walking in the forest, he’s carrying away little children.

Where is it going? What is it like? Where does he live? - asks the child.

And the mother gave free rein to her unbridled imagination.

The child listened to her, opening and closing his eyes, until finally sleep overcame him completely. The nanny came and, taking him from his mother’s lap, carried him sleepy, with his head hanging over her shoulder, to bed.

The day has passed, and thank God! - said the Oblomovites, lying in bed, groaning and making the sign of the cross. - Lived well; God willing it will be the same tomorrow! Glory to you, Lord! Glory to you, Lord!

Then Oblomov dreamed of another time: on an endless winter evening he timidly clings to his nanny, and she whispers to him about some unknown side, where there is neither night nor cold, where miracles happen, where rivers of honey and milk flow, where no one knows anything. he doesn’t do it all year round, but every day they only know that all the good fellows, such as Ilya Ilyich, and beauties are walking, no matter what a fairy tale can describe.

There is also a kind sorceress, who sometimes appears to us in the form of a pike, who will choose some favorite, quiet, harmless, in other words, some lazy person, whom everyone offends, and even showers on him, for no reason at all, all sorts of good things, and he just eats for himself and dresses up in a ready-made dress, and then marries some unheard-of beauty Militrisa Kirbityevna.

The child, with his ears and eyes pricked up, passionately absorbed the story.

The nurse or the legend so skillfully avoided in the story everything that actually exists that the imagination and mind, imbued with fiction, remained in his slavery until old age. The nanny with good nature told the tale of Emel the Fool, this evil and insidious satire on our great-grandfathers, and perhaps even on ourselves.

The adult Ilya Ilyich, although he later learns that there are no honey and milk rivers, no good sorceresses, although he jokes with a smile at the nanny’s stories, but this smile is not sincere, it is accompanied by a secret sigh: his fairy tale is mixed with life, and he unconsciously Sometimes I feel sad, why is a fairy tale not life, and why is life not a fairy tale?

He involuntarily dreams of Militris Kirbityevna; he is constantly drawn in the direction where they only know that they are walking, where there are no worries and sorrows; he always has the disposition to lie on the stove, walk around in a ready-made, unearned dress and eat at the expense of the good sorceress.

Both old man Oblomov and grandfather listened to the same fairy tales in childhood, passed down in the stereotypical edition of antiquity, in the mouths of nannies and uncles, through centuries and generations.

The nanny, meanwhile, paints a different picture for the child’s imagination.

She tells him about the exploits of our Achilles and Ulysses, about the prowess Ilya Muromets, Dobrynya Nikitich, Alyosha Popovich, about Polkan the hero, about Kolechiche the passerby, about how they wandered around Rus', beat countless hordes of infidels, how they competed to see who could drink a glass of green wine in one breath and not grunt; then she spoke about evil robbers, about sleeping princesses, petrified cities and people; finally, she moved on to our demonology, to the dead, to monsters and werewolves.

With the simplicity and good nature of Homer, with the same lively fidelity to the details and relief of the pictures, she put into the children's memory and imagination the iliad of Russian life, created by our Homerids of those foggy times, when man was not yet comfortable with the dangers and mysteries of nature and life, when he trembled and before the werewolf, and before the goblin, and with Alyosha Popovich, he sought protection from the troubles that surrounded him, when miracles reigned in the air, and in the water, and in the forest, and in the field.

The life of the man of that time was terrible and unfaithful; It was dangerous for him to go beyond the threshold of the house: just behold, he would be whipped by an animal, stabbed to death by a robber, an evil Tatar would take everything away from him, or the man would disappear without a trace, without any trace.

And then suddenly heavenly signs will appear, pillars of fire and balls; and there, over a fresh grave, a light will flash, or someone is walking in the forest, as if with a lantern, laughing terribly and sparkling his eyes in the darkness.

And so many incomprehensible things were happening to the man himself: a person lives and lives long and well - nothing, but suddenly he starts talking in such an unworthy way, or starts shouting in a voice that is not his own, or wanders sleepy at night; the other, for no apparent reason, will begin to warp and hit the ground. And before this happened, a hen had just crowed a rooster and a raven cawed over the roof.

The weak man was lost, looking around in horror at life, and looked in his imagination for the key to the mysteries of the surrounding nature and his own.

Or perhaps sleep, the eternal silence of a sluggish life and the absence of movement and any real fears, adventures and dangers forced a person to create another, unrealizable world in the natural world and in it to seek revelry and fun for the idle imagination or the solution to ordinary combinations of circumstances and causes of the phenomenon outside itself phenomena.

Our poor ancestors lived gropingly; They did not inspire or restrain their will, and then they naively marveled or were horrified by the inconvenience, evil and interrogated the reasons from the silent, unclear hieroglyphs of nature.

For them, death occurred from the dead person who had previously been carried out of the house with his head, and not with his feet from the gate; fire - because a dog howled under the window for three nights; and they took pains to ensure that the deceased was carried out of the gate with their feet, and ate the same things, and slept the same as before on the bare grass; the howling dog was beaten or driven out of the yard, but the sparks from the splinter were still thrown into a crack in the rotten floor.

And to this day, in the midst of the strict, devoid of fiction reality that surrounds him, Russian people love to believe the seductive legends of antiquity, and it may be a long time before he renounces this faith.

Listening to stories from the nanny about our golden rune - Firebird, about the obstacles and secret places of the magic castle, the boy was either cheerful, imagining himself a hero of the feat, and goosebumps ran down his spine, or he suffered for the failures of the brave man.

Story after story flowed. The nanny told the story with fervor, picturesquely, with enthusiasm, and in places with inspiration, because she herself half believed the stories. The old woman's eyes sparkled with fire; my head was shaking with excitement; the voice rose to unusual notes.

The child, overwhelmed by unknown horror, huddled close to her with tears in his eyes.

Whether the conversation was about the dead rising from their graves at midnight, or about victims languishing in captivity with a monster, or about a bear with a wooden leg who goes through villages and villages to look for the natural leg that was cut off from him, the child’s hair cracked on his head with horror. ; the children's imagination either froze or boiled; he experienced a painful, sweetly painful process; my nerves were tense like strings.

When the nanny gloomily repeated the bear’s words: “Creak, creak, your leg is fake; I walked through the villages, walked through the village, all the women were sleeping, one woman was not sleeping, sitting on my skin, cooking my meat, spinning my wool,” etc.; when the bear finally entered the hut and was preparing to grab the kidnapper of his leg, the child could not stand it: with trepidation and a squeal, he threw himself into the nanny’s arms; Tears of fright begin to flow from his eyes, and at the same time he laughs with joy that he is not in the claws of the beast, but on a couch, next to the nanny.

The boy's imagination was filled with strange ghosts; fear and melancholy settled into the soul for a long time, perhaps forever. He sadly looks around and sees everything in life as harm, misfortune, everything dreams of that magical side, where there is no evil, troubles, sorrows, where Militrisa Kirbityevna lives, where they feed and clothe so well for nothing...

The fairy tale retains its power not only over children in Oblomovka, but also over adults until the end of their lives. Everyone in the house and in the village, from the master, his wife to the burly blacksmith Taras, everyone trembles for something on a dark evening: every tree then turns into a giant, every bush into a den of robbers.

The knocking of the shutters and the howling of the wind in the chimney made men, women and children turn pale. No one will go out of the gate alone after ten o'clock in the evening at Epiphany; Everyone on Easter night will be afraid to go to the stable, for fear of finding a brownie there.

In Oblomovka they believed everything: werewolves and the dead. If they are told that a haystack was walking across the field, they will not think twice and will believe it; If anyone hears a rumor that this is not a ram, but something else, or that such and such a Marfa or Stepanida is a witch, they will be afraid of both the ram and Martha: it will not even occur to them to ask why the ram became so a ram, and Martha became a witch, and they would even attack anyone who thought of doubting this - so strong is the faith in the miraculous in Oblomovka!

Ilya Ilyich will see later that the world is simply structured, that the dead do not rise from their graves, that giants, as soon as they get started, are immediately put in a booth, and robbers in prison; but if the very belief in ghosts disappears, then some kind of residue of fear and unaccountable melancholy remains.

Ilya Ilyich learned that there are no troubles from monsters, and he barely knows what kind there are, and at every step he is still waiting for something terrible and is afraid. And now, when left in a dark room or seeing a dead person, he trembles from the ominous melancholy implanted in his soul in childhood; laughing at his fears in the morning, he turns pale again in the evening.

He is already studying in the village of Verkhlevo, about five versts from Oblomovka, with the local manager, the German Stolz, who started a small boarding school for the children of the surrounding nobles.

He had his own son, Andrei, almost the same age as Oblomov, and they also gave him one boy, who almost never studied, but suffered more from scrofula, spent his entire childhood constantly blindfolded or blindfolded, and kept crying in secret about the fact that he lived not at his grandmother’s, but in someone else’s house, among the villains, that there was no one to caress him and no one would bake him his favorite pie.

Apart from these children, there were no others in the boarding house yet.

There is nothing to do, father and mother put the spoiled one Ilyusha in front of a book. It was worth the tears, the screams, the whims. Finally they took me away.

The German was a practical and strict man, like almost all Germans. Maybe Ilyusha would have had time to learn something well from him, if Oblomovka had been five hundred versts from Verkhlev. And then how to learn? The charm of Oblomov’s atmosphere, lifestyle and habits extended to Verlevo; after all, it, too, was once Oblomovka; there, except for Stolz’s house, everything breathed the same primitive laziness, simplicity of morals, silence and stillness.

The child's mind and heart were filled with all the pictures, scenes and customs of this life before he saw the first book. Who knows how early the development of the mental seed in a child’s brain begins? How to follow the birth of the first concepts and impressions in the infant soul?

Maybe, when the child was still barely pronouncing words, or maybe he wasn’t pronouncing them at all, didn’t even walk, but only looked at everything with that intent, dumb child’s gaze, which adults call stupid, he already saw and guessed the meaning and connection of the phenomena around him sphere, but he just didn’t admit it to himself or others.

Maybe Ilyusha has long noticed and understands what they say and do in front of him: like his father, in corduroy trousers, in a brown woolen woolen jacket, all he knows all day is that he walks from corner to corner, with his hands behind him, sniffing tobacco and blows his nose, and mother goes from coffee to tea, from tea to dinner; that the parent would never even think of believing how many kopecks were mowed or compressed, and recovering for the omission, and if you don’t hand him a handkerchief soon enough, he will scream about the riots and turn the whole house upside down.

Perhaps his childish mind had long ago decided that this is how he should live, and not otherwise, the way the adults around him live. And how else would you tell him to decide? How did the adults live in Oblomovka?

Did they ask themselves: why was life given? God knows. And how did they answer it? Probably not; it seemed very simple and clear to them.

They had not heard of the so-called difficult life, of people who carry languid worries in their chests, scurrying for some reason from corner to corner across the face of the earth, or devoting their lives to eternal, never-ending work.

The Oblomovites had little faith in spiritual anxieties; they did not mistake for life the cycle of eternal aspirations somewhere, for something; they were afraid, like fire, of passions; and just as in another place people’s bodies quickly burned out from the volcanic work of internal, spiritual fire, so the soul of Oblomov’s people sank peacefully, without interference, into a soft body.

Life did not brand them like others, neither with premature wrinkles, nor with morally destructive blows and illnesses.

Good people understood it only as an ideal of peace and inaction, disrupted from time to time by various unpleasant accidents, such as illness, losses, quarrels and, among other things, labor.

They endured labor as a punishment imposed on our forefathers, but they could not love, and where there was a chance, they always got rid of it, finding it possible and necessary.

They never embarrassed themselves with any vague mental or moral questions: that’s why they always blossomed with health and fun, that’s why they lived there for a long time; men at forty looked like youths; the old people did not struggle with a difficult, painful death, but, having lived to the point of impossibility, they died as if on the sly, quietly freezing and imperceptibly breathing their last breath. That is why they say that the people were stronger before.

Yes, in fact, stronger: before, they were in no hurry to explain to the child the meaning of life and prepare him for it, as for something sophisticated and serious; did not torment him over books that give birth to a darkness of questions in his head, and questions gnaw at the mind and heart and shorten his life.

The standard of life was ready and taught to them by their parents, and they accepted it, also ready, from their grandfather, and grandfather from their great-grandfather, with a covenant to guard its integrity and inviolability, like the fire of Vesta. Just as what was done under our grandfathers and fathers, so it was done under Ilya Ilyich’s father, so, perhaps, is still being done now in Oblomovka.

What did they have to think about and what to worry about, what to learn, what goals to achieve?

Nothing is needed: life, like a calm river, flowed past them; they could only sit on the bank of this river and observe the inevitable phenomena that, in turn, without calling, appeared before each of them.

And so the sleeping Ilya Ilyich’s imagination began to reveal itself, one by one, like living pictures, the three main acts of life that played out both in his family and among relatives and acquaintances: homeland, wedding, funeral.

Then a motley procession of its cheerful and sad divisions stretched out: christenings, name days, family holidays, fasting, breaking the fast, noisy dinners, family gatherings, greetings, congratulations, official tears and smiles.

Everything was sent with such precision, so important and solemn.

He even imagined familiar faces and their expressions during various rituals, their care and bustle. Give them whatever delicate matchmaking you want, whatever kind of solemn wedding or name day you want - they will celebrate it according to all the rules, without the slightest omission. Who should be planted where, what should be served and how, who should go with whom in the ceremony, whether the rules should be observed - in all this no one has ever made the slightest mistake in Oblomovka.

