Summary of the fairy tale poor wolf. Poor wolf. Other retellings and reviews for the reader's diary

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Mikhail Evgrafovich Saltykov-Shchedrin

Poor wolf

Another animal would probably be touched by the hare’s selflessness, would not limit himself to a promise, but would now have mercy. But of all the predators found in temperate and northern climates, the wolf is the least susceptible to generosity.

However, it is not of his own free will that he is so cruel, but because his complexion is tricky: he cannot eat anything except meat. And in order to get meat food, he cannot do otherwise than deprive a living creature of life. In a word, he undertakes to commit crime, robbery.

It is not easy for him to get his food. Death is not sweet for anyone, but it is only with death that he gets in everyone’s way. Therefore, whoever is stronger defends himself from him, and someone who cannot defend himself is defended by others. Often a hungry wolf walks around, and with bruised sides to boot. At that time he will sit down, raise his snout up and howl so piercingly that for a mile around every living creature, out of fear and out of melancholy, the soul sank to its feet. And the wolf howls even more sadly, because she has wolf cubs and has nothing to feed them.

There is no animal in the world that would not hate the wolf and would not curse it. The whole forest groans at his appearance: “Damn wolf! murderer! murderer!" And he runs forward and forward, not daring to turn his head, but after him: “Robber! Life cutter! A month ago, a wolf dragged away a woman’s sheep, but the woman still hasn’t dried her tears: “Damn wolf! murderer!" And since then he hasn’t had a drop of poppy dew in his mouth: he ate the sheep, but didn’t have to slaughter the other one... And the woman howls, and he howls... how can you tell!

They say that the wolf deprives the peasant; but the man too, how angry he gets! And he beats him with a club, and fires at him with a gun, and digs wolf holes, and sets traps, and organizes raids on him. "Murderer! robber! - that's all you hear about the wolf in the villages. - slaughtered the last cow! dragged away the remaining sheep!” And what is his fault, if he cannot live in the world otherwise?

And if you kill him, he will be of no use. The meat is unusable, the skin is tough and doesn’t keep you warm. Only for selfishness, that you will have enough fun over him, the damned one, and raise him to the pitchfork alive: let him, the reptile, bleed drop by drop!

A wolf cannot live in the world without losing his stomach - that is his problem! But he doesn’t understand this. If they call him a villain, then he also calls those who persecute, maim, and kill him villains. Does he understand that with his life he is harming other lives? He thinks that he lives - that’s all. A horse carries weights, a cow gives milk, a sheep gives waves, and he robs and kills. And the horse, and the cow, and the sheep, and the wolf - they all “live”, each in their own way.

And then, however, there was one among the wolves, who had been killing and robbing for many centuries and suddenly, in his old age, began to guess that there was something wrong in his life.

This wolf lived very well from his youth and was one of the few predators who almost never went hungry. He robbed day and night, and got away with everything. He stole sheep from under the noses of the shepherds; he climbed into the courtyards of the villages; slaughtered cows; a forester was once mauled to death; A small boy, in front of everyone, was carried away from the street into the forest. He heard that everyone hated and cursed him for these deeds, but these obediences only made him more and more fierce.

“If only you could listen to what’s going on in the forest,” he said, “there isn’t a moment when there isn’t a murder there, so that some animal isn’t squealing, losing its life—so is it really worth looking at it?”

And he lived in this way, between robberies, until those years when the wolf is already called “seasoned.” He became a little heavier, but still did not give up the robbery; on the contrary, it seemed as if he had even flown. Only if he accidentally fell into the clutches of a bear. But bears don’t like wolves, because wolves attack them in gangs, and rumors often circulate in the forest that somewhere and there Mikhail Ivanovich made a mistake: the gray enemies tore his fur coat into shreds.

