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Rudin — обложка книги
Дата написания1970-01-01
Язык книгиde
Язык оригиналаru
Возрастное ограничение0+

Описание

Рудин, интеллектуал, живёт в доме Дары Михайловны, привлекает внимание соседей, учит Наталью, пишет письмо о своих чувствах, уходит, встречается с Лежневым, обсуждает неудачные проекты, и в конце погибает в Париже во время подавления восстания.

Главный конфликт / проблема

Внутренний конфликт Рудина между желанием быть признанным и невозможностью реализовать свои чувства к Наталье

Ключевые идеи

  • Рудин как центр влияния и источник философских размышлений
  • Внутренний конфликт Рудина между любовью к Наталье и невозможностью реализовать её
  • Проблема несоответствия личных амбиций и общественных ожиданий
  • Судьба и смерть как неизбежный итог неудач и разочарований

Вывод

Книга показывает, как стремление к идеалам и внутренние противоречия могут привести к трагическому завершению, подчёркивая неизбежность судьбы.

Кому полезна

  • Любители русской классической литературы
  • Читатели, интересующиеся психологическими портретами
  • Историки
  • Студенты литературы

Главные темы

  • Поиск смысла и самоопределения
  • Трагическая судьба и неизбежность

Персонажи

  • Рудин — Обладает яркой манерой речи, философскими размышлениями и эмоциональной открытостью. Влияет на всех присутствующих, особенно на Наталью.
  • Дара Михайловна — Владелица дома, где живёт Рудин. Старается управлять хозяйством, поддерживать порядок и переживает за его судьбу.
  • Наталья — Становится ученицей и возлюбленной Рудина, но испытывает внутренний конфликт.
  • Пигасов — Недоволен присутствием Рудина и выражает недовольство.
  • Вольинцев — Завидует Рудину и испытывает к нему недовольство.
  • Лежневый — Скептически относится к Рудину, но поддерживает его в трудные времена.

Цитаты

  • «Любовь! все это таинство в любви; как она приходит, как развивается, как исчезает.»
  • «Я люблю тебя! и как я мог долго не знать, что люблю тебя?»
  • "Я решил уйти, прежде чем меня просят уйти. Я хочу прекратить все трудности, и никто не будет меня жалеть."
  • "Свобода, мой друг Санчо, одна из самых драгоценных вещей человека."

Сводка по автору из Wikidata

1818–1883. 伊万·谢尔盖耶维奇·屠格涅夫. русский писатель, поэт, публицист, драматург и переводчик (1818—1883)

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'Oh, yes; and only fancy, he is married to a peasant woman, who, they say, beats him.'

'Serve him right! And Natalya Alexyevna—is she well?'

'Yes.'

'Is she happy?'

'Yes.'

Rudin was silent for a little.

'What was I talking about?... Oh yes! about the professor of mathematics. He perfectly hated me; he compared my lectures to fireworks, pounced upon every expression of mine that was not altogether clear, once even put me to confusion over some monument of the sixteenth century.... But the most important thing was, he suspected my intentions; my last soap-bubble struck on him as on a spike, and burst. The inspector, whom I had not got on with from the first, set the director against me. A scene followed. I was not ready to give in; I got hot; the matter came to the knowledge of the authorities; I was forced to resign. I did not stop there; I wanted to prove that they could not treat me like that.... But they could treat me as they liked.... Now I am forced to leave the town.'

A silence followed. Both the friends sat with bowed heads.

Rudin was the first to speak.

