Pechorin is a hero of his time, essay. Essay on the topic “my soul is spoiled by light” M.Yu. Lermontov “hero of our time” Please

In the center of the novel is M.Yu. Lermontov “Hero of our time” a young man of noble blood - Grigory Pechorin. His life is filled with passions that do not amuse him at all. Pechorin is a very contradictory character, although he is terribly attractive not only to the people around him, but also to the reader.
« Everyone read in me signs of bad qualities that were not there; but they were predicted - and they were born b". This is exactly how he speaks about himself and his surroundings main character“Hero of Our Time” Grigory Aleksandrovich Pechorin. He addressed these words to Mary and, of course, as in every phrase he said to her, in these words there was a sense of some kind of game, some kind of farce. Pechorin skillfully plays with the experiences and feelings of other people, he plays very talentedly. He is a completely contradictory and even dangerous character - this is what attracts me.
I am very interested in Pechorin’s attitude towards himself - he often talks about the motives of his actions and about himself in particular (“ I sometimes despise myself - isn’t that why I despise others?»)
Pechorin is a man with deep, original thinking, developed powers of observation and a “soul spoiled by light.” Friendship for him is the enslavement of one person by another, so by his age he had not made a single true friend. His relationship with the doctor Werner, Maxim Maksimovich, and especially Grushnitsky cannot be fully described as true friendship. All of Grigory Alexandrovich’s thoughts are the result of disappointment in the world and people, in his life and in existence in general. Pechorin is educated, honest, noble and brave in his own way - and, perhaps, can be called the ideal man of that time. However, behind all these invaluable advantages lies the darkest inner world, which seems black hole, sucks all the joy out of the lives of those who were not lucky enough to be next to Pechorin.
Pechorin is definitely a very dual nature. His independence and tenacity of character inspire respect in me - I like him as a human being. Pechorin is self-critical - and in his case this quality can be considered a plus. But, on the other hand, I feel sorry for him. He worthy man, he deserves happiness, but because of his own disappointment in the world and people, because of the lack of love in his heart as fundamental, he will never be truly, simply happy.

Words

23. Love – “romanticism, nonsense, rot, art”? (based on the novel “Fathers and Sons” by I.S. Turgenev)

M.E. Saltykov-Shchedrin wrote: “...What can be said about all of Turgenev’s works in general? Is it that after reading them it’s easy to breathe, easy to believe, and feels warm? What do you clearly feel, how the moral level rises in you, that you mentally bless and love the author?.. This, it is this impression that these transparent images, as if woven from air, leave behind, this beginning of love and light, surging in every line with a living spring. ..” These words are perfectly suited when we talk about the hero of the novel I.S. Turgenev “Fathers and Sons” to Evgenia Bazarov.

Difficult internal process of cognition true love makes Bazarov feel nature in a new way.

Turgenev shows that love broke Bazarov, unsettled him, last chapters In the novel, he is no longer the same as he was at the beginning. Unhappy love leads Bazarov to a severe mental crisis, everything falls out of his hands, and his very infection seems no coincidence: the man is depressed state of mind becomes careless. But Bazarov did not give up the fight against his pain and did not humiliate himself in front of Odintsova; he tried with all his might to overcome despair in himself and was angry at his pain.

The origins of the tragedy of Bazarov's love are in the character of Odintsova, a pampered lady, an aristocrat, unable to respond to the hero's feelings, timid and giving in to him. But Odintsova wants and cannot love Bazarov, not only because she is an aristocrat, but also because this democrat, having fallen in love, does not want love, is afraid of it and runs away from it. “An incomprehensible fear” gripped Odintsova at the moment love confession Bazarova. And Bazarov “was choking; his whole body was apparently trembling. But it was not the trembling of youthful timidity, nor the sweet horror of the first confession that took possession of him; this passion beat within him, strong and heavy - a passion similar to anger and, perhaps, akin to it.” The element of a cruelly suppressed feeling broke out in the hero with a destructive force in relation to this feeling.

