There are few people, but they... Stolz described Oblomov this way: “This is a crystal, transparent soul; such people are few; they are rare; these are pearls in the crowd.”

Song and rocket constructor

A person who does a job competently commands respect. And a person who does a job competently and knows how to talk about this job is admirable.

Little-known Chinese wisdom

There are few such people, but they do exist. I know this for sure, because thirty years ago fate brought me together with Vitaly Prokofievich Chekhovsky, a rocket engineer, of whom, however, there are many in the Yuzhnoye Design Bureau. However, he stood out against any background because he was a poet and it was given to him to capture the first steps of humanity to those lands where no one had been. And yet, as an engineer dealing with reality, he did not write about prohibitive heights and alluring stars, but talked about the working days of the test sites and sang about the simple joys of business trips, which included delicious reserved seat chicken and an equally reserved seat hostel, and the wind in the face , and the heat is in the ribs. For some, this is mortal melancholy, but for him - living life, which, even if it lets you die, will certainly not be from melancholy. It is no coincidence that Vitaly Chekhovsky’s “Song of the Business Travelers” was picked up by everyone who worked and is working in space. That’s why it continues to sound even after decades...

The airport is under the wing again
Flashed by and disappeared into the blue distance.
No guitar chord accompanied us,
The wives didn’t wave handkerchiefs to us...
There is a new world ahead of hotels,
A remote place, sometimes a capital.
How many apartments were changed?
How many times were there other faces.

The horizon is endless sands,
The fireflies of the platforms scattered,
People don't die of boredom here
And they don’t say that the world is not sweet.
It's just that the winds are prickly here,
Alcohol and snow and not a single girl,
Sometimes work until the morning
Sometimes a loud voice booms...

And we fly, rush on trains,
Passing the time with preference.
There are millions of us in different cities,
A restless tribe of dispatched people.

Let fate deprive us a little,
But we can forgive her for this
And, having gathered together at a late hour,
Let's all drink to not getting old.
For all the roads - in flight, on trains,
For preference, for rushing time,
For those who wait in distant cities
A restless tribe of dispatched people.

* * *

...Out of old friendship, I managed to persuade Vitaly (which was very difficult!) to tell a little about the times when such songs were born...

Yuri Ligun

- Let's start with an easy question: how did you get into KBU?

I accidentally managed to pull it out happy ticket. And it was like that. Spring 1958. The distribution of fifth-year students is underway. And then a nondescript man arrives, walks around the dean’s offices, selects candidates, asks nondescript questions: who is he, where are you from, what are you interested in... He doesn’t ask about his studies (he probably knew everything in advance). And soon they tell me that on August 1 I need to arrive in Dnepropetrovsk at an enterprise with the mysterious name “Plant No. 586”. But the first of August is far away, summer is ahead. I went to the Caucasus to the Nakra mountain camp. Then he swam to his heart's content in the warm Black Sea and on September 3, having difficulty finding plant No. 586, he arrived at the personnel department. The meeting with the chief personnel officer was not at all rosy. He threatened punishment for being late and yelled at me for not checking out of Kharkov. But in the end he gave me an application form, a direction to the Yuzhnaya Hotel and...72 hours to liquidate my Kharkov registration.

- What are your first impressions of Dnepropetrovsk?

They were strong... Instead of a hotel room, I got a cot in the fourth floor lobby. But before I had time to feel sad, I met my fellow student - the sociable Lenya Belyaev, who had already managed to get used to the new conditions and enthusiastically told me about the plant, about missiles, about Yangel, and about the head of his native department No. 12 with the marshal's surname Zhukov. Lenya fueled my interest for exactly a month, because all this time I was waiting for clearance for secret work. And then in the personnel department, guided by Belyaev’s instructions, I transferred to OKB-586, now KB"Southern", in return promising that I would play for the factory’s basketball team...

But most a vivid impression I had an unforgettable interview with Mikhail Kuzmich, where I confusedly, but apparently stubbornly justified my desire to work for Zhukov. As a result, I ended up in department No. 12, where my work marathon of more than forty-two began... but not kilometers, but years.

- Rocket science, due to its novelty, poses problems the answers to which cannot be copied from anyone. Where did the young KBY team get its ideas from?

Ideas were born in bright heads, which were then and are now. Often the ideas were so unexpected (for example, I’ll just name mortar launch and flight control by deflecting the warhead) that at first they were rejected by ministers and academics. Therefore, new design solutions were achieved with a colossal expenditure of vital energy. But we had these forces, since Yuzhnoye SDO from the moment of its foundation was replenished with young specialists from best universities countries. We have a whole cohort of wonderful inventors and innovators, headed by L. Nazarova, I. Lepeskin, V. Fedorov, A. Moroz, A. Matvienko and many others.

- This year marks the hundredth anniversary of the birth of the first Chief Designer of the Design Bureau, Academician Mikhail Kuzmich Yangel. They say that geniuses are difficult to work with. Do you agree with this statement?