Will they not be able to leave the child there? One has only to look at the pink and weighty cupids the mothers there wear and lead around. They insist that the children be plump, white and healthy.

They will retreat from spring, they will not want to know it, if they do not bake it at the beginning of its lark. How can they not know and not do this?

Here is their whole life and science, here are all their sorrows and joys: that is why they drive away from themselves all other worries and sorrows and do not know other joys; their life was teeming exclusively with these fundamental and inevitable events, which provided endless food for their minds and hearts.

They, with their hearts beating with excitement, awaited a ritual, a feast, a ceremony, and then, having baptized, married or buried a person, they forgot the person himself and his fate and plunged into the usual apathy, from which they were brought out by a new similar event - a name day, a wedding and etc.

As soon as a child was born, the first concern of the parents was to perform all the rituals required by decency as accurately as possible, without the slightest omissions, that is, to organize a feast after the christening; then the caring care for him began.

The mother set herself and the nanny the task of raising a healthy child, protecting him from colds, eyes and other hostile circumstances. They worked hard to ensure that the child was always happy and ate a lot.

As soon as they put the young man on his feet, that is, when he no longer needs a nanny, a secret desire creeps into the mother’s heart to find him a girlfriend - also healthier, more rosy.

The era of rituals and feasts is coming again; finally, the wedding; The whole pathos of life was focused on this.

Then repetitions began: the birth of children, rituals, feasts, until the funeral changed the scenery; but not for long: some people give way to others, children become young men and at the same time grooms, they get married, produce people like themselves - and so life according to this program stretches on in an uninterrupted monotonous fabric, imperceptibly breaking off at the very grave.

True, sometimes other worries were imposed on them, but Oblomov’s people met them for the most part with stoic immobility, and worries, circling over their heads, rushed past, like birds that fly to a smooth wall and, not finding a place to shelter, flutter their wings in vain near a solid stone and fly further.

So, for example, one day part of the gallery on one side of the house suddenly collapsed and buried a hen and her chickens under its ruins; Aksinya, Antip’s wife, would have gone too, who sat down under the gallery with the bottom, but at that time, fortunately for her, went for the lobes.

There was a hubbub in the house: everyone came running, young and old, and were horrified, imagining that instead of a hen with chickens, the lady herself could be walking here with Ilya Ilyich.

Everyone gasped and began to reproach each other for how it had not occurred to them for a long time: to remind one, to tell another to correct, to a third to correct.

Everyone was amazed that the gallery had collapsed, and the day before they wondered how it had held up for so long!

Concerns and discussions began about how to improve the matter; they regretted the mother hen with the chicks and slowly went to their places, strictly forbidding them to bring Ilya Ilyich to the gallery.

Then, three weeks later, Andryushka, Petrushka, and Vaska were ordered to drag the fallen boards and railings to the sheds so that they would not lie on the road. They lay there until spring.

Every time Old Man Oblomov sees them from the window, he will be preoccupied with the thought of amendment: he will call the carpenter, begin to consult on how best to do it, whether to build a new gallery or tear down the remains; then he will let him go home, saying: “Go ahead, and I’ll think about it.”

This continued until Vaska or Motka informed the master that when he, Motka, climbed the remains of the gallery this morning, the corners were completely behind the walls and were about to collapse again.

Then the carpenter was called to a final meeting, as a result of which it was decided to support the rest of the surviving gallery with old debris, which was done by the end of the same month.

Eh! Yes, the gallery will start again! - the old man said to his wife. - Look how Fedot beautifully arranged the logs, like columns in the leader’s house! Now it’s good: again for a long time!

Someone reminded him that it would be a good time to fix the gate and repair the porch, otherwise, they say, not only cats and pigs crawl into the basement through the steps.

Yes, yes, it’s necessary,” Ilya Ivanovich answered carefully and immediately went to inspect the porch.

In fact, you see how it’s completely shaken,” he said, rocking the porch with his feet like a cradle.

“Yes, it was wobbly even then, just like it was made,” someone remarked.

So what was wobbly? - answered Oblomov. - Yes, it didn’t fall apart, even though it’s been standing for sixteen years without correction. Luke did a great job then!.. Here was a carpenter, so a carpenter... died - the kingdom of heaven to him! Nowadays they are spoiled: they won’t do that.

And he turned his eyes in the other direction, and the porch, they say, is wobbly and has not yet fallen apart.

Apparently, this Luka was a really nice carpenter.

We must, however, give the owners justice: sometimes in trouble or inconvenience they will become very worried, even get excited and angry.

How, they say, can you start or leave both? We need to take action now. And they only talk about how to repair a bridge, perhaps, across a ditch, or fence off a garden in one place so that cattle don’t spoil the trees, because part of the fence was completely lying on the ground.

Ilya Ivanovich even extended his thoughtfulness to the point that one day, while walking in the garden, he lifted up the fence with his own hands, groaning and groaning, and ordered the gardener to quickly put up two poles: thanks to this goodwill of Oblomov, the fence stood like that all summer, and only in the winter it was covered with snow again.

Finally, it even got to the point that three new planks were laid on the bridge, immediately as Antip fell off it, with his horse and barrel, into the ditch. He had not yet recovered from the injury, and the bridge was almost completely refinished.

The cows and goats also took a little after the fence fell again in the garden: they ate only the currant bushes and began to peel off the tenth linden tree, but they didn’t even get to the apple trees, when the order was given to dig the fence properly and even dig in a ditch.

The two cows and the goat who were caught in the act also suffered: their sides swelled nicely!

Ilya Ilyich also dreams of a large dark living room in his parents’ house with antique ash armchairs, always covered with covers, with a huge, awkward and hard sofa, upholstered in faded blue barracks in spots, and one large leather chair.

A long winter evening is approaching.

The mother sits on the sofa, her legs tucked under her, and lazily knits a child's stocking, yawning and occasionally scratching her head with a knitting needle.

Nastasya Ivanovna and Pelageya Ignatievna sit next to her and, with their noses buried in their work, are diligently sewing something for the holiday for Ilyusha, or for his father, or for themselves.

The father, with his hands behind him, walks back and forth around the room, in complete pleasure, or sits down in a chair and, after sitting for a while, begins to walk again, carefully listening to the sound of his own steps. Then he sniffs the tobacco, blows his nose, and sniffs again.

There was one tallow candle burning dimly in the room, and this was only allowed on winter and autumn evenings. In the summer months, everyone tried to go to bed and get up without candles, in daylight.

This was done partly out of habit, partly out of economy. For any item that was not produced at home, but was purchased by purchase, the Oblomovites were extremely stingy.

They will cordially slaughter an excellent turkey or a dozen chickens for the arrival of a guest, but they will not add extra zest to the dish and will turn pale, just as the same guest willfully decides to pour himself a glass of wine.

However, such debauchery almost never happened there: only some tomboy, a person who was lost in the general opinion, would do this; such a guest will not even be allowed into the yard.

No, those were not the customs there: a guest there would not touch anything before eating three times. He knows very well that a single meal more often includes a request to refuse the offered dish or wine than to taste it.

Not even two candles can be lit for everyone: the candle was bought in the city with money and was taken care of, like all purchased items, under the owner’s own key. The cinders were carefully counted and hidden.

In general, they didn’t like to spend money there, and no matter how necessary the thing was, money for it was always given with great sympathy, and only if the cost was insignificant. Significant spending was accompanied by groans, screams and curses.

The Oblomovites agreed to endure all sorts of inconveniences better, they even got used to not considering them as inconveniences, rather than spending money.

Because of this, the sofa in the living room was covered in stains a long time ago, because of this, Ilya Ivanovich’s leather chair is only called leather, but in fact it is either a washcloth or a rope: there is only one scrap of leather left on the back, and the rest had already fallen into pieces and peeled off for five years; That may be why the gates are all crooked and the porch is wobbly. But suddenly paying two hundred, three hundred, five hundred rubles for something, even the most necessary, seemed almost suicide to them.

Hearing that one of the neighboring young landowners went to Moscow and paid three hundred rubles for a dozen shirts, twenty-five rubles for boots and forty rubles for a vest for a wedding, old man Oblomov crossed himself and said with an expression of horror, a patter that “such a fellow should be imprisoned to prison."

In general, they were deaf to political and economic truths about the need for rapid and active circulation of capital, about increased productivity and the exchange of products. In the simplicity of their souls, they understood and implemented the only use of capital - to keep it in a chest.

On the chairs in the living room, in different positions, the inhabitants or ordinary visitors of the house sit and snore.

For the most part, deep silence reigns between the interlocutors: everyone sees each other every day; mental treasures are mutually exhausted and exhausted, and there is little news from outside.

Quiet; Only the footsteps of Ilya Ivanovich’s heavy, homemade boots are heard, the wall clock in its case is still dully tapping with a pendulum, and from time to time a thread torn by hand or teeth from Pelageya Ignatievna or Nastasya Ivanovna breaks the deep silence.

So sometimes half an hour will pass, unless someone yawns out loud and crosses his mouth, saying: “Lord have mercy!”

A neighbor will yawn behind him, then the next one, slowly, as if on command, opens his mouth, and so on, the infectious play of air in the lungs will bypass everyone, and another will burst into tears.

Or Ilya Ivanovich will go to the window, look there and say with some surprise: “It’s only five o’clock, and how dark it is outside!”

Yes, someone will answer, it’s always dark at this time; long evenings are coming.

And in the spring they will be surprised and happy that the long days are coming. But ask why they need these long days, they themselves don’t know.

And they will be silent again.

And then someone starts taking the candle off and suddenly extinguishes it - everyone will start up: “Unexpected guest!” - someone will certainly say.

Sometimes this will start a conversation.

Who would this guest be? - the hostess will say. - Isn’t it Nastasya Faddeevna? Oh, God forbid! Not really; it won't be closer than the holiday. That would be a joy! We should have hugged and cried together with her! Both for matins and for mass together... But where can I go for it! It’s a gift that I’m younger, but I can’t withstand this much!

When did she leave us? - asked Ilya Ivanovich. - It seems after Ilyin’s day?

What are you doing, Ilya Ivanovich! You'll always get it wrong! “She didn’t even wait until the seventh semester,” my wife corrected.

It seems she was here in Petrovka,” Ilya Ivanovich objects.

You always do! - the wife will say reproachfully. - If you argue, you will only embarrass yourself...

Well, how come you weren’t in Petrovka? Even back then, everyone baked pies with mushrooms: she loves...

So this is Marya Onisimovna: she loves mushroom pies - how can you remember! And Marya Onisimovna was visiting not until Ilya’s day, but before Prokhor and Nikanor.

They kept track of time by holidays, by seasons, by various family and home occasions, never referring to months or numbers. Perhaps this was partly due to the fact that, besides Oblomov himself, others kept confusing both the names of the months and the order of numbers.

The defeated Ilya Ivanovich will fall silent, and again the whole society will fall into slumber. Ilyusha, slumped behind his mother, also dozes, and sometimes even sleeps completely.

Yes,” one of the guests will later say with a deep sigh, “that’s Marya Onisimovna’s husband, the deceased Vasily Fomich, who was, God bless him, healthy, but he died! And he didn’t live sixty years, but someone like that could live a hundred years!

We will all die, no matter when - God's will! - Pelageya Ignatievna objects with a sigh. - Those who die, but the Khlopovs don’t have time to baptize: they say Anna Andrevna gave birth again - this is the sixth.

Is it only Anna Andreevna? - said the hostess. - Just like her brother is getting married and having children - how much more trouble will there be! And the younger ones grow up and also look to be grooms; Marry your daughters there, but where are the suitors here? Nowadays, you see, everyone wants a dowry, but it’s all money...

What are you saying? - asked Ilya Ivanovich, approaching those talking.

Yes, we say that...

And the story is repeated to him.

This is human life! - Ilya Ivanovich said instructively. - One dies, another is born, a third gets married, but we keep getting older: let alone year after year, day after day! Why is this so? What would it be like if every day were like yesterday, yesterday like tomorrow!.. It’s sad, when you think about it...

The old grows old, and the young grows! - someone said from the corner in a sleepy voice.

We need to pray to God more and not think about anything! - the hostess remarked sternly.

True, true,” Ilya Ivanovich responded cowardly and quickly, having decided to philosophize, and began to walk back and forth again.

They are silent again for a long time; Only the threads threaded back and forth with the needle hiss. Sometimes the hostess will break the silence.

Yes, it’s dark outside, she’ll say. - Now, God willing, as soon as we wait for Christmas, they will come to visit their people, it will be more fun, and you won’t see how the evenings will go. Now, if Malanya Petrovna had come, there would have been some mischief here! What won't she do? And pour tin, and melt wax, and run through the gates; All my girls will be led astray. He will start different games... like that, really!

Yes, society lady! - one of the interlocutors noted. - In the third year, she even decided to ride from the mountains, that’s how Luka Savich broke his eyebrow...

Suddenly everyone perked up, looked at Luka Savich and burst into laughter.

How are you, Luka Savic? Come on, come on, tell me! - says Ilya Ivanovich and dies with laughter.

And everyone continues to laugh, and Ilyusha woke up, and he laughs.

Well, what can I tell you! - says embarrassed Luka Savic. - Alexey Naumych made it all up: nothing happened at all.

