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"Charlie and chocolate Factory» (English Charlie and the Chocolate Factory , ) - fairy tale Roald Dahl about the adventures of the boy Charlie in the chocolate factory of the eccentric confectioner Mr. Wonka.

The story was first published in the USA, in 1964 by Alfred A. Knopf (English)Russian , in the UK the book was published in 1967 by the publishing house Allen & Unwin. The book was filmed twice: in 1971 and in 2005. In 1972, Roald Dahl wrote a continuation of the story - “Charlie and the Great Glass Elevator” ( English Charlie and the Great Glass Elevator ), and planned to create the third book in the series, but did not realize his plan. The book has been published several times in English and translated into many languages.

In Russian, the story was first published in 1991 in a translation by Elena and Mikhail Baron (in the Raduga publishing house), then in a retelling by S. Kibirsky and N. Matrenitskaya (in the magazine "Pioneer" and a separate book), subsequently other translations of the tale were published several times.

Plot

Little boy Charlie Bucket ( English Charlie Bucket) lives in a very poor family. Seven people (a boy, his parents, two grandfathers and two grandmothers) huddle in a small house on the outskirts of the city; of the whole family, only Charlie’s father has a job: he tightens caps on tubes of toothpaste. The family cannot afford the basic necessities: there is only one bed in the house, on which four old men lie, the family lives from hand to mouth, eating potatoes and cabbage. Charlie loves chocolate very much, but receives it only once a year, one bar for his birthday, as a gift.

Eccentric chocolate tycoon Mr. Willy Wonka (English Willy Wonka), who spent ten years as a recluse in his factory, announces that he wants to organize a drawing of five golden tickets that will allow five children to visit his factory. After the excursion, each of them will receive chocolate for life, and one will be awarded a special prize.

The lucky ones who found five tickets hidden under a chocolate wrapper were:

• August Gloop (English Augustus Gloop) - a greedy and gluttonous boy, “food is his favorite pastime”;
• Veruca (Verucha) Salt (English Veruca Salt) - a spoiled girl from the family of the owner of a nut processing factory, accustomed to having all her demands immediately fulfilled;
• Violetta Beaurigard (Buregard) (English Violet Beauregarde) - a girl who constantly chews gum has set a world record - chewing one piece of gum for three months;
• Mike Teavee (English Mike Teavee) - a boy who watches TV from morning to night.
• Charlie Bucket- the main character of this story.

In addition to children, their parents participate in the tour of the factory: each child came with their mother or father, except for Charlie, who is accompanied by his grandfather Joe. During the visit to the factory, all the children, with the exception of Charlie, do not pay attention to Wonka's warnings and find themselves victims of their vices, finding themselves in various situations that force them to leave the factory.

In the end, there is only Charlie left, who gets the main prize - he becomes the assistant and heir of Mr. Willy Wonka. The remaining children receive the promised lifetime provision of chocolate.

Chapter number	Original	Translation by Elena and Mikhail Baron (1991)	Retelling by S. Kibirsky and N. Matrenitskaya (1991)	Translation by Mark Freidkin (2001)
1	Here Comes Charlie	Meet Charlie		Charlie appears on stage
2	Mr. Willy Wonka's Factory	Mr. Willy Wonka's Factory	Willy Wonka's Factory	Mr Willy Wonka's Factory
3	Mr. Wonka and the Indian Prince	Mr Wonka and the Indian Prince	Indian Prince's Chocolate Palace	Mr Wonka and the Indian Prince
4	The Secret Workers	Extraordinary Workers	Mysterious workers	Invisible workers
5	The Golden Tickets	Golden tickets
6	The First Two Finders	The first two lucky ones	The first two lucky ones	The first two lucky ones
7	Charlie's Birthday	Charlie's birthday
8	Two More Golden Tickets Found	Two more golden tickets found		Two more golden tickets found
9	Grandpa Joe Takes a Gamble	Grandpa Joe takes risks	Grandpa Joe's Stash	Grandpa Joe goes on an adventure
10	The Family Begins to Starve	The Bucket family begins to starve	The Bucket family begins to starve	The family begins to starve
11	The Miracle	Miracle
12	What It Said on the Golden Ticket		What did the golden ticket say?	What was written on the golden ticket
13	The Big Day Arrivals	great day	The long-awaited day has come	The great day is coming
14	Mr. Willy Wonka	Mr Willy Wonka	Willy Wonka	Mr Willy Wonka
15	The Chocolate Room	Chocolate shop	Chocolate River	Chocolate shop
16	The Oompa-Loompas	Oompa-Loompas		Sympathy
17	Augustus Gloop Goes up the Pipe	August Gloop falls into a pipe	Augustus Gloop falls into a pipe	Augustus Gloop climbs the chimney
18	Down the Chocolate River	Down the Chocolate River
19	The Inventing Room – Everlasting Gobstoppers and Hair Toffee	Invention workshop. Eternal lollipops and hairy toffees	Invention Laboratory	Invention workshop. Lollipops of eternal use and toffees for hair growth
20	The Great Gum Machine	Amazing car	Amazing gum	Giant chewing gum machine
21	Good-bye Violet	Goodbye Violetta!
22	Along the Corridor	Miracle corridor	Down the corridor again	Through the hall
23	Square Sweets That Look Round	Smiling candies	Square candy peepers	Square candies that are askew
24	Veruca in the Nut Room	Veruca Salt in the Nut Shop	Nut shop	Veruca in the Nut Shop
25	The Great Glass Elevator	Large glass elevator	Glass elevator	Huge glass elevator
26	The Television-Chocolate Room	TV chocolate shop	Chocolate on TV	TV-Chocolate shop
27	Mike Teavee is Sent by Television	Mike Teavee being televised		Teleportation by Mike Telik
28	Only Charlie Left	Only Charlie left
29	The Other Children Go Home	The children are returning home	Losers come home	The rest of the children go home
30	Charlie's Chocolate Factory	Charlie Bucket's Chocolate Factory	Charlie's Chocolate Factory

Factory premises

Willy Wonka's factory is very large, located both on the surface and underground, the factory has countless workshops, laboratories, warehouses, there is even a “candy mine 10,000 feet deep” (that is, more than 3 kilometers deep). During the excursion, children and their parents visit some of the factory's workshops and laboratories.

According to Dahl, the basis for the story told was the author’s childhood experiences. While studying at Repton boarding school, he and other boys received interesting gifts. “From time to time, every boy in our school received a simple gray cardboard box,” writes Dahl in his autobiographical story “Boy.” - Believe it or not, it was a gift from a big chocolate factory, "Cadbury". Inside the box were twelve bars, all of different shapes, with different fillings, and all numbered from 1 to 12. Eleven of these chocolates were new inventions from the factory. The twelfth, well known to us, was the “control”. Roald and the other boys tasted them, and took it very seriously. One of Dahl’s verdicts was: “The taste is too delicate for the ordinary palate.” The writer recalls in “The Boy” that it was at that time that he began to perceive chocolate as something complex, as the result of laboratory research, and often dreamed of working in a confectionery laboratory, imagining how he was creating a new, hitherto unprecedented variety of chocolate. “They were sweet dreams, delightful fantasies, and I have no doubt that later, thirty-five years later, when I was thinking about the plot of my second children's book, I remembered those little cardboard boxes and the novelty chocolates inside them and began to write a book called "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory"" .

Working versions of the story

The published work is quite different from the original plan, which remained in drafts. Manuscripts stored in the British Roald Dahl Museum allow us to trace how the content of the story changed while working on it.

The original version, dating back to 1961 by museum staff, was entitled "Charlie and the Chocolate Boy" ( English Charlie's Chocolate Boy) and differs significantly from the published story. Ten "golden tickets" are hidden in the chocolate bars every week, so Mr. Wonka gives a tour of the factory every Saturday. In this draft, the main character's name is Charlie Bucket; the names of the other nine children, as well as the list of misfortunes that befall them, differ from the names of the children and from the descriptions of incidents in the published book.

During the excursion, Charlie Bucket hides in a "chocolate boy" that is being made in the "Easter egg workshop." A chocolate figure with Charlie inside is delivered to Mr. Wonka's house as a gift for Freddy Wonka, the confectioner's son. At Wonka's house, a boy witnesses a robbery and raises the alarm. In gratitude for his help in catching the thieves, Mr. Wonka gives Charlie Bucket a candy store, Charlie's Chocolate Shop ( English Charlie's Chocolate Shop).

In the second known version of the story, the number of children traveling through the factory is reduced to seven, including Charlie Bucket. The factory workers are described as "men in white coats", and after each incident with a naughty child, a voice recites the corresponding poems.

The ideas for the 1962 version without a title are close to the final version of the story. Wonka only distributes seven tickets at a time (rather than weekly), making the search for a ticket more stressful. The participants of the tour and their characteristics are listed on the first page of the manuscript; in addition to Charlie Bucket, the children who visited the factory include:

• August Gloop is a gluttonous boy;
• Marvin Prune ( English Marvin Prune) - a vain boy, mentioned, but his adventure at the factory is not described either in this or in subsequent versions of the story;
• Hepiz Trout ( English Herpes Trout) - a boy who spends all his time in front of the TV; in the published story, the boy suffering from TV mania will be named Mike Teavee;
• Miranda Mary Parker ( English Miranda Mary Parker) is a girl who is allowed to do whatever she wants.
• Veruca Salt is a spoiled girl who gets everything she wants;
• Violet Beaugard is a girl who constantly chews bubble gum.

Thus, the composition characters close to final.

The factory employs little people, “whipple scrumpets” ( English Whipple-Scrumpets), who recite poetry after each incident.

This version is not completed; the story ends with Augustus Gloop falling into the chocolate river. Dahl continues the story in another manuscript, called Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Marvin Prune is eliminated from the list of heroes. At the end of the story, Charlie becomes Wonka's assistant and his heir.

IN final version In the story, the number of children was again reduced, together with Charlie there were five of them left (Miranda Parker was excluded), the factory workers received their usual name “Oompa-Loompas”.

Criticism of the work

The book's success was not immediate: the story was first published in 1964 and sold only 5,000 copies in the first year, but then, within five years, annual sales reached 125,000 copies. "Charlie" became the book with which Roald Dahl announced himself as an outstanding children's writer.

Since then, the book has been published several times in different languages. Over time, the popularity of the story has not diminished and “Charlie” remains the favorite fairy tale of many children around the world.

Famous British critic Julia Acklesher ( English Julia Ecclesare) writes in the afterword to the story published by Puffin Books (English)Russian : “Charlie evokes the sense that Roald Dahl enjoys telling stories, just as we enjoy reading them. You are especially convinced of the accuracy of this feeling when you begin your journey through the chocolate factory. This shows how well Roald Dahl understands children." Indeed, “Dahl paints a children's paradise: a magical chocolate factory, with underground passages and secret caves.”

The fact that Dahl painted a children's paradise is not only the conclusion of an adult critic who, perhaps, has long forgotten his childhood views. Margaret Talbot, author of an article on Roald Dahl, recalls: “I actually sat next to three nine-year-old boys who spent forty-five minutes dreaming about Wonka’s factory and inventing their own sweets.<…>My son’s nine-year-old friend wrote me a letter about why he loves Dahl: “His books are imaginative and captivating. After I read Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, I felt like I had tasted all the sweets in the world."

However, despite the fact that the book earned children's love, the attitude of adult readers towards it was quite wary; After the story was published, there were negative reviews about the fairy tale.

The discussion began with an article by Canadian writer Eleanor Cameron, in which, among other things, the story “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory” was harshly criticized. According to Cameron, "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory" is the clearest example of bad taste "of any book ever written for children." This book was not only written about the temptation of sweets, it is itself such a temptation. “At first it seems charming to us and gives us short-term pleasure, but it does not satiate us and kills our appetite.” Fantastic Ursula Le Guin agreed with Cameron's sentiments, although she admitted that "children aged eight to eleven really seem to adore" Dahl's books. The writer’s eleven-year-old daughter, “unfortunately,” has acquired the habit of finishing “Charlie” and immediately starting to read it from the very beginning. This lasted for two months. Reading “Charlie,” she seemed to fall under the influence of an evil spell, and after reading this book she remained quite disgusted for some time, although in her normal state she was a sweet child. “What can books like Charlie teach children? Be “good consumers”?” asks Le Guin. - “No, thank you!” .

