Stationmaster when was written. Analysis of the work "The Stationmaster" (A

The story "The Stationmaster" is included in Pushkin's cycle of stories "Belkin's Tale", published as a collection in 1831.

Work on the stories was carried out in the famous "Boldino autumn" - the time when Pushkin arrived at the Boldino family estate to quickly resolve financial issues, and stayed for the whole autumn because of the cholera epidemic that broke out in the vicinity. It seemed to the writer that there would be no more boring time, but inspiration suddenly appeared, and the stories began to come out from under his pen one after another. So, on September 9, 1830, the story “The Undertaker” ended, on September 14, “The Stationmaster” was ready, and on September 20, he finished “The Young Lady-Peasant Woman”. Then a short creative break followed, and in the new year the stories were published. The stories were republished in 1834 under the original authorship.

Analysis of the work

Genre, theme, composition

The researchers note that The Stationmaster is written in the genre of sentimentalism, but there are many moments in the story that demonstrate the skill of Pushkin as a romantic and realist. The writer deliberately chose a sentimental manner of narration (more precisely, he put sentimental notes into the voice of his hero-narrator, Ivan Belkin), in accordance with the content of the story.

Thematically, The Stationmaster is very multifaceted, despite the small content:

the theme of romantic love (with an escape from the father's house and following the beloved against the parental will),
search for happiness theme
the theme of fathers and children,
the theme of the "little man" is the greatest theme for the followers of Pushkin, the Russian realists.

The thematic multilevel nature of the work allows us to call it a miniature novel. The story is much more complex and expressive in terms of meaning than a typical sentimental work. There are many issues raised here, in addition to the general theme of love.

Compositionally, the story is built in accordance with the rest of the stories - a fictional narrator talks about the fate of the stationmasters, people downtrodden and in the lowest positions, then tells a story that happened about 10 years ago, and its continuation. The way it starts

“The Stationmaster” (reasoning-beginning, in the style of a sentimental journey), indicates that the work belongs to the sentimental genre, but later at the end of the work there is a severity of realism.

Belkin reports that station employees are people of a difficult lot who are treated impolitely, perceived as servants, complained and rude to them. One of the caretakers, Samson Vyrin, was sympathetic to Belkin. He was a peaceful and kind man, with a sad fate - his own daughter, tired of living at the station, ran away with the hussar Minsky. The hussar, according to his father, could only make her a kept woman, and now, 3 years after the escape, he does not know what to think, because the fate of seduced young fools is terrible. Vyrin went to St. Petersburg, tried to find his daughter and return her, but could not - Minsky sent him out. The fact that the daughter does not live with Minsky, but separately, clearly indicates her status as a kept woman.

The author, who personally knew Dunya as a 14-year-old girl, empathizes with his father. Soon he learns that Vyrin has died. Even later, visiting the station where the late Vyrin once worked, he learns that his daughter came home with three children. She cried for a long time at her father's grave and left, rewarding a local boy who showed her the way to the old man's grave.

Heroes of the work

There are two main characters in the story: a father and a daughter.

Samson Vyrin is a diligent worker and a father who tenderly loves his daughter, raising her alone.

Samson is a typical “little man” who has no illusions both about himself (he is perfectly aware of his place in this world) and about his daughter (neither a brilliant party nor sudden smiles of fate shine like her). Samson's life position is humility. His life and the life of his daughter are and should be on a modest corner of the earth, a station cut off from the rest of the world. Beautiful princes do not meet here, and if they are shown on the horizon, they promise girls only a fall and danger.

When Dunya disappears, Samson cannot believe it. Although matters of honor are important to him, love for his daughter is more important, so he goes to look for her, pick her up and return her. Terrible pictures of misfortune are drawn to him, it seems to him that now his Dunya is sweeping the streets somewhere, and it is better to die than to drag out such a miserable existence.

Dunya

In contrast to his father, Dunya is a more determined and steadfast being. The sudden feeling for the hussar is rather a heightened attempt to break out of the wilderness in which she vegetated. Dunya decides to leave her father, even if this step is not easy for her (she allegedly delays the trip to church, leaves, according to witnesses, in tears). It is not entirely clear how Dunya's life turned out, and in the end she became the wife of Minsky or someone else. Old man Vyrin saw that Minsky rented a separate apartment for Dunya, and this clearly indicated her status as a kept woman, and when meeting with her father, Dunya looked at Minsky “significantly” and sadly, then fainted. Minsky pushed Vyrin out, preventing him from communicating with Dunya - apparently, he was afraid that Dunya would return with his father, and apparently she was ready for this. One way or another, Dunya achieved happiness - she is rich, she has six horses, servants and, most importantly, three "barchats", so for her justified risk, one can only rejoice. The only thing she will never forgive herself is the death of her father, who brought his death closer with a strong longing for his daughter. At the grave of the father, come belated repentance to the woman.

