Mikhail Saltykov-Shchedrin: My conscience has disappeared. Mikhail Saltykov-Shchedrin: Conscience gone Conscience gone read short

Conscience disappeared Read Saltykov-Shchedrin's fairy tale

Conscience is gone. People crowded the streets and theaters as before; in the old way they either caught up or overtook each other; as before, they fussed and caught pieces on the fly, and no one guessed that something had suddenly become missing and that some pipe had stopped playing in the general orchestra of life. Many even began to feel more cheerful and freer. Man’s move has become easier: it has become more dexterous to expose one’s neighbor’s foot, it has become more convenient to flatter, grovel, deceive, gossip and slander. All pain suddenly disappeared; people did not walk, but seemed to rush; nothing upset them, nothing made them think; both the present and the future - everything seemed to be given into their hands - to them, the lucky ones, who did not notice the loss of conscience.

Conscience disappeared suddenly... almost instantly! Just yesterday this annoying hanger-on was just flashing before my eyes, just imagining itself in my excited imagination, and suddenly... nothing! The annoying ghosts disappeared, and with them the moral turmoil that the accusatory conscience brought with it subsided. All that remained was to look at God’s world and rejoice: the wise ones of the world realized that they had finally freed themselves from the last yoke, which hindered their movements, and, of course, hastened to take advantage of the fruits of this freedom. People went crazy; Robberies and robberies began, and general devastation began.

Meanwhile, the poor conscience lay on the road, tormented, spat upon, trampled under the feet of pedestrians. Everyone threw it away like a worthless rag, away from themselves; Everyone was surprised how in a well-organized city, and in the most lively place, such a blatant disgrace could lie. And God knows how long the poor exile would have lain like this if some unfortunate drunkard had not raised her up, having his drunken eyes on even a worthless rag, in the hope of getting a scale for it.

And suddenly he felt that he was pierced like some kind of electric current. With dull eyes, he began to look around and quite clearly felt that his head was being freed from the wine fumes and that that bitter consciousness of reality was gradually returning to him, to get rid of which the best forces of his being had been spent. At first he felt only fear, that dull fear that plunges a person into anxiety from the mere premonition of some impending danger; Then my memory arose and my imagination began to speak. Memory without mercy extracted from the darkness of the shameful past all the details of violence, betrayal, heartfelt lethargy and untruths; imagination clothed these details in living forms. Then, of its own accord, the court woke up...

To a pathetic drunkard, his entire past seems like a continuous ugly crime. He does not analyze, does not ask, does not think: he is so depressed by the picture of his moral fall that confronts him that the process of self-condemnation to which he voluntarily exposes himself hits him incomparably more painfully and severely than the strictest human court. He doesn’t even want to take into account that most of the past for which he curses himself so much does not belong to him at all, the poor and pitiful drunkard, but to some secret, monstrous force that twisted and twisted him, as he twists and turns in the steppe a whirlwind like an insignificant blade of grass. What is his past? why did he live it this way and not otherwise? what is he himself? - all these are questions to which he can answer only with surprise and complete unconsciousness. The yoke built his life; He was born under the yoke, and under the yoke he will go to the grave. Now, perhaps, consciousness has appeared - but what does it need it for? then did it come to ruthlessly pose questions and answer them with silence? Is it then that the ruined life will again pour into the destroyed temple, which can no longer withstand its influx?

Alas! his awakened consciousness brings him neither reconciliation nor hope, and his awakened conscience shows only one way out - the way out of fruitless self-accusation. And before there was darkness all around, and even now the same darkness, only populated by painful ghosts; and before heavy chains rang on his hands, and now the same chains, only their weight doubled, because he realized that they were chains. Useless drunken tears flow like a river; good people stop in front of him and claim that wine is crying inside him.

Fathers! I can’t... it’s unbearable! - the pathetic singer screams, and the crowd laughs and mocks him. She does not understand that the drunkard has never been so free from wine fumes as at this moment, that he simply made an unfortunate discovery that is tearing his poor heart to pieces. If she herself had come across this find, she would have realized, of course, that there is a sorrow in the world, the fiercest of all sorrows - this is the sorrow of a suddenly acquired conscience. She would have realized that she, too, is a crowd that is just as under-juiced and disfigured in spirit as the preacher who cries out before her is under-justified and morally distorted.

“No, you have to sell it somehow! Otherwise you’ll disappear with it like a dog!” - the pathetic drunkard thinks and is about to throw his find on the road, but he is stopped by a pedestrian standing nearby.

You, brother, seem to have taken up the idea of ​​planting false libels! - he says to him, shaking his finger, - I, brother, won’t be in the unit for long for this!

