Death of Tatyana Snezhina. Singer Tatyana Snezhina: creative biography, personal life, tragic death, photo. Accident: collapse of hopes

The Russian public heard the name Tatyana Snezhina for the first time after the song “Call me with you” written by her, performed by the famous Soviet pop diva Alla Pugacheva, was heard on the air and, after a while, became a hit in the late 90s of the twentieth century. Tatyana was no longer alive then. She is a talented author of more than two hundred songs and many poems; she died tragically at the age of 23 in 1995. The cause of Tatyana Snezhina's death was a traffic accident.

Tatyana was born in 1972 in the Ukrainian city of Lugansk. Her parents were SA senior lieutenant Valery Pavlovich Pechenkin and his wife, a technologist at a local plant, Tatyana Georgievna. The eldest son Vadim was already growing up in the family. After Tanya’s birth, the family moved from Ukraine to Kamchatka. The girl learned to play the piano from childhood and loved to organize home concerts. She dressed up like a real star and sang modern songs, diligently imitating their performers. At the same time, she began to try her hand at poetry. Tanya studied at secondary school No. 1 named after Gorky in the city of Petropavlovsk-Kamchatsky and at the same time at a music school.

In 1981, their family moved to Moscow. Tanya experienced the changes in her life in her own way. The girl’s subtle, romantic and dreamy nature was full of impressions of the big capital city, in which new, unexplored impressions and opportunities open up for a person, but she really missed her friends, left in a beautiful land with its harsh and majestic nature. The light childish images in her poems were replaced by new moods. She grew up and in her youthful works reflections appeared on the destinies of the past: Pushkin, the Decembrists, Zoya Kosmodemyanskaya, contemporaries and their feelings.

After graduating from school, Tatyana, who dreamed of becoming a doctor, applied to the 2nd Moscow Medical Institute in 1989 and passed the exams perfectly. Here, in a young student environment, she had the opportunity to sing her songs to her peers. The girl was a success and listeners began to record her performances on tape and distribute them among lovers of bard songs. Snezhina called these recordings “the first, and therefore the most beloved edition.” She gradually became famous in city circles and, perhaps, would have received recognition from a wider public even then, if not for a new move - to Novosibirsk.

Tatyana's father received a new appointment and in 1992 she had to transfer to the Novosibirsk Medical Institute. Her creativity was fueled by fresh impressions and continued to develop. In 1993, Tanya was lucky to meet with the employees of the Moscow music studio “Kis-S” and professionally record her first original music album. It began with the song "Rose". In the spring of 1994, the aspiring singer made her debut at the Variety Theater with the song “There Was a Time.” In the same year, she became the winner of the television competition “About Me and About the War” in Novosibirsk. After this, the first program about her work was broadcast on Radio Russia.

Taking the pseudonym Snezhina, Tatyana worked hard and sang wherever such an opportunity was given. Then an album of 21 of her songs was recorded, which later found their way into the repertoire of many pop stars, and one of them was “Call me with you.” Snezhina studied vocals and dancing and was looking for a new recording studio. In 1995, the singer met Sergei Bugaev, music producer and head of the M&L Art studio. They began cooperation with the debut of the song “Musician” and planned to release a magnetic album and videos of Snezhina’s songs in 1996. Their wedding was supposed to take place in September 1995.

In August 1995, Snezhina and Bugaev and their friends went to the Altai Mountains to buy honey. On the way back, on the 106th kilometer of the Cherepanovskaya highway Barnaul-Novosibirsk, their Nissan minibus collided with a MAZ truck - that’s why Tatyana Snezhina and five other passengers in the minibus died. According to one version, the Nissan driver began to overtake, but because of the right-hand drive, he did not notice the oncoming truck. On the other hand, the MAZ braked sharply, and its trailer skidded into the oncoming lane on a highway wet from the rain.

She is buried at Troekurovskoye Cemetery in Moscow.

About Tatyana Snezhina

Along the evening street of a quiet Ukrainian city, a beautiful blond girl of about twelve was walking home with a flying gait, periodically turning into a cheerful jump, hurrying home from music school. When her legs of their own accord, as if finding non-existent “classics” on the hot asphalt after the summer sun, began to jump, the girl frowned her brown eyebrows, as if condemning her legs for “inadmissible frivolity.” A warm breeze with the scent of park roses gently, as if in a friendly manner, pushed her back. She was in a hurry not because the streets were rapidly getting dark and this frightened her, but because the time for the long-awaited “evening performance” was coming. It must be said that in the one-room apartment where she lived with her father, mother and younger brother, her “corner” was special. And it wasn’t the beautiful openwork bedspreads woven by my grandmother, or my grandfather’s pre-war bookcase with stacks of interesting books - there was a large black radio hanging above the bed, and evening radio shows were an integral, pleasant part of her girlish world. The girl made it just in time and, having salted a crust of fragrant bread, after dipping it in sunflower oil, climbed onto the bedspread with her legs, tucking them under herself, and prepared to listen. The radio show was as interesting as always, but after so many years it is impossible to remember now what it was about. However, this doesn’t matter... But what happened after the performance was not only remembered for the rest of my life - it was etched in my memory for many decades. After listening to the play, the girl, lulled by soft pillows and the chirping of crickets rejoicing in the darkness of the night, looking out the window at the southern starry sky, began to think about life, dream about what she would become when she grew up... She was an excellent student, her parents’ favorite, neat and simply good child. Therefore, dreams carefully picked up and carried her imagination into the bright distances of future times... But then in her head, even for a moment it seemed that the radio that had been turned off at midnight came to life, a clear voice rang out: “You won’t become anyone. But you will have a child, who will be known about.” All". The year was 1958. The girl's name was Tanya. In 1972, she gave birth to a daughter, also named Tanya, whom the world would later know as Tatyana Snezhina.