Characteristics of the work

The story is riddled with symbolism. The very name "station guard" in Pushkin's time had the same shade of irony and slight contempt that we put into the words "conductor" or "watchman" today. This means a small person, capable of looking like servants in the eyes of others, working for a penny, not seeing the world.

Thus, the stationmaster is a symbol of a “humiliated and insulted” person, a bug for the mercantile and powerful.

The symbolism of the story manifested itself in the painting that adorns the wall of the house - this is "The Return of the Prodigal Son". The stationmaster longed for only one thing - the embodiment of the scenario of the biblical story, as in this picture: Dunya could return to him in any status and in any form. Her father would have forgiven her, would have humbled himself, as he had humbled himself all his life under the circumstances of a fate that was merciless to "little people."

"The Stationmaster" predetermined the development of domestic realism in the direction of works that defend the honor of the "humiliated and insulted." The image of Vyrin's father is deeply realistic, strikingly capacious. This is a small man with a huge range of feelings and with every right to respect for his honor and dignity.

Date of writing: 1830

Genre of work: story

Main characters: Samson Vyrin and his daughter Dunya

The story of the irresponsible attitude of the younger generation towards their own parents can be briefly read by reading the summary of the story "The Stationmaster" for the reader's diary.

Plot

The author describes the difficult life of a stationmaster using the example of Samson Vyrin. Samson had a sociable and beautiful daughter, Dunya. Everyone was paying attention to her. Once a young hussar stopped in the caretaker's house. He fell ill and Dunya left him. When the hussar was leaving, he offered to give the girl a lift to the church.

The father waited for his daughter's return until evening. And then it turned out that she left with that hussar. Samson was looking for Dunya, but she did not want to communicate and return home. She lived well: all dressed up and important. The hussar tried to pay off Samson with money, which greatly offended him. With grief, the caretaker took to drink and died. Dunya visited the grave of her abandoned father years later.

Conclusion (my opinion)

This story teaches to respect and honor parents, to take their opinion into account and not to forget - they are not eternal. Even going into a new life, you can not turn away from loved ones.

Cycle: Tales of the late Ivan Petrovich Belkin

Year of publication of the book: 1831

Pushkin's story "The Stationmaster", according to the writer's dating, is the second work in the cycle "Tales of the late Ivan Petrovich Belkin". Four of the five stories of this cycle are included in the curriculum of many educational institutions. And the story "The Stationmaster" is one of them. Based on the story, five films were shot, not only in Russia, but also in Germany and Austria, and a museum based on this book was even created in the Leningrad Region.

Further in Pushkin's short story "The Stationmaster" you will learn about how Samson begs for a vacation and goes to St. Petersburg. It was there, according to the road, that Captain Minsky was heading. In the city, he finds Minsky and visits him. He barely recognizes him, and when he finds out, he gives him banknotes, which Vyrin throws out, says that he will make Dunya happy and escorts him out the door.

As in further events unfold near the Liteiny Bridge. Share of the case, a small man stationmaster sees how Minsky drives up to a three-story house and enters. Asking the coachman, Samson learns that Dunya lives here. He rises and enters the open door. Dunya is beautifully dressed, but when she sees her father, she faints. Minsky pushes Vyrin out and he returns to his station. Since then, he knows nothing about Dun.

A few years later, the narrator of the story "The Stationmaster" again visited these places. The station no longer existed, and the brewer's son lived in the house. He said that the stationmaster Vyrin had been dead for a year. He leads him to the grave of Samson and tells the story that in the summer a lady came with three barchats and lay for a long time on the grave of the little man of the stationmaster. And the lady was kind and gave him a nickel of silver.

