Vasisualy Lokhankin and the Old Testament. Vasisualy Lokhankin, as a symbol of the rotten intelligentsia In search of homespun truth

Among the secondary characters of The Golden Calf, one of the most colorful figures is the homegrown philosopher Vasisualy Andreevich Lokhankin. This hero of the work is immediately remembered by the reader not only due to the comic incidents that happen in his life, but also due to his manner of speaking, as well as his tendency to useless discussions about the fate of the Russian intelligentsia, to which he considered himself a representative.

Character history

Vasisualy Lokhankin as a character first appears in other works by Ilf and Petrov, namely in several short stories from the cycle about the inhabitants of the city of Kolokolamsk, which were published in the magazine "Eccentric", published in Moscow in the late twenties - early thirties of the twentieth century. After the release of several stories, the publication was suspended, as the sharply social content turned out to be not to the liking of the officials from the Soviet censorship.

These works depicted people, each of whom had a whole set of vices, such as laziness and envy. Nevertheless, they all unconditionally followed existing laws and always carried out government regulations. Such plots were often found in works that were published in print for the first time years of Soviet power. However, censorship soon increased significantly.

The chapters in which Vasisualy Lokhankin appears in Ilf and Petrov's novel The Golden Calf tell about the inhabitants of a communal apartment, which is popularly referred to as the "crow settlement". Vasisualy Andreevich rents a room in this apartment with his wife Varvara, who is the only money earner in their family. He himself does not work anywhere, but is only engaged in talking about the fate of the Russian intelligentsia, the consequences of the October Revolution and other philosophical topics.

When Varvara is about to leave him and go to her lover, the engineer Ptiburdukov, Vasisualy Andreevich goes on a hunger strike. He defiantly lies on the sofa, sprinkles verses in the size of iambic pentameter and reproaches Varvara for ruthlessly leaving him to the mercy of fate. The poetic works of Vasisualy Lokhankin gained immense popularity. Quotations from them are often found in modern literature. These lines have become winged, along with the creations a poet from another novel Ilf and Petrova ("The Twelve Chairs"). These two characters, two representatives, so to speak, of the creative intelligentsia differ from each other in that Lapis writes his works, pursuing selfish goals, he fancies himself a professional poet. While Vasisualy Lokhankin expresses himself in iambic pentameter, sometimes without even noticing it.

This feature of speech is part of his nature. The image of this hero of the novel by Ilf and Petrov is distinguished by its comicality. The writers created a cartoon on typical representative of the Russian intelligentsia of those years.

Of course, features of some representatives of this stratum of society, such as a tendency to empty reasoning, as well as the inability to sometimes take any decisive actions, are presented in the description of this character in an exaggerated form. The poems of Vasisualy Lokhankin are another artistic means for creating the image of an aesthetic lazy person.

family drama

Varvara is moved to pity by Lokhankin's actions. She relents and decides to postpone her move to the engineer Ptiburdukov for at least two weeks. During her subsequent residence with her husband, Varvara listens every day to long tirades about the fate of the Russian intelligentsia and how inhuman and cruel she herself is. Vasisualy Lokhankin is already happily rubbing his hands in the hope that if things go on in this way, then the engineer Ptiburdukov will not see his dearest wife.

But one morning Varvara wakes up from the sounds of champing. It was Vasisuali Andreevich in the kitchen, wielding with his bare hands, took out a large piece of meat from the borscht she had prepared and greedily gobbles it up. She could not forgive her husband for such an act even in the happiest and most cloudless days of their life together. And at the moment this incident led to the immediate departure of Barbara.

The unfortunate Vasisualy Andreevich, despite his deep feelings, still does not lose his sobriety of mind, and even with some enterprise, which, it would seem, is atypical for his creative nature, decides to improve his financial situation. After the departure of his wife, who was the only working person in their family, he gives an advertisement in one of the city newspapers about renting a room to a lonely, intelligent bachelor.

execution

The language of the text of this announcement was somewhat idiosyncratic, since every word in it was abbreviated to reduce the number of printed characters. After Vasisualy gave this one, he indulged in his grief. At that moment there was one one of the most comical episodes of the whole novel. Absorbed by grief, Lokhankin constantly forgot to put out the light after visiting the restroom. Thrifty tenants repeatedly warned him.

Vasisuali Andreevich promised to change every time, but this did not happen. An insignificant light bulb was not part of his circle of interests. He could not even imagine that the dim light in the bathroom could seriously affect someone's interests. Finally, the inhabitants of Voronya Sloboda decided on an extreme measure. One fine day, the mountain prince in his former, pre-revolutionary life, and on that moment - laborer Oriental citizen Gigienishvili called Lokhankin to the so-called friendly court, where he was punished, and the homegrown philosopher was flogged.

Appearance of Bender

At that very moment, Ostap Bender appeared in Voronya Slobidka, who came to Vasisual Andreevich on the basis of an advertisement. He, as always, promised timely payment for services and moved into the apartment the next day.

After a fire broke out in Voronya Sloboda and the apartment burned down completely, Vasisualy Andreevich Lokhankin, who found himself homeless, turned to his ex-wife and her roommate, engineer Ptiburdukov, for help, who turned out to be so compassionate that they immediately sheltered the poor sufferer.

Screen adaptations

The plot about this Golden Calf character and his relationship with his wife was not included in the final adaptation of the novel director Mikhail Schweitzer. However, the excerpt has survived. These frames with in role abandoned spouse you can look it up online if you want. Ten years earlier, he made a short film Vasisualy Lokhankin, where the main role was played by Evgeny Evstigneev.

Floor male Family Barbara's ex-wife Role played Evgeny Alexandrovich Evstigneev, Anatoly Dmitrievich Papanov and Mikhail Olegovich Efremov

Appearance and character

The character's first and last name first appeared in Unusual Stories of the Residents of the City of Kolokolamsk, written by Ilf and Petrov in 1928. In them, the hero of one of the short stories, the undertaker Vasisualy Lokhankin, moving along Malaya Former Street, tells all fellow citizens about the coming flood and the end of the world. From the same work, the name of the communal apartment in which Vasisualy lives - "Voronya Slobodka" also moved to the pages of the "Golden Calf".