Tatyana Snezhina’s mother will tell this story to her family more than three decades later. For a long time she did not dare to do this, believing that the prophecy concerned her first-born son Vadim, because in a military family men become “known to everyone” only by performing a feat, often posthumously. Only one day, when she suddenly realized that her “child” was known by unexpectedly many people, known thanks to her poems and songs, when she saw in her daughter a talented poetess and composer, only then did her fear let go of her son’s fate and she shared this secret with family. If only she knew... However, that will come later. In the meantime...

My star, don’t shine in sadness,
Don't bare my soul in front of everyone,
Why does everyone need to know that you and I were married?
Both heavenly hell and immaculate sin.

She sang, and it is unknown who was more shocked - the audience or those who, working with Tatyana, long and persistently rejected this side of her talent. One can only imagine how this would influence the future creative plans of her team. In three hours, Sergei and Tatyana will leave, and the last thing the public will hear from her lips will be the words of the romance:

If I die before my time,
Let the white swans carry me away
Far, far away, to an unknown land,
High, high, into the bright sky...

On August 18, 1995 at 5 p.m., they and their friends went on a pre-wedding trip to the Altai mountains. The last of their loved ones to see their mutual happiness was Tanya’s mother, when she watched a small minibus from the window of her house. If only we all knew then that he was taking them away forever... All we know about what happened is from scanty police reports and witness testimony: “On August 21, 1995, at the 106th kilometer of the Cherepanovskaya highway Barnaul - Novosibirsk, a Nissan minibus "Collided with a MAZ truck. As a result of this traffic accident, all six passengers of the minibus died without regaining consciousness." Tatyana was among them. Thus, a beautiful twenty-three-year-old girl, a talented poet and composer, Tatyana Snezhina, tragically passed away. During her difficult but bright life, she successfully wrote more than 200 songs, a large number of poems and works of prose. Years go by, her songs are sung by dozens of Russian and foreign pop stars and ordinary performers. Who doesn’t know now the famous words “Call me with you...”? Books and music albums are published, literary readings and music competitions are held, and talented writers are awarded a prize named after her. The army of fans of her work is growing, she is quoted, poems and songs, programs and films are dedicated to her, websites are created, a street is named in her honor and a monument erected in the city center, one of the mountain peaks of the Dzungarian Alatau in Kazakhstan, conquered by Russian climbers, bears her name . But the main thing is that her soul is with us, in her works, and her memory is in our souls. And I want to believe in Tatyana Snezhina’s prophecy in “Antola” - she will return...

Vadim Pechenkin
Winter 2012, Moscow

Biography of Tatyana Snezhina. Poetess, composer, singer, author of the song “Call me with you”. Tragic accident. Monuments and grave. Quotes, photos, film.

Years of life

born May 14, 1972, died August 21, 1995

Epitaph

“And you will think from there, where there are only seagulls
They shout about close happiness and love,
What can you do now without concealment?
Say and sing along with the festive “Encore!”…”
From a poem by the poet Graham Waldemar in memory of Snezhina

Biography of Tatyana Snezhina

When she was three years old, she loved to put on her mother’s makeup, put on her mother’s skirt and sing the song “Harlequin” by Alla Pugacheva for her parents and guests at home. Who would have thought then that a few decades later the prima donna herself would perform Snezhina’s songs. And certainly no one could have imagined that Tatiana would no longer be alive by that time.

Biography of Tatyana Snezhina - amazing and tragically short. Born into a military family, she wanted to connect her life with healing. But the craving for creativity often took over - the girl actively participated in amateur competitions, composed and recorded her own songs, which immediately became popular among her friends and classmates. In order to break into show business, she herself would hardly have had the confidence. But Snezhina’s talent could not go unnoticed. One day a young girl was noticed by Sergei Bugaev, director of the youth studio. First, he persuaded her to cooperate with his association, and already in the process of work, a romantic relationship arose between the young people.

Accident: collapse of hopes

It seemed that Tatyana Snezhina was about to soon become incredibly famous - with her soulfulness and lyricism, she fit well into the modern musical world, although she stood out from it. Together with Bugaev they worked on a new project, discussed the future wedding and honeymoon, made grandiose plans. But three days after the presentation of Tatiana’s project, a terrible thing happened. an accident in which both Snezhina herself and her future husband Sergei Bugaev died. Snezhina's funeral were held at the Zaeltsovskoye cemetery in Novosibirsk, but after some time her ashes were transferred to the Troyekurovskoye cemetery in Moscow. In Novosibirsk, a marble cenotaph of Snezhina remained at the burial site.