So, you can answer the question of how successfully the hero passed the “test of love” in different ways. On the one hand, the spiritual crisis that occurred in Bazarov’s consciousness speaks of the inferiority and instability of his ideological positions, of the hero’s lack of confidence in his own rightness. On the other hand, in love, Bazarov turned out to be much stronger and sincere than the other heroes of the novel. The power of the hero's love and romanticism was such that it destroyed him morally and physically and led to death.

Words

Originality civil lyrics N. A. Nekrasova

The peculiarity of Nekrasov as a lyrical poet is his citizenship, nationality, depth and diversity of feelings. His poems contain genuine lyricism, sadness, good-natured humor, sarcasm, despondency, joy of life (“Green Noise”), pity, and compassion for the plight of the poor, and calls to fight, and faith in the future triumph of truth. And all this can be summed up in two words: “noble heart.” Reflecting on the people and his fate, the poet often punished himself for the fact that, in his opinion, he had done too little, that he had been inconsistent in the struggle. This is how penitential poems appeared: “For this reason I deeply despise myself...”, “Muse”, “Celebration of life - the years of youth...”, “Shut up, Muse of revenge and sadness”, “My poems! Living witnesses... ", "I'll die soon! A pitiful inheritance..." and others.

The question of the lyrical hero of Nekrasov’s poetry is complex and controversial. Some literary scholars believe that Nekrasov had a single lyrical hero-commoner. Others (for example, N.N. Skatov) prove that there is no such hero, but that there is a “multiplicity of voices and consciousnesses.” Be that as it may, in all of Nekrasov’s poems his personality is present, his voice is heard, which we will not confuse with any other. His popular expression: “You may not be a poet, but you must be a citizen” - everyone knows. It is a modified and clarified formulation of Ryleev: “I am not a poet, but a citizen.”

Nekrasov's poetry is the poetry of confession, sermon and repentance. Moreover, these three feelings, three moods are inextricably fused in him, and often it is impossible to say which feeling, which mood prevails. For example, in “The Poet and the Citizen” there is confession, repentance, and sermon. But there are works that predominantly express one or another feeling and mood. Obviously confessional poems are poems about love: “You are always incomparably good,” “I don’t like your irony,” “Oh letters from a woman dear to us!..”.

In all these works, either in the foreground or as a background, there is an image of the Motherland, enslaved, but filled with secret powerful forces. The form of dialogue helps Nekrasov clarify the meaning of poetry in the poem “The Poet and the Citizen.” The author’s thoughts are put not only into the poet’s mouth, but mainly into the citizen’s statements. The poet's words await the Motherland, the people, and the coming storm. At this time of the Fatherland worthy son“I am obliged to be a citizen,” for “He, like his own, bears on his body all the ulcers of his homeland...”.

Words

My favorite poet

Anna Akhmatova... Quite recently I read her poems for the first time and delved deeply into them. From the first lines, the bewitching music of her lyrics captivated me. I touched the spiritual world that her poems reflected. And I realized that Anna Akhmatova was an extraordinary person, with a big soul. She was extremely true to herself, although how unfairly she often felt bad, hurt, and bitter. She lived a difficult life, full of hardships, trials and bitter disappointments.

Anna Akhmatova loved life. She loved her homeland - Russia, and was ready to give everything so that “the cloud over dark Russia would become a cloud in the glory of the rays.”
Everything was significant about her - and appearance, And spiritual world. Most She dedicated her creativity to the pure, beautiful and at the same time painful feeling of love. And a lot has been written about this with inexpressible deep sadness, melancholy, fatigue;
Heart to heart is not chained,
If you want, leave.
Much happiness is in store
For those who are free on the way...
These verses cannot be confused with others. They are unlike anyone else; Akhmatova’s unique poetry resonates deeply in the heart. And at the same time, Akhmatova’s poetry is sunny, simple and free. She lived with great earthly love and sang about it, and this was the meaning of her life, her natural state. All her life, Anna Andreevna shared the treasures of her soul with the world, which did not always understand her and often simply rejected her. She's been through a lot. Often she “fell” down from the peak of poetry and rose again unconquered thanks to the desire to live and love. She didn't chase fame.
A poet must be sincere, and perhaps it is precisely because of its truthfulness that Akhmatova’s poetry attracts me:

