Sergey Alekseev stories about Peter 1. Sergey Alekseev - one hundred stories from Russian history

Stories about the transformations of Tsar Peter I, about how he sought to make the expanses of our country more extensive, and people - educated and enlightened.
For elementary school age.

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User HZRDIRJ writes:

I don’t understand such a large number of positive reviews. I couldn’t even read up to half

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User RGLSCQS writes:

I remember Maria Gripe's tale for its almost carnival brilliance, magical intricacy, and therefore I was very surprised by such a Kafkaesque arrangement. Frankly, I'm not sure that children will appreciate such sketchy minimalism. Illustrations can be called more stylish than charming, but, as they say, tastes differ (although, I confess, I would like Anton Lomaev to illustrate this fairy tale, for example).
“Glassblower’s Children” is such a mix of long-known motifs woven into new pattern. Here are Hansel and Gretel, and the wise raven, good and evil sisters, magic ring, enchanted castle. But there is a little bit of bitterness in everything life experience- mother's fatigue, father's enthusiasm, boredom of the Lady, fear of the Lord. The indifference of adults and the loneliness of children directly related to it. Vegetation of talent and the triumph of mediocrity. And, as a result, everything is crowned with an unchanging paradise in a hut and imaginary buds instead of lush roses. Nice, but a little sad.
The book is good and, as it were, inadvertently touched on rather deep life moments. It does not pull on a masterpiece, but it will allow you to relax and reflect. Scandinavian restraint nevertheless again defeated the fantasy rushing to freedom.

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Alekseev, Sergei Trofimovich

Sergei Trofimovich Alekseev(b. 01/20/1952) is a modern Russian writer.

Biography

Sergey Trofimovich Alekseev was born on January 20, 1952 in the village of Aleyka, Zyryansky District, Tomsk Region. From childhood he began to hunt and fish. He studied at a school located seven kilometers from home, where he had to travel daily on foot.

After graduating from 8 classes, he went to work as a hammerer in the forge of the industrial plant, continuing to study at night school. In 1968 he entered the Tomsk Geological Exploration College. At night, he worked part-time at a candy factory. In 1970, he volunteered for the army, served in a special-purpose battalion in Moscow, and guarded the facilities of the third special department of the USSR Ministry of Finance. He was demobilized in 1972 with the rank of senior sergeant and continued his studies at a technical school, periodically going to practice in field search teams. After graduating in 1974, he left to work as a geologist on a polar expedition to Taimyr.

A year later, he returned to the city of Tomsk and joined the police, began working as a criminal investigation inspector, and received the rank of lieutenant. At the same time he entered to study in absentia at the Faculty of Law of Tomsk State University.

In 1977, he retired from the police, left the university and plunged headlong into the world of creativity, began to write stories and novels. From 1978 and the next few years he worked in the Tomsk integrated geological exploration expedition, in the Tomsk regional newspaper Krasnoe Znamya as a correspondent for the department of petrogeology and construction, and even as a technician at the High Voltage Research Institute. Participated in solo expeditions to Old Believer monasteries, to the Northern and Subpolar Urals and other places. They were subsequently reflected in such novels as The Word, Treasures of the Valkyries, Wolf Grip, etc.

From 1985 to the present, Sergey Trofimovich Alekseev has been living and working in Vologda. He is fond of hunting and construction: he built five houses with his own hands, about a dozen baths, a chapel on the graves of his mother and grandfather, laid down six Russian stoves, including one adobe, and two fireplaces.

Creation

He first wrote the story in 1976, but he himself was frightened of it and burned it in order to resist the temptation. Nevertheless, a year later, Alekseev was again drawn to literature.

In the first novels, he followed mainly the traditions of the so-called

CAPTAIN OF THE BOMBARDING COMPANY [military rank of an artillery officer; scorers - soldiers of the artillery units of the Russian army]

WITHOUT NAVA YOU CAN'T SEE THE SEA

"SOVER, LET ME SAY"

BELLS

HAY, STRAW

ABOUT BOYAR BEARDS

WHAT YOUNG BOYARS LEARNED ABROAD

AZ, BUKI; LEAD…

REJOICE THE SMALL, THEN THE BIG WILL COME

ABOUT DANILA

CITY BY THE SEA

FOR THE GLORY RUSSIAN

Stories about Tsar Peter and his time

Bomb squad captain

The Russian army went to Narva.

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

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

It was a dry autumn. And suddenly it started to rain. The leaves fell from the trees. Washed out the road. The cold has begun. Soldiers are walking along roads washed out by rain, soldiers' feet are drowning knee-deep in mud.

It is difficult for soldiers on the march. A cannon got stuck on a bridge while crossing a small stream. A rotten log was pressed through one of the wheels, fell through the very axis.

Soldiers shout at horses, beat with whips. Horses for a long journey emaciated - skin and bones. The horses are straining with all their might, but there is no benefit - the gun is not moving.

Soldiers crowded around the bridge, surrounded the cannon, trying to pull it out on their hands.

Forward! one shouts.

Back! - The command is given by another.

The soldiers are making noise, arguing, but things are not moving forward. Runs around the gun sergeant. He doesn't know what to come up with.

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

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

The soldiers were frightened, stretched their arms at their sides, froze.

Things are bad, brothers, - said the captain.

That's right, scorer-captain! the soldiers yelled back.

Well, they think the captain will start cursing now.

And there is. The captain approached the cannon and examined the bridge.

Who is the eldest? - asked.

I, mister scorer-captain, - said the sergeant.

