Summary of Tarantass
VA Sollogub
Tarantas
The meeting of the Kazan landowner Vasily Ivanovich, burly, thorough and elderly, with Ivan Vasilievich, thin, dapper, barely arrived from abroad – this meeting, which happened on Tverskoy Boulevard, was very fruitful. Vasily Ivanovich, going back to his Kazan estate, offers Ivan Vasilievich to take him to his father’s village, which for Ivan Vasilievich, who is very much out of the border, is at the right time. They go in a tarantass, a bizarre, clumsy, but quite comfortable structure, and Ivan Vasilievich, assuming the goal of studying Russia, takes with him a thorough notebook, which he is going to fill with travel impressions.
Vasily Ivanovich, confident that they do not travel, but simply go from Moscow to Mordasy through Kazan, is somewhat puzzled by the enthusiastic intentions of his young fellow traveler, who, on the way to the first station, outlines his tasks, briefly touching the past, the future and the present of Russia,
However, the station replaces the station, not giving Ivan Vasilyevich fresh impressions. On each there are no horses, everywhere Vasily Ivanovich revels in tea, everywhere you have to wait hours. Along the way, a couple of suitcases and a few boxes with gifts for Vasily Ivanovich’s wife are cut off by the slumbering travelers. Sad, tired of shaking, they hope to rest in a decent Vladimir hotel (Ivan Vasilievich assumes Vladimir to open his travel notes), but in Vladimir they are waiting for a bad dinner, a room without beds, so that Vasily Ivanovich sleeps on his feather bed, and Ivan Vasilyevich on brought to the hay, from which pops out an indignant cat. Suffering from fleas, Ivan Vasilievich expounds his comrade in misfortune his views on the arrangement of hotels in general and their public benefit, and also tells what hotel in the Russian spirit he would like to arrange,
Early in the morning, leaving the sleeping Vasily Ivanovich in the hotel, Ivan Vasilyevich leaves for the city. The requested bookseller is ready to give him “Kinds of a provincial
At one of the stations he ponders, in the usual expectation, where to look for Russia, if there are no antiquities, there are no provincial societies, and the capital life is borrowed. The owner of the inn tells you that there are gypsies outside the city, and both travelers, inspired, go to the camp. Gypsies are dressed in European dirty dresses and vaudeville Russian romances are sung instead of nomadic songs, – the book of travel impressions falls from the hands of Ivan Vasilyevich. Returning, the innkeeper, accompanying them, tells us why he had to stay in the prison for a while, – the story of his love for the wife of a private bailiff is set out right there.
Continuing their movement, travelers are bored, yawning and talking about literature, whose present position Ivan Vasilyevich does not like, and he denounces its venality, its imitation, its oblivion of its folk roots, and when the inspired Ivan Vasilievich gives literature a few practical and simple recipes for recovery, he discovers his listener asleep. Soon, in the middle of the road, they meet a carriage with a burst spring, and in misguided words Mr. Ivan Vasilyevich learns with amazement his Parisian acquaintance, a certain prince. That, while repairing his crew involved and the people of Vasily Ivanovich, announces that he is going to the countryside for arrears, scolds Russia, reports the latest gossip from the Paris, Roman and other lives and quickly departs.
Since Vasily Ivanovich, hurrying to Mordasy, will not stop here, the description of the Lower, and especially of his Pechora Monastery, is taken up by the author. Vasily Ivanovich, on the questioning of his fellow traveler about the hardships of landlord life, describes it in detail, sets out his views on the peasant economy and landowner management and, at the same time, makes such a note, earnestness and truly fatherly participation that Ivan Vasilyevich is filled with reverential reverence.
Arriving in the evening of the next day in a certain out-of-town town, the travelers find with a shock in the tarantas a breakdown and, leaving him in the care of a blacksmith, go to the tavern where, having ordered tea, they listen to the conversation of three merchants, gray, black and red. The fourth appears and hands over to five thousand people with a request to transfer money to someone in Rybna, where he goes. Ivan Vasilyevich, having interrogated, finds out with amazement that the guarantor to the gray-haired is not a relative, is not even really familiar, but did not take the receipt. It turns out that when millions of deals are made, their merchants settle their accounts on scraps, they carry all the money on their way, in their pockets. Ivan Vasilievich, having his own idea of trade, talks about the necessity of science and the system in this important matter, about the merits of enlightenment, the importance of combining mutual efforts for the benefit of the fatherland. The merchants, however, do not comprehend the meaning of his eloquent tirade.
After parting with the merchants, the author hastens to finally acquaint the reader with Vasily Ivanovich closer and tells the story of his life: his childhood spent on a pigeon, Ivan Fedorovich, a drunken father who surrounded himself with fools and jesters, Arina Anikimovna’s mother, serious and stingy, studying with the sexton, then home teacher, service in Kazan, acquaintance at the ball with Avdotya Petrovna, refusal of severe parents to bless this marriage, patient waiting for three years, another year of mourning for the deceased father and finally the long-awaited marriage, moving to the village, economy, the birth of children. Vasily Ivanovich eats a lot and eats and is perfectly satisfied with everything: his wife and his life. Leaving Vasily Ivanovich, the author proceeds to Ivan Vasilievich, tells of his mother, the Moscow princess, a frantic freak who changed Moscow to Kazan at the time of the coming of the French. Over time, she married a dumb landowner, similar to a marmot, and from this marriage was born Ivan Vasilievich, who grew up under the tutelage of a completely ignorant French tutor. Remaining completely ignorant of what is happening around him, but firmly aware that the first poet Rasin, Ivan Vasilyevich after the death of his mother was sent to a private Petersburg boarding house where he became a rake, lost all knowledge and failed at the final exam. Ivan Vasilyevich rushed to serve, imitating his more zealous comrades, but the affair he had begun with ardor soon bored him. He fell in love, and his beloved, even reciprocated, suddenly married a rich monster. Ivan Vasilyevich plunged into secular life, but he was also bored with it, he sought solace in the world of poetry, science seemed tempting to him, but ignorance and restlessness have always been a hindrance. He went abroad, wishing to be scattered and enlightened at the same time, and there, noticing that many people pay attention to him only because he is Russian, and that all eyes are involuntarily turned to Russia, he suddenly thought about Russia and hurried into it with known reader’s intention.
