Sergey Alekseev read stories about Peter 1. Listen to the audiobook "Sergey Alekseev - stories about Peter the Great" online

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CAPTAIN OF THE BOMBARDER COMPANY [military rank of artillery officer; bombardiers - soldiers of artillery units of the Russian army]

WITHOUT NARVA YOU CAN'T SEE THE SEA

"SIR, PERMISSION TO SPEAK"

BELLS

HAY, STRAW

ABOUT BOYAR BEARDS

WHAT YOUNG BOYARS LEARNED ABROAD

AZ, BUKI; LEAD...

REJOY THE LITTLE THINGS, THEN GREAT THINGS WILL COME

ABOUT DANILA

CITY BY THE SEA

FOR RUSSIAN GLORY

© Motyashov I., Nagaev I., introductory article, 1999

© Kuznetsov A., drawings, 1999

© Series design. Publishing house "Children's Literature", 2003

© Compilation. Publishing house "Children's Literature", 2003

The master of historical prose Alexey Yugov once exclaimed from the pages of Literaturnaya Gazeta:

“Brave author, brave publishing house! – I thought when I opened Sergei Alekseev’s book “The Unprecedented Happens.” – Peter!.. A gigantic personality of Russian history. And suddenly - for children, and even “junior school” ones! Let's see, let's see!.." And - I started reading..."

I've been reading too historical stories Sergei Alekseev. I read like a boy. And thanks to the author for this.

Sergey Mikhalkov

In 1958, Sergei Alekseev’s first book, “The Unprecedented Happens,” was published in Detgiz. The book was noticed.

Next, by order of the editors, in one go - in three weeks - he writes the story “The History of a Serf Boy”. And this book comes out in the same year, 1958. So forty years ago a new author entered literature with a firm step - children's writer Sergey Petrovich Alekseev.

In one of his first interviews, Alekseev said about himself: “My biography is unremarkable. I belong to the generation of those who immediately became soldiers from school. He was a military pilot and an instructor pilot. After demobilization from the army, he worked as an editor in a children's publishing house. Then I tried to write a book myself.”

Then, in 1959, in Detgiz they decided to re-publish “The Unprecedented Happens,” and Lev Kassil noted in the so-called “internal” review intended for the publishing house that “the writer manages ... to combine high cognition with genuine fascination. Extreme laconicism, lively ease of language, precision of findings, allowing in our own way to re-discover for the children very important points... the brightest eras in the history of our Motherland - all this makes the stories of S. Alekseev ... extremely valuable both from an educational and purely literary point of view. And the ability to convey the originality of the characters... and the magnificent, precise and figurative language give Alekseev’s works genuine charm.”

And then Lev Abramovich, admonishing the aspiring author, said truly prophetic words. He said that the stories “of Sergei Alekseev are a definite event in our children's historical fiction.” That “they are textbook simple and will become part of schoolchildren’s favorite reading, helping to create in children the correct ideas about important matters Russian history. And at the same time, they bring real pleasure to everyone who loves smart, clear literature, imbued with a cheerful and fresh outlook on life and history.”

The life and talent of Sergei Alekseev fully confirmed the words of the venerable writer spoken about him in advance...

However, Alekseev became a children's writer not only because he once felt the need to write for children. He has been working towards this for over thirty years. Through childhood in Pliskovo, not far from Vinnitsa, in Ukraine, and adolescence in Moscow, in the house of his scientist aunts. Through school and flying club. Through the war, and the flight school, and the history department of the evening department of the Orenburg Pedagogical Institute. Through editorial, literary-critical, organizational work in Detgiz and in the Writers' Union. Through the creation of a school textbook on the history of the USSR, which, even to the most distant extent, was the first outline of his future stories and novellas. Through the great school of life in children's literature, being for more than thirty years the editor-in-chief of the country's only literary-critical magazine “Children's Literature,” dedicated to the problems of literature and art for children. And one day the moment came when everything experienced, felt, understood, everything heard, and read, and done merged into one large, enormous whole, urgently demanded an outlet and poured out in the Word.

Obviously, not every literary gifted person is able to write a good book for little ones. S. Alekseev has a certain, maybe even innate, gift for talking with guys younger age. And this gift is strengthened by a deeply meaningful, conscious approach to one’s work. “The main thing in a children’s book,” says S. Alekseev, “...is not explanations, but dynamics, action, character that grows out of action. The child quickly grasps and feels such an effective character.”

This book contains two parts best stories Sergei Petrovich Alekseev about Tsar Peter I and Generalissimo Alexander Vasilyevich Suvorov.

“Stories about Peter the Great, Narva and military affairs” is the first part of the book. The reader gets acquainted here with the transformations of Peter I, with how he strove to see the expanses of the country more extensive, and the people educated and enlightened. The stories “What the young boyars studied abroad”, “Az, beeches, lead...” tell about the younger generation, caring for which is one of Peter’s primary affairs. He was stern towards those who did not want to send their children to study, and towards those young nobles who, while studying abroad, tried to shirk the sciences, adopted only the external signs of foreign culture, lost respect for their own Fatherland, or even allowed themselves to be flattered by someone else's. Guardian of the Fatherland, warrior and worker, Peter I wanted to see future generations worthy successors glory of Russia.

Alekseev begins his acquaintance with the hero of the first part of the book with an external portrait, dynamic and lapidary. “The soldiers took a look - the captain of the bombardment company. The captain’s height is enormous, about two meters, his face is round, his eyes are large, and on his lip, as if glued on, is a jet-black mustache.” This is Tsar Peter.

Little by little, from short story to short story, the secret is revealed successful activities Peter, his statesmanship. This is wisdom human knowledge and experiences that Peter from a young age did not hesitate to adopt from everywhere. This is the wisdom of the people.

With all his intelligence and democracy, Peter remains the tsar, the ruler of the feudal, boyar, noble empire. He cannot help but defend his system, not suppress popular discontent with the most brutal methods, and not shift the main burden of the great state efforts he has undertaken onto the people's shoulders. At the same time, Peter, without a doubt, is a patriot of Russia, and the whole aspiration of his state actions is patriotic...

“Stories about Suvorov and Russian soldiers” are closely related to the continuity of military-patriotic traditions and the characterization of the great Russian commander Alexander Vasilyevich Suvorov. “Eat, eat, get. Don’t disdain the soldier’s in future. Don't disdain the soldier's. A soldier is a man. A soldier is dearer to me than himself,” says Suvorov in the story “Soup and Porridge,” addressing generals who are squeamish about everything soldierly, be it food or anything else. For Suvorov, unity with the soldiers is the key to success in achieving military superiority.

In Suvorov, the writer looks for and notes, first of all, the traits that allowed him to win victories with minimal expenditure of human strength and lives. This Suvorov science of effective leadership of large masses of people can, to a large extent, be perceived by today’s reader as the science of leadership in general, as an example of successful government activities based on impeccable competence and humanistic care for the direct performers.

But, showing a harsh reality that does not distinguish whether it is a child or an adult, Alekseev understands as the most sacred duty the responsibility of an adult to protect a child’s soul and child’s life, even at the cost of his own life.

Stories about Tsar Peter and his time

Bombardier Company Captain

The Russian army was marching towards Narva.

Tra-ta-ta, tra-ta-ta! - the regimental drums beat out the marching roll.

The troops marched through the ancient Russian cities of Novgorod and Pskov, marching with drums and songs.

It was dry autumn. And suddenly the rains began to pour. The leaves fell off the trees. The roads washed out. The cold has begun. Soldiers are walking along roads washed out by rain, soldiers' feet are drowning in mud up to their knees.

It is difficult for soldiers on a campaign. A cannon got stuck on a bridge while crossing a small stream. One of the wheels was crushed by a rotten log and sank down to the very axle.

The soldiers shout at the horses and beat them with whips. The horses were skinny and bones during the long journey. The horses are straining with all their might, but there is no benefit - the gun is not moving.

The soldiers huddled near the bridge, surrounded the cannon, trying to pull it out with their hands.

Forward! - one shouts.

Back! - the command is given by another.

The soldiers make noise and argue, but things don’t move forward. A sergeant is running around the gun. He doesn’t know what to come up with.

