The defector. The defector Democratic satire and comic literature

Are you here: Family and relationships

The feast of the taverns ryzhek”) is a work of democratic comic literature of the 17th century, written in the form of a parody of a church service. Compositionally, S. K. consists of parts that parody church hymns (mainly the texts of the All-night service), proverbs and life. The presentation of the story of a drunkard robbed in a tavern in the form of a church service to a martyr violated all the usual associations associated with this literary form, brought together two sharply opposite images, sharpening with the help of this rapprochement the satirical image of both the drunkard himself and the tavern. D.S. Likhachev noted the specifics of medieval parody in S.K., where it is not the object that is ridiculed, but the text of the parody work itself. S. K. has been preserved in three lists, the oldest of which dates back to 1666 and contains a text that is closest to the original. Probably, S.K. was created in the Solvychegodsk region, in the possession of the Stroganovs, since the text mentions the geographical names of the "Vychegotsky Usoliya" - the rivers Vychegda, Lala and Viled; it is also noteworthy that in the owner's entry on the list of 1666 the Prilutsky monastery , located near Veliky Ustyug. In S.K., the influence of colloquial language, oral-poetic speech is strong; its figurative system reflected the categories and symbols of folk culture, the art of buffoons. At the same time, the author relied on the tradition of instructive sermon, using plots of prayer and vocabulary of accusatory words against drunkenness. Several testimonies about the existence of S.K. in the 18th century in Moscow and Nizhny Tagil have survived to this day. In Siberia, the work was known until the beginning of the 20th century, as evidenced by a letter from M. Gorky to V. Anuchin dated October 4, 1912: “Do not be stingy with your time and write in more detail what kind of “Service to the tavern” and “Feast of the tavern ryzhek” that your Siberian seminarians sing? Future priests and such a great blasphemy!! An indicative thing for Russia ”(Proceedings of the Samarkand State Pedagogical Institute named after A. M. Gorky.- T. II. Issue 3.- Letters from M. Gorky to V. I. Anuchin.-Samarkand, 1941.- pp. 16). Ed. : Adrianov-Peretz V.P.1) Feast of tavern spitting: Parody-satire of the second half of the 17th century // TODRL.- 1934 - T. 1.- C 171-247; 2) The feast of the taverns / / Russian democratic satire of the XVII century. - L., 1936. - S. 50-80; 3) Essays on the history of Russian satirical literature of the 17th century. - M., 1937-C 27-96; 4) Russian democratic satire of the 17th century / Underg. texts, article and comments by V.P. Adrianov-Peretz - M.; L., 1954.- S. 46-64, 2nd ed. S., Panchenko A. M., Ponyr-ko N. V. Laughter in Ancient Russia.-L., 1984.- S. 224-237; Kabaku service / Text preparation, translation and commentary. V. K. Bylinina // Satire XI-XVII centuries.-M., 1987.-S. 172-215; Tavern service / Preparing text and comments. N V. Ponyrko // PLDR: XVII century.- M., 1989.- Book. 2.- P. 196-210. Lit.: Likhachev D. S. Old Russian laughter // Problems of poetics and history of literature: Sat. article in honor of the 75th anniversary of M.M. Bakhtin. - Saransk, 1973. - S. 73-90; Panchenko A.M. Literature of the “transitional” century // History of Russian literature - V. 1. Old Russian literature. Literature of the 18th century.-L., 1980.-S 367-368, Pikhoya R. G. Socio-political thought of the working people of the Urals (end of the 17th-18th centuries).-Sverdlovsk, 1987-S 187-189; Romodanovskaya E K. “Service to the tavern” before the church court of the XVIII century.//Public consciousness, bookishness, literature of the era of feudalism.- Novosibirsk, 1990- P. 189-195 A. G Bobrov

Yuri Ilyich, a researcher at an academic research institute, during the years of perestroika becomes an object of recruitment by a certain organization that calls itself the "editor's office". The "editors" Igor Vasilyevich and Sergei Ivanovich, who came to him directly to work, demand that he use his unusual abilities on their instructions: Yuri Ilyich is an extrapolator who can project himself into the future.

Moving in time, Yuri Ilyich finds himself in 1993 - in an era called the Great Reconstruction. It is dangerous to move around in dark Moscow, pierced by an icy wind, without weapons; the coat of the hero, like that of other passers-by, sticks out "Kalashnikov". Tanks rush through the middle of Tverskaya every now and then, explosions rumble near Strastnaya Square, and round-ups of fighter squads of Ugulovtsy, fighters for sobriety, pass through the streets. Occasionally, the hero turns on the transistor, saving precious batteries. The news is heard on the radio about the congress in the Kremlin of countless parties whose names sound phantasmagoric - such as the Constitutional Party of the United Bukhara and Samarkand Emirates, there is also information from the Washington Post newspaper of the American communists ...

Fleeing from another raid, Yuri Ilyich finds himself in the dark entrance of the house where he spent his childhood. Here he meets a woman from Yekaterinoslav (former Dnepropetrovsk), who came to Moscow for boots. Through the back door, they manage to escape from a detachment of "Afghans" who are killing passengers of an old Mercedes, and from a raid by the People's Security Commission, which is clearing Moscow's houses of bureaucrats. They pass by the black ruins of the Beijing Hotel, inhabited by Moscow anarchists. Recently, in one of the windows, the corpse of a “metalworker” guy, who was executed by executioners from Lyubertsy, hung on a chain. Near the house with the "bad apartment" described by Bulgakov, pickets of "Satan's entourage" in cat masks are on duty.

Upon learning that Yuri Ilyich has priceless coupons for which essential items are issued, the woman does not lag behind him a single step. She tells an unexpected companion about what a rich life she used to have - until her husband, who worked at a car service, was killed by his own neighbors. The woman first fawns over the owner of the coupons, then gives herself to him right on the frost-covered bench, and then, swearing from class hatred for the "Moscow journalist", she tries to shoot him from his own machine gun - all for the sake of the same coupons. Only another raid by the People's Security Commission, from which both are forced to flee, allows the hero to avoid death.

He describes all these incidents to his "editors" when he returns to the present. Finally, they explain to Yuri Ilyich what the main goal of recruitment is: in the future there is an extrapolator "from the other side", which they are trying to identify.

The hero plunges again in 1993. Having avoided the raid of the Commission (the caught "residents of the house of social injustice" are sent to the building of the Moscow Art Theater on Tverskoy Boulevard, where they are destroyed), Yuri Ilyich and his companion immediately become hostages of the Revolutionary Committee of the fundamentalists of Northern Persia. They define their enemies by the presence of a cross on their chest - in contrast, for example, to the "knights" - anti-Semites in black undershirts, for whom the sign of baptism is knowing by heart the "Words about Igor's Campaign".

Miraculously leaving the fundamentalists, unwitting companions come to a chic night tavern to a friend of Yuri Ilyich, a youthful Jew Valentin. Music plays in the tavern, delicacies are served to visitors: real bread, pasteurized American ham, French pressed cucumbers, moonshine from Hungarian green peas ... Here Yuri Ilyich finally learns that his companion's name is Yulia. Once again on Strastnaya Square, they watch the restoration of the monument to Pushkin, blown up by Stalinist terrorists for the non-Slavic origin of the poet, proceed.

In the metro, Yuri Ilyich manages to buy a Makarov pistol to replace the machine gun lost in the raids. In the cars of the night trains, naked girls dance, people in chains, in tailcoats, in the spotted combat uniform of the paratroopers who won back in Transylvania; teenagers sniff gasoline; sleeping ragamuffins from the starving Vladimir and Yaroslavl.

Having got out of the metro, Yuri Ilyich finally drives away Yulia, who is ready for anything for the sake of boots. Immediately, a strange, luxuriously dressed man comes up to him, treats him with Galoise cigarettes and starts a conversation about what is happening in the country. From his free gestures, from his old-fashioned habit of constructing a phrase, Yuri Ilyich understands from what time his unexpected interlocutor arrived ... He believes that the bloody nightmare and dictatorship are the result of unreasonable social surgery, with the help of which the anomaly of Soviet power was destroyed. Yuri Ilyich objects: there was no other way to recover, and now the country is in intensive care and it is too early to make a final forecast. The interlocutor gives Yuri Ilyich his phone number and address, offering help if he wants to change his life.

Returning to the present, Yuri Ilyich again falls into the clutches of the ubiquitous "editors". They are sure that the hero’s night companion is the wanted extrapolator, and they demand to give out his address and phone number. On the next trip in 1993, the hero sets off with his wife. At the Spassky Gates, they see the white tank of the dictator General Panayev rushing to the Kremlin, accompanied by riders on white horses. On Red Square, products are given out according to coupons: yak meat, sago grits, bread produced by the Common Market, etc.

