The image of the mother in Russian literature. The image of the mother in fiction The image of the mother in Russian literature

“About the one who gives life and warmth”
(mothers in the lives of great writers and poets)

The purpose of the lesson: Formation and development of personality culture based on the highest humanistic values ​​of humanity’s attitude towards motherhood through the means of art and modern technology.

Epigraphs:

A mother's heart is the only fireproof capital that can always be paid at any time. (Montegas).

There is no flower in the world, no field, no sea, no pearl like a child on its mother’s lap. (O. Wilde).

Mom is the most beautiful word spoken by a person. (Kyle Gibran).

“Without the sun, flowers do not bloom, without love there is no happiness, without a woman there is no love, without a mother there is neither a poet nor a hero, all the pride of the world comes from Mothers!” (Maksim Gorky)

Presentation. (1-5 slides) The song “Mama” performed by M. Magomayev is played.

1. About the one who gives life and warmth,

Sounding like a lullaby,

About the one who has us in limitless patience

Grows, nurtures, puts on the wing.

About mother...

Why are the days so fast?

Why so quietly and without asking?

Her gray hair is woven into her thick braid?..

…It smelled of cold, the bitterness of loss...

Flying from the mountains, swirling in the gorges of the mountains,

The river flow cannot be reversed.

…You will be left without your dear mother -

You will understand a hundred times more clearly what a mother means.

Not the first, not the last on earth

I shout: “And who came up with this?”

Earth and sky give no answer,

Distant lightning extinguishes in the darkness...

Should you be born late or early?

At least for this world,

To say the name “mother” for the first time,

Which is more sacred in the world. A. Shaikhiev.

What could be more sacred in the world than the name of a mother? All the most precious shrines are named and illuminated by the name of the mother, because the very concept of life is associated with this name. In relation to the mother, we determine what kind of person is.

The word “mother” is special. It is born with us, accompanies us throughout our lives, and leaves with us.

Try to arrange your friends, acquaintances, relatives in order of importance.

cov. Difficult…

Traditionally, you can start with relatives. But the degree of closeness and spiritual kinship can be greater with a friend...

Let's say, after racking your brain, you completed the task. But can the list be considered final? Sometimes it is necessary for a new person to appear so that everyone else fades into the background. Anything can happen. But no changes can force us to “reconsider” the role and significance of the person who gave us life.

Mom is off the list, her place in our lives is completely special, exceptional...

Motherhood goes beyond the usual forms of human connections - professional, friendly, love, and at the same time contains all their grains, because the mother carries the idea of ​​​​a person. Mom creates new lives and thereby passes the baton of the human race, acts as a connecting link between generations.

Is it a coincidence that a child who cannot speak says “Mom” before all the words?

And if we turn to the etymological dictionary of the Russian language, we will read there that the word “MOM” is formed by the children themselves at the babbling stage by doubling the syllable “MA”. This word sounds almost the same in many languages: Russian, Bulgarian, Czech, Polish, Lithuanian, Albanian, Armenian.

And in Avar it is affectionately “baba”.

From thousands of words of earth and ocean

This one has a special destiny.

Our lullaby becoming the first word of the year,

It sometimes entered a smoky circle

And on the lips of a soldier in the hour of death

The last call suddenly became.

There are no shadows on this word,

And in silence, probably because

Other words, kneeling,

I want to confess to him.

The spring, indicating a favor to the jug,

This word babbles because

What the mountain peak remembers -

She was known as his mother.

And lightning will cut through the cloud again,

And I will hear, following the rain,

How, absorbed into the ground, this word

Causes raindrops.

I’ll sigh secretly, grieving about something,

And hiding a tear in the clear light of day,

“Don’t worry,” I tell my mother, “

Everything is fine, dear, I am.”

Constantly worries about his son

Holy love is a great slave.

In Russian “mama”, in Georgian “nana”,

And in Avar it is affectionately “baba”. R. Gamzatov

At all times, famous poets and artists have dedicated their best works to the dearest people in the world - mothers who give us life, sing songs while sitting by our cribs, stroke our heads when things are unbearably difficult for us, and love us just the way we are. there is - not for something, but just like that. “There is no better academy than a mother’s knee,” these words were said more than two centuries ago by the poet, critic and publicist, professor at Harvard University James Russell Lowell.

Today in class we will learn about how the greatest people of Russia, poets and writers, treated mothers; and I think their attitude towards the most dear people will become a good example for you.

Slides 6-7.

2. Leo Tolstoy was forever separated from his mother on the day of her death on August 4, 1830. Maria Nikolaevna Volkonskaya was then 30 years old, and her son would turn two years old in a few weeks. In his unfinished “Memoirs” (1903-1906), Tolstoy admits that he cannot remember his mother, but retained her spiritual appearance intact in his memory: “I was born and spent my first childhood in the village of Yasnaya Polyana. I don’t remember my mother at all. I was 1/2 year old when she passed away. By a strange coincidence, not a single portrait of her remains, so I cannot imagine her as a real physical being. I’m even glad about this, because in my idea of ​​her there is only her spiritual appearance, and everything that I know about her is wonderful, and I think - not only because everyone who told me about my mother tried to talk about She only had good things, but because there really was a lot of this good in her.”
On March 10, 1906, when Lev Nikolaevich Tolstoy was 78 years old, he made the following entry on a separate piece of paper:

« A dull, melancholy state all day long. By evening this state turned into tenderness - a desire for affection - love. I wanted, as in childhood, to cling to a loving, pitying creature and tenderly cry and be consoled. But who is this being that I could cling to like this? I go through all the people I love - not a single one is good. Who should I cling to? To become small and to my mother, as I imagine her. Yes, yes, mummy, whom I have never called before, not being able to speak. Yes, she is my highest idea of ​​pure love, but not cold, divine, but earthly, warm, maternal. My best, tired soul was drawn to this one. You, Mama, caress me. It's all crazy, but it's all true."