Suddenly the soldiers look - a carved cart is rushing along the road.

The well-fed horses galloped up to the bridge and stopped. The officer got out of the cart. The soldiers took a look - the captain of the bombardment company. The captain's height is enormous, his face is round, his eyes are large, and on his lip, as if glued on, is a pitch-black mustache.

The soldiers got scared, stretched out their arms at their sides, and froze.

Things are bad, brothers,” said the captain.

That's right, bombardier-captain! - the soldiers barked in response.

Well, they think the captain will start swearing now.

This is true. The captain approached the cannon and examined the bridge.

Who's the eldest? - asked.

“I am, Mr. Bombardier-Captain,” said the sergeant.

This is how you take care of military goods! - the captain attacked the sergeant. - You don’t look at the road, you don’t spare the horses!

Yes, I... yes, we... - the sergeant began to speak.

But the captain did not listen, he turned around - and there was a slap on the sergeant’s neck! Then he went back to the cannon, took off his elegant caftan with red lapels and crawled under the wheels. The captain strained himself and picked up the cannon with his heroic shoulder. The soldiers grunted in surprise. They ran up and pounced. The cannon trembled, the wheel came out of the hole and stood on level ground.

The captain straightened his shoulders, smiled, shouted to the soldiers: “Thank you, brothers!” - he patted the sergeant on the shoulder, got into the cart and rode on.

The soldiers opened their mouths and looked after the captain.

Gee! - said the sergeant.

And soon the general and his officers caught up with the soldier.

“Hey, servants,” the general shouted, “didn’t the sovereign’s cart pass here?”

No, Your Highness,” the soldiers answered, “the bombardier’s captain was just passing through here.”

Bomber captain? - asked the general.

Yes sir! - the soldiers answered.

Fool, what kind of captain is this? This is Tsar Peter Alekseevich himself!

Without Narva there is no sea

Well-fed horses run merrily. He overtakes the royal cart, which stretches for many miles, and drives around convoys stuck in the mud.

A man sits next to Peter. He is as tall as a king, only wider in the shoulders. This is Menshikov.

Peter knew Menshikov from childhood. At that time, Menshikov served at the pie maker as a boy. He walked around Moscow bazaars and squares, selling pies.

Fried pies, fried pies! - Menshikov shouted, tearing his throat.

One day Aleksashka was fishing on the Yauza River, opposite the village of Preobrazhenskoye. Suddenly Menshikov looks - a boy is coming. I guessed from his clothes that he was a young king.

Do you want me to show you a trick? - Aleksashka turned to Peter.

Menshikov grabbed a needle and thread and pierced his cheek, so deftly that he pulled the thread through, but there was not a single blood on his cheek.

Peter even screamed in surprise.

More than ten years have passed since that time. Menshikov is unrecognizable now. The king has his first friend and adviser. “Alexander Danilovich,” they now respectfully call the former Alexashka.

Hey Hey! - shouts the soldier sitting on the box.

The horses rush at full speed. The royal cart is being tossed onto a rough road. Sticky dirt flies to the sides.

Peter sits silently, looks at the soldier’s broad back, remembers his childhood, games and amusing army.

Peter lived then near Moscow, in the village of Preobrazhenskoye. Most of all I loved war games. They recruited guys for him, brought rifles and cannons. Only there were no real nuclei. They shot steamed turnips. Peter gathers his army, divides it into two halves, and the battle begins. Then they count the losses: one had his arm broken, another had his side knocked off, and a third had his head completely pierced.

It used to be that boyars would arrive from Moscow, start scolding Peter for his amusing games, and he would point a cannon at them - bang! - and the steamed turnips fly into fat bellies and bearded faces. The boyars will pick up the hem of their embroidered clothes - and in different directions. And Peter draws his sword and shouts:

Victory! Victory! The enemy showed his back!

Now the funny army has grown. These are two real regiments - Preobrazhensky and Semenovsky. The Tsar calls them the guard. Together with everyone else, the regiments go to Narva, together they knead the impassable mud. “How will old friends show themselves? - thinks Peter. “It’s not for you to fight with the boyars.”

Sovereign! - Menshikov brings the Tsar out of his thoughts. - Sir, Narva is visible.

Peter is looking. There is a fortress on the left, steep bank of the Narova River. There is a stone wall around the fortress. Near the river you can see Narva Castle - a fortress within a fortress. The main tower of the castle, Long Herman, stretched high into the sky.

And opposite Narva, on the right bank of the Narova, there is another fortress, Ivan-Gorod. And Ivan-Gorod is surrounded by an impregnable wall.

It’s not easy, sir, to fight such a fortress,” says Menshikov.

It’s not easy,” Peter answers. - But it is necessary. We can't live without Narva. Without Narva you cannot see the sea.

“Sir, allow me to speak”

The Russians near Narva were defeated. The country was poorly prepared for war. There were not enough weapons and uniforms, the troops were poorly trained.

Winter. Freezing. Wind. A carved cart rushes along a snowy road. Throws the rider over potholes. Snow flies out from under the horse's hooves in white cakes. Peter rushes to Tula, goes to the arms factory to Nikita Demidov.

Peter had known Demidov for a long time, from the time when Nikita was a simple blacksmith. It used to be that Peter’s affairs would lead to Tula, he would go to Demidov and say: “Teach me, Demidych, the iron craft.”

Nikita will put on an apron and pull out a piece of hot iron from the forge with tongs. Demidov hits the iron with a hammer and shows Peter where to hit. Peter has a hammer in his hands. Peter will turn around, at the indicated place - bang! Only sparks fly to the sides.

That's it, that's it! - Demidov says. And if the king makes a mistake, Nikita will shout:

Ooh, cross-armed! Then he will say:

You, sir, do not be angry. Craft - it loves screaming. Here, without shouting, it’s like without hands.

“Okay,” Peter will answer.

And now the king is again in Tula. “It’s not without reason,” thinks Demidov. “Oh, it’s not for nothing that the king came.” This is true.

Nikita Demidovich, says Peter, have you heard about Narva?

Demidov doesn’t know what to say. If you say the wrong thing, you will only anger the king. How can you not hear about Narva when everyone around you is whispering: they say, the Swedes have broken our sides.

Demidov is silent, wondering what to answer.

“Don’t be cunning, don’t be cunning,” says Peter.

“I heard,” says Demidov.

That’s it,” Peter answers. - We need guns, Demidych. You know, guns.

How can you not understand, sir?

“But you need a lot of guns,” says Peter.

It’s clear, Pyotr Alekseevich. Only our Tula factories are bad. No iron, no forest. Grief, not factories.

Peter and Demidov are silent. Peter sits on a carved bench, looking out the window at the factory yard. There, men in torn clothes and worn-out bast shoes are dragging an aspen log.

This is our Tula expanse,” says Demidov. - Log by log, log by log, we beg like beggars. - And then he leaned towards Peter and spoke quietly, insinuatingly: - Sir, allow me to say a word.

Peter paused, looked at Demidov, and said:

Tell me.

“My little people went here,” Demidov said, “to the Urals.” And I, sir, went. That's where the iron is! And the forests, the forests, are like the sea and ocean, there is no end in sight. This is where, sir, to put the factories. It immediately gives you guns, bombs, shotguns, and any other need.

Ural, you say? - asked Peter.

“He’s the one,” Demidov answered.

I’ve heard about the Urals, but it’s far away, Demidych, at the edge of the earth. By the time you build the factories, wow, how much time will pass!

“Nothing, sir, nothing,” Demidov spoke with conviction. - We will pave roads, there are rivers. What's next - there would be a desire. And what a long time, so, tea, we live for more than one day. Look, in about two years both the Ural cast iron and the Ural cannons will all be there.

Peter looks at Demidov and understands that Nikita has been thinking about the Urals for a long time. Demidov does not take his eyes off Peter, waiting for the king’s word.

Okay, Nikita Demidovich,” Peter finally says, “if it’s your way, I’ll write a decree and you’ll go to the Urals.” You will receive money from the treasury, you will receive people - and with God. Yes, look at me. Know: there are no more important matters in the state right now. Remember. If you let me down, I won’t regret it.

