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Alexander Kuprin: Gutta-percha boy. Stories of Russian writers for children. Gutta-percha boy, Dmitry Grigorovich "Gutta-percha boy": reader reviews

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Dmitry Grigorovich
Gutta-percha boy
“... When I was born, I cried; subsequently, every day lived explained to me why I cried when I was born ... "

Blizzard! Blizzard!! And how suddenly! How unexpected!! Until then, the weather had been fine. It was a little cold at noon; the sun, dazzlingly sparkling over the snow and making everyone squint, added to the gaiety and variegation of the St. Petersburg street population, celebrating the fifth day of Maslenitsa. This went on until almost three o'clock, until dusk, and suddenly a cloud swooped in, the wind rose and the snow fell with such density that in the first minutes it was impossible to make out anything on the street.
The hustle and bustle was especially felt in the square opposite the circus. The audience, leaving after the morning performance, could hardly make their way in the crowd that poured from Tsaritsyn Meadow, where there were booths. People, horses, sleighs, carriages - everything was mixed up.
In the midst of the noise, impatient exclamations were heard from all over, displeased, grumbling remarks of faces caught unawares by a snowstorm were heard. There were even those who immediately became seriously angry and scolded her well.
Among the latter one should first of all rank the managers of the circus. Indeed, if we take into account the upcoming evening performance and the expected audience, a blizzard could easily damage the case. Maslenitsa undeniably has the mysterious power to awaken in the soul of a person a sense of duty to eat pancakes, indulge in entertainment and spectacles of all kinds; but, on the other hand, it is also known from experience that the sense of duty can sometimes give in and weaken from causes incomparably less worthy than a change in the weather. Be that as it may, a blizzard staggered the success of the evening's performance; even some fears were born that if the weather did not improve by eight o'clock, the circus box office would suffer significantly.
So, or almost so, the director of the circus reasoned, seeing off the audience crowding at the exit with his eyes. When the doors to the square were locked, he made his way through the hall to the stables.
In the hall of the circus, they had already put out the gas. Passing between the barrier and the first row of chairs, the director could distinguish through the darkness only the circus arena, indicated by a round cloudy yellowish spot; everything else: the empty rows of chairs, the amphitheater, the upper galleries - went into darkness, in places blackening indefinitely, in places disappearing in a foggy darkness, strongly saturated with the sweet and sour smell of the stables, ammonia, damp sand and sawdust. Under the dome, the air was already thickening so much that it was difficult to distinguish the outline of the upper windows; darkened from the outside by a cloudy sky, half covered with snow, they peered inward as if through jelly, giving enough light to give the lower part of the circus even more twilight. In all this vast dark space, the light passed sharply only in a golden longitudinal strip between the halves of the drapery, which fell under the orchestra; it beamed into the thick air, disappeared, and reappeared at the opposite end at the exit, playing on the gilding and crimson velvet of the middle box.
Behind the drapery, which let in the light, voices were heard, the tramp of horses was heard; they were joined from time to time by the impatient barking of learned dogs, which were locked up as soon as the performance was over. It now concentrated the life of the noisy staff who had animated the circus arena half an hour earlier during the morning performance. Only gas was now burning there, illuminating the brick walls, hastily whitewashed with lime. At the base of them, along the rounded corridors, stacked decorations, painted barriers and stools, ladders, stretchers with mattresses and carpets, bundles of colored flags were piled up; hoops hung on the walls, intertwined with bright paper flowers or pasted over with thin Chinese paper, were clearly visible by the gaslight; a long gilded pole glittered nearby, and a blue, sequined curtain stood out, which adorned the support during the dance on the rope. In a word, there were all those objects and devices that instantly transfer the imagination to people flying in space, women vigorously jumping into a hoop in order to again get their feet on the back of a galloping horse, children tumbling in the air or hanging on their socks under dome.
Despite, however, that everything here resembled frequent and terrible cases of bruises, broken ribs and legs, falls associated with death, that human life constantly hung here by a thread and was played with like a ball - in this bright corridor and located in In the latrines there were more cheerful faces, mostly jokes, laughter and whistling were heard.
And so it was now.
In the main passage that connected the inner corridor with the stables, one could see almost all the faces of the troupe. Some had already changed their costumes and were standing in mantillas, fashionable hats, coats and jackets; others managed only to wash off the rouge and whitewash and hastily throw on a coat, from under which legs looked out, covered in colored tights and shod in shoes embroidered with sequins; still others took their time and showed off in full costume, as they were during the performance.
Between the latter, a small man, covered from chest to feet in a striped tights with two large butterflies sewn on his chest and back, drew special attention to himself. From his face, thickly smeared with white, with eyebrows drawn perpendicularly across his forehead, and red circles on his cheeks, it would be impossible to tell how old he was if he had not taken off his wig as soon as the performance ended, and did not thereby reveal a wide baldness, passing through the entire head.
He noticeably bypassed his comrades, did not interfere in their conversations. He did not notice how many of them nudged each other and winked playfully as he passed.
At the sight of the director entering, he backed away, quickly turned away and took a few steps towards the latrines; but the director was quick to stop him.
– Edwards, wait a minute; get undressed! - said the director, looking attentively at the clown, who stopped, but, apparently, reluctantly, - wait, I beg you; I just need to talk to Frau Braun ... Where is Madame Brown? Call her here... Ah, Frau Braun! - exclaimed the director, turning to a little lame, no longer a young woman, in a coat, also not young, and a hat even older than the coat.

