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But most pleasant for me is that place, the gloomy, Gothic towers of the Si ... new monastery rise to some extent. Standing on this mountain, you see on right side almost all of Moscow, this terrible mass of houses and churches, which appears to the eyes in the form of a majestic amphitheater: great picture, especially when the sun shines on it, when its evening rays blaze on countless golden domes, on countless crosses, ascending to the sky! Below are fat, densely green flowering meadows, and behind them, on yellow sands, a bright river flows, agitated by the light oars of fishing boats or rustling under the helm of heavy plows that float from the most fruitful countries. Russian Empire and endow greedy Moscow with bread. On the other side of the river is visible Oak Grove, near which numerous herds graze; there young shepherds, sitting under the shade of the trees, sing summer days, so uniform for them. Farther away, in the dense greenery of ancient elms, the golden-domed Danilov Monastery shines; still farther, almost at the edge of the horizon, the Sparrow Hills turn blue. On the left side one can see vast fields covered with bread, woods, three or four villages, and in the distance the village of Kolomenskoye with its high palace.

I often come to this place and almost always meet spring there; I also come there in the gloomy days of autumn to grieve together with nature. The winds howl terribly in the walls of the deserted monastery, between the coffins overgrown with tall grass, and in the dark passages of the cells. There, leaning on the ruins of tombstones, I listen to the muffled groan of times swallowed up by the abyss of the past - a groan from which my heart shudders and trembles. Sometimes I enter a cell and imagine those who lived in them—sad pictures! Here I see a gray-haired old man, kneeling before the crucifixion and praying for a speedy resolution of his earthly fetters, for all pleasures have disappeared for him in life, all his feelings have died, except for the feeling of illness and weakness. There, a young monk - with a pale face, with a languid look - looks into the field through the bars of the window, sees cheerful birds floating freely in the sea of air, sees - and sheds bitter tears from his eyes. He languishes, withers, dries up - and the dull ringing of the bell announces to me his untimely death. Sometimes on the gates of the temple I look at the image of miracles that happened in this monastery, where fish fall from the sky to saturate the inhabitants of the monastery, besieged by numerous enemies; here the image of the Mother of God puts the enemies to flight. All this renews in my memory the history of our fatherland - sad story those times when the fierce Tatars and Lithuanians devastated the neighborhood with fire and sword Russian capital and when unfortunate Moscow, like a defenseless widow, expected help from one god in her fierce misfortunes.

But more often than not, I am drawn to the walls of the Si ... new monastery - the memory of the deplorable fate of Liza, poor Liza. Oh! I love those items that touch my heart and make me shed tears of tender sorrow!

Seventy sazhens from the monastery wall, near a birch grove, in the middle of a green meadow, stands an empty hut, without doors, without windows, without a floor; The roof has long since rotted and collapsed. In this hut, thirty years before, the beautiful, amiable Liza lived with her old woman, her mother.

Lizin's father was a rather prosperous peasant, because he loved work, plowed the land well and always led a sober life. But soon after his death, his wife and daughter were impoverished. The lazy hand of the mercenary worked the field poorly, and the bread ceased to be born well. They were forced to rent out their land, and for very little money. In addition, the poor widow, shedding tears almost incessantly over the death of her husband - for even peasant women know how to love! - day by day she became weaker and could not work at all. Only Liza - who remained after her father fifteen years - only Liza, not sparing her tender youth, not sparing her rare beauty, worked day and night - weaved canvases, knitted stockings, picked flowers in spring, and in summer she took berries - and sold them in Moscow. The sensitive, kind old woman, seeing her daughter’s indefatigability, often pressed her to her weakly beating heart, called her divine mercy, nurse, the joy of her old age and prayed to God to reward her for everything she does for her mother. “God gave me hands to work,” Lisa said, “you fed me with your breast and followed me when I was a child; Now it's my turn to follow you. Stop just crashing, stop crying; our tears will not revive the priests. But often tender Liza could not hold back her own tears - ah! she remembered that she had a father and that he was gone, but to calm her mother she tried to hide the sadness of her heart and appear calm and cheerful. “In the next world, dear Liza,” answered the woeful old woman, in the next world I will stop crying. There, they say, everyone will be cheerful; I'm sure I'll be happy when I see your father. Only now I don’t want to die - what will happen to you without me? To whom to leave you? No, God forbid first attach you to the place! Maybe soon it will be found a kind person. Then, blessing you, my dear children, I will cross myself and calmly lie down in the damp earth.

Two years have passed since the death of Lizin's father. The meadows were covered with flowers, and Liza came to Moscow with lilies of the valley. A young, well-dressed, pleasant-looking man met her in the street. She showed him the flowers and blushed. "Do you sell them, girl?" he asked with a smile. “Selling,” she replied. “What do you need?” - "Five cents." “It's too cheap. Here's a ruble for you. Lisa was surprised, she dared to look at young man, - blushed even more and, looking down at the ground, told him that she would not take the ruble. - "For what?" "I don't need too much." “I think that beautiful lilies of the valley, plucked by the hands of a beautiful girl, are worth a ruble. When you don't take it, here's five kopecks for you. I would always like to buy flowers from you; I would like you to tear them just for me. - Liza gave the flowers, took five kopecks, bowed and wanted to go, but the stranger stopped her by the hand. “Where are you going, girl?” - "Home". - "Where is your house?" – Lisa said where she lives, said and went. The young man did not want to hold her back, perhaps so that those passing by began to stop and, looking at them, smiled slyly.

Tale " Poor Lisa", which has become a model sentimental prose, was published by Nikolai Mikhailovich Karamzin in 1792 in the Moscow Journal. It is worth noting Karamzin as an honored reformer of the Russian language and one of the most highly educated Russians of his time - this is an important aspect that allows us to evaluate the success of the story in the future. Firstly, the development of Russian literature had a "catching up" character, since it lagged behind European literature by about 90-100 years. While in the West they wrote and read with might and main sentimental novels, in Russia they still put together clumsy classical odes and dramas. Karamzin's progressiveness as a writer consisted in "bringing" sentimental genres from Europe to his homeland and developing a style and language for further writing such works.