Yuri Ilyich and his wife are going home. They are overtaken by fugitives from Zamoskvorechye, Veshnyakov and Izmailovo, from working-class districts, where the militants of the Social Distribution Party take everything from people down to their shirts and give them protective uniforms. Yuri Ilyich throws away a card with the phone of his night companion, who offered him to change his life, despite the fact that he understands that his wife would be in place only where the "night master" called - where "they drink tea with milk, read family novels and do not recognize open passions. At this moment, Yuri Ilyich sees his "editors" threatening him with a pistol from a passing Zhiguli. But in a nightmarish future time in which he chose to stay of his own free will, the hero is not afraid of these people.

retold

Chapter 8. LITERATURE OF THE SECOND HALF OF THE 17TH CENTURY

6. Democratic satire and comic literature

In the 17th century a whole layer of works independent of official writing appeared, for which the term “democratic satire” was assigned in literary criticism (“The Tale of Yersh Ershovich”, “The Tale of Priest Sava”, “Kalyazinsky Petition”, “The ABC of a Naked and Poor Man”, “The Tale of about Thomas and Yerem", "Service to the tavern", "The Tale of the Hen and the Fox", "The Tale of Luxurious Life and Joy", etc.). These works are written both in prose, often rhythmized, and in verse. They are closely related to folklore both in terms of their artistic specifics and the way they exist. Monuments attributed to democratic satire are mostly anonymous. Their texts are mobile, variable, that is, they have many options. Their plots are mostly known both in writing and in oral tradition. "The Tale of Ersh Ershovich". Democratic satire is filled with the spirit of social protest. Many of the works of this circle directly denounce the feudal order and the church. "The Tale of Ersh Ershovich", which arose in the first decades of the 17th century. (in the first edition of the story, the action is dated to 1596), tells about the litigation of Ruff with Leshch and Golovl. Bream and Golovl, “residents of Lake Rostov”, complain to the court about “Ruff against Yershov’s son, for a bristle, for a snitch, for a thief for a robber, for a sneak for a deceiver ... for a badly unkind person.” Ruff asked them to "live and feed for a short time" in Lake Rostov. The simple-hearted Bream and Golovl believed Ruff, let him into the lake, and he bred there and "took possession of the lake by violence." Further, in the form of a parody of the "court case", the tricks and lewdness of Ruff, the "age-old deceiver" and "guided thief", are narrated. In the end, the judges recognize that Bream is right "with comrades" and give them Ruff's head. But even here Ruff managed to avoid punishment: “she turned her tail to Bream, and he himself began to say: “If they gave me to you with my head, and you, Bream and comrade, swallow me from the tail.” And Bream, seeing Yershev's cunning, thought Ruff to swallow from his head, sometimes bony kind, and from his tail he set bristles that fierce horns or arrows cannot be swallowed in any way. And they set Ruff free.” Bream and Golovl call themselves "peasants", and Ruff, as it turns out in court, from "children of boyars, petty boyars called Vandyshevs" (vandyshi is the collective name for small fish). From the second half of the 16th century, that is, during the formation of the local system, the violence of landowners against peasants became the norm. It is this situation, when the “son of the boyars” deceives and takes land from the peasants by deceit and violence, that is reflected in the “Tale of Yersh Yershovich”. It also reflects the impunity of rapists, who are not even afraid of a guilty verdict. "The Tale of Priest Sava" . Church life in the 1640s-1650s depicted in the "Tale of the Priest Sava", in which the verse is used. At that time in Russia there were no special schools for future priests. Peasants and townspeople chose candidates from among themselves, “proteges”, for “appointment” to church positions. For training and initiation into the clergy, they were sent to cities that were diocesan centers, and "attached" to local priests. Those, it goes without saying, pushed around the “proteges”, extorted money and other promises from them, often gave them a “delivered letter” without teaching, for a bribe. In the middle of the XVII century. Patriarch Joseph ordered to be "placed" only in Moscow. Thus, the Moscow priests received additional opportunities for enrichment. The title character of The Tale of Priest Sava is the parish priest of the Church of Kozma and Damian in Zamoskvoretskaya Kadashevskaya Sloboda. "He ... prowls the square, Looks for henchmen And talks a lot with them, Beckons to him across the river." It is unlikely that the real prototype of this character really bore the name Savva. This name is a kind of satirical, comic pseudonym, because in old Russian jokes, in proverbs and sayings, a constant rhyme was assigned to many names, which created a comic effect. Savva was accompanied by “bad glory”, “they drank at Fili, but they beat Fili”, the word “stealed” was consonant with the name Spirya, Fedos “loved bringing” (gifts). The sad life of the “proteges”, disenfranchised and downtrodden, is depicted in the “Tale” with the blackest colors: “In those places he keeps the proteges, How they spend all the money, And sends others home And takes the handwriting on them, So that they can crawl back to Moscow again, And bring wine to Sava's ass. And although someone will bring him honey, He will gladly take it, And he loves to drink, but when he drinks everything, And he himself will growl at them: Don’t go for a walk with me, Go and water the cabbage ... He sends proteges to serve masses, lies in bed." One of these "proteges", driven to the extreme, took up the pen to take revenge on the hated priest. The satirical element is very strong in this work: laughter is directed primarily at the title character. However, the texts that make up the layer of democratic satire are characterized by another type of laughter, laughter directed “at oneself”. In accordance with the specifics of medieval laughter, not only the object, but also the subject of the narration is ridiculed, irony turns into auto-irony, it extends to both readers and the author himself, laughter is directed to the laughers themselves. A kind of aesthetic counterbalance to the official culture with its pious, deliberately serious “spiritual goodness” is being created, a literary “world inside out”, a comical “anti-world” is being created. "Kalyazinskaya petition". The characters inhabiting the laughter anti-world live according to special laws. If these are monks, then they “turn inside out” the strict monastic charter, which prescribed the steadfast observance of fasts and attendance at church services, labors and vigils. Such is the “Kalyazin petition”, which is a ludicrous complaint of the monks of the Trinity Kalyazin Monastery (on the left bank of the Volga, against the city of Kalyazin), addressed to the Archbishop of Tver and Kashinsky Simeon (1676-1681). They complain about their Archimandrite Gabriel (1681), who "annoys" them. The archimandrite, they complain, “ordered ... to wake up our brother, orders to go to church often. And we, your pilgrims, at that time were sitting in our cells without trousers full of beer.” Further, a folklore picture of a “sorrowless monastery” is drawn, in which the blacks go out and eat, instead of strictly fulfilling their monastic duties. Here, complainers-drunkards and the sanctimonious life of Russian monasteries are ridiculed. "A Tale of Luxurious Life and Joy" . The utopian ideal of "the world inside out" has nothing to do with Christ's kingdom on earth or in heaven. This is a dream of an unprecedented country, where everything is plentiful and everything is available to everyone. Such a fabulous paradise of gluttons and drunkards is described in “The Tale of a Luxurious Life and Joy” (it was preserved in a single, moreover, rather late list): “Yes, there is also a lake not good big, full of double wine. And whoever wants - drink, do not be afraid, although suddenly two cups. Yes, there is a honey pond right there. And then everyone, having come, although with a ladle or a stave (a deep wooden dish), a fit or bitterness, God help, get drunk. Yes, close to that whole swamp of beer. And that every one, having come, drink and pour on his head, my horse, and bathe himself, and he won’t slander them, he won’t say a word. In the European perspective, this layer of monuments represents the Russian version of the laughter culture of the Middle Ages, Renaissance and Baroque, to which Rabelais' Gargantua and Pantagruel, Erasmus of Rotterdam's Praise of Folly and Grimmelshausen's Simplicissimus belong. It is the “Legend of a luxurious life and fun” that proves that there were connecting links between the European and Russian traditions. “And the direct road to tovo fun,” says the Tale, “from Krakow to Arshava and to Mozovsha, and from there to Riga and Livland, from there to Kyiv and Podolesk, from there to Stekolnya (Stockholm) and to Korela, from there to Yuryev and to Brest, from there to Bykhov and Chernigov, to Pereyaslavl and Cherkasskaya, to Chigirin and Kafimskaya. As you can see, the path-fiction winds through Lesser and Greater Poland, through Sweden and Livonia, through many Ukrainian cities, etc., but does not enter Russia. This path begins in Krakow, and Krakow and Lesser Poland in general in the 17th century. were the focus of Polish comic literature: it was created there, it was printed there. Among the Polish and Ukrainian works of this era, we find many satirical "dystopias" similar to "The Tale of Luxurious Life and Fun", depicting the country of "fried pigeons", the longed-for kingdom of gluttons and drunkards. Characters of Russian comic literature of the 17th century. akin to German Eilenspiegel, Polish Sovizdzhal, Czech Frante, but at the same time very different from them. In the European tradition, the rule applies: “funny means not scary.” In Russian culture, laughter is inextricably linked with tears, "funny means scary." This is a bitter laugh. Russian characters are pessimists who have lost all hope for happiness. Such is the collective hero, a nameless fellow, who most accurately and fully expressed his attitude to the world in The ABC of a Naked and Poor Man. "The ABC of a Naked and Poor Man". This work, which arose no later than the middle of the 17th century, has come down to us in several editions that are very different from each other, but they are all built according to the same scheme: in alphabetical order, from “az” to “izhitsa”, replicas of the nameless hero are placed, which Together they form a kind of monologue. This form was not chosen by chance. Since ancient times, the alphabet has been considered a model of the world: individual letters reflected individual elements of the universe, and a set of letters - the whole world as a whole. "The ABC of a Naked and Poor Man" also offered the reader a brief but comprehensive picture of the world, but a picture of the "wrong side", caricature, both funny and bitter. The look of the hero of the "ABC" is the look of an outcast, offended by life. He has no place in ancient Russian society with its orderly class and isolation. “I am hungry and cold, and naked and barefoot ... I yawn with my mouth, don’t scratch all day, and my lips are dead ... People, I see that they live richly, but they don’t give us anything naked, the devil knows where and what money is being saved for.” The hero who utters this "alphabetical monologue" is pierced from the world of the well-fed and does not hope to penetrate there: "Nudity and barefoot - that is my beauty." "The Tale of Thomas and Yerema" . Hopelessness is permeated with the comic "The Tale of Thomas and Yerema", a fable about two brothers-losers. Here, the most common technique in medieval art, contrast, is parodied. When, for example, an ascetic was opposed to a sinner, they were depicted in only two colors, black and white, without transitions or halftones. Thomas and Yerema are also opposed to one another, but this is an imaginary opposition, a pseudo-contrast, a caricature of the contrast. The author uses the adversative union "a", but connects them not with antonyms, but with synonyms. Here he gives portraits of two brothers: "Yerema was crooked, and Thomas with a walleye, Yerema was bald, and Thomas was mangy." Here they go to mass: "Yerema sang, and Foma yelled." Here the sexton drives them out of the church: "Yerema left, and Foma ran away." It is famously for the brothers to live in this world, they have no luck in anything. They drove them out of the church, they are also driven out of the feast: "Yerema screams, and Thomas screeches." Ridiculously they lived, absurdly and died: "Yerema fell into the water, Thomas to the bottom." One of the lists of the story ends with a feigned accusatory exclamation: “To both stubborn fools, laughter and shame!” This maxim, this accusation of "stupidity" should by no means be taken at face value. It must be remembered that Old Russian laughter is universal, that in the culture of laughter the boundary between the author and the hero, between the narrator and the characters, between the mocker and the ridiculed is unsteady and arbitrary. Therefore, the recognition of Thomas and Yerema as "stubborn fools" is also the recognition of universal, including their own, "stupidity." Such confessions in comic texts of the 17th century. more than enough. “Your son beats with his forehead, given by God, and a fool of a long time ago,” the author of one heavenly message is recommended. This is a feigned self-disclosure and self-abasement, a “mask of stupidity”, a buffoonish grimace, because the “naked and poor” outcast of comic literature chooses the role of a buffoon. He turns his social “nudity” into jester's nakedness, and the poor man's rags into a masquerade, jester's costume. In the “ABC of a Naked and Poor Man” we read: “Feriz (or feryazi, old clothes without a collar, with long sleeves) I had good ragged, and the strings were long lace, and those dashing people pulled off a debt, and I was completely naked ". Bast and matting are the eternal signs of a clownish dress. Consequently, the hero here takes the pose of a jester. And it is no coincidence that this remark is placed under the letter "fert": "fert" was considered a kind of pictogram depicting a poseur, a dandy, a puffy, absurd person, standing sideways, as if showing off. In the language of the 17th century word fool, in particular, meant jester. In the palace staff of Tsar Alexei Mikhailovich there were fools-jesters, and in Tsarina Maria Ilyinichna Miloslavskaya - fools-crackers, dwarfs and dwarfs who amused the royal family. The basic paradox of the clownish philosophy is that the world is full of fools, and among them the biggest fool is the one who does not realize that he is a fool. It follows from this that in the world of fools, the only genuine sage is the jester who plays the fool, pretends to be a fool. Therefore, ridicule of the world is a kind of worldview (and not just an artistic device), which has grown out of opposing one's own bitter experience to the "spiritual" official culture. Those in power insistently repeat that order prevails in the world. However, it is obvious to any unprejudiced observer that between state laws, between Christian commandments and everyday practice, there is an