A month later, having taken the best miners and weapons masters, Demidov left for the Urals.

And during this time Peter managed to send people to Bryansk, Lipetsk, and other cities. In many places in Rus', Peter ordered the mining of iron and the construction of factories.

Bells

Danilych,” Pyotr told Menshikov shortly after Narva, “we will remove the bells from the churches.”

Menshikov's eyes widen in surprise.

What are you staring at? - Peter shouted at him. - We need copper, we need cast iron, we will cast bells for cannons. To the guns, understand?

That’s right, sir, that’s right,” Menshikov began to assent, but he himself couldn’t understand whether the tsar was joking or telling the truth.

Peter wasn't joking. Soon the soldiers dispersed to different places to carry out the royal order.

The soldiers also arrived in the large village of Lopasnya, in the Assumption Cathedral. The soldiers arrived in the village towards darkness and entered to the sound of the evening bells. The bells hummed in the winter air, shimmering with different voices. The sergeant counted the bells on his fingers - eight.

While the soldiers unharnessed the frozen horses, the sergeant went to the house of the rector - the senior priest. Having learned what was the matter, the abbot frowned and wrinkled his forehead. However, he greeted the sergeant warmly and spoke:

Come in, servant, come in, call your little soldiers. Tea, we were tired on the way, we were chilled.

The soldiers entered the house carefully, took a long time to clear the snow from their felt boots, and crossed themselves.

The abbot fed the soldiers and brought wine.

“Drink, servants, eat,” he says.

The soldiers got drunk and fell asleep. And in the morning the sergeant went out into the street, looked at the belfry, and there was only one bell dangling.

The sergeant rushed to the abbot.

Where are the bells? - he shouted. -Where did they go?

And the abbot throws up his hands and says:

Our parish is poor; there is only one bell for the entire parish.

As one? - the sergeant was indignant. - Yesterday I saw eight of them myself, and I heard the chime.

What are you, servant, what are you! - The abbot waved his hands. - What did you come up with! Was it just your drunken eyes that you imagined?

The sergeant realized that it was not without reason that they were given wine to drink. The soldiers gathered, the entire cathedral was examined, the cellars were crawled. There are no bells, as if they had sunk into the water.

The sergeant threatened to bring him to Moscow.

“Inform,” replied the abbot.

However, the sergeant did not write. I realized that he too was responsible. I decided to stay in Lopasnya and conduct a search.

The soldiers live for a week or two. They walk the streets and visit houses. But no one knows anything about the bells. “We were,” they say, “but we don’t know where we are now.”

During this time, a boy became attached to the sergeant - his name was Fedka. He follows the sergeant, examines the fusée, and asks about the war. He's such a smart guy - he always tries to steal the cartridge from the sergeant.

Don't spoil! - says the sergeant. - Find where the priests hid the bell - the cartridge is yours.

Fedka was not seen for two days. On the third he runs to the sergeant and whispers in his ear:

Yah! - The sergeant didn’t believe it.

By God, I found it! Give me a cartridge.

No,” says the sergeant, “we’ll see about that later.”

Fedka took the sergeant out of the village, running on homemade skis along the river bank, the sergeant barely keeping up with him. The drifting snow is swirling, the snow is rolling over the crust. Fedka feels good, he’s on skis, but the sergeant stumbles and falls into the snow up to his waist.

Come on, uncle, come on, - Fedka encourages, - it’s coming soon!

We ran about three miles away from the village. Behind the coastal cliff we descended onto the ice.

Right here,” says Fedka.

The sergeant looked - there was an ice hole. And next to it - more, and a little further - more and more. I counted - seven. From each ice hole there are ropes frozen to the ice. The sergeant realized where the abbot hid the bell: under the ice, in the water. The sergeant was delighted, gave Fedka a cartridge and quickly rushed to the village.

The sergeant ordered the soldiers to harness their horses, and he himself went to the abbot and said:

Forgive me, father: apparently, with drunken eyes, I really got it wrong then. We are leaving Lopasnya today. Don't be angry, pray to God for us.

Good luck! - the abbot smiled. - Good luck, soldier. I'll pray.

The next day the rector gathered the parishioners.

Well, it’s over,” he said, “the trouble has passed by.”

The parishioners went to the river to pull out the bells, poked their heads into the hole, and it was empty.

Herods, blasphemers! - the abbot shouted. - They left, they took away. The bells are missing!

And the wind blew over the river, ruffled the peasants’ beards and ran on, scattering grain along the steep bank.

Hay, straw

The Russians realized after Narva that you couldn’t fight a Swede with an untrained army. Peter decided to start a standing army. While there is no war, let the soldiers master rifle techniques and get used to discipline and order.

One day Peter was driving past the soldiers' barracks. He looks - the soldiers are lined up, they are learning to walk in formation. A young officer walks next to the soldiers and gives commands. Peter listened: the commands were somehow unusual.

Hay, straw! - the lieutenant shouts. - Hay, straw!

"What's happened?" - thought Peter. He stopped his horse and took a closer look: there was something tied on the soldiers’ legs. The king saw: there was hay on his left leg, and straw on his right leg.

The officer saw Peter and shouted:

The soldiers froze. The lieutenant ran up to the king and gave a report:

Mister Bombardier-Captain, Officer Vyazemsky’s company is learning to march!

At ease! - Peter gave the command.

The Tsar liked Vyazemsky. Peter wanted to be angry for the “hay, straw,” but now he changed his mind. Vyazemsky asks:

Why did you impose all sorts of rubbish on the soldiers’ feet?

“Not rubbish at all, bombardier-captain,” the officer replies.

How so - not rubbish! - Peter objects. - You're a disgrace to the soldier. You don't know the regulations.

Vyazemsky is all his own.

“No way,” he says. - This is to make it easier for soldiers to learn. Darkness, bombardier-captain, can’t remember where the left foot is and where the right is. But they don’t confuse hay with straw: they are rustic.

The king marveled at the invention and grinned.

And soon Peter hosted the parade. The last company was the best.

Who's the commander? - Peter asked the general.

Officer Vyazemsky,” the general answered.

About boyar beards

The boyars Buynosov and Kurnosov lived in Moscow. And they had a long-standing family, and their houses were bursting with wealth, and each of them had more than one thousand serf men.

But most of all, the boyars were proud of their beards. And their beards were large and fluffy. Buynosov's is wide, like a shovel, Kurnosov's is long, like a horse's tail.

And suddenly the royal decree came out: to shave beards. Under Peter, new orders were introduced in Rus': they ordered people to shave their beards, wear foreign-made clothes, drink coffee, smoke tobacco, and much more.

Having learned about the new decree, Buynosov and Kurnosov sighed and groaned. They agreed not to shave their beards, but in order to avoid being seen by the Tsar, they decided to pretend to be sick.

Soon the tsar himself remembered the boyars and called them to him.

The boyars began to argue about who should go first.

“You should go,” Buinosov says.

No, for you,” Kurnosov answers.

They cast lots and Buinosov got it.

The boyar came to the king and threw himself at his feet.

“Don’t destroy, sir,” he asks, “don’t disgrace yourself in your old age!”

Buynosov crawls along the floor, grabs the royal hand, and tries to kiss it.

Get up! - Peter shouted. - Not in the beard, boyar, the mind is in the head.

And Buynosov stands on all fours and repeats everything: “Don’t be a shame, sir.”

Then Peter got angry, called the servants and ordered the boyar’s beard to be cut off by force.

Buinosov returned to Kurnosov, all in tears, holding his bare chin with his hand, and couldn’t really tell anything.

Kurnosov became afraid to go to the Tsar. The boyar decided to run to Menshikov and ask for advice and help.

Help, Alexander Danilych, talk to the Tsar,” Kurnosov asks.

Menshikov thought for a long time about how to start a conversation with Peter. Finally he came and said:

Sovereign, what if we take a ransom from the boyars for their beards? At least the treasury will benefit.

And there was just not enough money in the treasury. Peter thought and agreed.

Kurnosov was delighted, ran, paid the money, and received a copper plaque with the inscription: “The money has been taken.” Kurnosov put a badge around his neck, like a cross. Whoever stops will become attached, why didn’t he cut his beard, he lifts his beard and shows his badge.