The drunkard quickly hides the find in his pocket and leaves with it. Looking around and stealthily, he approaches the drinking house where his old acquaintance, Prokhorych, trades. First, he slowly peers through the window and, seeing that there is no one in the tavern, and Prokhorych is dozing alone behind the counter, in the blink of an eye he opens the door, runs in, and before Prokhorych has time to come to his senses, the terrible find is already in his hand .

For some time Prokhorych stood with his eyes wide; then suddenly he started sweating. For some reason he imagined that he was trading without a patent; but, having looked carefully, he was convinced that all the patents, blue, green, and yellow, were there. He looked at the rag that was in his hands, and it seemed familiar to him.

“Hey!” he remembered, “yes, no way, this is the same rag that I forcibly sold before buying the patent! Yes! That’s exactly what it is!”

Having convinced himself of this, for some reason he immediately realized that now he had to go broke.

If a person is busy with something, and such a dirty trick becomes attached to him, say, it’s lost! there will be no business and there cannot be! - he reasoned almost mechanically, and suddenly he shook all over and turned pale, as if hitherto unknown fear had looked into his eyes.

But what a shame to make poor people drunk! - whispered the awakened conscience.

Wife! Arina Ivanovna! - he cried out, beside himself with fright.

Arina Ivanovna came running, but as soon as she saw what Prokhorych had made, she screamed in a voice that was not her own: “Guard! Fathers! They’re robbing!”

“And why should I, through this scoundrel, lose everything in one minute?” - thought Prokhorych, obviously hinting at the drunkard who foisted his find on him. Meanwhile, large drops of sweat appeared on his forehead.

Meanwhile, the tavern was gradually filled with people, but Prokhorych, instead of treating the visitors with the usual courtesy, to the complete amazement of the latter, not only refused to pour them

wine, but even very touchingly argued that wine is the source of all misfortune for a poor person.

If you drank one glass, that’s it! it's even beneficial! - he said through tears, - otherwise you’re trying to devour a whole bucket! So what? now you will be dragged to the unit for this very thing; in the unit they will pour it under your shirt, and you will come out as if you had received some kind of reward! And your entire reward was one hundred lozans! So think about it, dear man, is it worth trying because of this, and even paying me, a fool, your labor money!

No way, Prokhorych, you’re crazy! - the amazed visitors told him.

You're crazy, brother, if such an opportunity happens to you! - answered Prokhorych, - you’d better look at the patent I’ve straightened out for myself today!

Prokhorych showed the conscience that had been handed to him and asked if any of the visitors would like to use it. But the visitors, having learned what the matter was, not only did not express consent, but even timidly stood aside and moved away.

That's a patent! - Prokhorych added, not without anger.

What are you going to do now? - his visitors asked him.

Now I think this: there is only one thing left for me - to die! That’s why I can’t deceive now; I also don’t agree to make the poor people drunk with vodka; What should I do now except die?

Reason! - the visitors laughed at him.

“I even think so now,” continued Prokhorych, “break all this vessel that is here and pour the wine into the ditch!” Therefore, if someone has this virtue in himself, then even the very smell of fusel can turn his insides!

Just dare me! - Arina Ivanovna finally stood up, whose heart, apparently, was not touched by the grace that suddenly overshadowed Prokhorych, - look, what virtue has emerged!

But Prokhorych was already difficult to penetrate. He burst into bitter tears and kept talking and talking.

Because,” he said, “if this misfortune happened to someone, he should be so unhappy.” And he does not dare to conclude any opinion about himself that he is a trader or merchant. Because it will be one of his unnecessary worries. And he should reason about himself like this: “I am an unhappy person in this world - and nothing more.”

Thus, a whole day passed in philosophical exercises, and although Arina Ivanovna resolutely opposed her husband’s intention to break the dishes and pour the wine into the ditch, they did not sell a drop that day. By evening, Prokhorych even cheered up and, going to bed for the night, said to the crying Arina Ivanovna:

Well, here you go, my darling and dearest wife! Although we haven’t gained anything today, how easy it is for that person who has a conscience in his eyes!

And indeed, as soon as he lay down, he fell asleep. And he didn’t rush about in his sleep, and didn’t even snore, as happened to him in the old days, when he made money, but had no conscience.

But Arina Ivanovna thought about it a little differently. She understood very well that in the tavern business a conscience is not at all such a pleasant acquisition from which one could expect a profit, and therefore she decided to get rid of the uninvited guest at all costs. Reluctantly, she waited out the night, but as soon as light began to shine through the dusty windows of the tavern, she stole her sleeping husband’s conscience and rushed headlong into the street with it.

