Grigory Pechorin from the novel by M. Yu
Maxim Maksimych about Pechorin:
“He was a nice guy, I dare to assure you; just a little strange. After all, for example, in the rain, in the cold, hunting all day; everyone will be cold and tired - but nothing to him. And another time he sits in his room, smells the wind, assures him that he has a cold; the shutter knocks, he shudders and turns pale; and with me he went to hunt wild boar one on one; It happened that you wouldn’t get the word out for hours at a time, but sometimes when he started talking, you’d burst your stomach with laughter...”
Pechorina achieves Bela by any means. Having conceived the “last” means to conquer Bela, Pechorin no longer understands what is good, what is bad, what is lies and manipulation, and what is the truth:
“I am guilty before you and must punish myself; goodbye, I'm going - where? why do I know? Perhaps I won’t be chasing a bullet or a saber strike for long; then remember me and forgive me.” “He turned away and extended his hand to her in farewell. She did not take her hand, she was silent... Without hearing the answer, Pechorin took a few steps towards the door; he was trembling - and should I tell you? I think he was able to actually fulfill what he was talking about jokingly. That’s the kind of man he was, God knows!”
Subsequently, Pechorin justifies his cooling towards Bela by the characteristics of his personality:
“I was wrong again: the love of a savage is few better than love noble lady; the ignorance and simple-heartedness of one are just as annoying as the coquetry of the other. If you want, I still love her, I am grateful to her for a few rather sweet minutes, I would give my life for her, but I’m bored with her... Am I a fool or a villain, I don’t know; but it is true that I am also very worthy of regret, perhaps more than she: my soul is spoiled by light, my imagination is restless, my heart is insatiable; I can’t get enough of it: I get used to sadness just as easily as to pleasure, and my life becomes emptier day by day...”
The old man can express briefly and simply the impression that Pechorin makes on Maxim Maksimych:
“Only Grigory Alexandrovich, despite the heat and fatigue, did not want to return without booty, that’s the kind of man he was: whatever he thinks, give it to him; apparently, as a child he was spoiled by his mother...
And this is the impression Pechorin makes on the author:
“When he sat down on the bench, his straight body bent, as if he didn’t have a single bone in his back; the position of his whole body depicted some kind of nervous weakness: he sat as Balzac’s thirty-year-old coquette sits on her downy chairs after a tiring ball. There was something childish in his smile..."
Pechorin constantly gets involved in other people’s destinies, without asking and to no avail:
“I felt sad. And why did fate throw me into the peaceful circle of honest smugglers? Like a stone thrown into a smooth spring, I disturbed their calm and, like a stone, I almost sank to the bottom!...”
Pechorin’s communication with Grushnitsky, seemingly friendly, contains a whole river of undercurrents:
“I lied; but I wanted to annoy him. I have an innate passion for contradiction; my whole life was just a chain of sad and unsuccessful contradictions to my heart or reason. The presence of an enthusiast fills me with a baptismal chill, and I think frequent intercourse with a sluggish phlegmatic person would make me a passionate dreamer.”
Pechorin claims that he is incapable of friendship and characterizes his relationship with Dr. Werner as follows:
“We soon understood each other and became friends, because I am incapable of friendship: of two friends, one is always the slave of the other, although often neither of them admits this to himself; I cannot be a slave, and in this case commanding is tedious work, because at the same time I must deceive; and besides, I have lackeys and money!..."
Pechorin believes that indifference and weariness from life are inherent in all smart people, and not just him:
"Look, there are two of us smart people; We know in advance that we can argue about everything ad infinitum, and therefore we don’t argue... Sad things are funny to us, funny things are sad, but in general, to be honest, we are quite indifferent to everything except ourselves.”
Nevertheless, in the soul of Grigory Pechorin there are echoes of all the feelings, bright and strong, that he has ever experienced:
“There is no person in the world over whom the past would acquire such power as it does over me: every reminder of past sadness or joy painfully strikes my soul and draws out the same sounds from it... I was created stupidly: I don’t forget anything, nothing! »
Pechorin once became disillusioned with love:
“Yes, I have already passed that period of spiritual life when one seeks only happiness, when the heart feels the need to love someone strongly and passionately - now I just want to be loved...”
His personal life is unhappy, it did not work out, despite numerous love stories and novels:
“However, it has always been strange to me: I have never become a slave to the woman I love; on the contrary, I always acquired invincible power over their will and heart, without even trying to do so. Why is this? - Is it because I never value anything very much and that they were constantly afraid to let me out of their hands? or is it the magnetic influence of a strong organism? Or have I just never met a woman with a stubborn character?
