Furious Roland. Online reading of the book Furious Roland

In one of the fifty-five provincial and five hundred and fifty-five district cities of the Russian Empire, in a drive-in tavern, a man of about thirty, of important appearance, with fiery black eyes, and an ardent blush on his cheeks, walked around the room from corner to corner. He was wearing a blue frock coat; three stars shone on the chest; anxiety and embarrassment were expressed in all features.

The doors to the master bedroom were closed. Near the bedroom in the kitchen, a young Jewish woman was cooking kugel and preparing tea for the guest.

Suddenly there was a loud exclamation from the guest.

Angelica! - he said in a desperate voice.

-...Angelika! - repeated the famous guest, stopping in the middle of the room. His eyes were motionless, his raised hand was shaking.

Nature! - he continued, - you are deaf to the cries of the unfortunate! My tears pierced the wild stones and did not soften you to give up my property!.. I will turn the universe into a steppe, so that in the boundless plains Angelica cannot hide from my gaze!.. Angelica! Is there really a place in the vast world that can hide you?..

After some silence, he hit himself on the chest and continued in a voice of suffering:

- God Almighty! Endless struggle!.. Or not enough torment?.. Which fury dipped a poisonous dagger in my blood?.. In the vale of calm, in her arms, in a moment of bliss... he himself carried out his sentence!.. Maybe she preferred the harsh name warrior is a gentle name for a shepherd! Wayward deity of love! Pour poison into my wound!.. She doesn’t feel it anymore!.. Why am I delaying! Go look for her, you unfortunate thing!..

With these words he rushed to the side.

Shut up, suder! - the Jewish woman cried out in a lisping dialect, jumping away from the frenzied guest. In her hands was a tray on which she brought in a greasy teapot with tea, another with hot water, a third with milk, a saucer with four lumps of sugar and another with bread.

Ah, Rifka! Now you won't leave me! - cried the famous guest, squeezing the Jewish woman in his arms, who had barely managed to put the tray on the table.

Dz! Shut up, suder! - cried the Jewish woman, defending herself from the kisses that rained down on her face, and with difficulty escaping from the hands of the guest.

When she ran out of the room, the unknown man looked after her with fiery eyes; poured a glass of tea, drank it almost in one gulp, walked a few steps around the room, stopped again in the middle of the room, threw up his hands and shouted:

- Damn! And you didn’t throw them into hell!.. Yes, I will devastate everything that only bears the imprint of shameful love!.. Perish, unclean shadows, guardians of vile pleasures and witnesses of my shame!.. Oh! May my breath be like a stormy whirlwind!..

Following these words, curses flowed in a torrent; Rifka ran out of the kitchen and put her eyes and ears to the well.

Sun! - continued the unknown. - Hide if you ever come close to your golden path in this deplorable vale! Moon! Turn away the ray of your heavenly light from the shameful place! Eternal night! Cover this hellish dwelling with yourself! Deadly air! Molest the wanderer approaching here!.. Fierce tigers! Stay here!..

At this time, the outer doors creaked and someone entered the room. The unknown person continued, but much calmer:

- The sun is in a hurry to hide from this horror! Look! Do you see virtue in rags and vice in silk? Do you see the turtledove? A hawk is hovering over her... it has already grabbed and is tearing apart her heart, which is still boiling with love...

“Ready, suder,” said the man standing in the doorway. You could tell from the voice that this was a factor.

The wooden clock hanging in the corner chimed for six hours.

It's time! - said the unknown person. Throwing on his cloak, he went out; the factor led him along the corridor with a candle. It was already dark outside; near the gate stood a small Polish chaise drawn by one horse.

To the vodka factor, suder!

Get the hell out! - answered the unknown person, jumping into the chaise.

The coachman, sitting on the box, hit the nag's skinny ribs with his whip, the factor with a candle returned to the room; the hooves hit the hard ground, the chaise rattled.

The chaise rolled along without hindrance; suddenly, while going downhill, a convoy came towards us.

From the nearest house the light hit the street.

Ravine!.. - cried the unknown man. His words were interrupted, the chaise overturned, stars flashed on the dress, a groan was heard and suddenly fell silent. You could only hear the oxen pulling up the mountain, and you could hear the whistle of the drivers, and the clapping of whips and tsobe-tsobe!

The convoy has passed. Everything has calmed down. A pitiful "oh!" was heard under the mountain; but soon the blow of the whip was heard again, the hooves began to clatter again, and the britzka rattled in the distance.

The dull groan was repeated near the illuminated house, near the bridge over the ravine.

On the day of the holy martyrs Minodora, Metrodora and Nymphodora, guests flocked to the mayor. On the occasion of the name day of his venerable wife, he arranged a feast for the whole world.

All significant persons of the city, who knew the decency of high society no less than Pavel Afanasyevich Famusov, had this day marked on their calendar; on a clean piece of paper opposite the 10th of September were the following words: day of the angel Nymphodora Mikhailovna.

On this day, on a solemn holiday, the archpriest himself served mass in the cathedral church; and the chairman and members of the magistrate, the judge and significant officials wrote in the journal early in the morning: “Due to failure to receive proper information, adjourn the consideration of cases until the next meeting”; and the postmaster and his assistant entrusted the duty postman with receiving and sending correspondence; and the city doctor gave the necessary instructions to the paramedic to improve his position; and the police officers entrusted police duties to the travelers; and everyone, in full uniform, went to congratulate Nymphodora Mikhailovna and her husband, then to mass, then to the birthday girl’s dinner table.

The three guilds of the city's merchants also remembered this day; Having sent early and early with their clerks little bags with everything that was related to Nymphodora Mikhailovna’s economic economy, they themselves went to congratulate the birthday girl around noon.

On this day, an excellent cook was taken from the prison, who had been held there for a criminal offense for about five years and was not sent to hard labor, either due to investigations being carried out, according to his testimony, in fifteen provinces, or due to the failure to find his accomplices, scattered throughout Russia. empire, sometimes on the occasion of illness and for various legitimate reasons.

Lunch was great.

What brush will depict the unanimous pleasure with which all those present at the table were filled? Toasts to the health of Nymphodora Mikhailovna with her husband and the entire family were repeated with heartfelt acceptance of feelings of devotion, due respect for the venerable mayor of the city, with wishes for all good and prosperity, 100,000 annual income and a hundred years, yes twenty, and a little fifteen of life. The venerable name of the venerable birthday girl, poured out of candy and entangled in a sugar web, towered in the middle of the table, next to it stood marzipan, jam on plates, melons and watermelons, pears and apples. The fire brigade choirboys sang for many summers.

When Nymphodora Mikhailovna began to cut a layered round cake, the owner cut the wire from a bottle of champagne, the cork hit the ceiling, fell to the floor and, lifted from the ground at the request of a judge who knows a lot about wines, went through the hands of the guests like a miracle; Several voices respectfully said: “V. S. R. with an asterisk!” "Wine! old wine! very old wine! whole wine! wine without admixture! royal wine!" When dessert was served, accompanied by ratafia, drunken water and cherry, when the guests became fat and angry, the hostess stood up, the chairs moved, rattled, everyone kissed the hostess’s hand and entered the living room.

The ladies sat down on the sofa near the round table, on which stood a new dessert: Vologda marshmallow, different types of nuts, fruits boiled in sugar. The male officials sat around and busied themselves brushing their teeth and sniffing tobacco; others, subordinate people, crowded around, whispering or examining the rich decoration of the room: Moscow wallpaper depicting a shepherdess in hoops and a shepherd in trousers playing the pipe; furniture upholstered in green morocco; pictures produced by Loginov, in narrow gold frames, depicting the story of Genevieve, Paul and Virginia, the prodigal son and the distorted features of kings and generals, with a signature and poems in honor of them.

Imagine, sir! - said the postmaster, taking a piece of marshmallow with a fork, - in France, in Paris, sir, it happens breakfast on forks.

Is it possible to! How is this possible? - several voices cried.

I don’t know, sir; but I can provide proof, Mr. Kotzebue’s book, about memories in Paris; Mr. Kotzebue is reliable, he won’t lie.

Yes, it’s true, it’s just an expression,” the hostess of the house said importantly. - Exactly the same expression as we say: sit on pins and needles.

It must be so! - confirmed the chairman of the magistrate.

As for the city, so for its habits, as for the village, so for its customs! - said the archpriest, straightening his beard.

Indeed, sir! - said the seminarian, a teacher at a city school. - Cicero said: communem consociationem colere, tueri, servare debemus, that is, we must serve customs...

Exactly so, sir! - the postmaster interrupted him. - However, in Mr. Kotzebue’s article on carpets it is said that showing Cicero himself understands little.

“For mercy,” said the teacher, horrified, “Cicero is a Roman orator!”

Well, sir,” answered the postmaster, “he could travel and stop in Paris.” I myself would look with curiosity at a city in which even all the artisans are knights and wear shields with mottos.

How is this possible, sir? - everyone cried.

Please read Mr. Kotzebue about Paris,” the postmaster answered importantly. “Yes, sir,” he said and continued: “But what a depraved philosophy in France!” Imagine: Napoleon Bonaparte himself told Mr. Kotzebue Voltaire’s rule: that all people are kind, except for the boring person.This is the Russian translation of the words: tous les genres sont bons, excepte le genre ennuyeux note 1. How do you think about it: all people are kind, except for the boring person!

Terrible! - the guests cried. - All people are kind, except for the boring person! Therefore, the robber and the thief are kind, because they are not boring.

Terrible! - everyone repeated, and the general surprise was interrupted by the offer of one of the girls to play the clavichord.

Really, I forgot everything, Nymphodora Mikhailovna.

Do me a favor, madam, entertain my guests,” said the mayor.

All the guests also addressed their most humble request to the virtuoso.

Really, I forgot everything! - she repeated.

Well, well, well, Sophia! I don't like manners! They don’t teach you to forget! - the girl’s mother cried. And Sophia, sulking, sat down at the clavichord. The keys tapped, the strings rang; the pedal, attached for marches and Turkish music, hammered into the soundboard like a tulumbas, the clavichord swayed on folding legs.