It should be noted that school librarians and teachers, as people largely responsible for the formation of children's reading habits, were actively involved in the analysis and discussion of Dahl's works, including Charlie. During a discussion in The Horn Book magazine (1972-1973), diametrically opposed opinions were expressed. Mary Saker, teacher from Baltimore welcomes criticism of the story: "Reading Eleanor Cameron's excellent article in the October issue of the magazine, I finally found someone who agrees with my opinion of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory." Maria Brenton, librarian from Vales, New York State, on the contrary, comes out in support of Dahl and his books: “Children of different abilities and of different origins they love “Charlie” and “James”. Such books make boys and girls regulars at libraries. So, Roald Dahl, please continue!” .

And in 1988, a librarian at a public library in an American city Boulder, state Colorado moved the book Charlie and the Chocolate Factory to a restricted fund because he supported the view that the book promoted a "poor man's philosophy." (After the fact that the book was removed from public access became known, the book was returned to its place).

Critics have pointed out that Charlie is a hero not because he has any outstanding personality traits, but because he is a quiet and polite boy from a poor family, accustomed to obeying. Only the absence of bad qualities makes Charlie a “good boy.” It was pointed out that in depicting children’s shortcomings Dahl “goes too far”: the vices of the four “bad guys” are not extraordinary, but Dahl portrays children as carriers mortal sins. So, the greedy Augustus Gloop is the personification gluttony, spoiled Veruca Salt - greed, chewing gum lover Violetta - pride, TV fan Mike Teavee - idleness. Charlie, on the other hand, demonstrates a complete lack of such characteristics. But why? Is it because he is poor and simply physically cannot indulge in, for example, gluttony?

Besides, Charlie is not so innocent. In an essay by Moscow schoolboy Bori Pastukhov, the Romantic (the boy's father) and the Skeptic (represented by Boris himself) are arguing. The Skeptic points out that Charlie had no right to buy chocolate when his family was starving, and should be punished just like the other heroes. To this the Romantic replies: “And, in my opinion, the whole beauty of the book is that Charlie was not punished. After all, none of us is weak, but we all hope for a miracle.” The skeptic agrees: “It’s hard to argue with that. That’s why we love books with a good ending.”

Work awards

• 1972 - New England Round Table of Children's Librarians Award.
• 1973 - Surrey School Award.
• 2000 - Millennium Children's Book Award
• 2000 - Blue Peter Book Award

Film adaptations

In 1971, a film directed by Mel Stewart (English Mel Stuart ) and producer David Walper (English David L. Wolper ), With Gene Wider as Mr Wonka. Roald Dahl wrote the first draft of the film's script, which was subsequently amended. Ultimately, the writer did not like the film. “Dahl thought the film was too focused on Willy Wonka,” says Lisa Attenborough, an employee of the Roald Dahl Museum. “For him, the book was a story about Charlie.”

In 2005, a second adaptation appeared, the film "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory", filmed Tim Burton, With Johnny Depp as Wonka.

In the third season (1968) of the children's television program BBC "Jackanory" (English Jackanory ) the fairy tale was read by an actor Bernard Cribbins (English Bernard Cribbins ) .

In 1983, Swedish television showed the Charlie and the Chocolate Factory slideshow ( Swede. "Kalle och chokladfabriken"), consisting of drawings by a Swedish artist Bent Anne Runnerström (Swede. Bengt Arne Runnerström ) accompanied by text read by the actor Ernst-Hugo Jaregard.

In addition to film versions, there are a number of dramatizations and musicals based on the work. Audiobooks of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory have been published, including recordings of the story being read by the author, Roald Dahl.

Parodies and allusions to the work

“Charlie and the Chocolate Factory” is a notable phenomenon of Western European and world culture, so it is not surprising that the plot and characters of this story often become the object of parody, and many cultural works contain allusions to this story by Roald Dahl.

• American animated series "The Simpsons" contains many such parodies.
  • In episode 14 of season 15 (2004) "Zif Coming to Dinner" ( "The Ziff Who Came to Dinner") Lisa Simpson mentions in conversation that her father, Homer, believes that the story "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory" tells real story and looks for the factory described in the book;
  • In episode 19, the same 15th season, “Just Simpson” (“ Simple Simpson") on television a commercial is shown in which the lucky person who finds the Golden Ticket is promised a trip to Farmer Billy's Bacon Factory ( English Farmer Billy's Bacon Factory ). Homer Simpson buys huge quantities of bacon in hopes of finding a Golden Ticket, but only finds a Silver Ticket, which allows him to act as a judge in a pig competition that will be held during the fair.
  • In episode 13 of season 11 (2000) “Galaxy Saddled” ( "Saddlesore Galactica") shows dwarf jockeys living near a chocolate waterfall - an allusion to the Oompa-Loompas.
  • In episode 2 of season 6 (1994) "Lisa's Rival" ( "Lisa's Rival") one of the students, German Uther, is going to participate in a school competition and builds a diorama “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory”, but eats his work before the jury sees it.
  • In episode 15 of season 22 (2011), “The Scorpio Tale” ( The Scorpion's Tale) Homer calls pharmaceutical agent Hotenhoffer "Mr. Wonka", and later Hotenhoffer admits that he is Augustus Gloop, greatly changed after falling into the chocolate river.
  • In the 41st (American) issue of The Simpsons comic strip, "Bart and Krusty the Clown's Fun Factory" ( English Bart Simpson & The Krusty Brand Fun Factory ) 4 golden straws are hidden in bottles of sparkling water; whoever finds the straw gets an invitation to the factory Krusty, producing different food products. The factory employs monkeys with chips implanted in their brains, and tourists tour the factory in a boat floating on a cherry soda river.
• At the beginning of episode 13 of season 1 of the animated series "Futurama""Fry and the Slurm Factory" ( "Fry and the Slurm Factory") a commercial is shown where someone who finds a “golden cap” in a can of a certain drink "Slurm" A prize is promised - an excursion to the Slurm production plant. Fry finds the lid and sets off with the other winners on a journey along the slurm river, along the banks of which there are “hole holes” ( English Grunka-Lunkas) sing their songs.
• In episode 20 of season 2 of the animated series "Family Guy""Lost Talent" ( "Wasted Talent") who finds a certain “silver scroll” in a can of beer receives an invitation to a tour of the brewery. Heroes of the series Peter And Joe they find the scrolls and go on an excursion, in addition, it is mentioned that the scroll was found by Charlie Bucket and his grandfather.
• In episode 91 of the American television series "Office""Golden Ticket", one of the main characters, Michael Scott, is organizing a Willy Wonka-style promotion: five “golden tickets” are hidden in five batches of paper, and whoever finds the “golden ticket” receives a ten percent discount for one year.
• In the seventh season (2006) of the British version reality show "Big Brother""Channel 4" Channel 4 together with the company Nestle held a promotion, during which the finder of one of 100 “golden tickets” hidden under the packaging of candy bars "KitKat", received the right to become a participant in the show (“neighbor”) bypassing the qualifying casting.
• In 1993, a rock band was formed in Chicago "Veruca Salt" (English Veruca Salt ), named after one of the heroines of the story by Roald Dahl.
• The debut album “Portrait of an American Family” ( "Portrait of an American Family", 1994) American rock band Marilyn Manson ( Marilyn Manson) included as the first song the composition “Prelude (Family Travel)” ( English Prelude (The Family Trip)), the text of which is a slightly modified text of the Upma-Loompa song from chapter 18 of the story “Down the Chocolate River” ( English Down the Chocolate River). Also, under the influence of the book, Manson wrote the song “Choklit Factory”, released in 1991 on a demo tape After School Special.
• Symbol of the American hockey team "Hershey Bears" (English Hershey Bears) is Coco the bear ( English Coco), whose favorite book is “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory”

Use of plot and characters

Confectionery

With the release of Tim Burton's film adaptation in 2005, a wide-scale production advertising campaign in order to associate the brand with the new film. Currently branded products as The Willy Wonka Candy Company (English)Russian Sold in the USA, Canada, UK, Ireland, Australia and New Zealand.

Games

Attractions

1 April 2006 British theme park "Elton Towers" (English Alton Towers ), located in the county Staffordshire, has opened a family attraction based on the book's themes. The attraction consists of two parts: first, visitors travel through the “factory” in pink boats floating on a “chocolate river”, then, after watching a video show, they find themselves in a glass elevator from which they explore the rest of the factory. The journey takes 11 minutes. The attraction's design is based on illustrations by Quentin Blake.

See also: (English) . RoaldDahlFans.com. - Christmas displays at Marshall Field's department store (English)Russian (Chicago, USA) based on the story “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory”. Retrieved May 5, 2010. .

Editions

The book went through a number of editions both in English and in translations into other languages ​​(Russian, Spanish, French Polish, etc.).

Russian editions of the work

• Dahl, Rowld Golden ticket, or Pioneer. - 1991. - No. 8-9.(retelling from English by S. Kibirsky and N. Matrenitskaya)
• Dahl, Roald. Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. - M.: Raduga, 1991.(translation from English by M. Baron and E. Baron)
• Dahl, Rowld. Golden Ticket, or Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. - M.: MP "Nimak", MP "KTK", 1991.(retelling from English by S. Kibirsky and N. Matrenitskaya, illustrations by V. Mochalov)
• Dahl, Roald. Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. - M.: Zakharov, 2000. - ISBN 5-8159-0084-2. (retelling by S. Klado)
• Dahl, Roald. Charlie and the Chocolate Factory // Dahl, Roald. Children's bestsellers: Sat. - M.: Paper Gallery, 2001. - ISBN 5-900504-62-X. (translation by M. Freidkin)
• Dahl, Roald. Charlie and the Chocolate Factory // Dahl, Roald. ISBN 5-352-01094-5. (translation by I. Bogdanov)
• Dahl, Roald. Charlie and the Chocolate Factory // Dahl, Roald. Extraordinary stories: Sat. - St. Petersburg. : ABC-classics, 2004. - ISBN 5-352-00753-7. (translation by I. Bogdanov)
• Dahl, Roald. Charlie and the Chocolate Factory = Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. - M.: Zakharov, 2004. - ISBN 5-8159-0415-5. (story in Russian, retold by S. Klado and in the original language)
• Dahl, Roald. Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. - M.: Rosman-Press, 2005. - ISBN 5-353-01812-5. (translation by Maya Lahuti)
• Books for reading in English, adapted for the Pre-Intermediate level, with tasks and exercises:
  • Dahl, Roald. Charlie and the Chocolate Factory = Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. - M.: Iris-Press, 2007. - (English Club). - ISBN 978-5-8112-2736-5.
  • Dahl, Roald. Charlie and the Chocolate Factory = Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. - M.: Iris-Press, 2009. - (English Club). - ISBN 978-5-8112-3471-4.

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Notes

see also

• Roald Dahl- an article about the life and work of the writer.
• Willy Wonka- an article about one of the main characters of the story.
• "Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory"- a film adaptation of the story, filmed in 1971.
• "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory"- film adaptation 2005

Books Movies Characters Miscellaneous

Excerpt characterizing Charlie and the Chocolate Factory (story)

Pierre sat down by the fire and began to eat the mess, the food that was in the pot and which seemed to him the most delicious of all the foods that he had ever eaten. While he greedily bent over the pot, picking up large spoons, chewing one after another and his face was visible in the light of the fire, the soldiers silently looked at him.
-Where do you want it? You tell me! – one of them asked again.
– I’m going to Mozhaisk.
- Are you now a master?
- Yes.
- What’s your name?
- Pyotr Kirillovich.
- Well, Pyotr Kirillovich, let’s go, we’ll take you. In complete darkness, the soldiers, together with Pierre, went to Mozhaisk.
The roosters were already crowing when they reached Mozhaisk and began to climb the steep city mountain. Pierre walked along with the soldiers, completely forgetting that his inn was below the mountain and that he had already passed it. He would not have remembered this (he was in such a state of loss) if his guard, who went to look for him around the city and returned back to his inn, had not encountered him halfway up the mountain. The bereitor recognized Pierre by his hat, which was turning white in the darkness.
“Your Excellency,” he said, “we are already desperate.” Why are you walking? Where are you going, please?
“Oh yes,” said Pierre.
The soldiers paused.
- Well, have you found yours? - said one of them.
- Well, goodbye! Pyotr Kirillovich, I think? Farewell, Pyotr Kirillovich! - said other voices.
“Goodbye,” said Pierre and headed with his driver to the inn.
“We have to give it to them!” - Pierre thought, taking his pocket. “No, don’t,” a voice told him.
There was no room in the upper rooms of the inn: everyone was occupied. Pierre went into the yard and, covering his head, lay down in his carriage.

