Monologues from Ostrovsky's play "Thunderstorm" are still modern. Katerina's monologue ("Thunderstorm") - "Why don't people fly?"

List of works for memorization and definition of the genre of the work the teacher does it on his own according to the author's program.

An excerpt of a work (poetic) for grades 5-11 should be a complete semantic text equal to at least 30 lines; prose text - 10-15 lines (grades 5-8), 15-20 lines (grades 9-11). Texts for learning by heart from dramatic work determined by the form of the monologue.

1. A.S. Pushkin. " Bronze Horseman"(excerpt" I love you, Peter's creation ... ")

2. I.S. Turgenev. "Fathers and Sons" (excerpt)

3. I.S. Goncharov. "Oblomov" (excerpt)

4. A.N. Ostrovsky. "Thunderstorm" (excerpt: one of the monologues)

5. F.I. Tyutchev. "Oh, how deadly we love..."

6. N.A. Nekrasov. “The Poet and the Citizen” (excerpt “The son cannot look calmly ...”); “You and I are stupid people ...”, “Who is living well in Rus'?” (excerpt)

7. A.A. Fet. "Distant friend, understand my sobs..."

8. A.K. Tolstoy. “In the midst of a noisy ball, by chance ...”

9. L.N. Tolstoy. "War and Peace" (excerpt)

10. A. Rimbaud. "Closet"

Alexander Pushkin."I love you, Peter's creation" (from the poem "The Bronze Horseman")

I love you, Peter's creation,

I love your strict, slender look,

Neva sovereign current,

Its coastal granite,

your fences cast iron pattern,

your thoughtful nights

Transparent dusk, moonless brilliance,

When I am in my room

I write, I read without a lamp,

And the sleeping masses are clear

Deserted streets, and light

Admiralty needle,

And, not letting the darkness of the night

To golden skies

One dawn to replace another

Hurry, giving the night half an hour.

I love your cruel winters

Still air and frost

Sledge running along the wide Neva,

Girlish faces brighter than roses

And shine, and noise, and the talk of balls,

And at the hour of the feast idle

The hiss of foamy glasses

And punch flame blue.

I love belligerent liveliness

Amusing Fields of Mars,

Infantry troops and horses

monotonous beauty,

In their harmoniously unsteady formation

Patchwork of these victorious banners,

The radiance of these copper caps,

Shot through and through in battle.

I love, military capital,

Your stronghold smoke and thunder,

When the midnight queen

Gives a son to the royal house,

Or victory over the enemy

Russia triumphs again

Or breaking your blue ice

The Neva carries him to the seas

And, feeling spring days, rejoices.

Show off, city of Petrov, and stop

Unshakable as Russia,

May he make peace with you

And the defeated element;

Enmity and old captivity

Let Finnish waves forget

And vain malice will not be

Disturb Peter's eternal sleep!

I.S. Turgenev. "Fathers and Sons" (excerpt)

And now I repeat to you in parting ... because there is nothing to be deceived: we are saying goodbye forever, and you yourself feel it ... you acted wisely; for our bitter, tart, bean * life you were not created. There is neither impudence nor anger in you, but there is young courage and young enthusiasm; it is not good for our business. Your noble brother cannot go further than noble humility or noble effervescence, and this is nothing. You, for example, do not fight - and you already imagine yourself well done - but we want to fight. What! Our dust will eat your eyes out, our dirt will stain you, but you have not grown up to us, you involuntarily admire yourself, it is pleasant for you to scold yourself; but we are bored - give us others! we need to break others! You are a nice fellow; but you are still a soft, liberal barich - e volatu, as my parent puts it.

Are you saying goodbye to me forever, Eugene? - Arkady said sadly, - and you have no other words for me?

Bazarov scratched the back of his head.

Yes, Arkady, I have other words, but I won’t express them, because this is romanticism, it means: get wet *. And you get married as soon as possible; Yes, get your own nest, but make more children. They will be smart just because they will be born on time, not like you and me.

NOTES:

* BOBYL single, bachelor, celibate, single, unmarried, unmarried.

* GET FUCKED and crumble, crumble, crumble - soften up, fall into a sentimental mood.

I.S. Goncharov."Oblomov" (excerpt)

No,” Olga interrupted, raising her head and trying to look at him through her tears. - I recently found out only that I loved in you what I wanted to be in you, what Stoltz pointed out to me, what we invented with him. I loved the future Oblomov! You are meek, honest, Ilya; you are tender... dove; you hide your head under your wing - and you want nothing more; you are ready to coo all your life under the roof ... yes, I’m not like that: this is not enough for me, I need something else, but I don’t know what! Can you teach me, tell me what it is, what I lack, give it all so that I ... And tenderness ... where it is not!

