A million torments (critical study). I. A. Goncharov. A million torments. Synopsis Potters million torments will plan the article

The main theses of Goncharov's article "A Million of Torments".
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1. “Woe from Wit” appeared before Onegin, Pechorin, survived them, passed unscathed through the Gogol period, lived these half a century from the time of its appearance and everything lives its imperishable life, will survive many more epochs and everything will not lose its vitality.

2. ... The comedy "Woe from Wit" is both a picture of morals, and a gallery of living types, and an eternally sharp, burning satire, and at the same time a comedy, and let's say for ourselves - most of all a comedy - which is hardly found in other literatures . As a painting, it is without a doubt huge.

3. Every step of Chatsky, almost every word in the play is closely connected with the play of his feelings for Sofya, irritated by some kind of lie in her actions, which he struggles to unravel to the very end. All his mind and all his strength go into this struggle: it served as a motive, a pretext for irritation, for that “million of torments”, under the influence of which he could only play the role indicated to him by Griboedov, a role of much greater, higher significance than unsuccessful love. , in a word, the role for which the whole comedy was born.

4. Chatsky strives for a “free life”, “to engage in” science and art, and demands “service to the cause, not to persons”, etc. On whose side is the victory? Comedy gives Chatsky only “a million torments” and apparently leaves Famusov and his brethren in the same position they were in, without saying anything about the consequences of the struggle.

5. “A million torments” and “woe! ”- this is what he reaped for everything that he managed to sow. Until now, he was invincible: his mind mercilessly hit the sore spots of enemies. Famusov finds nothing but to shut his ears against his logic, and shoots back with commonplaces of the old morality. Molchalin falls silent, the princesses, countesses - back away from him, burned by the nettles of his laughter, and his former friend, Sophia, whom he spares alone, cunningly, slips and inflicts the main blow on him secretly, declaring him, at hand, casually, crazy.

6. Much could be cited Chatsky - who appeared at the next change of eras and generations - in the struggle for an idea, for a cause, for truth, for success, for a new order, at all levels, in all layers of Russian life and work - high-profile, great deeds and modest armchair feats. A fresh legend is kept about many of them, we have seen and known others, and others still continue the struggle. Let's turn to literature. Let us recall not a story, not a comedy, not an artistic phenomenon, but let us take one of the later fighters with an old age, for example, Belinsky. Many of us knew him personally, and now everyone knows him. Listen to his hot improvisations - and they sound the same motives - and the same tone, like Griboedov's Chatsky. And he died in the same way, destroyed by “a million torments”, killed by a fever of expectation and not waiting for the fulfillment of his
dreams

7. If the reader agrees that in comedy, as we have said, the movement is ardently and uninterruptedly maintained from beginning to end, then it should follow by itself that the play is eminently theatrical. She is what she is. Two comedies seem to be nested one into the other: one, so to speak, is private, petty, domestic, between Chatsky, Sophia, Molchalin and Lisa: this is the intrigue of love, the everyday motive of all comedies. When the first is interrupted, another unexpectedly appears in between, and the action is tied up again, the private comedy is played out in a general battle and tied into one knot.

/ Ivan Alexandrovich Goncharov (1812-1891).
"Woe from Wit" Griboedov - Benefit performance Monakhov, November 1871 /

The comedy "Woe from Wit" holds itself somewhat apart in literature and is distinguished by its youthfulness, freshness and stronger vitality from other works of the word. She is like a hundred-year-old man, around whom everyone, having outlived their time in turn, die and fall, and he walks, cheerful and fresh, between the graves of old and the cradles of new people. And it never occurs to anyone that someday his turn will come.

All celebrities of the first magnitude, of course, not without reason, entered the so-called "temple of immortality." They all have a lot, while others, like Pushkin, for example, have much more rights to longevity than Griboyedov. They can not be close and put one with the other. Pushkin is huge, fruitful, strong, rich. He is for Russian art what Lomonosov is for Russian education in general. Pushkin occupied the whole epoch with himself, he himself created another, gave birth to schools of artists, he took everything in the epoch, except what Griboedov managed to take and what Pushkin did not agree to.

Despite Pushkin's genius, his foremost heroes, like the heroes of his age, are already turning pale and fading into the past. His brilliant creations, while continuing to serve as models and sources of art, themselves become history. We have studied Onegin, his time and his environment, weighed, determined the significance of this type, but we no longer find living traces of this personality in the modern century, although the creation of this type will remain indelible in literature.<...>

"Woe from Wit" appeared before Onegin, Pechorin, survived them, passed unscathed through the Gogol period, lived these half a century from the time of its appearance and everything lives its imperishable life, will survive many more epochs and everything will not lose its vitality.

Why is this, and what is "Woe from Wit" in general?<...>

Some appreciate in comedy a picture of the Moscow manners of a certain era, the creation of living types and their skillful grouping. The whole play is presented as a kind of circle of faces familiar to the reader, and, moreover, as definite and closed as a deck of cards. The faces of Famusov, Molchalin, Skalozub and others were as firmly engraved in my memory as kings, jacks and queens in cards, and everyone had a more or less agreed concept of all faces, except for one - Chatsky. So they are all inscribed correctly and strictly, and so become familiar to everyone. Only about Chatsky, many are perplexed: what is he? It's like the fifty-third of some mysterious card in the deck. If there was little disagreement in the understanding of other persons, then about Chatsky, on the contrary, the contradictions have not ended so far and, perhaps, will not end for a long time.

Others, doing justice to the picture of morals, fidelity of types, cherish the more epigrammatic salt of the language, lively satire - morality, which the play still, like an inexhaustible well, supplies everyone with at every everyday step of life.