Slides 8-10.

3. Fyodor Mikhailovich Dostoevsky spoke about one unforgettable meeting with N.A. Nekrasov: “He spoke to me then with tears about his childhood, about the ugly life that tormented him in his parents’ home, about his mother - and the way he spoke about his mother, the power of tenderness with which he remembered her, gave rise to a premonition “that if there is anything sacred in his life that could save him and serve as a beacon for him, a guiding star even in the darkest and fateful moments of his fate, then this, of course, is his mother, the being who loved him so much.”

He remains faithful to his mother all his life. All his work is imbued with the idea of ​​motherhood. Mother is the main, central character of Nekrasov’s poetry. The poet showed the world images of amazing spiritual beauty.

This is Daria (“Frost the Red Nose”), and Orina, the soldier’s mother, and the wives of the Decembrists. And above all of them rises the image of the poet’s mother, who was his guiding star.

See me, darling!

Appear as a light shadow for a moment!

You've lived your whole life unloved,

You have lived your whole life for others.

With a head open to the storms of life,

All my life under an angry thunderstorm

She stood with her breasts

Protecting beloved children.

And the storm broke over you!

You took the blow without flinching,

While dying, I prayed for my enemies,

God's mercy called upon the children.

Is it really after years of suffering

The one who honored you so much,

Will not send you the joy of a date

With your dying son?..

I'm spinning my many years

I’ll pour it on my birthplace,

I'll give you my last song,

I'll sing my bitter song.

Oh sorry! this is not a song of consolation,

I'll make you suffer again

But I'm dying - and for the sake of salvation

I call on your love!

I sing to you a song of repentance,

So that your gentle eyes

Washed away with a hot tear of suffering

All shameful spots are mine!

So that that free, proud force,

What did you put in my chest?

You strengthened me with a strong will

And she set the path on the right... N.A. Nekrasov

Such verses are said to be “written in the blood of the heart”...

Slides 11-13.

4. As a seventeen-year-old boy, Anton Pavlovich Chekhov wrote to his cousin Mikhail:

“My father and mother are the only people for me on the entire globe for whom I will never regret anything. If I stand high, then this is the work of their hands, they are glorious people, and their boundless love for children puts them above all praise, covers up all their shortcomings that may arise from a bad life, prepares for them a soft and short path on which they believe and hope like few.”

And the most remarkable thing is that Chekhov remained faithful to these youthful words all his life.

Ivan Andreevich Bunin recalls: “At lunch and dinner he ate little, almost always got up from the table and walked back and forth around the dining room, stopping near

guest and intensely treating him, and all with a joke, with a well-aimed word. He stopped near his mother and, taking a fork and knife, began to finely cut the meat, always with a smile and in silence.”

It would seem like just a simple household detail, but behind all this one sees soft, delicate care for mom.

Vladimir Ivanovich Nemirovich - Danchenko, Russian playwright and director, founder, wrote: “He had the most tender attitude towards his mother. His thoughtfulness reached the point that, wherever he went, he wrote her at least two lines every day.”

Slides 14-15.

5. The first collection of poems by Sergei Yesenin, which was published in 1916, was called “Radunitsa”. What does this word mean? B.I. Dahl suggests in his dictionary that it comes from the word “to care,” which means “to show care, diligence, patronize.” Throughout his short and troubled life, Sergei Yesenin showed concern and cared for the person closest to him - his mother, Tatyana Fedorovna. She played a big role in his life. S. Yesenin dedicated these heartfelt lines to his mother:

The snow jam is crushed and pricked,

The chilled moon shines from above.

Again I see my native outskirts,

Through the snowstorm there is a light at the window.

We are all homeless, how much do we need?

What was given to me is what I sing about.

Here I am again at my parents' dinner,

I see my old lady again.

He looks, and his eyes are watering, watering,

Quietly, silently, as if without pain.

Wants to take the tea cup -

The tea cup slips from your hands.

Sweet, kind, old, gentle,

Don't be friends with sad thoughts,

Listen, to this snowy harmonica

I'll tell you about my life.

I have seen a lot and I have traveled a lot,

I loved a lot and suffered a lot,

And that’s why he behaved and drank,

That I have never seen anyone better than you.

So again I’m warming myself by the couch,

He took off his shoes and took off his jacket.

I'm alive again and I hope again

Just like in childhood, for a better destiny.

And outside the window, under the blizzard sobs,

In the wild and noisy blizzard,

It seems to me that the linden trees are crumbling,

White linden trees in our garden. S. Yesenin

Slides 16-17.

In 1923-1925 S. Yesenin lived in a communal apartment on Bryusovsky Lane. His sisters, Katya and Shura, also lived here, and Tatyana Fedorovna came here from Konstantinov. Yesenin wrote about one of her visits on March 6, 1925: “My mother arrived yesterday, I’m in the family, happy as hell.”

In 1925, in the last year of his life, Yesenin was at home five times. The poet dedicates three poems to his mother, Tatyana Fedorovna.

Writer Ivan Evdokimov recalls Yesenin’s first reading of the poem “Letter to a Mother”: “I remember how a small, cold shock went down my back when I heard:

She was very sad about me,

In an old-fashioned, shabby shushun.

I looked sideways at him: the extremely sad and mournful figure of the poet was dark at the window...

Our white garden looks like spring...

Slide 18. “Letter to Mother” performed by A. Malinin.

Are you still alive, my old lady?

I'm alive too. Hello, hello!

