“Your sweet look, full of innocent passion”: Tyutchev and his beloved women. I still yearn for longing for desires ... (collection) Text Tyutchev your dear look

Fyodor Ivanovich Tyutchev was never known as a womanizer, he simply fell in love with women, they reciprocated him and he sang his lovers in beautiful lyric poems.

Cupid's first arrow overtook Theodore, as the poet was called, in the spring of 1823. In Munich, where he served as a freelance official at a diplomatic mission, the 23-year-old poet was conquered by the young Countess Amalia Lörchenfeldor (Krudener). The 15-year-old beauty already had experience of communicating with men, knew how to manage them and was one of the ladies of the heart of Pushkin, Heine and the Bavarian King Ludwig.

Amalia was touched by the modesty and courteousness of the young poet, and they walked for a long time in Munich and its picturesque environs. In 1824 Fyodor dedicated the verse "Your sweet look, full of innocent passion ..." to Amalia, and dared to ask her hand in marriage. However, Amalia's parents considered young man, who has neither wealth nor a title, is not the best couple for his daughter, and after a while they married her to a more mature and wealthy colleague of Tyutchev, Baron Alexander Krudener.

Insulted in the best feelings, the poet could not forget the beautiful Amalia, and twelve years after their separation, he immortalized his love for her in the poem "I remember the golden time ...". They remained friends throughout their lives.

However, their friendship did not prevent Tyutchev in 1826 from secretly marrying Eleanor, the widow of diplomat Alexander Peterson. The poet's chosen one came from the ancient county family of the Botmer and was three years older than him. From her first marriage, Eleanor had four sons. She gave birth to three more daughters, being married to Tyutchev.

The family life of Fyodor Tyutchev with Eleanor Peterson lasted twelve years, the first seven of which turned out to be happy for the poet. The next five years of their marriage became a real test for Eleanor, who continued to love Fedor, despite his high-profile romance with the wife of Baron Fritz Dernberg.

The new passion of the poet Ernestine Dernberg, the daughter of a Bavarian diplomat, was distinguished by a good upbringing and had a reputation the most beautiful woman Munich. Tyutchev was carried away by her, especially since his legal wife by that time had turned into a somewhat plump domestic matron, interested exclusively in her home, husband and children, and also jealous.

Fyodor Tyutchev's novel with Ernestina Dernberg received publicity, and Eleanor attempted suicide by stabbing herself in the chest several times with a masquerade dagger. Tyutchev was transferred to work in the city of Turin. Loving Eleanor forgave her husband and persuaded him to move to Russia. However, some time later Tyutchev returned to Europe. In 1838, his wife went to fetch her husband on a steamer with her three young daughters. There was a fire there, and Eleanor had to save her children.

Strong mental and physical stress affected the health of the unfortunate woman, and she died in the arms of her beloved husband. Shocked by the death of his wife, Tyutchev turned gray overnight. Tyutchev immortalized his love for Eleanor ten years after her death in the poem "I am still languishing with longing for desires ...".

And the next year after the death of his wife, the poet married his beloved Ernestina Dernberg. Smart and educated Ernestina was so close to Tyutchev that she quickly won the affection of his children and gave birth to the poet's daughter Maria and sons Dmitry and Ivan.

Tyutchev described his earthly love and unearthly passion for Ernestine in verse: “I love your eyes, my friend ...”, “Dream”, “Upstream of your life”, “She was sitting on the floor…”, “The executing God took everything away from me …" and etc.

Throughout 11 years of married life, Chu Tchev repeatedly cheated on his wife and finally lost interest in her, having met a new muse - Elena (Lyolya) Denisieva. Elena was 23 years younger and came from an impoverished noble family.

Not only Fyodor Ivanovich, who never parted with his legal wife, suffered from their romance, but also Lyolya herself, condemned by society for a broken marriage. The position of Tyutchev's young mistress in society was strange: she herself remained a "maiden Denisieva", and her children bore Tyutchev's surname, but did not have the noble coat of arms.

Duality of position, frequent childbirth, poverty and contempt of society so undermined Elena's health that she fell ill with consumption. Their painful and meaningful 14-year romance in Tyutchev's life ended abruptly ... Lyolya Denisyeva died in the poet's arms two months after the birth of her last child.

