Religious Reading: The Monk's Prayer in the Film The Monk and the Demon to Help Our Readers.

However, he never thought about the reasons for the fact that he became an intermediary between all the worlds. After all, such a great gift cannot appear out of nowhere. Ivan begins to investigate the history of his family tree, which leads to big and terrible discoveries. Ivan understands that from the very birth he was destined for fate: to be in the middle between God and the Devil. Will he be able to cope with such a difficult mission and not tip the scales in one direction?

Duration: 113 min. / 01:53

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"The Monk and the Demon": the hagiographic basis of the film

The film "The Monk and the Demon" became, perhaps, one of the brightest novelties of the Russian cinema of the last year. During this time, the picture managed to fall in love with a wide range of viewers, and not only Orthodox, and received several significant prizes and awards (White Elephant, Golden Eagle, Grand Prix of the Pokrov festival). Today, she is already among the six contenders for the main national award - the Nika Prize, the winners of which will be announced on March 28. In many ways, the success of The Monk and the Demon is based on an atypical problematic, an interesting idea of ​​the film: is it possible evil spirit teach good? Interestingly, director Nikolai Dostal prompted such reflections from real stories from the biographies of holy ascetics.

Unusual novice of the Nilo-Sorskaya desert

Repeatedly in his interviews, Nikolai Dostal himself points out that the main impetus for the idea of ​​​​creating the film was his acquaintance with the life story of Ivan Semenovich Shaposhnikov, a former resident of the Nilo-Sorsk monastery. As you can see, the author of the picture even borrowed the name for his main character from him - Ivan, Semyonov's son. What is known about this marvelous holy fool ascetic?

Ivan was born in 1802 in the city of Galich, Kostroma province, in a family of bourgeois. It is known that he had the ability for icon painting and craftsmanship, which he did in his youth. However, at the age of eighteen, he had to leave this occupation dear to his heart: due to paralysis, his right arm and legs were affected, until the end of his life he could no longer freely use them, he moved only with the help of a stick. But even in this the young man saw the clear providence and will of God and decided to leave this vain world, going to a monastery.

The first refuge of Ivan was the Kirillo-Novoezersky Monastery. Here, however, he did not stay long, because the illness did not allow him to carry out severe labor obediences. Expelled from this monastery, the novice came to the Nilo-Sorsk hermitage, located not far away, where he spent all his remaining years of asceticism. The rector of the monastery, hieroschemamonk Nil, quickly recognized the wondrous chosen one of God in the young novice, and soon they became spiritual companions.

"If you don't want to serve me, then go back to Cyril"

At first, however, Ivan greatly yearned for his first monastery. However, the Lord Himself consoled him and stopped this immeasurable sorrow through His saint, the Monk Nil of Sora. Once, during a service in the church, when Ivan’s thoughts were entirely in the Novoezersky Monastery, the Monk Nil himself unexpectedly came out of the altar and said: “If you don’t want to serve me, then go back to Cyril.” After this vision, the longing of the novice left without a trace, he happily carried his exploits to the monastery for all subsequent years.

Soon, the novice Ivan Shaposhnikov, rising from strength to strength, was able to acquire such necessary, but rare even for monastic qualities, as humility, absolute gentleness and non-acquisitiveness. Moreover, the gift of love inherent in him also extended to all of God's creation. The brethren noticed that, carrying out obedience in the refectory, out of pity, he even fed cockroaches: grinding and soaking bread specifically for this purpose, Ivan Semenovich put them in those places where there were most insects. He carried his obedience in the refectory for twelve whole years, while the kitchen replaced his cell, and here he slept on a stove covered with boards. The clothes of the novice were unchanged: at any time of the year he walked in the same cassock, usually he did not wear shoes.

It is not surprising that the saint had to endure many ridicule and mockery from the younger brethren. He endured all this calmly, never got angry or offended, very often covering his feat with foolishness.

Over time, still remaining in the category of novices, Ivan Semenovich was awarded some blessed gifts. For example, the gift of clairvoyance: the invisible world was often revealed to him. He knew which of the brethren during prayer were distracted by obscene thoughts, and meekly reproved them. The seer noticed that fire was coming from the lips of the fervently praying monks. The saint also saw how two angels usually follow the newly tonsured. There is a known case when one day, at a meal, Ivan Semenovich laughed out loud when he saw how an angry and inattentive to reading monk was saddled by a demon and rode on him.

Just as a city standing on a mountain top cannot hide, so the unusual seer soon became known throughout the district. People began to come to Ivan Semenovich with their sorrows and illnesses. He received them with love, but quickly became weary of such worldly fame. With the blessing of the abbot, he built himself a remote cell in the swamp, and already there he continued to carry out his feat.

It is clear that not only from people, but even more so from the enemy of the human race, the prosperity of the marvelous old man could not be hidden. He tried in every possible way to turn him away from serving God, to confuse him. Even when Ivan Semenovich was obedient in the refectory, demons repeatedly appeared to him in reality in their terrible form. The brethren often heard strange sounds coming from there, and in the morning they found the novice all bruised, barely alive. Demons lifted him above the ground and forced him to dance. However, the warrior of Christ did not succumb to them. Sometimes these attacks were so terrible that he asked one of the brethren to stay with him in the kitchen for the night.

When Ivan Semenovich moved to a remote cell, demonic insurance and bullying only got tougher. One day, when he was returning to his evening rule, a terrible Ethiopian attacked him in the forest with a club and beat him so much that the novice lay unconscious for a long time. The scar after a blow to the head remained with him until the end of his life.

However, unexpected help and consolation in the struggle soon came. One evening, Archdeacon Stefan appeared to the elder in his cell and pointed to a copper cross, saying that he would defeat demons with it. Prior to this, Ivan Semenovich had neglected the cross, since it was eight-pointed, and the righteous believed that the correct cross should only be four-pointed.

This was not the last miraculous visit of the ascetic. During a grave illness, he was also honored with the appearance of the Lady Herself, accompanied by the holy virgins: the Monk Anastasia and the Great Martyr Catherine. The Queen of Heaven from her own pure hands gave the elder cabbage soup with black bread (his only dish), after tasting which he immediately recovered.

But the years of Ivan Semyonovich's earthly life were coming to an end. He died on May 13, 1863. And only six years before his death he was tonsured into a cassock.

How the Archbishop of Novgorod saddled a demon

Another prototype of the protagonist of the film "The Monk and the Demon" was St. John of Novgorod. He was the first elected, and not appointed from Kyiv, as was the case before, Archbishop of Novgorod from 1165 to 1186. This saint should be well known to us from the history of the icon "The Sign" of Novgorod, whose memory is solemnly celebrated on December 10.

It was to this archbishop that the Most Pure Theotokos appeared in response to prayers and ordered Her icon to be transferred from the temple and installed on the walls of the city, which was besieged by the Suzdal people for the third day. Only through his prayers did the icon, now called the Sign, move from its place and allow itself to be transferred to the indicated place. It was this saint who was wiping the tears of the Mother of God with his felon when the icon unexpectedly “wept”, turning its face towards the people of Novgorod. As you know, after all these events, the Suzdal warriors, who were attacked by obscuration, began to kill each other - the city was saved.

In addition to this event, a whole series of various traditions and legends is associated with the name of John of Novgorod, of which there are about 150 in total. The journey to Jerusalem on a demon is one of the most striking and famous stories included even in the life of the saint.

As we have already seen from the case of the Icon of the Sign, Archbishop John was a great and daring prayer book. Such a prayer is pleasing to God, but causes anger and annoyance in the demonic power. And so, during the next prayer in the cell of the saint, one demon, wanting to distract the ascetic from his occupation, began to splash in a vessel of water that served as a washstand. The saint was distracted, but quickly understood the enemy's cunning. He crossed the vessel, which blocked the demon's exit from there.

Scorched by the power of the sign of the cross, the unclean man began to ask John to let him out of the laver. Then the archbishop replied that he would do this only if the demon took him to the Holy Land and back. The imp agreed and, taking the form of a horse, carried out the promise, taking the archbishop to Jerusalem and back in one night. There the saint was able to visit the Church of the Resurrection of Christ, the entrance to which was opened through his prayers, and venerate the Holy Sepulcher, as well as all other shrines.

Bes was humiliated. But for his “service”, he asked John not to tell anyone about this journey, otherwise the unclean one promised him annoying revenge. However, one day, with an exclusively edifying intention, the righteous man nevertheless mentioned in a conversation that he knew a person who had made a trip to Jerusalem on a demon.

“Instead of going down the river, the raft went up—against the current. Then people realized that they were cruelly deceived by the evil one.

Then the evil one began to take revenge on him, trying to slander him. He then left the cell of the saint, taking the form of a harlot, then he threw various items of women's wardrobe into the same place. People fell into the “trap” and wanted to get rid of the lord, who, in their opinion, discredited himself with the sin of fornication. When they came to their master, the demon, disguised as a girl, was just running out of his cell.

This was the last straw that overflowed the cup of indignation. The people put their once beloved shepherd on a raft and sent him to sail along the Volkhov River. However, a miracle happened here, which made it possible to “rehabilitate” the saint immediately. Instead of floating down the river, the raft floated up - against the current. Then people realized that they were mistaken, they were cruelly deceived by the evil one. They asked for forgiveness from their master, begged him to return. The gentle shepherd, of course, did not hold grudges and returned to the city. In memory of this event, at the place where the raft with the archbishop stopped, the Novgorodians erected a stone cross.

It should be noted that the plot with a tamed demon from the life of John of Novgorod is quite popular, and it was not used for the first time in the film The Monk and the Demon. Prior to this, hagiographic narration received its artistic interpretation in Russian literature. Many must have immediately remembered the famous flight on the line behind the little laces from Gogol's story "The Night Before Christmas". It is noteworthy that A.S. Pushkin for his first (unfinished and long considered lost) poem "The Monk".

However, let's not confuse creative interpretation with simple borrowing. The story of Ivan, Semenov's son, and a demon named Legion is only a "reflection on the topic", and not an Orthodox teaching. As you know, good and evil live according to their own laws, and art - according to its own. Therefore, any accusations of heresy and "non-canonicity" in relation to the film "The Monk and the Demon" are unfounded and ridiculous.

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"Monk and demon". What is the prayer in the movie?

Tashenka Dronova dear, why, slave, we are the sons of God. Depose and lift me up, here you are also wrong, this is not your prayer Tashenka, asking and lifting is not given to everyone, I hope you have risen. Strike and heal, too, people think about every word, a man read this prayer for the Lord, and you read it for yourself.

In the film "The Monk and the Demon" directed by Nikolai Dostal, the daily prayer of St. Philaret, Metropolitan of Moscow, is heard.

The prayer is beautiful and well read by the actor Timofey Tribuntsev, who played one of the main roles in the film.

Monk and demon. Not a candle to God, not a poker to hell.

“If we weigh everything and judge coldly in good time,” then we will still try to pay attention to some things.

A bit of history, not fiction, because Arabov mixed up a little:

According to the lives, it was he, and not Nikita, who saddled the demon and flew to Jerusalem. But the saint this case defeated the demon, ordering him to fly, ordering him to stand at the entrance to the Holy Sepulcher, ordering him to fly back.

Then he began to take revenge through people. For suspicion of fornication, the saint was expelled from the city, put on a raft. But the raft began to float away, namely, to float away from the city against the current. (At Arabov, the raft returns to the monastery.)

Like a trifle. But Ivan returned with the power of demons against the current, and the real monk John, through his prayer to God, sailed away from the monastery.

So who is Ivan? - Possessed! That is, a person who does not struggle with the external enemy of the human race, like all ascetics, but has the above-mentioned character directly in himself. Yes, he himself says: “Why is he possessed by a demon and I cannot cast him out?”

There was such a real person who lived in the 19th century. Ivan Semenovich Shaposhnikov, cassock novice of the Nilo-Sorskaya desert. He suffered a lot from demons, but only they annoyed him from outside.

And in the movie, they made him demon-possessed.

After the service, the icon of the Pochaev Mother of God was lowered from above, and the people came up to kiss. In front of me, two strong men were leading a woman who could hardly move her legs. In front of the icon itself, the men could not drag this sick woman to the icon, no matter how hard they tried. The monk himself put the icon to the lips of the woman, who immediately went limp and the escorts already easily took her aside.

For example, Motovilov describes in detail his condition when he himself got into such a situation.

What about in the movie? Comedy, farce, and more. What the new resident of the monastery is doing, how ridiculous. The viewer should not be bored!

Das is fantastic! Third change.

And then the two are already together all the time. That is, the ascetic is already struggling with external evil? Nothing like this! When the abbot saw that only stumps were left of the forest, what did Ivan shout to him without stuttering? Did the demon enter him again?

“In and out, in and out, great out.” (With)

And what do we see? The enemy of the human race is just some kind of guide. He does everything so that Ivan gets to the Holy Sepulcher. Even heals the monk.

Only the Lord heals with the aim of saving, and the demon with the aim of destroying. And these are two big differences, as they say in Odessa.

N a s t o i t e l. Wait, wait… Do you love your enemies too?

And van Semenovitch. There is such a weakness.

N a s t o i t e l. And the enemies of the Church of Christ?

Ivan Semyonovich. These - especially.

N a s t o i t e l. For what?

And van Semyonovich. So that they would voluntarily come into our arms.

N a s t o i t e l. What if they don't want to?

And van Semenovitch. Let's make it.

“And whoever doesn’t want to be happy with me, I’ll twist him into a ram’s horn!” (With)

This is some kind of inquisition. What is already shown in the film - Ivan Semyonovich force pushes the Legion into the room of the Holy Sepulcher.

Answer: There is such a stone. This is a person, free will, which God cannot violate.

Is it possible to push any bandit where necessary, and he will begin to improve? And what? To begin with, we will force our fifth column, then corrupt officials. We organize charter flights to Jerusalem. Further more. Criminals from prisons, ATO, ISIS, the top of NATO. Their name is legion.

Then atheists, Muslims, everyone who believes but is wrong. Orthodox oprichnina, and nothing more. George Orwell is resting.

Rave? Isn't the movie bullshit?

When I first read the prayer of the Optina Elders, but in some esoteric book. I liked her very much. And then, soon, I saw this prayer in Orthodox Church. So: The prayer in that book turned out to be almost halved, some words were simply thrown out. What am I for?

And to the fact that here is part of the prayer of Filaret, Metropolitan of Moscow:

“Strike and Heal bring me down and lift me up. I revere and I am silent before Your Holy Will and Your destinies, which are incomprehensible to me.

There are no underlined words in Ivan's prayer. And why, exactly?

“Your word is true, Lord, that ancient wickedness cannot be a new virtue, and the head of all evil will not do good!”

Is the film blasphemous? Rather stupid, because the authors of the film carry a gag due to incompetence. What can you do.

“Don't shoot the pianist, he plays the best he can.” (With)

“Oh, Vanya, Vanya… There is no liberalism in you. And there is no intuition.”

But why? What are the exact words, not entered. Maybe someone banned?