Secondly, the assimilation of literature of the late 18th century by the public was such that at first they wrote for society how to live, and then society began to live according to what was written. That is, before the sentimental story, people read mostly hagiographic or church literature, where there were no living characters or lively speech, and the heroes of the sentimental story - such as Liza - were given to secular young ladies real scenario life, guide of feelings.

Karamzin brought a story about poor Lisa from his many trips - from 1789 to 1790 he visited Germany, England, France, Switzerland (England is considered the birthplace of sentimentalism), and upon his return he published a new revolutionary story in my own journal.

“Poor Lisa” is not an original work, since Karamzin adapted its plot for Russian soil, taking it from European literature. It's not about specific work and plagiarism - there were many such European stories. In addition, the author created an atmosphere of amazing authenticity by drawing himself as one of the heroes of the story and masterfully describing the situation of events.

According to the memoirs of contemporaries, shortly after returning from a trip, the writer lived in a dacha not far from the Simonov Monastery, in a picturesque, calm place. The situation described by the author is real - the readers recognized both the surroundings of the monastery and the "lizine pond", and this contributed to the fact that the plot was perceived as reliable, and the characters - as real people.

Analysis of the work

The plot of the story

The plot of the story is love and, according to the author, utterly simple. The peasant girl Lisa (her father was a prosperous peasant, but after his death the farm is in decline and the girl has to earn money by selling needlework and flowers) lives in the bosom of nature with her old mother. In a city that seems huge and alien to her, she meets a young nobleman, Erast. Young people fall in love - Erast out of boredom inspired by pleasures and in a noble way life, and Liza - for the first time, with all the simplicity, ardor and naturalness " natural man". Erast takes advantage of the girl's gullibility and takes possession of her, after which, naturally, he begins to be weary of the girl's company. The nobleman leaves for the war, where he loses his entire fortune in cards. The way out is to marry a rich widow. Lisa finds out about this and commits suicide by throwing herself into a pond, not far from the Simonov Monastery. The author who has been told this story cannot remember poor Liza without holy tears of regret.

For the first time among Russian writers, Karamzin unleashed the conflict of a work by the death of the heroine - as, most likely, it would have been in reality.

Of course, despite the progressiveness of Karamzin's story, his characters differ significantly from real people, they are idealized and embellished. This is especially true of the peasants - Lisa does not look like a peasant woman. Hardly hard labour would have contributed to her remaining "sensitive and kind", it was unlikely that she would conduct internal dialogues with herself in an elegant style, and she could hardly keep up a conversation with a nobleman. Nevertheless, this is the first thesis of the story - "and peasant women know how to love."

Main characters

Lisa

The central heroine of the story, Liza, is the embodiment of sensitivity, ardor and ardor. Her mind, kindness and tenderness, the author emphasizes, are from nature. Having met Erast, she begins to dream not that he, like a handsome prince, will take her to his world, but that he will be simple peasant or a shepherd - this would equalize them and allow them to be together.

Erast differs from Lisa not only in social sign but also in character. Perhaps, the author says, he was spoiled by the world - he leads a typical lifestyle for an officer and a nobleman - he seeks pleasures and, having found them, cools to life. Erast is both smart and kind, but weak, incapable of action - such a hero also appears in Russian literature for the first time, a type of "disappointed aristocrat's life." At first, Erast is sincere in his love impulse - he does not lie when he tells Lisa about love, and it turns out that he is also a victim of circumstances. He does not stand the test of love, does not resolve the situation "like a man", but feels sincere torment after what happened. After all, it was he who allegedly told the author the story of poor Lisa and led him to Liza's grave.

Erast predetermined the appearance in Russian literature of a number of heroes of the type " extra people- weak and incapable of key decisions.

Karamzin uses " talking names". In the case of Liza, the choice of the name turned out to be "double-sided". The fact is that classic literature provided for typing techniques, and the name Lisa was supposed to mean a playful, flirtatious, frivolous character. Such a name could have a laughing maid - a cunning comedy character prone to love adventures by no means innocent. Having chosen such a name for his heroine, Karamzin destroyed the classical typification and created a new one. He built a new relationship between the name, character and actions of the hero and outlined the path to psychologism in literature.

The name Erast was also not chosen by chance. It means "beautiful" in Greek. His fatal charm, the need for novelty of impressions lured and ruined the unfortunate girl. But Erast will reproach himself for the rest of his life.

Constantly reminding the reader of his reaction to what is happening (“I remember with sadness ...”, “tears are rolling down my face, reader ....”), the author organizes the narrative in such a way that it acquires lyricism and sensitivity.

Theme, conflict of the story

Karamzin's story touches on several themes:

The theme of the idealization of the peasant environment, the ideality of life in nature. main character- a child of nature, and therefore, by default, it cannot be evil, immoral, insensitive. The girl embodies simplicity and innocence due to the fact that she comes from a peasant family, where eternal moral values are kept.
The theme of love and betrayal. The author sings beauty sincere feelings and bitterly talks about the doom of love, not supported by reason.
The theme of the opposition of the village and the city. The city turns out to be evil, a great evil force capable of breaking a pure creature from nature (Lisa's mother intuitively feels this evil force and prays for her daughter every time she goes to the city to sell flowers or berries).
Subject " little man". Social inequality, the author is sure (and this is an obvious glimpse of realism) does not lead to the happiness of lovers from different backgrounds. Such love is doomed.

The main conflict of the story is social, because it is precisely because of the gap between wealth and poverty that the love of the heroes dies, and then the heroine. The author exalts sensitivity as the highest value of a person, affirms the cult of feelings as opposed to the cult of reason.