insurmountable, eternal discord, that not order, but absurdity reigns in the world. Having recognized reality as absurd, comic literature accordingly builds artistic reality according to the laws of the absurd. This is evident in the style of comic literature. Her favorite stylistic device is an oxymoron and an oxymoron combination of phrases (a combination of either words that are opposite in meaning or sentences with an opposite meaning). So, in laughter texts, the deaf are invited to “listen amusingly”, the armless - “jump into the harp”, the legless - “jump”. "Healer for foreigners". The combination of the incompatible is brought to deliberate absurdity, to "nonsense articles," as the author of the jester's "Medicine for Foreigners" put it. Medical books were called curative books (preserved from the 16th century). The Medical Book for Foreigners parodies these books. The title of this work says that it was "issued from the Russian people, how to treat foreigners." This is a laughable absurdity: “When someone has diarrhea, take 3 drops of girl’s milk, 16 thick bear’s roars, 4 arshins of thick eagle flying, 6 spools of big cat grunts, half a pound of chicken’s high voice, water jet ... grab it without water and divide ... with a long piece for half a tithe. Laughter literature does not invent new genres - it parodies ready-made compositions, tested in folklore and writing, turning them inside out. In order to perceive a parody, in order to appreciate it, the reader and listener need to know the parodied pattern well. Therefore, the most common genres that the ancient Russian people encountered day after day are taken as a model - the court case (“The Tale of Ersh Ershovich”), the petition (“Kalyazinsky petition”), the medical book, the message, the church service. "Service to the tavern" . The scheme of the church service was used in the “Service of the Tavern”, the oldest list of which is dated 1666. Here we are talking about drunkards, regulars of the “circle”. They have their own divine service, which is celebrated not in the temple, but in a tavern, they compose stichera and canons not for saints, but for themselves, they ring not bells, but “small cups” and “half a bucket of beer”. Here are given "stupid", clownish variations of prayers from liturgical books. One of the most common prayers “Holy God, holy strong, holy immortal, have mercy on us” is replaced by the following exclamation of taverns: “Bind hops, bind stronger, bind drunks and all drinkers, have mercy on us Golyansky.” In this variation, the rhythm and sound signature of the original is remarkably subtly imitated. The prayer “Our Father” took on the following form in the “Service of the Tavern”: “Our Father, even if you sit at home now, may your name be glorified by us, come to us too, may your will be done as if at home, taco and at the tavern, our bread will be in the oven. Give you, Lord, and this day, and leave, debtors, our debts, as we leave our bellies in a tavern, and do not lead naked to the right (debt collection with corporal punishment), there is nothing to give us, but deliver us from prisons." There is no need to think that "turning out" prayer texts is blasphemy, a mockery of faith. This was directly pointed out by the unknown author of the preface to one of the lists of the “Service to the Tavern”: “After amusement, someone will think of using blasphemy, and from this his conscience, being weak, is embarrassed; ". Medieval Europe knew countless similar parodies ("parodia sacra") both in Latin and in vernacular languages. Up until the 16th century. parodies of psalms, gospel readings, and church hymns were part of the scenario of clownish festivals, “holidays of fools” that were played out at churches, and the Catholic Church allowed this. The fact is that medieval parody, including Old Russian parody, is a parody of a special type, which did not at all set itself the goal of ridiculing the parodied text. “Laughter in this case is directed not at another work, as in the parodies of modern times, but at the very one that is being read or listened to by the perceiver. This is typical for the Middle Ages “laughing at oneself”, including at the work that is currently being read. Laughter is immanent in the work itself. The reader does not laugh at some other author, not at another work, but at what he reads. .. That is why the “empty kathisma” is not a mockery of some other kathisma, but is an antikathisma, closed in itself, a fable, nonsense.” Faith, like the church as a whole, has not been discredited in comic literature. However, unworthy ministers of the church were ridiculed very often. Depicting how drunkards carry their belongings to the tavern, the author of the Service to the Kabak puts Balti and monks at the head of the tavern "ranks": blacks - manati, cassocks, hoods and scrolls and all things in the cell; deacons - books, and translations, and ink. These priests and deacons say: “Let’s drink the dark green single-row and have fun, we won’t spare the green caftan, we’ll pay off with forty-mouthed money. Sitse priests are thoughtfully drunk, who would tear a dead man from his teeth. This cynical “philosophy of light bread” is also familiar to European comic culture: Lazarillo of Tormes, the title character of the famous Spanish picaresque novel (1554), admits to the reader that he prayed to God that at least one person died every day, then he could treat himself at the memorial. "The Tale of the Chicken and the Fox" . The anti-clerical sharpness is inherent in The Tale of the Chicken and the Fox. This monument, mentioned in the sources as early as 1640, has come down to us in prose and verse editions, as well as in mixed and fabulous versions. The most ancient is the prose edition. It parodies the plot scheme of a religious legend. The main plot knots of the religious legend (sinning, then repentance of the sinner, then salvation) are distorted here and become comical. The rooster turns out to be an imaginary sinner (he is accused of polygamy), and the “wise fox wife” is an imaginary righteous woman. Instead of salvation, the penitent will face death. The confessor in the "Tale" is replaced by a crafty confessor, who literally "hungry for someone to devour." The parodic plot is backed up by a parodic theological debate: a rooster and a fox, alternately quoting Scripture, compete in wit and theological casuistry. The laughter situation created by The Tale of the Chicken and the Fox is characteristic not only of Old Russian, but also of European culture. The early Middle Ages considered the fox to be the personification of the devil. The Russian “Physiologists” and the European “Bestiaries” explained this symbol in this way: a hungry fox pretends to be dead, but as soon as the hens and the rooster come close to him, he tears them to shreds. Thomas Aquinas, interpreting the biblical phrase “Catch us the foxes, the cubs that spoil the vineyards, and our vineyards are in bloom” (Song of Songs, II, 15), wrote that the foxes are Satan, and the vineyards are the Church of Christ. Since the 12th century, after the appearance of the French "Roman Fox", another interpretation begins to prevail: the fox is considered the living embodiment of cunning, hypocrisy and hypocrisy. In the decorative decoration of Gothic temples, images of a fox preaching from the pulpit to chickens or geese appear. Sometimes the fox is dressed in a monastic dress, sometimes in a bishop's vestments. These scenes go back to the story of the son of the hero of the "Novel Fox", Renardine (Little Fox), who, having escaped from the monastery, lured geese by reading "spiritual" sermons. When gullible and curious listeners came close, Renardine devoured them. The Russian "Tale of the Chicken and the Fox" knows both of these symbolic interpretations. The first of them (the fox is the devil), however, is of secondary importance and was directly reflected in only one phrase: “The fox gnashes its teeth and, looking at him with an unmerciful eye, like the devil is unmerciful to Christians, remembers the sins of the chicken and rages at him.” The echo of this interpretation can be seen in the fact that the fox is called "the wise woman." According to medieval Christian tradition, the devil may be hiding in the guise of a “wise wife” or “wise virgin”. The second interpretation (the fox is a hypocrite, a hypocritical and vicious confessor, a "false prophet") became a plot-forming moment, served to create a laughable situation. Who wrote the works of democratic satire? To what stratum did the anonymous authors of these works belong? It can be assumed that at least part of the comic compositions came from the environment of the lower clergy. The Kalyazinsky petition says that the Moscow priest served as a “model” for the merry brethren of this provincial monastery: Pokrovki without a letter of priest Kolotilu, and they hastily sent them to the Kolyazin Monastery for a sample. Who is a "priest without a diploma"? It is known that in Moscow at the Church of the Intercession of the Virgin in the XVII century. there was a patriarchal "priests' hut". Here, the unemployed priests, who did not have a letter of appointment, were distributed among the parishes. Sources note that these “priests without a letter”, gathering at the Spassky Bridge, started “great outrages”, spread “mean and ridiculous reproaches”. In this restless, half-drunk crowd, rumors and gossip were born, here from the hands, from under the floor, forbidden handwritten books were traded. At the turn of the 70-80s. at the Spassky Bridge, one could easily buy the writings of the Pustozero prisoners - Avvakum and his associates, containing "great blasphemy against the royal house". Here, "ridiculous reproaches" were also sold. Russian laughter culture was not born in the 17th century. Daniil Zatochnik, a writer of the pre-Mongol era, is also its representative. However, in the Middle Ages, the culture of laughter still rarely penetrated into writing, remaining within the oral tradition, and only from the beginning of the 17th century. acquired some citizenship rights in literature. Then the number of comic texts grows rapidly. In the XVIII century. they are placed on popular prints and wall sheets. What is the reason for this late activity of the laughter culture? The Time of Troubles was the time of "freedom of speech". It created the conditions for the written fixation of comic and satirical works. Polish influence clearly accelerated this process, because in the first half of the 17th century. account for the flourishing of Polish comic literature. But the main reason for this late activity was the very reality of the Muscovite state. In the 17th century the masses of the people were impoverished to such an extent that the comical anti-world began to look too much like reality and could no longer be perceived only aesthetically, as an artistic "world inside out." The authorities literally drove the people into taverns, forbidding peasants and townspeople to smoke wine and brew beer. “Pitukhovs should not be driven away from the mug yards ... to seek before the former (more than the former) profit,” the royal charter of 1659 punished. Traditional laughter situations merged with everyday everyday practice. The tavern became a home for many, clownish nudity - real nudity, clownish mats - both everyday and festive dress. "Whoever is drunk, he is said to be rich," wrote the author of "Service to the Tavern." Indeed, only in drunkenness could a poor man imagine himself a rich man. “There is no place to live as a lover ... - the roosters sang in the Service of the Tavern. - Nag announcing, does not hurt, nor does a native shirt smolder, and the navel is bare. When rubbish, you close your finger. Thank you, Lord, it was and swam away, there’s nothing to think about, don’t sleep, don’t stand, just keep the defense against bedbugs, otherwise it’s fun to live, but there’s nothing to eat. And this ridiculous situation in the 17th century. also turned into reality: “between the yards” through the towns and villages of Muscovite Russia wandered crowds of walking people who had neither a home nor property, the ridiculous, absurd, wrong side world invaded life, became an ordinary, tragic world. Hence - a sober sense of hopelessness, which breaks through drunken laughter, hence - a bitter mockery of naive utopias. Recall the "Legend of a luxurious life and fun." The genre is dystopian. Hence, the genre of utopia is parodied here. In the XVI-XVII centuries. this genre was cultivated by such European thinkers as Campanella and Thomas More (the name of the genre comes from More's book "Utopia"). Russian literature of the XVI-XVII centuries. did not create and did not assimilate the developed "utopias". Until the time of Peter the Great, the reader continued to use the medieval legends about the earthly paradise, about the kingdom of Prester John, about the rahman-gymnosophists, preserved in book circulation. What, then, is the parodied object of The Tale of Luxurious Living and Joy on Russian soil? After all, parody in itself does not make sense, it always exists in tandem with the parodied construction. If Russian literature of the 17th century did not know the genre of utopia, then Russian oral culture knew it, and the point here is not in a fairy-tale kingdom with milky rivers and jelly banks. In the 17th century in Russia there were many rumors about distant free countries - about Mangazeya, about “gold and silver islands”, about Dauria, about a rich island “on the Eastern Ocean”. There “there is bread, and horses, and cattle, and pigs, and chickens, and they smoke wine, and weave, and spin from everything from the Russian custom,” there is a lot of unplowed land and no one takes taxes. Belief in these legends was so strong that in the second half of the 17th century. hundreds and thousands of poor people, entire villages and prisons were removed from their places and fled to no one knows where. The shoots took on such proportions that the government was seriously alarmed: beyond the Urals, special outposts took over the fugitives, and the Siberian governors forced the walking people turned into Cossacks to kiss the cross on the fact that they “shouldn’t move to the Daurian land and couldn’t get off without a vacation.” Against the background of these legends, The Tale of a Luxurious Life and Joy stands out especially sharply. The country described in it is a caricature of fictions about free land. The naive and ignorant people believe in such a kingdom, and the author of the Tale destroys this belief. The author is a hungry person, an outcast, a loser, offended by life, cast out of the world of the well-fed. He does not even try to penetrate this world, knowing that this is impossible, but takes revenge on him with laughter. Starting with a deliberately serious description of the fabulous abundance, he brings this description to the point of absurdity, and then shows that all this is a fiction: “And there they take small duties, for washing (duties for goods), for bridges and for transportation - from arcs on a horse , from a hat to a person and from an entire convoy to people. This is the same ghostly wealth that seemed to be in the hops of the taverns. Real poverty, inescapable "nakedness and barefootedness" is represented in the image of laughter wealth. Laughter literature of the 17th century. opposes itself not only to the official "untruth" about the world, but also to folklore with its utopian dreams. She speaks the "naked truth" - through the mouth of a "naked and poor" person.