But the movie came out. Continue thought.

“While the people are illiterate, of all the arts, cinema and the circus are the most important for us.”

Where is the world going...

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"Monk and demon". Exclusive sayings, aphorisms from the film, doomed to become winged.

Probably, many people were not indifferent to Nikolai #Dostal's rather fresh work "The Monk and the Demon". The film pleasantly surprised me in many ways. I think there are few who would not pay attention to the abundance of original sayings and successful aphoristic statements in it, which are simply destined to become winged. Some of them, I am sure, are already walking with might and main across the expanses of Russia, and not only, because where are we, Russians, just not ..

. Not that cadence. (Not that case).

something. Have you tried, my lord?

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Select language Current version v.208.1

monk and demon

"The Monk and the Demon" is a new film by Nikolai Dostal, recently (09/08/2016) appeared on the screens. One of my Orthodox friends called it "the perfect Orthodox film". This "someone", firstly, a church person, and secondly, a professional in this field (the magnificent "Extraordinary Journey of the Seraphim" is quite sufficient proof of this), so this review makes sense to take it more than seriously.

I’ll make a reservation right away: everything else there is completely false. A false abbot, false monks, a false tsar and a false dignitary, a false Russia languishing under the yoke of autocracy. Common places, clichés, completely boring, inanimate images recognizable at first glance, standard pseudo-Orthodox popular prints.

And demons are very interesting objects for art. The fact is that they are native to the muses, because the demons of the muses always paint with taste, with bright colors. The real personality of the penitent monk barely flickers at the bottom of the psyche of the holy fool who came to the monastery with a subversive purpose. Remarkable is the "confession", during which the demon "repents" of his imaginary virtues, of love for all living things, and so on. In short, the protagonist's obsession gave the filmmakers an unexpected opportunity to create an interesting and deep image.

And, finally, on the third point - with a lack of repentance, a person must meekly endure the consequences of sin that come upon him - sorrow. It is on this (third) level of repentance that main character film, demon-possessed monk Ivan Semyonov. And he endures, moreover, in such a way that the audience is not sad to look at it, because the viewer sees mostly not the torment and the monk, but the cool tricks of the demon tormenting him. And so, Ivan did achieve salvation, it is shown - and you believe it. At least I believed, although I am not easily convinced.

PS: In fairness, I note that salvation can be achieved in this way. Here is the final act of Ivan Semyonov's life drama.

The authorities interrogate them - a monk and a demon, who, having lost his strength in the Church of the Holy Sepulcher in Jerusalem, looks like an ordinary ragamuffin. They are suspected of robbery:

Did you take the mail at the station?

- Yes, I have nothing to take, - the demon says frightened. - The hands are frozen!

“Here, warm your hands.

- And you? asks the superiors of the monk.

“Yes, indeed, Your Honor. It's my fault, - Ivan Semyonov answers.

“And didn’t you steal the mare from the peasant Zakharka for Christmas?”

- Did you rape the girl Smolyaninova?

- You will ask him about the death of Pompeii, isn't he? - the demon sneers.

“Did you kill Pompeii, murderer?” – asks the authorities.

Yes, he has faith! Bes explains. - Take everything upon yourself. Stupid, I must say, faith.

- Ivan, Semyonov's son. From the townspeople.

– So what? If from the middle class, is it possible to lie? All! Inquiry completed. Fedot! Flog both for vagrancy. But this here, from the philistines, flog especially! For slandering himself and disrespect for the authorities.

And this most unfair sentence (however, not devoid of peculiar logic) turns out to be fatal for the monk. Deadly - and saving. Spanking frees him from demonic violence, because this time the exhausted demon cannot manifest his inherent healing power and keep in the body the soul of a monk that eludes him. He who endures to the end will be saved.

In addition to the text, there is a very interesting interpretation from the Facebook comments:

Olga Gella It didn't seem to me that the demon repented, I thought that the righteous man turned out to be too tough for him and he went to look for a simpler victim , let's say. The devil came out generally uninteresting, very primitive. But the images of the monks, the hegumen seemed very interesting to me, I don’t know if there are such, but they may well be.

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Select language Current version v.208.1

monk and demon

Monk and demon. Scenario
№12, December Yury Arabov
This script was written at the request of director Nikolai Dostal and for him. In it, we tried to adapt Gogol's aesthetics of the funny-terrible to the needs of today's Russian cinema. The result was predictable: there is not enough money to finance the picture.

The rest is in the text.

Chapter first. Wrong cadence

Someone knocked on the wooden gate. The monk boy pushed back the heavy bolt, and a strange picture opened before him. It was a fine exhausting rain, the gray sky was close, such that one could touch it with a hand, and here, on the threshold of a holy place, a frail middle-aged man in a stained cassock stands and, despite the bad weather, smokes. The boy even opened his mouth in surprise, especially since the stranger looked smoky, the skuf on his head slid to one side, neither splendor, nor even neatness was observed in the newcomer.

He stepped onto the territory of the monastery, gasped and fell to the ground.

Monk boy What do you want, uncle? For what?..

Ivan Semyonovich I'm on fire!...

Around the newcomer, the monks began to gather, cut off from everyday affairs by this strange appearance. One had a basket of beets, the other had a yoke with buckets filled with water. They crowded, huddled around the stranger who was lying on the ground, and he only groaned and looked into the low sky.

The pastor appeared. In a cassock with wide sleeves made of thick woolen fabric, he differed from the rest only in neatness and corpulence in his whole figure. A monk boy was running ahead of him, pointing his finger at the stranger. Leaning on a heavy stick, the abbot approached the stranger and bent over him. He sniffed at the burning that came from the wanderer.

Abbot (monk). What froze like an idol? Come on water!

Annoyed at the sluggishness of the inhabitant, he himself removed a bucket of water from the yoke and overturned it on the stranger.

Suddenly, an unfamiliar bird sang loudly in the bushes. The monk boy, hearing this singing, opened his mouth even wider.

Rector. Unmask him.

The monks began to fulfill the order of the abbot, tore off the wanderer's cassock, shirt and left him in his underwear, naked to the waist and with a heavy iron cross on his sunken chest.

Rector. Who are you and who will you be?

Ivan Semyonovich We are Shaposhnikovs. Ivan. Semyonov's son.

The cold water made him shiver.

Rector. And how many of you are there?

Ivan Semenovich Two brothers and three sisters. Our family has been known since the time of Emperor John Vasilyevich.

Rector. This is what worries me. Did you come with your sisters?

Ivan Semyonovich Should I have called the sisters? Wait, they'll come.

Rector. Waited. Yes, all the waiters ate. Now let's talk about pleasant things. Why are you burning?

Ivan Semyonovich For sins.

Rector. So big?

Ivan Semyonovich More than a grasshopper and less than an ox's sock.

Rector. So almost a saint. I have no place for these. Everything is overflowing with sinners, like the church on Sunday.

Ivan Semyonovich And the governor-general came, a place was found ...

One of the monks. So he has a firebrand in the ports!

Indeed, from behind Ivan Semenovich's trousers protruded a firebrand - black, like an Ethiopian. The monk took it out of his pants and threw it into a puddle. She blew her dying smoke and fell asleep.

Ivan Semyonovich (requestingly). I'm coming from the Nilo-Sorskaya wasteland. The skit burned down.

Rector. Along with the wasteland?

Ivan Semyonovich (grumpily). How can the wasteland burn? Emptiness is nothing, nihil. As the writer Shakespeare remarked, “Nothing will come out of nothing.” Think with your head, my lord!

Rector. Do you know that the tit lit the sea?

Ivan Semyonovich How is it?

Rector. She waved her tail and chirped everyone: “The sea is on fire!”

Ivan Semyonovich: I didn't take the hint.

Rector. And the hint is that you still won't talk to me. And don't poke me in the nose with your Shakespeare. Get off. Wash yourself. And here is your first obedience: be silent at least occasionally! With a senior.

The newcomer wanted to object something, but he caught himself, came to his senses and only mumbled. The abbot caught himself thinking that he seemed to be talking to two people. One is grumpy and arrogant. The other is gray and shy.

Rector (to a boy-monk). Escort him.

Monk boy But this is a nightingale, Vladyka!

He meant the song of the bird, which did not stop. The abbot threw a displeased glance at the honeysuckle bush. Thinking, he gave the boy a lazy slap on the back of the head.

Rector. In the month of October, your stupid head?!

The nightingale, as if offended, sobbed a couple of times and expired. The abbot majestically, leaning on his staff and putting his stomach forward, went to his stone chambers. And Ivan Semenovich in the opposite direction - in wooden bath standing on the banks of the river.

A lazy blue fire burned in an iron furnace. And this meant that the water came up and it was a pleasure to wash.

Monk boy Here is tar soap and a towel.

He pointed to the shelves.

Ivan Semyonovich Soap is black, but it washes white. Is that what we say?

Monk boy I don't know...

Ivan Semyonovich: Ikos is sideways, but kontakion is like that... Right? Soap is not cute if the face is rotten?

To this the unfortunate monk could not answer at all.

Ivan Semyonovich: Do you know what you will think of me soon? Dear guest, what a soul, beat him like a hedgehog.

He laughed softly, rubbing his dry palms. The boy was silent again.

Ivan Semyonovich (in an unexpectedly quarrelsome voice). And the water is lavender, whimsical for a complete odulation after a hot bath? And rubbing oil fragrant? Mistletoe, ginger and African lemon? Ethiopian virgins and the princess of Palmyra?

The boy shook his head and mumbled something unintelligible.

Ivan Semyonovich (irritated). So no? Then get out of here and shut up.

The monk rolled out into the hallway and closed the door behind him. I caught my breath. He put his ear to the door. He heard water pouring onto the floor. He smelled hot steam that seemed to squeeze through the walls.

The muffled voice of Ivan Semyonovich. What are you doing, Herod? Do you want to fry? K-boiling water apart, and t-warm west, s-heard about that?

The same voice, but with a different intonation. Yes, even though it is warm ... But still the province. No respect. French nobility is not a belmes. Fourier is not read. And among the people is darkness, game and stupidity.

The muffled voice of Ivan Semyonovich. S-so get out of here, w-why bother and be bored?

The same voice, but with a different intonation. The priest scolds the mare, but she also keeps him. I will decide this myself. without your advice.

It was quiet for a while. The monk only heard the water pouring onto the floor. He was about to leave, but suddenly strange, incomprehensible sounds touched his ears. As if someone is mooing or groaning in a high voice, but doing it harmoniously and musically.

Voice of Ivan Semyonovich. S-shut up! I can't hear her.

The same voice, but with a different intonation. And I still will.

The musical groans resumed and became especially loud. The monk did not know that it was a Scottish bagpipe playing.

The wooden walls of the monastery were washed by a mighty cold river. A bell rang out on a high belfry.

Monks and novices went to the stone building for an evening joint meal.

With a broad gesture, he crossed the long table and sat down in the center of it. At the end of the table stood a monk-reader and read aloud the life of St. Varlaam Khutynsky.

Monk-reader. “... The Monk Varlaam, the miracle worker, was born from wealthy parents in the glorious city of Novgorod with the name Alexy, but did not want to use their property ...”

They ate steamed turnips, boiled peas and spelled porridge. The abbot ate like everyone else, stealthily looking after the new novice. Shaposhnikov became rouge from the bath, his hair was washed clean, and he ate greedily, chewing and munching loudly.

Monk-reader. “...After the death of his parents, having distributed all his property to the poor, Alexy accepted monastic tonsure from the mentor of his priestly monk Porfiry and began to bear the name Varlaam ...”

The rector looked up from his porridge, noticing that Ivan Semyonovich was already making his second portion and could not possibly stop.

Ivan Semyonovich tore his eyes away from the plate, but did not stop chewing.

Rector. Good porridge?

Ivan Semyonovich The dead man said: "Good!" and fell asleep without breathing.

Rector. Take the plate from him and don't give it back. (Turning to the monk-reader.) You read, read ... Why did you stop talking?

The monks moved the plate away from Ivan Semyonovich. He hastily dabbed it for the last time with a crust of rye bread and stuffed the crust into his mouth.

Monk-reader. “... He was looking for a place for solitary exploits, and he liked a hill called Khutyn on the banks of the Volkhov ...”

Ivan Semyonovich: I didn't want to s-say something… K-porridge is really representative. Mr. General's porridge. In taverns, they serve even worse.

Rector (with interest). Have you been to taverns?

Ivan Semyonovich P-had to.

Rector. And did you drink bitter goo?

Ivan Semyonovich: N-not once. Life is already bitter. And I was there in the service ... m-a sexual boy for a year, k-when I lost my parents. T-until the Lord called me to t-travel to the holy places…

Rector. Where are you from?

Ivan Semyonovich From the glorious city of Torzhok.

Rector (indulgently). From Torzhok... And how does the glorious city of Torzhok, the capital of the Christian world, live?

Inquisitive sparks lit up in his eyes. It was felt that the abbot wanted to know something about city life, which he was bored in his desert. Yes, and the monks who were sitting at the table stopped chewing and looked at the wanderer with interest. Even the reader stumbled and stopped reading the life.

Ivan Semyonovich (having stopped stuttering). At your leisure, dine with Pozharsky in Torzhok. Taste the fried cutlets and go light... I don’t know how the city lives, but I can tell you how the tavern is awake... (He cast a hungry glance at the plate set aside from him.) One day two metropolitan writers came to us. One long-haired with a bird's face. Nose like beak. The other is light as the wind, and it looks like a black man. Ordered fire cutlets. You don't know what a fire cutlet is, do you, lord? I bet you don't know...

The abbot looked longingly at the peas laid out in plates. The address "lord" flattered him, and he decided not to correct the talkative novice.

Rector. You lie well ... And what is this cutlet?

Ivan Semyonovich Mashed chicken meat with a bone, rolled in breadcrumbs and made not on fire, but on a steam ... Until it is completely browned ... so that the cow's butter, with which it is smeared, would begin to drip down like a young pink honey from the May primrose, the honey of the first spring heaving ... Do you know about such honey, have you tried it, Vladyka?

Rector. I myself have a rich apiary ...

He broke off a crust of bread and put it in his mouth in order to eat something hungry and flavor the saliva that rose from Shaposhnikov's rich story.

Ivan Semyonovich It's good that I'm talking to an experienced beekeeper. So, I brought cutlets to these writers. And the one with the bird's face picked one cutlet in front of me with a knife and pulled out a tuft of blond hair from it ... And he himself was upset, wilted and gloomy. And the light one burst out laughing and shouted at me: “What are you serving, unwashed snout ?! Did we ask to bring Catherine's wig? ..” And I answer: “This is not a wig, sir. Where does the wig come from? That's right, chicken feathers, sir. Chickens don't have hair, where does hair come from? Absolutely impossible, sir!..” And he himself remembered that our cook was blond and appeared in the morning in a framboise state and with a strong amber, because the other day he was refused by a girl for whom he had lofty feelings ...

Rector (with anguish). And what, at least they flogged you?

Ivan Semyonovich No way.