Now Kurnosov became even more proud, but in vain. A year passed, tax collectors came to Kurnosov and demanded a new payment.

How so! - Kurnosov was indignant. - I have already paid the money! - and shows a copper plaque.

Eh, yes, this badge, say the collectors, has expired. Let's pay for a new one.

Kurnosov had to pay again. And a year later and again. Then Kurnosov became thoughtful and thought about it with his mind. It turns out that soon there will be nothing left of all Kurnosov’s wealth. There will only be one beard.

And when the collectors came for the third time, they looked - Kurnosov was sitting without a beard, looking at the collectors with evil eyes.

The next day, Menshikov told the Tsar about Kurnosov’s beard. Peter laughed.

That’s what they need, fools,” he said, “let them get used to the new order.” And about the money, Danilych, you came up with a clever idea. From one of Kurnosov’s beards, they could sew uniforms for an entire division.

What young boyars studied abroad

Buinosov and Kurnosov had no sooner forgotten the old tsarist grievances when a new one came along. Peter ordered to gather fifty of the noblest boyar sons and send them abroad to study. Buynosov and Kurnosov had to send their sons as well.

A cry and crying arose in the boyars' houses. Mothers are running around, people are fussing, as if not a farewell, but grief in the house.

Buynosov's wife was breaking up.

One son - and God knows where, into foreign lands, the devil in the mouth, the German in the mouth! I won't let you in! Will not give it back!

Tsits! - Buynosov shouted at his wife. - The sovereign's order, you fool! Did you want to go to Siberia, to the gallows?

And in Kurnosov’s house there is no less screaming. And Kurnosov had to shout at his wife:

Stupid! You can’t break a butt with a whip, you can’t escape the adversary king! Be patient, old man.

A year later the young boyars returned. They were summoned to the king to appoint them to the sovereign service.

Well, tell me, Buynosov, son of a boyar,” Peter demanded, “how did you live abroad?”

“It was good, sir,” Buinosov replies. - They are affectionate, friendly people, not like our men - they are happy to grab each other’s beards.

Well, what did you learn?

Much, sir. I learned to say “futter” instead of “father,” and “mutter” instead of “mother.”

Well, what else? - Peter asked.

I have also learned to bow, sir, with double and triple bows, I have learned to dance, and I know how to play foreign games.

Yes,” said Peter, “they taught you a lot.” Well, how did you like it abroad?

Wow, how I liked it, sir! I want to join the Ambassadorial Prikaz: I really love living abroad.

Well, what do you say? - Peter asked young Kurnosov.

What can I say, sir... Ask.

Okay, says Peter. - Tell me, Kurnosov, son of a boyar, what is fortification?

Fortification, sir,” Kurnosov replies, “is a military science aimed at protecting troops from the enemy.” Every military commander needs to know fortification like the back of his hand.

Smart,” says Peter. - Smart. What is a pilot?

The sailing route, sir,” Kurnosov replies, “is a description of the sea or river, indicating shallows and depths, winds and currents, everything that can become an obstacle on the ship’s path. Pilotage, sir, is the first thing you need to know when taking on seafaring matters.

Efficient, efficient,” Peter says again. - What else have you learned?

“Yes, sir, I looked closely at the whole matter,” replies Kurnosov, “how to build ships, and how mining is done there, and how they treat diseases.” Nothing, thanks to the Dutch and Germans. They are knowledgeable people, good people. But, I think, sir, it is not proper for us to criticize our own, Russian things. Our country is no worse, our people are no worse, and our goodness is no less.

Well done! - said Peter. - Justified, consoled. - And Peter kissed young Kurnosov. “And you,” said Peter, turning to Buinosov, “apparently, just as you were a fool, you still remain.” I wanted to go abroad! Look, Russia is not dear to you. Get out of my sight!

So young Buynosov remained in obscurity. And Kurnosov soon became a prominent person in the state.

Az, beeches, lead...

There were few literate people in Rus' at that time. The children were taught here and there at churches and sometimes in rich houses they had invited teachers.

Under Peter, schools began to open. Schools were called digital. They studied grammar, arithmetic and geography.

They also opened a school in the city of Serpukhov, which is halfway between Moscow and Tula. The teacher has arrived.

The teacher has arrived at the school and is waiting for the students. The day waits, the second, the third - no one comes.

Then the teacher got together and began going from house to house to find out what was going on. I went into one house and called the owner, a local merchant.

Why, he asks, doesn’t his son go to school?

He has nothing to do there! - the merchant answers. - We lived without literacy, and he will live. This demonic activity is school.

The teacher went into the house of a shoemaker.

Is school really our business? - the master answers. - Our business is to sew boots. There’s no point wasting time in vain, listening to all kinds of nonsense!

Then the teacher went to the Serpukhov governor and told him what was the matter. And the governor just throws up his hands.

What can I do! - speaks. - It's my father's business. Here it’s up to someone: one needs a diploma, and the other, apparently, doesn’t need a diploma.

The teacher looked at the governor, realized that he would be of no use, got angry, and said:

If so, I will write to the sovereign himself.

The governor looked at the teacher. He looks determined. I understand: he will keep his threat.

Okay, don’t rush,” he says, “go to school.”

The teacher returned to school and began to wait. Soon he hears stomping outside the window. I looked: soldiers were walking with guns, leading the guys.

The children were accompanied by soldiers for a whole week. And then nothing, apparently, the fathers resigned themselves and got used to it. The students themselves began to run to school.

The teacher began to teach the children grammar. We started with letters.

“Az,” said the teacher. (This stands for the letter "a".)

“Az,” the students repeat in unison.

Buki, says the teacher. (This means the letter "b".)

Beeches, they repeat in class.

Then came the arithmetic.

One and one, says the teacher, there will be two.

One and one are two, repeat the students.

Soon the children learned to write letters and add numbers.

We found out where the Caspian Sea is, where the Black Sea is, where the Baltic Sea is. The guys learned a lot.

And one day Peter was traveling through Serpukhov to Tula. The tsar spent the night in Serpukhov, and in the morning he decided to go to school. Peter heard that fathers are reluctant to send their children to study. I decided to check it out. Peter enters the class, and it’s full of kids. Peter was surprised and asked the teacher how he gathered so many students.

The teacher told everything as it happened.

That's great! - Peter laughed. - Well done governor. This is our way. Right. I will order that in other places children are dragged to school by force. Our people are weak-minded, don’t understand their own benefits, and don’t care about the affairs of the state. And how we need literate people! The death of Russia without knowledgeable people.

Rejoice in the little things, then the big things will come

“It’s time for us to have our own newspaper,” Peter said more than once to his entourage. - From the newspaper, the merchant, the boyar, and the townsman benefit everyone.

And then Peter somehow disappeared from the palace. He did not appear until the evening, and many already wondered if something bad had happened to the king.

And at this time Peter, together with the printer Fyodor Polikarpov, was selecting materials for the first issue of the Russian newspaper.

Polikarpov, tall, thin as a pole, with glasses at the very end of his nose, stands at attention in front of the Tsar, like a soldier, reading:

Sovereign, from the Urals, from Verkhotursk, they report that the local craftsmen have cast many cannons.

Write,” says Peter, “let everyone know that the loss at Narva is nothing compared to what can be done at will.”

And also, sir, they report,” Polikarpov continued, “that four hundred cannons were cast from bell cast iron in Moscow.

And write this,” says Peter, “let them know that Peter did not remove the bells in vain.”

And from the Nevyansk plant, from Nikita Demidov, they write that the factory men started a riot and now the boyars and merchants can’t live from them.

“Don’t write this,” says Peter. - It’s better to send soldiers and punish the peasants for such things.

And from Kazan, sir, they write, Polikarpov continues, that they found a lot of oil and copper ore there.

“And write this,” says Peter, “let them know that in Rus' there is an endless supply of riches, those riches have not yet been counted...

Peter sits and listens. Then he takes the papers. He puts a red cross on what to print, and puts what is unnecessary aside.