All the guests surrounded the virtuoso and marveled at the art of the game; but the surprise of many increased enormously when Sophia’s right hand, jumping over her left, began playing the bass.

This is probably a French variation! - cried the chairman.

That’s right, sir,” Sophia answered with complacency, “this is a French quadrille.”

I guessed it right! - continued the chairman. - They have everything topsy-turvy. Well, why, it seems, play with the right hand instead of the left, and with the left instead of the right?

Sophia impulsively stood up from behind the keyboard cord and went into another room.

Her mother considered it indecent that she did not receive praise and gratitude for the game, but followed her to scold her, scold her in private, and teach her daughter the decency of society.

Meanwhile, the men sat down at several tables to play Boston, and the hostess and her guests were around dessert.

Six o'clock struck. The card tables were already lined with healds, and the blue napkin of the dessert table was covered with shells.

Gentlemen! - the mayor cried, - it’s time to go to the theater, we’ll play the remise after.

It’s time, it’s time,” all the ladies repeated. - Do you have a poster? They say that the actors are incomparable.

Well, sir, the entrepreneur presented me with a list of actors. They will play excellent plays, according to my purpose, drama "The Virtuous Criminal, or the Criminal of Love" in three acts, and a comedy in five acts, “Roland the Furious.”

How interesting! It's time, it's time! - the ladies repeated, getting ready and impatiently waiting at the entrance for the droshky.

The Bostonists folded the heddles, played, settled, grabbed their caps, and in their haste the winner forgot to pay for the cards; and so, on foot and in droshky, everyone moved to the theater.

The city in which the described incident happened lay on the banks of the luxurious Dnieper and was divided by a deep ravine. The main part of the city was on the mountain and was decorated with a wide square, limited by taverns, a church, a cathedral church and a wooden theater with a popular roof. The other part of the city, which bore the name behind the bridge, did not have any remarkable buildings or decorations, except for the city baths, a brewery and a knackery, where the best dog furs were produced. The third part, under the mountain, was inhabited by Israel and was decorated with a wooden school, overgrown with moss and standing in the middle of shacks and impenetrable mud; the whole city was famous for the beauty of its Jewish women; Golds, Rifki, Rokhli, Leiki, Hanse and Peiza, in red turbans, in front sights, with hair scattered over their shoulders, ruled over the marching hearts.

A troupe of actors arrived in the same city, and the city entrepreneur, having paid the police the required fine for the intention to perform tragedies, comedies, operas, dramas and melodramas, to the delight of the city public, received permission to use the theater, which also came into city ownership from one traveling troupe actors, expelled from the city for daring, due to the illness of some of the characters, to postpone the performance until another day.

The arriving troupe of actors no longer belonged to the time when the audience was called to the theater with tambourines and kettledrums, when, without advance notice of the merits of the play and without asking for a condescending view of the play, the actor did not dare to step on the stage, and the audience did not dare to step on the stage without a preliminary extract or explanation of the play set out in prologue, did not understand the meaning; but she belonged to that era when vice and virtue did not dare to unite in one and the same character, but fought separately, fought with each other, and not with the human soul.

The fateful time has come - 6 o'clock in the afternoon; the theater was lit up. Four Jews with a violin, cello, cymbals and triangle sat down in front of the stage. The curtain, with the image of Apollo and the nine muses, covered with rags and red lead, is already agitated by the draft wind. All the characters are already ready to present the drama, only the Marquis of Lafast is missing, criminal of love, main person. The French king, in a black tailcoat, in ribbons and stars, in a taffeta robe dotted with sparkles and tinsel, walks around the stage with annoyance, gives orders behind the scenes, repeats his role in a notebook and asks everyone if Zaretsky has come?

Sophia, virtuous criminal also takes care of him.

The audience is already filling the theater. The mayor and his family also arrived. The music started playing the mazurka... but the Marquis Lafaste was gone.

Damn! - the king exclaims in despair.

God! - Sophia exclaims.

I'll drive him away if I weren't an entrepreneur! - exclaims the king.

I'll see how it goes! And I'll move away! - Sophia exclaims.

What should I do? What will we do without him? - exclaims the king.

They'll wait! “Great trouble,” exclaims Sophia.

How will they wait?

Yes, just like that; And in the capitals they are waiting, not just in the filthy little town!

Are waiting; and the Marquis Lafaste is gone.

The musicians played all the mazurkas and Polish ones and started playing again. Mazurechka Panna.

The audience, following the example of the mayor’s wife, claps their hands and stamps their feet; and the mayor sent a visitor backstage with the order to begin.

Damn! What should we do? - the king cried again. - No, get out of feaTpa!

Let's see! - Sophia repeated again. - And I’ll take off my suit now!

What should we do without him? We are dead! How to announce to the public? Yes, I won’t find a place for myself in prison!

The clapping and knocking was repeated, stronger than before; the visitor appeared again with orders to raise the curtain.

Damn! - the king cried out in despair: - raise the curtain! Luidor, come out; throw away all the phenomena where the Marquis Lafast is! Start with the 3rd phenomenon!

The curtain rose.

- What did I hear?.. What did I see?- the actor playing the role of Luidor cried in a terrible voice, running onto the stage.

And the whole audience clapped; and the drama is played without a main character, goes well, takes on a new meaning, bears the prototype of a new dramatic school.

And the public is happy. The audience is in a frenzy from Sophia's performance, virtuous criminal."Handicap, handicap!" - they shout to her after every monologue, and poor Sophia has to go out again and repeat monologues of several pages.

But Zaretsky is gone; in the second play he must play frantic Roland; wait - is not.

And again the king, but Charlemagne, encouraged by the success of the drama, decides to begin “Furious Roland” without the furious Roland.

Where is the furious Roland? - the audience asks each other halfway through the play, and the mayor sends them backstage to ask: where is the frantic Roland?

Furious Roland?.. Absent,” answers the theater owner, taking off his crown in front of the police official sent by the mayor.

How about absence?

In absence, sir; but he will arrive at the conclusion of the play.

And this answer satisfies the public; everyone is looking forward to the conclusion; Sophia is already Angelika, Louis is a Chinese knight; a wizard and a shepherd appear... and they don’t clap for anyone, they wait for Roland.

Charlemagne hears the public's murmurs.

I'm dead! - he says, throwing off the royal purple and crown...

Suddenly there is a noise in the yard,

What is there? - asks the mayor.

Isn't Mr. Doctor here? - a voice came from outside.

What is there? - the mayor repeated menacingly.

And all the policemen who were in the theater rushed out to find out the cause of the noise. The doctor's servant pushed his way through the crowd. He was grabbed by the collar.

What do you want, scammer?

Osip Ivanovich is being demanded by some general who is staying with Mr. Treasurer,” the servant answered, out of breath.

At the same time, the police clerk ran up to the mayor.

Your Honor! - he told him in a whisper. - It seems that the new governor-general has arrived!

Really! - said the mayor, embarrassed. - Oh, you're a misfortune! How deceived! And we were expecting him in two weeks! Is it really the Governor General?

Exactly, your honor: I just arrived, asked for a policeman; you see, I’m not very healthy from the road.

The mayor, without saying a word, rushed out of the theater.

Governor, governor! - there was a whisper among the audience. At this name, all the dignified office people got up from their places, began to fuss, forgot the play, walked between the chairs, making their way out.

Sorry, dear audience! - the theater owner suddenly said in a pitiful, pleading voice, running out onto the stage with a desperate face. - I ask for mercy and forgiveness! I'm not the reason my actor disappeared!..

In the general noise of gatherings and knocking of doors, no one heard the words of the entrepreneur, who imagined that the audience had finally realized that the frantic Roland was not on stage.

Everyone took him for the frantic Roland, who was supposed to appear at the conclusion of the play, and, leaving the theater, they clapped and shouted “handicap!” The manager repeated the apology; the curtain fell.

"Governor General! Governor General!" - was heard in the crowd leaving the theater. "Governor General!" - rushed through the city streets; and the service people returned home with the thought: Governor General!, around which a sphere of ideas about responsibility for disorder and malfunction was formed.

The town doctor was also horrified. He did not imagine that the governor general could have a need for a district doctor: he does not travel around the province for treatment, but to punish for negligence in his service.

As a result of this thought, the city doctor hurries home to throw off his tailcoat, put on his uniform, and arm himself with a sword; and meanwhile he sends for his assistant, waits for him impatiently, scolds him for his slowness, orders him to compile a list of patients in the city hospital, tremblingly goes to the treasurer's house, enters the hallway and, wiping the sweat on his face, asks the servant: is His Excellency at home?

He is brought into the hall. The treasurer with his wife and two daughters meet him, barely touching the floor, and in a whisper they tell a terrible event, how his Excellency was killed by horses, how his Excellency fell out of the carriage, fortunately near their house; They say that His Excellency is completely broken and lying unconscious on the sofa in the living room, and they ask to go in there to examine His Excellency’s wounds.

How is this possible! - says the doctor. - Enter without a special order from His Excellency! Isn't it better to wait until he feels better and calls for a doctor?

Have mercy, Osip Ivanovich; what do you want to say? His Excellency needs urgent medical attention, because his entire head was left in a bloody state from a strong blow when he fell.

The doctor was convinced by the words of the treasurer; straightening his uniform and sword and taking the triangular hat in his right hand, he entered the living room.

On the sofa lay a middle-aged man with a bloody face, with a huge blue bump on his forehead, in a frock coat on which three stars shone.

“Feel His Excellency’s pulse, Osip Ivanovich,” the treasurer said quietly.

The doctor felt the pulse and came to his senses, because His Excellency was indeed unconscious.

What do you think?

Osip Ivanovich shook his head.

Should I bleed?

Yes, we should! His Excellency is unconscious. It would be a good idea to send for a paramedic.

