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Kuprin gentleman from san francisco. gentleman from san francisco. Topic: Russian literature of the late XIX - early XX centuries

"The Gentleman from San Francisco" is a story about civilization, about what it came to. This work is essentially a parable that tells about the insignificance of wealth and power in the face of death.
The teacher emphasizes that the main idea of Ivan Bunin's story "The Gentleman from San Francisco" is the comprehension of the essence of human existence: human life is fragile and perishable, so it becomes disgusting if it lacks authenticity and beauty.

Topic: Russian literature of the late XIX - early XX centuries.

Lesson:Ivan Bunin "The Gentleman from San Francisco"

This story was written in 1915, at the height of the First World War.

Rice. 1. World War I ()

Bunin is not characterized by irony. The protagonist is an exemplary bourgeois type, so Bunin does not give him a name.

The city of San Francisco symbolizes luxury and success, named after Saint Francisco, who preached poverty.

The hero has no name, no biography, he just works tirelessly. The gentleman from San Francisco reaches a certain level. He is a robot hero, a mechanism. The hero does not feel something, but embodies a cherished dream. The appearance of the Lord is unremarkable.

Rice. 2. Gentleman from San Francisco ()

Bunin never condemns his heroes. But the world in which the Master of San Francisco lives is greedy and stupid. Even a rich gentleman does not live in it, but only exists. Even the family does not add to his happiness. Everything in this world is subject to money. And when the Master is going on a journey, it seems to him that it will be wonderful. Millionaires and their families travel on a giant ship - the Atlantis Hotel. And life on this ship flows from day to day, measuredly and smoothly. In the evenings, the whole "Atlantis" is immersed in the atmosphere of the "holiday". Only "a great multitude of servants work in the cooks', scullery, and wine-cellars." Some rest, while others work. Everything smells like money.

Atlantis is a symbol of a civilization that eventually collapses and sinks to the bottom.

Rice. 3. The book of Pierre Benois "Atlantis" ()

The feeling of doom affects the emotions of the story.

There are very few names of people in the story. Apparently they were neglected due to the commonness of their owners.

The author uses a lot of figurative means in the description of the sea, the ship. The combination of details and tense metaphorical epithets (a picture of a dirty firebox) conveys the overall picture. Arriving in Naples, our hero scornfully says to the crowd of "ragamuffins": "Get out, get out!" (they didn't do anything to him)

All people, the poorer ones, bow down and serve the Lord from San Francisco, but, more precisely, not to him, but to his money and position. Everything in him: his movements, his speech speaks of his condition. And only at the beginning of the "journey of life" a gentleman from San Francisco dies in a hotel. The weather is changing, the world is cracking.

Bunin gives a manifestation of life in these people when they feel bad during a trip to the island of Capri. There is no luxury, wealth, to which our master is accustomed. Bunin changes colors (black dominates).

The gentleman from San Francisco is excited.

Old age is potential death. Luxury hides old age. Bunin describes the hero's clothing, which hides his old body. He controls everything that happens to him, but death came suddenly.

Bunin describes an unaesthetic death scene. As soon as this person died, the surrounding world immediately became close to him. All plans, further life kills a heart attack. And after death, the body is not carried to the luxurious hotel rooms, it is carried to a small, cheap room. And then they put it in a box from under the water. Even the wife and daughter, the closest people, do not suffer from the death of the Lord from San Francisco. And somewhere in the hold there is a box not with a person, but with a body without a name ...

All inhabitants choose the order. The servants offer the widow to urgently put the body in a box so that the body remains in the hotel.

The end of the story breaks down into several stories:

The journey of the body to the ship, where it is already called the "dead old man";

opposition of two civilizations.

On the island of Capri there are the ruins of Tiberius, there are local residents, they have names, characters. And next to the simple way of life of the villagers, a modern bourgeois civilization appears.

In the finale, the devil appears - the image of evil; the element the captain is fighting against is leading the ship. The author asks the question: is such a civilization worthy, which only eats, has fun, which is no longer able to sincerely love, to be saved. This question remains open.

Additionally

These literary concepts are firmly established in modern life - though not always in their original meaning. Nevertheless, satire, humor, irony and sarcasm are important concepts in the analysis of works.

All of these concepts are different degrees and forms of manifestation of the comic. Let's consider each of them.

Satire characterized by a pronounced negative assessment of the vices of the social significance of the object subjected to ridicule. Actively ridiculing everything negative, satire thereby protects everything positive, truly alive. The images-objects of satire are built on the principle of bringing to the point of absurdity any feature, act, etc. Despite the apparent "rigidity" of satire, there is a place for laughter in it - a different kind. Laughter in satire makes you pay attention to the smallest, but no less important details, this laughter is not for entertainment. The most prominent "satirists" in literature were D. Fonvizin, A. Griboyedov, M. Saltykov-Shchedrin, V. Mayakovsky and others.

Humor- this is a mocking attitude to the characters and everyday life of people. Humor is harmless laughter, combined with pity, condescending, sympathetic. Allegorically, the purpose of humor is to show tears through laughter. The most prominent representatives of the humorous direction were N. Gogol, A. Chekhov, V. Shukshin.

Irony is a hidden mockery in which a word of positive meaning takes on the opposite meaning. For example, a donkey can easily be called a smart head, as Lisitsa I. Krylova did. The basis of irony is the feeling of superiority of the speaker over what or whom he is talking about.

Sarcasm- this is a caustic mockery, the starting point of which is indignation, indignation. Often, sarcasm, if it has a political connotation, is transformed into a whole separate work - a pamphlet. Examples of sarcasm include the poem “The Monk” by A. Pushkin, “The First of January” by M. Lermontov, “Reflections at the Front Door” by N. Nekrasov and others.

As we were able to see, the range of the comic image is quite wide: from harmless humor to caustic satire. And it is very important to learn to distinguish between each of their forms of the comic.

Bibliography

1. Chalmaev V.A., Zinin S.A. Russian literature of the twentieth century.: Textbook for grade 11: In 2 hours - 5th ed. - M .: OOO 2TID "Russian Word - RS", 2008.

2. Agenosov V.V. . Russian literature of the 20th century. Methodical manual M. "Buddy Bustard", 2002

3. Russian literature of the 20th century. Textbook for applicants to universities M. uch.-scient. Center "Moscow Lyceum", 1995.

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The gentleman and lady from San Francisco began to quarrel in the morning; their daughter either walked around pale, with a headache, then came to life, admired everything and was then both sweet and beautiful: beautiful were those tender, complex feelings that a meeting with an ugly man in whom unusual blood flowed aroused in her, because in the end - in the end, maybe it doesn’t matter what exactly awakens the girl’s soul - whether it’s money, fame, whether the nobility of the family ... Everyone assured that it’s not at all the same in Sorrento, on Capri - it’s warmer and sunny there, and lemons are blooming, and morals are more honest, and wine is more natural. And so the family from San Francisco decided to go with all their chests to Capri, so that, after examining it, walking on the stones on the site of the palaces of Tiberius, visiting the fabulous caves of the Azure Grotto and listening to the Abruzzo bagpipers, wandering around the island for a whole month before Christmas and singing praises to the Virgin Mary, to settle in Sorrento.

On the day of departure - very memorable for the family from San Francisco! Even in the morning there was no sun. A heavy fog hid Vesuvius to its very foundation, low gray over the leaden swell of the sea. Capri was nowhere to be seen, as if he had never existed in the world. And the little steamboat heading towards it was so swaying from side to side that the family from San Francisco was lying in layers on the sofas in the miserable wardroom of this steamboat, wrapping their legs in rugs and closing their eyes from dizziness. Mrs. suffered, as she thought, most of all; she was overwhelmed several times, it seemed to her that she was dying, and the maid, who came running to her with a basin, - for many years, day after day, swaying on these waves and in the heat and in the cold, and yet tireless, - only laughed.