Frau Braun did not approach alone: ​​she was accompanied by a girl of about fifteen, thin, with delicate features and beautiful expressive eyes.
She was also poorly dressed.
“Frau Braun,” the director said hurriedly, throwing another searching look at the clown Edwards, “Mr. director is dissatisfied with you today - or, anyway, with your daughter; very dissatisfied!.. Your daughter fell three times today and the third time so awkwardly that she frightened the public!..
“I was frightened myself,” Frau Braun said in a low voice, “it seemed to me that Malchen fell on her side ...
- Oh, pa-pa-li-pa! We need to rehearse more, that's what! The thing is, it's impossible; receiving one hundred and twenty rubles a month for your daughter...
- But, Mr. Director, God is my witness, the horse is to blame for everything; she constantly loses time; when Malchen jumped into the hoop, the horse again changed its leg, and Malchen fell ... everyone saw it, everyone will say the same thing ...
Everyone saw - it's true: but everyone was silent. The culprit of this explanation was also silent; she caught the occasion when the director did not look at her, and looked at him timidly.
- It's a well-known case, in such cases the horse is always to blame, - said the director. “Your daughter will, however, ride it tonight.
But she doesn't work in the evening...
- It will work, ma'am! It should work!.. – the director said irritably. “You are not on the schedule, it’s true,” he picked up, pointing to a hand-written sheet of paper hung on the wall above a board strewn with chalk and serving the artists for wiping the soles before entering the arena, “but it’s all the same; juggler Lind suddenly fell ill, your daughter will take his room.
“I thought about letting her rest tonight,” Frau Braun said, finally lowering her voice, “now it’s carnival: they play twice a day; girl is very tired...
“There is the first week of Lent for that, madam; and, finally, it seems clear in the contract: “artists are obliged to play daily and replace each other in case of illness” ... It seems clear: and, finally, Frau Braun: receiving one hundred and twenty rubles a month for your daughter, it seems ashamed talk about it; really ashamed!
Having cut off in this way, the director turned his back on her. But before approaching Edwards, he gave him another searching look.