From under what ruins am I speaking?
From under what avalanche I am screaming,
Like burning in quicklime
Under the arches of a fetid basement.
I read Akhmatova as a revelation human soul, ennobling by her example the lives of those people who bow their heads before her song, before the majestic music of truth, love, trust. I am grateful to Anna Akhmatova for giving me the miracle of meeting a Man and a Poet. For her poems, reading which you begin to think about things that were simply not noticed before. I say thank you to her for leaving an indelible mark on my soul.

1.1.3. Compare this monologue with Pechorin’s monologue (below is an excerpt from M. Yu. Lermontov’s novel “A Hero of Our Time”). What do these texts have in common in the depiction of nobility?

1.2.3. Compare the poem by A. S. Pushkin “K***” (“I remember wonderful moment...") with the poem below by F. I. Tyutchev “K. B." What conclusions did this comparison lead you to?

Read the fragments of the works below and complete task 1.1.3.

A. S. Griboedov “Woe from Wit”

*******************************

This is what I began to tell him about. “Listen, Maxim Maksimych,” he answered, “I have an unhappy character; Whether my upbringing made me this way, whether God created me this way, I don’t know; I only know that if I am the cause of the misfortune of others, then I myself am no less unhappy; Of course, this is little consolation to them - only the fact is that it is so. In my early youth, from the moment I left the care of my relatives, I began to madly enjoy all the pleasures that could be obtained for money, and of course, these pleasures disgusted me. Then I went into big light, and soon I was also tired of society; I fell in love with society beauties and was loved - but their love only irritated my imagination and pride, and my heart remained empty... I began to read, study - I was also tired of science; I saw that neither fame nor happiness depended on them at all, because the most happy people- ignoramuses, and fame is luck, and to achieve it, you just need to be dexterous. Then I became bored... Soon they transferred me to the Caucasus: this is the happiest time of my life. I hoped that boredom did not live under Chechen bullets - in vain: after a month I got so used to their buzzing and the proximity of death that, really, I paid more attention to mosquitoes - and I became more bored than before, because I had lost almost my last hope . When I saw Bela in my house, when for the first time, holding her on my knees, I kissed her black curls, I, a fool, thought that she was an angel sent to me by compassionate fate... I was wrong again: the love of a savage is for few better than love noble lady; the ignorance and simple-heartedness of one are just as annoying as the coquetry of the other. If you want, I still love her, I am grateful to her for a few rather sweet minutes, I would give my life for her, but I’m bored with her... Am I a fool or a villain, I don’t know; but it is true that I am also very worthy of pity, perhaps more than she: my soul is spoiled by light, my imagination is restless, my heart is insatiable; Everything is not enough for me: I get used to sadness just as easily as to pleasure, and my life becomes emptier day by day; I have only one remedy left: travel. As soon as possible, I will go - just not to Europe, God forbid! - I’ll go to America, to Arabia, to India - maybe I’ll die somewhere on the road! At least I am sure that this last consolation will not soon be exhausted by storms and bad roads.”

He spoke like this for a long time, and his words were engraved in my memory, because it was the first time I heard such things from a twenty-five-year-old man, and, God willing, the last... What a miracle! Tell me, please,” the staff captain continued, turning to me. - It seems like you’ve been to the capital recently: are all the young people there really like that?

I answered that there are many people who say the same thing; that there are probably some who tell the truth; that, however, disappointment, like all fashions, starting from the highest strata of society, descended to the lower ones, who carry it through, and that today those who are really bored the most are trying to hide this misfortune as a vice.

Read the work below and complete task 1.2.3.

Explanation.

