On the eve of the presidential election, we will talk about modern journalism in Russia, which, in essence, determines this or that choice not only of the president, but of everything else: from goods, services and future profession, to representatives of power at various levels. No referendums are possible without high-quality journalism.

And as long as there is no such journalism, it will not be possible to make a good and responsible choice.

A choice in good conscience, as we are hysterically offered: almost every day letters arrive with agitators to vote in good conscience, that is, as the mailers assure, only for one - for P.N. Grudinina.

Holy simplicity!!! It is no coincidence that they say that simplicity is worse than theft.

I have already written several articles on elections, in particular this:

This post is a continuation of the hot topic.

Many people, participating in elections, wholeheartedly believe in one or another candidate, and against another, sometimes just to spite the other. At the same time, they sincerely think that they have all the information for a conscious decision. Electoral disputes on the eve of the elections are held with such emotional intensity and in such expressions that sometimes relatives, comrades and colleagues become almost enemies, defending the candidate who fell in love with them in some unknown way or pouring mud on the idol's competitors. But, alas, electoral technologies are to blame for this. So once, while attending the execution of Yag Hus, the old woman thought that she was doing a good deed, throwing a bunch of brushwood into the fire burning him. The catchphrase "Holy simplicity" has taken root.

"Holy simplicity"

Now, fortunately, there are not the same morals in Russia, it is not the same with us as in Ukraine, which strongly resembles the Middle Ages, when people were burned, as happened in the House of Trade Unions.

At one time, in chats from educated Russians with Ukrainian surnames, and not only, I metso many excusessupporting burning, which involuntarily thought about our society ... Where are we going ...

O sancta simplicitas([about sankta simplicitas], from lat. - "Oh, holy simplicity!") - an expression attributed to Jan Hus. Condemned Catholic Cathedral of Constance to be burned as a heretic , he seemed to have said these words at the stake when he saw that some old woman (according to another version - a peasant woman) in simple-hearted religious zeal, she threw the brushwood she had brought into the fire of the fire. However, Hus's biographers, based on the reports of eyewitnesses to his death, deny the fact that he uttered this phrase.

The expression "holy simplicity" was used quite often before by classics, politicians, etc. Below are examples of the use of this catchphrase. Often even now, when people go to the polls, one can say about many of them: "Holy simplicity" ...

It is interesting to use this expression by L.N. Tolstoy in the novel "Anna Karenina", in the chapters devoted to elections. A good hundred years have passed, but it seems that those technologies are still being used to create images of applicants, making everyone, in one way or another, that very "holy simplicity" ....

These technologies have overwhelmed the consciousness of people. For example, the media, accusing Empress Alexandra Feodorovna of spying for Germany, generated a lot of caricatures. They also fueled mutual rage, hatred and enmity in the civil war in Russia, and then mass repressions. How many times can you step on the same rake?

Oh, holy simplicity!

Oh, holy simplicity!

The phrase is attributed to the Czech reformer, the hero of the national liberation movement Jan Hus. According to legend, Gus, who was being burned at the stake, uttered these words when some old woman, out of pious motives, threw an armful of brushwood into the fire.

And Engels, with his characteristic cheerful irony, hails the last steps of world capitalism: fortunately, he says, there are still enough unplowed steppes left for things to continue in the same way. And good Mr. N-he [ N. F. Danielson (1852-1925) - economist, public figure of the populist direction. - ed. ] a propos de bottes [ Neither to the village, nor to the city; out of place (fr.) - ed. ] sighs about the old "farmer peasant", about "hallowed for centuries" ... the stagnation of our agriculture and all forms of agricultural bondage, which could not be shaken "neither specific disorder, nor Tatarism", and which has now begun - oh, horror! - to shake this monstrous capitalism in the most decisive way! O sancta simplicitas! ( V. I. Lenin, Development of capitalism in Russia. )

Levin did not understand why it was necessary for a hostile party to ask to run for the leader they wanted to run for. - Oh, sancta sitnplicitas! said Stepan Arkadyevich, briefly and clearly explaining to Levin what the matter was. ( L. N. Tolstoy, Anna Karenina. )

One of the cherished formulas of that time was "Holy simplicity". There was something indisputable in her, and at the mention of her, one could only bow. But they used it indiscriminately and often mixed it with vulgarity and ignorance. This was already a delusion that threatened with consequences of a very dubious nature. The peasantry suffocated under the yoke of slavery, but on the other hand they were sancta simplicitas; the bureaucracy was mired in extortion, but even this was a kind of sancta simplicitas; ignorance, darkness, cruelty, arbitrariness dominated everywhere, but they also represented one of the forms of sancta simplicitas. It was hard to breathe amidst these various manifestations of simplicity, but there was no reason to be held accountable. ( M. E. Saltykov-Shchedrin, Poshekhonskaya antiquity. )

You claimed in response to that sermon that I knew who my anonymous advocate was. But it's not true! I'm not accusing you of lying - you probably just made a mistake. I still don't know the name of this person. - Bowing his head to one side, like a learned blackbird, the Gadfly looked at the cardinal, then leaned back in his chair and laughed loudly: O s-sancta simplicitas! Such innocence fits the Arcadian shepherdess! Didn't you guess? ( Ethel Lilian Voynich, Ovo d.)

I think few people remember if they read the works of L.N. Tolstoy, and many are generally poorly acquainted with the classical literary heritage. In addition to "holy simplicity", I was also interested in the attitude of Lev Nikolayevich, expressed in the word"horses" ... Here are some excerpts from the novel about how the provincial elections were held in the novel "Anna Karenina".

“Levin did not understand why it was necessary for the hostile party to ask the leader whom they wanted to vote for the nomination. “Oh, sancta simplicitas!” said Stepan Arkadyevich and briefly and clearly explained to Levin what was the matter."

"On the sixth day, provincial elections were scheduled. The halls, large and small, were full of nobles in different uniforms ...

- What? what? whom? - Power of attorney? to whom? what? - Deny? - Not a power of attorney. - Flerov is not allowed. What is under judgment? - They won't let anyone in. It's mean. - Law! - Levin heard from different directions, and together with everyone who was in a hurry somewhere and were afraid to miss something, he went to the big hall and, pressed by the nobles, approached the provincial table, at which the provincial marshal, Sviyazhsky and other grooms.

.........

The most solemn moment has come. The elections should have begun immediately. Leaders of both parties counted white and black on the fingers. The debate about Flerov gave the new party not only one ball of Flerov, but also a gain in time, so that three nobles could be brought in, who, through the machinations of the old party, were deprived of the opportunity to participate in the elections. Two noblemen, who had a weakness for wine, were made drunk by Snetkov's minions, and the uniform clothes were taken away from the third.

..........

The excitement increased, and anxiety was visible on all faces. Especially horse breeders were very worried who know all the details and the score of all the balls. They were the stewards of the coming battle. The rest, like privates before the battle, although they were preparing for battle, were looking for entertainment for the time being.

Below - in a folded table - the entire text about the provincial elections.

