It seems to all of us that we are free to think one way or another and how we want; but, on the other hand, each of us feels and knows that there is a limit to this apparent freedom, beyond which thinking becomes madness. This is because our thinking is subject to the laws of higher world thinking. Meanwhile, our cerebral mind, which does not know any other way of thinking than its own, and is convinced by experience that it is dependent on the brain, when considering the external world, can reach such an illusion that there is no other thought in it except our own. This illusion can reach the point where it seems to us that the world’s thought simply does not exist in itself, but only as a product of our own mind. Yes, if we were not as confident in the existence of the external world as in our own, then everything that our investigation discovers in it is expedient and, as if deliberately and independently arranged, we could, perhaps, take for a work only our mind and our imagination. N. I. Pirogov
And so the question involuntarily arises: could we really not walk otherwise than with the help of our legs, or do we only walk because we have legs? Is it really only through the brain that we could think, or do we think only because we have a brain? Seeing the inexhaustible variety of means by which certain goals are achieved in the universe around us, can we say that the mind could and should have been the only function of the brain? Don’t bees, ants, and other animals, even without the help of the brain of vertebrates, provide us with examples of amazing intelligence, striving for goals, and even creativity? N. I. Pirogov
K. Kuznetsov and V. Sidoruk. Wonderful doctor
Cover of N. I. Pirogov’s work “Military medicine and private assistance in the theater of war with Bulgaria and in the rear of the army in 1877-1878.”
A. Sidorov. Tchaikovsky at Pirogov

There are people in the history of culture and society who, through their activities and efforts, leave traces that are so firmly and naturally part of our lives that it seems to us that it has always been this way and that it cannot be any other way. It’s as if something is showing them the way, and their steps, random at first glance, are not at all random or chaotic, but expedient and necessary. But only subsequent generations see this. Such people are faced with painful questions and struggles in order to overcome the existing order of things and pave the way for a new one. Studying their destinies, you begin to understand that in history nothing happens by itself, that it is created by the hands and efforts of very specific people, with their own shortcomings and advantages, essentially the same as you and me, and maybe even ourselves ... Well, isn't this amazing?! Take a closer look, because our culture and our very life hangs by a thread, and if we leave it to itself, if anyone stops making efforts, everything will break, roll, fall apart... So on what and on whom does it rest? Who and what holds together the seams between us that are constantly threatening to come apart? Here's the question.

First steps

One of Kolya Pirogov’s favorite games was playing doctor: it “seemed to lift... the curtain of the future.” This original game owed its origin to the illness of his older brother, to whom the doctor came. At the age of 14, Nikolai became a student at the Faculty of Medicine of Moscow University, where lectures were given based on materials that were almost a century old, and at the final exam “you had to describe in words or paper some operation in Latin.” Clinical practice boiled down to writing a medical history of a patient seen once...

After Moscow there was the University of Dorpat, where the best Russian students were trained for professorship. When entering there, it was necessary to decide on a specialization, and Pirogov chose surgery. Why? “But go and find out from yourself why? I probably don’t know, but it seems to me that somewhere from afar, some inner voice suggested surgery here.” However, the young doctor was also interested in other sciences, which his comrades laughed at: then it was customary to do one thing at a time, and even surgeons did not consider it necessary to study anatomy. Later, it was Pirogov who created a new and then revolutionary science - surgical anatomy.

After Dorpat, the young professor Pirogov had a two-year internship in Berlin, returning from which he stopped in Riga for several months due to illness. Having recovered, Nikolai Ivanovich performed several very successful operations there; at the request of the hospital residents, he demonstrated some operations on corpses and gave a course of lectures. One of the old residents said this to 25-year-old Pirogov: “You taught us something that our teachers did not know.”

At the age of 26, he became a professor of surgery at the University of Dorpat and during four years of work there he won the great love of students and published several monographs and books, including two volumes of clinical annals, where he described, contrary to the accepted style, not examples of successful diagnoses, treatments and recoveries, and their mistakes and failures, without hiding anything and thereby allowing their students to avoid the same mistakes.

“Serving science, any science in general, is nothing other than serving the truth. Here, access to the truth is hampered not only by scientific obstacles, that is, by those that can be removed with the help of science. No, in applied science, in addition to these obstacles, human passions, prejudices and weaknesses from different sides influence access to the truth and often make it completely inaccessible... For a teacher of such an applied science as medicine, which deals directly with all the attributes of human nature... in addition to scientific information and experience, conscientiousness is also necessary, acquired only through the difficult art of self-awareness, self-control and knowledge of human nature.” In essence, Pirogov writes about the doctor’s work on himself, about internal work, a certain moral effort, about the choice between the doctor’s professional interest in the patient and the human attitude towards him, and this is what allows, according to Pirogov, to be both a good scientist and a good doctor .

Father of Russian surgery

In the struggle with life's difficulties, poverty, even need, Pirogov's character was formed, preparing him for a field in which he was to develop all the forces of his nature and leave deep marks. In 1841, 30-year-old Pirogov accepted an offer to become a professor at the Department of Surgery of the Medical-Surgical Academy in St. Petersburg with the condition of organizing the Department of Hospital Surgery so that students would receive practical medical education.

Nikolai Ivanovich reorganized the Moscow Art Academy hospital and assumed the responsibilities of the chief physician of the surgical department. This is what he wrote about the upcoming feat of Hercules, cleaning the Augean stables: “The picture was truly terrifying: huge hospital wards (with 60-100 beds), poorly ventilated, were overcrowded with patients with erysipelas, acute purulent edema and purulent blood poisoning. There was not a single room, even a bad one, for operations. Rags for poultices and compresses were carried by paramedics without a twinge of conscience from the wounds of one patient to another, and sometimes they were removed from corpses and simply dried. The medicines dispensed from the hospital pharmacy looked like anything but medicine...” Theft among staff. Scurvy among the sick. Hostility towards the young surgeon, not too scrupulous in the choice of means. Open hostility, gossip, slander - everything was put into action. And the requirement for doctors to perform operations in clean white coats aroused suspicion that his mental abilities had been clouded. Yes, our dear reader, and it was not so long ago - a century and a half ago in an enlightened European power... Who would have thought, it is so natural for a doctor, especially in the operating room, to wear a clean white coat.