1.1.3. Chatsky and Pechorin - “ extra people"in your society. Despite the fact that these heroes belong to different eras, both of them do not find use for their powers, so their conflict with society is inevitable. Society, in which there is no worthy use, is also to blame for this. best qualities heroes. The same society that interfered with Onegin and Lensky, which hated Chatsky, is now Pechorin. In the above passages one cannot help but notice the similarities in the depiction of the nobility. Both Chatsky and Pechorin note that in this society the power of pleasure dominates, the happiest people in this society are stupid people who do not think about what is happening, achieving everything only with “dexterity.” In this, the conditions for the formation of heroes are very similar.

1.2.3. Lyrical masterpieces are the poems by A. S. Pushkin “I remember a wonderful moment...”, written in one thousand eight hundred and twenty-five, and F. I. Tyutchev’s “I met you - and all the past...”

These poems are united by the theme of love. For both poets, love is poetry that takes possession of a person’s entire being, and all of his internal forces come into motion.

I remember a wonderful moment:

You appeared before me,

Like a fleeting vision

Like a genius of pure beauty, -

We read from Pushkin.

And from Tyutchev:

Like late autumn sometimes

There are days, there are times,

When suddenly it starts to feel like spring

And something will stir within us...

Both poems sound very melodic, written sincerely, sincerely, the words found by the poets are very simple, but they are filled with deep feeling, and make you experience what Pushkin and Tyutchev felt.

The works are similar in poetic plot (“awakening” of the soul lyrical hero), have identical images (“cute features”, “heavenly features”). The poems differ in their depiction of heroines. Pushkin deifies and portrays a woman as an ideal (“without a deity,” “heavenly features”), Tyutchev’s heroine has earthly “sweet features.”

If the soul of the lyrical hero Pushkin was asleep (“the soul has awakened”), then the heart of the lyrical hero Tyutchev was dead (“an obsolete heart”). The return of his beloved “awakens” Pushkin’s hero and plunges Tyutchev’s hero into sleep (“I look at you as if in a dream”).

In the center of the novel is M.Yu. Lermontov “Hero of our time” a young man of noble blood - Grigory Pechorin. His life is filled with passions that do not amuse him at all. Pechorin is a very contradictory character, although he is terribly attractive not only to the people around him, but also to the reader.

“Everyone read in me signs of bad qualities that were not there; but they were predicted - and they were born". This is exactly how the main character of “A Hero of Our Time” Grigory Aleksandrovich Pechorin speaks about himself and his surroundings. He addressed these words to Mary and, of course, as in every phrase he said to her, in these words there was a sense of some kind of game, some kind of farce. Pechorin skillfully plays with the experiences and feelings of other people, he plays very talentedly. He is a completely contradictory and even dangerous character - this is what attracts me.

I am very interested in Pechorin’s attitude towards himself - he often talks about the motives of his actions and about himself in particular ( “I sometimes despise myself - isn’t that why I despise others?”) Pechorin seems to be trying to understand himself; I really like this trait of his character. Pechorin does not consider himself more powerful than others - no, of course not (although, quite possibly, he is). He simply evaluates himself soberly. Pechorin is one of those nobles of the late 19th century for whom life was boring and burdensome. They despised the joys of life and a society in which neither intelligence, nor knowledge, nor nobility were valued. They were strikingly different from everyone else - in their thinking and behavior, independence. They were also called nihilists - people who deny everything: science, beauty, soul. He believes that evil begets evil - and, perhaps, he goes through life with these words.

Pechorin is a man with deep, original thinking, developed powers of observation and a “soul spoiled by light.” Friendship for him is the enslavement of one person by another, so by his age he had not made a single true friend. His relationship with the doctor Werner, Maxim Maksimovich, and especially Grushnitsky cannot be fully called true friendship. All of Grigory Alexandrovich’s thoughts are the result of disappointment in the world and people, in his life and in existence in general. Pechorin is educated, honest, noble and brave in his own way - and, perhaps, can be called the ideal man of that time. However, behind all these invaluable advantages hides the darkest inner world, which, like a black hole, sucks all the joys out of the lives of those who were not lucky enough to be close to Pechorin. And you can’t blame him for this - he really sincerely does not wish such a fate on anyone, he knows that being with him is like carrying a heavy load, and rare person will endure this. Pechorin has come to terms with his loneliness - this shows him as a strong, mature person. He does not blame anyone for his mistakes, and this is, has been, and will be worth a lot.