The bear holds the wolf in his paws and thinks: “What should I do with him, the scoundrel? if you eat it, it will wipe out your soul; if you crush it and throw it like that, you will only infect the forest with the smell of its carrion. Let me see: maybe he has a conscience. If he has a conscience, and he swears not to commit robbery in the future, I will let him go.”

- A wolf, a wolf! - said Toptygin, - do you really have no conscience?

- Oh, what are you talking about, your lordship! - answered the wolf, - is it possible to live at least one day in the world without a conscience!

“So it’s possible, as long as you live.” Think about it: every single day the only news about you is that you either skinned or stabbed to death - does this look like a conscience?

- Your dignity! let me report to you! Should I drink and eat, feed my wolf, raise wolf cubs? What resolution would you like to put forward on this matter?

Mikhail Ivanovich thought and thought, and he sees: if a wolf is supposed to exist in the world, it follows that he has the right to feed himself.

“I have to,” he says.

- But I, except for meat, no, no! If only I could take your dignity, for example: you can feast on raspberries, borrow honey from bees, and suck sheep, but for me at least none of this would happen! Yes, again, your dignity has another perk: in the winter, when you lie down in a den, you don’t need anything except your own paw. And I go through both winter and summer - there is not a moment when I don’t think about food! And all about the meat. So how will I get this food if I don’t kill or strangle it first?

The bear thought about these wolf words, but still wants to try.

“You should,” he says, “at least make it easier, or something...

- I, your lordship, make it as easy as I can. The fox is itching: it will jerk once and bounce off, then it will jerk again and bounce back again... And I grab it right by the throat - it’s a sabbath!

The bear became even more thoughtful. He sees that the wolf is telling him the truth, but he is still afraid to let him go: now he will again take up robbery.

- Repent, wolf! - speaks.

- I have nothing to repent of, Your Excellency. No one is the enemy of their life, including me; so where is my fault?

- At least promise me!

– And I can’t promise, Your Excellency. The fox promises you whatever you want, but I can’t.

What to do? The bear thought and thought, and finally decided.

“You are a most unfortunate beast—that’s what I’ll tell you!” - he said to the wolf. “I cannot judge you, although I know that I am taking a lot of sin on my soul by letting you go.” I can add one thing: if I were you, not only would I not value life, but I would consider death to be a good thing for myself! And think about these words of mine!

And he released the wolf in all four directions.

The wolf freed himself from the bear's paws and now again took up his old craft. The forest groans from it, and so does the Sabbath. Got into the habit of going to the same village; at two or three nights he slaughtered a whole herd in vain - and that was all that mattered to him. He will lie down with a full belly in the swamp, stretching and squinting his eyes. He even went to war with the bear, his benefactor, but he, fortunately, caught himself in time and only threatened him with his paw from afar.

Whether for a long time or for a short time he was so violent, however, old age finally came to him. His strength diminished, his agility disappeared, and in addition the peasant broke his spine with a log; Even though he had been resting for a while, he still didn’t look like the previous daredevil life-cutter. He will rush after the hare - but there are no legs. He will approach the forest edge, try to carry away a sheep from the herd - and the dogs will just jump and jump. He will tuck his tail and run empty-handed.

- No way, have I become afraid of dogs too? - he asks himself.

He returns to the lair and starts howling. The owl is crying in the forest, and he is howling in the swamp - the passion of the Lord, what a commotion will arise in the village!

Only one day he hunted for a lamb and dragged it by the collar into the forest. And the little lamb was the most senseless: the wolf was dragging him, but he didn’t understand. Only one thing keeps repeating: “What is it? what's happened?.."

“And I’ll show you what...rrrrrrrrrrrrrll!” – the wolf became furious.

- Uncle! I don’t want to go for a walk in the forest! I want to see my mother! I won’t, uncle, I won’t! - the lamb suddenly guessed and either bleated or sobbed: - oh, shepherd boy, shepherd boy! oh, dogs! dogs!