In 1847, Pirogov went to our eternal hot spot - the Caucasus, where he introduced ether anesthesia into practice, and, taking into account our human psychology, invited other wounded people to operations so that they could see for themselves the effectiveness and safety of the method. Now this is, in a sense, a natural part of our life, but then we had to justify, prove, and convince. And a little later, during the Crimean War, he, having observed how a sculptor worked, began to use plaster bandages for fractures instead of the much less effective splint or starch ones - and saved many wounded officers and soldiers from amputation.

From what little things great things sometimes grow! One day, walking past the market on Sennaya in St. Petersburg, Pirogov noticed a section of a frozen pork carcass. As a result, “ice”, or topographical, anatomy was born, which allowed doctors to more effectively study the human body and avoid many surgical errors that could cost the lives of more than one unfortunate person. The first anatomical atlas created by Pirogov using this method is still used by students.

There is no need to list all the achievements of Nikolai Ivanovich, all the innovations, all the methods that still bear his name and are used by modern surgeons. For the most part, only doctors will understand this, but for the rest, in relation to medicine acting as patients, it will be more important to know that Pirogov, with all his fame and extensive practice, never took money for operations - neither from members of the royal family, nor from the last a poor man who relied on him as his only hope. Kuprin’s story “The Wonderful Doctor” is about him.

Sisters of Mercy

A special era in Pirogov’s life was the Sevastopol War. As a doctor and as a person who did not want to remain indifferent to what was happening, he submitted a request to be sent to the front. After a long silence, a completely unexpected answer came. He was invited to her by Elena Pavlovna, the wife of Grand Duke Mikhail Pavlovich, son of Paul I, the founder of the Russian Museum Society, the Midwifery and Clinical Institutes, and the head of the Mariinsky and Pavlovsk Women's Institutes.

Announcing that she took responsibility for resolving his request, she told him about her plan to found women’s aid for the sick and wounded and offered Pirogov the role of organizer and leader. Despite the widespread opinion that the presence of women leads to corruption in the troops, that women are unable to live and provide assistance in the most difficult conditions of war, Grand Duchess Elena Pavlovna, who saw the highest and best calling of a woman in sometimes healing, often helping and always relieving, addressed an appeal to Russian women who wanted to “take on the high and difficult responsibilities of sisters of mercy,” and already in October 1854, using her own funds, she founded the Holy Cross community of sisters caring for wounded and sick soldiers. Pirogov fully shared the views of the Grand Duchess: “It has already been proven by experience that no one better than women can sympathize with the suffering of a patient and surround him with care that is unknown and, so to speak, not characteristic of men.” Pirogov considered the principle of “living on earth not only for oneself” to be the basis of sisterly charity. So in 1854, from a small group of 35 sisters, with the most active and attentive participation of Nikolai Ivanovich Pirogov, the future Russian Red Cross was born.

Then, during this notorious Crimean campaign, Pirogov developed rules for working with the wounded, thereby creating an almost new branch of surgery - military field surgery. He formulated the principles of hygiene for the sick, the basics of therapeutic nutrition, and in all this, oddly enough, he had to overcome again and again the misunderstanding and opposition of those for whom the active, honest doctor was inconvenient. And Pirogov was an enemy of canonical decisions, an enemy of complacency leading to stagnation and inertia: “Life does not fit into the narrow framework of doctrine, and its changeable casuistry cannot be expressed by any dogmatic formulas.”

Pirogov the teacher

From the very first steps, as a young professor, Pirogov was a real teacher, caring for the professional growth of not only his own, but also that of new generations of young doctors. “Let only those who want to learn study - that’s their business. But whoever wants to learn from me must learn something - that’s my business, every conscientious teacher should think so.” Hence his gigantic contribution to the system of education and teaching of medicine, which moved from theory, and sometimes the baseless fantasies of professors, who often saw the patient only from the height of the department, to practical training using specific examples, specific operations demonstrated by the teacher.

Pirogov’s merit also lies in the fact that he saw the need to combine professional and moral education. We have already talked about his innovation in the first: now it would never occur to anyone to doubt the importance of professionalism. But regarding the second, his ideas even today (alas, in this case, unfortunately) sound almost revolutionary. The call to educate, first of all, a person endowed with a moral sense, who not only has strong convictions, but also knows how to defend them, live them in practice, ready for life’s struggles and efforts, and only then take care of his professional growth and skill - sounds very, very modern . These thoughts are not accidental, they are the result of Pirogov’s long internal journey - from a materialist due to ignorance of matter, as he himself said, to a person who reveals the meaning of human existence, life, love, immortality, who recognizes the essence of the inner man and seeks God. I wonder, two such different people - what unites them? Sincerity, a heart responsive to other people's pain, honesty with oneself, the desire to always be and not seem?.. Probably.

Questions of life

Pirogov spent his last years on his estate in Vishnya (part of present-day Vinnitsa). There he wrote his confession - his last and most amazing book, largely misunderstood to this day: “Questions of Life. The diary of an old doctor, written exclusively for himself, but not without a second thought that maybe someday someone else will read it. November 5, 1879 - October 22, 1881." Pirogov seems to be surprised by his discoveries: “I interpret everything in my worldview about the world mind, about world thought. Where is the world brain? A thought without a brain and without words! Isn't this absurd coming from a doctor? But a bee and an ant think without a brain, and doesn’t the entire animal kingdom think without words? We are free to call only one human, cerebral, verbal and humanly conscious thought a thought! And for me it is only a manifestation of a general thought, widespread everywhere, creating and governing everything.” And yet, a 70-year-old surgeon, wise with enormous experience, who has gone through fire and water, who has performed tens of thousands of operations, an empiricist to the core, comes to the idea that this very brain is not the only conductor of thought, that life is much wider and deeper and is not limited only to the biological organism: “Life is a meaningful, limitlessly active force that controls all the properties of matter (that is, its forces), moreover, continuously striving to achieve a certain goal: the implementation and support of existence.” In this, Pirogov became the forerunner of Russian cosmists - Tsiolkovsky, Vernadsky... In his little-known records, ideas that were spoken about in the Middle Ages by Paracelsus, a thousand years earlier by Indian sages, and at the end of the 19th century by such great philosophers as Elena Petrovna Blavatsky come to life. , Nikolai Hartman and others.