As soon as Pierre laid his head on the pillow, he felt that he was falling asleep; but suddenly, with the clarity of almost reality, a boom, boom, boom of shots was heard, groans, screams, the splashing of shells were heard, the smell of blood and gunpowder, and a feeling of horror, the fear of death, overwhelmed him. He opened his eyes in fear and raised his head from under his overcoat. Everything was quiet in the yard. Only at the gate, talking to the janitor and splashing through the mud, was some orderly walking. Above Pierre's head, under the dark underside of the plank canopy, doves fluttered from the movement he made while rising. Throughout the yard there was a peaceful, joyful for Pierre at that moment, strong smell of an inn, the smell of hay, manure and tar. Between two black canopies a clear starry sky was visible.
“Thank God this isn’t happening anymore,” thought Pierre, covering his head again. - Oh, how terrible fear is and how shamefully I surrendered to it! And they... they were firm and calm all the time, until the end... - he thought. In Pierre's concept, they were soldiers - those who were at the battery, and those who fed him, and those who prayed to the icon. They - these strange ones, hitherto unknown to him, were clearly and sharply separated in his thoughts from all other people.
“To be a soldier, just a soldier! - thought Pierre, falling asleep. – Enter into this common life with your whole being, imbued with what makes them so. But how can one throw off all this unnecessary, devilish, all the burden of this external man? At one time I could have been this. I could run away from my father as much as I wanted. Even after the duel with Dolokhov, I could have been sent as a soldier.” And in Pierre’s imagination flashed a dinner at a club, at which he called Dolokhov, and a benefactor in Torzhok. And now Pierre is presented with a ceremonial dining room. This lodge takes place in the English Club. And someone familiar, close, dear, sits at the end of the table. Yes it is! This is a benefactor. “But he died? - thought Pierre. - Yes, he died; but I didn't know he was alive. And how sorry I am that he died, and how glad I am that he is alive again!” On one side of the table sat Anatole, Dolokhov, Nesvitsky, Denisov and others like him (the category of these people was as clearly defined in Pierre’s soul in the dream as the category of those people whom he called them), and these people, Anatole, Dolokhov they shouted and sang loudly; but from behind their shout the voice of the benefactor could be heard, speaking incessantly, and the sound of his words was as significant and continuous as the roar of the battlefield, but it was pleasant and comforting. Pierre did not understand what the benefactor was saying, but he knew (the category of thoughts was just as clear in the dream) that the benefactor was talking about goodness, about the possibility of being what they were. And they surrounded the benefactor on all sides, with their simple, kind, firm faces. But although they were kind, they did not look at Pierre, did not know him. Pierre wanted to attract their attention and say. He stood up, but at the same moment his legs became cold and exposed.
He felt ashamed, and he covered his legs with his hand, from which the greatcoat actually fell off. For a moment, Pierre, straightening his overcoat, opened his eyes and saw the same awnings, pillars, courtyard, but all this was now bluish, light and covered with sparkles of dew or frost.
“It’s dawning,” thought Pierre. - But that’s not it. I need to listen to the end and understand the words of the benefactor.” He covered himself with his overcoat again, but neither the dining box nor the benefactor was there. There were only thoughts clearly expressed in words, thoughts that someone said or Pierre himself thought about.
Pierre, later recalling these thoughts, despite the fact that they were caused by the impressions of that day, was convinced that someone outside himself was telling them to him. Never, it seemed to him, had he been able to think and express his thoughts like that in reality.
“War is the most difficult task of subordinating human freedom to the laws of God,” said the voice. – Simplicity is submission to God; you can't escape him. And they are simple. They don't say it, but they do it. The spoken word is silver, and the unspoken word is golden. A person cannot own anything while he is afraid of death. And whoever is not afraid of her belongs to him everything. If there were no suffering, a person would not know his own boundaries, would not know himself. The most difficult thing (Pierre continued to think or hear in his sleep) is to be able to unite in his soul the meaning of everything. Connect everything? - Pierre said to himself. - No, don't connect. You can’t connect thoughts, but connecting all these thoughts is what you need! Yes, we need to pair, we need to pair! - Pierre repeated to himself with inner delight, feeling that with these words, and only with these words, what he wants to express is expressed, and the whole question tormenting him is resolved.
- Yes, we need to mate, it’s time to mate.
- We need to harness, it’s time to harness, your Excellency! Your Excellency,” a voice repeated, “we need to harness, it’s time to harness...
It was the voice of the bereitor waking Pierre. The sun hit Pierre's face directly. He looked at the dirty inn, in the middle of which, near a well, soldiers were watering thin horses, from which carts were driving through the gate. Pierre turned away in disgust and, closing his eyes, hastily fell back onto the seat of the carriage. “No, I don’t want this, I don’t want to see and understand this, I want to understand what was revealed to me during my sleep. One more second and I would have understood everything. So what should I do? Pair, but how to combine everything?” And Pierre felt with horror that the entire meaning of what he saw and thought in his dream was destroyed.
The driver, the coachman and the janitor told Pierre that an officer had arrived with the news that the French had moved towards Mozhaisk and that ours were leaving.
Pierre got up and, ordering them to lay down and catch up with him, went on foot through the city.
The troops left and left about ten thousand wounded. These wounded were visible in the courtyards and windows of houses and crowded in the streets. On the streets near the carts that were supposed to take away the wounded, screams, curses and blows were heard. Pierre gave the carriage that had overtaken him to a wounded general he knew and went with him to Moscow. Dear Pierre learned about the death of his brother-in-law and about the death of Prince Andrei.

X
On the 30th, Pierre returned to Moscow. Almost at the outpost he met Count Rastopchin's adjutant.
“And we are looking for you everywhere,” said the adjutant. “The Count definitely needs to see you.” He asks you to come to him now on a very important matter.
Pierre, without stopping home, took a cab and went to the commander-in-chief.
Count Rastopchin only arrived in the city this morning with his country house in Sokolniki. The hallway and reception room in the count's house were full of officials who appeared at his request or for orders. Vasilchikov and Platov had already met with the count and explained to him that it was impossible to defend Moscow and that it would be surrendered. Although this news was hidden from the residents, officials and heads of various departments knew that Moscow would be in the hands of the enemy, just as Count Rostopchin knew it; and all of them, in order to relinquish responsibility, came to the commander-in-chief with questions about how to deal with the units entrusted to them.
While Pierre was entering the reception room, a courier coming from the army was leaving the count.
The courier hopelessly waved his hand at the questions addressed to him and walked through the hall.
While waiting in the reception area, Pierre looked with tired eyes at the various officials, old and young, military and civilian, important and unimportant, who were in the room. Everyone seemed unhappy and restless. Pierre approached one group of officials, in which one was his acquaintance. After greeting Pierre, they continued their conversation.
- How to deport and return again, there will be no trouble; and in such a situation one cannot be held accountable for anything.
“Why, here he is writing,” said another, pointing to printed paper which he held in his hand.
- That's another matter. This is necessary for the people,” said the first.
- What is this? asked Pierre.
- Here's a new poster.
Pierre took it in his hands and began to read:
“The Most Serene Prince, in order to quickly unite with the troops that were coming to him, crossed Mozhaisk and stood in a strong place where the enemy would not suddenly attack him. Forty-eight cannons with shells were sent to him from here, and His Serene Highness says that he will defend Moscow to the last drop of blood and is ready to fight even in the streets. You, brothers, don’t look at the fact that public offices have been closed: things need to be tidied up, and we will deal with the villain in our court! When it comes down to it, I need young people from both towns and villages. I’ll call the cry in two days, but now there’s no need, I’m silent. Good with an axe, not bad with a spear, but best of all is a three-piece pitchfork: a Frenchman is not heavier than a sheaf of rye. Tomorrow, after lunch, I’m taking Iverskaya to the Catherine Hospital, to see the wounded. We will consecrate the water there: they will recover sooner; and now I’m healthy: my eye hurt, but now I can see both.”
“And the military people told me,” said Pierre, “that there is no way to fight in the city and that the position...
“Well, yes, that’s what we’re talking about,” said the first official.
– What does this mean: my eye hurt, and now I’m looking at both? - said Pierre.
“The count had barley,” said the adjutant, smiling, “and he was very worried when I told him that people had come to ask what was wrong with him.” “And what, count,” the adjutant suddenly said, turning to Pierre with a smile, “we heard that you have family worries?” It’s as if the Countess, your wife...
“I didn’t hear anything,” Pierre said indifferently. -What did you hear?
- No, you know, they often make things up. I say I heard.
-What did you hear?
“Yes, they say,” the adjutant said again with the same smile, “that the countess, your wife, is going abroad.” Probably nonsense...
“Maybe,” said Pierre, looking around absentmindedly. - And who is this? - he asked, pointing to a short old man in a pure blue coat, with a large beard as white as snow, the same eyebrows and a ruddy face.
- This? This is one merchant, that is, he is an innkeeper, Vereshchagin. Have you heard perhaps this story about the proclamation?
- Oh, so this is Vereshchagin! - said Pierre, peering into the firm and calm face of the old merchant and looking for an expression of treason in it.
- This is not him. This is the father of the one who wrote the proclamation,” said the adjutant. “He’s young, he’s sitting in a hole, and he seems to be in trouble.”
One old man, wearing a star, and another, a German official, with a cross on his neck, approached the people talking.
“You see,” said the adjutant, “this is a complicated story. Then, two months ago, this proclamation appeared. They informed the Count. He ordered an investigation. So Gavrilo Ivanovich was looking for him, this proclamation was in exactly sixty-three hands. He will come to one thing: from whom do you get it? - That’s why. He goes to that one: who are you from? etc. we got to Vereshchagin... a half-trained merchant, you know, a little merchant, my dear,” the adjutant said, smiling. - They ask him: who do you get it from? And the main thing is that we know from whom it comes. He has no one else to rely on other than the postal director. But apparently there was a strike between them. He says: not from anyone, I composed it myself. And they threatened and begged, so he settled on it: he composed it himself. So they reported to the count. The count ordered to call him. “Who is your proclamation from?” - “I composed it myself.” Well, you know the Count! – the adjutant said with a proud and cheerful smile. “He flared up terribly, and just think: such impudence, lies and stubbornness!..
- A! The Count needed him to point to Klyucharyov, I understand! - said Pierre.
“It’s not necessary at all,” the adjutant said fearfully. – Klyucharyov had sins even without this, for which he was exiled. But the fact is that the count was very indignant. “How could you compose? - says the count. I took this “Hamburg newspaper” from the table. - Here she is. You didn’t compose it, but translated it, and you translated it badly, because you don’t even know French, you fool.” What do you think? “No,” he says, “I didn’t read any newspapers, I made them up.” - “And if so, then you are a traitor, and I will bring you to trial, and you will be hanged. Tell me, from whom did you receive it? - “I haven’t seen any newspapers, but I made them up.” It remains that way. The Count also called on his father: stand his ground. And they put him on trial and, it seems, sentenced him to hard labor. Now his father came to ask for him. But he's a crappy boy! You know, such a merchant's son, a dandy, a seducer, listened to lectures somewhere and already thinks that the devil is not his brother. After all, what a young man he is! His father has a tavern here near the Stone Bridge, so in the tavern, you know, there is a large image of the Almighty God and a scepter is presented in one hand, and an orb in the other; so he took this image home for several days and what did he do! I found a bastard painter...