As luck would have it, it was market day; Men with carts were already arriving from neighboring villages, and the quarter overseer, Trapper, personally went to the market to monitor order. As soon as Arina Ivanovna saw the hurrying Trapper, a happy thought flashed in her head. She ran after him at full speed, and barely had time to catch up when she immediately, with amazing dexterity, quietly slipped her conscience into the pocket of his coat.

The catcher was small, not exactly shameless, but he did not like to embarrass himself and moved his paw quite freely. He looked not so impudent, but impetuous. The hands weren’t exactly too mischievous, but they willingly grabbed hold of everything that came along the way. In a word, he was a decent greedy man.

And suddenly this very man began to feel jarred.

He came to the market square, and it seemed to him that everything that was there, both on the carts, and on the lockers, and in the shops, was not his, but someone else’s. This had never happened to him before. He rubbed his shameless eyes and thought: “Have I gone crazy, am I imagining all this in a dream?” He approached one of the carts, he wants to launch his paw, but the paw does not rise; he went up to another cart and wanted to shake the man by the beard - oh, horror! arms do not stretch out!

I got scared.

“What has happened to me today? - thinks the Catcher, - after all, in this manner, I’ll probably ruin the whole thing for myself! Shouldn’t I return home for the goodness of my mind?”

However, I hoped that maybe it would pass. He began to walk around the bazaar; he looks, all kinds of living things are lying, all sorts of materials are spread out, and all this seems to say: “The elbow is close, but you won’t bite!”

Meanwhile, the men dared: seeing that the man was crazy, batting his eyes at his goods, they began to joke and began to call the Catcher Fofan Fofanych.

No, it’s some kind of illness with me! - the Catcher decided, and still without bags, empty-handed, and went home.

He returns home, and the Huntsman’s wife is already waiting, thinking: “How many bags will my dear husband bring me today?” And suddenly - not a single one. So her heart began to boil in her, and she attacked the Trapper.

Where did you put the bags? - she asks him.

In the face of my conscience I testify... - the Catcher began.

Where are your bags, they ask you?

In the face of my conscience I testify... - The Trapper repeated again.

Well, dine on your conscience until the next market, but I don’t have lunch for you! - decided the Hunter.

Trapper hung his head because he knew that Trapper’s word was firm. He took off his coat - and suddenly it was as if he was completely transformed! Since his conscience remained, along with his coat, on the wall, he again felt at ease and free, and it began to seem again that nothing in the world was foreign, but everything was his. And he felt again the ability to swallow and rake.

Well, now you won’t get away from me, my friends! - said the Catcher, rubbing his hands, and hastily began to put on his coat so that he could fly to the market in full sail.

But, lo and behold! He barely had time to put on his coat when he began to squirm again. It was as if there were two people in him: one, without a coat, shameless, raked and pawed; the other, in a coat, is shy and timid. However, even though he saw that he had no sooner left the gate than he had calmed down, he did not abandon his intention to go to the market. “Maybe, he thinks, I’ll prevail.”

But the closer he came to the bazaar, the stronger his heart beat, the more persistent was the need to come to terms with all these middle and small people who, for a penny, beat all day in the rain and slush. He has no time to look at other people's bags; his own wallet, which was in his pocket, became a burden to him, as if he suddenly learned from reliable sources that in this wallet it was not his money, but someone else’s money.

Here's fifteen kopecks for you, my friend! - he says, approaching some man and handing him a coin.

What is this for, Fofan Fofanych?

And for my previous offense, friend! forgive me, for Christ's sake!

Well, God will forgive you!

In this way he went around the entire bazaar and distributed all the money he had. However, having done this, although he felt that his heart became light, he became thoughtful.

No, some kind of illness happened to me today,” he said to himself again, “I’d better go home, and by the way, I’ll grab more beggars along the way, and I’ll feed them with what God sent!”

No sooner said than done: he recruited beggars, visibly or invisibly, and brought them to his yard. The catcher just threw up her hands, waiting to see what further mischief he would do. He slowly walked past her and said affectionately:

Here, Fedosyushka, are those very strange people whom you asked me to bring: feed them, for Christ’s sake!

But as soon as he had time to hang his coat on the nail, he again felt light and free. He looks out the window and sees that in his yard the poor brethren from all over the city have been knocked down! He sees and doesn’t understand: “Why? Is there really a lot of flogging to be done?”

What kind of people? - he ran out into the yard in a frenzy.

What kind of people are they? These are all strange people whom you ordered to feed! - the Hunter snapped.

Drive them out! in the neck! like this! - he shouted in a voice that was not his own and, like a madman, rushed back into the house.