Let it flow over your hut

That evening unspeakable light.

They write to me that you, harboring anxiety,

She was very sad about me,

That you often go on the road

In an old-fashioned, shabby shushun.

And to you in the evening blue darkness

We often see the same thing:

It's like someone is in a tavern fight for me

I stabbed a Finnish knife under my heart.

Nothing, dear! Calm down.

This is just a painful nonsense.

I'm not such a bitter drunkard,

So that I can die without seeing you.

I'm still as gentle

And I only dream about

So that rather from rebellious melancholy

Return to our low house.

I'll be back when the branches spread out

Our white garden looks like spring.

Only you have me already at dawn

Don't be like eight years ago.

Don't wake up what was dreamed of

Don't worry about what didn't come true -

Too early loss and fatigue

I have had the opportunity to experience this in my life.

And don’t teach me to pray. No need!

There is no going back to the old ways anymore.

You alone are my help and joy,

You alone are an unspeakable light to me.

So forget about your worries,

Don't be so sad about me.

Don't go on the road so often

In an old-fashioned, shabby shushun. S. Yesenin

Such a simple poem, and every time you hear it, your heart sank.

From what?

It concerns each of us. We all feel guilty about our mother.

We offend and worry mothers, but they forgive everything and wait for the “return of the prodigal son,” regardless of whether he is famous or modest, poor or rich, healthy or sick. The poet found poignant tender words for his mother.

6. I light a candle with words on the table: When he first left his native saklya, setting off on a journey, his mother placed a lit lamp on the window. He walked, turned around, walked again, but the light of his home blinked at him through the fog and darkness.

Slides 19-20.

The light on the small window blinked at him through many years as he traveled around the world...

Once R. Gamzatov complained: “A person always does not have enough time for friends, for the stars, in order to bow to his mother’s grave... Every writer has a secret dream: to someday write his cherished, best book. But it’s precisely for this that we don’t have enough time... an hour of thought....”

You can take the liberty and freely combine the main ideas of this statement: the poet found an hour of reflection about his mother, the poet bowed with a high filial word, writing the poem “Take care of mothers.” Reading it, you think: no, this is not an hour of reflection, this is a year, years, a whole life. This word cannot come overnight, right away.

Rasul Gamzatov dedicated the poem to all mothers who are “the soul of the home and the world”; without which there is no life on earth.

Listen to an excerpt from this poem - the scene of farewell between father and son:

Are you son? –

The eyelids opened slightly.

The look lit up a little - and went out.

I will never forget this night.

The hour of farewell has come.

I fell under the hooves of death,

Apparently, I got into the stirrup on the wrong foot...

Take care of the soul of the house, take care of your mother;

Do you hear, my son, take care of your mother!

And he fell silent forever, his father was gone...

But with the sound of an interrupted line

Everything around was humming, rumbling,

Repeated:

Take care of your mom!

The rain poured down and everything in the mountains got wet,

Circles scattered across the water...

I hear: through the roof, through the glass

The drops pray:

Take care of your mom!

I hear the leaves whispering behind the wall:

Mom, this is a native tree!

Mother is the whole world, both groves and fields.

The weather is raging furiously.

You can't see anything in the black sky...

Asks every hour of any year:

The soul of the world - take care of your mother! R. Gamzatov

7.The theme of maternal love, love for a mother is truly inexhaustible.

“All the pride in the world comes from mothers,” said Maxim Gorky, “without the sun flowers do not bloom, without love there is no happiness, without a woman there is no love, without a mother there is neither a poet nor a hero.”

Today our interlocutors were great poets and writers.

But you can also say your words about the people closest and dearest to you, your mothers. (Students' essays and poems). ( Slides 21,22)

8. And I want to finish our lesson with the lines of Rasul Gamzatov:

Everyone stand up and listen while standing
Preserved in all its glory
This word is ancient, holy!
Straighten up! Get up! Stand up everyone!
This word will never deceive you,
There is a life hidden in it,
It is the source of everything.
There is no end to it.
Stand up, I say it: Mom!
I sing of what is eternally new.
And although I’m not singing a hymn at all,
But a word born in the soul
Finds its own music...
This word is a call and a spell,
This word contains the soul of existence.
This is the first spark of consciousness,
Baby's first smile.
This word will never deceive you,
The being of Life is hidden in it.
It is the source of everything.
There is no end to it. Stand up!...
I pronounce it: Mom!

Slide 23. The song “This is the word mom” is performed by V. Kikabidze.

I.Introduction…………………………………………………….......page 2

II. Main part:

II .1My guiding star……………………………………..p. 3

II .2Female images in literature………………………………p. 4

II .3Immortality in time………………………………….....p. 5-7

II .4Holy pages of poetry………………….…………....…p. 8-10

II .5Literature that said so much about mother…………..p. 11-12

II .6The arts are different, but the theme is the same…………………...p. 13-14

III. Micro-study No. 1……………………………..…..… page 15

IV. Conclusion………………………………………………………pp. 16

V. Bibliography……………………………….…p. 17

VI. Applications

I. Introduction.

The topic of my research work is “The image of the mother in fiction.” I decided to write this work because I was interested in understanding why writers, poets, as well as artists and musicians often devote their works to mothers and make them the heroines of stories, novels, poems, paintings...

Mom... This is the most beautiful word that a child utters, and the mother’s heart skips a beat. “Mom, mommy,” he repeats, and the woman is already ready to fly, to break out of her bodily shell, ready to scream to the whole world that the little man to whom she gave life said her Name. And this word sounds in all the languages ​​of the world equally tenderly: in Russian “mama”, Ukrainian “nenka”, in English “mother”, Uzbek “aba”... Yes, now for many years the word “mama” in its various interpretations will become the name of a young woman.