Eh! - everyone picked it up in unison. - How come nothing happened? Are we really dead?.. And the forehead, the forehead, there, the scar is still visible...

And they laughed.

Why are you laughing? - Luka Savic tries to say in between laughter. - I would... and not that... but that’s all Vaska, the robber... I slipped the old sled... they moved apart under me... I and that...

General laughter covered his voice. It was in vain that he tried to tell the story of his fall: laughter spread throughout the whole society, penetrated to the hall and to the maid's room, enveloped the whole house, everyone remembered the funny incident, everyone laughed for a long time, in unison, unspeakably like the Olympian gods. As soon as they start to fall silent, someone will pick it up again - and off to write.

Finally, somehow, with difficulty, we calmed down.

Are you going to talk about Christmas time today, Luka Savich? - Ilya Ivanovich asked after a pause.

Again a general burst of laughter that lasted about ten minutes.

Shouldn't we tell Antipka to make a mountain a post? - Oblomov will suddenly say again. - Luka Savich, they say, is a big hunter, he can’t wait...

The laughter of the whole company did not allow him to finish.

Are those... sleds intact? - one of the interlocutors said barely out of laughter.

Laughter again.

Everyone laughed for a long time, and finally they began to calm down little by little: one was wiping away tears, another was blowing his nose, a third was coughing furiously and spitting, with difficulty pronouncing:

Oh, Lord! The phlegm completely suffocated me... I made him laugh then, by God! Such a sin! How his back is up, and the tails of his caftan are apart...

Here came the final, longest peal of laughter, and then everything fell silent. One sighed, the other yawned loudly, with a sentence, and everything fell into silence.

As before, only the swing of the pendulum, the knock of Oblomov’s boots, and the light crack of a bitten thread could be heard.

Suddenly Ilya Ivanovich stopped in the middle of the room with an alarmed look, holding the tip of his nose.

What kind of trouble is this? Check this out! - he said. - To be dead: the tip of my nose is itching...

Oh, Lord! - the wife said, clasping her hands. - What kind of dead man is this if the tip itches? Dead - when the bridge of the nose itches. Well, Ilya Ivanovich, what are you, God bless you, unconscious! If you ever say something like that in public or in front of guests, you will be ashamed.

What does this mean, the tip itches? - asked the confused Ilya Ivanovich.

Look into the glass. And how is this possible: dead!

I'm confusing everything! - said Ilya Ivanovich. - Where should I mention: sometimes the side of the nose itches, sometimes the end, sometimes the eyebrows...

On the side,” Pelageya Ivanovna picked up, “means to lead; eyebrows itch - tears; forehead - bow; it itches on the right side for a man, on the left for a woman; ears itch - it means rain, lips - kissing, mustache - there are gifts, elbow - in a new place to sleep, soles - the road...

Well, Pelageya Ivanovna, well done! - said Ilya Ivanovich. - Otherwise, when the oil is cheap, the back of your head will itch...

The ladies began to laugh and whisper; some of the men were smiling; an outburst of laughter was preparing again, but at that moment there was heard in the room at the same time, as if the grumbling of a dog and the hissing of a cat, when they were about to rush at each other. The clock buzzed.

Eh! It's nine o'clock! - Ilya Ivanovich said with joyful amazement. - Look, you probably won’t even see how time has passed. Hey Vaska! Vanka! Motka!

Three sleepy faces appeared.

Why don't you set the table? - Oblomov asked with surprise and annoyance. - No, to think about the gentlemen? Well, what are you worth? Hurry, vodka!

That's why the tip of my nose itched! - Pelageya Ivanovna said vividly. - You will drink vodka and look into the glass.

After dinner, having smacked their lips and crossed each other, everyone goes to their beds, and sleep reigns over their careless heads.

Ilya Ilyich sees in his dreams not just one, not two such evenings, but whole weeks, months and years of days and evenings spent like this.

Nothing disturbed the monotony of this life, and the Oblomovites themselves were not burdened by it, because they could not imagine another life; and even if they could imagine it, they would turn away from him in horror.

They didn’t want any other life, and they wouldn’t love it. They would be sorry if circumstances brought any changes to their life. They will be gnawed by melancholy if tomorrow is not like today, and the day after tomorrow is not like tomorrow.

Why do they need variety, change, chance, which others ask for? Let others clear up this cup, but they, the Oblomovites, don’t care about anything. Let others live as they want.

After all, accidents, even if there are some benefits, are restless: they require trouble, worries, running around, don’t sit still, trade or write - in a word, turn around, it’s no joke!

They continued to sniffle, doze and yawn for decades, or burst into good-natured laughter from village humor, or, gathering in a circle, they told what they saw in their dreams at night.

If the dream was terrible, everyone thought about it, they were seriously afraid; if prophetic, everyone was unfeignedly happy or sad, depending on whether the dream was sad or comforting. If the dream required the observance of any sign, active measures were immediately taken for this.

That’s not it, this is how fools play their trump cards, but on holidays they go to Boston with guests or play grand solitaire, tell fortunes about the king of hearts and the queen of clubs, predicting margins.

Sometimes some Natalya Faddeevna will come to stay for a week or two. First, the old women will go through the entire neighborhood, who lives how, who does what; they will penetrate not only into family life, into behind-the-scenes life, but into the innermost thoughts and intentions of everyone, they will get into the soul, they will scold, they will discuss unworthy, most of all unfaithful husbands, then they will count various occasions: name days, christenings, homelands, who treated whom with what called who was not there.

Tired of this, they will begin to show new clothes, dresses, coats, even skirts and stockings. The hostess will boast of some homemade linen, thread, or lace.

But this too will be exhausted. Then they add coffee, tea, and jam. Then they switch to silence.

They sit for a long time, looking at each other, from time to time sighing heavily about something. Sometimes someone will cry.

What are you, my mother? - another will ask in alarm.

Oh, sad, my dear! - the guest answers with a heavy sigh. - We have angered the Lord God, wretched ones. No good will happen.

Oh, don’t frighten, don’t frighten, dear! - the hostess interrupts.

Yes, yes,” she continues. - The last days have come: language will rise against language, kingdom against kingdom... the end of the world will come! - Natalya Faddeevna finally reprimands, and both cry bitterly.

There was no basis for such a conclusion on Natalya Faddeevna’s part, no one rebelled against anyone, there wasn’t even a comet that year, but old women sometimes have dark premonitions.

Occasionally, this passing of time will be interrupted by some unexpected incident, when, for example, everyone burns the whole house, from young to old.

There were almost no other diseases heard in the house and village; Unless someone runs into some kind of stake in the dark, or rolls out of the hayloft, or a board falls from the roof and hits him on the head.

But all this happened rarely, and against such accidents, tried and tested home remedies were used: they rub the bruised area with a body of water or dawn, give them holy water to drink or whisper - and everything will go away.

But fumes happened often. Then everyone lies side by side on their beds: groans and groans are heard; one will cover his head with cucumbers and tie himself with a towel, another will put cranberries in his ears and sniff horseradish, a third will go out into the cold in his shirt, the fourth will simply lie unconscious on the floor.

This happened periodically once or twice a month, because they didn’t like to let heat go down the drain for nothing and they closed the stoves when there were still such lights running in them as in “Robert the Devil.” Not to any couch,

It was impossible to put your hands on any stove: just look, a bubble would pop up.

One day, the monotony of their life was broken by a truly unexpected incident.

When, having rested after a difficult lunch, everyone gathered for tea, Oblomov’s peasant suddenly came back from the city, and he was already reaching out from his bosom, finally forcibly taking out a crumpled letter addressed to Ilya Ivanovich Oblomov.

Everyone was stunned; the hostess even changed a little in her face; Everyone's eyes turned and their noses stretched towards the letter.

What a wonder! Who is this from? - the lady finally said, having come to her senses.

Oblomov took the letter and turned it over in his hands in bewilderment, not knowing what to do with it.

Where did you get it? - he asked the man. - Who gave it to you?

And in the yard where I stopped in the city, you hear,” the man answered, “the post office came twice to ask if there were Oblomov’s men: listen, there is a letter for the master.

Well, first of all, I hid: the soldier left with the letter. Yes, the Verkhlevsky sexton saw me, that’s what he said. They suddenly came in a row. When they suddenly came in a row, they began to swear and gave away the letter, and took another nickel. I asked what should I do with it, where should I put it? So they told your honor to give it.

“You wouldn’t take it,” the lady remarked angrily.

I didn't take even that. What, they say, do we need a letter for? We don’t need it. They supposedly didn’t tell us to take letters - I don’t dare: go away with the letter! Yes, the soldier went to swear painfully: he wanted to complain to the authorities; I took it.

Fool! - said the lady.

Who would it be from? - Oblomov said thoughtfully, examining the address. - The hand seems familiar, really!

And the letter began to pass from hand to hand. Speculation and speculation began: from whom and what could it be about? Everyone was finally at a standstill.

Ilya Ivanovich ordered to find the glasses: it took an hour and a half to find them. He put them on and was already thinking about opening the letter.

Come on, don’t open it, Ilya Ivanovich,” his wife stopped him with fear, “who knows what kind of letter it is?” maybe something even worse, some kind of misfortune. Look what people have become today! Tomorrow or the day after tomorrow you will have time - it will not leave you.

And the letter with the glasses was hidden under lock and key. Everyone started drinking tea. It would have lain there for years if it had not been too unusual a phenomenon and did not excite the minds of the Oblomovites. At tea and the next day, all anyone could talk about was the letter.

Finally, they couldn’t bear it anymore, and on the fourth day, a crowd gathered and unsealed it with embarrassment. Oblomov looked at the signature.

“Radishchev,” he read. - Eh! Yes, this is from Philip Matveich!

A! Eh! That's who! - rose from all sides. - How is he still alive today? Come on, you're not dead yet! Well, thank God! What is he writing?

Send, send to him! - everyone started talking. - I need to write a letter.

So two weeks passed.

I must, I must write! - Ilya Ivanovich repeated to his wife. - Where is the recipe?

And where he? - answered the wife. - We still need to find it. Wait, what's the rush? Now, God willing, we’ll wait for the holiday, break our fast, and then you’ll write; won't leave yet...

In fact, I’d rather write about the holiday,” said Ilya Ivanovich.

At the celebration, the topic of writing came up again. Ilya Ivanovich was about to write. He retired to the office, put on his glasses and sat down at the table.

A deep silence reigned in the house; people were not ordered to stomp and make noise. “The master is writing!” - everyone said in such a timidly respectful voice, as they say when there is a dead person in the house.

He had just written: “Dear Sir,” slowly, crookedly, with a trembling hand and with such caution, as if he was doing some dangerous work, when his wife appeared to him.

“I searched and searched, but there was no recipe,” she said. - We need to look in the closet in the bedroom. But how to send a letter?

“We need the mail,” answered Ilya Ivanovich.

What's going on there?

Oblomov took out an old calendar.

“Forty kopecks,” he said.

Here, throw forty kopecks on trifles! - she remarked. - It’s better to wait to see if there is an opportunity from the city to go there. You told the men to find out.

And in fact, it’s better by chance,” answered Ilya Ivanovich and, clicking the pen on the table, stuck it into the inkwell and took off his glasses.

Really, it’s better,” he concluded, “he won’t leave yet: we’ll have time to send it.”

It is not known whether Philip Matveevich waited for the recipe.

Ilya Ivanovich will sometimes pick up a book - he doesn’t care if it’s any kind. He did not even suspect a significant need for reading, but considered it a luxury, something that one could easily do without, just as one can have a picture on the wall, one may not have it, one may go for a walk, one may not go: from this he doesn’t care what kind of book it is; he looked at it as a thing intended for entertainment, out of boredom and having nothing to do.

“I haven’t read a book for a long time,” he will say, or sometimes he will change the phrase: “Let me read a book,” he will say, or simply, in passing, he will accidentally see a small pile of books that he inherited from his brother and take it out, without choosing what he comes across. Will he get Golikov? Newest whether Dream Interpretation, Kheraskova Russiaada, or Sumarokov’s tragedies, or, finally, third-year reports - he reads everything with equal pleasure, saying from time to time:

You see what I made up! What a robber! Oh, may you be empty!

These exclamations referred to the authors - a title that in his eyes did not enjoy any respect; he even internalized the half-contempt for writers that people of the old days had for them. He, like many then, revered the writer as nothing more than a merry fellow, a reveler, a drunkard and a fun person, like a dancer.

Sometimes he reads from third-year newspapers out loud, for everyone, or so informs them of the news.

They write from Gaga, he will say, that His Majesty the King deigned to return safely from a short trip to the palace, and at the same time he will look through his glasses at all the listeners.

In Vienna, such and such an envoy presented his letters of credit.

And here they write,” he was still reading, “that the works of Madame Zhanlis were translated into Russian.

This is all tea, they translate it for this reason,” notes one of the listeners, a small landowner, “so that they can lure money out of our brother, a nobleman.”

And poor Ilyusha goes and goes to study with Stolz. As soon as he wakes up on Monday, he is already overwhelmed with melancholy. He hears Vaska’s sharp voice shouting from the porch:

Antipka! Lay down the pinto: take the little baron to the German!

His heart will tremble. He comes to his mother sadly. She knows why and begins to gild the pill, secretly sighing herself about being separated from him for a whole week.

They don’t know what to feed him that morning, they bake him buns and pretzels, send him pickles, cookies, jams, various pastries and all sorts of other dry and wet delicacies and even food supplies. All this was sold in the forms that the Germans feed on a low-fat basis.