In the middle of this new story, Pierre was called to the commander-in-chief.
Pierre entered Count Rastopchin's office. Rastopchin, wincing, rubbed his forehead and eyes with his hand, while Pierre entered. The short man was saying something and, as soon as Pierre entered, he fell silent and left.
- A! “Hello, great warrior,” said Rostopchin as soon as this man came out. – We’ve heard about your prouesses [glorious exploits]! But that's not the point. Mon cher, entre nous, [Between us, my dear,] are you a Freemason? - said Count Rastopchin in a stern tone, as if there was something bad in this, but that he intended to forgive. Pierre was silent. - Mon cher, je suis bien informe, [I, my dear, know everything well,] but I know that there are Freemasons and Freemasons, and I hope that you do not belong to those who, under the guise of saving the human race, want to destroy Russia.
“Yes, I’m a Freemason,” answered Pierre.
- Well, you see, my dear. You, I think, are not unaware that Messrs. Speransky and Magnitsky have been sent where they should be; the same was done with Mr. Klyucharyov, the same with others who, under the guise of building the temple of Solomon, tried to destroy the temple of their fatherland. You can understand that there are reasons for this and that I could not exile the local postal director if he were not harmful man. Now I know that you sent him yours. crew for the rise from the city and even that you accepted papers from him for safekeeping. I love you and do not wish you harm, and since you are half my age, I, as a father, advise you to stop all relations with this kind of people and leave here yourself as soon as possible.
- But what, Count, is Klyucharyov’s fault? asked Pierre.
“It’s my business to know and not yours to ask me,” cried Rostopchin.
“If he is accused of distributing Napoleon’s proclamations, then this has not been proven,” said Pierre (without looking at Rastopchin), “and Vereshchagin...”
“Nous y voila, [It is so,”] - suddenly frowning, interrupting Pierre, Rostopchin cried out even louder than before. “Vereshchagin is a traitor and a traitor who will receive a well-deserved execution,” said Rostopchin with that fervor of anger with which people speak when remembering an insult. - But I did not call you in order to discuss my affairs, but in order to give you advice or orders, if you want it. I ask you to stop relations with gentlemen like Klyucharyov and get out of here. And I'll beat the crap out of whoever it is. - And, probably realizing that he seemed to be shouting at Bezukhov, who had not yet been guilty of anything, he added, taking Pierre by the hand in a friendly manner: - Nous sommes a la veille d "un desastre publique, et je n"ai pas le temps de dire des gentillesses a tous ceux qui ont affaire a moi. My head is spinning sometimes! Eh! bien, mon cher, qu"est ce que vous faites, vous personnellement? [We are on the eve of a general disaster, and I have no time to be polite to everyone with whom I have business. So, my dear, what are you doing, you personally?]
“Mais rien, [Yes, nothing,” answered Pierre, still without raising his eyes and without changing the expression of his thoughtful face.
The Count frowned.
- Un conseil d"ami, mon cher. Decampez et au plutot, c"est tout ce que je vous dis. A bon entendeur salut! Goodbye, my dear. “Oh, yes,” he shouted to him from the door, “is it true that the countess fell into the clutches of des saints peres de la Societe de Jesus?” [Friendly advice. Get out quickly, that's what I tell you. Blessed is he who knows how to obey!.. the holy fathers of the Society of Jesus?]
Pierre did not answer anything and, frowning and angry as he had never been seen, left Rostopchin.

When he arrived home, it was already getting dark. About eight different people visited him that evening. Secretary of the committee, colonel of his battalion, manager, butler and various petitioners. Everyone had matters before Pierre that he had to resolve. Pierre did not understand anything, was not interested in these matters and gave only answers to all questions that would free him from these people. Finally, left alone, he printed out and read his wife’s letter.
“They are soldiers at the battery, Prince Andrey has been killed... an old man... Simplicity is submission to God. You have to suffer... the meaning of everything... you have to put it together... your wife is getting married... You have to forget and understand...” And he, going to the bed, fell on it without undressing and immediately fell asleep.
When he woke up the next morning, the butler came to report that a police official had come from Count Rastopchin on purpose to find out whether Count Bezukhov had left or was leaving.
About ten different people who had business with Pierre were waiting for him in the living room. Pierre hastily dressed, and, instead of going to those who were waiting for him, he went to the back porch and from there went out through the gate.
From then until the end of the Moscow devastation, none of the Bezukhovs’ household, despite all the searches, saw Pierre again and did not know where he was.

The Rostovs remained in the city until September 1, that is, until the eve of the enemy’s entry into Moscow.
After Petya joined Obolensky’s Cossack regiment and his departure to Belaya Tserkov, where this regiment was being formed, fear came over the countess. The thought that both of her sons are at war, that both of them have left under her wing, that today or tomorrow each of them, and maybe both together, like the three sons of one of her friends, could be killed, for the first time just now, this summer, it came to her mind with cruel clarity. She tried to get Nikolai to come to her, she wanted to go to Petya herself, to place him somewhere in St. Petersburg, but both of them turned out to be impossible. Petya could not be returned except with the regiment or through transfer to another active regiment. Nicholas was somewhere in the army and after his last letter, in which he described in detail his meeting with Princess Marya, he did not give any news about himself. The Countess did not sleep at night and, when she fell asleep, she saw her murdered sons in her dreams. After much advice and negotiations, the count finally came up with a means to calm the countess. He transferred Petya from Obolensky’s regiment to Bezukhov’s regiment, which was being formed near Moscow. Although Petya remained in military service, with this transfer the countess had the consolation of seeing at least one son under her wing and hoped to arrange for her Petya in such a way that she would no longer let him out and would always enroll him in places of service where he could not possibly end up. into battle. While only Nicolas was in danger, it seemed to the countess (and she even repented of it) that she loved the eldest more than all the other children; but when the youngest, the naughty one, who was a bad student, who broke everything in the house and who was boring everyone, Petya, this snub-nosed Petya, with his cheerful black eyes, a fresh blush and a little fluff on his cheeks, ended up there, with these big, scary, cruel men who they fight something there and find something joyful in it - then it seemed to the mother that she loved him more, much more than all her children. The closer the time approached when the expected Petya was supposed to return to Moscow, the more the countess’s anxiety increased. She already thought that she would never see this happiness. The presence of not only Sonya, but also her beloved Natasha, even her husband, irritated the countess. “What do I care about them, I don’t need anyone except Petya!” - she thought.
In the last days of August, the Rostovs received a second letter from Nikolai. He wrote from the Voronezh province, where he was sent for horses. This letter did not reassure the countess. Knowing that one son was out of danger, she began to worry even more about Petya.
Despite the fact that already on the 20th of August almost all of the Rostovs’ acquaintances left Moscow, despite the fact that everyone tried to persuade the countess to leave as soon as possible, she did not want to hear anything about leaving until her treasure, her beloved, returned. Peter. On August 28, Petya arrived. The sixteen-year-old officer did not like the painfully passionate tenderness with which his mother greeted him. Despite the fact that his mother hid from him her intention not to let him out from under her wing, Petya understood her intentions and, instinctively fearing that he would become soft with his mother, that he would not be fooled (as he thought to himself), he treated him coldly with her, avoided her and during his stay in Moscow exclusively stuck to the company of Natasha, for whom he always had a special, almost loving brotherly tenderness.
Due to the count's usual carelessness, on August 28 nothing was ready for departure, and the carts expected from the Ryazan and Moscow villages to lift all the property from the house arrived only on the 30th.
From August 28 to 31, all of Moscow was in trouble and movement. Every day, thousands of wounded in the Battle of Borodino were brought to the Dorogomilovskaya outpost and transported around Moscow, and thousands of carts, with residents and property, went to other outposts. Despite Rastopchin's posters, or independently of them, or as a result of them, the most contradictory and strange news was transmitted throughout the city. Who said that no one was ordered to leave; who, on the contrary, said that they had lifted all the icons from the churches and that everyone was being expelled by force; who said that there was another battle after Borodino, in which the French were defeated; who said, on the contrary, that the entire Russian army was destroyed; who spoke about the Moscow militia, which would go with the clergy ahead to the Three Mountains; who quietly told that Augustine was not ordered to travel, that traitors had been caught, that the peasants were rioting and robbing those who were leaving, etc., etc. But that was only what they said, and in essence, those who were traveling and those who remained (despite the fact that there had not yet been a council in Fili, at which it was decided to leave Moscow) - everyone felt, although they did not show it, that Moscow would certainly be surrendered and that they had to get out themselves as soon as possible and save your property. It was felt that everything should suddenly break apart and change, but until the 1st, nothing had changed yet. Just as a criminal who is being led to execution knows that he is about to die, but still looks around him and straightens his poorly worn hat, so Moscow involuntarily continued its ordinary life, although she knew that the time of death was near, when all those conditional relationships of life to which they were accustomed to submit would be broken.
During these three days preceding the capture of Moscow, the entire Rostov family was in various everyday troubles. The head of the family, Count Ilya Andreich, constantly traveled around the city, collecting rumors circulating from all sides, and at home he made general superficial and hasty orders about preparations for departure.
The Countess watched over the cleaning of things, was dissatisfied with everything and followed Petya, who was constantly running away from her, jealous of him for Natasha, with whom he spent all his time. Sonya alone gave orders practical side business: packing things. But Sonya was especially sad and silent during all this Lately. Nicolas's letter, in which he mentioned Princess Marya, evoked in her presence the countess's joyful reasoning about how she saw God's providence in Princess Marya's meeting with Nicolas.
“I was never happy then,” said the countess, “when Bolkonsky was Natasha’s fiancé, but I always wanted, and I have a presentiment, that Nikolinka would marry the princess.” And how good that would be!
Sonya felt that this was true, that the only way to improve the Rostovs’ affairs was to marry a rich woman and that the princess was a good match. But she was very sad about it. Despite her grief, or perhaps precisely as a result of her grief, she took upon herself all the difficult worries of cleaning and packing orders and was busy all day long. The Count and Countess turned to her when they needed to be ordered something. Petya and Natasha, on the contrary, not only did not help their parents, but for the most part they bothered and disturbed everyone in the house. And all day long you could almost hear their running, screaming and causeless laughter in the house. They laughed and rejoiced not at all because there was a reason for their laughter; but their souls were joyful and cheerful, and therefore everything that happened was a reason for joy and laughter for them. Petya was happy because, having left home as a boy, he returned (as everyone told him) a fine man; It was fun because he was at home, because he had left Belaya Tserkov, where there was no hope of getting into battle soon, and ended up in Moscow, where one of these days they would fight; and most importantly, it was cheerful because Natasha, whose mood he always obeyed, was cheerful. Natasha was cheerful because she had been sad for too long, and now nothing reminded her of the reason for her sadness, and she was healthy. She was also cheerful because there was a person who admired her (the admiration of others was the ointment of the wheels that was necessary for her car to move completely freely), and Petya admired her. The main thing is that they were cheerful because the war was near Moscow, that they would fight at the outpost, that they were distributing weapons, that everyone was running, leaving somewhere, that in general something extraordinary was happening, which is always joyful for a person, especially for a young person.