The authors of the novel briefly mention Lokhankin's appearance: he is a man with large nostrils and a pharaoh's beard. According to the literary critic Yuri Shcheglov, in the 1920s, “a stylized pointed or bar-like beard” was an attribute of the “old-mode intellectuals”; the image of the gentleman, who retained the features of the pre-revolutionary time, was considered complete if pince-nez and a briefcase were added to it. Acquaintance with the character begins at the moment when he, lying on the couch, declares a hunger strike in protest against the departure of his wife Varvara to the engineer Ptiburdukov. Here, according to researchers, there is a roll call both with real events (the refusal to eat food by responsible workers who lost their posts was told in one of the Pravda feuilletons in 1929), and with literary "stories" (Sasha Cherny's poem "Intelligent » begins with lines “Turning his back on a hope that has been deceived / And helplessly hanging his tired tongue ...”) .

Varvara reacts to her husband's hunger strike with phrases that Vasisualy is "a mean owner, a serf-owner"; in her remarks, one can see the popular at that time view of the family as an "obsolete, reactionary institution", in which it is necessary to get rid of jealousy and other "bourgeois conventions". The author's irony in relation to this situation is related to the fact that the starving Lokhankin is a pretender: at night, secretly from his wife, he empties the buffet with canned food and borscht stored there.

“Vasisualy Lokhankin, starving, shocks his wife with his sacrifice, but suddenly she finds him secretly devouring cold borscht with meat; he constantly thinks about the fate of the Russian intelligentsia, to which he considers himself, but systematically forgets to turn off the light in public places ... Reading these scenes, you see how many funny clashes and surprises in "Ilfo-Petrovsky humor", how high and low are paradoxically mixed here, pretension to tragedy, resolved so comically.

Iambic pentameter Vasisualy Lokhankin

Barbara's departure unexpectedly reveals in Vasisualia a penchant for recitation: he begins to express himself in iambic pentameter. Such speech switching is, according to the researchers, "almost a unique case in Russian literature", especially when you consider that Lokhankin does not quote other people's lines, but spontaneously creates his own texts. They contain elements of drama and poetry of the 19th century - in particular, a parodic reference to the works of Alexander Sergeevich Pushkin, Alexei Konstantinovich Tolstoy, Lev Alexandrovich Mei and other authors is noticeable. In total, according to researchers, on the pages of the novel, Lokhankin uttered about thirty short white verses.

So who are you leaving me for? →
Go away, go away, I hate you... →
You are not an engineer - a boor, a bastard, a bastard, / a creeping bastard and a pimp, moreover! →
I want to possess you, Barbara! →
He, he, who stole my wife from me! →

So that's why I've been thirteen years in a row ... ("Song of the Prophetic Oleg")
Snake, snake! no wonder I was trembling. ("Boris Godunov")
A swindler, a scoundrel, an idler, a rogue, a fool! ("Cyrano de Bergerac")
Sit down here and listen, Bomelius! ("The Tsar's Bride")
Here he is, the villain! - there was a general cry. ("Boris Godunov")

Literary roll call

For Vasisualy, parting with his wife is also dramatic because he himself does not work anywhere: “With the departure of Varvara, the material base on which the well-being of the most worthy representative of thinking humanity rested would disappear.” A similar theme - "an imaginary genius living at the expense of loved ones" - is developed in many works; researchers discover a certain proximity between Lokhankin and Foma Opiskin from Dostoevsky's story "The Village of Stepanchikovo and its inhabitants"; the same row includes Professor Serebryakov from Chekhov's Uncle Vanya and Podsekalnikov from Erdman's play The Suicide. Evidence of the "literary relationship" of the hero of The Golden Calf and one of the characters in Dostoevsky's novel "Demons" is their "claim for special sensitivity", which manifests itself in threats: "I will leave on foot to end my life as a tutor" (Stepan Verkhovensky) - " I’ll go away and curse, moreover, ”(Vasisualy Lokhankin).

The controversy around the image of Vasisualy Lokhankin

The image of Lokhankin not only caused a very heated literary discussion, but also became the reason for the creation of a version of the "social order" performed by Ilf and Petrov with the help of this character. So, the widow of the poet Osip Mandelstam - Nadezhda Yakovlevna - in a book of memoirs, published in 1970, wrote that in post-revolutionary Soviet society, the epithets "soft-bodied, frail" were applicable to representatives of the intelligentsia; individual writers were given the ideological directive to "expose them to ridicule". This task, according to the author of the memoirs, was successfully completed by the creators of the "Golden Calf", "settled" soft-bodied "in" Voronya Slobidka "".

A lot of attention was paid to the image of Vasisualy and the literary critic Arkady Belinkov, who, in his work “The Surrender and Death of the Soviet Intellectual”, on the one hand, recognized “the presence of a huge number of Lokhankins in the history of the Russian public”, on the other hand, opposed such representatives of the intelligentsia to the character of the Golden Calf , like Anna Akhmatova, Marina Tsvetaeva, Boris Pasternak, Osip Mandelstam, who were "more complex and diverse than the one that Ilf and Petrov so aptly portrayed."

“In a strange way, critics who were offended by Lokhankin and did not notice Kai Julius Starokhamsky did not see that in The Golden Calf there really was a hero that interested them - a lone intellectual and an individualist who was critical of the world around him. This is Ostap Ibragimovich Bender, the protagonist of the novel ... Ostap Bender's "Revolt of Individuality" is incomparably more serious than the imaginary "revolt" of Vasisualy Lokhankin - these figures are not only not similar, but polar opposites.

Screen adaptations

Despite the carefully calculated timing and strictly stipulated number of takes, the tape ended right at the time of the key line of Lokhankin-Evstigneev. Danelia and Abbasov decided that their cinematic debut was not a success, but the audience warmly accepted the work, and Mikhail Romm called the "ruined" scene an interesting author's improvisation.