Behind these pages, which he filled out almost every day for the last two years before his death, we see a philosopher asking himself the most serious questions, reflecting, searching, reverent before the riddle and secret that suddenly opens up to him: “... of all the world’s secrets, the most cherished and The most troublesome thing for us is “I.” There is, however, another, even more cherished truth, this is the truth. But if every leaf, every seed, every crystal reminds us of the existence outside of us and within ourselves of a mysterious laboratory, in which everything tirelessly works for itself and for the environment, with purpose and thought, then our own consciousness constitutes for us an even more intimate and at the same time the most disturbing secret.” I really want this book to find its new thoughtful reader in our time, after a hundred years of oblivion. And the questions raised by Pirogov forced us to look for an answer today.

Salt of the earth

A glorious and amazing destiny. Struggle and love, service to the motherland and disgrace are the traditions of the Russian intellectual. Maybe it’s said about such people - “salt of the earth”, maybe they are the thread, the hair on which life is held, that still continues to hold us. And the question is not about plaster casts or anesthesia as such. The question is humanity, which is behind this and without which all these innovations lose their meaning. Humanity, which thanks to such people binds us together. This is perhaps the main significance of everything that Pirogov did, and his main lesson for us.

This November, Nikolai Ivanovich, is your bicentennial anniversary. Thank you, doctor.

	- famous surgeon and musician. His musical talent was highly valued by Beethoven himself, and his medical talent could probably be appreciated by Pushkin, who consulted the famous doctor more than once. The professor's house was one of the most interesting in Dorpat. Many wonderful people of that era visited here: the poets Zhukovsky and Yazykov, Pushkin’s friend Wulf, the sons of the Russian historian Karamzin. Judging by his memoirs, Moyer, “a remarkable and highly talented personality,” lost interest in science over the years and “did not perform particularly difficult or risky operations.” The appearance in Dorpat of several gifted students, and Nikolai Ivanovich Pirogov, who especially stood out among them, seemed to return the professor to his former life. He again devoted himself entirely to medicine and his new students.
	Nikolai Pirogov and became friends in Dorpat, where they studied surgery together with Professor Moyer. This is how Pirogov himself describes their first meeting: “One day, soon after our arrival in Dorpat, we heard some strange but unfamiliar sounds at our window from the street: a Russian song on some kind of instrument. We look, there is a student standing in uniform... holding something in his mouth and playing: “Hello, my dear, my good one,” not paying any attention to us. The instrument turned out to be an organ (labial), and the virtuoso was V.I. Dal.” Pirogov was ten years younger than Dahl, but by that time he had already graduated from Moscow University and was Moyer’s best student. Usually stingy with praise, Nikolai Ivanovich highly appreciated his friend’s medical talent and saw in him a future famous surgeon, and when he defended his medical dissertation, he became his official opponent. Dahl for some time lived up to Pirogov’s hopes and became a good specialist in plastic and eye surgery, but his love for literature and the Russian language turned out to be stronger in him.
I. Quiet. N. I. Pirogov examines the patient D. I. Mendeleev	Since childhood Dmitry Ivanovich Mendeleev He was in poor health, and when his throat began to bleed, the doctors believed that the final stage of consumption had begun. Institute friends managed to arrange an audience for Dmitry Ivanovich with the court physician Zdecauer, and he, having listened to him, advised him to urgently go to Crimea, and at the same time show himself to Pirogov there, just in case. There was a war going on in Crimea at that time. Pirogov operated from early morning until late evening. Mendeleev came to see him in the hospital every morning, but, seeing what the great physician was doing, he immediately left, believing that now Pirogov was more needed by the wounded. After some time, Dmitry Ivanovich finally decided to approach Pirogov. Imagine his surprise when he, having carefully examined him, said: “Here, my friend, your Zdekauer’s letter. Save it and return it to him someday. And say hello from me. You will outlive us both." The prediction came true exactly: Mendeleev outlived both Pirogov and Zdecauer.
S. Prisekin. Pirogov and Garibaldi	In the summer of 1862, Giuseppe Garibaldi was wounded in the leg. This was the most severe of the ten wounds received by the Italian national hero in his entire life. Although the best doctors in Europe tried to help him, he did not recover. And then they decided to invite Pirogov and even raised a thousand rubles for his trip. Pirogov refused the money, but came himself. Thanks to his advice, practical and simple, Garibaldi’s condition soon began to improve. Having recovered, he thanked the Russian doctor with the following letter: “My dear Doctor Pirogov! My wound is almost healed. I feel the need to thank you for the heartfelt care you generously provided to me. Please accept, dear Doctor, my assurances of devotion. Yours D. Garibaldi.” For many years, a valuable relic in the Pirogovs’ house was a photograph of Giuseppe Garibaldi with his dedicatory inscription.
I. E. Repin. Portrait of A. F. Koni	Our famous historian Solovyov says that peoples love to erect monuments to their outstanding people, but these people, through their activities, themselves erect a monument to their people. Pirogov also erected such a monument, glorifying the Russian name far beyond the borders of his homeland. In the days of doubts and painful thoughts about the fate of his homeland, Turgenev did not want to believe that the mighty, truthful Russian language had not been given to the great people. But can’t the same be said about the best representatives of this people? And when, amid the fog of sad phenomena and properties of our everyday reality, you remember that our people had Peter and Lomonosov, Pushkin and Tolstoy... that they finally gave Pirogov, then one cannot help but believe that this people not only can, but is also obliged have a bright future...
	The “Diary of an Old Doctor” left by Pirogov makes it possible to look into his soul, not as a public figure and famous scientist: it makes it possible to hear the voice of a person’s heart, the person that Pirogov wanted to raise in every young man. This heart is filled with deep and touching faith in the highest Providence and tenderness for the covenants of Christ. Life teaches that Christ has many servants, but few real followers. One of the last was Pirogov. A. F. Koni “Pirogov and the school of life”
Rummaging through the archive of our memory in old age, we are struck, first of all, by the inexplicable identity and integrity of our “I”. We clearly feel that we are no longer what we were in childhood, and at the same time we no less clearly feel that our “I” has remained in us or with us from the very moment we began to remember ourselves until today, and we know for sure that it will remain the same until our last breath, unless we die unconscious or in a mental hospital. Strange, amazingly strange is this feeling of the identity of our “I” in different portraits that are barely similar to one another, with different opposing feelings, beliefs and views on ourselves, on life, on everything around us... The self-awareness of being, and how it must inevitably be to be in us from cradle to grave, but how and by what means it makes itself known to itself and to others - whether by a personal pronoun, or by some other conventional sign, this does not change the essence of the matter one iota. N. I. Pirogov

to the magazine "Man Without Borders"