On August 31, Saturday, in the Rostov house everything seemed to be turned upside down. All the doors were opened, all the furniture was taken out or rearranged, mirrors, paintings were removed. There were chests in the rooms, hay, wrapping paper and ropes lying around. The men and servants carrying out things walked with heavy steps along the parquet floor. Men's carts were crowded in the yard, some already topped and hitched, some still empty.
The voices and footsteps of the huge servants and the men who arrived with carts sounded, calling to each other, in the yard and in the house. The Count went somewhere in the morning. The Countess, who had a headache from the bustle and noise, lay in the new sofa with vinegar bandages on her head. Petya was not at home (he went to see a comrade with whom he intended to transfer from the militia to the active army). Sonya was present in the hall during the installation of crystal and porcelain. Natasha was sitting in her ruined room on the floor, between scattered dresses, ribbons, scarves, and, motionless looking at the floor, holding an old ball gown, the same (already outdated in fashion) dress that she wore for the first time at the St. Petersburg ball.
Natasha was ashamed to do nothing in the house, while everyone was so busy, and several times in the morning she tried to get down to business; but her soul was not inclined to this matter; but she could not and did not know how to do anything not with all her heart, not with all her strength. She stood over Sonya while laying out the china, wanted to help, but immediately gave up and went to her room to pack her things. At first she was amused by the fact that she was distributing her dresses and ribbons to the maids, but then, when the rest still had to be put to bed, she found it boring.
- Dunyasha, will you put me to bed, my dear? Yes? Yes?
And when Dunyasha willingly promised to do everything for her, Natasha sat down on the floor, took the old ball gown in her hands and thought not at all about what should occupy her now. Natasha was brought out of her reverie by the talk of the girls in the neighboring maid's room and the sounds of their hasty steps from the maid's room to the back porch. Natasha stood up and looked out the window. A huge train of wounded stopped in the street.
Girls, footmen, housekeeper, nanny, cook, coachmen, postilions, kitchen boys stood at the gate, looking at the wounded.
Natasha, throwing a white handkerchief over her hair and holding the ends with both hands, went out into the street.
The former housekeeper, the old woman Mavra Kuzminishna, separated herself from the crowd standing at the gate, and, going up to a cart on which there was a matting wagon, talked to a young pale officer lying in this cart. Natasha moved a few steps and timidly stopped, continuing to hold her handkerchief and listening to what the housekeeper was saying.
- Well, then you don’t have anyone in Moscow? – said Mavra Kuzminishna. - You would be more comfortable somewhere in the apartment... If only you could come to us. The gentlemen are leaving.
“I don’t know if they’ll allow it,” the officer said in a weak voice. “There’s the chief... ask,” and he pointed to the fat major, who was walking back down the street along a row of carts.
Natasha looked into the face of the wounded officer with frightened eyes and immediately went to meet the major.
– Can the wounded stay in our house? – she asked.
The major put his hand to the visor with a smile.
- Whom do you want, mamzel? He said, narrowing his eyes and smiling.
Natasha calmly repeated her question, and her face and whole manner, despite the fact that she continued to hold her handkerchief by the ends, were so serious that the major stopped smiling and, at first thinking, as if asking himself to what extent this was possible, answered her in the affirmative.
“Oh, yes, why, it’s possible,” he said.
Natasha slightly bowed her head and quickly walked back to Mavra Kuzminishna, who was standing over the officer and talking to him with pitiful sympathy.
- It’s possible, he said, it’s possible! – Natasha said in a whisper.
An officer in a wagon turned into the Rostovs' yard, and dozens of carts with the wounded began, at the invitation of city residents, to turn into the courtyards and drive up to the entrances of the houses on Povarskaya Street. Natasha apparently benefited from these relationships with new people, outside the usual conditions of life. She, together with Mavra Kuzminishna, tried to bring as many wounded as possible into her yard.
“We still need to report to dad,” said Mavra Kuzminishna.
- Nothing, nothing, doesn’t it matter! For one day we will move to the living room. We can give them all our half.
- Well, you, young lady, will come up with it! Yes, even to the outbuilding, to the bachelor, to the nanny, and then you need to ask.
- Well, I'll ask.
Natasha ran into the house and tiptoed through the half-open door of the sofa, from which there was a smell of vinegar and Hoffmann's drops.
-Are you sleeping, mom?
- Oh, what a dream! - said the countess, who had just dozed off, waking up.
“Mom, darling,” said Natasha, kneeling in front of her mother and putting her face close to hers. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I never will, I woke you up.” Mavra Kuzminishna sent me, they brought the wounded here, officers, if you please? And they have nowhere to go; I know that you will allow...” she said quickly, without taking a breath.
- Which officers? Who did they bring? “I don’t understand anything,” said the Countess.
Natasha laughed, the Countess also smiled faintly.
– I knew that you would allow... so I’ll say so. - And Natasha, kissing her mother, got up and went to the door.
In the hall she met her father, who had returned home with bad news.
- We've finished it! – the count said with involuntary annoyance. – And the club is closed, and the police come out.
- Dad, is it okay that I invited the wounded into the house? – Natasha told him.
“Of course, nothing,” the count said absently. “That’s not the point, but now I ask you not to worry about trifles, but to help pack and go, go, go tomorrow...” And the count conveyed the same order to the butler and the people. During dinner, Petya returned and told him his news.
He said that today the people were dismantling weapons in the Kremlin, that although Rostopchin’s poster said that he would shout the cry in two days, but that an order had probably been made that tomorrow all the people would go to the Three Mountains with weapons, and what was there there will be a big battle.
The countess looked with timid horror at the cheerful, heated face of her son while he said this. She knew that if she said the word that she was asking Petya not to go to this battle (she knew that he was rejoicing at this upcoming battle), then he would say something about men, about honor, about the fatherland - something like that senseless, masculine, stubborn, which cannot be objected to, and the matter will be ruined, and therefore, hoping to arrange it so that she could leave before that and take Petya with her as a protector and patron, she did not say anything to Petya, and after dinner she called the count and with tears she begged him to take her away as soon as possible, that same night, if possible. With a feminine, involuntary cunning of love, she, who had hitherto shown complete fearlessness, said that she would die of fear if they did not leave that night. She, without pretending, was now afraid of everything.

M me Schoss, who went to see her daughter, further increased the Countess’s fear with stories of what she saw on Myasnitskaya Street in the drinking establishment. Returning along the street, she could not get home from the drunken crowd of people raging near the office. She took a cab and drove around the lane home; and the driver told her that people were breaking barrels in the drinking establishment, which was so ordered.
After dinner, everyone in the Rostov family set about packing their things and preparing for departure with enthusiastic haste. The old count, suddenly getting down to business, continued walking from the yard to the house and back after dinner, stupidly shouting at the hurrying people and hurrying them even more. Petya gave orders in the yard. Sonya did not know what to do under the influence of the count’s contradictory orders, and was completely at a loss. People ran around the rooms and courtyard, shouting, arguing and making noise. Natasha, with her characteristic passion in everything, suddenly also got down to business. At first, her intervention in the bedtime business was met with disbelief. Everyone expected a joke from her and did not want to listen to her; but she persistently and passionately demanded obedience, became angry, almost cried that they did not listen to her, and finally achieved that they believed in her. Her first feat, which cost her enormous effort and gave her power, was laying carpets. The count had expensive gobelins and Persian carpets in his house. When Natasha got down to business, there were two open drawers in the hall: one almost filled to the top with porcelain, the other with carpets. There was still a lot of porcelain laid out on the tables and everything was still being brought from the pantry. It was necessary to start a new, third box, and people followed it.
“Sonya, wait, we’ll arrange everything like this,” Natasha said.
“You can’t, young lady, we already tried,” said the barmaid.
- No, wait, please. – And Natasha began to take out dishes and plates wrapped in paper from the drawer.
“The dishes should be here, in the carpets,” she said.
“And God forbid that the carpets be spread out into three boxes,” said the barman.
- Yes, wait, please. – And Natasha quickly, deftly began to take it apart. “It’s not necessary,” she said about Kyiv plates, “yes, it’s for carpets,” she said about Saxon dishes.
- Leave it alone, Natasha; “Okay, that’s enough, we’ll put him to bed,” Sonya said reproachfully.
- Eh, young lady! - said the butler. But Natasha did not give up, threw out all the things and quickly began to put them away again, deciding that the house carpets and extra dishes no need to take it at all. When everything was taken out, they began to put it away again. And indeed, having thrown out almost everything cheap, what was not worth taking with us, everything valuable was put into two boxes. Only the lid of the carpet box did not close. It was possible to take out a few things, but Natasha wanted to insist on her own. She stacked, rearranged, pressed, forced the barman and Petya, whom she carried along with her into the work of packing, to press the lid and made desperate efforts herself.
“Come on, Natasha,” Sonya told her. “I see you’re right, but take out the top one.”
“I don’t want to,” Natasha shouted, holding her loose hair over her sweaty face with one hand and pressing the carpets with the other. - Yes, press, Petka, press! Vasilich, press! - she shouted. The carpets pressed and the lid closed. Natasha, clapping her hands, squealed with joy, and tears flowed from her eyes. But it only lasted for a second. She immediately set to work on another matter, and they completely believed her, and the count was not angry when they told him that Natalya Ilyinishna had canceled his order, and the servants came to Natasha to ask: should the cart be tied up or not and is it sufficiently imposed? The matter progressed thanks to Natasha’s orders: unnecessary things were left behind and the most expensive ones were packed in the closest possible way.
But no matter how hard all the people worked, by late night not everything could be packed. The Countess fell asleep, and the Count, postponing his departure until the morning, went to bed.
Sonya and Natasha slept without undressing in the sofa room. That night, another wounded man was transported through Povarskaya, and Mavra Kuzminishna, who was standing at the gate, turned him towards the Rostovs. This wounded man, according to Mavra Kuzminishna, was a very significant person. He was carried in a carriage, completely covered with an apron and with the top down. An old man, a venerable valet, sat on the box with the cab driver. A doctor and two soldiers were riding in the cart behind.
- Come to us, please. The gentlemen are leaving, the whole house is empty,” said the old woman, turning to the old servant.
“Well,” answered the valet, sighing, “and we can’t get you there with tea!” We have our own house in Moscow, but it’s far away, and no one lives.
“You are welcome to us, our gentlemen have a lot of everything, please,” said Mavra Kuzminishna. - Are you very unwell? – she added.
The valet waved his hand.
- Don’t bring tea! You need to ask the doctor. - And the valet got off the box and approached the cart.
“Okay,” said the doctor.
The valet went up to the carriage again, looked into it, shook his head, ordered the coachman to turn into the yard and stopped next to Mavra Kuzminishna.
- Lord Jesus Christ! - she said.
Mavra Kuzminishna offered to carry the wounded man into the house.
“The gentlemen won’t say anything...” she said. But it was necessary to avoid climbing the stairs, and therefore the wounded man was carried into the outbuilding and laid in the former room of m me Schoss. The wounded man was Prince Andrei Bolkonsky.

The last day of Moscow has arrived. It was clear, cheerful autumn weather. It was Sunday. As on ordinary Sundays, mass was announced in all churches. No one, it seemed, could yet understand what awaited Moscow.
Only two indicators of the state of society expressed the situation in which Moscow was: the mob, that is, the class of poor people, and the prices of objects. Factory workers, courtyard workers and peasants in a huge crowd, which included officials, seminarians, and nobles, went out to the Three Mountains early in the morning. Having stood there and not waiting for Rostopchin and making sure that Moscow would be surrendered, this crowd scattered throughout Moscow, into drinking houses and taverns. Prices that day also indicated the state of affairs. The prices for weapons, for gold, for carts and horses kept rising, and the prices for pieces of paper and for city things kept going down, so that in the middle of the day there were cases when the cabbies took out expensive goods, like cloth, for nothing, and for a peasant's horse paid five hundred rubles; furniture, mirrors, bronzes were given away for free.
In the sedate and old Rostov house, the disintegration of previous living conditions was expressed very weakly. The only thing about people was that three people from a huge courtyard disappeared that night; but nothing was stolen; and in relation to the prices of things, it turned out that the thirty carts that came from the villages were enormous wealth, which many envied and for which the Rostovs were offered huge amounts of money. Not only were they offering huge sums of money for these carts, but from the evening and early morning of September 1st, orderlies and servants sent from the wounded officers came to the Rostovs’ yard, and the wounded themselves, who were placed with the Rostovs and in neighboring houses, were dragged along, and begged the Rostovs’ people to take care of that they be given carts to leave Moscow. The butler, to whom such requests were addressed, although he felt sorry for the wounded, resolutely refused, saying that he would not even dare to report this to the count. No matter how pitiful the remaining wounded were, it was obvious that if they gave up one cart, there was no reason not to give up the other, and give up everything and their crews. Thirty carts could not save all the wounded, and in the general disaster it was impossible not to think about yourself and your family. This is what the butler thought for his master.
Waking up on the morning of the 1st, Count Ilya Andreich quietly left the bedroom so as not to wake up the countess who had just fallen asleep in the morning, and in his purple silk robe he went out onto the porch. The carts, tied up, stood in the yard. Carriages stood at the porch. The butler stood at the entrance, talking with the old orderly and the young, pale officer with his arm tied. The butler, seeing the count, made a significant and stern sign to the officer and orderly to leave.
- Well, is everything ready, Vasilich? - said the count, rubbing his bald head and looking good-naturedly at the officer and orderly and nodding his head to them. (The Count loved new faces.)
- At least harness it now, your Excellency.
- Well, that’s great, the countess will wake up, and God bless you! What are you doing, gentlemen? – he turned to the officer. - In my house? – The officer moved closer. His pale face suddenly flushed with bright color.
- Count, do me a favor, let me... for God's sake... take refuge somewhere on your carts. Here I have nothing with me... I’m in the cart... it doesn’t matter... - Before the officer had time to finish, the orderly turned to the count with the same request for his master.
- A! “Yes, yes, yes,” the count spoke hastily. - I'm very, very happy. Vasilich, you give orders, well, to clear one or two carts, well... well... what is needed... - the count said in some vague expressions, ordering something. But at the same moment, the officer’s ardent expression of gratitude already cemented what he had ordered. The count looked around him: in the courtyard, at the gate, in the window of the outbuilding, the wounded and orderlies could be seen. They all looked at the count and moved towards the porch.
- Please, your Excellency, to the gallery: what do you order about the paintings? - said the butler. And the count entered the house with him, repeating his order not to refuse the wounded who asked to go.
“Well, well, we can put something together,” he added in a quiet, mysterious voice, as if afraid that someone would hear him.
At nine o'clock the countess woke up, and Matryona Timofeevna, her former maid, who served as chief of gendarmes in relation to the countess, came to report to her former young lady that Marya Karlovna was very offended and that the young ladies' summer dresses could not stay here. When the countess questioned why m me Schoss was offended, it was revealed that her chest had been removed from the cart and all the carts were being untied - they were removing the goods and taking with them the wounded, whom the count, in his simplicity, ordered to be taken with him. The Countess ordered to ask for her husband.
– What is it, my friend, I hear things are being removed again?
- You know, ma chere, I wanted to tell you this... ma chere countess... an officer came to me, asking me to give several carts for the wounded. After all, this is all a gainful business; But think about what it’s like for them to stay!.. Really, in our yard, we invited them ourselves, there are officers here. You know, I think, right, ma chere, here, ma chere... let them take them... what's the rush?.. - The Count timidly said this, as he always said when it came to money. The Countess was already accustomed to this tone, which always preceded a task that ruined the children, like some kind of construction of a gallery, a greenhouse, arranging a home theater or music, and she was used to it and considered it her duty to always resist what was expressed in this timid tone.
She assumed her obediently deplorable appearance and said to her husband:
“Listen, Count, you’ve brought it to the point that they won’t give anything for the house, and now you want to destroy all of our children’s fortunes.” After all, you yourself say that there is a hundred thousand worth of goods in the house. I, my friend, neither agree nor agree. Your will! The government is there for the wounded. They know. Look: across the street, at the Lopukhins’, they took everything away just three days ago. That's how people do it. We are the only fools. At least have pity on me, but on the children.
The Count waved his hands and, without saying anything, left the room.
- Dad! what are you talking about? - Natasha told him, following him into her mother’s room.
- Nothing! What do you care? – the count said angrily.
“No, I heard,” said Natasha. - Why doesn’t mummy want to?
- What do you care? - the count shouted. Natasha went to the window and thought.
“Dad, Berg has come to see us,” she said, looking out the window.