In the outskirts of Moscow, not far from the Simonov Monastery, once a young girl Liza lived with her old mother. After the death of Lisa's father, a rather prosperous peasant, his wife and daughter became impoverished. The widow grew weaker day by day and could not work. Only Lisa, not sparing her tender youth and rare beauty, worked day and night - weaving canvases, knitting stockings, picking flowers in the spring, and selling berries in the summer in Moscow.

One spring, two years after her father's death, Liza came to Moscow with lilies of the valley. A young, well-dressed man met her on the street. Upon learning that she was selling flowers, he offered her a ruble instead of five kopecks, saying that "beautiful lilies of the valley plucked by the hands of a beautiful girl are worth a ruble." But Lisa refused the offered amount. He did not insist, but said that from now on he would always buy flowers from her and would like her to pick them only for him.

Arriving home, Liza told her mother everything, and the next day she picked the best lilies of the valley and again came to the city, but this time she did not meet the young man. Throwing flowers into the river, she returned home with sadness in her soul. The next evening, a stranger himself came to her house. As soon as she saw him, Liza rushed to her mother and excitedly announced who was coming to them. The old woman met the guest, and he seemed to her a very kind and pleasant person. Erast - that was the name of the young man - confirmed that he was going to buy flowers from Lisa in the future, and she did not have to go to the city: he himself could call on them.

Erast was a rather wealthy nobleman, with a fair mind and a naturally kind heart, but weak and windy. He led scattered life, thought only of his pleasure, looked for it in secular amusements, and not finding, bored and complained about fate. The immaculate beauty of Liza at the first meeting shocked him: it seemed to him that in her he found exactly what he had been looking for for a long time.

This was the start of their long relationship. Every evening they saw each other either on the banks of the river, or in a birch grove, or under the shade of hundred-year-old oaks. They embraced, but their embrace was pure and innocent.

So several weeks passed. It seemed that nothing could interfere with their happiness. But one evening Lisa came to the meeting sad. It turned out that the groom, the son of a rich peasant, was wooing her, and the mother wanted her to marry him. Erast, comforting Lisa, said that after the death of his mother, he would take her to him and would live with her inseparably. But Lisa reminded the young man that he could never be her husband: she was a peasant woman, and he noble family. You offend me, said Erast, for your friend, your soul is most important, sensitive, innocent soul, you will always be closest to my heart. Liza threw herself into his arms - and in this hour, purity was to perish.

The delusion passed in one minute, giving way to surprise and fear. Liza cried, saying goodbye to Erast.

Their dates continued, but how everything had changed! Liza was no longer an angel of purity for Erast; platonic love gave way to feelings that he could not be "proud of" and which were not new to him. Liza noticed a change in him, and it saddened her.

Once, during a date, Erast told Lisa that he was being drafted into the army; they will have to part for a while, but he promises to love her and hopes to never part with her upon his return. It is not difficult to imagine how hard Liza felt the separation from her beloved. However, hope did not leave her, and every morning she woke up with the thought of Erast and their happiness upon his return.

So it took about two months. Once Lisa went to Moscow and on one of big streets I saw Erast passing by in a magnificent carriage, which stopped near a huge house. Erast went out and was about to go to the porch, when he suddenly felt himself in Liza's arms. He turned pale, then, without saying a word, led her into the study and locked the door. Circumstances have changed, he announced to the girl, he is engaged.

Before Lisa could come to her senses, he led her out of the study and told the servant to escort her out of the yard.

Finding herself on the street, Liza went aimlessly, unable to believe what she heard. She left the city and wandered for a long time, until suddenly she found herself on the shore of a deep pond, under the shade of ancient oaks, which, a few weeks before, had been silent witnesses of her delights. This memory shocked Lisa, but after a few minutes she fell into deep thought. Seeing a neighbor girl walking along the road, she called her, took all the money out of her pocket and gave it to her, asking her to give it to her mother, kiss her and ask her to forgive the poor daughter. Then she threw herself into the water, and they could not save her.

Liza's mother, learning about terrible death daughter, could not stand the blow and died on the spot. Erast was unhappy until the end of his life. He did not deceive Lisa when he told her that he was going to the army, but instead of fighting the enemy, he played cards and lost all his fortune. He had to marry an elderly rich widow who had been in love with him for a long time. Upon learning of Liza's fate, he could not console himself and considered himself a murderer. Now, perhaps, they have already reconciled.