The blunted look and, in general, the whole figure of a clown, with his butterflies on his back and chest, did not bode well for an experienced eye; they clearly indicated to the director that Edwards had entered a period of melancholy, after which he suddenly began to drink dead; and then say goodbye to all your calculations on a clown - the most solid calculations, if we take into account that Edwards was the first plot in the troupe, the first favorite of the public, the first amusing person, inventing almost every performance something new, forcing the audience to laugh until they dropped and clap furiously. In a word, he was the soul of the circus, its main decoration, the main lure.
My God, what could Edwards say in response to his comrades, who often boasted to him that the public knew them and that they had been to the capitals of Europe! There was no circus in any big city from Paris to Constantinople, from Copenhagen to Palermo, where Edwards was not applauded, where his image in a suit with butterflies was not printed on posters! He alone could replace an entire troupe: he was an excellent rider, equilibrist, gymnast, juggler, master of training learned horses, dogs, monkeys, pigeons, but as a clown, as a joker, he did not know himself an opponent. But fits of anguish in connection with hard drinking pursued him everywhere.
Everything then disappeared. He always foresaw the approach of illness; the melancholy that seized him was nothing more than an inner consciousness of the futility of the struggle; he became sullen, uncommunicative. Flexible as steel, a man turned into a rag - which his envious people secretly rejoiced at and that aroused compassion between those of the main artists who recognized his authority and loved him; the latter, it must be said, were not many. The vanity of the majority was always more or less hurt by the conversion of Edwards, who never respected degrees and honors; whether it was the first plot that appeared in the troupe with a famous name, whether it was a mere mortal of dark origin, it was indifferent to him. He clearly even preferred the latter.
When he was healthy, he could always be seen with some child from the troupe; for lack of such, he fiddled with a dog, a monkey, a bird, etc.; his affection was always born somehow suddenly, but extremely strongly. He always gave himself to her the more stubbornly the more silent he became with his comrades, he began to avoid meeting with them and became more and more gloomy.
During this first period of illness, the circus management could still count on him. The ideas had not yet had time to lose their effect on him. Coming out of the dressing room in tights with butterflies, in a red wig, bleached and rouged, with eyebrows pointed perpendicularly, he was apparently still invigorated, joining his comrades and preparing to enter the arena.
Listening to the first explosions of applause, shouts: bravo! - the sounds of the orchestra - he gradually seemed to come to life, inspired, and as soon as the director shouted: clowns, go ahead! .. - he quickly flew into the arena, ahead of his comrades; and from this moment, in the midst of bursts of laughter and enthusiastic bravos! - his whining exclamations were incessantly heard, and quickly, until blind, his body somersaulted, merging in the light of the gas into one continuous circular sparkle ...
But the performance ended, the gas was put out - and everything went away! Without a suit, without white and rouge, Edwards appeared only as a bored man, diligently avoiding conversations and clashes. This went on for several days, after which the illness itself set in; then nothing helped; he then forgot everything; he forgot his attachments, he forgot the circus itself, which, with its lighted arena and clapping audience, contained all the interests of his life. He disappeared even completely from the circus; everything was drunk; the accumulated salary was drunk, not only tights with butterflies were drunk, but even a wig and shoes embroidered with sequins.
It is clear now why the director, who had been watching the growing despondency of the clown since the beginning of Shrovetide, looked at him with such concern. Approaching him and carefully taking him by the arm, he led him aside.
“Edwards,” he said, lowering his voice and in a completely friendly tone, “today is Friday; Saturday and Sunday are only two days away! What is worth waiting out, huh?.. I ask you about it; the director also asks… Finally, think about the audience! You know how much she loves you!! Two days total! he added, seizing his hand and beginning to swing it from side to side. “By the way, you wanted to tell me something about the gutta-percha boy,” he added, apparently more to amuse Edwards, since he knew that the clown had recently expressed special concern for the boy, which also served as a sign of the approaching illness, “ you said, he seems to have begun to work more weakly ... There is no trick: the boy is in the hands of such an idiot, such an idiot who can only spoil him! What about him?
Edwards, without saying a word, touched his sacrum, then patted his chest.
“The boy is not well either here or there,” he said, turning his eyes away.
- It is impossible for us, however, to refuse it now; he is on the poster; no one to replace until Sunday; let him work for two more days; can rest there,” the director said.
“Maybe it can’t stand it either,” the clown objected dully.
- You could only stand it, Edwards! You just don't leave us! - Lively and even with tenderness in his voice the director picked up, starting to shake Edwards's hand again.
But the clown responded with a dry squeeze, turned away and slowly went to undress.