L.N. Tolstoy
Anna Karenina. Part six

XXVII

On the sixth day, provincial elections were scheduled. The halls, large and small, were full of noblemen in various uniforms. Many came just to this day. Friends who had not seen each other for a long time, some from the Crimea, some from St. Petersburg, some from abroad, met in the halls. At the provincial table, under the portrait of the sovereign, there was a debate.

The nobles, both in the large and in the small hall, were grouped in camps, and, from the hostility and distrust of their views, from the conversation that fell silent when strangers approached, from the fact that some, whispering, went even into a distant corridor, it was clear that each side had secrets from another. In appearance, the nobles were sharply divided into two classes: old and new. The old ones were for the most part either in buttoned up uniforms of the nobility, with swords and hats, or in their special, naval, cavalry, infantry, serviced uniforms. The uniforms of the old nobles were sewn in the old fashion, with puffs on the shoulders; they were obviously small, short at the waist and narrow, as if their wearers had grown out of them. The young ones were in unbuttoned noble uniforms with low waists and wide shoulders, with white waistcoats, or in uniforms with black collars and laurels, sewing of the Ministry of Justice. The young ones also belonged to the court uniforms, which in some places adorned the crowd.

But the division into young and old did not coincide with the division of parties. Some of the younger ones, according to Levin's observations, belonged to the old party, and some, on the contrary, the oldest nobles whispered to Sviyazhsky and were obviously ardent supporters of the new party.

Levin stood in the small hall where they smoked and ate, near a group of his own, listening to what was being said, and futilely straining his mental powers to understand what was being said. Sergei Ivanovich was the center around which others were grouped. He now listened to Sviyazhsky and Khlyustov, the leader of another district belonging to their party. Khlyustov did not agree to go with his county to ask Snetkov to run, but Sviyazhsky persuaded him to do so, and Sergei Ivanovich approved this plan. Levin did not understand why it was necessary for a hostile party to ask to run for the leader they wanted to run for.

Stepan Arkadyevitch, who had just taken a bite and drunk, wiping his mouth with a fragrant cambric handkerchief with a border, approached them in his chamberlain's uniform.

We take a position, - he said, straightening both sideburns, - Sergey Ivanovich! And, listening to the conversation, he confirmed the opinion of Sviyazhsky.

One county is enough, and Sviyazhsky is already, obviously, the opposition, ”he said to everyone, except Levin, in understandable words.

What, Kostya, and you seem to have a taste? he added, turning to Levin, and took him by the arm. Levin would have been glad to get a taste of it, but he could not understand what was the matter, and, moving a few steps away from the speakers, expressed to Stepan Arkadyevitch his bewilderment as to why he had asked the provincial marshal.

O sancta simplicitas! one said Stepan Arkadyevitch, briefly and clearly explaining to Levin what was the matter.

If, as in the last elections, all the uyezds asked for a provincial marshal, he would be elected by all the whites. This was not necessary. Now eight counties agree to ask; if two refuse to ask, then Snetkov may refuse to run. And then the old party can choose another of its own, since the whole calculation will be lost. But if only one district of Sviyazhsky does not ask, Snetkov will run. They will even elect him and pass him over on purpose, so that the opposing party will lose count, and when a candidate from ours is nominated, they will pass it on to him.

Levin understood, but not quite, and was about to ask a few more questions, when all of a sudden everyone began to talk, made a noise, and moved into the large hall.

What? what? whom? - Power of attorney? to whom? what? - Deny? - Not a power of attorney. - Flerov is not allowed. What is under judgment? - They won't let anyone in. It's mean. - Law! - Levin heard from different sides and together with everyone who was in a hurry somewhere and were afraid to miss something, he went to the large hall and, pressed by the nobles, approached the provincial table, at which the provincial marshal, Sviyazhsky and other horsemen were arguing something. .

O holy simplicity! (lat.)

XXVIII

Levin stood quite far away. One nobleman breathing heavily, wheezing beside him, and another creaking with thick soles, prevented him from hearing clearly. From afar, he heard only the soft voice of the leader, then the shrill voice of the poisonous nobleman, and then the voice of Sviyazhsky. They argued, as far as he could understand, about the meaning of the article of the law and the meaning of the word: under investigation.

The crowd parted to make way for Sergei Ivanovich, who was approaching the table. Sergei Ivanovich, after waiting for the end of the speech of the poisonous nobleman, said that it seemed to him that it would be best to deal with the article of the law, and asked the secretary to find the article. The article said that in case of disagreement, one must run.

Sergei Ivanovich read the article and began to explain its meaning, but then one tall, stout, round-shouldered landowner, with a dyed mustache, in a narrow uniform with a collar propped up behind his neck, interrupted him. He went up to the table and, striking it with a ring, shouted loudly:

Ballot! To the balls! Nothing to talk! To the balls!

Suddenly, several voices spoke, and the tall nobleman with the ring, growing more and more angry, shouted louder and louder. But it was impossible to make out what he was saying.

He said the very thing that Sergei Ivanovich suggested; but evidently he hated him and his whole party, and this feeling of hatred was communicated to the whole party and provoked a rebuff of the same, though more decent, bitterness on the other side. Shouts arose, and for a moment everything was confused, so that the provincial marshal had to ask for order.

Ballot, ballot! Who is a nobleman, he understands. We are shedding blood... The trust of the monarch... Not counting the leader, he is not a clerk... Yes, that's not the point... Allow me, on the balls! Disgusting! .. - embittered, frantic cries were heard from all sides. The looks and faces were even more embittered and more frantic than speech. They expressed implacable hatred. Levin did not understand at all what the matter was, and was surprised at the passion with which the question of whether or not to vote for an opinion on Flerov was dealt with. He forgot, as Sergei Ivanovich later explained to him, the syllogism that for the common good it was necessary to overthrow the provincial marshal; to overthrow the leader, a majority of balls was needed; for the majority of balls it was necessary to give Flerov the right to vote; in order to recognize Flerov as capable, it was necessary to explain how to understand the article of the law.

But Levin forgot this, and it was hard for him to see these good people respected by him in such an unpleasant, evil excitement. To get rid of this heavy feeling, he, without waiting for the end of the debate, went into the hall, where there was no one except the lackeys near the buffet. Seeing the lackeys fussing over the grinding of dishes and arranging plates and glasses, seeing their calm, lively faces, Levin experienced an unexpected feeling of relief, as if he had stepped out of a stinking room into fresh air. He began to pace up and down, looking with pleasure at the lackeys. He liked very much how one footman with gray sideburns, showing contempt for the other young people who teased him, taught them how to fold napkins. Levin was just about to enter into a conversation with the old lackey, when the secretary of the noble guardianship, an old man who had the specialty of knowing all the nobles of the province by name and patronymic, entertained him.

Please, Konstantin Dmitritch, - he said to him, - they are looking for you brother. Opinion is running.

Levin entered the hall, received a little white ball, and, following his brother Sergei Ivanovich, went up to the table, where Sviyazhsky stood with a significant and ironic face, gathering his beard into a fist and sniffing it. Sergei Ivanovich put his hand into the box, placed his ball somewhere, and, making room for Levin, stopped right there. Levin approached, but, completely forgetting what was the matter, and embarrassed, turned to Sergei Ivanovich with the question: "Where to put it?" He asked quietly while they were talking nearby, so he hoped his question would not be heard. But the speakers fell silent, and his obscene question was heard. Sergei Ivanovich frowned.