Perhaps no one living in Moscow knows the surroundings of this city as well as I do, because no one is more often than me in the field, no one more than me wanders on foot, without a plan, without a goal - wherever your eyes look - through meadows and groves. over hills and plains. Every summer I find new pleasant places or new beauties in old ones. But the most pleasant for me is the place where the gloomy, Gothic towers of the Si ... new monastery rise. Standing on this mountain, you see on the right side almost all of Moscow, this terrible mass of houses and churches, which appears to the eyes in the form of a majestic amphitheater: a magnificent picture, especially when the sun shines on it, when its evening rays blaze on countless golden domes, on countless crosses ascending to heaven! Below are fat, densely green flowering meadows, and behind them, on yellow sands, a bright river flows, agitated by the light oars of fishing boats or rustling under the helm of heavy plows that float from the most fruitful countries of the Russian Empire and endow greedy Moscow with bread.
On the other side of the river, an oak grove is visible, near which numerous herds graze; there the young shepherds, sitting under the shade of the trees, sing simple, melancholy songs, and thereby shorten the summer days, so uniform to them. Farther away, in the dense greenery of ancient elms, the golden-domed Danilov Monastery shines; still farther, almost at the edge of the horizon, the Sparrow Hills turn blue. On the left side one can see vast fields covered with bread, woods, three or four villages, and in the distance the village of Kolomenskoye with its high palace.
I often come to this place and almost always meet spring there; I also come there in the gloomy days of autumn to grieve together with nature. The winds howl terribly in the walls of the deserted monastery, between the coffins overgrown with tall grass, and in the dark passages of the cells. There, leaning on the ruins of tombstones, I listen to the muffled groan of times swallowed up by the abyss of the past - a groan from which my heart shudders and trembles. Sometimes I enter a cell and imagine those who lived in them—sad pictures! Here I see a gray-haired old man, kneeling before the crucifixion and praying for a speedy resolution of his earthly fetters, for all pleasures have disappeared for him in life, all his feelings have died, except for the feeling of illness and weakness. There, a young monk - with a pale face, with a languid look - looks into the field through the bars of the window, sees cheerful birds floating freely in the sea of air, sees - and sheds bitter tears from his eyes. He languishes, withers, dries up - and the dull ringing of the bell announces to me his untimely death. Sometimes on the gates of the temple I look at the image of miracles that happened in this monastery, where fish fall from the sky to saturate the inhabitants of the monastery, besieged by numerous enemies; here the image of the Mother of God puts the enemies to flight. All this renews in my memory the history of our fatherland - the sad history of those times when the ferocious Tatars and Lithuanians devastated the outskirts of the Russian capital with fire and sword and when unfortunate Moscow, like a defenseless widow, expected help from God alone in her fierce disasters.
But more often than not, the memory of the deplorable fate of Liza, poor Liza, attracts me to the walls of the Si ... new monastery. Oh! I love those items that touch my heart and make me shed tears of tender sorrow!
Seventy sazhens from the monastery wall, near a birch grove, in the middle of a green meadow, stands an empty hut, without doors, without windows, without a floor; The roof has long since rotted and collapsed. In this hut, thirty years before, the beautiful, amiable Liza lived with her old woman, her mother.
Lizin's father was a rather prosperous peasant, because he loved work, plowed the land well and always led a sober life. But soon after his death, his wife and daughter were impoverished. The lazy hand of the mercenary cultivated the field poorly, and the bread ceased to be born well. They were forced to rent out their land, and for very little money. In addition, the poor widow, shedding tears almost incessantly over the death of her husband - for even peasant women know how to love! - day by day she became weaker and could not work at all. Only Liza, who remained after her father of fifteen years - only Liza, not sparing her tender youth, not sparing her rare beauty, worked day and night - weaved canvases, knitted stockings, picked flowers in spring, and in summer she took berries - and sold them in Moscow. The sensitive, kind old woman, seeing her daughter’s indefatigability, often pressed her to her weakly beating heart, called her divine mercy, nurse, the joy of her old age, and prayed to God to reward her for everything she does for her mother.
“God gave me hands to work,” Lisa said, “you fed me with your breast and followed me when I was a child; now it’s my turn to follow you. .
But often tender Liza could not hold back her own tears - ah! she remembered that she had a father and that he was gone, but to calm her mother she tried to hide the sadness of her heart and appear calm and cheerful. “In the next world, dear Liza,” answered the sorrowful old woman, “in the next world, I will stop crying. There, they say, everyone will be cheerful; I’ll surely be happy when I see your father. without me? Who will I leave you with? No, God forbid first to attach you to a place! Maybe a good person will soon be found. Then, blessing you, my dear children, I will cross myself and lie down calmly in the damp earth. "
Two years have passed since the death of Lizin's father. The meadows were covered with flowers, and Liza came to Moscow with lilies of the valley. A young, well-dressed, pleasant-looking man met her in the street. She showed him the flowers and blushed. "Do you sell them, girl?" he asked with a smile. "Selling," she replied. "What do you need?" - "Five kopecks." "It's too cheap. Here's a ruble for you."
Liza was surprised, dared to look at the young man, blushed even more and, looking down at the ground, told him that she would not take a ruble. "For what?" - "I don't need too much." - "I think that beautiful lilies of the valley, plucked by the hands of a beautiful girl, are worth a ruble. When you do not take it, here's five kopecks for you. I would always like to buy flowers from you; I would like you to pick them only for me." Lisa handed over the flowers, took five kopecks, bowed and wanted to go, but the stranger stopped her by the hand: "Where are you going, girl?" - "Home". - "Where is your house?" Lisa said where she lives, said and went. The young man did not want to hold her back, perhaps because the passers-by began to stop and, looking at them, smiled slyly.
Liza, having come home, told her mother what had happened to her. "You did well not to take a ruble. Maybe it was some bad person ..." - "Oh no, mother! I don’t think so. He has such a kind face, such a voice ..." - " However, Liza, it’s better to live on your own labors and not take anything for nothing. You still don’t know, my friend, how evil people can offend the poor girl! My heart is always out of place when you go into town; I always put a candle in front of the image and pray to the Lord God that he save you from all trouble and misfortune. " Tears welled up in Liza's eyes; she kissed her mother.
The next day, Liza picked the best lilies of the valley and again went with them to the city. Her eyes searched for something.
Many wanted to buy flowers from her, but she answered that they were not for sale, and looked first in one direction, then in the other. Evening came, it was necessary to return home, and the flowers were thrown into the Moscow River. "No one own you!" said Liza, feeling a kind of sadness in her heart.
The next day, in the evening, she was sitting under the window, spinning and singing mournful songs in a low voice, but suddenly she jumped up and shouted: "Ah! .." A young stranger was standing under the window.
"What happened to you?" asked the frightened mother, who was sitting beside her. "Nothing, mother," Lisa answered in a timid voice, "I just saw him." - "Whom?" “The gentleman who bought flowers from me.” The old woman looked out the window.
The young man bowed to her so courteously, with such a pleasant air, that she could think nothing but good of him. "Hello, good old woman!" he said. "I am very tired; do you have fresh milk?"
The obliging Liza, without waiting for an answer from her mother - perhaps because she knew him in advance - ran to the cellar - brought a clean glass covered with a clean wooden circle - grabbed a glass, washed it, wiped it with a white towel, poured and served out the window, but she herself looked at the ground. The stranger drank - and the nectar from the hands of Hebe could not have seemed tastier to him. Everyone will guess that after that he thanked Liza, and thanked not so much with words as with his eyes.