I don’t know how to work with geniuses; I haven’t had the opportunity, since geniuses are always loners. But I had to work with outstanding organizers and inspirers, who sense something new a mile away, who know how to unite a team, ignite an idea and realize what was planned. And above all, Mikhail Kuzmich was such an extraordinary person for me.

The first meeting with him took place on October 4, 1958 at a half-hour interview. The last one was on October 27, 1971, when I, together with my comrades, carried the coffin with his body to the Novodevichy cemetery.

We communicated visibly - on airplanes, at the training ground, at the Councils of Chief Designers, in his cottage, while fishing. And invisibly - when the words “I am from Yangel” became my pass to ministerial offices when agreeing on documents. After his departure, a certain halo hovered in the corridors of the KBYU for a long time, and in difficult situations we often wondered: “What would Yangel do in this case?”...

- What quality of the first Chief made him a legend during his lifetime?

Yangel saw the development of any idea and the ultimate goal of work that had not yet begun. A striking example Therefore - a conversation about a mortar launch by engineer Makushin from NII-88. The idea captured the Chief Designer so much that, despite direct resistance, he brought the matter to the “metal”. And as a victorious salute in honor of the foresight of Mikhail Kuzmich, on October 23, 1971, a two-hundred-ton rocket model was ejected from a container using powder pressure accumulators. Alas, this happened two days before his death...

The reasoning behind the solutions proposed by Yangel swept away all obstacles, and life always confirmed that he was right. And one more character trait of Mikhail Kuzmich made him an undoubted leader. Being soft and calm person, he turned into a tough and uncompromising fighter when faced with injustice, illiteracy and lies...

- Creating a rocket is, of course, a collective effort. But we are talking about Yangel as a bright personality. Is there a contradiction here?

I think no. After all, the symphony is also performed by a group of virtuosos, but without a good conductor the work will not work out. So it is in our case. Mikhail Kuzmich considered combat rocket science to be his life’s work, and he devoted himself entirely to it. His missiles were not mice sitting in holes, they actively participated in the decision political problems at the global level. Let's remember: R-12 played decisive role in overcoming Cuban missile crisis, the R-36, shown in flight to French President de Gaulle, forced France to withdraw from NATO, and left the orbital R-36 out of work American project"Safeguard."

At the same time, the peaceful space direction did not fall out of the Chief Designer’s field of vision. Especially after the Central Committee instructed him to provide insurance for Korolev. And already on March 16, 1962, TASS informed the whole world about the launch of satellite in the USSR new series"Space".

And soon, in the special “satellite” KB-3, the world’s first unified space platforms and vehicles were created, including under the new international program “Intercosmos”. Therefore, it can be argued that thanks to Yangel, our design bureau is today among the world's leading developers of spacecraft. And under Yangel, a number of launch vehicles were created, among which the record holders for reliability are Cyclone-2 and Cyclone-3.

- Did Mikhail Kuzmich hear your songs, or was he from the cohort of “physicists” who were skeptical about “lyricists”?

Most likely, I heard it. After all, he stayed at the “Lux” hotel on the 43rd site. His room was on the second floor, where our songs were often played. And his son Sasha, the famous captain of the KVN team at that time, loved to sing “The airport is under the wing again.” Yes, and Yangel’s wife

- Irina Viktorovna Strazheva - in her book “Tulips from the Cosmodrome” recalls that Mikhail Kuzmich loved not only listening, but also singing songs from his native Siberia. His emotional speech on February 2, 1961 after the successful launch of the R-16 rocket would also be classified as “lyricism”. That evening the launch pad was filled with a sea of joy.

Actually, the world’s first intercontinental rocket using high-boiling fuel components had many successful launches in the future. But this one was especially memorable, because three months before it, an explosion on the launch pad claimed dozens of lives...

- This tragedy once again reminded us that rocketry doesn’t like jokes, but there were also funny moments in test site life?

Indeed, rocket technology does not like it when the conductors in the steering gears are mixed up or when a “zero” is entered into the on-board computer instead of “one”. It ends badly. In the first case, the 15A14 rocket under serial number“22” stopped flying exactly at the 22nd second. And in the second, the 15A18 No. 1 rocket did not want to fly away at all: thrown out of the container to a height of 20 meters, it returned (tail down). The result is a huge fireworks display and the death of the launch silo. But these, of course, were not jokes. These were the tears of those who signed the form confirming their full readiness for launch.

As for funny moments, they happened very often. Having successfully guided the rocket into long journey, we jumped for joy and patted each other on the back. Including Mikhail Kuzmich. In any case, I saw with my own eyes how the Chief hugged the officers of the combat crew.

- Your songs have been translated into French. How did this happen?

Easily! I gave them the words and they translated them. They are the writer Armand Collins and the translator accompanying him. And this happened in the guest cottage of the KBYU, where Mikhail Kuzmich used to live. French writer got there with the permission of the competent authorities. He collected materials for the book and visited Moscow and Baikonur several times before Dnepropetrovsk. At the meeting, our side was represented by V. A. Pashchenko, V. I. Baranov, Yu. I. Moshnenko and your humble servant. Whom I forgot - let them be forgiven due to the passage of time.