But both those and other connoisseurs almost pass over in silence the "comedy" itself, the action, and many even deny it a conditional stage movement.<...>

The comedy "Woe from Wit" is both a picture of morals, and a gallery of living types, and an eternally sharp, burning satire, and at the same time a comedy, and let's say for ourselves - most of all a comedy - which can hardly be found in other literature.<...>As a painting, it is without a doubt huge. Her canvas captures a long period of Russian life - from Catherine to Emperor Nicholas. In a group of twenty faces reflected, like a ray of light in a drop of water, all the former Moscow, its drawing, its then spirit, historical moment and customs. And this with such artistic, objective completeness and certainty, which was given to us only by Pushkin and Gogol.<...>

And the general and the details, all this is not composed, but is completely taken from Moscow living rooms and transferred to the book and to the stage, with all the warmth and with all the "special imprint" of Moscow - from Famusov to small strokes, to Prince Tugoukhovsky and to the footman Parsley, without which the picture would be incomplete.

However, for us it is not yet a completely finished historical picture: we have not moved far enough away from the era for an impassable abyss to lie between it and our time. The coloring has not smoothed out at all; the century did not separate from ours, like a cut off piece: we inherited something from there, although the Famusovs, Molchalins, Zagoretskys and others have changed so that they no longer fit into the skin of Griboedov's types. Sharp features have become obsolete, of course: no Famusov will now invite to jesters and set up Maxim Petrovich as an example, at least so positively and clearly. Molchalin, even in front of the maid, secretly, now does not confess those commandments that his father bequeathed to him; such a Skalozub, such a Zagoretsky are impossible even in a distant outback. But as long as there is a striving for honors apart from merit, as long as there are masters and hunters to please and "take rewards and live happily", as long as gossip, idleness, emptiness will dominate not as vices, but as the elements of social life - until then, of course, , the features of the Famusovs, Molchalins and others will also flicker in modern society.<...>

Salt, epigram, satire, this colloquial verse, it seems, will never die, just like the sharp and caustic, living Russian mind scattered in them, which Griboedov has imprisoned, like a magician of some spirit, in his castle, and it crumbles there maliciously. with fur. It is impossible to imagine that another, more natural, simpler, more taken from life speech could ever appear. Prose and verse merged here into something inseparable, then, it seems, so that it would be easier to keep them in memory and put back into circulation all the mind, humor, joke and anger of the Russian mind and language collected by the author. This language was also given to the author, how the group of these persons was given, how the main meaning of the comedy was given, how everything was given together, as if poured out at once, and everything formed an extraordinary comedy - both in the narrow sense as a stage play, and in the broader sense - as the comedy of life. Nothing else but a comedy, it could not have been.<...>

It has long been accustomed to say that there is no movement, that is, there is no action in the play. How is there no movement? There is - living, continuous, from the first appearance of Chatsky on stage to his last word: "Carriage for me, carriage!"

This is a subtle, intelligent, elegant and passionate comedy in a narrow, technical sense - true in small psychological details, but almost elusive for the viewer, because it is disguised by the typical faces of the characters, ingenious drawing, the color of the place, era, the charm of the language, all the poetic forces, so abundantly spilled in the play.<...>

The main role, of course, is the role of Chatsky, without which there would be no comedy, but, perhaps, there would be a picture of morals.

Griboedov himself attributed Chatsky's grief to his mind, while Pushkin denied him any mind at all.

One might think that Griboyedov, out of paternal love for his hero, flattered him in the title, as if warning the reader that his hero is smart, and everyone else around him is not smart.

Both Onegin and Pechorin turned out to be incapable of work, of an active role, although both vaguely understood that everything around them had decayed. They were even "embittered", they carried within themselves "dissatisfaction" and wandered about like shadows with "anguished laziness". But, despising the emptiness of life, the idle nobility, they succumbed to it and did not think of either fighting it or running away completely.<...>

Chatsky, apparently, on the contrary, was seriously preparing for activity. He "writes and translates well," Famusov says of him, and everyone talks about his high mind. He, of course, did not travel in vain, studied, read, apparently took up work, was in contact with the ministers, and got divorced - it is not difficult to guess why.

I would be glad to serve, - it's sickening to serve, -

he hints. There is no mention of "yearning laziness, idle boredom", and even less of "gentle passion", as a science and an occupation. He loves seriously, seeing Sophia as a future wife. Meanwhile, Chatsky got to drink a bitter cup to the bottom - not finding "living sympathy" in anyone, and leave, taking with him only "a million torments."<...>Let us trace the course of the play a little and try to single out from it the dramatic interest of the comedy, that movement that goes through the whole play, like an invisible but living thread that connects all the parts and faces of the comedy with each other.

Chatsky runs in to Sofya, straight from the road carriage, without stopping by, passionately kisses her hand, looks into her eyes, rejoices at the date, hoping to find an answer to his former feeling - and does not find it. He was struck by two changes: she became unusually prettier and cooler towards him - also unusually.

This puzzled him, and upset him, and a little annoyed him. In vain does he try to sprinkle salt of humor on his conversation, partly playing with this strength of his, which, of course, Sofya liked before when she loved him, partly under the influence of vexation and disappointment. Everyone gets it, he went over everyone - from Sophia's father to Molchalin - and with what apt features he draws Moscow - and how many of these poems went into live speech! But all in vain: tender memories, witticisms - nothing helps. He suffers only coldness from her, until, having caustically touched Molchalin, he did not touch her to the quick. She already asks him with hidden anger if he happened to at least inadvertently “say good things about someone”, and disappears at the entrance of her father, betraying the latter almost with the head of Chatsky, that is, declaring him the hero of the dream told to his father before.

From that moment on, a heated duel began between her and Chatsky, the most lively action, a comedy in the strict sense, in which two persons, Molchalin and Liza, take an intimate part.

Every step of Chatsky, almost every word in the play is closely connected with the play of his feelings for Sofya, irritated by some kind of lie in her actions, which he struggles to unravel to the very end. All his mind and all his strength go into this struggle: it served as a motive, a pretext for irritation, for that “million of torments”, under the influence of which he could only play the role indicated to him by Griboyedov, a role of much greater, higher significance than unsuccessful love. , in a word, the role for which the whole comedy was born.

Chatsky almost does not notice Famusov, coldly and absently answers his question, where have you been? "Is it up to me now?" - he says and, promising to come again, leaves, saying from what absorbs him:

How beautiful Sofya Pavlovna has become!