This is a matter of persuading everyone,” he said sternly.

Some smiled. Levin blushed, hurriedly put his hand under the cloth and laid it to the right, since the ball was in his right hand. Having put it down, he remembered that he should have put it in his left hand, and put it in, but it was already too late, and, even more embarrassed, he quickly left for the very back rows.

One hundred twenty-six electoral! Ninety-eight indiscriminate! - sounded not pronouncing the letter R voice of the secretary. Then laughter was heard: a button and two nuts were found in the box. The nobleman was admitted and the new party won.

But the old party did not consider itself defeated. Levin heard that Snetkov was being asked to run for office, and saw that a crowd of noblemen surrounded the provincial marshal, who was saying something. Levin stepped closer. Answering the nobles, Snetkov spoke of the trust of the nobility, of love for him, which he is not worth, for all his merit lies in devotion to the nobility, to whom he devoted twelve years of service. Several times he repeated the words: “I served as much as I could, faithfully, I appreciate and thank you,” and suddenly he stopped from tears that were choking him and left the hall. Whether these tears came from a consciousness of injustice towards him, from love for the nobility, or from the strained position in which he found himself, feeling himself surrounded by enemies, but excitement was communicated, most of the nobles were touched, and Levin felt tenderness for Snetkov.

At the door the provincial marshal ran into Levin.

I'm sorry, please excuse me, - he said, as if he were a stranger; but, recognizing Levin, he smiled timidly. It seemed to Levin that he wanted to say something, but was unable to because of his excitement. The expression of his face and of his whole figure in his uniform, crosses, and white breeches with galloons, as he hurriedly walked, reminded Levin of a poisoned beast, which sees that his case is bad. This expression on the leader's face was especially touching to Levin, because only yesterday he had been at his house on business of guardianship and had seen him in all the grandeur of a kind and family man. A large house with old family furniture; not dapper, dirty, but respectful old lackeys, obviously still from the former serfs, who had not changed their master; a fat, good-natured wife in a cap with lace and a Turkish shawl, caressing her pretty granddaughter, her daughter's daughter; a young fellow, a sixth-grade schoolboy, who came home from the gymnasium and, greeting his father, kissed his big hand; the host's imposing affectionate speeches and gestures—all this yesterday aroused in Levin an involuntary respect and sympathy. This old man was now touching and pitiful to Levin, and he longed to say something pleasant to him.

So you are our leader again,” he said.

Hardly, - the leader said with a frightened look. - I'm tired, I'm old. There are more worthy and younger than me, let them serve.

And the leader disappeared through the side door.

The most solemn moment has come. The elections should have begun immediately. The groomsmen of both parties counted the whites and the blacks on their fingers.

The debate about Flerov gave the new party not only one ball of Flerov, but also a gain in time, so that three nobles could be brought in, who, through the machinations of the old party, were deprived of the opportunity to participate in the elections. Two noblemen, who had a weakness for wine, were made drunk by Snetkov's minions, and the uniform clothes were taken away from the third.

Having learned about this, the new party managed during the debate about Flerov to send in a cab to equip a nobleman and bring one of the two drunk to the assembly.

He brought one, poured it with water, - said the landowner who went after him, approaching Sviyazhsky. - Nothing, it's fine.

Not very drunk, will not fall? - Sviyazhsky said, shaking his head.

No, young man. If only they didn’t get drunk here ... I told the barman not to give it under any circumstances.

XXIX

The narrow hall, in which they smoked and ate, was full of nobles. The excitement increased, and anxiety was visible on all faces. In particular, the grooms were very worried, knowing all the details and the count of all the balls. They were the stewards of the coming battle. The rest, like privates before the battle, although they were preparing for battle, but for the time being were looking for entertainment. Some ate while standing or sitting at the table; others walked, smoking cigarettes, up and down the long room, talking to friends they had not seen for a long time.

Levin did not want to eat, he did not smoke; he did not want to get along with his own people, that is, with Sergei Ivanovich, Stepan Arkadyevitch, Sviyazhsky and others, because Vronsky in the uniform of the master of the horse stood with them in a lively conversation. Only yesterday Levin saw him at the elections and diligently walked around, not wanting to meet him. He went to the window and sat down, looking around the groups and listening to what was being said around him. He was sad especially because, as he saw, everyone was animated, preoccupied and busy, and only he, with an old, old, toothless old man in a naval uniform, who mumbled his lips, crouched beside him, was without interest and without work.

This is such a scam! I told him, no. How! He couldn't put it together at the age of three,” a round-shouldered short landowner with anointed hair lying on the embroidered collar of his uniform said energetically, clattering hard with the heels of his new boots, obviously for the election. And the landowner, throwing a displeased glance at Levin, turned around abruptly.

Yes, it's a dirty business, to be sure, - said the little landowner in a thin voice.

Following these, a whole crowd of landowners, surrounding the fat general, hurriedly approached Levin. The landowners were obviously looking for places to talk so that they would not be heard.

How dare he say that I told them to steal his pants! He drank them, I think. I don't care about him and his principality. Don't you dare talk, it's disgusting!

Yes, let me! They are based on the article, - they said in another group, - the wife should be recorded as a noblewoman.

And the hell with me in the article! I speak to my heart. On the noble nobles. Have trust.

Your Excellency, let's go fine champagne .

Another crowd followed behind a loudly shouting nobleman: it was one of the three drunk.

I always advised Marya Semyonovna to rent it out, because she would not gain, - the landowner with a gray mustache, in the colonel's uniform of the old general staff, said in a pleasant voice. This was the same landowner whom Levin had met at Sviyazhsky's. He recognized him immediately. The landowner also took a closer look at Levin, and they greeted each other.

Very nice. How! I remember very well. Last year, Nikolai Ivanovich, the leader.

So, how is your business going? asked Levin.

Yes, everything is the same, at a loss, - with a submissive smile, but with an expression of calmness and conviction that this is how it should be, the landowner answered, stopping beside him. How did you end up in our province? - he asked. - Have you come to take part in our coup d "état?" - he said, firmly, but badly pronouncing the French words. - All of Russia came together: both chamberlains and almost ministers. - He pointed to the imposing figure of Stepan Arkadyevitch in white trousers and a chamberlain's uniform, walking with the general.

I must confess to you that I understand very poorly the significance of the elections of the nobility,” said Levin.

The landowner looked at him.

What is there to understand? There is no value. A fallen institution that continues its movement only by the force of inertia. Look, the uniforms - and these tell you: this is an assembly of justices of the peace, indispensable members, and so on, and not nobles.

So why are you driving? asked Levin. - Out of habit, one. Then the connections need to be maintained. A moral obligation in some way. And then, to tell the truth, there is an interest. The son-in-law wishes to run for permanent membership. They are not rich people, and it is necessary to carry it out. What are these gentlemen going for? he said, pointing to that venomous gentleman who was speaking at the provincial table.

This is a new generation of nobility.

New is new. But not the nobility. These are the landowners, and we are the landowners. They lay hands on themselves like nobles.