You won’t eat there,” the Oblomovites said, “for lunch they’ll give you soup, and roast, and potatoes, butter for tea, and for dinner Morgen Free- wipe your nose.

However, Ilya Ilyich dreams more of Mondays like this, when he doesn’t hear Vaska’s voice ordering him to lay down the pawn, and when his mother meets him at tea with a smile and good news:

You can't go today; There's a big holiday on Thursday: is it worth traveling back and forth for three days?

Or sometimes she suddenly announces to him: “Today is parent’s week, there’s no time for studying: we’ll bake pancakes.”

Otherwise his mother will look at him intently on Monday morning and say:

Your eyes aren't fresh today. Are you healthy? - and shakes his head.

The crafty boy is healthy, but silent.

“Just sit at home this week,” she will say, “and see what God gives.”

And everyone in the house was imbued with the conviction that schooling and parental Saturday should in no way coincide together, or that the holiday on Thursday was an insurmountable obstacle to learning throughout the week.

Is it only sometimes that a servant or a girl who gets it for the little bark will grumble:

Ooh, darling! Will you soon fall in love with your German?

Another time, Antipka will suddenly appear to the German on a familiar pegasus, in the middle or at the beginning of the week, for Ilya Ilyich.

Marya Savishna or Natalya Faddeevna came to visit, they say, or the Kuzovkovs came with their children, so welcome home!

And for three weeks Ilyusha stays at home, and then, you see, it’s not far from Holy Week, and then there’s a holiday, and then someone in the family for some reason decides that they don’t study on St. Thomas’s Week; There are two weeks left before summer - there’s no point in traveling, and in the summer the German himself is on vacation, so it’s better to put it off until the fall.

Look, Ilya Ilyich will take six months off, and how he will grow in that time! How fat he will get! How nice he sleeps! They can’t stop looking at him in the house, noticing, on the contrary, that, having returned from the German on Saturday, the child is thin and pale.

How long before sin? - said father and mother. - Learning won't take you away, but you can't buy health; health is more valuable than anything in life. See, he comes back from his studies as if from the hospital: all the fat has disappeared, he’s so thin... and he’s also a naughty boy: he should just run around!

Yes, - the father will note, - teaching is not his brother: he will turn anyone into a ram’s horn!

And the tender parents continued to look for excuses to keep their son at home. There were no excuses, other than holidays. In winter it seemed cold to them, in summer it was also not good to travel in the heat, and sometimes it would rain, and in the fall the slush was a hindrance. Sometimes Antipka will seem doubtful about something: he is not drunk, but somehow looks wildly: if there is no trouble, he will get stuck or break off somewhere.

Oblomov’s followers, however, tried to give as much legitimacy as possible to these pretexts in their own eyes and especially in the eyes of Stolz, who did not spare both in the eyes and behind the eyes Donnerwetters for such pampering.

The times of the Prostakovs and Skotinins are long gone. Proverb: Learning is light and ignorance is darkness- she was already wandering through villages and hamlets along with books delivered by second-hand book dealers.

The old people understood the benefits of enlightenment, but only its external benefits. They saw that everyone had already begun to go out into the world, that is, to acquire ranks, crosses and money only through study; that the old clerks, busy businessmen in the service, grown old in old habits, quotes and hooks, had a bad time.

Ominous rumors began to circulate about the need not only for knowledge of literacy, but also for other sciences, hitherto unheard of in that everyday life. An abyss opened up between the titular adviser and the collegiate assessor, and some kind of diploma served as a bridge across it.

Old servants, children of habit and pets of bribes, began to disappear. Many who did not have time to die were expelled for unreliability, others were put on trial; The happiest were those who, having given up on the new order of things, retreated as best they could into their newly acquired corners.

The Oblomovs realized this and understood the benefits of education, but only this obvious benefit. They still had a vague and distant concept of the inner need for learning, and that is why they wanted to grasp for their Ilyusha some brilliant advantages.

They also dreamed of an embroidered uniform for him, imagined him as a councilor in the chamber, and even his mother as a governor; but they would like to achieve all this somehow cheaper, with various tricks, to secretly bypass the stones and obstacles scattered along the path of enlightenment and honor, without bothering to jump over them, that is, for example, to study lightly, not to the point of exhaustion of soul and body, not until the loss of the blessed fullness acquired in childhood, and so that only to comply with the prescribed form and somehow obtain a certificate in which it would be said that Ilyusha passed all sciences and arts.

This entire Oblomov education system met with strong opposition in Stolz’s system. The fight was stubborn on both sides. Stolz directly, openly and persistently struck his opponents, and they evaded the blows with the above and other tricks.

Victory was not decided in any way; Perhaps German perseverance would have overcome the stubbornness and rigidity of the Oblomovites, but the German encountered difficulties on his own side, and victory was not destined to be decided on either side. The fact is that Stolz’s son spoiled Oblomov, either giving him lessons or doing translations for him.

Ilya Ilyich clearly sees both his home life and his life with Stolz.

He had just woken up at home when Zakharka, later his famous valet Zakhar Trofimych, was already standing at his bedside.

Zakhar, as he used to be a nanny, pulls on his stockings and puts on his shoes, and Ilyusha, already a fourteen-year-old boy, only knows that he is lying on one leg or the other; and if anything seems wrong to him, he will kick Zakharka in the nose.

If the dissatisfied Zakharka decides to complain, he will also receive a mallet from his elders.

Then Zakharka scratches his head, pulls on his jacket, carefully threading Ilya Ilyich’s hands into the sleeves so as not to disturb him too much, and reminds Ilya Ilyich that he needs to do this and that: get up in the morning, wash, etc.

If Ilya Ilyich wants anything, he only has to blink - three or four servants rush to fulfill his desire; will he drop something, does he need to get something, but can’t get it, should he bring something, should he run for something: sometimes, like a playful boy, he just wants to rush in and redo everything himself, and then suddenly his father and mother and three the aunts in five voices and shout:

For what? Where? What about Vaska, and Vanka, and Zakharka? Hey! Vaska! Vanka! Zakharka! What are you looking at, dumbass? Here I am!..

And Ilya Ilyich will never be able to do anything for himself.

Afterwards he found that it was much calmer, and he himself learned to shout: “Hey, Vaska! Vanka! give me this, give me something else! I don't want this, I want that! Run and get it!”

Sometimes the tender care of his parents bothered him.

Whether he runs down the stairs or across the yard, suddenly ten desperate voices will be heard after him: “Ah, ah! Support, stop! He’ll fall and hurt himself... stop, stop!”

Whether he thinks of jumping out into the hallway in winter or opening the window - again the shouts: “Oh, where? How is it possible? Don’t run, don’t walk, don’t open the door: you’ll kill yourself, catch a cold...”

And Ilyusha remained at home with sadness, cherished like an exotic flower in a greenhouse, and, just like the last one under glass, he grew slowly and sluggishly. Those seeking manifestations of power turned inward and sank, withering away.

And sometimes he wakes up so cheerful, fresh, cheerful; he feels: something is playing in him, seething, as if some kind of imp has taken up residence, who is teasing him to either climb onto the roof, or sit on the Savraska and gallop into the meadows where hay is being cut, or sit on the fence astride, or tease village dogs; or suddenly you want to run around the village, then into the field, along the gullies, into the birch forest and throw yourself to the bottom of the ravine in three leaps, or tag along with the boys to play snowballs, try your hand.

The imp just keeps washing him away: he holds on, holds on, finally can’t stand it, and suddenly, without a cap, in winter, he jumps from the porch into the yard, from there through the gate, grabs a lump of snow in both hands and rushes towards a bunch of boys.

The fresh wind cuts his face, the frost stings his ears, his mouth and throat smell of cold, and his chest is filled with joy - he rushes where his legs came from, he himself squeals and laughs.

Here come the boys: he bangs the snow - he misses: there is no skill; Just wanted to grab another snowball, when a whole block of snow covered his whole face: he fell; and it hurts him out of habit, and he is happy, and he laughs, and there are tears in his eyes...

And there is a hubbub in the house: Ilyusha is gone! Scream, noise. Zakharka jumped out into the yard, followed by Vaska, Mitka, Vanka - everyone was running, confused, around the yard.

Two dogs rushed after them, grabbing their heels, which, as you know, cannot indifferently see a running person.

People screaming, screaming, dogs barking rush through the village.

Finally they ran at the boys and began to inflict justice: some by the hair, some by the ears, another on the back of the head; They also threatened their fathers.

Then they took possession of the little boy, wrapped him in a captured sheepskin coat, then in his father’s fur coat, then in two blankets and solemnly carried him home in his arms.

At home they despaired of seeing him, considering him dead; but at the sight of him, alive and unharmed, the parents’ joy was indescribable. They thanked the Lord God, then they gave him mint, some elderberry, and in the evening some raspberries to drink and kept him in bed for three days, but one thing could be useful for him: playing snowballs again...

Development of a literature lesson on the topic “I. Goncharov. Novel "Oblomov". Analysis of Chapter 9. “Oblomov’s Dream.”

Grade 10

Subject: I. Goncharov. Novel "Oblomov". Analysis of Chapter 9 “Oblomov’s Dream”.

Target: 1. Understanding the image of the main character of the novel through the analysis of Chapter 9. Determining the role of sleep in the system of the work.

2.Training in the analysis of a work. Development of critical thinking of students through meaningful reading of a work.

3. Promoting the moral education of students.

Planned results:

Personal: education of a spiritually developed personality, ready for self-knowledge and self-improvement, capable of creative activity in the modern world; the formation of a humanistic worldview, national identity, civic position, feelings of patriotism, love and respect for literature and the values ​​of national culture;

Metasubject: the ability to evaluate the correctness of completing a learning task and one’s own capabilities to solve it; semantic reading; formulate a dialogical statement in accordance with the requirements of speech etiquette;

Subject: the ability to analyze a literary work; formulating one’s own attitude towards works of literature, their evaluation; understanding the author’s position and one’s attitude towards it; understanding the figurative nature of literature as a phenomenon of verbal art.

Lesson type: lesson on solving an educational problem.

During the classes:

1.Motivation.

Today in the lesson we are focusing on I. Goncharov’s novel “Oblomov”, namely chapter 9, which describes the dream of Ilya Ilyich Oblomov. As an epigraph to the lesson, you can take the words of the hero of the work himself:

“Why am I like this? - Oblomov asked himself almost in tears and hid his head under the blanket again, “really?”

“Dreams are a reflection of reality. Reality is a reflection of dreams." (Sigmund Freud)

How do you understand these statements?

2. Goal setting.

Based on the topic of the lesson and the epigraph, we will set ourselves the goals of our lesson.

3. Preparation for the main stage of the lesson.

What is the role of sleep in our life? (Students' answers)

In which Russian works of the 19th century do the authors use dream sequences?

(Svetlana’s dream in the ballad “Svetlana” by V. Zhukovsky, Tatyana Larina’s dream in A. Pushkin’s novel “Eugene Onegin”, Grinev’s dream in “The Captain’s Daughter” by A. Pushkin, Katerina’s dreams in the play “The Thunderstorm” by N. Ostrovsky, Raskolnikov’s dreams in “Crime and Punishment” by F. Dostoevsky...)

For what purpose do Russian writers include dreams in their works?

(In Zhukovsky: the dream is a reflection of the fears of Svetlana, who is waiting for her groom; Tatyana’s dream is a prediction, predetermination of the future of the heroes, a prophetic dream; Grinev’s dream anticipates future events, also prophetic; Katerina’s juice is a way of reflecting the gradual deep changes occurring in the heroine’s soul; dreams Raskolnikov also reflect the physical and moral state of the hero who committed the crime.)

What is the function of sleep in Goncharov’s novel - we will answer at the end of our reflections.

4.Text analysis.

What were the village huts of the Oblomovites like?(« as if accidentally thrown by a giant hand and scattered in different directions,” “one hut ended up on the cliff of a ravine, and has been hanging there since time immemorial, standing with one half in the air and supported by three poles. Three or four generations lived quietly and happily in it”, “The porch hung over the ravine”...)

How do these statements characterize the Oblomovites?(Mismanagement, laziness, indifference)

How do Oblomovites feel about “strangers”?(“Their interests were focused on themselves”, “The boys were the first to notice him and ran to the village in horror with the news of some terrible snake or werewolf who was lying in a ditch”, “A passerby made a movement to raise his head, but did not could... Stranger, don't bother! Let it be! And you had no reason to walk!” These are examples of callousness, indifference to the suffering of others, narrow-mindedness, the absence of them even among old people.)

At what moments does Ilya Ilyich see himself in a dream?(As a child on his parents’ estate, as a teenager – “on in the village of Verkhlev, about five versts from Oblomovka, with the local manager, the German Stoltz, who started a small boarding school for the children of the surrounding nobles.”)

What are morning, afternoon, evening like for the Oblomov family? Parents?(« It cannot be said that the morning was wasted in the Oblomovs’ house. The sound of knives chopping cutlets and greens in the kitchen even reached the village,” “Oblomov himself, an old man, is also not without occupations. He sits at the window all morning and strictly watches everything that is happening in the yard,” “And his wife is very busy: she talks for three hours with Averka, the tailor...”, “But the main concern was the kitchen and dinner. The whole house discussed dinner”, “And so until noon everything was fussing and worrying, everything lived such a full, ant-like, such a noticeable life”, at noon everyone slept, in the evening Ilyusha listened to fairy tales, “And old Oblomov and grandfather listened to the same stories in childhood fairy tales passed down in the stereotypical edition of antiquity, in the mouths of nannies...".)