Pushkin's story "The Stationmaster" is so popular to read that it is included in

>>From the history of the creation of "Tales of Ivan Petrovich Belkin". "Station Master"

From the history of the creation of "Tales of Ivan Petrovich Belkin"
In 1831, A. S. Pushkin published Belkin's Tale (Shot, Snowstorm, Undertaker, Stationmaster, Peasant Young Lady). The stories were attributed by Pushkin to Ivan Petrovich Belkin, as mentioned in the preface "From the Publisher". By this, Pushkin immediately gave readers the key to understanding his stories.

Declaring I. P. Belkin their author, he then clarified his idea: Belkin did not “invent”, but only wrote down some stories, or, as he put it, “jokes” from several storytellers. Readers - Pushkin's contemporaries - understood that the true writer of stories was Alexander Pushkin, jokingly hiding behind the name of "publisher D.P.", who "invented" both Belkin and the storytellers. This means that he had some kind of his own goal, his own view of the events depicted, of the heroes, of Russian life, of Russian literature. Pushkin, as it were, forced Belkin to write down not random stories of his acquaintances, but those that were deliberately selected. They were supposed to help Pushkin pose questions that worried many to readers: what explains a person’s actions, his moral convictions, and what determines his life and destiny to a greater extent?

Stationmaster
collegiate registrar,
Post station dictator.
Prince Vyazemsky

Who hasn't cursed the stationmasters, who hasn't scolded them? Who, in a moment of anger, did not demand from them a fatal book in order to write in it their useless complaint of oppression, rudeness and malfunction? Who does not revere them as monsters of the human race, the wounded dead clerks, or, at least, Murom robbers? Let us, however, be fair, let us try to enter into their position and, perhaps, we will begin to judge them much more condescendingly. What is a station attendant? A real martyr of the fourteenth grade, protected by his rank only from beatings, and even then not always (I refer to the conscience of my readers). What is the position of this dictator, as Prince Vyazemsky jokingly calls him? Isn't it real hard labor? Peace of day or night.

1 Clerk - assistant clerk, clerk.

All the annoyance accumulated during a boring ride, the traveler vents on the caretaker. The weather is unbearable, the road is bad, the coachman is stubborn, the horses are not driven - and the caretaker is to blame. Entering his poor dwelling, the traveler looks at him as an enemy; well, if he manages to get rid of the uninvited guest soon; but if there are no horses? .. God! what curses, what threats will fall on his head! In rain and sleet he is forced to run around the yards; in the storm, in the Epiphany frost, he goes into the canopy, so that only for a moment can he rest from the screams and pushes of the irritated guest.

The general arrives; the trembling caretaker gives him the last two triples, including the courier. The general goes without saying thank you. Five minutes later - the bell! - and the courier1 throws his traveler on the table! .. Let us delve into all this carefully, and instead of indignation, our heart will be filled with sincere compassion. A few more words: for twenty years in a row I traveled all over Russia in all directions; almost all postal routes are known to me; several generations of coachmen are familiar to me; I don’t know a rare caretaker by sight, I didn’t deal with a rare one; I hope to publish a curious stock of my travel observations in a short time; for the time being, I will only say that the class of stationmasters is presented to the general opinion in the most false form. These so-slandered overseers are in general peaceful people, naturally obliging, inclined to social life, modest in their claims to honors, and not too fond of money. From their conversations (which the passing gentlemen inappropriately neglect) one can learn a lot of curious and instructive things. As for me, I confess that I prefer their conversation to the speeches of some official of the 6th class, following on official business.

You can easily guess that I have friends from the respectable class of caretakers. Indeed, the memory of one of them is precious to me. Circumstances once brought us closer, and I now intend to talk about it with my kind readers.

In the year 1816, in the month of May, I happened to pass through the *** province, along the highway, now destroyed. I was in a small rank, rode on chaises and paid runs for two horses. As a result of this, the wardens did not stand on ceremony with me, and I often took from the battle what, in my opinion, followed me by right. Being young and quick-tempered, I was indignant at the meanness and cowardice of the superintendent when this latter gave the troika prepared for me under the carriage of the bureaucratic gentleman. It took me just as long to get used to the fact that a choosy lackey carried me a dish at the governor's dinner.

Now both seem to me in the order of things. In fact, what would happen to us if, instead of the generally convenient rule: honor the rank of rank, something else was introduced, for example: honor the mind of the mind? What kind of non-controversy would have arisen! And with whom would the servants start serving food? But back to my story.