So you save military goodness! - 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, turned around - and slap the sergeant on the neck! Then he went up to the cannon again, took off his smart caftan with red lapels, and crawled under the wheels. The captain pulled himself up, picked up the cannon with his heroic shoulder. The soldiers grunted in surprise. They ran up and down. The cannon trembled, the wheel came out of the gap, 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 wagon and galloped on.

The soldiers opened their mouths, looking after the captain.

Gee! said the sergeant.

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

Hey, servicemen, - the general shouted, - didn’t the sovereign’s cart pass here?

No, your highness, - the soldiers answered, - only the bombardier captain passed here.

Bomber captain? the general asked.

Yes sir! the soldiers answered.

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

You can't see the sea without Narva

Well-fed horses run merrily. It overtakes the tsar’s cart, which stretches for many miles, the regiments, goes around the carts stuck in the mud.

A man sits next to Peter. Growth - like a king, only wider in the shoulders. This is Menshikov.

Peter knew Menshikov since childhood. At that time, Menshikov served at the pie-man's as a boy. I walked around the Moscow bazaars and squares, selling pies.

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

Once Aleksashka was fishing on the Yauza River, opposite the village of Preobrazhensky. Suddenly Menshikov looks - a boy is walking. I guessed from the clothes - the young king.

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

Menshikov grabbed a needle and thread and pierced his cheek, so deftly that he extended the thread, but there was not a drop of blood on his cheek.

Peter even cried out in surprise.

More than ten years have passed since that time. Do not recognize now Menshikov. The king has the first friend and adviser. “Alexander Danilovich,” they now respectfully call the former Aleksashka.

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

The horses are running at full speed. They toss the royal wagon on a rough road. Sticky dirt is scattered to the sides.

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

Then Peter lived near Moscow, in the village of Preobrazhensky. Most of all he loved war games. They recruited guys for him, brought guns and cannons. Only there were no real nuclei. They shot with a steamed turnip. Peter will gather his army, divide it into two halves, and the battle begins. Then they count the losses: one had his arm broken, another's side was knocked off, and the third's head was completely pierced.

It used to happen that the boyars would come from Moscow, they would start scolding Peter for funny games, and he would point a gun at them - bang! - and a steamed turnip flies into fat bellies and bearded faces. The boyars will pick up the floors of embroidered clothes - and in different directions. And Peter draws his sword and shouts:

Victory! Victory! The enemy showed his back!

Now the amusing army has grown. These are two real regiments - Preobrazhensky and Semenovsky. The king calls them guards. Together with all the regiments go to Narva, together they knead the impassable mud. “Somehow old buddies will show themselves? Peter thinks. “It’s not for you to fight with the boyars.”

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

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

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

It is not easy, sir, to fight such a fortress, - says Menshikov.

It's not easy, says Peter. - It's necessary. We cannot live without Narva. You can't see the sea without Narva.

"Sir, let me speak"

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

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

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

Nikita puts on an apron, pulls a piece of red-hot iron out of the forge with tongs. Demidov knocks on the iron with a hammer, tells Peter where to hit. Peter is holding a hammer. Peter will turn around, at the indicated place - bang! Only sparks fly to the sides.

So it, so! - says Demidov. And as soon as the king blunders, Nikita will shout:

Wow, curly! Then he will say:

You, sir, do not be angry. Craft - it loves to cry. Here without a cry - that without hands.

Okay, Peter replied.

And now the tsar is back in Tula. “For good reason,” Demidov thinks. “Oh, it’s not without reason that the king has come.” And there is.

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

Does not know what to say Demidov. If you say otherwise, you will only anger the king. But how can one not hear about Narva when everyone around is whispering: they say, the Swedes broke our sides.

Demidov is silent, thinks what to answer.

Don't be cunning, don't be cunning, - says Peter.

Heard, - says Demidov.

That's it, Peter replies. - Guns are needed, Demidych. You know, guns.

How not to understand, sir.

Why, you need a lot of guns, - says Peter.

Understandable, Peter Alekseevich. Only our factories, Tula, are bad. There is no iron, no forest. Woe, not factories.

Peter and Demidov are silent. Peter is sitting 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.

Here it is, our Tula expanse, - says Demidov. - On a log, on a log, like beggars we beg. - And then he leaned over to Peter and spoke quietly, insinuatingly: - Sovereign, allow me to speak.

Peter paused, looked at Demidov, said:

Tell me.

Here my little people went, - said Demidov, - to the Urals. And I, sir, went. That's where the iron! And forests, forests - what is the sea-ocean to you, the end-edge is not visible. That's where, sir, to put the factories. It immediately gives you guns, and bombs, and guns, and every other need.

Ural, you say? - asked Peter.

He is the best, - answered Demidov.

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

Nothing, sir, nothing, - Demidov spoke with conviction. - We will lay roads, there are rivers. What is the distance - there would be a desire. And what a long time, so, tea, we live more than one day. You look, in two years, and the Ural cast iron, and the Ural guns - everything will be.

Peter looks at Demidov, understands that Nikita has long thought about the Urals. Demidov does not take his eyes off Peter, waiting for the royal word.

Okay, Nikita Demidovich, - Peter finally says, - be your way, I will write a decree, you will go to the Urals. You will receive money from the treasury, you will receive little people - and with God. Yes, look at me. Know: there are no more important things in the state now. Remember. Let me down - I will not regret it.

A month later, taking the best miners and gunsmiths, Demidov left for the Urals.