Oblomov's legs buckled; he sat down in an armchair and wiped his hands and forehead with a handkerchief.

The word was cruel; it deeply wounded Oblomov: inside it seemed to burn him, outside it blew cold on him. In response, he smiled somehow pathetically, painfully bashfully, like a beggar who was reproached for his nakedness. He sat with that smile of impotence, weakened by excitement and resentment; his faded look clearly said: "Yes, I am poor, miserable, poor ... beat, beat me! .."

Who cursed you, Ilya? What did you do? You are kind, smart, gentle, noble... and... you are dying! What ruined you? There is no name for this evil...

There is, he said softly.

She looked at him questioningly, her eyes full of tears.

Oblomovism! - he whispered, then took her hand, wanted to kiss, but could not, only pressed it tightly to his lips, and hot tears dripped onto her fingers.

Without raising his head, without showing her his face, he turned and walked away.

A.N. Ostrovsky."Thunderstorm" (excerpt: one of the monologues)

Katherine's monologue.

I say why don't people fly like birds? You know, sometimes I feel like I'm a bird. When you stand on a mountain, you are drawn to fly. That's how I would run up, raise my hands and fly ...

How frisky I was! I completely screwed up on you...

Was I like that! I lived, did not grieve about anything, like a bird in the wild. Mother did not have a soul in me, dressed me up like a doll, did not force me to work; Whatever I want, I do it. Do you know how I lived in girls? Now I'll tell you. I used to get up early; if it’s summer, I’ll go to the spring, wash myself, bring water with me and that’s it, water all the flowers in the house. I had many, many flowers. Then we’ll go to church with mama, all of us are wanderers—our house was full of wanderers; yes pilgrimage. And we will come from the church, we will sit down for some work, more like gold velvet, and the wanderers will begin to tell: where they were, what they saw, different lives, or they sing poetry. So it's time for lunch. Here the old women lie down to sleep, and I walk in the garden. Then to vespers, and in the evening again stories and singing. That was good!

Monologue of Kuligin.

F.I. Tyutchev."Oh, how deadly we love..."

Oh, how deadly we love

We are the most likely to destroy

What is dear to our heart!

How long have you been proud of your victory?

You said she's mine...

A year has not passed - ask and tell,

What is left of her?

Where did the roses go,

The smile of the lips and the sparkle of the eyes?

Everything was singed, tears were burned out

Its hot moisture.

Do you remember when you met

At the first meeting fatal,

Her magical eyes, speeches

And the laughter of an infant is alive?

And now what? And where is all this?

And was the dream durable?

Alas, like northern summer,

He was a passing guest!

Fate's terrible sentence

Your love was for her

And undeserved shame

She lay down on her life!

A life of renunciation, a life of suffering!

In her soul depth

She had memories...

But they changed it too.

And on the ground she became wild,

The charm is gone...

The crowd, surging, trampled into the mud

That which bloomed in her soul.

And what about long torment,

Like ashes, did she manage to save?

Evil pain, bitter pain,

Pain without joy and without tears!

Oh, how deadly we love!

As in the violent blindness of passions

We are the most likely to destroy

What is dearer to our heart! ..

N.A. Nekrasov.“The Poet and the Citizen” (excerpt “The son cannot look calmly ...”)

The son cannot look calmly

On the mother's mountain,

There will be no worthy citizen

To the fatherland is cold in soul,

He has no bitterness...

Go into the fire for the honor of the fatherland,

For conviction, for love...

Go and die flawlessly.

You won't die in vain, it's solid,

When blood flows under him...

And you, the poet! heaven's chosen one,

Herald of the truths of the ages,

Do not believe that he who does not have bread

Not worth your prophetic strings!

Do not believe that people have fallen at all;

God did not die the soul of the people,

And a cry from a believing chest

She will always be available!

Be a citizen! serving the art

Live for the good of your neighbor

Subordinating your genius to feeling

All-embracing Love;

And if you are rich in gifts,

Do not bother to expose them:

In your work they will shine themselves

Their life-giving rays.

Take a look: in the fragments of a hard stone

The wretched worker crushes,

And flies from under the hammer

And the flame splatters by itself!

N.A. Nekrasov."You and I are stupid people..."

You and I are stupid people:

What a minute, the flash is ready!

Relief of an agitated chest,

An unreasonable, harsh word.