Polikarpov reports more and more new things. And that the Indian king sent an elephant to the Moscow king, and that three hundred and eighty-six people, male and female, were born in Moscow in a month, and much more.

And also,” says Peter, “write, Fyodor, about schools, it’s great - so that everyone can see the benefits of this business.”

A few days later the newspaper was published. They called it Vedomosti. The newspaper turned out to be small, the font was small, it was difficult to read, there were no margins, the paper was gray. The newspaper is so-so. But Peter is pleased: first. He grabbed Vedomosti and ran to the palace. He shows the newspaper to whomever he meets.

Look, he says, it’s our own newspaper, Russian, the first!

Met Peter and Prince Golovin. But Golovin was known as a knowledgeable person, he had been abroad, he knew foreign languages.

Golovin looked at the newspaper, curled his mouth and said:

What a newspaper, sir! I was in the German city of Hamburg, and there was a newspaper there!

The joy disappeared from Peter’s face as if by hand. He became gloomy and frowned.

Oh you! - he said. - You’re thinking in the wrong place, prince. And also Golovin! And also a prince! I found something to surprise - “in the German city of Hamburg”! I know it myself. Better, but someone else's. Tea, and things didn’t go well for them right away. Give it time. Rejoice in the little things, then the big things will come.

About Danila

Danila was known throughout the area as a smart man. He had his own idea about every matter.

After Narva, the only talk in the village was about the Swedes, King Charles, Tsar Peter and military affairs.

The Swede is strong, strong,” the men said, “no match for us.” And why do we need the sea? We have lived and will live without the sea.

That’s not true,” said Danila. - It is not the Swede who is strong, but we are weak. And it’s wrong about the sea. Russia cannot be without the sea. To fish and trade, the sea is needed for many things.

And when the bells were removed, there was noise again in the village for several days.

The end of the world is coming! - the deacon shouted and tore out his hair.

The women cried, crossed themselves, the men walked around gloomily, everyone expected trouble. And Danila is not like everyone else here either. Again in my own way.

That’s how it should be,” he said. - Here the interest for the state is more valuable than the bells. The Lord God will not judge you for such things.

Blasphemer! - Father called Danila then and from that time on he harbored a great grudge against him.

And soon Peter introduced new taxes. The men groaned and dragged the last crumbs into the treasury.

Well, how do you like,” they asked Danila, “the Tsar’s new order?” Right again?

No,” answered Danila, “the Tsar and I do not have a common agreement on everything.”

Look! - the men snapped. - He’s with the king! I found a friend. The king won't even look at you.

He won’t do much, but he won’t forbid you to think in your own way,” answered Danila. “What brings glory to the state, thank Peter for that, but what takes three skins off a man - the time will come for him to be responsible for it.”

The men agree with Danila and nod their heads. And take one and shout:

And you tell the king himself about that!

And I’ll tell you,” Danila answered.

And said. It just didn’t happen right away and here’s how.

Someone reported Danilov’s speeches to the authorities. Soldiers arrived in the village, tied up Danila, and took him to Moscow to the chief, to Prince Romodanovsky himself.

They tied Danila's hands, pulled him up on the rack, and began to torture him.

What did he say about the sovereign, who advised him? - asks Prince Romodanovsky.

“What I said was carried away by the wind,” Danila answers.

What? - Romodanovsky shouted. - Yes, for such speeches, impale you, you vile troublemaker!

Plant,” Danila answers. - For a man, it’s all the same where to be. Maybe on a stake is even better than bending your back to the boyars.

Prince Romodanovsky got angry, grabbed an iron rod hot in the fire and applied it to Danila’s naked body. Danila became exhausted and hung like a bast.

And at this time Peter entered the hut.

Why is the man on the rack?

Troublemaker, says the prince. - Against the authorities, sir, he says bad things.

Peter approached Danila. He opened his eyes slightly and looked at the king in front of him. Then Danila gained strength and said:

Eh, sir, you started a great thing, but the common people lost their lives. They knocked everything out of the people, like highway robbers. The people, sir, will not forget about such deeds; they will not remember them with a kind word.

And Danila closed his eyes again and dropped his head onto his hairy chest. And Peter seemed to be burned from the inside. He jerked his head to the left, to the right, and threw an angry gaze at Danila.

Hang! - he screamed as if stung and walked away from the hut.

City by the sea

Soon Tsar Peter began a new war with the Swedes. Russian troops won their first victories and reached the Gulf of Finland, to the place where the Neva River flows into the gulf.

The banks of the Neva are deserted: forests, swamps and impassable thickets. And it’s difficult to travel, and there’s nowhere to live. And the place is important: the sea.

A few days later, Peter took Menshikov, got into a boat and went to the sea. At the very confluence of the Neva into the sea there is an island. Peter got out of the boat and began to walk around the island. The island is long, smooth as the palm of your hand. Frail bushes stick out like tufts, there is moss and dampness underfoot.

What a place, sir! - said Menshikov.

What is the place? “A place is a place,” answered Peter. - Notable place: the sea.

Oh yes Aleksashka, oh yes the view! - Peter laughed.

What a damn place! - Menshikov said with offense. - Sir, let's go back. There is no point in measuring these swamps.

Why go back, go forward, Danilych. “Tea, they came here to host, not as guests,” Peter answered and walked towards the sea.

Menshikov reluctantly trudged behind.

But look,” Peter turned to Menshikov. - You say there is no life, but what is this, not life?

Peter approached the hummock, carefully parted the bushes, and Menshikov saw the nest. There was a bird sitting in the nest. She looked at people and did not fly away.

“Look,” said Menshikov, “you’re brave!”

The bird suddenly flapped its wing, took off, and began to rush around the bush.

Finally, Peter and Menshikov went to the sea. Large, gloomy, it rolled its waves like a camel’s humps, tossed it against the shore, and hit the pebbles.

Peter stood with his shoulders back, breathing deeply. The sea wind ruffled the hem of the caftan, now turning the outer side green, now the inner side red. Peter looked into the distance. There, hundreds of miles to the west, lay other countries, other shores.

Menshikov was sitting on a rock, changing his shoes.

“Danilych,” said Peter.

Either Peter spoke quietly, or Menshikov pretended not to hear, but he did not answer.

Danilych! - Peter said again.

Menshikov became wary.

Here, by the sea,” Peter waved his hand, “here, by the sea,” he repeated, “we will build a city.”

Menshikov even lost his boots.

City? - he asked again. - Here, in these swamps, is a city?!

“Yes,” answered Peter and walked along the shore.

And Menshikov held the boot and looked in surprise and admiration at the retreating figure of Peter.

To build a new city, craftsmen from all over Russia gathered to the Neva: carpenters, joiners, masons, and ordinary peasants.

Together with his father, Silanty Dymov, little Nikita came to the new city. They assigned Dymov a place, like other workers, in a damp dugout. Nikitka settled next to his father, sharing bunks.

Morning. Four o'clock. A cannon is firing over the city. This is a signal. The workers stand up, and Nikitkin’s father stands up. Workers dig in the mud and swamp all day long. They dig ditches, cut down timber, and carry heavy logs. They return home after dark. They will come tired, hang wet footcloths near the stove, place holey boots and bast shoes, sip empty cabbage soup and lie down on their bunks. They sleep until the morning like the dead.

And as soon as it’s light, the gun roars again.

Nikita is alone all day. Everything is interesting to Nikita: the fact that there are a lot of people, and there are so many soldiers, and the sea is nearby. Nikita has never seen so much water. It's scary to even look at. Nikitka ran to the pier and marveled at the ships. I walked around the city, watched as clearings were cut down in the forest, and then houses were stacked along the clearings.

The workers got used to Nikitka. They will look at him - home, family will remember. Loved Nikita. “Nikita, bring some water,” they’ll ask. Nikita is running. “Nikita, tell me how you stole tobacco from a soldier.” Nikita says.

Nikitka lived happily until autumn. But autumn came and the rains began. Nikita is bored. He sits alone in a dugout all day. There is knee-deep water in the dugout. Nikita is bored.

Then Silanty cut out a toy from a log for his son - a soldier with a gun.

Nikitka cheered up.

Get up! - gives a command.

The soldier stands and doesn’t blink an eye.