He walked back and forth through the rooms for a long time and kept wondering what had happened to him? He was always a serviceable man, but in terms of performing his official duty he was simply a lion, and suddenly he became a rag!

Fedosya Petrovna! mother! Yes, bind me, for Christ's sake! I feel like I’m going to do things like this today that it won’t be possible to fix after a whole year! - he begged.

The Trapper also sees that the Trapper had a hard time with her. She undressed him, put him to bed and gave him something hot to drink. Only a quarter of an hour later she went into the hallway and thought: “Let me look in his coat; maybe there will be some pennies in his pockets?” I searched one pocket and found an empty wallet; I searched another pocket and found some dirty, oily piece of paper. As soon as she unfolded this piece of paper, she gasped!

So what kind of things has he done today! - she said to herself, - I got my conscience in my pocket!

And she began to think about who she could sell this conscience to, so that it would not completely burden that person, but would only cause him a little anxiety. And she came up with the idea that the best place for her would be with a retired tax farmer, and now a financier and railway inventor, the Jew Shmul Davydovich Brzhotsky.

At least this one has a thick neck! - she decided, “maybe a small thing will be beaten, but it will survive!”

Having decided thus, she carefully put her conscience into a stamped envelope, wrote Brzhotsky's address on it and put it in the mailbox.

Well, now you can, my friend, go to the market with confidence,” she told her husband upon returning home.

Samuel Davydych Brzhotsky was sitting at the dining table, surrounded by his entire family. His ten-year-old son, Reuben Samuilovich, sat next to him and performed banking transactions in his head.

And one hundred, papas, if I give this gold that you gave me in interest at twenty percent a month, how much money will I have by the end of the year? - he asked.

What percentage: simple or compound? - Samuil Davydych asked, in turn.

Of course, papasa, slimy!

If it is syllabic and has truncated fractions, then it will be forty-five rubles and seventy-nine kopecks!

So I'll give it back to my dad!

Give it back, my friend, but you just need to take a trustworthy deposit!

On the other side sat Yosel Samuilovich, a boy of about seven years old, and was also solving a problem in his mind: a flock of geese was flying; Then Solomon Samuilovich was placed, followed by Davyd Samuilovich, and they figured out how much the latter owed the former in interest for the candy they had borrowed. At the other end of the table sat the beautiful wife of Samuil Davydych, Liya Solomonovna, and held in her arms tiny Rifochka, who instinctively reached for the gold bracelets that adorned her mother’s hands.

In a word, Samuil Davydych was happy. He was about to eat some unusual sauce, decorated almost with ostrich feathers and Brussels lace, when a footman handed him a letter on a silver tray.

As soon as Samuil Davydych took the envelope in his hands, he darted in all directions, like an eel on the coals.

And this is what it is! and why bother with this whole thing for me! - he screamed, shaking all over.

Although none of those present understood anything about these screams, it became clear to everyone that the continuation of dinner was impossible.

I will not describe here the torment that Samuil Davydych endured on this memorable day for him; I will only say one thing: this man, seemingly frail and weak, heroically endured the most severe tortures, but did not even agree to return the five-alt coin.

This is a hundred ze! it's nothing! Only you dare me more, Leah! - he persuaded his wife during the most desperate paroxysms, - and if I ask the casket - no, no! Let me die!

But since there is no such difficult situation in the world from which a way out would be impossible, one was found in the present case. Samuil Davydych remembered that he had long promised to make some kind of donation to a certain charitable institution, which was run by a general he knew, but for some reason this matter was delayed from day to day. And now the case directly pointed to a means of fulfilling this long-standing intention.

Planned - done. Samuil Davydych carefully opened the envelope sent by mail, took the parcel out of it with tweezers, put it in another envelope, hid another hundred-dollar bank note there, sealed it and went to see a general he knew.

I wish, Vasya Excellency, to make a donation! - he said, placing the package on the table in front of the delighted general.

Well, sir! it is commendable! - answered the general, - I always knew that you... as a Jew... and according to the law of David... You dance and play... so, it seems?

The general was confused, because he did not know for sure whether it was David who issued the laws, or who else.

That's right, sir; Just what kind of Jews we are, Your Excellency! - Samuil Davydych hurried, already completely relieved, - only in appearance we are Jews, but in reality we are completely, completely Russian!

Thank you - said the general, - I regret one thing... as a Christian... why would you, for example?.., huh?..

Vasya Excellency... we are only in appearance... believe me, only in appearance!

However?

Vasya Excellency!

Well well well! Christ is with you!

Samuil Davydych flew home as if on wings. That same evening, he completely forgot about the suffering he had endured and came up with such an outlandish operation, to everyone’s annoyance, that the next day everyone gasped as they found out.