Nevertheless, Pechorin continues to deliberately attract people, including women. He gets involved in adventures, intrigues, dangers and confrontations, love stories with an unhappy ending:
“I feel this insatiable greed within me, devouring everything that comes my way; I look at the sufferings and joys of others only in relation to myself, as food that supports my spiritual strength... My first pleasure is to subordinate to my will everything that surrounds me; to arouse feelings of love, devotion and fear - isn’t this the first sign and the greatest triumph of power?
Pechorin understands happiness this way:
“What is happiness? Intense pride. If I considered myself better, more powerful than everyone else in the world, I would be happy; if everyone loved me, I would find endless sources of love in myself..."
Intentionally, in order to please his pride by falling in love with the young girl Mary, Pechorin experiences the following feelings:
“I walked slowly; I was sad... Was it really, I thought, that my only purpose on earth was to destroy other people’s hopes? Since I have been living and acting, fate has somehow always led me to the outcome of other people's dramas, as if without me no one could die or despair! I was the necessary face of the fifth act; I unwittingly played the pathetic role of an executioner or a traitor.”
But the evil demon pushes the hero to continue the game:
“She will spend the night awake and cry. This thought gives me immense pleasure: there are moments when I understand the Vampire... And I am also known as a kind fellow and achieve this title!”
Before the duel with Grushnitsky, Pechorin sums up his life, in case it ends in a duel:
“I run through my entire past in my memory and involuntarily ask myself: why did I live? For what purpose was I born?.. And, it’s true, it existed, and, it’s true, I had a high purpose, because I feel immense powers in my soul... But I didn’t guess this purpose, I was carried away by the lures of empty and ungrateful passions; I came out of their crucible hard and cold as iron, but I lost forever the ardor of noble aspirations - the best light of life. And since then, how many times have I played the role of an ax in the hands of fate! Like an instrument of execution, I fell on the heads of the doomed victims, often without malice, always without regret... My love did not bring happiness to anyone, because I did not sacrifice anything for those I loved: I loved for myself, for my own pleasure: I only satisfied a strange need of the heart, greedily absorbing their feelings, their joys and sufferings - and could never get enough..."
Pechorin soberly understands what a dangerous person he is for others:
“For a long time now I have been living not with my heart, but with my head. I weigh and examine my own passions and actions with strict curiosity, but without participation. There are two people in me: one lives in the full sense of the word, the other thinks and judges it...”
Pechorin
PECHORIN - main character the novel by M.Yu. Lermontov “A Hero of Our Time” (1838-1840). Contemporaries, including Belinsky, largely identified P. with Lermontov. Meanwhile, it was important for the author to distance himself from his hero. According to Lermontov, P. is a portrait made up of the vices of an entire generation - “in their full development.” It is quite understandable why “P. Magazine” for Lermontov it is “someone else’s work.” If not the best, then its central part are diary entries P., entitled “Princess Mary”. Nowhere does P. so correspond to the image revealed by the author in the preface. “Princess Mary” appeared later than all the other stories. The preface that Lermontov wrote for the second edition of the novel is primarily associated with this story with its critical acuity. The hero whom he introduces to the reader is exactly the same P. as he is shown on the pages of “Princess Mary”. The critical pathos of the last period of Lermontov's life manifested itself especially clearly in this story. The character of the main character was obviously influenced by the different times in which the stories were written. Lermontov's consciousness changed very quickly. His hero also changed. P. in “Princess Mary” is no longer quite the same as what appears first in “Bel”, then in “Fatalist”. At the end of work on the novel P.
acquired the expressiveness that was supposed to complete the promised portrait. Indeed, in “Princess Mary” he appears in the most unsightly light. Of course, this is a strong-willed, deep, demonic nature. But this way it can only be perceived through the eyes of the young Princess Mary and Grushnitsky, blinded by him. He imitates P. unnoticed by himself, which is why he is so vulnerable and funny for P. Meanwhile, even this Grushnitsky, a nonentity, in P.’s opinion, arouses in him a feeling of envy. And at the same time, how much courage P. showed at the climax of the duel, knowing that his own pistol was not loaded. P. really shows miracles of endurance. And the reader is already lost: who is he, this hero of our time? The intrigue came from him, and when the victim got confused, it was as if he was not to blame.