An important character in Kuprin's story is Pirogov. The hero was created based on the image of a military surgeon named Nikolai Ivanovich. So Pirogov definitely has a prototype. This gives the character a stately face.

How is the doctor presented in the work? From the first paragraphs it is clear that Pirogov is a fairly educated, intelligent and sympathetic person. His literacy can be seen in simple communication with others. He is ready to help someone in need at any moment. Thus, Professor Pirogov provides support and invaluable assistance to the Mertsalov family. It seemed that in the modern world there was no longer a place for such simple qualities as kindness, sympathy, and mutual assistance. However, Pirogov is clear proof that in life there are people capable of compassion and mutual assistance.

He is a very ordinary person, but “his face is smart and serious.” This hero has a kind heart. There is something “confidence-inspiring” about his appearance. Even Pirogov’s voice is too sweet and calm. The character is very kind to the people around him. It’s a pleasure to have a conversation with him; Pirogov, created by the well-known Kuprin, really attracts attention.

The simplicity of the hero is attractive. He is so modest and ordinary that he sinks into the very heart. This proves that an ordinary person is capable of graceful acts without demanding anything in return.

It is not for nothing that Pirogov himself asserts: in order to achieve what you want, you should never lose heart. Otherwise, all efforts are in vain. Therefore, in any situation, the hero never gives up. He is able to complete what he starts even if it is incredibly difficult. Pirogov is not afraid of obstacles, he is a man of action, a man of mercy, a man of kindness, a man of calm.

The doctor is far from in distress, but wears fairly simple clothes. This emphasizes the hero as a modest, easy-to-communicate person.

Thus, Kuprin managed to draw an extraordinary image of Pirogov, which remains in our hearts to this day! The author wanted to convey to us, young readers, that there is a place for compassion and help in the world! There are still good people in life who, in the most difficult moments, will burst into your house and completely turn your destiny for the better. And this is worth living for! You have to love people, you have to live not for yourself, you have to believe that in the world the concept of “mutual help” has not yet exhausted itself! This is what Kuprin’s story “The Wonderful Doctor” teaches. And it’s not for nothing that the writer created such a wonderful hero! Not intentionally!

Characteristics and image of Pirogov

Kuprin's story "The Wonderful Doctor" describes a real story from the lives of ordinary people. Doctor Pirogov is the central character of the work. Thanks to his warmth and ability to feel the pain and grief of other people, he saved the Mertsalov family, who found themselves in a difficult life situation.

The family lived in a small room; the stove was heated with wood. During the meeting with the doctor, the head of the family was kicked out of work, his daughter and wife became seriously ill, there was practically no money for food, they were starving. It was then, when there was no way out of the current situation, that the man met Dr. Pirogov. One was walking, happy for the holiday with gifts (pies), and the other was in terrible despair. Having learned about serious trouble in this family, Pirogov made every effort to help them. He helped cure the mother and child, gave them money and, most importantly, gave them hope that everything would definitely be fine. And in fact, a little time passed and prosperity came to this family. The man gets a new job and material wealth.

Doctor Pirogov was an ordinary person, he did not have much capital, he always wore the same jacket. But his soulful gaze, gentle, intelligent face and kind heart endeared him to those around him, people trusted and loved him. Pirogov could treat not only various diseases, but also the human soul. Everywhere, no matter what house he entered, he saved a person, without demanding material benefits and fame from anyone. He was a real doctor, a professional in his field. Having once taken the Hippocratic oath, he steadfastly adhered to it. Anyone in need could count on selfless help and support.

Doctor Pirogov performed every good deed from the bottom of his heart, without even thinking about any benefit of his own. While providing assistance and support to the Mertsalov family, he did not even tell them his name.

“The Wonderful Doctor” Pirogov is an amazing and kind-hearted person who instills hope in people and helps them find strength and overcome the greatest difficulties in life. The image of Doctor Pirogov is purity of soul, mercy and kindness. It is these important qualities that should be within every person. Only when people learn to compassion and help each other will the whole world be healthy and prosperous.

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Grish, oh Grish! Look, the little pig... He's laughing... Yes. And in his mouth!.. Look, look... there is grass in his mouth, by God, grass!.. What a thing!

And two boys, standing in front of a huge solid glass window of a grocery store, began to laugh uncontrollably, pushing each other in the side with their elbows, but involuntarily dancing from the cruel cold. They had been standing for more than five minutes in front of this magnificent exhibition, which excited their minds and stomachs in equal measure. Here, illuminated by the bright light of hanging lamps, towered whole mountains of red, strong apples and oranges; there were regular pyramids of tangerines, delicately gilded through the tissue paper enveloping them; stretched out on the dishes, with ugly gaping mouths and bulging eyes, huge smoked and pickled fish; below, surrounded by garlands of sausages, juicy cut hams with a thick layer of pinkish lard were displayed... Countless jars and boxes with salted, boiled and smoked snacks completed this spectacular picture, looking at which both boys for a moment forgot about the twelve-degree frost and about the important assignment , entrusted to them by their mother, an assignment that ended so unexpectedly and so pitifully.

The eldest boy was the first to tear himself away from contemplating the enchanting spectacle. He tugged at his brother's sleeve and said sternly:

Well, Volodya, let's go, let's go... There's nothing here...