And for a long time the poor, exiled conscience wandered around the world in this way, and it stayed with many thousands of people. But no one wanted to shelter her, and everyone, on the contrary, was only thinking about how to get rid of her, even by deception, and get away with it.

Finally, she herself became bored with the fact that she, poor thing, had nowhere to lay her head and had to live her life among strangers, and without shelter. So she prayed to her last owner, some tradesman who was selling dust in the passage and could not get by from that trade.

Why are you tyrannizing me? - my poor conscience complained, - why are you pushing me around like some kind of pick-me-up?

What will I do with you, madam conscience, if no one needs you? - asked, in turn, the tradesman.

But here’s what,” my conscience answered, “find me a little Russian child, dissolve his pure heart before me and bury me in it!” What if he, an innocent baby, shelters and nurtures me, what if he grows me up to the extent of his age, and then comes out with me among the people - he will not disdain.

According to this word of hers, everything became so. A tradesman found a little Russian child, dissolved his pure heart and buried his conscience in him.

A little child grows, and with him his conscience grows. And the little child will be a big man, and he will have a big conscience. And then all untruths, deceit and violence will disappear, because the conscience will not be timid and will want to manage everything itself.

“Conscience disappeared suddenly... almost instantly! Just yesterday, this annoying hanger-on was just flashing before my eyes, just imagining it in my excited imagination, and suddenly... nothing!” Without conscience, it became easier for people to live; they “hurried to take advantage of the fruits of this freedom.” Robberies and robberies began, people went frantic. Conscience was lying on the road and “everyone threw it away like a worthless rag,” wondering “how in a well-ordered city and in the most lively place such a blatant disgrace could be lying around.”

One “unfortunate drunkard” picked up his conscience “in the hope of getting a scale for it.” And immediately he was overcome by fear and remorse: “out of the darkness of the shameful past” all the shameful acts he had committed emerged. However, this unfortunate and pathetic man is not alone to blame for his sins; there is a monstrous force that “twisted and turned him, as a whirlwind turns and turns an insignificant blade of grass in the steppe.” Consciousness has awakened in a person, but “shows only one way out - the way out of fruitless self-accusation.” The drunkard decided to get rid of his conscience and headed to the drinking house where a certain Prokhorych was trading. The unfortunate man slipped his conscience “in a rag” to this merchant.

Prokhorych immediately began to repent. It's a sin to make people drunk! He even began making speeches to the tavern regulars about the dangers of vodka. To some, the innkeeper offered to take his conscience, but everyone shunned such a gift. Prokhorych was even going to pour the wine into the ditch. There was no trade that day, they didn’t make a penny, but the innkeeper slept peacefully, not like in the previous days. The wife realized that it was impossible to trade with conscience. At dawn, she stole her husband’s conscience and rushed into the street with it. It was a market day, there were a lot of people on the streets. Arina Ivanovna slipped her annoying conscience into the pocket of a quarterly supervisor named Trapper.

The quarterly overseer is always given bribes. At the market, he was accustomed to looking at other people's goods as if they were his own. And suddenly he sees goodness, but understands that it is someone else’s. The men began to laugh at him - they were used to being robbed! They began to call the Catcher Fofan Fofanych. So he left the market “without bags.” The wife was offended and did not give me dinner. As soon as the Catcher took off his coat, he was immediately transformed - “it began to seem again that nothing in the world was alien, but everything was his.” I decided to go to the market to repair the damage. As soon as I put on my coat (and my conscience is in my pocket!), I again felt ashamed to rob people. By the time he reached the market, his own wallet had already become a burden to him. He started handing out money and gave everything away. Moreover, along the way he took with him “the apparently and invisibly poor” to feed them. He came home, told his wife to separate the “strange people,” and took off his coat himself... And he was surprised: why are people wandering around the yard? Flog them, or what? The beggars were kicked out, and the wife began to rummage through her husband’s pockets to see if there was a penny lying around? And I found my conscience in my pocket! The savvy woman decided that financier Samuil Davydovich Brzhotsky “would take a small beating, but he’d survive!” And she sent her conscience by mail.

Both Samuil Davydovich himself and his children are well versed in ways to extract money from anything. Even younger sons realize “how much the latter owes the former for borrowed candy.” Conscience is of no use at all in such a family. Brzhotsky found a way out. He had long promised to make a charitable donation to a certain general. The hundredth banknote (the donation itself) was accompanied by a conscience in an envelope. All this was handed over to the general.

This is how conscience was passed from hand to hand. Nobody needed her. And then conscience asked the last one in his hands: “Find me a little Russian child, dissolve his pure heart before me and bury me in it!”