P. is called strange man all the characters in the novel. Lermontov paid a lot of attention to human oddities. In P. he summarizes all his observations. P.’s strangeness seems to elude definition, which is why the opinions of those around him are polar. He is envious, angry, cruel. At the same time, he is generous, sometimes kind, that is, capable of succumbing to good feelings, nobly protects the princess from the encroachments of the crowd. He is impeccably honest with himself, smart. P. is a talented writer. Lermontov attributes the wonderful “Taman” to his careless pen, generously sharing the best part of his soul with the hero. As a result, readers seem to get used to excusing a lot of things”, and not noticing some things at all. Belinsky defends P. and actually justifies him, since “in his very vices something great glimmers.” But all the critic’s arguments skim on the surface of Pechorin’s character. Illustrating the words of Maxim Maximych: “A nice fellow, I dare to assure you, he’s only a little strange...”, Lermontov looks at his hero as an exceptional phenomenon, so the original title of the novel - “One of the heroes of our century” - was discarded. In other words, P. cannot be confused with anyone, especially with the poet himself, as I. Annensky categorically formulated: “Pechorin - Lermontov.” A.I. Herzen, speaking on behalf of the “Lermontov” generation, argued that P. expressed “the real sorrow and fragmentation of Russian life at that time, the sad fate of an extra, lost person.” Herzen put P.'s name here with the same ease with which he would have written the name of Lermontov.
The hero goes through the entire book and remains unrecognized. A man without a heart - but his tears are hot, the beauty of nature intoxicates him. He does bad things, but only because they are expected of him. He kills the person he slandered, and before that the first one offers him peace. Expressing multiple traits, P. is in fact exceptional. Anyone can do bad things. To recognize oneself as an executioner and a traitor is not given to everyone. The role of the ax that P. recognizes among people is not a euphemism at all, not a veiled world sorrow. It is impossible to make allowances for the fact that this was stated in the diary. Confessing, P. is horrified by his “pathetic” role of being an indispensable participant in the last act of a comedy or tragedy, but there is not a shadow of repentance in these words. All his complaints are reminiscent of the “pathetic” style of Ivan the Terrible, lamenting over his next victim. The comparison does not seem exaggerated. P.'s goal is undivided power over others. All the more insistently he emphasizes that he suffers from boredom and is “very worthy of regret.” The poet of Lermontov's school, Ap. Grigoriev, tried to poeticize and develop Pechorin's boredom, and the result was Moscow melancholy with gypsy guitars. P. says directly that he is bored - his life is “emptier day by day,” he says, as if in tune with the tyrant who calls himself a “stinking dog.” Of course, P.’s victims are not so bloody; they are primarily destroyed morally. The decoding of the idea of the hero of our time must be sought in individual demonism: “The collection of evils is his element.” Lermontov placed the thirst for power, which destroys personality, at the forefront of Pechorin’s worldview. Of course, this is only outlined by Lermontov, and that is why his hero does not have sharp outlines. There is nothing predatory about him, on the contrary, there is a lot of feminine. Nevertheless, Lermontov had every reason to call P. a hero of the future. It’s not that scary that P. sometimes “understands the vampire.” For P., a field of activity has already been found: the philistine environment, in fact, is this field - the environment of dragoon captains, princesses, romantic phrase-mongers - the most favorable soil for cultivating all kinds of “gardener-executioners”. This will be exactly what Lermontov called the complete development of vices. To crave power and find the highest pleasure in it is not at all the same as involuntarily destroying the life of “honest” smugglers. This is the evolution of P.’s image from “Bela” and “Taman” to “Princess Mary”. When Belinsky admires the sparks of greatness of P.’s vices, he thereby, as it were, strives to cleanse his image from petty interpretations. After all, P. so picturesquely likens himself to a sailor born and raised on the deck of a robber brig. In this reading, P. is bad because the others are even worse. Belinsky softens Pechorin's features, not noticing the question asked by the hero to himself: “Is evil really so attractive?” The attractiveness of evil - this is how Lermontov accurately described the disease of his century.
P.’s image is not painted with just black paint. In the end, P lost his worse half. He is like a man from a fairy tale who has lost his shadow. Therefore, Lermontov did not turn P. into a vampire, but left him as a man capable of even composing “Taman”. It was this man, so similar to Lermontov, who obscured P.’s shadow. And it is no longer possible to make out whose steps are heard on the flinty path. Lermontov sketched a portrait consisting not of vices, but of contradictions. And most importantly, he made it clear that the thirst that this man suffers cannot be quenched from a well with mineral water. Destructive for everyone except himself, P. is like Pushkin’s anchar. It is difficult to imagine him among the yellowing fields, in the Russian landscape. It is increasingly somewhere in the east - the Caucasus, Persia.
Grigory Pechorin is the main character of the novel. A unique personality that no one has been able to fully understand. Such heroes are found in every time. Any reader will be able to recognize himself in him with all the vices characteristic of people and the desire to change the world.
The image and characterization of Pechorin in the novel “A Hero of Our Time” will help you understand what kind of person he really is. How the long-term influence of the surrounding world was able to leave its mark on the depth of character, turning the complex inner world of the main character upside down.
Pechorin's appearance
Looking at a young, handsome man, it is difficult to determine how old he really is. According to the author, no more than 25, but sometimes it seemed that Gregory was already over 30. Women liked him.
“...he was generally very handsome and had one of those original physiognomies that are especially popular with secular women...”