The word “mother” is a special word. It is born, as it were, with us, accompanies us in adulthood, and with it we pass away from life. Mom is the dearest, closest, dearest person. When Valentina Tereshkova returned from space flight, she was a somewhat unexpected question was asked: “Who is your favorite person?” Valentina answered with one short, precise, beautiful word: “Mom.”*

I believe that this topic is relevant, since our time has added certain difficulties to the already difficult relationship between “fathers and children.” I know not only loving sons and daughters, but indifferent and cruel ones who are often offended by their mothers and push them away with our love. But it is the love given to us by our mothers that makes us more sensitive, receptive. This love is pure and innocent, like a drop of dew in the morning and it cannot be compared with any other feeling on Earth. It is in maternal love that life-giving power lies. capable of performing miracles. Isn't that her strength?

Job objectives:

Identify your personal relationship with your mother.

Tell us what place female characters occupy in fiction.

Determine what contribution writers and poets made by saying so many good words to our mothers, and what influence did the image of the mother have on artists and musicians?

Show the immortality of the Mother's image in time.

Conduct a micro-study on the relationship between my peers and their mother.

1* Digest “Mommy, beloved, dear” page 25.

1. My guiding star.

Mom is the dearest, closest, dearest person, this is the most sacred thing in my life, both now and when I become an adult. I grow by being next to her, and this growth is not only physical, but also mental. Together, hand in hand, we climb the steps of improvement. Mom looks at the world from the position of a mature, more experienced person, and I grab onto everything I see interesting in the world. I think that in our conversations a certain truth is born for both of us. And as soon as we learn something new, we share our knowledge with each other. My mother always strives to learn something new, unusual, to discover for herself the life processes that occur on Earth and in the Universe. And I walk along the path of life next to her, gaining the knowledge that I strive for. We learn together to experience life in all its manifestations.

We are part of something big and bright. We are one. It happened that we were even mistaken for sisters, friends, this unity makes us so happy. And I can firmly, proudly and confidently say that my Mom is not only my Teacher, but also a close Friend who will never let me down, who will always help and support. Thanks to her, I know that there is a way out of any situation, that you can look at everything from the other side and understand that petty human troubles are not worth your mental energy. And I know that when I go out on the “high road” of life, I will not give up at the first failure, but will remember the love and kindness that my mother gave me, and the most beautiful of flowers will bloom in my soul - gratitude.

There are wonderful lines from L. Konstantinova’s poem about my mother, which I often remember:

In the pink kingdom of distant childhood

I remember your motherly heart,

A big heart is so reliable,

It would be impossible to live without you!

I've gotten older, and you've gotten closer,

The beautiful image is filled with love.

I am tied to you with this love,

I owe every eyelash to you.

For such love it’s impossible for me

Don't pay, don't pay more,

This motherly love counts.

I know my debt will never be paid.

You taught me a lot in life,

She raised me with a good example and care!

Your path, like a feat, glows with courage,

How I want to meet you in eternity,

How I don't want to lose you

On the day when we meet the Lord,

But as long as my heart can beat,

I will pray harder for you!*

2*The air of childhood and why home...: poems by Russian poets - M.: MOL. Guard p.337.

2. Female images in literature.

What could be more sacred in the world than the name of a mother!..

A man who has not yet taken a single step on the ground and is just beginning to babble, hesitantly and diligently puts together “ma-ma” syllable by syllable and, feeling his luck, laughs, happy...

The farmer, blackened from sleepless work, presses a handful of the same dark earth, enough to give birth to rye and wheat, to his parched lips and says gratefully: “Thank you, nurse-mother...”.

A soldier who stumbled upon an oncoming fragment and fell to the ground, with a weakening hand, sends the last bullet to the enemy: “For the Motherland!”

All the most precious shrines are named and illuminated by the name of the mother, because the very concept of life is associated with this name.

Happy is the one who, from childhood, has known maternal affection and has grown up under the caring warmth and light of his mother’s gaze; and to death he suffers and is tormented by the loss of the most precious creature in the world - his mother, and even, even ending his seemingly not in vain and usefully lived life, he cannot, without tears and bitterness, remember this unhealed pain, this terrible damage that burdened him unmerciful fate. It is no coincidence that we respond with all our hearts to the final lines of Vasily Kazin’s poem “On the Mother’s Grave”:

Both grief and bewilderment are oppressive,

My being is stuck like a nail,

I'm standing - your living continuation,

A beginning that has lost its own.*

With what respect and gratitude we look at a man who reverently pronounces the name of his mother until his gray hair and respectfully protects her old age. And with contempt we execute the one who forgot about the woman who gave birth to and raised him, and in her bitter old age turned away from her, denied her a good memory, a piece or shelter.

But people measure their attitude towards a person by the attitude of a person to his mother....

It is impossible not to notice that with all the understanding and often sympathy for childless women, folk literature, although good-naturedly, does not miss the opportunity to make fun of such people. And often lonely old women, unfamiliar with maternal feelings, are portrayed as grumpy, suspicious, stingy, and callous. The poet S. Ostrovoy was probably right when he said: “The most beautiful thing in the world is a woman with a child in her arms.”*

Female images in literature are a special topic. They play different roles in works: sometimes they are direct participants in events, often the plot without them would not have such an emotional mood and colorfulness. But of all the female images, our favorite is the image of the mother.

3* Hour of Courage p. 137.

4* Encyclopedia of Thought p. 195.

3. Immortality in time.

The people always honored the Mother! In oral poetry since ancient times, her appearance has been endowed with the brightest features: she is the keeper of the family hearth, the protector of her own children, the caretaker for all the disadvantaged and offended.