At the same time suppressing a heavy sigh (the eldest of them was only ten years old, and besides, both of them had eaten nothing but empty cabbage soup since the morning) and casting one last lovingly greedy glance at the gastronomic exhibition, the boys hurriedly ran down the street. Sometimes, through the foggy windows of some house, they saw a Christmas tree, which from a distance seemed like a huge cluster of bright, shining spots, sometimes they even heard the sounds of a cheerful polka... But they courageously drove away the tempting thought: to stop for a few seconds and lean their eyes to glass

As the boys walked, the streets became less crowded and darker. Beautiful shops, shining Christmas trees, trotters racing under their blue and red nets, the squealing of runners, the festive excitement of the crowd, the cheerful hum of shouts and conversations, the laughing faces of elegant ladies flushed with frost - everything was left behind. There were vacant lots, crooked, narrow alleys, gloomy, unlit slopes... Finally they reached a rickety, dilapidated house that stood alone; its bottom - the basement itself - was stone, and the top was wooden. Having walked around the cramped, icy and dirty courtyard, which served as a natural cesspool for all residents, they went downstairs to the basement, walked in the darkness along a common corridor, groped for their door and opened it.

The Mertsalovs had been living in this dungeon for more than a year. Both boys had long since gotten used to these smoky walls, crying from the dampness, and to the wet scraps drying on a rope stretched across the room, and to this terrible smell of kerosene fumes, children's dirty linen and rats - the real smell of poverty. But today, after everything they saw on the street, after this festive rejoicing that they felt everywhere, their little children’s hearts sank with acute, unchildish suffering. In the corner, on a dirty wide bed, lay a girl of about seven years old; her face was burning, her breathing was short and labored, her wide, shining eyes looked intently and aimlessly. Next to the bed, in a cradle suspended from the ceiling, a baby was screaming, wincing, straining and choking. A tall, thin woman, with a gaunt, tired face, as if blackened by grief, was kneeling next to the sick girl, straightening her pillow and at the same time not forgetting to push the rocking cradle with her elbow. When the boys entered and white clouds of frosty air quickly rushed into the basement behind them, the woman turned her worried face back.

Well? What? - she asked abruptly and impatiently.

The boys were silent. Only Grisha noisily wiped his nose with the sleeve of his coat, made from an old cotton robe.

Did you take the letter?.. Grisha, I’m asking you, did you give the letter?

So what? What did you say to him?

Yes, everything is as you taught. Here, I say, is a letter from Mertsalov, from your former manager. And he scolded us: “Get out of here, he says... You bastards...”

Who is this? Who was talking to you?.. Speak clearly, Grisha!

The doorman was talking... Who else? I tell him: “Uncle, take the letter, pass it on, and I’ll wait for the answer here downstairs.” And he says: “Well, he says, keep your pocket... The master also has time to read your letters...”

Well, what about you?

I told him everything, as you taught me: “There’s nothing to eat... Mashutka is sick... She’s dying...” I said: “As soon as dad finds a place, he’ll thank you, Savely Petrovich, by God, he’ll thank you.” . Well, at this time the bell would ring and ring, and he would say to us: “Get the hell out of here quickly! So that your spirit is not here!..” And he even hit Volodka on the back of the head.

And he hit me on the back of the head,” said Volodya, who was following his brother’s story with attention, and scratched the back of his head.

The older boy suddenly began to anxiously rummage through the deep pockets of his robe. Finally pulling out the crumpled envelope, he put it on the table and said:

Here it is, the letter...

The mother didn't ask any more questions. For a long time in the stuffy, dank room, only the frantic cry of the baby and Mashutka’s short, rapid breathing, more like continuous monotonous moans, could be heard. Suddenly the mother said, turning back:

There is borscht there, left over from lunch... Maybe we could eat it? Only cold, there’s nothing to warm it up with...

At this time, someone’s hesitant steps and the rustling of a hand were heard in the corridor, searching for the door in the darkness. The mother and both boys - all three even turning pale from tense anticipation - turned in this direction.

Mertsalov entered. He was wearing a summer coat, a summer felt hat and no galoshes. His hands were swollen and blue from the frost, his eyes were sunken, his cheeks were stuck around his gums, like a dead man’s. He didn’t say a single word to his wife, she didn’t ask him a single question. They understood each other by the despair they read in each other's eyes.

In this terrible, fateful year, misfortune after misfortune persistently and mercilessly rained down on Mertsalov and his family. First, he himself fell ill with typhoid fever, and all their meager savings were spent on his treatment. Then, when he recovered, he learned that his place, the modest place of managing a house for twenty-five rubles a month, was already taken by someone else... A desperate, convulsive pursuit began for odd jobs, for correspondence, for an insignificant place, pledging and re-pledge of things , sale of all household rags. And then the children started getting sick. Three months ago one girl died, now another lies in the heat and unconscious. Elizaveta Ivanovna had to simultaneously care for a sick girl, breastfeed a little one, and go almost to the other end of the city to the house where she washed clothes every day.

All day today I was busy trying to squeeze out from somewhere at least a few kopecks for Mashutka’s medicine through superhuman efforts. For this purpose, Mertsalov ran around almost half the city, begging and humiliating himself everywhere; Elizaveta Ivanovna went to see her mistress, the children were sent with a letter to the master whose house Mertsalov used to manage... But everyone made excuses either with holiday worries or lack of money... Others, like, for example, the doorman of the former patron, simply they drove the petitioners off the porch.

For ten minutes no one could utter a word. Suddenly Mertsalov quickly rose from the chest on which he had been sitting until now, and with a decisive movement pulled his tattered hat deeper onto his forehead.

Where are you going? - Elizaveta Ivanovna asked anxiously.

Mertsalov, who had already grabbed the door handle, turned around.

“Anyway, sitting won’t help anything,” he answered hoarsely. - I’ll go again... At least I’ll try to beg.

Going out into the street, he walked forward aimlessly. He didn't look for anything, didn't hope for anything. He had long ago experienced that burning time of poverty when you dream of finding a wallet with money on the street or suddenly receiving an inheritance from an unknown second cousin. Now he was overcome by an uncontrollable desire to run anywhere, to run without looking back, so as not to see the silent despair of a hungry family.