Slim. Superbly built. Athletic build.
“...of medium height, his slender, thin figure and broad shoulders proved his strong build...”
Blond. The hair was slightly curled. Dark mustache and eyebrows. When meeting him, everyone paid attention to his eyes. When Pechorin smiled, the gaze of his brown eyes remained cold.
"...they didn't laugh when he laughed..."
It was rare that anyone could bear his gaze; he was too heavy and unpleasant for his interlocutor.
The nose is slightly turned up. Snow-white teeth.
“...a slightly upturned nose, dazzling white teeth...”
The first wrinkles have already appeared on the forehead. Pechorin's gait is imposing, slightly lazy, careless. The hands, despite the strong figure, seemed small. The fingers are long, thin, characteristic of aristocrats.
Gregory dressed immaculately. The clothes are expensive, clean, well ironed. Pleasant aroma of perfume. The boots are cleaned to a shine.
Gregory's character
Gregory's appearance completely reflects the inner state of his soul. Everything he does is imbued with a precise sequence of steps, cold prudence, through which emotions and feelings sometimes try to break through. Fearless and reckless, somewhere weak and defenseless, like a child. It is entirely created from continuous contradictions.
Grigory promised himself that he would never show his real face, forbidding him to show any feelings for anyone. He was disappointed in people. When he was real, without guile and pretense, they could not understand the depth of his soul, accusing him of non-existent vices and making claims.
“...everyone read on my face signs of bad feelings that were not there; but they were anticipated - and they were born. I was modest - I was accused of guile: I became secretive. I felt good and evil deeply; no one caressed me, everyone insulted me: I became vindictive; I was gloomy, - other children were cheerful and talkative; I felt superior to them - they put me lower. I became envious. I was ready to love the whole world, but no one understood me: and I learned to hate...”
Pechorin is constantly searching for himself. He rushes about, looking for the meaning of life, and does not find it. Rich and educated. A nobleman by birth, he is used to hanging out in high society, but he doesn’t like that kind of life. Gregory considered her empty and worthless. A good expert on female psychology. I could figure out each one and understand from the first minutes of the conversation what it was. Exhausted and devastated by social life, he tried to delve into science, but soon realized that power does not lie in knowledge, but in dexterity and luck.
Boredom was eating away at the man. Pechorin hoped that the melancholy would go away during the war, but he was wrong. Caucasian War brought another disappointment. Lack of demand in life led Pechorin to actions that defied explanation and logic.
Pechorin and love
The only woman he loved was Vera. He was ready for anything for her, but they were not destined to be together. Vera is a married woman.
Those rare meetings that they could afford compromised them too much in the eyes of others. The woman was forced to leave the city. It was not possible to catch up with my beloved. He only drove the horse to death in an attempt to stop and bring her back.
Pechorin did not take other women seriously. They are a cure for boredom, nothing more. Pawns in a game where he set the rules. Boring and uninteresting creatures made him even more despondent.
Attitude towards death
Pechorin is firmly convinced that everything in life is predetermined. But this does not mean that you need to sit and wait for death. We must move forward, and she herself will find the one she needs.
“...I like to doubt everything. I always go forward when I don't know what awaits me. Since there is nothing worse than death, and it can happen - and death cannot be avoided!..”
Pechorin – main character novel by M.Yu. Lermontov "Hero of Our Time". One of the most famous characters in Russian classics, whose name has become a household name. The article provides information about the character from the work, quotation description.
Full name
Grigory Alexandrovich Pechorin.
His name was... Grigory Alexandrovich Pechorin. He was a nice guy
Age
Once, in the fall, a transport with provisions arrived; there was an officer in the transport, a young man of about twenty-five
Relation to other characters
Pechorin treated almost everyone around him with disdain. The only exceptions are , whom Pechorin considered his equal, and female characters, which aroused some feelings in him.
Pechorin's appearance
A young man of about twenty-five. A striking feature is the eyes that never laugh.
He was of average height; his slender, thin figure and broad shoulders proved a strong build, capable of enduring all the difficulties of a nomad; his dusty velvet frock coat, fastened only by the bottom two buttons, made it possible to see his dazzlingly clean linen, revealing the habits of a decent man; his stained gloves seemed deliberately tailored to his small aristocratic hand, and when he took off one glove, I was surprised at the thinness of his pale fingers. His gait was careless and lazy, but I noticed that he did not wave his arms - a sure sign of some secretiveness of character. When he sat down on the bench, his straight waist bent, as if he didn’t have a single bone in his back; the position of his whole body depicted some kind of nervous weakness: he sat like Balzac’s thirty-year-old coquette sits. At first glance at his face, I would not have given him more than twenty-three years, although after that I was ready to give him thirty. There was something childish in his smile. His skin had a certain feminine tenderness; his blond hair, naturally curly, so picturesquely outlined his pale, noble forehead, on which, only after long observation, one could notice traces of wrinkles. Despite light color his hair, his mustache and eyebrows were black - a sign of the breed in a person, just like the black mane and black tail of a white horse. He had a slightly upturned nose, dazzling white teeth and brown eyes; I must say a few more words about the eyes.