He stopped, however, as he passed the dressing room of the gutta-percha boy, or rather, the dressing room of the acrobat Becker, since the boy was only his pupil. Opening the door, Edwards entered a tiny, low room below the first spectator gallery; it was unbearable in her from stuffiness and heat; the stable air, heated by the gas, was joined by the smell of tobacco smoke, lipstick and beer; on one side was a mirror in a wooden frame sprinkled with powder; nearby, on a wall pasted over with wallpaper that had burst in all the cracks, hung a leotard that looked like torn human skin; farther on, on a wooden nail, stuck out a pointed felt hat with a peacock feather on the side; several colored coats embroidered with sequins and a piece of men's casual clothes were piled up in the corner on the table. The furniture was complemented by a table and two wooden chairs. On one sat Becker, a perfect Goliath. Physical strength showed itself in every muscle, thick bandaging of bones, a short neck with swollen veins, a small round head, curled up and thickly pomaded. It seemed not so much molded as hewn from rough material, and, moreover, with a rough tool; although he looked about forty years old, he seemed heavy and clumsy - a circumstance that did not in the least prevent him from considering himself the first handsome man in the troupe and thinking that when he appeared on the arena, in flesh-colored tights, he brought women's hearts to contrite. Becker had already taken off his suit, but he was still in his shirt and, sitting on a chair, cooled himself off with a mug of beer.
On another chair there was also a curly-haired, but completely naked, fair-haired and thin boy of eight years old. He had not yet had time to catch a cold after the performance; on his thin limbs and the cavity in the middle of his chest, in places there was still a gloss from perspiration; the blue ribbon that tied his forehead and held his hair was completely wet; large, damp patches of sweat covered the tights that lay across his lap. The boy sat motionless, timidly, as if punished or awaiting punishment.
He looked up just as Edwards entered the restroom.
- What do you want? Becker said unfriendly, looking half angrily, half mockingly at the clown.
“Enough, Carl,” Edwards retorted in an appeasing voice, and it was clear that some effort was required on his part, “you’d better this: give me the boy before seven o’clock; I would take a walk with him before the performance ... I would take him to the square to look at the booths ...
The boy's face visibly perked up, but he did not dare to show it clearly.
“Don’t,” Becker said, “I won’t let you in; he worked hard today.
There were tears in the boy's eyes; glancing furtively at Becker, he hurried to open them, using all his strength so that he would not notice anything.
"He'll work better in the evening," Edwards continued to appease. “Listen, I’ll say this: while the boy is getting cold and getting dressed, I’ll order them to bring beer from the buffet ...
- And without that there is! Becker interrupted rudely.
- As you want; but only a boy would be happier; in our work it is not good to be bored; you know: gaiety gives strength and vivacity ...
- It's my business! Becker snapped, obviously out of sorts.
Edwards didn't mind anymore. He glanced once more at the boy, who continued to make efforts not to cry, shook his head and left the lavatory.
Karl Becker drank the rest of the beer and ordered the boy to get dressed. When both were ready, the acrobat took a whip from the table, whistled it through the air, shouted: march! and, letting the pupil go ahead, he walked along the corridor.
Watching them go out into the street, the imagination involuntarily imagined a frail, fledgling chicken, accompanied by a huge fatted boar ...
A minute later the circus was completely empty; only the grooms remained, who began to clean the horses for the evening performance.
II
The pupil of the acrobat Becker was called the "gutta-percha boy" only in posters; his real name was Petya; it would be more correct, however, to call him an unfortunate boy.
Its history is very short;

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“... When I was born, I cried; afterwards, every day I lived explained to me why I cried when I was born ... "

Dmitry Vasilievich Grigorovich

"Gutta Percha Boy"

Behind the scenes of the circus, artists are crowding, the people are cheerful and careless. Among them stands out a not too young bald man, whose face is heavily painted in white and red. This is Edwards the Clown, entering a "period of longing" followed by a period of heavy drinking. Edwards is the main decoration of the circus, his bait, but the behavior of the clown is unreliable, on any day he can break loose and drink.