Rector (dreamy). And I would flog. Rods with water. By tinsel, by all your secret suits!

Ivan Semyonovich And I would too. But then it worked out. Lung asked for an inkwell and a pen. I wrote on a napkin the poems that I remembered. About fire cutlets. And he said to the one with the bird's face: “Don't be sad, brother! Don't you see that there is only one Chud and Merya here?

Rector. Was it embarrassing?

Ivan Semyonovich Why be offended? Merya is also a person.

Rector. And Pozharsky?

Ivan Semenovich (specifying). Is he human? This is unknown to us.

Rector. I'm not talking about that. Isn't this a friend of Kuzma Minin, who saved our Fatherland from the Latins and Poles?

Ivan Semyonovich Cutlets with hair, sir? It may very well be...

The abbot considered the answer for some time. Then the blood rushed to his face. With all his might, he slammed his heavy fist on the table so that the clay plate broke and fell to the floor.

Rector. What shut up? Read!

He hit the monk-reader on the back of the head.

Monk reader (in a hurry and with fear). “... At one time, when the bishop, releasing Varlaam from himself, invited him again to his place, the monk answered: “My lord, the saint! If God bless the glorious and all-praise apostles during the first week of Lent, on Friday I will come on a sleigh to the blessing of your Eminence ... "Indeed, on the night of the heels of the first week of Peter's Lent, snow fell one and a half arshins on a summer day ... "

Rector (hanging over the table). So yes! Listen to me carefully! (His appearance was menacing, like that of an angry bull, and everyone sitting at the evening meal became very frightened.) I will no longer feed you for that. I don't have enough peas for you.

Ivan Semyonovich drew his head into his shoulders and nodded plaintively.

Rector. If you want to stay in the holy monastery under the right hand of God, then you will fix the well for the monastery. Are you kind?

Ivan Semyonovich: Whoever is kind, to him is a beaver. And who is not kind, the otter runs from him.

Rector. Exactly. If you eat for two, then work for two. This is for you for a couple of weeks. The well is ancient, neglected, but in former times it was healing. (He got up from the table.) I thank Thee, Lord, that Thou hast satisfied Thy earthly blessings. Do not deprive us of Your Kingdom of Heaven, but as if in the midst of Your disciples, Thou hast come, O Savior, come to us and save us... Amen.

Leaning on a staff, he left the refectory. For a while, everyone was silent, experiencing what had happened. Then the monk boy muttered plaintively: “You are dead, uncle! Completely dead!”

Ivan Semyonovich The rotten mushroom died when the sun came out. And I didn't die. I have been carpentry since childhood.

One-eyed monk. It's not necessary here... To draw water here... The water is black, evil!

Ivan Semyonovich thought deeply and folded his forehead. Even his usual cheerfulness left him.

Ivan Semyonovich (stammering again). But c-my right hand s-dries and my left leg is taken away ...

His answer was a deep silence.

The wooden frame of the well stood in a deep hollow, along the bottom of which a narrow stream flowed. The log house had turned black from time to time and was covered with brown moss; small mushrooms on thin stalks protruded from it. Ivan Semyonovich looked into the well and did not see his own reflection. Black water approached almost to the very edges. He lowered his hand, rummaged in the water and quickly pulled it back ... The fingers were covered with dark slime.

Ivan Semyonovich T-someone is sitting there!

Rector. Must be a well grandfather.

He threw a couple of buckets at Ivan Semyonovich's feet.

Ivan Semyonovich Why is that?

Rector. What are you going to do with a spoon? Or language?

He was pleased. In his head, the expulsion of the chatty Ivan Semyonovich from the monastery had already taken place, and now all that was needed was an excuse to bring this decided matter to life.

Humming a psalm under his breath, he left the hollow.

The frail Ivan Semyonovich looked helplessly at a group of monks standing at a distance. Leaning on his left leg, he approached them.

Ivan Semyonovich What is this, b-brothers? Why is a test?

One-eyed monk. Get away from us.

Ivan Semyonovich And what about the k-well? Will he follow me?

One-eyed monk. Here the regiment of soldiers will not cope. After all, you need to scoop to the bottom.

Ivan Semenovich (specifying). To the dregs? Well?

One of the monks. What did you think? To pour out all the dirt, you need to the bottom.

Ivan Semyonovich (having stopped stuttering). But only? It's not the sea, but just a well. There was a freak, but there will be a Novgorodian! (He did a few squats. He bent his right arm at the elbow and felt non-existent muscles.) Get into the chain and pour rotten water into the stream. (He rushed to the log house. He scooped up black mud with one bucket and handed it to the monk who was standing nearby.) Move! And then we will not manage the Second Coming.

The bucket went down the chain of monks and was poured into the stream.

Ivan Semyonovich We need more buckets! Two is not enough!

The schemnik boy passed by and saw: a multi-armed pagan monster was standing by the well. His head is from Ivan Semyonovich, and there are many hands and in each - a full bucket. The boy did not know the Indian pantheon and did not recognize Shiva. He just shook his head and crossed himself.

No, it was just a vision. Ivan Semyonovich is the same, only lathered and cheerful. Empty buckets are handed over to the well, where they are filled with mud and run further to the stream...

The monks are tired, and Ivan Semenovich at least henna. Moreover, he threw off his tattered cowhide boots, rolled up his trousers and climbed into the icy water.

One of the monks. God be with you! You'll catch a cold!

Ivan Semyonovich Water is cold, but man is fornicating. What's worse?

One of the monks. Don't know.

Ivan Semyonovich And me too. Here, hold the bucket!

And he handed the monk a bucket filled with mud. It went down the chain and was poured into the stream.

The water in the stream by that time turned black and began to overflow the banks.

The rector, meanwhile, was composing a letter to the archbishop. The clerk stood behind the desk and with a quill wrote down on paper the words that the lord dictated to him.

Rector (dictates). “Your Eminence! On the occasion of a dry summer and late autumn, twenty pounds less mushrooms were collected than in the past, and most of them with a worm, so it was not possible to prepare enough for the winter ... ”Do you think he needs about worms?

Scribe. If you weigh everything and coldly judge in good time, then it would not be worth it.

Rector. And why?

Scribe. The worm can sap his strength.

Rector. OK. No need for a worm.

Apparently, the clerk was his confidant: the abbot communicated with him on an equal footing.

Rector. Write from a new line ... “And the cranberries collected no more than sixty boxes, since the swamps dried up, and all that was left was devoured by the bear, which eats in the local forests and is faster than us, because the beast ...” Do you think he needs a bear?

Scribe (dreamily biting his pen). If you weigh everything and coldly judge in good time, then it is not necessary.

Rector. Why?

Scribe. He can take the bear personally.

Rector. Then wash out.

The clerk dipped his pen into the inkpot and drew a heavy line on the paper. The abbot thought and looked out the window, concentrating.

Rector. Write further: “And although the bees droned for almost two months, they nevertheless brought selected linden honey to the July pitching, which I send to you on the day of your namesake and ask for your Holy Prayers. And I also ask for Greek oil and candles in exchange for the wax that I sent you earlier ... "Well, how?

The clerk was in no hurry to answer and continued to bite his pen.

Scribe. If you weigh everything and judge coldly in good time ...

Rector. That and?..

Scribe. None of this is needed. Hardly anything will help us. Write that the summer was great. The sun was warm. The grass grew.

Rector. Why?

Scribe. Because crop failure is against your interests. They will say that he did not manage his affairs well and will be sent to a distant diocese out of sight.

Scribe. Have you forgotten about Kamchatka?

The abbot thought. After a pause he said...

Rector. Ok, I'm sold. The sun was shining, the grass was growing... But leave about oil and candles. I also wanted to ask him for a new bell ... Is it convenient?

The clerk shrugged.

Scribe. If you judge in good time, then ask only Holy Prayers. Gives exactly.

At this time, a monk boy ran into the cell.

Monk Boy Done!

Rector. How long have I told you not to enter without knocking?

He took the boy by the ear and tore it off as best he could. The little boy cried.

Rector. What's ready? And where exactly?

Boy-monk (through tears). The well... The well is ready!

The priest looked at hourglass that were on his desk.

Rector. So two hours have not passed ... What are you, brother, demons twisting?

The abbot walked anxiously to the running well. Behind him, a wizened clerk-secretary trotted along, who did not consider it necessary to finish the letter, since the situation with the well was more curious than some kind of paper, albeit to a significant clergyman. A wooden ladle protruded from the leather briefcase he carried.

Approaching, both noticed that the monks crowded around the log house and looked anxiously into the well, talking among themselves about something. Seeing the abbot, they parted like the waters of the Red Sea before the prophet Moses.

The abbot looked into the well.

Rector. And where is Ivan Semyonov's son?

One-eyed monk. Gone. You see, it went under water.

Rector. So here the water is waist deep!

One-eyed monk. It was waist-deep, but it became twenty fathoms deep, no less.

The abbot bent over the log house, lowered a bucket into it, pulled it out and sniffed the water.

Rector (clerk). Give me a ladle.

The clerk handed him a carved wooden ladle that he had already stocked up. The abbot scooped water from a bucket for them and drank it in one gulp.

The monks were alert, tensed, as the abbot was quick to punish and ignited faster than a Swedish match.

The abbot took one sip from the ladle, the second ... He wiped his lips with a handkerchief.

Rector. Sweet water!

Here everyone relaxed, spoke: “Sweet and pure. And sheds tears…”

The abbot leaned over the log cabin. Shouted into the clear water column.

Rector. Ivan Semyonov son!

Ivan Semyonovich (displeased). Yes, I'm here, why are you screaming?

He sat, it turns out, at the opposite end of the log house and dried wet footcloths in the dim sun, spreading them out on wooden walkways.

Rector. I'm nothing ... What are you doing?

Ivan Semyonovich And I'm from Torzhok from a dear friend. Went south and came north. No hot tea?

The abbot wanted to hit him on the head with a wooden ladle. But he restrained himself and overcame himself.

Rector (giving the order). Brew dried linden for him. (Turning to Ivan Semyonovich.) Confess tomorrow. I will partake you.

He spoke of it as a blessing. He crossed the well together with Ivan Semyonovich and stepped aside.

Rector. What do you say?

He turned to his secretary. The scribe pursed his thin lips in doubt.

Scribe. Not that cadence. Smells like an illusion.

Rector. Here I am about the same. Do you think the cadence is dubious?

Scribe. Have you read Plato's Dialogues? Shadows on the walls of the cave, the visible world is only a reflection of real entities, but not themselves. Comprene wu?

Priest (thinking). It would be necessary to search his cell when he is not there.

Scribe. Argument adrem!

Rector. He seduces me to assault. Most seductive!

Scribe. Repent!

Rector. I would repent. What would happen without handshaking? Absolutely nothing.

He sighed heavily, looked longingly at the distant forest, and thrust the wooden ladle into the secretary's briefcase.

The pastor served the liturgy. He stood at the Throne in the altar and read a prayer over the Holy Gifts ...

Rector. Lord, even Thy Most Holy Spirit sent down to Thy apostles, His, Good, do not take away from us! Amen! Amen! Amen! (Quietly to the deacon.) Look, is Ivan Semyonov's son here?

The deacon peeped out of the altar, opening the north door, but he did not see Ivan Semyonovich anywhere. The monks stood like a black wall and prayed with concentration.

Deacon. No.

Rector (loudly). The blessing of the Lord is upon you! Always, now and forever, and forever and ever, amen!

At this time, Ivan Semyonovich ran into the church. His hair was disheveled, and there was a large bruise under his right eye. Like a madman, he looked around the church. I found with my eyes the deacon, who at that time was leaving the altar.

Ivan Semyonovich (inconsistently, in the greatest agitation). M-I should confess… to the R-priest. Here t-such a thing that you can’t scream ...

Deacon. Wait now. You must come early!

He went to the altar. Ivan Semenovich fell on his knees in front of the Holy Crucifix and began to beat his head on the floor. The crucifix shook.

Soon the abbot came out of the altar in a simple cassock. The religious ecstasy of Ivan Semyonovich did not make a deep impression on him. Struggling with an unpleasant feeling within himself, he approached the lectern on which lay the Cross and the Gospel. Ivan Semyonovich, seeing the rector, crawled towards him on his knees.

The abbot, in order not to say rude things, closed his eyes and read to himself the prayer “May God rise again, and scatter His enemies…”.

Opened my eyes. Ivan Semyonovich stood bent over by the lectern.

Rector (dryly). What are you up to?

Ivan Semyonovich: In everything.

Rector. What if you think about it?

Ivan Semyonovich: There is no sin that I have not tried!

Shaposhnikov said this with an anguish that made the rector shudder. He looked at the monks in fear to see if they could hear. Such words could lead anyone into temptation. But the monks prayed intently and did not seem to hear what Ivan Semyonovich blurted out.

Rector (in a whisper). So, in everyone?

Ivan Semyonovich sobbed and nodded.

Rector (quietly). In murder?

Ivan Semyonovich In what murder? Are you mocking me, my lord?!

Rector. In theft?

Ivan Semyonovich: Is it really a sin in Russia?

Rector. In perjury?

Ivan Semyonovich: Dig deeper. The worst sin...

Ivan Semyonovich: I don't know women at all, and I don't want to know.

Rector. Never ever?

Ivan Semyonovich: Is that such valor for a monk in the world?

Rector (beginning to boil). Look, everyone knew, but he didn't! Isn't that audacity?

Ivan Semyonovich: Insolence is not abomination. And wickedness can be forgiven.

Rector (pulling himself together). OK. I understood you all. You are proud. Napoleon. Well it is necessary, who drove here! You sans-culotte, brother, that's who you are!

Ivan Semyonovich: I haven't been to the Convention for a long time...

Rector. And pride is already choking you without any convention! Repent in pride!

Ivan Semyonovich I can, but only to please you.

Rector. I don't want nice things. Did you prepare for confession, read the canons, read?

Ivan Semyonovich: I've been fasting since childhood and don't eat anything but grass! Snyt, yes nettles, yes a little beer!

Rector. Drink, but without me. And in general, what do you want, why did you come?

Ivan Semyonovich Tell me about the most terrible sin... May I?

Rector (smallly crossing himself). Well… Speak!

Ivan Semyonovich swallowed, stammered, as if he did not know how to proceed and where to begin. The abbot, preparing for the worst, nervously fiddled with a wooden rosary.

Ivan Semyonovich (in a terrible whisper). Love in my soul is inescapable...

Rector (horrified). For what?

Ivan Semyonovich To everything. To every creature on earth, heavenly and underwater. So, dear man... (He sighed heavily and looked down.) I see a grasshopper under my foot, and my heart will shrink from pity. I will go around and cross him. A homeless kitten is even worse - the heart breaks ...

Rector. And from a person?

Ivan Semyonovich It's scary to say about a man... I love him so much that I can't live without him. Especially without a human enemy.

The abbot did not appreciate the last phrase.

Rector. Wait, wait… Do you love your enemies too?

Ivan Semyonovich: There is such a weakness.