And Peter during this time managed to send people to Bryansk, and to Lipetsk, and to other cities. In many places in Russia, Peter ordered to extract iron and build factories.

bells

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

Menshikov's eyes widened in surprise.

What are you staring at? Peter shouted at him. - Copper is needed, cast iron is needed, we will pour bells on cannons. Guns, you understand?

Right, sir, right, - Menshikov began to assent, but he himself could not understand whether the tsar was joking or telling the truth.

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

Soldiers also arrived in the large village of Lopasnya, in the Assumption Cathedral. The soldiers arrived in the village at nightfall, drove in under the evening ringing. Bells hummed in the winter air, shimmering with different voices. The sergeant counted the bells on his fingers - eight.

While the soldiers were unharnessing the frozen horses, the sergeant went to the rector's house - the head priest. Upon learning what was the matter, the abbot frowned and wrinkled his forehead. However, he met the sergeant cordially and spoke:

Come in, serviceman, come in, call your little soldiers. Tea, we got stuck on the way, we got cold.

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

The abbot fed the soldiers, 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 and it dangled.

The sergeant rushed to the abbot.

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

And the abbot throws up his hands and says:

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

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

What are you, soldier, what are you! The priest waved his hands. - What are you thinking! Did it seem to you from drunken eyes.

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

The sergeant threatened to report to Moscow.

Deliver, - the abbot answered.

However, the sergeant did not write. I realized that he should be responsible. I decided to stay in Lopasna, to conduct a search.

Soldiers live for a week or two. They walk the streets, they visit houses. Only about the bells no one knows anything. “There were,” they say, “but we don’t know where now.”

During this time, a boy became attached to the sergeant - his name was Fedka. Goes for the sergeant, examines the fuzea, asks about the war. Such a smart one - he strives to steal a cartridge from the sergeant.

Don't pamper! says the sergeant. - Find out where the priests of the bell hid - your patron.

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

Yah! the sergeant did not believe.

Oh god, I found it! Come on patron.

No, says the sergeant, we'll see about that.

Fedka led the sergeant out of the village, runs on homemade skis along the river bank, the sergeant barely keeps up with him. The snow is spinning, the snow is rolling over the crust. Fedka is well, he is on skis, but the sergeant stumbles, falls into the snow up to his waist.

Come on, uncle, come on, - Fedka encourages, - soon!

They ran away from the village about three versts. Behind the steep bank they descended onto the ice.

Right here, - says Fedka.

The sergeant looked - ice hole. And next - more, and a little further - more and more. I counted seven. Ropes frozen to the ice stretch from each hole. The sergeant understood where the rector of the bell had hidden it: under the ice, into the water. The sergeant was delighted, gave Fedka a cartridge and rushed faster into the village.

The sergeant ordered the soldiers to harness the horses, and he himself went to the rector, saying:

Forgive me, father: you see, indeed, with drunken eyes, I then mixed it up. We are leaving Lopasnya today. Don't be angry, pray to God for us.

Good luck! the abbot smiled. - Good luck, officer. I will pray.

The next day the rector gathered the parishioners.

Well, it's over, - he said, - the trouble has passed away.

The parishioners went to the river to pull out the bells, stuck themselves in the hole, and it was empty there.

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

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

hay, straw

The Russians understood after Narva that you could not fight against the Swede with an untrained army. Peter decided to start a standing army. As long as there is no war, let the soldiers master rifle techniques, get used to discipline and order.

Once 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, giving orders. Peter listened: some unusual commands.

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

"What?" thought Peter. He stopped his horse, took a closer look: something was imposed on the feet of the soldiers. The king saw: hay on his left leg, straw on his right.

The officer saw Peter, shouted:

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

Bombardier Captain, officer Vyazemsky's company is learning to walk!

At ease! Peter commanded.

The Tsar liked Vyazemsky. Peter wanted to get angry for "hay, straw", but now he has changed his mind. Vyazemsky asks:

What is it you have imposed on the soldiers' feet all sorts of rubbish?

Not bad at all, bombardier-captain, - the officer answers.

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

Vyazemsky is all his own.

Not at all, he says. - This is to make it easier for soldiers to learn. Darkness, scorer-captain, they can't remember where the left leg is, where the right one is. But hay is not confused with straw: rural.

The king marveled at the invention and chuckled.

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

Who is 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 an old family, and houses were bursting with wealth, and each of them had more than one thousand serfs.

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

And suddenly a royal decree came out: to shave beards. Under Peter, new orders were introduced in Russia: beards were ordered to be shaved, and foreign-style dresses were ordered, and coffee was drunk, and tobacco was smoked, and much more.

Upon learning of the new decree, Buynosov and Kurnosov sighed and groaned. They agreed not to shave the beards, and in order not to catch the eye of the king, they decided to pretend to be sick.

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

The boyars began to argue who should go first.

You go, - says Buynosov.

No, you, - answers Kurnosov.

They threw lots, got Buynosov.

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

Do not destroy, sovereign, - he asks, - do not shame in old age!

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

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

But Buynosov is on all fours and repeats everything: “Do not be ashamed, sir.”

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

Buynosov returned to Kurnosov, all in tears, holding his bare chin with his hand, he could not really tell anything.

Kurnosov became afraid to go to the tsar. The boyar decided to run to Menshikov, asking for advice and help.

Help, Alexander Danilych, talk to the tsar, Kurnosov asks.

Menshikov thought for a long time how to start a conversation with Peter. Finally came, says:

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, received a copper plaque with the inscription: "The money has been taken." Kurnosov put on a badge around his neck, like a cross. Whoever stops, binds, why didn’t he cut his beard, he raises his beard and shows the badge.