On the second visit, he starts talking about Sofya Pavlovna again: "Is she sick? Has she been sad?" - and to such an extent is captured by the feeling warmed up by her blossoming beauty and her coldness towards him, that when asked by his father whether he wants to marry her, he absent-mindedly asks: "And what do you need?" And then indifferently, only out of decency adds:

Let me get married, what would you tell me?

And almost without listening to the answer, he languidly remarks on the advice to "serve":

I would be glad to serve - it's sickening to serve!

He came to Moscow and to Famusov, obviously, for Sophia and for Sophia alone. He does not care about others; even now he is annoyed that he found only Famusov instead of her. "How could she not be here?" he asks himself, recalling his former youthful love, which in him “neither distance, nor entertainment, nor a change of place, has cooled it,” and is tormented by its coldness.

He is bored and talking with Famusov - and only the positive challenge of Famusov to an argument brings Chatsky out of his concentration.

That's it, you are all proud: You would watch how the fathers did 3, You would study, looking at the elders! —

says Famusov and then draws such a crude and ugly picture of servility that Chatsky could not stand it and, in turn, drew a parallel of the "past" century with the "present" century. But his irritation is still restrained: he seems to be ashamed of himself that he took it into his head to sober Famusov from his concepts; he hurries to insert that "he is not talking about his uncle," whom Famusov cited as an example, and even invites the latter to scold his own age, and finally, he tries in every possible way to hush up the conversation, seeing how Famusov plugged his ears - reassures him, almost apologizes.

To prolong disputes is not my desire, -

he says. He is ready to go back into himself. But he is awakened by Famusov's unexpected hint at the rumor about Skalozub's matchmaking.<...>

These allusions to marriage aroused Chatsky's suspicions about the reasons for Sophia's change for him. He even agreed to Famusov's request to drop his "false ideas" and keep quiet in front of the guest. But irritation was already on the crescendo 4 , and he intervened in the conversation, casually so far, and then, annoyed by Famusov's awkward praise of his mind and so on, raises his tone and resolves with a sharp monologue: "Who are the judges?" and so on. Here another struggle, important and serious, a whole battle is already underway. Here, in a few words, the main motive is heard, as in an overture of operas, hinting at the true meaning and purpose of the comedy. Both Famusov and Chatsky threw a glove at each other:

Would have looked like the fathers did, Would have studied, looking at the elders! -

Famusov's military call was heard. And who are these elders and "judges"?

For decrepitude of years 5 To a free life their enmity is irreconcilable, -

Chatsky answers and executes -

The meanest traits of the past life.

Two camps were formed, or, on the one hand, a whole camp of the Famusovs and all the brethren of the "fathers and elders", on the other, one ardent and courageous fighter, "the enemy of searches."<...>Famusov wants to be an "ace" - "to eat on silver and gold, ride in a train, all in orders, be rich and see children rich, in ranks, in orders and with a key" - and so on without end, and all this only for that that he signs papers without reading and being afraid of one thing, "so that a lot of them do not accumulate."

Chatsky yearns for a "free life", "to study" science and art, and demands "service to the cause, not to individuals", etc. Whose side is the victory on? Comedy gives Chatsky only " a million torments and apparently leaves Famusov and his brethren in the same position they were in, without saying anything about the consequences of the struggle.

Now we know these consequences. They showed up with the advent of comedy, still in manuscript, in the light - and like an epidemic swept all of Russia.

Meanwhile, the intrigue of love goes on as usual, correctly, with subtle psychological fidelity, which in any other play, devoid of other colossal Griboedov's beauties, could make a name for the author.

Sophia's fainting when she fell from Molchalin's horse, her participation in him, so carelessly expressed, Chatsky's new sarcasms on Molchalin - all this complicated the action and formed that main point, which was called in the piitiks a plot. This is where the dramatic interest comes in. Chatsky almost guessed the truth.<...>

In the third act, he gets to the ball before everyone else, with the aim of "forcing a confession" from Sophia - and with a shudder of impatience gets down to business directly with the question: "Whom does she love?"

After an evasive answer, she admits that she prefers his "others". It seems clear. He himself sees this and even says:

And what do I want when everything is decided? I climb into the noose, but it's funny to her!

However, she climbs, like all lovers, despite her "mind", and is already weakening before her indifference.<...>

His next scene with Molchalin, which fully describes the nature of the latter, confirms Chatsky definitively that Sophia does not love this rival.

The liar laughed at me! —

he notices and goes to meet new faces.

The comedy between him and Sophia broke off; the burning irritation of jealousy subsided, and the chill of hopelessness smelt into his soul.

He had to leave; but another, lively, lively comedy invades the stage, several new perspectives of Moscow life open at once, which not only oust Chatsky's intrigue from the viewer's memory, but Chatsky himself seems to forget about it and interferes with the crowd. Around him, new faces group and play, each with its own role. This is a ball, with all the Moscow atmosphere, with a number of lively stage sketches in which each group forms its own separate comedy, with a complete outline of the characters who managed to play out in a few words into a finished action.

Isn't the Gorichevs playing a complete comedy? 6 This husband, recently still a vigorous and lively person, now lowered, dressed like in a dressing gown, in Moscow life, a gentleman, "a husband-boy, a husband-servant, the ideal of Moscow husbands", according to Chatsky's apt definition, - under a cloying shoe, a cutesy, secular wife, a Moscow lady?

And these six princesses and the granddaughter countess, all this contingent of brides, "who, according to Famusov, know how to dress themselves up with taffeta, marigold and haze", "singing high notes and clinging to military people"?

This Khlestova, a remnant of the Catherine's age, with a pug, with a girl, this princess and prince Pyotr Ilyich - without a word, but such a talking ruin of the past; Zagoretsky, an obvious swindler, escaping from prison in the best living rooms and paying off with obsequiousness, like dog diapers - and these N.N., and all their rumors, and all the content that occupies them!

The influx of these faces is so abundant, their portraits are so embossed, that the viewer grows cold to the intrigue, not having time to catch these quick sketches of new faces and listen to their original dialect.