Rector. And the enemies of the Church of Christ?

Ivan Semyonovich: These especially.

Rector. For what?

Ivan Semyonovich So that they would voluntarily come into our arms.

Rector. What if they don't want to?

Ivan Semyonovich: We'll force you.

Rector. Something clenched my heart… Wait a minute! (He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped the perspiration off his forehead.) Is that all?

Ivan Semyonovich Not everything. I still repent of kindness inexpressible. In the absence of covetousness. In self-sacrifice, in forgiveness and wisdom.

Rector. What?

Ivan Semenovich (explaining). Wisdom. This is the state of mind. Specific

skoe. Have you tried, my lord?

Rector. No. God was merciful.

Ivan Semyonovich: And I have it all the time. I used to sit by the window, look at the nearby life and feel: I am getting wiser. And I can't help myself. I'm wiser, and that's it!

Rector. Vice is heavy.

Ivan Semyonovich And I'm talking about this. Will you forgive sins, sir?

Rector. You wait... Don't rush me. (He wrinkled his forehead, thinking hard about something. After thinking, he said firmly.) I can’t let go of sins.

Ivan Semyonovich (contritely). Although he didn’t steal, he recognized the prison ... I thought so.

Rector (avoiding the answer). It's just that you yourself have to let me go, and not I have you.

Ivan Semyonovich: I'm not supposed to be in rank...

Rector. And you don't have to be in the service. You don't have to stand to the end... Go, brother, go!

Ivan Semyonovich Where should I go?

Rector. Wherever you want. Go to the river... (His face brightened suddenly.) You'll catch fish for me. And I'll smoke it for important guests. After all, the archbishop comes to me, and in general ...

Ivan Semyonovich: Yes, I've never fished before...

Rector. It's simple. Spit on the hook and throw it into the water... Take the fishing rod from the brothers. Go, my soul, go. And now I need to take communion.

Ivan Semyonovich: And I would like to take communion...

Rector (horrified). Are you out of your mind? In no case. It doesn't suit you at all. Here is a kiss from the Crucifixion and that's enough... Go, brother, get out of here!

Ivan Semyonovich sighed heavily.

Rector. Where did you get the bruise?

Ivan Semyonovich: Yes, that's right... He came under the eye himself. And I thought: a bruise is not an enemy, as it rises, it will come out.

Rector. And it is right. This happens sometimes. The uninvited guest will sit and leave faster if we do not rush him.

He began to fussily remove the Gospel and the Crucifix from the lectern. Ivan Semyonovich wanted to kiss the cross with his lips, but the rector pulled the crucifix away and did not allow him to kiss it. With a nod of his head, he pointed to a large wooden cross standing on a canon.

Ivan Semyonovich knelt before the cross and kissed the feet of the Savior. Looking around anxiously, he left the church.

The rector, after waiting for him to come out, went up to the wooden cross and carefully wiped the place where Ivan Semyonovich had kissed with a handkerchief.

... He was heading towards the monastery buildings with a decisive step of a fierce administrator ready for anything. Behind me, the secretary trotted along with his briefcase. A young monk ran ahead.

Rector. Did he leave right?

Monk boy Just now. I took a fishing rod and went to the river.

Rector. And how does he behave in the cell? Doesn't pamper?

Monk Boy Doesn't spoil. But praying gets in the way.

Rector. With what?

The monk boy is very noisy. Now a loud knock, as if a millstone is rolling on the floor, then a wild moan, and sometimes laughter.

The abbot threw an eloquent glance at the clerk.

Rector. Do you understand?

Scribe. This is also said in the lives. God builds a church, but the devil builds a bell tower. Noel is quite ordinary.

Rector (under his breath). I will destroy this noel... And I will not allow any cadenza into my monastery!

The three of them entered the fraternal corps.

The abbot sniffed the air like a hunting dog. The mat on the bed was crumpled and crumpled, the icon of the Savior lay on the floor.

Rector (to a boy-monk). Look, if there is anything in his bed ... Probably peas steal and hide ...

The boy-monk began to rummage in the mat. However, the search turned out to be short, because some strange objects immediately fell into the hands. The boy had never seen such things: either the toilet items, or the devil knows what, you just can’t make out right away ...

He laid them out on the bed in front of the abbot. He looked at them and laughed wildly.

The boy crossed himself in horror, because the abbot's laughter seemed more terrible than anger. And the priest kept laughing and laughing. And I couldn't stop...

In front of him, on the convent bed, lay a lady's cap, a bonnet, and hairpins.

He suddenly grabbed the boy by the breasts, pulled him towards him so that the cassock on the monk crackled and cracked.

Rector. To me this son of a bitch! Now! Immediately! To me!

Three women stood on the wooden footbridge and rinsed underwear in the cold water.

One of the grandmothers. And what is this statue?

She had in mind Ivan Semyonovich, who towered on the shore like a statue, with a fishing rod at the ready.

Redhead. Who will you be?

Ivan Semyonovich, a fisherman. And you?

Redhead. And I'm a shameless redhead. You pick your own. And then the shalaboli hang out, the women are afraid of you.

The grandmothers laughed wildly.

Ivan Semyonovich: I can't. My oud is always dear to me.

Redhead. Can you catch someone like me?

Ivan Semenovich (honestly). No.

Redhead. So you're a fool, not a fisherman. There were no fish here.

Ivan Semyonovich: But they sent me... So there is.

Redhead. Sent, but not there. Got a worm?

Ivan Semyonovich: Don't... They told me to spit on the hook. And that's it.

Redhead. Your hook is like a spider. You can't see it up close.

Ivan Semyonovich (completely upset). And w-well, you, you don’t have piety for a penny… (Turning to no one knows whom.) W-that’s what you d-did, you bastard! How you let me down!

Ivan Semyonovich (without stuttering). Piety is prejudice. Rousseau read?

Ivan Semyonovich (stuttering). W-why?

Ivan Semyonovich (without stuttering). Necessary. You will read. In the original language. I'll write to you from Paris.

One woman to another. Yes, he speaks to himself. behaved!

Redhead. Who is kept in monasteries? Fun like in the yellow house!

They quickly gathered up their linen and went into the village, looking around timidly at Ivan Semyonovich.

Ivan Semenovich (to the river). As Jonah climbed into the belly of a whale, so salmon and chum salmon will come here ... (To himself.) Drop it!

Ivan Semyonovich (stuttering). And w-shouldn't you care?

Ivan Semyonovich (without stuttering). As you wish.

He thought, looked at the hook, and nevertheless spat. Clumsily threw the fishing line into the water. The hook fell near the shore in shallow water.

Suddenly, a gigantic shadow flashed across the water. The line tensed. The fishing rod wanted to escape from the hands of Ivan Semenovich, he grabbed it with all his might and, by inertia, flew into the water ...

Spread out on the writing table were the terrible evidence found in the novice's cell - a hood, a cap, and papillots. The fire crackled in the fireplace. The rector sat in a wooden armchair and, while waiting for Ivan Semyonovich, dozed off a little...

Suddenly he woke up from some rustling ... He rubbed his eyes and jumped up from his chair in horror.

In front of him sat a high clergyman in a luxurious hood and with a large panagia on his chest, the image on which, however, was erased and in the semi-darkness was generally indefinable. In appearance, the archimandrite of some large monastery, no less.

Spiritual face. What are you, brother, so bloomed?

From his voice, the abbot trembled inwardly. There was something imperious, general in him. The face of the ascetic with piercing sharp eyes left no doubt: the abbot would be reprimanded. To understand only from whom and for what ...

Rector. Restriction in funds ... The monastery does not have the most necessary things, there are not enough candles.

Spiritual face. What about heartache?

Rector. And that's enough. And where are you from ... Your Eminence? Is it from the capital?

Spiritual face. From the Tomsk province. Kumandy Monastery named after St. Thomas the Unbeliever. Heard about this one?

Rector. I seem to remember...

The Archimandrite thoughtfully took a papillot in his hand, put it to his eyes and placed it next to the bonnet.

Spiritual face. So…

Rector. Yes, these are ... Boys of one. Trifle. I want to tear off the ears and let go ...

Spiritual face. Does he twist his hair himself or others?

Rector (hard). Others.

Spiritual face. So, barber.

Rector. Maybe. But he does this without the consent of the public.

Spiritual face. But maybe for their spiritual benefit. The presumption of innocence... Is there such a presumption in your monastery?

Rector. Anything can happen here. But I haven't come across this yet.

Spiritual face. I have. We successfully combine it with the ecclesiastical charter and Roman law, from which this presumption is derived by the method of general induction.

Rector (feeling that a haze is falling on him). Presumption ... Would you like a seagull with thyme?

Spiritual person (dryly). I only drink raw water. (After a pause.) Why are you persecuting blessed John, hegumen? Why are you living from the world?

Rector. Who are you talking about?

Spiritual face. About Ivan Semyonov's son. After all, he is almost a saint. (His face began to twitch painfully, his lips twisted, and he became restless and fearful.) His fame runs ahead of him. From his youth he has been visiting monasteries. Meek as a lamb. Works miracles. Look, they will canonize him in fifteen hundred years, what do you say then? How will you sing?

Rector. In a thousand and a half years, I won't say anything.

Spiritual face. So others will speak for you. There was, they say, on earth one narrow-minded hegumen. Lived with the world. Buried alive in the ground. Beat and drove. If I were you, I'd open it up.

Rector. Where can I get such a shovel?

Spiritual face. Wherever you want. I would bring myself closer. I would trust the treasury and management. Prepared shift. After all, you're not young. You can't keep up with many. You fall asleep at night, and in a dream - a blow. Or even worse, at a Sunday morning service. And here is a person you can always rely on. Our person. Your abode will thunder throughout the earth. The income of the monastery will triple ...

Rector. Fear God, what kind of income can there be here?

Spiritual face. Have you forgotten about the land? The landowners themselves will write them down for you, together with the peasants and the water meadows. And they will stand on their knees so that you accept their villages. (He suddenly leaned forward, scowled, and looked the abbot straight in the eyes.) And don't forget about the forests, your lamb's head! The forest, it would seem, is the most useless thing when it stands. What is the use of it? Only mosquitoes and predators. But when the forest lies down, it turns into gold. Wood is always valuable. Cut it down, sell it, and ask Ivan Semenovich who to sell it to. East or West. He will advise you. And no one will guess. The two of you at the gesheft, in the abode of candles and oil, like mud ... And instead of the forest, space and freedom. Easy to breathe and easy to live. Only the wind walks through the cold desert back and forth, back and forth ... Phew! (He made a whistling sound with his lips.) That's it! (He got up and straightened his robe.) I stayed up with you. It's time to go. The way to Kumanda is not long.

Rector. Understand. Team is Team.

Spiritual face. Team is nonsense. But service is beyond understanding. Goodbye!

He headed towards the door.

Rector. Why don't you take it with you? To Kumanda?

Spiritual face. The team is ready, but he is not yet.

He left the cell and closed the door behind him.

The abbot stood for some time in the middle of the study, collecting his thoughts and wrinkling his forehead. Then he suddenly ran out into the dressing room with a cry ...

Rector. A cross... Did he have a cross?!

The clerk sat in his place, as if struck by thunder. The abbot from the solution that seized him grabbed the clerk by the chest.

Rector. Did he have a pectoral cross or not?

Scribe. What kind of pectoral cross can a lady wear?..

Rector. What are you weaving?

Scribe. Butter such, plump ... Thirty-three pleasures. I, he says, has been appointed ... I, he says, can, but others, he says, can’t ... I didn’t know what to think. A lady in the capital and in a monastery… Nonsense. Aporia of Zeno...

Rector. Are you drunk?

Scribe. And you sniff her handkerchief. Dropped by accident. Do you feel? Mountain lavender. Suspension water. Not for our wilderness.

He handed the hegumen a cambric handkerchief with a pink heart embroidered on it.

He sniffed and started coughing.

Suddenly, there was a noise in the corridor. Three monks brought into the cell a huge fish, ten arshins long. Two held her at the edges, and one laid her on her shoulder like a heavy beam. The head of the fish was round, almost human. A mustache peeked out from under his nose, and small horns protruded from his head.

Rector. What is this? For what?

Ivan Semyonovich: You yourself p-asked... For the g-glory of God. And p-fish w-sorry. She's not to blame.

The fish looked at them with a round sad eye and sighed heavily.

Ivan Semenovich's hands were twisted with thick hemp, and his legs were swaddled with a sea rope.

Ivan Semyonovich But why n-legs?

Rector. So that you don't come back.

Ivan Semyonovich And r-hands?

Rector. To not pick your nose.

He sat on a wooden bench and watched the monks swaddle Ivan Semyonovich like an Egyptian mummy.

Rector. And shut his mouth. And then it will be proverbs to pour, like peas.

He handed me a cambric handkerchief with a pink heart. The monks stuffed it into Ivan Semyonovich's mouth. He began to cough and moan.

Rector. Take him to the pier, fathers!

A narrow raft stood at the wooden pier. The bound Ivan Semyonovich was loaded onto him, who became meek, silent and looked with wide eyes into clear sky. The clouds are gone. The red sun was setting below the horizon.

Rector. Lord, the Living Path, who traveled with Your servant Joseph, travel, Vladyka, and Your servant John, deliver all overwhelm and slander, peace and goodwill, and arrange the return of the pack!

Scribe (in a whisper). And you said nothing about the return!

Rector. Hope he doesn't hear...

And he pointed to the sky. The church bell struck. The monks untied the raft from the pier and pushed it down with boats, letting it go with the flow.

The abbot looked thoughtfully at the raft drifting away from him. He crossed himself and, leaning on a staff, went to the monastery.

Suddenly, he heard some screams behind him. I looked back. The raft swam against the current. There was no doubt about it. Here a branch of a birch floated downstream, here, like children's boats, yellow leaves floated behind it ...

But the raft went against them. He approached the pier and poked hard at it with his wooden side. The abbot noticed that Ivan Semyonovich was still motionless - he was lying on his back, bound and looking at the clear sky.

Rector (breaking loose and unable to control his nerves). Drive him! Go to hell!

But his appeal was in vain. Some of the monks were already on their knees, amazed by God's miracle, some superstitiously crossed themselves and repeated a prayer against evil spirits.

Feeling that you could not cook porridge with them, the abbot rushed to the pier and, leaning on his whole body, drove the raft away from the shore.

Ivan Semyonovich sighed heavily and loudly. The raft, after a little thought and as if agreeing with the current, went down, but suddenly changed direction abruptly and again ran into the pier. He flew so hard that the abbot fell on the boards from a heavy blow.

The church bell stopped ringing. A deep silence reigned throughout the Christian land. The abbot sat on the pier and looked with hatred at the bound Ivan Semyonovich.

The swaddled Ivan Semyonovich was placed in a vertical position in front of the rector by two monks. To prevent the body from falling, they propped it up on the sides.

Rector. You don't need to untie. And you don't have to take your handkerchief out of your mouth. (He went up to Ivan Semyonovich, looked attentively into his eyes.) So, you are friends with water?