Notes

, With. 15.
, With. 56.
, With. 57.
, With. 469.
, With. 468.
, With. 484.
, With. 139.
, With. 470.
, With. 471.
, With. 471-473.
Lurie Ya. S. In the land of unafraid idiots. Book about Ilf and Petrov. - St. Petersburg. : Publishing House of the European University at St. Petersburg, 2005. - ISBN 5-94380-044-1.
, With. 479.
, With. 474.
Mandelstam N. Ya. Memories. -

You are not a slave!
Closed educational course for children of the elite: "The true arrangement of the world."
http://noslave.org

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

Vasisualy Lokhankin

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[[C:Wikipedia:Articles without images (country: Lua error: callParserFunction: function "#property" was not found. )]][[C:Wikipedia:Articles without images (country: Lua error: callParserFunction: function "#property" was not found. )]]Lua error: callParserFunction: function "#property" was not found. Vasisualy Lokhankin Lua error: callParserFunction: function "#property" was not found. Vasisualy Lokhankin Lua error: callParserFunction: function "#property" was not found. Vasisualy Lokhankin Lua error: callParserFunction: function "#property" was not found. Vasisualy Lokhankin Lua error: callParserFunction: function "#property" was not found. Vasisualy Lokhankin Lua error: callParserFunction: function "#property" was not found. Vasisualy Lokhankin

Vasisualy Andreevich Lokhankin- a character in the novel by Ilya Ilf and Evgeny Petrov "The Golden Calf". The hero, appearing in three chapters of the work, thinks a lot about the fate of the Russian intelligentsia; after the departure of his wife Varvara, he begins to speak iambic pentameter. The image of Vasisualy was ambiguously perceived in the literary community and caused controversy among critics in the 1970s.

Appearance and character

“Vasisualy Lokhankin, starving, shocks his wife with his sacrifice, but suddenly she finds him secretly devouring cold borscht with meat; he constantly thinks about the fate of the Russian intelligentsia, to which he considers himself, but systematically forgets to turn off the light in public places ... Reading these scenes, you see how many funny clashes and surprises in "Ilfo-Petrovsky humor", how high and low are paradoxically mixed here, pretension to tragedy, resolved so comically.

Iambic pentameter Vasisualy Lokhankin

So who are you leaving me for? →
Go away, go away, I hate you... →
You are not an engineer - a boor, a bastard, a bastard, / a creeping bastard and a pimp, moreover! →
I want to possess you, Barbara! →
He, he, who stole my wife from me! →

So that's why I've been thirteen years in a row ... ("Song of the Prophetic Oleg")
Snake, snake! no wonder I was trembling. ("Boris Godunov")
A swindler, a scoundrel, an idler, a rogue, a fool! ("Cyrano de Bergerac")
Sit down here and listen, Bomelius! ("The Tsar's Bride")
Here he is, the villain! - there was a general cry. ("Boris Godunov")

Literary roll call

The controversy around the image of Vasisualy Lokhankin

“In a strange way, critics who were offended by Lokhankin and did not notice Kai Julius Starokhamsky did not see that in The Golden Calf there really was a hero that interested them - a lone intellectual and an individualist who was critical of the world around him. This is Ostap Ibragimovich Bender, the protagonist of the novel ... Ostap Bender's "Revolt of Individuality" is incomparably more serious than the imaginary "revolt" of Vasisualy Lokhankin - these figures are not only not similar, but polar opposites.

Screen adaptations

Write a review on the article "Vasisualy Lokhankin"

Notes

, With. 15.
, With. 56.
, With. 57.
, With. 469.
, With. 468.
, With. 484.
, With. 139.
, With. 470.
, With. 471.
, With. 471-473.
Lurie, Ya. S.. - St. Petersburg: European University Press in St. Petersburg, 2005. - ISBN 5-94380-044-1.
, With. 479.
, With. 474.
Mandelstam N. Ya. Memories. - New York: Chekhov Publishing House, 1970. - S. 345.
Belinkov A.V.. - M .: RIK "Culture", 1997. - ISBN 5-8334-0049-X.
Belinkov A.V.. - M .: RIK "Culture", 1997. - ISBN 5-8334-0049-X.
Lurie, Ya. S.. - St. Petersburg: European University Press in St. Petersburg, 2005. - ISBN 5-94380-044-1.
Danelia G. N. Eksmo, 2004. - p. 29. - ISBN 5-699-01834-4.
Danelia G. N. Stowaway. - M .: Eksmo, 2004. - S. 30. - ISBN 5-699-01834-4.
Papanov A. D.. - M .: Zebra E; ACT, 2010. - ISBN 978-5-17-067857-0.

Literature

Shcheglov, Yu. K. Novels of Ilf and Petrov. - St. Petersburg: Ivan Limbakh Publishing House, 2009. - 656 p. - ISBN 978-5-89059-134-0.
Yanovskaya, L. M. Why do you write funny? About I. Ilf and E. Petrov, their lives and their humor. - M .: Nauka, 1969.
Lurie, Ya. S. In the land of unafraid idiots. A book about Ilf and Petrov. - St. Petersburg: European University Press in St. Petersburg, 2005. - ISBN 5-94380-044-1.
Paperny Z. S.; Sakharova E. M.“To write a novel as cheerful as possible”; Comments // I. Ilf, E. Petrov. Golden calf. - M .: Book, 1989. - S. 7-25,460-485. - ISBN 5-212-00145-5.