The director asks Edwards to hold out for at least two more days, until the end of Shrove Tuesday, and then the circus will close for the duration of Lent.

The clown gets off with meaningless words and looks into the dressing room of the acrobat Becker, a rough muscular giant.

Edwards is not interested in Becker, but in his pet, the "gutta-percha boy", an acrobat's assistant. The clown asks for permission to take a walk with him, proving to Becker that after rest and entertainment, the little artist will work better. Always annoyed by something, Becker does not want to hear about it. And without that, a quiet and mute boy, he threatens with a whip.

The story of the "gutta-percha boy" was simple and sad. He lost his mother, an eccentric and overly loving cook, in the fifth year of his life. And with his mother, sometimes he had to starve and freeze, but he still did not feel lonely.

After the death of her mother, her compatriot, the washerwoman Varvara, arranged the fate of the orphan, identifying him as an apprentice to Becker. At the first meeting with Petya, Karl Bogdanovich roughly and painfully felt the boy stripped naked, frozen in pain and horror. No matter how much he cried, no matter how he clung to the hem of the laundress, Varvara gave him full possession of the acrobat.

Petya's first impressions of the circus, with its diversity and noise, were so strong that he cried out all night and woke up several times.

The teaching of acrobatic tricks was not easy for the frail boy. He fell, hurt himself, and not once did the stern giant encourage Petya, did not caress him, and yet the child was only eight years old. Only Edwards showed him how to perform this or that exercise, and Petya was drawn to him with all his heart.

Once a clown gave Petya a puppy, but the boy's happiness was short-lived. Becker grabbed the dog against the wall, and she immediately expired. At the same time, Petya also earned a slap in the face. In a word, Petya was "not so much a gutta-percha as an unhappy boy."

And in the children's rooms of Count Listomirov, a completely different atmosphere reigns. Everything here is adapted for the convenience and fun of children, whose health and mood are carefully monitored by a governess.

On one of the last days of Shrovetide, the count's children were especially lively. Still would! Aunt Sonya, their mother's sister, promised to take them to the circus on Friday.

Eight-year-old Verochka, six-year-old Zina, and a five-year-old chubby butuz nicknamed Paf are doing their best to earn the promised entertainment by exemplary behavior, but they cannot think of anything other than the circus. Gramoteika Verochka reads a circus poster to her sister and brother, in which they are especially intrigued by the gutta-percha boy. Time goes by very slowly for children.

Finally, the long-awaited Friday arrives. And now all the worries and fears are behind us. Children take their seats long before the show starts. They are all interested. With genuine delight, children look at the rider, the juggler and the clowns, looking forward to meeting the gutta-percha boy.

The second section of the program begins with the release of Becker and Petit. The acrobat attaches a heavy gilded pole to his belt with a small crossbar at the top. The end of the pole rushes under the very dome. The pole oscillates, the audience sees with what difficulty the giant Becker holds it.

Petya climbs up the pole, now he is almost invisible. The audience applauds and starts yelling that the dangerous number should be stopped. But the boy must still cling to the crossbar with his feet and hang upside down.

He performs this part of the trick, when suddenly "something flashed and spun at the same second a dull sound was heard of something falling into the arena."

Ministers and artists pick up a small body and quickly carry it away. The orchestra plays a cheerful motive, clowns run out, somersaulting ...

The frustrated audience begins to crowd to the exits. Vera hysterically screams and sobs: “Ay, boy! boy!"

At home, children can hardly be calmed and put to bed. At night, Aunt Sonya looks in on Verochka and sees that her sleep is restless, and a tear has dried on her cheek.

And in a dark deserted circus on a mattress lies a child tied with rags with broken ribs and a broken chest.

From time to time, Edwards emerges from the darkness and leans over the little acrobat. It is felt that the clown has already entered a period of hard drinking, not without reason that an almost empty decanter is seen on the table.

Everything around is plunged into darkness and silence. The next morning, the number of the “gutta-percha boy” was not indicated on the poster - he was no longer in the world.