Berg, the Rostovs' son-in-law, was already a colonel with Vladimir and Anna around his neck and occupied the same calm and pleasant place as assistant chief of staff, assistant to the first department of the chief of staff of the second corps.
On September 1, he arrived from the army in Moscow.
He had nothing to do in Moscow; but he noticed that everyone from the army asked to go to Moscow and did something there. He also considered it necessary to take time off for household and family matters.
Berg, in his neat droshky on a pair of well-fed savrasenki, exactly the same as one prince had, drove up to his father-in-law’s house. He looked carefully into the yard at the carts and, entering the porch, took out a clean handkerchief and tied a knot.
From the hall, Berg ran into the living room with a floating, impatient step and hugged the count, kissed the hands of Natasha and Sonya and hurriedly asked about his mother’s health.
– How is your health now? Well, tell me,” said the count, “what about the troops?” Are they retreating or will there be another battle?
“One eternal god, dad,” said Berg, “can decide the fate of the fatherland.” The army is burning with the spirit of heroism, and now the leaders, so to speak, have gathered for a meeting. What will happen is unknown. But I’ll tell you in general, dad, such a heroic spirit, the truly ancient courage of the Russian troops, which they – it,” he corrected himself, “showed or showed in this battle on the 26th, there are no words worthy to describe them... I’ll tell you, dad (he hit himself on the chest in the same way as one general who was talking in front of him hit himself, although a little late, because he should have hit himself on the chest at the word “Russian army”) - I’ll tell you frankly that we, the leaders, “Not only should we not have urged the soldiers or anything like that, but we could forcefully hold back these, these... yes, courageous and ancient feats,” he said quickly. – General Barclay, before Tolly, sacrificed his life everywhere in front of the army, I’ll tell you. Our corps was placed on the slope of the mountain. You can imagine! - And then Berg told everything that he remembered from the various stories he had heard during this time. Natasha, without lowering her gaze, which confused Berg, as if looking for a solution to some question on his face, looked at him.

Interesting and funny book. A story about a magical chocolate factory. About a man who made dreams come true, and a very ordinary little boy.
The book makes fun of bad traits human character. The same greed, gluttony, arrogance, despondency, envy, spoiling. The images of the four children who received tickets first became collective images of these qualities. Our world is full of such children. So much that sometimes you begin to wonder how all the children in the world might end up like this.

A girl whose wishes were always indulged by her parents. As soon as she wanted something, many people rushed to fulfill her wish and present everything to her. in the best possible way. A spoiled and arrogant child.

A girl chewing gum every day. This image is more complicated. What's wrong with chewing gum? After all, this is also sweetness, and sweets bring joy to people... But, wait. Let's imagine this picture. Is it pleasant to talk to a person who constantly chews? That's it... let's imagine it more vividly...
Violetta doesn't know how to give up. She cannot yield to a single person in the world even in such stupidity as chewing gum. From here the image is supplemented with new features. Impudence, arrogance, boasting. Now I think the picture has become quite clear....

This image is also not entirely simple compared to others. The question arises, why is this boy bad? Many people watch TV every day. But what's so bad about that?
Let's remember some details. Mike stated that everyone was stopping him from watching TV. He is not at all interested in the feelings of the people around him. Only himself, his me. The whole world for him...
Plus, he's constantly waving his toy guns everywhere. What an ill-mannered boy. But it’s not even a matter of bad manners, but what’s in his head.
This child screams about murder, shooting, massacre with complete confidence and delight. He is sure that killing is fun. And he doesn’t see that in fact, even such a little thing as a word spoken with passion can bring considerable pain.

All these images develop throughout the book. And each of them receives his own, completely deserved punishment. But calling it punishment would not be entirely correct. After all, no matter how cruel their fate seemed, it benefited them.
It was more of a lesson than a punishment. And I think this lesson taught them a lot.

Charlie was very different from all the other children from the very beginning. An ordinary boy. He didn't even know that in fact, he was the happiest child in the world. He knows how to believe in miracles. Sincere and kind. He is never capricious and does not ask for what he does not need. Charlie shared the chocolate among everyone in their large family, while he himself was starving. He is ready to help all his loved ones and loves them very much. His relatives - their friendly, albeit poor family - are the most precious thing he has.

Willy Wonka is perhaps the most mysterious character in the entire book. The eccentric of eccentrics! Grandpa Joe corrects Charlie when he calls Wonka a "chocolate engineer." Wonky is not an engineer, but wizard ! This word is deliberately vividly remembered. Wizard , the real one wizard. ...But what is real magic??

The ending of the book is ambiguous, but at the same time such incompleteness speaks louder than any words. Let everyone imagine what happened to Charlie next. Let everyone imagine their own chocolate dream and be happy for the boy who will finally be happy. After all, he deserved to live in best place in the whole world.
This book is full of depth. philosophical meaning. This story shows that real miracles happen to kind and honest children. Therefore, you should never despair and lose faith in a miracle.
The book also shows that adults are children at heart. Good one example

Willie looks at each of his inventions with childish delight. He truly believes in Lumpoland, even if it seems absurd to others. Willy Wonka is constantly in a hurry, he is very nimble and dexterous. Mischievous like a boy. His smile is beautiful because all his emotions are reflected on his face. And these emotions light, kind, bright... They cannot be described in words, as real magic

Grandpa Joe, like his grandson, was very happy to meet Willy Wonka and visit his factory. This is sincere childish happiness and delight. Like a dream come true. He was so happy for his grandson that he jumped out of bed and started dancing, although he had not danced for many, many years.

No matter how many years pass, each of us still remains a child at heart. This is the most magical of all miracles.

I want to talk about them because they help to better understand this story and reveal the images of the characters more colorfully.

There were 2 film adaptations based on this book. The first one is from 1971 and the second one is from 2005. In my opinion, both films are great, but the second one was closer to the book.
I really liked that in the 2005 film adaptation, much attention was paid to the story of Willy Wonka himself. They made the ending complete. They revealed his image not just as an eccentric wizard, but as a person with his own history and dreams. Thanks to the wonderful acting, Willie became completely real, alive. That's exactly how I remembered him. So bright emotions, which is difficult to describe in words. And his wonderful smile, when Wonka simply glowed with joy... So sincere, open, alive. This image became the decoration of the entire film.
In the film, Willy Wonka specifically does not want to say the words “parents.” He repeats himself, saying the same thing twice. He hits his face on the glass elevator doors. But, not paying attention to this, he continues to lead the tour through the factory with the same smile. He pretends he doesn't remember his past. But in fact, he simply doesn’t want to and is afraid to remember.

He was the son of a brilliant dentist. And, of course, Father did not allow Willie to eat any sweets. Willie wore terrible braces on his teeth, for which he was probably ridiculed and considered strange. He very rarely played with other guys, giving most of his time to his dreams. One day he went with other children to Halloween. A little boy in a white sheet with a face drawn on it. Surely he deliberately chose a suit that covered his face. After all, these huge braces looked more like some kind of sophisticated mechanism that unnaturally stretched the lips.
Willie really wanted to try the candy. He, like Charlie, enjoyed watching them behind the counter. And the way the other children ate chocolate carefree every day made him unhappy. Right before his eyes, his father took away everything that Willie managed to collect for Halloween and threw it into the fire. Chocolate will definitely cause allergies. Lollipops are a direct path to caries. And chocolate is simply an impermissible insolence...
But Willie still managed to try the candy. The first candy in his life. He found her in the fireplace, among the ashes. The only one preserved, in the same shiny wrapper. It may be dirty, but just as magical.
Willie wanted to become a pastry chef and told his father about his dream. The father was angry and said that then Willie could leave his house. Willie took an old backpack with things. His father added to him right at the door that now, if the boy decided to return, he would no longer be here.
And Willie set off, dreaming of a wonderful trip to the confectionery capitals of the world. But he arrived too late, and there were no trains at that hour. The boy had no choice but to return home... but he no longer had a home. The father kept his words. And when Willy Wonka returned, he was simply not at home. Not a single trace.

Willie couldn't understand why Charlie didn't want to go with him. He never thought that this story could end like this. Why? Why did the boy refuse? What did he do wrong?
Willie couldn't calm down. He looked up Charlie again to find out the answer. And the answer was very simple.
"I'm very sad right now. What helps you when you're sad, Charlie?
-My family."
Willie never had a real family. He loved his father, but was sure that he hated him and could not forgive him. Willie was afraid to find out the truth, just like that day when he was left alone.
Charlie suggested going to his father's together. Willie was very happy about this, he replied: “With joy!”
Willy Wonka is just like a child at heart. The magic is in simplicity...
It turned out that all this time his father did not forget about his son. He collected newspaper clippings about his factory. And I forgave him a long time ago and realized that I myself was no less to blame. Forgiveness was needed for both of them. The scene when they met was very beautiful and warm.

In the film, the story ends with a very happy and homely warm scene. Willy Wonka became a dear guest in Charlie's house. He got more than just a successor. Willie got a real family. And this is real happiness.

I especially liked some moments in the 1971 film. This film showed the story even more vibrant and magical. I especially remember the phrases that, in my opinion, explain the main ideas of the book:
"We are musicians. And we are dreamers."

"Sheer absurdity!
“The smartest people came up with the absurd.”

Two years ago (I was 12 years old at the time), I saw a small children's book in English in a bookstore window. The cover depicted a funny man in a top hat and some kind of unusual, fantastic multi-colored car. The author was Roald Dahl, and the book was called “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.” I decided to buy this book by an English writer completely unknown to me. And when I came home and started reading, I couldn’t put it down until I finished reading it to the very end. It turned out that “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory” is a wise, kind fairy tale about children and for children. I read a magical, fantastic story about children from a small provincial town and in its heroes I recognized myself and my friends - sometimes kind, and sometimes not so much, sometimes so generous, and sometimes a little greedy, sometimes good, and sometimes stubborn and capricious.

I decided to write Roald Dahl a letter. Two months later (letters from England take a long time) the answer came. Thus began our correspondence, which continues to this day. Roald Dahl was glad that his book, which is read and loved by children all over the world, is also known in Russia; it is a pity, of course, that only those children who know English well can read it. Roald Dahl wrote to me about himself. He was born and raised in England. At the age of eighteen he went to work in Africa. And when did the second one begin? World War, he became a pilot and fought against fascism, which he hated. Then he began to write his first stories, and later – fairy tales for children. Now there are more than twenty of them. Now Roald Dahl lives in England, in Buckinghamshire, with his children and grandchildren and writes books for children. Many of his books (including the fairy tale “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory”) have been adapted into films and performances. Roald Dahl sent me many of his books. These are all wonderful tales. I felt sorry for the guys who don't know in English and can’t read Roald Dahl’s books, so I decided to translate them into Russian, and began, of course, with the story “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.” I translated the book together with my mother, and the poems were translated by my grandmother, a pediatrician. I really hope that the story of little Charlie and the wizard Mr. Wonka will become the favorite fairy tale of many children.

