Ksenia Gemp "The Tale of the White Sea"
Russian North!
It is difficult for me to express in words my admiration for this land, my admiration for it.
The most important thing that the North cannot but touch the heart of every Russian person is that he is the most Russian. He is not only mentally Russian - he is Russian in that he played an outstanding role in Russian culture. He saved Russian bylinas, Russian ancient customs, Russian wooden architecture, Russian musical culture from oblivion.
From here came the remarkable Russian explorers, polar explorers and warriors of unparalleled stamina.
There are not so many books about the Russian North. There are books about northern wooden architecture, northern crafts, northern folklore, but about the North as such, about courageous and simple northerners who have never experienced the oppressive humiliation of serfdom and who have preserved in all manner of work, behave, communicate with each other. respect for a person - there are almost no such books. Therefore, I am happy to recommend the book by Ksenia Petrovna Gemp.
I first met the White Sea, its shores, villages and villages of the Pomors, with their way of life and culture in 1903. It was a six week trip.
In the villages designated for summer holidays, they thoroughly settled with one of the local residents.
Fresh, with a chill in the morning, the air smelling of grass, swamp and warmth of the lower yard, the lingering mooing of cows gathering in the herd under the play of the shepherd's horn, the ringing of bells tied around the neck of each cow, the roll call of voiced housewives chased away the last remnants of sleep.
After breakfast we rushed with the village children to the sea.
And in the evenings it was a great pleasure to watch how they put or remove fish stabs on the rivers, wait on the fire for the return of fishermen from the sea, listen to the conversations of our elders with the pomorie.
Everything was new and special for us. Everything was remembered forever, increased interest and love for their land. In my youth and adulthood, I visited, also more than once and at different times of the year, on all shores and in all parts of the White Sea. But impressions, childhood and youth, about the first opened White Sea region have not disappeared and have not disappeared until now.
All that was was our history, our great cultural heritage, the hard work of our ancestors, which demanded courage, courage, ingenuity, work is often hard, and even, as the Pomors used to say, disruptive. In this work, a person cognized the world, his land and established himself in his strengths, capabilities, tempered his character.
And he proved the fidelity of Lomonosov's words: "There is no limit to man's courage."
Where does the Pomor name come from:
Numerous documents speak about the settlement of the White Sea in the 14th century: chronicles, scribes, grand ducal letters and decrees. The absence of the Tatar yoke in the North, the absence of serfdom, provided the Pomors with a freer life and the further development of the cultural and technical values \u200b\u200bbrought to the settlers: literacy, building skills, architectural techniques, poetic creativity - songs and legends. The harsh nature - collapsed forests, swamps had to be mastered. In this work, at the same time, a lumberjack, a builder, a breadwinner, the character of the Pomor was formed, his courage, ingenuity, life and customs were formed and consolidated.
And what is especially noteworthy, during the 13-16 centuries, on the basis of the Russian vocabulary - both Novgorodians and newcomers from the central regions - the White Sea vocabulary was finally determined.
The population of the White Sea region hunted fish, sea and fur animals, cooked salt, raised livestock, cultivated vegetable gardens. The pearl craft developed.
All those who came back to hunt in the White Sea were initially placed in bays, near fresh water, at the mouths of rivers and streams, of which there are many flows into the White Sea, temporary shelters, and then, having got used to the natural conditions, finding out where to put a hut, take a forest for a construction site, where hayfields and hunting, where and what can be hunted in the sea, have already settled firmly, by the owners. The first settlements - odnodvorki were scattered among the rare settlements of Karelians and Sami. Over time, one-family homesteads grew into large settlements.
These large villages and villages of the Belomorye adorned the banks. There were chopped and log mansions-huts on the corners.
The house was cut down, now to dress and settle it. All the old Pomor buildings are distinguished not only by the proportionality of the architectural lines, completeness, but also by their practicality. There is nothing superfluous in them, but they have everything necessary for living in the North, for the work of a Pomor family. Povet is one of the main outbuildings in the White Sea region. It served as a hayloft, and in addition, various things for commercial, agricultural and household purposes were kept here. From the street, there was a special entrance to it - an inclined flooring of thin logs on supports. Barns and baths were erected separately from residential and utility buildings. Grain and fishing equipment were stored in barns.
Baths in the White Sea were built in one room - a soap-room with a window or in two - with the addition of a dressing room. In some saunas, even 20 years ago, a heater was kept for heating - a stove made of stones. Birch brooms were preferred, but birch is not found everywhere; willow brooms were also used.
Earlier in Pomorie, they wove a lot and well from wool. Pomorie knitted well. Other types of women's needlework - embroidery, lace knitting, were less common. The Pomeranian family is a kind of world, distinguished by its mutual respect of all its members. You won't meet Dashak and Palasek here before, the little ones Daryushka and Polyushka, the girls of Dasha and Pelageyushka, but when they get married, they already call them Father. Father was called father, mother - mother, and godmother - mother. Everyone obeyed the mother-father without prejudice, treated all older relatives, especially godparents, with respect.
Women and girls of the White Sea region were more independent in solving household and household affairs than women in other regions of pre-revolutionary Russia.
Labor at sea required from each Pomor not only physical strength, endurance, hardening, dexterity, but also excellent knowledge of the sea, the sea route, skills in fishing and hunting for animals. Neither cold, nor winds, nor long paths frightened the Pomor.
Pomor children received severe labor education. Courageous, solid, unyielding, strong-tempered people were brought up.
Pomeranian "Sprava" (clothing)
The harsh climatic conditions of the White Sea, the work of the Pomor on ships deprived of basic amenities, cold, cramped conditions, dampness, storm, constant wind - all this required special equipment.
The Pomor's clothes are simple and practical both in fabric and cut.
Shirts made of unpainted, rough, bleached canvas, collar, no collar, ties, no buttons;
Trousers made of unpainted, rough bleached canvas, belt gathered on a cord;
Top shirt made of severe upper canvas;
Ports for work in the field;
Sleeveless jacket, usually fur;
Casing - waterproof jacket;
Sheepskin sheepskin coat;
Neck envelope - a scarf knitted from a thick woolen thread;
The head cover is a hat, usually fur.
Bukhmarka - a winter hat from a fawn with ears to the chin;
Shoe covers - leather, wide-nosed boots;
Wire-felted boots made of cow wool.
Pimas - deer skin fur boots, fur outside.
Chickens are leather shoes reminiscent of modern slippers.
Womens clothing
Underwear - underwear shirt made of bleached canvas with short sleeves to the elbow
Sundress - sleeveless clothing
Apron - apron
Shawl - a large factory-made scarf
Half-shawls - woolen or silk, patterned, sometimes with tassels
Pochelok - a festive headdress of a girl, sewn with silks and often pearls
Exhibitions - shoes with a small heel
Pomorsky grub
The food of the Pomors was quite diverse: it was determined by the presence of products in the White Sea region.
Bread, fish and dairy products were the basis of food, meat - lamb, game - was consumed relatively rarely, they cooked shti with sauerkraut from them.
There has always been a respectful attitude towards bread in the White Sea region. Earlier in the Pomor villages you never met kids with a piece on the street.
For big holidays, family, calendar and patronal, malt beer was brewed everywhere.
Fish - cod, herring, halibut, catfish, whitefish, navaga, perch, flounder, salmon.
Dairy products: steamed milk, yogurt, sour cream, cottage cheese
Vegetables: cabbage, turnips, rutabagas, potatoes
A feast, that is, a meal, is a kind of special tradition in Pomorie, almost a ritual.
The whole family, three or four times a day, decorously, without delays and conversations, sits down at the table, which is in the hut, in a large corner. Morning was served on the table at 6-7 o'clock, and in summer labor at 5, sometimes at 4 o'clock.
Lunch was collected at 11 o'clock. At about 5 o'clock everyone gathered for an afternoon snack, ate what was left of lunch, drank tea with milk.
We had dinner after the end of work, therefore at different hours; the main food was something dairy, jelly, berries.
Everyone at the table knew their place. A bowl and a wooden spoon are on the table in front of each.
No one touches the food before the eldest, grandfather or father gives a signal - knocks with a spoon on the edge of the bowl or table top. Conversations at the table among children were not allowed.
On holidays, on memorable and wedding days, the feast was celebrated in the upper room.
(theatrical splash screen)
PorATo-l a lot, deFka, gUBok nalomAla?
Duck, it's expensive - it's hot, go ...
Irinya and I didn’t care for the woods ...
ZHONKI, you have lost some water, no?
Luda is watery, they won't burn it out ...
The fish is washing the birch about himself.
Strange language. It seems clear what they are talking about, but the words are unfamiliar. So, probably, they still talk somewhere in the Arkhangelsk outback. My grandmother and my mother knew some of these words, but they never thought that it was some kind of independent language. They said “seygod”, “nakosya”, “shaneshki”, “zhONki” ... In Pomorie, women cannot be called women. In response, you can hear: "We are women, but women are driving the piles."
Pomeranian dialects (tablets with these words show guests, they must guess the meaning)
(Pomor dictionary)
grandma is a toy
baina-bath
vertekha- fickle, frivolous
wake up - with the wind and rain to get to the bones
to make noise, to misbehave
backwater - a small bay
swell-cradle, suspended on a flexible eyeglass
corga - rocky shoal
labordane - dried cod
faces - icons
lover is a beloved woman, but not a wife
low-water period - summer quiet time, mid-summer
young woman - young married woman
okstis- cross
pauzhna - a feast between lunch and dinner
to curse - to curse
antiquity - stories about the distant past
yearn - hurt, whine
shork - wipe
yary - krutoyary - steep non-rocky coast - clay
She was born on December 5 (17), 1894 in a noble family of Arkhangelsk citizens who then lived in St. Petersburg. Father, Pyotr Gerardovich Mineyko, engineer of the Arkhangelsk port, a major specialist in the construction of ports in the White and Barents Seas; mother, Nadezhda Mikhailovna, nee Dvoinikova, graduated in piano from the Petersburg Conservatory. She was born on December 5 (17), 1894 in a noble family of Arkhangelsk citizens who then lived in St. Petersburg. Father, Pyotr Gerardovich Mineyko, engineer of the Arkhangelsk port, a major specialist in the construction of ports in the White and Barents Seas; mother, Nadezhda Mikhailovna, nee Dvoinikova, graduated in piano from the Petersburg Conservatory.
She graduated from the Arkhangelsk gymnasium (1912, with a silver medal), Graduated from the Arkhangelsk gymnasium (1912, with a silver medal), the history and philology faculty of the Higher (Bestuzhev) courses for women (St. Petersburg, 1917). Since 1918 - teacher of Russian history and other disciplines in educational institutions of Arkhangelsk.
1925 - employee of the Institute of Industrial Research (since 1937 - Central Algal Scientific Research Laboratory); 1925 - employee of the Institute of Industrial Research (since 1937 - Central Algal Scientific Research Laboratory); since 1943 - head of the laboratory. During the Second World War, he was the organizer of the production of vitamin nutrients from algae for the residents of Leningrad.
K.P. Gemp is a specialist in the history of the villages of the White Sea, northern monasteries, and Old Believers in the North. K.P. Gemp is a specialist in the history of the villages of the White Sea, northern monasteries, and Old Believers in the North. Participant and leader of scientific expeditions in the Baltic, Barents, White Seas, in the Arctic, where she collected materials on the history, art and ethnography of the North. Collector of Pomor folklore.
K.P. Gemp is the author of many books about Arkhangelsk and the White Sea North, studies about M.V. Lomonosov, Archpriest Avvakum, the Nenets nugget Tyko Vylka, scientists G.Ya. Sedov, V.A. Rusanov, R. Ya. Samoilovich and others. Her works are reliable sources on history, geography, ethnography, culture of Pomorie. K.P. Gemp is the author of many books about Arkhangelsk and the White Sea North, studies about M.V. Lomonosov, Archpriest Avvakum, the Nenets nugget Tyko Vylka, scientists G.Ya. Sedov, V.A. Rusanov, R. Ya. Samoilovich and others. Her works are reliable sources on history, geography, ethnography, culture of Pomorie.
"The Tale of the White Sea" is a book in which, according to the opinion of Academician D. Likhachev, "a grandiose picture of the Pomor and peasant culture of the Russian North" was created. "The Tale of the White Sea" is a book in which, according to Academician D. Likhachev's opinion, "a grandiose picture of the Pomor and peasant culture of the Russian North" was created.
Fyodor Abramov in his article “K.P. Gemp and her “Tale of the White Sea” wrote that “the story of K.P. Gemp about the Pomors, about their life and way of life, about their morals and customs, about a special - the highest - in their midst the cult of the word can be called without exaggeration an encyclopedia of the folk culture of the White Sea region ”. Fyodor Abramov in his article “K.P. Gemp and her “Tale of the White Sea” wrote that “the story of K.P. Gemp about the Pomors, about their life and way of life, about their morals and customs, about a special - the highest - in their midst the cult of the word can be called without exaggeration an encyclopedia of the folk culture of the White Sea region ”.
K. Gemp left us as a legacy a unique "Pomor Dictionary" with thousands of forgotten and half-forgotten Russian words, in which the centuries-old music of Russian speech sounds. K. Gemp left us as a legacy a unique "Pomor Dictionary" with thousands of forgotten and half-forgotten Russian words, in which the centuries-old music of Russian speech sounds.
.
KSENIYA PETROVNA GEMP
1958 g.
From the originator:
Ksenia Petrovna Gemp, ur. Mineyko (1894-1998) is a legendary person in the city of Arkhangelsk, where she lived almost all her life. Arkhangelsk citizens were lucky - many of them knew her personally. Others know her from her books, the most famous of which are "The Tale of the White Sea" and "Dictionary of Pomor Sayings".
Look at the years of life of this wonderful woman and do not be surprised, there is no mistake - yes, she lived for more than a hundred years. She was born in St. Petersburg, where her parents, Arkhangelsk nobles, studied at that time, her father - at the Technological Institute, mother - at the conservatory. After graduating from the institute, his father, a process engineer (which in those years meant much more than now), returned with his family to Arkhangelsk, where he became a major specialist in the exploration and construction of seaports on the coast of the White and Barents Seas, and did a lot for his city. The family was highly educated and intelligent, scientists, researchers, cultural figures of that time gathered in their house. Since childhood, surrounded by talented and creative people, Ksenia graduated with a silver medal from a female gymnasium, then a pedagogical class, receiving a diploma as a home tutor in Russian language and mathematics. Then she went to St. Petersburg and entered the Higher Women's Courses, better known as Bestuzhev's - the first and only women's university at that time. She brilliantly graduated from the Faculty of History and Philology and in the summer of 1917 returned to Arkhangelsk, where she began to teach.
The revolution dramatically changed the life of the family. Father died in 1920 under unclear circumstances, mother died a year later in the camps from typhus. Ksenia continued her teaching work, but in 1925 she left her, explaining this by her son's illness, although the real reason was, most likely, an "unreliable" origin.
From February 1925 until her retirement (1974), she worked in the field of algology - the science of studying algae. For more than thirty years she headed the Central Algal Research Laboratory, becoming a leading algologist and publishing more than 70 scientific papers. During the Great Patriotic War, she worked on obtaining penicillin in Arkhangelsk, organized the production of food products from algae in besieged Leningrad. After the war, she initiated the artificial breeding of anfeltia in the White Sea, on the Solovetsky Islands, at the age of 75, scuba diving to the bottom ...
By the will of fate, algology became the main business of Ksenia Petrovna Gemp's life, but she never forgot her initial hobby and in her heart remained a historian and philologist. Together with her husband, also a historian, she collected ancient manuscripts, maps and books, worked in archives, and carried on extensive correspondence with scientists from other cities. Her scientific and social activities had no boundaries, only her listing would take several pages. Member of the scientific and methodological council of the regional study of local lore th museum, member of the Academic Council of the Regional Historical Archives, lecturer of the Knowledge Society, Scientific Secretary of the Arkhangelsk Department of the All-Union Geographical Society, consultant of feature films "Mikhailo Lomonosov" and "Young Russia", and so on, and so on, and so on ... She was so busy that she might never have had the time to write the two books that made her famous if it had not been for an accident - at the age of 83 she broke her leg and for the first time found herself chained to her small apartment on the embankment of the Northern Dvina, d. 100. Only then did she begin to decipher the old stenographic notes, which she always kept, on every trip, on every business trip, in every contact with local residents, indigenous Pomors, carefully listening and writing down what she considered the greatest wealth - the word Pomor. We have already mentioned these books, these are "The Tale of the White Sea" and "The Dictionary of Pomor Sayings". What genre do they belong to? Memoirs? Ethnographic notes? Philological work? I would rather call them a song of the soul, a song about what Ksenia Petrovna loved so much - about her native White Sea region. “Behind this dictionary is my whole life,” she wrote in the preface. As an example, I will give only three interpretations from the "Dictionary" - about the sea, about old times, and about human feelings. And comments will be superfluous.
THE SEA BROUGHT - the wind played, and a wave went, excitement began.
Our White Sea leaped up. Half an hour did not pass - the combs began to whiten, and then the platoon got up, made a noise, got dusty. Sit on the stove, pomor. Our White loves to show itself. Seems like a calm ladle, and the wind will conceive the strength to show - well, where is it to lag behind. Well, it will leap. The waves are small, but they promise to kick up and maybe - the wind is east. The sea will leap up, but it doesn’t always head towards a storm, and maybe it chills in the evening - a summer wind, a dinner-party. The sea came ashore, leaped on the shores, rose - is about to get dusty.
DOSULNY, DOSULNOY - the former, old, to our time.