We sat at the table. Collins asked questions, we answered. Then someone remembered my songs. I sang “The steppe exploded with bloody light,” and then together we sang “The airport is under the wing again.” The translator translated on the fly.

At the end of the meeting, Armand Collins asked to give him the texts. And in 1994, a presentation of his book took place in Moscow, which told not only about the cosmonauts, but also about Korolev, Yangel and other outstanding chief designers. Stanislav Nikolaevich Konyukhov and I each received a copy of this magnificent publication. And in addition, I have the lyrics of my songs in French.

- I heard that the second President of Ukraine Leonid Kuchma not only loves your songs, but also sings with a guitar. Do you know him well?

I also heard that he really likes some of my songs. But he sings only one “Again under the wing of the airport”...

We have known each other since the Komsomol, more precisely, since 1962. I keep a Komsomol card signed by Kuchma - “For active work.” Later we worked in the same group of leading designers under the leadership of Mikhail Ivanovich Galas. Then they collaborated closely in the 70s at Baikonur. Kuchma, as an assistant to the chief designer, tested the Cyclones, and I participated in the tests of the 15A14 rocket. It was at different sites of the huge cosmodrome, but on weekends we met at the 43rd. There were songs there too.

Almost half a century of communication with Leonid Danilovich at work and on vacation allows me to think that we know each other well.

- Do you follow the current development of space technology?

IN in a broad sense, I don't follow. Firstly, there is no information, and secondly, everything has its time…. But, of course, I am interested in what is happening at the Yuzhnoye Design Bureau, and especially in the Cyclone-4 project, in which I had the opportunity to participate as a leading designer.

- What, in your opinion, should be done to enhance past and undeniable space achievements?

I would really like to hear in the news: “Today an artificial Earth satellite was launched from the Brazilian Alcantara test site. The launch was carried out by the Cyclone-4 launch vehicle. Both the satellite and the carrier were developed at the Yuzhnoye Design Bureau in cooperation with related organizations and manufactured in the YuMZ workshops.”

Dreams, dreams... But dreams are quite achievable. Therefore, I sincerely believe that high romance, that is, the desire to push the boundaries of the cognizable, will certainly help the new generation of space technology creators again feel like pioneers. And then there will be new songs and new launches that will fill the words “Ukraine is a space power” with real deeds...

P. S. Alas, it was last interview. It was published by the newspaper “Constructor” and “Weekly 2000” in September 2011. And on June 12, 2012, Chekhovsky passed away...

There are people who are attracted to my inner normalcy. There are very few such people, but they exist. Each such person and I are like two planets that float in dark space towards each other, drawn by some very natural force, approach each other and also naturally fly apart, each in its own orbit. These people come to me, enter into relationships with me - only to one day disappear from my life forever. They become mine best friends, mistresses, and even wives. Some even manage to become my antipodes. But no matter how things work out, the day comes and they leave me. Some - disappointed, some - despair, some - without saying a word (like a tap without water - even if you turn it off, you won’t get a single drop) - they all disappear.

Don't judge or be offended by people. No matter what they do to you, don't hate anyone. Everyone acts according to what he is taught and what character he has. Not many have kindness and reasoning.

Love what you have, don't wait perfect moment, try to live every day to the fullest, do not lose heart, no matter how difficult it is, believe in the future - this is happiness.

Money cannot change people, it can only help them become who they really are.

People are like wine - if they get better over the years, then they are of very high quality.

When one day is like the next, people stop noticing the good things that happen in their lives every day after sunrise.

And they sit with their backs to each other, each believing that they have won, not realizing that they both lost.

Treat everyone with kindness and respect, even those who are rude to you. Not because they worthy people, but because you are a worthy person.

It is difficult for me to say why I like or admire certain people, but I can say for sure that the people I love have one thing in common - they know how to make me smile from the bottom of their hearts.

Just remember what happened a year ago and what is now. How many people do you not communicate with now, although they swore to be with you until the end: they don’t write now, they have more important people. And you forget, and let go, but don’t forget those who are still with you, who believe in you, no matter what the circumstances and no matter how life changes you.

–– Do you want me to tell you why he is dear to you, why you love him?

She nodded her head in agreement.

– For what is more valuable in him than any mind: an honest, faithful heart! This is his natural gold; he carried it through life unharmed. He fell from the tremors, cooled down, fell asleep, finally, killed, disappointed, having lost the strength to live, but did not lose honesty and loyalty.

None false note his heart did not make noise, no dirt stuck to it. No elegant lie will seduce him, and nothing will lure him onto a false path; let a whole ocean of rubbish and evil swirl around him, let the whole world be poisoned with poison and go topsy-turvy - Oblomov will never bow to the idol of lies, his soul will always be pure, bright, honest...

This is crystal transparent soul; there are few such people; they are rare; These are pearls in the crowd! Nothing can bribe his heart; you can rely on him anywhere and everywhere. This is what you have remained faithful to and why taking care of him will never be difficult for me.