It is incredibly sad that fame, fame and popular love came to the poetess, composer and singer after Snezhina’s death. At first her song “Call me with you” was performed by Alla Pugacheva. Soon, Snezhina’s songs began to be performed by other pop musicians - from Joseph Kobzon to Kristina Orbakaite. Year after year Snezhina posthumously awarded the Song of the Year award, and an award was created in her name - "Silver Snowflake", which today rewards people who have contributed to the development of young talents. In her hometown is held competition of young performers in memory of Snezhina and Bugaev, and one of the streets of Novosibirsk is even named in her honor - on this street today there is a Monument to Snezhina.

Life line

May 14, 1972 Date of birth of Tatyana Valerievna Snezhina (real name Pechenkina).
1981 Studying at Moscow school No. 874 (now No. 97).
1989 Admission to the 2nd Moscow Medical Institute.
1992 Moving to Novosibirsk, admission to the Novosibirsk Medical Institute.
1994 Snezhina recorded phonograms of her songs in the KiS-S studio in Moscow, won the television competition “About the War and About Me” in Novosibirsk.
1995 Acquaintance and engagement with Sergei Bugaev, victory in the Siberian festival “Student Spring - 95”.
August 18, 1995 Presentation of a new production project.
August 21, 1995 Date of death of Snezhina and Bugaev (death in an accident).

Memorable places

1. Russian National Research Medical University named after N.I. Pirogov (formerly the 2nd Moscow Medical Institute), where Snezhina studied.
2. Novosibirsk State Medical University (formerly Novosibirsk Medical Institute), where Snezhina studied.
3. Literary and Musical Museum in memory of Tatyana Snezhina in the former school No. 874, where Snezhina studied.

5. Monument to Snezhina in Novosibirsk on the street named after her.
6. Memorial to Snezhina and Bugaev at the site of their death.
7. Zaeltsovskoe cemetery, where Snezhina was buried.
8. Troekurovskoe cemetery, where Snezhina was reburied.

Episodes of life

Shortly before their death, Snezhina and Bugaev presented their new project, which they had been working on for a long time. At the presentation, Snezhina performed her song, which included the following words: “If I die prematurely...” Unfortunately, the song turned out to be prophetic - three days later the singer and her fiance died.

Alla Pugacheva recalled what happened to Snezhina’s song “Call me with you” mystical story. The singer came to St. Petersburg to shoot a video for this song, the director of which knew nothing about the author or what the dead girl looked like. There was little time, and Pugacheva asked the director to film the main scenes without her. When she arrived at the studio and saw the footage, she was incredibly amazed: the actress who was chosen to play the role of the girl who dies in an accident according to the plot of the video was incredibly similar to Snezhina herself.

Covenant

"If I die before my time,
Let the white swans carry me away
Far, far away, to an unknown land,
High, high, into the bright sky..."

Documentary film about Tatyana Snezhina

Condolences

“The songs “Call me with you” and “We are only guests in this life” are the songs that restored my pride, restored the core that a person needs when going on stage. Therefore, among other things, I also have a personal relationship with Tatyana Snezhina’s songs. In Tanya's face we saw a symbol of a talented person. But there are a lot of them in Russia.”
Alla Pugacheva, singer

"This genius poetess who wrote “Call me with you”. This song marked the most romantic period in our relationship with Alla, and I always, if possible, come to Tanya’s grave and bring flowers from the concert in memory of those happy days. It’s a pity that this girl left us so early.”
Philip Kirkorov, singer

Biography

Birth, childhood, youth

Snezhina Tatyana Valerievna was born on May 14, 1972 in Lugansk in the family of serviceman Pechenkin Valery Pavlovich and Tatyana Georgievna. The family had an eldest son, Vadim. Soon after the birth of their daughter, her parents move from Ukraine to Kamchatka. In her autobiography she recalls:

I was born in Ukraine, and my first impressions of life were melodic Ukrainian tunes from the radio next to the crib and my mother’s lullaby. I was not even six months old when fate transferred me from a warm, fertile region to the harsh land of Kamchatka. The pristine beauty of Nature... Gray volcanoes, snow-capped hills, the majestic expanse of the ocean. And new childhood experiences: long winter evenings, howling snowstorms outside the window, the crackling of birch logs in the stove and mother’s tender hands giving birth to Chopin’s unforgettable melodies

Tatiana Snezhina

Tatyana learned to play the piano early, organized home concerts with dressing up and performing songs from the repertoire of famous pop singers. At such impromptu “concerts” she began to recite her first poems. I am used to pouring out my impressions of life events on paper. Relatives recall that Tanya wrote drafts of poems on random scraps, napkins in cafes, and travel tickets, demonstrating an impressionable nature that sincerely reacted to the world around her. In Kamchatka, Tatyana studied at a music school and secondary school No. 4 named after. L. N. Tolstoy. From one year on, the family lived in Moscow, and subsequently, from 1992, in Novosibirsk. But moving did not burden Tatyana; it was an opportunity to experience life.

Then school and a new move, this time to Moscow. And the first conscious shock in life is the loss of friends who remained thousands of insurmountable kilometers away, in that harsh and beautiful land. And instead of the joyfully mischievous children's stanzas about “worms and bugs,” sad and at the same time lyrical lines began to come into my head, along with nightly tears for my first love, “which is there, far away, in a distant and harsh land.”