First of all, they didn't laugh when he laughed! This is a sign of either an evil disposition or deep, constant sadness. Because of the half-lowered eyelashes, they shone with some kind of phosphorescent shine. It was the shine of steel, dazzling, but cold; his gaze - short, but penetrating and heavy, left the unpleasant impression of an indiscreet question and could have seemed impudent if he had not been so indifferently calm. In general, he was very handsome and had one of those original faces that are especially popular with secular women.
Social status
An officer exiled to the Caucasus for some bad story, possibly a duel.
Once, in the fall, a transport with provisions arrived; there was an officer in the transport
I explained to them that I was an officer, I was going to an active detachment for official business.
And what do I care about human joys and misfortunes, me, a traveling officer?
I said your name... She knew it. It seems your story has caused a lot of noise there...
At the same time, a wealthy aristocrat from St. Petersburg.
strong build... not defeated by the debauchery of metropolitan life
and besides, I have lackeys and money!
they looked at me with tender curiosity: the St. Petersburg cut of the frock coat misled them
I noticed to her that she must have met you in St. Petersburg, somewhere in the world...
empty travel stroller; its easy movement, convenient design and smart appearance had some kind of foreign imprint.
Further fate
Died while returning from Persia.
I recently learned that Pechorin died while returning from Persia.
Pechorin's personality
To say that Pechorin - unusual person- this is nothing to say. It combines intelligence, knowledge of people, extreme honesty towards oneself and the inability to find a purpose in life and low morality. Because of these qualities, he constantly finds himself in tragic situations. His diary amazes with the sincerity of his assessment of his actions and desires.
Pechorin about himself
He speaks of himself as an unhappy person who cannot escape boredom.
I have an unhappy character; Whether my upbringing made me this way, whether God created me this way, I don’t know; I only know that if I am the cause of the misfortune of others, then I myself am no less unhappy; Of course, this is little consolation for them - only the fact is that it is so. In my early youth, from the moment I left the care of my relatives, I began to madly enjoy all the pleasures that could be obtained for money, and of course, these pleasures disgusted me. Then I set out into the big world, and soon I also got tired of society; I fell in love with society beauties and was loved - but their love only irritated my imagination and pride, and my heart remained empty... I began to read, study - I was also tired of science; I saw that neither fame nor happiness depended on them at all, because the most happy people- ignoramuses, and fame is luck, and to achieve it, you just need to be dexterous. Then I became bored... Soon they transferred me to the Caucasus: this is the happiest time of my life. I hoped that boredom did not live under Chechen bullets - in vain: after a month I got so used to their buzzing and the proximity of death that, really, I paid more attention to mosquitoes - and I became more bored than before, because I had lost almost my last hope . When I saw Bela in my house, when for the first time, holding her on my knees, I kissed her black curls, I, a fool, thought that she was an angel sent to me by compassionate fate... I was wrong again: the love of a savage is little better than the love of a noble lady; the ignorance and simple-heartedness of one are just as annoying as the coquetry of the other. If you want, I still love her, I am grateful to her for a few rather sweet minutes, I would give my life for her, but I’m bored with her... Am I a fool or a villain, I don’t know; but it is true that I am also very worthy of regret, perhaps more than she: my soul is spoiled by light, my imagination is restless, my heart is insatiable; Everything is not enough for me: I get used to sadness just as easily as to pleasure, and my life becomes emptier day by day; I have only one remedy left: travel. As soon as possible, I will go - just not to Europe, God forbid! - I’ll go to America, to Arabia, to India - maybe I’ll die somewhere on the road! At least I am sure that this last consolation will not soon be exhausted by storms and bad roads.”
About my upbringing
Pechorin blames his behavior on improper upbringing in childhood, non-recognition of his true virtuous principles.