Miss was terribly pale and held a slice of lemon in her teeth. Mister, who was lying on his back, in a wide coat and a large cap, did not open his jaws all the way; his face became dark, his mustache white, his head ached severely: the last days, thanks to bad weather, he drank too much in the evenings and admired too much "living pictures" in some brothels. And the rain fell on the rattling glass, it flowed from them on the sofas, the wind howled at the masts and sometimes, together with the oncoming wave, laid the steamer completely on its side, and then something rolled down with a roar. At the stops, at Castellammare, at Sorrento, it was a little easier; but even here it waved terribly, the coast with all its cliffs, gardens, pines, pink and white hotels and smoky, curly-green mountains flew up and down outside the window, as if on a swing; boats banged against the walls, third-graders screamed excitedly, somewhere, as if crushed, a child choked on a cry, a damp wind blew at the doors, and, not ceasing for a minute, piercingly screamed from a rocking barge under the flag of the Royal Hotel, a burry boy who lured travelers : "Kgoya-al! Hotel Kgoya-al!..” And the gentleman from San Francisco, feeling as he should, a very old man, was already thinking with anguish and malice about all these Royal, Splendid, Excelsior and about those greedy, garlic-smelling little people called Italians; once during a stop, opening his eyes and rising from the sofa, he saw under a rocky sheer a bunch of such miserable, moldy stone houses stuck to each other near the water, near the boats, near some rags, tins and brown nets, that, remembering that this was the real Italy he had come to enjoy, he felt despair... Finally, already at dusk, the island began to move with its blackness, as if drilled through with red lights at the foot, the wind became softer, warmer, more fragrant, like black oil, golden boas flowed from the lanterns of the pier ... Then suddenly an anchor thundered and splashed into the water, furious cries of boatmen rushed from everywhere - and immediately it became easier on the soul, the cabins shone brighter - the company, I wanted to eat, drink, smoke, move ... Ten minutes later, the family from San Francisco got into a large barge, after fifteen they stepped on the stones of the embankment, and then got into a bright trailer and, with a buzzing m stretched up the slope, among the stakes in the vineyards, dilapidated stone fences and wet, gnarled, covered in some places with thatched canopies of orange trees, with a gleam of orange fruits and thick glossy foliage sliding downhill, past the open windows of the trailer ... It smells sweet in Italy is the land after the rain, and each of its islands has its own special smell!

The island of Capri was damp and dark tonight. But then he came to life for a moment, lit up in some places. On the top of the mountain, on the platform of the funicular, there was again a crowd of those whose duty it was to worthily receive the gentleman from San Francisco. There were other visitors, but not worthy of attention - a few Russians who settled in Capri, slovenly and absent-minded, with glasses, beards, with turned up collars of old coats, and a company of long-legged, round-headed German youths in Tyrolean suits and with canvas bags over their shoulders. , who do not need anyone's services, feel at home everywhere and are not at all generous in spending. The gentleman from San Francisco, who calmly avoided both of them, was immediately noticed. He and his ladies were hurriedly helped out, they ran ahead of him, showing the way, he was again surrounded by boys and those hefty Capri women who carry suitcases and chests of respectable tourists on their heads. There was a pounding on a small, like an opera square, over which an electric ball was swaying from a damp wind, their wooden footstools whistled like a bird and tumbled over the head of a crowd of boys - and how a gentleman from San Francisco walked among them to some medieval an arch under the houses merged into one, behind which a ringing street led slopingly to the hotel entrance shining ahead with a swirl of palm trees over flat roofs to the left and blue stars in the black sky above, in front. And again it seemed that it was in honor of the guests from San Francisco that a stone damp town on a rocky island in the Mediterranean came to life, that they made the owner of the hotel so happy and hospitable that only a Chinese gong was waiting for them, howling on all floors of the gathering for dinner as soon as they entered the lobby.

The polite and elegant bow of the host, the remarkably elegant young man who met them, for a moment struck the gentleman from San Francisco: looking at him, the gentleman from San Francisco suddenly remembered that this night, among other confusion that besieged him in a dream, he saw this particular gentleman, exactly the same as this one, in the same business card with round edges and with the same mirror-combed head.

Surprised, he almost stopped. But since not even the mustard seed of any so-called mystical feelings remained in his soul for a long time, his surprise immediately faded: he jokingly told his wife and daughter about this strange coincidence of dream and reality, walking along the corridor of the hotel. His daughter, however, looked at him with alarm at that moment: her heart was suddenly gripped by melancholy, a feeling of terrible loneliness on this alien, dark island ...

IVAN ALEKSEEVICH BUNIN

GENERAL FROM SAN FRANCISCO

Woe to you, Babylon, strong city

Apocalypse

A gentleman from San Francisco - no one remembered his name either in Naples or Capri - went to the Old World for two whole years, with his wife and daughter, solely for the sake of entertainment.

He was firmly convinced that he had every right to rest, to pleasure, to a long and comfortable journey, and who knows what else. For such confidence, he had the reason that, firstly, he was rich, and secondly, he had just embarked on life, despite his fifty-eight years. Until that time, he had not lived, but only existed, though not badly, but still placing all his hopes on the future. He worked tirelessly - the Chinese, whom he ordered to work for him by the thousands, knew well what this meant! - and, finally, he saw that a lot had already been done, that he had almost caught up with those whom he had once taken as a model, and decided to take a break. The people to whom he belonged used to start enjoying life with a trip to Europe, to India, to Egypt. He did and he did the same. Of course, he wanted to reward himself first of all for the years of work; however, he was also happy for his wife and daughter. His wife has never been particularly impressionable, but all elderly American women are passionate travelers. And as for the daughter, an aged and slightly sickly girl, for her the trip was absolutely necessary - not to mention the health benefits, isn't there happy meetings in travel? Here sometimes you sit at the table or look at the frescoes next to the billionaire.

The route was developed by a gentleman from San Francisco extensive. In December and January, he hoped to enjoy the sun of southern Italy, the monuments of antiquity, the tarantella, the serenades of itinerant singers and what people at his age feel! especially subtly - with the love of young Neapolitan women, even if not entirely disinterested, he thought of holding a carnival in Nice, in Monte Carlo, where at that time the most selective society flocks - the very one on which all the blessings of civilization depend: and the style of tuxedos , and the strength of thrones, and the declaration of wars, and the well-being of hotels - where some indulge with passion in automobile and sailing races, others in roulette, others in what is commonly called flirting, and fourth in shooting pigeons, which soar very beautifully from the cages over the emerald lawn, against the background of the sea, the color of forget-me-nots, and immediately knock white lumps on the ground; he wanted to dedicate the beginning of March to Florence, to come to Rome to the passions of the Lord, to listen to the Miserere there. ("Have mercy" - Catholic prayer - lat.) ; Venice, and Paris, and a bullfight in Seville, and swimming in the English Isles, and Athens, and Constantinople, and Palestine, and Egypt, and even Japan were included in his plans - of course, already on the way back ... And everything went first Great.

It was the end of November, and all the way to Gibraltar we had to sail now in icy haze, now in the middle of a storm with sleet; but sailed quite well.

There were many passengers, the ship - the famous "Atlantis" - looked like a huge hotel with all the amenities - with a night bar, with oriental baths, with its own newspaper - and life on it proceeded very measuredly: they got up early, with trumpet sounds, abruptly resounding along the corridors even in that gloomy hour, when the dawn was so slow and unfriendly over the gray-green water desert, which was heavily agitated in the fog; having put on flannel pajamas, they drank coffee, chocolate, cocoa; then they sat down in the marble baths, did gymnastics, stimulating the appetite and feeling good, made daily toilets and went to the first breakfast; up to eleven o'clock it was supposed to walk briskly on the decks, breathing the cold freshness of the ocean, or play sheffle board and other games to re-stimulate the appetite, and at eleven to refresh themselves with broth sandwiches; having refreshed themselves, they read the newspaper with pleasure and calmly waited for the second breakfast, even more nutritious and varied than the first; the next two hours were devoted to rest; all the decks were then filled with long chairs, on which travelers lay, covered with rugs, looking at the cloudy sky and at the foamy hillocks flashing overboard, or dozing sweetly; at five o'clock they, refreshed and cheerful, were given strong fragrant tea with biscuits; at seven they announced with trumpet signals what constituted the main goal of this entire existence, its crown ... And then the gentleman from San Francisco, rubbing his hands from a surge of vitality, hurried to his rich luxury cabin - to get dressed.