Tatiana Snezhina

Among the school poems of the young poetess you can find those dedicated to Alexander Pushkin, the Decembrists, Zoya Kosmodemyanskaya, and events in her personal life. Poetry contains motifs of death, adulthood, and inner wisdom: .

Even at school age, Tatyana decided to become a doctor. She enters the 2nd Moscow Medical Institute. Here Tatyana continues to engage in creativity, she has the opportunity to show her songs not only in a close circle, but also in a large student audience. The students liked her performances, they tried to record them on cassettes, distributing the songs to a fairly wide circle of friends, their relatives and acquaintances. This gave her confidence in herself, and Tatyana decides to try her hand at show business, taking the pseudonym “Snezhina,” which was probably inspired by the snows of Kamchatka and Siberia. In 1991, Igor Talkov, whom Tatyana considered her idol, was killed:

And then HIS death. The death of a great Man and Poet - the death of Igor Talkov, and dreams, dreams about him. How much has not yet been written, how much has not been sung. Why do people so needed by Russia leave early - Pushkin, Lermontov, Vysotsky, Talkov?

Tatiana Snezhina

Steps to success

If I die prematurely, let the white swans carry me away, far, far, to an unknown land, high, high, into the bright sky...

Tatiana Snezhina

That same evening, August 18, 1995, Sergei Bugaev borrowed a Nissan minibus from friends and he, Tatyana and his friends went to the Altai Mountains for honey and sea buckthorn oil.

Heritage. Memory

During her life she wrote more than 200 songs. Thus, the most famous song performed by Alla Pugacheva “Call me with you” belongs to the pen of Tatyana, but Alla Borisovna sang this song after the tragic death of the poetess and performer in 1997. This event served as the starting point for writing poems dedicated to Tatyana Snezhina. Since 1996, her songs have been sung by other pop stars: Joseph Kobzon, Kristina Orbakaite, Lolita Milyavskaya, Tatyana Ovsienko, Mikhail Shufutinsky, Lada Dance, Lev Leshchenko, Nikolai Trubach, Alisa Mon, Tatyana Bulanova, Evgeny Kemerovo, Asker Sedoy, etc. Popular numerous musical compositions based on her music. Her music is heard in films.

Despite the fact that Snezhina wrote more than 200 songs, her poetry, due to its internal melody, inspires many composers to write new songs based on the poems of this author (E. Kemerovo, N. Trubach, etc.). Currently, the repertoires of performers in Russia, Ukraine, and Japan include more than two dozen new songs based on Snezhina’s poems.

In the 21st century, Tatyana Snezhina has become one of the most popular and best-selling poetic authors in Russia. The circulation of her books has crossed the hundred thousand mark.

Books of poetry

• Snezhina’s first collection of poems and songs was called “What is my life worth?” and was published in 1996.
• Snezhina T. Call me with you. - M.: Veche, 2002. - 464 p. - ISBN 5-7838-1080-0
• Snezhina, Tatyana. My star. - M.: Eksmo, 2007. - 400 p. - ISBN 5-699-17924-0
• I take away your sadness - M.: Eksmo, 2007. - 352 p. - ISBN 978-5-699-21387-0
• Tatiana Snezhina. Poems about love - M.: Eksmo, 2007. - 352 p. - ISBN 978-5-699-23329-8
• I don’t regret anything - M.: Eksmo, 2008. - 352 p. - ISBN 978-5-699-19564-0, 5-699-19564-5
• My unsteady life silhouette - M.: Eksmo, 2008. - 320 p. - ISBN 978-5-699-29664-4
• Included - Poems for beloved women - M.: Eksmo, 2008. - 736 p. - ISBN 978-5-699-26427-8
• Tatiana Snezhina. Poems to loved ones. (Gift illustrated edition) - M.: Eksmo, 2009. - 352 p. - ISBN 978-5-699-38024-4
• in the composition - I love you so much - M.: Eksmo, 2009. - 416 p. - ISBN 978-5-699-26427-8
• Tatiana Snezhina. About love - M.: Eksmo, 2010. - 352 p. - ISBN 978-5-699-44722-0
• Tatiana Snezhina. Lyrics. (Gift illustrated edition) - M.: Eksmo, 2010. - 400 p. - ISBN 978-5-699-39965-9
• Snezhina T. Call me with you. - M.: Veche, 2011. - 464 p. - ISBN 978-5-9533-5684-8

Books of poetry and prose

• A trace of fragile love - M.: Eksmo, 2008. - 752 p. - ISBN 978-5-699-28345-3;
• Tatiana Snezhina. The soul is like a violin (Gift edition. Poems, prose, biography). - M.: Eksmo, 2010. - 512 p. - ISBN 978-5-699-42113-8

Prose books

Books about Tatyana Snezhina

1. Kukurekin Yu. Famous and famous-unknown Luhansk residents. - 2008.
2. Kukurekin Yuri, Ushkal Vladimir. Let the white swans carry me away... - 2013.