It is no coincidence that people also have many good, affectionate words about their mother. We don’t know who said them for the first time, but they are very often repeated in life and passed on from generation to generation: “There is no sweeter friend than dear mother,” “It’s light in the sun, it’s warm in mother’s time,” “The bird is happy about spring, but mother’s baby”, “He who has a uterus has a smooth head”, “My dear mother is an unquenchable candle”, etc.*

So many things have been invented and written about mother, so many poems, songs, thoughts! Is it possible to say something new?!

There are many examples when the heroism of a woman-mother saved her children and her relatives.

One such example is Avdotya Ryazanochka from a folk tale about the courage of a simple woman - a mother. This epic is remarkable in that it was not a man - a warrior, but a woman - a mother - who “won the battle with the horde.” She stood up to defend her relatives, and thanks to her courage and intelligence, “Ryazan went to full strength.”

Here it is - the immortality of true poetry, here it is - the enviable length of its existence in time!

But in printed literature, which for well-known reasons was initially the lot of only representatives of the upper classes, the image of the mother remained in the shadows for a long time. Perhaps he was not considered worthy of a high style, or perhaps the reason for this phenomenon is simpler and more natural: after all, then, noble children, as a rule, were taken to raise not only tutors, but also wet nurses, and children of the noble class, in contrast to peasant children , were artificially removed from their mother and fed with the milk of other women. Therefore, there was, albeit not fully conscious, a dulling of filial feelings, which could not, ultimately, not affect the work of future poets and prose writers.

It is no coincidence that Pushkin did not write a single poem about his parent and so many lovely poetic dedications to his nanny Arina Rodionovna, whom, by the way, the poet often affectionately and carefully called “mummy.” The most famous of the nanny’s dedications is called “Nanny”:

Friend of my harsh days,

My decrepit dove!

Alone in the wilderness of pine forests

You've been waiting for me for a long, long time.

You are under the window of your little room

You're grieving like you're on a clock,

And the knitting needles hesitate every minute

In your wrinkled hands.

You look through the forgotten gates,

On a black distant path;

Longing, premonitions, worries

Your chest is constantly being squeezed...

5* Digest “Mommy, beloved, dear” page 25.

6* A. S. Pushkin. Favorites. Poem “Nanny” - page 28.

The theme of the mother sounded truly deeply and powerfully only in democratic poetry. And here it is necessary, first of all, to name the great Russian poet Nikolai Alekseevich Nekrasov, who created a surprisingly integral and capacious type of peasant woman - mother. It is unlikely that anyone else has sung the praises of woman, mother and wife as reverently and reverently as Nekrasov. Suffice it to recall the titles of his works: “There are women in Russian villages”, “The village suffering is in full swing”, “Orina, the soldier’s mother”, “A knight for an hour”, “Hearing the horrors of war”, the chapter “Demushka” from the poem “To whom on It’s good to live in Rus'”, which alone constitute a kind of anthology...

His poems addressed to his early deceased mother (“A Knight for an Hour”)* are perhaps the most heartfelt in all of world poetry:

See me, darling!

Appear as a light shadow for a moment!

You've lived your whole life unloved,

You have lived your whole life for others...

I sing to you a song of repentance,

So that your gentle eyes

Washed away with a hot tear of suffering

All shameful spots are mine! ...

I'm not afraid of friends' regrets,

It doesn't hurt the enemies' triumph,

Speak only a word of forgiveness,

You, deity of purest love! …*

It is impossible to read the lines filled with high meaning without inner awe and deep complicity:

Listening to the horrors of war,

With every new casualty of the battle

I feel sorry for not my friend, not my wife,

I feel sorry for not the hero himself...

Alas! the wife will be comforted,

And the best friend will forget his friend.

But somewhere there is one soul -

She will remember it to the grave!

Among our hypocritical deeds

And all sorts of vulgarity and prose

I've spied the only ones in the world

Holy, sincere tears -

Those are the tears of poor mothers!

They will not forget their children,

Those who died in the bloody field,

How not to pick up a weeping willow

Its drooping branches...*

7* Nekrasov N.A. Complete works in 15 volumes. T.2-L. "Science", 1981 - p.258.

8* Nekrasov N.A. Complete works in 15 volumes. T.2-L. “Science”, 1981 p. 26

Regional essay competition,

Dedicated to All-Russian Mother's Day

Job title:“The image of a woman-mother in Russian literature.”

Genre essay-argument

Class______8

OU______Ukhovskaya school

Teacher's full name ______ Vavilova E.V.

2016-2017 academic year

We will forever glorify

That woman whose name is Mother!

M. Jalil

Mom is a word that every person has undoubtedly used in his life, but it is not enough just to use this word. We all, every person should remember one thing: mother is not just a word, it is the meaning of life. Mom is our best friend and wise adviser. That is why the image of the mother becomes one of the main ones in literature.

I believe that a woman is such a miracle,

Which one cannot be found on the Milky Way,

And if "love" is a sacred word,

That thrice sacred thing is “woman is mother.”

What is a mother's love and smile? What does it mean to love your mother? A mother's smile is what will warm a person, no matter where he is, no matter what he does. This is what Tatyana Shorygina talked about in her poem:

There's nothing sweeter
Mom's smile -
As if the light of the sun will flash,
The unsteady darkness will be dispelled!

Like a tail flashing,
Gold fish -
Will bring joy to the heart
Mom's smile!

Russian literature is great and diverse. Its civil and social resonance and significance are undeniable. One of the sacred pages in our literature, dear and close to any unhardened heart, is works about mothers. What could be more sacred in the world than the word “mother”!..

But there was a fire - not going out,

Shined in the annex at night,

And my mother walked there all night,

Without closing my eyes until dawn.