In the evenings, the floors of the Atlantis gaped in the darkness as if with countless fiery eyes, and a great many servants worked in the cooks, scullery and wine cellars. The ocean that went beyond the walls was terrible, but they did not think about it, firmly believing in the power over it of the commander, a red-haired man of monstrous size and weight, always as if sleepy, similar in his uniform, with wide gold stripes to a huge idol and very rarely appearing to people from his mysterious chambers; a siren on the forecastle kept screaming with hellish gloominess and squealing with furious malice, but few of the diners heard the siren - it was drowned out by the sounds of a beautiful string orchestra, exquisitely and tirelessly playing in a double-height marble hall, lined with velvet carpets, festively flooded with lights, overflowing with low-cut ladies and men in tailcoats and tuxedos, slender footmen and respectful maitre d's, among which one, the one who took orders only for wine, even walked around with a chain around his neck, like some kind of lord mayor. The tuxedo and starched underwear made the gentleman from San Francisco very young. Dry, short, oddly tailored, but strongly tailored, polished to a gloss and moderately lively, he sat in the golden-pearl radiance of this hall behind a bottle of amber Johannisberg, behind glasses and goblets of the finest glass, behind a curly bouquet of hyacinths. There was something Mongol in his yellowish face with trimmed silver mustaches, his large teeth glittered with gold fillings, his strong bald head was old ivory. Richly, but according to the years, his wife was dressed, a woman large, wide and calm; complex, but light and transparent, with innocent frankness - a daughter, tall, thin, with magnificent hair, charmingly done up, with aromatic breath from violet cakes and with the most delicate pink pimples near the lips and between the shoulder blades, slightly powdered ... The dinner lasted more than an hour, and after dinner, dances opened in the ballroom, during which men - including, of course, the gentleman from San Francisco - with their legs up, decided the fate of nations on the basis of the latest stock exchange news, smoked up to raspberry redness on Havana cigars and drank liqueurs in a bar where Negroes in red coats served, with squirrels like peeled hard-boiled eggs.

The ocean roared behind the wall in black mountains, the blizzard whistled strongly in the heavy gear, the steamer trembled all over, overcoming both it and these mountains, - as if with a plow, tearing apart their unsteady, now and then boiling up and high foamy tails huge masses, the siren, choked with mist, groaned in mortal anguish, the watchmen on their tower froze from the cold and went crazy from the unbearable strain of attention, to the gloomy and sultry bowels of the underworld, its last, ninth circle was like the underwater womb of a steamboat, - the one where the gigantic fireboxes, devouring with their red-hot mouths of heaps of coal, with a roar thrown into them, drenched in acrid, dirty sweat and waist-deep naked people, crimson from the flames; and here, in the bar, they carelessly threw their legs on the arms of their chairs, sipped cognac and liqueurs, floated in waves of spicy smoke, everything in the dance hall shone and poured out light, warmth and joy, couples either spun in waltzes, then bent into tango - and the music insistently, in a kind of sweet, shameless sadness, she prayed all about one thing, all about the same ... Among this brilliant crowd there was a certain great rich man, shaven, long, like a prelate, in an old-fashioned tailcoat, there was a famous Spanish writer, there was a universal beauty, there was an elegant couple in love, whom everyone watched with curiosity and who did not hide their happiness: he danced only with her, and everything came out with them so subtly, charmingly, that only one commander knew that this couple was hired by Lloyd to play love for good money and has long been floating on one ship or another.

In Gibraltar, everyone was happy with the sun, it was like early spring; a new passenger appeared on board the Atlantis, arousing general interest in himself - the crown prince of an Asian state, traveling incognito, a small man, all made of wood, broad-faced, narrow-eyed, wearing gold glasses, slightly unpleasant - because his large black mustache showed through his him, like a dead man, in general, sweet, simple and modest. The Mediterranean smelled of winter again, there was a large and flowery wave, like a peacock's tail, which, with a bright brilliance and a completely clear sky, was parted by a tramontana merrily and furiously flying towards. Then, on the second day, the sky began to turn pale, the horizon became foggy: the earth was approaching, Ischia, Capri appeared, through the binoculars Naples, piled at the foot of something gray-gray, was already visible in lumps of sugar ... Many ladies and gentlemen had already put on light coats, fur up, fur coats; unanswered, always in a whisper speaking fights - the Chinese, bow-legged teenagers with tar braids to the toes and with girlish thick eyelashes, gradually pulled blankets, canes, suitcases, travel bags up the stairs ... The daughter of a gentleman from San Francisco stood on the deck next to the prince, last night, by a lucky chance presented to her, she pretended to stare intently into the distance, where he pointed to her, explaining something, telling something hastily and quietly; he seemed like a boy among the others in stature, he was not at all good-looking and strange - glasses, a bowler hat, an English coat, and the hair of a rare mustache looked like a horse, the dark, thin skin on a flat face seemed to be stretched and as if slightly varnished - but the girl listened to him and from excitement did not understand what he was saying to her; her heart beat with an incomprehensible delight before him: everything, everything in him was different from the others - his dry hands, his clean skin, under which flowed ancient royal blood, even his European, quite simple, but as if especially neat clothes were fraught with an inexplicable charm. And the gentleman from San Francisco himself, in gray leggings on patent-leather boots, kept looking at the famous beauty standing near him, a tall, amazingly built blonde with eyes painted in the latest Parisian fashion, holding a tiny, bent, mangy dog on a silver chain and talking all the time. with her. And the daughter, in some kind of vague awkwardness, tried not to notice him.

He was quite generous on the way and therefore fully believed in the care of all those who fed and watered him, served him from morning to evening, forestalling his slightest desire, guarded his cleanliness and peace, dragged his things, called for him porters, delivered him chests in hotels. So it was everywhere, so it was in navigation, so it should have been in Naples. Naples grew and approached; the musicians, shining with copper wind instruments, already crowded on the deck and suddenly deafened everyone with the triumphant sounds of the march, the giant commander, in full dress, appeared on his bridges and, like a merciful pagan god, waved his hand in greeting to the passengers - and to the gentleman from San Francisco, just like everyone else, it seemed that it was for him alone that the march of proud America was thundering, that it was his commander who greeted him with a safe arrival. And when the Atlantis finally entered the harbor, rolled up to the embankment with its multi-storey bulk dotted with people, and the gangway rumbled - how many porters and their assistants in caps with gold galloons, how many all sorts of commission agents, whistling boys and hefty ragamuffins with packs colored postcards in their hands rushed to meet him with an offer of services! And he grinned at these ragamuffins, going to the car of the very hotel where the prince could also stay, and calmly spoke through his teeth in English, then in Italian:

Go away! (Get out! - English) Via! (Get out! - Italian.) . Life in Naples immediately went on as usual: early in the morning - breakfast in a gloomy dining room, cloudy, unpromising sky and a crowd of guides at the lobby door; then the first smiles of the warm pinkish sun, the view from the high-hanging balcony of Vesuvius, shrouded to the foot in radiant morning vapors, of the silver-pearl ripples of the bay and the thin outline of Capri on the horizon, of the tiny donkeys running down the sticky embankment, and of the troops small soldiers marching somewhere with cheerful and defiant music; then - exit to the car and slow movement along the crowded narrow and gray corridors of the streets, among the tall, multi-windowed houses, viewing the deadly clean and evenly, pleasantly, but boringly, snow-lit, museums or cold, wax-smelling churches, in which everywhere one and the same thing: a majestic entrance, covered with a heavy leather curtain, and inside - a huge emptiness, silence, quiet lights of the menorah, reddening in the depths on a throne decorated with lace, a lonely old woman among dark wooden desks, slippery coffin slabs underfoot and someone " Descent from the Cross”, certainly famous; at one o'clock in the afternoon on Mount San Martino, where by noon many people of the very first class come together and where one day the daughter of a gentleman from San Francisco almost became ill: it seemed to her that a prince was sitting in the hall, although she already knew from the newspapers, that he is in Rome; at five o'clock in the hotel, in a smart salon, where it is so warm from the carpets and blazing fireplaces; and there again preparations for dinner - again the powerful, authoritative rumble of a gong on all floors, again strings of low-cut ladies rustling on the stairs and reflected in the mirrors, again the wide and hospitable hall of the dining room, and the red jackets of musicians on the stage, and a black crowd of lackeys near the head waiter, with extraordinary skill pouring thick pink soup on plates ... Dinners were again so plentiful and dishes, and wines, and mineral waters, and sweets, and fruits, that by eleven o'clock in the evening maids carried rubber bladders with hot water to all rooms to warm stomachs.