Pechorin is definitely a very dual nature. His independence and tenacity of character inspire respect in me - I like him as a human being. Pechorin is self-critical - and in his case this quality can be considered a plus. But, on the other hand, I feel sorry for him. He is a worthy person, he is worthy of happiness, but because of his own disappointment in the world and people, because of the lack of love in his heart as fundamental, he will never be truly, simply happy.

Then Pechorin thought about it. “Yes,” he answered, “you need to be more careful... Bela, from now on you should no longer go to the ramparts.”

In the evening I had a long explanation with him: I was annoyed that he had changed for this poor girl; besides the fact that he spent half the day hunting, his manner became cold, he rarely caressed her, and she noticeably began to dry out, her face became long, big eyes faded. Sometimes you ask:

“What are you sighing about, Bela? are you sad? " - "No! " - "Do you want anything? " - "No! " - "Are you homesick for your family? " - "I have no relatives." It happened that for whole days you couldn’t get anything else from her except “yes” and “no”.

This is what I began to tell him about. “Listen, Maxim Maksimych,” he answered, “I have an unhappy character; Whether my upbringing made me this way, whether God created me this way, I don’t know; I only know that if I am the cause of the misfortune of others, then I myself am no less unhappy; Of course, this is little consolation to them - only the fact is that it is so. In my early youth, from the moment I left the care of my relatives, I began to madly enjoy all the pleasures that could be obtained for money, and of course, these pleasures disgusted me. Then I set out into the big world, and soon I also got tired of society; I fell in love with society beauties and was loved - but their love only irritated my imagination and pride, and my heart remained empty... I began to read, study - I was also tired of science; I saw that neither fame nor happiness depended on them at all, because the happiest people are ignorant, and fame is luck, and to achieve it, you just need to be clever. Then I became bored... Soon they transferred me to the Caucasus: this is the happiest time of my life. I hoped that boredom did not live under Chechen bullets - in vain: after a month I got so used to their buzzing and the proximity of death that, really, I paid more attention to mosquitoes - and I became more bored than before, because I had lost almost my last hope . When I saw Bela in my house, when for the first time, holding her on my knees, I kissed her black curls, I, a fool, thought that she was an angel sent to me by compassionate fate... I was wrong again: the love of a savage is little better than the love of a noble ladies; the ignorance and simple-heartedness of one are just as annoying as the coquetry of the other. If you want, I still love her, I am grateful to her for a few rather sweet minutes, I would give my life for her, but I’m bored with her... Am I a fool or a villain, I don’t know; but it is true that I am also very worthy of pity, perhaps more than she: my soul is spoiled by light, my imagination is restless, my heart is insatiable; Everything is not enough for me: I get used to sadness just as easily as to pleasure, and my life becomes emptier day by day; I have only one remedy left: travel. As soon as possible, I will go - just not to Europe, God forbid! - I’ll go to America, to Arabia, to India - maybe I’ll die somewhere on the road! At least I am sure that this last consolation will not soon be exhausted, with the help of storms and bad roads.” He spoke like this for a long time, and his words were engraved in my memory, because it was the first time I heard such things from a twenty-five-year-old man, and, God willing, the last. .. What a miracle! Tell me, please,” the staff captain continued, turning to me. - It seems like you’ve been to the capital recently: are all the young people there really like that?

I answered that there are many people who say the same thing; that there are probably some who tell the truth; that, however, disappointment, like all fashions, starting from the highest strata of society, descended to the lower ones, who carry it through, and that today those who are really bored the most are trying to hide this misfortune as a vice. The staff captain did not understand these subtleties, shook his head and smiled slyly:

And that's it, tea, the French have introduced a fashion for being bored?