Help, most respected Osip Ivanovich! Just imagine that His Excellency will regard you and me as his saviors. If it weren’t for me, he really would have died, he would have bled all over. You must be so lucky: I’m driving to the theater, leaving the gate, I hear the sound of a carriage and a scream in the distance, and I hear a groan under my feet. What does this mean, I think to myself. Stop! I get off the droshky and look - what? His Excellency is lying in a ditch near the bridge, all broken, as you can see. The carriage probably capsized, the horses were carried downhill and, probably, straight into the Dnieper...

“It’s extraordinary luck,” the treasurer’s wife picked up, “that the carriage overturned in time, otherwise His Excellency would have been in the Dnieper.

Help quickly, Osip Ivanovich,” the treasurer interrupted, “for saving lives, he will take us under his protection.”

I will use all my art. We'll bleed him... Have they sent for a paramedic?

Sent, sent! - answered the treasurer’s wife and her two daughters.

The doctor approached the patient.

My head is all broken!.. I’m afraid my brain is disturbed,” he added importantly.

The paramedic has arrived. The patient's arm was released from the sleeve, stretched, and bandaged above the elbow; the vein tensed, the lancet clicked, blood splashed onto the ceiling.

Unhappy! - the patient cried, withdrawing his hand. - Give me the clip!.. We will fight with death!..

God, he's dying! - all the women cried and ran out.

What? No hope, Osip Ivanovich?

Let's see! “Help hold His Excellency’s hand,” answered the doctor, and with the help of the treasurer and the paramedic, they pulled the patient’s hand again, and again the lancet hit, and blood spurted out in a stream.

- Death blow!- the patient cried out in unconsciousness. The doctor jumped back in fear.

God, what have you done! - said the treasurer.

- Smoldering has engulfed all my members!..- continued the unconscious one, raising his hand, from which blood was pouring. - Devouring time is destroying my memory! The earth is opening up! Stop!.. Let's bring down the earth with us! She's trembling!.. Get away!..

A convulsive trembling embraced the patient; He continued to rave for a long time; but his words were drowned out by the chatter of his teeth. Finally he fell silent and fell into complete insensibility.

Is there hope, Osip Ivanovich? - asked the treasurer.

“We’ll see what the night says,” answered the doctor.

The doctor and the treasurer spent the whole night dozing next to the patient. Towards morning he stirred; a deep sigh escaped from my chest.

Thank God he will live! - the doctor cried.

Live! - the patient repeated.

He comes to his senses! - said the treasurer, crossing himself.

- My sovereign, my friend, tells me... I believe... I remain alive...- said the patient and continued something indistinctly.

Do you hear? Friend of the sovereign! His Excellency straight from the capital! - the treasurer whispered in the doctor’s ear.

The patient again spoke something inaudibly and then continued:

- I know, sir... I... believe all prosperity lies in making people happy... and now... oh, how unhappy I am!..

Calm down, Your Excellency! Osip Ivanovich will help you; and in my house you deign to be like in your own home...

Shh! - the doctor interrupted the treasurer’s words. - Don’t talk to His Excellency now; he has not yet come to his senses, leave him; he seems to have fallen asleep. Meanwhile, I’ll go home to rest and prepare the necessary quinine mixture; Oh, this is a new, surest remedy for all diseases: it relieves all types of fevers, and every disease is nothing more than a fever. You yourself see the example of His Excellency. A bruise in itself is nothing more than external inflammation; and how terribly he was shaking; you just have to stop the internal trembling, and it’s all over.

And the doctor went home; but at the gate he encountered the mayor in full uniform, who was in a hurry to introduce himself to the governor-general.

A! Osip Ivanovich!

Where are you going?

To His Excellency, report on the well-being of the city.

Impossible! - the doctor cried. - Cannot accept; he had just begun to come to his senses; the horses crushed him in a cruel manner; but I took all the necessary measures,

What measures, sir, are you taking? As the head of the city, I must take all measures and be the first to appear to His Excellency to receive orders!

As you wish, Mr. Mayor: I will not be to blame if His Excellency does not recover! - answered the doctor.

The mayor entered the hallway. The treasurer approached him on tiptoe.

Shh! His Excellency fell asleep.

“I’m surprised, Mr. Treasurer,” said the mayor in a stern tone, “how you dared to offer your excellency your house and interfere with the orders of the police!”

“For mercy,” answered the treasurer, “in my eyes, his Excellency was demolished by horses, and I raised him near my house, all broken, without memory ...

So much the worse, sir! Without the knowledge of the police, you did not dare to pick up an unconscious person on the street, much less bring him into your house! My job was to investigate who was lying on the street in an unconscious state, and, having learned that he was the Governor-General, to give him a decent apartment, and not a shack, sir!.. This is machinations, my sir! You undermine your superiors; you are a restless person, you do not know subordination! The Governor General is in your house, and you dare to be in a robe! I'll report you, sir! Hey, wanderer! As soon as His Excellency wakes up, inform me immediately!

The mayor quickly walked out of the hall and went to the police to put everything in order.

The treasurer was actually frightened by the mayor’s words and repented that he had interfered in something that was not his own business.

The treasurer was a kind man, a learned man; he was a great antiquary in terms of laws, and this harmed him, quarreled with everyone.

He read "Russian Truth", the charter of the holy Prince Volodymer, the code of law of Tsar Ivan Vasilyevich and knew that the rank of treasury had been an important rank since ancient times, that once the main position of the treasurer was to keep the sovereign's dress and protect it from magic and sorcery.

He quarreled with the mayor because he told him that from time immemorial city voivodeships, that is, mayorships, were given instead of salaries and food out of mercy, for profit, and that in petitions about voivodships they wrote: I ask you to let me go feed; and that the governors They were previously judged together with the elders and kissers.

The latter was taken by the mayor as a mortal insult. He considered this a reproach for drunkenness; for the treasurer did not bother to explain to him the ancient meaning of the word kisser.

The treasurer quarreled with the solicitor of the city magistrate because, explaining to him the old position of the solicitor: to dress, shoe, wash and scratch the sovereign and, due to the lack of pockets, to wear the royal handkerchief, he dared to add: that the solicitors were formerly under the command of the housekeepers.

The treasurer lived on bad terms with his boss because he did not put in the expense book the amounts he spent not for official needs.

Thus, the treasurer, not foreseeing the good of being a thorn in the side of his superiors and colleagues, wanted to ask His Excellency to transfer him to another city.

Meanwhile, the convict, who occupied the place of a clerk in the police, was taken to prison; the closet, filled instead of things lying on the table and under the table, with the remains of dinner, a piece of fried beef, crumbled bread and a bottle of something, was cleaned; the sleep-deprived team is brought to its feet; the blue-nosed clerk, after a few prods from the boss, sat down to draw up a report on the well-being of the city and a list of convicts held in the prison; part of the police team ran to catch carts and workers around the city to clean the streets.

Utensils and utensils not related to litigation, criminal and written cases were also removed from the magistrate and other judicial places. The judges began to repeat backs, make backdating journals and sum up the results in corded books.

When the news of the arrival of the Governor General in the city reached the commander of the garrison district, Lieutenant Colonel Adam Ivanovich, the old man’s heart was filled with horror.

The garrison soldier stood in a respectful position, hands at his sides, near the doors and waited in silence for his superior's order.

Didn't our general also come with him? - the district commander finally said.

I can’t know, your honor! The police messenger didn't say that; Maybe he arrived, maybe he didn’t!

Have you been to Ivan Ivanovich?

He was, but his honor is not in the apartment!

My God! Not in the apartment! What am I going to do!.. Run, look for him, tell him that the district commander ordered to ask him to come to him! - Adam Ivanovich cried, walking around the room.

I'm listening, your honor!

And the garrison soldier, putting his left hand to the cleaver, turned around to the left, stamped his right foot and went out; but the district commander, who had arrived from among the guests, encountered him at the door and stopped his left leg, raised for a quick march, with the following question:

Why are you here? A?

To his honor! - answered the soldier, stretching out to the front.

From whom?

From the police. His Excellency has arrived, the governor.

Governor? Oh my god! Why are you, Adam Ivanovich, thinking? A? After all, you are the commander! It would be your job to assemble a team and present!

But, my friend, Ivan Ivanovich will come; orders must follow command.

Without Ivan Ivanovich, the whole thing won’t work! - the district commander cried. - What a disgusting boss! The subordinate does what he wants! Ivan Ivanovich sat on your neck! Without Ivan Ivanovich, don’t you dare take the soldier out of the boss’s kitchen, not just do something on the farm! Well, sir... why don’t you run to Ivan Ivanovich yourself? Let me see how you can somehow pull on your worn out uniform? After twenty years of service, I couldn’t afford either my wife or myself a decent dress!..

The district commander did not stop talking until Ivan Ivanovich arrived.

Ivan Ivanovich, a dashing lieutenant about forty years old, in a pale green uniform, with a pair of yellow epaulets hanging on his chest, with a forged blackened rim, entered the room; his huge sword, like a broadsword, clattered against his legs and the floor; the tip of a former black feather stuck out in his triangular hat; his left eye squinted, the left side of his mouth twitched, his sideburns drooped like the shaggy ears of a cop dog; his forehead wrinkled.

What would you like to order? - he said, sticking the index finger of his right hand between the 3rd and 4th button.

Ah, dear Ivan Ivanovich! Have you heard that the Governor General has arrived? Must make the proper order and give orders upon command.

Indeed, it is so, because on the occasion of the arrival of His Excellency, the team must be assembled in all equipment and, in the prescribed manner, presented for the inspection review, which is to be carried out. And also on the occasion of the arrival of His Excellency, a guard of honor will be assigned to the house occupied by His Excellency.

Well, well, Ivan Ivanovich; therefore, you will appoint a guard.

Wouldn’t it be nice to submit a report on the well-being of the team, on the number of posts and sick people?

Well, well, Ivan Ivanovich, of course, I must submit a report on the well-being of the team entrusted to me.

By the way, Adam Ivanovich, would you be so kind as to present to His Excellency that the mayor dares to dispose of the garrison team past the chief and take soldiers on a retreat without your knowledge.