However, December was not entirely successful that year: the porters, when they talked to them about the weather, only raised their shoulders guiltily, muttering that they would not remember such a year, although for more than a year they had to mutter this and refer to the fact that “ something terrible is happening everywhere ”: unprecedented downpours and storms on the Riviera, snow in Athens, Etna is also all covered and shines at night, tourists from Palermo, fleeing the cold, scatter ... The morning sun deceived every day: from noon it invariably turned gray and began sow rain, but it’s getting thicker and colder: then the palm trees at the entrance of the hotel shone with tin, the city seemed especially dirty and cramped, the museums were too monotonous, the cigar butts of fat cabbies in rubber capes fluttering in the wind with wings - unbearably smelly, the vigorous clapping of their whips over with thin-necked nags obviously false, the shoes of the gentlemen who sweep the tram rails are terrible, and the women splashing in the mud, in the rain, with black open heads, are ugly short-legged; about the dampness and the stench of rotten fish from the foaming sea near the embankment and there is nothing to say.

The gentleman and lady from San Francisco began to quarrel in the morning; their daughter either walked around pale, with a headache, then came to life, admired everything and was then both sweet and beautiful: beautiful were those tender, complex feelings that a meeting with an ugly man in whom unusual blood flowed aroused in her, because in the end - in the end, maybe it doesn’t matter what exactly awakens a girl’s soul - is it money, is it fame, is it nobility of the family ... Everyone assured that it’s not at all the same in Sorrento, on Capri - it’s warmer, and sunny, and lemons bloom, and morals are more honest, and wine is more natural. And so the family from San Francisco decided to go with all their chests to Capri, so that, after examining it, walking on the stones on the site of the palaces of Tiberius, visiting the fabulous caves of the Azure Grotto and listening to the Abruzzo bagpipers, wandering around the island for a whole month before Christmas and singing praises to the Virgin Mary, to settle in Sorrento.

On the day of departure - very memorable for the family from San Francisco! - even in the morning there was no sun. A heavy fog hid Vesuvius to its very foundation, low gray over the leaden swell of the sea. Capri was not visible at all - as if he had never existed in the world. And the little steamboat heading towards it was so swaying from side to side that the family from San Francisco was lying in layers on the sofas in the miserable wardroom of this steamboat, wrapping their legs in rugs and closing their eyes from dizziness. Mrs. suffered, as she thought, most of all; she was overwhelmed several times, it seemed to her that she was dying, and the maid, who came running to her with a basin, - for many years, day after day, swaying on these waves in heat and cold, and yet tireless, - only laughed.

Miss was terribly pale and held a slice of lemon in her teeth. Mister, who was lying on his back, in a wide coat and a large cap, did not open his jaws all the way; his face became dark, his mustache white, his head ached severely: the last days, thanks to bad weather, he drank too much in the evenings and admired too much "living pictures" in some brothels. And the rain fell on the rattling glass, it flowed from them on the sofas, the wind howled at the masts and sometimes, together with the oncoming wave, laid the steamer completely on its side, and then something rolled down with a roar. At the stops, at Castellammare, at Sorrento, it was a little easier; but even here it waved terribly, the coast with all its cliffs, gardens, pines, pink and white hotels and smoky, curly-green mountains flew up and down outside the window, as if on a swing; boats banged against the walls, third-graders screamed excitedly, somewhere, as if crushed, a child choked on a cry, a damp wind blew at the doors, and, not ceasing for a minute, piercingly screamed from a rocking barge under the flag of the Royal Hotel, a burry boy who lured travelers : "Kgoya-al! Hotel Kgoya-al!..” And the gentleman from San Francisco, feeling himself as he should be - quite an old man - was already thinking with longing and malice about all these "Royal", "Splendid", "Excelsior" and about those greedy, garlic-smelling little people called Italians; once during a stop, opening his eyes and rising from the sofa, he saw under a rocky sheer a bunch of such miserable, moldy stone houses stuck to each other near the water, near the boats, near some rags, tins and brown nets, that, remembering that this was the real Italy he had come to enjoy, he felt despair... Finally, already at dusk, the island began to move with its blackness, as if drilled through with red lights at the foot, the wind became softer, warmer, more fragrant, like black oil, golden boas flowed from the lanterns of the pier ... Then suddenly an anchor thundered and splashed into the water, furious cries of boatmen rushed from everywhere - and immediately it became easier on the soul, the cabins shone brighter - the company, I wanted to eat, drink, smoke, move ... Ten minutes later, the family from San Francisco got into a large barge, after fifteen they stepped on the stones of the embankment, and then got into a bright trailer and, with a buzzing m stretched up the slope, among the stakes in the vineyards, dilapidated stone fences and wet, gnarled, covered in some places with thatched canopies of orange trees, with a gleam of orange fruits and thick glossy foliage sliding downhill, past the open windows of the trailer ... It smells sweet in Italy is the land after the rain, and each of its islands has its own special smell!

The island of Capri was damp and dark tonight. But then he came to life for a moment, lit up in some places. On the top of the mountain, on the platform of the funicular, there was again a crowd of those whose duty it was to worthily receive the gentleman from San Francisco. There were other visitors, but not worthy of attention - several Russians who settled in Capri, slovenly and absent-minded, with glasses, beards, with turned up collars of old coats, and a company of long-legged, round-headed German youths in Tyrolean suits and with canvas bags over their shoulders. , who do not need anyone's services, feel at home everywhere and are not at all generous in spending. The gentleman from San Francisco, who calmly avoided both of them, was immediately noticed. He and his ladies were hurriedly helped out, they ran ahead of him, showing the way, he was again surrounded by boys and those hefty Capri women who carry suitcases and chests of respectable tourists on their heads. There was a pounding on a small, like an opera square, over which an electric ball was swaying from a damp wind, their wooden footstools, whistling like a bird and somersaulting over their heads, a crowd of boys - and how a gentleman from San Francisco walked among them to some medieval an arch under the houses merged into one, behind which a ringing street led slopingly to the hotel entrance shining ahead with a swirl of palm trees over flat roofs to the left and blue stars in the black sky above, in front. And again it seemed that it was in honor of the guests from San Francisco that a stone damp town on a rocky island in the Mediterranean came to life, that they made the owner of the hotel so happy and hospitable that only a Chinese gong was waiting for them, howling on all floors of the gathering for dinner as soon as they entered the lobby.

A high-ranking person who was visiting Capri has just departed - Flight XVII. And the guests from San Francisco were given the very apartments that he occupied. They were assigned the most beautiful and skillful maid, a Belgian, with a thin and hard waist from a corset and in a starched cap in the form of a small jagged crown, the most prominent of the footmen, a coal-black, fire-eyed Sicilian, and the most efficient bellhop, small and plump Luigi, who has changed many such places in his lifetime. And a minute later, a French maitre d' lightly knocked on the door of the gentleman's room from San Francisco, who had come to find out if the gentlemen would have dinner, and in the case of an affirmative answer, in which, however, there was no doubt, to report that today lobster, roast beef, asparagus, pheasants and so on. Paul was still walking under the gentleman from San Francisco—that wretched Italian steamboat rocked him—but he slowly, with his own hand, although unaccustomed and not quite deftly, closed the window that slammed at the head waiter’s entrance, from which smelled the smell of the distant Kitchen and wet flowers in the garden, and with leisurely distinctness answered that they would dine, that a table for them should be placed away from the doors, in the very back of the hall, that they would drink local wine, and the head waiter echoed his every word in a wide variety of intonations, which, however, had only the meaning that there is not and cannot be any doubt about the correctness of the desires of the gentleman from San Francisco and that everything will be executed exactly. Finally, he bowed his head and delicately asked:

All sir?

And, having received a slow "yes" in response (Yes - English), added that today they have a tarantella in their lobby - dancing Carmella and Giuseppe, known throughout Italy and the whole world of tourists.

I saw her on postcards,” said the gentleman from San Francisco in an expressionless voice. “And this Giuseppe is her husband?”

Cousin, sir, the head waiter replied.