Beg for alms? He has already tried this remedy twice today. But the first time, some gentleman in a raccoon coat read him an instruction that he should work and not beg, and the second time, they promised to send him to the police.

Unnoticed by himself, Mertsalov found himself in the center of the city, near the fence of a dense public garden. Since he had to walk uphill all the time, he became out of breath and felt tired. Mechanically he turned through the gate and, passing a long alley of linden trees covered with snow, sat down on a low garden bench.

It was quiet and solemn here. The trees, wrapped in their white robes, slumbered in motionless majesty. Sometimes a piece of snow fell from the top branch, and you could hear it rustling, falling and clinging to other branches. The deep silence and great calm that guarded the garden suddenly awakened in Mertsalov’s tormented soul an unbearable thirst for the same calm, the same silence.

“I wish I could lie down and go to sleep,” he thought, “and forget about my wife, about the hungry children, about the sick Mashutka.” Putting his hand under his vest, Mertsalov felt for a rather thick rope that served as his belt. The thought of suicide became quite clear in his head. But he was not horrified by this thought, did not shudder for a moment before the darkness of the unknown.

“Rather than dying slowly, isn’t it better to take a shorter path?” He was about to get up to fulfill his terrible intention, but at that time, at the end of the alley, the creaking of steps was heard, clearly heard in the frosty air. Mertsalov turned in this direction with anger. Someone was walking along the alley. At first, the light of a cigar flaring up and then going out was visible. Then Mertsalov little by little could see an old man of short stature, wearing a warm hat, a fur coat and high galoshes. Having reached the bench, the stranger suddenly turned sharply in the direction of Mertsalov and, lightly touching his hat, asked:

Will you allow me to sit here?

Mertsalov deliberately turned sharply away from the stranger and moved to the edge of the bench. Five minutes passed in mutual silence, during which the stranger smoked a cigar and (Mertsalov felt it) looked sideways at his neighbor.

“What a nice night,” the stranger suddenly spoke. - Frosty... quiet. What a delight - Russian winter!

“But I bought gifts for the children of my acquaintances,” the stranger continued (he had several packages in his hands). - Yes, I couldn’t resist on the way, I made a circle to go through the garden: it’s very nice here.

Mertsalov was generally a meek and shy person, but at the last words of the stranger he was suddenly overcome by a surge of desperate anger. He turned with a sharp movement towards the old man and shouted, absurdly waving his arms and gasping:

Presents! the child hasn’t eaten all day... Gifts!..

Mertsalov expected that after these chaotic, angry screams the old man would get up and leave, but he was mistaken. The old man brought his intelligent, serious face with gray sideburns closer to him and said in a friendly but serious tone:

Wait... don't worry! Tell me everything in order and as briefly as possible. Maybe together we can come up with something for you.

There was something so calm and trust-inspiring in the stranger’s extraordinary face that Mertsalov immediately, without the slightest concealment, but terribly worried and in a hurry, conveyed his story. He spoke about his illness, about the loss of his place, about the death of his child, about all his misfortunes, right up to the present day. The stranger listened without interrupting him with a word, and only looked more and more inquisitively into his eyes, as if wanting to penetrate into the very depths of this painful, indignant soul. Suddenly, with a quick, completely youthful movement, he jumped up from his seat and grabbed Mertsalov by the hand. Mertsalov involuntarily also stood up.

Let's go! - said the stranger, dragging Mertsalov by the hand. - Let's go quickly!.. You are lucky that you met with the doctor. Of course, I can’t vouch for anything, but... let’s go!

Ten minutes later Mertsalov and the doctor were already entering the basement. Elizaveta Ivanovna lay on the bed next to her sick daughter, burying her face in dirty, oily pillows. The boys slurped borscht, sitting in the same places. Frightened by the long absence of their father and the immobility of their mother, they cried, smearing tears over their faces with dirty fists and pouring them abundantly into the smoky cast iron. Entering the room, the doctor took off his coat and, remaining in an old-fashioned, rather shabby frock coat, approached Elizaveta Ivanovna. She didn't even raise her head when he approached.

Well, that’s enough, that’s enough, my dear,” the doctor spoke, affectionately stroking the woman on the back. - Get up! Show me your patient.

And just like recently in the garden, something affectionate and convincing sounding in his voice forced Elizaveta Ivanovna to instantly get out of bed and unquestioningly do everything the doctor said. Two minutes later, Grishka was already heating the stove with firewood, for which the wonderful doctor had sent to the neighbors, Volodya was inflating the samovar with all his might, Elizaveta Ivanovna was wrapping Mashutka in a warming compress... A little later Mertsalov also appeared. With three rubles received from the doctor, during this time he managed to buy tea, sugar, rolls and get hot food at the nearest tavern. The doctor was sitting at the table and writing something on a piece of paper that he had torn out of his notebook. Having finished this lesson and depicting some kind of hook below instead of a signature, he stood up, covered what he had written with a tea saucer and said:

With this piece of paper you will go to the pharmacy... give me a teaspoon in two hours. This will cause the baby to cough up... Continue the warming compress... Besides, even if your daughter feels better, in any case, invite Dr. Afrosimov tomorrow. He is an efficient doctor and a good person. I'll warn him right now. Then farewell, gentlemen! God grant that the coming year treats you a little more leniently than this one, and most importantly, never lose heart.

Having shaken the hands of Mertsalov and Elizaveta Ivanovna, who was still reeling from amazement, and casually patting Volodya, who was open-mouthed, on the cheek, the doctor quickly put his feet into deep galoshes and put on his coat. Mertsalov came to his senses only when the doctor was already in the corridor, and rushed after him.

Since it was impossible to make out anything in the darkness, Mertsalov shouted at random:

Doctor! Doctor, wait!.. Tell me your name, doctor! Let at least my children pray for you!

And he moved his hands in the air to catch the invisible doctor. But at this time, at the other end of the corridor, a calm, senile voice said:

Eh! What a bunch of other nonsense they came up with!.. Come home quickly!

When he returned, a surprise awaited him: under the tea saucer, along with the wonderful doctor’s prescription, lay several large credit notes...