Yes, yes, Ivan Ivanovich, that’s fair; on His Excellency’s next visit, I will report on all the abuses of the police, and this time we will only submit a report on the well-being of the team...

As you wish, but I would tell the mayor to his face: how dare he do such things!..

I'll tell him, I'll tell him! He doesn't dare do this! - Adam Ivanovich said, walking around the room.

So how? Will you order a team to gather at the square tomorrow morning?

Yes, yes, definitely to the square, in all gear.

I’ll go to the warehouse and have them cleaned and whitewashed.

Okay, okay, Ivan Ivanovich, order that everything be in proper order and cleanliness.

The lieutenant set off, and the district commander, satisfied with his orders, filled his inherited meerschaum pipe with knaster and began to play grand solitaire.

It's morning. Lieutenant Ivan Ivanovich, tied with a thread scarf, walks with a naked sword along the front of the garrison soldiers, levels the line and waits for the district garrison commander.

Accompanied by an orderly, Adam Ivanovich finally appears in huge boots with spurs, in elk trousers replacing white cloth ones, in a pale green uniform with puffy buttons and with a yellow stand-up collar, which has become detachable over time, in a triangular hat, tipped back; tied with a tricolor scarf, as if to support his stomach, Adam Ivanovich looked like Charles XII.

Hello guys! - he cried, approaching the front.

We wish you good health! - the soldiers shouted.

Would you like to do a rehearsal? - said the lieutenant, coming up to him and putting his hand to his hat.

Rehearsal, rehearsal! - the district garrison commander answered importantly.

Attention!.. Look, guys, don’t be timid! Do what Adam Ivanovich commands! - said the lieutenant, turning to the front.

If you please, give command, Ivan Ivanovich!

What do you want? - answered the lieutenant, putting his hand to his hat.

If you please, command... according to affiliation.

I obey! - answered the lieutenant. - Look, guys, don’t be timid; do that I will command! - he cried, turning to the team.

And the lieutenant stood up in front of the front, sheathed his sword, stretched out, cleared his throat, and opened his mouth.

Sluuuuuu...

Have mercy! Adam Ivanovich! - he was interrupted by the ringing voice of the mayor, who was galloping around the city to restore order and stopped in front of the front next to the district commander. - For mercy, to this day you have not appointed a guard for His Excellency, you have not even sent messengers and orderlies!

I really know my stuff! - Adam Ivanovich answered angrily after the retreating mayor. - Ivan Ivanovich, please assign a guard, messengers and orderlies to His Excellency.

Guys, who should be on guard? Come out! - the lieutenant commanded.

And the soldiers started a dispute about who should go on guard.

Would you order, Adam Ivanovich, to place two booths at the gate of His Excellency?

Definitely, definitely! Don’t forget to assign two sentries to His Excellency’s crew.

I obey! - answered the lieutenant.

Adam Ivanovich went, accompanied by messengers, to his Excellency.

Meanwhile, all the officials and service people of the city, members of the merchant class and the mayor poured into the treasurer's house and tiptoed into the small hall. In their uniforms, with obsequious importance on their faces, they lined up in order of seniority at the door of the room, holding their swords with their left hands, and holding triangular hats in shape with three fingers of their right.

Observing respectful silence, they looked at the closed doors of the living room.

The reception hall is also the sphere of the solar world, in which planets of different sizes and properties rush around. Fast and bright mercury rushes from the office to the waiting room, from the waiting room to the office, spinning like a demon near the sun, important with someone else's light; an official Jupiter, head over heels in an embroidered collar, with his four companions, legs apart, looking down on everyone; the honored bald Saturn, who has acquired a bright halo for his long service and hard work, sits silently and importantly in the corner of the hall; cold Uranus, with a blue nose, gloomy and gloomy, stands in the other corner; he is out of favor with the sun, no one looks at him, no one sees him except the observant astronomers and seven pitiful subordinates. Mars, in a red collar, with his finger tucked behind his uniform button, puffed up and ruddy, stands with his motionless neck stretched out and his pupils moving to the right and left, always ready to stand in front of the clear eyes of his boss. All the other small planets and satellites, like fixed stars, are scattered around the hall, standing in a respectful position, looking to the east, waiting for the sun. Lucifer tells him... It will rise, and the importance of the planets disappears, they are not visible, as if there is no one in the hall except the sun.

In the treasurer's hall this whole procession was simpler, more provincial.

But then the door to the living room opened, everyone shuddered and stood up...

The treasurer came out.

Shh! - he said quietly. - His Excellency cannot be received now, they have fallen asleep.

Everyone tiptoed up to the treasurer, surrounded him, and showered him with questions; but his superior, the chairman of the magistrate, who has every right over his person, took advantage of this right, took his subordinate by the hand and took him aside for interrogation.

My God! - a loud voice came from the living room. The chairman jumped away from the treasurer, the scattered front of officials formed again, the treasurer rushed into the living room. A doctor stood near the bed with a spoon of medicine, which he wanted to pour into the patient’s mouth.

- She has almost completely deprived me of reason and freedom, stealing the time that I am obliged to devote to the position assigned by the sovereign and the fatherland!..- said the patient and continued something indistinctly; and suddenly, throwing up his head, jumping up from his seat, he cried out: - What I see? Is this Sofia's house? This is the temple where the deity of my soul dwells!..

The doctor looked at the treasurer; the treasurer flushed all over; “I don’t understand,” he thought, “when His Excellency was with us and saw my daughter!”

The mayor, hearing the voice of His Excellency, could not resist. “I am the head of the city, I must appear before the Governor-General, and what kind of person is the treasurer who dares to enter His Excellency without a report!” - he thought and entered the living room.

The sick man glanced at him and cried out:

Who are you, impudent?

Your Excellency!.. I... mayor... have the honor.

- Who dared to deprive me of the first pleasure in my life? Speak!- the patient continued in a menacing voice.

I can’t know, Your Excellency!.. I was not notified of your arrival... My apartment is ready for Your Excellency... I have been performing my position with diligence for six years...

During the mayor’s words, the treasurer and the doctor stood in a respectful position, with their eyes fixed on the ground; and the patient continued to say something to himself and suddenly said out loud, interrupting the mayor’s words:

- What are you going to tell me?

With this, I have the honor to present a report on the well-being of the position entrusted to me...

His words were interrupted by the district garrison commander. Entering the room in a shako, he walked with measured steps to the sofa, put his hand to the visor and said loudly:

Your Excellency I have the honor...

- Do me a favor, leave me!- the patient cried in a pleading voice.

Adam Ivanovich retreated, fell silent, and began to shake.

- Is everyone really against me? Did everyone really agree to my death? Destruction! No!..- and with these words, casting a menacing glance and throwing off the bandage from his head, he continued his rapid-fire incoherent words.

The mayor, Adam Ivanovich, the treasurer and the doctor were silent, not daring to raise their eyes.

What does this mean? - the patient continued again clearly. - Everyone follows me and doesn’t want to leave me alone for an hour!..

The mayor, Adam Ivanovich, the treasurer and the doctor, fulfilling the will of His Excellency, left the room; and he continued to say something loudly, with his heart.

“Come on, gentlemen,” said the mayor, “His Excellency has been warned against us.” These are tricks of Mr. Treasurer.

It’s in vain if you please, it’s in vain! - the treasurer repeated after those leaving.

In the treasurer's bedroom there was a terrible argument between him and his wife.

Enough, sir! You think only about your daughter, and you are ready to send mine to the kitchen, sell it off, marry it off to even a stranger. I heard with my own ears how he pronounced Angelica’s name.

Have mercy, darling, I can present Osip Ivanovich to you as a witness. How now I hear the words of His Excellency: “This is the house of my Sophia, my dearest Sophia!”

Oh, you kind! So you want to give your last little house as a dowry to your beloved Sophia!.. No, sir, this will not happen!..

You're a real stepmother! God be with you! It doesn’t matter to me: Angelika is my daughter; however, who knows...

Heartbroken, the treasurer left the room without finishing his speech.

Bald devil! He's getting confused in himself! - the treasurer grumbled and called Angelika.

Dressed up? Like this! Fine; lower the scarf a little onto your shoulders. Well, go; say that I want to give medicine to Your Excellency.

Vyatka breed, pockmarked, puffy Angelika, having received instructions from her mother, entered the patient’s room.

He lay in a state of forgetfulness, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. Angelica tapped the bottle.

The patient looked around, stood up and said, fixing his gaze on her:

- I’ll go to her... isn’t it suspicious?.. No!.. I dare to ask, madam, what are you deigning to worry about?

Medicine for Your Excellency...

- Did you complain about anyone?

Angelica flushed. “God!” she thought, “he heard me complaining about Sophia to Mother.”

No, sir, I didn’t complain; I have no heart for anyone.

- If you like, I can serve you with mine.

I'm not standing, Your Excellency...

Love! - he cried, turning his head to the side. - Now help me!- and, turning to Angelika, continued: - Ah, madam, you will not refuse me your service!..

What would you like to order?

- I’ll tell you a secret that depresses me... I’m horrified!.. I would like to open my heart to you, but my tongue does not obey my desire...

If you would honor me... my fortune...

- It is not in my will to reveal to you the reason for my anxiety... It began on the very day there was a sad incident in this house...

“When my grandmother died, I was not here; I was with my mother at the fair; only my sister remained,” thought Angelika and flushed.

- I saw the deity whose charms plunged me into this calamity.

I don't know, sir! - Angelika answered with her heart, - maybe my sister Sophia...

- But at least it’s up to you to give it a chance to look at it one last time!- said the patient, looking at her with motionless eyes.

Sorry, sir! - Angelika said, flushing, and, crouching with a contemptuous smile, she ran out of the room...

That's horrible! - she cried, slamming the door. - He demands that I give him a chance to see Sofia.

Do you see, my friend? - said the treasurer, entering the room. - Didn't I tell you?

I am very glad, sir, that I brought my daughter together with a nobleman; She's a jack of all trades! - the treasurer cried.