Why, you say that it is an obsolete institution.

The obsolete is obsolete, but everyone should treat it more respectfully. If only Snetkov... We are good, aren't we, we have been growing for a thousand years. You know, if you have to plant a garden in front of the house, plan, and a hundred-year-old tree grows in this place ... Although it is clumsy and old, you don’t cut down the old man for flower beds, but you will plan the flower beds in order to use the tree. You can't grow it in a year," he said cautiously, and immediately changed the conversation. - Well, how is your business?

Yes, it's not good. Five percent.

Yes, but you don't consider yourself. Are you worth something too? Here I will tell about myself. Until I was in charge, I received three thousand in the service. Now I work more than in the service, and, just like you, I get five percent, and God forbid. And your labors for nothing.

So why are you doing this? If a direct loss?

And here you are! What do you order? It's a habit, and you know it's necessary. I'll tell you more, - leaning against the window and talking, the landowner continued, - the son has no desire for the household. Obviously, the scientist will. So no one will continue. And you do everything. Now planted a garden.

Yes, yes,” said Levin, “that is perfectly fair. I always feel that there is no real calculation in my household, but you do it ... You feel some kind of obligation to the earth.

Yes, I'll tell you, - continued the landowner. - I had a merchant neighbor. We walked around the house, in the garden. “No,” he says, Stepan Vasilyich, everything is going well with you, but the garden is abandoned. And he's fine with me. “In my mind, I would cut down this linden. Just need juice. After all, there are a thousand lindens, each of which will produce two good luboks. And now a splint is in price, and I would chop up some sticky trumpets. ”

And with that money he would have bought cattle, or he would have bought land for next to nothing, and he would have rented it out to the peasants,” Levin finished with a smile, obviously having come across such calculations more than once.And he'll make a fortune. And you and I - just God forbid we keep ours and leave the children.

Are you married, I heard? - said the landowner.

Yes, answered Levin with proud pleasure. "Yes, it's strange," he continued. - So we live without calculation, as if we were assigned, like the ancient vestals, to watch over some kind of fire.

The landowner chuckled under his white mustache.

There are some of us too, if only our friend Nikolai Ivanovich or now Count Vronsky has settled, they want to lead the agronomic industry; Well, it still does not lead to anything, except to kill capital.

But why don't we do as merchants? Don't cut down a garden on a splint? - Returning to the thought that struck him, said Levin.

Yes, as you said, watch the fire. And that is not a nobility. And our noble cause is not done here, at the elections, but there, in our corner. There is also a class instinct, what should or should not. Here are the peasants too, I'll look at them another time: like a good peasant, there is enough land to hire as much as he can. Whatever bad land, everything plows. Also without calculation. Right at a loss.

So are we,” said Levin. “It is very, very pleasant to meet you,” he added, seeing Sviyazhsky coming up to him.

But we met for the first time after you, - said the landowner, - and started talking.

Well, scolded the new order? - Sviyazhsky said with a smile.

Not without it.

The soul was taken away.

cognac (French).

coup d'état? (French)

XXX

Sviyazhsky took Levin by the arm and went with him to his own.

Now it was impossible to bypass Vronsky. He stood with Stepan Arkadyevitch and Sergei Ivanovich and looked straight at Levin as he approached.

I am glad. I think I had the pleasure of meeting ... at Princess Shcherbatskaya's," he said, offering his hand to Levin.

Yes, I remember very well our meeting,” said Levin, and, blushing crimson, immediately turned away and spoke to his brother.

Smiling slightly, Vronsky went on talking to Sviyazhsky, apparently having no desire to enter into a conversation with Levin; but Levin, speaking to his brother, kept looking back at Vronsky, thinking of something to talk to him about in order to make amends for his rudeness.

What is the matter now? asked Levin, looking round at Sviyazhsky and Vronsky.

For Snetkov. It is necessary that he refuse or agree, - answered Sviyazhsky.

So, did he agree or not?

That's just the point, it's neither this nor that,' said Vronsky.

And if he refuses, who will run? asked Levin, glancing at Vronsky.

Who wants to, - said Sviyazhsky.

You will? asked Levin.

Only not me, - Sviyazhsky said, embarrassed and throwing a frightened glance at the poisonous gentleman who was standing next to Sergey Ivanovich.

So who is it? Nevedovsky? said Levin, feeling that he was confused.

But it was even worse. Nevedovsky and Sviyazhsky were the two candidates.

By no means do I,” the venomous gentleman replied.

It was Nevedovsky himself. Sviyazhsky introduced Levin to him.

What, and you were taken for a living? said Stepan Arkadyevitch, winking at Vronsky. - It's like a race. You can bet. "Yes, it's taking a toll," said Vronsky. And once you get down to business, you want to do it. Struggle! he said, frowning and clenching his strong cheekbones.

What a businessman Sviyazhsky! Everything is so clear to him.

Oh, yes,” Vronsky said absently.

A silence ensued, during which Vronsky—since one must be looking at something—looked at Levin, at his feet, at his uniform, then at his face, and, noticing the gloomy, self-directed eyes, in order to say something— anything said:

And how is it that you, a permanent village resident, are not a justice of the peace? You are not in the uniform of a magistrate.

Because I think that the World Court is a stupid institution,” answered Levin gloomily, always waiting for an opportunity to get into conversation with Vronsky in order to make amends for his rudeness at the first meeting.

I don’t believe that, on the contrary,” Vronsky said with calm surprise.

It's a toy," Levin interrupted him. We don't need magistrates. I haven't had any business for eight years. And which one he had, it was decided upside down. The justice of the peace is forty miles away from me. I have to send an attorney for a case of two rubles, which costs fifteen.

And he told how a peasant stole flour from a miller, and when the miller told him this, the peasant sued the judge for slander. All this was inopportune and stupid, and Levin felt it himself as he spoke.

Oh, this is so original! said Stepan Arkadyevitch with his own almond smile. - Let's go, however; seems to be running...

And they parted ways.

I don’t understand,” said Sergei Ivanovich, noticing his brother’s awkward trick, “I don’t understand how it is possible to be so deprived of any political tact. That's what we Russians don't have. The provincial leader is our enemy, you are with him ami cochon and ask him to run. And Count Vronsky... I won't make a friend out of him; he called for dinner, I will not go to him; but he is ours, why make an enemy out of him? Then, you ask Nevedovsky if he will run. This is not being done.

Ah, I don't understand! And it's all nonsense," answered Levin gloomily.

So you say that all this is nothing, but if you take it, you confuse everything.

Levin fell silent, and together they entered the large hall.

The provincial marshal, in spite of the fact that he felt in the air the trick that was being prepared for him, and in spite of the fact that not everyone asked him, nevertheless decided to run for office. Everything in the hall fell silent, the secretary loudly announced that captain of the guards Mikhail Stepanovich Snetkov was running for provincial leaders.

The district leaders came with plates containing balls from their tables to the provincial one, and the elections began.