Speak up when you're angry

Everything that excites and torments the soul!

Let us, my friend, be angry openly:

The world is easier - and more likely to get bored.

If prose in love is inevitable,

So let's take a share of happiness from her:

After a quarrel so full, so tender

Return of love and participation.

N.A. Nekrasov.“Who is living well in Rus'?” (excerpt)

You are poor

You are abundant

You are powerful

You are powerless

Mother Rus'!

Saved in bondage

Free heart -

Gold, gold

The heart of the people!

The strength of the people

mighty force -

Conscience is calm

The truth is alive!

Strength with unrighteousness

Doesn't get along

Victim of untruth

not called,

Rus' does not stir

Rus' is dead!

And lit up in it

The hidden spark

We got up - nebuzheny,

Came out - uninvited,

Live by the grain

The mountains have been applied!

The army rises

Innumerable!

The strength will affect her

Invincible!

You are poor

You are abundant

You are beaten

You are almighty

Mother Rus'!

A.A. Fet.“Distant friend, understand my sobs ...” (“A. L. Brzheskoy”)

Distant friend, understand my sobs,

Forgive me for my painful cry.

With you, memories bloom in my soul,

And I'm not used to cherishing you.

Who will tell us that we did not know how to live,

Soulless and idle minds,

That goodness and tenderness did not burn in us

And we didn't sacrifice beauty?

Where is it all? Still the soul burns

Still ready to embrace the world.

Real heat! Nobody is answering,

The sounds will resurrect - and die again.

Only you alone! high excitement

There is blood in the cheeks, and inspiration in the heart. -

Away with this dream - there are too many tears in it!

It’s not a pity for life with a weary breath,

What is life and death? What a pity for that fire

That shone over the whole universe,

And goes into the night, and cries, leaving.

A.K. Tolstoy.“In the midst of a noisy ball, by chance ...”

In the midst of a noisy ball, by chance,

In the turmoil of the world,

I saw you, but the mystery

Your features are covered.

Like the sound of a distant flute,

Like the waves of the sea.

I liked your slim figure

And all your thoughtful look

And your laughter, both sad and sonorous,

Since then it has been in my heart.

In the hours of lonely nights

I love, tired, lie down -

I see sad eyes

I hear a cheerful speech;

And sadly I fall asleep so

And in the dreams of the unknown I sleep ...

Do I love you - I don't know

But I think I love it!

L.N. Tolstoy. "War and Peace" (excerpt)

In captivity, in a booth, Pierre learned not with his mind, but with his whole being, with his life, that man was created for happiness, that happiness is in himself, in satisfying natural human needs, and that all misfortune comes not from lack, but from excess; but now, in these last three weeks of the campaign, he learned another new, comforting truth - he learned that there is nothing terrible in the world. He learned that just as there is no position in which a person would be happy and completely free, so there is no position in which he would be unhappy and not free. He learned that there is a limit to suffering and a limit to freedom, and that this limit is very close; that the man who suffered because one leaf was wrapped in his pink bed, suffered in the same way as he suffered now, falling asleep on the bare, damp earth, cooling one side and warming the other; that when he used to put on his narrow ballroom shoes, he suffered in exactly the same way as now, when he was completely barefoot (his shoes had long been disheveled), his feet covered with sores. He learned that when he, as it seemed to him, of his own free will married his wife, he was no more free than now, when he was locked up at night in the stable. Of all that he later called suffering, but which he then hardly felt, the main thing was his bare, worn, scabbed feet.

A. Rimbaud."Closet"

Here is an old carved wardrobe, whose oak is in dark stains

He began to look like good old men a long time ago;

The closet will open, and the haze from all secluded corners

The enticing smell pours like old wine.

Full, full of everything: junk heap,

Pleasantly smelling yellow linen,

Grandmother's scarf, where there is an image

Griffin, lace, and ribbons, and rags;

Here you will find medallions and portraits,

A strand of white hair and a strand of another color,

Children's clothes, dried flowers...

Oh closet of old! Lots of stories

And you keep a lot of fairy tales securely

Behind this door, blackened and creaky.

Write down excerpts from the monologues of Katerina - the heroine of A. Ostrovsky's drama "Thunderstorm". Find the service parts of speech and interjections, disassemble them according to plan For (see Appendix).