Chatsky is no longer on stage. But before leaving, he gave abundant food to that main comedy that he began with Famusov, in the first act, then with Molchalin - that battle with all of Moscow, where, according to the author's goals, he then arrived.

In brief, even instantaneous meetings with old acquaintances, he managed to arm everyone against himself with caustic remarks and sarcasm. He is already vividly touched by all sorts of trifles - and he gives free rein to the language. He angered the old woman Khlestova, gave some advice to Gorichev inappropriately, abruptly cut off the granddaughter countess and again touched Molchalin.

But the cup overflowed. He leaves the back rooms already completely upset, and out of old friendship, in the crowd again goes to Sophia, hoping at least for simple sympathy. He confides his state of mind to her ... not suspecting what kind of conspiracy has matured against him in the enemy camp.

"A million torments" and "woe!" - that's what he reaped for all that he managed to sow. Until now, he was invincible: his mind mercilessly hit the sore spots of enemies. Famusov finds nothing but to cover his ears against his logic, and shoots back with commonplaces of the old morality. Molchalin falls silent, the princesses, countesses - back away from him, burned by the nettles of his laughter, and his former friend, Sophia, whom he spares alone, cunningly, slips and inflicts the main blow on him secretly, declaring him, at hand, casually, crazy.

He felt his strength and spoke confidently. But the struggle wore him down. He was obviously weakened by this "million torments", and the disorder showed up in him so noticeably that all the guests cluster around him, just as a crowd gathers around any phenomenon that is out of the ordinary order of things.

He is not only sad, but also bilious, picky. He, like a wounded man, gathers all his strength, makes a challenge to the crowd - and strikes at everyone - but he did not have enough power against the united enemy.<...>

He has ceased to control himself and does not even notice that he himself is putting together a performance at the ball. He also strikes at patriotic pathos, agreeing to the point that he finds the tailcoat repugnant to "reason and the elements", angry that madame and mademoiselle have not been translated into Russian.<...>

He is definitely "not himself", starting with the monologue "about the Frenchman from Bordeaux" - and remains so until the end of the play. Only "a million torments" are replenished ahead.<...>

Not only for Sophia, but also for Famusov and all his guests, Chatsky's "mind", sparkling like a ray of light in a whole play, burst out at the end into that thunder at which, according to the proverb, men are baptized.

Sophia was the first to cross herself from the thunder.<...>

Sofya Pavlovna is not individually immoral: she sins with the sin of ignorance, the blindness in which everyone lived -

Light does not punish delusions, But requires secrets for them!

This couplet by Pushkin expresses the general meaning of conventional morality. Sophia never saw the light from her and never would have seen the light without Chatsky, for lack of a chance. After the catastrophe, from the moment Chatsky appeared, it was no longer possible to remain blind. It is impossible to bypass its courts with oblivion, or bribe it with lies, or calm it down. She cannot but respect him, and he will be her eternal "reproachful witness", the judge of her past. He opened her eyes.

Before him, she did not realize the blindness of her feelings for Molchalin, and even, analyzing the latter, in the scene with Chatsky, bit by bit, she herself did not see the light on him. She did not notice that she herself called him to this love, about which he, trembling with fear, did not dare to think.<...>

Sofya Pavlovna is not at all as guilty as she seems.

This is a mixture of good instincts with falsehood, a lively mind with the absence of any hint of ideas and convictions, confusion of concepts, mental and moral blindness - all this does not have the character of personal vices in her, but appears as common features of her circle. In her own, personal physiognomy, something of her own is hiding in the shadows, hot, tender, even dreamy. The rest belongs to education.

French books, which Famusov complains about, piano (even with flute accompaniment), poetry, French and dances - that was what was considered the young lady's classical education. And then "Kuznetsky Bridge and eternal renovations", balls, such as this ball with her father, and this society - this is the circle where the life of the "young lady" was concluded. Women learned only to imagine and feel and did not learn to think and know.<...>But in Sofya Pavlovna, we hasten to make a reservation, that is, in her feelings for Molchalin, there is a lot of sincerity, strongly reminiscent of Tatyana Pushkin. The difference between them is made by the "Moscow imprint", then glibness, the ability to control oneself, which appeared in Tatyana when she met Onegin after her marriage, and until then she had not been able to lie about love even to the nanny. But Tatyana is a village girl, and Sofya Pavlovna is Moscow, developed in that way.<...>

The huge difference is not between her and Tatyana, but between Onegin and Molchalin.<...>

In general, it is difficult to treat Sofya Pavlovna not sympathetically: she has strong inclinations of a remarkable nature, a lively mind, passion and feminine gentleness. It is ruined in stuffiness, where not a single ray of light, not a single stream of fresh air penetrated. No wonder Chatsky also loved her. After him, she alone of all this crowd suggests some kind of sad feeling, and in the soul of the reader against her there is not that indifferent laughter with which he parted with other faces.

She, of course, is the hardest of all, even harder than Chatsky, and she gets her "million torments."

Chatsky's role is a passive role: it cannot be otherwise. Such is the role of all the Chatskys, although at the same time it is always victorious. But they do not know about their victory, they only sow, and others reap - and this is their main suffering, that is, the hopelessness of success.

Of course, he did not bring Pavel Afanasyevich Famusov to reason, did not sober up and did not correct him. If Famusov hadn’t had “reproaching witnesses” at the departure, that is, a crowd of lackeys and a doorman, he would have easily coped with his grief: he would have given his daughter a head-washer, would have torn Lisa by the ear and would have hurried Sophia’s wedding with Skalozub. But now it’s impossible: in the morning, thanks to the scene with Chatsky, all of Moscow will know - and most of all, “Princess Marya Alekseevna”. His peace will be disturbed from all sides - and willy-nilly make him think about something that did not occur to him. He will hardly even end his life with such an "ace" as the former ones. The rumors generated by Chatsky could not but stir up the whole circle of his relatives and friends. He himself did not find a weapon against Chatsky's heated monologues. All Chatsky's words will spread, be repeated everywhere and produce their own storm.