The work colorfully tells about the circus life of artists - a rather cheerful and careless people. Among the general mass, the no longer young and bald clown Edwards stands out, who undoubtedly was the main decoration of the entire circus. True, his behavior was very unreliable - the clown at any moment could break loose and go into a binge.

There are two days left until the end of the carnival, and the director is asking Edwards to hold out.

The clown often looked into the restroom to Becker - a rough, muscular giant acrobat, but not to him, but to his henchman "gutta-percha boy" named Petya. The clown tried to somehow diversify and dilute the boy's life, but Becker does not support this communication. Once, Edwards gave the boy a puppy, however, the acrobat threw the dog against the wall, and she immediately expired. Yes, and Petya himself then flew in - he got a slap in the face.

The story of the boy was very sad. At the age of four, he lost his mother and found himself under the wing of her countrywoman, the washerwoman Varvara, who soon arranged for an orphan to Becker. No matter how Petya cried, Varvara nevertheless gave him into the possession of this acrobat. The boy, of course, was greatly impressed by the circus performances, but the very teaching of various acrobatic tricks was not easy for him. He often fell, hurt himself, but Becker never praised or caressed the child, who was still only eight years old. And only Edwards told and showed him how to perform some kind of exercise, but Petenka was drawn to him with all his heart.

Circus artists were to perform in front of a large audience, including the family of Count Listomirov, where the atmosphere of comfort and convenience for children reigns. The governess closely monitors their health, games, fun and mood. Their world is absolutely opposite to Petya's childhood.

On the long-awaited Friday, Aunt Sonya, her maternal sister, her six-year-old niece Zina and eight-year-old Verochka, as well as a plump five-year-old butuz nicknamed Paf, happily go to the circus and sit down in their seats long before the performances begin. Everything is interesting for children, they enthusiastically admire the rider, the performance of clowns and the juggler, anticipating the famous number with the “gutta-percha boy”.

The number began, the boy climbs up the pole, which sways violently, and the audience applauds in delight, but many are wary of the dangerous number. Following the program, the boy at the end should hook his feet on the crossbar, hanging upside down. Petya deftly performs this part of the trick, but something happens, and he suddenly breaks down ... The audience hears only a slap from something that has fallen, and the circus workers, meanwhile, quickly picking up the little boy's body, carry him off the stage. The artists immediately continue to amuse the audience, as if nothing had happened.

The frustrated children of Count Listomirov scream and sob, many leave the circus. With great difficulty at home, they calm the children and put them to bed. Little Verochka cannot calm down even in her sleep.

In a dark and deserted corner of the circus, on a mattress lies the small body of a child with broken ribs and a broken chest, tied with rags. And the next day, the number of the “gutta-percha boy” is no longer on the poster.

The work "Gutta-percha boy" was written by the famous Russian writer Dmitry Grigorovich in 1883. It tells about the hard life of the round orphan Petya, who was sent to be trained by the circus acrobat Becker. "The Gutta-Percha Boy" is Grigorovich's most famous story. Reading her evokes compassion and pity for the unfortunate child who, in her tiny life, had to see only deprivation and cruelty.

A little about the creative life of the author

(1822-1900) was born in the family of a Russian officer and a Frenchwoman. The writer published his first stories in literary almanacs. Real fame came to him after writing in 1846-1847 the big stories "The Village" and "Anton Goremyka".

Since the 60s of the XIX century, there was a long lull in the writer's biography of Grigorovich. For the next 20 years he served as an active secretary in the Society for the Encouragement of the Arts. Only in 1883 was Grigorovich able to return to his literary activity. "Gutta-percha boy" and several other works come out during this period from his pen. The story of the unfortunate little acrobat Petya was especially liked by the public. In many families in pre-revolutionary Russia, The Gutta-Percha Boy was considered a must-read for the younger generation.