Get down! - Nikita shouts, and he imperceptibly pushes the soldier with his hand.

Nikita will play enough and start scooping up water. He drags the water outside, only to take a break - and the water has filled up again. At least cry!

Soon famine began in the city. There was no food stockpiled for the fall, and the roads were wet. Diseases came. People began to die like flies.

The time has come, Nikita also fell ill. One day the father returned from work, and the boy had a fever. Nikita rushes about on the bunk, asking for a drink. Silantius did not leave his son all night. Didn't go to work this morning. And in the afternoon an officer and soldiers came into the dugout.

Don’t you know the order?! - the officer shouted.

My son is here. Ailing. My little son is dying...

But the officer did not listen. He gave the command, the soldiers twisted Silantia’s arms and drove him to work. And when he returned, Nikita had already gone cold.

Nikita, Nikita! - Silantiy bothers his son.

Nikita is lying there, not moving. Lying nearby is Nikitka’s toy - a soldier with a gun. Nikita is dead.

They didn’t make Nikita’s coffin. They were buried, like everyone else, in a common grave.

Silantius did not live long after this. By the frost, Silantius was taken to the cemetery. Many people died then. Many peasant bones perished in swamps and swamps.

The city that Nikitkin’s father built was St. Petersburg.

A few years later this city became the capital of the Russian state.

For Russian glory

In 1704, Russian troops approached Narva for the second time. The difficult battle ended in complete victory for the Russians.

Peter and Menshikov rode out of the fortress on horseback. Following, a little further away, a group of Russian generals rode. With his shoulders hunched, Peter sat heavily in the saddle and looked wearily at the red withers of his horse. Menshikov, standing up in his stirrups, continually turned his head from side to side and waved his hat in greeting to the oncoming soldiers and officers.

We drove in silence.

“Sovereign,” Menshikov suddenly said, “Pyotr Alekseevich, look,” and pointed to the bank of the Narova.

Peter looked. On the river bank, with its barrel raised up, stood a cannon. Soldiers crowded around the cannon, surrounding it on all sides. Climbing onto the carriage with a ladle in his hand, stood the sergeant. He lowered the ladle into the barrel of the cannon, scooped something up with it and distributed it to the soldiers.

“Sir,” said Menshikov, “look, no way, they’re drinking.” Well, we came up with it! Look, sir: wine has been poured into the barrel of the cannon! Hey, scorers! Eagles! Heroes!

Peter smiled. Stopped the horse. Soldiers' voices began to be heard.

What are we going to drink for? - asks the sergeant and looks expectantly at the soldiers.

For Tsar Peter! - rushes in response.

For Narva!

For the glorious city of St. Petersburg!

For artillery!

For the comrades who laid down their bellies!

Danilych,” said Peter, “let’s go to the sea.”

An hour later, Peter stood at the very water. The waves licked the soles of Peter's large boots. The king crossed his arms and looked into the distance. Menshikov stood a little further away.

Danilych,” Pyotr called Menshikov, “do you remember our conversation then, in Novgorod?

What about Narva?

That's it. It turns out that it was not in vain that we came here, shed blood and Russian sweat.

Not in vain, sir.

And it turns out that the bells were not removed in vain. And they built factories. And schools...

Right. That’s right,” assents Menshikov.

Danilych, now it’s not a sin for us to drink. Isn’t it a sin, Danilych?

That's right, sir.

So what are we going to drink for?

For Tsar Peter Alekseich! - Menshikov blurted out.

Fool! - Peter interrupted. - You need to drink for the sea, for Russian glory.

Children's novel-newspaper No. 9, 2009

Sergey Alekseev

Stories about Tsar Peter I and his time

Artist Yu. Ivanov

What young boyars studied abroad

Buinosov and Kurnosov had no sooner forgotten the old tsarist grievances when a new one came along. Ordered
Peter gathered fifty of the noblest sons of the boyars and sent them abroad to study. Buynosov and Kurnosov had to send their sons as well.

A cry and crying arose in the boyars' houses. Mothers are running around, people are fussing, as if not a farewell, but grief in the house.

Buynosov’s wife was breaking up:

One son - and God knows where, into foreign lands, the devil in the mouth, the German in the mouth! I won't let you in! Will not give it back!

Tsits! - Buynosov shouted at his wife. - The sovereign's order, you fool! I wanted to go to Siberia,
to the gallows?

And in Kurnosov’s house there is no less screaming. And Kurnosov had to shout at his wife:

Stupid! You can’t break a butt with a whip, you can’t escape the adversary king! Be patient, old man.

A year later the young boyars returned. They were summoned to the king to determine the sovereign's
service.

Well, tell me, Buynosov, son of a boyar,” Peter demanded, “how was your life?”
Abroad.

“It was good, sir,” Buinosov replies. - They are affectionate, friendly people,
It’s not like our men are happy to grab each other’s beards.

Well, what did you learn?

- Much, sir! I learned to say “futter” instead of “father”, instead of
"mother" - "mutter".

Well, what else? - Peter asks.

I have also learned to bow, sir, and double and triple bows, I have learned to dance, and I know how to play overseas games.

Yes,” said Peter, “they taught you a lot.” Well, how did you like it abroad?

I really liked it, sir! I want to go to the Ambassadorial Prikaz: it hurts me too much for
live on the border.

Well, what do you say? - Peter asked young Kurnosov.

What can I say, sir... Ask.

Okay, says Peter. - Tell me, Kurnosov, son of a boyar, what is a form?
tification?

Fortification, sir,” answers Kurnosov, “is a military science that has
the purpose of protecting troops from the enemy. Every military commander needs to know fortification like the back of his hand.

Smart,” says Peter. - Smart. What is a pilot?

“Lotsia, sir,” Kurnosov replies, “is a description of the sea or river, indicating on it shallows and depths, winds and currents, everything that can become an obstacle on the ship’s path.” Pilotage, sir, is the first thing you need to know when taking on seafaring matters.

Efficient, efficient,” Peter says again. - What else did you learn?

“Yes, sir, I looked closely at everything,” Kurnosov replies, “how to build ships, and how mining is done there, and how to treat diseases.” Nothing, thanks to the Dutch and Germans. They are knowledgeable people, good people. I just think, sir, it’s not proper for us to criticize our own, Russian things. Our country is no worse, our people are no worse, and our goodness is no less.

Well done! - said Peter. - Justified, consoled. - And Peter kissed young Kurnosov.

And you,” he said, turning to Buinosov, “apparently, just as you were a fool, you still remain.” I wanted to go abroad! Look, Russia is not dear to you. Get out of my sight!

So young Buynosov remained in obscurity. And Kurnosov soon became a prominent person in the state.

Az, beeches, lead...

There were few literate people in Rus' at that time. They taught the kids here and there at churches, yes
Sometimes rich houses had guest teachers.

Under Peter, schools began to open. They were called digital. Studied in them
grammar, arithmetic and geography.

They also opened a school in the city of Serpukhov, which is halfway between Moscow and Tula. Had arrived
teacher.

The teacher has arrived at school and is waiting for the students. Waiting day, second, third - no one
coming.

Then the teacher got together and began going from house to house to find out what was going on. I went into a house
called the owner, a local merchant.

Why, he asks, doesn’t his son go to school?

He has nothing to do there! - the merchant answers. - We lived without literacy, and he will live.
This demonic activity is school.

The teacher went to the second house, to the shoemaker.

Is school really our business? - the master answers. - Our business is to sew boots. There’s no point wasting time in vain, listening to all kinds of nonsense!

Then the teacher went to the Serpukhov governor and told him what was going on. And the governor
He just throws up his hands.

What can I do? - speaks. - It's my father's business. Here it’s up to someone: one needs a diploma, and the other, apparently, doesn’t need a diploma.

The teacher looks at the governor and understands that there will be no help from him. He got angry and said:

If so, I will write to the sovereign himself.

The governor looked at the teacher. He looks determined. I understand: he will keep his threat.

Okay, don’t rush,” he says, “go to school.”

The teacher returned to school and began to wait. Soon he hears stomping outside the window. I looked: soldiers were walking with guns, leading the guys.