She flickered a candle

Covered up with an old book

And, placing the child on your shoulder,

She sang and walked around...

The soldier sends the last bullet to the enemy: “For the Motherland!” All the most expensive shrines are named and endowed with the name of the mother, because the very concept of life is associated with this name.

Mom... The dearest and closest person. Mom is our guardian angel. A mother's loving heart always belongs to her children. “All love, all the feelings that are tender and passionate in a woman, everything turned into one maternal feeling,” writes N.V. Gogol in the story “Taras Bulba.”

The theme of the mother is truly deeply illuminated by N.A. Nekrasov. In his works there is a certain ascending triad of development of this image, moreover, the idea of ​​the mother: mother, mother-homeland, mother - the highest ideal principle.

In the poem “Bayushki-Bayu” the mother is the last refuge in the face of all losses, the loss of the muse, in the face of death itself. Mother consoles and forgives:

Just yesterday human anger

I have offended you;

It's all over, don't be afraid of the grave!

You will no longer know evil!

Do not be afraid of slander, my dear,

You paid her tribute alive,

Do not be afraid of the unbearable cold:

I will bury you in the spring.

“Bayushki-Bayu” together with the poem “Mother” were included in the collection, which became, as it were, the poet’s poetic testament.

In the works of M.Yu. Lermontov, the image of the mother occupies a special place. In the poem “Caucasus” he writes:

In my infancy I lost my mother.
But it seemed that in the pink evening the hour

That steppe repeated a memorable voice to me.

And he puts words permeated with pain and suffering into the mouth of Mtsyri (poem “Mtsyri”):

I couldn't tell anyone

The sacred words "father" and "mother".

Nekrasov's traditions are reflected in the poetry of S.A. Yesenin, a wonderful Russian poet. The image of the mother begins to appear most clearly in Yesenin in the last years of his work. Disillusioned with a number of his own beliefs and ideals, the poet turns to the image of his mother and home as the only refuge for a person in the gloomy world of harsh reality. It is here that the hero of his works seeks peace and harmony. In the poem “Letter to Mother” Yesenin writes:

Are you still alive, my old lady?

I'm alive too. Hello, hello!

Let it flow over your hut

That evening unspeakable light.

The poet Dmitry Kedrin in his poem “Mother’s Heart” showed that a mother’s heart can forgive everything:

He puts her heart on a colored towel

Kohane brings it in his shaggy hand.

On the way, his vision grew dim,

As he was going up the porch, the Cossack tripped.

And the mother’s heart, falling on the threshold,

She asked him: “Are you hurt, son?”

We grow up, leave our home, but even at the ends of the earth we understand that somewhere far away mother’s warm hands and kind, gentle eyes are waiting for us:

My mother's hands -

Pair of white swans:

So tender and so beautiful

There is so much love and strength in them!

Nikolai Zabolotsky devotes the poem to the sweetest and dearest image - the image of his mother. In it, the poet calls on everyone:

Listen while there are mothers,

Come to them without telegrams.

L. Tatyanicheva teaches us to take care of the most valuable thing in the world - the heart of a mother, to always remember her, not to cause pain, to be grateful:

We rarely bring bouquets to mom,

But everyone upsets her so often,

And a kind mother forgives all this.

Yes, indeed, mother knows how to forgive and love sincerely and tenderly, without asking for anything in return. A woman-mother is life, hope and love.

Mom... The dearest and closest person. She gave us life, gave us a happy childhood. A mother's heart, like the sun, shines always and everywhere, warming us with its warmth. She is our best friend, a wise adviser. Mother is our guardian angel. That is why the image of the mother becomes one of the main ones in Russian literature already in the 19th century.

The theme of the mother truly and deeply sounded in the poetry of Nikolai Alekseevich Nekrasov. Closed and reserved by nature, Nekrasov literally could not find bright enough words and strong expressions to appreciate the role of his mother in his life. Both young and old, Nekrasov always spoke about his mother with love and admiration. Such an attitude towards her, in addition to the usual sons of affection, undoubtedly stemmed from the consciousness of what he owed her:

“And if over the years I have easily shaken off from my soul the corrupting traces that trampled everything rational with its feet, which was proud of the ignorance of the environment, and if I filled my life with the struggle for the ideal of goodness and beauty, and the song that I compose bears deep features of living love - Oh, my mother , I will be moved by you! You saved the living soul in me!” (From the poem "Mother")

In the poem “Mother,” Nekrasov recalls that as a child, thanks to his mother, he became acquainted with the images of Dante and Shakespeare. She taught him love and compassion for those “whose ideal is diminished grief,” that is, for the serfs. The image of a woman - a mother - is vividly presented by Nekrasov in many of his works: in the poem “Who Lives Well in Rus'”, in the poems “In full swing of the village suffering”, “Orina, the soldier’s mother”, “Hearing the horrors of war”.

The image of the mother in the works of S. Yesenin. Nekrasov's traditions are reflected in the poetry of the great Russian poet S. A. Yesenin, who created surprisingly sincere poems about his mother, a peasant woman. Yesenin was 19 years old when, with amazing insight, he sang in the poem “Rus” the sadness of a mother’s expectation of sons-soldiers. Loyalty, constancy of feeling, heartfelt devotion, inexhaustible patience are generalized and poeticized by Yesenin in the image of his mother. "Oh, my patient mother!" - this exclamation came out of him not by chance: a son brings a lot of worries, but the mother’s heart forgives everything. This is how Yesenin’s frequent motive of his son’s guilt arises.