Put it to the right,” Stepan Arkadyevitch whispered to Levin, when he and his brother followed the leader to the table.But Levin now forgot the calculation that had been explained to him, and was afraid that Stepan Arkadyevitch might have been mistaken in saying "to the right." After all, Snetkov was an enemy. Going up to the box, he held the ball in his right hand, but, thinking that he had made a mistake, in front of the box he transferred the ball to his left hand and, obviously, then put it to the left. The connoisseur of the case, standing by the box, knowing by one movement of the elbow who was putting it where, grimaced in displeasure. He had nothing to exercise his insight on.

Everything fell silent, and the counting of the balls was heard. Then a lone voice proclaimed the number of electors and non-selectors.

The leader was chosen by a large majority. Everything was noisy and quickly rushed to the door. Snetkov entered, and the nobility surrounded him, congratulating him.

Well, is it over now? Levin asked Sergei Ivanovich.

It’s only just beginning,” Sviyazhsky said, smiling for Sergei Ivanovich. - The leader candidate can get more orbs.

Levin completely forgot about it again. He remembered only now that there was some subtlety here, but he was bored to remember what it consisted of. Despondency came over him, and he wanted to get out of this crowd.

Since no one paid any attention to him and no one seemed to need him, he slowly walked into the small dining room, and felt great relief when he saw the lackeys again. The old footman offered him something to eat, and Levin agreed. After eating a cutlet with beans and talking with the footman about the former gentlemen, Levin, not wanting to enter the hall, where he felt so unpleasant, went to the choir stalls.

The choir stalls were full of well-dressed ladies leaning over the railing, trying not to utter a single word of what was being said below. Elegant lawyers, spectacled high school teachers, and officers were sitting and standing around the ladies. Everywhere they talked about the elections and how exhausted the leader was and how good the debate was; in one group, Levin heard praise for his brother. One lady said to a lawyer:

How glad I am to hear Koznyshev! It's worth to go hungry. Charm! How clear. And you can hear everything! No one says that in court. Only one Maidel, and even then he is far from being so eloquent.

Finding an empty seat by the railing, Levin leaned over and began to watch and listen.

All the nobles sat behind partitions in their counties. In the middle of the hall stood a man in a uniform and in a thin, loud voice proclaimed:

The staff captain Yevgeny Ivanovich Opukhtin is running for candidate of the provincial marshal of the nobility!

There was a dead silence, and one weak old voice was heard:

Refused!

Court councillor, Pyotr Petrovich Bol, is running for office,” the voice began again.

Refused! came a shrill young voice. Again the same thing began, and again "refused". This went on for about an hour. Levin, leaning on the railing, watched and listened. At first he was surprised and wanted to understand what this meant; then, making sure that he could not understand this, he became bored. Then, remembering all the excitement and anger that he saw on all the faces, he became sad: he decided to leave and went downstairs. Passing through the entrance hall of the choir, he met a despondent high school student with watery eyes walking up and down. On the stairs he met a couple: a lady running fast in high heels, and an easy companion of the prosecutor.

I told you you wouldn't be late,' said the public prosecutor, while Levin stepped aside to let the lady through.

Levin was already on the exit stairs, and was taking out the numbers of his fur coat from his waistcoat pocket, when the secretary caught him. - Please, Konstantin Dmitritch, they are running.

Nevedovsky, who so resolutely refused, ran for the candidate.

Levin went up to the door in the hall: it was locked. The secretary knocked, the door opened, and two flushed landowners rushed towards Levin.

My urine is gone, - said one flushed landowner. Following the landowner, the face of the provincial marshal poked out. This face was terrifying with exhaustion and fear.

I told you not to let go! he called to the watchman.

I let you in, Your Excellency!

Lord, - and, sighing heavily, the provincial marshal, wearily sniffing in his white trousers, head down, went along the middle of the hall to the large table.

Nevedovsky was shifted, as it was calculated, and he was the provincial marshal. Many were cheerful, many were satisfied, happy, many were delighted, many were dissatisfied and unhappy. The provincial leader was in despair, which he could not hide. When Nevedovsky left the hall, the crowd surrounded him and enthusiastically followed him, just as they followed the governor who opened the elections on the first day, and just as they followed Snetkov when he was elected.

familiarity (French).

XXXI

The newly elected provincial marshal and many of the triumphant party of new ones dined that day at Vronsky's.

Vronsky came to the elections both because he was bored in the countryside and needed to declare his rights to freedom before Anna, and in order to repay Sviyazhsky with support in the elections for all his troubles for Vronsky in the Zemstvo elections, and most of all in order to to strictly fulfill all the duties of that position of nobleman and landowner, which he chose for himself. But he never expected that this matter of elections would occupy him so much, take him to the quick, and that he would be able to do this job so well. He was a completely new person in the circle of nobles, but apparently he was successful and was not mistaken in thinking that he had already gained influence among the nobles. His influence was facilitated by: his wealth and nobility; an excellent office in the city, which was given to him by an old acquaintance, Shirkov, who was engaged in financial affairs and established a prosperous bank in Kashin; Vronsky's excellent cook, brought from the village; friendship with the governor, who was a comrade and still a patronized comrade of Vronsky; and most of all - simple, equal relations to all, which very soon forced most of the nobles to change their minds about his imaginary pride. He himself felt that, besides this crazy gentleman, married to Kitty Shcherbatskaya, who à propos de bottes with ridiculous malice he told him a bunch of useless nonsense, every nobleman he met became his supporter. He clearly saw, and others admitted it, that he contributed a great deal to Nevedovsky's success. And now at his table, celebrating the choice of Nevedovsky, he experienced a pleasant feeling of triumph for his chosen one. The election itself so lured him that if he was married by the next three years, he himself thought about running, just like after winning a prize through a jockey, he wanted to ride himself.

Now the jockey's victory was being celebrated. Vronsky was seated at the head of the table; on his right hand sat the young governor, a general of the retinue. For everyone, this was the master of the province, who solemnly opened the elections, made a speech and aroused both respect and servility in some, as Vronsky saw; for Vronsky it was Katka Maslov - such was his nickname in the Corps of Pages - embarrassed before him, and whom Vronsky tried to mettre à son aise . On the left hand sat Nevedovsky with his young, unshakable and poisonous face. With him Vronsky was simple and respectful.

Sviyazhsky endured his failure cheerfully. It was not even a failure for him, as he himself said, turning to Nevedovsky with a glass: it was better not to find a representative of that new direction that the nobility should follow. And therefore everything honest, as he said, stood on the side of the current success and triumphed over it.

Stepan Arkadyevitch was also glad that he had had a good time and that everyone was happy. Over a wonderful dinner, episodes of the elections were moved. Sviyazhsky comically conveyed the tearful speech of the leader and remarked, turning to Nevedovsky, that his excellency would have to choose another, more complicated than tears, verification of sums. Another playful nobleman told how lackeys in stockings had been ordered for the provincial marshal's ball, and how now they would have to be sent back if the new provincial marshal did not give a ball with lackeys in stockings.

Incessantly during dinner, turning to Nevedovsky, they said to him: "our provincial leader" and "your excellency."

This was said with the same pleasure with which a young woman is called "madame" and by her husband's name. Nevedovsky pretended that he was not only indifferent, but also despised this title, but it was obvious that he was happy and was holding himself by the bridle so as not to express delight, not befitting the new, liberal environment in which everyone was.