In the days of dothyulny, more fish were caught: the herring was briskly, the semushka in every sweep. The people got sicker, and the fish came. Feed nona pollock and capelin. We give the girl in marriage, and all my brocade sundresses and short dresses are given. They are all ready, my mother gave it to me. In pre-sulny times, the work was harder, but life did not go easy, then the people became lazy. We know the times from parental memory. When we came to Terskiy Berezhok - I don't know, not in my memory, we are as good as we are, from time immemorial here, on Varzuga, we live. Dosyulny, the inhabitants live well, but those who come - they will still wrinkle. Yes they will settle down. Life is good here. Dosyulny are accustomed to the sea, and to the wind, and to frost.
LOVE
And what is it - love? I came, I was sixteen. Took her heart. I forgot everything, one joy is to see him. He married another, I - a side. Quickly they gave me away to another village, to another seaside. My man was a good, hard-working, not round. For my love, when I shed a tear. It is not forgotten. I'm forty-six now, but I remember everything. All are sweet words. She loved her husband to oblivion. The war took him. His words and hands - I remember everything, I cannot forget. How did you survive without him? Looks like for the guys. Two of them. It happened how much I went out for her, as she was a girl. Everything she had with force (both laugh). "I will not go for you." Loyalty took my victory. Sent matchmakers - agreed. I was expecting matchmakers, I suppose. We had faithful love, a joy. In our life, she left her force. Now, in old age, we live in respect. We raised five children. And from their respect to us. The silver was celebrated on the twenty-first, we are approaching the gold one. They worked in accordance: I am the breadwinner, she is in the household. The wallpaper of labor is not a little put around the house - there is wealth. When they made noise, she conceived (laugh).
In recent years, Ksenia Gemp has hosted evenings once a week in her apartment, where people interested in the history and culture of the region gathered. Anyone could come there. Nikolai Nikolaevich Utkin, an architect from St. Petersburg, and I, who graduated from LISI, a favorite student of our favorite teacher of the history of Russian architecture, Yuri Sergeevich Ushakov, also attended these evenings. After graduating from the institute, young Utkin left his hometown and moved to Arkhangelsk for the sake of the beautiful northern churches, the study and restoration of which he devoted his whole life. It was from him, as a student, that I heard the word "Unezhma" for the first time, and maybe someday I will write about it. Someone from his acquaintances brought him to Ksenia Petrovna. She was already old and spoke with difficulty, but every evening, overcoming fatigue, she spoke with inspiration - about her beloved Russian North, about its ancient history, its rich culture, its courageous and strong people brought up by the sea.
***
Ksenia Petrovna Gemp has visited Unezhma at least five times: in 1948 (approximately), in 1953, 1958 and 1961. She was there, obviously on business trips - there, as in other places, during the collective farm years, they mined algae. In 1958, on her fourth visit to our village, she wrote down "The Tale of the Capture of Ryazan", given in the book "The Tale of the White Sea". The storyteller's name is Paraskovia Paramonovna Ampilova.
The surname of Ampilova is not Unezhomskaya. There is a very curious mystery lurking here, and I still cannot solve it. The fact is that nowhere - in not a single voter list of the Unezhemsky village council and the collective farmers of the Velikoe Delo collective farm, of whom I came across a lot in the old archival files, did I come across the surname Ampilova, moreover, not even the name Paraskovia Paramonovna was found. I asked about her old unezhoms living in Arkhangelsk and Murmansk, remembering events, years, names, but no one, not one person could remember this woman. The population of Unezhma in the kolkhoz, and even more so in the post-kolkhoz years, was not so large, and we can say with confidence that everyone there knew everyone. What's the matter?
Anna Ivanovna Kondakova, a former uncle, living in Arkhangelsk, to my question, suggested that the surname Ampilova is consonant with Akilov, and the Akilovs are one of the common surnames from Uniezhemsk, and maybe there is simply a mistake here. This is quite likely - Ksenia Gemp, by her own admission, transcribed the record (probably stenographic) 20 years later, and she was already over 80. But no one remembers Paraskovia Paramonovna Akilova either. She might not have been on the lists of collective farmers, because by the time the collective farm was formed (1930) she was already over 50. But voter lists? Maybe she was "deprived" of kulaks? But by the end of the 30s, all "disenfranchised" were either expelled from the countryside or restored to their voting rights. What then? Have you lived in cities for a long time and came to the countryside only for the summer? Never lived in Unezhma at all, and Ksenia Gemp was mistaken not in the name, but in the place?
It is a shame to admit it, but it seems that there was no such woman in Unezhma, and the recording of "Tale" was made in some other village. Many nuances speak about this: the mention of strangers, not Unezhomsky, surnames, and the fact that the storyteller's sister got married in Nyonoksa (with whom Unezhma did not have a close relationship), and the fact that the grandmother went to the Ambursky Old Believer skete, although there were sketes and closer to Unezhma ... It seems to me that the place where the legend was written gravitates more towards the Onega peninsula, to the Summer or Onega shores, i.e. to the current Primorsky district, and maybe even further - to the Mezensky.
But suppose all the same that Ksenia Gemp was not mistaken, and that the tale of the crushing of Ryazan was indeed recorded in Unezhma. What do we know then about the unknown Unezhemskaya storyteller? Paraskovya Paramonovna Ampilova (possibly Akilova), born before 1878, and probably earlier. Hereditary uncle, because still her grandmother lived in Unezhma. The grandmother was an Old Believer and in her old age she went to the Ambursky Old Believer Skete. She had a book of ancient writing that her grandchildren, having become literate, could not make out. From this book, my grandmother read them "The Tale of the Crushing of Ryazan" and other stories - about Mamai, about Ivan the Terrible, about Solovki.
Paraskovia Paramonovna herself was famous as a good singer - she “kept her songs in line”, knew a lot of them, she was invited to sing in other villages. She had three sons, all died in the First World War. Some of the children, however, survived - she had several grandchildren, four of whom died in the Second World War. The granddaughter and her offspring remained, with them the old woman lived in Unezhma for her last years. According to her, she is the last of the Ampilov family, because there are no men who continue the surname in their family.
At the end of this long preface I want to note that even if the "Tale" was recorded not in Unezhma, but in some other village, then, years later, Ksenia Gemp was firmly associated with Unezhma (the name of Paraskovia Paramonovna is repeatedly mentioned in connection with her), so it can still be considered Unezhemsky.
But what can we say about the description of the village itself, preceding the "Tale"? Is it uncle, or her mysterious twin sister? One could say unequivocally: yes, this is Unezhma, if it were not for a few alarming points that I will note in the notes. It seems to me that Unezhma had a double that merged with her in the memory of Ksenia Petrovna ... This mysterious twin village should be very similar - both in the consonance of names, and in appearance, and in spirit. It should be on the sea, right on the shore, and have a wooden church (more of the Uniezhema one), and be almost abandoned. Common surnames there should be Ampilovs, Derevlevs, Antipins, Myakishevs, Agafelovs ... Perhaps someone can help solve this riddle? And if such a double is found, then it was there that the "Tale of the crushing of Razani" was recorded, it was there that the storyteller Paraskovia Paramonovna Ampilova lived, and it was there that Ksenia Gemp read her "Lament for those who did not return from the field of war".
Fragments from the book "The Tale of the White Sea"
ANDm.S. Kryukova, M.D. Krivopolenova, their works have long been widely known in the country. But there were amazing storytellers in the Pomor region, whose names and creations still remain unknown. I'll tell you about one of them.
In August 1958, I visited Unezhma for the fourth time. This ancient village is located on the southwestern shore of the Onega Bay of the White Sea, in the valley of the delta of the shallow and rocky river Unezhma. It is mentioned in a document of the 15th century - the census of the possessions of the Novgorod posadnitsa Martha Boretskaya, the owner-invader of many lands and industries of the White Sea ... The village was already large and wealthy in the 19th century; by the 20th century it had 80 households and 555 adults. The inhabitants were engaged in agriculture, compared with other nearby villages there was a significant livestock of cattle, hayfields were large and rich ... In addition, unjezane like all Pomors, they hunted fish and sea animals in the White and Barents Seas. They had well-built ships - Pomor karbas, suitable for long-distance voyages, fishing equipment and knowledge of their northern seas, northern winds. They also went hunting to Novaya Zemlya, bringing loach, reindeer wool, some furs and eiderdown. In the past, reindeer wool was widely used for stuffing beds and even pillows. Patterned shawls and scarves were knitted from eider down. They were every pomorie's dream. They were passed on by inheritance. The fame of downy eider shawls knitted by unisezhank women reached Arkhangelsk and St. Petersburg. They visited the World Exhibition in Paris at the beginning of this century. They did not yield to the Orenburg ones. Trading was a village. Excess trades were taken to Onega and Arkhangelsk for fairs.
In the thirties, the village began to gradually empty; in the fifties, several houses were already boarded up. On my fourth visit, most of the houses stood "without an eye and a gaze." Their windows and doors were covered with planks, the povets were dilapidated. First impression: an empty, silent village. But no, not everyone left the ashes. Two women were sitting on the porch of a three-window house. I went up to them, greeted them, talked.
- You have become empty. Have you gone to other places or on the field?
- We don't have a lot of fishing. Five old men remained in their residence, here not far off they catch some fish. Young people left for production altogether.
- How and what do you live here?
- Little by little, we live, there are small gardeners, we grow potatoes, turnips, radishes, cabbage. All work and some income. Small, of course, but still its own penny. For bread karbas or in winter on foot in Nyukhchu we go, crackers, drying, we take sugar. There are some "pensions", berries, mushrooms in Nyukhcha we rent. There is one cow in the village.
- Do you have a radio, newspapers, do you receive letters?
- No, no, newspaper to Petrovich he walks around, gives everything to read and himself explains the essence of the business, letters also come from children, and he sends some money. And so, we are waiting for more death. More and more old here. We wonder who will bury whom. We swear between ourselves, so, not because of what. There is no business, there are no guys, so we swear .
Behind the village, in an open clearing in front of Big Varaka (hill), there was still a lonely wooden one-domed temple, even more tattered than ten years ago, but still tall and mighty. You will see him at sea from the distant approaches to the mouth of the Unezhma. Alone he struggles with winds, bad weather, but still stands firmly, as a reproach to a careless person who does not give due respect to work, talent, creativity of original architects, carpenters, carvers and painters, who installed it in 1826. They built and erected everything by rural society, the bells which were hung by the famous .
The temple, due to its height and position in an open, elevated place, served as an unofficial lighthouse. During periods of bad weather, winds, storms, on the tower near the dome, villagers burned a signal fire, gave a message to fishermen caught by the weather in the field. This fire on the temple-lighthouse helped many fishermen and sailors to escape, to get out of the blinding blizzard, to the screeching and whistling of a midwife, to the roar of formidable platoons on their native coast. Still, someone unknown with little opportunities, but at the behest of the conscience of the former "kumpanstvo" and out of the kindness of his soul, closed some holes on the roof, pounded the sagging boards and hung a lock at the entrance. All some kind of security.
Once here, in the old refectory of the church, meetings of the villagers were held, they judged, judged, solved all the rural affairs, tried the violators of the order and peace of the village. On the lawn, the girls danced in round dances on holidays, started songs, boasting about their article and outfits, and showed themselves to the suitors. The guys boasted of strength, daring, they set up towns, played ringing, looked at the girls, looked at their brides.
Both before and behind Varaka there are traces of human labor: once cultivated land for fields, meadows for hayfields. Unezhma has lost its former economic and historical significance. The man once left with great difficulty the habitable places. He went to modern fishing vessels equipped with technical equipment, to industrial enterprises, to construction sites - where the hum of machines, where the heart of the engine rhythmically beats, where the radio, TV, libraries, amateur performances, where the wide road ahead. He left for a big crowded world.
At the end of the village, between the sleeping dwellings, there was a large, five-walled, chopped hut. An oglupen with a clearly carved ridge, a porch under a canopy on carved posts, a safe drive, the gates to the courtyard are closed, the curtains are white on the windows. The owners live here. I remember that in previous parishes I lived in this old house for several days. Here I will hear enough of everything, as before. Hope to meet old acquaintances. I knock, I come in, I say hello. They are greeted warmly, in the White Sea way. The hut is a large, clean, beautiful powerful stove. A young woman is busy at the stove, a girl of about twelve is helping her. An old woman with knitting in her hands sits on a bench by the window. She looks at me over her glasses. “Come in, you will be a guest, no one has visited for a long time. Otkul brought you back again, a familiar old time? I immediately recognized you, Ksenyushka. " We greeted and rejoiced in an amicable way, as is customary in the White Sea after a long separation. The hostess, Paraskovia Paramonovna Ampilova, introduced me to her granddaughter and two great-granddaughters. The owner - the granddaughter's husband - was in the field.
For ten days I lived in this hospitable house, which in many respects has preserved the old Pomor way of life. Day after day, we talked about how we live, about near and far, still memorable to both Parascovia and me, but sometimes her strange granddaughter, and especially great-granddaughters.
It all started with songs. The great-granddaughter began to hum and purr some modern song. Parascovia interrupted her: “Zagun, your songs do not amuse. Noneshnie songs for young people. They interpret and interpret the same words. Tomorrow they grabbed a friend, also a crustacean, another word is twisted and turned over. Today's already set aside. Neither in my heart, nor in my memory ”.
Parascovia recalled how she went as a girl not only to her Unezhemsk round dances, but she was invited to other villages as well. She sang well girls songs, led them in a thread and knew a lot of them. Then the granddaughter intervened: “The eight , but no, no, yes, and begins to sing. This is our grandmother. "
Then the story of Paraskovia Paramonovna continued: “We live - we do not complain, because we work. Everything was acquired by their own strength and diligence. We live heartily, there is no division or noise in the family.
Only misery I have about my sons and grandchildren. I lost three sons in the First World War and four grandchildren in the last. There are no peasants of our root in the family, I am the last of the Ampilov family. The name of the family is over. Not only my, Amilov's, roots from the war did not come, and there are thousands of other roots. We do not know which towns-villages, which peoples they defended, they did not give us news.
We read newspapers, there are school books. Nothing is right, neither the story nor the song finds it. Doesn't find, no. They say poetry is nonsense. And for me, all sorts of words are spoken so - that's all. Or they send bad scriptures to the village, they think they won't understand the good. We will understand, and even indicate what is wrong.
We need forever, and for all our place, and so that Mezen, Varuzga, and Kandalaksha recognize and speak as about their own. I know such stories about the city of Ryazan and residents of Ryazan. We will not see, we will not be in Ryazan - where she is, on the Oka-Volga, far away, and the story about her reached the White Sea, and lay on my voice and heart. They say about her in other villages. We, the Pomors, keep the old good word.
Last summer, Muscovites came on board. They wanted to write about the old. Ruble, or even three rubles are served. I don’t take it. It is a holy thing to remember about the old and to say what you remember. I listen to thanksgiving for my tale, and I myself answer for the hearing with thanksgiving. You know this custom of ours, you are our own. Muscovites did not write about Ryazan, they said: “This is not Pomor. We need northern, Pomor " .
I did not tell anyone about Ryazan. You can't talk about such a thing while laughing and talking. She told her own, many had a tear. She rarely said it, only so as not to forget at all. I'll die, you tell me, you will be the first to write my story. "
(She interrupted the saying with her remarks, I quote them in parentheses).
And the extraordinary began, memorable for the rest of my life:
“Our grandmother ended seventy years ago , lay down in the ground. The reader was great. How she lived with us in Unezhma - I read different things to us, my grandchildren. She had the old book. We then went to school, but we did not know how to read her book. The inscription is not the same. Baushka in the Ambursky skete left to live. I took the book with me. Then she refused her to her youngest daughter, who lived in Nyonoksa. Lost that book, or maybe someone who took it, quietly grabbed it. Nona and so it happens. Great interest in books.
I listened to the baushka, remembered a lot, most of all about Ryazan. The terrible thing was in Ryazan, then I remembered it, I heard it more than once, but it took all the shivers. Such was the case, an event for centuries. More than one century has passed, but our people, simple, Pomor, remember everything. I'm not the only one who listened to the baushka from the book. The tear was not squeezed out, but the whole soul trembled. What I remember - I will say, I remember very little now. I began to forget. There is no one to tell, and she broke the eighth decade. Listen, write fast. Don't ask anything. I myself will say that I remember. "
Parascovia took off her apron, straightened her sleeves and headscarf. She crossed herself and sat down on a bench in the front corner. Her face turned pale, her eyes were closed, her hands were fiddling with a small handkerchief. She was worried. Her excitement was transmitted to me and her granddaughter.
Suddenly, she somehow perked up, straightened up, opened her eyes, put her hands on the table. She began to speak.
THE TALE OF CRUSHING RYAZAN
« Hthe sun was still rising over the distant steppe. Roofing paper in the east lit a red flame with a thread. And the tall grasses shook, if the breeze passed over them. Then they drove a wild horse to the Don River in the steppe. The enemy drove away a dirty, unclean, wagon. He was going to Ryazan in a horse race, to rob, to destroy.
(As a human being, he did not have an izba. I lived in the wagons. Wild was the enemy, without a clue or pity.)
But Ryazan was not asleep, worried, knew, sensed: she was the first enemy to meet. To the capital city of Moscow, guard the road for her again. The main one, Ryazan, is reliable and serf-like protection. Ryazan prepared the walls of the logs, strong, double, with braces, hedgehogs on top. There are high battle towers, rubble and not-passable notches of the Ryazan walls and towers. They also warned the Oku-river, as if the enemy would not get close in an influx. All the military supplies of all sorts from the warehouses-barns to the walls, towers were taken out. We were preparing to beat and chop hard.
Smolensk, the city, did not sleep either, a great, faithful fortress. Metsensk did not sleep either, it is not large, but a bold town. Vladimir, white-stone, beautiful, with palaces and churches, painted and decorated, did not sleep either.
(The city's nickname is Metsensk, like our Pomor Mezen. It should be a good city.
I have not seen the city of Vladimir, and more than once heard about its magnificence. Good news goes far, holds fast. Like this.)
All the brother cities were preparing help. Damask swords were forged, bows were bent, arrows were flying with a feather. Food supplies were put into sacks and bags.