Discography

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An excerpt characterizing Snezhin, Tatyana Valerievna

The day after his son’s departure, Prince Nikolai Andreich called Princess Marya to his place.
- Well, are you satisfied now? - he told her, - she quarreled with her son! Are you satisfied? That's all you needed! Are you satisfied?.. It hurts me, it hurts. I'm old and weak, and that's what you wanted. Well, rejoice, rejoice... - And after that, Princess Marya did not see her father for a week. He was sick and did not leave the office.
To her surprise, Princess Marya noticed that during this time of illness the old prince also did not allow m lle Bourienne to visit him. Only Tikhon followed him.
A week later, the prince left and began his old life again, being especially active in buildings and gardens and ending all previous relations with m lle Bourienne. His appearance and cold tone with Princess Marya seemed to say to her: “You see, you made it up about me, lied to Prince Andrei about my relationship with this Frenchwoman and quarreled me with him; and you see that I don’t need either you or the Frenchwoman.”
Princess Marya spent one half of the day with Nikolushka, watching his lessons, herself giving him lessons in the Russian language and music, and talking with Desalles; she spent the other part of the day in her quarters with books, the old woman’s nanny, and with God’s people, who sometimes came to her from the back porch.
Princess Marya thought about the war the way women think about war. She was afraid for her brother, who was there, horrified, without understanding her, by human cruelty, which forced them to kill each other; but she did not understand the significance of this war, which seemed to her the same as all previous wars. She did not understand the significance of this war, despite the fact that Desalles, her constant interlocutor, who was passionately interested in the progress of the war, tried to explain his thoughts to her, and despite the fact that the people of God who came to her all spoke with horror in their own way about popular rumors about the invasion of the Antichrist, and despite the fact that Julie, now Princess Drubetskaya, who again entered into correspondence with her, wrote patriotic letters to her from Moscow.
“I am writing to you in Russian, my good friend,” wrote Julie, “because I have hatred for all the French, as well as for their language, which I cannot hear spoken... We in Moscow are all delighted through enthusiasm for our beloved emperor.
My poor husband endures labor and hunger in Jewish taverns; but the news I have makes me even more excited.
You probably heard about the heroic feat of Raevsky, who hugged his two sons and said: “I will die with them, but we will not waver!” And indeed, although the enemy was twice as strong as us, we did not waver. We spend our time as best we can; but in war, as in war. Princess Alina and Sophie sit with me all day long, and we, unfortunate widows of living husbands, have wonderful conversations over lint; only you, my friend, are missing... etc.
Mostly Princess Marya did not understand the full significance of this war because the old prince never talked about it, did not acknowledge it and laughed at Desalles at dinner when he talked about this war. The prince's tone was so calm and confident that Princess Marya, without reasoning, believed him.
Throughout the month of July, the old prince was extremely active and even animated. He also laid out a new garden and a new building, a building for the courtyard workers. One thing that bothered Princess Marya was that he slept little and, having changed his habit of sleeping in the study, changed his sleeping place every day. Either he ordered his camp bed to be set up in the gallery, then he remained on the sofa or in the Voltaire chair in the living room and dozed without undressing, while not m lle Bourienne, but the boy Petrusha read to him; then he spent the night in the dining room.
On August 1, a second letter was received from Prince Andrei. In the first letter, received shortly after his departure, Prince Andrei humbly asked his father for forgiveness for what he had allowed himself to say to him, and asked him to return his favor to him. The old prince responded to this letter with an affectionate letter and after this letter he alienated the Frenchwoman from himself. Prince Andrei's second letter, written from near Vitebsk, after the French occupied it, consisted of a brief description of the entire campaign with a plan outlined in the letter, and considerations for the further course of the campaign. In this letter, Prince Andrei presented his father with the inconvenience of his position close to the theater of war, on the very line of troop movement, and advised him to go to Moscow.
At dinner that day, in response to the words of Desalles, who said that, as heard, the French had already entered Vitebsk, the old prince remembered Prince Andrei’s letter.
“I received it from Prince Andrei today,” he said to Princess Marya, “didn’t you read it?”
“No, mon pere, [father],” the princess answered fearfully. She could not read a letter that she had never even heard of.
“He writes about this war,” said the prince with that familiar, contemptuous smile with which he always spoke about the real war.
“It must be very interesting,” said Desalles. - The prince is able to know...
- Oh, very interesting! - said Mlle Bourienne.
“Go and bring it to me,” the old prince turned to Mlle Bourienne. – You know, on a small table under a paperweight.
M lle Bourienne jumped up joyfully.
“Oh no,” he shouted, frowning. - Come on, Mikhail Ivanovich.
Mikhail Ivanovich got up and went into the office. But as soon as he left, the old prince, looking around restlessly, threw down his napkin and went off on his own.
“They don’t know how to do anything, they’ll confuse everything.”
While he walked, Princess Marya, Desalles, m lle Bourienne and even Nikolushka silently looked at each other. The old prince returned with a hasty step, accompanied by Mikhail Ivanovich, with a letter and a plan, which he, not allowing anyone to read during dinner, placed next to him.
Going into the living room, he handed the letter to Princess Marya and, laying out the plan of the new building in front of him, which he fixed his eyes on, ordered her to read it aloud. After reading the letter, Princess Marya looked questioningly at her father.
He looked at the plan, obviously lost in thought.
- What do you think about this, prince? – Desalles allowed himself to ask a question.
- I! I!.. - the prince said, as if awakening unpleasantly, without taking his eyes off the construction plan.
- It is quite possible that the theater of war will come so close to us...
- Ha ha ha! Theater of War! - said the prince. “I said and say that the theater of war is Poland, and the enemy will never penetrate further than the Neman.
Desalles looked with surprise at the prince, who was talking about the Neman, when the enemy was already at the Dnieper; but Princess Marya, who had forgotten the geographical position of the Neman, thought that what her father said was true.
- When the snow melts, they will drown in the swamps of Poland. “They just can’t see,” said the prince, apparently thinking about the campaign of 1807, which seemed so recent. - Bennigsen should have entered Prussia earlier, things would have taken a different turn...
“But, prince,” Desalles said timidly, “the letter talks about Vitebsk...
“Ah, in the letter, yes...” the prince said dissatisfied, “yes... yes...” His face suddenly took on a gloomy expression. He paused. - Yes, he writes, the French are defeated, which river is this?
Desalles lowered his eyes.
“The prince doesn’t write anything about this,” he said quietly.
- Doesn’t he write? Well, I didn’t make it up myself. - Everyone was silent for a long time.
“Yes... yes... Well, Mikhaila Ivanovich,” he suddenly said, raising his head and pointing to the construction plan, “tell me how you want to remake it...”
Mikhail Ivanovich approached the plan, and the prince, after talking with him about the plan for the new building, looked angrily at Princess Marya and Desalles, and went home.
Princess Marya saw Desalles' embarrassed and surprised gaze fixed on her father, noticed his silence and was amazed that the father had forgotten his son's letter on the table in the living room; but she was afraid not only to speak and ask Desalles about the reason for his embarrassment and silence, but she was afraid to even think about it.
In the evening, Mikhail Ivanovich, sent from the prince, came to Princess Marya for a letter from Prince Andrei, which was forgotten in the living room. Princess Marya submitted the letter. Although it was unpleasant for her, she allowed herself to ask Mikhail Ivanovich what her father was doing.
“They’re all busy,” said Mikhail Ivanovich with a respectfully mocking smile that made Princess Marya turn pale. – They are very worried about the new building. “We read a little, and now,” said Mikhail Ivanovich, lowering his voice, “the bureau must have started working on the will.” (Recently, one of the prince’s favorite pastimes was working on the papers that were to remain after his death and which he called his will.)
- Is Alpatych being sent to Smolensk? - asked Princess Marya.
- Why, he’s been waiting for a long time.