Meanwhile, the good-natured old woman managed to tell him about her grief and consolation - about the death of her husband and about the sweet qualities of her daughter, about her diligence and tenderness, and so on. and so on. He listened to her with attention, but his eyes were - need I say where? And Liza, timid Liza, looked from time to time at the young man; but not so soon the lightning shines and disappears in the cloud, as quickly Blue eyes her turned to the earth, meeting with his gaze. “I would like,” he said to his mother, “that your daughter would not sell her work to anyone but me. Thus, she will not have to go to the city often, and you will not be forced to part with her. I myself can sometimes come to you." Here Lizins' eyes flashed with joy, which she tried in vain to conceal; her cheeks glowed like the dawn on a clear summer evening; she looked at her left sleeve and pinched it right hand. The old woman readily accepted this offer, not suspecting any evil intention in it, and assured the stranger that the linen woven by Liza and the stockings knitted by Liza were remarkably good and worn longer than any others.
It was getting dark, and the young man wanted to go already. "Yes, how can we call you, kind, affectionate gentleman?" the old woman asked. "My name is Erast," he answered. "Erast," Liza said softly, "Erast!" She repeated this name five times, as if trying to solidify it. Erast said goodbye to them and left. Liza followed him with her eyes, and the mother sat in thought and, taking her daughter by the hand, said to her: "Ah, Liza! How good and kind he is! If only your fiance was like that!" All Lisa's heart fluttered. "Mother! Mother! How can this be? He is a gentleman, but among the peasants ..." - Lisa did not finish her speech.
Now the reader should know that this young man, this Erast, was a fairly wealthy nobleman, with a fair amount of intelligence and good heart, kind by nature, but weak and windy. He led a distracted life, thinking only about his own pleasure, looking for it in secular amusements, but often did not find it: he was bored and complained about his fate. The beauty of Lisa at the first meeting made an impression in his heart. He read novels, idylls, had a rather lively imagination and often mentally moved to those times (former or not former), in which, according to the poets, all people carelessly walked through the meadows, bathed in clean springs, kissed like doves, rested under roses and myrtles, and in happy idleness they spent all their days. It seemed to him that he had found in Lisa what his heart had been looking for for a long time. "Nature calls me into its arms, to its pure joys," he thought, and he decided - at least for a while - to leave the big light.
Let's get back to Lisa. Night came - the mother blessed her daughter and wished her a good sleep, but this time her wish was not fulfilled: Lisa slept very poorly. The new guest of her soul, the image of Erasts, seemed to her so vividly that she woke up almost every minute, woke up and sighed. Even before the sun rose, Liza got up, went down to the banks of the Moskva River, sat down on the grass and, grieving, looked at the white mists that waved in the air and, rising up, left brilliant drops on the green cover of nature. Silence reigned everywhere. But soon the rising luminary of the day awakened all creation: the groves, the bushes came to life, the birds fluttered and sang, the flowers raised their heads to drink the life-giving rays of light. But Liza was still sitting in a huff. Oh Lisa, Lisa! What happened to you? Until now, waking up with the birds, you had fun with them in the morning, and a pure, joyful soul shone in your eyes, like the sun shines in drops of heavenly dew; but now you are thoughtful, and the general joy of nature is foreign to your heart. Meanwhile, a young shepherd was driving his flock along the river bank, playing the flute. Lisa fixed her eyes on him and thought: “If the one who now occupies my thoughts was born a simple peasant, a shepherd, and if he now drove his flock past me: ah! I would bow to him with a smile and say affably: "Hello, dear shepherd boy! Where are you driving your flock? And here it grows green grass for your sheep, and flowers bloom here, from which you can weave a wreath for your hat. "He would look at me with an affectionate look - he would, perhaps, take my hand ... A dream!" The shepherd, playing the flute, passed by and with his motley flock hid behind a nearby hill.
Suddenly Lisa heard the noise of oars - she looked at the river and saw a boat, and Erast was in the boat.
All the veins in her throbbed, and, of course, not from fear. She got up, wanted to go, but could not. Erast jumped ashore, went up to Liza, and - her dream came true in part: for he looked at her with an affectionate look, took her by the hand ... And Liza, Liza stood with downcast eyes, with fiery cheeks, with trembling heart- she could not take her hands away from him, could not turn away when he approached her with his pink lips ... Ah! He kissed her, kissed her with such fervor that the whole universe seemed to her on fire! “Dear Liza!” said Erast. “Dear Liza! I love you!”, and these words echoed in the depths of her soul, like heavenly, delightful music; she hardly dared to believe her ears and...
But I drop the brush. I can only say that in that moment of delight, Liza's timidity disappeared - Erast found out that he was loved, loved with a passionately new, pure, open heart.
They sat on the grass, and in such a way that there was not much space left between them - they looked into each other's eyes, said to each other: "Love me!", And two hours seemed to them in an instant. Finally Liza remembered that her mother might worry about her. Should have parted. "Ah, Erast!" she said. "Will you always love me?" “Always, dear Lisa, always!” he answered. "And you can swear to me in this?" - "I can, dear Liza, I can!" - "No! I don't need an oath. I believe you, Erast, I believe. Can you really deceive poor Lisa? After all, this cannot be?" “No, no, dear Lisa!” - "How happy I am, and how delighted mother will be when she finds out that you love me!" - "Oh no, Lisa! She doesn't need to say anything." - "For what?" - "Old people are suspicious. She will imagine something bad." - "You can't be." “However, I ask you not to say a word about it to her.” - "Good: you need to obey, although I, I would not like to hide anything from her."
They said goodbye, kissed last time and they promised to see each other every day in the evening either on the river bank, or in a birch grove, or somewhere near Liza's hut, only surely, by all means, to see each other. Liza went, but her eyes turned a hundred times to Erast, who was still standing on the bank and looking after her.
Lisa returned to her hut in a completely different mood from the one in which she left it. Heartfelt joy was found on her face and in all her movements. "He loves me!" she thought and admired this idea. “Ah, mother!” Lisa said to her mother, who had just woken up. “Ah, mother! What a beautiful morning! How cheerful everything is in the field! smelled!" The old woman, propping herself up with a stick, went out into the meadow to enjoy the morning, which Liza described with such lovely colors. It really seemed to her remarkably pleasant; her amiable daughter amused her whole nature with her merriment. “Ah, Liza!” she said. “How good everything is with the Lord God! every year it is covered with new grass and new flowers. It is necessary that the king of heaven loved a person very much when he so well removed the light of this world for him. Ah, Liza! Who would want to die if sometimes there was no grief for us? Perhaps we would forget our souls if tears never fell from our eyes. And Liza thought: "Ah! I would rather forget my soul than my dear friend!"