On his trips, he constantly remembers his native village: it is dear to the memory of his youth, but most of all he is drawn there by his mother, who yearns for her son. The poet sees his “sweet, kind, old, gentle” mother “at the parental dinner.” The mother is worried - her son has not been home for a long time. How is he there, in the distance? The son tries to reassure her in letters: “The time will come, dear, dear!” In the meantime, the “evening untold light” flows over the mother’s hut. The son, “still just as gentle,” “dreams only about returning to our low house as soon as possible out of rebellious melancholy.”

In “Letter to a Mother,” filial feelings are expressed with piercing artistic force: “You alone are my help and joy, you alone are my unspeakable light.” Yesenin’s works can perhaps be called the most touching declarations of love for his mother. The entire poem is permeated with inescapable tenderness and touching care for her: “So forget about your anxiety, Don’t be so sad about me. Don’t go on the road so often in an old-fashioned shabby shushun.”

“Without the sun, flowers do not bloom, without love there is no happiness, without a woman there is no love, without a mother there is neither a poet nor a hero.” M. Gorky. The theme of the resurrection of the human soul, the theme of the second birth of man in the novel by A.M. is connected with the image of the mother. Gorky's "Mother". The main source of the rebirth process is maternal love. From the desire to be closer to the son, or at least not to anger him, grows the desire to understand him and help him. The name of the novel was not chosen by chance by the writer. After all, it is the mother /eternal image/ who is the true, humane, loving, sincere image.

“Russia survived thanks to its mothers” Elder Paisiy Svyatogorets. Sofya Nikolaevna from the “Family Chronicle” of S.T. Aksakova, a hereditary noblewoman who lived at the end of the 18th and beginning of the 19th centuries, did not close her eyes at the bedside of her seriously ill son, and the lyrical heroine of the famous song of the Great Patriotic War “Dark Night” is unlikely whether of noble origin, did the same. A mother who does not sleep over her child is an eternal image, for all time. Those who simply cried, pitied, loved and worked tirelessly for their mothers, in fact, with their selfless lives, begged for children, husbands, and the country.

We cannot count the bright images of mothers who brought to us fairy tales and legends, poems and songs, stories and stories, novels and memoirs. “The constant presence of my mother merges with my every memory,” wrote S.T. Aksakov in “The Childhood Years of Bagrov the Grandson.” “Her image is inextricably linked with my existence, and therefore it is little prominent in the fragmentary pictures of the first period of my childhood, although constantly participates in them."

In the story “The Last Term,” V. Rasputin talks about the last days of the old woman Anna and the behavior of her adult children, who “prematurely” moved to their parents’ house. The old peasant woman’s enormous love for life is striking. Her life was hard: devastation, hunger, war. The woman raised five children. Feeling the approach of death, the old woman Anna decided to say goodbye to her children. The author writes with bitterness that children forget about their mothers, they forget to come, congratulate, and send a letter. But a mother needs very little: the love and attention of her children. It is good when there is mutual understanding between mother and children, when not only the mother is responsible for the fate of the children, but also the children are her protection and support.

Good my mother. Kind, cordial. Come to her - crowned and crippled - Share your luck, hide your sadness - She will warm the kettle, put on dinner, listen to you, Leave her to spend the night: she herself - on the chest, and the guests on the bed. I wish I could get along with you all the time, I wish I could smooth out all your wrinkles. Maybe then I write poetry that, Conscious of masculine strength, the way I carried you in my heart, I carry you in my heart. Y. Smelyakov

“I remember the bedroom and the lamp, the toys, the warm crib, and your sweet, gentle voice: Your guardian angel is above you!” (I.A. Bunin “Mothers”)

The image of a mother is especially common in works for children. Somewhere she (as, say, in “Little Red Riding Hood”) is an episodic character. Somewhere it ends up in the center of the plot. And somewhere we are talking about a winter evening, but as if by chance a comparison of the month with mother’s earrings will flash, and mother will appear invisibly on the page, and will immediately become warmer and more comfortable. The light of mother's eyes, the warmth of mother's hands, a gentle voice, a gentle smile - these expressions do not become boring, do not seem hackneyed, because they are genuine, organic, there is no affectation in them. The soul - with joy or with sadness - but always responds to them.

“Mom is sleeping, she’s tired... Well, I didn’t start playing! I don’t start the top, But I sat down and sit (E. Blaginina) My mother sings, Always at work, And I always Help her with the hunt! (M. Sadovsky ) I do everything for my mother: I play scales for her, I go to the doctor for her, I teach mathematics (A. Barto)

Vasilisa Yagodina, a student of the 8th grade of our school, dedicated one of her poems to her mother: “Don’t offend your mothers, appreciate and respect them for a lot of things!” Do not offend your mothers, forgive for reproach. Catch every moment of love, Give tenderness and care. She will always understand and forgive, even if she has to work. Let there be pride in their hearts, And let pain and fear sink into oblivion. Let them rejoice for us, After all, there is no one more important than them in the world!”

We all owe a great and unpayable debt to our mothers; we bow our knees before their courage, endless kindness and tenderness. “The rain is knocking on the window like a frozen bird. But she will not fall asleep, continuing to wait for us. Today I want to bow to the ground to our Russian woman, named MOTHER. The one who gave us life in agony, the one who sometimes did not sleep with us at night. They pressed her warm hands to her chest. And she prayed for us to all the Holy Images.