And after a pause, after thinking something, but without saying anything, the gentleman from San Francisco dismissed him with a nod of his head.

gentleman from san francisco

Woe to you, Babylon, strong city
Apocalypse

A gentleman from San Francisco - no one remembered his name either in Naples or Capri - went to the Old World for two whole years, with his wife and daughter, solely for the sake of entertainment.
He was firmly convinced that he had every right to rest, to pleasure, to a long and comfortable journey, and who knows what else. For such confidence, he had the reason that, firstly, he was rich, and secondly, he had just embarked on life, despite his fifty-eight years. Until that time, he had not lived, but only existed, though not badly, but still placing all his hopes on the future. He worked tirelessly - the Chinese, whom he ordered to work for him by the thousands, knew well what this meant! - and, finally, he saw that a lot had already been done, that he was almost equal to those whom he had once taken as a model, and decided to take a break. The people to whom he belonged used to start enjoying life with a trip to Europe, to India, to Egypt. He did and he did the same. Of course, he wanted to reward himself first of all for the years of work; however, he was also happy for his wife and daughter. His wife has never been particularly impressionable, but all elderly American women are passionate travelers. And as for the daughter, an aged and slightly sickly girl, for her the trip was absolutely necessary - not to mention the health benefits, isn't there happy meetings in travel? Here sometimes you sit at the table or look at the frescoes next to the billionaire.
The route was developed by a gentleman from San Francisco extensive. In December and January, he hoped to enjoy the sun of southern Italy, the monuments of antiquity, the tarantella, the serenades of itinerant singers and what people at his age feel! especially subtly - with the love of young Neapolitan women, even if not entirely disinterested, he thought to hold a carnival in Nice, in Monte Carlo, where at that time the most selective society flocks - the very one on which all the blessings of civilization depend: and the style of tuxedos , and the strength of thrones, and the declaration of war, and the well-being of hotels - where some enthusiastically indulge in automobile and sailing races, others in roulette, others in what is commonly called flirting, and fourth in shooting pigeons, which soar very beautifully from the cages over the emerald lawn, against the background of the sea, the color of forget-me-nots, and immediately knock white lumps on the ground; he wanted to dedicate the beginning of March to Florence, to come to Rome to the passions of the Lord, to listen to the Miserere there.
; Venice, and Paris, and a bullfight in Seville, and swimming in the English Isles, and Athens, and Constantinople, and Palestine, and Egypt, and even Japan were included in his plans - of course, already on the way back ... And everything went first Great.
It was the end of November, and all the way to Gibraltar we had to sail now in icy haze, now in the middle of a storm with sleet; but sailed quite well.
There were many passengers, the steamer - the famous "Atlantis" - looked like a huge hotel with all the amenities - with a night bar, with oriental baths, with its own newspaper - and life on it proceeded very measuredly: they got up early, with trumpet sounds, sharply resounding along the corridors even in that gloomy hour, when the dawn was so slow and unfriendly over the gray-green water desert, which was heavily agitated in the fog; having put on flannel pajamas, they drank coffee, chocolate, cocoa; then they sat down in the marble baths, did gymnastics, stimulating the appetite and feeling good, made daily toilets and went to the first breakfast; up to eleven o'clock it was supposed to walk briskly on the decks, breathing the cold freshness of the ocean, or play sheffle-board and other games to re-stimulate the appetite, and at eleven to refresh themselves with broth sandwiches; having refreshed themselves, they read the newspaper with pleasure and calmly waited for the second breakfast, even more nutritious and varied than the first; the next two hours were devoted to rest; all the decks were then filled with long chairs, on which travelers lay, covered with rugs, looking at the cloudy sky and at the foamy hillocks flashing overboard, or dozing sweetly; at five o'clock they, refreshed and cheerful, were given strong fragrant tea with biscuits; at seven they announced with trumpet signals what constituted the main goal of this entire existence, its crown ... And then the gentleman from San Francisco, rubbing his hands from a surge of vitality, hurried to his rich luxury cabin - to get dressed.
In the evenings, the floors of the Atlantis gaped in the darkness as if with countless fiery eyes, and a great many servants worked in the cooks, scullery and wine cellars. The ocean that went beyond the walls was terrible, but they did not think about it, firmly believing in the power over it of the commander, a red-haired man of monstrous size and weight, always as if sleepy, similar in his uniform, with wide gold stripes to a huge idol and very rarely appearing to people from his mysterious chambers; a siren on the forecastle kept screaming with hellish gloominess and screeching with furious malice, but few of the diners heard the siren - it was drowned out by the sounds of a beautiful string orchestra, exquisitely and tirelessly playing in a double-height marble hall, lined with velvet carpets, festively flooded with lights, overflowing with low-cut ladies and men in tailcoats and tuxedos, slender footmen and respectful maitre d's, among which one, the one who took orders only for wine, even walked around with a chain around his neck, like some kind of lord mayor. The tuxedo and starched underwear made the gentleman from San Francisco very young. Dry, short, oddly tailored, but strongly tailored, polished to a gloss and moderately lively, he sat in the golden-pearl radiance of this hall behind a bottle of amber Johannisberg, behind glasses and goblets of the finest glass, behind a curly bouquet of hyacinths. There was something Mongol in his yellowish face with trimmed silver mustaches, his large teeth glittered with gold fillings, his strong bald head was old ivory. Richly, but according to the years, his wife was dressed, a woman large, wide and calm; complex, but light and transparent, with innocent frankness - a daughter, tall, thin, with magnificent hair, charmingly done up, with aromatic breath from violet cakes and with the most delicate pink pimples near the lips and between the shoulder blades, slightly powdered ... The dinner lasted more than an hour, and after dinner, dances opened in the ballroom, during which men - including, of course, the gentleman from San Francisco - with their legs up, decided the fate of peoples on the basis of the latest stock exchange news, smoked Havana cigars to crimson redness and drank liqueurs in a bar where Negroes in red coats served, with squirrels like peeled hard-boiled eggs.
The ocean rumbled behind the wall in black mountains, the blizzard whistled hard in the heavy gear, the steamer trembled all over, overcoming both it and these mountains, as if with a plow breaking their unsteady sides, now and then boiling up and flying high with foamy tails, into the siren choked with mist moaned in mortal anguish, the watchmen on their tower froze from the cold and went crazy from the unbearable tension of attention, the gloomy and sultry bowels of the underworld, its last, ninth circle was like the underwater womb of a steamboat - the one where the gigantic fireboxes, devouring with their red-hot mouths of heaps of coal, with a roar thrown into them, drenched in acrid, dirty sweat and waist-deep naked people, crimson from the flames; and here, in the bar, they carelessly threw their legs on the arms of their chairs, sipped cognac and liqueurs, floated in waves of spicy smoke, everything in the dance hall shone and poured out light, warmth and joy, couples either spun in waltzes, or bent into tango - and the music insistently, in a kind of sweet, shameless sadness, she prayed all about one thing, all about the same ... Among this brilliant crowd there was a certain great rich man, shaven, long, like a prelate, in an old-fashioned tailcoat, there was a famous Spanish writer, there was a universal beauty, there was an elegant couple in love, whom everyone watched with curiosity and who did not hide their happiness: he danced only with her, and everything came out with them so subtly, charmingly, that only one commander knew that this couple was hired by Lloyd to play love for good money and has long been floating on one ship or another.
In Gibraltar, everyone was happy with the sun, it was like early spring; a new passenger appeared on board the Atlantis, arousing general interest in himself - the crown prince of an Asian state, traveling incognito, a small man, all made of wood, broad-faced, narrow-eyed, wearing gold glasses, slightly unpleasant - because his large black mustache showed through his him, like a dead man, in general, sweet, simple and modest. The Mediterranean smelled of winter again, there was a large and flowery wave, like a peacock's tail, which, with a bright brilliance and a completely clear sky, was parted by a tramontana merrily and furiously flying towards. Then, on the second day, the sky began to turn pale, the horizon became foggy: the earth was approaching, Ischia, Capri appeared, through the binoculars Naples, piled at the foot of something gray-gray, was already visible in lumps of sugar ... Many ladies and gentlemen had already put on light coats, fur up, fur coats; unanswered, always whispering fights - the Chinese, bow-legged teenagers with tar to toe braids and girlish thick eyelashes, gradually pulled blankets, canes, suitcases, travel bags up the stairs ... The daughter of a gentleman from San Francisco stood on the deck next to the prince, last night, by a lucky chance presented to her, she pretended to stare intently into the distance, where he pointed to her, explaining something, telling something hastily and quietly; he seemed like a boy among the others in stature, he was not at all good-looking and strange - glasses, a bowler hat, an English coat, and the hair of a sparse mustache looked like a horse, dark, thin skin on a flat face seemed to be stretched and as if slightly varnished - but the girl listened to him and from excitement did not understand what he was saying to her; her heart beat with an incomprehensible delight before him: everything, everything in him was different from the others - his dry hands, his clean skin, under which flowed ancient royal blood, even his European, quite simple, but as if especially neat clothes were fraught with an inexplicable charm. And the gentleman from San Francisco himself, in gray leggings on patent-leather boots, kept looking at the famous beauty standing near him, a tall, amazingly built blonde with eyes painted in the latest Parisian fashion, holding a tiny, bent, mangy dog on a silver chain and talking all the time. with her. And the daughter, in some kind of vague awkwardness, tried not to notice him.
He was quite generous on the way and therefore fully believed in the care of all those who fed and watered him, served him from morning to evening, forestalling his slightest desire, guarded his cleanliness and peace, dragged his things, called for him porters, delivered him chests in hotels. So it was everywhere, so it was in navigation, so it should have been in Naples. Naples grew and approached; the musicians, shining with copper wind instruments, already crowded on the deck and suddenly deafened everyone with the triumphant sounds of the march, the giant commander, in full dress, appeared on his bridges and, like a merciful pagan god, waved his hand in greeting to the passengers - and to the gentleman from San Francisco, just like everyone else, it seemed that it was for him alone that the march of proud America was thundering, that it was his commander who greeted him with a safe arrival. And when the Atlantis finally entered the harbor, rolled up to the embankment with its multi-storey bulk dotted with people, and the gangway rumbled - how many porters and their assistants in caps with gold galloons, how many all kinds of commission agents, whistling boys and hefty ragamuffins with bundles colored postcards in their hands rushed to meet him with an offer of services! And he grinned at these ragamuffins, going to the car of the very hotel where the prince could also stay, and calmly spoke through his teeth in English, then in Italian:
– Go away!
Via!
Life in Naples immediately flowed into routine: early in the morning - breakfast in a gloomy dining room, cloudy, unpromising sky and a crowd of guides at the lobby door; then the first smiles of the warm pinkish sun, the view from the high-hanging balcony of Vesuvius, shrouded to the foot in radiant morning vapors, of the silver-pearl ripples of the bay and the thin outline of Capri on the horizon, of the tiny donkeys running down the sticky embankment, and of the troops small soldiers marching somewhere with cheerful and defiant music; then - exit to the car and slow movement along the crowded narrow and gray corridors of the streets, among the tall, multi-windowed houses, viewing the deadly clean and even, pleasant, but boring, snow-lit museums or cold, wax-smelling churches, in which everywhere one and the same thing: a majestic entrance, covered with a heavy leather curtain, and inside - a huge emptiness, silence, quiet lights of the menorah, reddening in the depths on a throne decorated with lace, a lonely old woman among dark wooden desks, slippery tombstones underfoot and someone else " Descent from the Cross”, certainly famous; at one o'clock in the afternoon on Mount San Martino, where by noon many people of the very first class come together and where one day the daughter of a gentleman from San Francisco almost became ill: it seemed to her that a prince was sitting in the hall, although she already knew from the newspapers, that he is in Rome; at five o'clock in the hotel, in a smart salon, where it is so warm from the carpets and blazing fireplaces; and there again preparations for dinner - again the powerful, authoritative rumble of the gong on all floors, again the strings of rustling silks on the stairs and the low-cut ladies reflected in the mirrors, again the wide and hospitable hall of the dining room, and the red jackets of the musicians on the stage, and the black crowd of lackeys near the head waiter, with extraordinary skill pouring thick pink soup on plates ... Dinners were again so plentiful and dishes, and wines, and mineral waters, and sweets, and fruits, that by eleven o'clock in the evening maids carried rubber bladders with hot water to all rooms to warm stomachs.