Molchalin, after the scene in the hallway, cannot remain the same Molchalin. The mask is pulled off, they recognized him, and he, like a caught thief, has to hide in a corner. The Gorichevs, Zagoretsky, the princesses - all fell under the hail of his shots, and these shots will not remain without a trace. In this still consonant chorus, other voices, still bold yesterday, will be silenced, or others will be heard both for and against. The battle was just heating up. Chatsky's authority was known before as the authority of the mind, wit, of course, knowledge and other things. He already has like-minded people. Skalozub complains that his brother left the service without waiting for the rank, and began to read books. One of the old women grumbles that her nephew, Prince Fyodor, is engaged in chemistry and botany. All that was needed was an explosion, a fight, and it started, stubborn and hot - on the same day in one house, but its consequences, as we said above, were reflected in all of Moscow and Russia. Chatsky gave rise to a split, and if he was deceived for his own personal purposes, did not find "the charm of meetings, living participation", then he himself sprinkled living water on the dead soil - taking with him "a million torments", this Chatsky crown of thorns - torments from everything: from " mind", and even more from "insulted feelings".<...>

The vitality of Chatsky's role does not lie in the novelty of unknown ideas, brilliant hypotheses, hot and bold utopias.<...>Heralds of a new dawn, or fanatics, or just messengers - all these advanced couriers of an unknown future are and - in the natural course of social development - should be, but their roles and physiognomies are endlessly diverse.

The role and physiognomy of the Chatskys is unchanged. Chatsky is most of all a debunker of lies and everything that has become obsolete, that drowns out a new life, "a free life." He knows what he is fighting for and what this life should bring him. He does not lose the ground from under his feet and does not believe in a ghost until he has put on flesh and blood, has not been comprehended by reason, by truth.<...>

He is very positive in his demands and declares them in a ready-made program, worked out not by him, but by the century already begun. With youthful vehemence, he does not drive from the stage everything that has survived, which, according to the laws of reason and justice, as according to natural laws in physical nature, is left to live out its term, which can and should be tolerated. He demands a place and freedom for his age: he asks for business, but does not want to be served and stigmatizes servility and buffoonery. He demands "service to the cause, not to persons", does not mix "fun or foolishness with business", like Molchalin - he is weary among the empty, idle crowd of "tormentors, traitors, sinister old women, absurd old men", refusing to bow before their authority of decrepitude , chinolyubiya and other things. He is outraged by the ugly manifestations of serfdom, the insane luxury and disgusting customs of "spill in feasts and wastefulness" - manifestations of mental and moral blindness and corruption.

His ideal of "free life" is decisive: it is freedom from all these counted chains of slavery that fetter society, and then freedom - "to stare into the sciences the mind that is hungry for knowledge", or freely indulge in "arts creative, high and beautiful" - freedom "to serve or not to serve", "to live in the village or to travel", not being known as either a robber or an incendiary, and - a series of further next similar steps towards freedom - from lack of freedom.<...>

Chatsky is broken by the amount of old strength, inflicting a mortal blow on it with the quality of fresh strength.

He is the eternal debunker of lies, hidden in the proverb: "one in the field is not a warrior." No, a warrior, if he is Chatsky, and, moreover, a winner, but an advanced warrior, a skirmisher and always a victim.

Chatsky is inevitable with each change of one century to another. The position of the Chatskys on the social ladder is varied, but the role and fate are all the same, from major state and political personalities who control the fate of the masses, to a modest share in a close circle.<...>

The Chatskys live and are not translated into society, repeating themselves at every step, in every house, where the old and the young coexist under the same roof, where two centuries come face to face in the closeness of families - the struggle of the fresh with the obsolete, the sick with the healthy continues.<...>

Every business that needs to be updated causes the shadow of Chatsky - and no matter who the figures are, no matter what human cause is - whether it be a new idea, a step in science, in politics, in war - or people grouped, they can’t get away from the two main motives of struggle: from the advice to "study by looking at the elders", on the one hand, and from the thirst to strive from routine to "free life" forward and forward - on the other.

That is why Griboedov's Chatsky has not yet grown old, and hardly ever will grow old, and with him the whole comedy. And literature will not get out of the magic circle outlined by Griboedov as soon as the artist touches on the struggle of concepts, the change of generations.<...>

One could cite a lot of Chatskys - who appeared at the next change of eras and generations - in the struggle for an idea, for a cause, for truth, for success, for a new order, at all levels, in all layers of Russian life and work - high-profile, great deeds and modest office exploits. A fresh legend is kept about many of them, we have seen and known others, and others still continue the struggle. Let's turn to literature. Let us recall not a story, not a comedy, not an artistic phenomenon, but let us take one of the later fighters with an old age, for example, Belinsky. Many of us knew him personally, and now everyone knows him. Listen to his hot improvisations - and they sound the same motives - and the same tone, like Griboedov's Chatsky. And he died in the same way, destroyed by "a million torments", killed by a fever of expectation and not waiting for the fulfillment of his dreams.<...>

Finally - the last remark about Chatsky. Griboedov is reproached for the fact that Chatsky is not clothed as artistically as other faces of the comedy, in flesh and blood, that there is little vitality in him. Others even say that this is not a living person, but an abstract, an idea, a walking morality of a comedy, and not such a complete and complete creation as, for example, the figure of Onegin and other types snatched from life.

It's not fair. It is impossible to put Chatsky next to Onegin: the strict objectivity of the dramatic form does not allow that breadth and fullness of the brush, like the epic one. If the other faces of comedy are stricter and more sharply defined, then they owe this to the vulgarity and trifles of their natures, which the artist easily exhausts in light sketches. Whereas in the personality of Chatsky, rich and versatile, one dominant side could be boldly taken in the comedy - and Griboyedov managed to hint at many others.

Then - if you look more closely at the human types in the crowd - then almost more often than others there are these honest, hot, sometimes bilious personalities who do not obediently hide away from oncoming ugliness, but boldly go towards it and enter into a struggle, often unequal, always to the detriment of oneself and without visible benefit to the cause. Who did not know or does not know, each in his own circle, such smart, ardent, noble madcaps who make a kind of mess in those circles where fate takes them, for the truth, for an honest conviction?!