That same evening Mertsalov learned the name of his unexpected benefactor. On the pharmacy label attached to the bottle of medicine, in the clear hand of the pharmacist it was written: “According to the prescription of Professor Pirogov.”

I heard this story, more than once, from the lips of Grigory Emelyanovich Mertsalov himself - the same Grishka who, on the Christmas Eve I described, shed tears into a smoky cast iron pot with empty borscht. Now he occupies a fairly large, responsible position in one of the banks, reputed to be a model of honesty and responsiveness to the needs of poverty. And each time, finishing his story about the wonderful doctor, he adds in a voice trembling with hidden tears:

From then on, it was as if a beneficent angel descended into our family. Everything has changed. At the beginning of January, my father found a place, Mashutka got back on her feet, and my brother and I managed to get a place in the gymnasium at public expense. This holy man performed a miracle. And we have only seen our wonderful doctor once since then - this was when he was transported dead to his own estate Vishnya. And even then they didn’t see him, because that great, powerful and holy thing that lived and burned in the wonderful doctor during his lifetime faded away irrevocably.

A. I. Kuprin’s story “The Wonderful Doctor,” a brief summary of which is offered in the article, is an example of a literary genre popular in the century before last—Christmas or Yuletide stories.

These were small works published in newspapers and magazines published before the New Year and Christmas - hence the name. Such stories tell about events that happened on Christmas Eve, and all of them must certainly have a happy ending.

The main idea of ​​Christmas stories is that in a difficult life situation you should never lose hope for the best.

About the work of A. I. Kuprin “The Wonderful Doctor”

Questions on the themes of his works were included in the literature examination tests of the main state exam (OGE) for the nine-year course in 2019, so all 9th ​​grade graduates should be familiar with it.

Alexander Ivanovich Kuprin (1870 - 1938) - Russian writer, translator.

Kuprin was also a master of short storytelling. Among his other works, he wrote the story “The Wonderful Doctor,” which was published in 1897. The work was published in the newspaper “Kyiv Slovo” on December 25 of the same year and immediately received positive reviews from critics and rave reviews from readers.

In its first lines, the writer shares with the reader the history of the creation of his work, warning that the plot of the story is not a fairy tale, but a description of real events that happened in Kyiv three decades earlier, that is, in the late 60s of the 19th century.

The main characters and their characteristics

Despite the small volume, the story contains two rows of characters - main and secondary.

Among the main characters in the story are:

1. EmelyanMertsalov- the father of a family who worked as a manager in a rich man's house. Judging by the hero’s speech, he was an educated man, and the Mertsalov family, although they lived poorly, did not experience any particular need. But everything changed when Emelyan fell ill with typhoid fever and the money he had saved with difficulty was spent on treatment. He survived, but lost his job because... a replacement was quickly found for him. As a result, a large family was left without a livelihood. All attempts to find a new job are unsuccessful, Mertsalov, his wife and children are starving. One of the two daughters dies, the other becomes seriously ill. The father falls into despair, even tries to beg for alms, but no one gives to him.
2. Elizaveta Ivanovna, Mertsalov's wife. In addition to her two sons, she has a sick daughter and an infant in her arms. The mother is so weak from hunger that her milk has disappeared, and the baby is starving just like the rest of the family. She, like her husband, is looking for work - she goes to the other end of the city to wash clothes for a meager fee, but this money is not enough even for firewood. Trying to help the family survive, Mertsalova writes letters, turning to her husband’s former owner for help, but receives no response.
3. Volodya and Grisha are the sons of the Mertsalovs, 8 and 10 years old. They carry letters from their mother around the city, simultaneously observing how residents prepare for Christmas. The boys look with hungry eyes at the luxurious store windows full of expensive food, while at home empty cabbage soup is waiting for them, and besides, it’s cold - there is no firewood to heat the food.
4. Mashutka, their little sister. The girl is seriously ill, she coughs, has difficulty breathing, rushes about in the heat, and is delirious. She needs urgent medical help, but her parents do not have money for a doctor or medicine.

All the Mertsalovs take an active part in the events described, with the exception of Mashutka, although it is around her illness that the storyline of the story revolves.

Another main character is professor of medicine Nikolai Ivanovich Pirogov, that same wonderful doctor, after whom the story takes its name.

He is not only an excellent doctor, but also a very kind and sympathetic person, always ready to sincerely sympathize even with a stranger. He expresses his sympathy not only in words, but also in deeds.

Minor characters

There are only two of these in the story, and even they become known only from the words of the main characters.

One of them - doorman in a rich house, whom the boys asked to deliver to the owner of the house a letter written by their mother calling for help. But the doorman does not take the letter and drives the boys away.

Another minor character is a certain gentleman in a raccoon coat, met by Mertsalov Sr. on the street. In response to the latter’s request to give alms, the gentleman advises him to go to work.

From the story you can learn about the author’s attitude towards his characters. Thus, throughout the entire narrative, the writer calls the father of the family by his last name - the reader learns about his name only after meeting the narrator, the same boy Grisha, who grew up and became Grigory Emelyanovich.

He calls Mertsalov’s wife Elizaveta Ivanovna. Thus, Kuprin emphasizes that the persistent character of this woman arouses great respect in him.

Saying that Mertsalov was refused alms by a gentleman in a raccoon coat, he makes it clear that he was a very wealthy man - a coat with a raccoon collar was very expensive at that time.

With this small touch, the author shows his attitude towards people who, having not experienced any difficulties in their own lives, have the habit of teaching those who find themselves in a difficult life situation, instead of simply helping them. In this case, the well-known proverb that the well-fed does not understand the hungry comes to mind.

A summary of Kuprin's story can be presented in the form of a summary drawn up according to a specific plan.

Such a plan, written down in a reader’s diary, will make it easier to retell the work in the form of excerpts:

• the Mertsalov brothers at the store window;
• homecoming;
• unfulfilled order;
• father's despair;
• in the winter garden;
• meeting with the doctor;
• Mertsalov's story;
• unexpected help;
• recipe from Pirogov;
• everything is changing for the better.

The story begins with a conversation between two boys, Volodya and Grisha Mertsalov, who, returning home, stared at the festive window of a grocery store. They were instructed to take a letter to their father’s former owner asking for help, but the order remained unfulfilled.