The wolf stopped and listened. He had slaughtered a lot of sheep in his time, and they were all somehow indifferent. Before the wolf has time to grab her, she has already closed her eyes, lies there, not moving, as if she is correcting a natural duty. And here comes the baby - and look how he’s crying: he wants to live! Ah, apparently, this greedy life is sweet for everyone! Here he is, the wolf - old, old, and he could still live about a hundred years!

And then he remembered Toptygin’s words: “If I were you, I would consider death, not life, to be a good thing for myself...” Why is this so? Why is life a blessing for all other earthly creatures, but for him it is a curse and shame?

And, without waiting for an answer, he released the lamb from the mouth, and he himself wandered, tail down, into the den, so that he could stretch his mind there at his leisure.

But this mind did not reveal anything to him, except for what he had known for a long time, namely: that there was no way for him, a wolf, to live except by murder and robbery.

He lay flat on the ground and could not lie down. The mind says one thing, but the inside lights up with something else. Whether illnesses have weakened him, whether old age has ruined him, or whether hunger has tormented him, he just can’t take back the former power over himself. It’s thundering in his ears: “Damned! murderer! Life cutter! What's wrong with the fact that he doesn't know his own free guilt? After all, you still can’t drown out curses! Oh, apparently the bear said the truth: all that remains is to lay hands on yourself!

So here again, grief: the beast - after all, he doesn’t even know how to lay hands on himself. The beast cannot do anything by itself: neither change the order of life, nor die. He lives as if in a dream, and he will die as if in a dream. Maybe the dogs will tear him to pieces or the man will shoot him; so even here he will only snore and writhe for a moment - and he’ll be gone. And where and how death came - he will not even guess.

Is it possible that he will starve himself... Nowadays he has stopped chasing hares, he only walks around the birds. He catches a young crow or a bird - that’s all he gets. So even here the other vitupers shout in unison: “Damned! damn! damn!"

Precisely the damned one. Well, how can one live only then to kill and rob? Let us suppose that they curse him unfairly, unreasonably: he does not commit robbery by his own will, but how can one not curse him! How many animals has he killed in his lifetime! How many women and men have he deprived and made unhappy for the rest of their lives!

For many years he suffered in these thoughts; only one word thundered in his ears: “Damned! damn! damn!" And he repeated to himself more and more often: “Exactly the damned one! damned is; murderer, life-cutter! And yet, tormented by hunger, he went after the prey, strangled, tore and tormented...

And he began to call for death. "Death! death! I wish you could free the animals, men and birds from me! If only you could free me from myself!” - he howled day and night, looking at the sky. And the animals and men, hearing his howl, screamed in fear: “Murderer! murderer! murderer!" He couldn’t even complain to the sky without curses raining down on him from all sides.

Finally, death took pity on him. “Lukashi” appeared in that area, and neighboring landowners took advantage of their arrival to organize a wolf hunt. One day a wolf lies in his lair and hears his name. He got up and went. He sees: the path ahead is marked with milestones, and from behind and to the sides the men are watching him. But he no longer tried to break through, but walked, head down, towards death...

And suddenly it hit him right between the eyes. Here it is...death the deliverer!