When Mikhail Ivanovich returned to the office with the letter, the prince, wearing glasses, with a lampshade over his eyes and a candle, was sitting at the open bureau, with papers in his far-off hand, and in a somewhat solemn pose was reading his papers (remarks, as he called them), which were to be delivered to the sovereign after his death.
When Mikhail Ivanovich entered, there were tears in his eyes, memories of the time when he wrote what he was now reading. He took the letter from Mikhail Ivanovich’s hands, put it in his pocket, put away the papers and called Alpatych, who had been waiting for a long time.
On a piece of paper he wrote down what was needed in Smolensk, and he, walking around the room past Alpatych, who was waiting at the door, began to give orders.
- First, postal paper, do you hear, eight hundred, according to the sample; gold-edged... a sample, so that it will certainly be according to it; varnish, sealing wax - according to a note from Mikhail Ivanovich.
He walked around the room and looked at the memo.
– Then personally give the governor a letter about the recording.
Then they needed bolts for the doors of the new building, certainly of the style that the prince himself had invented. Then a binding box had to be ordered for storing the will.
Giving orders to Alpatych lasted more than two hours. The prince still did not let him go. He sat down, thought and, closing his eyes, dozed off. Alpatych stirred.
- Well, go, go; If you need anything, I will send it.
Alpatych left. The prince went back to the bureau, looked into it, touched his papers with his hand, locked it again and sat down at the table to write a letter to the governor.
It was already late when he stood up, sealing the letter. He wanted to sleep, but he knew that he would not fall asleep and that his worst thoughts came to him in bed. He called Tikhon and went with him through the rooms to tell him where to make his bed for that night. He walked around, trying on every corner.
Everywhere he felt bad, but the worst thing was the familiar sofa in the office. This sofa was scary to him, probably because of the heavy thoughts that he changed his mind while lying on it. Nowhere was good, but the best place of all was the corner in the sofa behind the piano: he had never slept here before.
Tikhon brought the bed with the waiter and began to set it up.
- Not like that, not like that! - the prince shouted and moved it a quarter away from the corner, and then again closer.
“Well, I’ve finally done everything over, now I’ll rest,” the prince thought and allowed Tikhon to undress himself.
Frowning in annoyance from the efforts that had to be made to take off his caftan and trousers, the prince undressed, sank heavily onto the bed and seemed to be lost in thought, looking contemptuously at his yellow, withered legs. He didn’t think, but he hesitated in front of the difficulty ahead of him to lift those legs and move on the bed. “Oh, how hard it is! Oh, if only this work would end quickly, quickly, and you would let me go! - he thought. He pursed his lips and made this effort for the twentieth time and lay down. But as soon as he lay down, suddenly the whole bed moved evenly under him back and forth, as if breathing heavily and pushing. This happened to him almost every night. He opened his eyes that had closed.
- There is no peace, damned ones! - he growled with anger at someone. “Yes, yes, there was something else important, I saved something very important for myself in bed at night. Valves? No, that's what he said. No, there was something in the living room. Princess Marya was lying about something. Desalle—that fool—was saying something. There’s something in my pocket, I don’t remember.”
- Quiet! What did they talk about at dinner?
- About Prince Mikhail...
- Shut up, shut up. “The prince slammed his hand on the table. - Yes! I know, a letter from Prince Andrei. Princess Marya was reading. Desalles said something about Vitebsk. Now I'll read it.
He ordered to take the letter out of his pocket and move a table with lemonade and a whitish candle to the bed and, putting on his glasses, began to read. Here only in the silence of the night, in the faint light from under the green cap, did he read the letter for the first time and for a moment understand its meaning.
“The French are in Vitebsk, after four crossings they can be at Smolensk; maybe they’re already there.”
- Quiet! - Tikhon jumped up. - No, no, no, no! - he shouted.
He hid the letter under the candlestick and closed his eyes. And he imagined the Danube, a bright afternoon, reeds, a Russian camp, and he enters, he, a young general, without one wrinkle on his face, cheerful, cheerful, ruddy, into Potemkin’s painted tent, and a burning feeling of envy for his favorite, just as strong, as then, worries him. And he remembers all the words that were said then at his first Meeting with Potemkin. And he imagines a short, fat woman with yellowness in her fat face - Mother Empress, her smiles, words when she greeted him for the first time, and he remembers her own face on the hearse and that clash with Zubov, which was then with her coffin for the right to approach her hand.
“Oh, quickly, quickly return to that time, and so that everything now ends as quickly as possible, as quickly as possible, so that they leave me alone!”