Yes, this has been my lot since childhood. Everyone read on my face signs of bad feelings that were not there; but they were anticipated - and they were born. I was modest - I was accused of guile: I became secretive. I felt good and evil deeply; no one caressed me, everyone insulted me: I became vindictive; I was gloomy, - other children were cheerful and talkative; I felt superior to them - they put me lower. I became envious. I was ready to love the whole world, but no one understood me: and I learned to hate. My colorless youth passed in a struggle with myself and the world; Fearing ridicule, I buried my best feelings in the depths of my heart: they died there. I told the truth - they didn’t believe me: I began to deceive; Having learned well the light and springs of society, I became skilled in the science of life and saw how others were happy without art, freely enjoying the benefits that I so tirelessly sought. And then despair was born in my chest - not the despair that is treated with the barrel of a pistol, but cold, powerless despair, covered with courtesy and a good-natured smile. I became a moral cripple: one half of my soul did not exist, it dried up, evaporated, died, I cut it off and threw it away - while the other moved and lived at the service of everyone, and no one noticed this, because no one knew about the existence of the deceased its halves; but now you have awakened in me the memory of her, and I read her epitaph to you. To many, all epitaphs seem funny, but not to me, especially when I remember what lies underneath them. However, I do not ask you to share my opinion: if my prank seems funny to you, please laugh: I warn you that this will not upset me in the least.
About passion and pleasure
Pechorin often philosophizes, in particular, about the motives of actions, passions and true values.
But there is immense pleasure in possessing a young, barely blossoming soul! She is like a flower whose best fragrance evaporates towards the first ray of the sun; you need to pick it up at this moment and, after breathing it to your heart’s content, throw it on the road: maybe someone will pick it up! I feel this insatiable greed within me, devouring everything that comes my way; I look at the sufferings and joys of others only in relation to myself, as food that supports my spiritual strength. I myself am no longer capable of going mad under the influence of passion; My ambition was suppressed by circumstances, but it manifested itself in a different form, for ambition is nothing more than a thirst for power, and my first pleasure is to subordinate to my will everything that surrounds me; to arouse feelings of love, devotion and fear - isn’t this the first sign and the greatest triumph of power? To be the cause of suffering and joy for someone, without having any positive right to do so - isn’t this the sweetest food of our pride? What is happiness? Intense pride. If I considered myself better, more powerful than everyone else in the world, I would be happy; if everyone loved me, I would find endless sources of love in myself. Evil begets evil; the first suffering gives the concept of pleasure in tormenting another; the idea of evil cannot enter a person’s head without him wanting to apply it to reality: ideas are organic creatures, someone said: their birth already gives them a form, and this form is an action; the one in whose head more ideas were born acts more than others; because of this, a genius chained to an official desk must die or go crazy, just as a man with a powerful physique, with a sedentary life and modest behavior, dies of an apoplexy. Passions are nothing more than ideas in their first development: they belong to the youth of the heart, and he is a fool who thinks to worry about them all his life: many calm rivers begin with noisy waterfalls, but not one jumps and foams all the way to the sea. But this calmness is often a sign of great, although hidden strength; the fullness and depth of feelings and thoughts does not allow frantic impulses; the soul, suffering and enjoying, gives itself a strict account of everything and is convinced that it should be so; she knows that without thunderstorms the constant heat of the sun will dry her out; she is imbued with her own life - she cherishes and punishes herself like a beloved child. Only in this highest state of self-knowledge can a person appreciate God's justice.
About fatal destiny
Pechorin knows that he brings misfortune to people. He even considers himself an executioner:
I run through my entire past in my memory and involuntarily ask myself: why did I live? For what purpose was I born?.. And, it’s true, it existed, and, it’s true, I had a high purpose, because I feel immense powers in my soul... But I didn’t guess this purpose, I was carried away by the lures of empty and ungrateful passions; I came out of their crucible hard and cold as iron, but I lost forever the ardor of noble aspirations - the best light of life. And since then, how many times have I played the role of an ax in the hands of fate! Like an instrument of execution, I fell on the heads of the doomed victims, often without malice, always without regret... My love did not bring happiness to anyone, because I did not sacrifice anything for those I loved: I loved for myself, for my own pleasure: I only satisfied a strange need of the heart, greedily absorbing their feelings, their joys and sufferings - and could never get enough. Thus, a person tormented by hunger falls asleep exhausted and sees before him luxurious dishes and sparkling wines; he devours with delight the aerial gifts of the imagination, and it seems easier to him; but as soon as I woke up, the dream disappeared... what remained was double hunger and despair!
I felt sad. And why did fate throw me into the peaceful circle of honest smugglers? Like a stone thrown into a smooth spring, I disturbed their calm and, like a stone, I almost sank to the bottom myself!
About women
Pechorin does not pass over women, their logic and feelings, with an unflattering side. It becomes clear that he avoids women with a strong character to please his weaknesses, because such women are not able to forgive him for his indifference and spiritual stinginess, to understand and love him.
What should I do? I have a presentiment... When meeting a woman, I always unmistakably guessed whether she would love me or not....
What a woman won’t do to upset her rival! I remember one fell in love with me because I loved the other. There is nothing more paradoxical than the female mind; It is difficult to convince women of anything; they must be brought to the point where they convince themselves; the order of evidence with which they destroy their warnings is very original; in order to learn their dialectics, you need to overturn in your mind all the school rules of logic.