Meanwhile, the patient was saying something out loud, the words: “Then bring the doctor to me, as quickly as possible!”- they rang out loudly.

The treasurer rushed to him.

Anything your Excellency would like? - he said quietly.

The patient, leaning on the pillows and looking at the ceiling, continued:

- My weakness is decreasing...

Thank God, Your Excellency! - said the treasurer, folding his hands and bowing. The patient continued:

- Strength is strengthened by some kind of hope... Of course, Sophia is safe. Oh, if only my premonition would come true! Omnipotent being! What gratitude I will bring to you when I see dearest Sophia in my arms! Chu, I hear her voice!..

Sophia, Sophia! - the treasurer cried, running into the bedroom and grabbing Sophia by the hand. - Go, bring the medicine to His Excellency.

Sofia, a kind, modest girl with blue eyes that still shone with tears from her stepmother’s scolding, pushed by her father into the sick man’s room, stopped and covered her face with a handkerchief.

- I’m still alive, dear Sophia! Still alive! Don't suffer!- the patient cried, stretching out his hands to her. - What a frenzy she is in! Ah, this is out of Love for me!.. Oh, my heart is torn by pain and annoyance!..

Where are you going, Sophia! - the treasurer whispered, holding back his daughter, who wanted to run out. - Sorry, Your Excellency, my Sophia is a little shy.

- Don't worry, dearest! I have been left to live... thank Providence!.. Ugh, the fool doesn’t prompt the prompter... What do you mean?..

Father! Let me go!.. - said Sophia, breaking away from her father’s arms.

“I’m alive,” the patient continued, “ and alive for what is precious to you...

Do you hear me, stupid! - the treasurer whispered in his daughter’s ear.

- Now help me get up, dear Sophia! My weakness does not allow me...

Let me, Your Excellency, lift you up! - With these words, the treasurer rushed to help the patient get up, and Sophia ran out of the room.

Rising from the sofa, the patient fixed his eyes on the treasurer and whispered something to himself for a long time; then, suddenly grabbing the pillow and lifting it, he cried out:

- What! Or did you, barbarian, come here to finish your atrocities?

Your Excellency! Most gracious sir!.. I’m okay, sir! - said the treasurer, trembling like a leaf.

Where is the sovereign?

It is not for us, small people, but for your Excellency to know this,” answered the treasurer, bowing respectfully.

- How is it possible for the sovereign to give you command over me?- the patient cried again.

I don’t dare even think, Your Excellency; I am a man under command, everything is controlled by the chairman himself...

- I'm going to see him now!- the patient cried and suddenly jumped up from the sofa, threw his frock coat, which had been pulled from his hand to let the blood, over his left shoulder, grabbed the treasurer’s hat that was lying there, and quickly walked out of the room. In the hallway, servants jumped up from their seats, the garrison messengers and orderlies stretched out to the front, at the gate the sentries began their guard duty, and the makhalny signaled to the guardhouse, which was nearby in the square.

His Excellency sets off with quick steps along the street to the square.

Meanwhile, in the city, official activity is extraordinary, service is marvelous, order is exemplary; in all, zeal worthy of the attention of the highest authorities; in the magistrate and courts everyone is in uniform and with a sword, the regulations have come to life, in front of the mirror they fix and enforce the truth according to the laws, they judge and talk about business, and not about yesterday and city news; in the city hospital, doctors feel the pulse of each patient, the medicine is not prescribed for everyone, the diet is not the same; The garrison team in the square is learning a training step, the police team is on alert. The mayor signs reports, denunciations and relations, apartment tickets and departures of convicts in stages; His classes are interrupted by the theater entrepreneur entering with a deep bow.

Hello, my dear! What is this? Poster for a new show?

No way, your honor, a request!

Ivanov, take it and read it! - said the mayor, continuing to sign the papers.

"By title; freedman Yakim Prokhorov Kozyrin's petition; and about what, the points follow: 1st. Having been an actor by trade and having become a director, that is, the owners of a free troupe, I produced various plays on stage, such as comedies, operas, tragedy, to the complete delight of the public, at fairs and in provincial cities of the All-Russian Empire, having everywhere permission from local authorities, at his own cost, with various scenery and costumes. 2nd. Last year at the Rostov fair, a tradesman joined the troupe of my directorate Cornelius Ivanov Zaretsky under contract, in order to be on my bread and play tragic roles, and when need follows, then comic ones; in the event of the absence or illness of the opera artist of my troupe, a retired bass singer of the cathedral, he, Zaretsky, and sing. Despite this, he, Zaretsky, upon his arrival in this city, disappeared from his post and took away from me, the owner, various suits, namely: velvet trousers, a frock coat of blue cloth with a red beaded lining, a green silk embroidered vest on the frock coat three foil stars, sewn with gimp, and on top of this he took one hundred and twenty rubles in advance; whom I ask the police to find and, having acted according to the laws, return the above-mentioned things and money to me. It must be filed with the city police. The petition was composed and rewritten from the words of the petitioner by the petitioner himself. I had a hand in this request,” etc.

You, brother, did not indicate in your request: how old he is, what signs, whether he is married or single, where he is assigned to the philistinism!.. These are things necessary for the police; For these reasons, we will draw up a relationship with that city.

Your honor! Here is his passport.

All the same, brother,” answered the mayor, continuing to sign the papers, “everything must be mentioned in the request.” Well, brother, instead of composing and rewriting a request yourself, you would turn to a person who knows this matter.

Let me write to you,” said the clerk: “it’s worthless.”

Suddenly there was a noise on the street.

Find out what it is there! - the mayor cried, continuing to sign the papers.

The policeman and the police rushed out and did not return: curiosity and duty drew them after the people, who ran to the square and gathered in a crowd around an unknown man in a three-cornered hat. Only his sparkling eyes and the movements of his hands were noticeable through the crowd. In a frantic, terrible voice he said:

- A magnificent city!.. What greatness to rule it, to shine over it like a royal day!.. To plunge into this bottomless ocean all the bubbling passions, all the insatiable desires!.. An abyss!.. Throw into it everything that only a person has precious! .. Your victories are conquerors; your immortal works are artists; your voluptuousness is epicurean; your seas and islands are seafarers!.. Doge!.. What bliss to stand on this terribly elevated point! Look at the stormy abyss, where the wheel of a blind deceiver turns people’s circumstances! What a delight to be the first to drink from the cup of joy!.. What greatness to tame the indomitable passions of people with a thin bridle, to turn the heaving pride of a vassal into dust with one breath!.. Break the thunder into simple sounds, and you will put children to sleep with it; merge them into one sudden blow, and the majestic sound will shake the universe!..

Your honor, your honor! - cried the police clerk who came running, out of breath. - There is a strange disorder in the city; Somebody, in excitement, is causing a riot in the square.

How! - the mayor cried, grabbing his hat and sword from the table. - Gather the whole team!.. Send to the district commander to go with the soldiers to the square!.. Follow me!.. - And with this word the mayor rushed like mad to the square.

Meanwhile, the unknown person continued:

- Did I, I, Fiesco, kill my wife!.. Oh, I conjure you! Do not look like pale ghosts at this play of nature! Thank you, Almighty! There are cases that a person cannot be afraid of, because he is a man!.. Who is denied divine delights, is he really destined to endure devilish torment?

Here he is! He killed his wife.

Shut up!.. Where? - continued the unknown person, grabbing one who was backing away by the collar and throwing him into the crowd.

Grab him, grab him! - the police officer shouted, pushing through the people.

- Turn your tongue into a crocodile!- the unknown man roared, rushing at the police official. - Go to the abyss!..

The police official dodged and fell silent with obsequiousness, stretched out to the front; He was frightened not by the unknown person himself, but by the three stars shining on his chest.

Grab him, grab him! - the voice of the out of breath mayor rang out from a distance.

But the people fled from the unknown when, gnashing his teeth, he said:

- Away, away from the faces of men! ABOUT! If only the universe could fall into my jaws! Man!.. With what joy does this vile creature stand and bless his fate that it is not like mine!- continued the unknown man, pointing to the lawyer, who, having pushed aside the crowd, had just climbed forward. - All the malice of hell was directed at me alone!.. Brother!- he continued in a pitiful voice. - Thank you, Almighty, there is another one here who was struck by this thunder!..

Zaretsky! - a new voice was heard in the crowd. This was the owner of the marching troupe. - Here it is, here it is! - he cried, pushing through the crowd and hugging the unknown man. - He was drinking! I recognized him from his monologue from Fiesco! I found a place to recite!.. Here is the theatrical costume and my stars! I'm lucky I didn't drink!..

The police team, brought out of bewilderment by the theater owner, sprinkled the unfortunate Zaretsky.

Twist his arms back! - the mayor cried solemnly. - Take him to the police for questioning.

They drag in the unfortunate Zaretsky. His indistinct, abrupt voice, accompanied by sparkling eyes, is not heard in the noise of the crowd pursuing him.

Poor Zaretsky was brought to the police; a crowd of people surrounded the police house; shouting, noise, crowding; The mayor, having taken his place, ordered the criminal to be brought into the judge's room, and ordered the clerk to prepare paper for interrogation.

Two guards brought in Zaretsky; The theater owner came in behind him.

Mayor

Your name?

Zaretsky(to the side)

Oh my God! Error! And where is? On stage, in time for the show! He should have said your name? (To the mayor.) Conrad of Turin.

He is drunk... Your Honor... He repeats his role from the drama "Free Judges".

Mayor

Shh! No one interrupt my words! Rank?

Zaretsky

Imperial baron and member of this court.

Mayor

How? What? New forgery? Fine! (To the clerk.) Write. (To Zaretsky.) On what occasion did you arrive in this city?

Zaretsky(to the side)

God! He doesn't know his role! It will confuse me too! (To the mayor.) Protect my innocence and take my place!

Mayor

Nice innocence! O friend, you will take a place in prison!

Zaretsky(to the side)

The devil knows what he says! The fool was given a role Free judge! (To the mayor.) What is my crime?