(This is always the case with us. From the White Sea and from Murman to the Frenchman and to the German, our northern regiments went together. They reached the main city of the Frenchman. The Derevlevs, the Antipins, and the Myakishevs had medals for that. ... The Germans were also beaten in their capital. The Pomor will become the wall. He will not refuse assistance to anyone. So accustomed to the sea. I would have refused someone the right help - and don't go home. Parents will condemn: do not disgrace the Pomeranian family. The father of his son, even though he is married, for such a fault can whack a belt. Like this. It is not a matter of forgetting the precepts of the father. To forget them is not to accumulate our own. This is how we look.)
In Ryazan-city, the prince was a staid warrior. Gyurga is his nickname, his wife Proxena, the goddess-beauty. Beautiful blue eyes, long braids.
(Nicknames are not ours Pomor. In the old days, apparently, nicknamed. Not recorded in the calendar.)
They gave birth to five sons and raised them. Daughter bypassed fate. Mother grieved. Mother needs a daughter without fail. The eldest son is twenty-two years old, and the youngest is twelfth. The two eldest sons have already taken their wives and the grandson from the eldest Prince Gyurga perceived. The eldest Theodor-son was sent by his father to the Tatar horde to give gifts, to buy them off from finding the city of Ryazan. The son of the first, the heir of the fathers, did not return. The malice of the Tatar Theodore and his companions-in-arms were all given over to torment and ruined. Nobody from the horde camp returned.
(Many people were ruined by a different enemy, and in my memory. In our Pomeranian villages, they did not return from different wars. How many tears have been shed, how many orphans have been left behind, how many farms have been destroyed. Some time has passed– look, and recovered. No, we will stand for centuries. Our people are strong. Like this.)
And the terrible hour has come, in life he will meet once. Prince Gyurga ascended the walls of Ryazan. To look around and believe, everything is on the ground, as the Ryazan soldiers prepared to repulse the enemy. And Prince Gyurga told them his firm word: “We will stand, as our fathers and grandfathers stood, and we, our posterity, bequeathed to stand. It will be hard, and no one will forget - we are Ryazan. " The Ryazan soldiers repeated that word "Ryazan we".
Gyurg put all the warriors in their places. He ordered his second son to keep the right tower. He put his son Theodore in place of the elder. To guard-keep the left side of the third gave. The prince took his place at the high gate tower. That tower guarded the fortress gates.
(Overgate– the highest, main tower. entrance– guarded the gate. The prince must see everything from a high place, in the middle of all. Show everyone his business.)
All Ryazan people are in helmets, chain mail. They are girded with a sword, hung with quivers. On the left hand, a bow is taut, and arrows are red-hot, feathered with a feather - at the right hand. All prepared to meet the enemy in a heavy battle.
Princess Proxena cried out to the courtyard of all the wives, daughters, and mothers. They flew together like birds gathered together. The fires were lit up, the cauldrons were brought in, the resin was boiled, the stones were heated, the tow was twisted, tarred and burned. They wanted to smother the thieves with smoke and fire. Boiling water, resin, stones were carried to the walls. From the walls on the enemy, their young sons afterwards watered and threw.
The enemy has not yet been seen, but there is a rumble, the stomp of innumerable horses, wild. A terrible wind carries a stench-infection. The enemy of the wild destroys, plunder goes to Ryazan. He will not give pity to the glorious city, nor to the brave warrior, nor to the old, small residence. Everyone will either be killed or taken prisoner. For Ryazan girls, young girls, everyone's share is harder, bitter. They will be defiled, outraged, hunted down and afterwards harassed. To fight the Ryazan people without a time limit, to take on all the burdens, to protect the military valor, the glory of Ryazan.
They flew in, shouting and shouting, whistling is served. They gallop wildly, they twirl, they raise them up on their hind legs, they call on them, they push them with their hooves to beat. Climbing the walls without restraint, fear. They climb the towers like black beetles that live in dung. Walls and towers are herring over logs with hooks.
A black cloud of great enemy power fell on Ryazan. From heavy bows, arrows are hardened on the walls, on the towers of Ryazan, she pours doggie. Ryazan is fighting alone. With arrow, stone, resin and water, it holds the protection.
Time does not stand, but runs. Ryazan is beating alone, losing strength. There is no help, they are waiting for her, they will not wait. Help did not arrive in time, did not ripen. Snowy snow, the roads are not traversed, the horses are completely broken. The soldiers walked heavily, leading them by the bridle. They dragged the military marching right on themselves. All were in a hurry to help, they did not spare their strength. Apparently, not all gathered forces on the spot. Ryazan fought alone.
Suddenly the princess opened her mouth, and everything was stirred up. They are carrying her second son from the wall. As that son, the right hand, fell on the wall without a call, a fourth, young, daring, all like a father. And he was only fifteen years old. And he took his brother's place, he only looked at his father. Father's heart trembled - and this kid of Ryazan is a defender.
Ryazan fought for a long time alone. Prince Gyurga held the defense firmly. The residents of Ryazan fought hard and bravely. One after another, the defense was surrendered only to the hour of death. They carry and carry from the wall defenders who have perceived death. And among them is the third princess's son. He beat on the walls with his left hand, stood firmly for a long time. Many mothers here have lost their children, their young beloved sons, their support.
On the walls exactly the wind swayed and groaned. Then Prince Gyurga, pierced by an arrow, fell. The last youngest was the prince's son. He was fair of hair, clear in blue eyes, friendly and cheerful in nature. I was born into my mother, beauty.
"Where are you, my son?" - the princess perked up.
“In ancient times, on my father’s wall,” answered the blind old Ryazan man. - The last mortal blessing and his sword he will accept. His friends are with him in fun, in games, they have not left the prince in their own way. "
The military sword was heavy, and his son took it with two hands. On the city wall near the high tower, he fought bravely with his friends. He did not stand for long, an arrow flew in and stung mortally between his blue eyes. The mother gave her fifth son to the defense of Ryazan.
The last defenders hold the wall. No one left, no one was saved by the river. Nobody left Ryazan.
The soldiers who died in battle will not be left to mock the enemy. Mothers, wives and children gathered to the far wall by the river to dig a burial, put everyone in the ground and cover with a cloth. The custom is so old.
(The old covenant is to cover with a veil. Give the last protection to a person, protection and memory. They always prepare a good cover, some of the latter, but they will cover well. The farewell is a veil.)
They all lay in the ground in rows, people of the same land. On the attack, the princess ascended, bowed to the ground to all those who fell in battle, to all who kept their native land. She cried out her lament for all the killed Ryazan people: "My prince, my beloved sons, the Ryazan people are brave - my children, death has opened the paradise door for you all." The princess lay down with her beautiful face on the burial ground. She hugged the grave mound with her hands, and clung to it with her heart. She said goodbye to Ryazan and her life.
"I cannot go prisoner, without Ryazan, I cannot live without you." And the princess threw herself at the sharp sword with her heart. This sword was the first her husband, the main one in the family, and the last son of the youngest to defend Ryazan was raised.
(The daughter-in-law also decided herself. God will forgive death by his hand on such a deed. I used to light a candle for all of them on the day of remembrance of all saints. How to remember None - perhaps only by saying. The baushka punished them to remember them. Don't forget.)
Ryazan did not fight back, did not defend itself, but did not surrender to the enemy. All the defenders were killed on the walls and on the towers. The Ryazan people themselves burned down the walls and towers, all their living quarters.
Only ashes and decay remained to the enemy.
We will remember Ryazan forever.
And Ryazan rose from the memory of this popular new Ryazan, like Sirin from the ashes. And life, and glory to her forever.
From us we repay all the Ryazan people who stood in battle, thanks, honor and our earthly bow. "
The story ended. Paraskovia Paramonovna got up, and we, two old women, bowed to each other. I thanked for saying, she for listening.
The hearing and recording of the story "About Ryazan" lasted for five days. Paraskovia Paramonovna began her recitation towards evening. The next morning, I read the tape to her. She often interrupted her reading and asked to repeat the phrase she had just read or a single word. I thought about it. Sometimes she amended the sequence of words and stress, or said, "So." The reading continued. When all the amendments were completed, I read it again, there were no breaks. In the evening a new fragment of the narration was recorded, the next morning the evening recording was checked. This is how Paraskovia Paramonovna said and checked for five days the amazing story that she had preserved in her memory about the distant Ryazan she had never seen, which survived the terrible Tatar invasion in the 13th century.
On the sixth day in the evening, nine people gathered in the hut. I read the tape. They listened silently and excitedly, and then everyone thanked Paraskovia Paramonovna with a bow. She, tired, wiped her rare tears with a handkerchief.
"Koneshno, for a long time and not close, but my heart lies, my own."
This was said in the White Sea region, in the old dying Unezhma, about Ryazan, who endured mortal sufferings and showed indestructible courage six hundred years ago somewhere on the distant Oka-Volga. One of the listeners, an old dumbass, said them.
The day after the end of the story, Paraskovia Paramonovna said to me: “Well, take your pencils with speed. There are also small tales in my memory about Mamai, about the Terrible Tsar, about our Solovki. Write it down. Tell others. All the memory of the old.
The enemy will not take the Russian land. You know yourself, we give everything for her, everything, to us, the girls, the most precious thing. You tell, otherwise some of them don't even know how from time immemorial we cherish our cherished. We keep old sayings in memory. Count how many centuries the common people, especially the Pomors, remember what happened. We remember our homeland, everyone is grief. A lot of them. The people also grieved, but did not complain. All hoping - will pass.
Don't blame me. I lost the thread for the folding voice. She said as best she could. The book is more stock. It goes into memory from the book, and then to the voice. I became old, I told you, I broke my eighth decade. Baushka read a book, and I was eight or nine years old. Like this".
I wrote everything down, but I could not check the text with the storyteller, we had to leave - I had to hurry to Onega to the regular ship. I decoded and recalled the half-faded text in Arkhangelsk twenty years later.
Below is the text of Praskovia Paramonovna's introduction and her narration. In the record of the narration, in brackets, her notes are included.
THE TALE ABOUT TSAR IVAN THE GROZNY
“I myself told you about the Terrible Tsar. I began to remember - I remembered little. This is not about Ryazan. About Ryazan, the baushka also spoke on her own account, filled the book. She read about Grozny quite often. He honors, and even puts down the cross: “Do not say it at night, listen, because this king is a son-killer. An unforgiving sin on him, even though he was a king. " Baushka was daring to speak. Everyone is responsible for sins.
Btsar Ivan Vasilievich was formidable. He had a cruel heart, deaf from his youth. The Tsarevo's heart lay like a stone. It did not understand either the sorrows or the joy of the people over which he was exalted. The blood played in him, he was merry, as he saw the tears of the people's bitter. He was strong in reason and looked far away. The sovereign's hand was strong. (So \u200b\u200bthey said about him, so it should be with the king.)But a twilight and petrified heart leads the mind astray. It leads on the wrong path, not on the truth and goodness, and the district twirls around and around - it has planned good things, but has gone astray. Cheerfulness of the heart, memorable for a lifetime - and no. The Terrible Tsar did not have it. I myself am not happy, a bobble harasses him, moreover leads to anger. So he threw himself - either he bowed down in the churches, then he executed him, then he pardoned. With a cry he sends a threat - intimidation of his district. Then he was nicknamed - the Tsar of Terrible.
Everyone was afraid of him. He had many wives, but they were all not in love with him. The wives were good-looking, the young people were afraid of him, and the tsar's family had few children. Egovaya guilt, the wife's hearts did not reach out to him, in fear, in unwillingness they were with him. (How can children conceive here. Razi are flawed, with a flaw.)
A man cannot live for a century, a king cannot reign for a century. The Terrible Tsar did not want to share the kingdom, but he had to accustom his elder son to the kingdom. He was tall, a good fellow, but he was weak in heart, weak in soul was his son, from that, the prince, the hereditary firstborn. He was afraid, like everyone else, of Ivan the Terrible. In awe he stood before the tsar-father, as if asked about Novgorod he kept the answer. The answer was not pleasing to the Terrible Tsar. The king became furious, lost his memory, raised his heavy crutch, swung and hit his son, but hit the temporal bone, which keeps life. And the prince-son fell, as if knocked down, on the carpets, to the throne, to the king's foot. The son was killed to death by his father. The heir to the kingdom is slain by the king.
As the king saw the innocent blood of his son, shed by his own father, not his father's heart, but the mind of the king, terrified, then he spoke. “Not me, not me, the crutch fell from my hands,” the tsar shouts and groans. Apparently, he did not regret the son of the hereditary, but was afraid of God's punishment for himself. But he still embraces, he raises the prince. The blood of the tsar's sons, the blood of his father, grandfather, burned here. She showed blood - he, the father, the destroyer of his son, the sovereign's heir. In anger, in a royal wrath, he destroyed the holy commandment.
Truth-truth walks along the ground and knocks in the hearts of people: “The Terrible Sovereign Father is not afraid of his conscience. He does not repent - to answer him at the last terrible judgment. "
He was late in his repentance. The blood of innocent sons was not washed off the hands of the father-king. Until the end of days, the eyes of Ivan the Terrible are tempted by the Tsar. In his dreams he shouted: "Not me, not me!"
The path to the heavens closed to the king.
(From that time on, the Tsar the Terrible, apparently, until his death did not know. He should not have known. He did not answer his conscience, because there was no demand from the tsar).
Paraskovia Paramonovna's notes are short sayings that testify both to the strong memory of the people and to the high morality of their assessments.
We must respectfully and carefully treat the people's memory, the heritage of the unknown creators, which has been preserved in it for centuries. It always finds a response in a soul mate, a father's heritage, and often helps a person on difficult paths of life. This legacy reminds us both of the greatness of our Motherland and of our duty to it. Reminds of the unconquerable loyalty to the people's native land, to their land, of the readiness to stand for them.
A WORD ABOUT THE RATNY WHO RETURNED FROM THE FIELD
When in 1958 I was in Unezhma with Paraskovia Paramonovna Ampilova, I wrote down from her "The Tale of the Crushing of Ryazan", she complained to me in one of the conversations: “We do not know what legends, tales, songs are composed according to the soldiers, all our Pomors who have not returned. It looks like nothing has been written, if someone wrote, but nobody remembered it - he wrote that, not for us. It has not been communicated to us. This is a grievance, they are all young, they gave up their youth, but they tell us: "He is dead," but he did not die, but he put his life in defense of the Motherland. They say nothing of the soul. They sing all the funny songs, more about those who remained alive in plain sight - I said this not in reproach. The defenders, reliable in the unknown land, fell, they themselves are silent. It’s not fair to keep them silent.
The word must be simple, right, sincere. It will go everywhere and find a waiting heart. The longing-memory will console ”.
At parting, she, who lost three sons in the First World War, and four of her grandchildren in the Great Patriotic War, gave me the order to write the Word about our soldiers who did not return.
In 1961, I again visited Unezhma. She brought Paraskovia Paramonovna to court. The word about those who did not return from the field of war - the cry of the White Sea.
The next day, all the old women of Unezhma gathered in the ampilovskaya hut, and there were ten of them. They came to listen to the Word, silent, in their best sundresses, white sleeves and kerchiefs. Paraskovia Paramonovna was ritualized in the same way. She went to the front corner. She greeted those who came with a bow, crossed herself and said loudly: “Sit down, we will listen to the Word. About our Pomors. They were taken in the war by sea and land. Let us accept the Word or no - our heart will tell us. "
The women listened, were silent. Their tears were silent and combustible. When the reading was over, the hostess got up and without a word looked at the women. They were silent, and then at once said: "Yes". And Parascovia confirmed: "That's it."
This was the most severe trial for me. Judgment on the Word, not on the weaving of words.
27 soldiers did not return from the battlefields of the two wars to the families of these widows and orphaned mothers. They knew and remembered the bitterness of loss. Loss of a loved one, their support, future joys.
For twenty years the Word lay in my notebook, with difficulty I restored what I myself wrote ...
Commemorative plaque in Unezhma, set by A.A. Evtyukov
at the end. 1980 - early. 1990s Photo by M. Ogneva. The list of those killed here is far from complete.
.
They, and hundreds of others who went to the front from the Pomor villages,
dedicated to the "Word about those who did not return from the battlefield"
Ksenia Petrovna Gemp.
.
***
Boh goes, the battle is on land, at sea, in the skies. Mortal heavy combat. The enemy attacked us, strong and resourceful.
All the people rose to defend their homeland. The northerners also rose on a par with everyone. We got up to fight for life, for truth and freedom. Not the first wall to stand for them. Not the first time their hand will not flinch on the rule, not the first time their eye will mark the target of the strike, not the first time their heavy faithful bayonet will find its way. The White Sea Territory, harsh and relaxed, tempered his sons and daughters, taught him to stand behind his father's house, taught him to take care of, keep his life free, taught the shoulder and hand of his neighbor - a faithful friend - to value, and taught him to choose a helmsman.
Without hesitation, everyone rose up according to military duty, according to the precepts of grandfathers and fathers, at the call of their mind and heart, at the call of their helmsmen. The fight is on. The fight is bloody long. The northerners are ready to bear all the burdens of it, to bear them to the end. And where, when, what end? The end is one - victorious, it is ahead. Each one holds that victory in his hand, keeps both in his memory and in his heart that idea of \u200b\u200bvictory. If such a thing comes, faithful sons and daughters of their lives, which calls and beckons further, are ready to give for their Motherland, for a right victory. It has always been so with us, and it will be so. A heartfelt parting word to all of them was given by their native country - a handful of paternal earth in a bundle and a maternal blessing on their chest. These covenants are indestructible. They are support in hardships, hope, light ahead. The shoulder bag has a clean shirt, just in case. The cherished little book there, it will comfort you more than once in a bitter hour.
But not all returned from the battlefield, victorious. The firestorm burned and burned many, and they, without flinching, strove forward to the eternal end of bloody battles, strived for a peaceful life, work and happiness. Brave fighters perished, some into the ground, some to the bottom of the sea. They fell in battle, laid down their lives for a just cause.