“A little child grows, and conscience grows with him. And the little child will be a big man, and he will have a big conscience. And then all untruths, deceit and violence will disappear, because the conscience will not be timid and will want to manage everything itself.”

This article examines in detail Saltykov-Shchedrin’s work “Conscience Lost.” The summary and analysis will touch upon those special moral strings of the soul of a person and society as a whole. A question that has interested people for centuries, which should first of all be understood: “What is conscience?” Censor, controller, inner voice? Why is it needed if it becomes so calm without it? This and much more is discussed in an article devoted to such a difficult topic, touched upon in the work of the outstanding Russian writer M. E. Saltykov-Shchedrin “Conscience is Missing.”

About the writer

To begin with, I would like to say a few words about the writer himself, whose merits are significant and great, and the works he wrote throughout his life put him on a par with the great minds of Russia: Dostoevsky, Tolstoy, Pushkin, Chekhov.

So, Saltykov-Shchedrin was born in 1826 on January 27 (15 according to the old style) into a noble family of an old family. Giftedness, intelligence, and incredible hard work have been the writer’s faithful companions since childhood. At the age of 10 he was sent to the Moscow Noble Institute, and two years later he was transferred to the Tsarskoye Selo Lyceum for excellent studies. “For freethinking” he was exiled to Vyatka for 8 years. In 1856, due to the death of Nicholas I, the young writer returned back and resumed his writing activity. Participation in the peasant reform, the position of governor of the province and work in the Ministry of Internal Affairs became an integral part of life for the writer.

After retiring, he becomes editor-in-chief of Sovremennik magazine. Agree, an impressive list of achievements! A talented statesman and artist left an unforgettable mark on the history of his country; Saltykov-Shchedrin’s works are topical and have not lost their relevance today.

The problem of one's own imperfection

The writer more than once refers to the theme of fairy tales in his works. And now the reader is faced with an unusual situation - conscience disappears from the life of society. What happened to people? They began to feel freer, but they should not be mistaken and confuse the inspiring feeling of freedom with the feeling of permissiveness, which gives rise to chaos, aggression and anger. The human in man himself disappears, precisely what should distinguish him as a thinking, creative being, alien to destruction and collapse.

What happened to conscience? Notice how the author calls her: “annoying hanger-on,” and this is not accidental. In this way, the author makes it clear to the reader that conscience is like something living and real, in need of nourishment and care, which in turn will thank its “owner” with a grace-filled feeling of peace and self-satisfaction. And without a person, she turns into that unnecessary appendage and becomes that “annoying hanger-on.”

Further, in the work of Saltykov-Shchedrin, as an example, one can observe the peaceful sleep of the owner of a drinking establishment, who, perhaps for the first time in his life, behaved as a responsible person for his actions. Or, let’s say, the very first “master” of conscience is a drunkard who freed himself from the oppression of a wine stupor and realized all his worthlessness of existence, which is why he feels fear. But the bitter drunkard destroys only himself, he is responsible only for his actions, unlike Prokhor, the owner of a drinking establishment, who destroys so many people with his potion. Conscience gives Prokhor a feeling of relief, since for the first time in his life he acts according to his conscience. What does the author want to tell us?

The summary of “Conscience Lost” by Saltykov-Shchedrin, which we analyze in this material, covers important aspects of the life of human society. If there were a conscience nearby, there would be no drunkards in the world, and the owners of pubs would start baking bread and buns. Adults will definitely smile in this place, since each of them knows how complex our world is. But that’s why it’s a fairy tale, you might think. The fairy tale “Conscience Is Missing” is a kind of reminder for adults and a lesson for children.

Your own choice, or the power of one drop

The journey of conscience continues, but most likely it was an ordeal, which brings with it suffering and wanderings. Conscience goes to the Trapper. The author does not give a name to his character, but confines himself to only a nickname, thereby emphasizing the essence of this person. What is his fault? Unlike the first two characters, one of whom destroyed himself, and the other - others, in this case the Trapper’s sin is great and serious, he is a bribe-taker.

The next owner of conscience is a completely different person, the author paints a picture of a prosperous family of a banker, but extreme prudence is the hero’s vice, which even sells his conscience on the sly. The fairy tale “Conscience Is Missing” by Saltykov-Shchedrin, the analysis of which makes one involuntarily think about the globality and depth of the question, about whether there is a place for conscience in our world at all? How simple and difficult it is to act according to your conscience at the same time, but how easy it becomes in your soul when it is pure. How to breathe, how to live in a new way!