I knew many people from high qualities, but I have never met a purer, brighter and simpler heart; I loved many, but no one as firmly and ardently as Oblomov.

Once you know him, you can’t stop loving him. Is that so? Did you guess right?

Olga was silent, looking down at her work. Andrey thought about it.
– Isn’t everything here? What else? Ah!.. – having woken up, he added cheerfully later. –– I completely forgot “dove tenderness”...

Olga laughed, quickly left her sewing, ran up to Andrey, threw her arms around his neck, looked directly into his eyes with radiant eyes for several minutes, then fell into thought, resting her head on her husband’s shoulder.

In her memory, Oblomov’s meek, thoughtful face was resurrected, his gentle gaze, humility, then his smile, with which he responded to her reproach during separation... and she felt so hurt, so sorry for him...

Stolz went straight to the goal, that is, to Olga.

And what about Olga? Was she oblivious to his situation or was she insensitive to him?

She could not help but notice this: and not such subtle women as she know how to distinguish friendly devotion and pleasing from the tender manifestation of another feeling. Coquetry cannot be allowed in her due to a correct understanding of true, unhypocritical morality, not inspired by anyone. She was above this vulgar weakness.

All that remains is to assume that she liked it, without any practical types, this is the continuous worship of a person like Stolz, filled with MIND and PASSION. Of course, she liked it: this worship restored her offended pride and little by little put her back on the pedestal from which she had fallen; little by little her pride was restored.

But how did she think: how should this worship be resolved? It cannot always be expressed in this eternal struggle between Stolz’s inquisitiveness and its stubborn silence. At least, did she have a presentiment that all this struggle of his was not in vain, that he would win the case into which he had put so much will and character? Is he wasting this flame and shine in vain? Will the image of Oblomov and that TRUE love drown in the rays of this brilliance?..

She didn’t understand any of this, didn’t recognize it clearly, and struggled desperately with these questions, with herself, and didn’t know how to get out of the chaos.

What should she do? It is impossible to remain in an indecisive position: someday from this silent game and the struggle of feelings locked in the chest it will come to words - what will she answer about the past! What will he call him and what will he call what he feels for Stolz?

If she loves Stolz, what was THAT love? –– coquetry, frivolity or worse? She felt hot and flushed with shame at this thought. She will not bring such an accusation upon herself.

If it was the first, pure love, what is her relationship to Stolz? Again a game, a deception, a subtle calculation to lure him into marriage and thereby cover up the frivolity of his behavior?.. She was thrown into the cold, and she turned pale at the very thought.

And not a game, not deception, not calculation - so... love again?
She was at a loss from this assumption: second love – seven, eight months after the first! Who will believe her? How will she mention her without causing amazement, maybe... contempt! She doesn’t even dare to think, she has no right!

She rummaged through her experience: no information was found there about her second love. I remembered the authorities of aunts, old maids, various clever women, and finally writers, “thinkers about love” - from all sides I heard an inexorable sentence: “A woman truly loves only once.” And Oblomov pronounced his sentence like this. I remembered Sonechka, how she would respond to a second love, but I heard from visitors from Russia that her friend had moved on to a third...

No, she doesn’t have love for Stolz, she decided, and it can’t be! She loved Oblomov, and this love didn’t suck! She has only friendship for Stolz, based on his brilliant qualities, then on his friendship for her, on attention, on trust.

Now I know for sure: they love not “for their brilliant qualities,” but simply because their heart is filled to the brim with tenderness.
Only MARRIAGE is created on respect and friendship, on passion and trust – a false, invented “happiness”.
And in marriage there is no place for Truth, Love and Beauty. And HAPPINESS is possible only where two hearts are connected by True TENDERNESS and the Rainbow of Living Love and Beauty.))

Other articles in the literary diary:

09/29/2013. What if it works?
09/28/2013. Gibraltar-Labrador
09/27/2013. Diamond roads
09/26/2013. It's elementary, Watson!
09.25.2013. Do you love me?
09/23/2013. Sic transit gloria mundi!
09.22.2013. Comrade Bender! Where are you going?
09.21.2013. The magical power of the arts!
09.20.2013. Is there life on the march?
09/19/2013. If you don't have an aunt...
09/18/2013. Simply Maria
09.17.2013. Waltz for Maria
09/16/2013. Love for three oranges
09.15.2013. Red sun
09.14.2013. Mary Poppins, goodbye! Lullaby for Tanya
09.13.2013. Introduction to Science
12.09.2013. But happiness is still possible
11.09.2013.