I say (from) why do people not fly like birds? You know, sometimes it seems to me (?) that I am a bird. When you stand on a mountain, you are so pulled ..t to fly. That's how it would have run up .. la hands and flew.
I lived n .. (about) what n .. grieved like a bird on an ox ... Mom .. nka (in) my soul (not) cha .. la nar .. sting me like a doll to work not pr .. I needed what I want, sometimes I do it. Do you know how I lived in girls? Now I'll tell you. I used to get up early if in the summer I go down to the key, wash myself, bring some water with me .. and water all the flowers in the house. I had many, many flowers.
They offended me with something at home, but by the evening it was already dark, I ran out to the Volga, got into the boat and pushed it away from the shore. The next morning they found ten miles away!
Oh Varya, you don't know my character! Of course, God forbid this happens (?) Xia! And if I am very disgusted here .. they won’t keep me (not) by any force. I'll throw myself out the window into the Volga. I don’t want to live here like this and n .. I’ll even though you direct me ..!
The nights of the night are so .. yellow for me. Everyone will go to sleep and I will go to everyone, nothing but to me, as in m..gilu. 4

1. Find elements of colloquial speech and vernacular in Katerina's vocabulary and turns of speech.
2. What character traits are shown in the statements of the heroine?
3. Read the quoted passages expressively.

Dear tenth graders,

girls

Youths learn Kuligin's monologue:

Good luck!

Grade 10, monologues from "Thunderstorm" by heart

Dear tenth graders, so that there are no misunderstandings, I post here the monologues from A.N. Ostrovsky's play "Thunderstorm", which you must learn by heart.

girls learn the following monologue of Katerina:

I say why don't people fly like birds? You know, sometimes I feel like I'm a bird. When you stand on a mountain, you are drawn to fly. That's how I would run up, raise my hands and fly ...
How frisky I was! I completely screwed up on you...
Was I like that! I lived, did not grieve about anything, like a bird in the wild. Mother did not have a soul in me, dressed me up like a doll, did not force me to work; Whatever I want, I do it. Do you know how I lived in girls? Now I'll tell you. I used to get up early; if it’s summer, I’ll go to the spring, wash myself, bring water with me and that’s it, water all the flowers in the house. I had many, many flowers. Then we’ll go to church with mommy, all of them are wanderers, - our house was full of wanderers; yes pilgrimage. And we will come from the church, we will sit down for some work, more like gold velvet, and the wanderers will begin to tell: where they were, what they saw, different lives, or they sing poetry. So it's time for lunch. Here the old women lie down to sleep, and I walk in the garden. Then to vespers, and in the evening again stories and singing. That was good!

Youths learn Kuligin's monologue:

Good luck!

Establish a connection between the author and the work
A.N. Ostrovsky< «Бесприданница»
N.V. Gogol< «Невский проспект»
A.S. Pushkin< «Медный всадник»

A.N. Ostrovsky< «Гроза»
N.V. Gogol< «Портрет»
A.S. Pushkin< «Пиковая дама»
Establish a connection between the author and the work
A.N. Ostrovsky< «Таланты и поклонники»
N.V. Gogol< «Женитьба»
M.Yu.Lermontov< «Маскарад»
Establish a connection between the author and the work
A.N. Ostrovsky< «Без вины виноватые»
N.V. Gogol< «Шинель»
M.Yu.Lermontov< «Демон»

N.V. Gogol< Пискарев
A.N. Ostrovsky< Дикой
A.S. Pushkin< Ленский
Establish a connection between the hero and the author
N.V. Gogol< Чартков
A.N. Ostrovsky< Паратов
A.S. Pushkin< Германн
Establish a connection between the hero and the author
N.V. Gogol< Пирогов
A.N. Ostrovsky< Карандышев
A.S. Pushkin< Онегин
Establish a connection between the hero and the author
N.V. Gogol< Башмачкин
A.N. Ostrovsky< Тихон Кабанов
M.Yu.Lermontov< Григорий Печорин
Establish a connection between the hero and the author
N.V. Gogol< Собакевич
A.N. Ostrovsky< Кулигин
M.Yu.Lermontov< Арбенин