What is the main concern in Oblomovka?(“Caring for food was the first and main concern of life in Oblomovka.”)

What did they say at the end of the day? Why?(“The day has passed, and thank God!” said the Oblomovites, going to bed, groaning and making the sign of the cross. “We lived well, God willing, the same tomorrow! Glory to you, Lord! Glory to you, Lord!” Not they loved fuss, unnecessary movements, worries, troubles, besides the usual ones, they were afraid to disrupt the normal course of the day, they were careful. So one day a letter with a request to write a beer recipe caused a big stir, the Oblomovs did not immediately dare to even read it.)

Why doesn’t the lifestyle change in Oblomovka?(“The norm of life was ready and taught to them by their parents, and they accepted it, also ready, from their grandfather, and grandfather from their great-grandfather, with a covenant to guard its integrity and inviolability, like the fire of Vesta.”)

How did they treat Ilyusha in the house?(Excessive “tender care”, guardianship - “and Ilya Ilyich will never be able to do anything for himself”, they were not allowed to go “outside the gate”, at night they told fairy tales, scary stories, pampered, cherished “like an exotic flower in a greenhouse ", the goal is a healthy, rosy child, “they understood the benefits of education, but only its external benefits”, “learning won’t go away, but you can’t buy health, health is more valuable than anything in life”, “they like to fantasize about Ilyusha’s future.”)

How is Ilyusha shown as a child?(“The child looked at everything and observed everything with his childish mind, not missing anything,” he wanted to see the world outside the house, loved to listen to fairy tales, believed everything they told him, wanted to play, frolic, be on the move, “he was looking forward to this moment with which his independent life began,” when everyone was asleep.)

How did Ilyusha react to the nanny’s stories?(“The child, with his ears and eyes pricked up, passionately delved into the story,” “The nurse or the legend so skillfully avoided in the story everything that actually exists that his imagination and mind, imbued with fiction, remained in his slavery until old age,” “He involuntarily dreams of Militris Kirbityevna, he is constantly pulled in that direction, where they only know that they are walking, where there are no worries and sorrows, he forever has the disposition to lie on the stove, walk around in a ready-made, unearned dress and eat at the expense of the good sorceress ", "The boy's imagination is filled with strange ghosts, fear and melancholy have settled in his soul for a long time, perhaps forever. He looks around sadly and sees everything in life as harm, misfortune, everything dreams of that magical side where there is no evil, trouble, or sorrow." . Curiosity, active participation in any manifestations of life, a conscious attitude towards life, hard work - all this is lost under the influence of the excessive care of the mother, nanny, and servant. At the same time, the traits of daydreaming, imagination, poetic perception of life, breadth of soul, good nature, gentleness, and sophistication developed.)

How is Ilya Ilyich shown at 13-14 years old?(« father and mother put the spoiled man Ilyusha in front of a book. It was worth the tears, the screams, the whims,” “poor Ilyusha goes and goes to study with Stolz. As soon as he wakes up on Monday, he is already attacked by melancholy,” “Look, Ilya Ilyich will take six months off, and how he will grow in that time! How fat he will get! How nice he sleeps! They can’t stop looking at him in the house, noticing, on the contrary, that, having returned from the German on Saturday, the child is thin and pale”, “Stolz’s son spoiled Oblomov, either telling him lessons, or doing translations for him”, “he grew slowly and sluggishly. Those seeking manifestations of power turned inward and sank, withering away,” “ but one thing could be useful for him: playing in the snow again.”)

What did they believe in Oblomovka? Why?(“In Oblomovka they believed everything: werewolves and the dead. If they were told that a haystack was walking across the field, they wouldn’t think twice and would believe... - so strong is the belief in the miraculous in Oblomovka!” They didn’t know and didn’t want to know anything else, that that outside of Oblomovka, they were satisfied with fairy tales, unprecedented things that are far away or passing by: “life, like a still river, flowed past them." They did not think about moral issues. This is a sign of spiritual laziness, a “dead soul.”)

How did the Oblomovites feel about work?(As a punishment. They didn’t like to work. The house was gradually falling into disrepair. The author is ironic about Oblomov’s father raising the fence.)

How did you feel about money?(“Oblomov’s people were extremely stingy,” they saved on everything, “they always gave out with great condolences,” “they agreed to endure all sorts of inconveniences better, they even got used to not considering them inconveniences rather than spending money,” “In general, they were deaf to political-economic truths about the need for rapid and active circulation of capital, about increased productivity and the exchange of products. They, in the simplicity of their souls, understood and put into practice the only use of capital - to keep them in a chest.")

How did you feel about education and books?(Benefit, prestige)

Conclusions:

What are the key words of chapter 9?(Sleep, peace, serenity, cheap, no worries, silence, stillness.)

Describe the way of life in Oblomovka.(Apathy, drowsiness, calm and regularity, repetition, monotony of life, superstition, serenity and vanity, indifference, passivity, fear of changing anything, indifference, neglect, stinginess, frugality.)

Why“Why am I like this?? What is the cause of Oblomov’s tragedy?(In upbringing, lifestyle of others.)

Why does Oblomov not want to live real life, but prefers being captivated by sleep?(Oblomov is not adapted to life, lazy, not used to activity, has no interest and goals, because since childhood everything was decided and carried out for him. The dream turns the hero into this world of childhood, where everything is simple, clear, cozy, without vanity - “the heart just begs to hide in this forgotten by all
corner and live with happiness unknown to anyone.")

What is the role of Oblomov’s dream in the novel’s system?(1. Let us remember the statement of S. Freud. 2. A dream acts as a means of reflecting reality, as a key to understanding the character of the hero.
3. Chapter "Oblomov's Dream" in the novel Goncharov "Oblomov" has independent meaning. In the preface to the novel, literary critic V.I. Kuleshov writes: “Goncharov decided to insert the previously published “Oblomov’s Dream” in its entirety, giving it a kind of symbolic meaning in the overall composition. The reader receives important information about what kind of upbringing the hero of the novel became a couch potato. Since lazy hibernation became “the hero’s lifestyle and more than once dreams appeared to him, dreams that transported him to the world of dreams, imaginary kingdoms, then “Oblomov’s Dream” turned out to be natural for him. “Oblomov’s Dream” explains why the path of his visitors is unacceptable for Ilya Ilyich. A dream separates these visits from the arrival of Stolz, who played a huge role in Oblomov’s life. With difficulty, at the beginning of five o'clock, Oblomov comes out of sleep, and then, like a fresh wind from the outside, Stolz bursts in. He has nothing in common with previous visitors. Stolz is honest, smart, active. He sincerely wants to bring Oblomov out of hibernation. What is the reason that Oblomov’s capabilities were not realized, that internal forces remained unused? Of course, it is rooted in Oblomovka. “Oblomov’s Dream” explains why he did not want and could not follow either the path of the early visitors to Oblomov or the path of Stolz: Ilya Ilyich had neither a specific goal nor the energy to implement it. Thus, Oblomov’s dream is, as it were, the focus of the novel.)

5.Reflection.

What new things did you learn during the lesson?

What moral lessons were learned?

What is the hero's misfortune?

Oblomov - “dead soul”?

What positive qualities did childhood leave behind?

6.Information about homework.

Reading the second part of chapters 1-4, find quotes and characteristics of Oblomov and Shtolz.

Literature.

rushist. comGoncharov “Oblomov”, part 1, chapter 9 – read online – Russian Historical Library

nportal. ruResearch work on literature “Dreams and their role in fiction / Social network of educators

"Oblomov's Dream" (Analysis of an episode from I.A. Goncharov’s novel “Oblomov.”). Works, Archive

works. report. ruThe role of dreams in the works of Russian writers of the 19th century - Abstract

Municipal educational institution "Secondary school No. 28"

Open Day

Literature lesson

Subject:

“We all come from childhood” (Analysis of the chapter “Oblomov’s Dream” based on the novel “Oblomov” by I.A. Goncharov)

Date: November 15, 2014

Class: 10 B

Conducted by the teacher

Russian language and literature:

Beskaeva E.A.

Saransk - 2014

Lesson type: lesson on studying a work of art.

Lesson type: a lesson in in-depth work on the text of a work.

Lesson format: lesson - conversation (with elements of artistic reading, discussion).

The purpose of the lesson: analyze “Oblomov’s Dream”, identifying aspects of the life of the Oblomovites that influenced the formation of the character of the main character; through visual means to trace the formation of the character of the hero; understand the role of symbols; master the ability to understand a person’s character in its connection with social and national characteristics.

Tasks:

1. Cognitive:

Recall with students the function of sleep in a work of art; Give examples of previously studied works in which dreams were present.

Introduce students to the compositional features of using “Oblomov’s Dream”.

Identify the positive and negative features of the life of the Oblomovites that influenced the character of Ilya Ilyich.

Identify the role of image-symbols in the chapter.

Enrich students' vocabulary and improve their speech culture skills.

2. Developmental:

Develop the ability to work analytically with the text of a work of art.

3. Educational:

Cultivate a compassionate understanding of individual strengths and weaknesses.

Cultivating a love for literature lessons.

Fostering interest in Russian traditions and the peculiarities of the Russian national character.

Equipment:

Text of the novel by I.A. Goncharov “Oblomov”, computer presentation, diagram, handouts, text of the beginning of the novel with numbering of sentences

DURING THE CLASSES

Teacher:

Today we will visit a “wonderful land, a blessed corner” where Oblomov’s dream will take us.

What will we discuss in class today?

( Let's trace the formation of Oblomov, where the roots of laziness and apathy came from, and reflect on the Russian character, on Russia and its fate.)

So, the topic of the lesson: “We all come from childhood” (Analysis of the chapter “Oblomov’s Dream”). For the topic of the lesson, I chose a statement by the 19th century French writer Antoine de Saint-Exupery.

Guys, what do you think: does the statement reveal the main idea of ​​chapter 9? Justify your point of view.

And the epigraph to the lesson will be the words of Oblomov himself: “Who am I? Why am I like this? We will try to answer these questions by turning to Oblomov’s childhood.

Teacher:

To reveal the character of his hero, the author chooses a dream motif. Let's listen to what role the dream motif plays in a work of art.

(Message

Dreams have long been used in fiction to create a mysterious atmosphere, motivate the actions of characters, and convey their emotional state (psychologism). Since the times of ancient Russian literature, dreams have warned of dangers, served as signs, provided assistance, instructed, given rest and at the same time tempted, tested, and presented a choice. Dreams perform retrospective and prognostic functions and participate in the creation of the chronotope of a work. They absorb all three times: they show pictures of the past, present and future, thereby expanding the spatio-temporal boundaries of the text. Dreams can serve as memory. Thus, dreams in works of fiction are multifunctional.

Teacher :

Let's remember which works we studied earlier contained a dream?

(A.S. Pushkin “Eugene Onegin” - Tatiana’s dream; in: A.S. Pushkin “The Captain’s Daughter” - Petrusha Grinev’s dream; in: “Ballad” by V. Zhukovsky.

What do you think is the function of sleep in these works, and why do the authors use them?

1. Dream - as revealing the spiritual state of the hero, a means of psychological analysis.

2. A dream is like an idyll, a dream.

3. Dream - as a prediction of the future.

Which of the following functions does a dream perform in the work of I.A. Goncharova?

1. A dream is a revelation of the hero’s spiritual state, while it acquires a special symbolic meaning: a dream is a symbol of the hero’s entire life position, his spiritual sleep.

2. Dream - shows the hero’s dream, but its paradox is that it is directed not to the future, but to the past.

Who is telling us the dream?

(The dream is conveyed by the narrator. It is as if he is outside the depicted world of Oblomovka. Behind what has been said, certain assessments and attitudes towards what the hero sees are guessed.)

The hero dreams of Oblomovka, in his dream it is emphasizedidyllic image.

Vocabulary work:

What is an idyll?

(Image of a peaceful rural life against the backdrop of beautiful nature. 3. peaceful, happy existence. (S.I. Ozhegov. Dictionary of the Russian language).)

The genre of the chapter is close to a folk fairy tale, in which the world rests unshakably on goodness, and, of course,idylls. The genre of this chapter can also be attributed to the idyll genre.

What do you think are the characteristics of an idyllic world?

( Main features of the idyllic world:

-ideal landscape

- unity of man and nature

-closedness of space

- uncertainty of time

-mythical character

- lack of plot

- conflict-free.

Teacher: What is the composition of the chapter?

The entire text can be divided into three main parts:

1) the first two paragraphs (wonderful corner);

2) from the 5th to the 17th sentences - a picture of wild nature;

3) last paragraph (peaceful corner). The large middle part can also be subdivided into more small, associated with the main images of the text: man, mo rivers, mountains and abysses.

The composition of the text is based on opposition and gra date. The wonderful land is contrasted with wild nature; to her man is opposed. Image of the wildest nature based on gradation - increasing the impression of something without grain inferior, terrible, hostile to a person. Human condition in the face of wild nature is also conveyed using gradation: first it is said that a person becomes sad when view of the sea, and gradually comes to the conclusion that he is completely disappears against the background of a majestic picture, even the sky recedes elk from people. This enhances the impression of loneliness, nothing the identity and helplessness of man in the face of wild nature.