Tavern Service

Months of Kitovras on an absurd day, even in the unsimilar tavern of a shalnago, named in the monastic rank of Kurekhi, and like him who suffered three hedgehogs, self-reverse in the flesh, skinny Gomzin, Omelyan and Alafia, buoyant destroyers [Christian. A feast in unsimilar places in taverns, where, when, who with faith deigns to celebrate the three blinders of wine and beer and honey, Christian detractors and human minds of void-makers].

At small vespers we will sing the good news in small cups, we will also ring in half a bucket of beer, the same stichera in a smaller pledge in rings, and in boots and mittens, and in trousers and trousers.

The voice of the wasteland is like a daily exposure.

Chorus: Yes, the drunkard at the tavern hopes to drink with a sucker, and otherwise he will get his own.

In three days you cleansed yourself naked, as it is written: drunkards will not inherit the kingdom of God. Without water on land, it sinks; was with everything, and became with nothing. Rings, man, get in the way on the hand, it’s hard to wear leggings, he changes his trousers for beer; you drink from the bass, but if you oversleep in disgrace, you turn it into a thick one, you tell everyone to drink, and on tomorrow you will ask yourself, if you oversleep, you’ll be enough.

Verse: And that one will save you naked from the whole dress, he drank it in a tavern with a mutilation.

You drank for three days, without everything [you became an estate], make me drunk with a hangover of illness and a hangover. You bought it for three days, you laid the needlework, and you often walked around the tavern, and you stared diligently from other people's hands. Glazing dashing forest more than asking happens.

Verse: They praise the drunkard, as they see in his hands.

The clatter of a tambourine summons those who drink to crazy foolishness, tells us to perceive poverty with a yoke, says to the wine-drinkers: come, let us rejoice, let us make an offering from the shoulder of our dress, drinking wine, behold, the light brings nakedness to us, and the time is approaching to gladness.

Verse: As if to establish yourself in a tavern, drink, naked g ... soot from the beds of revenge forever.

Who, drunk naked, will not remember you, indecent tavern? How can anyone not sigh: in many times wealth is collected, but in one hour all will perish? There are a lot of cabins, but it’s impossible to turn back. Is there anyone who doesn’t say about you, the tavern is indecent, but is it not a mochi?

Glory is now hoarse with shame.

Come, all the art of mankind and good will in the mind, let us see such a drink to science. At first, they are involuntarily nudity from their parents or from friends of their neighbors, today and the day after, from a hangover illness, they involuntarily force them to drink, and little by little we ourselves will become more thirsty and we will begin to teach people, but as soon as we learn to drink beer, and do not piss and deprive. In former times, as we did not know how to drink beer, everyone calls and they go to the house, and we go, and in that anger lives from our friends. And now, where they don’t call, and we go with our fatherhood. Khosh and stipulate, but we endure, we put a deaf hood on ourselves. It is sufficient for us, brethren, to run away, as from a lion that devours a man. To that we will feel, in a small hour, how wisdom has disappeared, go naked, and be filled with madness, who sees it with laughter, and sings to himself with great shame. In the same way we slander thee, indecent tavern, mentor of demons.

On the verse of the stichera, it is like: The house is empty.

The house is amusing, worn out with hunger, the robots are squeaking, they want to eat, and we rightly swear that we ourselves do not go to bed.

Verse: Many sorrows from a hangover are tenacious.

Polati taverns, take a drunkard! Naked, rejoice, behold an imitator of you, a sufferer of hunger.

Verse: Drunkard, like a naked body, prosper in squalor.

Today he is drunk and rich velmy, but like a sleeper - there is nothing to eat, he recognizes the other side.

Glory now. Father's son is harsh. The father's son sternly cheered you up, recognized the yarzhny and rolled on the boards in the soot, took the purse and went under the windows.

And we drink other common things according to the income, in what they believe. The same nudity or barefoot and let go according to custom, and there is a lot of falling, dropping hats.

At the Great Vespers we will call in all dress, before dinner we will drink a ladle of three wines, and we will also verb empty kathisma that has come. Even drinking on the vestments, we will carry large buckets of wine from the cellar. The same stichera on the whole dress of wine naked, everyday mourning with sighing.

The voice of the sixth is like: Do not rejoice in drinking in front of people, but you will not lose yours.

Chorus: bring my soul out of indecent drunkenness.

Every city and country will come, we will celebrate the memory of the troublemakers of the Mers, we will rejoice the crickets of the bakers with hunger, we will sing of the executions of merchants, even from our own folly of the suffering, disobedient, we will reproach the recalcitrant father and mother. Not for God's sake, the scum and the famine and nakedness of those who endure beatings and praises, we will sing, saying: Rejoice, for your reward is many on boards in soot. ,

Verse: Landing a pledge that I drink. Come, madness, and sing absurd songs to drunkards, as if out of good will you have chosen your own loss. Come, drunkards, rejoice, throw yourself from the stove [hunger, exclaim with squalor, flourish like dog lips that grow in stingy places.