The meaning of the book

Empathy, the ability to understand the need and grief of another person - this is what the story "The Gutta-percha Boy" teaches the reader. The summary of the work gives a completely sufficient idea of ​​​​the difficult life of a poor eight-year-old child who was left without a father and mother in early childhood. In contrast to Petya, Grigorovich displays images of children from a wealthy family (Vera, Zina and Pavel). Against the backdrop of their luxurious life, Petya's miserable existence looks even more miserable.

Acquaintance with Edwards, Petya and Becker

The story "The Gutta-Percha Boy" consists of 7 small chapters. The summary introduces readers to the main characters and events. At first, the action of the story takes place in a circus. The retelling of the plot should begin with a description of Edwards - an elderly clown with a painted face, who is the main decoration of the performances. He stands out from the rest of the circus artists with his sad look. Edwards occasionally goes on a drinking binge. The director of the circus is very worried about the clown's craving for alcohol and asks him not to drink at least until the end of Maslenitsa, because then fasting will come and the circus will stop giving performances. Edwards does not answer him anything intelligible and leaves to change.

On the way to the dressing room, Edwards looks into the room of the acrobat Becker - a rude and cruel giant, from whom no one has heard of. The clown is interested in the pupil of the circus performer - the thin boy Petya. He takes pity on the little artist, who is struggling to cope with the heavy physical exertion that his mentor gives him. Edwards asks Becker to let the boy go for a walk with him, trying to explain to him that after a short rest, Petya will gain strength and it will be easier for him to work, but the acrobat does not even want to hear about it. The mentor swings at the frightened and almost whip and takes him to training.

Sad story about an orphan boy

Grigorovich paid special attention to the first years of Petya's life in his story. The gutta-percha boy was the son of Anna the cook and a certain soldier. During the life of his mother, he had to starve more than once and endure beatings from her. Petya was left an orphan when he was in his fifth year. In order for the boy not to die of starvation, the washerwoman Varvara (Anna's compatriot) gave him to be raised by the acrobat Becker. The circus treated the child very cruelly. He forced him to perform the most difficult ones that were not always within his power. Even if the boy fell from a pole during training and hit hard, the mentor did not spare him, and at times even beat him. The only one who treated Petya well was Edwards. However, he could not protect the child from the arbitrariness of Becker.

Offspring of Counts Listomir

In the story "The Gutta-Percha Boy" the main characters are not only Petya and other circus performers, but also the children of Count Listomirov. Eight-year-old Verochka, her younger sister Zina and brother Pavel (Paf) grew up in luxury, and were surrounded on all sides by affection. In the last days of Maslenitsa, children were taken to a circus performance as a reward for good obedience. Vera learned from the poster that a gutta-percha boy would perform in one of the performances and she was eager to see him.

Petya's last performance

And so, Becker and the gutta-percha boy appeared on the arena. The summary of what happened next makes even adults cry. Climbing high up the pole, Petya performs several dangerous acrobatic stunts, from which the circus audience is delighted. It remains for the boy to perform the last difficult maneuver in the air, and then, unexpectedly for everyone, he falls to the ground.

The circus performers quickly pick up Petya's weightless body and carry him backstage. To divert the attention of the audience from what happened, clowns ran into the arena. They try to amuse the audience, but the upset spectators leave the circus. Through the noise made by the crowd, one can hear the crying and desperate cry of Verochka: “Ay, boy! Boy!" The girl cannot calm down for a long time even after she was brought home with her brother and sister.

But what about Petya? His broken ribs and broken chest were wrapped in rags and then left on a mattress in a deserted circus. And only Edwards cares about the poor child. He is the only one left near the dying boy. The shocked clown started drinking again: not far from him is an empty carafe of alcohol.

The next day, the poster no longer included a number with a small acrobat. And this is not surprising, because by that time Petya had died. This concludes the story "Gutta Percha Boy". Its summary is not as colorful as the full version of Grigorovich's work. Anyone who is interested in this sad story is recommended to read it in full.