The beginning and end of the passage seem to close the circle, framing central part. This frame carries the main idea: emphasize the blessings of the world in which they live Movtsy.

chapter 9 plan.

1. Landscape of Oblomovka.

2. Description of the seasons.

3. Natural phenomena.

4.Description of the village.

5. Ideas about the world.

6. What disrupts the usual course of life (death is a rarity, the blacksmith Taras got mad, a stranger is in a ditch).

7. Morning of little Ilyusha.

8. Ravine.

9. The child runs away from the nanny. Observations (dark - light, shadows).

10. Home life.

11. Afternoon sleep is like death.

12.Dreams about Ilyusha’s future.

13. Fairy tales.

14. Signs.

15. Teachings of Ilyusha.

16.Rituals. Norm of life. (Christening, name day, wedding)

17. “Labor” (gallery, fence).

18. Reception of guests.

19. Evening conversations. (Memories, interpretation of dreams, signs).

20. The story with the letter.

21. Studying, dreams of a certificate.

22. Snowball fight.

Teacher: So, we find ourselves in the “blessed corner”... (reading the beginning of the chapter by the student)

"Where are we? To what blessed corner of the earth did Oblomov’s dream take us? What a wonderful land! No, really, there are seas there, no high mountains, rocks and abysses, no dense forests - there is nothing grandiose, wild and gloomy...

The sky there, it seems, is pressing closer to the earth, but not in order to throw more arrows, but perhaps only to hug it tighter, with love: it spreads out so low above your head, like a parent’s reliable roof, to protect, it seems, the chosen one a corner from all adversity.

The sun shines there brightly and hotly for about six months and then does not suddenly leave there, as if reluctantly, as if it were turning back to look once or twice at its favorite place and give it a clear, warm day in the fall, amidst bad weather.

The mountains there seem to be just models of those terrible mountains erected somewhere that terrify the imagination. This is a series of gentle hills, from which it is customary to ride, frolicking, on your back or while sitting on them, in thought at the setting sun.

The river runs merrily, frolicking and playing; it either spills into a wide pond, then tends to quickly , or he becomes quiet, as if deep in thought, and crawls a little over the pebbles, releasing playful streams on the sides, under the murmur of which he sweetly dozes.

The entire corner of fifteen or twenty miles around was a series of picturesque sketches, cheerful, smiling landscapes. The sandy and sloping banks of a bright river, small bushes creeping up from a hill to the water, a curved ravine with a stream at the bottom and a birch grove - everything seemed to have been deliberately tidied up one by one and masterfully drawn.

A heart exhausted by worries or not at all familiar with them asks to hide in this forgotten corner and live a happiness unknown to anyone. Everything there promises a calm, long-term life until the hair turns yellow and an unnoticeable, sleep-like death.”

Teacher: What means of expression does Goncharov use when describing the “wonderful land”?(blessed corner; wonderful land; favorite place; picturesque sketches; cheerful, smiling landscapes, everything is quiet and sleepy, etc.

TEACHER

Why Goncharov to contrast the peaceful corner (Oblomovka)chooses the sea, mountains, abysses?

The sea, mountains and abysses are favorite images of romance ical literature associated in romanticism with such concepts We are like eternal restlessness, struggle, a constant desire for freedom, for overcoming everyday life. Contrasting these images of a peaceful corner, Goncharov enhances the impression of 06 as if from a closed, quiet, blessed world, where peace reigns, and at the same time, as it were, emphasizes its literary position: rejection of romanticism as a method, depiction wanting something unusual, exceptional, far from ordinary military life.

Teacher: And here we are in Oblomovka... Who inhabited the “wonderful land” in this description? (Peasants )

What details of peasant life appeared in the text?(Spring, preparing the peasant for work, waiting and welcoming the rain. Cows, chickens, sheep walk through the fields and the village)

How Oblomovka is shown to be fenced off from the rest of the world, and Oblomovites’ perception of the rest of the space as alien and fantastic

Why were the Oblomovites wary of the man in the ditch?

(An outsider has invaded their closed world, they feel fear.

a stranger has arrived, a letter,);

Determine the role of symbolic images in describing the way of life of Oblomovites

What is the magical power? (dream)

What is the law in this world (idleness);

The main concern of the Oblomovites? Find it in the text.

(kitchen and food), food care, supplies)

Teacher:

What was the main occupation of the Oblomovites?

Find a description of the pie and the “ritual” of making and eating it.

With the help of what artistic means does the writer poetize this physiological state of a person?

Prove that the image of the pie has a symbolic meaning.

(Individual task “For there was a chat about food and the first and most important concern in Oblomovka. What calves grew fat there for the annual holidays! What a bird was raised! How many subtle considerations, how many activities and worries go into courting her! Turkeys and chickens assigned to name days and other special days were fattened with nuts; The geese were deprived of exercise and forced to hang motionless in a bag several days before the holiday, so that they would swim with fat. What stocks there were of jams, pickles, and cookies! What honeys, what kvass were brewed, what pies were baked in Oblomovka!”

On Sundays and holidays, these hardworking ants also did not stop: then the knocking of knives in the kitchen was heard more often and louder; the woman made the journey from the barn to the kitchen several times with double the amount of flour and eggs; there was more groaning and bloodshed in the poultry yard. They baked a gigantic pie, which the gentlemen themselves ate the next day; on the third and fourth days, the leftovers went to the maiden room; the pie lived until Friday, so that one completely stale end, without any filling, went, as a special favor, to Antipus, who, crossing himself, undauntedly destroyed this curious fossil with a crash, enjoying more the knowledge that this was the master's pie than the pie itself, like an archaeologist who enjoys drinking crappy wine from a shard of some thousand-year-old pottery.

Teacher:

There is a real cult of pie in Oblomovka. Making a huge pastry and eating it resembles some kind of sacred ceremony, performed strictly according to the calendar, week after week, year after year.

Let's remember thatpie in the popular worldview - one of the most visualcharacters happy, abundant, gracious life. Pie is a “feast in the mountains”, a cornucopia, the pinnacle of general joy and contentment. Feasting, festive people gather around the pie. Warmth and fragrance emanate from the pie; pie - central andmost archaic symbol of people's utopia. Oblomovka is a forgotten, miraculously surviving “blessed corner” - a fragment of Eden. To the local inhabitantsbroke off to finish eating an archaeological fragment - a piece of a once huge pie.The word “pie” itself is consonant with the word “feast”. It's a holidaynew feast dish. And indeed, “feast” is a centa real event of every day for Oblomovites; they spendtheir life is not in labor, they consider labor a punishment, but in feasts, for their life is a harmonyniya, where both the physical and spiritual principles are inextricably fused.

Vocabulary work :

Eden -paradise, place of abundance

Teacher:

Let us note the features of the image of space and time in the episode “Oblomov’s Dream”

Find a description of the passage of time in Oblomovka.

« Everything promises a peaceful, long-lasting life until the hair turns yellow and an unnoticeable, sleep-like death.

The annual cycle occurs there correctly and calmly.

According to the calendar, spring will come in March. Winter will maintain its character until the indicated period of warmth. In November, snow and frost begin. Summer is especially delightful in that region. Then the time will come for rituals, feasts, and finally the wedding; The whole pathos of life was focused on this.

Then repetitions began: the birth of children, rituals, feasts, until the funeral changed the scenery; but not for long: some people are inferior to others, children become young men and at the same time grooms, they get married, produce their own kind - and so life according to this program stretches on in a continuous monotonous fabric, imperceptibly ending at the very grave.”

Teacher:

Cmdamn inOblomovke is perceived as a natural transitionone type of sleep into another - eternal sleep.

We depicted Oblomovka’s sleepy kingdom as a vicious circle; we imagined Oblomov’s life in St. Petersburg on Gorokhovaya as a vicious circle. There is a certain pattern to this.

Which words are repeated more often? Why?

The most frequently heard words are “silence, sleep, peace.” A picture of a leisurely, unhurried, lazy life is created. Time seems to slow down. The author conveys the joy of a measured life, the enjoyment of it. Little Ilyusha grows up in an atmosphere of bliss.

Teacher:

What can be concluded?

(Conclusion: no one seeks to leave this world, because it is alien and hostile there. They are quite satisfied with their life. Love, birth, marriage, death, this circle of life is unchanged, like the seasons. The calendar, ritual cycle are centuries-old folk traditions) .

Teacher:

There are a lot of symbolic images in this chapter. Decipher the symbolic meaning of the ravine.

(When Ilyusha ran away from his nanny, he wanted to “get into the birch forest and the dovecote” and watch the insects. Here the curiosity characteristic of any child is manifested.

“He wants to run into the ravine; the child ran to the edge, closed his eyes, wanted to look into the crater of a volcano... but suddenly all the rumors and legends about this ravine rose up before him: he was seized by horror, and he was neither alive nor dead, trembling with fear, rushing to the nanny.” .

Teacher:

A ravine is unfamiliar, dangerous. The story about the monster in the ravine (“there, they say, are goblins, robbers, and terrible animals”) is conveyed by the author comically. The comparison “like a volcano crater” frightens Ilyusha, for him this is an unknown world, and he remembers all the superstitions he heard from adults.

Teacher:

Part of the chapter is like a fairy tale.

Why does the fairy tale play such an important role in Oblomovka?

(Fairy tales: they promise mountains of gold, they talk about an unknown country where rivers of honey and milk flow, where no one does anything. The good sorceress chooses a favorite for herself - a quiet and harmless (lazy person), whom everyone offends, and showers him with goodness.).

What are Oblomov’s favorite fairy tale characters?

What meaning is revealed when the image of Oblomov is brought closer to the folklore images of Emelya and Ilya Muromets?

Teacher:

What are the customs and rituals of the Oblomovites? Find in the text.

(« Our poor ancestors lived gropingly, naively marveling at everything. For them, death occurred from the dead person who had previously been carried out of the house with his head, and not with his feet from the gate; the fire was caused by a dog howling outside the window for three nights. They believed both werewolves and the dead. They will tell them that a haystack was walking under the window - they will not think twice and will believe it. The belief in the miraculous is strong in Oblomovka.”

Teacher:

Conclusion: All life consists of ritual holidays. This indicates the mythological consciousness of people. What is natural for others is here mysterious and sacred. The special relationship to the time of day is also mythological: evening time is dangerous, afternoon time has powerful power. The sky presses closer to the earth - a reproduction of the myth of the marriage of earth and sky.)

Teacher:

What image is central in the chapter “Oblomov’s Dream”, uniting all its fragments?

(The image of the mother (as mother-woman and mother-nature) unites all the elements of the chapter and creates the image of the native space, where everything is warmed by maternal love, care, where everything lives according to the laws of following the traditions of the fathers. “The norm of life was prepared and taught to Oblomov by his parents, and they accepted it, also ready-made, from their grandfather, and grandfather from their great-grandfather. And so the river of life flowed, in laziness, apathy.

What are Ilya Ilyich’s parents doing? (reading study)

How do your parents feel about Ilyusha? What about those around you? Read it.

Teacher:

Another important moment in the life of the Oblomovites. What is the attitude of Oblomovites towards education and books?

Oblomovites are ignorant and superstitious people.

No one bothered themselves with mental labor. The book was looked at as a thing intended for entertainment." So « Oblomovs understood the benefits of enlightenment, but only external . They still had a vague and distant concept of the inner need for teaching. They dreamed of secretly bypassing the stones and obstacles scattered along the path of enlightenment, without bothering to jump over them, that is, to study lightly, not to the point of exhaustion of soul and body.”

Goncharov resorts to paraphrase so that the reader comprehends what he heard and understands the author’s attitude to what was said.

Teacher:

Do adult Oblomovites understand the need for education?

(Old people - yes, but only the external side. They had very vague ideas about the internal need for training. They only need some brilliant advantages for Ilyusha).

Teacher:

Who and how resists Oblomovka’s influence on the teenager Ilya?

(Stolz, who received a practical labor education).

Has the new influence been successful?

(No. “You can’t go today; Thursday is a holiday, is it worth driving back and forth?” “Today is not the time for studying, parent’s week.” “Somehow your eyes are not fresh today. Stay at home this week.”)

Are there any fairy-tale features in this passage?

( No. The syllable of the story changes.This part is more suitable for Stolz’s view, which, according to the author, should resist Oblomov’s dream, debunk Ilya’s fairy-tale consciousness, and make it modern).

(Why does the scene end with a fun snowball fight?

(Oblomov subconsciously craves activity).

Teacher:

What is the meaning of the hero's last name?

Let us pay attention to the semantic meaning of the hero’s name: Ilya Ilyich is a sign of the repetition of his father, his life. The surname also helps reveal character. It has a common root with the Old Russian word “oblo” - circle, wheel (hence, “cloud”, “region”). It is the circle that is associated with Ilya Ilyich. His life goes in a closed cycle, that is, in a circle, without noticeable forward movement.

This meaning is quite consistent with the soft-rounded man Oblomov and his round, peacefully blissful patrimony. Although in the literature about Goncharov there are other opinions about the origin of the surname of the main character of the novel “Oblomov” - from another archaic word “oblomon”, which means sleep. But even more clearly in the surname of Ilya Ilyich the meaning of FLUSH appears. According to researchers of Goncharov’s work, Oblomov’s existence is a fragment of a once full and all-encompassing life, it is a fragment of Eden as symbol happy, abundant, gracious life. This is also a fragment of the old, patriarchal way of Russian life, poeticized by Goncharov. The surname of the main character of the novel also contains the meaning of a fragment of serfdom, because the novel was created in the post-reform era and was its bright, brilliant embodiment.