Verse: Deaf, amusingly listen; Naked, rejoice, cut your throat, foolishness is approaching you. Armless, jump into the harp; buffaloes, exclaim the song of madness with the hawk moth; legless ones, jump up, adorn this feast for this absurd triumph of the evil diadem.

Chorus: Like every person wants to recover from a hangover. Evil and demonic, flock, self-willed gifts are coming to you; wearing his own crowns of his patience. From the end they are burning, but they are talking to others. Headless and blind, follow us to the stove in Propasnaya Street and see what it is like to be accepted into the land of a drunkard, weaning your belly. Taking for yourself the root of anguish, the color of groaning, the branches of shame. They call with hunger, they sing barefoot, they look from the oven] that living parents, that beetles have crawled out of feces, squeak that puppies, ask for money for a cup, and some give bread. White hands are like burns, faces are like boiler bottoms, teeth brighten, eyes chirp, throats growl, like dogs gnaw. As that God-lover gave money, and another says: He granted me. Whoever does not blaspheme those lives, as if instead of good, they love evil days for themselves, with theft and lies and tatboy they magnify their own lives of those who do not care.

Verse: From all the good of drunkenness for the sake of those who have lost.

Come, all skill and benevolence in your mind, let us run away from such a self-willing ditch, those who fall into it and drag our friends into this. All of you, take a break, as if it’s not good for us, who think and drag us into the pit of death. It is innocent to eat [wine for us], but it is cursed to eat drunkenness with no restraint. Created more there is a hop for the clever to honor, and for the insane to perish. As if God is glorified in a rational person, the light of reason is for him, he also illuminates the discussion, such [evils] excommunicate, we worthily appease them.

Verse: Whenever we ring in all bellies, glory to every man according to his deeds.

Whenever people are glorious, in the belly of temptation, in the mind for despondency I become merry with hops, then when we do this for many days, I darken my existing mind with drink, I transform into foolishness, I drink myself naked. Whenever I wake up, I am stung with shame. Whenever I give a drink from a hangover to my first rank, I return it to my stomach, detrimentally slandering myself, as if I didn’t leave a single robe in the house. Love the vast abyss, blow your belly into the wind. Drag, carry, pour! When drunk, then filled with joy, stupidity and noise, digging at the top of his lungs to wean his stomach. Still waking up, then illumined with illness and with frequent groaning died. When you reach the measure of a sober mind, then sadness is painfully hurt, as if you have drunk a lot, it is not known that the end of my life will be, we don’t know where and how to start living, and vows and penances on yourself and an oath, as if you don’t drink in the future. When you don’t drink for a long time, then lust, like an arrow, stung, as if powerfully drinking to the glory of God. But when, through an oath, bolder, stretching out to drink and drinking, and pouring out [on] buttons, and semo and ovamo, like a fool, soulless [rolling around], appearing to himself a murderer and a murderer, and falling into a bitter misfortune, falling bitterly first, and our secret all this is a disgrace to a man. What we don’t do, other good people will add three times. Everyone will vomit, but not everyone will tell on himself. Under the forest they see, but under the nose they do not hear. The life of a loved one is placeless, according to the saying: gold is higher than rust, your prayers have been eaten, and drunkards and drunkards wipe the gold rust and blow their lives. Nag appears, does not hurt, nor does a native shirt smolder, and the navel is bare. When rubbish, you close your finger.

Thank you Lord, it was and it swam away, there’s nothing to think about, don’t sleep, don’t stand, just hold the defense against bedbugs, otherwise you’ll live happily, but there’s nothing to eat. Pressing your hands to your heart and shooing on the stove, you don’t knock better than the devil in the corner. For this sake, we cry out to you from idleness: have fun, rejoice, get lost, and hire yourself twice, get some money, the Altynian will eat, and make half the ransom, and sometimes don’t even sleep.

Eleven seven and a dress with a shoulder, the stirrup did not become, eleven lied, jumped into a beard, joy said. Rejoice, you've been fooled, you are not alone at the uterus, there are many of you, troublemakers, but not in one place, bare g ..., jumping, white hands warm in the company. Mom gave birth to you, but the pit did not accept you. You don’t sweat in summer, and you don’t get cold in winter, you warm your hands behind your cheeks, you live that you knead the dirt. Alas for us, wherever we are, wherever we live, we dream everywhere, wherever we stand, here in ... we disperse people from ourselves, for the stupidity of our mind and our existing parents have left us and say that they did not give birth to us. Naturally flourished with their lives, like naked people, than they sweep the bathhouse, so do you, drunkards, that the devil, plug the dira. By that worthy we slander and please you.

Holy glory of the tavern.

The unholy glory to the tavern [wish], but the unkind we remember the father and obscene punishment, but we do not listen to them, such is it for us and forgets. They commemorate the son [on] theft, and did not help his father, they hit him on the back, and third-party people say: it is worthy and righteous to humble the thief and everyone, despite this, will be punished for good. Son, hear your father well, your life is a helper, the world praises you the same way,

Same exit from the cellar with beer. Prokeimenon and Hermes on the stove says: The drunkard, having drunk, will be clothed in torn rags.

Verse: And if you find or steal something, then take it to the tavern.

Verse: He likes and any paid, but drunk not rushing to keep.

Same paremias. Reading from worldly life.

The drunkards of the unrestrained and disobedient souls are in the hands of demons, and torment will touch them. Do not eat in the eyes of the wise and die without repentance, and from drinking the crushing of the bones and the falling away of his flesh, for before the face of man they are shameless. And they will also accept nakedness, their hope in drunkenness is in vain. Even if they beat from wine, dokuks do not put off, like a demon tempt them and find them like yourself, like you have prepared pitch for them and like an all-fruitful sacrifice to fiery kinship. And until the time of theft, their nagas for bargaining [beats] will be, and, like a river, tears will flow from their eyes. They will pass away judged by their intemperance and possess hops, and drunkenness is rooted in them, and they will abide in poverty about him, like grace on boards and baking street on golyansky, and care in their kostarny.

Reading from worldly life.

Drunkards live in a tavern and take care of visiting people, [how to peel them and drink them in a tavern, and for this they will receive wounds and illnesses and much sorrow]. For this sake, for the sake of the offering of Christ, they will accept from their hands a money and two money, and, having taken a drink, they will treat him, and when the hop of a visiting person overcomes, and spills, and they give him a bucket of Golyansky beer, and he will take the weapon of drunkenness and the zeal of a fight, and impose [ a helmet of stupidity and will take a shield] of nakedness, he will sharpen his fists for a fight, he will arm his face for battle, arrows will go out from polynits, as if from a spring of a bow, and a drunkard can be beaten with a stone. The kisser will also be indignant at them, and the yarzhnye insolently spends the batogi; like a tuft, it will develop the drunk and, cleansing them naked, but dishonor rules on them in the morning and releases them to their land without anything. Hear, young piety, and inspire visiting guests, and this attack is given to you for stupidity, and your strength is transformed into weakness.

Tavern Service

Months of Kitovras on an absurd day, even in the unsimilar tavern of a shalnago, named in the monastic rank of Kurekhi, and with him three highly intelligent self-reverse in the flesh, chubby Gomzin, Omelyan and Alafia, who were buoyant destroyers [Christian. A feast in unsimilar places in taverns, where, when, who with faith deigns to celebrate the three blinders of wine and beer and honey, Christian detractors and human minds of empty creators].

The voice of the wasteland is like a daily exposure.

Chorus: Yes, the drunkard at the tavern hopes to drink with a sucker, and otherwise he will get his own.

Verse: And that one will save you naked from the whole dress, he drank it in a tavern with a mutilation.

Verse: They praise the drunkard, as they see in his hands.

Verse: As if to establish yourself in a tavern, drink, naked g ... soot from the beds of revenge forever.

Who, having drunk himself naked, will not remember you, indecent tavern? How can anyone not sigh: in many times wealth is collected, but in one hour all will perish? There are a lot of cabins, but it’s impossible to turn back. Is there anyone who doesn’t say about you, the tavern is indecent, but is it not a mochi?

Glory is now hoarse with shame.

Come, all skillful people and benevolence in the mind, let us see such a drink to science. At first, they are involuntarily nudity from their parents or from friends of their neighbors, today and the day after, from a hangover illness, they involuntarily force them to drink, and little by little we ourselves will become more thirsty and we will begin to teach people, but as soon as we learn to drink beer, and do not piss and deprive. In former times, as we did not know how to drink beer, everyone calls and they go to the house, and we go, and in that anger lives from our friends. And now, where they don’t call, and we go with our fatherhood. Khosh and stipulate, but we endure, we put a deaf hood on ourselves. It is sufficient for us, brethren, to run away, as from a lion that devours a man. To that we will feel, in a small hour, how wisdom has disappeared, go naked, and be filled with madness, who sees it with laughter, and sings to himself with great shame. In the same way we slander thee, indecent tavern, mentor of demons.

On the verse of the stichera, it is like: The house is empty.

The house is amusing, worn out with hunger, the robots are squeaking, they want to eat, and we rightly swear that we ourselves do not go to bed.

Verse: Many sorrows from a hangover are tenacious.

Polati taverns, take a drunkard! Naked, rejoice, behold an imitator of you, a sufferer of hunger.

Verse: Drunkard, like a naked body, prosper in squalor.

Today he is drunk and rich velmy, but like a prospit - there is nothing to eat, he recognizes someone else's side.

Glory now. Father's son is harsh. The father's son sternly cheered you up, recognized the yarzhny and rolled on the boards in the soot, took the purse and went under the windows.

And we drink other common things according to the income, in what they believe. The same nudity or barefoot and let go according to custom, and there is a lot of falling, dropping hats.

The voice of the sixth is like: Do not rejoice in drinking in front of people, but you will not lose yours.

Chorus: bring my soul out of indecent drunkenness.