No, the British.

A-ha, that's what!.. - he answered, - but they were always notorious drunkards!

I involuntarily remembered one Moscow lady who claimed that Byron was nothing more than a drunkard. However, the staff member's remark was more excusable: in order to abstain from wine, he, of course, tried to convince himself that all misfortunes in the world stem from drunkenness.

Meanwhile, he continued his story in this way:

Kazbich did not appear again. I just don’t know why, I couldn’t get the thought out of my head that it was not for nothing that he came and was up to something bad.

One day Pechorin persuades me to go wild boar hunting with him; I protested for a long time: well, what a wonder the wild boar was to me! However, he did drag me away with him. We took about five soldiers and left early in the morning. Until ten o'clock they darted through the reeds and through the forest - there was no animal. “Hey, should you come back? - I said, - why be stubborn? Apparently, it was such a miserable day! “Only Grigory Aleksandrovich, despite the heat and fatigue, did not want to return without booty, that’s the kind of man he was: whatever he thinks, give it to him; Apparently, as a child, he was spoiled by his mother... Finally, at noon, they found the damned boar: poof! pow!... that was not the case: he went into the reeds... such a miserable day! So we, having rested a little, went home.

We rode side by side, silently, loosening the reins, and were almost at the very fortress: only the bushes blocked it from us. Suddenly there was a shot... We looked at each other: we were struck by the same suspicion... We galloped headlong towards the shot - we looked: on the rampart the soldiers had gathered in a heap and were pointing into the field, and there a horseman was flying headlong and holding something white on the saddle . Grigory Aleksandrovich squealed no worse than any Chechen; gun out of the case - and there; I'm behind him.

Fortunately, due to an unsuccessful hunt, our horses were not exhausted: they were straining from under the saddle, and every moment we were getting closer and closer... And finally I recognized Kazbich, but I couldn’t make out what he was holding in front of me. myself. I then caught up with Pechorin and shouted to him: “This is Kazbich!..” He looked at me, nodded his head and hit the horse with his whip.

Finally we were within a rifle shot of him; whether Kazbich’s horse was exhausted or worse than ours, only, despite all his efforts, it did not painfully lean forward. I think at that moment he remembered his Karagöz...

I look: Pechorin takes a shot from a gun while galloping... “Don’t shoot! - I shout to him. - take care of the charge; We’ll catch up with him anyway.” These young people! always gets excited inappropriately... But the shot rang out, and the bullet broke the horse’s hind leg: she rashly made ten more jumps, tripped and fell to her knees; Kazbich jumped down, and then we saw that he was holding a woman shrouded in a veil in his arms... It was Bela... poor Bela! He shouted something to us in his own way and raised a dagger over her... There was no need to hesitate: I, in turn, shot at random; It’s true that the bullet hit him in the shoulder, because suddenly he lowered his hand... When the smoke cleared, a wounded horse was lying on the ground and Bela was next to it; and Kazbich, throwing his gun, climbed through the bushes like a cat onto the cliff; I wanted to take it out of there - but there was no ready-made charge! We jumped off our horses and rushed to Bela. Poor thing, she lay motionless, and blood flowed from the wound in streams... Such a villain; even if he hit me in the heart - well, so be it, it would all end at once, otherwise it would be in the back... the most robber blow! She was unconscious. We tore the veil and bandaged the wound as tightly as possible; in vain Pechorin kissed her cold lips - nothing could bring her to her senses.

Pechorin sat on horseback; I picked her up from the ground and somehow placed her on the saddle; he grabbed her with his hand and we drove back. After several minutes of silence, Grigory Alexandrovich told me: “Listen, Maxim Maksimych, we won’t bring her alive this way.” - "Is it true! “- I said, and we let the horses run at full speed. A crowd of people was waiting for us at the gates of the fortress; We carefully carried the wounded woman to Pechorin and sent for a doctor. Although he was drunk, he came: he examined the wound and declared that she could not live more than a day; only he was wrong...