Misha Baron

Roald Dahl

Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.

Dedicated to Theo

In this book you will meet five children.

AUGUST GLUP - greedy boy,

VERUCA SALT - a girl spoiled by her parents,

VIOLETTA BURGARD - a girl who constantly chews gum,

MIKE TIVEY is a boy who watches TV from morning till night,

CHARLIE BUCKET is the main character of this story.

1. Meet Charlie

Oh, so many people! Four very old people - Mr. Bucket's parents, Grandpa Joe and Grandma Josephine; Mrs. Bucket's parents, Grandfather George and Grandmother Georgina. And Mr and Mrs Bucket. Mr. and Mrs. Bucket have a little son. His name is Charlie Bucket.

- Hello, hello, and hello again!

He is glad to meet you.

The whole family - six adults (you can count them) and little Charlie - lived in a wooden house on the outskirts of a quiet town. The house was too small for such a large family; it was very inconvenient for everyone to live there together. There were only two rooms, and one bed. The bed was given to my grandparents because they were so old and weak that they never got out of it. Grandpa Joe and Grandma Josephine occupied the right half, and Grandpa George and Grandma Georgina occupied the left. Mr. and Mrs. Bucket and little Charlie Bucket were sleeping in the next room on mattresses on the floor.

In the summer this was not bad, but in the winter, when cold drafts walked across the floor all night, it was terrible.

Buying a new house or even another bed was out of the question; the Buckets were too poor.

The only one in the family who had a job was Mr. Bucket. He worked in a toothpaste factory. All day Mr. Bucket screwed on tubes of toothpaste. But they paid very little for it. And no matter how hard Mr. Bucket tried, no matter how much he hurried, the money he earned was not enough to buy at least half of the essentials for such a large family. There wasn't even enough for food. The Buckets could only afford bread and margarine for breakfast, boiled potatoes and cabbage for lunch, and cabbage soup for dinner. Things looked a little better on Sunday. And the whole family was looking forward to Sunday, not because the food was different, no, just everyone could get something extra.

The Buckets, of course, were not starving, but all of them (two grandfathers, two grandmothers, Charlie’s parents, and especially little Charlie himself) were plagued by a terrible feeling of emptiness in their stomachs from morning to evening.

Charlie had it the worst of all. And although Mr. and Mrs. Bucket often gave him their portions, this was not enough for his growing organism, and Charlie really wanted something more filling and tasty than cabbage and cabbage soup. But more than anything he wanted... chocolate.

Every morning on the way to school, Charlie stopped at the storefronts and pressed his nose to the glass, looking at the mountains of chocolate, while his mouth watered. Many times he saw other children take bars of creamy chocolate out of their pockets and chew it greedily. It was real torture to watch.

Only once a year, on his birthday, did Charlie Bucket get to taste chocolate. For a whole year, the whole family saved money, and when a lucky day came, Charlie received a small bar of chocolate as a gift. And every time, having received a gift, he carefully put it in a small wooden box and carefully kept it there, as if it were not chocolate at all, but gold. For the next few days, Charlie only looked at the chocolate bar, but never touched it. When the boy’s patience came to an end, he tore off the edge of the wrapper so that a small piece of the bar was visible, and then bit off just a little, talcum powder to feel the amazing taste of chocolate in his mouth. The next day Charlie took another small bite. Then again. Thus, the pleasure stretched out for more than a month.

But I have not yet told you about what tormented little Charlie, the chocolate lover, more than anything else in the world. It was much worse than looking at mountains of chocolate in shop windows, worse than seeing other children eating creamy chocolate right in front of you. It is impossible to imagine anything more terrible. It was this: in the city, right in front of the windows of the Bucket family, there was a chocolate factory that was not just large. It was the largest and most famous chocolate factory in the world - THE WONKA FACTORY. It was owned by Mr. Willy Wonka, the greatest inventor and chocolate king. It was an amazing factory! It was surrounded by a high wall. It was possible to get inside only through large iron gates, smoke was coming from the chimneys, and a strange buzzing was coming from somewhere deep inside, and outside the walls of the factory, for half a mile around, the air was saturated with the thick smell of chocolate.

Twice a day, on his way to and from school, Charlie Bucket passed this factory. And each time he slowed down and delightedly inhaled the magical smell of chocolate.

Oh, how he loved that smell!

Oh, how I dreamed of breaking into the factory and finding out what was inside!

2. Mr. Willy Wonka's Factory

In the evenings, after a supper of watery cabbage soup, Charlie usually went to his grandparents' room to listen to their stories and wish them good night.

Each of the old men was over ninety. They were all thin as a skeleton and wrinkled like a baked apple. They lay in bed all day: grandfathers in nightcaps, grandmothers in caps so as not to freeze. Having nothing to do, they dozed. But as soon as the door opened, Charlie came into the room and said, “Good evening, Grandpa Joe and Grandma Josephine, Grandpa George and Grandma Georgina,” the old men sat up in bed, their wrinkled faces lit up with a smile, and the conversation began. They loved this baby. He was the only joy in the life of the old people, and they looked forward to these evening conversations all day. Often the parents also came into the room, stood on the threshold and listened to the stories of the grandparents. So the family forgot about hunger and poverty, at least for half an hour, and everyone was happy.

Current page: 1 (book has 7 pages in total)

From the Translator

Two years ago (I was 12 years old at the time), I saw a small children's book in English in a bookstore window. The cover depicted a funny man in a top hat and some kind of unusual, fantastic multi-colored car. The author was Roald Dahl, and the book was called “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.” I decided to buy this book by an English writer completely unknown to me. And when I came home and started reading, I couldn’t put it down until I finished reading it to the very end. It turned out that “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory” is a wise, kind fairy tale about children and for children. I read a magical, fantastic story about children from a small provincial town and in its heroes I recognized myself and my friends - sometimes kind, and sometimes not so much, sometimes so generous, and sometimes a little greedy, sometimes good, and sometimes stubborn and capricious.

I decided to write Roald Dahl a letter. Two months later (letters from England take a long time) the answer came. Thus began our correspondence, which continues to this day. Roald Dahl was glad that his book, which is read and loved by children all over the world, is also known in Russia; it is a pity, of course, that only those children who know English well can read it. Roald Dahl wrote to me about himself. He was born and raised in England. At the age of eighteen he went to work in Africa. And when the Second World War began, he became a pilot and fought against fascism, which he hated. Then he began to write his first stories, and later – fairy tales for children. Now there are more than twenty of them. Now Roald Dahl lives in England, in Buckinghamshire, with his children and grandchildren and writes books for children. Many of his books (including the fairy tale “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory”) have been adapted into films and performances. Roald Dahl sent me many of his books. These are all wonderful tales. I felt sorry for the guys who don’t know English and can’t read Roald Dahl’s books, and I decided to translate them into Russian, and started, of course, with the story “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.” I translated the book together with my mother, and the poems were translated by my grandmother, a pediatrician. I really hope that the story of little Charlie and the wizard Mr. Wonka will become the favorite fairy tale of many children.

Misha Baron

Roald Dahl
Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.

Dedicated to Theo

In this book you will meet five children.

AUGUST GLUP - greedy boy,

VERUCA SALT - a girl spoiled by her parents,

VIOLETTA BURGARD - a girl who constantly chews gum,

MIKE TIVEY is a boy who watches TV from morning till night,

CHARLIE BUCKET is the main character of this story.

1. Meet Charlie

Oh, so many people! Four very old people - Mr. Bucket's parents, Grandpa Joe and Grandma Josephine; Mrs. Bucket's parents, Grandfather George and Grandmother Georgina. And Mr and Mrs Bucket. Mr. and Mrs. Bucket have a little son. His name is Charlie Bucket.

- Hello, hello, and hello again!

He is glad to meet you.

The whole family - six adults (you can count them) and little Charlie - lived in a wooden house on the outskirts of a quiet town. The house was too small for such a large family; it was very inconvenient for everyone to live there together. There were only two rooms, and one bed. The bed was given to my grandparents because they were so old and weak that they never got out of it. Grandpa Joe and Grandma Josephine occupied the right half, and Grandpa George and Grandma Georgina occupied the left. Mr. and Mrs. Bucket and little Charlie Bucket were sleeping in the next room on mattresses on the floor.

In the summer this was not bad, but in the winter, when cold drafts walked across the floor all night, it was terrible.

Buying a new house or even another bed was out of the question; the Buckets were too poor.

The only one in the family who had a job was Mr. Bucket. He worked in a toothpaste factory. All day Mr. Bucket screwed on tubes of toothpaste. But they paid very little for it. And no matter how hard Mr. Bucket tried, no matter how much he hurried, the money he earned was not enough to buy at least half of the essentials for such a large family. There wasn't even enough for food. The Buckets could only afford bread and margarine for breakfast, boiled potatoes and cabbage for lunch, and cabbage soup for dinner. Things looked a little better on Sunday. And the whole family was looking forward to Sunday, not because the food was different, no, just everyone could get something extra.

The Buckets, of course, were not starving, but all of them (two grandfathers, two grandmothers, Charlie’s parents, and especially little Charlie himself) were plagued by a terrible feeling of emptiness in their stomachs from morning to evening.

Charlie had it the worst of all. And although Mr. and Mrs. Bucket often gave him their portions, this was not enough for his growing organism, and Charlie really wanted something more filling and tasty than cabbage and cabbage soup. But more than anything he wanted... chocolate.

Every morning on the way to school, Charlie stopped at the storefronts and pressed his nose to the glass, looking at the mountains of chocolate, while his mouth watered. Many times he saw other children take bars of creamy chocolate out of their pockets and chew it greedily. It was real torture to watch.

Only once a year, on his birthday, did Charlie Bucket get to taste chocolate. For a whole year, the whole family saved money, and when a lucky day came, Charlie received a small bar of chocolate as a gift. And every time, having received a gift, he carefully put it in a small wooden box and carefully kept it there, as if it were not chocolate at all, but gold. For the next few days, Charlie only looked at the chocolate bar, but never touched it. When the boy’s patience came to an end, he tore off the edge of the wrapper so that a small piece of the bar was visible, and then bit off just a little, talcum powder to feel the amazing taste of chocolate in his mouth. The next day Charlie took another small bite. Then again. Thus, the pleasure stretched out for more than a month.

But I have not yet told you about what tormented little Charlie, the chocolate lover, more than anything else in the world. It was much worse than looking at mountains of chocolate in shop windows, worse than seeing other children eating creamy chocolate right in front of you. It is impossible to imagine anything more terrible. It was this: in the city, right in front of the windows of the Bucket family, there was a chocolate factory that was not just large. It was the largest and most famous chocolate factory in the world - THE WONKA FACTORY. It was owned by Mr. Willy Wonka, the greatest inventor and chocolate king. It was an amazing factory! It was surrounded by a high wall. It was possible to get inside only through large iron gates, smoke was coming from the chimneys, and a strange buzzing was coming from somewhere deep inside, and outside the walls of the factory, for half a mile around, the air was saturated with the thick smell of chocolate.

Twice a day, on his way to and from school, Charlie Bucket passed this factory. And each time he slowed down and delightedly inhaled the magical smell of chocolate.

Oh, how he loved that smell!

Oh, how I dreamed of breaking into the factory and finding out what was inside!

2. Mr. Willy Wonka's Factory

In the evenings, after a supper of watery cabbage soup, Charlie usually went to his grandparents' room to listen to their stories and wish them good night.

Each of the old men was over ninety. They were all thin as a skeleton and wrinkled like a baked apple. They lay in bed all day: grandfathers in nightcaps, grandmothers in caps so as not to freeze. Having nothing to do, they dozed. But as soon as the door opened, Charlie came into the room and said, “Good evening, Grandpa Joe and Grandma Josephine, Grandpa George and Grandma Georgina,” the old men sat up in bed, their wrinkled faces lit up with a smile, and the conversation began. They loved this baby. He was the only joy in the life of the old people, and they looked forward to these evening conversations all day. Often the parents also came into the room, stood on the threshold and listened to the stories of the grandparents. So the family forgot about hunger and poverty, at least for half an hour, and everyone was happy.