The one who asked God for happiness, For the health of her daughters and sons. Every new step we took was like a holiday for her. And she felt more pain from the pain of her children. We fly out of our nest like birds: We want to become adults as soon as possible. Today I want to bow to the ground. To our Russian woman, named MOTHER. Yu. Schmidt

Our library collection contains works about mothers: Aitmatov Ch. Mother’s Field // Aitmatov Ch. Tales and Stories / Ch. Aitmatov. –M., – with Aksakov S.T. Family chronicle. Childhood years of Bagrov's grandson. / S. T. Aksakov. - M.: Fiction, p. - (Classics and modernity) Bely A. Mothers//Bely A. Poems / A. Bely. - Saratov: Volga Book Publishing House, p. 84 Blok A. To my mother: poems about a beautiful lady // Blok A. Lyrics / A. Blok. – M.: True, –s. 50

Voznesensky A. Mother: Poem // Voznesensky A. Moat: poetry, prose / A. Voznesensky. – M.: Soviet writer, – p. 224 Goncharov I.A. An ordinary story: A novel in 2 parts. –M.: Fiction, p. (Classics and contemporaries) Gorky M. Mother // Gorky M. Mother. The Artamonov case. / M. Gorky. - Frunze: Kyrgyzstan, - with Yesenin S. Mother’s Prayer // Yesenin S. Selected works / S. Yesenin. - Leningrad: Lenizdat, - with Yesenin S. Letter to mother // Yesenin S. Poems and poems / S. Yesenin. - Leningrad: Lenizdat, – with

Yesenin S. Letter from mother // Yesenin S. Poems and poems / S. Yesenin. - Leningrad: Lenizdat, - with Yesenin S. Rus' // Yesenin S. Poems and poems / S. Yesenin. - Leningrad: Lenizdat, - with Maikov A. Mother // Maikov A. Poems and poems / A. Maikov. - Leningrad: Lenizdat, – p. 94 Mother and Children/Trans. A.N. Maykova//Ushinsky K.D. Native word / K. D. Ushinsky. – M., – p. 126 Nekrasov N.A. The village suffering is in full swing // Nekrasov N.A. Favorites / N. A. Nekrasov. - Leningrad: Lenizdat, – with

Nekrasov N.A. Hearing the horrors of war // Nekrasov N.A. Favorites / N. A. Nekrasov. - Leningrad: Lenizdat, - with Nekrasov N.A. Mother: Poem //Nekrasov N.A. Favorites / N. A. Nekrasov. - Leningrad: Lenizdat, p. 210 Nekrasov N.A. Mother: Excerpt from the poem // Nekrasov N.A. Complete collection of works and letters. Works of art. vol. 4: Poems of Messrs. / N. A. Nekrasov. - Leningrad: Science, with Nekrasov N.A. Orina, soldier’s mother//Nekrasov N.A. Favorites / N. A. Nekrasov. - Leningrad: Lenizdat, – with

Nekrasov N.A. Complete collection of works and letters. Works of art. vol. 3: Who lives well in Rus' / N. A. Nekrasov. - Leningrad: Science, p. Rasputin V. Last term//Rasputin V. Stories / V. Rasputin. – M.: Enlightenment, – with (Library of Literature). Ushinsky K.D. It’s warm in the sun, good in the mother’s presence // Ushinsky K.D. Native word / K. D. Ushinsky. – M., – s

Essay on the topic “A Word about a Woman. A word about mother."

What a person begins to understand from the first months of birth. Of course, he recognizes smells, smiles at touches and remembers his mother's face. This person is with him from the very first minutes of his life and remains close to him until the end of his life. The role of a mother in a person’s life is enormous. Mother teaches us the first moral values, takes pity on us when we are hurt and bad. She always meets us halfway without fail. Mothers are different, some are more strict, some are stingy with their feelings, but still each of them loves her child more than life itself. This does not require any evidence, because if trouble happens to her child, she will drop everything and run to save her child.

The love of mother and child, something magical and indestructible. And we can’t even imagine how she feels until we become parents ourselves. What do you think is the worst thing for a mother? Of course this is the loss or death of your own child. This happens quite rarely in life; usually, following the laws of nature, children bury their elderly parents. But things were quite the opposite during the Great Patriotic War. In those terrible forties, all children, fathers and mothers died. But how difficult it was for mothers to send their boys to the front. They could not contain their youthful thirst for heroism, because young people did not know what war was. In their heads there were pictures of heroic deeds, loyal friends, colleagues and beautiful nurses in love.

At the moments of farewell, the mother’s heart sank with severe pain. She knew that this moment could be the last, and she was powerless to change anything. After all, the war did not spare or spare anyone. And how painful it was to look at such women who prayed every day and waited for their children. But the most terrible picture is when a military postman appeared in their village, everyone was afraid of his arrival, and everyone wanted him to shout out a name they knew. After all, such a postman brought death with him, small funerals said that a person with that name and year of birth no longer existed in the world. A few days later they brought in a lifeless body, or even a dead body; the relatives did not even get a chance to look at their son.

And how many such mothers were there at that time? After all, any of them would agree to fall on the battlefield instead of their son. Their grief was enormous and not everyone could cope with it. A similar situation is described in Fadeev’s work. He writes about human destinies and the theme that he describes in his stories is close to him and very understandable. After all, he saw hundreds of such mothers when he was in Krasnodar. In connection with this, the idea of ​​the novel “The Young Guard” was born in his head, which tells the story of young soldiers. They were not born to kill, and the war fell on them just like on others. And all the heroism they accomplished would not have been real if their mothers had not stood behind them.

The work carries the idea that it is women-mothers who can stop the war. After all, war is their main enemy, which takes away everything that is so dear to them. Women give life, they are it themselves. A similar theme appears in the work “And the Dawns Here Are Quiet”; it vividly describes the impossibility of a woman’s participation in war. At the end of this work, all five girls die a heroic death. The commander will talk about this topic for a long time; we should never forget about it.

Let's be more tolerant of our mothers. After all, if we imagine what they have done in our lives and what role they play in it, we are simply not able to repay them. We will love and respect them and try to help them in everything.