Ivan Semyonovich only grumbled.

Rector. You will wash your clothes. What do you disagree? I don't hear an answer!

He took a handkerchief out of Ivan Semyonovich's mouth.

Ivan Semyonovich: Ports got caught in the rain, washed themselves…

Rector. I thought so. (And again gagged him with a handkerchief.) You will live there. At the port. And don't come across my eyes, otherwise I'll kill you. (Giving orders to the monks.) Take away the body.

Ivan Semyonovich was taken into the corridor.

arabov-2
Hieronymus Bosch. "The Temptation of Saint Anthony". 1505–1506

Chapter two. Once upon a time there was a spring

A strange procession rode along the road: gendarmes in front and behind, in front - two carriages, shining with gold and with a double-headed eagle on the doors, horses in good order, well-trained, clattering with their hooves, like weaving silk: clap, clap, clap ... And from the magnificence of this, from the strength and dignity, I want to fall on my knees and sing, for example, the march of the Preobrazhensky regiment or something else ...

The bell ringer saw them from the bell tower and almost lost consciousness from horror. He began to ring the bell for the whole district, the monks poured out of their cells, abandoned their daily work and obedience, even the rector himself with the secretary ran under the bell tower.

Rector (folding his palms like a pipe). What are you up to, fool? Fire, right?

Bell ringer. Worse…

He waved his hands and stopped ringing the bell.

Rector. Is there anything worse than a fire?

Scribe. Maybe. The arrival of the august family...

The abbot waved his hands at him, crossed himself and grabbed his heart with his hand.

The gates of the monastery opened. First, one gendarme drove into them, then a second, a third ... And then two carriages appeared.

The arrivals filled the entire monastery courtyard. We stopped in silence. You could hear the wind blowing up above.

The door of the first carriage opened, and out came a young man of enormous stature with a sticky mustache and a look so majestic that he wanted to climb the wall.

Nikolai Pavlovich Well, the roads! Why did God punish me with such roads? Who will answer? Alexander Khristoforovich, my soul ... Is this a generic curse of Russia or will the help of the Almighty and we will someday live like people? ..

For some reason, the abbot decided that they were addressing him and that he, with his spiritual experience, should answer this difficult question in detail.

Rector. If we judge in good time and with inhuman understanding, then we do not need roads at all ... and even definitely harmful.

Nikolai Pavlovich: Be quiet, old man! I am not for you.

Although they were about the same age, the visitor felt clearly younger.

Almost the same handsome man got out of the second carriage, only a little shorter, but his bearing and mustache could compete with the first. Mustaches were of high quality, thoroughbred. And this breed of both was immediately evident.

The second squatted down and looked at the wheels of the carriage.

Alexander Khristoforovich (in French). It seems, Your Majesty, our journey ends on a minor note. The spring is dead. Yes, and the whole wheel is at risk.

Nikolai Pavlovich (in French). And I have always been against the English leaf spring. Who brought them only to Russia?

Alexander Khristoforovich (in French). To be honest, I ordered a dozen spring coaches from London.

Nikolai Pavlovich (in French). So this old man is right? (He pointed with his eyes at the abbot.) Do we need roads and spring coaches?

Alexander Khristoforovich (in French). I wouldn't say so. The old man is dark as soot. And he wants to spread this darkness to the entire educated class.

The abbot's lips trembled. I felt that they were talking about him. As for the last straw, he seized the clerk with his eyes. He quietly pulled out of a leather briefcase a small handwritten miniature depicting Tsar Nikolai Pavlovich in full height and showed it to the abbot. He glanced at the portrait, turned even paler and fell to his knees. Following him, all the monks, all the inhabitants fell to the ground ...

Nikolai Pavlovich (in Russian). Get up, old man. What are the conventions? We still live in an enlightened age, and class prejudices are no longer in honor.

However, in the voice of the sovereign it was felt that he was pleased. He went up to the abbot, tried to force him up from the ground, but the abbot mumbled something, got nervous and threw himself on the ground, snapping his teeth. He appears to be having an epileptic seizure.

Nikolai Pavlovich (in French). He will now die of his patriotic feelings.

Alexander Khristoforovich (in French). This problem is solved quite simply.

He approached the abbot, who by that time had begun to eat raw earth, and leaned towards him.

Alexander Khristoforovich (in a whisper, sincerely). Spitsrutenov wanted, old rascal?! Get up now!

The abbot spat dry grass out of his mouth and immediately got to his feet.

Nikolai Pavlovich Who are you?

His face suddenly hardened, his round eyes turned glassy. The voice rang with metal, from which the ladies in the Winter Palace fainted. In an instant, a handsome and thoroughbred man suddenly turned into a basilisk.

Rector. Hegumen... Mentor of these mournful places.

Nikolai Pavlovich Why did you fall on your knees? Do you think it's easy for me to talk to you like that?

Rector. Don't think. I never think at all.

Nikolai Pavlovich: Then how do you differ from my ministers?

Rector. The fact that I live in a bear corner ...

Nikolai Pavlovich suddenly burst out laughing. He obviously liked the answer. The basilisk disappeared, and its eyes became human again.

Nikolai Pavlovich (in French). Did you hear, Count? And the old man is rude!

Alexander Khristoforovich (in French). Ask him, Your Majesty, if they have a man to mend the English spring.

Nikolai Pavlovich Do you have a man...

Rector (not letting me finish). No.

Nikolai Pavlovich And who are these then?

He gestured at the bent monks.

Rector. These are not people. These are lambs.

Nikolai Pavlovich: It's all the same to me. Can the spring be repaired?

Rector. Not my God!

Nikolai Pavlovich Well, yes, well, yes... If you think your way, then neither springs nor roads are needed... But why?

Rector. Because. That if there are roads, then the enemy will pass through them. And it will fall into the very heart of Russia.

The emperor thought. The defiant answer of the abbot did not seem stupid to him.

Nikolai Pavlovich That's it, my soul... The old man is talking business.

Alexander Khristoforovich (in French). Found someone to listen to ... Railway. She will solve our problem.

Nikolai Pavlovich (in French). There is something in his words ... He is not as stupid as he seems. Russians are not stupid at all.

Alexander Khristoforovich Not stupid, but obstinate.

Nikolai Pavlovich looked around. He tilted his head and looked at the bell tower. He saw from below how the bell-ringer was looking at him, even opening his mouth from great feelings.

The Emperor took a deep breath and crossed himself at the church.

Nikolai Pavlovich The air of the province... I love it.

He gave his hand to the abbot. He bit his lips into hers.

Nikolai Pavlovich (humbly). Shelter us, holy father ... Do not drive. We need to take a break. Very tired.

Smoke and steam escaped through the open door. Nikolai Pavlovich's face turned red, and beads of sweat appeared on his forehead. He had already taken off his outdoor clothes and was sitting in the dressing room in an undershirt over a corset.

He looked out the narrow window. The monks stood like a mournful wall around the bathhouse, the abbot blackened ahead of the others and silently moved his gray lips, apparently praying. Two gendarmes stood at attention beside him.

The sovereign rolled up his shirt and tried to unbutton his whalebone corset, which he wore in public and especially on trips. But the fingers did not obey, and the corset did not unfasten in any way.

Nikolai Pavlovich (opening the door to the bathhouse). Stop drowning, come here! ..

He was addressing a monk boy who was pouring a yellowish liquid from a large bottle onto hot stones. The stones were smoking. The cramped space of the bath was full of fumes.

Nikolai Pavlovich What are you drinking?

The boy stared at him silently, mouth open.

Nikolai Pavlovich: Have you never seen a naked soldier? Can you unfasten your corset?

He turned his back on the boy, still holding his shirt over his hips but not taking it off.

The boy saw the shoulder blades covered with a layer of fat. Numerous moles descending from the shoulders to the corset. The skin was white and pink, almost satin.

Nikolai Pavlovich There must be hooks and loops. Unzip them!..

Nikolai Pavlovich could not restrain himself and gave the boy a hand. He suddenly began to defend himself and slightly touched the hands of the sovereign with his open palm.

He, having stopped fighting, looked into the boy's eyes ... Their eyes met. The sovereign read in the eyes of the monk the despair of the hunted beast.

Nikolai Pavlovich Call the Mandt. Or one of the guards.

The boy backed away, still holding his hands up for protection. He opened the door with his back. Stumbling, he ran to the people standing in the cordon.

Nikolai Pavlovich (in French, to himself). Complete idiot!

He sniffed at the bottle from which the boy was pouring liquid on the stones. He moistened his hands with liquid and sniffed.

The door opened a crack and a breathless man with a leather bag looked in, resembling a titular councillor. His bald head was carefully combed with sparse hair.

Leib is a medic (in German). I forbid you this, your majesty!

He began using his hands to disperse the steam that had accumulated in the dressing room.

Nikolai Pavlovich (in German). Smell, Mandt, what is it?

He meant bottle. The life-medic leaned over to the bottle, peered into the narrow neck and sucked in the air noisily.

Leib is a doctor, in my opinion, bread kvass.

Nikolai Pavlovich: But in my opinion, something stronger.

Leib is a doctor, both of which are unacceptable to you. Blood may rush to the head.

Nikolai Pavlovich And the bathhouse?

Leib is a doctor, no way.

Nikolai Pavlovich Then at least unfasten your corset. This will be rest for me.

Both spoke German. Mandt skillfully unbuttoned his corset and laid it on a wooden bench, sitting down next to him. Nikolai Pavlovich leaned back on the bench, leaning his back against the wall.

Leib is a doctor, it's very stuffy and hot here. You need to leave.

Nikolai Pavlovich: But they will guess that I haven't washed.

Leib is a doctor, but we won't tell them.

Nikolai Pavlovich Then at least pour water out of the buckets so they can hear.

Mandt entered the bathhouse. He poured one bucket of water on the floor, then another.

From the courtyard came the prayerful singing of the abbot. So, on the street they heard that the sovereign was washing.

Mandt returned to the waiting room. Nikolai Pavlovich was still sitting on the bench, leaning his back against the wall. There was a large sweat on his forehead.

…His head resembled the head of a Medusa Gorgon. The hair was thick and pulsating. His face turned pale, like that of a statue in the Winter Palace.

Leeches were attached to the sovereign's head. Footsteps were heard in the corridor.

The voice of Alexander Khristoforovich (from behind the door). Your Majesty! They say everything is ready. Invited for an evening meal.

Leib is a doctor, I wouldn't recommend it.

Nikolai Pavlovich Say that I'll be there soon. (to Mandtu) Take it off!

The life doctor carefully removed the leech from one temple, then pulled it off the other. He wiped his whiskey with alcohol, smeared with rose oil ...

Leib is a medic (in German). Your conscientiousness in the performance of your duties is astonishing.

Nikolai Pavlovich (in German). I'm just a simple soldier.

Leib is a doctor, and who gives orders to you?

Nikolai Pavlovich Duty and oath.

Leib is a doctor, rather, you are ordered by circumstances.

Nikolai Pavlovich: It's the same thing. (He looked thoughtfully at the leeches, swollen with his own blood.) Who is the most unfree person in this country?

Leib is a doctor, I can't know, Your Majesty...

Nikolai Pavlovich: That person is me.

... He entered the refectory pale, but without holding on to Mandt, who was walking beside him. He crossed himself on the icons, took his place at the head of the table, the entire space of which was occupied by a strange fish with a mustache and horns on a round head - the same one that Ivan Semenovich caught.

Rector. The eyes of all in Thee, O Lord, trust, and You give them food in good time, You open Your generous hand, fulfilling every kind of animal goodwill. Amen.

Everyone sat down at the table.

Rector. Found in local waters. By the arrival of Your Majesty God sent.

Nikolai Pavlovich What is it called?

Rector (looking with horror at the clerk). What is the name of?

Scribe (with an air of importance). Monster exosse.

Nikolai Pavlovich (in French, to adjutant). Give me, Henri, a small piece of this monster.

The adjutant carefully cut off a small piece of medium weight from the fish and put it on the sovereign's plate.

Everyone was sitting on pins and needles. The abbot was paler than the wall.

Nikolai Pavlovich: You shouldn't have gone to the local bathhouse, Count. It's like a decade has passed...

Alexander Khristoforovich You know, Your Majesty, that I profess European water principles. Russian baths will soon be completely gone.

Nikolai Pavlovich poked at the plate with his fork. He put a piece in his mouth. Chewed slowly. There was a look of astonishment on his face. The fish tasted very strange.

Nikolai Pavlovich Water closet is a convenient thing. But I can't imagine Russia with only water closets. What will happen to my people in this order of things?

Alexander Khristoforovich: Instead of the people there will be engineers. Scientists. Lawyers.

He didn't speak very seriously. But at the last word, the sovereign threw his fork on the table and did not appreciate the joke. Everyone sitting in the refectory felt that the count blurted out something wrong.

Nikolai Pavlovich Tell me, holy father, do we need lawyers?

He turned to the pastor. His lips quivered in horror.

Rector. Not my God!

Nikolai Pavlovich: Here, Count, listen to this mighty old man!

Alexander Khristoforovich (in French). This powerful old man ate his own brain.

Nikolai Pavlovich (in Russian). Lawyers ... There are only lawyers around! That's what you're preparing for us with your water closets!

Bile rose in the sovereign. The life medic imperceptibly felt the pulse on his arm. The abbot wanted to hide under the table.

Nikolai Pavlovich: Mirabeau was a lawyer! Marat was a lawyer! .. Robespierre ...

He hesitated, choosing the right word.

Scribe. This one is even better...

He seemed to be the only one at the table who was sure of himself.

Nikolai Pavlovich (shouting). What are you carrying? Why is Robespierre even better?!

Scribe. He cut off the heads of lawyers.

Nikolai Pavlovich's eyes glazed over and assumed an expression like that of a basilisk.

Nikolai Pavlovich (threateningly). Who is that?

Scribe. Local writer. Self-taught. I knew the need from childhood.

There was deathly silence around the table. The emperor suddenly got up, went up to the clerk and kissed him on the lips.

Nikolai Pavlovich Aptly said about Robespierre. Well done!

Everyone breathed a sigh of relief, because the thunder only rumbled, and the storm did not pour.

Nikolai Pavlovich (returning to his seat). Russia does not need lawyers. And the writers... Now, if they took the oath, like a military estate, then it would be another matter.

Alexander Khristoforovich: I absolutely agree with the latter.

Nikolai Pavlovich Does a writer know what fortification is? Hydraulics? Exact engineering calculation?.. No, he doesn't know. And above all, he doesn’t know the Fatherland, he doesn’t know our features, such as God gave them ... We have everything of our own, and the British are not a decree for us. I will say more: we must have our own water closets, special ones, and Railway its own, not like the British.

Alexander Khristoforovich What could be special about a railway?

Nikolai Pavlovich And you know better, my soul! After all, you are a member of the Committee for my railways, not me! ..

The clouds began to dissipate. But all the same, tension hung in the air, and Alexander Khristoforovich decided to turn the conversation to another topic.