One evening, when Charlie came to visit the old people as usual, he asked:

– Is it true that Wonka’s chocolate factory is the largest in the world?

- Is it true? – all four cried. - Of course it's true! God! Didn't you know? It is fifty times larger than any other factory.

“Is it true that Mr. Willy Wonka can make chocolate better than anyone in the world?”

“My boy,” answered Grandpa Joe, sitting up on his pillow, “Mr. Willy Wonka is the most wonderful pastry chef in the world!” I thought everyone knew this.

“I, Grandpa Joe, knew that he was famous, I knew that he was an inventor...

- Inventor? - Grandfather exclaimed. - What are you talking about! He's a magician when it comes to chocolate! He can do anything! Is that right, my dears? Two grandmothers and one grandfather nodded their heads:

– Absolutely true, it couldn’t be truer. And Grandpa Joe asked in surprise:

“What, are you saying I never told you about Mr. Willy Wonka and his factory?”

“Never,” Charlie replied.

- My God! How is it me?

“Please, Grandpa Joe, tell me now,” Charlie asked.

– I’ll definitely tell you. Sit back and listen carefully.

Grandpa Joe was the oldest in the family. He was ninety-six and a half years old, which is not so little. Like all very old people, he was a sickly, weak and taciturn person. But in the evenings, when his beloved grandson Charlie came into the room, grandfather looked younger before his eyes. The fatigue disappeared as if by hand. He became impatient and worried like a boy.

- ABOUT! This Mr. Willy Wonka is an amazing man! - Grandpa Joe exclaimed. – Did you know, for example, that he came up with more than two hundred new types of chocolate, all with different fillings? No confectionery factory in the world produces such sweet and delicious chocolates!

“It’s true,” Grandmother Josephine confirmed. “And he sends them all over the world.” Right, Grandpa Joe?

- Yes, yes, my dear. He sends them out to all the kings and presidents in the world. But Mr. Willy Wonka doesn't just make chocolate. He has some simply incredible inventions. Did you know that he invented chocolate ice cream that doesn't melt without refrigeration? It can lie in the sun all day and not melt!

- But this is impossible! – Charlie exclaimed, looking at his grandfather in surprise.

– Of course it’s impossible! And absolutely incredible! But Mr. Willy Wonka did it! - cried Grandpa Joe.

“That’s right,” the others confirmed.

Grandpa Joe continued his story. He spoke very slowly so that Charlie would not miss a single word:

- Mr. Willy Wonka makes marshmallows that smell like violets, and amazing caramels that change color every ten seconds, and also little candies that just melt in your mouth. He can make chewing gum that never loses its flavor, and sugar balls that can be inflated to enormous sizes, and then pierced with a pin and eaten. But main secret Mr. Wonka - wonderful, speckled blue bird eggs. When you put such an egg in your mouth, it becomes smaller and smaller and eventually melts, leaving a tiny pink chick on the tip of your tongue. – Grandfather fell silent and licked his lips. “Just thinking about all this makes my mouth water,” he added.

“Me too,” Charlie admitted. - Please tell me more.

While they were talking, Mr. and Mrs. Bucket quietly entered the room and now, standing at the door, also listened to grandfather's story.

“Tell Charlie about the crazy Indian prince,” asked Grandma Josephine, “he’ll like it.”

“You mean the Prince of Pondicherry?” – Grandpa Joe laughed.

“But very rich,” Grandma Georgina clarified.

-What did he do? – Charlie asked impatiently.

“Listen,” Grandpa Joe answered. - I will tell you.

3. Mr. Wonka and the Indian Prince

The Prince of Pondicherry wrote a letter to Mr. Willy Wonka,” Grandpa Joe began his story. “He invited Willy Wonka to come to India and build him a huge chocolate palace.

- And Mr. Willy Wonka agreed?

- Certainly. Oh, what a palace it was! One hundred rooms, all made of light and dark chocolate. The bricks are chocolate, and the cement that held them together is chocolate, and the windows are chocolate, the walls and ceilings are also made of chocolate, as are the carpets, paintings, and furniture. And as soon as you turned on the faucet in the bathroom, hot chocolate flowed out.

When the work was completed, Mr. Willy Wonka warned the Prince of Pondicherry that the palace would not stand for long and advised him to eat it quickly.

"Nonsense! - exclaimed the prince. “I won’t eat my palace!” I won’t even bite off a tiny piece from the stairs and I’ll never lick the wall! I will live in it!

But Mr. Willy Wonka was right, of course. Soon it turned out to be a very hot day, and the palace began to melt, settle and little by little spread over the ground. And the crazy prince, who was dozing in the living room at that time, woke up and saw that he was swimming in a huge sticky chocolate puddle.

Little Charlie sat motionless on the edge of the bed and looked at his grandfather with all his eyes. He was simply taken aback.

- And all this is true? Aren't you laughing at me?

- Pure truth! - All the grandparents shouted in unison. - Of course it's true! Ask whoever you want.

- Where? – Charlie didn’t understand.

– And no one... ever... enters... there!

- Where? – asked Charlie.

- Of course, to Wonka's factory!

- Who are you talking about, grandfather?

“I'm talking about the workers, Charlie.

– About the workers?

“All factories,” explained Grandpa Joe, “have workers.” In the morning they enter the factory through the gate, and in the evening they leave. And so everywhere except Mr. Wonka's factory. Have you ever seen a single person go in or out?

Charlie looked carefully at his grandparents, and they looked at him. Their faces were kind, smiling, but at the same time completely serious. They weren't kidding.

- Well, did you see it? - Grandpa Joe repeated.

– I... I really don’t know, grandfather. – Charlie even began to stutter from excitement. – When I pass by the factory, the gates are always closed.

- That's it!

– But some people must work there...

“Not people, Charlie, at least not ordinary people.”

- Then who? - Charlie shouted.

- Yeah, that’s the secret. Another mystery of Mr. Willy Wonka.

“Charlie, dear,” Mrs. Bucket called her son, “it’s time to go to bed, that’s enough for today.”

- But, mom, I have to find out...

- Tomorrow, my dear, tomorrow...

“Okay,” said Grandpa Joe, “you’ll find out the rest tomorrow.”

4. Extraordinary workers

The next evening, Grandpa Joe continued his story.

“You see, Charlie,” he began, “not so long ago, thousands of people worked at Mr. Wonka’s factory. But one day, out of the blue, Mr. Willy Wonka had to fire them.

- But why? – asked Charlie.

- Because of the spies.

- Spies?

- Yes. The owners of other chocolate factories were jealous of Mr. Wonka and began sending spies into the factory to steal his confectionery secrets. Spies got jobs in Wonka's factory, pretending to be ordinary workers. Each of them stole the secret of preparing some kind of sweet.

– And then they returned to their previous owners and told them everything? – asked Charlie.

“Probably,” Grandpa Joe replied. - Because soon the Ficklgruber factory began producing ice cream that did not melt even on the hottest day. And Mr. Prodnose's factory produced chewing gum that never lost its taste, no matter how much it was chewed. And finally, Mr. Slugworth's factory produced sugar balls that could be inflated to enormous sizes, and then pierced with a pin and eaten. And so on and so forth. And Mr. Willy Wonka was tearing out his hair and shouting: “This is terrible! I'll go broke! There are only spies all around! I'll have to close the factory!"

- But he didn’t close it! - said Charlie.

- Just closed it. He informed all the workers that, unfortunately, he had to fire them. Then he slammed the factory gates and locked them with a chain. And then the huge chocolate factory suddenly became deserted and quiet. The chimneys stopped smoking, the cars stopped roaring, and after that not a single chocolate bar or candy was released, and Mr. Willy Wonka himself disappeared. Months passed, Grandpa Joe continued, but the factory remained locked. And everyone said: “Poor Mr. Wonka. He was so good and made such excellent sweets. And now it's all over." But then something amazing happened. Early one morning, thin white streams of smoke emerged from the tall chimneys of the factory. All the residents of the city stopped what they were doing and ran to see what had happened. "What's happening? - they shouted. - Someone flooded the stoves! Mr. Willy Wonka must be opening the factory again!” People ran to the gate in the hope of seeing it open, thinking that Mr. Wonka would hire them again.

But no! iron gate were chained up just as tightly as before, and Mr. Willy Wonka was nowhere to be found.

“But the factory is working! - people shouted. – Listen and you will hear the roar of cars! They're working again! The smell of chocolate is in the air again!”

Grandpa Joe leaned forward, put his thin hand on Charlie's knee and said quietly:

“But the most mysterious thing, baby, were the shadows outside the factory windows. From the street, people saw small dark shadows flickering behind the frozen windows.

-Whose shadows? – Charlie asked quickly.

“That’s exactly what everyone wanted to know.” “The factory is full of workers! - people shouted. - But no one entered there! The gate is locked! This is incredible! And no one comes out from there!” But there was no doubt that the factory was working,” Grandpa Joe continued. – And it has been working since then for ten years. Moreover, the chocolate and candies that it produces become tastier and more amazing every day. And, of course, now, when Mr. Wonka comes up with some new unusual sweets, neither Mr. Ficklegruber, nor Mr. Prodnose, nor Mr. Slugworth, nor anyone else will know the secret of their preparation. No spy can enter the factory to steal the secret recipe.

- But, grandfather, WHO, WHO works at the factory? - Charlie shouted.

“Nobody knows that, Charlie.”

– But this is incredible! Has no one asked Mr Wonka yet?

“No one has seen him since then.” He no longer appears outside the factory gates. The only thing that comes out of the gate is chocolate and other sweets. They are unloaded through a special door in the wall. They are packaged, customer addresses are written on the boxes, and they are delivered by postal trucks.

- But, grandfather, what kind of people work there?

“My boy,” answered Grandpa Joe, “this is one of the greatest secrets.” We only know that they are very small. The barely noticeable shadows that sometimes flicker outside the factory windows (they are especially visible late at night when the lights are on) belong to little people, no higher than my knee...

“But there are no such people,” Charlie objected. Just then, Charlie's father, Mr. Bucket, entered the room.

He just returned from work. He had the evening newspaper in his hands, and he was waving it excitedly.

-Have you heard the news? - he shouted and raised the newspaper so that everyone could see the huge headline:

FINALLY

WONKA FACTORY

WILL OPEN ITS GATES

FOR THE LUCKY SELECTED

5. Golden tickets

Are you saying that someone will be allowed to enter the factory? - Grandpa Joe exclaimed. - Read what the newspaper says quickly!

“Okay,” said Mr. Bucket, smoothing out the newspaper. - Listen.

EVENING NEWSLETTER

Mr. Willy Wonka, the confectionery genius whom no one has seen for 10 years, sent the following advertisement to our newspaper today:

I, Willy Wonka, have decided to let five children (keep in mind: only five, and no more) visit my factory this year. These lucky ones will see all my secrets and miracles. And at the end of the trip, each visitor will receive a special gift - enough chocolate and sweets to last a lifetime! So, look for the golden tickets! Five golden tickets are already printed on gold paper and hidden under the ordinary wrappers of five ordinary chocolate bars. These bars can appear anywhere - in any store, on any street, in any city, in any country, in any part of the world, on any counter where Wonka chocolate is sold. And these five lucky golden ticket holders will be the only ones to visit my factory and see what's inside! Good luck to you all and happy finds!

(Signed – Willy Wonka)

- Yes, he’s crazy! - Grandmother Josephine muttered.

- He is a genius! - Grandpa Joe exclaimed. - He's a wizard! Just imagine what will happen now! The whole world will start looking for golden tickets! And everyone will buy Wonka chocolates in the hope of finding a ticket! He will sell more of them than ever! Eh, if only we could find a ticket!

– And enough chocolate and sweets to last you the rest of your life – FREE! – added Grandpa George. - Just imagine!

“All this would have to be delivered by truck,” said Grandma Georgina.

“It makes my head spin just thinking about it,” whispered Grandmother Josephine.

- Nonsense! - Grandpa Joe exclaimed. - But it would be nice, Charlie, to unwrap the chocolate bar and find a golden ticket there!

“Of course, grandfather, but the chances are very small,” Charlie answered sadly. – I only get one tile a year.

“Who knows, dear,” objected Grandma Georgina, “it’s your birthday next week.” You have the same chance as everyone else.

“I'm afraid it's quite incredible,” said Grandpa George. – Tickets will go to children who eat chocolate every day, and our Charlie gets one single bar a year. He has no chance.