The day was hot. Three miles from the station, *** began to drip, and a minute later the pouring rain soaked me to the last thread. Upon arrival at the station, the first concern was to change clothes as soon as possible, the second was to ask for tea. "Hey Dunya! - the caretaker shouted, - put the samovar on and go for cream. At these words, a girl of fourteen years old came out from behind the partition and ran into the passage. Her beauty amazed me. "Is this your daughter?" I asked the caretaker. “Daughter, sir,” he answered with an air of contented pride, “so sensible, so nimble, all dead mother.” Here he began to rewrite my travelogue, and I began to examine the pictures that adorned his humble but tidy monastery. They depicted the story of the prodigal son. In the first, a venerable old man in a cap and dressing gown dismisses a restless young man, who hurriedly accepts his blessing and a bag of money. In another, the depraved behavior of a young man is depicted in vivid features: he is sitting at a table, surrounded by false friends and shameless women. Further squandered
a young man, in rags and a three-cornered hat, herds pigs and shares a meal with them; deep sadness and remorse are depicted in his face.

Finally, his return to his father is presented; a kind old man in the same cap and dressing gown runs out to meet him; the prodigal son is on his knees; in the future, the cook kills a well-fed calf, and the elder brother asks the servants about the reason for such joy. Under each picture I read decent German verses.

All this has been preserved in my memory to this day, as well as pots of balsam, and a bed with a colorful curtain, and other objects that surrounded me at that time. I see, as now, the owner himself, a man of about fifty, fresh and vigorous, and his long green coat with three medals on faded ribbons.

Before I had time to pay off my old coachman, Dunya returned with a samovar. The little coquette noticed at a second glance the impression she made on me; she lowered her big blue eyes; I began to talk to her, she answered me without any timidity, like a girl who has seen the light. I offered her father a glass of punch; I gave Dunya a cup of tea, and the three of us began to talk, as if we had known each other for centuries.

The horses were ready for a long time, but I still did not want to part with the caretaker and his daughter. At last I said goodbye to them; my father wished me a good journey, and my daughter accompanied me to the cart. In the passage I stopped and asked her permission to kiss her; Dunya agreed ... I can count many kisses, "since I have been doing this," but not a single one has left in me such a long, such a pleasant memory.

Several years passed, and circumstances led me to that very road, to those very places. I remembered the old caretaker's daughter and was glad at the thought of seeing her again. But, I thought, the old caretaker may have already been replaced; Dunya is probably already married. The thought of the death of one or the other also flashed through my mind, and I
approached the station *** with a sad presentiment. The horses stood at the post house. Entering the room, I immediately recognized the pictures depicting the story of the prodigal son; the table and bed were in their original places; but there were no more flowers on the windows, and everything around showed dilapidation and neglect. The caretaker slept under a sheepskin coat; my arrival woke him up; he got up... It was definitely Samson Vyrin; but how old he is! While he was about to rewrite my road trip, I looked at his gray hair, at the deep wrinkles of his face, not shaved for a long time, at his hunched back - and could not be surprised how three or four years could turn a cheerful man into a frail old man. “Did you recognize me? I asked him. “We are old friends.” - “It may happen,” he answered sullenly, “there is a big road here; I have had many passers-by." - “Is your Dunya healthy?” I continued. The old man frowned. “God knows,” he replied. So, is she married? - I said. The old man pretended not to have heard my question, and continued to read my travelogue in a whisper. I stopped my questions and ordered the kettle to be put on. Curiosity began to bother me, and I hoped that the punch would resolve the language of my old acquaintance.

I was not mistaken: the old man did not refuse the proposed glass. I noticed that the rum cleared up his sullenness. At the second glass he became talkative; remembered or pretended to remember me, and I learned from him a story that at that time greatly occupied and touched me.

“So you knew my Dunya? he began. Who didn't know her? Oh, Dunya, Dunya! What a girl she was! It used to be that whoever passes by, everyone will praise, no one will condemn. The ladies gave her, the one with a handkerchief, the other with earrings. Gentlemen, the travelers stopped on purpose, as if to have lunch or supper, but in reality only to look at her longer. It used to happen that the master, no matter how angry he was, would calm down in her presence and talk graciously to me. Believe me, sir: couriers, couriers talked to her for half an hour. She kept the house: what to clean up,
what to cook, everything was in time. And I, the old fool, do not look enough, it used to be, I do not get enough; did I not love my Dunya, did I not cherish my child; did she not have a life? No, you won’t get rid of trouble; what is destined, that cannot be avoided.