Tales of Saltykov-Shchedrin

Poor wolf

The fairy tale "Poor Wolf" continues the fairy tale "Selfless Hare". This is confirmed both by the writer’s indication that there is a connection between the named fairy tales, and by the first phrase of the fairy tale about the “poor wolf.”
In “Poor Wolf” Saltykov embodied one of his constant ideas about the socio-historical determinism of human behavior. A "predator" cannot change its nature. Hence the peculiar modification of the main image of the fairy tale under the pen of Saltykov. In the folklore tradition of many peoples, the “wolf” is a symbol of evil. Saltykov gives the “wolf” the epithet “poor” and makes the “poor wolf” exclaim with relief at the moment when he is killed: “Here it is...death the deliverer!” The zoological, “wolf” parallel to the exploiters depicted with exceptional clarity the power of the power of the general “order of things” over the souls and actions of people. Some critics saw in the tale a pessimistic “philosophy of the fatality of mutual devouring.” Meanwhile, Saltykov was not a supporter of absolute determinism; in his decision social problems he attached great, and sometimes exaggerated, importance to the moral factor; he preferred and considered possible the path of “bloodless” movement towards “social harmony.” Shunning violent methods of struggle, Saltykov constantly doubted the possibility of doing without them. The writer’s tragic thoughts about the choice of ways to combat social evil were expressed especially strongly in “Poor Wolf,” as in “Karas the Idealist.” Saltykov did not make a final choice in a positive manner. But with the whole meaning of an objective picture showing that “the beast cannot do anything by itself: neither change the order of life, nor die,” “Poor Wolf” exposed the failure of naive hopes for the mercy and generosity of the exploiters, for their peaceful and voluntary social and moral rebirth.

Poor wolf

Another animal would probably be touched by the hare’s selflessness, would not limit himself to a promise, but would now have mercy. But of all the predators found in temperate and northern climates, the wolf is the least susceptible to generosity.

There is no animal in the world that would not hate the wolf and would not curse it. The whole forest groans at his appearance: “Damn wolf! murderer! murderer!" And he runs forward and forward, not daring to turn his head, but after him: “Robber! Life cutter! A month ago, a wolf dragged away a woman’s sheep, but even now the woman has not dried her tears: “Damned wolf! murderer!" And since then he hasn’t had a drop of poppy dew in his mouth: he ate the sheep, but didn’t have to slaughter the other one... And the woman howls, and he howls... how can you tell!

They say that the wolf deprives the peasant; but the man too, how angry he gets! And he beats him with a club, and fires at him with a gun, and digs wolf holes, and sets traps, and organizes raids on him. "Murderer! robber! - one hears only about the wolf in the villages - he killed the last cow! dragged away the remaining sheep!” And what is his fault, if he cannot live in the world otherwise?

And if you kill him, he will be of no use. The meat is unusable, the skin is tough and does not warm. Only for selfishness, that you will have enough fun over him, the damned one, and raise him to the pitchfork alive: let him, the reptile, bleed drop by drop!

A wolf cannot live in the world without losing his stomach - that is his problem! But he doesn’t understand this. If they call him a villain, then he also calls those who persecute, maim, and kill him villains. Does he understand that with his life he is harming other lives? He thinks he lives - that's all. A horse carries weights, a cow gives milk, a sheep gives waves, and he robs and kills. A horse, a cow, a sheep, and a wolf - they all “live”, each in their own way.

And then, however, there was one among the wolves, who had been killing and robbing for many centuries, and suddenly, in his old age, he began to guess that there was something wrong in his life.

And he lived in this way, between robberies, until those years when the wolf is already called “seasoned.” He became a little heavier, but still did not give up the robbery; on the contrary, it seemed as if he had even flown. Only if he accidentally fell into the clutches of a bear. But bears don’t like wolves, because wolves attack them in gangs, and rumors often circulate in the forest that somewhere and there Mikhailo Ivanovich made a mistake: the gray enemies tore his fur coat to shreds.

The bear holds the wolf in his paws and thinks: “What should I do with him, the scoundrel? if you eat it, it will take your soul away; if you crush it and throw it like that, you will only infect the forest with the smell of its carrion. Let me see: maybe he has a conscience. If he has a conscience, and he swears not to commit robbery in the future, I will let him go.”

Wolf, oh wolf! - said Toptygin, - do you really have no conscience?

Oh, what are you, your dignity! - answered the wolf, - is it possible to live at least one day in the world without a conscience!

Therefore, it is possible, if you live. Think about it: every single day the only news about you is that you either skinned or stabbed to death - does that look like a conscience?

Your dignity! let me report to you! Should I drink and eat, feed my wolf, raise wolf cubs? What resolution would you like to put forward on this matter?