Have you recovered? - I asked the staff captain, grabbing his hand and involuntarily rejoicing.

No,” he answered, “but the doctor was mistaken in that she lived for two more days.”

Yes, explain to me how Kazbich kidnapped her?

Here's how: despite Pechorin's prohibition, she left the fortress to the river. It was, you know, very hot; she sat down on a stone and dipped her feet into the water. So Kazbich crept up, scratched her, covered her mouth and dragged her into the bushes, and there he jumped on his horse, and the traction! Meanwhile, she managed to scream, the sentries were alarmed, fired, but missed, and then we arrived in time.

Why did Kazbich want to take her away?

For pity’s sake, these Circassians are a well-known nation of thieves: they can’t help but steal anything that’s bad; anything else is unnecessary, but he will steal everything... I ask you to forgive them for this! And besides, he had liked her for a long time.

The work “Hero of Our Time” aroused many conflicting opinions and feelings among the great poet and writer’s contemporaries, among which irritation and indignation were far from an exception. However, “there’s no point in blaming the mirror...”

Pechorin was a product of his time, and he also became its reflection. The severe reaction that reigned in Russia after the suppression of the Decembrist uprising could not help but leave an imprint on his character. The era, mercilessly strangling everything progressive, not giving the individual the right to intelligence, originality, humanity, managed to turn more than one soul into non-fertile “rocky soil”, on which even the most noble and kind grains of the best human feelings and thoughts could not produce a worthy harvest.

When we encounter Pechorin, we learn from him himself that since childhood his “soul has been spoiled by light.” The world tried to tear out all the best inclinations and qualities from the beginning little boy, and then - young men, but diligently and carefully cultivated his vices. So Pechorin, not finding his goal, not finding a worthy place to apply his “immense” forces, turned into a moral cripple. We cannot help but notice that the hero of the novel is head and shoulders above the people around him, that he is smart, educated, talented, brave, energetic, but all these qualities do not bring happiness and satisfaction to either him or the people who love him. By forcing others to suffer, Pechorin, first of all, suffers himself. Wasting his energy and time, Pechorin does not find anything that can captivate him for a long time, or people who would become truly close to him. Captivating us, on the one hand, with a thirst for life, a desire for the better, and the ability to critically evaluate one’s actions, Pechorin at the same time repels us with his indifference to people, his inability to love and friendship, and selfishness.

However, we see that “Pechorin’s soul is not rocky soil, but earth dried up from the heat of a fiery life...” (V. G. Belinsky), because, despite his many shortcomings, Pechorin was actually better than he tried present yourself in the eyes of others. He “buried his best qualities, fearing ridicule, in the depths of his heart. That's where they died." Pechorin is not a cruel self-lover, not a cold cynic, but a thinking and suffering personality, who is characterized by internal struggle, intense mental life, pangs of doubt, which, according to Belinsky, “only petty, insignificant, dry natures are completely alien to.” and the dead."

Like rain after a long drought, Pechorin rejoices at the slightest manifestations of good feelings in his heart, but he does not believe them, because he considers himself incapable of “noble impulses.” Perfectly understanding others, but not understanding himself, Pechorin is doomed to eternal disappointment and loneliness. Material from the site

“A Hero of His Time” correctly reveals the reason why his fate was so tragic, despite his “high purpose”: “... I did not guess this purpose, I was carried away by the lures of empty and ungrateful passions; I came out of their crucible hard and cold, like iron, but I lost forever the ardor of noble aspirations - the best color of life.” Therefore, Pechorin’s life is barren and sad, it seems funny and annoying to him: “you live out of curiosity: you expect something new...”

I consider Pechorin a deeply unhappy person, because, despite the disappointment, loneliness, all the suffering he endured, he never found what he was looking for, wasting all the “immense” powers of his soul.

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