"Gutta-Percha Boy": Readers' Reviews

The story of the little acrobat Petya is familiar to many children of middle school age. It is very interesting to know what readers think about the work "Gutta Percha Boy". Reviews of the story among children and adults are very sad: everyone sincerely feels sorry for Petya, they are worried that fate turned out to be so unfavorable to him. Occasionally, one can hear thoughts that this book should not be read in childhood, as it makes the child feel sad and depressed. Each reader has his own opinion about the work, but one cannot but agree that acquaintance with such books allows one to cultivate in a person such an important quality as compassion for one's neighbor.

Gutta-percha boy: stories of Russian writers for children

Dmitry Vasilievich Grigorovich

Gutta-percha boy

“... When I was born, I cried; subsequently, every day lived explained to me why I cried when I was born ... "

Blizzard! Blizzard!! And how suddenly! How unexpected!!! Until then, the weather had been fine. It was a little cold at noon; the sun, dazzlingly sparkling on the snow and making everyone squint, added to the gaiety and variegation of the St. Petersburg street population, celebrating the fifth day of Maslenitsa. This went on until almost three o'clock, until the beginning of twilight, and suddenly a cloud swept in, the wind rose, and the snow fell with such density that in the first minutes it was impossible to make out anything on the street.

The hustle and bustle was especially felt in the square opposite the circus. The audience, leaving after the morning performance, could hardly make their way in the crowd that poured from the Tsaritsa to the Meadows, where there were booths. People, horses, sleighs, carriages - everything was mixed up. In the midst of the noise, impatient exclamations were heard from all over, displeased, grumbling remarks of faces caught unawares by a snowstorm were heard. There were even those who immediately became seriously angry and scolded her well.

Among the latter one should first of all rank the managers of the circus. Indeed, if we take into account the upcoming evening performance and the expected audience, a blizzard could easily damage the case. Maslenitsa undeniably has the mysterious power to awaken in the soul of a person a sense of duty to eat pancakes, indulge in entertainment and spectacles of all kinds; but, on the other hand, it is also known from experience that the sense of duty can sometimes give in and weaken from causes incomparably less worthy than a change in the weather. Be that as it may, a blizzard staggered the success of the evening's performance; even some fears were born that if the weather did not improve by eight o'clock, the circus box office would suffer significantly.

So or almost so the director of the circus reasoned, seeing off the audience, huddled at the exit. When the doors to the square were locked, he made his way through the hall to the stables.

In the hall of the circus, they had already put out the gas. Passing between the barrier and the first row of chairs, the director could distinguish through the darkness only the circus arena, indicated by a round cloudy yellowish spot; the rest was all: the empty rows of chairs, the amphitheater, the upper galleries - went into darkness, in places blackening indefinitely, in places disappearing in a foggy darkness, strongly saturated with the sweet and sour smell of the stables, ammonia, damp sand and sawdust. Under the dome, the air was already thickening so much that it was difficult to distinguish the outline of the upper windows; darkened from the outside by a cloudy sky, half covered with snow, they peered inward, as if through jelly, giving enough light to give even more twilight to the lower part of the circus. In all this vast dark space, the light passed sharply only in a golden longitudinal strip between the halves of the drapery, which fell under the orchestra; it beamed into the thick air, disappeared, and reappeared at the opposite end at the exit, playing on the gilding and crimson velvet of the middle box.

Behind the drapery, which let in the light, voices were heard, the tramp of horses was heard; they were joined from time to time by the impatient barking of learned dogs, which were locked up as soon as the performance was over. It now concentrated the life of the noisy staff who had animated the circus arena half an hour earlier during the morning performance. Only gas was now burning there, illuminating the brick walls, hastily whitewashed with lime. At the base of them, along the rounded corridors, stacked decorations, painted barriers and stools, ladders, stretchers with mattresses and carpets, bundles of colored flags were piled up; by the light of the gas, hoops hung on the walls, intertwined with bright paper flowers or pasted over with thin Chinese paper, were clearly outlined; a long gilded pole gleamed nearby, and a blue curtain embroidered with sequins stood out, which adorned the support during the dance on the rope. In a word, there were all those objects and devices that instantly transfer the imagination to people flying in space, women vigorously jumping into a hoop in order to again get their feet on the back of a galloping horse, children tumbling in the air or hanging on their socks under dome.