Kurnosov became even more proud now, 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, - the collectors say, - the term is over. Pay for a new one.

Kurnosov had to pay again. And a year later, and again. Then Kurnosov thought about it, figured it out with his mind. It turns out that soon there will be nothing left of all Kurnosov's riches. Only one beard will be.

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

The next day, Menshikov told the tsar about Kurnosov's beard. Peter laughed.

So they, fools, need, - he said, - let them get used to the new order. And as for the money, it's you, Danilych, who cleverly came up with it. From one Kurnosov's beard, I suppose, they sewed uniforms for an entire division.

What young boyars studied abroad

Before Buynosov and Kurnosov had time to forget the old tsarist grievances, there was a new one. Peter ordered to collect fifty of the most distinguished boyar sons and send them abroad to study. Buynosov and Kurnosov had to send their sons as well.

Cries and weeping arose in the boyar houses. Nurses are running, people are fussing, as if not seeing off, but grief in the house.

Buynosovskaya wife dispersed.

A single son - and God knows where, to a foreign land, to hell in the mouth, to the German's mouth! I won't let you! Will not give it back!

Hush! - Buinosov shouted at his wife. - Sovereign order, fool! Did you want to go to Siberia, to the gallows?

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

Stupid! You won’t break the butt with a whip, you won’t leave the adversary king! Hold on, old one.

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

Well, tell me, Buynosov, son of a boyar, - Peter demanded, - how did you live abroad.

Well, sir, life was good, - Buinosov answers. - They are affectionate, friendly people, not like our men - they are happy to grab each other's beards.

Well, what have you learned?

Much, my lord. Instead of "father" - "fatter" learned to speak, instead of "mother" - "mutter".

Well, what else? asked Peter.

I have learned to bow again, sire, with double and triple bows, I have learned to dance, I know how to play overseas games.

Yes, - said Peter, - you have been taught a lot. Well, how did you like being abroad?

Oh, how you liked it, sir! I want to go to the Ambassadorial Order: it hurts me to live abroad.

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

What can I say, sir… Ask.

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

Fortification, sir, - answers Kurnosov, - is a military science, which has the goal of protecting troops from the enemy. Fortification should be known to every military commander, like the back of his hand.

Definitely, says Peter. - Definitely. And what is a lotion?

Lotsiya, sir, - answers Kurnosov, - is a description of the sea or river, indicating on it shallows and depths, winds and currents, all that can become an obstacle on the way of the ship. Lotsiya, sovereign, the first thing you need to know when taking on seafaring affairs.

Effectively, efficiently, - Peter says again. - What else have you learned?

Yes, sir, I looked closely at the whole thing, - answers Kurnosov, - and how to build ships, and how the ore business was set up there, and how they treat diseases. Nothing, thanks to the Dutch and Germans. They are knowledgeable people, good people. Only, I think, sir, it is not appropriate for us to find fault with our own, Russian. Our country is no worse, and our people are no worse, and no less good.

Well done! - said Peter. - Justified, consoled. - And Peter kissed the young Kurnosov. “And you,” said Pyotr, turning to Buinosov, “you can see how stupid you were, and still are. I wanted to go abroad! Look, Russia is not dear to you. Get out of my sight!

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

Az, beeches, lead ...

In Russia at that time there were few literate people. Children were taught in some places 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 opened a school in the city of Serpukhov, which is halfway between Moscow and Tula. The teacher arrived.

The teacher came to the school, waiting for the students. Waiting for a day, a second, a third - no one comes.

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

Why, - he asks, - does his son not go to school?

There is nothing for him to do there! - the merchant answers. - We lived without letters, and he will live. This occupation is demonic - school.

The teacher went into the house of the shoemaker.

Is it really our business - the school! - answers the master. - Our job is to sew boots. There is nothing to waste time in vain, to listen to all nonsense!

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

What can I do! - He speaks. - It's my father's business. There is something for someone: one - a letter, and the other, go, a letter is not needed.

The teacher looks at the governor, understands that there will be no use from him, got angry, says:

If so, I will write to the sovereign himself.

The governor looked at the teacher. He looks determined. Understood: keep his threat.

Okay, take your time, - he says, - go to school.

The teacher returned to school and waited. Soon he hears a clatter outside the window. I looked: soldiers with guns were coming, they were leading the guys.

Soldiers accompanied the guys for a whole week. And then nothing, you see, the fathers reconciled, got used to it. Pupils began to run to school.

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

Ah, said the teacher. (This means the letter "a".)

Az, - the students repeat in unison.

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

Beeches, - repeat in the class.

Then came the arithmetic.

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

One and one - two, - the students repeat.

Soon the children learned to write letters and add numbers.

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

And once Peter was driving 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 school. Decided to check. Peter enters the classroom, and there are a lot of guys there. Peter was surprised, he asks the teacher how he gathered so many students.

The teacher told everything as it happened.

That's great! Peter laughed. - Well done governor. It's our way. Right. I’ll order them to drag children to school by force in other places as well. Our little people are frail in mind, they do not understand their own benefit, they do not care about the affairs of the state. And literate people, oh how we need! The death of Russia without knowledgeable people.

Rejoice in the little, then the big will come

It's time for us to have our own newspaper, - Peter said more than once to his close associates. - From the newspaper and the merchant, and the boyar, and the townspeople - all benefit.

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

And at that time, Peter, together with the printing master Fedor Polikarpov, selected 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 before the tsar, like a soldier, reads:

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

Write, - says Peter, - let everyone know that the loss near Narva is nothing with what you can do if you wish.