And in sorrow, great sorrow, but not burdensome, their watered earth easily lies over them with blood. In the spring, in the summer, it grows green and blooms for them, in the autumn, under a scarlet, memorable leaf, it will conceive to rest, and in winter it will be covered with white snow, light, clean. The native land protects and protects its defenders. Protects their sea in calm, and in a thunderstorm, and in another storm. At the bottom of the sea in silence, at the depths of the dark, the rolling stone does not disturb them, their sands do not fall asleep.
Eternal rest to those who have fallen asleep. Eternal honor to those who have fallen asleep. Eternal memory.
When they came home to the sorrowful news, the whole Pomor region was saddened. The young white birch shed a clean tear, the old willow shed tears. The mast pines hummed like a string in the winds, the dark spruce rustled dully, the sultry heather from the wound of time dropped the blue berries. The variegated flowers covered their cups, and the grass, tall green grass, bowed down. A thundercloud rolled over, a lightning bolt cut through it, a month disappeared, the sun set in the fiery dawn of evening, thunders rolled, rains fell, hailstones rattled, flashes were disturbed, and stars fell to the ground, she stirred. Woe, bitter ...
An ardent White Sea platoon groaned, sobbed. And violent winds came from the east, tearing frothy ridges from the platoons. And the agitated sea is dusty, raging with bitter news, with force it beats the coast, hits a high eel and soars up to the tops of the kekurs. In foam, with a crash, he bears angry, bloody tears, tears of inescapable grief, tearing heart. Those tears are heavy - they pierce the stone, rocks, and are buried in them. The White Sea pours them. This is the eternal memory of the sea for the soldiers - their defenders. Every salty White Sea tear is a drop of stone for ever. That stone is remembered to everyone who has seen it, it burns with a dark flame and does not fade. That pomegranate is a stone of sorrow of the heart. It is difficult to open its rocks - they cherish. Those to whom he opened up are also taken care of.
Not everyone returned from the field.
And the lithium bell rang. It didn't ring for a day, not two. It rang mournfully and lingeringly, full of sorrow. The bell rang that one still remained on the wooden old belfry, which had survived three centuries. She, imperishable beauty, served faithfully to the memory of the people. All over the White Sea we heard that ringing.
In the homes of relatives, loved ones, and far away, faithful memory lives - about the warriors-defenders, about their brave, difficult and victorious path. There is an inescapable, proud mother's sorrow, a mother who gave her treasure to the Motherland. The memory-grief of the young wife also lives on, she only has a song about a happy life that is not finished. The image of a bright warrior-hero lives on, a child's memory after his own father.
They remember all their losses and will not forget them. This is our homeland's loss. They are not forgotten by those who did not know losses. Sons follow in the footsteps of fathers. Now they are the protection of life, conscience and truth on the whole Earth. They are our faithful support: fighters for peace ...
Years passed. The long-awaited victory has been won. And the polyphonic folk choir rings like a bell rings. Glorifies victory.
OTHER FRAGMENTS ABOUT Unezhma
.
From the chapter "Pomorskaya on the Right":
The Pomor's clothes are simple and practical both in fabric and cut. “We settle everything ourselves in a businesslike and wise way,” M. Agafelova from Unezhma told me.
From the chapter "Pomeranian Conversations":
There was a conversation in Unezhma, with Paramonovna - Paraskovia Paramonovna Ampilova:
- What is a living word?
She answers:
- Living in us or with us, in our life.
The second person - a fisherman - explains:
- A living word is when you ask questions, you pave the way for your thoughts with the help of books or newspapers or conversations.
I never thought that talking about the language would be so interesting to the Pomors. Much more interesting than at school in the classroom.
- Well, well, well! What do you say about the word?
- A man cannot live without a word.
- Why you can't live without a word.
- You can't bake bread without a word.
In a Pomor village you will hear: "Our word, we said."
From the chapter "Pomors about Avvakum":
In 1953 I was in Unezhma. Outside the village, near the seashore, there was a huge wooden church, almost abandoned. An elderly woman with a sickle cut the overgrown grass near her walls. We started talking. She lamented that the village was emptying, the people were dispersed, houses were boarded up, the church was crumbling. People of the old faith still gather at an old woman - she reads old books, leads stories. And there is no one to support the church. "What are the stories about?" I asked. "As in the old days, they lived firmly on their land and sat in their work, about our righteous."
The woman was of the old faith. She remembered Avvakum and his wife, Nastasitsa.
“He felt sorry for his wife, and didn’t go around her husband’s affection. She had children, women miss them. She suffered hunger and torment with them. Her burden is double - suffering for the children. Where did she get her strength! Write about her in a newspaper. They write about mothers and daughters, but they don't write about a husband's wife. Without a wife, a man is an orphan, the family collapses. How many hardships a wife bears! Write, you have our understandable word. She is also a mother. "
__________________________________
FROM "POMORIAN ORDER".
OUR SEA WHITE. (From Pomeranian sayings).
Our dear sea! It will lead out into the open ocean, on a wide long-distance path. To the east, to the west and at night the road is open. And there, you look, and will bring you to the warm summer seas. And the return trip will not order. All these paths have been tried.
Beautiful, you are not better. And in silence and in rebellion, it is admiration. The shores are different, beautiful, especially in our Kandalukha. Skerries near Karelsky - something that is missing: high kekurs, small islands, and larger, and stony, and wooded.
The sea is a friend, an assistant, and a foe for the Pomor. As you know him, the Pomor can also turn his enmity to good use. Under the steam-rus with a wind, you will run quickly. You need to know your sail well and determine the wind direction accurately. Pomor from childhood gets to know the sea, gets to know it, makes friends with the sea.
The Pomor cannot live without the sea - it gets bored, takes a spree, and nothing gives a restraint.
We live by the sea - everything is said in these words. We settle by the sea, on the seashore. We work in its sea, it feeds us. Moryushko is our admiration. To him, father, we sing songs. The sea is beautiful, they began to forget you completely. Mo-ryushko both in the caress and in the heart - everything is beautiful to us.
Dear Father, White Sea. All his habits, skills are known. The Pomors live with him in harmony, in a family way, according to his orders, habits answer according to their understanding, experience. They struggle with him, do not conquer. It is capricious, but the Pomor is not simple either, he has seen everything.
Incessantly our White. You will move to the north of the Solovki, and there are no shores or islands for you, as soon as you leave the Gorl. The breadth is sea. It seems that there is no end to you. And yet you come out of the funnel - the sea is different to meet. His habits are not White Sea: the wave is not the same, the color of the water is different, and his waters are bitter, they put rust on the fish during salting. Other winds walk over it. That is why his breath is not right.
The sea seems to be endless, but it also has ends.
Our breadwinner, White sea. Respect for him by all the inhabitants of the White Sea. She feeds all Pomors by fishing. The wound could not live without the sea. Now the Pomor sons and daughters are more drawn to the city. Life, they say, is more interesting in the city, more earnings, fun there. The old ones will not leave the sea.
The Barents Sea - it will be more serious than the White Sea. And we did not fail. Quite a restless sea, but rich, profitable. - Yes, we take a lot of fish in the Barents. Bow to him. - This sea took a lot of Pomor labor. Memorable.
And the Sea lives on Earth, then it has both the Donyshko - this is its main firmament, and the Berezhka. And each Moryushka has their own, in-person. On them and define the wound, in which sea came. And the records were kept in the Books - Pilots. Our Pilot is the law of the Pomor.
The sea lives on the Earth, it holds on to it. And we, the Pomors, live according to Mo-ryu. His law is firm, a person cannot change it.
Pomors cannot live without the Sea. Our whole life is here, in it - both joy and bitterness.
OUR NORTH IN THE DESCRIPTION OF A FOREIGNERXvi CENTURY.
(Journal "News of the Arkhangelsk Society for the Study of the Russian North", No. 1 for 1911).
In a very rare edition of 1581 in Latin " Description of European Sarmatia, which includes the Kingdom of Poland, Lithuania, Samogitia, Russia (Russiam), Mazovia, Prussia, Pomerania, Livonia, part of Muscovy and Tartary "Alexander Guagninus, dedicated by the author," the most luminous and powerful "King Stephen Bathory, there are several pages , containing a description of the North of Russia in the XVI century.
Not knowing this book in Russian translation and not knowing whether it is in such a publication, we want to offer extracts from an insignificant part of the "Description of Sarmatia" dedicated to our land.
Translator.
Province of Karelia.
This province has its own language, is located to the north of Novgorod, 60 Polish miles from it; its inhabitants pay tribute to the Moscow prince and the Swedish king, because of their proximity to both. The borders of this province extend to the Arctic Ocean. Solovetsky Island located to the north, between the Dvina province and Korelia, on the sea, eight Polish miles from the mainland, is a subject of the Moscow prince.
There is a famous Russian monastery, the entrance to which women are prohibited on pain of severe punishment. Salt is boiled there in large quantities. They say that there the sun shines continuously (around the clock) during the summer solstice, except for only 2 hours.
Dvinskaya province.
This province is located in the very North, was once under the rule of Novgorod, got its name from the Dvina River flowing here. The river itself got the name - Dvina from the junction of two rivers - the South and the Sukhona. For the Dvina among the Russians means a “double” river. This river, after the confluence of the South and the Sukhona, having received the name Dvina, having passed 100 miles, flows into the Northern Ocean with six mouths, which washes Sweden and Norway. From Muscovy to its mouth, 300 Polish miles are counted.
This province, although it stretches for 100 miles, has, however, absolutely no cities and fortresses, except for the fortress of Kholmogor and the city of Dvina (et Dvinam civitatem) *, which is located in the middle of the country (and also a fortress), as well as Pinega, founded in the foundations of the Dvina (sic!).
It abounds, however, with very many villages, which, due to the infertility of the land, are far and wide apart from each other for a long distance.
The inhabitants feed on all kinds of fish and animals, dress in skins, while the consumption of bread is completely unknown to them. In the seaside places of this country, there are mostly polar bears living in the sea, whose skins, along with the skins of other different types of animals, pay tribute to the Grand Duke. Thus, they (skins) are for the most part taken to Muscovy.
The country itself is rich in salt, and from it the inhabitants of the surrounding countries usually get salt.
Ustyug region.
Vologda province.
Pechora Territory.
Vyatka region.
Perm Territory.
Lopp region (Lapland).
ENGLISH ABOUT RUSSIAN NORTH.
(Journal "News of the Arkhangelsk Society for the Study of the Russian North", No. 6 1913).
The essays represent the translation from English of the book: "Undiscovered Russia", the author of its Englishman Stephem Graham, passionately interested in the Russian people, spent several years in Russia, often traveling on foot in various parts of our homeland. The result of his observations was several books about Russia.
« Undiscovered Russia», individual chapters from which are printed below contain personal impressions of the author, taken from his trip to the North of Russia in the summer of 1910.
White night in Russia.
I arrived from the far south to the Far North of the Tsarist Empire. Through the steppes he reached Rostov-on-Don, stricken with cholera, from there, along the heights of the country of the Don Cossacks, through Little Russia, he went to Voronezh and Moscow. The sun was already beating down the plains when I left the south, but it was so cold in Moscow that the servants of open restaurants wore coats over their suits. When I drove through the northern provinces, it seemed to me that I had parted with summer, and spring returned again.
I arrived in a country where there is a continuous day for 2 months a year, and an endless night lasts for 2 months.
Arkhangelsk- a beautiful city, stretching for 7 versts in length, with many churches, on whose gilded domes the sun plays. The houses and sidewalks are made of pine logs, not painted and roughly finished. Life is in full swing on the Embankment; load timber, unload fish, women wash cod on wooden docks; in bright red dresses, regularly striking the oars, girls float out of the villages located on the other side of the river. There are about a hundred small shops in the market, Norwegians and Scots are milling about, and on the shelves are such strange goods as cod pie, birch bark dishes, fishbone pipes, images of saints, rags for poor pilgrims.
Passenger steamers whistle incessantly, tugs haul whole islands of pine logs up and down the river.
The piers, especially the Solovetsky, are teeming with pilgrims looking for ships going to the Solovetsky Monastery, considered a holy place.
Many of the pilgrims came on foot for 1000 miles or so, taking advantage of the hospitality of the residents along the way, since most of them walk, often without a penny in their pockets.
I boarded a steamer heading down and saw a huge pilgrimage ship belonging to the monastery. The entire crew of this ship consisted of monks alone. Long-haired, in old-fashioned blue cassocks, they presented a picturesque picture.
In a crowd of pilgrims, or "pilgrims," \u200b\u200bas the Russians call them, I entered a riverside tavern, run by a kind old woman whose visitors were more of a poor class than a sufficient class. The whole institution consisted of a small common dining room and two or three small rooms. Perhaps 12 people could be accommodated at the tables at the same time, of course, without pretending to be comfortable. Mostly sailors and pilgrims gathered here.
Outside, on a sign, washed by the rains, blue, like an old sailor, was the inscription: "Tea room"; for those who could not read, a teapot, a cup, glasses, rolls, bagels and a fish were painted.
In the teahouse, you could get a glass of tea for a penny with an addition of half a lump of sugar, for two or three kopecks of pickled cucumbers wrapped in a sheet of old newspapers, milk and crackers, unprepossessing in appearance, but quite tasty.
Arkhangelsk is a mysterious city; it is an almost unprotected port full of ships of all nationalities. Feel like you're using a childish expression "At the top of Europe". The sky seems lower here than anywhere else. This wide sky, apparently, is never more than half clear. Fancy little clouds, like sheep or cows with long bodies, lay on it.
White night reality.At midnight it is just as light as at 11 o'clock, at one in the morning you can read with the same ease as at one in the afternoon. I sat down on a bench near the house of Peter the Great and looked at the sun. Like a disk, it stood with a sharp edge on the surface of the Belago Sea, and its rays scattered upwards, either sunset or pre-dawn, but crimson stripes crawled along the enchanted river, trembling and hesitating. Far to the west, among the pine trees, the light white wall of the church is dim and pale. A strange secret seemed in the night, gentle, gentle, wonderful. Leaning on its knees, nature sat with its head lowered between its hands and dreamed. The person felt himself in the kingdom of peace and quiet, as if in the depths of a sacred secret. "Holy Russia", like the light of vision, encompassing, transforming darkness, burning before the eyes, the light of many halos, a dream in reality ...
I breathed lightly and gave my heart to Russia. She is woman. Behind her eyes are pine forests and impenetrable darkness, in her hand she holds flowers. She is the mother of nations, a sacred being who sits at home and prays at the time that we, more worldly ones, leave the house every day.
"How did you feel Russia?" - Asked me a new friend Vasily Vasilyevich, who met with me the next day. “Don't say good, bad, or interesting. You understand what I mean. " I found her old, fragrant, sad, like black earth " - I answered.
Village furrier.
The first village that I had to meet in the Arkhangelsk province was Beaver Mountain.This is a bunch of huts located on a clay cliff above the Northern Dvina.
I rented an apartment in the furrier's house. Two white bearskins hung from ropes stretched out where the garden should be, and at the front door in a cage made from a pig's barn sat a huge brown eagle, which had accidentally fallen into the hands of a peasant. Since the Russians do not pursue cleanliness, I expected to find a very dirty room, but to my great surprise I found myself in a well-kept, tidy bedroom with clean floors and walls; off to one side was a high bed on four legs, very much like an English one, on it lay a feather bed, white pillows, and a quilt sewn from shreds. I was sure that I would not find insects here, since they were all destroyed with mothballs.
There were many different things in the room, most of them stuffed with stuffed birds, carved from a tree of toys, icons. Fifteen old icons looked from the wall, partly painted on wood, partly engraved on metal. Next to the door that led to me was a kitchen with a large open oven; here the servant Natasha slept on a mattress spread on the floor.
In the attic above me was piled up hay and straw, piled up salmon nets, guns; on ropes stretched from wall to wall, animal skins - bear, wolf, seal - were hung for ventilation. On a bed, built like a huge kennel with a roof and covered with hay or straw on all sides, the owner and his wife slept; in order to crawl out of it, a small hole was made on the side, like a passage into a burrow or den of a wild beast. The owners loved this bed very much because they were protected from mosquito bites.
I was received very cordially, and the hostess offered me stews of milk and fried fish as well as the hostess could. Gregory, her husband, worked upstairs, scraping out the skin with a blunt knife or trampling clean fur in a barrel of sawdust with his feet.
I liked to watch for a long time the work of the owner and his young maid. It seemed especially interesting to me to watch how Gregory, standing in a barrel, trampled on an expensive black bearskin with his huge boots. He assured me that the bearskin did not suffer any harm from such treatment.
Fur was also sold here. A bearskin could be obtained for a sovereign or 30 shillings, although for the best they took 4 or 5 pounds, seal skins were sold for 2, 3 or 4 shillings, wolf skins from 10 shillings. to the pound. For 2 pounds you can make an outer garment out of good deer fur. In every hut in Bobrov there is a cow, as in all the villages of the Northern Dvina.
Every morning Gregory killed a crow and threw it to an eagle. I wondered why he didn’t shoot pigeons, which were much more numerous and easier to shoot, but it turned out that the pigeon was a sacred bird.
“The eagle only eats raw meat,” said the man, poking the bird with a stick.
"What are you giving him to drink?" - I became interested.
The peasant chuckled slyly and replied: "He only drinks blood."
Once, in my absence, a visitor came, bought a bird for two rubles and set it free.
"How it was?" I asked.
"Oh, good hunter, master, but I don't know why he let her go."
“He released her because the eagle is a mighty, beautiful noble bird. And you yourself should have done the same, ”I said. “If it were an official, it would order you to let the eagle free and pay you nothing. Why? Because it would be a shame for the Russian flag - eagle in a pig shed and a bearskin on a rope! "
TERSKY BEACH.