Chapter Three
MARRIAGE AND SECOND LOVE

About three hours after Kirsanov left, Vera Pavlovna came to her senses, and one of her first thoughts was: it’s impossible to leave the workshop like that. Yes, although Vera Pavlovna loved to prove that the workshop was running on its own, in essence, she knew that she was only deluding herself with this thought, but in fact the workshop needed a leader, otherwise everything would fall apart. However, now the matter was very much established, and there was little trouble in managing it. Mertsalova had two children; it takes an hour and a half a day, and even then she can devote it not every day. She probably won’t refuse, because she still studies a lot in the workshop. Vera Pavlovna began to sort out her things for sale, and she herself sent Masha first to Mertsalova to ask her to come, then to a seller of old clothes and all sorts of things to match Rachel, one of the most resourceful Jews, but a good friend of Vera Pavlovna, with whom Rachel was absolutely honest , like almost all Jewish small traders and traders with all decent people. Rachel and Masha must go to the city apartment, collect the remaining dresses and things there, on the way stop by the furrier, to whom Vera Pavlovna’s fur coats were given for the summer, then come to the dacha with all this heap, so that Rachel can properly evaluate and buy everything in bulk.

When Masha came out of the gate, she was met by Rakhmetov, who had been wandering around the dacha for half an hour.

Are you leaving, Masha? For how long?

Yes, I must be tossing and turning late in the evening. Lots to do.

Is Vera Pavlovna left alone?

So I’ll come in and sit in your place, maybe some need will arise.

Please; otherwise I was afraid for her. And I forgot, Mr. Rakhmetov: call one of the neighbors, there is a cook and a nanny there, my friends, to serve dinner, because she hasn’t had dinner yet.

Nothing; and I didn’t have lunch, we’ll have lunch alone. Did you have lunch?

Yes, Vera Pavlovna didn’t let her go like that.

At least that's good. I thought they would forget this because of themselves.

Except for Masha and those who equaled or surpassed her in simplicity of soul and dress, everyone was a little afraid of Rakhmetov: Lopukhov, and Kirsanov, and everyone who was not afraid of anyone or anything, felt at times a certain cowardice in front of him. He was very distant from Vera Pavlovna: she found him very boring, he never joined her company. But he was Masha’s favorite, although he was less friendly and talkative with her than all the other guests.

“I came without being called, Vera Pavlovna,” he began, “but I saw Alexander Matveich and I know everything.” Therefore, I decided that perhaps I could be useful to you for some services and would spend the evening with you.

His services could be useful, perhaps, right now: to help Vera Pavlovna in dismantling things. Anyone else in Rakhmetov’s place would have been invited at the same second and would have volunteered to do this. But he neither volunteered nor was invited; Vera Pavlovna just shook his hand and said with sincere feeling that she was very grateful to him for his attentiveness.

“I will sit in the office,” he answered: if you need anything, you will call; and if anyone comes, I will open the door, you don’t worry yourself.

With these words, he calmly went into the office, took out of his pocket a large piece of ham, a slice of black bread - in total it amounted to four pounds, sat down, ate everything, trying to chew it well, drank half a carafe of water, then went up to the shelves with books and began to look through , what to choose for reading: “known...”, “unoriginal...”, “unoriginal...”, “unoriginal...”, “unoriginal...” this “unoriginal” referred to books such as Macaulay, Guizot, Thiers, Ranke, Gervinus. “Oh, it’s good that I came across this,” he said, having read several hefty volumes of “Newton’s Complete Works” on the spine; “he hastily began to sort through the topics, finally found what he was looking for, and said with a loving smile: - “here it is, here it is” - “Observations on the Prophethies of Daniel and the Apocalypse of St. John", that is, "Notes on the Prophecies of Daniel and the Apocalypse of St. John." "Yes, this aspect of knowledge still remained with me without a fundamental basis. Newton wrote this commentary in his old age, when he was half sane and half mad. A classic source on the question of mixing madness with intelligence. After all, the question is world-historical: this is confusion in all events without exception, in almost all books, in almost all heads. But here it must be in exemplary form: firstly, the most brilliant and normal mind of all the minds known to us; secondly, the madness mixed in with it is recognized, indisputable madness. So, the book is thorough in its part. The subtlest features of the general phenomenon must be shown here more tangibly than anywhere else, and no one can doubt that these are precisely the features of the phenomenon to which the features of mixing madness with intelligence belong. A book worthy of study." He began to read with diligent pleasure a book that in the last hundred years hardly anyone had read except its proofreaders: reading it for anyone other than Rakhmetov was the same as eating sand or sawdust. But it was delicious for him.

There are few people like Rakhmetov: so far I have met only eight examples of this breed (including two women); they had no resemblance in anything except one feature. Between them there were soft people and stern people, gloomy people and cheerful people, busy people and phlegmatic people, tearful people (one with a stern face, mocking to the point of impudence; the other with a wooden face, silent and indifferent to everything; both of them cried a little in front of me times, like hysterical women, and not from their own affairs, but among conversations about various things; in private, I’m sure, they cried often), and people who never ceased to be calm because of nothing. There was no similarity in anything except one trait, but this alone already united them into one breed and separated them from all other people. I laughed at those of them with whom I was close when I was alone with them; They were angry or not angry, but they also laughed at themselves. And indeed, there was a lot of fun in them, everything that was important about them was funny, everything was why they were people of a special breed. I love to laugh at people like this.