After this, Erast and Liza, afraid not to keep their word, saw each other every evening (when Liza's mother went to bed) either on the river bank or in a birch grove, but more often under the shade of hundred-year-old oaks (eighty fathoms from the hut) - oaks , overshadowing a deep clean pond, dug out in ancient times. There, the often quiet moon, through the green branches, silvered with its rays Lisa's blond hair, with which marshmallows and the hand of a dear friend played; often these rays illuminated in the eyes of tender Liza a brilliant tear of love, which is always drained by Erast's kiss. They embraced - but the chaste, bashful Cynthia did not hide from them behind a cloud: their embraces were pure and blameless. “When you,” Liza said to Erast, “when you tell me:“ I love you, my friend! ”, When you press me to your heart and look at me with your touching eyes, oh! then it happens to me so well, so well that I forget myself, I forget everything except Erast. It's wonderful! It's wonderful, my friend, that without knowing you, I could live calmly and cheerfully! Now it's incomprehensible to me, now I think that without you life is not life, but sadness and boredom. Without your dark eyes, a bright moon; without your voice, the singing nightingale is boring; without your breath, the breeze is unpleasant to me. Erast admired his shepherdess - that's what he called Liza - and, seeing how much she loves him, he seemed kinder to himself. All the brilliant amusements of the great world seemed to him insignificant in comparison with those pleasures with which the passionate friendship of an innocent soul nourished his heart. He thought with disgust of the contemptuous voluptuousness with which his senses formerly reveled. "I will live with Liza like brother and sister," he thought, "I will not use her love for evil, and I will always be happy!" Reckless young man! Do you know your heart? Are you always responsible for your movements? Is reason always the king of your feelings?
Lisa demanded that Erast often visit her mother. “I love her,” she said, “and I want her well, but it seems to me that seeing you is a great well-being for everyone.” The old woman really was always happy when she saw him. She loved to talk to him about her late husband and tell him about the days of her youth, about how she first met her dear Ivan, how he fell in love with her and in what love, in what harmony he lived with her. "Ah! We never could see enough of each other - until the very hour when fierce death knocked his legs down. He died in my arms!" Erast listened to her with unfeigned pleasure. He bought Liza's work from her and always wanted to pay ten times more than the price set by her, but the old woman never took too much.
Several weeks passed in this way. One evening, Erast waited a long time for his Liza. At last she came, but she was so unhappy that he was frightened; her eyes were red with tears. "Liza, Liza! What happened to you?" - "Ah, Erast! I cried!" - "About what? What is it?" - "I have to tell you everything. A groom, the son of a rich peasant from neighboring village; mother wants me to marry him." - "And you agree?" - "Cruel! Can you ask about it? Yes, I'm sorry for my mother; she cries and says that I do not want her peace of mind, that she will suffer at death if she does not give me in marriage with her. Oh! Mother does not know that I have such a dear friend!" Erast kissed Liza, said that her happiness was dearer to him than anything in the world, that after the death of her mother he would take her to him and would live inseparably with her, in the village and in dense forests, like in paradise. "But you can't be my husband!" Lisa said with a soft sigh. "Why not?" “I am a peasant.” - "You offend me. For your friend, the most important thing is the soul, a sensitive innocent soul - and Lisa will always be closest to my heart."
She threw herself into his arms - and in this hour chastity was to perish! Erast felt an extraordinary excitement in his blood - Liza had never seemed so charming to him - her caresses had never touched him so much - her kisses had never been so fiery - she knew nothing, suspected nothing, was not afraid of anything - the darkness of the evening nourished desires - not a single star shone in the sky - no ray could illuminate delusions. - Erast feels a thrill in himself - Liza also, not knowing why, not knowing what is happening to her ... Ah, Liza, Liza! Where is your guardian angel? Where is your innocence?
The delusion passed in one minute. Liza did not understand her feelings, she was surprised and asked questions. Erast was silent - he was looking for words and did not find them. “Ah, I’m afraid,” said Liza, “I’m afraid of what happened to us! It seemed to me that I was dying, that my soul ... No, I don’t know how to say this! .. Are you silent, Erast? Are you sighing? .. My God! What is it?" Meanwhile, lightning flashed and thunder boomed. Lisa trembled all over. "Erast, Erast!" she said. "I'm scared! I'm afraid that the thunder won't kill me like a criminal!" A storm roared menacingly, rain poured from black clouds - it seemed that nature was lamenting about Liza's lost innocence. Erast tried to calm Lisa and walked her to the hut. Tears rolled from her eyes as she said goodbye to him. "Ah, Erast! Assure me that we will continue to be happy!" - "We will, Liza, we will!" he answered. - "God forbid! I can't help but believe your words: after all, I love you! Only in my heart ... But it's full! Forgive me! Tomorrow, tomorrow I'll see you."
Their dates continued; but how things have changed! Erast could no longer be satisfied with being alone with the innocent caresses of his Lisa - with her eyes full of love - with one touch of the hand, one kiss, one pure embrace. He wanted more, more, and, finally, he could not want anything - and whoever knows his heart, who has thought about the nature of his most tender pleasures, will, of course, agree with me that the fulfillment of all desires is the most dangerous temptation of love. Liza was no longer for Erast this angel of purity, who had previously inflamed his imagination and delighted his soul. Platonic love gave way to feelings that he could not be proud of and which were no longer new to him. As for Lisa, she, completely surrendering to him, only lived and breathed him, in everything, like a lamb, obeyed his will and placed her happiness in his pleasure. She saw a change in him and often said to him: "Before, you were happier, before we were calmer and happier, and before I was not so afraid of losing your love!" Sometimes, when he said goodbye to her, he would say to her: “Tomorrow, Liza, I can’t see you: I have an important business,” and every time Liza sighed at these words.
Finally, for five days in a row she did not see him and was in the greatest anxiety; on the sixth day, he came with a sad face and said: "Dear Lisa! I must say goodbye to you for a while. You know that we are at war, I am in the service, my regiment is going on a campaign." Liza turned pale and almost fainted.