Teacher:

Thus, Oblomovka in the hero’s mind acquires the features of an absolute ideal, Oblomovka is a utopian dream.

So, Oblomov’s moral ideal is an integral harmonious personality, the social ideal is a patriarchal, unchanging Russia. This is precisely what explains the poeticization of the patriarchal way of life.

Teacher:

Let's return to the topic of the lesson “We all come from childhood.” The relevance of the novel's sound. « There is a significant part of Oblomov in each of us.” Is this really true?

STUDENT

Individual task

A modern reader's view of the novel as a whole and, in particular, of the episode

It only seems that only in a blessed corner ke the land where Oblomov’s dream took us, “happy people lived thinking that it shouldn’t and couldn’t be any other way, confident that everyone else lives exactly the same way and that life otherwise it’s a sin.” In reality, such happiness is a dream kingdom (“Like a lump of dough, curled up and lying there”) – the secret dream of more than one Oblomov and not only the prerogative gone into distant history XIX century.

If you look around, it’s not difficult you can see next to you not just one, not a hundred, not a thousand people for whom fairy tales are mixed with life, and they unconsciously sad: “why is a fairy tale not life, but life not a fairy tale"; who, through centuries and generations, has a sword in his mind to take a walk, “where there are no worries and sorrows”; who has any left the disposition to lie on the stove, walk around in a ready-made, unearned dress and eat at the expense of the good sorceress; who has an idle imagination, not in a dream, but in reality goes to the unknown side, "where there are no nights, no cold, where miracles happen all the time, where rivers of honey and milk flow, where no one does anything all year round, and all they do is walk every day..."

"And to this day the Russian man among the surrounding goy, devoid of fiction, loves to believe reality seductive tales of antiquity, and for a long time, maybe Perhaps he has not yet renounced this faith" - Goncharov writes in Oblomov, presumably, about his time, and we are only repeating after him, noting tea the same thing already in yours, XXI century.

No, no matter what you say, but the life position according to which the ideal of life is in peace and inaction, not formed yesterday I was afraid he wouldn’t die tomorrow. And the best confirmation of this The idea in Goncharov’s novel is the episode with the collapse of part of the gallery. Born a writer two centuries ago ass, he is still almost every day almost unchanged present in television news broadcasts dachas And we are like genuine bummers Tsy, we look and gasp, we are amazed, horrified and reproached each other, and sometimes we even get so angry. Well, exactly like in Oblomov’s dream, only with us it’s all in reality.

Let’s compare: Oblomov’s people from Goncharov’s novel “Another” They neither wanted nor loved life. They would be sorry if circumstances brought changes to their life, whatever they might be. They would be consumed by melancholy if tomorrow were not similar to today, and the day after tomorrow to tomorrow.”

Now let's look around us and see how modern regular Oblomovites are sincerely perplexed: “Why do they need to variety, changes, accidents, which were asked for are there others? Let others drink this cup, and they, the Oblomovites, don’t care about anything. Let others live as they want." Goncharova's novel makes you think about a person's active life position, his citizenship.

This is where the talent of a true reader lies: in capabilities Today hear in a classic work, written in a completely different time, about other people dyakh, thoughts not only about the past, but directly related to you and your life.

Otherwise, what would be the point in the current debate about the nature and essence of the reforms of Ivan the Terrible, Peter I , Stolypin, Gorbachev, etc. These reformers were driven by the idea of ​​​​violating the eternal holiday of Oblomovka, in which “work is taken off one’s shoulders like a yoke,” to change the belief that the main dignity of the Russian national character is gentleness, delicacy, condescension, allowing one to break custom and not obey charter.

To today's readers and, above all, to her young part will have to answer many questions themselves: “To how you have to live to get even a drop of something human joy?

Spend your entire life lying on the couch doing nothing? Or proceed from the fact that man was created for business, and not for lying on your native Russian stove?

Extol your own benefit above all else? Or proceed from the fact that there are other values ​​in the world?

Stay in the happy state of “I don’t know anything” and “...our name is legion”? Or be susceptible to everything What do the world and people around you offer?”

These questions are read in the novel Iva on Goncharov's "Oblomov", written in 1858 - floor a century ago.

And each of us must draw the right conclusion after reading the novel.

Teacher:

Let’s summarize the chapter “Oblomov’s Dream” and return to the epigraph of the lesson. Let's draw a conclusion. What is Oblomovka?

Oblomovka is a micromodel of Russian life in general. This is a world in which people with a pure childish soul, like Ilya Ilyich, are brought up. BUT the other side of this phenomenon is that a person remains a child until the end of his days ( infantilism*) . Eden becomes the beginning of man's destruction.

Vocabulary work:

infantilism - childishness, underdevelopment, childishness, childishness

Teacher:

What character traits did Ilya Ilyich develop under the influence of Oblomovka’s way of life? (answers)

Positive features

Kindness

Philanthropy

Honesty

Conscientiousness

Kind-hearted

"columbine simplicity

The ability to feel beauty

Self-criticism

Capacity for self-accusation

Reluctance to be humiliated by vanity (career, money, fame)

The desire for harmony in the soul

Negative traits

Apathy

Inability to overcome difficulties

Lack of will

Indecisiveness

Inertia

Barsky arrogance

Hope for "maybe"

Passivity

Selfishness

Empty reverie

Teacher:

What is the clue to the character of the hero proposed by the author? Human traits are formed in childhood. Oblomov’s pure, gentle soul, his “dovelike” meekness have their origins in Oblomovka. But laziness and helplessness also come from there. That's why this key chapter of the novel is so important to us. The Russian character is shown through the image of Oblomov. Russia is shown through Oblomovka. And it is bitter to admit that this is the fate of Russia.

What is Russian laziness? Each of you will answer this question in your own way.

Is the image of Oblomov, his native village, satirical or nostalgic? Both. I.A. Goncharov admitted in his essay “In the Motherland”: “I wrote my life.”

Today we took Oblomov on a virtual journey into his childhood, looked at the hero to understand “why he is like this.” There is a lot that is attractive about him: he is charming, kind, gentle, poetic, and able to think. But he turned out to be unprepared for life: he was not taught to work, to act independently, and his vivid imagination and curiosity were not encouraged. And as a result, a decent, intelligent person turned into a parody of a person, and his name became a household name.

And today’s conversation is valuable for you and as future parents. Oblomov is an example of how not to educate. Goncharov wrote:“And the child looked and observed everything with his childish way, nothingnon-missing mind" Remember: “You wouldn’t need another example when your father’s example is in your eyes.” It all starts from childhood.

Homework.

1.answer in writing the question: “What is the meaning of the main character’s surname?” , proving one of your chosen points of view:

a) The cloud is round (when you lie down, it floats)

b) Oblomov is a man broken by life

c) from “fragment” - a piece of a dead patriarchal way of life).

2. Select material on the topic “Olga Ilyinskaya and Oblomov”

Goncharov's novel is one of the most famous works of the 19th century. What is this book about? About a lazy landowner who does not want to serve in the department and go out into society? If everything were so simple, the novel would not have gained wide popularity and would not have been included in the collection of Russian classics. In order to understand the main idea of ​​Goncharov’s work, it is worth recalling the summary of “Oblomov’s Dream.”

Why is this episode so important in the literary analysis of the novel? “Oblomov’s Dream” (Chapter 9), a summary of which is presented below, reveals the character of the main character. It becomes clear to the reader why it was so difficult for this man to exist in his contemporary society, why he loved to dream so much and was so afraid of active action.

Key chapter in the novel

What was Oblomov hiding from in his small apartment on Gorokhovaya Street? What did he dream about? And why did this hero become one of the most famous characters in Russian literature? Before proceeding to the summary of “Oblomov’s Dream,” we should recall the plot of the entire book.

In 1847, an excerpt from the future novel appeared in a literary magazine. This was the same chapter that is discussed in today’s article - “Oblomov’s Dream”.

A rich heir, the owner of the village of Oblomovka, came to St. Petersburg. But he failed to adapt to city life. After working in the office for a while, he left the service. Since then, I have hardly left my apartment for several years. The robe (the vestment in which he both slept and was awake) had long since fallen into disrepair. But Oblomov was indifferent to this.

The only thing that touched his soul were memories of his native village. However, one day his childhood friend Stolz met Ilya Ilyich with Olga Ilyinskaya. This meeting could change the life of the dreamy landowner. But nothing happened. Oblomov was too indecisive. Ilyinskaya married Stolz. Ilya Ilyich found illusory happiness with Agafya Matveevna, who mended the old robe and created the atmosphere of his family estate in the house.

What role does Oblomov’s dream play in the plot? The summary above mentions the memories that the main character indulged in. This is a dream. Dreams of happy, serene happiness. It’s not for nothing that in some languages ​​the words “dream” and “dream” sound the same.

Sleeping Kingdom

A summary of “Oblomov’s Dream,” of course, is not easy to present. No events occur in this chapter. This is a description of feelings, pleasant memories of a village in which nothing special happened either. Oblomovka is depicted as a kind of sleeping kingdom. Here the mountains seem unreal, they resemble scenery. The river runs happily, spilling into wide ponds. The surroundings of Oblomovka are filled with lovely, smiling landscapes. I want to hide, to live here with happiness unknown to anyone. Oblomovka is the land of peace and quiet.

Goncharov described Oblomov’s dream very poetically. A summary will not convey the imagery and richness of the author’s language.

Unperturbed calm and silence reign in the morals of the inhabitants of the village. There have never been any murders, robberies or accidents here. Of course, there were troubles from time to time. But Oblomov remembers his native estate through the prism of childhood memories. The early years often seem happy and serene to adults. If, of course, in childhood he was as happy as Ilya Ilyich.

Mother

Oblomov, of course, sees himself in a dream - a chubby-cheeked, handsome boy. The nanny wakes Ilya up, combs his hair, dresses him and takes him to his mother. And even in this beautiful dream, Oblomov felt sad. Mother has been gone for a long time.

Ilyusha is surrounded by love and attention. The nannies are constantly afraid that he will fall and hurt his knee. The exaggerated care that Oblomov received in childhood is one of the reasons for his passivity and indecisiveness.

Father

This person deserves special attention. Oblomov Sr. sits idle all day long. However, he believes that he has something to do. Oblomov strictly monitors what is happening in the yard. His control lies in the fact that he continually asks a man passing by: “Where are you going?” Having received the answer, he calms down. From time to time, Ilyusha’s father picks up a newspaper and begins to read. But for some reason the newspapers are always old, from last year.

That's all the summary of "Oblomov's Dream". The chapter that describes the hero's childhood memories is worth re-reading if an analysis of the work is needed. Indeed, in this part of the novel the author explained Oblomov’s oddities.

Ilya Ilyich grew up in an atmosphere of serenity, calm, and laziness. It is not surprising that, as he grew up, he learned nothing but how to read. But it is worth noting one more quality of the main character of Goncharov’s novel. He was a selfless, simple-minded man who knew how to appreciate beauty and observe. There was not a shadow of anger or envy in his soul.

Sections: Literature

Lesson Plan

Ivan Aleksandrovich Goncharov
(1812 – 1891)

The history of the human soul, at least
the smallest soul, almost more curious
and no more useful than the history of an entire people... M.Yu. Lermontov

If every person on a piece of land is his own
would do everything he could
how beautiful our land would be. A.P. Chekhov

1. Viewing fragments from the film “A few days in the life of Oblomov”

We watched two small fragments from N. Mikhalkov’s film “A Few Days in the Life of Oblomov.”

QUESTION: What thoughts does this film evoke?

(The child is playful, noisy, why and a mature person - a robe, a sofa, slippers)

For the first time in Russian literature, I.A. Goncharov told the story of an entire human life - from cradle to grave. The events in the novel cover eight years, and together with the exposition and epilogue - 37 years. This is a whole human life.

QUESTION: Why did the word touch Oblomov’s heart so much? "Another"?

Let's re-read the dialogue between Ilya Ilyich and Zakhar again

Dialogue: Oblomov and Zakhar (working with the text, end of chapter 8)

- I thought that other, they say, they’re no worse than us, but they’re moving, so we can too...” said Zakhar

What? What? – Ilya Ilyich suddenly asked in amazement, rising from his chair. - What you said?

- The other one - whom you mean - is a cursed creature, a rude, uneducated person, lives dirty, poor, in an attic; he will sleep on some felt somewhere in the yard. What will happen to this guy? He will probably move to a new apartment.

- What's happened another? - Oblomov continued. – Another, who cleans his own boots, dresses himself... and does not know what a servant is; He runs away himself, stirs the wood in the stove himself, wipes off the dust himself...
"Another" works tirelessly, runs, fusses, never works, never eats. "Another" bows, "another" begs, humiliates...

– I am different"! Am I rushing about, am I working? I don’t eat enough, or what? I never once pulled a stocking on my feet... You know all this, you saw that I was brought up tenderly, that I never endured cold or hunger, I didn’t know any need, I didn’t earn my own bread and in general I didn’t engage in dirty work. So how did this get you in the spirit? equalize me with others?

He delved into comparing himself with "to others".