Alexander Khristoforovich (addressing the rector). Are there any miracles in your monastery?

The abbot swallowed and looked down.

Alexander Khristoforovich Mysterious signs? Holy warriors? Ghosts, screams, shadows on the wall?

Rector. Your Excellency... What are you talking about? We don't dream about ghosts. We would have to survive the winter without hunger ... This will be the greatest miracle for us.

Nikolai Pavlovich This is the second time I've been traveling through Russia and all I hear is: hunger, hunger, hunger... Has our country become impoverished in mind, has the fields become deserted and the earth has ceased to bear fruit? And of all the miracles - only a broken English spring, which there is no one to fix ... Why is this? Who is guilty?

Blood rushed to his head, his cheeks turned red, and red streaks became visible in his bright eyes.

One-eyed monk (decided). No. Not this way.

Nikolai Pavlovich What are you weaving? Why not?

One-eyed monk. There are miracles in our monastery. Great and unpos-

The abbot wanted to slap him on the back of the head, but restrained himself, did not slap him ...

One-eyed monk. I speak the truth, holy father! And I will not lie to my sovereign-emperor! (He suddenly threw himself on the floor and began to bow before Nikolai Pavlovich.) Great signs and a great ascetic! .. Rivers obey him, water serves ... And the essence of things is open to him!

An inquisitive interest lit up in the eyes of the sovereign.

Nikolai Pavlovich (priest). What are you hiding, hegumen? Which sub-

Rector. Yes, this is not an ascetic and not a miracle.

Nikolai Pavlovich And what?

Rector (crossing himself). And the devil knows what! When the Savior walked on the water, what a miracle it was! And here... And here, just a raft swam against the current...

Nikolai Pavlovich Was there a sail on the raft?

The abbot shook his head.

Nikolai Pavlovich Even steam-powered ships swim against the current with difficulty. And a simple raft ... Isn't it a miracle?

Rector. Not a miracle.

One-eyed monk. And the fact that he cleaned the old well from filth in an hour?

Rector. Not a miracle.

One-eyed monk. And what burns and does not burn? And the fact that the fish itself swims to him, as to the apostles?

Rector (stubbornly). Not a miracle, not a miracle, not a miracle...

The pastor was beside himself. He ran, stumbling and breathing heavily. A couple of times he even fell, tripping over the roots.

The wooden laundry stood on the bank of the river not far from the bathhouse. The abbot saw Ivan Semyonovich carrying water in buckets. Not from the river to the laundry, but, on the contrary, from the laundry to the river. But the situation was so tense that another eccentricity of Shaposhnikov did not cause the usual fit of anger in the abbot.

Ivan Semenovich poured first one bucket of water into the river, then another.

Ivan Semyonovich And I thought... Why take water from the river? She's embarrassed. Isn't it better for linen to go to the river than the river to linen?

At this, the abbot grabbed him by the breasts and put a hefty fist to his nose.

Rector. Now they will come to you ... If you say even a word, then you will no longer see not only the monastery, but also the white light. Just sit and be quiet... Do you understand? Sit and be quiet!

He picked up his cassock and stumbled back to the building that housed the refectory.

Ivan Semyonovich looked after him. The full moon peeked out from behind the clouds. In the darkness it seemed to him that some kind of silent mass was advancing on him - people on horseback and people on foot, and helmets gleaming under the dead light, like the scales of a huge fish ...

The sovereign with Alexander Khristoforovich walked ahead of the mounted gendarmes. The abbot ran beside him, whispering something in the ear of the august lady.

Ivan Semyonovich rubbed his dry palms recklessly and, taking the empty buckets, hurried to his laundry.

The abbot opened the laundry door and, crossing himself, let the sovereign and the count inside.

There was a torch burning. Wood crackled in the stove. A frail little man sat on the floor in nothing but his underpants and looked thoughtfully at the moon that appeared in the window. He adapted the bench for desk- on it stood an inkwell and lay a piece of white paper. A goose feather stuck out behind Ivan Semyonovich's ear. Dry tufts of grass hung from the ceiling.

Nikolai Pavlovich (priest). Leave us alone with him.

The abbot wanted to object something, but restrained himself. Secretly showed Shaposhnikov a fist from behind the sovereign's back. He went outside and closed the door behind him.

Nikolai Pavlovich Are you the miracle worker?

Ivan Semyonovich did not answer this, but took out a goose quill from behind his ear and began to bite it, as writers do when they are considering the next noel.

Nikolai Pavlovich We are on an expedition. The Lord sent a test: the spring on the carriage burst, and there was no one to repair it.

Ivan Semyonovich dipped his pen into the inkwell and began to write something on paper with a small trace of a titmouse, as if it had walked through frosty snow.

I wrote and put the pen next to me on the bench.

Alexander Khristoforovich: It turns out that you are literate... May I have a look?

Ivan Semyonovich did not answer. The count took the paper and, putting a lorgnette to his eyes, began to read.

Alexander Khristoforovich (reading aloud). "Bees in the sky zu-zu-zu ... Do not take bribes from the breeder! .."

Nikolai Pavlovich (shocked). What?! From which breeder?

Alexander Khristoforovich Not explained. (Raising her voice to Ivan Semyonovich.) Dear sir! Please clarify your invective!

To this Shaposhnikov began to pick his teeth intently with a pen. He pulled out a piece of some plant and examined it carefully, putting a pen to his eyes.

Nikolai Pavlovich: So, so... But there is something in his words! (He frowned his high forehead, thinking painfully about something. He sat down on the bench in front of which Shaposhnikov was sitting on the floor.) I don't take it. The state takes for its needs. This is true all over the world - taxes from breeders and traders. And if not to take, then why are they needed? After all, you yourself must understand how much evil they bring: officials are bribed, forests are illegally cut down, and if, God forbid, they get to the treasury, then there will be nothing left in it but a dead mouse ... And Alexander Khristoforovich will confirm to you: they steal!

The Count nodded gravely with his balding head. Here Ivan Semyonovich somehow strangely pursed his lips, making his expression skeptical and even mocking. He took up a pen and quickly wrote something on paper.

Nikolai Pavlovich Well, give me a lorgnette, Count! (He took the note in his hands and read it with difficulty.) “Without pratsi, no bende coloratsi ...” (With despair, to the count.) But what is this, Alexander Khristoforovich ?!

The count glanced at the sheet.

Alexander Khristoforovich (in French). And this is Russia in its true form. Sphinx people who carry game!

Nikolai Pavlovich (in Russian). What language is it in?

Alexander Khristoforovich (shrugging his shoulders). On a bird. The audience can be ended, let's go from here, Your Majesty.

Nikolai Pavlovich No, wait a minute... He's interesting to me. He is not only a miracle worker... He is also a politician!

Ivan Semyonovich's face expressed satisfaction. A trickle of saliva escaped from the corner of his mouth and descended onto the paper.

Alexander Khristoforovich: We have to leave. He's already started drooling. Ask him for some miracle, and that's it.

Nikolai Pavlovich It's not me... It's Benckendorff asking. Can you fix the spring?

Ivan Semyonovich wiped his mouth with a piece of paper. He blew his nose loudly into it and folded it in half. He dipped his pen into the inkwell and quickly wrote the answer.

Alexander Khristoforovich (reading). “What they don’t fix with their minds, they grind with saliva ...” In my opinion, everything is clear. Let's go, Your Majesty, let's go! (He almost forcibly pushed the sovereign out of the laundry. Turned around on the threshold and uttered sincerely.) Do you know what two hundred soldiers with spitz-

rutens? This is just an execution, because we have abolished the death penalty.

He carefully closed the door behind him. Ivan Semyonovich smiled blissfully.

Nikolai Pavlovich was so thoughtful and gloomy that it cost a lot of effort to approach him. Even the seasoned Alexander Khristoforovich walked a little at a distance, to the side, not daring to speak to the sovereign. The abbot did not even hesitate. He wanted to approach Benckendorff, but he waved a noble white glove at him, and the abbot was pushed back by the guards.

And the sovereign kept walking and walking somewhere, with his hands behind his back. His round eyes were turned into the soul, and what was happening there in this soul, we do not know about. Behind him, he felt the movement of a crowd of people, but did not pay attention to it, since his head was occupied by another.

The carriages of his expedition, so unsuccessfully interrupted, appeared. Ahead stood the royal, broken.

Nikolai Pavlovich looked at her silently for some time. Then he took a cambric handkerchief out of his pocket, spat the most august saliva into it, squatted down and, feeling for a cracked spring in the darkness, wiped it with his wet handkerchief.

He got to his feet and turned around. Behind him stood a crowd of subjects, they looked with horror at what the sovereign-emperor was doing.

Nikolai Pavlovich (to Alexander Khristoforovich). I am sleepy. Let them lay in the cell and do not wake them up in the morning.

Alexander Khristoforovich It will be done, Your Majesty!

The door to the Count's room opened soundlessly. Alexander Khristoforovich, like a military man, reached for a pillow, under which lay a loaded pistol of the Lepage system.

But there was no need for it. On the threshold with a burning candle in his hands stood the sovereign-emperor. He was dressed in a night robe, his sparse hair on his head was tousled. The count's head, on the contrary, was dressed in a neat grid.

Nikolai Pavlovich Write. Have something to write down?

Alexander Khristoforovich: I will remember, Your Majesty. Dictate.

Nikolai Pavlovich sat down on the edge of his bed, placing a candle on the bedside table.

Nikolai Pavlovich (in French). First: to reduce the number of serfs from half to one third of their total population on the territory of the Russian Empire.

Alexander Khristoforovich looked at him without blinking.

Alexander Khristoforovich Further.

Nikolai Pavlovich: Give the state peasants their own plots of land.

Alexander Khristoforovich Impossible. What will the landowners say?

Nikolai Pavlovich: They will say: "Glory to the sovereign-emperor." And if they don't, they'll be sorry they didn't.

Alexander Khristoforovich Will there be something else?

Nikolai Pavlovich: It will. (He hesitated, looking for the right word, continued in French.) One more thing ... You are one of the founders of the Society for the establishment of double steamers, aren't you?

The count was silent, without expressing his opinion in any way.

Nikolai Pavlovich And your share is one hundred thousand silver rubles. Is it good? And what are double steamers? Will you explain?

Alexander Khristoforovich A necessary and useful thing for everyone.

Nikolai Pavlovich I have no doubts. However, your patronage of the "Second Russian Society from the Fire" ... This is bad form. After all, you are a state official, and commercial interests are clearly superfluous here.

Alexander Khristoforovich: And why did these questions arise right now?

Nikolai Pavlovich: Because without pratsi there is no bende coloratsi. I figured out what he meant. Without truth there is no kingship. That's what he wanted to tell me. without God's truth. Think about it, my soul. Think well!

Alexander Khristoforovich (after a short pause). When should I write my resignation letter?

Nikolai Pavlovich Whenever you want. But I can't accept your resignation. There is no one to replace you.

There was a painful silence between them, both looking in different directions. In their underwear, they looked like inmates of a charitable institution, but not statesmen.

Nikolai Pavlovich (to defuse the situation, in Russian). Is it okay for you to sleep here?

Alexander Khristoforovich: Maybe it's good. Only I haven't tried it yet. How about you, your majesty?

Nikolai Pavlovich Almost like in the Winter Palace. Only more bedbugs. They are fierce here ... Evil.

Alexander Khristoforovich: And I thought that bedbugs at monasteries should be fasting.

Nikolai Pavlovich: They're having a fast day today. Good night to you, Count.

Alexander Khristoforovich Good night, Your Majesty!

The emperor went out into the corridor with a candle and softly closed the door behind him.

... He was sleeping, but the pillow was not under his head, but lay on top, covering his face. There was a knock on the door. The adjutant stood at the door.

Adjutant (in French). You asked to wake up at ten, your majesty! The card is ready. The expedition can continue!

The sovereign was sleepy and swollen.

Nikolai Pavlovich And the spring?

Adjutant Whole. It didn't seem to be broken.

Nikolai Pavlovich Who did the repairs?

Adjutant: They don't speak.

The emperor sat down on the bed, putting his feet on the floor and feeling for his slippers.

Nikolai Pavlovich Bring warm water wash up. We'll leave in an hour.

Everything was ready for the next journey. The gendarmes sat on their horses, and Alexander Khristoforovich stood at the ajar door of the monarch's carriage and smoked pachitoska. The sovereign was nearby and talked to him about something in French.

The bell sounded in the belfry. The abbot ran to the emperor with a tray on which a hefty loaf of monastery bread turned pink. He knelt before the sovereign and held out the bread.

Nikolai Pavlovich And where is the blacksmith who repaired the spring?

The abbot made an indefinite throat sound at this.

Nikolai Pavlovich Did you do it yourself?

The hegumen nodded, averting his eyes.

Nikolai Pavlovich Well, look into my eyes!

He forcibly grabbed the abbot by the chin and pulled him to him. The abbot's eyes were cloudy, full of confusion and mud. And the sovereign appreciated this confusion.

Nikolai Pavlovich: Thank you for your hospitality... And this... (He pulled a precious ring from his finger.) Give it to the saint from the port. And remember, abbot, without truth there is no reign. And there is no monastery. Goodbye.

The abbot was really offended. It's a shame because the ring was not intended for him, but for Ivan Semenovich. But he accepted the gift and kissed the sovereign's fingers with cold lips.

There was movement in the yard. The monastery gates were open. Dust flew from under the hooves, the wheels of the carriage began to rotate and creak. The radiant mass rolled out beyond the walls of the monastery.

The abbot stood bent over. In his left hand he held a royal ring, the fingers of his right were folded for blessing.

He laid a wide cross on those leaving.

Waiting for the departure of the last gendarme, he suddenly shook his fist after them.

Irresponsibly threatened. In hearts and recklessly.

Alexander Khristoforovich: What shall we do with the bread?

Nikolai Pavlovich We must hand it over to the gendarmes. You do not eat flour, like me. (He pointed to his stomach with his hands.) And at night I understood what the Russian railway should be like. It should be wider than in Europe by a few elbows.

Alexander Khristoforovich Why?

Nikolai Pavlovich: In the event of an overseas invasion, they will not be able to use it.

The Emperor sighed. Looked out the window of the carriage. There was a most monotonous landscape: a forest and bumps. Tussocks and forest ...

Forest and bumps. Tussocks and woods... The abbot and the clerk were heading towards the laundry room with a resolute step. We saw Ivan Semyonovich dragging clothes to the river. The basket was tied with a special rope to the back and was larger than Shaposhnikov himself. She seemed to float over bumps, as if on waves, without any human help.

Abbot attached forefinger to his lips, ordering to be silent. Together with the clerk, they hid behind a fallen tree, watching what Ivan Semenovich would do next.

And he did the following. Went down to the water. He put the basket on the coastal sand. He pulled out the first batch of laundry from her and threw it into the water. The river licked the laundry like a tongue, dragging him to the middle. Ivan Semyonovich clapped his hands three times. The water immediately spat out the linen at his feet. Even from a distance, it was noticeable that the washed shirt was shining white.