One of them, whom I met in the circle of Lopukhov and Kirsanov and which I will talk about here, serves as living proof that a reservation is needed to the reasoning of Lopukhov and Alexei Petrovich about the properties of the soil in Vera Pavlovna’s second dream [see. 2nd dream of Vera Pavlovna], the caveat that is needed is that no matter what the soil is, there may still be at least tiny patches in it on which healthy ears of corn can grow. The genealogy of the main persons of my story: Vera Pavlovna Kirsanov and Lopukhov, in truth, does not go back further than grandparents, and is it really a stretch to put another great-grandmother on top (the great-grandfather is already inevitably covered in the darkness of oblivion, it is only known that he was great-grandmother's husband and that his name was Kiril, because his grandfather was Gerasim Kirilych). Rakhmetov was from a family known since the 13th century, that is, one of the oldest not only here, but in the whole of Europe. Among the Tatar temniks, corps commanders, who were massacred in Tver along with their army, according to the chronicles, allegedly for the intention to convert the people to Mohammedanism (an intention that they probably did not have), but in fact, simply for oppression, Rakhmet was there. The little son of this Rakhmet from his Russian wife, the niece of the Tver courtier, that is, the Chief Marshal and Field Marshal, who was forcibly taken by Rakhmet, was spared for his mother and rebaptized from Latyf to Mikhail. From this Latyf-Mikhail Rakhmetovich came the Rakhmetovs. They were boyars in Tver, in Moscow they became only okolnichy, in St. Petersburg in the last century they were general-in-chief - of course, not all of them: the family branched out to be very numerous, so that there would not be enough general-in-chief ranks for everyone. Our Rakhmetov’s great-great-grandfather was a friend of Ivan Ivanovich Shuvalov, who restored him from the disgrace that befell him for his friendship with Minich. Great-grandfather was a colleague of Rumyantsev, rose to the rank of general-in-chief and was killed at Novi. Grandfather accompanied Alexander to Tilsit and would have gone further than anyone, but he lost his career early for his friendship with Speransky. My father served without luck and without falls; at the age of 40 he retired as a lieutenant general and settled in one of his estates scattered along the upper reaches of the Bear. The estates were, however, not very large, in total there were two and a half thousand souls, and many children appeared in the village leisure time, about 8 people; our Rakhmetov was the second to last, one sister was younger than him; therefore, our Rakhmetov was no longer a man with a rich inheritance: he received about 400 souls and 7,000 acres of land. How he disposed of the souls and 5,500 dessiatines of land was not known to anyone; it was not known that he left 1,500 dessiatines behind him, and in general it was not known that he was a landowner and that he was leasing the share of land left behind, he still has up to 3,000 rubles. income, no one knew this while he lived among us. We found out this later, and then we believed, of course, that he had the same surname as those Rakhmetovs, among whom there are many rich landowners, who, all namesakes together, have up to 75,000 souls along the upper reaches of the Medveditsa, Khopr, Sura and Tsna, which are constantly district leaders of those places, and one or the other constantly serves as provincial leaders in one or the other of the three provinces along which their fortress-like upper rivers flow. And we knew that our friend Rakhmetov lived on 400 rubles a year; for a student this was then a lot, but for a landowner from the Rakhmetovs it was already too little; therefore, each of us, who cared little about such certificates, assumed to ourselves without any certificates that our Rakhmetov was from some decayed and dislocated branch of the Rakhmetovs, the son of some adviser to the treasury chamber, who left his children a small capital. In fact, it was not for us to be interested in these things.

He was now 22 years old, and had been a student since he was 16; but he left the university for almost three years. He left the 2nd year, went to the estate, gave orders, defeating the resistance of his guardian, earning an anathema from his brothers and reaching the point that his husbands forbade his sisters to pronounce his name; then he wandered around Russia in different manners: by land, and by water, both in the ordinary and in the extraordinary, - for example, on foot, and on barks, and on inert boats, he had many adventures, which he all arranged for himself; By the way, he took two people to Kazan University, five to Moscow University - these were his scholarship recipients, but to St. Petersburg, where he himself wanted to live, he did not bring anyone, and therefore none of us knew that he had not 400, but 3 000 rub. income. This became known only later, and then we saw that he had disappeared for a long time, and two years before that time, as he was sitting in Kirsanov’s office reading Newton’s “Apocalypse,” he returned to St. Petersburg and entered the philological faculty - before I was on natural, and nothing more.