Erast caressed her, saying that he would always love dear Liza and hoped never to part with her on his return. She was silent for a long time, then burst into bitter tears, seized his hand and, looking at him with all the tenderness of love, asked: "Can't you stay?" “I can,” he answered, “but only with the greatest dishonor, with the greatest stain on my honor. Everyone will despise me; everyone will abhor me as a coward, as an unworthy son of the fatherland.” - "Oh, when it's like that," said Lisa, "then go, go, where God commands! But they can kill you." - "Death for the fatherland is not terrible, dear Lisa." “I will die as soon as you are gone.” - "But why think this? I hope to stay alive, I hope to return to you, my friend." - "God forbid! God forbid! Every day, every hour I will pray about it. Ah, why I can neither read nor write. You would notify me of everything that happens to you, and I would write to you - oh their tears!" - "No, take care of yourself, Lisa, take care of your friend. I don't want you to cry without me." - "Cruel man! You think to deprive me of this consolation too! No! Parting with you, unless I stop crying when my heart dries up." - "Think of a pleasant moment in which we will see each other again." - "I will, I will think about her! Oh, if she came sooner! Dear, dear Erast! Remember, remember your poor Lisa, who loves you more than herself!"
But I cannot describe everything they said on this occasion. The next day was to be the last meeting.
Erast also wanted to say goodbye to Lisa's mother, who could not help crying, hearing that her gentle, handsome master was to go to war. He forced her to take some money from him, saying: "I do not want Lisa to sell her work in my absence, which, by agreement, belongs to me." The old woman showered him with blessings. “God forbid,” she said, “so that you return safely to us and that I see you again in this life! Perhaps my Liza will find a groom by that time in her thoughts. How I would thank God if you came to our wedding! When Lisa has children, know, sir, that you must baptize them! Ah! I would very much like to live to see that!" Liza stood beside her mother and did not dare to look at her. The reader can easily imagine what she felt at that moment.
But what did she feel when Erast, embracing her for the last time, pressing her to his heart for the last time, said: "Forgive me, Lisa! .." What a touching picture! The morning dawn, like a scarlet sea, spilled over the eastern sky. Erast stood under the branches of a tall oak, holding in his arms his poor, languid, sorrowful girlfriend, who, bidding farewell to him, said goodbye to her soul. All nature was silent.
Lisa sobbed - Erast cried - left her - she fell - knelt down, raised her hands to the sky and looked at Erast, who moved away - further - further - and, finally, disappeared - the sun shone, and Liza, left, poor, lost her senses and memory.
She came to herself - and the light seemed to her dull and sad. All the pleasures of nature were hidden for her, along with what was dear to her heart. “Ah!” she thought. “Why did I stay in this desert? What keeps me from flying after dear Erast? War is not terrible for me; it’s scary where my friend is not. save his precious life. Wait, wait, my dear! I'm flying to you!" She already wanted to run after Erast, but the thought: "I have a mother!" - stopped her. Lisa sighed and, bowing her head, walked with quiet steps towards her hut. From that hour on, her days were days of longing and sorrow, which had to be hidden from her tender mother: her heart suffered all the more! Then it was only relieved when Liza, secluded in the dense forest, could freely shed tears and moan about separation from her beloved. Often the mournful turtledove combined her mournful voice with her wailing. But sometimes - although very rarely - a golden ray of hope, a ray of consolation illuminated the darkness of her grief. "When he returns to me, how happy I will be! How everything will change!" This thought cleared her eyes, the roses on her cheeks were refreshed, and Liza smiled like a May morning after stormy night. Thus, about two months passed.
One day Liza had to go to Moscow, then to buy rose water, with which her mother treated her eyes. On one of the big streets she met a magnificent carriage, and in this carriage she saw Erast. "Oh!" Liza screamed and rushed towards him, but the carriage drove past and turned into the yard. Erast went out and was about to go to the porch of the huge house, when he suddenly felt himself in Liza's arms. He turned pale - then, without answering a word to her exclamations, he took her by the hand, led her into his office, locked the door and said to her: “Lisa! Circumstances have changed; forget me. I loved you and now I love you, that is, I wish you every good. Here's a hundred rubles - take them, - he put the money in her pocket, - let me kiss you for the last time - and go home. Before Lisa could come to her senses, he led her out of the office and said to the servant: "Show this girl out of the yard."
My heart is bleeding at this very moment. I forget a man in Erast - I'm ready to curse him - but my tongue does not move - I look at him, and a tear rolls down my face. Oh! Why am I writing not a novel, but a sad story?
So, Erast deceived Lisa, telling her that he was going to the army? No, he really was in the army, but instead of fighting the enemy, he played cards and lost almost all his estate. Soon they made peace, and Erast returned to Moscow, burdened with debts. He had only one way to improve his circumstances - to marry an elderly rich widow who had long been in love with him. He decided on that and moved to live with her in the house, devoting a sincere sigh to his Lisa. But can all this justify him?
Lisa found herself on the street, and in a position that no pen can describe. "He, he kicked me out? He loves another? I'm dead!" Here are her thoughts, her feelings! A violent fainting spell interrupted them for a while. One kind woman who was walking along the street stopped over Liza, who was lying on the ground, and tried to bring her to memory. The unfortunate woman opened her eyes - got up with the help of this good woman– thanked her and went, not knowing where. “I can’t live,” thought Liza, “it’s impossible!.. Oh, if only the sky would fall on me! If the earth would swallow up the poor woman!.. No! The sky doesn’t fall; the earth doesn’t tremble! She left the city and suddenly saw herself on the bank of a deep pond, under the shade of ancient oaks, which a few weeks before had been silent witnesses of her delights. This memory shook her soul; the most terrible heartfelt torment was depicted on her face. But after a few minutes she plunged into some thoughtfulness - she looked around herself, saw her neighbor's daughter (a fifteen-year-old girl) walking along the road - she called her, took out ten imperials from her pocket and, giving her, said: "Dear Anyuta, dear friend! Take this money to my mother - it's not stolen - tell her that Liza is guilty against her, that I hid from her my love for one cruel man - to E ... What's the use of knowing his name? - Tell me that he cheated on me, - ask her to forgive me - God will be her helper, kiss her hand the way I kiss yours now, tell me that poor Liza ordered me to kiss her - tell me that I ..." Then she threw herself into the water. Anyuta screamed, cried, but could not save her, ran to the village - people gathered and pulled Lisa out, but she was already dead.
Thus ended her life beautiful soul and body. When we meet there, in a new life, I will recognize you, gentle Liza!
She was buried near the pond, under a gloomy oak, and placed wooden cross on her grave. Here I often sit in thought, leaning on the receptacle of Liza's ashes; in my eyes a pond flows; Leaves rustle above me.
Liza's mother heard about the terrible death of her daughter, and her blood cooled with horror - her eyes were forever closed. The hut is empty. The wind howls in it, and the superstitious villagers, hearing this noise at night, say: "There is a dead man groaning; poor Liza is groaning there!"
Erast was unhappy until the end of his life. Upon learning of the fate of Lizina, he could not console himself and considered himself a murderer. I met him a year before his death. He himself told me this story and led me to Liza's grave. Now, maybe they have already reconciled!