The abbot looked meaningfully at the clerk, and the clerk looked at the abbot. Shaposhnikov threw another batch of linen into the water and clapped his hands. The linen returned to his feet perfectly washed.

The abbot looked at the clerk again. The clerk just shrugged.

Ivan Semenovich carefully collected the washed linen in a basket and carried it back to the laundry. The abbot and the clerk, bending down and hiding, followed him.

They clung to the narrow window, watching what Ivan Semyonovich would do.

Shaposhnikov spread out his washed shirt on a wide table. He pulled his pants down to his knees and sat on her. The shirt immediately puffed up. Ivan Semyonovich got up, and the rector and the clerk saw that the shirt had been ironed and was ready for use. The abbot looked meaningfully at the clerk. And the clerk to the abbot.

Scribe. Sik!

The fact that he switched to Latin betrayed extraordinary circumstances.

Rector (in a whisper). Clarify the thought.

Scribe. Tertullian. I believe because it's absurd.

Rector. What are my actions?

Scribe. The choice is difficult. You cannot leave him here. For this is a temptation to others.

Rector. Anathema temptation...

Scribe. And you can’t drive, because the sovereign-emperor himself patronizes him.

Rector. Conclusion?

Scribe. Remove from eyes without removing.

The abbot thought. And Ivan Semyonovich in the laundry at that time was doing the same operation with the cassock that he used to do with the shirt: he put it on the table, sat down on it with his bare ass, and the cassock smoked like a frying pan on fire.

The abbot entered the laundry room.

PRIEST (without looking into his eyes). The greatest honor fell to you... Rejoice.

Ivan Semyonovich Honor is not... You won't be full. Should I be happy now or later?

Rector. It's better not to be happy at all. Because joy for us is suffering, which the Lord has granted us.

Ivan Semyonovich And what has he done for me now?

Rector. He vouchsafed you to go to a distant skete and live in settlements. This path was followed by great ascetics – Saint Anthony, Simeon the Stylite…

Scribe (prompting). Mary of Egypt...

Rector. Exactly.

Ivan Semyonovich But Mary of Egypt was a woman and flew.

Rector. And you can fly if you want. But just away from us. So that we can't see if you fall. Here you go… This is a present for you from the sovereign-emperor.

The abbot uttered the last words with the greatest anguish. He took out a ring wrapped in matting from his pocket, unfolded it and gave it to Ivan Semyonovich. He grabbed it, brought it to the window, from which light came, and admired ...

Rector. Get ready, you're leaving in an hour!

He extended his hand for kissing, but at that time Ivan Semyonovich was trying on the ring first on one, then on the other finger and did not notice the rector's outstretched hand.

The hegumen and the clerk left the laundry room. Closing the door behind them, they heard some sort of fuss going on inside, a scuffle and moaning.

The abbot looked meaningfully at the clerk, the clerk at the abbot.

The abbot crossed himself and sighed heavily.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________

"Monk and demon". Exclusive sayings, aphorisms from the film, doomed to become winged.

Probably, many were not left indifferent by the rather fresh work of Nikolai Dostal “The Monk and the Demon”. The film pleasantly surprised me in many ways. I think there are few who would not pay attention to the abundance of original sayings and successful aphoristic statements in it, which are simply destined to become winged. Some of them, I am sure, are already walking with might and main across the expanses of Russia, and not only, because where are we, Russians, just not ..

Here it is necessary to pay tribute to the screenwriter Yuri Arabov, who, according to his explanations, consulted representatives of the Russian clergy when writing this "libretto" - they gave him some of the following bright sayings. And they are taken not from anywhere, but from scriptures! The rest of the colorful statements of the characters are the successful fruit of the imagination of the screenwriter and, possibly, other filmmakers. In fact, most of these expressions are exclusive because they were created specifically for this movie masterpiece and have never been used before.

Below I present a collection of verbal pearls created by me from this unique film, which I advise you to definitely watch for those who have not seen it yet. I give it to everyone who, like me, is not indifferent to the delights of our great and mighty! Some of them provided, just in case, their explanations.

Not that cadence. (Not that case).

Not everything is sacred that is indented in a book. (Don't mindlessly trust any printed word.)

Insolence is not an abomination. And wickedness can be forgiven.

They waited, but all the waiters ate ...

There was a freak, but there will be a Novgorodian!

The concert ended, but the conductor did not come.

God builds a church, but the devil builds a bell tower.

Soap is not cute if the face is rotten ...

Grandfather loved the grandmother and milked her.

We are friends with work, but without work we do not grieve ...

Dear guest, what a soul, beat him like a hedgehog ...

Soap is black, but it washes white.

Boiling water apart, but warmly zapadletso.

The water is cold, and the person is fornicating.

The priest scolds the mare, but she also keeps him.

Who is kind, to that beaver. And who is not kind, the otter runs from him.

To fly through the sky, not to twirl a man ...

I'm from Torzhok from my dear friend. I went south, but came north. (An excuse from the question of who you are and where you are from).

Although he didn’t steal, he recognized the prison ...

In a framboise state and with a strong amber (In frustrated feelings and with a noticeable smell of fumes).

French nobility is not a belmes. Fourier is not read. And among the people is darkness, game and stupidity.

. — And what are they trading in Christ? What else can they trade? (About the trade in fakes for shrines in the markets in Jerusalem).

All gods are similar to each other, only yours is not like anyone else. (Words of a demon about Jesus Christ).

We do not worship stones. We have other things to deal with. (Regarding the worship of Christian shrines - the Holy Sepulcher, the stone of anointing, etc.)

An ascetic without a demon is just an ascetic. But an ascetic with a demon is already a holy fool!

You will go into the depths of transphysical magmas. (Go to hell)

The dead man said: "Good!" and fell asleep without breathing.

They parted like the waters of the Red Sea before the prophet Moses. (obsequiously parted in front of an important person).

Do you want to know the secret of iniquity? Don't love and you will be unloved!

Snyt, yes nettles, yes a little beer! (About the diet during fasting).

Don't be sad, brother! Don't you see that there is only one Chud and Merya here? (Do not pay attention to the reaction of people who are lower than you in development, or representatives of another culture who do not understand yours ....).

I’m not lying, but I’m lying (Demonic method of mixing truth with deceit in order to mislead)

I believe because it's absurd. (Attributed to Tertullian).

Of course, not "Savoy", not "Slavianski Bazaar", but you can live.

Everything is going great. Before a rapid rise is often followed by a small fall.

Your Majesty! Please clarify your invective! (Please explain your attack).

Remove from eyes without removing. (Get rid of the objectionable person by exiling him to hell).

As Jonah climbed into the belly of a whale, so salmon and chum salmon will come here ... (Literally for fishermen).

Piety is prejudice. Rousseau read?

There is no honor ... You will not be well-fed.

Noel is quite ordinary. (There is nothing special about this).

Almost like in the Winter Palace. Only more bedbugs.

Do you have gangrene of the hypothalamus?

Without pratsi, not bende coloratsi ... (Without truth, there is no reign).

More grasshopper and less cowhide sock. (Righteous about the amount of his sins).

And here is your first obedience: be silent at least occasionally! With a senior.

Who is kept in monasteries! Fun like in the yellow house!

You pick your own. And then the shalaboli hang out, the women are afraid of you.

Everything is overflowing with sinners, like the church on Sunday.

I also could not help but give some remarkable dialogues (their design is preserved exactly as in the text for the script for this film ....):

Ivan Semyonovich. And s-satan, p-God forgive me, he h-how? ..

Legion. In what sense?

Ivan Semyonovich. Well… w-how is a person…?

Legion (after a pause). A very effective leader.

Ivan Semyonovich. You don't l-love him, Legion.

Legion. And I don't hide. I hate him. We are so accepted. Very tired. But there is no one to replace yet.

Ivan Semyonovich. And s-get yourself into his m-place, didn’t you think?

Legion. Little experience. Yes, he has such protection, you will not pick up.

Ivan Semyonovich. How is Mr. Sovereign?

Legion. Your sovereign is far from him.

Ivan Semyonovich. S-weird this m-place… Inferno. Everyone d-hates each other, but they live together… Why?

Legion. Your world is even worse.

Ivan Semyonovich (offended). And w-what are they t-trading Christ?

Legion. This is what I like. And what else can they trade, Vanya? Sand or figs?

Ivan Semyonovich. And it is interesting to know where the dead devil ends up?

Legion. In r-paradise.

Ivan Semyonovich. To eternal bliss? Why so?

Legion. This is f-for you b-bliss ... but for us ... terrible horror

Ivan Semyonovich. Not all. I still repent of kindness inexpressible. In the absence of covetousness. In self-sacrifice, in forgiveness and wisdom.

Rector. What?

Ivan Semenovich (explaining). Wisdom. This is the state of mind. Speci¬fi-che-¬-
something. Have you tried, my lord?

Rector. No. God was merciful.

Ivan Semyonovich. And I have constantly. I used to sit by the window, look at the nearby life and feel: I am getting wiser. And I can't help myself. I'm wiser, and that's it!

Rector. Vice is heavy.

Ivan Semyonovich. And I about it. Will you forgive sins, sir?

Rector. You wait... Don't rush me. (He wrinkled his forehead, thinking hard about something. After thinking, he said firmly.) I can’t let go of sins.

Ivan Semyonovich (contritely). Although he didn’t steal, he recognized the prison ...

Rector (avoiding the answer). It’s just that you yourself have to let go of me, and not I have of you.)

Nikolai Pavlovich. Well, roads! Why did God punish me with such roads? Who will answer? Aleksandristoforovich, my soul… Is this a generic curse of Russia or will there be help from the Almighty and we will someday live like people?..

Rector. If we judge in good time and with inhuman understanding, then we do not need roads at all ... and even definitely harmful.

Nikolai Pavlovich. Well, yes, well, yes ... If you think your way, then neither springs nor roads are needed ... And why?

Rector. Because. That if there are roads, then the enemy will pass through them. And it will fall into the very heart of Russia.

Nikolai Pavlovich (to defuse the situation, in Russian). Is it okay for you to sleep here?

Alexander Khristoforovich. Maybe good. Only I haven't tried it yet. How about you, your majesty?

Nikolai Pavlovich. Almost like in the Winter Palace. Only more bedbugs. They are fierce here ... Evil.

Alexander Khristoforovich. And I thought that bedbugs at monasteries should be fasting))

Nikolai Pavlovich. Why did you fall on your knees? Do you think it's easy for me to talk to you like that?

Rector. Don't think. I never think at all.

Nikolai Pavlovich. Then how are you different from my ministers?

Rector. The fact that I live in a bear corner ...

New movie from the director Nicholas Dostal“The Monk and the Demon”, presented as part of the competition program of the 38th MIFF, could be an ambitious attempt to tell an exclusively farcical story about the Orthodox Church, which in our cinema and with the mentality of our viewers, if properly presented, would achieve the effect of an explosive grenade. But no matter how bold the idea was, in reality the picture turned out to be just a harmless clerical comedy with inappropriate manners to the depth and hackneyed jokes about the main troubles of Russia.

The story develops in the first half of the 19th century, when Ivan ( Timofey Tribuntsev) wanders to the gates of the monastery and becomes a new inhabitant. Rector in execution Boris Kamorzin, although not needing replenishment among his assistants, he nevertheless decides to take under the protection of this flaming monk not from the desire to serve the Lord, but from the intrigues of the Devil. However, soon Ivan's behavior and the very inexplicable events happening around him prompt the abbot to think that he is not just another lost soul who accidentally wandered under the gates of the monastery, but a man seriously possessed by demons. But in fact, there is only one demon in him, and his name is Legion ( Georgy Fetisov).

"The Monk and the Demon" in its composition resembles Rus' from the time of feudal fragmentation. The scene that opens the film with a slowly wandering, flaming monk towards the gates of the monastery gives off some strange authentic grotesque, slightly reminiscent of the magical realism inherent in South American directors. This scene sets in a serious mood with a mystical slant. But very soon the picture turns into a real pun about how a fish catches a fisherman, a deep, run-down well is cleared in an hour, as if by a pike command, the tablecloths are smoothed out by the touch of a possessed ass, and the arrival of the king becomes the cherry on all this cake of absurdity Nicholas I. Moreover, trying either to reach out to the younger generation, or to emphasize the fantastic component of the film for those who did not understand, Dostal stuffs his film with more than unnecessary special effects, which in terms of quality return the viewer to that era when computer technology itself was only brought into Soviet cinema.

The fact that the director chose an extremely scrupulous object of comedy, with our unhealthy dependence on the church, in theory speaks of a wide range of directions for jokes, because in Russian cinema it is customary to avoid such topics, and Dostal had a wide road - joke and make fun ( until people in cassocks start coming to the set and pouring holy water everywhere). But instead of trying to open our eyes in a humorous way to something new, we are fed all the same stew, boring back in early XIX centuries: roads are the main trouble in Russia, officials steal, and clergymen are not so innocent. Like "let's joke about it again, but add a little absurdity." But, oddly enough, you quickly get used to all this church absurdity and even take it as the dominant tone of the picture. However, then Dostal radically changes the tone of his film, reducing it to the third extreme - a serious notation about the communion of a demon. Moreover, with such emphasis and emphasis on the demon (Fetisov) who has received a physical appearance, it seems that this is no longer an artistic fantasy comedy about the Orthodox Church, but one of the pamphlets handed out near the metro, written specifically for demons. The movie moves from action to words so abruptly that you simply don’t know how to relate to this - are these still jokes or do you need to be serious? And a few scenes later, after listening to the sincere conversations of the monk and the demon about life and death, God and the Devil, you begin to think that, probably, you should have started thinking earlier. And at this very moment, the movie comes to a close.

The ring composition is by its nature an extremely expressive and inventive stylistic device, almost always giving the film additional artistic weight. “The monk and the demon” is the same “almost”. After all, in fact, with such an ending, Dostal crosses out all his efforts to draw a visual antithesis of a monk and a demon. Despite the fact that even in the course of the story the demon was a very dubious personification of evil, this was enough to outline the slightest conflict of the film, and, therefore, the meaning that saves it from obvious comparisons with a set of empty, half-hearted sketches on the theme of the church. But the ending chosen by the director only exposes the emptiness covered with metaphors and sayings, reducing the whole conflict to a more absurd end than the entire initial tone of the film. And such an unjustified extermination of the demon in the end leaves only a monk in practice. And as the proverb says, a monk without a demon is money down the drain.

Monk and demon (2016)

A country: Russia

Director: Nikolay Dostal

Scenario: Yuri Arabov

Producer People: Igor Tolstunov, Sergey Kozlov, Alexander Dostal

Operator: Levan Kapanadze

Artist: Pavel Parkhomenko

Cast Cast: Timofey Tribuntsev, Georgy Fetisov, Boris Kamorzin, Roman Madyanov, Nikita Tarasov, Sergei Barkovsky

Budget: 130,000,000 rubles

Probably, many were not left indifferent by Nikolai #Dostal's fairly recent work "The Monk and the Demon". The film pleasantly surprised me in many ways. I think there are few who would not pay attention to the abundance of original sayings and successful aphoristic statements in it, which are simply destined to become winged. Some of them, I am sure, are already walking with might and main across the expanses of Russia, and not only, because where are we, Russians, just not ..