(Journal "News of the Arkhangelsk Society for the Study of the Russian North", No. 1 for 1914).
Back in the 17th century, one of the Novgorod princes agreed with the Lord the Great Novgorod that he, the prince, personally own the region of the Tersk coast. Then the Novgorod boyars (Marfa Boretskaya) owned the land, and later their Moscow (Trinity-Sergiev and Novospassky - "Spas on the New") and our northern (Solovetsky, Antoniev-Siysk, Nikolaev-Karelian and Kirillov-Belozersky) monasteries and, finally, the most holy patriarchs of "Moscow and All Russia" themselves had their estates here.
Widely known in the past, it is now forgotten by both God and people ... And in the silence of this oblivion is now the "all-end ruin" of the Tersk coast. As if his someone, the one in power, in the ancient Russian legal term "I gave it to the stream and plunder." Or, at least, with an indifferent, dispassionate eye, "look" at this ruin. The once rich land is now an almost finished land ... It is slowly dying and, what is sadder of all, there is no hope for the future.
The Terskiy coast has long been famous for two gifts of its harsh sad nature - salmon, which is in pre-Petrine Russia and to the royal and patriarchal tables and - pearl. And now, it seems, is not far off the day when over both of these primordial riches of the Tersk coast, with sadness, a cross will have to be erected. And that's why.
For the Terskogo coast, predation is of prime importance. That the result of predation is the decrease in salmon on the Tersk coast is evident ...
Another gift from the nature of the Tersk coast - pearls, which we have indicated, one might think, will eventually come out completely, will be destroyed, unless measures are taken to protect it.
Pearl fishing is a good part-time income for the local population, especially if pearl prices are high, for example. in the summer of 1913, residents of the village. The Varzugs, who are the only ones engaged in this fishery here, gained 10-12 thousand rubles from its sale. The ease and profitability of fishing led to the fact that everyone who is not lazy is engaged in pearl fishing, and this abundance of industrialists again affected the fishing object, namely, the number of pearl shells decreased.
In r. There are no good pearls left for Varzuga (in any case, it is difficult to find), and more enterprising peasants are transferring their activities to other rivers, such as the r. Muna is a tributary of the river. Umby, r. Kitsa is a tributary of the river. Varzugi and others; and one zealous pearl in his search for pearls "searched" - bypassed all the rivers of the White Sea coast of the peninsula up to the top of the Kandalaksha Bay ..
Last summer there was even a special study for pearls of the Ponoya River, but there were no pearls in Ponoya.
Let's dwell on forestry Tersk coast. However, to tell the truth, there is no forestry here.
It should be noted that the Terskiy coast is not rich at all in timber, especially good, suitable for industry, which explains the fact that there have not been timber harvesting for factories here until now, although the factory "spies" have already twice come up the river. Varzuga, but a suitable forest was not found. However, what exists is zealously exterminated without any, even a penny, income for the treasury and, of course, without any permission from the proper authorities. How much young forest goes in connection with the salmon hunt is beyond the most approximate calculation. Thousands, maybe even tens of thousands of stakes are cut down, needles are simply chopped off, tens of thousands are chopped off for floats and young trees are almost one inch into the cut - according to the local whips, used for anchors and nets instead of ropes, several hundred for one fishing site (how much, one wonders, do we need this for all industrialists?)
As far as they generally do not hesitate here with permits for cutting forests, they show, for example, such facts that, take ticket for a hundred logs, two hundred are cut down, on one ticket they cut several connectors and even build whole sea vessels without any tickets ...
Forest fires occur annually, when the forest burns out tens of miles ...
The results of such forestry are again quite deplorable ... The old-timers of the Kuzomenskaya still remember how 40-50 years ago there were stumps sticking out near the village itself - the remains of a forest that used to be here. Now, from the village to the forest, you have to walk four miles ...
To complete the picture of Terskago's "ruin", let us also point out local "cultural conveniences". First of all, complete impassability - it provides those who wish to either choose or endanger their lives to drive into fragile karbaskahs on the open sea or go ad pedes apostollorum, along the seashore; in with. Varzuga does not even have a zemstvo station. Medical assistance is almost absent, since the entire Terskiy coast from Umba to Ponoy (about 400 versts) there is only one paramedic and midwife in the village. Kuzomeni, and his doctor, despite more than ten years of existence in the village. Kuzomeni vacancies of a doctor have never been seen here. There is also no veterinary care.
And reindeer (riding on reindeer is the only and most accessible way for the entire population to travel in winter) are dying ... which, however, has already been indicated more than once in the local press.
There are other delights of local life, but not all, there are facts about which "for the sake of a Jew" it is better to speak not in the local press, but somewhere farther away, where the correspondent has more known kind of guarantees.
(An. Popov).
SUMMER AND ONEZHSKY BEACH(from S.V. Maksimov's book "A Year in the North")
Farewell to Arkhangelsk and departure from there. - First impressions of the sea. - Lost sterlet. - Solza. - Posad Nyonoksa; salt brews; white sea salt and methods of obtaining it. - Una and Unskie Horns with the Pertomin monastery and legends about Peter the Great. - Settlements along the Summer and Onega coasts.
Farewell to Arkhangelsk and departure from there.
Arkhangelsk May 1856, against expectations, turned out to be a completely spring month, although, of course, in its own way: the grass quickly turned green, washed with spring water, streams quickly made their way from the mountains into ravines and lowlands. Soon then the river ice turned blue, openings and yellow outskirts formed; soft, deep mud spread everywhere. The wind brought spring freshness, more often the sky was frowned with rain clouds. The matinees came to an end, gradually losing the strength of their cold: everything, in a word, promised a quick ice melting and the opportunity to go to sea. For two days it rained continuously, fine and frequent, for the same amount of time strong gusty winds were fastened, and the wide, deep Northern Dvina, cracked in many places and thickly blackened throughout its entire space visible to Arkhangelsk, was filled almost to the brim - and began to open.
In huge chunks, sometimes capturing more than half of the river, a mass of ice rushed towards the sea. Once she stopped, hidden by her multitude, in the narrow Berezovsky branch of the river, and flooded the Solombala port village with water to the lower floors of its hovels. For a day there was water in the village, amusing the good-natured inhabitants with carnival games in karbas and boats. For a day, the ice that was perched in the mouth kept on, resisting the pressure of new pieces brought by the mountain winds. Finally, the ice broke and all of its mass passed into the White Sea, where it would either have to be crushed into small pieces (sludge) by sea hummocks, or melted in a mass of sea water and thus did not even reach the throat of the sea. The time has come for the city troublemakers - that dirty, yellow, thick water, which, at its extreme unfitness for consumption, is replaced by thrifty owners with water harvested before the ice melt.
The troublemaker is over. The appearance of dirty black ice from the Pinega River was expected. This ice also fell through, accompanied by thick dirty foam, having managed, unfortunately, to break several barges with grain bread (according to the native - with rash). June came: the city trees were strewn with fresh, soft leaves; the greenery everywhere was in the eyes, the sun shone merrily, warmed with its beneficent warmth and noticeably dried the spring mud. Dvina had already managed to enter its shores and in some places shone through even with sand near the shores. Positive rumors began to circulate that the sea was also cleared. The local population poured into the city garden, accustomed to rest under the charm of the renewed and enlightened nature ... And the city of Arkhangelsk was already flaunted behind me, all huddled closer to the river, along which the postal karbas swayed, obliged to take me to the first station along the Onega highway, from where, as they said, they will be taken already in a cart and on horses, and they will give an eye-opening opportunity to be convinced of the truth of the saying that "there is no cart in the whole of Onega" and the sufficient probability of the fact that there in the old days "in the summer the governor was taken in a sleigh through the city, on horns onuchi dried. "
To the right in front of me, because of the greenery of the coastal willow, the spitz was beautifully silvered and the cross that crowned the wooden church was cast in gold Keg-islands... The river stretched straight with its impenetrable distance, in which for that time everything unknown was kept for me, everything that so much worries and irresistibly attracts me. To the left stretched the steep black bank of the tundra, beyond it peeped out a forest, and from behind it another village, another village, and again the same Dvina, which had also gone into impenetrable distance. The breeze blew cool: my rowers adjusted the sail, removed the oars, sang a song and played it carelessly - cheerfully spreading - loudly.
I turned to Arkhangelsk not to sigh deeply and regret being separated from him for four months, but just to see if he was as good on his river as, for example, all the Volga cities. With verification and further considerations, it turned out that the landscape of Arkhangelsk can captivate the artist with its originality and picturesque location. It is true that here, too, there were many features in common with all other cities: churches also occupied the front and most of the plan; these churches were also diverse in their architecture; the same white color, changing to yellow, sharply set off the greenery of gardens and front gardens; also, finally, a low, brand new wooden house stood next to a large two-story stone house. This time the difference is that this whole group of city buildings stretches on a three-verst space, closed on the right side by the Arkhangelsk monastery, on the left - by the Solombala Cathedral. In the middle, the entire landscape is beautifully diversified by the ruins of the so-called German courtyard, which has not been broken until now due to the impossibility of breaking through the boiled lime that binds the strong bricks of the Novgorod case, petrified to granite properties. But all this gradually recedes into the distance and is covered with fog.
First impressions of the sea.
Arkhangelsk hid behind Keg-ostrovsky a promontory on one side and a sad-looking tundra shore on the other. Stretched the banks to the right and to the left, in some places wooded in some places deserted. Lack of people everywhere: neither man nor horse can be seen anywhere. A village will look out from behind the opposite cape, a village will spread out, but even there there is almost the same desertion and the same silence, which for us is disturbed only by the noise of the water on the bow of the karbas, and once only by the human talk and shout from the passing Solovetsky boat, which has dropped its sails. The wind is quiet; were rowing: the water was rustling under the oars ...
That's all. A little further: in the station hut called Ricosihoy, blinded, eyes and haunted myriads of mosquitoes that sprinkle throughout the summer along the coast of rivers, lakes and the Arkhangelsk Sea. The same was expected (and indeed met) at the next station in Taborah... Unbearably hit in the chest and in the back, beaten by ruts and broken by time and use, a roadway: the wheels were tapping on it, both the rider and the driver jumped up in their places, with difficulty collecting their breath, wrapped, as usual, the crested horses, broken by their legs, nourishingly not fed, decently not left. The same pleasures lay ahead at the next station, and so on - perhaps right up to the city of Onega. Moreover, nothing entertained the attention; the desolation and inhospitableness of the species produced an astonishing degree of melancholy and apathy. It seemed that there was no end to these torments: it seemed, and could not stand all of them ...
Well, your grace, you all tried to ask: where is the sea, where is the sea? There you are and the sea!
The driver pointed with his whip to the far side of the sky in front of us. For the first time in my life I had to see the sea, to be near it. I was in a hurry to look in the direction of the driver's hand, but for the first time I saw little: the gray Arkhangelsk sky looked dimly and unfriendly as usual, and although this time the summer sun was shining on it in all its brightness, the sun, which at the time described was hiding under the horizon for some two or three hours, nevertheless the proximity of the sea was almost certain. There was that fresh, noticeably strong, but pleasant coolness in the air, which somewhat (but rather weakly) could resemble the sensations of a person who suddenly came out of a dense resinous forest in a hot summer season on the shore of a large swampy lake.
A sharp, rather fresh breeze long-tailed duck, occasionally ( perfume - as they say here) began to blow in the face and even noticeably dispersed myriads of mosquitoes willingly huddling in the stuffy forest. But I haven't seen the sea yet. The whitish, wide strip, tightly merging with the sky, could, however, seem to be the distant edge of sea water, and this was not subject to the slightest doubt since the time when a white sail appeared on this whitish strip far ahead, as if thrust into the sky. The near part of the sea was still closed from us by the neighboring copse: we could see only a sail, a strip on the horizon, and - nothing more. Closer to us, nevertheless, still continued to stretch long, dense rows of low, densely standing one from another from the autumn of fir trees, interspersed with immensely dense, squat wide bushes of juniper. Below on the ground, at the very edge of the road, innumerable red bushes of yellow cloudberries, which were, this time, in full bloom, began and stretched into the forest distance, through hummocks and moles, and the green bushes of the tenacious crow, always scattering its long branches over the naked and dry places, such as the local stones and surface luds. To our left, immeasurably into the distance, a swampy swamp was reddening, almost covered with the same cloudberry and the same crow, here and there with puddles sparkling in the sun (rads, footsteps, a row - in the local way, with bogies - in Mezen style); in some places, the mines had already grabbed onto them, and even a stunted forest growth appeared.
Meanwhile we went downhill; the forest stopped and the sea in all its immense breadth lay before us, shining from the sun, deserted, boundless, this time smooth as glass. Merging with the horizon in the distance, it was designated in this place by a thick black, but narrow stripe, as if testifying that the human eye could no longer penetrate beyond her. The imperturbable silence over this entire bright surface, not comprehended by a single familiar sign of life, produced some kind of inexplicable, painful impression, further intensified by the cry of seagulls. They went up and down on a huge stone, reddened far from the shore.
Scared at that time and this forest, which gloomily stretched back and forth along the coast, and this desolation and loneliness far from villages, far from people, surrounded by a huge body of water and wild, virgin nature. The concentrated silence of the coachman further intensified the hopelessness of the situation. The squeal of seagulls was beginning to become barely bearable.
Going downhill, we drove up almost to the water itself, heading along the smoothly washed, as if rolled, still wet sand. Waves began to splash almost on the wheels of the cart, which noisily spun back, being cut on the return path by other, new ones. I spoke to the driver:
Well, do you have a road here and goes near the water itself?
Road mountain went. Yes, see, now kuipoga and it is always more profitable to ride along it: the horses do not wrap themselves up, and your grace is not insulting. Mountainsomething, look, everything would be broken off.
The driver's peculiar speech did not seem incomprehensible to me. Apparently, we rode near the sea water during that period of its state, when the ebb tide carried it away from the coast (into the bare), and the time continued when the hollow (inflow) water did not rush towards the coast by the tide. After 6, maybe even after 5 - 4 hours, the place where we are going will be covered by water for an arshin. For a long time, I also knew that for a seaside inhabitant, all types of localities are divided only into two genera: sea and mountain, and he calls the high seashore a mountain, and everything that is further from the sea, even if there was not only a mountain, but even any sign of a hill, a hillock.
Probably encouraged by my question, the driver addressed me with his remark. Spreading his fingers against the wind, to the side of the sea, he said:
After all, it never lives with us so that it would stand calmly, as if in a bucket, approximately, or in a tub: everything swells, everything moves, all this peg walks in it, as now would take. There is no rest for him, day or night: from centuries to know this, from the very time when his Lord God shed in our side ...
But in the fall, the winds will fall, - oh, how it will clear up! The platoonishsho (excitement) will dissolve such that, unnecessarily, it is big and they do not fuss.
And behold, your grace! - He continued in the same instructive tone as he began, pointing with his fingers at the sea spread under our feet, - our sea does not hold any rubbish, it throws everything out of itself: all these logs, chips there, or something - everything mosques to the shore. Keeps cleanliness!
At the same time he pointed to the rows of dry twigs, boards and the like, knocked down in rows on the coastal sand, along which we continued to go further and further to the left.
A new sail gleamed in the sea: the sun shone on a large ship.
Lodya is coming, - I remarked, - must be from Arkhangelsk?
The driver quickly looked around, looked at me with a surprised look and asked:
Why dare you?
Yes, the wind is blowing from there, and the boats are sailing ...
So, truly so: you know, therefore; and then we carry those who do not dare. It wasn't just that you spoke from the Volga.
Lost sterlet.
The Arkhangelsk Pomors are so curious and suspicious that in every village they are crowds and single-handedly interrogate everyone where, why and from where they are going, and are interested in every detail of the life of a new person almost more than their own. In this, the Pomor peasants are similar to the Great Russian women and not at all like peasants, who are almost always focused on personal interests and are more silent than curious.
And if you realized this with your mind, - continued my driver, - so I will tell you more. This boat, it must be, brought the first salmon fish-cod from Murman: again, you know, she ran there for a new one! Did you eat something fresh, your grace?
Having received an affirmative answer, the driver continued:
It hurts, after all, she is good, fresh: saccharin, my brother, in a word! We don't even need your meat, if there is a cod - the word is true! What kind of fish lives there, in Rasee, on the Volga, on yours?
Sterlet, sturgeon, beluzhina, pike perch ...
No, we have never heard of these, they are not conducted with us. The sturgeon over there, they say, has appeared on the Dvina for about five years: this is how gentlemen eat, but they do not praise it. Cod, hey, our salmon is better! No, we don't have your fish: we have our own. Do you see the pegs?
The driver pointed to the sea. There stuck in a myriad of stakes above the water, beside which the anchored karbas swayed; a human head, covered with a warm hat, protruded from the sides of the ship. The driver continued:
We tie such nets to the pegs to these: the flounder enters there, the navaga again, the brown trout; Something harmful and the herring gets in, the salmon is a dear mother, a dear fish, but look out: the carbass is swinging, the head sticks out - this is the watchman. How he will notice that a fish has swum, pushed the net, downloaded kibas (the upper birch bark tubes, floats of the net), he will howl: in the hut, in this one near the mountain, the women are sleeping. If they hear a cry, they will come and help them pull out the net. Whatever fish gets there, they will take it out.
And these are the places where we catch flounder, kalegoy their name, - continued my driver, apparently having a conversation and wishing to express everything on this matter. - After all, we have to tell you, every word has its own answer. How would you think it?
He pointed to the coast.
Dirt, in my opinion, silt ...
In our opinion - nyasha; in our opinion, if this nyasha does not lift a human leg - swell will be. What we drove along - kechkar: sand-from. If there are a lot of stones heaped up on the kechkar, it’s impossible to drive over it. bony Coast. So here we are. You will be in Onega - there you will see it often. There it hurts the sea is not okay, bony!
This, - he continued again, - that there was water left from the hollow water, puddles - zalechki... So know! Well, okay, wait!