According to the publication: Karamzin N. M. Selected works: In 2 volumes - M.; L .: Fiction, 1964.

Karamzin N M

Poor Lisa

On the other side of the river, an oak grove is visible, near which numerous herds graze; there the young shepherds, sitting under the shade of the trees, sing simple, melancholy songs, and thereby shorten the summer days, so uniform to them. Farther away, in the dense greenery of ancient elms, the golden-domed Danilov Monastery shines; still farther, almost at the edge of the horizon, the Sparrow Hills turn blue. On the left side one can see vast fields covered with bread, woods, three or four villages, and in the distance the village of Kolomenskoye with its high palace.

I often come to this place and almost always meet spring there; I also come there in the gloomy days of autumn to grieve together with nature. The winds howl terribly in the walls of the deserted monastery, between the coffins overgrown with tall grass, and in the dark passages of the cells. There, leaning on the ruins of tombstones, I listen to the muffled groan of times swallowed up by the abyss of the past - a groan from which my heart shudders and trembles. Sometimes I enter a cell and imagine those who lived in them - sad pictures! Here I see a gray-haired old man, kneeling before the crucifixion and praying for a speedy resolution of his earthly fetters, for all pleasures have disappeared for him in life, all his feelings have died, except for the feeling of illness and weakness. There, a young monk - with a pale face, with a languid look - looks into the field through the bars of the window, sees cheerful birds floating freely in the sea of air, sees - and sheds bitter tears from his eyes. He languishes, withers, dries up - and the dull ringing of the bell announces to me his untimely death. Sometimes on the gates of the temple I look at the image of miracles that happened in this monastery, where fish fall from the sky to saturate the inhabitants of the monastery, besieged by numerous enemies; here the image of the Mother of God puts the enemies to flight. All this renews in my memory the history of our fatherland - the sad history of those times when the ferocious Tatars and Lithuanians devastated the outskirts of the Russian capital with fire and sword and when unfortunate Moscow, like a defenseless widow, expected help from God alone in her fierce disasters.

But more often than not, the memory of the deplorable fate of Liza, poor Liza, attracts me to the walls of the Si ... new monastery. Oh! I love those items that touch my heart and make me shed tears of tender sorrow!

“God gave me hands to work,” Liza said, “you fed me with your breast and followed me when I was a child; now it’s my turn to follow you. .

But often tender Lisa could not hold back her own tears - ah! she remembered that she had a father and that he was gone, but to calm her mother she tried to hide the sadness of her heart and appear calm and cheerful. “In the next world, dear Liza,” answered the sorrowful old woman, “in the next world I will stop crying. There, they say, everyone will be cheerful; without me? Who will I leave you with? No, God forbid first to attach you to a place! Maybe a good person will soon be found. Then, blessing you, my dear children, I will cross myself and lie down calmly in the damp earth. "

Two years have passed since the death of Lizin's father. The meadows were covered with flowers, and Liza came to Moscow with lilies of the valley. A young, well-dressed, pleasant-looking man met her in the street. She showed him the flowers - and blushed. "Do you sell them, girl?" he asked with a smile. "Selling," she replied. "What do you need?" - "Five kopecks?" - "It's too cheap. Here's a ruble for you." Liza was surprised, dared to look at the young man, blushed even more and, looking down at the ground, told him that she would not take a ruble. "For what?" "I don't need too much." - "I think that beautiful lilies of the valley, plucked by the hands of a beautiful girl, are worth a ruble. When you don't take it, here's five kopecks for you. I would always like to buy flowers from you; I would like you to pick them just for me," Liza handed over the flowers, took five kopecks, bowed and wanted to go, but the stranger stopped her by the hand; "Where are you going, girl?" - "Home", - "Where is your house?" Lisa said where she lives, said and went. The young man did not want to hold her back, perhaps because the passers-by began to stop and, looking at them, smiled slyly.