Then he began to tell me his grief in detail. Three years ago, one winter evening, when the caretaker was lining up a new book, and his daughter was sewing a dress behind the partition, a troika drove up, and a traveler in a Circassian hat, in a military overcoat, wrapped in a shawl, entered the room, demanding horses. The horses were all running. At this news, the traveler raised his voice and his whip; but Dunya, accustomed to such scenes, ran out from behind the partition and affectionately turned to the traveler with the question: would he like to eat something? The appearance of Dunya produced its usual effect. The wrath of the traveler has passed; he agreed to wait for the horses and ordered supper for himself. Taking off his wet, shaggy hat, untangling his shawl and pulling off his overcoat,
the traveler appeared as a young, slender hussar with a black mustache.

He settled down at the caretaker, began to talk merrily with his daughter. Served dinner. In the meantime, the horses came, and the keeper ordered that they immediately, but feeding, harness them to the wagon of the traveler; but, returning, he found a young man lying almost unconscious on a bench: he became ill, his head ached, it was impossible to go ... What to do! the superintendent gave him his bed, and it was supposed to be sent to C*** for a doctor the next morning.

The next day the hussar became worse. His man went on horseback to the first city for a doctor. Dunya tied a handkerchief soaked with vinegar around his head and sat down with her sewing by his bed. The sick man groaned in front of the caretaker and did not say almost a word, but he drank two cups of coffee and, groaning, ordered himself dinner. Dunya did not leave him. He constantly asked for a drink, and Dunya brought him a mug of lemonade prepared by her.

Volnoy dipped his lips and every time he returned the mug, as a token of gratitude, he shook Dunyushka's hand with his weak hand. The doctor arrived at lunchtime. He felt the patient's pulse, spoke to him in German, and announced in Russian that all he needed was peace of mind and that in two days he could be on the road. The hussar gave him twenty-five rubles for the visit, invited him to dine; the doctor agreed; both ate with great appetite, drank a bottle of wine, and parted very pleased with each other.

Milashevsky. "Station Master"

What mood is imbued with this illustration for the story "The Stationmaster"?

Another day passed, and the hussar completely recovered. He was extremely cheerful, incessantly joking with Dunya, then with the caretaker; he whistled songs, talked to the passers-by, entered their wayfarers in the post book, and fell in love with the kind caretaker so much that on the third morning he was sorry to part with his kind guest. The day was Sunday; Dunya was going to dinner. The hussar was given a kibitka. He said goodbye to the caretaker, generously rewarding him for his stay and refreshments; he also said goodbye to Dunya and volunteered to take her to the church, which was located on the edge of the village. Dunya stood in perplexity ... “What are you afraid of? her father told her. “After all, his nobility is not a wolf and will not eat you: take a ride to the church.” Dunya got into the wagon next to the hussar, the servant jumped on the pole, the coachman whistled, and the horses galloped off. The poor caretaker did not understand how he himself could allow his Duna to ride with the hussar, how he was blinded and what happened to his mind then.

Not even half an hour had passed before his heart began to whine, whine, and anxiety took possession of him to such an extent that
he could not resist and went himself to mass. Approaching the church, he saw that the people were already dispersing, but Dunya was neither in the fence nor on the porch. He hastily entered the church: the priest was leaving the altar; the deacon was extinguishing the candles, two old women were still praying in the corner; but Dunya was not in the church. The poor father forcibly decided to ask the deacon whether she had been at Mass. The deacon replied that she had not been. The caretaker went home neither alive nor dead. One hope remained for him: Dunya, due to the windiness of her young years, decided, perhaps, to ride to the next station, where her godmother lived. In excruciating excitement, he expected the return of the troika, on which he let her go. The coachman did not return. Finally, in the evening, he arrived alone and tipsy, with the deadly news: "Dunya from that station went further with a hussar."

The old man did not bear his misfortune; he immediately fell into the same bed where the young deceiver had lain the day before. Now the caretaker, considering all the circumstances, guessed that the illness was feigned. The poor man fell ill with a strong fever; he was taken to S *** and another was appointed in his place for a while. The same doctor who came to the hussar treated him too. He assured the caretaker that the young man was quite healthy and that at that time he still guessed about his malicious intention, but was silent, fearing his whip. Was the German speaking the truth or
only wanted to boast of foresight, but he did not console the poor patient in the least. Barely recovering from his illness, the caretaker begged S*** the postmaster for a two-month vacation and, without saying a word to anyone about his intention, went on foot to fetch his daughter.