And yet, sir, they report, - continued Polikarpov, - that in Moscow four hundred cannons were cast from bell iron.

And write this, - says Peter, - let them know that Peter did not shoot the bells in vain.

And from the Nevyansk plant, from Nikita Demidov, they write that the factory men have perpetrated a riot and now the boyars and merchants have no life from them.

Don't write this, says Peter. - Order better to send soldiers and for such things to pour peasants.

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

And write this, - says Peter, - let them know that in Russia there is no end of wealth, those riches have not yet been counted ...

Peter sits, listens. Then he takes the papers. On what to print, he puts a red cross, puts the unnecessary aside.

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

And also, - says Peter, - write, Fedor, about schools, but great - so that everyone sees the benefits of this business.

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

Look, - he says, - the newspaper, its own, Russian, the first!

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

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

Well, the newspaper, sir! So I was in the German city of Hamburg, so there is a newspaper, so a newspaper!

Joy vanished from Peter's face. Darkened, frowned.

Oh you! - spoke. - Wrong place, prince, you think. And Golovin! And also a prince! Found something to surprise - "in the German city of Hamburg"! I know myself. Better, someone else's. Tea, and they were not all right right away. Give me time. Rejoice in the little, then the big will come.

About Danila

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

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

The Swede is strong, strong, - the men said, - not like us. And why do we need the sea? We lived and will live without the sea.

That's not true, - said Daniel. - Not the Swede is strong, but we are weak. And the sea is wrong. Russia cannot be without the sea. And to catch fish, and to conduct trade, for many things the sea is necessary.

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

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

The women cried, crossed themselves, the peasants walked around gloomy, everyone was waiting for trouble. But Danila is not like everyone else here. Again in my own way.

That's the way it should be, he said. - Here interest for the state is more expensive, than bells. The Lord God will not condemn such deeds.

Blasphemer! - Batiushka then called Danila and from that time harbored great anger at him.

And soon Peter introduced new taxes. The peasants moaned, dragged the last crumbs into the treasury.

Well, how do you, - they asked Danila, - the new tsarist order? Again right?

No, - answered Danila, - I do not agree with the king in everything.

Look you! the men snapped. - He's with the king! Found a friend. The king will not even look at you.

Few things will not, but they won’t forbid thinking in their own way, ”Danila answered. - What brings glory to the state, thanks to Peter for that, and what pulls three skins from a peasant - the time will come, he will be responsible for this.

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

And you tell the king himself about it!

And I'll tell you, - Daniel answered.

And said. But it didn't happen all at once, and here's how.

Someone denounced 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.

Danila's hands were twisted, reared up, and tortured.

What did he say about the sovereign, who thought it up? - asks Prince Romodanovsky.

And what he said, the wind carried away, - Danila answers.

What? Romodanovsky shouted. - Yes, for such speeches on the count of you, troublemaker filthy!

Plant, - Danila answers. - A man is all the same where to be. Maybe it’s even better for a stake than to bend your back to the boyars.

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

And at this time, Peter entered the hut.

Why is the man on the rack?

A troublemaker, says the prince. - Against the authorities, sovereign, he says evil.

Peter approached Daniel. He opened his eyes, looks - before him is the king. Then Danila gathered strength and said:

Eh, sir, you started a great business, but only the common people did not live. They knocked out everything from the people, like robbers on a high road. The people, sir, will not forget about such things, they will not remember with a kind word.

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

Hang up! - shouted as if stung and went out of the hut away.

City by the sea

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

The banks of the Neva are deserted: forests, swamps and impassable thickets. And it is difficult to drive, and there is 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 - an island. Peter got out of the boat, began to walk around the island. The island is long, smooth as a palm. Sickly bushes stick out like tufts, moss and dampness underfoot.

Well, the place, sir! Menshikov said.

What is the place? A place is a place, - answered Peter. - Noble place: the sea.

Oh yes Alexashka, oh yes look! Peter laughed.

Well, damn places! Menshikov said with resentment. - Sir, go back. There is nothing to measure these swamps.

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

Menshikov reluctantly trudged behind.

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

Pyotr went up to the tussock, carefully parted the bushes, and Menshikov saw the nest. There was a bird in the nest. She looked at people, did not fly away.

Look at you, - said Menshikov, - 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 rolled its waves with camel humps, threw it on the shore, beat on pebbles.

Peter stood with his shoulders squared, breathing with all his chest. The sea wind ruffled the skirts of the caftan, now turning the front green side, then the inside - 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, only he did not answer.

Danilych! Peter spoke again.

Menshikov was worried.

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

Menshikov even dropped his jackboot from his hands.

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

Yes, - Peter answered and walked along the shore.

And Menshikov held the jackboot and looked with surprise and delight at the receding figure of Peter.

For the construction of a new city, artisans were gathered to the Neva from all over Russia: carpenters, joiners, masons, they caught up with ordinary peasants.

Together with his father, Silantiy Dymov, little Nikitka also came to the new city. They gave 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 fires over the city. This is a signal. The workers get up, and Nikitkin's father gets up too. The whole day the workers dig in the mud, in the swamp. Ditches are dug, forests are felled, heavy logs are hauled. They return home after dark. Tired ones will come, hang wet footcloths near the stove, arrange holey boots and bast shoes, sip on empty cabbage soup and fall on the bunk. They sleep like the dead until the morning.

And just a little light the cannon rumbles again.