Mayor

How? What crime? Lock yourself up! No, buddy! The whole city is a witness... Tell me how and for what purpose you agreed with Mr. Treasurer to play the role of Governor-General! A?

Zaretsky(to the side)

He's lying! I? Role of the Governor General? (To the mayor.) Where is my accuser?

Yes, your honor, he is drunkenly raving about the roles he played at the theater.

Mayor

Shh! So much the better: what is on the sober mind is on the tongue of the drunk. (To Zaretsky.) Answer the question: for what purpose? A? Is it not with the intention of stealing government funds and hiding together? Yes!.. I forgot it was. (To the police officers.) Please go immediately, immediately and without the slightest delay to arrest the treasurer. If he disappears, you will be responsible. Do you hear? (To Zaretsky.) Well, tell me, for what purpose? A?

Zaretsky(to the side)

Not that! (To the mayor, with surprise.) What a sound of a voice!

Mayor

Speak! How will you answer this?

Zaretsky

That the court is too fair to punish errors or to lay snares.

Mayor

What audacity! Network!..

Zaretsky(interrupts)

Yes, networks! All of Germany knows the ties of friendship, kinship...

Mayor(interrupts)

Connections, friendships and kinship! A! Finally! (To the clerk.) Write: “connections, friendship and kinship!..” Write! That's it! Now it's explained!

Zaretsky (aside, with heart)

You spoil it, you spoil it! Didn't let me say everything!

Mayor

What did the treasurer promise you for this?

Zaretsky(to the side)

Instead of: did you promise this? God knows what he's saying! (To the mayor.) And he kept his word; he was my friend...

Yes, your honor, he is reciting a role from “Free Judges”!

Mayor

Shh! Be silent! This is not a free court, but a state court!

Zaretsky(continues)

My guest, and I expelled him; he stretched out his hands to me, and I killed him...

Mayor(interrupts)

Later repentance!

Zaretsky(to the side)

Completely knocked me out! What do you mean? Yes! (To the mayor.) Must he die twice, endure the languor of death twice! Whoever you are... if this is your opinion, then you have the heart of an ogre! (Rushes to the mayor.)

Mayor (jumping up in horror)

He will kill! Grab him! He will kill!.. Shackle him in iron..! Take him to jail! Pads for your feet!..

Your Honor! He is drunk; He did all this while drunk. If you please listen, he is not speaking his own words; this is the role...

Mayor

Slingshot on the neck! And tomorrow, in shackles, present him for a second interrogation and a personal stake with the treasurer! Robbery in broad daylight!

Conclusion

She secretly came to Zaretsky in prison virtuous criminal. She found him unconscious, threw herself into his arms, and cried out like Angelica:

- Roland! Look at my sorrow for you!.. Calm down, my friend!..

And he answered:

- Hello, hello, noble daughter of the wild Sacripant! Hello!.. How! You ran away from your father alone?..

And she, seeing that there was no hope of restoring sanity to poor Roland-Zaretsky, said sadly, like Angelika:

Unhappy! - and left the prison with quick steps, so as not to be late for the rehearsal.

The real Governor-General, who heard rumors about this incident, laughed at him heartily and ordered Roland-Zaretsky to be transferred from prison to a madhouse, and the treasurer to be moved to another city.

To this day, during a quarrel with her husband, the treasurer sends him to visit her son-in-law in the yellow house; and Zaretsky recites without rest: then, imagining himself as an ambitious Fiesco, he raises his criminal hand against Gianettino, hits the wall with his fist, curses fate over the corpse of Rosabella, throws himself into the sea from his bed and lies unconscious on the floor; then, suddenly waking up, he appears as the Marquis Lafaste and swears his love to Sophia; then, in the face of the Free Court, he defends the rights and innocence of the imperial baron. But he outdoes himself as Furious Roland; all the crazy people in the same cell with him forget their mania, - the musician stops fingering the keys in the air, - the spirit seer forgets to catch the little devils that land on his nose by the tail, - the poet’s imaginary pen falls out of his hands, - the speaker does not cough out the words , which stopped in his throat - and everyone attentively, silently, with their mouths open, marveled at Zaretsky’s frenzied art.

NOTES

A. M. Veltman

(Curriculum Vitae)

Alexander Fomich Veltman, poet, prose writer and archaeologist, was born in 1800 in Moscow. He was brought up in the Noble boarding school at Moscow University, then in one of the private boarding schools. From 1816 he served in the army and took part in the war with Turkey of 1828–1829. In 1831 he retired and began to study literature, and then also archeology (combining these studies with service at the Armory, where from 1842 he was assistant director, and from 1852 until his death - director).

A.F. Veltman gained fame mainly as a prose writer. He wrote the novels: “The Wanderer” (1831), “Kashchei the Immortal” (1833), “Salome” (1848), “The Wizard” (1849) and others. He also owns two collections of stories (1836 and 1843). These works contain wittily reproduced features of the life of various classes, sketches of diverse genre scenes, and historical and ethnographic descriptions. However, along with correctly captured individual features of modern life, Veltman’s work is dominated by a formalistic play with plot points, a deliberate mixture of reality and unbridled fantasy, and a disorderly accumulation of a huge number of characters. As Belinsky noted, “the originality of Veltman’s fantasy is often confused by the strangeness and pretentiousness of his fictions. Having read his novel, you remember beautiful places full of poetry, but the whole is immediately erased from memory. Veltman mixes some kind of archaeological mysticism into his romantic and poetic fictions... All this is very disgraces his novels." That is why long before his death (Veltman died in 1870) he lost his former popularity.

The story "Furious Roland" is one of Veltman's most successful works. Published for the first time in the "Library for Reading", 1834, vol. 2. Published from Veltman's collection "Tales", 1837.

The play "Furious Roland", excerpts from which are spoken by the hero of Veltman's story - actor Zaretsky, was published in Moscow in 1793 (on the cover: "translation from German N. M.") and was staged in theaters for many years.

FURIOUS ROLAND

Factor - commission agent, caretaker.

Breakfast on forks.- “On the forks” is a literal translation of the French. In the expression "a la fourchette" - eating while standing or at the counter.

Tulumbas is an ancient musical percussion instrument.

An antiquarian is an expert on antiquities.

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“Furious Roland” or “Furious Orlando” (Italian Orlando furioso) is a chivalric poem by the Italian writer Lodovico Ariosto, one of the recognized masterpieces of world literature, which due to some misunderstanding has eluded the Russian educated reader. The poem tells about the unhappy love of the knight Orlando for the flighty beauty Isabella and about the madness into which the knight falls, destroying people he meets and crosses right and left in search of a reciprocal feeling.

The poem consists of 46 songs written in octaves; The full text of Roland the Furious runs to 38,736 lines, making it one of the longest poems in European literature. The plot of the poem is very confusing. Researchers reduce it to 14 main lines, to which are added 13 inserted short stories and many additional episodes.

"The Furious Roland" is a continuation (gionta) of the poem "Roland in Love" (Orlando innamorato), written by another Italian poet, Matteo Boiardo (published posthumously in 1495). But if Boiardo interprets the plot quite seriously, then Ariosto’s poem is full of irony and outright play.

The earliest version of "Furious Roland" (in 40 songs) appeared in 1516, the 2nd edition (1521) differs only in more careful stylistic finishing, the poem was published in full in 1532, but even before that, all of Italy knew it by heart, and not only educated - the poem in the form of retellings, fragments, theatrical replicas of the famous commedia dell'art penetrated into the most seedy strata of society. Between publications, the poet created 5 more songs, which were not included in the final composition of the poem and were published only posthumously. Note that the poem was written by order of the city of Ferrara, whose court flatterer Ariosto was, and accordingly in the Ferrara dialect, which differs significantly from the classical Italian language. The success of the poem prompted the poet to translate his work into normal Italian for the publication of 1532.

Initially, Ariosto's poem existed in an atmosphere of universal and unconditional recognition. In 1549, a commentary on the poem by Simone Fornari appeared, in 1554 three books were published containing an apology for the poem: correspondence between Giovanni Battista Pigna and Giraldi Cinzio, “Discourse on the Composition of Novels” by Giraldi, “Novels” by Pigna. We find the first detailed statement against “Furious Orlando” and novels in general in Antonio Minturno’s dialogue “Poetic Art” (1563), in which Ariosto is reproached for departing from recognized models (a common technique in relation to everything new and unusual, in this case the poet was reproached, that he distorted Aristotle’s rules). After the appearance of Camillo Pellegrino's treatise "Carrafa, or On Epic Poetry" (1584), a lively debate ensued about Ariosto and Torquato Tasso, which lasted until the end of the century.

Despite, however, criticism of its “frivolity” and “disproportion,” the poem gained fame and gave rise to many imitations. There was also a direct continuation - Vincenzo Bruzantini's poem "Angelica in Love", published in 1550, which traced the further fate of Angelica. Italian culture was then leading in Europe, and Ariosto's poem was quickly translated into many European languages ​​and had a serious influence on all literature. Not everyone liked the easy style of the Italian and, say, Spencer, the English poet, who in his “Fairy Queen” adapted one of the songs of “Roland”, fills it with allegory and moralizing reflections on the sorrowful human lot.

The main storyline of the poem is translated into prose by Lope de Vega. Another Spanish poet, Gongora, writes an idyll about the honeymoon of Angelica and Medongo (these are also heroes of the poem), and Cervantes includes a short story about a chastity belt in his Don Quixote. More importantly, the very idea of ​​​​a mad knight influenced the plot of the Spaniard.

Subsequently, like any great work, “Furious Roland” was commented on in all sorts of ways at random, but the positive aspect in its assessment prevailed; not a single era lowered the poem below the plinth, although our time has somewhat forgotten it. Hegel saw irony as the main thing in the poem: this is the view of a new consciousness, capable of being carried away by the old only through amusement. Hegel’s idea is interesting that the numerous allegories of the poem demonstrate the depravity of the human mind, which allows itself to be carried away by empty fantasies.