However, December was not entirely successful that year: the porters, when they talked to them about the weather, only raised their shoulders guiltily, muttering that they would not remember such a year, although for more than a year they had to mutter this and refer to the fact that “ something terrible is happening everywhere ”: unprecedented downpours and storms on the Riviera, snow in Athens, Etna is also all covered and shines at night, tourists from Palermo, fleeing the cold, scatter ... The morning sun deceived every day: from noon it invariably turned gray and began sow rain, but it’s getting thicker and colder: then the palm trees at the hotel entrance shone with tin, the city seemed especially dirty and cramped, the museums were too monotonous, the cigar butts of fat cabbies in rubber capes fluttering in the wind with wings - unbearably smelly, the vigorous clapping of their whips over with thin-necked nags obviously false, the shoes of the gentlemen who sweep the tram rails are terrible, and the women splashing in the mud, in the rain, with black open heads, are ugly short-legged; about the dampness and the stench of rotten fish from the foaming sea near the embankment and there is nothing to say.
The gentleman and lady from San Francisco began to quarrel in the morning; their daughter either walked around pale, with a headache, then came to life, admired everything and was then both sweet and beautiful: beautiful were those tender, complex feelings that a meeting with an ugly man in whom unusual blood flowed aroused in her, because in the end - in the end, maybe it doesn’t matter what exactly awakens the girl’s soul - whether it’s money, fame, whether the nobility of the family ... Everyone assured that it’s not at all the same in Sorrento, on Capri - it’s warmer and sunny there, and lemons are blooming, and morals are more honest, and wine is more natural. And so the family from San Francisco decided to go with all their chests to Capri, so that, after examining it, walking on the stones on the site of the palaces of Tiberius, visiting the fabulous caves of the Azure Grotto and listening to the Abruzzo bagpipers, wandering around the island for a whole month before Christmas and singing praises to the Virgin Mary, to settle in Sorrento.
On the day of departure - very memorable for the family from San Francisco! Even in the morning there was no sun. A heavy fog hid Vesuvius to its very foundation, low gray over the leaden swell of the sea. Capri was nowhere to be seen, as if he had never existed in the world. And the little steamboat heading towards it was so swaying from side to side that the family from San Francisco was lying in layers on the sofas in the miserable wardroom of this steamboat, wrapping their legs in rugs and closing their eyes from dizziness. Mrs. suffered, as she thought, most of all; she was overwhelmed several times, it seemed to her that she was dying, and the maid, who came running to her with a basin, - for many years, day after day, swaying on these waves and in the heat and in the cold, and yet tireless, - only laughed.
Miss was terribly pale and held a slice of lemon in her teeth. Mister, who was lying on his back, in a wide coat and a large cap, did not open his jaws all the way; his face became dark, his mustache white, his head ached severely: the last days, thanks to bad weather, he drank too much in the evenings and admired too much "living pictures" in some brothels. And the rain fell on the rattling glass, it flowed from them on the sofas, the wind howled at the masts and sometimes, together with the oncoming wave, laid the steamer completely on its side, and then something rolled down with a roar. At the stops, at Castellammare, at Sorrento, it was a little easier; but even here it waved terribly, the coast with all its cliffs, gardens, pines, pink and white hotels and smoky, curly-green mountains flew up and down outside the window, as if on a swing; boats banged against the walls, third-graders screamed excitedly, somewhere, as if crushed, a child choked on a cry, a damp wind blew at the doors, and, not ceasing for a minute, piercingly screamed from a rocking barge under the flag of the Royal Hotel, a burry boy who lured travelers : "Kgoya-al! Hotel Kgoya-al!..” And the gentleman from San Francisco, feeling as he should, a very old man, was already thinking with anguish and malice about all these Royal, Splendid, Excelsior and about those greedy, garlic-smelling little people called Italians; once during a stop, opening his eyes and rising from the sofa, he saw under a rocky sheer a bunch of such miserable, moldy stone houses stuck to each other near the water, near the boats, near some rags, tins and brown nets, that, remembering that this was the real Italy he had come to enjoy, he felt despair... Finally, already at dusk, the island began to move with its blackness, as if drilled through with red lights at the foot, the wind became softer, warmer, more fragrant, like black oil, golden boas flowed from the lanterns of the pier ... Then suddenly an anchor thundered and splashed into the water, furious cries of boatmen rushed from everywhere - and immediately it became easier on the soul, the cabins shone brighter - the company, I wanted to eat, drink, smoke, move ... Ten minutes later, the family from San Francisco got into a large barge, after fifteen they stepped on the stones of the embankment, and then got into a bright trailer and, with a buzzing m stretched up the slope, among the stakes in the vineyards, dilapidated stone fences and wet, gnarled, covered in some places with thatched canopies of orange trees, with a gleam of orange fruits and thick glossy foliage sliding downhill, past the open windows of the trailer ... It smells sweet in Italy is the land after the rain, and each of its islands has its own special smell!
The island of Capri was damp and dark tonight. But then he came to life for a moment, lit up in some places. On the top of the mountain, on the platform of the funicular, there was again a crowd of those whose duty it was to worthily receive the gentleman from San Francisco. There were other visitors, but not worthy of attention - a few Russians who settled in Capri, slovenly and absent-minded, with glasses, beards, with turned up collars of old coats, and a company of long-legged, round-headed German youths in Tyrolean suits and with canvas bags over their shoulders. , who do not need anyone's services, feel at home everywhere and are not at all generous in spending. The gentleman from San Francisco, who calmly avoided both of them, was immediately noticed. He and his ladies were hurriedly helped out, they ran ahead of him, showing the way, he was again surrounded by boys and those hefty Capri women who carry suitcases and chests of respectable tourists on their heads. There was a pounding on a small, like an opera square, over which an electric ball was swaying from a damp wind, their wooden footstools whistled like a bird and tumbled over the head of a crowd of boys - and how a gentleman from San Francisco walked among them to some medieval an arch under the houses merged into one, behind which a ringing street led slopingly to the hotel entrance shining ahead with a swirl of palm trees over flat roofs to the left and blue stars in the black sky above, in front. And again it seemed that it was in honor of the guests from San Francisco that a stone damp town on a rocky island in the Mediterranean came to life, that they made the owner of the hotel so happy and hospitable that only a Chinese gong was waiting for them, howling on all floors of the gathering for dinner as soon as they entered the lobby.
The polite and elegant bow of the host, the remarkably elegant young man who met them, for a moment struck the gentleman from San Francisco: looking at him, the gentleman from San Francisco suddenly remembered that this night, among other confusion that besieged him in a dream, he saw this particular gentleman, exactly the same as this one, in the same business card with round edges and with the same mirror-combed head.
Surprised, he almost stopped. But since not even the mustard seed of any so-called mystical feelings remained in his soul for a long time, his surprise immediately faded: he jokingly told his wife and daughter about this strange coincidence of dream and reality, walking along the corridor of the hotel. His daughter, however, looked at him with alarm at that moment: her heart was suddenly gripped by melancholy, a feeling of terrible loneliness on this alien, dark island ...
A high-ranking person who was visiting Capri has just departed - Flight XVII. And the guests from San Francisco were given the very apartments that he occupied. They were assigned the most beautiful and skillful maid, a Belgian, with a thin and hard waist from a corset and in a starched cap in the form of a small jagged crown, the most prominent of the footmen, a coal-black, fire-eyed Sicilian, and the most efficient bellhop, small and plump Luigi, who has changed many such places in his lifetime. And a minute later, a French maitre d' lightly knocked on the door of the gentleman's room from San Francisco, who had come to find out if the gentlemen would have dinner, and in the case of an affirmative answer, in which, however, there was no doubt, to report that today lobster, roast beef, asparagus, pheasants and so on. Paul was still walking under the gentleman from San Francisco—that wretched Italian steamboat rocked him—but he slowly, with his own hand, though unaccustomed and not quite deftly, closed the window that slammed at the head waiter’s entrance, from which smelled the smell of the distant Kitchen and wet flowers in the garden, and with leisurely distinctness answered that they would dine, that a table for them should be placed away from the doors, in the very back of the hall, that they would drink local wine, and the head waiter echoed his every word in a wide variety of intonations, which, however, had only the meaning that there is not and cannot be any doubt about the correctness of the desires of the gentleman from San Francisco and that everything will be executed exactly. Finally, he bowed his head and delicately asked:
- Everything, sir?
And, having received a slow "yes" in response
, added that today they have a tarantella in their lobby - dancing Carmella and Giuseppe, known throughout Italy and the whole world of tourists.
“I saw her on postcards,” said the gentleman from San Francisco in an expressionless voice. “And this Giuseppe is her husband?”
“Cousin, sir,” the head waiter replied.
And after a pause, after thinking something, but without saying anything, the gentleman from San Francisco dismissed him with a nod of his head.
And then he again began to get ready for the wedding: he turned on electricity everywhere, filled all the mirrors with reflections of light and brilliance, furniture and open chests, began to shave, wash and call every minute, while other impatient calls rushed and interrupted him along the entire corridor - from the rooms of his wife and daughter. And Luigi, in his red apron, with the ease characteristic of many fat men, making grimaces of horror that amused the maids who ran past with tiled buckets in their hands to tears, rolled head over heels at the bell and, knocking on the door with his knuckles, with feigned timidity, with idiocy respectfully asked:
“A sonato, signore?”
And from behind the door came a slow and creaky, insultingly polite voice:
Yes, come in...
What did the gentleman from San Francisco feel, what did he think on this so significant evening for him? He, like anyone who has experienced a toss, only really wanted to eat, dreamed with pleasure of the first spoonful of soup, the first sip of wine, and performed the usual business of the toilet even in some excitement, which left no time for feelings and reflections.
Having shaved, washed, properly inserted several teeth, he, standing in front of the mirrors, moistened and pinched with brushes in a silver frame the remnants of pearl hair around a swarthy-yellow skull, pulled on a strong senile body with a waist plump from enhanced nutrition, and on dry legs with flat feet - black silk stockings and ball shoes, crouching, he put in order black trousers and a snow-white shirt with a protruding chest, which were highly pulled up with silk straps, set the cufflinks in the shiny cuffs and began to suffer with catching under the hard collar of the cufflinks of the neck. The floor was still swaying under him, his fingertips were very painful, the cufflink sometimes bit hard on the flabby skin in the recess under the Adam's apple, but he was persistent and, finally, with eyes shining from tension, all gray from the excessively tight collar that squeezed his throat, still finished the job - and in exhaustion sat down in front of the dressing table, all reflected in it and repeated in other mirrors.