In the basement of a dilapidated house, more like a dungeon, a mother with a sick sister and an infant are waiting for them. As soon as the sons crossed the threshold, Elizaveta Ivanovna asks if they took the letter.

Volodya, the eldest of the boys, says that they did everything as she taught: he spoke about their plight, promised to thank the owner’s doorman as soon as his father found a job. But he remained deaf to all these arguments - he drove the boys away, giving the youngest a slap on the head. Then the boy took a crumpled envelope from his pocket.

Soon the father returned, completely frozen in the December frost in a tattered light coat and a rumpled summer hat, without gloves and galoshes, thin, pale, with sunken cheeks, looking like a dead man. Unable to bear the sight of desperate need and the hungry eyes of his wife and children, he leaves home again.

Without remembering how, Mertsalov wanders into the winter garden, where, against the backdrop of snow-covered trees, peace and quiet, thoughts of suicide come to him.

But then an old man in a warm fur coat comes up to him, sits down on a bench next to him and begins to tell him what gifts he bought for the children he knew. The unhappy father shouts that he doesn’t care about other people’s children when his own are dying of hunger and disease.

The stranger asks to tell him everything in detail, and the desperate man excitedly tells him about the painful issue. After listening, the stranger jumps up from the bench and offers to immediately go to the Mertsalovs. On the way, he gives the head of the family three rubles to buy food.

Entering the basement where the parents and children lived, he orders the eldest to light the samovar, borrowing firewood from the neighbors, while he examines the sick girl and puts a warming compress on her. The father returns - he brings tea, sugar, white bread and hot dishes from a nearby tavern.

The doctor writes a prescription, indicating how to take the medicine, and recommends that tomorrow you see an experienced doctor, whom he promises to warn about them. Then he leaves. The excited Mertsalov asks him to identify himself so that he knows for whom to pray, but the stranger waves him off.

After the stranger leaves, the family discovers several large banknotes under the prescription sheet. Arriving at the pharmacy to buy medicine, Mertsalov learns from the pharmacist that the prescription was written by Pirogov himself.

The great surgeon remained in the memory of the Mertsalovs as a kind messenger from heaven: after his visit, their life gradually began to improve. The sick girl recovered, her father found a job, her mother became stronger, and the family became wealthy. They managed to send the boys to the gymnasium at public expense.

And thirty years later, Grisha, whom the doorman had once driven away from the front entrance of a rich house, became a wealthy and respected man, Grigory Emelyanovich.

Analysis of the work “The Wonderful Doctor”

The story is constructed in full accordance with the laws of the genre of Christmas stories, the main principle of which is the contrast of descriptions.

In its first lines, the reader sees the characters in a state of complete hopelessness, especially pronounced against the background of the pre-Christmas Eve, when it seems that not only people, but also nature are freezing in anticipation of something unusually bright and wonderful.

The contrast becomes even deeper when Mertsalov, having reached the extreme degree of despair, decides to end his life, wanting only one thing - the same peace as the trees around him, covered with sparkling snow.

And here a decisive turning point occurs in the plot - he meets a wonderful doctor who, like a good angel, quickly and irrevocably changes everything for the better.

Fate finally begins to smile on the heroes, and the story ends happily, as befits a Christmas story.

Main thought

“The Wonderful Doctor” is very short: in the book it takes up just over two pages of printed text, but this short Christmas story is filled with deep Christian meaning, it embodies man’s eternal hope for the best, which helps to survive even when life seems unbearable.

No one should lose hope, says the writer, because everything can change literally in one moment.

As reader reviews confirm, Alexander Ivanovich Kuprin’s story is full of such bright, life-affirming power that it can be called a kind of literary antidepressant, helping a person survive the most difficult moments and not fall into despair.

The work is given additional strength by the fact that its plot is not a figment of the writer’s imagination, but an incident from life.

Why is the story called "The Wonderful Doctor"

Kuprin heard this story from one of its participants, who told an incident from his biography.

The writer retold the events, changing only the names and surnames of the characters - everyone, with the exception of Nikolai Ivanovich Pirogov - the great Russian scientist, a brilliant surgeon, whose name is inscribed in golden letters in the history of world and Russian medicine.

Nikolai Ivanovich Pirogov (1810 - 1881) - Russian surgeon and anatomist, naturalist and teacher, professor, creator of the first atlas of topographic anatomy, founder of Russian military field surgery, founder of the Russian school of anesthesia.

Pirogov, distinguished by his extraordinary kindness and compassion for people, became the prototype of a wonderful doctor, or rather, he was one.

The meaning of the name is that the famous doctor really performed a miracle - he saved the life of not only the sick girl, but also her entire family, and helped overcome a severe life crisis.

What does the story teach?

The essence of the story “The Wonderful Doctor” by A. I. Kuprin is to once again remind the reader that Not only fairy-tale wizards, but also the most ordinary people, including any of us, can perform miracles.

As another Russian writer Alexander Green said: “if a person’s soul thirsts for a miracle, give him this miracle - he will have another soul, and another one for you.” And the person who performed a miracle for another will certainly receive a spark of happiness from the person for whom he performed it.

Kuprin’s work “The Magic Doctor,” based on real events, looks like a good fairy tale. In the story “The Wonderful Doctor,” the characters found themselves in a difficult life situation: the father of the Mertsalov family lost his job, the children got sick, and the youngest girl died. A beautiful, well-fed life is in full swing around, and the family is begging. On the eve of the Christmas holiday, despair reaches its limit, Mertsalov thinks about suicide, unable to withstand the trials that befell his family. It was then that the main character meets his “guardian angel”.

Characteristics of the characters “The Wonderful Doctor”

Main characters

Minor characters

The main characters of “The Wonderful Doctor” are ordinary people who, due to circumstances, find themselves in a desperate situation. The names of the characters play the role of characteristics in the work. The descriptions of the everyday life of the Mertsalov family at the beginning and end of the story are sharply contrasting, which creates the effect of a magical transformation. The materials of the article may be useful for compiling a reader's diary or writing creative works based on Kuprin's work.

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