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

The workers got used to Nikita. They will look at him - a house, a family will be remembered. Loved Nikita. “Nikita, bring water,” they will ask. Nikita is running. "Nikita, tell me how you stole tobacco from a soldier." Nikita says.

Nikita lived happily until autumn. But autumn came, the rains came. Nikita is bored. Sits all day in a dugout alone. In the dugout, the water is knee-deep. Nikita is bored.

Then Silantius cut down a toy from a log for his son - a soldier with a gun.

Nikita cheered up.

Get up! - gives a command.

The soldier stands, does not blink an eye.

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

Nikitka will play enough, will start scooping up water. He drags water to the street, just takes a break - and the water has again accumulated. At least cry!

Soon famine began in the city. They didn't stock up on food for the fall, and the roads got wet. Diseases have gone. People began to die like flies.

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

You don't know how?! shouted the officer.

My son is here. Ailing. The son is dying...

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

Nikita, Nikita! - Silantiy disturbs his son.

Nikita is lying, not moving. Lying nearby is Nikitkin's toy - a soldier with a gun. Dead Nikita.

Nikitka's coffin was not made. They were buried, like everyone else, in a common grave.

Silantius did not live long after that either. By the frosts, 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 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 hard battle ended in a 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. Hunching his shoulders, Peter sat heavily in the saddle and looked wearily at the red withers of his horse, Menshikov, standing up in the stirrups, now and then turned his head from side to side and waved his hat in greeting to the oncoming soldiers and officers.

They drove in silence.

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

Peter looked. On the bank of the river, with its barrel up, stood a cannon. Soldiers crowded around the cannon, surrounding it from 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 up something with it and distributed it to the soldiers.

Sovereign, - said Menshikov, - look, no way, they drink. Well, they figured it out! Look, my lord: wine has been poured into the barrel of the cannon! Hey bombers! Eagles! Heroes!

Peter smiled. Stopped the horse. Soldiers' voices were heard.

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

For Tsar Peter! - is carried in response.

For Narva!

To 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 over the knee boots. The king folded his arms and looked into the distance. Menshikov stood a little further away.

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

And Narva?

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

Not in vain, my lord.

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

Right. That's right, Menshikov agrees.

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

That's right, sir.

So why are we drinking?

For Tsar Peter Alekseich! - blurted out Menshikov.

Fool! interrupted Peter. - Over the sea it is necessary to drink, for the glory of Russia.

Roman-newspaper for children № 9, 2009

Sergey Alekseev

Stories about Tsar Peter I and his time

Artist Y. Ivanov

What young boyars studied abroad

Before Buynosov and Kurnosov had time to forget the old tsarist grievances, there was a new one. Ordered
Peter to collect fifty of the most distinguished boyar sons and send them abroad to study. Buynosov and Kurnosov had to send their sons as well.

Cries and weeping arose in the boyar houses. Nurses are running around, people are fussing, as if not seeing off, but grief in the house.

Buinosov's wife dispersed:

A single son - and God knows where, to a foreign land, to hell in the mouth, to the German in the mouth! I won't let you! Will not give it back!

Hush! - Buinosov shouted at his wife. - Sovereign order, fool! Wanted to go to Siberia
to the gallows?

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

Stupid! You can’t break a butt with a whip, you can’t get away from the adversary king! Hold on, old one.

A year later, the young boyars returned. They called them to the king to determine the sovereign
service.

Well, tell me, Buynosov, boyar son, - demanded Peter, - how did you live
Abroad.

Well, sir, life was good, - Buinosov answers. - The people are affectionate, friendly,
not like our men - they are happy to grab each other's beards.

Well, what have you learned?

- A lot, sir! Instead of "father" - "fatter" learned to speak, instead of
"mother" - "mutter".

Well, what else? - asks Peter.

I have learned to bow again, sire, and bow twice and triple, I have learned to dance, I know how to play overseas games.

Yes, - said Peter, - you have been taught a lot. Well, how did you like being abroad?

How you liked it, my lord! I want to go to the Posolsky Prikaz: it hurts me
live on the border.

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

What can I say, sir... Ask.

Okay, says Peter. - And tell me, Kurnosov, son of the boyars, what is the form
certification?

Fortification, sir, - Kurnosov answers, - is a military science that has
the purpose of covering the troops from the enemy. Fortification should be known to every military commander like the back of his hand.

Definitely, says Peter. - Definitely. And what is a lotion?

- Pilot, sir, - replies Kurnosov, - there is a description of the sea or river, indicating on it the shoals and depths, winds and currents, all that can become an obstacle on the way of the ship. Lotsiya, sovereign, the first thing you need to know when taking on seafaring affairs.

Effectively, efficiently, - Peter says again. - What else did you learn?

Yes, sir, I looked closely at everything, - answers Kurnosov, - and how to build ships, and how the ore business was set up there, and how they treat diseases. Nothing, thanks to the Dutch and Germans. They are knowledgeable people, good people. I just think, sir, it is not appropriate for us to find fault with our own, Russian. Our country is no worse, and our people are no worse, and no less good.

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

And you, - he said, turning to Buynosov, - you can see how you were a fool, and you remain. I wanted to go abroad! Look, Russia is not dear to you. Get out of my sight!

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

Az, beeches, lead ...

In Russia at that time there were few literate people. They taught the guys in some places at churches, yes
sometimes in rich houses they had invited teachers.

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

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

The teacher came to the school, waiting for the students. Waiting for the day, the second, the third - no one
goes.

Then the teacher got together, began to go from house to house, to find out what was the matter. Went into a house
summoned the owner, a local merchant.