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An excerpt characterizing Vasisualy Lokhankin

It seemed that Caraffa sincerely enjoyed the conversation, seemingly completely forgetting about his "especially important" conversation. And we must give him his due - he was undoubtedly the most interesting interlocutor ... if you forget about who he really was ... To drown out the growing anxiety in my soul, I joked as much as possible. Caraffa laughed merrily at my jokes, telling others in response. He was helpful and pleasant. But, despite all his secular gallantry, I felt that he, too, was tired of pretending ... And although Caraffa’s endurance was truly impeccable, I understood from the feverish gleam of his black eyes that everything was finally coming to an end ... Air around us literally "cracked" from the growing expectation. The conversation gradually petered out, turning into an exchange of simple secular remarks. And finally, Caraffa began ...
“I found your grandfather's books, Madonna. But there was no knowledge that interested me. Should I ask you the same question again, Isidora? You know what interests me, don't you?
This is exactly what I expected...
“I cannot give you immortality, Your Holiness, nor can I teach it to you. I do not have this right ... I am not free in my desires ...
Of course, that was a pure lie. But how could I have acted differently?! .. Karaffa knew all this very well. And, of course, he was going to break me again ... More than anything, he needed the ancient secret that my mother left me when she was dying. And he had no intention of backing down. Once again it was someone's turn to pay cruelly for my silence...
“Think, Isidora! I don't want to harm you! - switching to "you", whispered Caraffa in an insinuating voice. Why don't you want to help me?! I'm not asking you to betray your mother, or Meteora, I'm asking you to teach only what you yourself know about it! We could rule the world together! I would make you the queen of queens!.. Think, Isidora...
I knew that something very bad was going to happen right now, but I simply didn’t have the strength to lie anymore ...
- I will not help you simply because, by living longer than you are destined, you will exterminate the better half of humanity ... Precisely those who are the smartest and most gifted. You bring too much evil, Holiness... And you have no right to live long. Forgive me...” and, after a pause, she added very quietly. – Why, and our life is not always measured only by the number of years lived, Your Holiness, and you know this very well...
- Well, Madonna, everything is up to you ... When you finish, you will be taken to your chambers.
And to my greatest surprise, without saying another word, he, as if nothing had happened, calmly got up and left, leaving his unfinished, truly royal dinner ... him, at the same time, hating him for everything he had done...
The day passed in complete silence, the night approached. My nerves were inflated to the limit - I was waiting for trouble. Feeling her approach with all my being, I tried my last strength to remain calm, but my hands were trembling from wild overexcitement, and a chilling panic seized my whole being. What was being cooked there, behind the heavy iron door? What new atrocity did Caraffa invent this time? .. Unfortunately, I didn’t have to wait long - they came for me exactly at midnight. A small, wizened, elderly priest took me to the already familiar, creepy basement...
And there ... hanging high on iron chains, with a spiked ring around his neck, hung my beloved father ... Caraffa sat in his unchanged, huge wooden chair and gloomily looked at what was happening. Turning to me, he looked at me with a blank, absent look, and quite calmly said:
- Well, choose, Isidora - either you will give me what I ask of you, or your father will go to the fire in the morning ... There is no point in tormenting him. Therefore, decide. Everything depends on you.
The ground slipped from under my feet!... I had to exert all my remaining strength not to fall right in front of Caraffa. Everything turned out to be extremely simple - he decided that my father would no longer live ... And this was not subject to appeal ... There was no one to intercede, no one to ask for protection. There was no one to help us... The word of this man was a law that no one dared to oppose. Well, those who could, they just didn't want to...
Never in my life have I felt so helpless and worthless! .. I could not save my father. Otherwise, I would have betrayed what we lived for ... And he would never have forgiven me for this. The most terrible thing remained - just to watch, without doing anything, how the "holy" monster, called the Pope, cold-bloodedly sends my kind father right to the fire...
Father was silent... Looking straight into his kind, warm eyes, I asked him for forgiveness... For not being able to fulfill the promise so far... For the fact that he suffered... For not being able to save... And for the fact that she herself was still alive...
“I will destroy him, father!” I promise you! Otherwise, we will all die in vain. I will destroy him, no matter the cost. I believe that. Even if no one else believes in it... – I mentally swore to him with my life that I would destroy the monster.
Father was unspeakably sad, but still steadfast and proud, and only deep, unexpressed longing nested in his affectionate gray eyes ... Tied with heavy chains, he was not even able to hug me goodbye. But there was no point in asking Caraffa about this - he probably would not have allowed it. Feelings of kinship and love were unfamiliar to him ... Not even the purest philanthropy. He simply did not recognize them.
- Go away, daughter! Go away, dear... You will not kill this non-human. You will only die in vain. Go away, my heart... I will wait for you there, in another life. The North will take care of you. Go away baby girl!
- I love you so much, father! .. I love you so much! ..
Tears choked me, but my heart was silent. I had to hold on - and I held on. It seemed that the whole world turned into a millstone of pain. But for some reason it didn't touch me, as if I was already dead...
"I'm sorry father, but I'll stay." I will try as long as I live. And I won't even leave him dead until I take him with me... Forgive me.
Caraffa got up. He could not hear our conversation, but he perfectly understood that something was happening between me and my father. This connection was not subject to his control, and the Pope was enraged that he involuntarily remained aloof ...
- At dawn, your father will ascend the fire, Isidora. It is you who are killing him. So - decide!
My heart pounded and stopped... The world was falling apart... and I couldn't do anything about it, or change anything. But I had to answer - and I answered ...
“I have nothing to tell you, Holiness, except that you are the worst criminal that has ever lived on this Earth.
The Pope looked at me for a minute, not hiding his surprise, and then nodded to the old priest who was waiting there and left without another word. As soon as he disappeared behind the door, I rushed to the old man, and convulsively grabbing his dry, old hands, I prayed:
- Please, I beg you, holy father, let me hug him goodbye! .. I will never be able to do this again ... You heard what Papa said - tomorrow at dawn my father will die ... Have mercy, I beg you !.. No one will ever know about it, I swear to you! I beg you, help me! The Lord will not forget you!
The old priest carefully looked into my eyes and, without saying anything, pulled the lever ... The chains screeched down, just enough so that we could say the last goodbye ...
I came close and, burying my face in my father’s broad chest, gave vent to the bitter tears that finally gushed out ... Even now, covered in blood, bound hand and foot with rusty iron, my father radiated wonderful warmth and peace, and next to him I felt just as comfortable and protected!.. It was my happy lost world, which at dawn was supposed to leave me forever... every minute she slipped away farther and farther, and I could neither save her nor stop her ...