The children were accompanied by soldiers for a whole week. And then nothing, apparently, the fathers resigned themselves and got used to it. The students themselves began to run to school.

The teacher began to teach the children grammar. We started with letters.

“Az,” says the teacher. (This means the letter "a".)

“Az,” the students repeat in unison.

Buki, says the teacher. (This means the letter "b".)

Then came the arithmetic.

One and one, says the teacher, there will be two.

One and one are two, repeat the students.

Soon the children learned to write letters and add numbers. Found out where the Caspian
the sea, where is the Black, where is the Baltic. The guys learned a lot.

And one day Peter was traveling through Serpukhov to Tula. The tsar spent the night in Serpukhov, and in the morning he decided to go to school. Peter heard that fathers are reluctant to send their children to study. I decided to check it out. Peter enters the class, and it’s full of kids. Peter was surprised and asked the teacher how he gathered so many students.

The teacher told everything as it happened.

That's great! - Peter laughed. - Well done governor. This is our way. Right. I will order that in other places children are dragged to school by force. Our people are weak-minded, don’t understand their own benefits, and don’t care about the affairs of the state. And how we need literate people! The death of Russia without knowledgeable people.

Rejoice in the little things, then the big things will come

“It’s time for us to have our own newspaper,” Peter repeatedly said to his entourage. - From the newspaper, the merchant, the boyar, and the townsman benefit everyone.

And then Peter somehow disappeared from the palace. He did not appear until the evening, and many already wondered if something bad had happened to the king.

Meanwhile, Peter was selecting together with the printer Fyodor Polikarpov
materials for the first issue of the Russian newspaper.

Polikarpov, tall, thin, with glasses at the very end of his nose, stands at attention in front of the Tsar, like a soldier, reading:

Sovereign, from the Urals, from Verkhotursk they report that the craftsmen there have cast many cannons.

Write,” says Peter, “let everyone know that the loss near Narva is nothing compared to what can be done at will.”

And also, sir, they report,” continues Polikarpov, “that four hundred cannons were cast from bell cast iron in Moscow.

And write this,” says Peter, “let them know that Peter did not remove the bells in vain.”

And from the Nevyanovsky plant, from Nikita Demidov, they write that the factory men started a riot and now the boyars and merchants can’t live from them.

“Don’t write this,” says Peter. - It’s better to send soldiers and punish the peasants for such things.

And from Kazan, sir, they write, Polikarpov continues, that they found a lot of oil and copper ore there.

Write this,” says Peter. - Let them know that in Rus' there is an endless supply of riches, those riches have not yet been counted...

Peter sits and listens. Then he takes the papers. He puts a red cross on what to print, and puts what is unnecessary aside.

Polikarpov reports more and more new things. And that the Indian king sent an elephant to the Moscow king, and that three hundred and eighty-six people, male and female, were born in Moscow in a month, and much more.

And also,” says Peter, “write, Fedor, about schools, it’s great - so that everyone
they saw the benefits of this.

A few days later the newspaper was published. They called it “Vedomosti”. The newspaper turned out to be small, the font was small, it was difficult to read, there were no margins, the paper was gray. The newspaper is so-so. But Peter is pleased: first. He grabbed Vedomosti and ran to the palace. Whomever he meets
shows the newspaper.

Look, he says, it’s our own newspaper, Russian, the first!

Peter met Prince Golovin. But Golovin was known as a knowledgeable person, he had been abroad, he knew foreign languages.

Golovin looked at the newspaper, curled his mouth and said:

What a newspaper, sir! I was in the German city of Hamburg, and there was a newspaper there!

The joy disappeared from Peter’s face as if by hand. He became gloomy and frowned.

Oh you! - he said. - You’re thinking in the wrong place, prince. And also Golovin! And also a prince! I found something to surprise - “in the German city of Hamburg”! I know it myself. Better, but someone else's. Tea, and things didn’t go well for them right away. Give it time. Rejoice in the little things, then the big things will come.

City by the sea

Soon Tsar Peter began a new war with the Swedes. Russian troops won their first victories and reached the Gulf of Finland, to the place where the Neva River flows into the gulf.

The banks of the Neva are deserted: forests, swamps and impassable thickets. And it’s difficult to travel, and there’s nowhere to live. And the place is important: the sea.

A few days later, Peter took Menshikov, got into a boat and went to the sea. At the very confluence of the Neva into the sea there is an island. Peter got out of the boat and began to walk around the island. The island is long and smooth, like the palm of your hand. Frail bushes stick out like tufts, there is moss and dampness underfoot.

What a place, sir! - said Menshikov.

What is the place? “A place is a place,” answered Peter. - Notable place: the sea.

Oh yes Aleksashka, oh yes the view! - Peter laughed.

What a damn place! - Menshikov said with offense. - Sir, let's go back. There is no point in measuring these swamps.

Why go back, go forward, Danilych. “Tea, they came here to host, not as guests,” Peter answered and walked towards the sea.

Menshikov reluctantly trudged behind.

“But look,” Peter turned to Menshikov. - You say there is no life,
Is this not life for you?

Peter approached the hummock, carefully parted the bushes, and Menshikov saw the nest. IN
A bird was sitting in the nest. She looked at people and did not fly away.

“Look,” said Menshikov, “you’re brave!”

The bird suddenly flapped its wing, took off, and began to rush around the bush.

Finally, Peter and Menshikov went to the sea. Big, gloomy, it has a camel's hump -
We rolled in our waves, tossed against the shore, and hit the pebbles.

Peter stood with his shoulders back, breathing deeply. The sea wind ruffled the hem of the caftan, now turning the outer side green, now the inner side red. Peter looked into the distance.

There, hundreds of miles to the west, lay other countries, other shores.

Menshikov was sitting on a rock, changing his shoes.

Danilych! - said Peter. Either Peter said it quietly, or Menshikov pretended not to hear, but he did not answer.

Danilych! - Peter spoke again.

Menshikov became wary.

Here, by the sea,” Peter waved his hand, “here, by the sea,” he repeated, “we will build a city.”

Menshikov even lost his boots.

City? - he asked again. - Here, in these swamps, is there a city?!

“Yes,” answered Peter and walked along the shore.

And Menshikov held the boot and looked in surprise and admiration at the retreating figure of Peter.

To build a new city, craftsmen from all over Russia were gathered to the Neva: carpenters, joiners, masons, and ordinary peasants.

Together with his father, Silanty Dymov, little Nikita came to the new city. They assigned Dymov a place, like other workers, in a damp dugout. Nikitka settled next to his father on the same bunk.

Morning. Four o'clock. A cannon is firing over the city. This is a signal. The workers stand up, and Nikitkin’s father stands up. Workers dig in the mud and swamp all day long. They dig ditches, cut down timber, carry heavy logs. They return home after dark. They will come tired, hang wet footcloths near the stove, place holey boots and bast shoes, sip empty cabbage soup and lie down on their bunks. They sleep until the morning like the dead.

And as soon as it’s light, the gun roars again.

Nikita is alone all day. Everything is interesting to Nikita: the fact that there are a lot of people, and there are so many soldiers, and the sea is nearby. Nikita has never seen so much water. It's scary to even look at. Nikitka ran to the pier and marveled at the ships. I walked around the city, watched as clearings were cut down in the forest, and then houses were stacked along the clearings.

The workers got used to Nikitka. They will look at him - home, family will remember. Loved Nikita. “Nikita, bring some water,” they’ll ask. Nikita is running. “Nikita, tell me how you stole tobacco from a soldier.” Nikita says.

Nikitka lived happily until autumn. But autumn came and the rains began. Nikita is bored. He sits all day long in a dugout, alone, with water up to his knees in the dugout. Nikita is bored.

Silantius then cut out a toy from a log for his son - a soldier with a gun.

Nikitka cheered up.

Get up! - gives a command.

The soldier stands and doesn’t blink an eye.

Get down! - Nikita shouts, and he imperceptibly pushes the soldier with his hand.

Nikita will play enough and start scooping up water. Drags water to the street, only
will take a break - and the water will fill up again. At least cry!

Soon famine began in the city. There was no food stockpiled for the fall, and the roads were wet. Diseases came. People began to die like flies.