During dinner, several telegrams were sent to people interested in the course of the elections. And Stepan Arkadyevich, who was very cheerful, sent Darya Alexandrovna a telegram with the following content: “Nevedovsky was chosen by twelve balls. Congratulations. Pass it on." He dictated it aloud, remarking: "We must please them." Darya Alexandrovna, having received the dispatch, only sighed about the ruble for the telegram and realized that it was at the end of dinner. She knew that Stiva had a weakness at the end of good "faire jouer le télégraphe" dinners. .

Everything was, together with an excellent dinner and wines not from Russian wine merchants, but directly bottled abroad, very noble, simple and fun. A circle of twenty people was selected by Sviyazhsky from like-minded, liberal, new figures, and at the same time witty and decent. They drank toasts, also half-joking, to the new provincial marshal, and to the governor, and to the director of the bank, and to "our amiable host."

Vronsky was pleased. He did not expect such a nice tone in the provinces.

At the end of the dinner it became even more fun. The governor asked Vronsky to go to a concert in favor of the brethren, which was arranged by his wife, who wanted to get to know him.

There will be a ball, and you will see our beauty. Really wonderful.

Not in my line answered Vronsky, who loved this expression, but smiled and promised to come.

Just before leaving the table, when everyone was smoking, Vronsky's valet approached him with a letter on a tray.

From Vozdvizhensky with a courier,” he said with a significant expression.

It's amazing how much he looks like Comrade Prosecutor Sventitsky," one of the guests said in French about the valet, while Vronsky, frowning, read the letter.

The letter was from Anna. Even before he read the letter, he already knew its contents. Assuming that the elections would end in five days, he promised to return on Friday. It was Saturday, and he knew that the contents of the letter were reproaches that he had not returned on time. The letter he sent last night probably hasn't gotten through yet.

The content was the same as he expected, but the form was unexpected and especially unpleasant to him. “Ani is very sick, the doctor said that there may be inflammation. I'm the only one losing my mind. Princess Varvara is not an assistant, but a hindrance. I have been waiting for you for the third day, yesterday and now I am sending you to find out where you are and what are you? I myself wanted to go, but changed my mind, knowing that it would be unpleasant for you. Give me some answer so I know what to do.

The child is sick, and she herself wanted to go. The daughter is sick, and this hostile tone.

This innocent merriment of the elections, and that gloomy, heavy love to which he was to return, struck Vronsky with their opposite. But he had to go, and he went by the first train, into the night, to his place.

none of that (French).

encourage (French).

misuse the telegraph (French).

Not in my line (English).

According to the level of influence on society, a journalist must be a researcher and a deep, intelligent person. But they don't pay for it, they pay for cheating. Unfortunately, a completely different approach still dominates the information services market: if you please.

Want! I can! Will!

This is the slogan I.I. Indinka, who unexpectedly resurfaced in the political field upon arrival in our city P.N. Grudinina.

In fact, Grudinin says the same thing. “They will choose me,” he declares, giving Sobchak flowers on March 8. And I have done this many times before. Probably, political technologists say so)) ...

I.I. The Indian has already begun to be forgotten. Reminds me of myself. Did he want to become mayor when the whole city was in banners, in stickers, declaring loudly about himself? Probably yes! Could he - a big question, which now no one can answer with certainty. But here “I will” was resolved simply - they didn’t choose, that is, they didn’t.

But now we are not talking about him, not about Indinka, but about how much it corresponds to “I want. I can. I will" to this or that applicant for this or that vacancy...

Do we have a culture of determining whether or not this or that applicant for the declared place fits or does not fit? When we use the services of Aeroflot, then a passenger who, after watching enough films, gets into his head, for example, offers his services or imposes his candidacy on others as a pilot, and declares: I want to, is unlikely to arouse enthusiasm.

But even in such a high-tech and understandable area, professionals still make mistakes, and planes crash (it happens that the pilots make mistakes, and the dispatcher, and the operation service), but no one comes to say to the pilot or dispatcher: "Let me steer!!!"

The consequences of the decisions of the managerial environment are incommensurable in their damage and do not always affect the minds as clearly as catastrophes ...

How to determine the possibilities of this or that person elected or appointed by someone for this or that position?

If earlier, in the days of the USSR, such an attempt was nevertheless made at Leningrad State University. Zhdanov, but, unfortunately, the Central Committee of the CPSU quickly curtailed and closed this program.

The result is clear and understandable to everyone - these managers destroyed the USSR. Have conclusions been drawn? It seems not. “I want, I can and I will” has not yet gone out of our lives - we actually see this to one degree or another in all branches of government, and to one degree or another it sounds in all the media during the elections for all candidates.

The media inflates the candidate like a huge soap bubble, endowing him with incredible qualities, even if you put it in the Guinness book, sometimes you even wonder what the candidate is like.

Wow, it's breathtaking!!! “Do not create an idol for yourself” - is forgotten during the elections, real abilities and knowledge are not of interest. Try to object to a believer in a candidate - and here is a religious war of idols ... But then time passes, the idol does not correspond to what they wrote about him, said, or what he said, and here and there you hear something similar to : "Crucify! To the Rack!!"

Was guilty or not - no one cares, part of the people participating in the elections, alas, is often like this ...

It is a pity that the Communist Party of the Russian Federation, as if the successor of the CPSU, and as if it once claimed a scientific approach, forgets about science and conscience and does the same thing, inflating its candidate with everything ...

Over the past thirty years, the Communist Party of the Russian Federation has not raised a single serious leader and leader in its ranks, since it was clearly not created for this. And here is my letter:

“I never understood the top of the Communist Party. Having such a strong party as it was thirty years ago, with the stubbornness of a maniac, it put forward one single one - the Host - Zyuganov, and has already lived to see a complete, outright betrayal of the country and people.
If a party does not grow a worthy political leader in its ranks (or rather, not one, but a dozen), who can really be a president, then this party is pseudo-political and was created for something else. , -
came the answer:

« The Communist Party in its current form is not a party. Of course, it is more like a party than the Liberal Democratic Party or the SR, but this is not the merit of Zyuganov. This is his omission. This speaks of the strength and vitality of the VKPB and the CPSU. Zyuganov has not been involved in politics for a long time. He is weak. It is a function - it stops the ideological left. Like the Liberal Democratic Party - stops ideological nationalists.

As for Zyuganov, sadly, his name justifies itself. Few people think about surnames, and earlier they carried sometimes stable characteristics, probably transmitted at the genetic level and manifested and marked with folk nicknames - sometimes they hit it painfully for sure.

The word "to yug" comes, as I found somewhere, from "to yuk", "to yuk" - like voicing, stunning. This word is in the dictionary of V.I. Dahl.

Cracking, drunkenness. Zyuk m. knock, break.

Rumor, hearing, speech. Zyuk go, go zyuk, Kaluga. Zyuzukat Kaluga. squirm burr, lisp, pronounce effervescent letters uncleanly.