I must admit that I definitely don’t like women with character: is it any of their business! , maybe if I had met her five years later, we would have parted differently...
About the fear of getting married
At the same time, Pechorin honestly admits to himself that he is afraid to get married. He even finds the reason for this - as a child, a fortune teller predicted his death from his evil wife
I sometimes despise myself... isn't that why I despise others?.. I have become incapable of noble impulses; I'm afraid to seem funny to myself. If someone else were in my place, he would have offered the princess son coeur et sa fortune; but the word marry has some kind of magical power over me: no matter how passionately I love a woman, if she only lets me feel that I should marry her, forgive love! my heart turns to stone, and nothing will warm it up again. I am ready for any sacrifice except this one; Twenty times I will put my life, even my honor, on the line... but I will not sell my freedom. Why do I value her so much? What’s in it for me?.. where am I preparing myself? What do I expect from the future?.. Really, absolutely nothing. This is some kind of innate fear, an inexplicable premonition... After all, there are people who are unconsciously afraid of spiders, cockroaches, mice... Should I admit it?.. When I was still a child, one old woman wondered about me to my mother; she predicted my death from an evil wife; this struck me deeply then; An insurmountable aversion to marriage was born in my soul... Meanwhile, something tells me that her prediction will come true; at least I will try to make it come true as late as possible.
About enemies
Pechorin is not afraid of enemies and even rejoices when they exist.
I am glad; I love enemies, although not in a Christian way. They amuse me, they stir my blood. To be always on the alert, to catch every glance, the meaning of every word, to guess intentions, to destroy conspiracies, to pretend to be deceived, and suddenly with one push to overturn the entire huge and laborious edifice of their cunning and plans - this is what I call life.
about friendship
According to Pechorin himself, he cannot be friends:
I am incapable of friendship: of two friends, one is always the slave of the other, although often neither of them admits this to himself; I cannot be a slave, and in this case commanding is tedious work, because at the same time I must deceive; and besides, I have lackeys and money!
About inferior people
Pechorin speaks poorly of disabled people, seeing in them an inferiority of soul.
But what to do? I am often prone to prejudice... I admit, I have a strong prejudice against all the blind, crooked, deaf, dumb, legless, armless, hunchbacked, etc. I noticed that there is always some strange relationship between a person’s appearance and his soul: as if with the loss of a member the soul loses some kind of feeling.
About fatalism
It is difficult to say for sure whether Pechorin believes in fate. Most likely he doesn’t believe it and even argued about it with. However, that same evening he decided to try his luck and almost died. Pechorin is passionate and ready to say goodbye to life, he tests himself for strength. His determination and steadfastness even in the face of mortal danger is amazing.
I like to doubt everything: this disposition of mind does not interfere with the decisiveness of my character - on the contrary, as for me, I always move forward more boldly when I do not know what awaits me. After all, nothing worse can happen than death—and you can’t escape death!
After all this, how can one not become a fatalist? But who knows for sure whether he is convinced of something or not?.. and how often do we mistake for a belief a deception of feelings or a blunder of reason!..
At that moment a strange thought flashed through my head: like Vulich, I decided to tempt fate.
The shot rang out right next to my ear, the bullet tore off my epaulette
About death
Pechorin is not afraid of death. According to the hero, he has already seen and experienced everything possible in this life in dreams and daydreams, and now he wanders aimlessly, having spent the best qualities of his soul on fantasies.
Well? die like that die! the loss to the world is small; and I’m pretty bored myself. I am like a man yawning at a ball who does not go to bed only because his carriage is not yet there. But the carriage is ready... goodbye!..
And maybe I will die tomorrow!.. and there will not be a single creature left on earth who would understand me completely. Some consider me worse, others better than I really am... Some will say: he was a kind fellow, others - a scoundrel. Both will be false. After this, is life worth the trouble? but you live out of curiosity: you expect something new... It’s funny and annoying!
Pechorin has a passion for driving fast
Despite all the internal contradictions and oddities of character, Pechorin is able to truly enjoy nature and the power of the elements; he, like M.Yu. Lermontov is in love with mountain landscapes and seeks salvation from his restless mind in them
Returning home, I sat on horseback and galloped off into the steppe; I love to ride a hot horse through the tall grass, against the desert wind; I greedily swallow the fragrant air and direct my gaze into the blue distance, trying to catch the foggy outlines of objects that are becoming clearer and clearer every minute. Whatever grief lies on the heart, whatever anxiety torments the thought, everything will dissipate in a minute; the soul will become light, the fatigue of the body will overcome the anxiety of the mind. There is no female gaze that I would not forget at the sight of curly mountains illuminated by the southern sun, at the sight of the blue sky or listening to the sound of a stream falling from cliff to cliff.