gentleman from san francisco

Ivan Alekseevich Bunin

List of school literature grade 10-11

The gentleman from San Francisco has always been convinced that pleasure can be bought, and now that he has a lot of money, there will be a lot of pleasure.

The gentleman from San Francisco is a typical person, but how are you different from him? Maybe this story will help you understand who you really are and change your life.

The story "The Gentleman from San Francisco" was written by Ivan Alekseevich Bunin in 1915. 18 years later, in November 1933, Bunin will be awarded the Nobel Prize for the books "The Gentleman from San Francisco" and "The Life of Arseniev". In his acceptance speech, the writer will say: “There must be areas of complete independence in the world. Undoubtedly, around this table are representatives of all kinds of opinions, all kinds of philosophical and religious beliefs. But there is something unshakable that unites us all: freedom of thought and conscience, something to which we owe civilization.”

I.A. Bunin

gentleman from san francisco

Apocalypse

A gentleman from San Francisco - no one remembered his name either in Naples or Capri - went to the Old World for two whole years, with his wife and daughter, solely for the sake of entertainment.

He was firmly convinced that he had every right to rest, to pleasure, to a long and comfortable journey, and who knows what else. For such confidence, he had the reason that, firstly, he was rich, and secondly, he had just embarked on life, despite his fifty-eight years. Until that time, he had not lived, but only existed, though not badly, but still placing all his hopes on the future. He worked tirelessly - the Chinese, whom he ordered to work for him by the thousands, knew well what this meant! - and, finally, he saw that a lot had already been done, that he was almost equal to those whom he had once taken as a model, and decided to take a break. The people to whom he belonged used to start enjoying life with a trip to Europe, to India, to Egypt. He did and he did the same. Of course, he wanted to reward himself first of all for the years of work; however, he was also happy for his wife and daughter. His wife was never particularly impressionable, but all elderly American women are passionate travelers. And as for the daughter, an aged and slightly sickly girl, for her the trip was absolutely necessary - not to mention the health benefits, isn't there happy meetings in travel? Here sometimes you sit at the table or look at the frescoes next to the billionaire.

The route was developed by a gentleman from San Francisco extensive. In December and January, he hoped to enjoy the sun of southern Italy, the monuments of antiquity, the tarantella, the serenades of itinerant singers and what people at his age feel! Especially subtly - with the love of young Neapolitan women, even if not entirely disinterested, he thought of holding a carnival in Nice, in Monte Carlo, where at that time the most selective society flocks - the very one on which all the benefits of civilization depend: and the style of tuxedos , and the strength of thrones, and the declaration of war, and the well-being of hotels - where some enthusiastically indulge in automobile and sailing races, others in roulette, others in what is commonly called flirting, and fourth in shooting pigeons, which soar very beautifully from the cages over the emerald lawn, against the background of the sea, the color of forget-me-nots, and immediately knock white lumps on the ground; he wanted to dedicate the beginning of March to Florence, to come to Rome to the passions of the Lord, to listen to the Miserere there; Venice, and Paris, and a bullfight in Seville, and swimming in the English Isles, and Athens, and Constantinople, and Palestine, and Egypt, and even Japan were included in his plans - of course, already on the way back ... And everything went first Great.