Psk. chirp, sip wine. Zyuzyukane, lisping, zekanya. Zyuzit, drink, kulik;

Rumite, cry, burst into tears. Zyuzyuk, Zyulyuk about. zyuzyuk m. tul. tamb. burry, lisping. Zyuzya, zyuzila vol. a person is wet, soaked through in clothes, from under the water or from the rain;

Cry-baby, roar, rumble, tearful;

Drunk, pumped like a sponge; generally a drunkard, a drunkard; whose tongue, from hops, becomes stagnant;

Wretched person, bad; sluggish bastard. He's drunk as hell. Zuzya zyuzey. Wet like a zyuzya. Rolled in the mud, zyuzya zyuzey! Don't go ptrushi, there zyuzya! children's chickens. it's cold and wet outside. Eka zyuzya, nurses dismissed!

burst into tears. This is a zyuzya, a cloth language, you won’t understand it, burry. The rich man has money, that the zyuzi has dirt.

Zyuzya, among the Jews, a kind of domestic goddess, in the wall, a place in front of which they pray. Zyuznik m. plant. Lycopus. Zyushka ver. psk. ingot, pig, pig; slurry or slurry. Zyuzka Psk. zyutki donsk. calling nickname of pigs; zu, zu, zu! perm. yell at the pigs.

Before proceeding to the analysis - something for clarity and for mood.

For example, a small fragment about grandfather Shchukar from "Virgin Soil Upturned" by M.A. Sholokhov. About how he bought a horse for himself from gypsies ...An amusing story, perhaps with political overtones as well. It must be said that the first volume of the novel was published in 1932. And if we assume that many of the qualities that we sometimes see even now, the same stupidity of the masses and its individual representatives, Sholokhov decided to use it as a broadcast in a humorous form of larger phenomena. Why, for example, an educated person who knew the language well, suddenly in the story about the purchase of a horse by Shchukar writes “they cheated with the whole kahal”, and not “with the whole camp”?

And if you now look at how the image of some candidates in the election campaign, for example, the Communist Party of the Russian Federation and Zyuganov, are being inflated, then allegorical analogies can be clearly traced. We do not see critical, objective assessments, despite the fact that once it was in the Communist Party at the dawn of its creation that there were the most critical characteristics of its leaders, which were often given by V.I. Lenin.

Where did it go? With the advent of doxology in the CPSU and its leaders, this quality has gone and cannot be revived in any way?