Belinsky very accurately described Pechorin’s personality, calling him a hero of our time, a kind of Onegin. And they are so similar that the distance between the Pechora and Onega rivers is much greater than the difference in their characters. Herzen also agrees with Belinsky, who considers Pechorin to be Onegin’s younger brother. And if you think about it, it’s not hard to guess that they are really very close. Both heroes are typical representatives of secular society.
In their youth, they both tried to get everything from life, read books and became interested in science, but then lost interest in knowledge. They were completely overwhelmed by boredom. At the same time, the heroes think critically, they are better and smarter than many others.
However, everyone has their own spiritual life. Onegin belongs to the era of socio-political reforms and the time preceding the Decembrist uprising. Pechorin lives in a period of rampant reaction, when the uprising was put to an end. Onegin, if he wished, could join the Decembrist movement, but Pechorin is deprived of all opportunities, so he suffers greatly. In many ways, his suffering is due to the depth and talent of his nature.
Indeed, from the first pages, readers understand that before them is an extraordinary character with an unbending will and a remarkable mind, overwhelmed by passions and emotions. Pechorin understands people with amazing insight and is critical of himself. He unmistakably guesses the character and inclinations of those around him. Outwardly he is calm, but he feels strongly and deeply. In addition to his inner strength, Pechorin is also overwhelmed by a thirst for activity.
However, he calls himself nothing more than a “moral cripple,” because all his actions are illogical and contradictory.
This inconsistency is visible both in his appearance and in his manners. Lermontov himself never tires of emphasizing the strangeness of the hero’s nature. For example, when Pechorin laughs, his eyes are cold, which is a sign of either anger or constant melancholy. His glance is fleeting, but heavy and even impudent, however, Pechorin is very calm and indifferent. The hero is secretive, although some laziness and carelessness can be discerned in his gait. He is both strong and weak at the same time. He is already about 30 years old, but his smile still shows spontaneity.
Maxim Maksimych also noticed Pechorin’s peculiarities, saying that on a hunt everyone can get tired, but Pechorin does not react to fatigue, or insists that he has a cold, turns pale and trembles.
Using the example of Pechorin, Lermontov shows the “disease” of the entire generation of that time. Pechorin himself says that his whole life consists of a string of unsuccessful and dreary events that contradict common sense and heart. How does this manifest itself?
First of all, this concerns his attitude to life. Pechorin does not hide the fact that he is skeptical and completely disappointed in life, continuing to live only out of curiosity. On the other hand, it is noticeable that he is eager to act.
Moreover, there is a continuous struggle between feelings and reason. Pechorin admits that he thinks only with his head, and evaluates all his passions and emotions from the point of view of reason. However, the hero has a warm and understanding heart, capable of love. Pechorin is especially partial to nature: when he comes into contact with it, all anxiety dissipates, melancholy goes away, and his soul becomes light.
Pechorin’s relationships with women are also not simple. He gives in to his ambitious impulses and strives to achieve the love of women. He dreams of subordinating everything to his will, winning the love and devotion of those around him.
But Pechorin cannot be called an egoist, because great love is not alien to him. His attitude towards Vera clearly demonstrates this. When the hero received her last letter, he immediately jumped on his horse and rushed to Pyatigorsk to see his beloved and say goodbye to her. Pechorin realized that Vera was very dear to him, more important than life, happiness and honor. In the steppe he was left without a horse and cried from powerlessness, falling on the wet grass.
All these contradictions prevent Pechorin from living life to the fullest. He sincerely believes that the best part of his soul has died.
On the eve of the appointed duel, Pechorin thinks about his life and wonders whether there is a purpose in it. He answers his question in the diary by noting that he feels great strength within himself, and that there probably was a purpose. But the problem is that he could not find an activity that would be worthy of him. He spends all his energy on small and unworthy actions, for example, kidnapping Bela, playing with Mary with love, destroying the existence of smugglers, killing Grushnitsky. Without wanting it, he brings death to everyone: Bela and Grushnitsky die, Vera and Mary are doomed to suffer, Maxim Maksimych is also upset, who began to doubt the possibility of the existence of friendship and sincerity between people.
Thus, the most terrible thing in Pechorin’s life is the discrepancy between the hero’s immense spiritual strength and the petty actions of the hero. This contradiction is destructive for everyone.
So whose fault is it that Pechorin has become superfluous in his own life? Pechorin admits that his soul was pretty spoiled secular society, with whom he was never able to break the connection. He spent all his young years on a fruitless struggle with high society and with himself. He hid it deeply and practically destroyed everything best feelings, fearing misunderstanding and ridicule.
But not only noble society is to blame for Pechorin’s difficult fate, because the Decembrists also came from this society. Thus, Pechorin is a classic hero of the time of the 30s.