“The other” never even puts on a robe, was added to the description of the other; – "another"...– here he yawned... – he hardly sleeps... "another" enjoys life, goes everywhere, sees everything, cares about everything... And I! I... am not “different”!”– he said sadly and fell into deep thought. He even freed his head from under the blanket.

To him sad and painful became for its underdevelopment, a stop in the growth of moral forces, for the heaviness that interferes with everything; and envy gnawed at him that others lived so fully and widely, while for him it was as if a heavy stone had been thrown on the narrow and miserable path of his existence...

In his timid soul a painful consciousness developed that many sides of his nature had not awakened at all, others were barely touched, and not a single one had been fully developed.

Meanwhile, he painfully felt that some good, bright principle was buried in him, as if in a grave, perhaps now dead, or it lay like gold in the depths of a mountain, and it was high time for this gold to be a walking coin.

This secret confession to himself made him feel bitter. Fruitless regrets about the past, burning reproaches of conscience stung him like needles, and he tried with all his might to throw off the burden of these reproaches, to find someone to blame outside himself and to turn their sting on him. But to whom?

- However... it would be interesting to know... Why am I... like this?.. – he said again in a whisper. His eyelids closed completely. - Yes, why?.. It must be... this... because...– he tried to pronounce and did not pronounce.

So he never thought of the reason; the tongue and lips instantly froze mid-sentence and remained as they were, half-open. Instead of a word, another sigh was heard, and after that the even snoring of a serenely sleeping man began to be heard.

Lesson topic: “Why am I like this?..”
(Analysis of the episode. “Oblomov’s Dream”).
I.A. Goncharov “Oblomov”.

The purpose of the lesson: to help students comprehend the image of the main character from a social and moral point of view and try to find an answer to the question posed.

Form:

lesson-presentation of chapter 9, held in the form of discussion; testing using ICT.

Equipment: Portrait of I.A. Goncharov, fragment of the video film “A few days in the life of Oblomov”

Everyone is looking for rest and peace...
I. Oblomov. I.A. Goncharov “Oblomov”

No, this is not life! This is not life!
This is... Oblomovism! A. Stolz. I.A. Goncharov “Oblomov”

What do the epigraphs say?

- They are opposed.

– Oblomov and Stolz are antipodal heroes.

– Oblomov and Stolz are the main antithesis in the novel.

“Oblomov’s Dream”

1. Why does the author use this technique? (dream-subconscious, dream-dream)
2. Where, in what works do we encounter this technique? Tatyana's Dream (prophetic dream, Dreams of Vera Pavlovna, Raskolnikov)
3. What does Oblomov see in his dream, where do we end up? Do we know the text well?
4. Game “Do you know Oblomovka?”

Vocabulary work. Blessed (good + word) – happy; corner, island (diminutive suffix) – small, like a quiet haven, but limited

Day of Ilyusha Oblomov. He is 7 years old.

(We briefly retell and comment)

– Time of day: morning, noon, evening. The order has not changed.

- Environment. Who is raising?

The nanny is waiting for him to wake up. She begins to pull on his stockings; he doesn’t give in, plays pranks, dangles his legs; the nanny catches him, and they both laugh.

Finally she managed to get him to his feet; she washes him, combs his head and leads to mother.

His mother showered him with passionate kisses, then she examined him with greedy, caring eyes to see if his eyes were cloudy, asked if anything hurt, asked the nanny if he slept peacefully, if he woke up at night, if he tossed about in his sleep, if he had a fever? Then she took his hand and brought him to the image.

There, kneeling down and hugging him with one hand, she suggested to him the words of prayer.

Boy he repeated them absentmindedly, looking out the window, from where coolness and the smell of lilac poured into the room.(The smell of lilac is an image-symbol - spring, awakening). Lilacs moved away (breakup with Olga, overgrown with fat...)

Then they went to their father, then to tea.

Near the tea table Oblomov saw an elderly woman living with them aunt, eighty years old, constantly grumbling about her girl who, shaking her head from old age, waited on her, standing behind her chair. There and three elderly girls, distant relatives his father, and a little crazy brother-in-law his mother, and landowner seven souls, Chekmenev, who stayed with them, and some others old women and old men. 1

This entire staff and retinue of the Oblomov house picked up Ilya Ilyich and began to shower him with affection and praise; he barely had time to wipe away the traces of uninvited kisses.

After that it began feeding him buns, crackers, cream.

Then his mother, after petting him some more, let him go walk in the garden around the yard, in the meadow, with strict confirmation to the nanny not to leave the child alone, not to allow him near horses, dogs, goats, not to go far from the house, and most importantly, not to let him into ravine.(Ravine – image-symbol – fear)

With joyful amazement, as if for the first time, he looked and ran around his parents’ house, with the gate crooked on one side, with the wooden roof sagging in the middle, on which delicate green moss grew, with the shaky porch, various extensions and superstructures, and with the neglected garden.

He wants to run up the passion that goes around the whole house hanging gallery, to look at the river from there: but the gallery is dilapidated, barely holds up, and only “people” are allowed to walk along it, but gentlemen do not walk.

He did not heed his mother’s prohibitions and was about to head towards the seductive steps, but the nanny appeared on the porch and somehow caught him. He rushed from her to the hayloft, with the intention of climbing up the steep stairs, and as soon as she had time to reach the hayloft, she had to rush to destroy his plans to climb into the dovecote, enter the barnyard and, God forbid! - into the ravine.

- Oh, my God, what a child, what a spinning top! Will you sit still, sir? Ashamed! - said the nanny.

And the whole day and all the days and nights of the nanny were filled with turmoil, running around: now torture, now living joy for the child, now fear that he would fall and break his nose, now tenderness from his unfeigned childish affection or vague longing for his distant future: this Only her heart was beating, these emotions warmed the old woman’s blood, and somehow they supported her sleepy life, which without it, perhaps, would have died out a long time ago.

Not everyone is playful, however, the child: sometimes he suddenly becomes quiet, sitting next to the nanny, and looks at everything so intently. His childish mind observes all the phenomena taking place in front of him; they sink deep into his soul, then grow and mature with him.

Lunch and sleep gave rise to an unquenchable thirst. Thirst burns my throat; drinks cups Twelve teas each.

Mother will take Ilyusha's head, place it on her lap and slowly combs his hair.

But now it begins to get dark. The fire is crackling in the kitchen again, the sound of knives: dinner is being prepared. (Knock of knives - image symbol - satiety, Chekhov “Ionych”)

The child looks and observes with a sharp and perceptive gaze, just like what do adults do What do they devote their morning to? Not a single detail, not a single feature escapes the child’s inquisitive attention; the picture of home life is indelibly etched into the soul; the soft mind is fed with living examples and unconsciously draws a program for his life based on the life around him.

Oblomov himself, an old man, is also not without activities. He sits by the whole morning window and strictly monitors everything that happens in the yard.
And his wife very busy: she talks for three hours with Averka, the tailor, how to alter Ilyusha’s jacket from her husband’s sweatshirt, she herself draws with chalk and watches so that Averka does not steal the cloth; then he will go to the girls' room, ask each girl how much lace to weave on the day; then he will invite Nastasya Ivanovna, or Stepanida Agapovna, or another of his retinue to walk around the garden with a practical purpose: to see how the apple is pouring, to see if yesterday’s apple, which is already ripe, has fallen; graft there, prune there, etc.
But the main concern was the kitchen and dinner. The whole house discussed dinner; and the elderly aunt was invited to the council. Taking care of food was the first and main concern of life in Oblomovka.

A the child looked and observed everything with his childish mind, which did not miss anything. He saw how, after a useful and troublesome morning spent, noon and lunch came...

And dead silence reigned in the house. The time for everyone's afternoon nap has arrived.

Goncharov loves the Oblomovites and slightly makes fun of them. Oblomovites are good-natured and natural people. Their life obeys natural laws and is harmonious in its own way. But Oblomovites do not know work: they have elevated food and sleep to a cult.

Oblomov is Oblomov’s flesh and blood: gentle, unfussy, but absolutely and fundamentally inactive. The very thought of work is offensive to Oblomov. Oblomov is proud that he is a gentleman and is provided with an inherited estate.

Part 2 of sleep.

-What is life like? (like a fairy tale, earthly paradise) Prove it.

– What does little Ilyusha have in common with fairy tale characters?

(waiting for a miracle).

Then Oblomov dreamed of another time: on an endless winter evening he timidly clings to his nanny, and she whispers to him about some unknown side, where there is no night, no cold, where everything miracles happen where rivers of honey and milk flow, where no one does anything all year round, and every day all they know is that all the good fellows, such as Ilya Ilyich, and beauties are walking, no matter what a fairy tale can say or a pen can describe.

There is also good witch, which sometimes appears to us in the form of a pike, which chooses some favorite, quiet, harmless - in other words, some lazy person whom everyone offends - and showers him with all sorts of good things for no apparent reason, but he knows he eats and dresses up in a ready-made dress, and then marries some unheard-of beauty, Militrisa Kirbityevna.

The child, with his ears and eyes pricked up, passionately absorbed the story.

The nurse or the legend so skillfully avoided in the story everything that actually exists that the imagination and mind, imbued with fiction, remained in his slavery until old age. The nanny with good nature told the tale of Emelya the Fool, this evil and insidious satire on our great-grandfathers, and perhaps also on ourselves.

The adult Ilya Ilyich, although he later learns that there are no honey and milk rivers, no good sorceresses, although he jokes with a smile at the nanny’s stories, but this smile is not sincere, it is accompanied by

with a secret sigh: his fairy tale is mixed with life, and he sometimes unconsciously feels sad, Why isn't a fairy tale life? and life is not a fairy tale.

And to this day, in the midst of the strict, devoid of fiction reality that surrounds him, Russian people love to believe the seductive legends of antiquity, and it may be a long time before he renounces this faith.

Listening from the nanny to tales about our golden fleece - the Firebird, about the obstacles and hiding places of the magic castle, the boy was invigorated, imagining himself a hero of the feat, and goosebumps ran down his spine, and he suffered for the failures of the brave man. Story after story flowed. The nanny narrated the story with fervor, picturesquely, with enthusiasm, and at times with inspiration.

In Oblomovka they believed everything: werewolves and the dead. If they are told that a haystack was walking across the field, they will not think twice and will believe it; If anyone hears a rumor that this is not a ram, but something else, or that such and such a Marfa or Stepanida is a witch, they will be afraid of both the ram and Martha: it will not even occur to them to ask why the ram became so a ram, and Martha became a witch, and they would even attack anyone who thought to doubt this - so strong is the faith in the miraculous in Oblomovka! (Remember the Kalinovites from “The Thunderstorm”)

QUESTION: What makes little Ilyusha similar to fairy tale characters? (waiting for a miracle)

He already studied in the village of Verkhlev, about five versts from Oblomovka, with the local manager, the German Stolz, who started a small boarding school for the children of the surrounding nobles.

He had his own son, Andrei, almost the same age as Oblomov, and they also gave him one boy who almost never studied, but suffered more from scrofula, spent his entire childhood constantly blindfolded or blindfolded, and kept crying in secret about the fact that he lived not at his grandmother’s, but in someone else’s house, among the villains, that there was no one to caress him and no one would bake him his favorite pie.

Apart from these children, there were no others in the boarding house yet.

There is nothing to do, father and mother put the spoiled one Ilyusha in front of a book. It was worth the tears, the screams, the whims. Finally they took me away.

The child's mind and heart were filled with all the pictures, scenes and customs of this life before he saw the first book. Who knows how early the development of the mental seed in a child’s brain begins? How to follow the birth of the first concepts and impressions in the infant soul?

Perhaps, when the child was still barely pronouncing words, or perhaps he was not even pronouncing words at all, he was not even walking, but was only looking at everything with that intent, dumb childish gaze that adults call dull, he already saw and guessed the meaning and connection of the phenomena around him sphere, but he just didn’t admit it to himself or others.

Maybe Ilyusha has long noticed and understands what they say and do in front of him: like his father, in corduroy trousers, in a brown woolen woolen jacket, all he knows all day is that he walks from corner to corner, with his hands behind him, sniffing tobacco and blows his nose, and mother goes from coffee to tea, from tea to dinner; that the parent would never even think of believing how many kopecks were mowed or compressed, and to recover for the omission, but give him a handkerchief soon enough, he will scream about the riots and turn the whole house upside down.

Perhaps his childish mind had long ago decided that he should live this way and not otherwise...

Conclusion: Oblomov, who as a child absorbed a fairy-tale perception of the world around him, in adulthood tries to create a special world in his environment. His idea of ​​life is based on the existence of the laws of fairy-tale good and evil, and he identifies himself with the heroes of fairy tales and legends.

– How could such a person as Oblomov be close to Stolz? What connected them?

Why is he like this...

Homework: Whose point of view is closer to you and why?

The ideal future of the Earth is the “peace” that is seen through Russian eyes. This means that the symbol of this world is the same boyar caftan that does not allow you to work. It contains a recipe for saving the Earth, which has long been exhausted by the hard work of the Japanese and Dutch. It is laziness that the planet demands from humanity. OBLOMOV IS AN IDEAL TO WHICH THE WHOLE WORLD SHOULD STRIVE

Fedor GRIGORIEV,
Professor of Novosibirsk State University

I tried to show in “Oblomov” how and why our people turn prematurely into ... jelly - the climate, the backwater environment, the drowsy life and also private, individual circumstances for each.

I.A. Goncharov

Testing students' knowledge.