Benedetto Croce, in his revolutionary work Ariosto, Shakespeare and Corneille (1920), pointed to universal harmony as the supreme artistic principle of Orlando Furious. And Borges, in his study “Ariosto among the Arabs,” traces the eastern roots of the poem: however, in his study he embellished dry historical facts with such picturesque details and unexpected comparisons that many respectable literary scholars somehow doubted their scientific value.

The poem has been translated many times and continues to be translated to this day. One of the last translations into English dates back to 1973, and in 1954 Gilbert made a prose translation, which was a resounding success among teenagers and, along with Tolkien’s novels, laid the foundation for a new literary and not only direction - fantasy. Ariosto's images turned out to be very suitable for this direction, and hundreds of authors use them in their attempts to create something original, without even suspecting from whom they are stealing the fruits of their wild imagination. However, “Roland” is used quite deliberately. In Germany, the series based on the script for “The Furious Roland” created by the writer T. Mielke is very popular.

The Italian language did not leave Russian poets indifferent. Batyushkov argued with Gnedich who could translate Ariosto better, and both lost: neither one nor the other got around to it. And the dispute was won by Pushkin, who first wrote “Ruslan and Lyudmila” based on “Roland”, and already in adulthood translated several stanzas directly from the poem. After this, interest in the Italian died down. In 1933, Mandelstam created a half-translation, half-retelling, but the country was building socialism and did not have the eccentricities of a knight in love. Mandelstam was misunderstood not only by proletarian criticism, but also by his own brother intellectuals.

Based on the poem, paintings and operas were created, and numerous dramatizations and film adaptations were made. Based on the poem in 1594, N. Montrier wrote one of the first original plays of the French theater, staged at court and full of eroticism and obscenity, taking into account the tastes of the public (though omitted in the printed version). Already in our time (since 2004), Italiano Calvino has been making a series of radio plays based on the poem, after he created a number of works based on it and published his selection of poems from the poem in the popular Italian newspaper Carriera della Sera, reviving interest in it among the widest public . Then say that people are not interested in anything but pop music and smut.

And for composers, the poem provided rich soil with its unbridled imagination. Rossi, Haydn, Rameau, Piccini, Handel, Lyuli - you can’t list everyone who was noted for “The Furious Roland”.

The poem was among the favorite reading of many famous and unknown people. W. Scott's hero ("Waverly"), finding his pocket "Roland" in a fire, clutches it to his chest like a beloved friend. And Galileo Galilei not only read, but made numerous extracts from the poem. Two copies of the book with his notes were found, and the scientist not only emphasizes certain expressions, but offers his own version: “this word was better,” “I would prefer this way.” Soviet researcher B. Kuznetsov even wrote an entire monograph, trying to understand what made the great physicist peer so closely into the adventures of the mad knight. (Kuznetsov, however, believes that Galileo was not interested in the plot, but in the language). I wish our scientists, who read nothing but specialized literature and jokes in yellow magazines, could take an example from their great brother.

Over the next three centuries, not a single chronicler mentions him. But the legend that chose him watches over him in the middle of the night and silence, and on the morning of the Battle of Hastings (1066) the song of Roland, sung by one trouvere and taken up by the chorus of the entire Norman army of William the Conqueror, reveals to the knighthood the hero who from now on should become its embodiment *.

* The oldest Oxford manuscript of “The Song of Roland” (French: La Chanson de Roland) dates back to the 12th century. There is little left of historical reality in it: Karl’s short-term and unsuccessful campaign was turned into a seven-year victorious war, Roland is not only Karl’s best knight, but also his own nephew; the Basques turned to the traditional enemies of the Christian faith - the Saracens; their attack in the Ronseval Valley is explained by the betrayal of one of Charles’s nobles, Ganelon, Roland’s personal enemy. Falling in an unequal struggle, Roland blows his famous horn; Charlemagne hears him, turns back and takes revenge on the Saracens, and upon returning to Aachen, he executes the traitor Ganelon.

From this time on, the shadows of King Arthur and Charlemagne fade before Roland. He destroys more monsters than Hercules, more Saracens than Cid, he single-handedly fights entire armies that last five days and five nights. His horse Velantif talks like the biblical donkey, the sounds of his horn tear the gates of cities from their hinges, and the blows of Durandal's sword split rocks. Time itself stops to give him a way, and the Crusades humbly become one of his exploits: Roland takes Constantinople before Baudouin of Flanders, and Jerusalem before Godefroy of Bouillon.

"Durendal" - Roland's sword in the wall of Rocamadour Castle (France)

Traces of Roland are now found throughout Europe and not only in it. Italy is full of his relics, and Pavia passes off a giant oar suspended from the vault of her cathedral as his spear. On one of the cliffs of the Rhine stands the castle Rolandseck (Roland's Corner) built by him. Hungary remembers how he crossed her steppes, England sees his shadow near a swamp, his mighty image emerges like a rock from the mists of Icelandic legends. The Turks show his sword hanging on the gate of the castle in Brousse. And even Georgians sing it in their songs. Finally, poetry canonizes Roland, and Dante sets his soul in a luminous cross on the very mountain peaks of Paradise.

Statue of Roland in Bremen, 1404

The unknown warrior, to whose name the chronicler did not even add an epithet, inherited the heroism and exploits of an entire era. The ways of myth-making are truly inscrutable.

P.S. The devaluation of the myth is, of course, inevitable. In the 15th-16th centuries, Roland is transformed into the ideal lover of courtly literature, experiencing all sorts of adventures. In 1516, Ariosto’s “Furious Roland” was published, depicting Roland’s passionate love for Angelica, who prefers the handsome Moor Medoro to him.

At the dawn of the New Age, an ironic interpretation of the plot, grotesque and burlesque began to clearly appear in works about Roland. The last link in the history of the development of the legend is Aretino’s (1492-1556) sharply parody poem “Orlandino”, in which all the heroes of the old epic are depicted as braggarts, cowards, gluttons, etc.

"Furious Roland" or "Frantic Orlando"(Orlando furioso) is a chivalric poem by the Italian writer Ludovico Ariosto, which had a significant influence on the development of European literature of the New Age. The earliest version (in 40 songs) appeared in 1516, the 2nd edition (1521) differs only in more careful stylistic finishing, completely published in 1532. “Furious Roland” is a continuation ( gionta) poem “Roland in Love” ( Orlando interior), written by Matteo Boiardo (published posthumously in 1495). Consists of 46 songs written in octaves; the full text of "Roland the Furious" runs to 38,736 lines, making it one of the longest poems in European literature.

Plot

The work is based on the legends of the Carolingian and Arthurian cycles, transferred to Italy from France in the 14th century. Like Boiardo, only the names of the characters remained from the Carolingian epic songs, and the entire plot was taken from the Breton knightly romance. The plot of "Furious Roland" is extremely confusing and breaks up into many separate episodes. Nevertheless, the entire content of the poem can be reduced to fourteen storylines, of which eight are large (Angelica, Bradamanta, Marfisa, Astolfo, Orlando, Rinaldo, Rodomont, Ruggiero) and six small (Isabella, Olympia, Griffin, Zerbino, Mandricardo, Medoro) . And there are thirteen more inserted novellas. The main plot lines of the poem are the unrequited love of the strongest Christian knight Roland for the Cathayan princess Angelica, which leads him to madness, and the happy love of the Saracen warrior Ruggiera and the Christian warrior Bradamante, who, according to the poem, are to become the founders of the Ferrara ducal dynasty d'Este.

Poetics

The author treats the adventures he describes with emphatic irony, expressing his assessment both in descriptions and in numerous lyrical digressions, which later became the most important element of the modern European poem. The author's digressions also discuss quite “serious” topics; Thus, Ariosto talks with the reader about the art of poetry, criticizes the Italian wars and settles scores with his envious people and ill-wishers. Various kinds of satirical and critical elements are scattered throughout the text of the poem; In one of the most famous episodes, the knight Astolf flies on a hippogriff to the Moon to find the lost mind of Roland, and meets the Apostle John who lives there. The Apostle shows him the valley where lies everything that people have lost, including the beauty of women, the mercy of sovereigns and the gift of Constantine.

Without moving towards psychological analysis, Ariosto completely immerses himself in fabulousness, which, as indicated, constitutes only the lower foundation of the novel's structure. Hegel is inaccurate when he writes that “Ariosto rebels against the fabulousness of knightly adventures.” At the cost of an ironic interpretation and playful interpretation, Ariosto, as it were, acquires the right to revel in fairy-tale fiction with its hyperbolic exaggerations and bizarre images, complex heaps of plot lines, extraordinary and unexpected turns in the destinies of the characters. At the same time, much more than in classical courtly novels, the presence of artistic fiction, subjective arbitrariness and the subtle skill of the author-artist, who uses the epic legend only as clay in the hands of a master, are emphasized.

Critical acclaim

Initially, Ariosto's poem existed in an atmosphere of universal and unconditional recognition. In 1549, a commentary on the poem by Simone Fornari appeared, in 1554 three books were published containing an apology for the poem: correspondence between Giovan Battista Pigna and Giambattista Giraldi Cinzio, “Discourse on the Writing of Novels” by Giraldi, “Novels” by Pigna. We find the first detailed attack against Orlando Furious and novels in general in Antonio Minturno’s dialogue “Poetic Art,” published in 1563. From a classicist position, Minturno blamed Ariosto for violating the Aristotelian principle of unity of action. After the appearance of the treatise Camillo Pellegrino (poeta) “Carrafa, or On Epic Poetry” (1584), a lively debate ensued about Ariosto and Torquato Tasso, which lasted until the end of the century.

Hegel and, after him, Francesco de Sanctis at the end of the 19th century put forward a position that still enjoys authority, according to which Ariosto’s irony is, first of all, a worldview factor. This is a look of a new consciousness at an old and outdated reality, this is evidence of the maturity of the mind, rising above the poetic fantasies of the Middle Ages and capable of being carried away by them only while having fun. This is the form in which knightly culture finds its natural end. However, this point of view, firstly, equates Ariosto’s irony with romantic irony, which is a methodological modernization, and secondly, it is also a historical modernization, since the knightly culture of Ariosto’s time experienced not a decline, but a flourishing. Pushkin speaks of him as about the “grandson of Ariost”), Pushkin A. S. (“Ruslan and Lyudmila” and the translation of the passage about Roland’s discovery of Angelica’s betrayal - “The waters glitter before the knight”), Osip Mandelstam (“Ariost”) and others.