But if none of Rakhmetov’s St. Petersburg acquaintances knew his relatives and monetary relations, but everyone who knew him knew him by two nicknames; one of them has already come across in this story - “rigorist”; He accepted it with his usual light smile of gloomy pleasure. But when they called him Nikitushka or Lomov, or by his full nickname Nikitushka Lomov, he smiled broadly and sweetly and had a fair reason for this, because he did not receive from nature, but acquired through firmness of will the right to bear this name, famous among millions of people. But it resounds with glory only on a strip 100 miles wide, running through eight provinces; the readers of the rest of Russia need to explain what kind of name this is, Nikitushka Lomov, a barge hauler who walked along the Volga 20-15 years ago, was a giant of Herculean strength; He was 15 inches tall, he was so broad in the chest and shoulders that he weighed 15 pounds, although he was only a stout man, not a fat one. How strong he was, one thing is enough to say about this: he received payment for 4 people. When the ship docked at the city and he went to the market, in Volga style to the bazaar, the shouts of the guys were heard along the distant alleys; "Nikitushka Lomov is coming, Nikitushka Lomov is coming!" and everyone ran to the street leading from the pier to the bazaar, and a crowd of people poured after their hero.

Rakhmetov, at the age of 16, when he arrived in St. Petersburg, was quite an ordinary young man in this regard. tall, quite strong, but far from remarkable in strength: out of ten peers he met, probably two would have gotten along with him. But halfway through the 17th year, he decided that he needed to acquire physical wealth, and began to work on himself. He began to practice gymnastics very diligently; this is good, but gymnastics only improves the material, it is necessary to stock up on material, and so for a time twice as long as gymnastics, for several hours a day, he becomes a laborer for work that requires strength: he carried water, carried firewood, chopped wood, sawed wood , cut stones, dug earth, forged iron; He worked a lot and changed them often, because from each new job, with each change, some muscles receive new development. He adopted the boxer's diet: he began to feed himself - namely, feed himself - exclusively on things that have a reputation for strengthening physical strength, most of all steak, almost raw, and from then on he always lived like that. A year after the start of these studies, he went on his wanderings and here he had even more convenience to develop physical strength: he was a plowman, a carpenter, a carrier and a worker in all sorts of healthy trades; Once he even walked the entire Volga as a barge hauler, from Dubovka to Rybinsk. To say that he wants to be a barge hauler would seem to the owner of the ship and the barge haulers to be the height of absurdity, and he would not be accepted; but he sat down as just a passenger, made friends with the artel, began to help pull the strap, and a week later he harnessed it like a real worker; They soon noticed how he was pulling, they began to try his strength - he pulled three, even four of the healthiest of his comrades; Then he was 20 years old, and his comrades in the strap dubbed him Nikitushka Lomov, from the memory of the hero, who had already left the stage at that time. The next summer he was traveling on a steamboat; one of the common people crowding on the deck turned out to be his colleague from last year, and in this way his student companions learned that he should be called Nikitushka Lomov. Indeed, he acquired and, sparing no time, maintained in himself exorbitant strength. “It’s necessary,” he said: “it gives respect and love from ordinary people. It’s useful, it can come in handy.”

This stuck in his head from the middle of '17, because from that time his peculiarity began to develop in general. At the age of 16 he came to St. Petersburg as an ordinary, good, high school student, an ordinary kind and honest young man, and spent three or four months as usual, as beginning students spend. But he began to hear that there was especially smart heads who think differently from others, and learned the names of such people off the top of my head - then there were still few of them. They interested him, he began to look for an acquaintance with one of them; he happened to meet Kirsanov, and his rebirth into a special person began, into the future Nikitushka Lomov and a rigorist. He listened greedily to Kirsanov on the first evening, cried, interrupted his words with exclamations of curses for what should perish, blessings for what should live. - “Which books should I start reading?”

All this is very similar to Rakhmetov, even these “needs” that have sunk into the narrator’s memory. In age, voice, facial features, as far as the narrator remembered them, the traveler also approached Rakhmetov; but the narrator didn’t pay attention then special attention with his companion, who, moreover, had not been his companion for long, only two hours: he got into the carriage in some town, got off in some village; therefore, the narrator could describe his appearance only in too general terms, and there is no complete reliability here: in all likelihood, it was Rakhmetov, but who knows? Maybe not him.

There was also a rumor that a young Russian former landowner, appeared to the greatest of the European thinkers of the 19th century, the father of new philosophy, a German, and told him this: “I have 30,000 thalers; I only need 5,000; I ask you to take the rest from me” (the philosopher lives very poorly). - "Why?" - “For the publication of your works.” - The philosopher, naturally, didn’t take it; but the Russian allegedly deposited money with the banker in his name and wrote to him like this: “Dispose of the money as you want, even throw it into the water, but you can’t return it to me, you won’t find me,” and as if The banker still has this money. If this rumor is true, then there is no doubt that it was Rakhmetov who came to the philosopher.

So this is what the gentleman who was now sitting in Kirsanov’s office was like.

Yes, special person there was this gentleman, a specimen of a very rare breed. And this is not why one specimen of this rare breed is described in such detail in order to teach you, discerning reader, decent (unknown to you) treatment of people of this breed: you will not see a single such person; your eyes, discerning reader, are not designed to see such people; they are invisible to you; only honest and courageous eyes see them; and for this purpose, a description of such a person serves you, so that you know at least from hearsay what kind of people there are in the world. What it serves for female readers and ordinary readers, they themselves know.