Why, - he asks, - does his son not go to school?

There is nothing for him to do there! - the merchant answers. - We lived without letters, and he will live.
This occupation is demonic - school.

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

Is it really our business - the school! - answers the master. - Our job is to sew boots. There is nothing to waste time in vain, to listen to all nonsense!

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

What can I do? - He speaks. - It's my father's business. There is something for someone: one - a letter, and the other, go, a letter is not needed.

The teacher looks at the governor, he understands that there will be no help from him. Angry, he says:

If so, I will write to the sovereign himself.

The governor looked at the teacher. He looks determined. Understood: keep his threat.

Okay, take your time, - he says, - go to school.

The teacher returned to school and waited. Soon he hears a clatter outside the window. I looked: soldiers with guns were coming, they were leading the guys.

Soldiers accompanied the guys for a whole week. And then nothing, you see, the fathers reconciled, got used to it. Pupils began to run to school.

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

Ah, says the teacher. (This means the letter "a".)

Az, - the students repeat in unison.

Beeches, 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 - two, - the students repeat.

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

And once Peter was driving 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. Decided to check. Pyotr enters the classroom, and there are a lot of guys there. Peter was surprised, he asks the teacher how he gathered so many students.

The teacher told everything as it happened.

That's great! Peter laughed. - Well done governor. It's our way. Right. I’ll order them to drag children to schools by force in other places. Our little people are frail in mind, they do not understand their own benefit, they do not care about the affairs of the state. And literate people, oh how we need! The death of Russia without knowledgeable people.

Rejoice in the little, then the big will come

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

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

Meanwhile, Peter, together with the print master Fyodor Polikarpov, selected
Materials for the first issue of the Russian newspaper.

Polikarpov, tall, thin, with glasses at the very end of his nose, stands at attention before the tsar, like a soldier, reads:

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

Write, - says Peter, - let everyone know that the loss near Narva is nothing with what you can do if you wish.

And yet, sovereign, they report, - continues Polikarpov, - that four hundred cannons were cast from bell iron in Moscow.

And write this, - says Peter, - let them know that Peter did not shoot the bells in vain.

And from the Nevyanovsky plant, from Nikita Demidov, they write that the factory men have perpetrated a riot and now the boyars and merchants have no life from them.

Don't write this, says Peter. - Order better to send soldiers and for such things to pour peasants.

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

Write it down, says Peter. - Let them know that in Russia there is no end of wealth, those riches have not yet been counted ...

Peter sits, listens. Then he takes papers. On what to print, he puts a red cross, puts the unnecessary aside.

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

And also, - says Peter, - write, Fedor, about schools, but great - so that everyone
saw the benefit of this business.

A few days later the newspaper was printed. They called it "Vedomosti". The newspaper turned out to be small, the font is small, it is difficult to read, there are no margins, the paper is gray. The newspaper is so-so. But Peter is pleased: the first. He grabbed Vedomosti and ran to the palace. Whomever you meet
shows the newspaper.

Look, - he says, - the newspaper, its own, Russian, the first!

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

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

Well, the newspaper, sir! So I was in the German city of Hamburg, so there is a newspaper, so a newspaper!

Joy vanished from Peter's face. Darkened, frowned.

Oh you! - spoke. - Wrong place, prince, you think. And Golovin! And also the prince! Found something to surprise - "in the German city of Hamburg"! I know myself. Better, someone else's. Tea, and they did not immediately feel good. Give me time. Rejoice in the little, then the big will come.

City by the sea

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

The banks of the Neva are deserted: forests, swamps and impassable thickets. And it is difficult to drive, and there is 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 - an island. Peter got out of the boat, began to walk around the island. The island is long, smooth, like a palm. Sickly bushes stick out like tufts, moss and dampness underfoot.

Well, the place, sir! Menshikov said.

What is the place? A place is a place, - answered Peter. - Noble place: the sea.

Oh yes Alexashka, oh yes look! Peter laughed.

Well, damn places! Menshikov said with resentment. - Sir, go back. There is nothing to measure these swamps.

Why go back, go ahead, Danilych. Tea, they came here to host, not as guests, ”Pyotr answered and walked to the sea.

Menshikov reluctantly trudged behind.

- But look, - Peter turned to Menshikov. - You say there is no life,
What is this, not your life?

Pyotr went up to the tussock, carefully parted the bushes, and Menshikov saw the nest. AT
a bird was sitting in the nest. She looked at people and did not fly away.

Look at you, - said Menshikov, - 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 is a camel's hump -
We rolled our waves, threw us on the shore, beat on pebbles.

Peter stood with his shoulders squared, breathing with all his chest. The sea wind ruffled the skirts of the caftan, now turning the front green side, then the inside - 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, only he did not answer.

Danilych! Peter spoke again.

Menshikov was worried.

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

Menshikov even dropped his jackboot from his hands.

City? he asked. - Here, in these swamps, the city ?!

Yes, - Peter answered and walked along the shore.

And Menshikov held the jackboot and looked with surprise and delight at the receding figure of Peter.

For the construction of a new city, artisans were gathered to the Neva from all over Russia: carpenters, joiners, masons, they caught up with ordinary peasants.

Together with his father, Silantiy Dymov, little Nikitka also came to the new city. They gave 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 fires over the city. This is a signal. The workers get up, and Nikita's father also gets up. The whole day the workers dig in the mud, in the swamp. Ditches are dug, forests are felled, and heavy logs are hauled. They return home after dark. Tired ones will come, hang wet footcloths near the stove, arrange holey boots and bast shoes, sip on empty cabbage soup and fall on the bunk. They sleep like the dead until the morning.