No, Chatsky, in our opinion, is the most lively personality of all, both as a person and as a performer of the role indicated to him by Griboyedov. But, we repeat, his nature is stronger and deeper than other people and therefore could not be exhausted in comedy.<...>

If the reader agrees that in comedy, as we have said, the movement is ardently and uninterruptedly maintained from beginning to end, then it should follow of itself that the play is eminently theatrical. She is what she is. Two comedies seem to be nested one into the other: one, so to speak, is private, petty, domestic, between Chatsky, Sophia, Molchalin and Lisa: this is the intrigue of love, the everyday motive of all comedies. When the first is interrupted, another unexpectedly appears in between, and the action is tied up again, the private comedy is played out in a general battle and tied into one knot.<...>

A million torments

(Critical study)

Woe from Wit, Griboedova. -- Monakhov's benefit performance, November, 1871

All celebrities of the first magnitude, of course, not without reason entered the so-called "temple of immortality." They all have a lot, while others, like Pushkin, for example, have much more rights to longevity than Griboyedov. They can not be close and put one with the other. Pushkin is huge, fruitful, strong, rich. He is for Russian art what Lomonosov is for Russian education in general. Pushkin occupied his entire era, he himself created another, gave birth to schools of artists, - he took everything in his era, except what Griboedov managed to take and what Pushkin did not agree to.

Despite Pushkin's genius, his foremost heroes, like the heroes of his age, are already turning pale and fading into the past. His brilliant creations, continuing to serve as models and sources of art, themselves become history. We have studied Onegin, his time and environment, weighed and determined the significance of this type, but we no longer find living traces of this personality in the modern age, although the creation of this type will remain indelible in literature. Even the later heroes of the century, for example, Lermontov's Pechorin, representing, like Onegin, their era, turn to stone, but in immobility, like statues on graves. We are not talking about their more or less striking types that appeared later, who managed to go to the grave during the life of the authors, leaving behind some rights to literary memory.

Fonvizin's "Undergrowth" was called the immortal comedy, and thoroughly, its lively, hot time lasted for about half a century: this is enormous for a work of words. But now there is not a single hint of living life in The Undergrowth, and the comedy, having served its service, has turned into a historical monument.

Why is this, and what is this "Woe from Wit" in general?

Criticism did not move the comedy from the place it once occupied, as if at a loss where to place it. The verbal evaluation outstripped the printed one, just as the play itself outstripped the press. But the literate mass actually appreciated it. Immediately realizing its beauty and not finding flaws, she smashed the manuscript to shreds, into verses, half-verses, dissolved all the salt and wisdom of the play in colloquial speech, as if she turned a million into dimes, and so full of Griboedov's sayings conversation that she literally wore out the comedy to satiety .

But the play withstood this test - and not only did not become vulgar, but seemed to become dearer to readers, found in everyone a patron, critic and friend, like Krylov's fables, which did not lose their literary power, passing from a book into live speech.

Printed criticism has always treated with more or less severity only the stage performance of the play, touching little on the comedy itself or expressing itself in fragmentary, incomplete and contradictory reviews. It was decided once and for all that comedy is an exemplary work - and on that everyone was reconciled.

What is an actor to do when he thinks about his role in this play? To rely on one's own judgment - no self-esteem is missing, and to listen for forty years to the voice of public opinion - there is no way without getting lost in petty analysis. It remains, from the countless chorus of opinions expressed and expressed, to stop at some general conclusions, most often repeated - and on them to build your own evaluation plan.

Some appreciate in comedy a picture of the Moscow manners of a certain era, the creation of living types and their skillful grouping. The whole play is presented as a kind of circle of faces familiar to the reader, and, moreover, as definite and closed as a deck of cards. The faces of Famusov, Molchalin, Skalozub and others were engraved in my memory as firmly as kings, jacks and queens in cards, and everyone had a more or less agreeable concept of all faces, except for one - Chatsky. So they are all inscribed correctly and strictly, and so become familiar to everyone. Only about Chatsky, many are perplexed: what is he? It's like the fifty-third of some mysterious card in the deck. If there was little disagreement in the understanding of other persons, then about Chatsky, on the contrary, the contradictions have not ended so far and, perhaps, will not end for a long time.

Others, doing justice to the picture of morals, fidelity of types, cherish the more epigrammatic salt of the language, lively satire - morality, with which the play still, like an inexhaustible well, supplies everyone for every everyday step of life.

But both those and other connoisseurs almost pass over in silence the "comedy" itself, the action, and many even deny it a conditional stage movement.

Despite the fact, however, whenever the personnel in the roles changes, both judges go to the theater, and lively talk rises again about the performance of this or that role and about the roles themselves, as if in a new play.

A. S. Griboyedov's comedy "Woe from Wit" as a socio-political drama

The name of A. S. Griboedov opens one of the brilliant pages in the history of Russian literature. According to V. G. Belinsky, Alexander Sergeevich is one of the “most powerful manifestations of the Russian spirit.” His comedy "Woe from Wit" played an outstanding role in the socio-political and moral education of people.

This work broadly and realistically reflected the life of Moscow in the twenties of the 19th century, as well as the movement of advanced social thought in Russia, when noble revolutionaries - the Decembrists - came out to fight the old world.

I. A. Goncharov, who wrote a profound article about "Woe from Wit", said that "Chatsky begins a new century - and this is all his meaning and all his mind." Without such an understanding, it is impossible to evaluate and correctly comprehend the image of the hero. Chatsky, a spokesman for progressive ideas, as well as a true patriot, said: “When you wander, you return home, and the smoke of the fatherland is sweet and pleasant for us!”

Having created the image of a new hero, A. S. Griboedov shows that the mind is a powerful force IN The fight against inertia and despotism, and it is he who leads Chatsky to a clash with the Famus society. Already in the very name of the comedy lies the key to its understanding. The writer's work speaks of a person's grief, and this grief is due to the mind. This problem in Griboedov's time was relevant, since the words "smart", "clever" were used as a synonym for the concept of "free-thinking".