- Be strong, my dear. You must be strong. You must protect Anna from him. And I have to protect myself. I'm leaving for you. Perhaps this will give you some time... to destroy Caraffa. Father whispered softly.
I clutched at him with my hands, not wanting to let go. And again, as once a very long time ago, I felt like a little girl who was looking for solace on his broad chest ...
- Forgive me, madonna, but I must take you to your chambers, otherwise I may be executed for disobedience. Forgive me…” the old priest said in a hoarse voice.
I once again tightly hugged my father, soaking up his wonderful warmth for the last time... And without turning around, not seeing anything around from the tears covering my eyes, I jumped out of the torture room. The walls of the basement "wobbled", and I had to stop, grabbing onto stone ledges, so as not to fall. Blinded by unbearable pain, I wandered lost, not understanding where I was and not understanding where I was going...
Stella quietly wept large, burning tears, completely unashamed of them. I looked at Anna - she affectionately hugged Isidora, having gone very far from us, apparently living again with her these last, terrible, earthly days ... I suddenly felt very lonely and cold, as if everything around was covered by a gloomy, black, heavy cloud. .. The soul ached painfully and was completely empty, like a dry spring that had once been filled with pure living water... I turned to the Elder - he was glowing! .. A sparkling, warm, golden wave generously flowed from him, enveloping Isidora ... And there were tears in his sad gray eyes. Isidora, having gone very far and paying no attention to any of us, quietly continued her amazingly sad story ...
Finding myself in "my" room, I fell on the bed, as if knocked down. There were no more tears. There was only a terrible, naked emptiness and despair blinding the soul ...
I could not, did not want to believe what was happening!.. And although I was waiting for this from day to day, now I could neither realize nor accept this terrible, inhuman reality. I didn’t want the morning to come... It was supposed to bring only horror, and I no longer had the former “firm confidence” that I could endure all this without breaking, without betraying my father and myself... Feelings of guilt for his torn life, a mountain fell upon him ... The pain, finally, deafened, tearing my tormented heart to shreds ...
To my great surprise (and wild chagrin!!!) I jumped up from the noise outside the door and realized that... I was sleeping! How could this happen?! How could I even sleep? But apparently, our imperfect human body, in some of the most difficult moments of life, not obeying our desires, defended itself in order to survive. So I, unable to endure any more suffering, simply "left" to rest in order to save my dying soul. And now it was too late - they came for me to escort me to the execution of my father ...
The morning was bright and clear. Curly white clouds floated high across the clear blue sky, the sun rose victoriously, joyfully and brightly. The day promised to be wonderful and sunny, like the coming spring itself! And in the midst of all this fresh, awakening life, only my tormented soul writhed and groaned, plunging into deep, cold, hopeless darkness...
In the middle of the sun-drenched small square, where the covered carriage brought me, there was a huge bonfire pre-built, “ready to eat” ... Internally shuddering, I looked at him, unable to take my eyes off. Courage left me, making me afraid. I didn't want to see what was happening. It promised to be terrible...
The area gradually filled with gloomy, sleepy people. They, just awakened, were forced to watch someone else's death, and this did not give them too much pleasure ... Rome had long ceased to enjoy the fires of the Inquisition. If at the beginning someone else was interested in other people's torment, now, several years later, people were afraid that tomorrow any of them could be at the stake. And the native Romans, trying to avoid trouble, left their hometown... They left Rome. From the beginning of the reign of Caraffa, only about half of the inhabitants remained in the city. If possible, not a single more or less normal person wanted to stay in it. And it was easy to understand - Caraffa did not reckon with anyone. Whether it was a simple person or a prince of royal blood (and sometimes even a cardinal of his most holy church! ..) - nothing stopped the Pope. People for him had neither value nor meaning. They were only pleasing or not pleasing to his "holy" gaze, well, and the rest was already decided very simply - a "not pleasing" person went to the stake, and his wealth replenished the treasury of his beloved, most holy church ...
Suddenly I felt a soft touch - it was my father!
- I'm leaving, daughter ... Be strong. It's just a transition - I won't feel pain. He just wants to break you, don't let him, my joy!.. We'll meet soon, you know. There will be no more pain. There will only be light...
No matter how much it hurt, I looked at him without lowering my eyes. He helped me get through again. As once upon a time, when I was still a baby and mentally sought his support ... I wanted to scream, but my soul was silent. It was as if she no longer had feelings, as if she were dead.
The executioner habitually approached the fire, offering a deadly flame. He did it as easily and simply as if he were lighting a cozy hearth in his house at that moment ...
My heart rushed wildly and froze... knowing that right now my father would leave... Unable to bear it any longer, I mentally shouted to him:
- Father, think! .. It's not too late! You after all can leave "breath"! He will never be able to find you!.. Please, father!!!..
But he just shook his head sadly.
- If I leave, he will take Anna. And she can't leave. Farewell, daughter... Farewell, dear... Remember - I will always be with you. I have to go. Farewell my joy...
Around the father, a bright shining “pillar” flashed, glowing with a pure, bluish light. This wonderful light embraced his physical body, as if saying goodbye to him. A bright, translucent, golden essence appeared, which smiled brightly and kindly at me... I realized that this was the end. My father was leaving me forever... His essence began to slowly rise up... And the sparkling channel, flashing with bluish sparks, closed. It was all over... My wonderful, kind father, my best friend, was no longer with us...
His “empty” physical body drooped, limply hanging on the ropes... A worthy and Honest Earthly Life was cut short, obeying the senseless order of a crazy person...
Feeling someone's familiar presence, I immediately turned around - Sever was standing nearby.
“Be of good cheer, Isidora. I came to help you. I know it's very hard for you, I promised your father that I would help you...
- Can you help me with what? I asked bitterly. - Will you help me destroy Karaffa?
North shook his head.
“I don't need any other help. Go North.
And turning away from him, I began to watch how it was burning that just a minute ago was my affectionate, wise father ... I knew that he had left, that he did not feel this inhuman pain ... That now he was from us far away, carried away into an unknown, wonderful world, where everything was calm and good. But for me it was still his body burning. It was the same native hands that were burning, hugging me as a child, calming and protecting me from any sorrows and troubles ... It was his eyes that were burning, into which I loved to look so much, seeking approval ... It was still my dear, kind father , whom I knew so well, and loved so strongly and ardently ... And it was his body that was now greedily devoured by a hungry, angry, raging flame ...