"The Furious Roland" was begun by Ariosto in 1506 and first printed in 1516. In this first edition the poem had 40 cantos. In 1521, its second, revised edition was published, which was reprinted many times without the permission of the author. Meanwhile, Ariosto continued to work on the poem and added 6 more songs to it. In its final form, the poem was published a year before the author's death, in 1532. Ariosto's poem is structured as a continuation of Boiardo's poem, which Ariosto was very passionate about, like all his contemporaries. He begins the narrative from the place where it ends in Boiardo, bringing out the same characters in the same positions. As a result, Ariosto does not have to introduce readers to his heroes. It was rightly noted that for Ariosto, Boiardo’s poem seemed to play the role of a tradition from which the epic poet took characters and plot motifs.

Ariosto also borrows from Boiardo the methods of plotting his poem. The composition of “Furious Roland” is based on the principle of unexpected transitions from one episode to another and on the interweaving of several narrative lines, which sometimes acquires an unusually bizarre, almost chaotic character. However, the chaos of Ariosto's poem is imaginary. In fact, conscious calculation reigns in it: each part, scene, episode occupies a strictly defined place; not a single piece of the poem can be rearranged in place of another without violating the artistic harmony of the whole. The entire poem as a whole can be compared to a complex symphony, which seems like a jumbled collection of sounds only to unmusical or inattentive listeners.

In the complex and multifaceted plot of Roland Furious, three main themes can be distinguished, which are accompanied by many small inserted episodes.

The first theme is traditional, inherited from the Carolingian epic - the war of Emperor Charles and his paladins with the Saracens. This theme outwardly covers the entire labyrinth of events depicted in the poem. At the beginning of the poem, the army of the Saracen king Agramant stands near Paris, threatening the capital of the most powerful Christian state. At the end of the poem, the Saracens are defeated and Christendom is saved. In between, countless events are depicted, the participants of which are knights of both hostile armies, periodically leaving their camps. This fact alone has considerable compositional significance in the poem: it connects the disparate threads of its episodes. The very theme of the struggle of the Christian world with the pagan world does not have for Ariosto the fundamental ideological significance that it would later receive from Tasso. True, he takes it more seriously than Pulci and even Boiardo, because he wants to raise the knightly prestige of his heroes. Nevertheless, Ariosto interprets some episodes of the war humorously and ironically.

The second theme of the poem is the story of Roland's love for Angel, which is the cause of his madness, which gave Ariosto's poem its name. Roland follows on the heels of a flighty and cruel pagan beauty, who becomes a bone of contention between Christian knights. During her wanderings, Angelica meets the beautiful Saracen youth Medor, seriously wounded. She looks after him, saves him from death and falls in love with him. Roland, pursuing Anjslika, ends up in the forest in which not long before Angelica and Medor enjoyed love. He sees monograms drawn by lovers on the trees, hears a story about their love from a shepherd and goes crazy with grief and jealousy. The madness of Roland, portrayed in accordance with tradition as the most valiant of the knights of Charlemagne, is, as it were, a punishment for his reckless passion for Angelica, unworthy of him. This theme is developed by Ariosto with genuine drama and, in places, psychological subtlety. However, the final episode of this story is of a comic nature: Astolf finds Roland’s lost sanity on the moon, where the sanity of many people who lost it on earth is stored in bottles with labels with the names of the owners. But human stupidity, notes Ariosto, cannot be found on the moon: it all remains on the earth.

The third theme of the poem is the love story of the young Saracen hero Ruggiero for the warlike maiden Bradamante, Rinaldo's sister. The union of Ruggiero and Bradamanta should mark the beginning of the princely house of Este: therefore Ariosto sets out their history in particular detail. This theme introduces an extremely abundant supernatural, fantastic element into the poem.

In addition to the three main themes, the poem contains many other heroic and romantic episodes in which a huge number of people participate. The total number of characters in the poem reaches two hundred. Among them there are wizards, fairies, giants, cannibals, dwarfs, wonderful horses, monsters, etc. Alternating episodes, Ariosto mixes the serious with the playful and easily moves from one tone of the narrative to another; comic, lyrical, idyllic, and epic styles are interspersed depending on the course of the stories. Ariosto is afraid of monotony and monotony: that is why he often combines the tragic with the comic in one song. Thus, in the 43rd canto, the sad story of Bradamanta’s death stands next to two humorous stories about female seduction.

The main stylistic point of "Furious Roland" is irony. Boiardo already used it, telling about the extraordinary exploits and adventures of knights. Ariosto goes further than Boiardo along this path. He adopts a consistently ironic attitude towards the fantastic world of miracles, exploits and knightly ideals he depicts. The critical consciousness of a humanist poet, confident in the reality of the world and a person free from superstitions and religious prejudices, naturally ironizes the medieval material developed in his poem. Ariosto easily plays with this material, constantly reminding the reader of himself with critical remarks, appeals, etc. Speaking about supernatural things, he deliberately materializes them, thereby revealing their absurdity. This is, for example, the description of Roland’s struggle with the sea monster. By depicting Astolfo's visit to the underworld, Ariosto is clearly parodying. The cruel beauties, hanging as punishment for their coldness in a cave full of fire and smoke, clearly parody the episode of Francesca da Rimini. When Astolf comes to heaven, he is given food and bed, and his horse is stabled; Astolfo eats the apples of paradise with pleasure, noting that Adam and Eve deserve leniency, etc.

For all his skepticism and irony, Ariosto does not ridicule chivalry. On the contrary, he is trying to reveal positive aspects in knightly ethics, the cult of high human feelings - loyalty, generosity, courage, nobility. He endows chivalry with a positive, humanistic content, removing from it the dilapidated feudal veils and exposing with his irony the illusory nature of the revival of outdated forms of knightly life.

Roland the Furious is undoubtedly the largest poetic work of the late Italian Renaissance. This is a kind of poetic encyclopedia of Italian life at the beginning of the 16th century, reflecting with exceptional breadth all the contradictions of the era of the beginning of the collapse of the feudal world, all the cultural gains of a society that had thrown off the shackles of medieval scholasticism, life-denial and asceticism. Ariosto's main artistic task is to show the greatness, richness, diversity and beauty of earthly life, to create a bright, harmonious picture of this earthly world, populated by joyful and beautiful images. As a true Renaissance artist, Ariosto, as it were, rediscovers the world and man for poetry, freed from all shy shackles. Immersing his reader in the world of poetic fiction, he at the same time does not take him away from reality, but, on the contrary, strives to strengthen with his ironic narration some elements of this reality. In this sense, we can talk about the realistic orientation of Ariosto’s fantastic poem.

Many of the progressive aspirations of the Renaissance were reflected in the work of Ariosto. The poet passionately protests against the endless, unjust, predatory wars that are tearing apart and bleeding “unfortunate Italy” (canto XVII); he expresses his deep sympathy for the people suffering from these wars:

Ah, forever unhappy,

There the people are considered to be sheep,

Where does the wicked tyrant see the benefit in that!

He expresses disgust at the firearms that appeared in his time, weapons of mass destruction of people, exclaiming:

He is the most malicious, fierce villain

Of all that only people knew,

Who invented such a vile kind of weapon!

As a true patriot, his greatest dream is to see Italy free from “barbarians,” that is, foreign predatory conquerors. Among the fighters for the national unity of Italy, Ariosto holds an honorable place along with Dante, Petrarch and later patriotic poets of the late 18th and first half of the 19th centuries.

As a court poet, Ariosto was forced to glorify his “most august” patrons, the Ferrara Dukes of Este. But with what bitter irony he speaks of these praises well paid by monarchs: “Aeneas was not so pious, Achilles so powerful and Hector so proud, as legend says, and they could have been successfully opposed by thousands and thousands of other people. But the palaces and estates distributed by their descendants forced the venerable hands of writers to render such magnificent and endless honors to their ancestors.”

With caustic irony, Ariosto always speaks about religious ideas, about piety, asceticism, holiness, etc. In Canto VIII, he gives a completely Boccaccian scene, depicting how a certain “holy hermit” euthanizes Angelica, who fell into his hands, in order to give give in to your “predatory desires.” And in canto XIV, in extremely harsh tones, he depicts a “vile pack” of monks, in whose monastery “Avarice, Envy, Anger, Cruelty, Laziness with Gluttony and Pride” reign; he calls this monastery hell, “where the song of the Lord sounds.” Such attacks against churchmen and monks connect Ariosto with the anticlerical tradition of Italian humanism of the 14th and 15th centuries.

As a humanist poet, Ariosto praised the beauty and valor of man, portraying love as a strong, natural feeling that is the source of “great heroic deeds.” This is how the famous scientist Galileo, who highly appreciated the art of Ariosto, expressed himself about him. In the work of the author of “Furious Roland,” one is struck by the maturity of feelings, the exceptional completeness of perception of life, the expressiveness of specific details, the ability to give his poetic visions an unprecedented material tangibility, concreteness - all the features of mature Renaissance art that has reached its highest point.

The Renaissance full-bloodedness of Ariosto's work is also expressed in the poetic form of his poem. It is written in magnificent, sonorous, melodious octaves, which for their beauty have long been called “golden octaves” in Italy. For all their apparent lightness and ease, these octaves are the result of long, painstaking work, clearly noticeable when comparing the first edition of the poem with the final one. Ariosto’s language is distinguished by the same qualities, unusually clear and specific, devoid of any rhetorical embellishment.

Ariosto's poem had a great influence on the development of European poetry, especially the genre of humorous poems. To varying degrees, the tradition of this genre was associated with ("The Virgin of Orleans"), Wieland ("Oberon"), Byron ("Don Juan"), Pushkin ("Ruslan and").

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