Reflecting on the need to find a nationality, Ivan Vasilyevich enters the village. In the village there is a chrome holiday. He watches a variety of pictures of drunkenness, from the young women receives an insulting nickname “licked German”, discovering the schismatic, trying to find out what the attitude of the villagers to heresy, and meets a complete misunderstanding. On the next day Ivan Vasilievich finds a bureaucrat in the hut of the station warden with disgust, executing the post of police chief and now waiting for the governor, who is going round the province. Vasily Ivanovich, loving new acquaintances, sits with him for seagulls. There is a conversation during which Ivan Vasilievich tries to convict the official in bribes and bribes, but it turns out that time is not now that the position of the official is the most miserable, he is old, weak.
Approaching Kazan, Ivan Vasilyevich revives a little, because he decides to write a brief but expressive chronicle of Eastern Russia; his ardor, however, soon, as might be expected, subsides: the search for sources scares him. He ponders whether to write a statistical article or article about the local university (and all universities in general), or about manuscripts in the local library, or to study the influence of the East on Russia, moral, commercial and political. At this time, the hotel room, in which Ivan Vasilyevich dreams, is filled with Tatars offering a khan’s robe, turquoise, Chinese pearl and Chinese mascara. Waking up soon, Vasily Ivanovich inspects the purchases, announces the real price of each thing bought at exorbitant prices, and, to the horror of Ivan Vasilievich, orders to mortgage the tarantas. Among the gathering night, moving on the bare steppe in an unmodified tarantas, Ivan Vasilievich sees a dream. He dreams of an amazing transformation of a tarantass into a bird and a flight through some stuffy and gloomy cave filled with the terrible shadows of the dead; horrible infernal visions are replaced by one another, threatening the frightened Ivan Vasilievich. Finally, the tarantass leaves for fresh air, and pictures of a beautiful future life are opened: both transformed cities and strange flying crews. Tarantass descends to the ground, losing the bird essence, and rushes through marvelous villages to the renewed and unrecognizable Moscow. Here sees Ivan Vasilievich prince, recently met on the road – he in a Russian suit, reflects on Russia’s independent path, her God-chosenness and her civic duty. He dreams of an amazing transformation of a tarantass into a bird and a flight through some stuffy and gloomy cave filled with the terrible shadows of the dead; horrible infernal visions are replaced by one another, threatening the frightened Ivan Vasilievich. Finally, the tarantass leaves for fresh air, and pictures of a beautiful future life are opened: both transformed cities and strange flying crews. Tarantass descends to the ground, losing the bird essence, and rushes through marvelous villages to the renewed and unrecognizable Moscow. Here sees Ivan Vasilievich prince, recently met on the road – he in a Russian suit, reflects on Russia’s independent path, her God-chosenness and her civic duty. He dreams of an amazing transformation of a tarantass into a bird and a flight through some stuffy and gloomy cave filled with the terrible shadows of the dead; horrible infernal visions are replaced by one another, threatening the frightened Ivan Vasilievich. Finally, the tarantass leaves for fresh air, and pictures of a beautiful future life are opened: both transformed cities and strange flying crews. Tarantass descends to the ground, losing the bird essence, and rushes through marvelous villages to the renewed and unrecognizable Moscow. Here sees Ivan Vasilievich prince, recently met on the road – he in a Russian suit, reflects on Russia’s independent path, her God-chosenness and her civic duty. Finally, the tarantass leaves for fresh air, and pictures of a beautiful future life are opened: both transformed cities and strange flying crews. Tarantass descends to the ground, losing the bird essence, and rushes through marvelous villages to the renewed and unrecognizable Moscow. Here sees Ivan Vasilievich prince, recently met on the road – he in a Russian suit, reflects on Russia’s independent path, her God-chosenness and her civic duty. Finally, the tarantass leaves for fresh air, and pictures of a beautiful future life are opened: both transformed cities and strange flying crews. Tarantass descends to the ground, losing the bird essence, and rushes through marvelous villages to the renewed and unrecognizable Moscow. Here sees Ivan Vasilievich prince, recently met on the road – he in a Russian suit, reflects on Russia’s independent path, her God-chosenness and her civic duty.
Then Ivan Vasilievich meets Fedya, his recent Vladimir interlocutor, and leads him to his modest home. Ivan Vasil’evich sees his beautiful, serene wife with two charming kids, and, being touched by the soul, suddenly finds himself, and together with Vasily Ivanovich, in the mud, under the overturned tarantass.
(1 votes, average: 5.00 out of 5)