”, written by Ilf and Petrov in 1928. In them, the hero of one of the short stories, the undertaker Vasisualy Lokhankin, moving along Malaya Former Street, tells all fellow citizens about the coming flood and the end of the world. From the same work, the name of the communal apartment in which Vasisualy lives - "Voronya Slobodka" also moved to the pages of the "Golden Calf".

“Vasisualy Lokhankin, starving, shocks his wife with his sacrifice, but suddenly she finds him secretly devouring cold borscht with meat; he constantly thinks about the fate of the Russian intelligentsia, to which he considers himself, but systematically forgets to turn off the light in public places ... Reading these scenes, you see how many funny clashes and surprises in "Ilfo-Petrovsky humor", how high and low are paradoxically mixed here, pretension to tragedy, resolved so comically.

Iambic pentameter Vasisualy Lokhankin

So who are you leaving me for? →
Go away, go away, I hate you... →
You are not an engineer - a boor, a bastard, a bastard, / a creeping bastard and a pimp, moreover! →
I want to possess you, Barbara! →
He, he, who stole my wife from me! →

So that's why I've been thirteen years in a row ... ("Song of the Prophetic Oleg")
Snake, snake! no wonder I was trembling. ("Boris Godunov")
A swindler, a scoundrel, an idler, a rogue, a fool! ("Cyrano de Bergerac")
Sit down here and listen, Bomelius! ("The Tsar's Bride")
Here he is, the villain! - there was a general cry. ("Boris Godunov")

Literary roll call

The controversy around the image of Vasisualy Lokhankin

“In a strange way, critics who were offended by Lokhankin and did not notice Kai Julius Starokhamsky did not see that in The Golden Calf there really was a hero that interested them - a lone intellectual and an individualist who was critical of the world around him. This is Ostap Ibragimovich Bender, the protagonist of the novel ... Ostap Bender's "Revolt of Individuality" is incomparably more serious than the imaginary "revolt" of Vasisualy Lokhankin - these figures are not only not similar, but polar opposites.

Screen adaptations

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Notes

, With. 15.
, With. 56.
, With. 57.
, With. 469.
, With. 468.
, With. 484.
, With. 139.
, With. 470.
, With. 471.
, With. 471-473.
Lurie, Ya. S.. - St. Petersburg: European University Press at St. Petersburg, 2005. - ISBN 5-94380-044-1.
, With. 479.
, With. 474.
Mandelstam N. Ya. Memories. - New York: Chekhov Publishing House, 1970. - S. 345.
Belinkov A.V.. - M .: RIK "Culture", 1997. - ISBN 5-8334-0049-X.
Belinkov A.V.. - M .: RIK "Culture", 1997. - ISBN 5-8334-0049-X.
Lurie, Ya. S.. - St. Petersburg: European University Press at St. Petersburg, 2005. - ISBN 5-94380-044-1.
Danelia G. N. Eksmo, 2004. - p. 29. - ISBN 5-699-01834-4.
Danelia G. N. Stowaway. - M .: Eksmo, 2004. - S. 30. - ISBN 5-699-01834-4.
Papanov A. D.. - M .: Zebra E; ACT, 2010. - ISBN 978-5-17-067857-0.

Literature

Shcheglov, Yu. K. Novels of Ilf and Petrov. - St. Petersburg: Ivan Limbakh Publishing House, 2009. - 656 p. - ISBN 978-5-89059-134-0.
Yanovskaya, L. M. Why do you write funny? About I. Ilf and E. Petrov, their lives and their humor. - M .: Nauka, 1969.
Lurie, Ya. S. In the land of unafraid idiots. A book about Ilf and Petrov. - St. Petersburg: European University Press at St. Petersburg, 2005. - ISBN 5-94380-044-1.
Paperny Z. S.; Sakharova E. M.“To write a novel as cheerful as possible”; Comments // I. Ilf, E. Petrov. Golden calf. - M .: Book, 1989. - S. 7-25,460-485. - ISBN 5-212-00145-5.



Books

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Cities

Performers the role of Bender

Films based on "12 chairs"

Performances of "12 chairs"

Productions "Golden Calf"