He paused, staring out at the sea. He looked there for a long time, then turned to me with a remark:
But I lied to you about Lodya, about this one: the Lodya is Solovetsky! Not a cod, but, you know, the pilgrims were lucky.
Why do you think so?
But look: on the front mast, it is like an asterisk burning. They always have a copper cross on the front mast; I would become closer, and the inscription on the stern would be recognized. They have them ... there are such painted boats. Therefore, we will recognize them. And their name lives on, as if for a man: Zosima would be for you, Savvaty, Alexander Nevsky.
Meanwhile, the waves began to splash on the sand noticeably more often and noisier; a significantly fresh wind (NO), here called the midwife, blew in the face. Lodya dropped her sails. The sky, however, was still clear and clear. The sea surface was already noticeably rippling with waves. My coachman could not resist:
That's the truth I told you dave: there is no peace in our sea. Whatever wind will fall forever, now it has changed on the golomyannaya (sea) one.
At these words, he turned his head to the side of the wind and, without hesitating a minute, again remarked:
Mezhnik from midwife to vostok (ONO); closer to the east, that's what the wind is starting now. Now the platoon will go for a walk from the wind, always like that, from the ages!
Barely understandable, due to the multitude of provincialisms, the speech of my interlocutor was not so dark and confused for me as yet, for example, the speech of distant Pomors. The driver's dialect, apparently, was also influenced by the proximity of the provincial town and some communication with passers-by. In the distant Pomorie, especially in places remote from cities, I had to get into a dead end more than once, hearing incomprehensible speech in my native language, but from a Russian person. Later listening to the language of the Pomors, along with the Karelian and ancient Slavic ones, I also came across words that were amazing in their aptly correct composition.
This is, for example, the word undead, concluding a collective concept about every spirit of popular superstition: water, brownie, goblin, mermaid, about everything, as it were not living human life. I have found many words which, it seems, could conveniently replace the foreign ones that have taken root in us; eg: hawk - weather vane, overhaul - beams, timber for deck flooring, carriage - transport, naked - sea distance, drog - halyard for lifting the yard, red beat - full beydewind, to fight - maneuver, orders - hatch, elastic - frame. It is true that at the same time there are words such as, for example: lemecha - underwater sandbank, pader - stormy weather with rain, mess - a place on the ship covered with sand and replacing the oven, guina - a booth on Kholmogorsk karbas ... But more on that in its place.
What is it that got you crazy, your grace? - My driver spoke again.
What are you saying? I asked.
Yes, you see, you seem to have been snatched by someone, angry or what?
I thought about it.
That's it. And I thought, was it from me, they say?
And what, fellow countryman? - I started to support the conversation between us again.
What does your grace want: ask!
Is it really only at sea and fishing?
We have something?
Not everyone is by the sea; they go to the city, live in offices there; ships are being repaired again ...
Why, you seem to be sowing bread too?
How! We sow a third of rye, two-thirds of wheat (barley). What did you want from our bread? But the glory is that we sow, we inflate ourselves, but look, we eat everything from the government: we lack our own. There are our summers, you see what we have: all the cold is standing. Where can he be born here, bread? He will not be born if a good summer comes along. So we will sow, and put a great hope for it, and wait, and come in joy: our crop will sprout and the seed will be poured. And there, look, from every mshina it went like a mist of steam: everything will grab, and your bread will chill - your labors. What is there to beat, to what end will you bring yourself? To none. Trust your word!
Out if you want the field is ours, it's all there! The driver went on, again pointing to the sea, - this field does not need to be plowed: it gives birth without you on its own. Look where we get our bread and do not offend, by God! If you do business with him, you won't get out of it without a vengeance, by God! ..
Solza.
We turned up the hill. The water increased significantly, the further, the more. The waves of the sea became steeper and gave off a dull noise, which was so fascinating in all this solitude. There was a place to roam both this sea, and this noise, because of which no seagulls could be heard, no boats could be seen, no sentry karbas. We drove for a short time and, therefore, a little, when under our feet, under the mountain, stretched the narrow river Solza, and on the other side - a small village of the same name, with a wooden church. It was necessary to move on karbas and drag their things on foot about half a mile in order to take new horses and believe by personal inquiries that proverb that goes about the Solzians, and in the meaning of which, as if they, going to the seashore, to the mouth of their river, and Seeing a boat going by the sea, they say to the wind: "Break God with a boat - feed God Solza."
The real meaning of this saying turned out to be that Solza, being at a fairly significant distance from the sea on the river, into which only in autumn (and then in small quantities) salmon enters, lives poorly, lives almost exclusively, one might say, by chance: and the same by repairing a crashed on the nearest, rich in frequent and significant sand shoals, the seashore, or by catching a sea animal - beluga whalesthat has only been coming here for years. Arable farming in Solza is also insignificant in terms of the sterility of the soil and the severity of the polar climate, and in general this village, when viewed by eye, is much poorer than many others.
Posad Nyonoksa; salt brews; white sea salt and methods of obtaining it.
Arable farming is also insignificant in the next Pomor village Nenokse, but this posad is incomparably richer and more populous than Solza. Not to mention the fact that the Nyonoksky Posad, due to some accident, was divided into regular sections with wide straight streets, the houses themselves look somehow cheerfully with their two floors. There are two churches in it, because of which a narrow strip of the sea turns blue, which is six miles away from the settlement by a direct path. An abyss of cows, sheep, horses wanders the streets, and contrary to expectation, there are many peasants and not in tattered rags, as in Solza. Apparently, they live prosperously and live for the most part of the house, without having to leave it.
A lot of some long, gloomy-looking huts that I came across on my further journey along the bank from Nyonoksa to Syuzma and turned out to be salt brewhouses belong to the townspeople. In this exceptional activity of boiling salt from sea water, the Nenokshans find the means to a remarkably comfortable existence. There were up to ten salt factories on the coast of the White Sea. In addition, twelve salt wells belonged to the varnits of the Nenoksa settlement. The salt digested here is called key, while the salt mined at the distant breweries of the Summer Coast, for example, in Krasnoe Selo, is called long-tailed... The salt is boiled down in this way: to chrenu - a huge iron box, approved on the same iron strips below and on four pillars on the sides, - they dig a ditch from the sea or carry pipes. Sea water (brine) flows through this ditch or pipes and fills the vat to the top. They put fire on the bottom and heat this brine to a state of boiling and evaporation; then the boiled dirt is removed from above with a spatula, and the mass remaining at the bottom of the cren (after the cessation of water vaporization) is raked out and dried in air ...
In autumn fishing for salmon and other small sea fish, the Nenokshans are looking for only a simple way to feed themselves and their families with unbought food. It is true that the business of boiling salt is being conducted - in the name of the Russian, perhaps, I suppose, but somehow - carelessly. The brine, passing through dirty, never cleaned pipes, gives salt of some dirty, black kind with limescale and other impurities that are unusable. It is true that this salt, even with its taste, which gives off some kind of bitterness, does not fulfill its main purpose and does not contain the necessary characteristic property - salinity, and, in any case, immeasurably departed in dignity from the Norwegian and French salt exported by the Pomors because of border (via Norway) duty free.
This circumstance can explain to oneself the fact that many salt pans on the shores of the White Sea have already stopped their work and that the Pomors resolutely do not use their salt when salting fish, limiting its use only at home meals in welding and in other fresh dishes. Meanwhile, the brine of sea water along the entire Summer Coast is so solid that it makes it possible to live up to the present in a small village next to Nenoksa Suzme sea \u200b\u200bbaths. They have long and positively relieved the suffering of many Arkhangelsk residents who travel here over the years to summer cottages. In the same way, city hats, umbrellas, shepherd's hats with wide brims and walking sticks flashed past me on my way through this village, as they flashed in 1831, when the first trips of the sick began here from Arkhangelsk for sea bathing.
Una and Unskie Horns with the Pertomin monastery and legends about Peter the Great.
The same smoky, old salted sheds, soaked in soot, stench and dampness, come across Suzma: in Red Mountain and in Unskom posade. The same stories are heard that here, too, salmon are caught in the fall; that both navaga and brown trout willingly fall into the nets; that beluga whales also stand near the coast, but that they do not catch them for lack of navaga, which are expensive. These Arkhangelsk ladies and gentlemen would be ready to give in for rent, but only for an incredibly expensive percentage amount, from which it’s easier to climb into a loop than to put a burden on their homegrown, unbought shoulders. In all these places, in the autumn there is also herring, but in very small quantities compared with the Kemsky Pomorie.
The same two-story houses, the same wooden churches or, instead of them, the same chapels flicker in every village; the shores of the sea are affected by the same desertion; the same, finally, pegs stick out in the water near the shore, and the karbas sways on a wave with a watchman. There is no difference in the methods of fishing between all these villages, except, perhaps, only that in Una (posad) inhabitants also go to the forest for forest birds, following the example of the following villages to the city of Onega, already at a considerable distance from the sea, what are: Nizhmozero, Kyanda, Tamitsa, Pokrovskoe other. At 20, 30 versts the settlements are removed from one another, and only two, many three, often empty fishing huts remind on all these routes between the seaside villages of the closeness of life, work and rational beings. Something extraordinarily pleasant, as if after each move it seems like some kind of reward for long torment any of the villages into which the postal horses, moving their legs, will finally be brought in with great difficulty. The same is tested in the villages following Syuzma - in the village of Krasnaya Gora and in the settlement of Unskoye.
Not reaching a few versts to Una, from the extreme and last mountain to the sea, you can (with difficulty, however) see a small edge of the distant lip, bearing the name of the neighboring settlement. This lip is remembered in Russian history by the fact that fate indicated to her an enviable share to take on her calm waters, protected by a narrow passage ( horns) from the sea wind that boat, which in 1694 almost crashed in a terrible storm on June 2 on underwater shoals and almost swallowed up with it the hope of Russia - the Great Peter. Western Cape, or the horn called yarengsky (below the neighboring Krasnogorsk), covered with a birch forest and holding in front of it a sand scree, which in the bucket of the lip, on the low-lying coast, is covered with meadows, and further along the mountain-forest and arable land. Krasnogorsk horn, covered with a pine forest and rising above the water by more than 11 yards, covers from the sea side a small, poor in monks and livelihoods pertominsky monastery and two villages with salovars.
In the Pertomin monastery will tell you that the foundation was laid under Tsar Grozny (1599) *
(* 1599 - the date of foundation of the Pertomin monastery, cited by Maximov, is at odds with other data, according to which the monastery was founded in 1617 (LI Denisov. Orthodox monasteries of the Russian Empire. M., 1908, p. 7). The indication that the monastery was founded under Ivan the Terrible is also incorrect - this tsar died in 1584. Other dates concerning the construction of the monastery also differ from those given in other sources).
the elder of Sergius Mamant in the chapel built over the bodies of the Solovetsky monks Vassian and Iona who drowned in the sea and were thrown ashore here; that in 1604 Hieromonk Ephraim built the Church of the Transfiguration, went to Vologda for an antimension, and was robbed and killed by Lithuanian people on the way; and that, finally, only in 1637 did the Ponoy priest-monk Jacob succeed in completing the construction of the monastery, who built the second Church of the Assumption and gathered a crowded brotherhood.
They will say that Peter I, with the bishop Athanasius, who was with him, testified to the relics of the founders, and, finding bones for one righteous one, he sealed them himself, but he ordered the monks to compose and publish a service. They will also show that the foundation of the stone church dates back to 1685, and add to all this that the small number of brethren at present depends on the extreme removal of the monastery away from the main road. They feed on fishing and alms from pilgrims, who occasionally came here on the way to the Solovetsky Monastery, but since the ships started, all the people pass by. However, even in happy times, this monastery, with a stockyard and other outbuildings, looked more like a large farm than a monastic monastery, even being fenced off by one palisade. Thanks to his rescue, Peter I ordered the construction of stone cells and this fence with a corner tower, of which now there is no trace left. They say that the monks were lazy to pray, saying to the visiting pilgrims:
We just called, and the angels pray for us in heaven.
In the hungry year of 1837, the monastery helped the Pomors who came here (even from 35 miles away, as from Syuzma) to take a piece of bread and take it to a suffering family. Monks with hired workers sow barley and rye and plant vegetables (even cucumbers in greenhouses). In monks, more and more people are decrepit, incapable of any work, and in free workers they are vowed. One was a sufficient man: he bought hazel grouses, took them to Petersburg, and rotted the goods on the way. Soon his ship sank in Msta, and then went bankrupt in 7 thousand, his creditor in Norway. The poor man withdrew to this desert and became a novice in it.
Settlements on the Summer and Onega coasts.
The following villages along the Summer Coast - Yarenga and Noodle - are built on a sandy coast and both have one church, about 50 houses and a hundred inhabitants. Yarengskaya church was built over the bodies of St. John and Login, who also drowned in the sea near Yarenga during the reign of Fyodor Ivanovich, around 7102 (1594). From the north of Lapshenga, the coast to the village of Durakova rises significantly. Forested hills protruding from the coastline, known as Summer mountainsrising above the sea from 30 to 50 fathoms. However, the general view of the coast is dull: the village crosses and chapters burn dimly in the everlasting gloom of the air of the White Sea coastlines, although the sun favors a better phenomenon.
The houses of these villages seem to be gray heaps from the sea distance. Behind them, the forest spread over the mountains darkens darkly, and the teeth and cracks of the coastal granite, to which all this pine and spruce forest clings, are terrifying. Behind the small poor village of Durakova to Ukht-Navolok, the coast becomes before bony, or stony, which seems to be a whole wall, a huge woodpile of round timber thrown one on top of the other. To those of them that are washed away by water, a myriad of small, white shells clung to, in which, from the action of the sun's rays and tides, sea snails develop. Tura, or seaweed, is seen. Embracing a coastal stone with its leaves, pale green, the tura floats on the surface of the water, not moving far from the place of its attachment, and is supported in this floating position by those balls that probably replaced here both color and fruit, and which are strong they snapped both under their feet and in their hands from pressing.
"THE SEA IS OUR FIELD" (L. Shmigelsky).
Pomeranian proverb "The sea is our field" very accurately reflects the tremendous importance that sea fishing and navigation had for the inhabitants of the White Sea.
All "Pomor" monasteries, including those, had their own ship berths. Its pier could accommodate several ships at the same time ... The traveler A. Mikhailov, who visited the Nikolo-Korelsky monastery in the summer of 1856, still saw the remains of the piles of this once busy pier ...
Pomors of the Summer Coast, especially the monastic industrialists, very early began to sail to the Kola coast of the White Sea, catching salmon and herring with nets and fences. The Nikolo-Korelsky Monastery also had its own permanent fishing area on Varzuga, located in a straight line to the north-west at a distance of about 240 kilometers.
Then the Pomor ships sailed to the Barents Sea ("Studenets"). The annual campaigns of industrialists to Kolya and Pechenga Bay to catch cod and halibut began. From the income and expense book of the Nikolo-Korelsky monastery, we learn that in 1552 the monk Ignatius made another voyage there, and the next year the monk Joseph took the same route. In the 17th century, the fishing area expanded. The time has come for the development of Novaya Zemlya. Since 1690, the Nikolo-Korelsky Monastery owned several fishing camps on this island. And in Kholmogory there was always one of the Nikolsk elders to organize the "Novaya Zemlya nomadic craft". Mainly, they took walruses off the coast of the South Island. Sometimes they hunted for polar bears.
Speaking about the monastic crafts, it must be borne in mind that they were carried out by the hands, mainly of hired workers - "beggars" who received their share of the spoils. However, the figure "A sailor in a cassock" - a monk or monastery minister, which surprised foreigners so much since the middle of the 16th century, when English and then French and Dutch ships began sailing in the White Sea, was common for that time.
Sea vessels - kochi and lodya - were built on the Northern Dvina, in Ust - Pinega and on Onega. The best boats were considered in terms of quality Onega - "korelyanki".
The Nikolo-Korelsky monastery also had its own navy.
It was created both through the purchase of ships ordered from ancient shipyards, and through contributions from parishioners. In 1572, for example, pilgrims handed over to the Nikolo-Korelsky Monastery a "lodya-korelyanka" with all the tackle, with two large anchors and sheims (anchor ropes). In 1600, a resident of Una, First Stepanov, gave the monastery "a deposit of a korelyanka with tackle and karbas for 20 rubles." (Kochi and lodges were carried on the deck or towed sea boats-karbas used for communication with the shore, for the delivery of anchors, as well as for the production of walrus and fishery).
In the 16th century, to meet the needs of shipbuilders and shipowners with everything that is necessary for the construction and equipment of a sea vessel, in the North was formed an entire industry specialized in the regions of Pomorie. At the same time, iron for metal parts was brought from afar, from Olonets in Karelia.
The first evidence of this "contractor delivery" dates back to 1597, when the elder of the Nikolo-Korelsky Monastery Kuzma bought 600 "policemen of precious iron" in Olonets, paying 27 rubles for it.
INXvi century, the mouth of the Dvina acquires national significance, as the starting point of sea trade to the West.
In view of the fierce struggle between Russia and Sweden over the Baltic states that unfolded at the end of the 15th century, sailing in the Baltic Sea became unsafe. This made Moscow pay special attention to the White Sea, the sea route from which to Western Europe was well known earlier. This route began to be widely used by the Moscow ambassadors who went to friendly Denmark. The most famous journey from the mouth of the Northern Dvina to the court of the Danish king, envoy of Ivan III Gregory Istoma, made in 1496.
Europe could learn about him in 1549, when Baron Sigismund Herberstein, who twice (in 1517 and 1525) visited Moscow as an ambassador of the Austrian emperor, published his Notes on Muscovite Affairs in Vienna. Herberstein wrote down in detail the story of Istoma, with whom he met in Moscow, and quoted it in his "Notes ...".