Every city and country will come, we will celebrate the memory of the troubled creators of the gloomy, we will rejoice the crickets of the oven with hunger, we will sing of the executions of merchants, even from our own folly of the suffering, disobedient, we will reproach the father and mother of the recalcitrant. Not for God's sake, the scum and the famine and nakedness of those who endure beatings and praises, we will sing, saying: Rejoice, for your reward is many on boards in soot. ,

Chorus: Like every person wants to recover from a hangover. Evil and demonic, flock, self-willing gifts to you are coming; wearing his own crowns of his patience. From the end they are burning, but they are talking to others. Headless and blind, follow us to the stove in Propasnaya Street and see what it is like to be accepted into the land of a drunkard, weaning your belly. Taking for yourself the root of anguish, the color of groaning, the branches of shame. They call with hunger, they sing barefoot, they look from the oven] that living parents, that beetles have crawled out of feces, squeak that puppies, ask for money for a cup, and some give bread. White hands - like burns, faces - like boiler bottoms, teeth brighten, eyes chirp, throats growl, like dogs gnaw. As that God-lover gave money, and another says: He granted me. Whoever does not blaspheme those lives, as if instead of good, they love evil days for themselves, with theft and lies and tatboy they magnify their own lives of those who do not care. Verse: From all the good of drunkenness for the sake of those who have lost. Come, all skill and benevolence in your mind, let us run away from such a self-willing ditch, those who fall into it and drag our friends into this. All of you, take a break, as if it’s not good for us, who think and drag us into the pit of death. It is innocent to eat [wine for us], but it is cursed to eat drunkenness with no restraint. Created more there is a hop for the clever to honor, and for the insane to perish. As if God will be glorified in a rational person, the light of the mind is for him, with him it illuminates reasoning, such [evils] excommunicate, we worthily appease them. Verse: Whenever we ring in all bellies, glory to every man according to his deeds.

Whenever people are glorious, in the belly of temptation, in the mind for despondency I become merry with hops, then when we do this for many days, I darken my existing mind with drink, I transform into foolishness, I drink myself naked. Whenever I wake up, I am stung with shame. Whenever I give a drink from a hangover to my first rank, I return, I detrimentally slander on my stomach, as if I didn’t leave a single robe in the house. Love the vast abyss, blow your belly into the wind. Drag, carry, pour! When drunk, then filled with joy, stupidity and noise, digging at the top of his lungs to wean his stomach. Still waking up, then illumined with illness and with frequent groaning died. When, to the best of your sober mind, you reach it, then sadness is painfully stung, as if you have drunk a lot, it is not known that the end of my life will be, we don’t know where and how to start living, and vows and penances on yourself and an oath imposed, as if you don’t drink in the future . When you don’t drink for a long time, then lust, like an arrow, stung, as if powerfully drinking to the glory of God. But when, through an oath, bolder, stretched out to drink and drink yours, and poured out [on] buttons, and semo and ovamo, like a blockhead, soulless [rolling around], appearing to himself a murderer and a murderer, and falling into a bitter misfortune bitterly first, and our secret all this is a disgrace to man. What we don’t do, other good people will add three times. Everyone will vomit, but not everyone will tell on himself. Under the forest they see, but under the nose they do not hear. The life of a loved one is placeless, according to the saying: gold is higher than rust, your prayers have been eaten, and drunkards and drunkards wipe the gold rust and blow their lives. Nag appears, does not hurt, nor does a native shirt smolder, and the navel is bare. When rubbish, you close your finger. Thank you Lord, it was and it swam away, there’s nothing to think about, don’t sleep, don’t stand, just hold the defense against bedbugs, otherwise you’ll live happily, but there’s nothing to eat. Pressing your hands to your heart and shooing on the stove, you don’t knock better than the devil in the corner. For this sake, we cry out to you from idleness: have fun, rejoice, get lost, and hire yourself twice, get some money, the Altynian will eat, and make half the ransom, and sometimes don’t even sleep.

Eleven seven and a dress from the shoulder, the stirrup did not stop, one-nine lied, jumped into the beard, joy said. Rejoice, you've been fooled, you are not alone at the uterus, there are many of you, troublemakers, but not in one place, bare g ..., jumping, white hands warm in the company. Mom gave birth to you, but the pit did not accept you. You don’t sweat in summer, and you don’t get cold in winter, you warm your hands behind your cheeks, you live that you knead the dirt. Alas for us, wherever we are, wherever we live, we dream everywhere, wherever we stand, here in ... we disperse people from ourselves, for the stupidity of our mind and our existing parents have left us and say that they did not give birth to us. Naturally flourished with their lives, like naked people, than they sweep the bathhouse, so do you, drunkards, that the devil, plug the dira. By that worthy we slander and please you.

Holy glory of the tavern.

Same exit from the cellar with beer. Prokeimenon and Hermes on the stove says: The drunkard, having drunk, will be clothed in torn rags.

Verse: And if you find or steal something, then take it to the tavern.

Verse: He likes and any is paid, but do not drink drunk, hold back.

Same paremias. Reading from worldly life.

The drunkards of the unrestrained and disobedient souls are in the hands of demons, and torment will touch them. Do not eat in the eyes of the wise and die without repentance, and from drinking the crushing of the bones and the falling away of his flesh, for before the face of man they are not ashamed. And they will also accept nakedness, their hope in drunkenness is in vain. Even if they beat from wine, dokuks do not put off, like a demon tempt them and find them like yourself, like you have prepared pitch for them and like an all-fruitful sacrifice to fiery kinship. And until the time of theft, their nagas for bargaining [beats] will be, and, like a river, tears will flow from their eyes. They will pass away judged by their intemperance and possess hops, and drunkenness is rooted in them, and they will abide in poverty about him, like grace on boards and baking street on golyansky, and care in their kostarny.

Reading from worldly life.

A truthful person, if he drinks and hangs around taverns, he will be a disgrace. His old age is not honest, nor many children, and theft will deprive him of strength, his gray hairs bring shame to him, the old age of his life is a disgrace. Having deigned to live badly, being pleasing to drunkards, living in the midst of the sober, he would be resigned to pity, he would be delighted and [with] rages in theft [he would be caught], but malice would cover his mind and the flattery of drunkenness would transform his soul. For the evil destroys the good, and the desire of lust turns it into the pit of perdition. If he dies from theft, no one will grieve for him, he will fulfill his years in drinking, and his soul would be pleasing to the demon. For this sake, having succumbed to the environment of slyness, where you can lure and drink something, ask every person for beer and wine and take it by force. The people, having seen who has it, beat him to create a rish, and other men of God for the sake of his wasteland and did not put it in the torment of this, as if there was no one to beat him and there was nothing to remove from him.

The same: Vouchsafe, Lord, this evening, without beatings, let us drink drunk. I'll go to sleep, bless us, drunken seekers and drinkers, and drunkenly found. You are praised and your name is affixed to us forever. Wake up, hop, your strength is on us, as if we were relying on you.

On the lithium stichera: For the weaning of the crumbs and the profit of someone else's estate.

The voice of others, 18, is like: O painful procession.

He armed himself with hard drinkers, like a pea puff, in the image of a man, in his mind like a bat, he doesn’t fly in the day, but flies in the night, so you, drunkard, lie behind the stove in the day, curled up, like a dog, you die of hunger, and in the night, like a foolish pick-up, you are a bachelor among drunken mosh, and you endure your work for your work, but you don’t leave a bad custom, your foolishness extends to your previous foolishness, like a crow flies on the boards, so you think on the boards how to peel someone. For the sake of honoring the reception of your labors, you tied your head with a crown of sprinkles, you filled your heart with a twist, you anointed your face with dectem, you flourished, as if sprinkled, whoever takes it, he will burn his hands, so with you, with a drunkard, whoever girlfriend, he ohnet. You surprised everyone with your life, shining like a baking star, or, like beads, appearing in an absurd place, which pigs take. With your mind, you dived into the depths of the abyss from labor. down to three hells.

In the midst of misfortune, you jumped, you settled in prison and there the real reward of your labors was received, a necklace of three quilted hammers and a Burlsh ring on both hands, and establish your nose in the treasure, and having a life that is not rebellious and not vague, remember those who honor foolishness iroio , bring praise to the world about almsgiving, so that you have something to fill your womb. To those of you, disobedient, in the songs of diabolical we will slink away.

Glory to the hvaglinom but the shocks. The voice of the remnant: In your patience, you have acquired your reward, honor [on the cheeks] of your labors, mourn, with a straw crown your head is tied up, your face is drunk for the dipper, your head is filled with ashes, your face is depressing with soot, fasting your life is over. People in the mouth, and you swallow.

Having obeyed being drunkards, they will make the abbot, and you, like a demon, jumped. A ladle was given to another on a shelf in the name, and you jumped off the shelf, rushed, didn’t break your head a little, jumping up like an idol, grabbed the bucket, didn’t drink the bucket, but grabbed the bucket, said thank you: Yaz is to blame. B... pulled out his son, and you, drunkard, not in spite of the verb: God pays you on a kind word. Blessed are you, for no sorrow can separate you from drinking, neither beatings, nor puffins, nor gladness, nor shame, nor those who gave birth to you; shamelessly having a face that I’m a demon before morning, you flatter, so you, drunkard, drown your soul for a ladle, indulge the drinker, flatter, politely doing before him, tearing the fire from the hands of the redheads, judging him: it doesn’t shine much. You stretch your hand with fire upwards, sit in the place of the drunkard and blow the place for him to sit down, do not dirty his seat. Metesh hut, as always a good novice; but as soon as you drink it, you, like a demon, will jump onto the old boards, and he himself will say: - if, brother, there is nothing, and they don’t believe in old mortgages, come to us on the board and stick to our herd, sit down with us on the stove naked g. . soot revenge. Let's go from the bed, get naked ..., to the stove, get used to the beatings, learn to fast, look in from the oven with us, that a living parent is alive. ., eyes peep, teeth brighten, with zeal, bazhite that God will send you on your bare teeth. Cook about evo, what the hell is the case. There is much standing, but little reward. We honor you with beatings and blaspheme your vainness, we marvel at your patience, not for God's sake for those who suffer, but with silly disobedient blasphemous verbs we sing of you, suffering from your conscience.

And now. The same voice: To the father's stern son.