An excerpt characterizing Vasisualy Lokhankin

and 8 guns of the Friant and Desse divisions,
In total - 62 guns.
The chief of artillery of the 3rd corps, General Fouche, will place all the howitzers of the 3rd and 8th corps, 16 in total, on the flanks of the battery, which is assigned to bombard the left fortification, which will total 40 guns against it.
General Sorbier must be ready at the first order to take out with all the howitzers of the guards artillery against one or another fortification.
In continuation of the cannonade, Prince Poniatowski will go to the village, into the forest and bypass the enemy position.
General Kompan will move through the forest to take the first fortification.
Upon entering the battle in this way, orders will be given according to the actions of the enemy.
The cannonade on the left flank will begin as soon as the cannonade of the right wing is heard. The riflemen of Moran's and Viceroy's divisions will open heavy fire upon seeing the right wing attack begin.
The viceroy will take possession of the village [Borodin] and cross his three bridges, following at the same height with the divisions of Moran and Gerard, who, under his leadership, will move towards the redoubt and enter the line with the rest of the army.
All this must be carried out in order (le tout se fera avec ordre et methode), keeping the troops as far as possible in reserve.
In the imperial camp, near Mozhaisk, September 6, 1812.
This disposition, very vaguely and confusedly written - if you allow yourself to treat his orders without religious horror at the genius of Napoleon - contained four points - four orders. None of these orders could be and was not executed.
The disposition says, firstly: that the batteries arranged at the place chosen by Napoleon with the guns of Pernetti and Fouche, having aligned with them, a total of one hundred and two guns, open fire and bombard the Russian flashes and redoubt with shells. This could not be done, since the shells did not reach the Russian works from the places appointed by Napoleon, and these one hundred and two guns fired at empty until the nearest commander, contrary to Napoleon's order, pushed them forward.
The second order was that Poniatowski, heading for the village into the forest, bypassed the left wing of the Russians. This could not be and was not done because Poniatowski, heading for the village into the forest, met Tuchkov blocking his way there and could not and did not bypass the Russian position.
Third order: General Kompan will move into the forest to take the first fortification. Compana's division did not capture the first fortification, but was repulsed, because, leaving the forest, it had to be built under grapeshot fire, which Napoleon did not know.
Fourth: The Viceroy will take possession of the village (Borodin) and cross his three bridges, following at the same height with the divisions of Maran and Friant (of which it is not said where and when they will move), which, under his leadership, will go to the redoubt and enter the line with other troops.
As far as one can understand - if not from the stupid period of this, then from those attempts that were made by the Viceroy to fulfill the orders given to him - he was to move through Borodino on the left to the redoubt, while the divisions of Moran and Friant were to move simultaneously from the front.
All this, as well as other points of the disposition, was not and could not be executed. Having passed Borodino, the viceroy was repulsed on Kolocha and could not go further; the divisions of Moran and Friant did not take the redoubt, but were repulsed, and the redoubt was captured by cavalry at the end of the battle (probably an unforeseen and unheard of thing for Napoleon). So, none of the orders of the disposition was and could not be executed. But the disposition says that after entering the battle in this way, orders will be given corresponding to the actions of the enemy, and therefore it might seem that during the battle all the necessary orders will be made by Napoleon; but this was not and could not be because during the whole time of the battle Napoleon was so far away from him that (as it turned out later) he could not know the course of the battle and not a single order of his during the battle could be executed.

Many historians say that the battle of Borodino was not won by the French because Napoleon had a cold, that if he had not had a cold, then his orders before and during the battle would have been even more brilliant, and Russia would have perished, et la face du monde eut ete changee. [and the face of the world would have changed.] For historians who admit that Russia was formed at the behest of one man - Peter the Great, and France from a republic developed into an empire, and French troops went to Russia at the behest of one man - Napoleon, such an argument that Russia remained powerful because Napoleon had a bad cold on the 26th, such reasoning for such historians is inevitably consistent.
If it depended on the will of Napoleon to give or not to give the Battle of Borodino, and it depended on his will to make such or another order, then it is obvious that a runny nose, which had an influence on the manifestation of his will, could be the reason for the salvation of Russia and that therefore the valet who forgot to give Napoleon On the 24th, waterproof boots, was the savior of Russia. On this path of thought, this conclusion is undoubted, just as undoubted as the conclusion that Voltaire, jokingly (without knowing why himself), said that the St. Bartholomew night came from an upset stomach of Charles IX. But for people who do not allow Russia to be formed at the behest of one person - Peter I, and for the French empire to take shape and the war with Russia to begin at the behest of one person - Napoleon, this reasoning not only seems to be wrong, unreasonable, but also contrary to the whole being. human. To the question of what constitutes the cause of historical events, another answer appears, which consists in the fact that the course of world events is predetermined from above, depends on the coincidence of all the wills of the people participating in these events, and that the influence of the Napoleons on the course of these events is only external and fictitious.
Strange as it may seem at first glance, the assumption that the Bartholomew night, the order for which was given by Charles IX, did not occur by his will, but that it only seemed to him that he ordered it to be done, and that the Borodino massacre of eighty thousand people did not occur by the will of Napoleon (despite the fact that he gave orders about the beginning and course of the battle), and that it seemed to him only that he ordered it - strange as this assumption seems, but human dignity, telling me that each of us, if not more, then no less a man than the great Napoleon orders to allow this solution of the problem, and historical research abundantly confirms this assumption.
In the Battle of Borodino, Napoleon neither shot nor killed anyone. All this was done by the soldiers. So he didn't kill people.
The soldiers of the French army went to kill Russian soldiers in the Battle of Borodino, not as a result of Napoleon's orders, but of their own free will. The whole army: the French, Italians, Germans, Poles - hungry, ragged and exhausted by the campaign - in view of the army blocking Moscow from them, felt that le vin est tire et qu "il faut le boire. [the wine is uncorked and you need to drink it .] If Napoleon now forbade them to fight the Russians, they would have killed him and would have gone to fight the Russians, because it was necessary for them.
When they listened to the order of Napoleon, who presented them with consolation for their injuries and death, the words of posterity that they were in the battle near Moscow, they shouted "Vive l" Empereur! just as they shouted "Vive l" Empereur! at the sight of a picture of a boy piercing the globe with a bilbock stick; just as they would shout "Vive l" Empereur! with any nonsense that they would have been told. There was nothing left for them to do but shout "Vive l" Empereur! and go fight to find food and rest for the winners in Moscow. Therefore, it was not because of Napoleon's orders that they killed their own kind.
And it was not Napoleon who controlled the course of the battle, because nothing from his disposition was executed and during the battle he did not know about what was happening ahead of him. Therefore, the way in which these people killed each other did not happen at the will of Napoleon, but proceeded independently of him, at the will of hundreds of thousands of people who participated in the common cause. It seemed to Napoleon only that the whole thing was happening according to his will. And therefore the question of whether or not Napoleon had a runny nose is of no greater interest to history than the question of the runny nose of the last Furshtat soldier.
Moreover, on August 26, Napoleon's runny nose did not matter, since the testimony of writers that, due to Napoleon's runny nose, his disposition and orders during the battle were not as good as before, are completely unfair.
The disposition written out here was not in the least worse, and even better, than all previous dispositions by which battles were won. The imaginary orders during the battle were also no worse than before, but exactly the same as always. But these dispositions and orders seem only worse than the previous ones, because the battle of Borodino was the first that Napoleon did not win. All the most beautiful and thoughtful dispositions and orders seem very bad, and every learned military man criticizes them with a significant air when the battle is not won over them, and the very bad dispositions and orders seem very good, and serious people in whole volumes prove the merits of bad orders, when the battle is won over them.
The disposition drawn up by Weyrother at the Battle of Austerlitz was a model of perfection in writings of this kind, but it was nevertheless condemned, condemned for its perfection, for being too detailed.
Napoleon in the battle of Borodino performed his job as a representative of power just as well, and even better, than in other battles. He did nothing detrimental to the course of the battle; he leaned towards more prudent opinions; he did not confuse, did not contradict himself, did not get frightened and did not run away from the battlefield, but with his great tact and experience of the war, he calmly and dignifiedly played his role of seeming boss.