Tyutchev survived his beloved for nine years and died in Italy. His legal wife Ernestina Fyodorovna accompanied him on his last journey.

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I met you - and everything is old
An obsolete heart revived ...

One glance at these lines - and the motive of the romance immediately sounds in my head. Easy, from memory, we continue:

I remembered the golden time -
And my heart felt so warm ...

It seems that we have known these poems all our lives, and the story told in them seems to be quite simple: once the poet loved a woman, and suddenly meets her, most likely by chance, after a long separation.

The story is really simple. Youthful love, parting, chance meeting... And the separation is really long - almost a quarter of a century, and the meeting is accidental. And everything is resurrected: both charm, and love, and "spiritual fullness", and life itself is filled with meaning. And it is difficult to imagine that the poet is already 67 years old, and his beloved is 61. And all that remains is to admire such strength and purity of feelings, such an ability to love, such admiration for a woman.

It was Clotilde Botmer, the younger sister of Eleanor, the first wife of Fyodor Ivanovich Tyutchev; her initials are included in the title of the poem. Between two meetings with this woman, the poet experienced youthful love, and the family happiness of her husband and father, and a fatal passion, and the bitter loss of loved ones. The love story of Fyodor Ivanovich Tyutchev is full of drama, insane passion, fatal mistakes, mental anguish, disappointment and remorse. The poet in his poems does not name the names of his beloved women, they become for him the center of being, the axis on which the whole world rests; and each time a love interest turns into not only a merger of kindred souls, but also a fatal duel:

Love, love - legend says -
Union of the soul with the soul dear -
Their union, combination,
And their fatal fusion,
And ... the fatal duel ...
(Predestination)

First love came to Fyodor Tyutchev in Munich, where he served as a freelance official at the Russian diplomatic mission. "The young fairy" - Amalia Maximilianovna Lerchenfeld (later married - Baroness Kruedener) - was only 14 years old, and the poet 18. They walked around the city, made trips along its ancient outskirts, to the Danube, exchanged chains for pectoral crosses ("I remember golden time ... "). But " Golden time»Romantic walks and childishly clean relationships did not last long. The marriage proposal was rejected by the relatives of the young lover: an untitled Russian diplomat in Germany on a freelance service, poor and still too young, they preferred a more successful party. Tyutchev's experiences - resentment, bitterness, disappointment - are reflected in a sad, aching heart, a message:

Your sweet gaze, full of innocent passion,
Golden dawn of your heavenly feelings
I could not - alas! - to appease them -
He serves them as a silent reproach.
These hearts, in which there is no truth,
They, oh friend, run like a sentence,
Your love of infant gaze.
He is terrifying to them, like the memory of childhood.
But for me this look is a boon;
Like life is the key, in the depths of the soul
Your gaze lives and will live in me:
She needs him like the sky and breath.
Such is the grief of spirits, blissful light;
Only in heaven he shines, heavenly;
In the night of sin, at the bottom of a terrible abyss,
This pure fire burns like a hellish flame.
("Your sweet look, full of innocent passion")

But there was another meeting many years later. Amalia, no longer stopping at the norms of decency, without an invitation came to the dying Tyutchev and returned the kiss promised during the exchange of cervical baptismal chains.

In Munich, Tyutchev met his new love- Eleanor Peterson (née von Bothmer). She was the widow of a Russian diplomat, three years older than Tyutchev and had four sons from her first marriage. Unusually beautiful, feminine, sensitive, she idolized her husband and gave him several happy years and three daughters: Anna (1829), Daria (1834) and Catherine (1835). In January 1833, Tyutchev's life was like a stone thrown from a mountain - by whom - by the omnipotent Fate or by a blind Chance? - a new big love burst in, entailing trials and problems ...

Having rolled down from the mountain, the stone lay in the valley.
How did he fall? Nobody knows now -
Did he come off the top by himself,
Or was it cast down by the will of a stranger?
The century after the century carried by:
Nobody has solved the issue yet.

The all-consuming insane passion for the young and lovely Ernestine von Dörnberg (née von Pfeffel), combined with official duties and a sense of family duty, causes the poet to languish, irritate, and desperate melancholy. However, these trials and problems were destined to end in real tragedy: as a result of an accident in the most severe torment, Eleanor died. The poet kept a tender memory of her for life, and on the 10th anniversary of Eleanor's death he wrote:

I still yearn for longing for desires.
I also strive for you with my soul -
And in the dim memories
I also catch your image ...
Your sweet image, unforgettable
He is in front of me everywhere, always,
Unattainable, unchanging
Like a star in the sky at night ...
("I still yearn for longing for desires ...")