He knew from the traveler that Captain Minsky was on his way from Smolensk to Petersburg. The driver who drove him said that Dunya was crying all the way, although she seemed to be driving according to her desire. “Perhaps,” thought the caretaker, “I will bring home my lost lamb.” With this thought he arrived in Petersburg, stayed in the Izmailovsky regiment, in the house of a retired non-commissioned officer, his old colleague, and began his search. He soon learned that Captain Minsky was in St. Petersburg and lived in the Demutov tavern. The caretaker decided to come to him. Early in the morning he came to his hall and asked him to report to his honor that the old soldier would beg to see him. The military footman, cleaning his boot on the block, explained that the master was resting and that he did not take
nobody. The caretaker left and returned at the appointed time. Minsky himself came to him in a dressing gown, in a red skufi. "What, brother, do you want?" he asked him. The old man's heart boiled, tears welled up in his eyes, and he only said in a trembling voice: “Your honor! Do such a divine favor!..” Minsky
He quickly glanced at him, flushed, took him by the hand, led him into the study, and locked the door behind him. “Your honor! continued the old man. - What fell from the cart is gone; give me at least my poor Dunya. After all, you have enjoyed it; don't waste it in vain*. “What has been done cannot be returned,” said the young man in extreme confusion, “I am guilty before you and glad to ask your forgiveness; but do not think that I could leave Dunya: she will be happy, I give you my word of honor. Why do you want her? She loves Me; she had lost the habit of her former state. Neither you nor she - you will not forget what happened. Then, slipping something into his sleeve, he opened the door, and the caretaker, without remembering how, found himself in the street.

For a long time he stood motionless, at last he saw a roll of papers behind the cuff of his sleeve; he took them out and unfolded several crumpled banknotes of five and ten rubles. Tears again welled up in his eyes, tears of indignation! He squeezed the papers into a ball, threw them to the ground, stamped them down with his heel, and walked away... After walking a few steps, he stopped, thought... and returned... but there were no banknotes anymore. A well-dressed young man, seeing him, ran up to the cab, sat down hurriedly and shouted: "Go! .." The caretaker did not chase him. He decided to go home to his station, but first he wanted to see his poor Dunya at least once more. For this day, after two days, he returned to Minsky; but the military lackey told him sternly that the master was not receiving anyone, forced him out of the hall with his chest and slammed the door under his breath. The caretaker stood, stood - and went. On that very day, in the evening, he walked along Liteinaya, having served a prayer service for All Who Sorrow. Suddenly a smart droshky rushed past him, and the caretaker recognized Minsky. Drozhki stopped in front of a three-story house, at the very entrance, and the hussar ran onto the porch. A happy thought flashed through the caretaker's head. He turned back and, having caught up with the coachman: “Whose, brother, is the horse? - he asked, - is it Minsky? -
“Exactly so,” answered the coachman, “but what about you?” - “Yes, this is what: your master ordered me to take a note to his Dunya, and I forget where Dunya lives.” “Yes, right here on the second floor. You are late, brother, with your
note; now he is with her." - "There is no need," the caretaker objected with an inexplicable movement of his heart, "thanks for the thought, and I'll do my job." And with that, he went up the stairs. The doors were locked; he called, several seconds passed in painful expectation for him. The key rattled, they opened it. "Here
is Avdotya Samsonovna worth it? - he asked. “Here,” answered the young maid, why do you need her?
The caretaker, without answering, entered the nala. “No, no! the maid shouted after him, “Avdotya Samsonovna has guests.” But the caretaker, not listening, went on. The first two rooms were dark, the third was on fire. He walked to the open door and stopped. In the room, beautifully decorated, Minsky sat in thought.

Dunya, dressed in all the luxury of fashion, sat on the arm of his chair, like a rider on her English saddle*. She tenderly looked at Minsky, winding his black Kudrin with her sparkling fingers. Poor caretaker! Never had his daughter seemed to him so beautiful; he reluctantly admired her. "Who's there?" she asked without raising her head. He remained silent. Receiving no answer, Dunya raised her head ... and fell on the carpet with a cry. Frightened, Minsky rushed to pick it up and, suddenly seeing the old caretaker at the door, left Dunya and approached him, trembling with anger. “What do you need? he told him through gritted teeth. - Why are you sneaking around me like a robber? Or do you want to kill me? Go away!" - and, with a strong hand, seizing the old man by the collar, pushed him onto the stairs.