It was such a mind in the Famus world that was regarded as madness, madness. This is the basis in the comedy of the internal development of the conflict between the two worlds: “the present century” and the “past century”.

“The current century” is the protagonist of the work, sharply exposing the Moscow nobility, rebelling against ignorance; “the past century” are representatives of the Famus society who hate education, who declared that “learning is a plague”, “if evil is stopped, they would collect all the books and burn them.” Chatsky opposes bureaucracy, serving individuals, not the cause (“I would be glad to serve - it’s sickening to serve”). He is outraged by Famusov's principles: "signed - so off your shoulders", "well, how not to please your dear little man." The protagonist, selflessly loving his homeland, the people, advocates a careful attitude to the Russian language, "so that our smart, vigorous people, although in language we are not considered Germans." Chatsky is eloquent, a man of extraordinary intelligence, courageous, honest and sincere. A. S. Griboyedov shows these qualities especially clearly, opposing the hypocritical sycophant Molchalin to the main character. This is a vile person who regularly fulfills his father's covenant "to please all people without exception." Molchalin is “a low-flyer and a businessman”, as Chatsky characterizes him, whose bold speeches stirred up the calmness of the Famus society, caused indignation and a sharp rebuff. The old world resists, fights with the hero, using slander. Together they picked up the rumor started by Sophia about the madness of Alexander Andreevich. Famusovsky world is still strong and numerous. And the offended Chatsky flees from the house of Pavel Afanasyevich, flees from Moscow. But the reader is convinced of the moral victory of the hero over the old world.

I. A. Goncharov in the article “A Million of Torments” defined the meaning of Griboyedov’s hero in the following way: “he is an eternal denouncer of lies, hiding in a proverb: one is not a warrior in the field. No, warrior, if he is Chatsky and, moreover, a winner.

AS Griboyedov left an indelible mark on the history of Russian culture. In the comedy "Woe from Wit" he put forward the main social and idealistic problem of his critical time - the problem of irreconcilable enmity between the defenders of the old system and the representatives of a new worldview, a new free life. This topic not only did not lose its significance throughout the entire 19th century, but, on the contrary, is becoming increasingly acute, reflecting the socio-historical contradictions of the bourgeois era. The great comedy remains fresh and relevant in our time. And the current reader is very dear to the patriotism and deep faith in Russia of A. S. Griboyedov, a wonderful national and folk writer.

The comedy "Woe from Wit" keeps some sort of aloofness in literature.<...>She is like a hundred-year-old man, around whom everyone, having outlived their time in turn, die and fall, and he walks, cheerful and fresh, between the graves of old and the cradles of new people. And it never occurs to anyone that someday his turn will come.

The main role, of course, is the role of Chatsky, without whom there would be no comedy, but, perhaps, there would be a picture of morals.<...>

One might think that Griboyedov, out of paternal love for his hero, flattered him in the title, as if warning the reader that his hero is smart, and everyone else around him is not smart.

But Chatsky is not only smarter than all other people, but also positively smart. His speech boils with intelligence, wit. He has a heart, and besides, he is impeccably honest. In a word, this person is not only intelligent, but also developed, with feeling, or, as his maid Lisa recommends, he is “sensitive, and cheerful, and sharp!”. Only his personal grief did not come from one mind, but more from other reasons, where his mind played a suffering role.<...>

Chatsky, apparently<...>prepared seriously for the activity. “He writes and translates well,” Famusov says of him, and everyone talks about his high mind. He, of course, traveled ... studied, read, apparently took up work, was in relations with ministers and dispersed - it is not difficult to guess why:

I would be glad to serve, it’s sickening to serve, -

he hints.<...>

Every step, almost every word in the play is closely connected with the play of his feelings for Sofya, irritated by some kind of lie in her actions, which he struggles to unravel to the very end. All his mind and all his strength go into this struggle: it served as a motive, a pretext for irritation, for that “million of torments”, under the influence of which he could only play the role indicated to him by Griboyedov, a role of much greater, higher significance than unsuccessful love. , in a word, the role for which the whole comedy was born.<...>

He came to Moscow and to Famusov, obviously, for Sophia and for Sophia alone. He does not care about others: even now he is annoyed that he found only Famusov instead of her. "How could she not be here?" - he asks a question, recalling his former youthful love, which in him “neither distance has cooled, nor entertainment, nor a change of places,” and is tormented by her coldness.<...>

Molchalin after the scene in the hallway cannot remain the same Molchalin. The mask is pulled off, they recognized him, and he, like a caught thief, has to hide in a corner. Gorichi, Zagoretsky, princesses - all fell under the hail of his shots, and these shots will not remain without a trace. In this still consonant chorus, other voices, still bold yesterday, will fall silent or others will be heard both “for” and “against”. The battle has just flared up.<...>All that was needed was an explosion, a fight, and it began, stubborn and hot - on one day in one house, but its consequences, as we said above, were reflected in all of Moscow and Russia. Chatsky gave rise to a split, and if he was deceived for his own personal purposes, did not find “the charm of meetings, live participation”, then he himself sprinkled living water on the dead soil - taking with him “a million torments”, this Chatsky crown of thorns - torments from everything: from “ mind”, and even more so from “offended feelings”.<...>

The role and physiognomy of the Chatskys is unchanged. Chatsky is most of all a debunker of lies and everything that has become obsolete, which drowns out a new life, “free life”.<...>

He is very positive in his demands and declares them in a ready-made form, worked out not by him, but by the century already begun. With youthful vehemence, he does not drive from the stage everything that has survived, which, according to the laws of reason and justice, as according to natural laws in physical nature, is left to live out its term, which can and should be tolerated. He demands a place and freedom for his age: he asks for business, but does not want to be served and stigmatizes servility and buffoonery. He demands "service to the cause, not to persons", does not mix "fun or tomfoolery with deeds", like Molchalin - he is weary among the empty, idle crowd of "tormentors, sinister old women, absurd old men", refusing to bow before their authority of decrepitude, chivalry and so on. He is outraged by the ugly manifestations of serfdom, the insane luxury and disgusting customs of “spillage in feasts and extravagance” - phenomena of mental and moral blindness and corruption.