And just a little light the cannon rumbles again.

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

The workers got used to Nikita. They will look at him - a house, a family will be remembered. Loved Nikita. “Nikita, bring water,” they will ask. Nikita is running. "Nikita, tell me how you stole tobacco from a soldier." Nikita says.

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

Then Silantiy cut down a toy from a log for his son - a soldier with a gun.

Nikita cheered up.

Get up! - gives a command.

The soldier stands, does not blink an eye.

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

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

Soon famine began in the city. They didn't stock up on food for the fall, and the roads got wet. Diseases have gone. People began to die like flies.

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

You don't know how?! the officer shouted at Silantius.

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

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

Nikita, Nikita! - Silantiy disturbs his son.

Nikita is lying, not moving. Lying nearby is Nikitkin's toy - a soldier with a gun. Dead Nikita.

Nikitka's coffin was not made. They were buried, like everyone else, in a common grave.

Silantius did not live long after that either. By the frosts, 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 Petersburg.

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

About Danila

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

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

The Swede is strong, strong, - the men said, - not like us. And why do we need the sea? lived
and live without the sea.

That's not true, - said Daniel. - Not the Swede is strong, but we are weak. And the sea is wrong. Russia cannot be without the sea. And to catch fish, and to drive trade, for many the sea
necessary.

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

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

The women cried, crossed themselves, the peasants walked around gloomy, everyone was waiting for trouble. But Danila is not like everyone else here. Again in my own way.

That's the way it should be, he said. - Here interest for the state is more expensive, than bells. The Lord God will not condemn such deeds.

Blasphemer! - Batiushka then called Danila and from that time harbored great anger at him.

And soon Peter introduced new taxes. The men groaned, dragged the last
crumbs.

Well, how do you, - they asked Danila, - the new tsarist orders? Again right?

No, - answered Danila, - I do not agree with the king in everything.

Look you! - the men snapped. - He's with the king! Found a friend. The king will not even look at you.

Few things will not, but they won’t forbid thinking in their own way, ”Danila answered. - What brings glory to the state, thanks to Peter for that, and what tears three skins from a peasant - the time will come, he will be responsible for this.

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

And you tell the king himself about it!

And I'll tell you, - Daniel answered.

And said. But it didn't happen all at once, 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.

Danila's hands were twisted, reared up, and tortured.

What did he say about the sovereign, who thought it up? - asks Prince Romodanovsky.

And what he said, the wind took away, - Danila answers.

What?! Romodanovsky shouted. - Yes, for such speeches, put you on a stake, you filthy troublemaker!

Plant, - Danila answers. - A man is all the same where to be. Maybe it’s even better for a stake than to bend your back to the boyars.

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

And at this time, Peter entered the hut.

Why is the man on the rack?

Troublemaker, - says Prince Romodanovsky. - Opposite to power, sovereign, bad
says.

Peter approached Daniel. He opened his eyes, looks - before him is the king. plucked up
then Danila forces and said:

Eh, sir, you started a great business, but only the common people did not live. They beat everything out of the people, like robbers on a high road. The people, sir, will not forget about such things, they will not remember with a kind word.

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

Hang up! - shouted, as if stung, and went away from the hut.

For Russian glory

In 1704, Russian troops approached Narva for the second time. The hard battle ended in a 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. Hunching his shoulders, Peter sat heavily in the saddle and looked wearily at the red withers of his horse. Menshikov, standing up in his stirrups, now and then turned his head from side to side and waved his hat in greeting to the oncoming soldiers and officers.

They drove in silence.

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

Peter looked. On the bank of the river, with its barrel up, stood a cannon. Soldiers crowded around the cannon, surrounding it from 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 up something with it and distributed it to the soldiers.

Sovereign, - Menshikov said, - look, they don’t drink at all. Well, they figured it out! Look, my lord: wine has been poured into the barrel of the cannon! Hey bombers! Eagles! Heroes!

Peter smiled. Stopped the horse. Soldiers' voices were heard.

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

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, - Peter said, - let's go to the sea.

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

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

And Narva?

That's it. It turns out that it was not in vain that we used to come here, the Russians shed blood and sweat.

Not in vain, my lord.

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

That's right, that's right, - Menshikov agrees.

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

That's right, sir.

So why are we drinking?

For Tsar Peter Alekseevich! - blurted out Menshikov.

Fool! interrupted Peter. - Over the sea it is necessary to drink, for the glory of Russia.

“MY BOOKS ARE FOR THOSE WHO LOVES THE NATIVE HISTORY, WHO ARE PROUD OF OUR GREAT PAST, WHO, BECOMING ADULT, AND WILL NOT RESPECT THEIR EFFORT TO CREATE A RICH AND JUST STATE ON OUR ANCIENT EARTH.”

Alekseev Sergey Petrovich was born on April 1, 1922 in Ukraine. There, in the wide countryside, eight happy childhood years passed. Then parents little Sergei sent him to Moscow, to his aunts, to receive a metropolitan 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, a 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 - the 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 in a training flight. Treatment in the 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 in a lively and exciting way, 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 G. Kh. Andersen and many domestic prizes. The books of S.P. Alekseev have been translated into dozens of languages ​​of the world. He wrote stories about the first Russian Tsar Ivan the Terrible, about the uprising of Stepan Razin, about Catherine II, about Suvorov, about the heroism of the Russian people in Patriotic war 1812, about the fate of the Decembrists, about the Great Patriotic War.

The writer died in 2008.