The time has come, Nikita also fell ill. One day the father returned from work, and the boy had a fever. Nikita rushes about on the bunk, asking for a drink. Silantius did not leave his son all night. Didn't go to work this morning. And in the afternoon an officer and soldiers came into the dugout.

Don’t you know the order?! - the officer shouted at Silantius.

My son is here. Ailing. My little son is dying...

But the officer did not listen. He gave the command, the soldiers twisted Silantia’s arms and drove him to work. And when he returned, Nikita had already gone cold.

Nikita, Nikita! - Silantiy bothers his son.

Nikita is lying there, not moving. Lying nearby is Nikitka’s toy - a soldier with a gun. Nikita is dead.

They didn’t make Nikita’s coffin. They were buried, like everyone else, in a common grave.

Silantius did not live long after this. By the frost, Silantius was taken to the cemetery. Many people died then. Many peasant bones perished in swamps and swamps.

The city that Nikitkin’s father built was St. Petersburg.

A few years later this city became the capital of the Russian state.

About Danila

Danila was known throughout the area as a smart man. He had his own idea about every matter.

After Narva, the only talk in the village was about the Swedes, King Charles, Tsar Peter and military affairs.

The Swede is strong, strong,” the men said, “no match for us.” And why do we need the sea? Lived
and we will live without the sea.

That’s not true,” said Danila. - The Swede is not strong, but we are weak. And it’s wrong about the sea. Russia cannot be without the sea. And catch fish, and conduct trade, for many things the sea
necessary.

And when the bells were removed, there was noise again in the village for several days.

The end of the world is coming! - the deacon shouted and tore out his hair.

The women cried, crossed themselves, the men walked around gloomily, everyone expected trouble. And Danila is not like everyone else here either. Again in my own way.

That’s how it should be,” he said. - Here the interest for the state is more valuable than the bells. The Lord God will not judge you for such things.

Blasphemer! - Father called Danila then and from that time on he harbored a great grudge against him.

And soon Peter introduced new taxes. The men groaned and dragged the last ones to the treasury
crumbs.

Well, how do you like,” they asked Danila, “the Tsar’s new order?” Right again?

No,” answered Danila, “the Tsar and I do not have a common agreement on everything.”

Look! - the men snapped. - He and the king! I found a friend. The king won't even look at you.

He won’t do much, but he won’t forbid you to think in your own way,” answered Danila. - What brings glory to the state, thanks to Peter, but what takes three skins off a man - the time will come, he will be responsible for it.

The men agree with Danila and nod their heads. And take one and shout:

And you tell the king himself about that!

And I’ll tell you,” Danila answered.

And said. It just didn’t happen right away and here’s how.

Someone reported Danilov’s speeches to the authorities. Soldiers arrived in the village, tied up Danila, and took him to Moscow to the chief, to Prince Romodanovsky himself.

They twisted Danila’s hands, pulled him up on the rack, and began to torture him.

What did he say about the sovereign, who advised him? - asks Prince Romodanovsky.

“What I said was carried away by the wind,” Danila answers.

What?! - Romodanovsky shouted. - Yes, for such speeches you will be impaled, you vile troublemaker!

Plant,” Danila answers. - For a man, it’s all the same where to be. Maybe on a stake is even better than bending your back against the boyars.

Prince Romodanovsky got angry, grabbed an iron rod red-hot in the fire and applied it to Danila’s naked body. Danila became exhausted and hung like a bast.

And at this time Peter entered the hut.

Why is the man on the rack?

Troublemaker, says Prince Romodanovsky. - Against the authorities, sir, bad
says

Peter approached Danila. He opened his eyes slightly and looked at the king in front of him. Got enough
then Danila gave strength and said:

Eh, sir, you started a great thing, but the common people lost their lives. They knocked everything out of the people, like highway robbers. The people, sir, will not forget about such deeds; they will not remember them with a kind word.

And Danila closed his eyes again and dropped his head onto his hairy chest. And Peter seemed to be burned from the inside. He jerked his head to the left, to the right, and threw an angry gaze at Danila.

Hang! - he shouted, as if stung, and walked away from the hut.

For Russian glory

In 1704, Russian troops approached Narva for the second time. The difficult battle ended in complete victory for the Russians.

Peter and Menshikov rode out of the fortress on horseback. Following, a little further away, a group of Russian generals rode. With his shoulders hunched, Peter sat heavily in the saddle and looked wearily at the red withers of his horse. Menshikov, standing up in his stirrups, kept turning his head from side to side and waving his hat in greeting to the oncoming soldiers and officers.

We drove in silence.

“Sire,” Menshikov suddenly said, “Pyotr Alekseevich, look. - And he pointed to the bank of the Narova.

Peter looked. On the river bank, with its barrel raised up, stood a cannon. Soldiers crowded around the cannon, surrounding it on all sides. Climbing onto the carriage with a ladle in his hand, stood the sergeant. He lowered the ladle into the barrel of the cannon, scooped something up with it and distributed it to the soldiers.

“Sir,” said Menshikov, “look, they don’t drink at all.” Well, we came up with it! Look, sir: wine has been poured into the barrel of the cannon! Hey, scorers! Eagles! Heroes!

Peter smiled. Stopped the horse. Soldiers' voices began to be heard.

What are we going to drink for? - asks the sergeant and looks expectantly at the soldiers.

For Tsar Peter! - rushes in response.

For Narva!

For the glorious city of St. Petersburg!

For artillery!

For the comrades who laid down their bellies!

Danilych,” said Peter, “let’s go to the sea.”

An hour later, Peter stood at the very water. The waves licked the soles of Peter's large boots. The king crossed his arms and looked into the distance. Menshikov stood a little further away.

Danilych,” Pyotr called Menshikov, “do you remember our conversation then, in Novgorod?

What about Narva?

That's it. It turns out that it was not in vain that we came here, shed Russian blood and sweat.

Not in vain, sir.

And the factories, it turns out, were not built in vain. And schools...

That’s right, that’s right,” Menshikov echoes.

Danilych, now it’s not a sin for us to drink. Isn’t it a sin, Danilych?

That's right, sir.

So what are we going to drink for?

For Tsar Peter Alekseevich! - Menshikov blurted out.

Fool! - Peter interrupted. - You need to drink for the sea, for Russian glory.

“MY BOOKS ARE FOR THOSE WHO LOVE THEIR NATIVE HISTORY, WHO ARE PROUD OF OUR GREAT PAST, WHO, HAVING BEEN AN ADULT, WILL NOT SPARE THEIR EFFORTS TO CREATE A RICH AND FAIR STATE ON OUR ANCIENT LAND.”

Alekseev Sergei Petrovich was born on April 1, 1922 in Ukraine. There, in the wide open spaces of the countryside, eight happy childhood years passed. Then the parents little Sergei They sent him to Moscow, to his aunts, to receive a capital education.

School, flying club, flight school. Then all the boys dreamed of becoming pilots - Chkalov, Baidukov, Belyakov. Sergei was no exception.

On June 22, 1941, flight school cadet Sergei Alekseev met on the western border - their entire course was sent there for “practice.” And on the very first day of the war there was a bombing. German planes destroyed our entire airfield along with the pilots. Alekseev was among the few survivors.

Then he worked as an instructor pilot. And then there was an accident - the engine stalled during a training flight. Treatment in a hospital, a sanatorium and futile attempts to return to
aviation.

While still in the army, S. Alekseev graduated from the institute in absentia. A diploma of higher education gave him the right to become an editor at the Detgiz publishing house. There he began to write. Soon his books, written lively and excitingly, won the hearts of young readers.

Writer S.P. Alekseev was awarded the title of laureate State Prize RSFSR and the Lenin Komsomol Prize, the international diploma named after H. H. Andersen and many domestic awards. S.P. Alekseev’s books have been translated into dozens of languages ​​around the world. He wrote stories about the first Russian Tsar Ivan the Terrible, about the uprising of Stepan Razin, about Catherine the Second, about Suvorov, about the feat of the Russian people in Patriotic War 1812, about the fate of the Decembrists, about the Great Patriotic War.

The writer died in 2008.