Bald Mountains, the estate of Prince Nikolai Andreich Bolkonsky, was located sixty versts from Smolensk, behind it, and three versts from the Moscow road.
On the same evening, as the prince gave orders to Alpatych, Desalles, having demanded a meeting with Princess Marya, informed her that since the prince was not entirely healthy and was not taking any measures for his safety, and from Prince Andrei’s letter it was clear that he was staying in Bald Mountains unsafe, he respectfully advises her to write a letter with Alpatych to the head of the province in Smolensk with a request to notify her about the state of affairs and the extent of the danger to which Bald Mountains are exposed. Desalle wrote a letter to the governor for Princess Marya, which she signed, and this letter was given to Alpatych with the order to submit it to the governor and, in case of danger, to return as soon as possible.
Having received all the orders, Alpatych, accompanied by his family, in a white feather hat (a princely gift), with a stick, just like the prince, went out to sit in a leather tent, packed with three well-fed Savras.
The bell was tied up and the bells were covered with pieces of paper. The prince did not allow anyone to ride in Bald Mountains with a bell. But Alpatych loved bells and bells on a long journey. Alpatych's courtiers, a zemstvo, a clerk, a cook - black, white, two old women, a Cossack boy, coachmen and various servants saw him off.
The daughter placed chintz down pillows behind him and under him. The old lady's sister-in-law secretly slipped the bundle. One of the coachmen gave him a hand.
- Well, well, women's training! Women, women! - Alpatych said puffingly, patteringly exactly as the prince spoke, and sat down in the tent. Having given the last orders about the work to the zemstvo, and in this way not imitating the prince, Alpatych took off his hat from his bald head and crossed himself three times.
- If anything... you will come back, Yakov Alpatych; For Christ’s sake, have pity on us,” his wife shouted to him, hinting at rumors about war and the enemy.
“Women, women, women’s gatherings,” Alpatych said to himself and drove off, looking around at the fields, some with yellowed rye, some with thick, still green oats, some still black, which were just beginning to double. Alpatych rode along, admiring the rare spring harvest this year, looking closely at the strips of rye crops on which people were beginning to reap in some places, and made his economic considerations about sowing and harvesting and whether any princely order had been forgotten.
Having fed him twice on the way, by the evening of August 4th Alpatych arrived in the city.
On the way, Alpatych met and overtook convoys and troops. Approaching Smolensk, he heard distant shots, but these sounds did not strike him. What struck him most of all was that, approaching Smolensk, he saw a beautiful field of oats, which some soldiers were mowing, apparently for food, and in which they were camping; This circumstance struck Alpatych, but he soon forgot it, thinking about his business.
All the interests of Alpatych’s life for more than thirty years were limited by the will of the prince alone, and he never left this circle. Everything that did not concern the execution of the prince’s orders not only did not interest him, but did not exist for Alpatych.
Alpatych, having arrived in Smolensk on the evening of August 4th, stopped across the Dnieper, in the Gachensky suburb, at an inn, with the janitor Ferapontov, with whom he had been in the habit of staying for thirty years. Ferapontov, twelve years ago, with the light hand of Alpatych, having bought a grove from the prince, began trading and now had a house, an inn and a flour shop in the province. Ferapontov was a fat, black, red man of forty years old, with thick lips, a thick bumpy nose, the same bumps over his black, frowning eyebrows and a thick belly.
Ferapontov, in a waistcoat and a cotton shirt, stood at a bench overlooking the street. Seeing Alpatych, he approached him.
- Welcome, Yakov Alpatych. The people are from the city, and you are going to the city,” said the owner.
- So, from the city? - said Alpatych.
“And I say, people are stupid.” Everyone is afraid of the Frenchman.
- Women's talk, women's talk! - said Alpatych.
- That’s how I judge, Yakov Alpatych. I say there is an order that they won’t let him in, which means it’s true. And the men are asking for three rubles per cart - there is no cross on them!
Yakov Alpatych listened inattentively. He demanded a samovar and hay for the horses and, having drunk tea, went to bed.
All night long, troops moved past the inn on the street. The next day Alpatych put on a camisole, which he wore only in the city, and went about his business. The morning was sunny, and from eight o'clock it was already hot. An expensive day for harvesting grain, as Alpatych thought. Shots were heard outside the city from early morning.
From eight o'clock the rifle shots were joined by cannon fire. There were a lot of people on the streets, hurrying somewhere, a lot of soldiers, but just as always, cab drivers were driving, merchants were standing at the shops and services were going on in the churches. Alpatych went to the shops, to public places, to the post office and to the governor. In public places, in shops, at the post office, everyone was talking about the army, about the enemy who had already attacked the city; everyone asked each other what to do, and everyone tried to calm each other down.