The father's son became merry, he confessed to the yarzhny, you suffered soot and ore on the floor, you took the purse and went under the windows, remembered Christ, and teased the dogs.

Also on the verse of the stichera, it is similar: The house is empty.

Rejoice, indecent tavern, unsatiated womb, from all the good to the diverter, domestic emptiness, ungrateful poverty, a foreign side is unwittingly known to you. For your sake, the tavern is useless, people hate me, they won’t give me a loan. With a hangover, if you have a great groaning, if you darken your eyes, cloud your mind, shake your hands. Old age is not good for a person, not a Christian death, many people die from you.

Verse: He knew how to drink to drunkenness and clothe himself in shameful nakedness.

Rejoice, unsatisfied tavern, great exposure to people in a small hour, and multiplication after sorrow. Glory goes to the whole earth for you, ungrateful, to the mnish rank a great reproach. Whoever comes to you will not leave in vain, you are not ashamed of every person if you are pure. Whoever does not know you, he will gasp from you, and after that there are many tears.

Verse: Like in a tavern, all theft happens.

Rejoice, merry tavern, as they boast and brag about you, but they suffer from poverty and poverty, your great miracles preach. Today I was drunk, I don’t remember how they took me out of the tavern, there were ten altyns in the purse, then they cleaned everything out and they say that I scolded many, and fought with others, I don’t remember everything. And Ying preaches: I was drunk on you, all the f ... and rolled into the feces, reached the aisle, slept here, woke up, went to the river at midnight, washed himself, whoever you say, to that of ... he interrupted his own, he dispersed his children, the judges trampled everything, there was nothing to drink, eat, and buy. nothing.

Verse: Every person is praised, as they see in his hands.

Rejoice, merry tavern, with weeping human destroyer, great annoyance to the visiting guest! Whoever visits you will see everything, the teacher young and old and insane, you give salaries to urban and rural yarygs around the whip, and you give strong sewn and caftans, often stitch, centuries-old memory. To others you give our necklaces worth three hammers, to whom you give different gifts. And to another you give iron cuffs, and you favor wings and elders in a dark dungeon and feed them with a hangover from the ridges, or you give them with elm sturgeon all over the ridge. Rip your dress, don’t stand still, regale it like a monastery, don’t be shy. Bread, gentlemen, is within our power, but the canopy is on the shoulders, but don’t divi on the bread, there were no lashes. To those ty, sir, we beat on the back with a forehead, they don’t often eat it, but it always burps.

Glory is now unkind to the disobedient.

The voice of the high-fifth: Who is pleased with your stupidity to wipe out and bear the labors of the tavern!

Whoever hears your immeasurable theft, and will not be surprised at patience and nakedness, even hearing from the people of the inn is taken. How ill I did not doubt in the least in a sober mind, always seeing naked people walking in front of me; let me sing the same way to be and wallow in the oven with yarzhny and go naked in front of all the people and laugh at being. Olya tavern stupidity and theft, human minds are overshadowing! About idleness, brother, who did not learn to lie with singing, or the hawker will be called a strong thief, not for God's sake, but for the sake of nakedness, not only left to steal, but also teaching those who are with him to steal and smash, saying: let's wait until evening and rob the peasant and hope We will put honey in a bucket, and God will give out something else and rob it, and we will see a lot of everything before us, beer and honey, but there is nothing to honor.

By this: Now let me go from the oven, your servant, to the tavern for a fork and for honey and for beer, according to your verb in peace, No.<-. ьидзста очи мои тамо много пьющих и пьяных. Спасайте их и не опивайте их, светло тамо открыта окна и двери приходя-шим людям.

Bind hops, bind stronger, bind drunks and all drinkers, do not have mercy on us, Golyansky. Thrice.

Glory to their father and mother and son, that they gave birth to such a son. Want to drink drunk yesterday and now with us and forever amen. Hops took possession of him much, have mercy on us Golyansky, who want to drink. Thrice.

Glory now. Also: Our Father, even if you sit now at home, may your name be glorified by us, may you come to us now, may your will be done at home, so in the tavern, our bread will be on the oven. Give you, Lord, and this day and leave our debtors for our debts, as we leave our bellies in a tavern, and do not lead us to the right, there is nothing to give us, but save us from prison.

Same troparion of the kabaku. Tone 11: Even though containing mania and stupidity and madness without measure, attracting a multitude of people but an insane triumph, convening a multitude of skillful people in the mind, turning into darkness, into not a multitude, diving into the depths of drunkenness, wear out crazy classes, shirts and trousers and upper change of clothes, and exhaustion of beer and honey, and with a hangover groan, a mentor, a tavern dissimilarity, cleansed those who honor thee naked.

And leave to sleep. At matins, having become a hangover, drink 2 cups of beer, 2 cups of beer, 2 cups of honey, drink 4 cups of honey.

According to this polyeleos: They carried a whole bucket. Chorus: Tub to you, singers, beer.

Also: Praise the name of the drunkard, hallelujah. Praise his yary who stands before him, blow his trumpet at all times and carry beer and honey in his courtyard. Praise him beyond measure, sing to him, like a bad scammer, and everything unlike him climbs into his eyes. Confess to him with a kindness and greeting, yaryzhnye and Golyansky, as if in a century the custom of drunkards. You know: do not indulge, otherwise do not drink with him.

Chorus too: Confess to him with kindness and tenderness beyond measure.

It doesn’t lead to lying down, but by the truth of life in a tavern to a drinker - you can’t see a bucket, like a drunken rozkruchinitsa, you and the drunks say goodbye to him, just hunt with him and drink a sucker. Give in to your hands, sometimes it’s easier on your hair, there’s nothing to buy with yourself, but drink on people, sometimes endure beatings. They say: without denig - drink water. It’s like someone drinks byten at the tavern, everyone praises him in those times, which they see and drink at him, but live about yourself at the tavern and don’t drink, like they bark to the miser for a century and want to rob everything from one, like a century near the tavern thieves of the holder. And who is crazy about drinking in a tavern, shit, as if in a century a prison is prepared for a fool. Whoever will drink to the glory of God, as if in a good age, good and glory. And who lives without a mind, but does not hunt in the future, so he should live, as if he lives forever with shame. We are talking about people, but people are not silent about the past, as if forever: what I call into the forest, taco will respond. Whoever is drunk, then everyone is said to be rich, but when he oversleeps, it’s not good to have a bite to eat, and there’s not a pool in the purse, as if they’ve never been drunk for a century. He who listens to good people and has himself been in all sorts of measures, as if he himself knows everything is good, such a merciful and skilful one will be in everyone.

Same name for a kabaku. We magnify you, merry tavern, and honor your fellow, you beat us and tell us to ski-tat around the world.

Chosen according to seven psalms. Tolerating sufferers, they live in a tavern and so on.

According to this prayer before the canon. The mutt says: Save, God, your people naked with singing and bless the house of your worthy thieves, with prayers I will lay down and our sobin, honest and glorious, I will sing ours, like in the cursed costars of the tavern, like the unnecessary usurers of Bogomer, like the unlike thieves of the great, Kokorka and Marilovets . We sing the elephant, who imitated their madness, Mikhail Trus and Ileyka Chernago and all the head thieves, praying to beat them with a whip and imprison them. There is no need for spa-diti, everything is worthy of them.

According to this eve, the creation of someone who drinks without a mind and without memory, does not die like a peasant.

Sedalen, tone 18, is like: O painfully worn.

Even at the tavern, I rushed, in all my thoughts I said: when I was crazy drunk and did not see the redeemer, nor the friends who come to me, but I pray to you: tavern, let me recover from a hangover.

Kontakion kobaku, tone 10: We will bring crazy songs to the chosen tavern, drinking together, and in the morning the whole day with a groan is seeing off, but as if having boldness for nakedness, ruin, hunger, magnificence, about all of us who drink the tavern bosom have fun, and the kissers with the wrong wealth get rich. The bottom of hell awaits you with joy, and break your souls, who are on the curve of your God-fighting, because the gates of hell are opening for you unchecked and a great place is being prepared in hell. Yes, all of you, ungrateful tavern, we call you: demonic mentor, [rejoice, the teacher is great nonsense].

Ikos: Who, having drunk himself naked, will not remember you, you are not like a tavern? How can anyone not sigh: for many days wealth is gathered, but in one hour all perish? There are a lot of kayaks, but it’s impossible to turn back. If you drank, then you will sigh about the sermyage. You drank for three days, with a hangover groaning for three days you climbed in, you laid needlework, you often deigned to walk near the tavern, you often looked out of other people's hands. Looking dashing forest is more than a petition.

The sound of a tambourine calls the drinkers to crazy theft, tells us to take poverty with a yoke and says to the wine-drinkers: come, let us rejoice a little, and then weep, we will make an offering of our dress to everyone, on drinking wine. Let us see how little he was reasonable, and in the blink of an eye he became without anything. Strong is insane to those who see it for laughter, but for himself to great shame with reproach. Does anyone say about you, the tavern is indecent, but lose your robes. In the same way we slander thee, ungrateful tavern, mentor of demons.

Svetelen, the voice of the wasteland: Like a villain, a haven, a tavern, flowing to you, revealed, having descended on the courtyard, we will make an offering with a pestle, erection of mortars, exhaustion of oat straw, nakedness, bare feet and smooth poles worn out. Rejoice with those who drink, and wake up - weep, tormenting with your fury, dying for the place of the dog.

On praise the stichera, the voice is empty, like: Endure the need.

Patiently languishing, smooth, strongly rejoicing hopeful, whose days to be full, to each other, talking yarny taverns: when you get money drunk from a purse, and we don’t leave a bad custom, patience is fiercely hungry, it’s not good to drink with hammers, but good drunk men get drunk. Let’s not be afraid, O Golenskys, we’ll cheat a little, and we’ll get stuck with a whip at the bargain and from there to prison.

