We can combine only mercy. If not burn our village

4 Nov. PRAVMIR. On the Day of national unity Tatiana Krasnova reflects on the essence of the holiday, the national idea and the characteristics of nature of the Russian people.

Photo: photosight.ru

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With the holiday, I must say, a full understanding yet.

Clearly of all, as usual, spoke the young.

On the question of what awaits us on Monday, students gave a clear answer: “do Not learn!”

Resisting the urge to withdraw (or not withdraw) from this the title of a didactic morality, I briefly interviewed colleagues. Busy with tests, programs, and student notebooks colleagues sluggishly shrugged, “Minin, Pozharsky, and don’t work! Time of semester control test!”

— Kazanskaya — confidently and joyfully announced by the Orthodox colleague. We hugged, and I asked him to pray for us all mother of God. It definitely will not be superfluous.

Tatiana Krasnova

Five years ago, on the eve of the same day, I shushed beautiful young blockhead at the gate of his faculty. The festive look of the old woman with scarlet cloves caught his sleeve and asked how to get to the Eternal Flame.

Pulling out of the silicone ear plug from the phone, the child asked:

— To the fire? To the eternal? It in hell?

Letting uncontrolled young talent, I sent the ladies in the right direction, affectionately addressing:

— There, all there. And fire, and the graves…

In response, I gratefully congratulated on the Day of the great October Socialist Revolution. That is, just the fact that my own memory inevitably comes at the beginning of the cold dark months of the year, somewhere near alien Halloween and Samhain.


The correspondent of “Pravmir” asked me to talk about the main fact November 4 – national unity. How it is manifested and how it should be. Of course, I told about charity, and about how different people demonstrate that it is the unity, rescuing young and old citizens run into trouble.

The reporter rightly asked me, “what is outside of charity?”

For unity, ladies and gentlemen, we need a national idea.

When I personally sometimes need a big idea (rarely happens), I’m reminded of the African sun of Russian poetry, “our everything”, Alexander Pushkin.

Today I remembered the fire in Kisteneva.

“Dubrovsky”. Remember?

I will remind you. Scribes came to Kistenevo with the news that the estate Dubrovsky together with all “souls” goes Troyekurov. And here is a sleepless night, Vladimir A. paper examines late father, with him awake and his men. In the house snore only clerks. Dubrovsky takes a terrible decision.

Better than Pushkin I still do not speak. Read, remember:

— Is everyone here? asked Dubrovsky, — whether there was anybody in the house?

— No one, except the clerks, ‘ replied Gregory.

—Come on hay or straw, — said Dubrovsky.

People ran to the stables and returned, carrying armfuls of hay.

— Enclose under the porch. So. Well, guys, fire!

Arkhip opened the lantern, Dubrovsky lit the kindling.

“Wait,” he said Arkhip, it seems, in a hurry I locked the doors in the front, probably go and unlock them.

Arkhip ran into the passage — the door was unlocked. Arkhip locked them with a key, primola in a low voice: “How not, do it.” and returned to Dubrovsky. Dubrovsky brought kindling, hay ignited, the flames rose and illuminated the whole yard.

— So hot, piteously cried Egorovna, — Vladimir Andreevich, what are you doing?

— Shut up, — said Dubrovsky. — Well, children, farewell, I go where God lead you; be happy with your new master.

— Our father, provider, — said the people — will die, will not leave you, go with thee.

The horse was given; Dubrovsky sat him in the cart and assigned the rest Kishinevsky grove. Anton struck the horses, and they drove out of the yard. The wind picked up. In one minute the flames engulfed the entire house. Red smoke curled above the roof. Glass popped, poured, burning the log began to fall, there was a plaintive wailing, and shouting: “Burn, help, help”.

— “Not so,” said Arkhip, with a wicked smile looking at the fire.

“Aripuca,’ said Egorovna, save them, damned, God will reward you”.

— Not so, ‘ replied the blacksmith.

In this moment the clerks appeared at the window, trying to break double glazing. But then the roof fell with a crash, and the screams subsided.Soon, all the servants gathered in the courtyard. Women screaming hurry to save his junk, the kids jumped, watching the fire. Sparks flew off a fiery storm, the hut caught fire.

— Now everything is all right, — said Arkhip, — what is burning, and? Tea, Pokrovsky nice to look at.

In this moment a new phenomenon attracted his attention; the cat jumped on the roof of the burning barn, wondering where to jump from all around the flame. The poor animal miserable meow called for help. The boys screamed with laughter, in spite of her despair.

“What smeetsya, imps told them angrily blacksmith. — God you do not fear: God’s creature dies, and you foolishly rejoice,” and, postava the ladder to the fire on the roof, he reached for the cat.

She understood his intention and with a view hasty of gratitude clung to his sleeve. Probperly Smith with his prey climbed down.

“Well, guys, goodbye, — he said embarrassed the servants, — I have nothing to do here. Happily, do not remember evil against me”.

Since childhood, at first reading this short story, I remember, struck me a comprehensive description of a Russian man, a brilliant and deep as all of Pushkin.

Clerks – at large, even innocent people burned alive in the fire of anger, injustice, hatred and resentment. The same person who put them to death, locked in the house, nearly killed himself saving a cat. That is, at the same time shows animal cruelty and the incredible mercy of the irrational, and probably even meaningless.

If Smith collected the Russian national idea – and I think that’s what it is, I’m scared I wish those who are trying to unite around this idea, my people, have focused on the cat.

We will surely have the strength to make nuclear ashes from anyone. At the modern level of development of technologies of death, it is generally not the focus. Frankly, much harder to avoid setting fire to our General “Kisteneva”…

And cat. Let’s remember about it.

We can combine only mercy. This huge resource we have. If we can gather around it – will survive.

If not burn our village.

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