Here we must pay tribute to the screenwriter Yuri #Arabov, who, according to his explanations, consulted representatives of the Russian clergy when writing this "libretto" - they gave him many of the following vivid sayings. And they were taken not from anywhere, but from the scriptures, and specifically the lives of some saints! And the very idea of ​​the film appeared after Nikolai Dostal read a book about the monks of the Nilo-Sorskaya desert of the 19th century. The rest of the colorful #statements of the characters are the successful fruit of the imagination of the screenwriter and, possibly, other filmmakers. In fact, a significant part of these expressions are exclusive, since they were created specifically for this film masterpiece and have never been used before - one can only imagine what painstaking work has been done for this ...

Below I present a collection of verbal pearls created by me from this unique film, which I advise you to definitely watch for those who have not seen it yet. I give it to everyone who, like me, is not indifferent to the delights of our great and mighty! Some of them provided, just in case, their explanations.

Not that cadence. (Not that case).

Not everything is sacred that is indented in a book. (Don't mindlessly trust any printed word.)

Insolence is not an abomination. And wickedness can be forgiven.

They waited, but all the waiters ate ...

There was a freak, but there will be a Novgorodian!

The concert ended, but the conductor did not come.

God builds a church, but the devil builds a bell tower.

Soap is not cute if the face is rotten ...

Grandfather loved the grandmother and milked her.

We are friends with work, but without work we do not grieve ...

Dear guest, what a soul, beat him like a hedgehog ...

Soap is black, but it washes white.

Boiling water apart, but warmly zapadletso.

The water is cold, and the person is fornicating.

The priest scolds the mare, but she also keeps him.

Who is kind, to that beaver. And who is not kind, the otter runs from him.

A verst is not a cyst, it does not press on the stomach.

To fly through the sky, not to twirl a man ...

To die and give birth - you can not wait.

I'm from Torzhok from my dear friend. I went south, but came north. (An excuse from the question of who you are and where you are from).

Although he didn’t steal, he recognized the prison ...

Wisdom is a specific state of mind...

In a framboise state and with a strong amber (In frustrated feelings and with a noticeable smell of fumes).

French nobility is not a belmes. Fourier is not read. And among the people is darkness, game and stupidity.

As the writer Shakespeare remarked, “Nothing will come out of nothing.”

And what are they trading in Christ? - What else can they trade? (About the trade in fakes for shrines in the markets in Jerusalem).

All gods are similar to each other, only yours is not like anyone else. (Words of a demon about Jesus Christ).

We do not worship stones. We have other things to deal with. (Regarding the worship of Christian shrines - the Holy Sepulcher, the stone of anointing, etc.)

An ascetic without a demon is just an ascetic. But an ascetic with a demon is already a holy fool!

You will go into the depths of transphysical magmas. (Go to hell)

I don’t drink only in heaven, but here in Rus' - just don’t bring it to anyone.

The dead man said: "Good!" and fell asleep without breathing. (Probably about vodka ...))

A cup of wine won't make you crazy.

Prayer is waiting, hot is not.

Team is nonsense. But service is beyond understanding. - TEAM, TEAM s, w. German Leadership over a military unit; command, authority. To be, to be, etc., under someone. command, under the command of someone - (from the academic dictionary.)

They parted like the waters of the Red Sea before the prophet Moses. (obsequiously parted in front of an important person).

Do you want to know the secret of iniquity? Don't love and you will be unloved!

Snyt, yes nettles, yes a little beer! (About the diet during fasting).

Don't be sad, brother! Don't you see that there is only one Chud and Merya here? (Do not pay attention to the reaction of people who are lower than you in development, or representatives of another culture who do not understand yours ....).

I’m not lying, but I’m lying (Demonic method of mixing truth with deceit in order to mislead)

I believe because it's absurd. (Attributed to Tertullian).

Of course, not "Savoy", not "Slavianski Bazaar", but you can live.

Everything is going great. Before a rapid rise is often followed by a small fall.

Your Majesty! Please clarify your invective! (Please explain your attack).

Remove from eyes without removing. (Get rid of the objectionable person by exiling him to hell).

As Jonah climbed into the belly of a whale, so salmon and chum salmon will come here ... (Literally for fishermen).

Piety is prejudice. Rousseau read?

There is no honor ... You will not be well-fed.

Noel is quite ordinary. (There is nothing special about this).

Almost like in the Winter Palace. Only more bedbugs.

Do you have gangrene of the hypothalamus?

Without pratsi, not bende coloratsi ... (Without truth, there is no reign).

More grasshopper and less cowhide sock. (Righteous about the amount of his sins).

And here is your first obedience: be silent at least occasionally! With a senior.

Who is kept in monasteries! Fun like in the yellow house!

Everything is overflowing with sinners, like the church on Sunday.

You pick your own. And then the shalaboli hang out, the women are afraid of you.

I also could not help but give some remarkable dialogues (their design is preserved exactly as in the text for the script for this film ....):

Ivan Semyonovich. And s-satan, p-God forgive me, he h-how? ..

Legion. In what sense?

Ivan Semyonovich. Well... how is a person?..

Legion (after a pause). A very effective leader.

Ivan Semyonovich. You don't l-love him, Legion.

Legion. And I don't hide. I hate him. We are so accepted. Very tired. But there is no one to replace yet.

Ivan Semyonovich. And s-get yourself into his m-place, didn’t you think?

Legion. Little experience. Yes, he has such protection, you will not pick up.

Ivan Semyonovich. How is Mr. Sovereign?

Legion. Your sovereign is far from him.

Ivan Semyonovich. S-weird this m-place… Inferno. Everyone d-hates each other, but they live together… Why?

Legion. Your world is even worse.

Ivan Semyonovich (offended). And w-what are they t-trading Christ?

Legion. This is what I like. And what else can they trade, Vanya? Sand or figs?

Ivan Semyonovich. And it is interesting to know where the dead devil ends up?

Legion. In r-paradise.

Ivan Semyonovich. To eternal bliss? Why so?

Legion. This is f-for you b-bliss ... but for us ... terrible horror

Ivan Semyonovich. Not all. I still repent of kindness inexpressible. In the absence of covetousness. In self-sacrifice, in forgiveness and wisdom.

Rector. What?

Ivan Semenovich (explaining). Wisdom. This is the state of mind. Speci¬fi-che-¬-
something. Have you tried, my lord?

Rector. No. God was merciful.

Ivan Semyonovich. And I have constantly. I used to sit by the window, look at the nearby life and feel: I am getting wiser. And I can't help myself. I'm wiser, and that's it!

Rector. Vice is heavy.

Ivan Semyonovich. And I about it. Will you forgive sins, sir?

Rector. You wait... Don't rush me. (He wrinkled his forehead, thinking hard about something. After thinking, he said firmly.) I can’t let go of sins.

Ivan Semyonovich (contritely). Although he didn’t steal, he recognized the prison ...

Rector (avoiding the answer). It’s just that you yourself have to let go of me, and not I have of you.)

Nikolai Pavlovich. Well, roads! Why did God punish me with such roads? Who will answer? Aleksandristoforovich, my soul… Is this a generic curse of Russia or will there be help from the Almighty and we will someday live like people?..

Rector. If we judge in good time and with inhuman understanding, then we do not need roads at all ... and even definitely harmful.

Nikolai Pavlovich. Well, yes, well, yes ... If you think your way, then neither springs nor roads are needed ... And why?

Rector. Because. That if there are roads, then the enemy will pass through them. And it will fall into the very heart of Russia.

Nikolai Pavlovich (to defuse the situation, in Russian). Is it okay for you to sleep here?

Alexander Khristoforovich. Maybe good. Only I haven't tried it yet. How about you, your majesty?

Nikolai Pavlovich. Almost like in the Winter Palace. Only more bedbugs. They are fierce here ... Evil.

Alexander Khristoforovich. And I thought that bedbugs at monasteries should be fasting))

Nikolai Pavlovich. Why did you fall on your knees? Do you think it's easy for me to talk to you like that?

Rector. Don't think. I never think at all.

Nikolai Pavlovich. Then how are you different from my ministers?

Rector. The fact that I live in a bear corner ...

But how warm you are, not hot and not cold

I was reading the news of culture, and my eye was hooked on another utter surreal of what is happening, to which you no longer pay attention. In Kyiv completed work XIV International Festival Orthodox cinema "Pokrov" where the Russian film "The Monk and the Demon" was awarded, and this is in conditions when at the same time Nazi torchlight processions pass through the city, and the President of Ukraine calls on the nation to unite in the fight against Russian aggression. I can’t comprehend how similar things coexist in their heads at the same time, well, and God bless him, but I decided to watch the film. And I'd rather not do it.



The film "The Monk and the Demon". Well, what is a highly spiritual film without a bare ass?

Information about the film

In principle, if you immediately look at the information about the film, then the desire to watch disappears. With a budget of 130 million rubles. fees just over four . That's like, what are the numbers when it comes to culture? And the fact that the “28 Panfilovites”, with the prices of fights, graphics, equipment, took a little more than 100 million rubles. , but, let's say, this is people's money, and everything is “different” there. But for the "Brest Fortress", which has already been filmed in the usual film mode, - 250 million rubles. , on the "Island" - less than 100 million rubles. . But after all, the same "Island", this is a film of a completely different level, well, simply incomparable with "The Monk and the Demon". And what does it mean? And that means that people have nothing sacred, that's all. At the same time, half of the budget was extorted from the Russian Orthodox Church, and half from the Ministry of Culture. But unlike the same “Panfilovites”, until they received “a lot” of money, they refused to shoot, because “there was no point”. It is true, what is the point in such a movie if there is no money?

The film "The Monk and the Demon". Peter. Temple-mausoleum of El-Khazneh. The fragment is inserted exclusively to go there at public expense. There is zero sense in it, and the humor is so-so

Due to its darkness, although the name Dostal is well-known, I don’t remember his filmography, but if I knew that he was the author of such films as: “ little giant Big Sex (1992), Little Demon (1995), TV series Penal Battalion (2004), Lenin's Testament (2007) - again, I wouldn't watch it. More likely.

The film "The Monk and the Demon". Ivan (Timofey Tribuntsev)

The film is shot, in my opinion, very primitive. The plot is weak, crumpled, lubok. I liked only Tribuntsev's game, well, the rector is good, the rest play at the level of a typical series. It's funny that in one of the reviews, the critic wrote that, they say, the film is full of phrases that the audience should pull apart into quotes. It is a pity to upset the observant author, but, in fact, the “phrases” that impressed him are Russian proverbs and sayings. Indeed, there are many of them, but they have already been “taken apart into quotes”, and so long ago that a significant part has already been forgotten.

The film "The Monk and the Demon". The abbot is an exact tribute to the image. On such everything rests incomprehensibly how

Movie idea

I repeat that the plot of the film is made very primitively, in terms of the level of helplessness, reminiscent of the creations of high school students on "highly spiritual" topics. It is not very clear how such a hack could get a blessing? In my opinion, there are also “slippery” questions to the plot from the theological point of view. Starting with the fact that the film is a free interpretation of plots from the life of John of Novgorod, and ending with the most fundamental possibility of converting a demon to Orthodoxy. Is the last one possible?

The film "The Monk and the Demon". So, according to the authors, the devil looks like

It sounds paradoxical, but, in my opinion, the main idea of ​​the film is its lack of ideas. Just as the ROC does not have the most perfect idea of ​​what is happening in the world to do, so the authors of the film do not have an idea that they want to convey to the viewer. The place of the idea is taken by the “theme” under the budget that the authors master. Since the sponsors of the Russian Orthodox Church and the Ministry of Culture, the topic should be highly spiritual. Moreover, under the topic of high spirituality it is easy to write off the commercial failure of the rental, they say the people let us down, do not understand the subtle and the level of spirituality is insufficient. But even this is done by the authors carelessly, as if reluctantly and, as they say, "sloppy". By the way, it seems to me that something similar is happening in the ROC. Christianity is increasingly turning from an “idea” into a “topic” that is being “mastered”, from which the roots of many church complexities grow. Although, of course, the problem of lack of ideas is extensive, complex and not to be mentioned in passing, especially when it comes to the church. In addition, both in the film and in life, among the “world”, there are those who, with all their personal imperfections, continue to live by the “idea”, accepting “themes” as a necessity, but to the best of their ability, still continuing to serve the idea.

The film "The Monk and the Demon". Rector (Boris Kamorozin)

Is it enough for a blessing? The ROC knows better, but for me, the fact that this film received funding and a prize sounds like a very sad diagnosis about the loss of the moral distinction between good and evil for those who actually should be the guardian of such a distinction and a role model. It seems that instead of moral guidelines, the pastors themselves now use branding, according to which, yes, the film is both spiritual and instructive. For me, it turned out to be a banal primitive craft for the cargo of Christianity, bringing more evil than vampire sagas, because:

I know your deeds, you are neither cold nor hot;
oh, if you were cold, or hot!
But how warm you are, not hot and not cold.
Revelation of John the Evangelist, 3:15-16

It's sad when von Trier and the power of Hollywood are on the other side, and Dostal and emptiness are on the other side, masked by cutting budget money into small things.

The film "The Monk and the Demon". It is also good to go to the Dead Sea. Shooting for half a day, but the pleasures ...

And in all that is happening, it is the ROC that worries the most. If Dostal just divorced the Ministry of Culture, or sponsors, and God bless him. Alas, the primitivization of culture and sawing have become a general trend of the domestic "as it were" intelligentsia. But the ROC is supposed to stand guard over moral guidelines, fight against “lukewarmness” and the loss of the distinction between good and evil? In practice, instead, the church pays for its own destruction by creating a generation of "lukewarm" flocks. Which, in my opinion, is much more dangerous than proselytism, ecumenism or globalization. If the shepherds themselves become "lukewarm", then what should the flock do?

The film "The Monk and the Demon". Also a good hit in the image and also a symbol of how everything is incomprehensible in our life, on the verge, but for some reason alive, and then once - and it seems to have died, but the rest is still alive. But I do not think that the authors filmed about it.

And finally, does the Russian Orthodox Church have no plots, except for those offered by the creative intelligentsia? What are serious? Quite quite? Well, why not film the Lives of the Saints then? Do you want to make it clearer to the flock? Bring it to our day. Well, or is there a book "Unholy Saints", circulation - more than 2 million, than an unfinished series? 130 million budget I think would be enough for him in abundance. No? And why? Why is there money for The Monk and the Demon, but not for this? Although, of course, these are naive questions, even stupid in their own way, but maybe the whole point of the film is that they arise? After all, the ways of the Lord are inscrutable ...

In my opinion, the film is not worth the time spent on it. And I don't even want to take it apart. And how to parse the void?