Understanding the concept of conscience

Turning to dictionaries, we find a definition of the concept of conscience. Conscience is a feeling and a concept at the same time; a sense of responsibility for one’s actions is woven together with an awareness of the moral principles on which the health of society should rest. This ability to distinguish between good and bad must be instilled from infancy. Parents are a kind of guides to the world who teach the child to love good and hate evil, and children, in turn, afraid of losing the love and favor of their parents, clearly and quickly absorb and assimilate exactly those concepts that their father and mother give.

Hopes placed

In the work, Saltykov-Shchedrin gives a voice to his main character - conscience. What does she ask for, what does she want? She asks to find her a little Russian child so that she can dissolve in his heart. “Why exactly in the heart of a child?” - you ask. The author thus wants to make it clear to the reader how important it is to place hopes in the younger generation, and it should be remembered that children are innocent and pure, and only adults will determine what colors their future world, conscience, and life will be filled with. The problem “Conscience is gone” by Saltykov-Shchedrin concerns that side of the human soul where the awareness of good and evil, truth and hope occurs.

Conclusion

In conclusion, summing up what has been said, I would like to note that the author of the immortal work wanted to emphasize the importance of conscience in human life, to show the reader conscience as the guardian of all those human qualities on which the best part of civilization was built. The summary of “Conscience Lost” by Saltykov-Shchedrin, analyzed in our article, we hope, will give food for thought and touch the strings of your soul, help you make the right choice, and give you peace.

No one noticed anything important was missing. Conscience... People, as before, gathered en masse on the boulevards and in the theater, worried, fussed and did not suspect that they were missing something. For many, it has even become easier to harm others, please, sneak and gossip. She disappeared suddenly, quickly. The day before, the annoying dependent had flickered before my eyes and seemed like an excited fantasy. The ghosts stopped tormenting the public, and mental anxiety calmed down. Smart people realized that they were freed from the oppression that had previously made it difficult for them to act, and they took advantage of

The freedom gained. They went into a frenzy, robberies, crimes, and general destruction began.

The unfortunate conscience was lying on the road - tortured, humiliated, disgraced. They trampled on her and threw her as far as possible. Everyone was surprised that such an absurdity was lying around in the most convenient place. The poor girl could have lain like that for a very long time, but finally she was picked up by the unfortunate drunkard, who hoped to get a check for her. Suddenly he felt as if he had been pierced with electricity. His dull gaze wandered around in search of an explanation for what had happened, and his brain began to free itself from intoxication.

Suddenly

He realized his plight, which he had been trying to drown out lately. At first he was only frightened, then he began to remember his entire shameful past, his imagination suggested details and details of betrayals and betrayals. He became afraid to judge himself, and tears of repentance flowed like a river. The drunkard saw no other way out but to free himself from his conscience, and went to the tavern where his friend Prokhorych was engaged in trade. It was to him that our drunkard put a rag with his conscience, for whom life immediately became easier.

Prokhorych immediately felt pangs of conscience and began to regret his sins: it was criminal to make the people drunk. He even began speaking to visitors to the tavern, explaining to them the harmfulness of vodka. The kisser tried to convey his conscience to some, but everyone rejected such a gift. The innkeeper even went so far as to almost destroy the wine. It was not possible to trade that evening, but he slept peacefully, not like before.

The wife guessed what was going on, why the trade was not going well, and decided to save herself from the unnecessary thing. Early in the morning, she stole a rag with its contents from her husband and ran to the market, where she threw the annoying conscience in her coat to the quarterly overseer, Lovts, who had the custom of taking bribes. He always saw market goods as property. Suddenly, out of the blue, he began to realize that other people's goods did not belong to him. Even the trading peasants began to mock, because they were accustomed to being robbed. So he returned home empty-handed. The offended wife refused to feed him lunch.

Having taken off his coat, the Catcher began to think again that everything around him belonged to him, and wanted to return to the market to compensate for what he had lost. As soon as the coat, in the pocket of which the conscience lay, was put on, the feeling of shame awoke again. Even my wallet began to put pressure. I had to give the money to passers-by. He gathered the poor and took them to his home to feed them. Finding himself without a coat again, he ordered all the invitees to be driven away. The housewife, who began to search her husband's clothes in search of a penny lying around, found her conscience. A smart woman sent it to the banker Brzhotsky. Samuil Davydovich knew all the ways to make money. Even his youngest children calculated who owed whom and how much for the candy they ate. In such a family, conscientiousness is certainly not required. The financier quickly figured out how to get rid of it. He sent the philanthropic contribution once promised to the general, adding his conscience as a free enclosure to the envelope with a hundred-dollar banknote.