Now, after the meetings held on the topic “Political subtexts of the novel “The Master and Margarita” and knowledge about the subtexts of Bulgakov’s novels by I.V. Stalin, you somehow look differently at M.A. Sholokhov. It is probably worth re-reading many other works by a number of authors who both knew and probably used the "Aesopian language". 31 Grandfather Shchukar enthusiastically accepted his appointment as a permanent coachman under the board of the collective farm. Entrusting him with two former kulak stallions left under the government for official traveling, Yakov Lukich said: - Watch them like gunpowder in the eye! So that you have them in your body, look - don’t drive too fast, don’t overtake. Here is this gray stallion Titkov - breeding, and red of good Don blood. Our ride is not very big, we will soon let them go to the uterus. You are responsible for them! - Say mercy! - answered grandfather Shchukar. “But don’t I know how to get along with horses?” I have already seen them in my lifetime. There is not as much hair on another head as it passed through my hands. But in fact, for the entire life of Shchukarev, "passed through his hands" only two horses. Moreover, he exchanged one of them for a cow, and the following story happened with the second. About twenty years ago, Shchukar, being very tipsy and returning from the Voiskovy farm, bought it from passing gypsies for thirty rubles. The filly, when he examined her at the time of purchase, was round in appearance, mousey, with a fold, with an eyesore, but very quick. Grandfather Shchukar bargained with the gypsy until noon. Forty times they beat their hands, dispersed, converged again. - Gold, not a filly! It jumps so that - close your eyes, and the earth will not be visible. Thinking! Bird! - the gypsies assured and swore, splashing with saliva, grabbing Shchukar, who was tired from fatigue, by the hem of his jacket. - Kutnykh teeth [kutny tooth - the last molar] are almost gone, the eye is crooked, the hooves are all tattered, droopy ... What kind of gold is there, burning tears, not gold! - Grandfather Shchukar reproached the horse, eagerly wishing that the gypsies would reduce the last ruble, because of which they diverged in price. - Yes, what do you need her teeth for? Eat less food. And the filly is young, God forbid. The child, not the filly, lost her teeth from an accidental illness. And what about her thorn to you? Yes, this is not a thorn, a shell! And the hooves will grow together, clean up ... The Siva filly is not very beautiful, but you can’t sleep with her, but plow on her, I’m telling you right! You take a closer look, why she is pot-bellied - from strength! Runs - the earth trembles, falls - lies for three days ... Oh, dad! You, apparently, want to buy a trotter for thirty coins? You can’t buy a live one, but if you die, they’ll give you a makhan for nothing ... Thank you, the gypsy turned out to be a man of a good soul: after bargaining, he reduced the last ruble, handed the halter to Shchukar from the floor in the floor, even pretended to sob, wiping his bright blue long-sleeved frock coat brown forehead. The filly lost its recent vivacity, as soon as the rein passed into the hands of Shchukar. She followed him, reluctantly obeying his extraordinary efforts, moving her clawed legs with difficulty. Only then did the gypsy laugh; baring solid and white as chalk teeth, shouted after Shchukar: - Hey, dad! Don Cossack! Remember my kindness! This horse has served me for forty years and will serve you the same, just feed it once a week, otherwise it will go crazy! .. My father came from Romania on it, and he got it from the French when they fled from Moscow. Dear horse! He was shouting something after Shchukar, who was dragging his purchase behind him; near the tent and between the legs of the gypsy, noisy and black as jackdaws, the gypsies yelled; the gypsies squealed and laughed. And grandfather Shchukar walked, not paying attention to anything, thinking good-naturedly: “I myself see what kind of belly I bought. If I had money, I wouldn’t grab it. We have a horse. On Sunday, we will rush to the village market with a woman. But before he could get to Tubyansky, miracles began to happen with the horse ... Accidentally looking around, Shchukar was dumbfounded: he was followed not by a pot-bellied and well-fed filly he had bought, but by a thin nag with a toned belly and deep pits near the rump. In just half an hour, she lost half her weight. Having made the sign of the cross and whispering: "Holy, holy, holy!" Pike dropped the reins from his hands, stopped, feeling how the hops were being removed from him as if with a hand. Only by walking around the filly, he discovered the reason for such an incredible speed of emaciation: from under the mare's hairy tail, thrown back God knows how shamelessly - to the side and upwards - stale air and liquid droppings of droppings escaped with a hiss, with a hiss. "Well, that's it - yes!" - Shchukar gasped, clutching his head. And then, with tenfold strength, he dragged the filly, clinging to the halter. The volcanic eruption of her stomach did not stop until Tubyansky itself, shameful traces remained along the way. Maybe Shchukar would have reached Gremyachiy Log safely if he had led the horse, but as soon as he reached the first yard of the Tubyansky farm, where his godfather lived and there were many Cossacks he knew, he decided to ride the horse he had bought and at least step, but go, and not pull it in the reins. Unprecedented pride suddenly awoke in him and the desire, usually always characteristic of him, to brag, to show that he, Shchukar, now got out of the poor and rides even on a bad, but on his own horse. "Trrr, damn it! You should have played everything!" shouted Shchukar ferociously, seeing out of the corner of his eye that a familiar Cossack was coming out of the hut in front of which he had stopped. And with these words, he pulled the halter, drew himself up. His horse, which played and bucked, probably even in its distant childhood, in fact did not even think of playing. She stopped with her head bowed, her hind legs tucked up. "You should drive past your godfather. Let him have a look!" - thought Shchukar, and with that, jumping up, he fell with his belly on the sharp stalk of the horse's back. It was then that something happened to him that the Cossacks in Tubyanskoye later talked about for a long time: it was at this place that Shchukar suffered an unheard-of disgrace, the legend of which has survived to this day and will certainly pass to the next offspring ... As soon as Shchukar's legs pushed off from the ground, and he himself hung on the mare, lying across her back and trying to sit on horseback, as the mare swayed, something rumbled in her insides, and as she stood, she collapsed onto the road, throwing back her tail. hands, flew across the road, flattened himself on a dusty roadside.In a fever, he jumped up and, seeing that the Cossack saw his shame, corrected the matter with a cry: Sho-o-ort!" - he yelled, kicking the horse with his feet. She stood up and, as if nothing had happened, stretched her muzzle towards the withered roadside. "Good health, Shchukar! No way, did you buy a horse?" - "I bought it, but I missed the crumbs, I was stubborn, the devil, I got caught: you sit on it, and she - clap and land. It looks like she didn’t go under the horseback, unbroken.” The Cossack, narrowing his eyes, walked around the filly a couple of times, casually looked into her teeth, said quite seriously: “Well, of course, she’s an idiot! And the horse, you see, of noble blood. She is fifty years old in the teeth, no less, but because she is noble, and no one could cope with her. did you lose weight so soon? I lead her, and she melts right before our eyes; the spirit of the chizholy is torn from it and the litter jumps out, as if from an abyss. I followed it all the way!" - "Where did you buy it? Not with the gypsies?" - "They, at the same time, there was a camp behind your farm." - "Well, she became thin because of that," explained the Cossack, who knew both horses and gypsies, "that they had her before selling you, fooled. Which horse, from old age, will surpass in thinness, before selling it, a perforated reed is built into its anus and blown in turn with the whole kagal until it blows its sides and it becomes round and pot-bellied. And then, when they inflate it like a bull’s bladder, they immediately pull out the reed and put a rag smeared with resin or a piece of pochitka in its place so that the spirit does not come out. So you bought such an inflated one. The gag must have fallen out on the road, and your filly began to lose weight ... Come back, look for a gag ... We'll inflate it again in a moment ... "-" Damn them! Shchukar and rushed to the gypsy camp, but, jumping out on a hillock, found that there were no more tents or wagons near the river. Where there was a camp, the blue smoke of an unextinguished fire crawled, and in the distance, along the summer path, gray dust curled and melted in the wind. The gypsies disappeared like in a fairy tale. Shchukar cried, returned. Dear Ignat Porfiryevich again left the hut. “I’ll crawl under her so that she doesn’t fall again ... from dashing, and you sit down,” he suggested. Wet with shame, grief and sweat, Shchukar accepted his service, somehow sat down. But his misfortunes were not yet destined to end: this time the mare did not fall, but she turned out to have an absolutely incredible gallop. She, as in a gallop, threw her front legs forward, and bucked her hind legs, raising them above her back. In this manner she carried Pike to the first alley. During this frenzied gallop, his hat fell off his head, and four times, from terrible concussions, something inside was shivering and seemed to break off. "My God! It's unthinkable to ride like that! .." - decided Shchukar, dismounting at a gallop. He returned for a hat, but, seeing that people were hurrying along the alley towards him, he hurried back himself, led the ill-fated mare, who had shown such unexpected agility, behind the farm. Before the windmill, children accompanied him, then they fell behind. And Shchukar no longer dared to sit on the gypsy "thought" again, he traveled far around the farm along the hillock, but on the hillock he got tired of pulling the halter and decided to drive the mare in front of him. And then it turned out that the horse he had bought with such difficulty was blind in both eyes. She walked, heading straight for the brights and grooves, and did not jump over them, but fell, then, leaning on her trembling front legs, got up, sighing heavily, walked again, and walked not usually, but all the time describing circles ... Shchukar, shocked by the new discovery, gave her complete freedom and saw: his filly, having completed the circle, began a new one - and so without stopping, in an invisible spiral. At this point, Shchukar, without outside help, guessed that the horse he had bought spent all his long and difficult life in a chigir, having become blind there and grown old. Until dusk, he pastured the mare on a hillock, ashamed to come to the farm during the day, and only at night did he drive her home. How his wife met him, a stout woman and fierce for reprisals, which the puny Shchukar suffered for his unsuccessful purchase - "covered with unknown darkness," as the shoemaker Lokateev, who was friends with Shchukar at that time, said. It is only known that the mare soon fell ill with scabies, peeled off and, in such an unsightly form, quietly rested on the base one day at midnight. And Shchukar and his friend Lokateev drank the skin. Assuring Yakov Lukich that he, grandfather Shchukar, had seen a lot of horses in his lifetime, grandfather Shchukar obviously knew that Yakov Lukich could not believe him, since Shchukar's entire life had passed before Yakov Lukich's eyes. But such was Grandfather Shchukar by nature: he could not help boasting and not lying. An uncontrollable force forced him to say things that in a few minutes he would gladly renounce. In a word, grandfather Shchukar became a coachman and a groom at the same time. And I must say that he performed his simple duties well. The only thing that Nagulnov, who loved fast driving, did not like about him was frequent stops. He will not have time to leave the yard and is already pulling the reins: "Whoa, dear!" - "What has become?" - Ask Nagulnov. "For a horse's need," grandfather Shchukar will answer and whistle the call sign until Nagulnov pulls the whip out from under his seat and pulls the stallion along the back. “No, it’s not tsarist times, so that the coachman is on the irradiation, and the rider is pumped out on the back on a soft pillow. No, I’m the coachman, and I’m sitting next to Comrade Davydov on the droshky. “I’ll fix it.” “With our pleasure,” he says. He takes the reins and sometimes rules for an hour, and I sit importantly and take an interest in nature, Grandfather Shchukar boasted to the Cossacks. He became important in appearance and even less talkative. To sleep, despite spring frosts, he went to the stable, closer to the stallions, but the old woman took him home a week later, severely beating and scolding him publicly for allegedly going to grandfather Shchukar at night young women. slander, but he did not argue with her, went home and twice a night went to see the stallions, escorted by his jealous wife.He learned to harness so quickly that he competed in speed with Gremyachny fire brigade, and, leading out to harness, pacifying the stagnant, cackling stallions, invariably shouted loudly: “But-but-oh-oh! Zirzhal, short! .. He is not a mare, but a flower like you!” And when he finished the harness and sat on the drogs, he said smugly: “Well, let’s go, and I’ll earn a stick [in 1930, the working day was usually marked with a “stick” in the foreman’s notes (author’s note)]. This life, brothers, began a hefty Like!"