At the governor's house, Alpatych found a large number of people, Cossacks and a road carriage that belonged to the governor. On the porch, Yakov Alpatych met two noblemen, one of whom he knew. A nobleman he knew, a former police officer, spoke with fervor.
“It’s not a joke,” he said. - Okay, who is alone? One head and poor - so alone, otherwise there are thirteen people in the family, and all the property... They brought everyone to disappear, what kind of boss is this after that?.. Eh, I would have outweighed the robbers...
“Yes, well, it will be,” said another.
- What do I care, let him hear! Well, we are not dogs,” said the former police officer and, looking back, he saw Alpatych.
- And, Yakov Alpatych, why are you there?
“By order of his Excellency, to Mr. Governor,” Alpatych answered, proudly raising his head and putting his hand in his bosom, which he always did when he mentioned the prince... “They deigned to order to inquire about the state of affairs,” he said.
“Well, just find out,” shouted the landowner, “they brought it to me, no cart, no nothing!.. Here she is, do you hear? - he said, pointing to the side where the shots were heard.
- They brought everyone to perish... robbers! - he said again and walked off the porch.
Alpatych shook his head and went up the stairs. In the reception room there were merchants, women, and officials, silently exchanging glances among themselves. The office door opened, everyone stood up and moved forward. An official ran out of the door, talked something with the merchant, called behind him a fat official with a cross on his neck and disappeared again through the door, apparently avoiding all the looks and questions addressed to him. Alpatych moved forward and at the next exit of the official, putting his hand in his buttoned coat, he turned to the official, handing him two letters.
“To Mr. Baron Asch from General Chief Prince Bolkonsky,” he proclaimed so solemnly and significantly that the official turned to him and took his letter. A few minutes later the governor received Alpatych and hastily told him:
- Report to the prince and princess that I didn’t know anything: I acted according to the highest orders - so...
He gave the paper to Alpatych.
- However, since the prince is unwell, my advice to them is to go to Moscow. I'm on my way now. Report... - But the governor didn’t finish: a dusty and sweaty officer ran through the door and began to say something in French. The governor's face showed horror.
“Go,” he said, nodding his head to Alpatych, and began asking the officer something. Greedy, frightened, helpless glances turned to Alpatych as he left the governor’s office. Unwittingly now listening to the nearby and increasingly intensifying shots, Alpatych hurried to the inn. The paper that the governor gave to Alpatych was as follows:
“I assure you that the city of Smolensk does not yet face the slightest danger, and it is incredible that it will be threatened by it. I am on one side, and Prince Bagration on the other side, we are going to unite in front of Smolensk, which will take place on the 22nd, and both armies with their combined forces will defend their compatriots in the province entrusted to you, until their efforts remove the enemies of the fatherland from them or until they are exterminated in their brave ranks to the last warrior. You see from this that you have every right to reassure the inhabitants of Smolensk, for whoever is protected by two such brave troops can be confident of their victory.” (Instruction from Barclay de Tolly to the Smolensk civil governor, Baron Asch, 1812.)
People were moving restlessly through the streets.
Carts loaded with household utensils, chairs, and cabinets continually drove out of the gates of houses and drove through the streets. In the neighboring house of Ferapontov there were carts and, saying goodbye, the women howled and said sentences. The mongrel dog was barking and spinning around in front of the stalled horses.
Alpatych, with a more hasty step than he usually walked, entered the yard and went straight under the barn to his horses and cart. The coachman was sleeping; he woke him up, ordered him to lay him to bed and entered the hallway. In the master's room one could hear the crying of a child, the wracking sobs of a woman, and the angry, hoarse cry of Ferapontov. The cook, like a frightened chicken, fluttered in the hallway as soon as Alpatych entered.
- He killed her to death - he beat the owner!.. He beat her like that, she dragged her like that!..
- For what? – asked Alpatych.
- I asked to go. It's a woman's business! Take me away, he says, don’t destroy me and my little children; the people, he says, have all left, what, he says, are we? How he started beating. He hit me like that, he dragged me like that!
Alpatych seemed to nod his head approvingly at these words and, not wanting to know anything more, went to the opposite - the master's door of the room in which his purchases remained.