Returning from his second preoccupied trip down the line, Napoleon said:
The chess is set, the game will start tomorrow.
Ordering himself a punch and calling Bosse, he began a conversation with him about Paris, about some changes that he intended to make in the maison de l "imperatrice [in the court state of the empress], surprising the prefect with his memory of all the small details of court relations.
He was interested in trifles, joked about Bosse's love of travel and casually chatted like a famous, confident and knowledgeable cameraman does, while he rolls up his sleeves and puts on an apron, and the patient is tied to a bunk: “It's all in my hands and in the head, clear and definite. When I need to get down to business, I will do it like no other, and now I can joke, and the more I joke and calm, the more you should be sure, calm and surprised at my genius.
Having finished his second glass of punch, Napoleon went to rest before the serious business, which, as it seemed to him, was coming to him the next day.
He was so interested in this task ahead of him that he could not sleep and, despite the runny nose that had worsened from the evening dampness, at three o'clock in the morning, blowing his nose loudly, he went out into the large compartment of the tent. He asked if the Russians had left? He was told that the enemy fires were still in the same places. He nodded his head approvingly.
The duty adjutant entered the tent.
- Eh bien, Rapp, croyez vous, que nous ferons do bonnes affaires aujourd "hui? [Well, Rapp, what do you think: will our affairs be good today?] - he turned to him.
- Sans aucun doute, Sire, [Without any doubt, sovereign,] - answered Rapp.
Napoleon looked at him.
- Vous rappelez vous, Sire, ce que vous m "avez fait l" honneur de dire a Smolensk, - said Rapp, - le vin est tire, il faut le boire. [Do you remember, sir, those words that you deigned to say to me in Smolensk, the wine is uncorked, you must drink it.]
Napoleon frowned and sat silently for a long time, his head resting on his hand.
“Cette pauvre armee,” he said suddenly, “elle a bien diminue depuis Smolensk.” La fortune est une franche courtisane, Rapp; je le disais toujours, et je commence al "eprouver. Mais la garde, Rapp, la garde est intacte? [Poor army! It has greatly decreased from Smolensk. Fortune is a real whore, Rapp. I have always said this and am beginning to experience it. But the guard, Rapp, are the guards intact?] he said inquiringly.
- Oui, Sire, [Yes, sir.] - answered Rapp.
Napoleon took a lozenge, put it in his mouth and looked at his watch. He did not want to sleep, it was still far from morning; and in order to kill time, it was no longer possible to issue any orders, because everything had been made and was now being carried out.
– A t on distribue les biscuits et le riz aux regiments de la garde? [Have they distributed crackers and rice to the guardsmen?] Napoleon asked sternly.
– Oui, Sire. [Yes, sir.]
Mais le riz? [But rice?]
Rapp replied that he had conveyed the sovereign's orders about rice, but Napoleon shook his head in displeasure, as if he did not believe that his order would be carried out. The servant entered with punch. Napoleon ordered another glass to be served to Rapp and silently sipped from his own.
“I have no taste or smell,” he said, sniffing the glass. - This cold has bothered me. They talk about medicine. What kind of medicine when they can not cure the common cold? Corvisart gave me these lozenges, but they do nothing. What can they treat? Cannot be treated. Notre corps est une machine a vivre. Il est organise pour cela, c "est sa nature; laissez y la vie a son aise, qu" elle s "y defende elle meme: elle fera plus que si vous la paralysiez en l" encombrant de remedes. notre corps est comme une montre parfaite qui doit aller un certain temps; l "horloger n" a pas la faculte de l "ouvrir, il ne peut la manier qu" a tatons et les yeux bandes. Notre corps est une machine a vivre, voila tout. [Our body is a machine for life. It is designed for this. Leave life alone in him, let her defend herself, she will do more alone than when you interfere with her with medicines. Our body is like a clock that must run a certain time; the watchmaker cannot open them and only by groping and blindfolded can he operate them. Our body is a machine for life. That's all.] - And as if embarking on the path of definitions, definitions that Napoleon loved, he suddenly made a new definition. “Do you know, Rapp, what the art of war is?” - he asked. - The art of being stronger than the enemy at a certain moment. Voila tout. [That's all.]
Rapp didn't answer.
Demainnous allons avoir affaire a Koutouzoff! [Tomorrow we will deal with Kutuzov!] - said Napoleon. - Let's see! Remember, in Braunau he commanded an army and not once in three weeks did he mount his horse to inspect the fortifications. Let's see!
He glanced at his watch. It was still only four o'clock. I didn’t feel like sleeping, the punch was finished, and there was nothing to do after all. He got up, walked up and down, put on a warm frock coat and hat, and left the tent. The night was dark and damp; barely audible dampness fell from above. The bonfires did not burn brightly near, in the French guard, and far away through the smoke they shone along the Russian line. Everywhere it was quiet, and the rustle and clatter of the already begun movement of the French troops to take up a position could be clearly heard.
Napoleon walked in front of the tent, looked at the lights, listened to the clatter, and, passing by a tall guardsman in a shaggy hat, who stood sentry at his tent and, like a black pillar, stretched out at the appearance of the emperor, stopped opposite him.
- Since what year in the service? he asked with that habitual affectation of coarse and affectionate militancy with which he always treated his soldiers. The soldier answered him.