So six years after meeting and crazy passion, Ernestina became the poet's second wife.

I love your eyes, my friend,
With their fiery-wonderful game,
When you lift them up suddenly
And, like a lightning from heaven,
Skip the whole circle ...
But there is a stronger charm:
Downcast eyes,
In moments of passionate kissing
And through lowered eyelashes
Gloomy, dim fire of desire.
("I love your eyes, my friend ...")

This woman inspired Tyutchev to create such masterpieces. love lyrics, as "With what numb, with what longing in love ...", "Yesterday, in enchanted dreams", "I do not know, will grace touch ...", "December 1, 1837", "She was sitting on the floor ...". She bore him three children: Maria (1840), Dmitry (1841) and Ivan (1846). In September 1844, under the influence of life circumstances, Tyutchev decided to return to St. Petersburg. The second, Russian, life of Fyodor Ivanovich began. Tyutchev is 41 years old.

Life in Russia for the family turned out to be difficult: constant financial difficulties, an unusual climate, unsettled, in comparison with the European, way of life; and most importantly - children, their own, tiny, with childhood illnesses and almost adult stepdaughters with new adult problems. Ernestina Fyodorovna was not used to Petersburg, nor was she carried away by her successes in the "fashionable world"; willingly letting her spouse shine in the aristocratic drawing rooms, she was happy to take care of the children, the house, read a lot and seriously, and later lived for a long time in the Tyutchev family estate in the Oryol province. Fyodor Ivanovich began to languish, get bored, rush out of the house ... He felt cramped inside the family circle.

Like a pillar of smoke
brightens in the sky! -
As the shadow slides below
elusive! ..
“This is our life, -
you said to me, -
Not light smoke
shining by the moon
And this shadow running from the smoke ... "
("Like a pillar of smoke ...")

In such a state of mind and heart, Tyutchev found his acquaintance with Elena Denisieva. Elena Alexandrovna was a beautiful, bold, temperamental woman; the romance with her developed rapidly and passionately. Scandal and public condemnation ensued.

What did you pray with love
What, how did she protect the shrine,
The fate of human fiction
She betrayed me for abuse.
The crowd entered, the crowd broke in
In the sanctuary of your soul,
And you were involuntarily ashamed
And the secrets and sacrifices available to her.
Ah, if only living wings
Of a soul hovering above the crowd
She was saved from violence
Immortal human vulgarity!
("What did you pray for with love")

A proud young woman who challenged secular society, performed a feat in the name of love and died in a desperate struggle for her happiness - such is the heroine of Denisiev's cycle of poems. Tyutchev understood how fatal their love turned out to be for her.

Oh how destructively we love
As in the violent blindness of passions
We are most likely to destroy
What is dear to our heart!
…..
Of fate is a terrible sentence
Your love was for her
And an undeserved shame
She lay down on her life!
("Oh, how destructively we love ...")

The poet's soul was torn between two beloved women. Both Ernestina and Elena were, as it were, the centers of his two different lives, two at the same time existing worlds... Experiencing a deep grateful feeling for his wife, he nevertheless could not put an end to his relationship with Elena, which in one of the poems of 1859 addressed to Ernestina Fedorovna, he called "spiritual fainting":

I don't know if grace will touch
My sickly sinful soul
Will she manage to rise again and rise,
Will spiritual fainting pass?
But if the soul could
Find peace here on earth
You would have been grace to me -
You, you, my earthly providence! ..
("I do not know, will grace touch")

However, attachment, a sense of duty and gratitude to his wife could not oust from the poet's soul such a dramatic, but tender love for Elena Denisieva.

Oh, how in our declining years
We love more tenderly and more superstitious ...
Shine, shine, farewell light
Last love, evening dawn!
A shadow enveloped the sky
Only there, in the west, the radiance wanders, -
Slow, slow, evening day,
Lasted, lasted charm.
Let the blood run thin in my veins
But tenderness does not grow thin in the heart ...
Oh you, the last love!
You are both bliss and hopelessness.
(Last love)

The denouement of this heated and dramatic situation was tragic. Desperately defending her right to happiness with her beloved, Elena Alexandrovna, already in adulthood, decided on a third child, but died in childbirth. A year earlier, Tyutchev wrote a poem in which, for the first time in fourteen years of his fateful novel, he admits his sinfulness:

When there is no God's consent,
No matter how she suffers, loving -
The soul, alas, does not suffer happiness,
But he can suffer himself ...
("When there is no God's consent ...")