wild< Баклуши ты, что ль, бить сюда приехал? Дармоед! Пропади ты пропадом!
Boris< Воспитывали нас родители в Москве хорошо, ничего для нас не жалели. Меня отдали в Коммерческую академию, а сестру в пансион, да оба вдруг и умерли в холеру, мы с сестрой сиротами и остались. Потом мы слышим, что и бабушка здесь умерла и оставила завещание, чтобы дядя нам выплатил часть, какую следует, когда мы придем в совершеннолетие, только с условием
Kuligin< По-старинному, сударь. Поначитался-таки Ломоносова, Державина... Мудрец был Ломоносов, испытатель природы... А ведь тоже из нашего, из простого звания
Establish a connection between the hero and his replica
wild< Провались ты! Я с тобой и говорить-то не хочу, с езуитом. (Уходя.) Вот навязался!
Boris< Да нет, этого мало, Кулигин! Он прежде наломается над нами, надругается всячески, как его душе угодно, а кончит все-таки тем, что не даст ничего или так, какую-нибудь малость. Да еще станет рассказывать, что из милости дал, что и этого бы не следовало
Kuligin< Только б мне, сударь, перпету-мобиль найти!
Establish a connection between the hero and his replica
Kabanova< Ведь от любви родители и строги-то к вам бывают, от любви вас и бранят-то, все думают добру научить. Ну, а это нынче не нравится. И пойдут детки-то по людям славить, что мать ворчунья, что мать проходу не дает, со свету сживает. А сохрани господи, каким-нибудь словом снохе не угодить, ну и пошел разговор, что свекровь заела совсем.
Kabanov< Я, кажется, маменька, из вашей воли ни на шаг.
Katerina< Я говорю, отчего люди не летают так, как птицы? Знаешь, мне иногда кажется, что я птица. Когда стоишь на горе, так тебя и тянет лететь. Вот так бы разбежалась, подняла руки и полетела. Попробовать нешто теперь? (Хочет бежать.)
Establish a connection between the hero and his replica
Kabanova< Полно, полно, не божись! Грех! Я уж давно вижу, что тебе жена милее матери. С тех пор как женился, я уж от тебя прежней любви не вижу.
Kabanov< Да мы об вас, маменька, денно и нощно бога молим, чтобы вам, маменька, бог дал здоровья и всякого благополучия и в делах успеху.
Katerina< Такая ли я была! Я жила, ни об чем не тужила, точно птичка на воле. Маменька во мне души не чаяла, наряжала меня, как куклу, работать не принуждала; что хочу, бывало, то и делаю.
Establish a connection between the hero and his replica
Katerina< Да здесь все как будто из-под неволи. И до смерти я любила в церковь ходить! Точно, бывало, я в рай войду и не вижу никого, и время не помню, и не слышу, когда служба кончится. Точно как все это в одну секунду было. Маменька говорила, что все, бывало, смотрят на меня, что со мной делается.
barbarian< Вздор все. Очень нужно слушать, что она городит. Она всем так пророчит. Всю жизнь смолоду-то грешила. Спроси-ка, что об ней порасскажут! Вот умирать-то и боится. Чего сама-то боится, тем и других пугает.
Kabanova< Разговаривай еще! Ну, ну, приказывай. Чтоб и я слышала, что ты ей приказываешь! А потом приедешь спросишь, так ли все исполнила.

Monologue of Kuligin

Cruel morals, sir, in our city, cruel! In philistinism, sir, you will see nothing but rudeness and bare poverty. And we, sir, will never get out of this bark! Because honest labor will never earn us more daily bread. And whoever has money, sir, he tries to enslave the poor, so that he can make even more money from his free labors. Do you know what your uncle, Savel Prokofich, answered the mayor? The peasants came to the mayor to complain that he would not read any of them by the way. The mayor began to say to him: “Listen, he says, Savel Prokofich, you count the peasants well! Every day they come to me with a complaint!” Your uncle patted the mayor on the shoulder, and said: “Is it worth it, your honor, to talk about such trifles with you! A lot of people stay with me every year; you understand: I’ll underpay them for some penny per person, and I make thousands of this, so it’s good for me! That's how, sir! And among themselves, sir, how they live! They undermine each other's trade, and not so much out of self-interest, but out of envy. They quarrel with each other; they lure drunken clerks into their tall mansions, such, sir, clerks, that there is no human appearance on him, his human appearance is lost. And those to them, for a small blessing, on stamp sheets malicious slander scribble on their neighbors. And they will begin, sir, the court and the case, and there will be no end to the torment. They sue, they sue here, but they will go to the province, and there they are already waiting for them and splashing their hands with joy. Soon the fairy tale is told, but the deed is not soon done; lead them, lead them, drag them, drag them; and they are also happy with this dragging, that's all they need. “I, he says, will spend money, and it will become a penny for him.” I wanted to describe all this in verses ...

