Pushkin’s bosom

It probably happens to everyone who has ever been in Boldin: we are doomed forever to remember looking for my Boldin. And painful trying to talk about it to loved ones.

From Pushkin’s letter to his wife: “Dear friend, I am in Boldin.., thought here to find a letter from you and found none. What’s wrong with you? How healthy are you?”. Photo: Drawing By Igor Shajmardanova

Why painful?.. Boldin is the autumn wind, slammed the gate, chirping crop duster An-2 over the red fields, the smell of potato leaves from the gardens. And in all this – something so painful and overwhelming, it’s with you never happened. Maybe with adolescence.

Well, how about this?..

Reading in the train “Belkin’s stories”, all of a sudden realized that these little novellas – is the country in which Pushkin would like to live. Country, bonded not fierce borders on the castle, and the circle of nepotism, friendships and love.

* * *

The first Boldino sounds: a dog growling on the lazy cawing of crows, the rooster tries asepsi throat. It is in this “clear, cold morning (one of those how rich our Russian autumn) Ivan Petrovich Berestov left to ride…”

The day I got to the l’vivka – estate, built by the son of Pushkin, and is now given to the heroes of Belkin. The light room – Lisa Murom. In it the main “exhibits” of the sun and a little trembling shadow.

I remembered the blissful, almost bodily, feeling childhood favorite literary characters. Leave the book on the table, running to the boys in the yard, and there, in the yard, suddenly unbearably want to go back to the book.

I remember one time I imagined Masha Mironov his class, and still, reading “the Captain’s daughter”, I see a brave and sweet girl, who was sitting on the second Desk in the first row.


The Abbot of Boldino Church father Eugene Kachkin served the vigil is thoroughly, smoothly, without fuss. The light from the Windows flowed slowly, endowing the icon color of ripe raspberries.

The sun rolled over the estate. And when I’m with a few parishioners left after the service on the porch, over Boldin already stretched a dark purple sky. On this cover will embroider the night of stars and calm down the village.

* * *

At seven o’clock Boldin empty. Left alone boys on skateboards. They ride up and down the pavement past the slogan “Boldini! Make his village a centre of high culture!..”.

On the way to the hotel looked at the local store. In the grocery Department – the conventional bricks of bread, but I like the first time I heard this alluring and exciting grain spirit. I’ve been looking at a shelf of bread. In half do not cut here, and the mind says: “you Where such a big brick?” And the soul says: “At the time. The bread itself carries. I won’t eat, so treat someone…”

While mind and soul were fighting, I just inhaled the smell of bread Boldin.

And, of course, took a warm living brick with you.


On the way to Boldino the poet caught the first snow, the road was impassable in places he had to change the stroller on the sled. But the mood Pushkin was lovely: he knew that his waiting for freedom inspired and joyful work. He even allowed himself to slow down and, having made a considerable detour, we stopped in HOMESTEAD to old friends, brothers Language. They, all three, came out to meet him in night robes, sleepy and bewildered: how in Simbirsk wilderness could take Pushkin?

In these days of supervised trace of the poet was lost by the police and Nizhny Novgorod Governor ordered his police chief: “to Know where he was going…”

* * *

In the evening on a Big Boldino ascended the Big dipper. He turned to look at the starry sky, what the city will never see, accidentally wandered into a rural stadium.

When I crawled out, I heard next to a hedgehog. He trotted, did I not fear. Its important gait and full popiskivanie said: “I Live in Pushkin’s bosom”. So we walked along the street red. Then the hedgehog got tired of the walk with me, he dived under the fence, funny wag his tail, and disappeared in the grass and leaves.

* * *

Morning cloudy, rain. Read “the peasant Girl”, which was written here in Boldin. “…If I listened to one of his hunting, then by all means and in all details would describe the date of young people, increasing mutual inclination and trust, playing, talking…”

What or who listened to Pushkin, if himself had not obeyed? Why not indulge in the details of love, which is always so eagerly awaited by the readers? Why it is so important was the veil of secrecy, which he stretched over fictional characters?..

Happiness is impossible without secrecy. The happiness of the two always involves the veil. That is why Pushkin put out to inflict on him the surveillance, the interception of his correspondence with his wife.

Secret surveillance offends not only human, but the very inmost, established not by men but by God.

Now this inmost destroy not the gendarmes of the Third division, and the tabloid media, talk shows and social networks. A man deprived of all intimate, tearing the delicate cocoon of being, which should keep us here on earth.

* * *

In the evening, the Museum gave me a car to get to the station. Driver Victor Ivanovich was a man of amazing humility and warmth. We talked the entire two hours of the road and parted like old friends.

I had a feeling that I said goodbye to Samson by Verinym.

Boldin notebook

Sad to go! Eyes charm!

Pleasant to me your farewell beauty –

I love the lavish withering of nature,

In crimson and gold-clad forests

In their passage of wind noise and fresh breath,

And wavy haze covered the heavens,

And rare the sun a ray, and the first frosts,

And the distant gray winter threats.

Alexander Pushkin, 1833


I drive on main roads, living for three months in the steppe wilderness… for what? – For you, little wife; so you were calm and Shine on your health, as well in thy summer and thy beauty. Take care of me…

Alexander Pushkin – wife

6 Nov 1833


185 years ago, on 9 November 1833, Pushkin left Boldin.

Write Dmitry Shevarov: [email protected]