Yes, these are funny people, like Rakhmetov, very funny. It’s for them that I say that they are funny, I say it because I feel sorry for them; I say this for those noble people who are fascinated by them: do not follow them, noble people, I say, because the path to which they call you is poor in personal joys: but noble people do not listen to me and say: no, it is not poor, it is very rich, and even if it were poor in another place, it is not long, We will have the strength to go through this place, to reach endless places rich in joy. So you see, insightful reader, I am not saying this for you, but for another part of the public, that people like Rakhmetov are ridiculous. And to you, astute reader, I will tell you that these are not bad people; otherwise you probably won’t understand it yourself; yes, not bad people. There are few of them, but with them the life of all flourishes; without them it would have stalled, gone sour; There are few of them, but they allow all people to breathe, without them people would suffocate. There are a great number of honest and kind people, but such people are few; but they are in it - theine in tea, the bouquet in noble wine; from them its strength and aroma; this is the color the best people, these are the engines of the engines, these are the salt of the earth.

Initially, the plot of “Oblomov” was conceived as a generalized biography of a separate example the inactivity of an apathetic, receding landowner class. The author’s position in relation to serfdom should have been reflected in detailed story about the life of Ilya Ilyich Oblomov, thoughtlessly spending day after day in his country estate. In accordance with this plan, the first volume of “Oblomov” was written, telling for the most part about the childhood of Ilya Ilyich. When writing the next three parts of the work, Goncharov’s attitude towards it changes. Firstly, the author transfers his hero to an urban environment and with the help of this shows his attitude towards metropolitan society. Secondly, the storyline becomes more complicated.
The analysis of the work, of course, needs to start with the first part, despite the fact that the beginning and development of the main plot occurs in the next three. At first, depicting the life of the main character, Ilya Ilyich Oblomov, the author characterizes him as a friendly and hospitable person, at the same time having an extraordinary tendency towards laziness. And then, to explain the origins of his character, Goncharov introduces the hero’s dream, in which he shows his childhood.
The dream begins with a story about the idyllic region where Oblomov was born and raised. Here the nature of the Oblomovsky region is described. Her serenity, of course, is noticeably exaggerated and sometimes even borders on something fabulous.
The following is a description of the landowner and peasant life: landowners, whose life is based on the question of what to choose for lunch, and peasants who work day after day for the benefit of their masters.
Here for the first time Goncharov mentions Stolz. It will have to become a generalized image advanced person, which includes strength of character, a flexible mind, a constant thirst for action, in other words, display the complete opposite of Oblomov.
Now let's move on to the three main parts of the novel. Basic storyline here is the relationship between Olga Ilyinskaya and Ilya Ilyich Oblomov. However, first we need to consider author's position in relation to Oblomov and Stolz. In this case, tracing the development love line between Olga, Oblomov and Stolz, we can once again emphasize one or another view of the author on the personalities of these two characters.
Endowed with only the most correct and necessary character traits, Stolz undoubtedly pleases the author, as well as the reader. But at the same time, like most of us, Goncharov feels a feeling of sympathy for Ilya Ilyich.
The author's attitude towards both is expressed through the mutual characteristics of the characters. And here we need to talk about strange friendship between these two diametrically opposed people. It’s unlikely that it’s just a matter of childhood affection that once united them. But what then connects them? If Oblomov's friendship can be explained by the need for strong man, who would always come to the aid of his indecisive and sleepy nature, then how can we explain Stolz’s affection for Oblomov? I think that this question can be answered in the words of Andrei himself: “This is a crystal, transparent soul; there are few such people; they are rare; these are pearls in the crowd!”
Now you can approach love story. But before describing Olga’s relationship with Oblomov and Stolz, it is necessary to say about the author’s attitude towards her. Goncharov is undoubtedly kind to his heroine. She is endowed with such traits as insight, poise, and pride. The author also admires the sense of duty that primarily guides the heroine, the sublimity of her soul, reflected in her beautiful voice. All this is felt in appearance Olga. She is called upon to be, as it were, Oblomov’s guardian angel, to awaken his sleeping soul.
How does the author reveal the image of Oblomov through his relationship with Olga?
Of course, Olga's mission was doomed from the very beginning. A person cannot live only by love, without thinking about anything else. However, through her, the author discovered in Oblomov, with whom, in my opinion, he sympathizes, there are many positive traits.
Describing Olga’s relationship with Stolz, Goncharov, however, implicitly, points to a hidden flaw in Stolz’s nature: the correct and progressive hero lacks a little “crazy impulses.”
Be that as it may, the fates of both heroes turn out relatively well. Stolz finds his happiness with Olga, and Oblomov finds his Oblomovka on Verkhlevskaya Street and lives out his life there with the woman he always dreamed of. This denouement once again shows that the author’s position in relation to both heroes is positive character.
In conclusion, I will quote the words of I. S. Turgenev: “As long as there is at least one Russian left, Oblomov will be remembered.” Indeed, this image is alive to this day, you just have to look back. How many of us do not have, at least partially, the features of Oblomov, so successfully reflected by Goncharov?