Mikhailo Ivanovich thought and thought and saw: if a wolf is supposed to exist in the world, it follows that he has the right to feed himself.

“I have to,” he says.

But I, except for meat, no, no! If only I could take your dignity, for example: you can feast on raspberries, borrow honey from bees, and suck sheep, but for me at least none of this would happen! Yes, again, your dignity has another perk: in the winter, when you lie down in a den, you don’t need anything except your own paw. And I go through both winter and summer - there is not a moment when I don’t think about food! And all about the meat. So how will I get this food if I don’t kill or strangle it first?

The bear thought about these wolf words, but still wants to try.

“You should,” he says, “at least take it easy, or something...

I, your lordship, make it as easy as I can. The fox is itching: it will jerk once and bounce off, then it will jerk again and bounce back again... And I grab it right by the throat - it’s a sabbath!

The bear became even more thoughtful. He sees that the wolf is telling him the truth, but he is still afraid to let him go: now he will take up robbery again.

Repent, wolf! - speaks.

There is nothing for me, your lordship, to repent of. No one is the enemy of their life, including me; so where is my fault?

At least promise me!

And I can’t promise, Your Excellency. The fox promises you whatever you want, but I can’t.

What to do? The bear thought and thought, and finally decided.

You are a most unfortunate beast - that’s what I’ll tell you! - he said to the wolf. “I can’t judge you, although I know that I’m taking a lot of sin on my soul by letting you go.” I can add one thing: if I were you, not only would I not value life, but I would consider death to be a good thing for myself! And think about these words of mine!

And he released the wolf in all four directions.

The wolf freed himself from the bear's paws and now again took up his old craft. The forest groans from it, and so does the Sabbath. Got into the habit of going to the same village; at two or three nights he slaughtered a whole herd in vain - and it was no good for him. He will lie down with a full belly in the swamp, stretching and squinting his eyes. He even went to war with the bear, his benefactor, but he, fortunately, caught himself in time and only threatened him with his paw from afar.

No way, have I become afraid of dogs too? - he asks himself.

He returns to the lair and starts howling. The owl is sobbing in the forest, and he is howling in the swamp with the passion of the Lord, what a commotion will arise in the village!

Only one day he hunted for a lamb and dragged it by the collar into the forest. But the little lamb was the most senseless: the regiment was dragging him, but he didn’t understand. Only one thing keeps repeating: “What is it? what's happened?.."

And I’ll show you what it’s like...rrrl! - the wolf became furious.

Uncle! I don’t want to go for a walk in the forest! I want to see my mother! I won’t, uncle, I won’t! - the lamb suddenly guessed and either bleated or sobbed, - ah, shepherd boy, shepherd boy! oh, dogs! dogs!

And, without waiting for an answer, he released the lamb from the mouth, and he himself wandered, tail down, into the den, so that he could stretch his mind there at his leisure.

But this mind did not reveal anything to him, except for what he had known for a long time, namely: that there was no way for him, a wolf, to live except by murder and robbery.

Is it possible that he will starve himself... Nowadays he has stopped chasing hares, he only walks around the birds. If he catches a young crow or bird - that's all he gets. So even here the other vitupers shout in unison: “Damned! damn! damn!"

Finally, death took pity on him. “Lukashi” appeared in that area, and neighboring landowners took advantage of their arrival to organize a wolf hunt. One day a wolf lies in his lair and hears his name. He got up and went. He sees: the path ahead is marked with bellows, and men are watching him from behind and to the sides. But he no longer tried to break through, but walked, head down, towards death...

And suddenly it hit him right between the eyes.

Here it is...death the deliverer!

Have you read the fairy tale: Poor Wolf: Saltykov Shchedrin M E (Mikhail Evgrafovich).
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Classics of literature (satires) from the collection of works for reading (stories, fairy tales) of the best, famous writers: Mikhail Evgrafovich Saltykov-Shchedrin. .................