The death of his beloved deeply shocked the poet, his own life seemed to have lost its meaning; he was seized with despair, he was even close to insanity.

Oh, this South, oh, this Nice! ..
Oh, how their brilliance worries me!
Life is like a shot bird
He wants to get up and cannot ...
There is no flight, no scope -
Broken wings hang
And all of her, clinging to the dust,
Trembling with pain and impotence ...
("Oh, this South, oh, this Nice! ..")

The feeling of suffering and guilt was compounded by the tragedy in the family: one after one, four children died, and soon a brother.

Fyodor Ivanovich, already terminally ill, addressed his last words of love to his wife Ernestina:

The executing God took everything from me:
Health, willpower, air, sleep,
He left you alone with me,
So that I can still pray to him.

The day of the poet's death fell on July 15, 1873. Twenty-three years earlier, on the same day, July 15, the last romantic poet met his last love - Elena Denisieva ...

1820th
Your sweet look, full of innocent passion ...

"Don't give us the spirit of idle talk!"
So from today
You are by virtue of our condition
Do not demand prayers from me.

Early 1820s

Spring greetings to poets

Love of the earth and the beauty of the year
Spring is fragrant for us! -
The feast is given by nature,
The feast gives the sons a goodbye! ..
Spirit of strength, life and freedom
Raises, wraps around us! ..
And joy poured into my heart,
As a response to the triumph of nature,
Like a life-giving voice of God! ..
Where are you, sons of Harmony? ..
Here! .. and with bold fingers
Touch the slumbering string
Heated by bright rays
Love, delight and spring! ..
0 you, whose gaze is so often blessed
Awe with tears
The temple of nature is open, singers, before you!
Poetry has given you the key to it!
Soaring your high
Never change! ..
And the eternal beauty of nature
There will be neither a secret nor a reproach to you! ..
Like a full, fiery bloom,
Auroras washed in light
Roses shine and burn
And Zephyr - a joyful flight
The scent spreads them, -
So pour out the sweetness of life
Singers, follow you in the footsteps!
So fly yours, friends, youth
By bright colors of happiness! ..

<Апрель 1821>

Tears

I love, friends, to caress with my eyes
Or the purple of sparkling wines,
Or fruits between the leaves
A fragrant ruby.
I love to watch when creation
As if immersed in spring,
And the world fell asleep in the scent
And smiles in a dream! ..
I love when the face is beautiful
Marshmallows with a kiss,
That curls silk blows voluptuous,
It sticks into the dimples!
But that all the delights of the pathos queen,
And bunches of juice, and the smell of roses
Before you, the holy source of tears,
Dew of the divine stallion! ..
The sky ray plays in them
And, breaking about the drops of fire,
Draws live rainbows
On the thunderclouds of life.
And only a mortal apple
You, angel of tears, touch your wings -
The fog will dissipate in tears
And the sky of seraphim faces
Suddenly it will develop before our eyes.

To the opponents of wine

(Yako and wine cheer a man's heart)

Oh, the judgment of the people is wrong
That drunkenness is sinful!
The common sense tells
To love and drink wine.
Damnation and grief
Head to the debaters!
I am help in an important dispute
I will call upon the holy one.
Our great grandfather, deceived
By the wife and by the serpent,
The forbidden fruit ate
And chased away rightly.
Well, how can I disagree,
That the grandfather was to blame:
Than an apple to seduce
Having grapes?
But honor and glory to Noah, -
He behaved smart
Quarreled with water
And he took up the wine.
No quarrel, no reproach
I didn't get a glass.
And often bunches of juice
He poured into it.
Good attempts
God himself blessed -
And as a sign of goodwill
I made a covenant with him.
Suddenly I didn't fall in love with the cup
One of the sons.
O monster! Noah stood up
And the villain went to hell.
So let's get drunk
To drink out of piety,
So that God’s with Noah
The sanctuary to enter.