So it passed from one hand to another, never staying anywhere for long. Nobody needed her. She had to beg the last person she ended up with to find a small child and give her to this baby. This is how it was done. This child is now growing up along with his conscience. When a child becomes an adult, his conscience will also grow. Then all injustices, deceptions, treachery, arbitrariness will disappear, because conscience will no longer be timid and will begin to command everyone itself.

Saltykov Shchedrin “Conscience is gone” summary

1. In Saltykov-Shchedrin’s fairy tale, the exiled conscience wandered around the world for a long time, visited many thousands of people, but no one wanted to shelter it, and everyone, on the contrary, was only thinking about how not to get rid of it. And then her conscience prayed to her last owner, some tradesman, and asked him to find a little Russian child for her. “A tradesman found a little Russian child, dissolved his pure heart and buried his conscience in him. A little child grows, and with him his conscience grows. And the little child will be a big man, and he will have a big conscience. And then all untruths, deceit and violence will disappear, because the conscience will not be timid and will want to manage everything itself.”

   This is how the fairy tale of the great Russian writer ends beautifully.

2. short? it's already militaristic
3. It's easy
4. Conscience suddenly disappeared... almost instantly! Just yesterday, this annoying hanger-on kept flashing before my eyes, seemed to me in my excited imagination, and suddenly... Nothing! Without conscience, it became easier for people to live; they hastened to take advantage of the fruits of this freedom. Robberies and robberies began, people went frantic. Conscience was lying on the road and everyone threw it away like a worthless rag, wondering how in a well-organized city and in the most lively place such a blatant disgrace could be lying around.

   One unfortunate drunkard picked up his conscience in the hope of getting a scale for it. And immediately he was overcome by fear and repentance: all the shameful acts he had committed emerged from the darkness of his shameful past. However, this unfortunate and pitiful man is not alone to blame for his sins; there is a monstrous force that twisted and turned him, as a whirlwind turns and turns an insignificant blade of grass in the steppe. Consciousness has awakened in a person, but only one way out is indicated - that of fruitless self-accusation. The drunkard decided to get rid of his conscience and headed to the drinking house where a certain Prokhorych was trading. The unfortunate conscience was slipped to this merchant in a rag.

   Prokhorych immediately began to repent. It's a sin to make people drunk! He even began making speeches to the tavern regulars about the dangers of vodka. To some, the innkeeper offered to take his conscience, but everyone shunned such a gift. Prokhorych was even going to pour the wine into the ditch. There was no trade that day, they didn’t make a penny, but the innkeeper slept peacefully, not like in the previous days. The wife realized that it was impossible to trade with conscience. At dawn, she stole her husband’s conscience and rushed into the street with it. It was a market day, there were a lot of people on the streets. Arina Ivanovna slipped her annoying conscience into the pocket of a quarterly supervisor named Trapper.

   The quarterly overseer is always given bribes. At the market, he was accustomed to looking at other people's goods as if they were his own. And suddenly he sees good, but understands that it is someone else’s. The men began to laugh at him; they were used to being robbed! They began to call the Catcher Fofan Fofanych. So he left the market without bags. The wife was offended and did not give me dinner. As soon as the Catcher took off his coat, he was immediately transformed and it began to seem again that nothing in the world was alien, but everything was his. I decided to go to the market to repair the damage. As soon as I put on my coat (and my conscience is in my pocket!), I again felt ashamed to rob people. By the time he reached the market, his own wallet had already become a burden to him. He started handing out money and gave everything away. Moreover, he took with him the beggars along the way, apparently or invisibly, to feed them. He came home, told his wife to separate the strange people, and he took off his coat... And he was surprised: what the hell. and people wandering around the yard? Flog them, or what? The beggars were kicked out, and the wife began to rummage through her husband's pockets to see if there was a penny lying around? And I found my conscience in my pocket! The savvy woman decided that the financier Samuil Davydovich Brzhotsky would take a small beating, but he would endure it! . And she sent her conscience by mail.

   Both Samuil Davydovich himself and his children are well versed in ways to extract money from anything. Even younger sons realize how much the latter owes the former for borrowed candy. Conscience is of no use at all in such a family. Brzhotsky found a way out. He had long promised to make a charitable donation to a certain general. The hundredth banknote (the donation itself) was accompanied by a conscience in an envelope. All this was handed over to the general.

   This is how conscience was passed from hand to hand. Nobody needed her. And then conscience asked the last one in his hands: Find me a little Russian child, dissolve his pure heart before me and bury me in it!

   A little child grows, and conscience grows with him. And the little child will be a big man, and he will have a big conscience. And then all untruths, deceit and violence will disappear, because the conscience will not be timid and will want to manage everything itself.