N. Kompanets. Illustration for the story

How does the artist convey the inner state of the father after meeting with his daughter?

The old man came to his apartment. His friend advised him to complain; but the caretaker thought, waved his hand, and decided to retreat. Two days later he went from Petersburg back to his station and again took up his post. “For the third year already, he concluded, how I live without Dunya and how there is not a rumor or a spirit about her. Whether she is alive or not, God knows. Anything happens. Not her first, not her last, was lured by a passing rake, but there he held it and left it. There are many of them in St. Petersburg, young fools, today in satin and velvet, and tomorrow, you'll see, sweeping the street along with the barn's tavern.

When you sometimes think that Dunya, perhaps, immediately disappears, you involuntarily sin and wish her a grave ... "

Such was the story of my friend, the old caretaker, a story repeatedly interrupted by tears, which he picturesquely wiped away with his coat, like the zealous Terentyich in Dmitrien's beautiful ballad. These tears were partly aroused by the punch, of which he drew five glasses in the course of his narration; but whatever
they really touched my heart. Having parted with him, for a long time I could not forget the old caretaker, for a long time I thought about poor Dunya ... Recently, passing through the town of ***, I remembered my friend; I learned that the station he commanded had already been destroyed. To my question: "Is the old caretaker still alive?" - nobody
could not give me a satisfactory answer. I decided to visit the familiar side, took free horses and set off for the village of N. This happened in the fall. Greyish clouds covered the sky; cold hysteria blew from the reaped fields, carrying away the red and yellow leaves from the oncoming trees. I arrived at the village at sunset and stopped at
post house. In the passage (where poor Dunya once kissed me) a fat woman came out and answered my questions that the old caretaker had died a year ago, that a brewer had settled in his house, and that she was the brewer's wife.

I felt sorry for my wasted trip and the seven rubles spent for nothing. Why did he die? I asked the brewer's wife. “He drank himself, father,” she answered. "Where was he buried?" - "Beyond the outskirts, near his late mistress." - "Can't you take me to his grave?" - “Why not. Hey Vanka! it's enough for you to mess with the cat. Take the gentleman to the cemetery and show him the caretaker's grave.

At these words, a ragged boy, red-haired and crooked, ran out to me and immediately led me beyond the outskirts.
Did you know the deceased? I asked him dear.
How not to know! He taught me how to cut pipes. It happened (God rest his soul!), He came from the tavern, and we followed him: “Grandfather! grandfather! nuts! - and he gives us nuts. Everything used to be messing with us.

Do passers-by remember him?
Yes, there are few passers-by; unless the assessor wraps up, but that is not up to the dead. Here in the summer a lady passed by, so she asked about the old caretaker and went to his grave.
“Which lady?” I asked curiously.
- A beautiful lady, - answered the boy, - she rode in a carriage with six horses, with three small barchats and with a nurse, and with a black pug; and as she was told that the old caretaker had died, she wept and said to the children: "Sit quietly, and I will go to the cemetery." And I volunteered to bring her. And the lady said: "I myself know the way." And she gave me a nickel in silver - such a kind lady! ..

We came to the cemetery, a bare place, not fenced in anything, dotted with wooden crosses, not overshadowed by a single tree. Never in my life have I seen such a sad cemetery.
“Here is the grave of the old caretaker,” the boy told me, jumping onto a pile of sand, into which a black cross with a copper image was dug.
- And the lady came here? I asked
- She came, - answered Vanka, - I looked at her from afar. She lay down here and lay there for a long time. And there the lady went to the village and called the priest, gave him money and went, and she gave me a nickel in silver - a glorious lady!

And I gave the boy a nickel and no longer regretted either the trip or the seven rubles I had spent.

Let's share our first impressions
1. What interested you in the topic of Alexander Pushkin's story "The Stationmaster"? What feelings and thoughts does it awaken in the modern reader?
2. What questions would you suggest for a class discussion of The Station Agent?
3. What parts of the story would you like to illustrate and why?