That's what, sir, we have a small town! They made a boulevard, but they don't walk. They walk only on holidays, and then they do one kind of walking, and they themselves go there to show their outfits. You will only meet a drunken clerk, trudging home from the tavern. There is no time for the poor to walk, sir, they have care day and night. And they only sleep three hours a day. And what do the rich do? Well, whatever, it seems, they do not walk, do not breathe fresh air? So no. Everyone's gates, sir, have long been locked and the dogs let loose. Do you think they are doing their job, or are they praying to God? No, sir! And they don’t lock themselves up from thieves, but so that people don’t see how they eat their own home and tyrannize their families. And what tears flow behind these locks, invisible and inaudible! What can I say, sir! You can judge by yourself. And what, sir, behind these locks is the debauchery of the dark and drunkenness! And everything is sewn and covered - no one sees or knows anything, only God sees! You, he says, see me in people and on the street; and you don’t care about my family; to this, he says, I have locks, yes constipation, and angry dogs. The family, they say, is a secret, a secret! We know these secrets! From these secrets, sir, he alone is cheerful, and the rest howl like a wolf. And what's the secret? Who does not know him! Rob orphans, relatives, nephews, beat up the household so that they wouldn’t dare to utter a word about anything he does there. That's the whole secret. Well, God bless them! Do you know, sir, who walks with us? Young boys and girls. So these people steal an hour or two from sleep, well, they walk in pairs. Yes, here's a couple!

Katerina's popular monologue from Ostrovsky's "Thunderstorm"

Why don't people fly?
I say why don't people fly like birds? Sometimes I feel like I'm a bird. When you stand on a mountain, you are drawn to fly! That's how I would have run up, raised my hands and flew ... Try something now?! ... And how frisky I was! Was I like that! I lived, did not grieve about anything, like a bird in the wild. Mother did not have a soul in me, dressed me up like a doll, did not force me to work; Whatever I want, I do it. Do you know how I lived in girls? I used to get up early; if it’s summer, I’ll go to the spring, wash myself, bring water with me and that’s it, water all the flowers in the house. I had many, many flowers. And what dreams I had, what dreams! Or golden temples, or some extraordinary gardens, and invisible voices sing, and the smell of cypress, and the mountains and trees seem not to be the same as usual, but as they are written on the images. And the fact that I'm flying, I'm flying through the air. And now sometimes I dream, but rarely, and not that ... Oh, something bad is happening to me, some kind of miracle! This has never happened to me. There is something so extraordinary about me. It's like I'm starting to live again, or ... I really don't know. Such a fear on me, such a fear on me! It’s as if I’m standing over an abyss and someone is pushing me there, but there’s nothing for me to hold on to ... Some kind of dream creeps into my head. And I won't leave her anywhere. If I start thinking, I won’t collect my thoughts, I won’t pray, I won’t pray in any way. I babble words with my tongue, but my mind is completely different: it’s as if the evil one is whispering in my ears, but everything about such things is not good. And then it seems to me that I will be ashamed of myself. What happened with me? I can’t sleep, I keep imagining some kind of whisper: someone is talking to me so affectionately, like a dove cooing. I no longer dream, as before, of paradise trees and mountains, but it’s as if someone hugs me so hot and hot and leads me somewhere, and I follow him, I go ...

Marfa Ignatievna Kabanova - God's dandelion. So she associates herself in the city of Kalinov. Is it so?

Hypnotize, sir! She clothes the poor, but eats the household completely.

Dull, ignorant, she surrounds herself with the same obscurantists as herself. Hiding despotism under the guise of piety, Kabanikha brings his family to the point that Tikhon does not dare to contradict her in anything. Barbara learned to lie, hide and dodge. With her tyranny, she brought Katerina to her death. Varvara, the daughter of Kabanikha, runs away from home, and Tikhon regrets that he did not die with his wife.

Kabanikha's faith in God and principles are combined with amazing severity and ruthlessness: she sharpens her son like rusty iron because he loves his wife more than his mother, that he supposedly wants to live according to his will. The severity of Kabanikha's temper is even more pronounced in her relationship to her daughter-in-law: she abruptly and venomously cuts her off at every word, condemns her with malicious irony for her affectionate treatment of her husband, whom, in her opinion, she should not love, but fear. Kabanikha's heartlessness reaches a terrifying degree when Katerina confesses her misdeed: she angrily rejoices at this event: "there is nothing to pity such a wife, she must be buried alive in the ground ..."

The boar, with her cunning, hypocrisy, cold, unforgiving cruelty and thirst for power, is truly terrible - this is the most sinister figure in the city. The wild seeks to roughly assert its power, while the Kabanikha calmly asserts itself, guarding everything old, leaving.