Arriving at the mouth of the Northern Dvina, Grigory Istoma and his companions hired four Pomor ships (boats, as Herberstein writes) and went out into the "ocean". (Herberstein had no idea that the White Sea was a separate part of the ocean). Whether the pier of the Nikolo-Korelsky monastery was the starting point of this voyage - one can only guess about this ...
It is interesting that in his "Notes" Herberstein describes in detail the mouth of the Northern Dvina, which, in his opinion, has 6 branches, notes Pechora and Mezen, mentions only 17 settlements in the northern region, including the cities of Vologda, Ustyug, Kholmogory, Pinega, Pustozersk.
The sea route from the mouth of the Dvina to the West has become common for Russian diplomats.
The ambassadors of the Danish king repeatedly visited the Northern Dvina at the beginning of the 16th century. To send Moscow ambassadors with a retinue abroad from the peasants of Pomorie collected special tax - "ambassadorial money"... Pomorie was obliged to pay for the embassy's travel to Dvina and provide them with ships. For the ambassadors and their companions to stay before being sent overseas, monasteries were usually used as the largest public buildings of that time. Among them, especially in the second half of the 16th century, the most frequently visited by Moscow ambassadors was the Nikolo-Korelsky Monastery, located in the immediate vicinity of the sea.
The archives of the northern monasteries keep many records of the stay of Moscow guests here in the 16th century. For example, in the summer of 1571, the ambassador of Ivan the Terrible, Ivan Grigorievich Stary, lived in the Nikolo-Korelsky monastery, who went to Norway to establish the Russian-Norwegian border.
ABOUT WHITE SALT (L.Yu. Taimasova, "Potion for the Emperor").
By the end of the XVI century. the British were the leaders in the art of gathering classified information. Secret agents of London operated in all countries of Western Europe. Thus, the papal nuncio in Flanders wrote in the 1580s that, in his opinion, the English queen in some incomprehensible way manages to penetrate into all matters. The Spaniards worried that Elizabeth saw through and through. The Spanish ambassador to France warned the Vatican that many English religious (Catholic) exiles were spies. The papal curia discussed the unpleasant question that Queen Elizabeth I has her agents surrounded by the Pope.
Diplomatic courier mail in the 16th century acted on a permanent basis. Letters from Venice to Brussels were delivered in 5 days, from Brussels to London - from 2 to 6 days, depending on weather conditions. Couriers traveled from Rome to Venice in a week, from Venice to Nuremberg - in 8 days. Emergency mails were delivered twice as fast. Hot news was worth its weight in gold. If the salary of an ordinary courier was slightly higher than the salary of a soldier, then the delivery of express mail was paid for an amount that could exceed the annual salary of a professor at the University of Padua.
The agents' reports contained information of a different nature: about military preparations and about scandals at the courts, about secret negotiations and about commercial transactions for strategic goods, about criminal proceedings and epidemics. Particularly important messages were encrypted using secret writing.
The British Library manuscripts department has preserved ciphers with the decoded text attached. An important place in such documents was given to messages o ... salt: on its supplies to the belligerent countries or on the conclusion of commercial transactions for amounts of 200,000 ducats or more. It should be noted that the reports were about "White salt" which, unlike the "sea", was strategic product, because was the initial raw material for the productiongunpowder.
For the manufacture of gunpowder, three components were required: potassium nitrate, sulfur and coal. The basis of the powder mixture was potassium nitrate, it accounted for 65 to 75 percent. Natural saltpeter was found in deposits in India, Persia and Egypt. The Arabs called this substance "Chinese snow" Byzantines - "Indian salt".
The consumption of "Indian salt" was so great, and the cost so high, that attempts were made in Europe to establish the extraction of potassium nitrate from manure, feces, food waste or corpses. White crystalline deposits were scraped off the walls of caves, latrines and crypts. The first report on the production of nitrate in this way in Frankfurt refers to 1388. However, the duration of the crystal formation process (from 3 to 5 years) and the laboriousness of extracting the finished nitrate, which required up to 36 washes and evaporations, and most importantly, the negligible yield of the final product (about 0 , 2%), forced the alchemists to turn to another method.
Since ancient times, alchemists have known how to obtain "Indian salt" by artificial means. For its manufacture, sodium (or calcium) nitrate, alum, copper (or iron) vitriol and potash were required. By heating sodium nitrate with copper sulfate and alum, nitric acid was obtained. By mixing nitric acid and potash (ordinary white ash that remains from burnt wood), potash nitrate was made.
In the Middle Ages, salt industries were the main source of sodium and calcium nitrate. The salt-bearing rock usually lies on a bed of table salt; it is extracted by boiling and settling a saturated salt solution. The process of extracting sodium silicate was called "Obtaining salt from salt" ("to make salt upon salt»).
The final product was white crystals of a salty taste, it was used both for the preparation of fish or meat, and for the manufacture of potash nitrate.
The possession of stocks of cheap "white salt" made it possible to reduce the cost of gunpowder and take a leading position among other countries in the sale of goods so necessary to the belligerent countries. Documents show that throughout the entire XVI century. England fought with unrelenting tenacity for a monopoly on the European salt market.
The appearance on the London market of a large amount of cheap "white salt" coincides in time with the establishment of unofficial contacts between the British and Russia. Muscovy came to the attention of England at the very beginning of the century, when prices for salt inside Russia fell significantly. If in 1499 "fur", or a bag, of salt in Pskov cost 35 money, then in 1510 the Kargopol people were buying goods twice as cheap. The fall in prices was most likely associated with the discovery of rich salt deposits in Vychegodsk and with the active entrepreneurial activities of the brothers Stepan, Osip and Vladi-mir Fedorovich Stroganov.
By 1526, the extraction of raw materials had reached such a level that Russia not only fully met its needs, but also entered the international market with a proposal. Since the 1540s. cheap Russian salt, most likely, began to flow to England, where it was bought by representatives of Anton Fugger.
In addition to the products of the Stroganovs, salt was exported, which was mined in the salt pans of the northern monasteries.
From 1580 to 1584, the sale of salt by the Solovetsky, Spaso-Prilutsky and Nikolsko-Korelsky monasteries increased from 2-4 thousand poods to 40-50 thousand poods per year, but prices in the country not only did not fall, but also increased. reached an average of 20 money per pood. (L.Yu. Taimasova "Potion for the Emperor").
IN THE NORTHERN MONASTERY SALTWARE.
Salting is one of the most ancient occupations of the inhabitants of Russian Pomorie. Salt, which was a valuable product and commodity, was mined in many points of the White Sea coast, as well as in Pinega, Kuloi and in a number of other places. But the most productive sources were possessed by Nyonoksa, which eventually took over the domestic salt market. The explanation was simple. The salt concentration in the brine extracted from the Nenok wells was 2-4 times higher than in other "usols",
In all likelihood, the inhabitants of Pomorie were prompted to engage in salt production by another major industry of this region - fishing. Salt was required for salting significant catches of sea fish, which has long become one of the main items of northern trade. In the future, white sea salt itself became a commodity of great national importance.
The first salt development by the Nenokian inhabitants date back to the beginning of the 15th century. In the 16th century, Nyonoksa varnits mainly belonged to monasteries. Here, in addition to the aforementioned Kirillo-Belozersky, Mikhailo-Arkhangelsky, Antonievo-Siysky, as well as the Solovetsky monasteries had their possessions.
The Nikolo-Korelsky Monastery, for which the extraction and sale of salt was, as already mentioned, the main source of existence, was also a major owner of the breweries in Nenoksa. Back in 1545, by a diploma of Tsar Ivan the Terrible, the monastery was allowed in Nyonoks "salt podzhilin (sources of salt solutions - L. Sh. [L.Sh.- Leonid Shmigelsky]) search and set up labor and cookware and cook salt. "
From the letter of Tsar Ivan the Terrible in 1545, a general scheme of the Nenok salt trade appears. The right to buy salt at the place of its extraction was strictly limited - it was used only by local Dvinian residents, as well as Vazhans. For sale to nonresident traders, salt was delivered by sea, Malokurye and Dvina in bulk on flat-bottom board ships and in the plantations in Kholmogory. It should be noted that these vessels reached a high carrying capacity. So, from the documents of the Anthony-Siysk Monastery it follows that the planks belonging to the monastery raised up to 10 thousand poods of salt (160 tons).
In Kholmogory, Nenok salt was piled into barns that belonged to monasteries and were under the supervision of monks in the rank of clerks. There salt was poured into a container — "Furs" or "matting", was purchased by nonresident merchants, first of all by the Vologda and Ustyuzhan people, and was transported throughout the country. Monasteries had the right to send salt for sale to Veliky Ustyug, Totma, Vologda and to other places and on their ships. An idea of \u200b\u200bthe volume of salt production in Nenoksa can be given by data relating to 1772, when from 9 breweries there were mined and supplied by "private breeders" to the treasury of 134,033 poods (2,145 tons) of salt.
The salt production technology in Nyonoksa, as well as in other sea-based "sals", was simple. Along the river, on the eastern side of the settlement, at the foot of rather high hills, covered with peat, wells were dug up to 10 meters deep, which corresponded approximately to the sea level horizon. However, the water in them was much saltier than sea water, which makes it possible to assume that there are deep deposits of rock salt in these places that feed the springs. But this assumption has never been tested by developments, although the region badly needed high-quality mountain salt.
The brine raised from the well was evaporated in huge flat frying pans - "tsren" up to 2.5 meters long, up to 1 meter wide with folded edges about 5 cm high. ... The brine was poured in as it evaporated, the finished salt was piled right there, in the corner of the shed. Of course, such an “open” cooking method had a negative effect on the quality of the salt, which had a grayish tint. For firewood, forests were reduced along the banks of the Nyonoksa River, which were delivered by rafting to the breweries.
All large monasteries, and then the private owners of varnits, had their own forest plots there. The production of salt in the amount of about 70 poods required 10-12 fathoms of firewood. Between the owners of forest plots, disputes often arose about the boundaries of their possessions, for the resolution of which, in some cases, they had to turn to the king. So, from the man-bitch Theophilus to Tsar Mikhail Fedorovich in 1642, we learn that “the Siysk elders (clerks of the Anthony-in-Siysk monastery. - L. Sh.)with their mischief hoping for wealth and their false petition, they flog foreign wood near Nyonoksa along many roads. "
***
Ebb cannon in Moscow at the end of the 15th century. Facial annalistic set.
In Russia, firearms began to be used later than in Europe. If in the middle of the XIV century. almost all European armies were equipped with cannons, the first chronicle news of the use of firearms in Russia dates back to 1382 - during the defense of Moscow from the hordes of Khan Tokhtamysh. Obviously, the Moscow army included western artillerymen, tk. the Russians mastered the use of weapons seven years later. The Golitsin Chronicle reports that "in the summer of 6897 (1389), they took out from the Germans armata to Russia and fiery shooting, and from that hour you should understand to shoot from them." At the same time, the Germans demonstrated the technology for making a powder mixture.
The experiment ended in failure: several courtyards burned down in Moscow "from making gunpowder." It is not surprising that cannons and gunpowder were expensive rarities in Russia and were considered worthy gifts from foreign rulers. In 1393, “the German master sent an ambassador to the Grand Duke about peace and love, complaining about Pskovich and Lithuania, and came to the dareh a cannon of copper, and potions, and craftsmen”.
The Russian princes undoubtedly sought to reduce the costs of the firearms "outfit" by purchasing metal from Hanseatic merchants and inviting Western foundry specialists to train their own craftsmen. In 1447, the monk Thomas praised the Tver master Mikula Krechetnikov: "Such is the beyshe of that master, as if the German environment could not find such." In addition to artillery and ammunition, gunpowder, or rather potassium nitrate, was an important item of military expenditure. In the absence of deposits of natural saltpeter, Russians for a long time had to buy natural minerals from foreign merchants, and later - to invite Western craftsmen to organize the saltpeter business.
The term "saltpeter" appeared in Russia relatively late - in the second half of the 16th century. - in the correspondence of the Moscow government with the British. In internal documents, the word was used "Yamchug". The first information about the "Yamchuzhny business", i.e. the extraction of potassium nitrate crystals from organic residues by evaporation dates back to 1545. The list drawn up on the occasion of preparations for the Kazan campaign indicated the amount of "food potion", or gunpowder, levied as a tax in kind or in money. The letter reads: “And for whom people cannot get potions, and the Sovereign Grand Duke ordered those people to give the masters of water and beepers; and told them to brew the potion with that person, and show them the master. " According to the observations of researchers, in the government document, the concepts of "making gunpowder" and "cooking yamchug" were mixed. This suggests that in the 1540s. yamchuzhny trade was a new business and not yet mastered for Muscovy.
TRIP TOXvi CENTURY. ANCIENT SETTLEMENTS. (L. Shmigelsky, 1988).
In 1627 in Moscow, a remarkable geographic description of the Russian state was compiled - "Book to the Big Drawing", in where a significant place was taken by the "Painting of the Pomor rivers on the shores of the Arctic Ocean." Unknown Russian geographers and topographers of the XVI-XVII centuries accomplished, in essence, a scientific feat - they described in detail the entire sea coast of the country from the borders with Nor-Vegia to the mouth of the Ob.
It is interesting that out of 11 copies of the "Book to the Big Drawing" that have come down to us, 3 were discovered in the North, and one in the library of the Nikolo-Korelsky Monastery.
Our guidebook will be the comprehensive work of E. N. Ogorodnikov, published in 1875, “The coast of the Arctic and White, the seas with their tributaries and the“ Book of the Big Drawing ”.
We will start from the Unskaya Bay and move along the coast to the east. Already at the end of the 15th century, two settlements existed on the Luda River flowing into the Una Bay - Una and Luda.
The Unskoye village has been known since 1398, when it was mentioned in the charter of the Grand Duke of Moscow Vasily I. The charter determined the amount of extortions and court fees levied from peasants in favor of the prince, and referred to the time of the first attempt of Moscow to seize Pomorie.
In the Dvina charter of 1471, the so-called "Refusal Novgorod letter to the Dvina lands", Una, named Unskoye Usolye, is listed among the Moscow grand-princely possessions ceded by Novgorod, and the name Usolye testifies that even then they were engaged in salt production in Una. Luda at the beginning of the 16th century is found under the name Ludskoe Usolye.
At the beginning of the 17th century, Una and Luda were already known as settlements, that is, urban-type settlements that had their own trade and craft part. True, the number of courtyards that determined the size of the settlement was small: in 1622 there were 17 in Luda, 22 in Una, but there were only 26 posadov in the whole huge region, of which three were on Summer coast of the White Sea! (The third posad was Nenoksa).
In 1559, near the Unskiy Posad was founded Pertinsky monastery.
But let's move further along the coast. Located at the mouth of the Syuzma River Syuzeme settlement was known from about the same time as Una. It has also long been engaged in the extraction of salt, and later it was called Syuzeme Usolye. As indicated in the Dvina scribal books for 1622-1624, Syuzma was the patrimony of the Anthony-Siysk monastery. In 1684, during the joint reign of Peter Alekseevich and Ivan Alekseevich, the right of the monastery to own "fishing on the Syuzma River and hay mowing, and a brewhouse - and a pier to the brewery" was confirmed.
The next point on our journey through the lands of the XVI century will be Nyonoksa, whose history should be dwelled upon.
Nenoksa - one of the oldest settlements in Novgorod. Located at the mouth of the Nyonoksa River on the left side, it is mentioned in the charter of 1398 of the Moscow Grand Duke Vasily I under the name of the Nyonoksa churchyard, that is, a small administrative and economic unit. The Dvina Chronicle names Nenoks among those 11 graveyards of Zavolochye, which were plundered by the Norwegians in 1419 at the same time as the Nikolo-Korelsky Monastery.
However, the Dvina then gave a fitting rebuff to the invaders. The militia gathered in Kholmogory overtook the robbers at the mouth of the Northern Dvina, and few of them carried their feet across the sea. In 1445, Nyonoksa was again attacked, this time by the Swedes who came from Lapland, about which the Novgorod Chronicle says: “The arrival of the Murmansk is unknown (unexpectedly - L. Sh.)for the drag to Dvin's army ... Nenoks fought and burned people fromsekosh, and led others to the full. " But in 1448, another attempt by the Swedes to pillage on the Dvina land ended in failure for them - the Swedes were utterly defeated by the Dvinyans near Nenoksa.
In 1471, Nyonoksa, as already mentioned, went to Moscow. The Dvina Charter, which listed the Moscow possessions in Zavolochye, also mentions "Nenoksa - Salt Places".
From about this time, Nyonoksa is believed to become a posad, although it was first encountered in such a capacity in documents only in 1615, when by a letter of tsar Mikhail Fedorovich, the varnishes belonging to the Nyonoksky posad on Solozero were transferred to the possession of Kirillo-Belozersky monastery. But even earlier, in the 80s of the 16th century, Nyonoksa became the object of close attention of this largest monastery in the North. It is known that at that time the monastery servant Funikov bought up a whole string of fishing plots in Nenoksa with salt varnitsa. In the future, "elders" constantly appeared there, sent by this and other monasteries, who looked out for suitable sites that promised fishing exits, and acquired them.
According to the data of 1622 (and they can be confidently extended to the second half of the 16th century), Nenoksa is becoming a large settlement in the northern region. At that time, there were 76 households in it, and in the list of posadov it stood immediately behind Ar-Khangelsk (115 households). The first place was occupied by Veliky Ustyug - 689 households, Kholmogory occupied the fourth place - 473 households.
Nyonoksa gained wide fame, far beyond the borders of Pomorie, in the 16th century thanks to her salt production.
For 4-5 centuries, intensive deforestation was carried out in the Nyonoksa basin, not only for the needs of salt production, but also to provide firewood for many settlements of the entire region. This naturally led to the depletion of the local forests.
In 1708, by the personal order of Peter I, all the salt pans in Nyonoksa that belonged to monasteries were taken away to the treasury. Posad Nenoksa at that time had 207 inhabitants.