'Yes, brother,' he began, 'I can say now, in the words of Koltsov, "Thou hast led me astray, my youth, till there is nowhere I can turn my steps."... And yet can it be that I was fit for nothing, that for me there was, as it were, no work on earth to do? I have often put myself this question, and, however much I tried to humble myself in my own eyes, I could not but feel the existence of faculties within me which are not given to every one! Why have these faculties remained fruitless? And let me say more; you know, when I was with you abroad, Mihail, I was conceited and full of erroneous ideas.... Certainly I did not then realise clearly what I wanted; I lived upon words, and believed in phantoms. But now, I swear to you, I could speak out before all men every desire I feel. I have absolutely nothing to hide; I am absolutely, in the fullest meaning of the word, a well-intentioned man. I am humble, I am ready to adapt myself to circumstances; I want little; I want to do the good that lies nearest, to be even a little use. But no! I never succeed. What does it mean? What hinders me from living and working like others?... I am only dreaming of it now. But no sooner do I get into any definite position when fate throws the dice from me. I have come to dread it—my destiny.... Why is it so? Explain this enigma to me!'

'An enigma!' repeated Lezhnyov. 'Yes, that's true; you have always been an enigma for me. Even in our young days, when, after some trifling prank, you would suddenly speak as though you were pierced to the heart, and then you would begin again... well you know what I mean... even then I did not understand. That is why I grew apart from you.... You have so much power, such unwearying striving after the ideal.'

'Words, all words! There was nothing done!' Rudin broke in.

'Nothing done! What is there to do?'

'What is there to do! To keep an old blind woman and all her family by one's work, as, do you remember, Mihail, Pryazhentsov did... That's doing something.'

'Yes, but a good word—is also something done.'

Rudin looked at Lezhnyov without speaking and faintly shook his head.

Lezhnyov wanted to say something, and he passed his hand over his face.

'And so you are going to your country place?' he asked at last

'Yes.'

'There you have some property left?'

'Something is left me there. Two souls and a half. It is a corner to die in. You are thinking perhaps at this moment: "Even now he cannot do without fine words!" Words indeed have been my ruin; they have consumed me, and to the end I cannot be free of them. But what I have said was not mere words. These white hairs, brother, these wrinkles, these ragged elbows—they are not mere words. You have always been hard on me, Mihail, and you were right; but now is not a time to be hard, when all is over, when there's no oil left in the lamp, and the lamp itself is broken, and the wick is just smouldering out. Death, brother, should reconcile at last...'

Lezhnyov jumped up.

'Rudin!' he cried, 'why do you speak like that to me? How have I deserved it from you? Am I such a judge, and what kind of a man should I be, if at the sight of your hollow cheeks and wrinkles, "mere words" could occur to my mind? Do you want to know what I think of you, Dmitri? Well! I think: here is a man—with his abilities, what might he not have attained to, what worldly advantages might he not have possessed by now, if he had liked!... and I meet him hungry and homeless....'

'I rouse your compassion,' Rudin murmured in a choked voice.

'No, you are wrong. You inspire respect in me—that is what I feel. Who prevented you from spending year after year at that landowner's, who was your friend, and who would, I am fully persuaded, have made provision for you, if you had only been willing to humour him? Why could you not live harmoniously at the gymnasium, why have you—strange man!—with whatever ideas you have entered upon an undertaking, infallibly every time ended by sacrificing your personal interests, ever refusing to take root in any but good ground, however profitable it might be?'

'I was born a rolling stone,' Rudin said, with a weary smile. 'I cannot stop myself.'

'That is true; but you cannot stop, not because there is a worm gnawing you, as you said to me at first.... It is not a worm, not the spirit of idle restlessness—it is the fire of the love of truth that burns in you, and clearly, in spite of your failings; it burns in you more hotly than in many who do not consider themselves egoists and dare to call you a humbug perhaps. I, for one, in your place should long ago have succeeded in silencing that worm in me, and should have given in to everything; and you have not even been embittered by it, Dmitri. You are ready, I am sure, to-day, to set to some new work again like a boy.'

'No, brother, I am tired now,' said Rudin. 'I have had enough.'

'Tired! Any other man would have been dead long ago. You say that death reconciles; but does not life, don't you think, reconcile? A man who has lived and has not grown tolerant towards others does not deserve to meet with tolerance himself. And who can say he does not need tolerance? You have done what you could, Dmitri... you have struggled so long as you could... what more? Our paths lay apart,'...

'You were utterly different from me,' Rudin put in with a sigh.

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