His ideal of “free life” is defined: it is freedom from all these counted chains of slavery that fetter society, and then freedom - “to stare into science the mind that is hungry for knowledge”, or freely indulge in “creative, high and beautiful arts” - freedom “to serve or not to serve”, “to live in the village or to travel”, not being known as either a robber or an incendiary - and a number of further next similar steps towards freedom - from lack of freedom.<...>

Chatsky is broken by the amount of old strength, inflicting a mortal blow on it with the quality of fresh strength.

He is the eternal debunker of lies, hidden in the proverb: "One man is not a warrior." No, a warrior, if he is Chatsky, and, moreover, a winner, but an advanced warrior, a skirmisher and always a victim.

He had to leave; but another, lively, lively comedy invades the stage, several new perspectives of Moscow life open at once, which not only oust Chatsky's intrigue from the viewer's memory, but Chatsky himself seems to forget about it and interferes with the crowd. New faces group around him and play, each with his own role. This is a ball with all the Moscow atmosphere, with a series of lively stage sketches in which each group forms its own separate comedy, with a complete outline of the characters who managed to play out in a few words into a complete action.<...>But the cup overflowed. He leaves the back rooms already completely upset and, out of old friendship, in the crowd again goes to Sofya, hoping at least for simple sympathy. He confides his state of mind to her:

A million torments! -

he says.

Breasts from a friendly vice,
Feet from shuffling, ears from exclamations,
And more than a head from all sorts of trifles!
My soul here is somehow compressed by grief! -

he complains to her, not suspecting what kind of conspiracy has matured against him in the enemy camp.

"A million torments" and "woe"! - that's what he reaped for all that he managed to sow. Until now, he was invincible: his mind mercilessly hit the sore spots of enemies. Famusov finds nothing but to cover his ears against his logic, and shoots back with commonplaces of the old morality. Molchalin falls silent, the princesses, countesses - back away from him, burned by the nettles of his laughter, and his former friend, Sophia, whom he spares alone, cunningly, slips and inflicts the main blow on him secretly, declaring him at hand, casually, crazy.

He falls into exaggeration, almost into drunkenness of speech, and confirms in the opinion of the guests the rumor spread by Sophia about his madness. What is heard is no longer sharp, poisonous sarcasm - in which a true, definite idea is inserted, however - but some kind of bitter complaint, as if for a personal insult, for an empty or, in his own words, "an insignificant meeting with a Frenchman from Bordeaux" which he, in his normal state of mind, would hardly have noticed.<...>

After getting rid of Repetilov's chatter and hiding in the Swiss waiting for the carriage, he spied on Sophia's meeting with Molchalin and played the role of Othello, having no right to do so. He reproaches her for why she “lured him with hope”, why she didn’t directly say that the past was forgotten. Not a word here is true. There was no hope for her. She only did that she left him, barely spoke to him, confessed her indifference, called some old children's romance and hiding in corners childish, and even hinted that "God brought her together with Molchalin."

And he just because

So passionate and so low
There was a waster of tender words,

in a rage, for his own useless humiliation, for the deceit voluntarily imposed on himself, he executes everyone, and throws a cruel and unjust word at her:

With you I am proud of my break, -

when there was nothing to break! Finally, he simply comes to swearing, pouring out bile:

For daughter and father
And for a foolish lover

and boils with rage at everyone, “at tormentors, a crowd of traitors, clumsy wise men, cunning simpletons, sinister old women,” etc. And he leaves Moscow to look for “a corner for an offended feeling,” pronouncing a merciless judgment and sentence on everything!

If he had one healthy minute, if “a million torments” had not burned him, he would, of course, ask himself the question: “why and for what have I done all this mess?” And, of course, there would be no answer.

Griboedov is responsible for it, and it was not without reason that the play ended with this catastrophe. In it, not only for Sophia, but also for Famusov and all his guests, Chatsky's "mind", sparkling like a ray of light in a whole play, burst out at the end into that thunder at which, according to the proverb, men are baptized.

From the thunder, Sophia was the first to cross herself, remaining until the very appearance of Chatsky, when Molchalin was already crawling at her feet, all the same unconscious Sophia Pavlovna, with the same lie in which her father raised her, in which he lived himself, his whole house and the whole circle . Still not recovering from shame and horror, when the mask fell from Molchalin, she first of all rejoices that “at night she found out that there are no reproachful witnesses in her eyes!” And there are no witnesses, therefore, everything is hidden and hidden, you can forget, marry, perhaps, Skalozub.

This is a mixture of good instincts with lies, a lively mind with the absence of any hint of ideas and convictions - confusion of concepts, mental and moral blindness - all this does not have the character of personal vices in her, but appears as common features of her circle. In her own, personal physiognomy, something of her own is hiding in the shadows, hot, tender, even dreamy. The rest belongs to education.<...>

But in Sofya Pavlovna, we hasten to make a reservation, that is, in her feelings for Molchalin, there is a lot of sincerity.<...>Sofya is surprised at the laughter of the maid when she tells how she spends the whole night with Molchalin: “Not a free word! - and so the whole night passes! ”,“ The enemy of insolence, always shy, bashful! That's what she admires in him! It's funny, but there is some kind of almost grace - and far from immorality.<...>

Looking deeper into Sophia's character and environment, you see that it was not immorality (but not God, of course) that "brought her" to Molchalin. First of all, the desire to patronize a loved one, poor, modest, who does not dare to raise his eyes to her - to elevate him to himself, to his circle, to give him family rights. Without a doubt, she was smiling in this role to rule over a submissive creature, make him happy and have an eternal slave in him. It is not to blame that the future "husband-boy, husband-servant - the ideal of Moscow husbands" came out of this. There was nowhere to stumble upon other ideals in Famusov's house.

She, of course, is harder than everyone else, even harder than Chatsky, and she gets her “million torments”.