Date of: 1830 Genre: story

Main characters: Samson Vyrin and his daughter Dunya

The story tells about the stationmaster Samson Vyrin and his daughter Dunya. Dunya was very beautiful. All the guests noticed it. And one day a handsome hussar took her away with him. Her father went to look for her, but her daughter did not want to communicate with him. With grief, he drank himself and died. And Dunya a few years later came to his grave.

The story teaches the fact that even if you want to completely change your life, you must not forget and turn away from your parents. You may regret it at some point, but it will be too late.

At the beginning of the story, the author talks about the difficult work of stationmasters in Russia. All those passing by demand a change of horses, which are often not available. They yell at the caretaker, threaten, write complaints. The author got to one of these stations. He asked for a change of horses and tea. While he waited, he examined the caretaker's dwelling, where he, having become a widow, lived with his fourteen-year-old daughter Dunya.

The house was poor, but well maintained, even with flowers on the windows. Dunya struck the author with her extraordinary beauty. She was not shy, but rather a coquette. She looked directly at the author with her huge blue eyes. She sat down to drink tea with her father and a guest and easily carried on a conversation. When the guest was leaving, he asked Dunya for a kiss, and she did not refuse. A few years later, the author again found himself in the same region, on a familiar road. All this time he remembered Dunya and wanted to see her again.

He entered the caretaker's house and was surprised at the desolation that reigned there. And the caretaker himself turned from a strong man into a decrepit old man in three years. Duni was nowhere to be seen. Then the old man started talking and told his sad story. He said that Dunya had a magical effect on all visitors. With her, they stopped arguing and threatening, gave her small gifts: handkerchiefs or earrings. One day, a young hussar Minsky drove into the station and began rudely demanding horses, even brandishing a whip at the caretaker. When Dunya came out from behind the curtain, he immediately calmed down and even ordered dinner.

After dinner he became very ill. The caretaker had to give up his bed to the hussar, and Dunya looked after him as best she could. The guest, meanwhile, was getting worse. We decided to send for a doctor to the city. A German doctor came from the city, examined the patient and said that he needed rest, they say, he was very ill, but the hussar and the doctor ordered dinner and both ate it with appetite.

The hussar paid the doctor twenty-five rubles, and he went back. All this time, Dunya did not leave the patient. Three days later the hussar felt better, and he was about to go on. And Dunya was going to church that day for a service. The military offered to give the girl a lift, but she doubted. Then her father said that she could easily go with a guest. They left. After a while, the caretaker became worried. The daughter did not return, and he went to look for her in the church. When he arrived, the temple was already closed. The priest told the caretaker that he had not seen Dunya at the service today.

By nightfall, one of the coachmen from the neighboring station told the superintendent that he had seen Dunya leave with a visiting hussar. The coachman claimed that the girl was crying, but she was driving of her own accord. From such grief, Vyrin became very ill, and a doctor came to treat him, who examined the hussar. The doctor confessed to Vyrin that the hussar's illness was a hoax, and he lied because Minsky had threatened him.

The caretaker recovered and decided to find his daughter. He remembered that the hussar was on his way to Petersburg. Then Samson Vyrin took a vacation and went to the capital in search of his daughter. He managed to find out where the hussar lives. Vyrin came to him and began to ask about his daughter. He said that I’m kind of sorry that it happened, but I’ll make your daughter happy, she loves me and is already used to a different life, and you leave, and put the caretaker. Already on the street, the caretaker found an envelope with money in his pocket. In anger, he threw banknotes on the snow, trampled them under his heel and walked away. One clever fellow picked up the money and quickly disappeared in a cab.

On the evening of the same day, he managed to follow the hussar and find out where Dunya lives. He entered this house on the pretext of delivering a letter. Dunya looked magnificent and was expensively dressed in the latest fashion. She sat in the company of a hussar. When Dunya saw her father, she fainted. The hussar yelled at him and kicked him out of the house. A friend advised Vyrin to fight for his daughter, but he went home and started his usual work. This story was told by a sad old man. He said that since then he had not heard about his daughter and did not know where she was. With grief, the old man became addicted to alcohol and sank.

After some time, the author again found himself on the same highway and found out that the station no longer exists, and the caretaker finally drank himself and died. The author went to his grave. The boy who accompanied him to the cemetery said that a young beautiful lady with her children in a luxurious carriage came to this grave. He recalled: the lady lay on the grave for a long time and cried, and then went to the local priest.