And the ancient salt production in Nyonoksa survived until the beginning of the 20th century - in 1908 21 thousand poods of salt were mined here. Most of the wells and brews by that time had been abandoned, the low quality salt produced was sold exclusively in Arkhangelsk, where it was used for the needs of bakeries and for livestock. One of the authors of that time ironically described the salt mining of that time in Nenoksa: "The industry of the 20th century in terms of its culture ... belonging to the 15th century."
But then the Patriotic War began, and Nyonoksa again said her word. Remarkable search and research work was carried out by the students of the 24th school of Severodvinsk, members of the local history section of the school museum "Belomorye". Having studied the history of the salt industry in the Belomorsk Territory (the work of a student of 10 "a" class Roman Galashevsky), they found that during the Patriotic War the abandoned Nenok breweries came to life again. The women of Nyonoksa, performing the hardest work of salt-makers, lumberjacks, and rafters, cooked salt there around the clock using the original White Sea method, filling up its lack in the country, which at that time was deprived of many sources of raw materials.
And now let's turn to the places located in the immediate vicinity of our city [Severodvinsk], some of which have become or are becoming its constituent parts.
The village located at the mouth of the Solza River has been known since 1555 under the names Solzekskoe, Solzekskaya Slobodka, Solozskoe, when it is mentioned in connection with the deed of purchase of the Nikolo-Korelsky Monastery for the yard in Solza The same monastery, according to the charter of Tsar Ivan the Terrible in 1578, owned the entire Solza River with its fishing up to Lake Solzo, from which it flows. In addition, in those days, beavers and pearls were caught on Solza.
It is indicated in the "Book of the Big Drawing" and Kudmozero with the river Kudma flowing from it, which was originally called Kusudma. It is known that in 1578 fishing on this lake belonged to the Nikolo-Korelsky monastery. In 1607, Tsar Vasily Shuisky in his tarkhanna the letter to the Nikolo-Korelsky monastery (i.e. the letter, which fixed the indefinite exemption from state duties - L. Sh.) Among other possessions of the monastery he also named “the church property of Petrovskoe on Kudma, on the Solozskaya side”. Apparently, it was about the village of Kuzmozerskaya, which now exists Big Kudme.
The large island lying opposite the Nikolo-Korelsky monastery is known according to documents from the very beginning of the 16th century, when in the "spiritual" - the will of a resident of Nyonoksa in 1501 - the patrimony on Jagra is also mentioned. Located very conveniently between the Pudozhmsky and Nikolsky (Korelsky) estuaries of the Northern Dvina, this island, which is one of the oldest Novgorod possessions, is called differently in the descriptions and on the maps of the 16th-17th centuries: Jagry, Yagorsky Island, Agra-Bolshie and Nikolskie. At that time, pine and birch forests grew in abundance on Jagra, there were several streams with fresh water. Jagry was also famous for its meadows. The mows that belonged to the Nikolo-Korelsky monastery are found in the above-mentioned tarkhan deed of Tsar Vasily Shuisky in 1607.
Of the settlements located on the banks of the Nikolsky branch of the Northern Dvina, let us dwell on the history of two well-known to the residents of Severodvina - End of the courtyard and Tsiglomeni.
Both settlements are listed among the graveyards of Zavolochye, devastated by the Norwegians in 1419, under the names End graveyard and Chiglonim. But even earlier, in 1398, the Novgorod settlement of Konechnye Dvory was named in the charter of the Moscow Grand Duke Vasily I next to Nenoksa. Subsequently, it, named the village of Konetsdvorsky, is listed as a parish.
As for Chiglonim, after the devastation of 1419, it was not restored for a long time and therefore, probably, it turned out to be omitted in the Dvina charter of 1471. But already in the descriptions of the Book of the Big Drawing, this village called Tsigly is named on the left bank of the Nikolsky branch.
"NIKISHKIN'S SECRETS" (Yu.P. Kazakov).
Huts ran out of the forest, ran to the shore, there was nowhere to run further, they stopped frightened, huddled in a heap, gazing spellbound at the sea ... The village is close! On narrow lanes, wooden walkways echoingly give a step. A man is walking - you can hear far away, the old women cuddle up to the windows, look, listen: whether he is carrying a salmon, whether he is walking into the forest with a pestle, or so ... by whom.
Sensitive huts in the village, with high traditions, are well built, each century is long - everyone remembers, everyone knows. The Pomor leaves in karbas, runs across the sea, the village sees its dark, wide sail, knows: he ran to the sink. Will the fishermen come on a motorboat from deep fishing, the village knows about them, what they came with and how they were caught. An ancient old man will die, pray for him in his own way, reprimand him according to ancient books, tumble him down in a gloomy sandy cemetery, and again the village sees everything and accepts the cries of wives sensitively.
Everybody loves Nikishka in the village. Somehow he is not like everyone else, quiet, affectionate, and the guys in the village are all "plovers", stubborn, mockers. He is eight years old, a white hair on his head, a pale face with freckles, ears are large, lethargic, thin, and his eyes are different: the left is yellow, the right is turquoise. He looks - and now the child is not intelligent, and another time he looks - like a wise old man. Quiet, thoughtful Nikishka, avoids children, does not play, loves to listen to conversations, he rarely speaks, and even then with questions: “What's this? What is this? " - he is only talkative with his father and with his mother.
His voice is thin, pleasant, like a pipe, and he laughs in a bass, as if dumb: "gee-gee-gee!" The guys tease him; as soon as they run, they shout: “Nikishka the silent! Silent man, laugh! " Nikishka then gets angry, offended him, hides in the story, sits there alone, sways, whispers something. And it's good in the poveta: it's dark, no one comes in, you can think about different things, and it smells strong of hay, and tar, and dry algae.
There is a horse saddled near Nikishka's porch ... There is a horse, dozing, and the village already knows: Nikishka is about to go to his father on a sinking river twenty miles away on dry water, past the mountains and past the forest.
Nikishka and her mother come out onto the porch. A kitty over his shoulder, boots on his feet, a hat on his head, a thin scarf wrapped around his neck: it's cold already, it's October outside.
Go all the shore, all the shore, says the mother. - Do not turn to the sides, there will be mountains along the way. You will pass these mountains, and there the path itself will show you. It's close here, don't get lost, look, duck ... Twenty miles in total - close!
Nikishka is silent, sniffles, her mother does not listen well, she climbs on a horse. Climbs the saddle, legs in stirrups, moves eyebrows ...
The horse set off, wakes up on the move, his ears nagged back, wants to understand what kind of rider he is on today. They swayed past the hut, the horseshoes on the walkways banged: tuk-tok. They ran out of huts, poured out the baths to meet them. There are many baths - each yard has its own - and all are different: the owner is good - and the bathhouse is good, the owner is bad and the bathhouse is worse. But then the baths ended, and the vegetable gardens with oats passed, the sea flashed on the right ...
Literature:
City at the mouth of the Dvina. / L. Shmigelsky. - Northern worker. 1988.
The Tale of the White Sea. Dictionary of Pomeranian sayings. / K.P. Gemp. - M .: Science; Arkhangelsk: Pomor. un-t, 2004.
Potion for the sovereign. English espionage in Russia in the 16th century. / L. Taimasova. - M .: Veche, 2010.
Year in the North / Maksimov S.V. - Arkhangelsk: North-West. book publishing house, 1984.
Integrated extracurricular activity
Literary and local history living room
"Ksenia Petrovna Gemp -" Lomonosov in a skirt "
MBOU "Vokhtinskaya secondary school",
Arkhangelsk region., Vilegodsky district,
p. Shirokiy Priluk,
teacher of Russian language and literature
Kondakova Tatiana Grigorievna,
history and social studies teacher
Stenina Maryana Valentinovna
goal : acquaintance with the personality of K.P. Gemp and her services to the Russian North.
Tasks:
Organize work on the study of Gemp's biography and excerpts from scientific works.
To develop the skills of students to reasonably present their opinions, present material, work with words.
Show the importance of moral and volitional efforts of a person, a citizen. To foster a feeling of love for a small homeland, the North.
Event form: literary and local history living room.
Students in grades 6, 9-11 are divided into 5 groups: historians, biographers, actors, linguists, readers.
Registration: tables, northern towels, wooden and birch bark utensils, a candlestick with a candle.
Technical support: computer, projector, TV screen.
Epigraph : “You don’t know the world without knowing your edge”
Event progress
Melody "Sweet North"
Literature teacher:
Yes, only here, in my North,
Such gave and such dawns,
Drifting ice floes in the White Sea
A play of flashes in the night sky.
Here, as if in a fairy tale, every path
He will certainly take you to the spring.
And, of course, there are no people anywhere
Such a soul and frankness, and strength ...
A history teacher:
The topic of our meeting is"Ksenia Petrovna Gemp -" Lomonosov in a skirt "".
Who heard this name? What do you know about K.P. Gemp?
Goal setting.
K.P. Gemp -historian, ethnographer, ethnographer, algologist (seaweed), ; an honorary citizen of the city of Arkhangelsk; author of numerous works on the history and culture of the Russian North.
- A word to historians who will tell you about the title of "Honorary Citizen of the city of Arkhangelsk"
Historians:
This title existed until 1917, then it was renewed by the decision of the city executive committee in 1974, and the new one was approved by the mayor's decree in 1995.
It is awarded for outstanding services of citizens to the city in order to encourage personal activities aimed at the benefit of the city, ensuring its well-being and prosperity. In the list of Honorary Citizens of Arkhangelsk - Gemp Ksenia Petrovna,
Only 30 people.
Literature teacher:
There are many professions in the world: historian, biologist, geographer, writer, ethnographer, folklorist, ethnographer, hydrologist, teacher, musicologist, physician, archaeologist ... Usually people have one or two professions. But there was such a person who owned all the listed professions. “A real Lomonosov,” you say. Yes, Lomonosov. Such a person was a woman. Her name was Ksenia Petrovna Gemp. Like Lomonosov, she had encyclopedic knowledge and did a lot for Russia. And if Moscow University bears the name of MV Lomonosov, then KP Gemp has forever become an honorary citizen of the city of Arkhangelsk. On one of her vacations, which she never had in the conventional sense of the word, she walked the Lomonosov path from Kholmogory to Moscow. Like Lomonosov, Gemp's biography is associated with the Russian North, which she not only loved, but also knew very well.
The indigenous archangel town, a woman of amazing destiny, showed great loyalty and love for the North. Her long life - Ksenia Petrovna Gemp died in the 104th year - was saturated with a spiritualized passion for knowledge, a variety of interests and creativity and constant educational activities.
The beginning of this was laid by home intellectual and moral education in a large hereditary noble family of Father Petr Gerardovich Mineyko (1868-1920), an engineer of the Arkhangelsk port. Children were instilled an interest in reading, literature, music, the study of foreign languages, knowledge of their native land, developed the skills of observation and understanding of natural phenomena.
A history teacher:
KP Gemp was an outstanding person. When asked: "What does it mean to become a person?" She replied: “This is, first of all, to imagine the whole world around you, to take into account your strengths and abilities and use them in such a way as to bring as much benefit as possible. You can be a dough mixer, sew slippers - and be a person. It is not determined by profession, not by orders or titles ”. And she added that “personality is the highest title of a person. And in this title you need to be affirmed all your life. "
A word to biographers:
– K. Gemp knew the history of the development of the North like no other. She herself was a living history. She was born in 1894 in the family of Peter Gerardovich Mineyko, who built almost most of the ports in the Russian North.
– She was the great-great-granddaughter of Lieutenant Beklemishev, a member of the Bellingshausen and Lazarev expedition to the shores of Antarctica.
– a graduate of the history department of the Higher Women's (Bestuzhev) courses, she was on friendly terms with the legendary Arctic explorers Georgy Sedov and Vladimir Rusanov.
– Her rare memory kept the living features of the writer Alexander Grin, who was serving his exile in Arkhangelsk, and the “great storyteller from Pinega” Maria Krivopolenova.
– Gemp perfectly knew the history of Arkhangelsk and the villages on the White Sea, the history of northern monasteries and the Old Believers in the North.
– More than once she was a participant and leader of scientific expeditions in the White, Baltic and Barents Seas, along the Arctic Circle.
– Hydrographer Gemp Sea could read like a book. Who among the sailors does not know her famous "Book of the Seafaring" - this is an outstanding monument of Pomor navigation of the 18th century. She worked on it for many years. In 1980 it was published and became a bibliographic rarity.
A history teacher:
War. Discoveries. Development.
Video: 0min. 57 sec. - 2 minutes 45 seconds
20min 08 sec - 21.00
Literature teacher:
– For many years, the writer Gemp has been collecting "Pomor conversations" bit by bit and wrote "The Tale of the White Sea", a book in which, according to Academician DS Likhachev's opinion, "a grandiose picture of the Pomor and peasant culture of the Russian North" is created. The heart of the book is the White Sea and its people.
– F. Abramov in his article “K. Gemp and her“ Tale of the White Sea ”wrote that“ the story of K. P. Gemp about the Pomors, about their life and way of life, about their morals and customs, about the special - the highest - in their midst the cult of the word can be called without exaggeration an encyclopedia of folk culture of the White Sea region ”.
A word to the readers: reading excerpts.
I first met the White Sea, its shores, villages and villages of the Pomors, with their way of life and culture in 1903. It was a six week trip ...
Everything was new and special for us. Everything was remembered forever, increased interest and love for their land.
2. Where does the Pomor name come from:
Numerous documents speak about the settlement of the White Sea in the 14th century: chronicles, scribes, grand ducal letters and decrees. The absence of the Tatar yoke in the North, the absence of serfdom, provided the Pomors with a freer life and further development ...
3. They flaunted on the banks ... big villages and villages of the White Sea. There were chopped and log mansions-huts on the corners.
The house was cut down, now to dress it up and settle it down. All old Pomor buildings are distinguished not only by the proportionality of architectural lines, completeness, but also by practicality. There is nothing superfluous in them, but they have everything you need for living in the North, for the work of a Pomor family.
4. The Pomeranian family is a kind of world, distinguished by its mutual respect of all its members. You won't meet Dashak and Palasek here before, the little ones Daryushka and Polyushka, the girls of Dasha and Pelageyushka, but when they get married, they already call them Father. Father was called father, mother - mother, and godmother - mother. Everyone obeyed the mother-father without prejudice, respectfully treated all older relatives, especially godparents.
5. Labor at sea required from each Pomor not only physical strength, endurance, hardening, dexterity, but also excellent knowledge of the sea, the sea route, skills in fishing and hunting for animals. Neither cold, nor winds, nor long paths frightened the Pomor.
Pomor children received severe labor education. Courageous, solid, unyielding, strong-tempered people were brought up.
Lotto Pomeranian "Sprava" (clothing)
Casing - waterproof jacket;
Neck envelope - a scarf knitted from a thick woolen thread;
Bukhmarka - a fawn winter hat with chin-length ears;
Shoe covers - leather, wide-nosed boots;
Wire-felted boots made of cow wool.
Pimas - deer skin fur boots, fur outside.
Underwear - underwear shirt made of bleached canvas with short sleeves to the elbow
Sundress - sleeveless clothing
Apron - apron
Shawl - a large factory-made scarf
Pochelok - a festive headdress of a girl, sewn with silks and often pearls
Exhibitions - shoes with a small heel
Actors.
(theatrical splash screen)
PorATo-l a lot, deFka, gUBok nalomAla?
Duck, it's expensive - it's hot, go ...
Irinya and I didn’t care for the woods ...
ZHONKI, you lost some water, no?
Luda is watery, they won't burn it out ...
The fish is washing the birch about himself.
Linguists: quizPomeranian dialects
(Pomor dictionary)
grandma is a toy
baina-bath
vertekha- fickle, frivolous
to make noise, to misbehave
talkative - talkative
backwater - a small bay
swell - cradle, suspended on a flexible eyeglass
corga - rocky shoal
labordane - dried cod
faces - icons
lover is a beloved woman, but not a wife
young woman - young married woman
okstis- cross
pauzhna - a feast between lunch and dinner
to curse - to curse
antiquity - stories about the distant past
yearn - hurt, whine
shork - wipe
yary- steepyary- steep non-rocky shore- clayey
A history teacher:
“Pomor dictionary ”she considered her main business. And the dictionary grew and grew every day. And in fact, how could it not have been inserted into it the section "Caress Words"? Ksenia Petrovna said: "This is some kind of miracle, some words that women found to love children"
And, as if apologizing, she added: “Academician Dmitry Sergeyevich Likhachev finally persuaded me: I will include abusive words in the dictionary. The strongest curse of the Pomors is the scoundrel "
K. Gemp left us a legacy of a unique “Pomor Dictionary” with thousands of forgotten and half-forgotten Russian words.
Literature teacher:
Throughout her life, Ksenia Petrovna carried her love for the Russian language and the creator of the Russian literary language, the greatest poet A.S. Pushkin. She knew many of the works by heart. Collected a unique Pushkiniana.
Video - 25 min. 10 sec. - 26 min. 11 sec.
(There were 22 bookcases in the house) She read everything that interested her, and at 80 she could read any fine print without glasses.
She died in 1998 at the 104th year of her life. She was a phenomenon in the history, science and culture of Russia. All her life she lived in the name of the common Spirit, which makes man a man.
Uch. stories:
NORTHERNS ... North, north - triumph without end, without edge, icy expanses! We leave the North forever - we are a part of our heart !!! Here they are - innovators - scientists, representatives of science and culture, education, in a word, the intellectual elite of Pomorie - they made a worthy contribution to the development of the Arkhangelsk region and the Fatherland. It was they who increased the power of the Russian North and Russia - honor and glory to them for this! Eternal memory to them!
Video: 0- 57sec.
26 minutes 12 sec.
Lighting a candle
Reflection: If today's conversation about K.P. Gemp seemed to you important for understanding the concept of "homeland", interesting and informative, light your candle in honor of this wonderful northerner.