[Tossing your robe, going incessantly to the tavern, to each other verbs with a hangover of priests and deacons, a warehouse for men and a bucket for honey, saying: let's drink a dark green single row and have fun, we won't spare the green caftan, we'll pay off with forty-mouth money. Sitse priests are thoughtfully drunk, who would tear a dead man from his teeth. We’ll wrap ourselves in black sermyags and drink from the peasants in brotherhoods, and we’ll run away from the priest’s zhurba, and again we’ll start living in the old way. Seeing the nudity of the tavern, flowing, as if blind], to a great loss, people serving each other say: let's take a little honey for despondency, sit down, we won't lay anything off ourselves. And as the hops take strength, the single row will be drunk. We will live in a tavern, we will not let down even our caftan, we will not spare the pianist of [our] dress. He wants to drink himself naked from the basses, to stand in front of him commanding, and to trumpet buffoons, to become without a whole belly, but with a hangover he will get into trouble and leave good people and become without all his property.

Other empty stichera: Thou self-appointed, man, come to the tavern, seeing people drowning without water on land, and you want to dry out, you create dreams in your mind: I’ll sit a little for despondency. Agio in a long time will pass, your joy turns into sadness, the disease multiplies, groaning and groaning from a hangover.

Thou hast flowed to the tavern for praise, foolish man, and that one will glorify thee to drink naked and in this temporary life wander around the world, with a bag under the windows ask and tease the dogs with a whip, with the same boldness and the abyss acquired thou.

Studied to steal, walking around the world, foolish slave, and disobedient to the doer of demons, you suffered the nakedness of the tavern, you drank your belly, and you didn’t see those who came after you, the same and on the bed of the g ... the soot was prepared to rub, go out for oven in Breakthrough Street so that they don’t starve to death.

Even before we call and in our ancient years, tavern, now secretly with a verb and touchingly cry: Rejoice, tavern, darkening of Vychegotsky Usolie, and now Usolie not only honors you, but even in distant pagan countries they hear your exposure, hedgehog in the surrounding volosts, there is a hedgehog on Vychega and on Vileda and on Lala, and in the other volosts there is a hearty sigh and a beating in Persian.

Who will read your rotten miracles, who needs you? I will liken thee to the demoniac, but the demoniac suffers involuntarily, but you commanded to jump and dance without permission. Yes, for this reason we call you: Rejoice, tavern, yaryg and deacon and other Christians, self-willed demons, malevolence and evil faith, an impossibly life, a lot of sighing, taverns are cheerful, tormented by their fury.

Glory is now empty, the voice of the six-fifth: When he comes from a tavern in the courtyard to his wife, a peaceful verb: these days, having seen his servants, they incessantly curse, reproach him, saying, there is nothing to eat, but you drink. Angrily, his wife is blatantly blatant: these days, she has not eaten with her children, O lord, why won’t you turn his neck to the side for a long time, what won’t you throw on the ground for a long time? But with grief it is said so, as if you can’t stand it: that husband always comes drunk, our house was ruined, he would have parted with him, but the children would have known the other side.

On the verse of the stichera, the voice of the pulna is like: What shall we call thee. What will I call thee now, tavern? Bad or insane, whether I call you a robber, but you throw it on the ground with mania. I’ll call you a merchant, for it’s not for nothing that you give a lot of your demons and more exhaustion. My tavern, pray for those who drink on you with their Golyans. Verse: Many sorrows come from a hangover.

What are you now, tavern, we will call, is it smart or crazy? All sorts of troubles come from you, but we pay off you and take mortgages, we change others for you, we don’t want dishonor. Kabache, pray with your Golyans.

Verse: Pianitsa, like a body, prospered in nakedness and squalor.

What shall we call you, tavern? Is the river fast, but better

the time of night is upon you, and the rapids of your current will cease,

kissers learn. Korchmo, unsatisfied womb, moth with Golyansky

about our shortcomings.

Glory to the unkind pianists. The voice of the pulna: Having armed yourself strongly on those who drink, the tavern is unworthy, cheerful, like some beast in the mountains, so are you, the tavern are pernicious, all the days attracting dresses and money for fun and drinking, the voivode is strong with all kinds of lies, especially the voevoda, outside and you will offend the voivode himself, because you silently catch people, as if they will lose all their property. For a long time you have attracted to yourself for fun, having commanded yourself for a long time, wise vanity, naked orphanhood, you say the wrong thing in basses: carry, wave, draw, pour, drag, pawn, redeem, and then depart and sigh

O great miracle, whoever does not carry on thee idle, but we talk about you and with malice maple thee, and do not amuse. The same is true with sighing.

And now, the voice of the residual: What will we bring, cheerful tavern? Each different person brings you gifts with the zeal of his heart: poi and deacon - skuf and hats, odnoryatki and servants; blacks - manati, cassocks, hoods and scrolls and all things in cell; deacons - books and translations, and ink, and every dress, and wallets drink away, and wise philosophers - change their wisdom for stupidity; service people serve with their backbone on the stove; the prince and the boyar and the governor are magnified for honey; gunners and soldiers have bought longing for themselves, they swell, lying on the stove; sabelniks are preparing a saber around their neck; healers and deceivers of misfortune are magnified on you; thiefs and robbers have fun, and serfs are saved, carrying bones in the field, they speak quickly, they spit far away, they throw basses to death, foul batogs are consecrated on you; women bring fornication and stinginess, good husbands of the wife improve shame for themselves; grain-growers and bonfires and wheelers get a mustache pain for themselves, stand up - groan, lie down - groan; usurers have raised their own vogogus, toiling them with dryness all the time; all sorts of buyers groan at you; merchants, foremen and dovotchiki crown with a whip; sexton there, that people wander into the herd, they bring wax and candles, that people used to drink there; and every person is handicraft and simple craftsmen with all sorts of foolishness amusing you, tavern, magnify. We all who love you, and fathers and mothers, will leave, a foreign side with shame knowing. Every person curses you, but they won't lose you. Chefs of all their wisdom on a glass of wine betray, foresters - martens and sables and vekshas on the stove imavayut lying down, that sable buckets of other ships. Blacksmiths prepare axes and knives and anvils, hammers and tongs and scythes for their own necks. Hop, you broke us, you taught us all the courtesy of the bass, joy to our age and dryness, we glorify you painfully forever. Chorus: The thought attacks those who honor councils, the light of the womb abides in the hearts of those who advise, and the grieving heart will humble itself, the thoughts of the fearful body become fierce.

Life and shame, and bitter patience, and about those who love much drink without measure, bless me rogue.

These are born from many different countries from a dissimilar parent, insane and raising a former with sorrow with bread. Friends of the good and rich parent of a former birth, bring up mournfully and without sorrow. When she reached adolescence and did not deign to live according to her father's punishment, but deigned to walk according to her own will, the parents held them back and were not able and betrayed their will. They venerated him and began to go to suppers and much wine. Their parents were unable to hold back any punishment and betrayed their will. They were buffaloes and brave, but they were not woodworkers or farmers. Taking a certain part of the estate from his fathers and coming to the tavern, squandering his estate, not for God's sake, then impoverished and drunkard, his body with his naked clothes, shameful smells, not shamefully fearing the face of a man, not caring about worldly , but the womb is insatiable, always wanting to get drunk and, like a blockhead, wallow and annoy a person with ridiculous verbs, accepting beatings and shocks and crushing with a bone. In the same place, I need to endure smoothness and nakedness and all sorrow, having neither soft underlayment, nor warm clothing, nor under the head of the head, but, as if psi curled up, I seek a place for myself. Telesa, however, they were stained with soot, but the smoke and heat endure, all that is not for God's sake, but for their madness.

If such misfortunes had been endured for the sake of God, there would truly have been new martyrs, and their memory would be worthy of praise. Now, whoever does not marvel at their folly, without mind, distorts himself. It is not enough for them to give alms, but instead of giving, they themselves are rapturous, instead of splendid worship, they are to splash, instead of praying to God, I perform satanic songs, instead of vigil, I sleep all night and ineh drink, and my friends beat me. Instead of fasting, immeasurable drinking and drunkenness, instead of an incense smell, the stench of their bodies, from their aphendras comes a fierce immeasurable stench, instead of reproach, their parents always remember with a swear word. Having reached the middle age from a young age, having gone away from the first customs, having gone astray and getting lost, [falling from the truth into the ditch of death, in the night I don’t sleep and don’t rest, but offending other people’s houses in order to steal something. If they steal something, then everything is pouring into their unsatisfied womb. If they seize the guardian, then they lay many wounds on their body, then they will bind them with iron bands, and they will hurt them, and they will give them to prison. When they are drawn to evil death, then their parents and their punishment will be remembered, and nothing will help them, for they have not reached the essence of good age, neither red eyesight, nor gray hairs of prosperity]. From the book Course of Russian History (Lectures I-XXXII) author Klyuchevsky Vasily Osipovich

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Honest service After an internship at the famous Berlin hospital Charité, Behring went to Posen (now Poznan) as an assistant to a cavalry regiment stationed there. For several years he also served as a battalion doctor in Wolau and Vinzig. Barracks

From the book Great Stolypin. “Not great upheavals, but Great Russia” author Stepanov Sergey Alexandrovich

Public Service P.A. Stolypin began his service even before completing his university course. He was assigned to the Ministry of the Interior. In the future, almost his entire career, apart from a three-year period, will be associated with this department. However, the beginning of his service, judging by

From the book Division named after Dzerzhinsky author Artyukhov Evgeny

SERVICE - DAYS AND NIGHTS Dzerzhintsy served to protect the XII All-Russian, III and VI All-Union Congresses of Soviets, the XV Moscow Gubernia Party Conference, the All-Union Congress of Collective Farmers-Shock Workers, the Moscow Regional Conference in 1934, the First All-Union Agricultural

From the book Encyclopedia of Slavic Culture, Writing and Mythology author Kononenko Alexey Anatolievich

Black service A folk rite that arose during the time of Christianity, but it reflected the pagan ideas of the Slavs - thinking by analogy. When someone had an enemy, he did this: he ordered a church service for that enemy. During the service, he held the candle not evenly, but sideways,

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