It was the end of November, and all the way to Gibraltar we had to sail now in icy haze, now in the middle of a storm with sleet; but sailed quite well. There were many passengers, the steamer - the famous "Atlantis" - looked like a huge hotel with all the amenities - with a night bar, with oriental baths, with its own newspaper - and life on it proceeded very measuredly: they got up early, with trumpet sounds, sharply resounding along the corridors even in that gloomy hour, when the dawn was so slow and unfriendly over the gray-green water desert, which was heavily agitated in the fog; having put on flannel pajamas, they drank coffee, chocolate, cocoa; then they sat down in the marble baths, did gymnastics, stimulating the appetite and feeling good, made daily toilets and went to the first breakfast; up to eleven o'clock it was supposed to walk briskly on the decks, breathing the cold freshness of the ocean, or play sheffle-board and other games to re-stimulate the appetite, and at eleven to refresh themselves with broth sandwiches; having refreshed themselves, they read the newspaper with pleasure and calmly waited for the second breakfast, even more nutritious and varied than the first; the next two hours were devoted to rest; all the decks were then filled with long chairs, on which travelers lay, covered with rugs, looking at the cloudy sky and at the foamy hillocks flashing overboard, or dozing sweetly; at five o'clock they, refreshed and cheerful, were given strong fragrant tea with biscuits; at seven they announced with trumpet signals what constituted the main goal of this entire existence, its crown ... And then the gentleman from San Francisco, rubbing his hands from a surge of vitality, hurried to his rich luxury cabin - to get dressed.

In the evenings, the floors of the Atlantis gaped in the darkness as if with countless fiery eyes, and a great many servants worked in the cooks, scullery and wine cellars. The ocean that went beyond the walls was terrible, but they did not think about it, firmly believing in the power over it of the commander, a red-haired man of monstrous size and weight, always as if sleepy, similar in his uniform, with wide gold stripes to a huge idol and very rarely appearing to people from his mysterious chambers; a siren on the forecastle kept screaming with hellish gloominess and screeching with furious malice, but few of the diners heard the siren - it was drowned out by the sounds of a beautiful string orchestra, exquisitely and tirelessly playing in a double-height marble hall, lined with velvet carpets, festively flooded with lights, overflowing with low-cut ladies and men in tailcoats and tuxedos, slender footmen and respectful maitre d's, among which one, the one who took orders only for wine, even walked around with a chain around his neck, like some kind of lord mayor. The tuxedo and starched underwear made the gentleman from San Francisco very young. Dry, short, oddly cut, but strongly tailored, polished to a gloss and moderately lively, he sat in the golden-pearl radiance of this hall behind a bottle of amber Johannisberg, behind glasses and goblets of the finest glass, behind a curly bouquet of hyacinths. There was something Mongol in his yellowish face with trimmed silver mustaches, his large teeth glittered with gold fillings, his strong bald head was old ivory. Richly, but according to the years, his wife was dressed, a woman large, wide and calm; complicated, but light and transparent, with innocent frankness - a daughter, tall, thin, with magnificent hair, charmingly dressed, with aromatic breath from violet cakes and with

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delicate pink pimples near the lips and between the shoulder blades, a little powdered ... The dinner lasted more than an hour, and after dinner dances opened in the ballroom, during which men - including, of course, the gentleman from San Francisco - with their legs up, decided on the basis of the latest exchange news of the fate of the peoples, they smoked up to crimson red Havana cigars and got drunk on liquors in a bar where Negroes in red camisoles served, with whites that looked like peeled hard-boiled eggs. The ocean rumbled behind the wall in black mountains, the blizzard whistled hard in the heavy gear, the steamer trembled all over, overcoming both it and these mountains, as if with a plow breaking their unsteady sides, now and then boiling up and flying high with foamy tails, into the siren choked with mist moaned in mortal anguish, the watchmen on their tower froze from the cold and went crazy from the unbearable tension of attention, the gloomy and sultry bowels of the underworld, its last, ninth circle was like the underwater womb of a steamboat - the one where the gigantic fireboxes, devouring with their red-hot mouths of heaps of coal, with a roar thrown into them, drenched in acrid, dirty sweat and waist-deep naked people, crimson from the flames; and here, in the bar, they carelessly threw their legs on the arms of their chairs, sipped cognac and liqueurs, floated in waves of spicy smoke, everything in the dance hall shone and poured out light, warmth and joy, couples either spun in waltzes, or bent into tango - and the music insistently, in a kind of sweet, shameless sadness, she prayed all about one thing, all about the same ... Among this brilliant crowd there was a certain great rich man, shaven, long, like a prelate, in an old-fashioned tailcoat, there was a famous Spanish writer, there was a universal beauty, there was an elegant couple in love, whom everyone watched with curiosity and who did not hide their happiness: he danced only with her, and everything came out with them so subtly, charmingly, that only one commander knew that this couple was hired by Lloyd to play love for good money and has long been floating on one ship or another.

In Gibraltar, everyone was happy with the sun, it was like early spring; a new passenger appeared on board the Atlantis, arousing general interest in himself - the crown prince of an Asian state, traveling incognito, a small man, all made of wood, broad-faced, narrow-eyed, wearing gold glasses, slightly unpleasant - because his large black mustache showed through his him, like a dead man, in general, sweet, simple and modest. The Mediterranean smelled of winter again, there was a large and flowery wave, like a peacock's tail, which, with a bright brilliance and a completely clear sky, was parted by a tramontana merrily and furiously flying towards. Then, on the second day, the sky began to turn pale, the horizon became foggy: the earth was approaching, Ischia, Capri appeared, through the binoculars Naples, piled at the foot of something gray-gray, was already visible in lumps of sugar ... Many ladies and gentlemen had already put on light coats, fur up, fur coats; unanswered, always in a whisper speaking fights - the Chinese, bow-legged teenagers with tar to toe braids and girlish thick eyelashes, gradually pulled blankets, canes, suitcases, travel bags up the stairs ... The daughter of a gentleman from San Francisco stood on the deck next to the prince, last night, by a lucky chance presented to her, she pretended to stare intently into the distance, where he pointed to her, explaining something, telling something hastily and quietly; he seemed like a boy among the others in stature, he was not at all good-looking and strange - glasses, a bowler hat, an English coat, and the hair of a sparse mustache looked like a horse, dark, thin skin on a flat face seemed to be stretched and as if slightly varnished - but the girl listened to him and from excitement did not understand what he was saying to her; her heart beat with an incomprehensible delight before him: everything, everything in him was different from the others - his dry hands, his clean skin, under which flowed ancient royal blood, even his European, quite simple, but as if especially neat clothes were fraught with an inexplicable charm. And the gentleman from San Francisco himself, in gray leggings on patent-leather boots, kept looking at the famous beauty standing near him, a tall, amazingly built blonde with eyes painted in the latest Parisian fashion, holding a tiny, bent, mangy dog on a silver chain and talking all the time. with her. And the daughter, in some kind of vague awkwardness, tried not to notice him.

He was quite generous on the way and therefore fully believed in the care of all those who fed and watered him, served him from morning to evening, forestalling his slightest desire, guarded his cleanliness and peace, dragged his things, called for him porters, delivered him chests in hotels. So it was everywhere, so it was in navigation, so it should have been in Naples. Naples grew and approached; the musicians, shining with copper wind instruments, already crowded on the deck and suddenly deafened everyone with the triumphant sounds of the march, the giant commander, in full dress, appeared on his bridges and, like a merciful pagan god, waved his hand in greeting to the passengers - and to the gentleman from San Francisco, just like everyone else, it seemed that it was for him alone that the march of proud America was thundering, that it was his commander who greeted him with a safe arrival. And when the Atlantis finally entered the harbor, rolled up to the embankment with its multi-storey bulk dotted with people, and the gangway rumbled - how many porters and their assistants in caps with gold galloons, how many all kinds of commission agents, whistling boys and hefty ragamuffins with bundles colored postcards in their hands rushed to meet him with an offer of services! And he grinned at these ragamuffins, going to the car of the very hotel where the prince could also stay, and calmly spoke through his teeth in English, then in Italian:

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Notes

"Have mercy" - Catholic prayer (lat.).

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